The Pendant Trial

Folks, the dining table benches are still in the garage and one day closer to completion.  I won't make anymore campaign promises as to when they'll be done, but I will say that 4 more years of that motley crew of old courtroom chairs that currently sit at our table would be a disaster for our nation and my spine.

Meanwhile, back at the house, experimentation has begun on how to make the dining room pendant (because I know as soon as the benches go in Tyler will be all, "how's that light coming it's so dark in here" in one sentence).  

Using strips of wood, binder clips, wood glue, and mini c-clamps (cute!) I've established how to make the bare bones of the lamp, you know, the starting point.  Of course my base prototype ended up being too big.  The size has to be just right because you don't want someone to go, "Look at that cute little itty bitty thing above the table!" or react by saying, "OMG, does something live in there?" because it's too big.  It has to be right.  This is not right.    

This is also not right, but it fits in my purse.  

Let me also point out that 4 attempts on my life were made while I was making the prototype.  This wood has no interest in being made into a bird nest of possibilities, and has literally been lashing out by snapping in my face.  I tried to convey to Tyler just how dangerous this was.  He responded by asking me when we were going to have Thai basil chicken again.  "Tonight, dear."  Stay focused, people.  Dangerous murder weapons.  

As a peace offering (and also to get them to mellow out), I drew up a hot bath for the sticks.   "No, you sit back, relax, and have a nice soak in the tub.  I'll take care of the benches and make the Thai basil chicken tonight.  You deserve a break after all that snapping."  Little do they know what's coming.      

Will it all work?  Will it be a great failure?  Will we buy something instead?  Time will tell (and I'll probably be the one to tell you about it next week).