We're moving on down

Every so often in a person's life, there comes a time to make an important purchase. Often times this purchase is a big-item transaction, such as a bed, or a car, or a big screen HDTV. Many would take it a step further and take a long time scrutinize over something that will be not only a major investment but a financial commitment and, dare I say it, an investment - like a house or a mail-order bride.

To give you some insight onto the type of person I am, my period of mulling and introspection was invested into a household item that is utilized for much time and is in a sense a place of creation: a desk.

A few weeks ago I found myself having to replace a pine stalwart of sturdiness, that while I never was attached to; it has caused many a banged knee; it did it's job admirably, despite having to tighten screws and adjust legs to get rid of its malady of wobbliness.

In the interim, I turned to my map table. Map table? What are you trying to do Ryan, discover a lost continent? What do you have a Stella Maris as well and a bad case of scurvy?

I like maps, always been fascinated by them since childhood. I spent many an hour in the car on roadtrips with my father keeping myself entertained by discovering little towns in the middle of nowhere, distant mountain ranges and where the closest Stuckey's was.

So over a year ago I built a map table to store my topographical maps that have been useful aids for mountaineering and backpacking in Washington. Made out of pine and oak, I rather like the thing:



I mean look at the painstaken detail:



While a piece I do cherish, it definitely doesn't double as a desk very well. For one, because of it's elevated height, it was like typing while riding a chopper.

"Yo bro! You blogging now?"
"That's right Snake. I'm letting people know about my last trip in the Indian Peaks wilderness."
"Well dude, you're gonna miss the cutoff for the poker run. I hear Breathern Fast is playing at the saloon."

So the quest began and included several trips to various antique, read junk, stores. While you can find the occasional treasure, I think the antique junket is merely an excuse of packrats to make a living off their hoarding tendencies. I mean I found an old 80s stereo system with the dual tape decks and an equalizer for sale - and it wasn't even a good one - at probably the same price it retailed for 20 years ago.

My infecund journeys were ended when I discovered using Craigslist was a much lazier and gas-saving alternative. At least this way I could look at junk without having to endanger my life or contacting a STD walking down East Colfax Avenue.

Finally I found my specimen:



But alas! Somebody has beaten me to the punch. I was informed by the owner of this antique relic that was made available for a steal, that somebody was to look at it that day (As is always the case. Damn those phantom buyers). Thankfully, a lackadaisical approach by the competition and due diligence by your intrepid purveyor of maps won me my opening and I swooped in and picked up the desk today.

It needs a good sanding and varnishing to clean up the scratches and time-earned discolorments on the finish. But given I have a coffee table to build (oak & poplar), an end table (pine & oak), bookshelves for some friends (pine) and spending most of December out of town, I don't see myself getting around to it until sometime in '08.

In the meantime, the Mac is perched akimbo and already I feel more refined as I drink a glass of Merlot and listen to Baroque while I dabble on the keys, situated at a height that no longer causes blood loss to my fingers.



God bless that crazy Greek who decided to ferment his grapes!