You know how you can admire someone so much because they are just perfect in every single way, and you love them so much that you’re actually disgusted by them at the exact same time as being in love with them?

Like you follow them on Instagram and they post something amazing (as usual) and you get irritated and say, “Dammit” sort-of under your breath, annoyed at their perfection and also annoyed that now you have to spend your time copying their incredible fall centerpiece or autumnal mantle setup because all you want in life is to become that person?

That’s exactly how you’ll feel about me when you see how flippin’ adorable my 1940’s dining table re-do turned out and how precious it looks in my upstairs “multi-purpose” room.

Look, I’m sorry that I have to be the source of your love-disgust, and is it my fault that I’m a chubbier, slightly older, redheaded Joanna Gaines? 🤷‍I can’t help myself!

Just look at this little dreamboat:

I know I’m being braggy about this thing, but do you know how much I’ve struggled to get this house pulled together and looking halfway decent, with my love of all things vintage and rustic and Mark’s love of 1980’s sleek and contemporary?

Here’s an actual conversation after I brought home a Hearth and Hand wreath:

Me shouting from down the hall: Hey, can you come in here and help me hang this?

Mark, appearing behind me: You’re kidding, right?

Me: What? You don’t like it? **looking back and forth between his face and the wreath to see if we were looking at the same thing**

Mark: Seriously? Where did you find that, Mamaw?

Me: Can you just help me hang it?

Mark: No. Wreaths are for old people.

Me: Wreaths are homey. Help me hang it.

Mark: No. **walks away**

Me: Mark! Help me hang this! **grumbling as I hang the damn thing myself**

We had a similar conversation about this table because he has a deep, disturbing problem paying money for things that are old.

Or that look old.

Or rustic.

Or cute.

Me after I got home with the table: Hey can you come help me get this thing out of the back of the truck?

Mark, looking in the truck bed: Um, is this a joke?

Me: What? You don’t like it? **looking back and forth between his face and the table to see if we were looking at the same thing**

Mark: How much did you pay for this thing? It’s old.

Me: It’s vintage.

Mark: It’s ugly.

Me: It’s from the 1940’s.

Mark: I can tell.

Me: HELP ME MOVE IT!

How we have stayed married is one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

Incidentally, you know that the 1940’s is my favorite era, right? Those years are arguably the most important in our world’s history (and certainly the most important in my family’s history).

When I was sanding this table down, I ran my fingers along its worn sides and thought about all the hands that have touched it through the years.

Kinda grossed me out a little, but it also made me wonder where all it’s been and who’s sat around it. Maybe some kid in the early 50’s sat there waiting for his mom to bring him his plate of meatloaf - after his dad was served, of course - while she wore a bow in her hair and an apron over her pressed dress.

And maybe that kid is now a grandpa and seeing this table would bring back a flood of sweet memories about his mom and dad, and about how simple things were back then.

Anyway. That’s why I love vintage stuff so much. They have character and history.

And I loooovvve the way it looks when they’re mixed with modern pieces.

Do you follow me on Instagram? You can see more of this table in my story highlights under Favey DIY’s, even though I know it’ll make you whisper a frustrated, “Dammit,” as you scroll through the slides, getting more and more irritated at how cute it is.

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