Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell about what other people think. They might just think it was supposed to be theirs! I wanted to camp out in the parking lot til the store opened. I even drug Tony out that evening to stare in the window. He agreed that the table was very nice. And do you know that when I went there in the morning and talked to the store owner, he even agreed to a trade-in of our old table and chairs? I don't think I shall ever grow tired of our table. It is ours for as long as it lasts, and since it is a sturdy old door, I suspect that to be a nice long time.