And it's fate has been decided.

I grew up in a house.  On Countryside Drive in Beavercreek, Ohio, USofA.  Wonderful place to grow up.  There was a field across the street (Drive I guess) filled with cows.  Next to it was a field of horses.  There were creeks with fish and tadpoles and turtles.  There were woods you could build forts in, build tree houses and play in for hours and hours.  The house had a basement we roller skated in, my dad's workshop in one part that was filled to the gills with the most magical of stuff you could ever imagine.  My mother decorated the main floor with colors and patterns of things that if I didn't know better had come from LSD trips. A baby grand my dad bought at an auction. My room was upstairs in the peak of the roof with it's sharply sloped crazy angled ceiling.  There was a bass fiddle in the corner.  I kept my drums in my brother's room down the hall.  His bed was on wheels that rolled into the roof somehow.  Off his room was a tiny door, maybe three feet tall that went into a room over the garages.  That's where I first smoked pot with him after my first summer away to college.
I have always described my childhood as perfect.  Living in Beavercreek, Ohio, USofA.

But houses give me the heebegeebies.  The willies.  Can hardly stand to be in them.  They contain or maybe better constrain me to the point where I feel the need to flee out the door to the big sky and the big wind and the big air.  Sooner the better.

Maybe it's because for the past 20 years I've been living the warehouse way of an unpartitioned constantly moveable life.  Most of my stuff was on wheels and almost every day everything was moved around.  The big roll up door was always opened.  It brought in the California sun and air and wind but also the random people off the street.  The inside and the outside were one.  No 8 foot high drywall walls to make your spirit kowtow.  Tall spaces allow the head to fly and roam.

I don't know the spirit of the island top but I'm hoping it's spirit is ok with being in a house because that's where it's been screwed down to.  It sure does present itself well, what with the contrast of the walnut color holding court in the whiteness of the walls.

Couple pics of Ken brushing on some stuff.

The dovetails came out very tight.

Just a short portion of the top had a live edge.  The rest was it was square edged.

And this is how I live.  Right now.  I'll be able to roll things around again soon.

Hanging the bike on the snap ties.