My dining room table is just a huge, great thick slab of oak on a beautiful frame. Whenever people come to supper I invite them to carve their name in it.
A dining room table with children's eager hungry faces around it, ceases to be a mere dining room table, and becomes an altar.
At consignment shops, I can collect things reasonably, and it's joyful. My dining room table was $75, and I'm so proud. It's beautiful.
All I needed was a steady table and a typewriter...a marble-topped bedroom washstand table made a good place; the dining-room table between meals was also suitable.
The dining room in my old house was truly magnificent, but by far the worst room for conversation. I'd get up from the table, a very long table, and somebody would always say, Paul, I never got to talk to you.
My kitchen was built for my body. It forms a 'U' in the middle of the living room and dining room. It's not huge, because I don't like huge kitchens.
You've got to invite Native Americans to the table, and Asians, and Chicanos. You cannot keep us in the back room anymore and give us notations on paper saying this is what you deserve. You have to invite us to the table because America is ours, too.
I don't care where you went to school. There - have I made your day? No? All right, I'll go further: I also don't care what your dad did for a living or how your mum voted. Nor do I mind whether you ate your tea in front of the telly, dinner at the kitchen table, or supper in the dining room.
I honor businesses for what they do, I honor nonprofits for what they do, I honor government for what it does, and then I invite everyone to the table so that together we can come up with innovative and broad-based solutions that can serve as many people as possible. The fewer or less diverse voices you invite to the table, the smaller and narrower your solution will be and the fewer people it will serve.
I used to eat under my grandmother's dining room table. I wouldn't eat at the table ever until I was about 10.
My husband and I have a deal, which has worked out well: He cooks one Sunday, I cook the next. The kids set the table, and we eat in the dining room together, just as I used to do as a kid.
I was very happy sitting alone at a dining room table, writing a script.
He trailed off as he saw the books. Piles and stacks of them beside the sofa, another stack on the coffee table, a sea of them on her dining table. Jesus Christ, Dane, you need treatment.
I have this feeling that if I could sort out what's on my dining room table, everything would fall into place.
My dream kitchen would have a massive island with some beautiful slab of stone, a huge fridge, possibly even a walk-in - I just want it to be a plethora of fruits and veggies. I would have a nice bar area, too.
I have a Damien Hirst spot painting which I love. It has pride of place over my dining-room table.
You might be a redneck if...Your only condiment on the dining room table is the economy size bottle of ketchup.