blue coyote laughing

kitchen/stove update

I know, I know. You didn't vote for the pink one .

But the pink Chambers had decided advantages. Namely, it was here in town at a shop that would deliver it for $50. And if you wonder why that was a deciding factor over eBaying it and picking it up ourselves... well, you should try shoving a 600lb, 3ft square box up a steep flight of stairs and through four narrow doors.

Plus, it is a high back model. We wanted to put it against the brick wall and that posed the question of a backsplash. You don't really want your food splashing on a rough brick wall like we have- it would be impossible to clean. The high back is basically a built-in backsplash, so it solves the problem.

Plus, it's just damned cute.

I will let you know how it cooks next week when we get the gas line hooked up.

My amazing husband did all the work to refurbish it. Cleaned it. Scraped rust. Replaced insulation. Primed it... Basically took it completely apart and put it back together.

I am in awe of that man.

We also decided to put silver legs on the drawer units. They came with black, metal toekicks. They looked fine with the previous owner's black and white tiled floor. Terrible with our heart pine floor.

Originally, we wanted to do a furniture kitchen. Which is to say, very few built-ins, and moveable kitchen furniture like hoosiers and such. But, as we worked on it more, we realized that we are serious kitchen people, and have serious amounts of kitchen stuff. We needed more storage than that could provide. We also have small square footage, but high ceilings, so we had to think vertical storage. And, as you know, we got a damned good deal on this set of vintage metal cabinets...

The legs were a good compromise. They make the drawer units look like furniture. I think the legs also make the room feel bigger because you can see across the whole floor.

Come on, you know you want Barbie's Dream Kitchen too...

reality tv in my front yard

You know how sometimes you're awakened in the night by someone banging on a door and shouting, "Open up!"

And you say, "I think they're raiding that house across the street."

And your Sane Half says, "If they're raiding the house across the street, where are the 30 bazillion police cars?"

And you both go to the window and say, "Oh. There they are."

No?
Well, don't bother. It's not as exciting as it looks on TV. It's mostly just trying not to flash your boobies while taking pictures through the curtains. And lots of yelling and laughing coming from the open door of the house. And lots of post-coitalraid smoke breaks by the police. And trying to keep your husband's hands off the boobies for an hour while you're waiting to take pictures of the people being taken away in handcuffs.

See? Boring.

big decision 2004

Is it Easter? Or did someone just barf The Fifties all over in here?

In case you're new around here, you'll find the renovation saga, along with pictures of the other kitchen components, in the renovation category. And info on my obsession with retro color palettes and vintage items here.

Specifically note the cabinets. Which are partially white, partially aqua #43 (it's marked on the backs in grease pencil). When I originally contacted the woman who was trying to sell them, she made a big point to tell me over and over about how they were professionally repainted white. As if that was a strong selling point. I didn't tell her that to freaks like me, her cabinets would have been worth 2-3 times as much in their original, 50s colors. Like aqua #43. I've been trying to figure out how to get them back to their original color, or just somehow show the color that is still on the sides of the cabinets.

And then there's the mint green sink. Oh, how I love my sink.

So, we spent part of the weekend researching and looking at some Chambers stoves. You may not be able to tell from the pictures, but, like my sink, these babies are porcelained cast iron and steel. 500 lbs worth.

We've always liked them, and we've looked at them before. Even tried to buy a blue one at the start of the renovation. Unfortunately, they were very fashionable at some time in the recent past. The 90s, maybe? It seems to be mostly a California thing, with people restoring their bungalow style houses and using vintage appliances. Several companies completely refurbish (repair porcelain, replate metal parts, clean rust) vintage appliances, bring them up to code, and sell them in the $2,000- $10,000 plus range. Non-white models are premium.

Anyway, for some reason, people selling the rusty and chipped ones out of their garages, thought (think) they can sell them for the same price as the refurbished ones. We weren't able to negotiate a price both of us could accept (we offered $800-above reasonable).

But then there's eBay. The price point directory, as SH calls it. Once in awhile, you'll get a sane seller who wants to get rid of the giant space hog stove to someone who will appreciate it. Suddenly, we have three choices. In color. At reasonable prices. Within a close geographic area for pick up.

We don't know which happy-easter-tribute-to-the-fifties color to choose.

breaks

I've been trying very hard to focus on all the good stuff that's happening in my house. Trying to shut out what I'm really feeling. But, two nights ago, I had a meltdown.

Not only is my house a fixer-upper, so is the entire neighborhood. Abandoned houses surround me. Abandoned businesses. Abandoned churches.

Abandoned people.

I've lived with hopelessness before, but this is different. It's hopelessness with anger. A constant anger. An anger at people like me. Gentrifiers. As much as my liberal arts heart never wanted to be that.

Here I am.

Mostly, because it's what we could afford. It was either a fixer-upper, 1200 sq ft. townhouse here: A neighborhood where there are no coffee shops. No bookstores. And the fast food, liquor, and convenience stores have bulletproof glass separating the customers from the cash register.

Or a 450 square foot condo/apartment in an average neighborhood.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also attracted by the investment potential of a "transitional" neighborhood.

In some ways, we're not different from the people around us. We live paycheck to paycheck. We have no real net worth.

But we have options. And that makes a world of difference.

Two nights ago, after receiving word that there have been two break-ins in the neighborhood recently. After being solicited on my front porch for spare change. After learning the house across the street is filled with more illegal activity than I thought. After spending a really great day in a neighborhood that wasn't mine. After waking to find a checkpoint on my corner where police were stopping and searching every white car with a non-white driver.

I broke. I hadn't been sleeping well for weeks. Every sound made me run to the window in fear. I had gotten up (again) to check the window and knocked over a glass of water from the bedside table. SH woke to my sobbing. He said at first he couldn't understand why spilling water would make me cry like that. Then he realized what was really wrong.

Now, as I write this, I'm struck by a thought. Some people feel like that all the time.

tale of two families

When SH and I told our respective parents about our plans to buy old metal cabinets and install them in our 1890 townhouse, they had different perspectives on the issue:

My Dad: What a bargain!

My Mom: I can't picture it, but I'm sure you'll do something neat with them.

SH's Dad: You might have a problem when you try to sell your house.

SH's Mom: We had those when you were a kid. The neighbors had mice problems, but we never did. I think because of those nicely sealed, metal cabinets.

Is there any question as to why we fell into our respective places in this relationship? And why I call him the Sane Half?

new photos in the renovation album

cabinet day

I realize you're probably bored with my real life posts by now. I'll try to get back to the existential artistic angst shortly.

But today is cabinet day. The day we pick up the set of high quality,50s metal cabinets we bought for $400. That's right. An entire kitchen of cabinets, including; three sets of lower drawers, one two corner lazy susans, two nifty sets of glass uppers, two six eight-foot pantries, and all the uppers and base units in-between.

When you're using reclaimed materials, you often have to make compromises. But I'm feeling really lucky today because these are so much better than I hoped for.

Now, if I can just get Sane Half to act his name. He's running around the house looking for my work gloves and silently calculating whether all the cabinets will fit in the 10ft U-haul we rented. I can tell because his lips are moving, his fingers are counting one another, and smoke is billowing from his head.

update: brick in the wall

Finally finished exposing the brick wall in the kitchen.


Scraped away the top coat of plaster (including 5 layers of paint and 2 layers of wallpaper). Wire brushed each brick to remove the remaining plaster. Then coated the whole thing in a nasty smelling, waterproofing sealant.

Boy, are the cats relieved.

brick in the wall

This is the project of the day. Exposing the brick wall in my soon-to-be kitchen. My advice to you: Don't try this at home. That damn plaster dust is everywhere despite our valiant efforts to contain it.

Poor SH. He had to do most of the stripping of the plaster because my weak, girlie upper body couldn't. I ended up hauling plaster out in bags and quickly straining my back. Today, he's at work, and I'm trying to polish the rest of the plaster off the bricks.

email from SH:
> Ow.
>
> How are you today?

Me:
> small ow.
>
> are you the tin man?

SH:
> Not too bad. Just a bit sore and stiff.
> My right hand is bruised- found
> that out when I went to tamp the
> coffee this morning. If it tastes funky,
> it's 'cause I had to execute a left handed tamp.
>
> Need more caffeine.

comedic tip: end with the funniest line. i.e. "...left handed tamp." it's unique. it's funny. it's vaguely sexual. resist the urge to explain or give a second punch line.

it's hung. it's green. it isn't bruce banner.

I knew you'd want to see this.

Notice how I had to arrange stuff on it right away. That's the only way I can tell if I like something. If it has appropriate accessories. Don't think the cabinet is staying, though. It doesn't fit right and I just don't think I like the look of it.

And speaking of not liking the look, could those blue shutters be uglier?

must. buy. curtains.

I'm really leaning toward the metal cabinets. Let's hope the kind person who is selling these takes pity on me.

the wife zone

SH: Do you know what Home Depot needs?

Me: A staff that actually knows what they're talking about?

SH: uh, yeah, but...

Me: The item you actually need, when you need it?

SH: I was...

Me: Selection instead of the same crap over and over again?

SH: Are you finished?

Me: It could also use...

SH: It needs a wife zone. You would go to pick out a dishwasher, say, together. Then you would take your wife to the wife area and drop her off to get a foot massage or manicure. And I'd say, "OK, you stay here while I go get the stuff to install this thing."

Is there any doubt as to why I call him the Sane Half?

This is the current state of the project. Dishwasher arrives tomorrow.

ode to the mint green sink

roses are red
violets are blue
green sink's in my car
too heavy for two

mint green sink

Suppose you were traveling 1.5 hours to another city to go to some restaurant supply stores. You were avoiding a certain termite situation and looking for a make-do sink for the kitchen that will be invaded by your parents/in-laws in less than a month. Would you call around to said stores and make sure they were open on weekends? Maybe plot a map, too?

Me too.

But my Sane Half, well, he's not so much with the planning.

We get to Baltimore, pull off at a gas station and call the places to discover none of them are open.

Then I say the fateful phrase, "Let's go to Second Chance."

It's architectural salvage heaven. This day, we see beautiful ironwork, Victorian tiles, doors aplenty and a 15 foot wooden bar top- complete with petrified gum underneath.

Yes, yes, I should have taken some pictures to show you. Their website isn't great. But it was a miserable, rainy day in Baltimore. The kind where you don't schlep your camera around where it can get wet. Although I'm wishing I had, because I'd have a picture of IT.

Suppose you were living in a very old townhouse and trying to restore it. Not obsessively. Not paying a thousand dollars for a purple glass doorknob because it was "period". But trying to keep the gestalt of the home's architecture even though your personal decorating taste runs toward metro mod eclectic.

Or maybe you'd call it mid century Danish modern meets Guadalajara with a dash of flower power.

And suppose you'd come across a book called "Bungalow Kitchens" which you thought would be a very good and livable aesthetic in your home. Simple. Functional. In keeping with the feel of your working class townhouse in a working class neighborhood.

Suppose that in this book, your jaw dropped when you got to page 36 because it was a picture of the sink of your dreams.

Mint green. Jadeite green. Whatever you want to call it. It's porcelain covered cast iron. Heavy. Beautiful. And best of all, unique.

But you'll never find one. They're very rare. And you were heard to mutter, "If I ever see one of these, I'll buy it instantly and remodel the entire kitchen around it."

And suppose, on this fateful day when you were looking for crappy stainless sinks and you were rerouted to the architectural salvage store, you found one.

A mint green porcelain, cast iron kitchen sink. Not exactly like the picture. It has only one drainboard, and the backsplash extends around the left side as well. But still unique and ultra-cool. And in excellent shape.

Would you buy it on the spot?

Me neither.

the fun never ends

Honestly. It's just non stop around here. Tonight we came home to a swarm of termites in our basement. That's right. Thousands of little twitching bodies on the basement floor. Trying to shed their wings and be off to dinner.

Now, this is a brick house, but there are joists and stairs and support beams...

Fucking hell, man.

The crappy part is that we had a termite inspection- because there were signs of old damage which the owner insisted had been treated. And the termite inspector found nothing active. Um, yeah. Except the forefathers of the thousands that swarmed us tonight.

Our inspector sucked. I mean our general, not our termite. Although he sucks big hairy donkey balls too. He didn't catch the fact that our water pressure was so low we would have to almost immediately dig up the supply pipe in the front yard and have it replaced to the tune of 1500. Then there were the leaking windows due to improper roof installation. I could continue, but you get the point.

As soon as I dig up his slimy little name, I'll be sure to publish it here so nobody else in DC gets screwed.

I'm much calmer about it than my Sane Half, oddly. He was reticent to even inform me when he discovered it, considering the recent cicada calamity and the past roach debacle. He vacuumed the little bastards up, though, while his stomach churned at the thought of the possible damage and the bills.

And what do you do when you live in a row house? Aren’t all the houses infected?

I give up. This damn bug thing you people have down here in the lower 48 is almost enough to make me move back to Alaska.

Almost.

new photo album

I started out writing a long post about this 115 year old house we bought. All the things we've had to fix, all the things still left to fix. Renovation diary.

But really, the important part is this:

I'm starting to see things in this house differently.

Its chipping paint. Its non-square doorframes. Its plaster cracks. The damage done to the wood floors when the electricity was originally installed. All the flaws.

Well, I'm starting to wonder if they are flaws at all.

I'm getting used to them.

I'm getting to like them?

I don't think it's just laziness, either. OK, maybe a little laziness. But mostly not.

At the same time, my visual sense is kicking back in. The one that makes me lose my language ability. The one that causes me to see things in pictures.

I find that all over my home, I see vignettes. The house. Its character. Our interaction with the house and its character. The resulting disarray.

Originally, I thought I'd post renovation photos here somewhere. But I think photos of the interaction will be more interesting. Maybe they'll become my next series. Maybe they're just warm-ups for the art to come. Maybe they'll just be documentation for us later.

I think, though, that I'd rather show than tell. I’ll post new photos often.

We'll see who renovates whom.