but the kitchen is FINISHED.
Well, okay, not 100 percent finished. We still need to get a new fridge and hood for the stove, but those are last on the line. We’re also getting new curtains for underneath the sink. But the bulk of the work? DONE.
It’s amazing.
Here’s a recap of the kitchen’s past.
Here’s what it looked like completely gutted.
And now, here’s a panoramic set of photos of what it looks like now.
It finally happened.
Here’s the mixer Steve rented from Home Depot:
Mixing the concrete:
Steve built the molds more than a month ago:
The, um, vibrator. After you dump the concrete into the molds, you have to vibrate it to get it rid of all the air bubbles and make it even. This was my job.
Making it all smooth:
Now they have to sit for four days.
I believe the rest of the song goes, “Right back where we started from.” And really, that’s quite appropriate because way back when we first started talking countertops lo these many years ago, I was really pushing concrete. I like it. I don’t like granite. Most of it is way too shiny and busy, and my own theory is that in about five years people will scoff, “Oh that’s SO oughties.” (Or rather it would if that tripped off the tongue the way 70s or 80s does.)
Speaking of scoffing, that’s EXACTLY what Steve did. To be fair, it wasn’t so much about the material as much as it was about the sheer cost. The material itself is cheap, but it’s incredibly labor-intensive. So we told ourselves it would be slate. ‘Cause really, slate looks kinda like concrete. And after two years or so of discussion, we still have the plywood substrate as our surface. Lovely, really.
Anyway, now that Steve is out of work, he has time. Two weeks ago, he looked at me with that maniacal gleam I know so well–the one that presages a new obsession. “You know what?” he said “I think we’re going to do concrete countertops.”
Like this was an original idea.
So we got books from the library, and now he’s practicing.
He doesn’t want to start with the countertops, so he’s building a side table for the Kamado:
Here’s a cardboard cutout of the shape, complete with holes for grilling implements (and yes, the base is the stump):
And here’s the mold:
Let the adventures in concrete begin …
I have actually let a whole month go by without blogging. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s longer than a month, but I’ve been focusing on the fact that my February 2008 listing in the archives will be … missing. Oh well, such is life. And life is good. The shack is shacky (more on that later). The kitchen is still far from being finished. Steve put two windows in my former office, but other than that, it’s still down to the studs. The dog is cute and furry. Steve is cute and furry too because he’s growing a beard. My soapmaking obsession continues, which means that my essential oil threshold (i.e., the most I am willing to spend for a single oil) just keeps increasing. Anyway, I’ve been working all day and my eyes are starting to blur; it’s time to rouse the snoring pug and go for a walk. Good night, sweet blog, good night.
(I hope not, but it seemed a fitting end.)
of my home office.
I’ve had such fun saying that with a pregnant pause and watching the perplexity on people’s faces because I sound so happy about it.
He’s been making this push for a couple of months, and I’ve been resisting. About a month ago, we were sitting in the hot tub, and he brought it up again. I, as usual, resisted. But he was getting more and more frustrated. First, our house is small and he feels cramped, because he really doesn’t have a place of his own. Which is completely fair. Second, his Mr. Demo-ness has been thwarted, because more than anything, he wants to start tearing into the walls in the bedrooms–and he can’t when one is a bedroom and one is my office.
The thing is, 90 percent about what I like about working for myself is being here–being able to work, then futz around the house, work some more, run errands, go to the gym, whatever. He kept on saying that I need to get over that … and drive somewhere. That was a complete non-negotiable for me. If I had to drive somewhere, I’d still end up working from home–only much less comfortably.
What to do?
I was driving home one day and passed the shack right around the corner that’s been for rent for ages. A light bulb went off.
Long story short, the owner has rented it to me. He’s thrilled to get someone with good credit who won’t deface the walls. I’m thrilled that my commute now consists of walking down the alley. It’s a great solution all the way around. And while the house is nothing on the outside, it’s perfectly functional on the inside. Nothing special, but I’m feeling pretty spoiled that I’ve managed to get a 770 square foot house for about the cost of renting a decent office somewhere (if not less). It’s a great solution on a variety of fronts. First, it’s an office space. Second, it has two bedrooms. I can sublet one if I want, and anyone who comes to stay with us can stay down there. Third, it has a kitchen that I can devote to soaping.
I’m in the process of moving this week; should be completely set up next. Will post pix soon.
Mr Demo didn’t like the old windows he installed, so he put in new ones. It’s hard to tell from my pictures, but this is a huge improvement. I didn’t even mind the old ones, but then again, I didn’t have the vision. As I keep being reminded.
And while I’m uploading pictures, here’s a snap of Harry on Christmas. The ribbon traumatized him.
Sing along everyone!
But let me caveat this with the statement that I admire people who have minimalist tendencies. We’d like to. But the simple fact is that we have SO much crap. Anyway, this is what the kitchen looks like as of right now. Mess and all:
We still have to replace the windows over the sink (Steve didn’t like what he put in), put in countertops (Steve now wants marble, not slate), tile the backsplash all the way around, and put in a vent over the stove.
But the amazing thing is that we not only have kitchen cabinets, but also that we have a stove.
I have to tell you a little bit about the stove because it’s kind of funny. Steve was filling in some patches of tile and sent me down to talk to his contact at Albert Lee. Before I left, I asked what our budget was. He named a figure–and I was shocked at how much he was willing to spend on a stove.
“But you can get something decent for $500 to $700!” I said, with not just a tinge of sanctimonious frugality.
“I’d rather spend more for something we like. And all the stainless steel models with nice clean lines cost more.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my keys and wallet, and went to Albert Lee. Where I promptly, and quite irrationally, fell in love.
It was the center griddle that did it to me. How could I live without a five-burner stove? That comes with a griddle? FIVE BURNERS! The excessiveness of love felled me; I was helpless in its clutches.
I bought it on the spot.
And when I brought home the catalog to show Steve, he asked how much it was.
“Never mind,” I said.
“How much?”
“Ummm ….”
Even with the great deal that his contact gave us, it was quite a bit more than the figure he had named. Steve’s been chuckling ever since.
Are you sitting down?
The kitchen is actually being worked on.
Yes, that’s right. We now have cabinet doors and uppers above the stove. The gas guy’s coming to plumb the gas line Thursday morning, and the new stove’s being delivered Thursday afternoon. Pix to come …
I just crockpotted a whole chicken–just took the skin off and threw it in there with a can of tomatoes, an onion, some garlic, and some marjoram. Pretty cool. Except for the fact that the stupid knob on the lid fell off, and it turns out that when you factor in shipping for a replacement part, it would actually be less expensive to haul myself down to Fred Meyer and buy a new one. Which is one of those things that just makes you grumpy because it shouldn’t be cheaper to be more wasteful, but I guess that’s the way it goes.
Anyway, in my webbish peregrinations searching for a new lid (or better yet, just the KNOB) I came across this lovely gem of complete and utter crap.
I mean, who writes this stuff anyway?
A company called Sneakin Design, that’s who. And guess what? They’re recruiting! Yes, that’s right, they’re looking for writers (“The only requirements are that you can read and write in American English… That’s it!”), and you too can join the ranks of people making 50 Phillipino pesos per article.
Obviously, someone’s making money on these advertising-driven pages, but it’s certainly not these poor (in every sense of the word) writers.
Anyway, I was curious about whether there would be any more gems in the registered users area, so I registered. I now have the opportunity to submit two sample articles to see if they like my work. Better yet, I don’t have to scout around for topics either, because they’ve given me some to choose from:
Gonorrhea
Gall-Bladder
Gardening
Oil-Painting
Credit-Cards
Woohoo!
We’re going to Rockford for Christmas, but my mother said that if she doesn’t have anything going on–i.e., friends descending on her–she’ll hop a plane and then come up here. But then she asked (with more than just a note of suspicion in her voice) whether we have an oven yet.
And of course, the answer is no.
The good news is that the Kamado is pretty amazing. I’ve even been baking bread in it, believe it or not. But the bad news is that we’ve been ovenless since February.
Yes, February. That’s when Steve and Dave killed something in the oven when they dragged it outside.
Steve has a contact over at one of the appliance stores in town who might get him a special deal. He came home the other day saying that we were getting one of those flat topped electric jobbers. I really don’t want one; I’ve read nothing but bad things about them. What I really want is gas–not that I’m a good enough cook to really be able to tell the difference, but it seems to me that if we’re going to spend the money, we might as well get something we really like.
The problem is that getting gas requires plumbing the gas line from the furnace. I begged and pleaded, and finally Steve said, “Fine. You deal with getting it installed.”
Fair enough. I have three people coming week after next to give us an estimate. So we could conceivably have a new stove within a few short weeks.
Now I just have to return the IKEA kitchen cabinet doors we broke down and bought–and then decided we didn’t like.
One final note before I get back to work: You know you’re getting old and matronly when your boyfriend gives you a KitchenAid mixer for your birthday–and you’re thrilled about it.