And we thought we were making great progress here. And we were. Little did we know in July that we'd be living with these cabinets for as long as we did, but they were certainly built well. Really built well. Thank goodness for the sledgehammer and sawzall. I really wouldn't've minded a little extra cash for some shopping, but I guess the tools have really be useful. At least more useful than I'd care to admit.

To the East Side...

Well, it's not a deeeluxe apartment in the skyyyy, but it's definitely our home in progress.

Looking at this picture reminds me of just how far we've come in less than a year. Sometimes it's hard for us to see that we've done much until we go through these pictures. Here's our sink around August.

Cooking with Gas

Well, we're almost there... I thought we'd be farther along by now, but we're coming home and working pretty steadily. Below is what the kitchen looked like last week. You can see the cabinets sans handles, the old wall (y'know, the wall I scraped with a 1.5" paint scraper), the pass through, and the floors.


Last weekend we got the handles and knobs installed (except on the cursed cabinet), and the gas man came and ran lots of gas line for us. Lots of gas line. A preeeettttty penny's worth of gas line. Who knew piping could be so expensive?

This past weekend we spent all day Saturday and Sunday afternoon and evening installing the backsplash. I actually enjoyed that way better than installing the tile in the bathroom. Maybe having access to running water made it easier? I like to think it had everything to do with being able to use the extra fancy tile saw that we rented. I'd always heard that people shouldn't rent tile saws because you can buy them for such a low price. However, we couldn't have even come close to buying a tile saw of the same caliber as the one we were able to rent for a mere $35. And I loved using it. And I figured out how to use it. It's funny the things that make me prideful these days.
You can see the range hood starting to be installed in the shot above. Todd has done an amazing job figuring out the details. We've had some good workers, but we've also had some shysters. All in all, I trust Todd more than any of those guys. I know he'll be thorough and careful with everything.

We should be grouting this weekend, and we'll do some painting too. Once we've done that, I can slide my new BFF, the stove, back into place. I so can't wait. Maybe by then I'll figure out the camera a little better. Everything looks so stark and off color. The grayer tiles don't really stand out all freakishly the way they do in these pictures. Even still, I can't wait to post the rest! Enjoy!

187

While Todd fights with the cursed drawer in the kitchen, I was doing a little reading. Maybe because I'm so unorganized, I'm totally mesmerized by people who are organized enough to live in teeny, tiny spaces. I read this article in the NYT today, and I'm a little jealous! I really don't think I could live in a space so small! I definitely don't have what the article calls the knack for "artful arrangement."
I can't organize things fashionably to save my life. I guess it's a good thing Todd's got a handy degree or two in architecture.
I'd give my eye teeth to figure out how to make a Rubik's cube look chic.

(Pictures are totally stolen from the NYT and were artfully taken by Robert Wright.)

I wanted to title this post Smoking in the Boys' Room, but Todd didn't like that. It made sense to me because Aunt Frank used to sneak cigarettes with Mama Jean at Mama's house. I can't imagine what would've happened if they would've been caught. Anyhow, this has been done for ages, but hey... this is barely a blog, so what does it matter if we don't keep it updated? Well, maybe posting a few pictures of the (still) nearly finished bathroom will help cool my sister's jets a little. We've been busting our tails on the kitchen, and progress has actually been made.

So here's a view of our little bathroom...

Ch-ch-changes

I'd almost forgotten how tight the kitchen was... You walked through the door off of the porch and right into the refrigerator. I guess it wouldn't be a problem now as we only have the mini fridge, but it's nice to know that we'll have a proper fridge in a proper fridge cubby before long. Frigidaire, if you're reading this, WE NEED YOU TO START SELLING THE French Door fridge that Jeff Lynch has promised us in Q1 0f 2010... STAT!

I digress. As a preview of things to come... here's what our kitchen USED to look like. After yet another weekend full of work, I can't wait to see the next installment finished! We're almost ready!

Strange changes? No... They're pretty changes.

Slow changes? Oh yes. Ohhhhhh yes.

Before Floor:
Layer 1 was really the linoleum that was on top of this. It's a real pity that the yellowness and brownness of this flooring isn't clear in this photo. Beautiful. I guess it was meant to match the bathroom?And this rockin' red? Gorgeous. We're still not sure if it was meant to have the marble effect. It was a really strange leathery texture.

Oh, There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays...

I really, really stunk at piano lessons. I just wanted to learn to play without practicing. Ever. So I didn't. Ever. I think the thing I enjoyed most about my first piano teacher was his accent. He was Dutch and had such a rich, melodious voice, and I loved to hear him play. He didn't say much during our lessons, and I remember more about the view from the swing on his front porch as I waited for my turn at the piano and his daily tea delivery. His precious wife brought him tea every afternoon during my lessons. He probably could have used some ear plugs and a stiff drink to combat the sour sounds of my playing, but she just brought him tea and a few cookies. Many years after I failed to learn anything (because of the aforementioned failure to practice) I learned that he was an accomplished carillonneur in his native Holland. Even if I can't play a note of a single song he taught me, I think of him every time I hear the carillon here in town.

Even though I didn't become a piano player, I did learn enough to be able to read a smidgen of music. As a self-proclaimed afficianado of Christmas music, I remember getting a hankering to play a tune or two from the book my great-grandmother left in the piano bench. I mean, I knew the notes, surely I could play? I guess the book and my song choice show their age a bit because I'm probably the only person under the age of 50 who knows all of the words to "Home for the Holidays." It's definitely a song of a different era, and most likely thanks to the lack of sharps or flats in the song, that was the song I played over and over. So twenty years later, that song still evokes memories of sitting at the piano at my parents' house playing the only song I could play on the piano. "From Atlantic to Pacific, gee, the traffic is terrific!"

As we get ready to work on our house today, I guess I hope we're creating the kind of home that we'll eventually long for! We're working on the kitchen today. I'm optimistic!