Inches Do Matter

I have discovered a few areas of my life where even one or two inches has a huge impact on me. One is CrossFit - the difference of jumping on an 18-inch box and 20-inch box is tremendous (you try it). And the other is . . . kitchen walls. My contact at my cabinet company said to wait to order until the demo was totally done and drywall was up to remeasure and order. I was very frustrated - why was he denying me my cabinets! What could possibly happen from taking down one crazy uneven plaster wall and putting up nice even drywall? How could that impact my design? Well, as we've seen just from removing walls to discover random, immovable posts, a lot can happen. Sure enough, the long wall is now a full 4 inches shorter than it was. Now that might not sound like a lot but trust me, it has rocked my world. The cabinets on this wall fit to perfection, but now the changes require odd measurements and since the cabinets are in standard sizes, it's going to take a Mensa member to figure this out. This is also the wall where the refrigerator will go and opposite the dishwasher/sink, so I have to consider doors opening, corners, etc. Why is this so complicated?

On a bright note, I have nice, lovely, even walls. With drywall and everything. It's not quite cleaned up yet, but it's actually taking shape. I can almost figure out where I'll be pouring the wine. Now if I could only find 4 more inches. . .

Pole Dancing in the Kitchen

Despite my best efforts, including enlisting an engineer, I could not find one person who would agree to remove the offending post in my kitchen. Oh, wait, one person did say we could remove the vertical post if we replaced it with a 12 inch header that would span the room. That was a worse option. And my contractor, who apparently knows me well, helpfully noted that if he removed the post, eventually the stairs would be uneven, but that might not be so bad if I were drinking. So OK, the post has to stay. Someone cheerfully suggested replacing the post with a stainless steel one that would match the appliances and go with "the look" of the kitchen. Naturally, in my haze, I thought that sounded like a terrific idea and promptly Googled "stainless steel poles." Let me just say that those three words put together like that yield some interesting results. Who knew there are also platinum stripper poles? I guess stainless steel really would make me look cheap. And now I have cookies in my Google that I am sure will one day show up in Amazon and Facebook (people have suggested monetizing the blog, but now with these words, I'm afraid of what would show up in it). Of course, this has now proved to be an endless source of amusement among my friends and the kitchen workers. Matthew, wisely, has stayed out of the conversation. In an odd twist, we have a crazy rule that we don't spend single dollar bills - we save them and eventually have several thousands of dollars that we use for a trip or something. When the 800-Got-Junk people came to remove debris, I wanted to tip them but only had those singles. I handed them a wad and they just smirked. Maybe I can pay for the kitchen in cash!

As if the pole dancing prospect wasn't enough to make me crazy, the kitchen is no farther along. In some ways it's worse.

But hey, at least the drywall arrived! Of course, when the guys started putting it up, they made one or two minor errors - see if you can find them:

Yup - no openings for the oven/stove electric and gas outlets! Good trick, no?

And to add insult to injury, the dust and mess are migrating to other areas of the house. The old kitchen table is in the living room pending giving it away (or putting it on the curb), and it's gathering clutter and dust.

Yes, those are martini glasses. Don't judge.

Beer Goggles

You know how beer goggles makes you think you're going to bed with a supermodel but you wake up with someone from Revenge of the Nerds? Uh, neither do I. But I hear that's what happens. I am now experiencing that phenomenon with the kitchen. The kitchen of my fantasies that I went to bed with (or dreamed about) is turning out to be a different kitchen in the light of day. And she doesn't look so hot.

First the demo story: As I mentioned, we left for Thanksgiving a full week before the holiday and returned on the Saturday after. So that was 8 days - 8 days in which (even with the holiday break) I was quite sure, and quite reassured, that the demolition would be complete. I expected to walk into a nice, relatively clean, shell all ready to measure for cabinets (which of course can't be ordered until the shell is ready). But no, this is what I saw:

To make matters worse, because the house is 70+ years old, there are some fun construction surprises, like a post that was in a wall that apparently holds up the stairs. And it's in the middle of the room that will have the pantry and island. Isn't she a hottie?

So now we're stuck trying to reconfigure half the kitchen around this lovely pole, which at night probably looked like a keeper, but in the light of day looks a little worse for wear. My kitchen is doing the walk of shame.

The thrill is gone

Ahh, how quickly the blush fades off the rose. We are one week into our renovation - or rather demolition - and I already want a divorce. Not from my husband - yet - from the project. First, the good news. While the demolition is taking much, much (how can I say this more clearly - MUCH)  longer than I expected and than I VERY CLEARLY specified with my contractor (is this clear by now?), there are some lovely surprises. Besides the incredibly awesome circa 1940s rooster wallpaper uncovered beneath the tile, the workers discovered hardwood floors - mysteriously matching the other floors - under three layers of tile in the existing kitchen. We (or rather said contractor and I) are convinced with a little sanding and finishing, we don't need to replace the wood floor. So hurrah! We save some money! But you know what that means - something else has to give. Gosh, I wonder what's going to happen next?

Delayed Gratification

So, for both of you reading this, you're probably wondering where I've been. The sad fact is there are two reasons for my radio silence: nothing to report and pure laziness. Mostly, though, there was not much to say for a while. I went through what can only be described as an existential crisis over the cabinets. I kept making the problem worse. Every time I thought I had the answer, I decided to just get one more estimate, look at one more place, check out one more showroom. I guess you could call it a fear of commitment, or perhaps a "grass is always greener" syndrome (something like the 7 year itch). But you'll be pleased to know, I'm now blissfully attached to what I am sure will be amazing cabinets.

So . . . now the fun starts. And when I say fun, I mean in a way that the Marquis de Sade would appreciate. Have you ever lived through a kitchen demolition? Even better, demolition of plaster walls? Well, neither have I. Because I had the inspired and brilliant (AKA stupid) idea to do the demo over Thanksgiving week while we were visiting my parents. It seemed like a great idea - keep the kids and dog out of the dust, have all the crappy stuff done, and return home to a lovely shell ready to go! But all that did was feed my neurosis over what the hell was happening in my kitchen while I wasn't there. It didn't help that my husband called me every five minutes to clarify questions about wall removal. Um, didn't SOMEONE have the plan in front of them?

I now have pictures and fascinating things to report about the kitchen - which I'll do tomorrow. In the meantime, I wanted to share this gem that was uncovered under some wall tile. If I can figure out how to save this, I will!

So many men, so little time . . .

Strangely enough, everyone I'm working with on this project are men. None of whom are my husband - hey what he doesn't know won't hurt him. He keeps saying he doesn't care. Until, of course, I present him with any options and then he cares, an inevitably he picks the thing I don't want.  So, lesson one - don't ask if you don't want an answer.

My contractor, Daniel, my favorite appliance guy (you know who you are), and the cabinet boys are the hot men in my life now. And yes, I said boys, plural. Now that I have made the monumental decision to go with "real" cabinets, I have to actually design them, which is much harder than I thought. First thing - taking my design (which by now I've tweaked) to get estimates. As usual, Matthew would just go for the first bid and be done with it. I on the other hand, have been known to get multiple bids for a car detail, so it stands to reason that I am going to get multiple bids on something as big and expensive as cabinets (and I guess when it's time, countertops). But all those choices have succeeded in only one thing: paralyzing me with fear and indecision. Mocha Grande? Vintage Cherry? (Hey, stop that, that's a stain color). And then I was presented with yet ANOTHER choice - true custom made just for me or "semi-custom" - solid wood stock cabinets with all the bells and whistles based on my design and measurements. I am no farther along than I was a week ago!

If this is a glimpse into what a burst fantasy is like, I'm dreading the actual project. For now, I will keep lusting over the shiny toys and glossy photos. Matthew has given me one week to decide or - gasp - he's going to do it for me.

My latest four-letter word obsession is . . .

IKEA.

I'm officially in the full-frontal kitchen porn business. As anyone who has gone through this knows, the cabinets are the most expensive part of the kitchen (or should be). So it only stands to reason that I should pick out my cabinets first, right? Easier said than done. As I mentioned before, my most vivid fantasies have happened in IKEA. That's probably because I have stayed out of the higher-end kitchen showrooms. The truth is, I have Anthony Bourdain tastes and a Paula Deen budget. Why should I tempt myself with goodies that I really, really can't have? I get good inspiration at IKEA, and hey, I actually got a great kitchen plan there. Without IKEA I would be still just drooling over a magazine somewhere.

We had pretty much decided that no, IKEA cabinets are not for us. But then, as a tease, an email appeared in my inbox. That can only mean one thing: 20 percent off! Holy cow. I mean, IKEA was already much less expensive. This was a big deal. Think of all the other, um, toys, I could buy? So back to IKEA I went - this time dragging my husband, who had steadfastly refused to even consider them. But even he was lured by the price.

So what do you think happened? Yup. He was "fine" with IKEA, but on closer consideration - and by close, I mean my head was literally stuffed inside the back of a cabinet - I decided, no, at the end of the day, this just would not make us (OK, me), happy. How much would I save? $5,000? Nothing to sneeze at, sure, but over the course of years, a true custom kitchen would both make me happiest and count more toward resale. And considering how much action happens in our kitchen, it pays to get it right. So back to the drawing board we go. But at least I have my kitchen plan to work from!