Deconstruct, Reconstruct

As an aside, I'm writing from my phone today. Which was annoying from Go anyhow, and now I'm seeing, quite clearly mind you, my complexion in the screen protector cover.

 

 

Can we say frown lines and brow furrow wrinkles?

 

 

Another tally on the CON side for you, 2011, another tally on the con side indeed.

 

 

Anywhoozle. The bees have been buzzing at Casa Plumage lately and most of the work has involved undoing the work of the prior owners.

 

 

Enter: Demolition.

 

 

When we moved in, it was a well known fact that the kitchen would need a little botox now and eventually, an entire facelift and boob job. Probably a tummy tick got good measure, too. 1973 was probably a great year for the old Plumage Kitchen. Hell, even the back of our BEAST of a GE frig boasts of "1979 Energy Standard" compliance. Oh yeah baby, that's it, that's the stuff of every energy bill paying homeowner's fantasies.

Behold:

The kitchen reno began a couple weeks ago when the living room painting failed on an epic level. Rather than sort out the frustrating choice of color in there, we wandered next door to the kitchen. You know, the bigger, more complicated, wayfrickenmore expensive project.

Ah, old appliances, crappy boob light fixtures and faux brick. Where to even begin the fun!

We soon found out from an electrician that one of the stove's burners wasn't working because the previous owner had jerryrigged some sort of home made circuit board beneath it. We then found illegal wiring and flammable insulation shoved over an electrical outlet all within a 12" space.

This is why you don't open Pandora's box, kids. Leave well enough alone and live gleefully in the bliss of ignorance.

So we figured what the frack and went on ahead and took the saw to the cabinets, the sledgehammer to the gingerbreading and schmeared it all with the most heavy handed layer of luscious navy blue paint you ever did imagine.

It will all be encrusted in a shiny coat of brand new stainless this weekend. I had jokingly told Chris that I would accept a new kitchen in place of an engagement ring, but I did that thinking a reno was more of a 2020 -something project.


There's that foot in my mouth again!

 

 

But I guess when a professional cries Fire Hazard, things expedite a bit.  The new frig is too tall for the previous opening, thus the jigsawing apart of the upper cabinets. We look forward-slash-dread the day that we decide what to do with the current 40" range and hood opening. And we most certainly look forward to taking the washer and dryer OUT of the kitchen and jamming it back DOWN in the basement where it belongs. I have beautiful, seed-glass-front dreams of a built in sideboard for my Grandma's Blue Meisen, all of my serving pieces, and of course a wine cooler.



Who knew that The House Before the House had the potential to potentially become The House.

Here We Go!

One of the things that sold me on the new house- aside from Chris badgering me and threatening to throw my favorite Burberry cape out the window if we walked away from this "backyard putting green potential"-- was the enormous possibility within its walls.

Behold, a 1950s kitchen. Not quite the open concept, giant eat-in island, stainless steel appliance kind of facility that we've all been taught by House Hunters to expect. The keys dont technically belong to us until Friday morning at 10:00am, at which point I will be snapping pictures until someone throws my camera out the back door.

One of the first major Demo-Reno, Double-Whammy projects I dream of is the kitchen. Which is begging to have a wall knocked down, allowing for access to the sun porch (which eventually will be a legitimate family room). Until then, the L-shaped kitchen is interrupted by this completely random patch of dreadful, disgusting navy blue carpet. Somehow, the only 10x10' patch of carpet in the entire house lies smack in the middle of the kitchen.

Enter, the dinette. I have a love-hate relationship with the area and I'm not even sitting there with a bowl of oatmeal, mulling over my disdain for it yet. It's wonderful that we have a place to eat "in the kitchen," but as it is now, it feels more like a place to hold an interrogation beneath the polished brass pendant. Because I wouldn't be opposed to a crook putting his cigarette out directly on the floor. Not at all.



The right wall of this kitchen is an awesome jumping off point for us because it has a similar layout and cabinet style to what already exists in the new house. Im digging on the white subway tile with the dark grout. I'm even a little enamored with the gold fixtures.



And if by some miracle, we DO get to knock down walls, this is precisely how I would want the pass thru to turn out. Except not with the divided sink. No, sure as the sun will rise, the sink will be an apron.



Until that Dream Kitchen moment arrives, I will adhere to the notion that "if plan A doesn't workout, it's okay because there's still 25 letters left to go." We would have to shift around the dimensions, but this is a dinette I could really groove on. I like the idea of a little shelving to cap the actual kitchen cabinetry and to divide the funcion of the space. Plus, who doesn't want to sit among a pile of pillows with a hot cup of coffee and their laptop open to Pinterest?

That's what I thought.