Things I love: antique kitchen "gadgets"

As we've started to make more and more food from scratch, we've found that our need for kitchen tools have changed as well.  Although I can and do make bread straight in the oven, I've found that the bread machine is great for set-it-and-forget-it days.  My food processor gets used all the time, for everything from making pie crusts to shredding blocks of cheese.  And my mini-chopper...  What would I do without you?  But for my truly back-to-basics food, I've fallen in love with hand-crank and antique "gadgets".

My first hand-crank appliance was my food mill.  It's not an antique (though the design is), but I love how simple it is.  I also love that there's hardly anything to break.  Most of the parts are cast aluminum or stainless steel, and it could function without any of the plastic bits if absolutely necessary, though it would be messy as heck! I think it says a lot that I love it as much now as I did when I got it 4 years ago.  Here's a picture of it in action, easily pureeing my applesauce:

My next gadget was an ice cream maker.  I had been thinking about getting an ice cream maker, but the one I really wanted (a White Mountain with a wooden bucket) was WAY out of my price range.  I could have gotten a Cuisinart or something for half the price, but they just seemed to lack personality.  But while browsing at the Shipshewana Flea Market that summer, I came across a vintage Alaska Freezer Co. ice cream maker.  It had a wooden bucket, hand crank, and the insides were wonderfully clean and functioned perfectly.  Price?  $25.  And the funny thing is, after doing a bit of research, I found that Alaska Freezer Co. bought out White Mountain back in 1963, but changed the name back to White Mountain in the '70s.  The design hasn't changed appreciably since the 1920s, so I basically got a $150 discount.  Isn't it so much more fun-looking than a white plastic appliance?

And then came the sausage stuffer...  I had been browsing on ebay, looking for a used one, when when I came across the Enterprise sausage stuffer and cider mill.  Cider?  And sausage?  From one appliance?  Both were things I'd been wanting to make, so I was sold!  A bit of research revealed that I'd again found an appliance that was still sold today, with an unchanged design.  So there went any hesitation I'd had that maybe the design wasn't very good.  It's not like you can find many reviews on antique appliances, you know?  So the search began.  I looked at rusty, crusty Enterprises, thinking that I could restore them.  I looked at fully-restored models, thinking that I didn't want the extra work.  And then, I found it.  It was clean and repainted on the outside, but the insides hadn't needed to be retinned.  The price was still a bit steep at just under $200 including shipping.  But it was gorgeous.  And so this beauty became part of my collection:

I haven't used it yet, but I will be making a batch of homemade brats soon to test it out.  And in the fall?  We're going to make cider!

My most recent addition was an Quaker City grain mill.  Again, it's a vintage grinder, but it's still in production (though now it's powdercoated). 

 This one, I don't plan on using regularly.  And it's not especially pretty.  But it's all metal and completely repairable by hand.  I wanted a grain mill to have for just-in-case, but all of the hand crank mills that were affordable were plastic and got terrible reviews.  This guy is bomb-proof.  The grind is somewhat coarse, and the wheat needs to be run through at least twice (unless you have arms of steel) to get flour.  But if the shit ever really does hit the fan?  I'll have bread.  This is one place where I was willing to build in a bit of redundancy.  The mill cost $75, and even if/when I get a good electric mill (like the Nutrimill), I'll still be out far less cash than if I'd shelled out for a Country Living grain mill, which is the gold standard in hand-crank mills. 

But I'm not done yet...  In the future, I'd like to add a hand-crank cherry pitter and an Arcade coffee grinder, which I think is probably the prettiest coffee grinder I've ever seen:

I guess, just like with houses, I like my appliances and gadgets to have some personality.  And while the frilly-ness of the Victorian era appeals to me not at all, there is something to be said for everyday items that were designed to be both functional and aesthetically pleasing.  I truly believe and try to live by the William Morris' adage that, “If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.”  I aim for my possessions to be both. 

People who paint over wallpaper...

...deserve their owns special place in Hell.


That is all.

Our poor bathroom...

 I would like to take the opportunity to thank the PPOs yet again for the fantastic work they did on our house.  I sincerely wish some days that they had never laid eyes on the place.  Although I know they did a lot by simply maintaining the house, their "improvements"... weren't.  Below is a picture of my bathroom as it was this morning.  Ethan especially loved being able to see into the kitchen from the bathroom, but we decided that a window in the floor was a bad idea.  There is now new subfloor around the toilet, and the toilet has been reset.  Unfortunately, there's still a mess where the tile had to be removed, but we'll be taking care of that soon.

Now the PPOs supposedly were doing a good thing by remodeling the bathroom (I'd have preferred the original everything, but I understand wanting to "upgrade").  See the brown stuff that the tile is set into?  That's hardboard.  Hardboard is the stuff that clipboards are made out of.  I'm assuming that the PPOs used it as a underlayment because it was inexpensive.  Unfortunately, it's also not at all water-resistant.  Once it gets wet, it's pretty much a giant sponge.  There was no worse product available at the time that they could have used as an underlayment in a damp area.  Once the toilet started leaking around the wax ring, it just soaked into the hardboard, which simply held the water so that nobody ever knew it was leaking.  Our first clue was the grout around the toilet.  It started to crack and come out, but we thought it was because of the leaky tank (another story).  If we hadn't removed the ceiling and insulation (another sponge) when we did, the toilet was well on its way to sinking into the kitchen.  Thankfully there was a joist right underneath it to support the weight, but it wasn't a good situation.

So now we have a patch of 1 x 4s and plywood, and a working toilet.  It ain't pretty, but at least when I get up to go potty in the middle of the night, I don't have to run downstairs.

In other news, we started letting our kittens outside.  There is some part of my that is incapable of having a purely indoor cat.  It seems cruel.  Shortly after their initial exploration, the kitties discovered they could climb:

Talk about double trouble. 

And then the ceiling caved in...

It's been an interesting month.  We seem to have stumbled into a run of bad luck that is encompassing just about every area of our life.  First, our dog Ares managed to somehow cut off half of one of his toe pads while playing in the backyard.  We have no glass or metal laying around, but a nice, clean chunk was missing.  Shayne called him to come inside, and the poor dog was leaving bloody tracks everywhere.  7 stitches and $350 later, he was all patched up and unhappily wearing an Elizabethan collar (or at least a baby sock to cover his bandage) for 2 weeks. 

Several days later it was the cat's turn.  She had been hacking up little spit balls all over the place, so I called the vet.  Kitty is very nice at home, and she often sits on my lap or crawls under the bed covers when I'm reading at night.  She's not so nice at the vet.  In fact, she won't let anyone come near her.  She hisses, growls, spits, pees, scratches, and bites.  They have to use a device called the Cat Nabber to even give her shots.  A physical exam is impossible.  So...  The vet sedated her ($75!), examined her ($40!), and reversed the sedation ($30!) in order to diagnose her.  And it turns out that she has raging gum disease.  This doesn't surprise me, as she is 13 years old, does not chew her food, and has never been examined in the 12 years I've had her.  Vet recommended a dental cleaning ($255, including blood work and anesthesia), with extractions to be determined (2 at $25 each).  While she was there I got her rabies vaccination, which was on the verge of expiration ($30).  Expensive freakin cat.  Thankfully, because she's such a bitch, no follow-up appointment was deemed necessary.

Right before this, Shayne had an outpatient surgery.  Nothing major, but still not pleasant.

My mom slammed her finger in the storm door at her house and had to get 4 stitches.  Ouch!

And then, the kitchen ceiling caved in.

The night before, I had used the upstairs bathroom.  I flushed, but nothing went down.  In fact, the water level in the bowl rose dramatically.  I plunged frantically, to no avail, then decided it was best left alone.  I called Shayne to ask him to buy a better plunger while he was out.  When I went back upstairs an hour or so later, the water level was back to normal.  I thought this was a sign that maybe it wasn't completely clogged, just running a bit slow...  I plunged some more, then flushed again.  Water level rose to the top of the bowl.  Yeek.  I decided to let it be again, and Shayne could try to plunge with the new plunger when he got home.  So I went to bed.

Shayne came home two hours later to a flood.  In the kitchen.  Apparently, at some point after I went to bed, the toilet had decided it needed more water in the bowl and started running.  It overflowed onto the bathroom floor, through the bathroom floor, and through the kitchen ceiling.  The countertop was flooded, and there was standing water on the kitchen floor.  Ick.

My wonderful hubby cleaned up the entire mess without even bothering to wake me up (He gets major brownie points for this.  I can't honestly say I'd have done the same in his position.  I'd have probably come shrieking into the bedroom and demanded he clean up his own shit.  I'm not proud of this, but...  yeah.).  When he came to bed, all he said that the toilet had flooded and that some ceiling tiles needed to be taken down in the morning.

Morning came.  We took down 6 or 7 soggy ceiling tiles.  And then the plaster, which hadn't been in great shape anyways, came down with it.  There had been a water leak at some time in the past, which we knew about from the several small water spots on the kitchen ceiling tiles.  Since the bathroom had almost certainly been redone after the ceiling tiles were installed, we knew the damage was old and planned on taking care of it when we remodeled the kitchen.  Now that some tiles were off, we could see that the remaining visible plaster was just barely hanging on.  Joy.

Because the flood waters pooled near the bathtub before leaking down into the kitchen, we're concerned that there may be lots of dampness under there that we have no way of getting to.  Plus, the fact that it was a "blackwater" flood...  Eew.  In our non-professional opinions, the ceiling in the kitchen needs to go, as well as the underlayment and maybe subfloor in the bathroom.  Since the subfloor is really just the tongue-and-groove pine, I would feel awful ripping it out.  I'd probably be happy with just sealing it.  There is no way to just cover up or patch the damaged portion of the ceiling, short of buying new ceiling tiles (no way).  So....  We decided to file an insurance claim.

To be continued...

Are we THERE yet??

*sigh*  I feel like I whiny kid on a long road trip.  Our electrician keeps flaking out on us (to finish other side jobs, no less!!), which is holding up the rest of the plaster repair.  Our plaster/drywall guy is not happy (especially since the electrician is a family member of his).  I'm not happy.  We have a "date" set for Monday, so here's hoping that everybody shows up like they're supposed to.  Granted, Tony is doing a much nicer job in the office than the guy did in the living room, and the work is more extensive, since it involves patching and framing, but the living room only took maybe 2 weeks.  I feel like the office is taking forever.  But I guess there have only been about 20 hours of work done on the office, it's just been really spread out because of scheduling conflicts.  And no-shows by certain electricians. 

I'm also really anxious to finish work on my antique Chambers stove.  It's been sitting in the garage for a little over a year, and I'm kicking myself for not sending the pieces and parts off to be porcelained and chromed a long time ago.  Now, all of our spare money is being channeled into savings for when I'm off work on maternity leave.  I feel insanely guilty if I spend anything beyond what is necessary.  But I really, really want my stove in my kitchen!  I'm so sick of only having 2 burners to use on the Jenn-Air.  Yes, a built-in griddle is nice, but not when it leaves you only 2 burners! 

The only real problem with using the Chambers stove is that it doesn't really fit in our kitchen.  Our current stove is 31" wide; the Chambers is 37".   I can remove a lower cabinet without much fuss, but the uppers... not so much.  At least one cabinet would need to be modified, and it would throw off the symetry.  Now it goes almost without saying that the original cabinets that are out in the garage were of course built to accomodate a larger stove.  You see where this is headed, right?

My biggest probem of all is that I absoloutely love our house.  Even though we've agreed to start looking for a "new" house as early as next summer, and wrapping up our current projects without starting new ones, we both still talk about future projects in this house.  Everything from bathroom remodels to re-finishing the basement in a new configuration.  Obviously these projects will add value, but that's hardly the motivation behind them.  When we bought this house, even though it was our first house, it was going to be our last house.  And that's a really hard thing to let go of, especially since there's nothing wrong with the house itself.  We just want more property and are very bitter about the neighbors cutting down the woods.  I dream of owning some acreage, but I can't imagine living anywhere but here.  And as long as we are here, I don't see an end to us working our butts off to try to make it better.

Why I love my living room

Without a doubt, this room has the best natural light out of any in the house.  My favorite time of day in here is late afternoon/early evening.  It's not bright anymore; there's just a soft, natural light that makes the room feel very cozy.  The gold we chose for the walls enhances the warmth of the room.  I'm so glad we didn't stick with the Roycroft copper red that we had...  With all the windows, it almost feels like you're sitting on the porch.  Now that the futon isn't blocking the windows, there's an even greater connection to the outside, and I can see the tops of the ferns in the bed in front of the porch.  Right now there's hardly any traffic, and I can hear tons of birds singing.   

Looks like the critters like it in here too...

Times like this make me wonder how I'll ever manage to leave this house behind...  When we moved in, this room was straight out of the 80s.  Now, it's like a little Craftsman oasis.  I'm so very happy with the way it turned out.  Just sitting in here, doing nothing, makes me feel so contented.  Everything in this room just screams "home" to me, from the glowing pine floors to the homemade pottery.  I can't wait til the rest of the house is done.  I hope it feels as good as this room does.

Surprises in the walls

Today I tackled a project I had been dreading. As part of our office renovation, we're closing off the opening the PPOs made that leads into the hall closet. We're also re-opening the doorway of the original closet, which I found when I tore down some paneling. That was a good surprise, since I had been considering putting a closet there anyways. I couldn't have been happier when I found out that was how the house had been originally. Today was a bad surprise.

In order to make the "new"-original closet more functional, we wanted to expand the doorway so that it opens on the full width of the closet. The original opening was 24" wide. To use that closet with a 24" door, we'd either have to use it as a tiny walk-in closet with the rod hanging perpendicular to the doorway na dhave a 2.5' long rod, or hang it parallel and only be able to reach half of our clothes. Neither idea sounded very good, which is how the dreaded project came about.

The plan was to knock out 3' of the wall next to the closet doorway, allowing the full width of the closet to be accessed. We'd then hang some nice frame-and-panel bifolds or two 24" pine doors that match the house. Even though the ieda of knocking out the original plaster made me cringe, I comforted myself with the idea that we'd be making the house more functional, not screwing it up like the PPOs had.

I grabbed a crowbar and spent a few minutes looking at the wall to be demolished. In the entire office, this was one of the few areas of completely good plaster. No cracks, no nail holes, no real damage of any kind. I felt terribly guilty for whacking my crowbar into it, but that's exactly what I did. I hoped that as I went, I would be able to gleefully tear down the lath and bash my crowbar into the plaster. Isn't that how most folks feel? I see all these pictures on the internet of demolition parties, and I should have been happy to finally take out some of my stress on the house.

But no, not me. I cried as I pulled down the plaster and lath, bit by careful bit. I'm glad nobody was there to see me, as I must have looked absoloutely crazy. I felt like I was butchering my house. I was taking something created almost 100 years ago and wrecking it. This plaster could never be replaced. I could cover up the hole I was making with drywall, or even hire a plasterer to replaster, but the original wavy horsehair-lime-and-sand plaster would be gone forever. Ugh.

It took me about 45 minutes to remove 18 square feet of plaster and lath. I spent about half that time in tears. Seriously. I'm all sniffly again just thinking about it. I don't know how people can stand to gut their houses. Unless my plaster was ruined beyond all repair, it woud probably kill me. Thankfully, this is the only plaster in the house we have plans to remove.

After the first few pieces of lath were off, I noticed this at the floor:

"How cool," I thought. "They left the old knob and tube in the wall when they updated the electrical." The PPOs were kind of lazy, and they'd left the old sash weights in the windows, as well as unused ductwork and other oddities.

The work progressed to this:

And then this:

Oh, but do you notice something a little odd? Yep, right near the top, the old K & T is connected to a new wire that runs into the attic, servicing God-alone-knows-what.

Freaking awesome. The lazy PPOs had upgraded to a circuit breaker and a few GFCI outlets (probably not even actually grounded), but they'd obviously left at least some of the old wiring in the walls and spliced it to the new stuff. Who knows how much of this is hidden in the walls? I don't know much about electrical, but I know it's expensive, and I know that if I find something that's a code violation or safety hazard, I'm obligated to fix it. If for no other reason than if my house burns down, I want my insurance company to cover it.

Some folks find money in their walls. Other people find nifty little antiques. I find a swirling vortex of doom that magically sucks the money out of my bank account.

A reminder...

I've never really been dissatisfied with my house. Some days I'll wish for a walk-up attic, or larger bedrooms, or less wallpaper to remove, but then I just have to remind myself of all the things I like about this house (and there are lots of them), and I'm usually able to pull myself out of my pity party. For the past couple of weeks, though, it seems like all I can see is the negative. This hasn't been helped by planning to start a family. We're too far from other kids; the school system we're in is not so great; we can't walk or bike to the library/store/pool/etc.; there are no sidewalks; blah, blah, blah... This was further fueled by a ride through one of South Bend's historic neighborhoods. Beautiful old homes, at least 6 parks nearby, practically on the St. Joseph River, near stores and libraries and other amenities...

Sometimes I miss the city. Not that South Bend is a big city by any means, and it's not like we live out in the sticks. We're less than 7 miles from the downtown area (as the crow flies). I miss walking to the Chinese restaurant, being able to bike to my mom's house or to the store, free concerts in the park, bike/rollerblade paths. Tree-lined historic neighborhoods, filled with beautiful homes and people who care for them.

And then I remember why we moved: high property taxes, crime, small lots, and noise.

I can walk outside at night and see the stars. I can see the shadows cast by the moon. I can go for a run at midnight and not worry. I can bike to the farm market. I can send my children to preschool a block away, and grade school not much farther, instead of bussing my kids all over town. Our half acre of property might seem small sometimes, but it's a nice parcel and has minimal taxes. There is virtually no crime in our "neighborhood".

And then there's the house itself. It's not big. It's not fancy. In fact, it's about as plain as a craftsman home can get! But I love this house more than I ever imagined I could, even though it's not a bungalow, or a Tudor, or even a true foursquare.

I just needed to remind myself of that.

It's in the details

I'm not sure if this is normal or not, but I have something of a love-hate relationship with my house. I hate the mess of remodeling and restoration. I hate the dust, the weird things that the POs did, the mismatched and missing woodwork, the paneling, ceiling tiles and wallpaper that were only in style for about 10 minutes. I hate the new replacement windows (though I thank God that they're at least wood!), the clutter, the unpacked boxes in the basement. I hate that it's my fault I haven't gotten farther on the restoration. I hate that I'm sometimes lazty about working on the house, and the things I desperately want to do cost too much money to do them RIGHT NOW. But none of the things I hate are the house's fault, and most of them are a result of people screwing it up and removing original elements.

But I love the plinth blocks and the little scrolly piece that sits above the baseboard and dresses it up.

I love the refinished pine floors that just glow when the sun shines on them. Polyurethane just can't compare to shellac.

I love how the living room has enough windows that it feels more like a porch than a room.

I love that the builders took enough pride in their woork to include matching woodwork in the closets.

I love the doorknobs and backplates.

I love the heat registers.

I love the wavy plaster walls and can't imagine tearing them out to put in drywall.

I love how this house has shown me I can do things other people think aren't worth doing (but then they're amazed with the results). I love how we're learning that bigger isn't better, and that we can simplfy our lives to adapt to our home. I love how this house forces me to slow down, to think about how I can do more with less, and reminds me that what I do will affect the people who come after us. I love that our first house might just be our last.

Musings on an old home

Does anyone else feel like they're swimming against the current most of the time? I feel like my ideas about priorities and lifestyle are correct, they just aren't shared by the majority of the population. So much of our culture is about newer, faster, better, more.... When I mention wood siding, vintage appliances, or recycling, people look at me like I'm nuts!

I've always loved history and been interested in the way life used to be, even as a kid. I used to read the Laura Ingalls books and dream about living in the woods in a log cabin. While the other little girls were playing dolls, I was making bows and arrows and climbing trees. Seriously. As I got older, it chanelled itself into a love of old buildings and antiques. They are pieces of history that have survived; clues about the past. My love of the outdoors has given me a deep respect for the earth and a desire to preserve it. As a result, I like the restoration for the satisfaction it brings to both of my interests. I'm preserving a piece of history, plus reusing materials that might otherwise end up in a landfill. Also, by living more simply, I can lessen my own impact on the planet.

Does living in an old home just change you??

All of the homes I've ever lived in have been more than 40 years old. My mom has a '50s ranch, my apartment was built in 1902, our rental hovel was from the '30s. And now the Prairie Box, built somewhere between 1915 and 1925.

Not many people seem to understand the allure of living in an old home. All they think of is old windows, creaky stairs, and cold wood floors. Wavy, cracked plaster? A bedroom the size of a "modern" bathroom? Layers on layers of wallpaper and paneling? No thanks.

But does a new kitchen the size of the main floor of my old home equal happiness? Will a water-guzzling multi-headed shower make me cleaner? Will a new walk-in closet the size of my current bedroom really help me to be more organized?

The obvious answer is "no". I've been inside multiple houses 3 times the size of mine that were dirty, cluttered, and in disarray. And I've been in many more that look like they came out of a magazine shoot: not homey, just perfect. What I see is waste. These huge (to me) new homes have eat-in kitchens, formal dining rooms, formal living rooms, family rooms, dens, and rec rooms. Do 4 people need that much space? What's the purpose of having rooms you don't use?

My house may be small by today's standards, but every little bit of is is used (or will be when we've finished the renovations). I cook in my kitchen, eat in my dining room, sit in my living room. All of it flows together, and there's no place on the main floor that's isolated from the rest. It has a personality, and even without our "stuff" in it, it would still be beautiful and charming. Four generations of people have lived where we live. It's a home, not a house. It will share its story with those who care to look under the shag carpeting and paneling. I feel honored to be a part of its story and to help bring it back to what it was meant to be. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I'll never realize my dreams for the house, it's reassuring to know that my house has seen it all before. This house has given me a vision of how my life should be, of an ideal to strive towards. What new house can do that?

Giving up the dishwasher?

Since I'm chronically unable to focus on one thing at a time, I've been thinking about the kitchen again. Specifically, bringing our old, original cabinets back into the house. The real reason I'm even considering un-remuddling the kitchen before we've done the bathroom is the back porch/laundry room project. We need to rip out the carpeting that runs from the laundry area into the kitchen. I'd like to replace both with some nice, new Linoleum, instead of some cheapo temporary flooring. And if we're replacing the flooring, it only makes sense to get rid of the '80s cabinets and have the new gas line run at the same time as the dryer hookup is moved.

It would be a relatively cheap remodel. We fix up the cabinets on our own (~$200), buy new hardware (~$300, but we may be able to polish the old stuff), install flooring (~$1200 including labor), get a salvage sink (~$50)and buy a new range (~$500). After lighting and such, we could probably bring it in under $3000. Best of all, we could do it in stages, so it wouldn't be an all-at-once cost.

Here are the old cabinets, unhappily banished to the garage:

Imagine them a nice, clean cream or white. The refrigerator goes on the left, the stove on the right. The dishwasher goes...in the trash?

Dishwashers use a lot of energy. I found statistics online that said if you fill both basins of the sink with water for wash and rinse, you use 50% less water, and less energy to heat that water. We don't entertain often, and we usually run the dishwasher twice a week. It's rarely completely full when we run it, but we've run out of silverware, glasses, or bowls.

To help you visualize, here is the kitchen right now:
The door at the bottom leads to the stairs and basement.
And the original layout:

The original layout is good for the kitchen. It keeps it from looking cluttered and cramped. Right now, the refrigerator is right next to the door to the laundry room, and it feels very closed-in when you're walking through. It will be worse when we put back part of the wall that used to separate the dining room and kitchen.

Another pro is that when we take the cabinets and appliances off of the west (bottom) wall, we can have a heat vent back that is now covered by the stove.

A third plus is that the old cabinetry leaves room for a 40" stove. And I really wouldn't complain about having a nice, antique Chambers range... (And I just made the mistake of looking "Chambers range" up on ebay. There's a beautiful one an hour away in Valparaiso. I'm trying not to hyperventilate... Why did I look?!)

I'm just not sure if there's enough storage for a modern cooks. Granted, I don't even use all the storage in the kitchen now... And even though some cubpoards are full, I know I can pare it down if I have to. We could also install some shelves or cupboards between the studs on the west wall.

So, what do you think?

If you can't say something nice...

I'd really like to say nice things, but I've really been in sort of a funk lately. I'm pissed off at the world and the apathetic attitudes so many people seem to have. About everything. Politics, religion, crime and punishment, taxes, the economy, old houses... You name it, I have something crappy to say about it. I hate when I get like this.

Work on the house is coming slowly, as usual. We've had a pretty cruddy couple of months financially, getting hit every whichway with unexpected expenses. And now today Bach had to go to the vet for a back problem. I'm so thankful that our house has been well-maintained overall. The major stuff (electric, plumbing, heat, air conditioning, insulation) has already been done, so we don't have to worry about those failing. Thank God. I'll feel much better when we've got our tax return back and in the bank.

Shayne and I have the next 3 days off together, so we'll be working on the house a bit together. One of our goals is to make a timetable with small, attainable goals on it, so we can actually feel like we're making progress, even when we're just picking away at a bigger project. I'm an instant gratification kind of gal, so that should help me see that I really am getting somewhere!

I'm nearly done painting the little front bedroom (it only took a month...), and I'll put the second coat of paint on the trim tomorrow. Even knowing we'll strip the trim in there someday, I still feel bad painting it. But hey, white is much better than lime green!

To vacate or not to vacate

Warning: This is probably going to be a slightly whiny, self-pitying post. Read on at your own risk... :)

Ever since I started the academy, and even a little before because of field-training, I haven't had any real time to myself. I've had time by myself, but not time where I felt comfortable just doing nothing. Every weekend when I come home, it feels like all of the unfinished house projects are just suffocating me. It's like I can hear my house accusing me of not working on it, even though I've been making an effort to at least do something each weekend. Some of them I haven't written about yet, but I really have been busy. Unless I'm doing something, I feel incredibly guilty, and as a result, I don't really have any days off. Shayne and I do have a trip to the Smoky Mountains coming up soon, but I'm really feeling like I need some time for me.

So... I'm thinking about going camping on Lake Michigan for a night. I'd like to stay all weekend, but I have some prior commitments on Sunday that I need to honor. The thing is, I already feel guilty for even thinking about not staying home. My house is an evil slave-driver...

But who wouldn't rather spend a day somewhere like this?

So despite the guilt, I suppose my mind is already made up. For now.

Unfaithful

I have a confession to make. Today I went to Lowes and had impure thoughts about semi-custom kitchen cabinets. I oggled the cherry doors. I fondled the smooth Silestone countertops. I even went so far as to fantasize about them in my own home, replacing the old, tired '80s cabinets I'm currently chained to.

And then I noticed the gap between the doors on one of the cupboards. The sleek, too-new look of the fake beadboard. The vintage appearance that just wasn't vintage.

Sigh.

Nobody I know ever bought a house that needed to be redone from top to bottom. I'd read about how difficult it is, understood that it takes time. Somehow I guess I thought that that only afflicted other people, and that our house would be a wonderful, happy endeavor. Obviously I can be a little too optimistic, resulting in a temporary suspension of rational thought.

I do love our house. Really. I know it will be great when it's done, and I'll be able to look back with pride and know that we did just about everything ourselves. But all of that is a long way away. I didn't realize that I'd end up with tools and dust in every room of the house. I didn't realize that there would be days I'd wake up and absoloutely despise the house. I didn't know it would take over so much of my spare time and insinuate itself into just about every decision I make. Or that I'd get used to an office with a bare, unfinished wood floor and half-unpapered walls. I never thought I'd go over to someone's house and marvel that it is finished. And I certainly never imagined I'd be standing in the cabinet aisles of Lowes fantasizing about a prefab kitchen.

I feel dirty just remembering...

Spring cleaning

It was absoloutely gorgeous outside today. Unfortunately, I spent almost all of it inside cleaning. I did have nearly every single window in the house open, though, so it could air out a bit. I like winter, I love snow, but I hate not being able to have open windows. Even with fans and a forced air heating system, it always feels stuffy to me.

I got a ton of stuff done. A couple of days ago, Shayne went though some of the boxes in the basement and got rid of lots of stuff. I managed to consolidate even more, which made it much easier to move around down there. Before you start to think we're psychotic hoarders who save everything and dig tunnels through our junk, I should mention that the storage area in the basement is only about 1/3 of the available space. That's about 200 square feet of space, which isn't much when you factor in all of my backpacking gear and our Christmas decorations. I'd still like to pare it down further, since some of the boxes have been moved to 2 different houses without ever being opened, but it's much better than it was. I also got the dining room cleaned up. It's become sort of a dumping ground, since we don't have a true mudroom yet, and it can get cluttered very easily.

Since I was in a purging mood, I went through my closet and re-organized it and found some clothes for Goodwill. Between the basement and my closet, I have quite a bit to drop off. It's amazing how much crap you can accumulate...

Tomorrow, weather permitting, I'll be doing some stairway sanding. Yes, I know I was supposed to be done with that about 2 months ago, but you know how I am... I'll also be continuing my organizing and purging. I kind of fell off the Apartment Therapy wagon, since I got to a point where my house projects got in the way of any forward progress. I can't reorganize my living room; it has no furnishings. I can't evaluate the color choices in our bedroom, since we have to redo the walls in there. I'll definitely use the pointers from that book when I'm choosing my furniture and decor. And since I realized that the red isn't going to work, I'm eager to find a rug and get started on a color scheme that will work.

Miscellaneous Ramblings

This post is somthing of a catch-all. I haven't been very diligent about updating in the past 2 or 3 months, so this is an attempt to bring the blog up to speed...

When we bought the Prairie Box, the previous owners left some things behind. Nothing like House in Progress... All of the stuff our POs left was potentially useful. We were a bit mysified by the amount of mouse bait they had out. There were little D-Con poison pellets in each of the upstairs closet, scattered around on the insulation in the attic, and all over the basement. After seeing this, we got a little anxious. What kind of house did we buy? Are there poisoned mice inside the walls? And over a year later, we still had yet to see so much as a little mouse turd. So, to prevent poisoned mice from finding their way into the walls, and to keep Kitty from poisioning herself, the mouse poison in accessible places was thrown away.

And then, two days ago, Shayne went down into the basement and found a dead mouse. Who needs poision when you have a cat? :) I have to say I'm impressed. Kitty has never been much of a hunter, and until we moved out here, she was kept indoor except when under strict supervision. Now, Kitty goes out just about every morning. She turned up a month or so ago with a dead bird, which was a first for her. And now the mouse. Go figure. 12 years old, and she finally learns how to hunt! Now maybe Shayne won't crab as much about her being useless...!

A month or so ago, I found another former heat vent. This one is in the kitchen, under/behind the stove. In the past, the kitchen cabinets only took up 2 walls. When they covered the 3rd wall with cabinets and appliances, they also covered up the heat vent. I found it by accident when I took off the panel on the bottom of the stove to vacuum underneath it. It's covered by a piece of galvanized sheeting and duct tape. No wonder this house is heated and cooled so unevenly. It's missing about 3 or 4 vents... Also under the stove was a look at some ancient tile or linoleum, which they carpeted right over. Nice. I'd rip up the carpet, but Shayne would probably kill me... The picture also shows a lovely circular hole that is cut through the floor. No clue what might have been there.

Happy Anniversary!

As of tomorrow, we'll have lived in the house for 1 year. We've owned it for a year and 1 month now, but we couldn't move in until August 24, 2005. Happy house anniversary to us!

Here is what we've accomplished in our first year:

1. Removed the ugly shower door and replaced it with a rod and curtain
2. Painted the basement
3. Removed the carpet, wallpaper, and ceiling tiles from the living room and upstairs hall
4. Repaired and skimcoated the plaster in the living room and upstairs hall
5. Painted!
6. Refinished the living room floor (twice)
7. Installed an "invisible fence" to teach the dog where the yard boundaries are
8. Tore out 4 yew bushes in the front of the house and replaced them with a raised flower bed
9. Tore off and rebuilt the roof of the connector between the two garages
10. Stripped and sanded lots of woodwork
11. Tore out the carpet in the upstairs office and closet

It hasn't been a super-productive year, but we are learning as we go. With both of us working full-time jobs and having limited funds, I think we're doing okay.

Here is what we hope to accomplish in the year to come:

1. Completely finish living room and purchase furnishings
2. Remove paneling, wallpaper, laminate floor, and ceiling tiles from the dining room
3. Repair dining room plaster and skimcoat
4. Paint the dining room and install board and batten wainscoting
5. Refinish dining room floor
6. Install built-in cupboard
7. Remove carpet, wallpaper, and ceiling tiles from the kitchen
8. Strip, repair, and repaint the original kitchen cabinets
9. Build new cabinets to match originals
10. Reconstruct smaller original doorway between the dining room and kitchen
11. Run new duct to the office in its original location

Sounds a little ambitious, doesn't it...?