Domesticating

Saturday was a good day. It was restorative, and after last weekend, my morale needed a little restoration. I didn't do anything crazy-- I painted some baseboards and door frames, re-coated a door, taped off and painted the shelf supports in the built-in (which is nearing completion, and which I can't wait to show you). And then, I got domestic. I started with this.

(Sorry for the grainy photos!)

And I ended up with this.

In between, there was much spraying of ammonia (diluted 50% with water; my heavy-duty cleaner of choice), much application of elbow grease, much suctioning of petrified mouseturds, much vociferous eeeew-ing and yuck-ing.

I am really really crossing my fingers and hoping the mice are an old problem, not a current problem. Mice in my kitchen cabinets is one thing I don't want to deal with.

Last weekend, we moved out the propane stove, which we're planning to sell. We moved the upstairs kitchen stove (electric) downstairs, and that's the one you see in the picture. That one will eventually travel to Binghamton, to be installed in our old house when we're ready to sell it. We'll be moving our stove-- we have a lovely ceramic-topped electric range that we love, which was a gift from Patrick's parents for our engagement party-- to Gilbertsville. Got all that? I know no self-respecting foodie (like me) should cook on an electric stove, but I don't care. It's blissfully easy to clean.

The cabinets aren't great, but the doors are solid wood, and there's plenty of storage space. My dad is a custom cabinet-maker, and so, I believe there may be a good possibility that he'll be custom-making us a new kitchen in a few years. My mom's new custom-made kitchen comes first, though, so I'll wait. She gets seniority.

I love that there are windows over the sink. There's another window over to the right, which you can't see, which looks right out into our enormous backyard. I was standing there this weekend, smiling over a mug of tea, just thinking, I can stand here and cook and watch our backyard. I'm going to be able to watch our kids someday. And then I got all misty.

The other big thing I love is the pantry-potential. The right side of our kitchen, which you can't really see in the picture, is partly the space under the house's back stairs. It's where the dryer used to live, before we moved it out last weekend. Someday, someday soon, it will house marvelously deep, handmade, custom shelves. Space for home-canned salsa and vegetable broth, space for a braid of homegrown garlic and a potato bin. I can't wait to make that happen.

I think Saturday felt so good and productive to me because I got domestic for the first time in the new house. I puttered. The sun set, the windows blackened, and I was alone and content in my kitchen, whirring away with setting things to rights. My kitchen is my cockpit; I can't wait to continue making this one my own.

Patrick was busy, too. He scraped the paint off tiles in the upstairs kitchen. You may remember what this space looked like on closing day.

Oh, right. That. Yes, they painted the tile. He was about at the point you see in the picture above when I walked in and said, "Uh, honey, that's awesome, but you know we're going to be tearing out those tiles...?" He continued scraping; I guess the man just has a vendetta against painted tile. Can't say I blame him.

Those cabinets are going to be coming out soon, in preparation for turning this space into a laundry room. Laundry room, upstairs. What a luxury.

And that, folks, was our weekend. Next weekend, we get back to the business of the stairwell.