Ringing in the new (IKEA Ramsjö butler's pantry)

We said goodbye to 2010 quietly. The past two days were not soaked in auld lang syne and champagne. Instead, bleary-eyed after an intense two days of IKEA cabinet building, we paused for a quick prosecco toast, surrounded by stray screws and a massive cardboard mountain.

This morning, we awoke to 2011 and our new butler's pantry.

Like the kitchen proper, the butler's pantry needs more finish work, but for now, it functions. You can see a peek of the Farrow & Ball Farrow's Cream (the wall color for both pantry and kitchen). Below is the pull-out pantry. Fantastic for organizing pantry staples and canned goods.

Can I confess something?

I'm tired of making design decisions. Between refreshing our old house for sale and renovating this one, I'm on my third straight year of renovations. I'm crispy. Many of you have been renovating your older homes for years. I don't know how you do it. Many, many kudos to you.

So. I just wanted the butler's pantry done. No angsting over details. I did have a few requirements. 1. I wanted wood. My butler's pantry is at a junction between kitchen, dining room, mudroom, and back hall. It's high traffic, and I thought wood would hold up better (and be easier to paint or redo if dinged). 2. I wanted to complement the already existing finishes in the house. 3. I needed for it to be done relatively inexpensively.

The black-brown Ramsjö is more transitional than my eclectic, vintage-looking kitchen. The color echoes the black Aga, the dark soapstone, my black dining and breakfast room chairs, and the black painted paneling in the powder room. It's also a beautiful kitchen cabinet door and finish. To boost the vintage factor, I'll add a Vermont Danby marble counter (we're using a butcher block remnant for now). I'm also on the hunt for an antique mirror to use as a backsplash, and maybe...if I'm feeling ambitious, I'll wallpaper the interior back.

Of course...I put mixed pulls on the cabinetry.

The pull toward the rear is the polished nickel Bistro from Restoration Hardware. The knobs are all from Anthropologie (from left to right, the Ceramic Melon Knob in linen,  the Chronograph Knob, and Mercury Glass Melon Knob). Whew! I love having fun with hardware.

I hope that you all had a wonderful 2010. Here's to many adventures (and only a few misadventures) in 2011!

Kitchen pulls and knobs in action

You've seen the pieces in their not-yet-installed state. Here they are in their functional glory. In total, I mixed three finishes (antiqued brass, painted, clear glass) and five shapes (bin pulls, drawer pulls, and three slightly different round knobs). I'd worried that the results would be haphazard. Instead, the casual mix adds to the relaxed, collected over time look.

I love these vintage library bin pulls from eBay. They're installed on the Cooking Apple Green top drawers and down the drawer stack by the dishwasher. Six in total. I've found some bin pulls to be a bit shallow and frustrating when in a hurry. (I'm always in a hurry.) However, these bin pulls have lots of finger room and even more patinated charm.

Later, I'd love to create some cards to slip into the pulls. "Pots" and "spices" and so on. It would be really fun to type them up on an old typewriter. You know, the kind with slightly broken type. I could go totally over the top and create some Dewey Decimal numbers. Remember them?

These glass knobs from Anthropologie add a little sparkle to the glass-fronted cabinets. These are the only inset cabinets in the kitchen, and these knobs add the perfect vintage touch. You do have to be careful if you go with Anthropologie glass knobs. I noticed that quite a few of them had little nicks or chips. Once installed, these knobs haven't been dinged yet though so I don't think they're super fragile.

These antique brass knobs and pulls from Horton Brasses are beautiful to look at and to use. See those gorgeous, subtle curves? Yum. They fit my hand comfortably. So important because they're installed in the much used pots-and-pans drawers. (Ignore the gaping hole. That's for the trash pullout that hasn't been installed yet. Beware taking a DIY break. I've noticed that it tends to grow into a DIY extended vacation.) I'd worried about using two small pulls instead of one, but I've had no problems. It's probably important in that case to use good drawer glides (Blum in our case).

Finally, why don't people use painted knobs more? I have to admit that these Farrow & Ball Old White painted knobs were borne out of desperation. I'd wanted dark stained wood knobs, but couldn't decide on exactly the right color. Now? I'm so glad that I went this route. I'm not sure how durable they'll, but so far, so good. And it's a very nice, subdued look.

If you're in the throes of kitchen hardware obsession, well, I was once in your shoes. In those shoes for such a very long time that my feet ached. I scoured the internet for endless hours, poring over every hardware website I could find. Don't worry. Your choices will be beautiful. No worries.

...and you've got a margarita.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend casually dropped that it was time to seed the lawn and add lime.

To which I almost replied, "Add tequila and Cointreau, and you've got a margarita."

I managed to bite my tongue in time. Because, you know, ditzy Texan party mom is not an image I have to try to cultivate. Sometimes it comes just a little too naturally.

Later, a very nice man at Needham Garden Center set me straight on the lime business. It has nothing to do with citrus at all. New England soils are acidic and are made even more so by precipitation, decomposing leaves, grasses, etc. Lawn grasses lose their appetite in acidic soils, turning puny and starved and thin. Very much like the ragtag survivors in my lawn. So to add alkalinity to the soil and restore the pH to something more neutral, lime is added.

Ironic, isn't it? In Austin, limestone was everywhere. It lay underground under a thin scraping of soil. It was heavily used as a native building material. The Austin soil was so alkaline that one couldn't grow azaleas without peat moss-swathed contortions. Now, I've moved to a place where the soil is so acidic, I have to add lime every year or so. Just so the grass can grow.

Austin and Boston. As different as chalk and cheese. I've literally moved from chalk to cheese.

Why all the lawn angst? I've just realized that our reel mower no longer cuts well. It's no fault of the mower. It's because we no longer have grass. We have sedge...and violets...and some densely matted, low groundcover with tiny flowers. I'm no suburban green grass fanatic, but I don't think the haunted, abandoned house look carries over past Halloween.

So this is my task before leaves fall. (And they're already turning so I'd better hurry). Seed and fertilize my blighted lawn. Add lime in two weeks.

(P.S. After all this lawn work, I may need a margarita. Here's my recipe. It's yummy.)

Gack! I think I goofed.

The electrician put up the lighting today. This time, I think I took eclecticism a step too far. Each light is beautiful on its own. Together, they don't look like they belong in the same kitchen. The overhead lights are too big, and the pendants are too small. I'm channeling Goldilocks and the three renovating bears. The old breakfast room light's size is just right, but it adds yet a third discordant element.

Oh well.

At least we have lighting. We can do things in the room after dark without rigging up work lights!

And it's fairly easily changed. Just expensive. And/or time-consuming. And I feel stupid for goofing up.

At least it's not the cabinets, counters, or backsplash, right?

Do you want to see my goofs? Here they are. Be kind.

Restoration Hardware's Optic semi-flushmount in polished nickle. I have two of these down the center of the room. I love the prism glass, and it throws fantastic light. But they're just so darn big. It seems to compete with the hood. It's not quite the right look either. Too vintage American and not vintage English?

Here's the verdigris pendant light from Sundance Catalog. I have two of these as well, one in front of each window. Love its shape and beautiful industrial vibe. But too small for the space. And weirdly at odds with the RH light.

So keep what? Change which? We're keeping everything for now. There's still so much work to be done. Waterlox the floors (again). Prime and paint the rooms and trim. Prime and paint the exterior new shingles.

Speaking of work, I had four different trades in my house today at the same time. It was a madhouse. But look. Grout! More photos tomorrow.

The kitchen sink

They had me worried. They really did. No plumbers by school drop-off. No plumbers by mid-morning. But arrive they did. They used odd-smelling stuff and made loud noises, and here are the results of their day's labor.

This afternoon, I washed grapes for the girls with my new faucet, and I felt like a queen.

(And for you sharp-eyed folks, yes, that's Agatha you see just in frame in the middle photo. She's awaiting a new gas line and installation. Who knows when that will be, but heck. I have running water and a deep sink! I'm one content gal.)

So there's good news and bad news...

The bad news is that I came home this afternoon to find only the short wall of tile up. The back story. The tiler said he would come yesterday. He did not. He declared that he could do the entire job Friday. This morning, it was amended to installation today, grouting tomorrow. And this afternoon...well...you know the story.

This seems to be a recurring reno pattern. A really, really annoying recurring pattern.

The tiler, plumber, and electrician were all scheduled to get their work done this week. One-third out of three isn't the greatest batting average. You'd get sent down to the minors for sure.

I'd been telling my friends that we should have a working kitchen sometime next week. Was I crazy? Tempting fate? Not knocking on wood? Counting my chickens? Ugh.

Good news? Well, I think the backsplash looks good.

The floor that ate my husband

or "Why you shouldn't lay two floors in one month (a cautionary tale)."

Here's the guilty party.

Marmoleum Click in the mudroom. It's installed in a checkerboard pattern with Barbados and Eternity. The gray is reminiscent of soapstone, a dark gray that leans the tiniest bit green. The colors work beautifully together and give the same classic, retro feel as a white/black floor, but in more muted tones.

Installation was very easy and swift once Will figured out the trick. Note: installation does not involve lots of furious hammering. We were both feeling quite smug. Finally! We had flooring that wasn't torn and stained sheet vinyl or plywood. Fantastic!

Then yesterday, Will woke up with non-working knee. He didn't call a doctor. He said it's okay, and it will probably just get better in a few days. Meanwhile, this is what I heard when he was up and about. Limp, limp, (muffled curse), pause, limp, pause, gritted teeth. Yes. You can hear gritted teeth.

So I, the sage veteran of two knee surgeries, leaped into diagnostic mode. Torn meniscus? ACL injury? Anyway, whatever it is, this is relatively severe. The knee can't support weight unless locked straight. So won't you please call the freakin' doctor?!?!?

A warning for you DIYers out there (especially those who are 40+ like us). Take it easy. I'd worried about all sorts of things from nail gun punctures to gory saw-inflicted gashes. A knee injury never crossed my mind.

Update: Severe bursitis. My husband has housemaid's knee!

Just put one foot in front of the other

"Just put one foot in front of the other,
And soon you'll be walkin' 'cross the floor.
Just put one foot in front of the other,
And soon you'll be walkin' out the door!"

- Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Christmas in August? Almost. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve, buzzing with anticipation. Cabinets are almost, but not fully installed. We need to adjust some doors.

Renovating our kitchen has been a lesson in taking one step at a time and shrugging off the occasional, inevitable step backwards. That said, I love walkin' 'cross our new floor. Sawdust and all.

Hardware

Hardware. I've had a heck of a time with hardware. This is what happens when you get all cutesy and buy vintage library pulls. Next to all that authentic, patinated goodness, most modern hardware looked too glossy, too perfect. Plus, I was trying my darndest to keep to a restrained budget.

This is where Horton Brasses came in. Founded in the early 30s, Horton Brasses is a family-owned company in Connecticut. Their foundry produces beautiful reproduction hardware of all sorts from hinges, casters, furniture trim to house numbers.

Online, their Antique finish looked like a match for my pulls. The pull shape was simple, and the finish looked muted. Perfect. The hardware arrived yesterday. When they said it would come quickly, they weren't kidding.

In person, their hardware was even better. The metal was ever-so-slightly distressed. Nothing gaudy, but a lovely, barely discernible texture to the metal. The shape and heft were perfect. Comfortable in the hand. The only downer was that their 8-3/4" appliance pull that I'd been hoping to use for my 36" pot drawers was too massive. Just far too beefy for the quiet, delicately colored apple green cabinets. So I'll exchange them for the AD-4010 4-7/8" pulls and just use two per drawer.*

So here are my hardware pieces. Forgive the dusty background. My theme song lately is "Sawdust Gets in Your Eyes." Much less romantic somehow than "Smoke."

*Am I the only person who footnotes their blog posts? Too much academia at an impressionable age? Anyway, Horton Brasses will finish Restoration Hardware pulls in their Antique color. A fellow blogger and cool cook/kitchen chick had them do exactly this in her new kitchen. So I dallied briefly with buying 8" Ephraim pulls from Restoration Hardware, and having Horton Brasses finish them in Antique. But I still worried about scale. So I decided to be lazy and go with the smaller pulls. I know those will look good, and I'll get over not having one center pull.

Farrow & Ball Cooking Apple Green cabinets

I said cabinets were going to be installed today, right? I was a little right. The cabinets are a little installed.

And I'm not mad. Really. Because our GC loves our cabinets, and is installing them very, very, very carefully. Which is good. I'd rather that he take time and be extra careful than to make a mistake. An error at this stage would be even more costly (and would probably make me cry).

Because we're in the little crooked house with little crooked walls and the little crooked floors (and we have a little crooked dog...really!), the crew had to scribe every cabinet side that touched the walls. But wow! What a little crooked kitchen this is going to be! (And to go with that theme, even the photo is a little crooked!)

The Farrow & Ball Cooking Apple Green. I angsted about this color. I did. I stared at swatches until I was cross-eyed. And my poor husband was cross-eyed. And every neighbor, friend, and relative who was dragged into my kitchen was cross-eyed. Who in their right mind does pale green cabinets? So not neutral. So scary. Even as they were unloading the cabinets, I was fretting and worrying like crazy. But I love them. They're cheerful and vintage-y and look so at home here.

Here are the glass knobs from Anthropologie. They'll be mixed with vintage library pulls from Ebay and antique brass knobs and pulls from Horton Brasses. The Old White cabinets have wooden mushroom pulls painted the cabinet color.

Teaser

Base cabinet with furniture feet painted in Farrow & Ball Old White. Love! (My heart goes pitter patter over cabinetry. Who'd a thunk?)

DIY reclaimed white oak floors

Not a very inspired title, I'm afraid, but I'm running long on tired and short on inspiration. In a haze of fatigue that even coffee can't clear. I feel all thumbs, grappling clumsily with words. So, photos instead.

Reclaimed white oak tongue-and-groove flooring from Longleaf Lumber in Cambridge, MA. They're very nice folks and have beautiful wood products, including antique heart pine counters and flooring.

Will had the grueling job of installing the floor.  I unbundled and sorted the planks. Longleaf Lumber's oak flooring isn't graded as carefully as their heart pine so the planks varied from clear to very distressed. "Character," I called it. The planks with so much character as to verge on loony (if they were people) were placed where the cabinets will be. The rest of the floor mixed clear with character planks. See the gorgeous grain?

Will sanded the floor using a U-Sand orbital sander rented at Home Depot. Not difficult to do, but I was a little nervous when I read this:

Not very reassuring. That along with the many Waterlox warnings ("Liquid evaporates and forms vapor (fumes) which can catch fire and burn with explosive force."), the nail guns, and power saws, the asbestos, and the lead, it's a wonder we've survived this renovation. Knock on reclaimed wood.

Where, oh where...

Where, oh where are my plasterers? 

Oh where, oh where can they be? 

With their schedules short

and their blueboard long,

Oh where, oh where can they be?

(sung to the children's song, "Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?")

Work is being done in my kitchen at a phenomenal rate of 1.5 days per week. Who knew a schedule could be so elastic? Ours is getting stretched longer than silly putty.

An unforeseen downside to having a not-so-big house is that it quickly becomes a much-too-small house during a major reno. It doesn't look like we'll be done by the start of school so there will be the challenge of finding a homework spot in the middle of this mess. And a place for the piles of school-generated paperwork. My kids may be lucky enough to say, "My mom lost my homework." 

Then there's the laundry obstacle course. How do we get to the washer and dryer? We go through the Plastic Tarp Forest, under the Low-Hanging Chandelier, and around Oak Flooring Mountain! We did it! Hooray! (Yes. Too much Dora warps the brain.)

Deep breath in. And out. And go find chocolate.

Deal flash: Sundance verdigris pendant light

A few weeks ago, I ordered two of these verdigris pendant lights from Sundance. They were industrial and vintage in style, smaller in size. Perfect for my kitchen. They were backordered and just shipped yesterday. So I was surprised to see that today, they are on sale for $49.99 each. The original $95 wasn't a bad price, but this discounted price is fantastic! Fedex should be delivering my lights in a few days. I'll let you know what I think once I have them in hand.

The story of the tortoise and the hare

Once upon a time, the tortoise and the hare decided to embark upon kitchen renovations. The hare sprinted away immediately in a frenzy of work: demo, rough electrical, plumbing, plaster, cabinet install. The tortoise plodded away from the start, moving laboriously toward the finish line.

Guess which one I am?

The tortoise does win in the end, doesn't she? Forget winning. Does she, at least, get a finished kitchen?

Shot of what has happened this week:

We got our new window. And just out of frame, plumbing that now meets code.

A renovation bubble is ballooning here in Boston. Everyone who worried about job security, retirement funds, stock market, etc. last year is plunging ahead with his plans. Everyone who decided that she couldn't/shouldn't buy a new house is fixing up her old one. Subcontractors are deluged with work, and every single blessed one of them is running behind.

It is looking nice though.

Dandelion wine sangria

No more news to report on the renovation. And in this case, no news is not good news. We've hit a roadblock, and that roadblock is called rough plumbing. Nothing can move forward until the plumber comes so we've had a subcontractor-free few days.

Luckily, a visit from great friends helped take our minds off reno delays.

And this. Dandelion wine from Russell Orchards in Ipswich, MA. Along with nine pounds of sweet, plump blackberries and blueberries, our friends also picked up an assortment of nontraditional wines. Blueberry. Pear. And dandelion.

This photo was taken after we'd downed much of the bottle, but look at the color. There. Way down toward the bottom of the bottle. Yes, it's yellow. Really, really yellow. The Russell website says, "unique flavor has the essence of sherry wine." And yes, it was unique. Very sweet. Almost syrupy. With a hint of...dandelion flower?

Too sweet for the majority of us. So, we turned it into sangria. A perfect summery drink and a great way to use a not-exactly-to-your-taste wine.

Dandelion wine sangria
Bottle of dandelion wine (or any sweet white)
2 cups seltzer water
2 oz. brandy
juice 1 lime
1 cup fresh blackberries
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
Ice cubes

Put ice cubes in a pitcher. Pour wine and brandy over ice. Add lime juice and berries. Lightly crush berries. Let sit for 15-30 minutes. Add seltzer before serving.

This is a very flexible recipe. You can use a wide variety of fresh fruits and wines, whatever you have on hand. For a dry wine, try adding ginger ale instead of seltzer.

Russell Orchards had an abundance of ready-to-pick blueberries and blackberries. Unlike picking strawberries which involved lots of stooping and crouching (sadly difficult for my rusty knees), I found picking blueberries very relaxing, almost zen. Add fresh cider donuts and nearby Crane beach, this becomes a perfect day's outing.

Apologies for the photo.
Plastic doesn't photograph as well as glass,
and my glass pitchers are packed away.

The curse is broken

Today's renovation news? We're pretty in pink, and the curse has been broken.

Sorry for the abysmal photos. I forgot to take any until the sun was just a rosy glimmer in the west. I'm amazed these photos, taken in near darkness with no flash, came out at all.

We are now insulated. Well. Just the kitchen. Which is good because for whatever reason, this room tends toward temperature extremes...frosty in winter and hot in the summer.

The guys also fixed the severely sloping floor down the back hallway and butler's pantry. A couple of general contractors referred to the slope as a "curse." Maybe it is. In which case, the curse has been broken. Is this a regionalism? Like "pocketbook"? I tried to look up the origin and usage of "curse" in this context, and came up with nothing. Yes. I'm a word nerd.

The curse was broken by copious amounts of self-leveling underlayment.

This is just the butler's pantry looking into the mudroom. The back hallway (not pictured) is a wall-to-wall river of the stuff. We'll be installing reclaimed white oak flooring on top of the underlayment during next week's DIY marathon.

In other renovation news, IKEA's new Ramsjo white-painted wooden cabinet doors sound promising for the butler's pantry. They'll be in stores soon. I'm planning a trip to Stoughton to see them first-hand.

I can see clearly now

The wall has gone.

(With apologies to Johnny Nash.)

I haven't posted much about the kitchen because frankly, there wasn't much to post. There were things happening. Slowly. But they were things like rough electrical, getting rid of all that random wiring and running wire actually through the walls. Important, but not visually dramatic.

But yesterday. Yesterday, they opened up the doorway between dining room and kitchen.

Finally, I could see it. The way the space is going to look.

This opening is probably the single biggest change in the kitchen. And yes, I was anxious about how it would look. You see, we designed the kitchen by ourselves. No architect. No kitchen designer. Just us with input from the great folks online at Gardenweb's kitchen forum and various friends and family members.

Here's the before (furniture and lighting belonged to the previous owner):

Here's how it looks now:

I love it! Whew!

Functionally, this opening improves the traffic flow. Before, there was only one narrow entrance to the kitchen, accessed via a rear hallway. People would enter the kitchen then get stuck in the breakfast area. Children were always dashing in and out behind me as I cooked, and I worried that I'd bump into someone with a pot of boiling pasta. Now you can enter/exit via the dining room, avoiding the cooking/prep areas of the kitchen.

But beyond the flow improvement, the new opening lets in so much light! Now from the kitchen, I can see the front yard, and if anyone is at the front door. The kitchen feels much more connected to the rest of the house. Next week should be a busy one. Rough plumbing, putting in the new window, and drywall. Fingers crossed.

Softness triumphs over hardness,

"feebleness over strength. What is malleable is always superior to that which is immovable. This is the principle of controlling things by going along with them, of mastery through adaptation."
- Lao-Tzu

My new mantra. That I'm repeating repeatedly. Because surprises du jour are a specialty of the house under renovation.

A key tool in my trusty survival kit. Good for all renovation ills, including anxiety, irritability, frustration, nervousness, and the vapors. Plus, it has antioxidants.

Sadly, I think dark chocolate-covered pomegranate has met its match today.

Two little ones with explosive tummy bugs. While our washer and dryer sit unhooked in the dining room. Perhaps I should bleach the sheets in the tub? Now that's an idea. The steam cleaner blew a major downstairs fuse. Which cannot be fixed until the Man-who-knows-electricity returns with son from camp.

So picture us. Packed inside a hot, demolished, cluttered, boxed-up house. With bacteria flying every-which-way. While feeling a little peaky oneself.

Today was the big reveal after the asbestos abatement. Pulling off the old flooring layers revealed more "what the heck were they thinking?!?" challenges. Inevitably, large DIY projects have now ballooned to become enormous ones.

I am soft, feeble, malleable. I'm adapting. I need more dark chocolate.

First casualty

Good-bye, old oak floors. Now laid to rest in hazardous materials bags. I'm sorry the asbestos guys couldn't save you. Let your passing be a warning to other rash, carefree remodelers, those who think that their design choices will live forever. Such a waste.

This went up this morning.

A serious warning for renovators. Sheet vinyl can contain asbestos. Ours had asbestos in its paper layer. This paper layer is quite friable (it tears and shreds when you try to pull off the vinyl) and dangerous. Don't feel safe because your old house doesn't have the more common asbestos tiles. Get your older flooring tested. Lecture over.

It struck me just now that my house looks like a movie set. For a scary movie. All this thick hanging semi-opaque plastic. Wait. I thought I caught movement. Just as I was turning. Out of the corner of my eye. Blurred behind the plastic. "Kids?" No answer. "I told you guys not to go in there. It's dangerous." Annoyed, I peek behind the plastic. Nothing. Just the hulking metal bodies of disconnected appliances and the oddly sinister plastic-sheeted outlines of boxes and shelving. I retreat and starting walking away when I see it again. Fleeting. A quick suggestion of movement.

Not really. Just in my imagination as the sun lowers and shadows gather.