ABOUT PRIVACY: Part I: Making a Basic Bedroom More - a Suite of Spaces

Melissa has the smallest bedroom in our home, 11 x 15 feet. Not bad actually. Still it's just a basic rectangle-shaped bedroom. But as you'll see, it can be made into something more. 
(Click on any of the pictures for a larger view.)

It has lovely northern and western light. Melissa's moved her bed to the outer corner of the room so it's framed by the two large 4-foot-wide windows, and is farthest from the bathroom she shares with Stephen. They tend to use the bathroom about the same time in the mornings, so it doesn't disturb her sleep, but she likes the outer space for her bed.

She prefers a removed feel for her work area, so I suggested she place her desk  in the corner where it's also flooded diagonally by natural light, which happens to be northern light. The best. 

Below and in the plan, you see that the wall her door opens onto also leads to her closet and its door, so major furniture tends to be placed on the window side, making the room feel overly-weighted on the far end. But as is, if her door is ajar, you can see directly into her room from anywhere on the landing. So most people using this room will do exactly that. There's no sense of privacy if she wants her door open, which in our house is an invitation to say hello.

Essentially, you can add privacy to a box of a bedroom like this by creating an entry into the room. There are several ways to do this, and you get a bonus when you do - more activity niches for yourself!

You can create these spaces as easy temporary DIY additions which you'll see here. I'll talk about more permanent options in Part II.

THE TEMPORARY, EASY FIX

The simplest, most flexible fix can be done in any room (rented or owned) by creating an entry alcove with something vertical that acts as a visual divider. Be as creative as fits your soul! I'll work the principle here with a shelf-unit, but you could use ceiling-hung fabric, an art panel, a textural wood piece, or anything that appeals. I like shelves or cabinets because they offer additional storage.  So here's what happens if you use one 6-foot shelf:

Placing just one tall shelf facing the entrance just inches beyond the entry door's full open swing creates a new path of entry that requires a turn before they see into your room. (Also notice that since this is earthquake country, I have anchored the end of the shelf to the wall with a piano hinge. This secures the shelf, but allows it to be easily rotated against the wall for moving larger furnishings in and out.)

Interestingly enough, an open-backed shelving or a divider works just as well; either draws the eye as someone approaches, so the onlooker's vision is foreshortened. It depends on how private a feel you need, and how much light you'd like passing through this "wall" you've created.

Now decide if you want the stuff on the shelves facing the entry as decor to intrigue, or facing the space you've created behind the unit. (You can hang a picture on the back for visitors to see as they pass or enter.) Maybe find or make a unit that has some of each?

Plus, you have this new niche behind the shelf. There's enough space for a small upholstered chair where you might read by all the natural light of that large window. Maybe with a tiny ottoman. You also have balanced the room's furnishing better as well. 

People will tend to walk into the room straight towards the desk unless they plan to sit on the bed. If you're reading my posts, you'll note right now there's "wasted square footage," that could be put to use along that wall. We placed Melissa's hot water kettle and tea set-up on a small, low carved table just behind her within easy reach, with her favorite books on a series of wall-mounted shelves above. It creates a vertical element that's very special to her, and it feels quite delicate and intimate. She likes her space spare, and only wants a picture on the wall. So for her, that space is where she kneels to prepare tea as she works, or stands to scan her treasured books.














Okay, if creating a sitting niche right by your closet isn't appealing, you can move the shelf or divider further back as you see in this second iteration, to allow the space for a second shelf perpendicular to the entry door. See what this does:

These units should be just high enough to cover what you want covered. You do not need to go high on both, and want light moving easy around these walls you create. So you might make one 6-foot tall, while another is 3 or 4-foot  high. 

You now have a protected entry. Hang some pictures along the left wall? Put a changing display on the shelf? A photo montage or collection you own? You are drawing your visitor deeper into the room before they turn to see where you are. While doing so, you get to choose what they see along the way. There's also a nice feeling of entry here and waiting to be invited in.

In addition, you have created a large alcove behind the perpendicular shelf. If it wasn't against the bathroom wall, you could put your bed against that low shelf using it as a headboard,or make it a seating nook with a comfy chair, or a creative task area. Music listening/making corner and collection? Up to you.

If you draw a plan of your room on graph paper to scale, you can play with the width of these two pieces to find more alcove variations. The shelves or dividers are creating circulation paths into your room. Directing these paths lets you add an activity area, and their heights and transparency lets you choose how much visibility you want that activity to have.

So if, for example, you're comfortable letting someone see over the perpendicular unit, keep it low. Try shortening it to about half the length that I show above. Doing so moves your "entry" more into the room's center allowing you to push the larger unit facing the door closer in. That allows you to fit a hamper right next to the closet, hidden from view.  As long as you leave 36 inches as your entry opening, it should flow nicely. Play.

And what you choose to use, and put on any shelves becomes another expression of you. Nice.

PART II –Thinking Beyond: Becoming a Local Asset

In Part I, Thinking Beyond, I spoke about first steps. The personally driven ones that come from my most inner Ring of Resilience - myself. I’ve got to decide what I can do. Want to do. Then I commit to those things by anchoring the activities in my home.This gives those pursuits the respect of a real space to do them, and gives me the ability to grow the habit of folding them into my regular life - so important with new, or renewed transition skills! 

But something more happens when we anchor in place: Together, we and our house now offer our community that skill. We become a Local Asset, a gift to our neighborhood and town. 

I love that my abilities, inclinations, passions,and quirky loves make my community more unique and resilient. In fact, I see the goal of a Transition Town as coaxing all these individuals' skills and “making passions” out of as many of us as possible so they are alive and available. To get the full breadth and depth of what our town's resources really can be.  

There’s a man who bought a lovely home in the hilly streets of my City a few years ago. When I walk my dog past his home in the afternoons, the garage door is usually up and he has moved some woodworking project out to his driveway into the natural light. For the longest time, I just smiled at him as I walked by. But TJ told me to look into his garage next time. Yesterday I finally did. 

He has broken through the back of the garage and incorporated all the house space behind it into what is his labor of love. And what a  workspace he’d created: Clean pegboards with every woodworking hand tool I’ve ever heard about, including those fine Japanese blades. His work table is ringed with the table, band and scroll saws and a long table holds his rip saw. The drill press lives just next to that so he could easily move around from one to the other and back to his worktable for assembly and finish. It is beautifully thought out, and amazingly professional. Hmm, perhaps a bit too neat to be an everyday business. But now I understand the man in a new way when he stands there lovingly planing a door. Intent, and content, I’ll bet.

On one level, it matters little if it is a business or just this man’s beloved hobby. He does it with attention and care.That’s a good energy to put into his home and my town. Thank you. I will introduce myself next time and get to know this man who smells of wood shavings! (And yes, it harkens back to my wonderful husband who did as well. So first, it’s a new connection.)

On another level, knowing he’s there also means he can possibly be my and TJ’s local woodworker if we need something turned or crafted beyond our own skills. I’ve got a master walking distance from my door. He can expand what I can have done. What a gift to me.

On yet another level, as transitional needs become more acute, his skill could become a local business right in our town. His space is large enough to hire a “coupla” journey people. Anchoring and folding his love into his home gives him options as the world changes and possibly offer a few others jobs the town can really use.

Lastly, if teaching is his bent, he could choose to take on a young apprentice or two to help our community keep the skill local and grow it beyond himself now and then after him. Succession is so much a part of Transition Town-ing. Ahhh, all that from commiting a space to the abilities of our hands and hearts!

This is what it means to become a Local Asset.

So what are your loves? Quilting, playing piano, storytelling, teaching, woodworking, reading, bread-making? It need not be a craft. Can you bring culture, offer economic opportunity, education, encourage social cohesion. How do you DO resilience?

I mentioned early in my post about Toadhall, that this very unique space in our home was my Local Asset, a space I got to use and offer my neighborhood. I told you how Toadhall broadened all the ideas about what I could do, and did, in my house and with my community. That is true. 

But in the end, it is not the space alone. It will always spring from who I am, and what TJ and I love and want in our lives. That is what drives how each of us ultimately use our home. We ourselves are the essential kernel of value to our town. I ask you to dig deeply into yourself and pull it up into life and into your dwellings. Together we can create a uniquely designed tapestry of Local Assets whose threads are composed of our own character and what we grow to be.

Part I: Thinking Beyond: How do I DO Resilience?

As our house moves through the rest of our remodel and redesign, TJ and I jump in at points to prime, paint and move furniture out. Then we back out so our contractor can assemble and install. Then it's back in again with our old and new mix of furniture and personal goods in new arrangements, places and configurations.

It means three things: We're slightly crazed, as the mix of old places and new places keeps shifting like sand between our toes. "Where did we put my coat rack that we want to hang here now?"  It also means I'm not ready with AFTER pictures and plans to show you what we've accomplished. Lastly, between the chunks of intense activity, there are chunks of mulling time. (And that mulling helps me escape the feeling of invasion, since all the work is in our private quarters at this point!)

While doing all this furniture shifting, we assembled our new clothing wardrobes in a temporary place - sigh! our sitting area, the catchall for the time being - so we can completely clear out the former master suite upstairs and rent our final suite.

This time, we are specifically  advertising for "Transition-minded housemates" and "people wanting to move toward resilience."  I'm excited. Finally I'm saying that I want people living with us who also need to take steps towards self-reliance. But doing so means I have to define what resilience is in very concrete terms for day-to-day living.

What does resilience mean to me? How do I do resilience? 'Til now I've just thought about it as gaining security and control over my life. Yes, that is the goal, but it does not articulate the actions.  As I mentioned in my post Gift to the Group, I realized that I want to do very specific, personally satisfying things that make me feel secure and empowered. Resilience begins with who I am. Who we each distinctly are. Our inner most Ring of Resilience is ourself. To my mind that's exactly as it should be. First we must ask, "What do I know, love to do and feel is a valuable skill to possess (as well as offer to my community and neighbors)? What is my unique mix of passions and mastery?"

As we decide what we wish to do with our time, it becomes a commitment to ourselves to create a place for that in our homes. Rather than just think, "My home houses what I do.", it should turn into more concrete questions:

"How will I do it?" "Where will I do it?"  What will I need?" " With whom will I share this activity?"

That then drives the layout (or the redesign) of the space so we can easily "do."  This facilitate those acts. This makes a commitment to them that makes them real. This helps us develop a rhythm of acts we want our life to include. Anchoring them in place is the important step that respects both who we are and how we intend to live moment to moment.

So when I start by asking "What do I wish to do here?", I rightly bring myself, my skills and my intentions to that answer. That may and should require me to think beyond expected or usual uses in my rooms, but I think it's important that it puts my activities as the top priority that I anchor there. I expand a room to meet my requirements and style of doing.

Take a great utilitarian space like the laundry room:
 

http://woohooie.blogspot.com/
2010_04_01_archive.html

http://www.home-decorating-room-by-room.com/
sewingroom.html

For me having been in costume and set design years ago, and home space planning now, I love to manipulate textiles. It is natural for me to expand that space into a place that encourages making with material. And that extends to anyone who shares my house with me. So a utility sink for dying and washing materials, sewing machine, cutting tables, and threads fill my small laundry area, with shelves and drawers for fabric, buttons,  tapes, and patterns, like these pictures of laundry sewing spaces. Mine is an invitation to me, but also to my housemates  to explore fabric, ...and making.

There are all levels of polished or utilitarian finishes. Different levels of "put away" or "leave out and readily accessible." And all kinds of inclusions and exclusions. It can be planned for one, ....or like me, would you make yours for a group to use occasionally?

Laundry Room, sewing area, storage, drop down ironing board, 
washer and dryer, pole to dry clothes
cherylcaseyrossinteriors.com

But if I was a gardener what then? If I loved aromatic herbs, what might I expand the laundry room to be instead? Instead of a hanger bar over the heat register to naturally dry dyed fabric and clothes, would there be hooks for drying herbs, and flowers? 

http://backyardpatch.blogspot.com/2012/10/
drying-your-herbs.html

Would the work tables and shelves house tincture supplies and let me work the leaves and inhale the pungent aromas?

http://www.homesteadanywhere.com/blog/
drying-herbs/

If I defined myself as a foodie, would lovely glass bottles in playful shapes be waiting on those shelves to be filled with herbal homemade vinegars and springs of lavender or rosemary?  

http://thebaldgourmet.com/
how-to-make-bottled-herbed-vinegar/

It's the same room. Who are you, and what do you wish to make of it?

Martha O'Hara Interiors.
charainteriors.com

As someone reaching to grow resilient, this is what transition doing is about. For me, it is a taking back a right of making in a proper space to do it well.

It is an expression of self into beautifully functional things.



****
But then there is another important part to transitioning. Having found this expression, call, or talent within ourselves and having anchored them in place, we now amplify it. We share what we're doing in all sorts of ways with our immediate community, making ourselves a Local Asset. 





 

The Water Test - Part II

Tim calls me this morning at 8:10. "Inspector said a man called in sick this morning,so now they're two men short, and he's trying to cover that guy's appointments today too. So there's no way to get over to your house today. He told me to call tomorrow at 8am again.There's really no point in me coming out there today."

"Yeah, okay Tim." Call us tomorrow. 

Damn! TJ and I need to feel productive today. Let's do something, please! We set up a painting area to strip doors we're reusing, and then after lunch we'll do the last bits of shopping -get the under-counter fridge and the last kitchen cabinet, right after lunch. Getting those doors and cabinet prepped and ready will make this day feel less wasted.

*****
At 1:40 the Inspector calls Tim:  "Can you be ready for the vent water test and inspection in 45 minutes? I can swing by."
 
"YES, OF COURSE! Thanks!"
Tim calls TJ and I: "I'm way out in Concord. Can you get the water up to the roof and into the vent now?

."OF COURSE we can....uhm, which vents do we need to fill?"......the ones back there on the roof? You got it.  Get here!"

I run outside and start unscrewing the longest hoses from side hose bibs to link them together to use on the other side of the house. My hands and sleeves are getting wet as I release each hose and screw them to one another.

I drag what is now 30 ft of twisted hose around to the other side of the house, disentangling it as I pull. Then I thread it through the railings and across our front porch, run it over a 6-foot wooden fence into a small side garden. TJ has climbed up on the roof and throws down a cord. I make a loop around the neck of the hose so he can drag it up to that second floor.

He carries a 12-foot ladder up the stairs and out to a flat roof in back by the roof ridge. That ridge leads to the two vents we need access to. Tim arrives  just as TJ gets the ladder positioned. We're 8 minutes ahead of the Inspector. 

Tim runs inside and tells me to get on the phone so he can tell TJ if he's filling the right vent. He's got his hand on the pipe we need to fill. I've got my mobile landline live to TJ hitched up to my other ear with my shoulder so my hands can turn on spigots.
"Water on!" ....one shouts.
"No!!! Water off, I'm not in place yet"...the other screams.

We get it coordinated...sort of. Water on ...filling. Inspector is running late. For once, a good thing. Tim finds he a small leak in air vent, no two- another one over here.
"Shut off the water!"
He cuts the new hole to release the water into a bucket in a swoosh that soaks his shirt.
He fixes the two leaks. He puts a new sleeve on the new joint.
"Run the water test again!" He commands. "Water on 'til I say stop!"
We coordinate the test again with phones and yelling. Tim's the submarine captain yelling, "Load outer tubes!" that we repeat, echoing down the chain of command.

But everything is holding.
"Captain,he's holding still. He has not opened outer torpedo doors."

Looks good. and unlike us....dry.

Damn, wait! Tim forgot the inspector wants stainless screws on the toilet flange.
Quick get those in.

*Breathe*

Inspector arrives not 2 minutes later. Three dripping, happy people... smile.

All good. The corrections are all signed off.
 
After he's signed the paperwork, I ask "Hey did you get a lunch today? Want a bowl of rice and ham? I know you're running short of men."

"Hmmm, that sounds good, I shouldn't tell you I gulped a lunch, but I did. Wow, that really sounds good." I offer again, but he shakes his head and thanks me.

"John, can we keep the Monday original appointment for our Sheetrock inspection instead then?" He smiles and nods as he rushes to the front door, and next appointment. He really did squeeze us in!

I love it...we jumped up the schedule. Yes, I do love all this. It's now 3:45.... And we'll go fridge shopping tomorrow. 

Ahhh, the vaudeville!

The Gift of the Group

I'm realizing that there's another layer of motivation to doing this project than just reaching for the companionship and energy that collective living offers me. Even beyond the delight of space designing my house. There's a layer under that, that is starting to bubble up to the surface. Because at last it can.

If I think about it honestly, sharing my home means having to do less. Less of the obligatory and the responsible, and more that is quite personal. And that's a healthy thing! It gives me time to find what must come from deep inside me and act upon it. How often do we have the time these days to do that?

Years ago, my beloved hubby and I tried doing it all ourselves. We did the tree-hugging, "back-to-the-land" lifestyle on10 acres in Washington. We were by ourselves because no other family lived in the state, and because my husband didn't trust strangers to hold true as a family would. We also had two young children. Even in our early 30's it was an huge task to create that from scratch on raw acreage. And, it became an overwhelming amount of work to maintain; ask anyone trying their own version of radical homemaking or urban homesteading. It is one of the reasons I do not have my husband anymore. We were trying to be supermom and dad and super global citizens all at once. 

I will also tell you that living all those values as just a nuclear family was very lonely at times. Everyone was a car ride away. Think about it. If you are trying not to get into that car until you have multiple errands and places to go, and if you are trying not to waste resources and conserve, then you do not hop into a vehicle every time you just ached to rub shoulders with a friend who is miles away. Nurturing yourself kinda settles to the bottom of barrel.  

So now, have those old priorities lost importance? Just the reverse. Those values are all the more dear to me, but I'm seeking another path to them now. One not so burdensome, or lonely, so I can achieve it.

Dunno if I'm wiser now that I'm older, but at least I've learned. I've learned that relying on someone else's muscles is okay. I've learned that reaping the benefit of their fascinations, inclinations, and strengths, enriches me. And now I am also realizing that their presence gives me breathing space.

And precious time. 

Time to relax, and exhale or walk to see a friend...just because. And even more to the point, living this way gives me time to explore all sorts of interests, some they've stimulated as well as my own. The time lets me delve into all those passions I discover I want to improve. To deepen. 

So if I look honestly at my own motivations, there's a real desire to use the collective as a gift for my own pursuits. But see then here's the thing: Being who I am, and still reaching for those values now means I get to focus on what skills I want to bring into the way I live. To train in skills that are important, and intensify my expertise. And that allows me to become more resilient, a deeper resilience that grows from the explore and the pursuit. (At least in the ways that I can, being who I am right now.)

Altogether then, I'm seeing that collective living, the intentional community impulse is in total harmony with transitioning into local resilience, and the Transition Town movement. They are interwoven for me, one fabric. Intertwined, they allow me, and anyone seeking that part of themselves, to seek and exploit my own resilient strengths.  

So now, what do I choose to make of this gift?

A Gathering of the Feminine

I went to listen.

I wanted to hear the concerns and goals, and meet the people who took time out of their current living situations to talk about and consider living in a women centered collective.

We ranged in age from 30-60 something. We sat around a table in a relaxed commons kitchen in Oakland. And after a bit of ritual and appetizer tasting, we took turns speaking about what we each wanted from a place shared with others. Feelings that could lead to a vision statement for such a collective.

How did we each really want to live?

Phrases like developing relationships as a focus rather than commodity ownership were spoken. Honoring, both elders and others, and growing a culture of health. A love of warmth, sun and moisture. Wanting integrity and commitment that one can rely upon. A joy in movement, ritual, and music,.. and the smell of fresh earth. Time for meditation,  for family. Wanting the joy of doing together, and many hopes for extended family and layered circles of friendship. Being bodily comfortable. Simplified, meaningful living. A need for creativity as a part of everyday. I added talent sharing and asked for a stepping up to the bar with one's skills, but pairing that with a release to another's skilled lead.

And after all the wishes and ideals came up, Abigail spoke eloquently about the reality of community living. That what we meet over the initial months, and what we bring to the initial months is not all. Ultimately over time whatever we are personally working on will come to the table too, ours and everyone else's. The public personae will fall away, and that's as it should be. She knew that it was at that point that true relationship and deep connections happen.

For two hours, I sat amongst a group of women who for the majority had not met each other before. We never once needed to chit chat about favorite movies, or the weather. We started the conversation at a deep, yet comfortable place for us all. Real.

So why am I drawn to those who hunger for collective living, you ask?

Phase I: BEFORE - The Grand Toad

She is our house's namesake - Toadhall - our great room in the back. And the reason we bought this place.  

Let me set the scene: An expansive 42' x 23' room, mostly green plexiglass for walls. One pane has a smiley face scratched into it. Eleven foot high wooden ceilings with amazingly heavy support beams, a huge10' x 18' multiple-paned skylight in the middle.  
 
Where there are walls, they're covered with ugly brown exterior siding that matches the dark brown, cream and, yes, orange back porch you reach through double glass sliders from the kitchen. 

Phase I - KITCHEN #4 - The Extra Fridge

So along with all this rearranging in our kitchen, I did an experiment with my fridge. Originally back in December, I decided to buy a housemate fridge. That meant finding a place for it. I decided that if I bought one just a bit smaller, it would fit into the fridge alcove. But then our fridge needed to move. Where? I wanted to try next to the dishwasher. To see how that would feel, TJ, Rae and I moved our fridge over right after we did the chimney  (Part #1 in this series), and created the new work stations (Part #2). Could we get used to the fridge right there, or would it feel in the way?

To our surprise, it felt terrific!

For years we had moved around the island as shown to the left to prepare a meal. We got our food from the fridge, dumping the fixings on the small side of the island that was most reachable. Then we carried it all to the sink to clean, to then carry it to the other small side of the island to chop and throw into pots, or walked all the way to the far corner of the kitchen to pop things into the microwave. Because our micro is also a convection oven, we use it a great deal, cooking rice, and steaming veggies.
                                                                                                                             But as you see here, meal prep now lives in two tighter triangles on one side of the island. When we open our fridge, we place the washables immediately on the sink counter. Turn around and we're right where we need to cook. The microwave is closer to the prep areas too. And when our housemates are prepping food at their new stations, we're not in their way.


 So we kept the new position for our fridge, and purchased a new fridge for our housemates that just fit into the existing alcove you see in the plan below:

 

And there's more. Here's a sneak peak into Phase 2.

As you see here, I've noted a new, decently-sized alcove where the housemate fridge will ultimately go when we finish Phase 2 (Click to get a slide show of all pictures.) Creating that new space - and buying a fridge that opens in the proper direction- allows their fridge to open right onto the edge of the purple area where they prepare food.


It's not ideal since our housemates must move into the rose colored area when they need to wash or cook. If I had the budget, I'd put a second sink into the new counter by the chimney. (Maybe that will be a Phase 3 in future.) Doing that would create circulation triangles on each side of the island.

For now, it's working.

I love how piles of chopped fresh food fill the butcher blocks. Being vegetarian, Stephen likes to use the main island area to cut up his many assorted veggies. Then he grabs a bunch with both hands, reaches straight across to drop them into the hot pan on the stovetop. It sizzles.

We all take turns at the sink, cooktop or microwave, chattering about our day.

Phase I: KITCHEN #3 - The Serendipitous Delightful Palette

Here are the earlier posts about my kitchen rethinking. Each link opens in a new window so you can pop back here to continue the series:

Phase I: KITCHEN #1 - A Touch of Story

Phase I: KITCHEN #2 - How Intending Multi-Use Improved What We'd Grown Accustomed To

My Country For A Palette

No natural light reaches my kitchen without traveling through another room first. Windows are too far away. So one of the prior owners painted the kitchen all white. It's an honest impulse being the lightest tint. The floors are white, the walls are white, as are the counter surfaces, all the base and upper cabinetry, and the pantry doors. Everything, save some wood trim on counter edges, drawer and cabinet door fronts,....is white. But even with that touch of wood, the kitchen feels bland. Literally colorless. 

When we moved in, I wanted to add some color, something rich. And not wanting the typical kitchen-y yellow or green, I aimed for a bolder terracotta. It would give a nice groundedness to the bottom of the room, and the white uppers and counters would still add a brightness.

But the paint job came out a peachy orange. It wasn't horrible, but I wasn't thrilled. I'm still not.

I live with it, assuming that when I finally remodel this kitchen to make it flow better (Vortex Kitchen, remember?), I'll do something classy.

So the time has come. And my first thoughts in bringing our house story in here is this wonderful vintage palette below, with lots of sepia in it. Very Victorian. Done judiciously, I think that color fits into the modern, yet old world flavor palette I'm aiming at. (See Old Lady Furniture about that story.)

Phase I's Reality

As we are moving through our Phase I, the reality of designing this house for a wider and more collective use is making me selective. Selective about physical things, which is all to the good. But also about ideas. I am loosening my hold on "designing", per se. By that I mean, overlaying a design onto a space, even a good design. I have worried some that it would feel unfinished if I did less than a full-blown design story throughout. But instead I am discovering the reverse. Hidden inside this letting go, there is serendipity! There is more reusing things in fresh ways. And even better, there is rediscovering my delight. And that assembles into a more authentic, unique story. Ours!

So, I told you in Step 2  that I finished my second work station by throwing down a small area rug to invite housemates to use the area. Where did that come from? 

A room where it didn't work. Last year, I painted the kids upstairs bathroom an amazing apple green. Later, I happened upon a vibrant striped rug while shopping, and bought it, hoping it would work in the bathroom. But the bathroom is long and has a two-sink vanity. The rug looked too inconsequential. 

I held onto it because the palette pleased me.(I told myself that I didn't have anything else to use there for the moment.) So I just left it in there as the shower rug. And not using that bathroom, I totally forgot about it.

Well, look what happened! Somewhere inside me, this palette was meant to be a part of my house story. When my daughter Rae and I went shopping for the Common areas odds and ends last November, we bought placemats for the new harvest table, soap dishes, a shower caddy, small bathroom accessories and new dishtowels. (Ah, there's something about dishtowels.They're always grabbed when the potholder isn't within reach, or whenever you need something between you and whatever. They're constantly rubbed on wet hands and across kitchen surfaces too. I'm afraid mine quickly slip into raggedness without my noticing. ....and I still will use them. I won't embarrass mine with a picture.)

When I was buying placemats, I was looking at vintage greens and soft colors for the dining room. Understated.The soap dispensers for the kitchen were the bisque white and oiled brass that would work with the country style. But this is the dishtowel pack I picked....even as I clung to the vintage green kitchen in my future:

It was over a week before I realized how the rug and the towels worked together:

Now I am pleased with my peachy base cabinets.They will stay. They say playful in a very "me" way to my housemates. This is so much more organic than an imposed design theme. It grew from what I had obviously been drawn too, while it saved me dollars.

And now here's the last bit of serendipity. Do you remember the post ,Hinting at Story, Hinting at Period where I express how much I adore the Florida Cracker House palettes? They're colorful, bold and playful. Well, here it is! Rather than the subdued,Victorian kitchen that would "tell the proper story", I have a bright upbeat Cracker House kitchen.

I realize now that  instead of "what's my house's design story?", I should be asking "What delights me?" This cheery palette does and it works. Brightens my spirits in a way that even a very classy Vintage would not.

Now I have two housemates. Instead of gathering around the big country table as I first assumed, we all lean in places around the kitchen, with our bowls and cups in our hands, and we talk. Does my Cracker-colored kitchen contribute to that? If it was more vintage would the darker, formal feeling move us on our way ? Dunno. But I think the cheery me in this kitchen attracts them, and I'll take community where it comes. In this case, I believe it is organically designed into the room.

Phase I: The KITCHEN #2 - How Intending Multi-Use Improved What We Had Grown Accustomed To

So when I was figuring out what to do with my kitchen in the wee hours last December (See that post in a new window here), I realized that I could use the badly placed center island to advantage ( No, really?), and separate the multiple work areas of my "Vortex Kitchen."


(Whenever I discuss space planning, I'll always show you where that room lies in relationship to the rest of that floor. It's wise to keep the bigger picture - called  thinking about adjacencies- in mind as you rework a room so you understand where people will enter from or will want to travel to. )

Step #2 Planning for Multiple Meal Prep 

So here's a large room plan showing how my kitchen originally laid out:

  .

In this BEFORE picture to the right of the fridge and hallway wall, you see there was absolutely nothing on the wall. (I'll tell you that the kitchen's heating vent is in the center of the floor right there.)

Granted, I must have access to and take  into account anything over the heat, but still! Wasting four feet of floor space and an entire wall with nary a shelf in any kitchen is unforgivable. This is an overt example of wasted  or unused square footage. we have them all over our house, but really don't see them. When you want to modify your home for the better, or find places for new uses, finding these precious unused inches, and feet, should be one of the first things you look for as you walk around your house.

It doesn't take much to make big changes:

As you saw in my Kitchen Step #1 post about what I actually did,( "A Touch that Spoke of Story".), I added the chimney and the cabinetry on that wall. 

So now I added the narrow butcher block counter. It's the logical completion to a new cook prep station. With an inexpensive heat flow director ($5), and a careful choice about what counter works there - notice the raised open grid shelf for recycling below - I have created a comfortable place for another person in the kitchen, without heating anything I might worry about. Plus, it's right by their shelving! 
No push out or big remodel.

In phase 2, I'm wiring in an under cabinet light. I added two GFCI appliance outlets now, so anyone can plug in that 2-unit electric cook unit  tucked into the corner of the counter that I decided I'd use instead of another drop-in range. Less costly, way more flexible.

Now notice in my  plan above how my 13.3 cubic ft medium fridge does not fit into the alcove made for it. It's wider by maybe an inch or so. Painfully close. So it sits forward of the alcove. The fridge door doesn't open fully to remove the bins for cleaning, and it creates a bottleneck whenever we move anything from the great room beyond the glass sliders next to the dishwasher into the kitchen - moving the piano from the great room to the living room was no fun! But we've managed. It has been there for so many years that I don't think about it anymore.

But that's the point. See here where I've put things in the kitchen years ago and have used them this way ever since.

When I decided that I wanted more people sharing my kitchen, I realized that I had positioned our appliances to serve only two cooks. Us. Even though this kitchen is large enough for more many cooks and helpers.

More importantly, just thinking about the new intention allowed me to see places that were natural as new work stations. Places I didn't see before. It is easy now to move things out of the area and rethink the shelf contents for what people would need as they work there. I put the measuring tools on that low shelf and the drawers right there have prep utensils. Plus, the small appliances are now tucked into the dark corner that's least likely to be used for work, out of the way but still within easy reach.

In the last picture below, you see how I moved the microwave over, and put the breadmaker we only occasionally use in the Hoosier in the dining room. It can be brought out and plugged in wherever it's needed by whomever is baking. Flexible and responsive.

Last thing - I threw an area rug down in front of this new space - an invitation - and moved one of the butch block cutting boards over. Voila, another work area- and it already has under counter lighting!

The intention you bring to the room, even subconsciously, gives you that end result! So the more you decide the use, the more you'll get exactly that.


 So now my kitchen looks like this plan:

Phase I: The KITCHEN #1 - a Touch that Spoke of Story

So what actually happened in our kitchen? I altered only three things actually. 

First, I created a focal point, which I'll talk about in this post. Then I did the major rethinking to space plan for multiple users- so important if you are sharing a room. Lastly, I didn't paint!  Instead, I accidentally but happily found a palette that worked with the original cabinet color. Saved the dollars, and felt okay about the "not-quite-terra-cotta" orange lower cabinetry. But I will talk about that later.

Here's where the kitchen lives on our first floor. Notice there are rooms all around it, so no windows offer direct natural light into this continually-used home workspace.

Step #1 Tie the Modern Kitchen to the Story

First change I did was to give my kitchen a story focal point, just as I had in the dining room with my harvest table. In the BEFORE pictures below, you see a nondescript modern, and anything but 1908 kitchen. 

Since my story is Modern Farmhouse, I could leave most of it, but how to bring in one element that expressed the country aspect?

It was an inexpensive change, one I've wanted to do since I moved here. I recreated the existing chimney! 

What?

Do you see  the chimney here in the BEFORE shot of the pantry, fridge wall? It's that drywall covered column against the pantry doors. I know it's our chimney because you can see the other part of the chimney chase on the other side in the old laundry that is through the door. (You can also see the black dot marking the chimney chase on the plan above.) 

But could I just uncover it? Was that chase now a metal column or the original brick?  I hear water running inside the chase from an upstairs bathroom, but didn't know where the pipe was located - kitchen side, laundry side, inside or in front of? 

In the end, not knowing what I would find and not wanting to spend money filling in the gap that removing the wall would create in the flooring I was going to keep, I decided to recreate the chimney with thinly sliced, real brick (called Slim or Thin brick these days). I researched the many, many brick colors and then TJ and I picked one that went with the California Western Victorian period, that we also liked. (Remember, make the house story one you love.)

Here's how it happened:  
 
The wall came off, and yes, the 18" x 18" brick chimney is indeed there. You can see the original stove pipe hole too. Also, there are pipes running up the right side. If I'd hoped to use the original chimney, I'd be dealing with that plus the 4" gap in both my subfloor and finish floor. Building on top of what was there was the right choice.  

The archeologist in me immediately imagined the original design. Was the cook stove against the wall right here, or sticking out into the heart of the room? The bricks are widely, coarsely spaced with messy mortar between, and that's true-sized timber framing around it, so my guess is that it was covered up originally. The chimney was utilitarian not meant to be seen. Heh, well now my house will have an exposed chimney!

Cement board establishes the original profile and a hearty chimney size, giving us a strong surface onto which we can adhere the brick.

Authentic materials offer wonderful texture to our very digital world. Our homes are the perfect place to have materials we want to touch. That feel like hearth and home literally. This thinly molded brick is real brick, but it is 1/2" thick and comes with corners and flats. Looks substantial, but at one fifth the weight.

                                

 Finally, mortared and washed, here's my new original chimney, below.  

My contractor wanted to put the matching upper cabinet I made for this wall up first and then brick around it, so it was all tied together.

                                                 But instead, I insisted that he build the full chimney first, then mount the cabinet right up against the brick, so it looked like the chimney came first, long ago, and had always been there. Then the cabinet was added later onto it.




 To add some fun and bit more back in time feel, I also had Tim bury an hand-hewn railroad nail in a course of mortar, high enough to hang some period or playful piece.  Ideas and images for what might fit are welcome!

I am pleased that I was able to bring the house story into my kitchen with one piece, but I was careful to do it with real materials and textures. I didn't play at "old." I used authentic finishes to recreate it.
 
(To see a slideshow of these pictures, click on any picture in the post.)