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 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 I

I'm back up and running, at last! ( A pinched cervical nerve knocked Phase II out of the contractor's queue because I couldn't draw the permit drawings - or any writing or drawing for that matter! Beyond the pain, as a designer, it was more than a little scary.)

Then the new job placed ahead of us ran overtime by 8 weeks until just 12 days ago. So, we've just started Phase II.

Now, onward with a vengeance!....

Well......no. Seems the City Inspectors are running behind this month what with vacations and lean staffing. Still our contractor Tim grabbed back time by doing all three rough-in inspections at once - plumbing, construction and electrical. But rather than the usual next day appointment, when we called to schedule,we had to wait five days until today. And there are really only odds and ends he can do until these three "basic bones" inspections are done.

The inspector arrived this morning, and spent 28 minutes going through every single thing Tim did, permit card in hand. Unlike most inspectors, he crawled under the house. He got up on a ladder. He filled the new plumbing with water to check for leaks. "Thorough." Tim said. 

Everything Tim did was spot on, but damn if the inspector wants us to take a few more steps towards closing air holes (in the leakiest old house I've every lived in), and asked us to change out the screws that came with the toilet flange in the floor to stainless steel or brass screws instead. I appreciate that he insisted that I make my home more fire-safe even if it's in just this one inner room, but I admit I hate wasting another day, for another inspection to check these off. Plus, the inspector also insisted on seeing a second water test: our water line test passed with no leaks today, but he wants us to do a vent pipe water test too. (You know, the vents up from fixtures so the gases escape.) They will only have gases, and air in them.

Tim spent some time conjuring how to do that water test for him. Oh, it's easy enough getting water into a vent. You carefully climb up on the roof with a garden hose- or several, depending where the water bib is versus the vent--and fill the vent line. But how to get the water out of the vents once the test was done with the redirected lines in our 1908 old house? Hmm. Seems like our only option is to cut apart a major pipe after the test.

 "So..." I said slowly, "We have to cut a pipe to make a new joint after the test to prove that all the joints in the vent line don't leak?" But hey, inspector says, we do.

We just had to schedule a recheck for these "corrections." I actually jumped onto the computer seconds after he left, and damn if the next available day wasn't Monday the 29th, a week away. No!!!

But Tim has a plan: He told me to holler at him at 4 o'clock, and at that point he called the inspector and pleaded for time tomorrow:
"We got all your corrections completed today. Is there any way you could swing by tomorrow to just sign off on them, so we can move forward?"

"Got a man on vacation this week. Call me tomorrow, 8am. Dunno, but I' ll try."
As Tim headed out the door a few minutes ago, he promised he'd call right at 8 to get any slot possible..

Let you know how it goes tomorrow...

Phase I: Lessons in Sustainable Space Planning

I still have four or so posts to create  - and all their attendant visuals - to finish sharing our Phase I changes with you. But I have been thinking about what's happened thus far, and since we're beginning the rip-out for Phase 2, I can't help but assess and reflect.

If you've been reading Shelter&, you know that I purposefully gave Phase I a slim budget. For several reasons: 

• For me, the most exploratory purpose

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: 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:

Work Meditation

Friends have offered to help me set up,

and you know my first reaction is “Yes thanks!” But actually, I think it’s important to do this myself. Reassemble my studio as a meditation. What is important, and what can I do without. If I have bodies working for me with stuff to “organize” and put somewhere, I’ll project manage not listen to the inner voice about what I need, and what I can let go of. And then where my head feels it should be put.

Since I have given myself this week to reassemble my place in this new space, I may just have to do this alone. Or however long it really takes. On my own.

In my space.

New Room Setup

When one corner is set up…just that first reassemble of basic pieces without all the detritus of using it laying about, it’s so lovely and clean.

So spacious and inviting. It makes me want to give everything else away that cluttered it up. A good impulse I think, making me offload to the next degree. Simplify. Aerate.

So where did I put that phone charger? Damn, in that desktop drawer unit I don’t want to put on the desktop. And where do I put my pens if I don’t want a cluttered basket or jar of them on my desk? Ever the dance.

A Game Plan is Your Point of Departure

You know,

The first move into the new shaped space never fits the way 

you first planned it to work.

 Never.

Showing My Baby Part II

It’s cool! It’s working. 

I’ve created the “place” and ways to have privacy and also happily rub shoulders when they want. TJ keeps standing in front of the chimney and new upper cabinet, saying, “ This is just what it should look like. I keep forgetting it hasn’t always been here.” 

As we show the place to potential housemates,they smile as they walk through the house. Some have actually expressed that they can feel how I’m aware of their needs. (And our own, too actually, but they don’t know see that as much.) Places are “sweet,"  and special to them- like the little laundry room. And the upper deck that they can sit in even when it rains. “Oooh, can I do a veggie garden in pots up here?!” she asks. “Yes, it’s wonderfully sunny and veggies will love it up here.” I reply. 

They’re putting themselves into it.

The laundry room has an ironing board and folding area, and we hung a clothes rack right over the heating vent for "air drying." 

I am the perfect Crash Test Dummy, Part 1

I’m TJ. And while I happen to be Loni’s partner in life, it turns out I’m also the perfect crash test dummy for this project. So I’ll be sharing my experiences as an active passenger, as we go from plans to remodeling to adding housemates.

I started calling myself the crash test dummy when we first were seriously considering this project. Why?

Because, compared to most other people I’ve known, I have a very high need for physical and personal privacy. Due in part to how I grew up—large family, no private spaces, no respect for boundaries, my father’s profession requiring me to be a public person and under social scrutiny all the time. And in part due to my nature—I’m an introvert in most circumstances, and an empath who more often feels drained rather than energized being around other people. And I’m also a musician with sensitive hearing whose sleep is disturbed by noises.

My de facto solution has been to have as much private physical space around me as possible. Whenever possible as an adult, I’ve had a bedroom to myself as a creative studio and personal lair. When there was no bedroom available, I improvised: to escape living in a triple dorm room in college I moved myself down into the furnace room of the off-campus house. When I lived in the Hopi village of Lower Moenkopi, Arizona, I moved into the unheated upper floor of a stone barn to have space to myself. We were only eighty miles from the Grand Canyon, so at night it was colder than Hades. And I’m not joking. But it was a respite from the constant social flow in the main building of the old Mennonite mission.

(You could also say that by moving onto the reservation, and down inside a desert wash, I was trying to put as much private physical space around me as possible. Once you left the lower village, if you didn’t go up to Tuba City, you could drive your car or ride your horse for hours and not see buildings or other people. When my Hopi friend Lyle was still alive, he would sometimes loan me a horse, and I would ride all day by myself, soaking up the solitude and feeling my way through the seemingly endless desert .)

So, our thinking goes that if Loni, with input from me, can do space planning that adds two or three new people to our existing house AND gives me enough experience of privacy to be comfortable-- well, you’ve got some good crash test results.

Prospect & Privacy

It’s intriguing to think I can use the qualities of light to offer refuge to others here as well as ourselves.

How much will different light, especially natural light, make for separate space? 

I like the notion that I can use it to create  a sense of separateness to anyone we  invite in be it a weekend, or a few months, or maybe a more permanent sharing.

Phototropic

I’m like a houseplant turning toward the light. 

Light alerts me, and brings me around. After 18 years in the Pacific Northwest, where darkness falls before 4 during the winter, it’s no wonder. I hunger for brightness in my eyes every three days throughout the year or so down here. It’s sunlight I crave, not the heat.

At night however it becomes a problem. I don’t know if it’s my very pale eyes, but since I’ve been eleven, I’ve had to shut out light in order to sleep. Never mind the chapter about the Nazgul Blackriders sniffing out Frodo I’d just read. It had to be scary dark for me to fall asleep.

So it just so happens that we have Skytubes in our family-room turned bedroom. The lenses that cover these 16" circles on our ceiling make the light sparkle. When it was a family room, it was wonderful! But now as our “lair,” uhm, no. 

So we’ve covered them with upturned large flower pots on the roof which happens to be flat. Now that we’ve moved the bed down to one end, and we’re giving TJ the other side of the bookshelf/divider for his studio, we uncovered the one immediately over his studio area behind our high headboard. 

My intention was to make dark fabric covers to Velcro on or off from the inside (We won’t have easy roof access when we rent out the master suite upstairs.), but I haven’t gotten to it yet. So we’ve been sleeping and letting the morning light intrude.

I’m surprised. 

When I don’t have to rise to an alarm clock, the growing light seeps gently around the 6-foot high bookshelf/headboard while I sleep. Like Vermeer paintings, it feels soft and humble. It has been lovely to wake up to, and it doesn’t intrude before I’m ready. That one Skytube can be quite bright when I get out of bed and tussle with the puppy to say good morning. 

Light gives us such a strong sense of place,…and also a “separation from.” Think of a pool of light over a table in an otherwise darkened room.My friends and I used to frequent the Cork & Board, a wine and cheese place near my University back when. We had to let our eyes adjust to the low light for the first few seconds after we stepped through the entry door, but could already hear quite a bit of chatter, laughter and wine glasses tinkling at the tables. The large wooden tables were big enough for game boards and food, and closely spaced. But once my friends and I were seated under the hanging lamp that spilled light over our own table, the joyous noise of people around us fell away, and felt ..away.

Or have you’ve ever stood inside thick adobe, rammed earth or strawbale walled homes? The light coming through the deep windows framed by the thick walls has a removed quality. Rather than streaming into a hot spot on the floor like most modern homes, it hits the deep broad sill  and frame and bounces softly, spraying indirect light into the room. The pathos plant in me likes the feeling.

What I believe I’m experiencing now in the mornings is also like that. Light beyond or behind adds to one’s sense of refuge, making it feel a protected place to sleep. Nice.

The Kitchen

I figured out the kitchen today.

I’ve lain awake nights trying to reform what we call our "Vortex Kitchen" so it flows for 3 more people trying to prep or cook a meal at overlapping times in the evening. We have a big kitchen that can accommodate several cooks, except  for one thing: There’s this central butcher block island with a stove top right across from the sink. 

Great you think. 

But no. The real chopping space, and ALL the cabinetry is on the other side, so you spin around the island every time you need a bowl for mixing, a spice for seasoning the cooking pot, or a fork for stirring. We’ve crowded the island with canisters of utensils, and we just chop veggies on the tiny side areas by the cooking elements. 

But it hungers to be a collective kitchen…and now I know how to do it, and not have everyone feeling like they’re intruding into my kitchen, or waiting too late to start their own meal when others are finally at the sink washing up.

Ideally, with budget, I can accommodate a second cook with a second work triangle created by 2 sinks pivoting around a cook area. That what they teach you. But I might have 3 cooks, and 4 individuals trying to store food, and I don't have an ideal budget either. Two triangle areas, especially 2 sinks just may not happen. Luckily, I have a separated cook set up: My oven/convection microwave is around the other side from the cook top side of the island. So if I drop a free-standing range  into the place where the oven is, I would have 2 cook tops,  one on each side and …then, I’ve found a place next to the sink for a smaller fridge.

Wait, too costly. Think simpler, Loni.  Plus, if I expand the oven into a full stove top range, I may have to remove an overhead cabinet that's too close. No, storage is precious. Instead, I'll get a two-grill electrical unit that will plug in as needed, where it's needed, and use it as an expansion of stovetop cooking. Flexible.

 

The Lair Redux

Moved our bed to the other side of the room yesterday and turned it 90 degrees. 

You have to understand that we are already sleeping in the old family room downstairs behind the kitchen. It isn't really a bedroom. It was an add-on in the 60's,  and as is typical of the rest of that upgrade, it has exterior siding on its walls. 

But...

It's very removed and private, away from the kids upstairs, and it even has a little sink/bar in one corner. Years ago, I convinced TJ it would be a lovely removed boudoir. And if we put a simple room divider that had one side as a closet, and the other a bookshelf, we'd create a sitting area as well, That seating looked out onto a small enclosed piece of our yard that we could make into a garden.

We've loved the realm we created, if not the finishes in the room. The room divider offered some soundproofing from the street noise beyond the "meditation garden."

So the current move: Now we face the small garden. Our sleeping space is really tighter, but it feels intimate with a view, and I really like it. I specifically wanted to remove the bed from possible view through the doorway since it's to a common area (the kitchen). Now it feels very private, even though it’s in the same room as before. (Gotta clean up that garden now though.)

We hung up  our private lair pictures, ones we haven't used in years. They found their own perfect wall.

....Now if only I can figure out where to put the emergency food storage we’ve store in corner of our new bedroom. Staring at it really changes one’s mood.

A Different Lens

The goal of my house make-over is not a beautiful design. 

Sure, I want to tell the right story somehow and make it attractive. But it’s just so clear that the point of my design work is two-fold: to be as miserly as I can with the dollars I've allotted to the project, and to make sure that the flow and use of the house is really transformed to comfortably hold and respect multiple residents’ individual needs. That brings a different eye to the task of interior architecture. It's space planning pure and simple, one that I dearly love. It’s the human element of dwelling design. 

Yes, I adore choosing palettes and finishes that tell that story.  But in this project, that's icing.

My success happens when the room works for groups of individuals that all want to make a meal, whether they want to eat together or not….

No Silk Purse, but Still

I'm surprised, and relieved,  at how much Rach's outside perspective and fresh eyes brought to this effort. She gave us our home’s "story." 

As we walked through the common areas designing, she suggested we make the dining room the gathering space, using a large farm table. 

As soon as she said "farm table", it pulled everything together in my and it turns out, TJ's minds. Now, as I think about the changes we need to make, I am choosing things that enhance the story. Plus of course, Rach and I have been talking color and a few pieces to warm the living room up visually, while I am thinking space design for a collective. It's been a great melding of talents.

Thanks, sweetie, we have our story. The ugly toad will hardly become a prince by our redesigning “kiss”, but maybe an earthy farm gal.

Sweet Side Rooms

TJ and I never planned on living together. Neither of us wanted this much house actually. As young widows, we both promised our kids we’d have separate places. Ahh, the silly promises we make. 

When we both moved to the Bay Area from Washington State, we couldn’t afford two houses.  After sitting down with our kids to explain the "revised arrangement," we naively bought the most square footage we could afford together. We figured everyone would have separation that way. Ha! Ya know, that’s a total fallacy. Privacy is determined by the layout and flow through rooms, not their size. This Victorian with its huge great room has over 4,500sf, and all the common rooms – like the living or dining room - feel like hallways to somewhere else. Victorian house circulation just flows that way. There are so many doorways in and out of each room that there’s no sense you can really sit with others to have a quiet conversation. People pass through the room’s activities on their way to another space. 

This place has made me realize that the best rooms are the intimate side rooms off of larger spaces: the small side office off the main living areas, sitting rooms and the little 8x8 extra rooms off the bedroom. They have sweet, sweet feelings. I’ve put a wonderful craft and sewing room into one. 

Years ago, when my daughter needed more space in her room, we moved her bed into the smaller sitting area, 7 x 12 ft. Besides making that sleeping area feel more private and intimate (She liked the feeling so much we also added hanging drapes around the bed a la Elizabethan times.) That opened the main room up for whatever else she wanted to do. 

More importantly perhaps, it allowed her space to keep morphing, and it became more hers when the bed wasn’t the main story the room told.

BEFORE

So you know, here's the house as we begin.

TJ uses the bedroom suite next to the master as his work studio, and I use the smaller bedroom below for my design studio, and its closet for office and storage.

And So It Begins

So here she is: We call her Toadhall, our 1908 Victorian.

I’m excited!

Because the house doesn't flow well for the way we live, I’ve sorta pushed and shoved furniture around to use our rooms differently since we bought her 15 years ago. I've also wanted to try sharing house resources for a long while too. Years ago, I was part of what was called Conserver Society thinking and the times being what they are now has made the idea seem more, well....imperative.

Now, circumstances are making it possible to take the steps right here in my house: First, I’m starting up my own business again as a residential space planner, and second, my life partner TJ, a very private, amazing man, has realized he too wants the feel of other folk moving and using our house, even as he still needs real private space. Even from me. So that’s my space planning challenge. He’ll be my crash test dummy. If I can make him feel okay, and stay excited by this, I’ve succeeded.

And you’ll see his posts here too, to let you know how I’m doing….

Yes, I'm a little scared too. I want this to work! I do believe that we can enjoy our home's spaces in new ways that are beyond nuclear family. I explored Co-Housing and other intentional community collectives when my hubby was alive. But he was 6'9" and felt inhibited by the small units.

But I miss people. I am my most productive in a collaborative design and business environment. And when I'm doing my own internal, creative in work, I love the feeling that just beyond there's a lovely flow of human laughter and energy. And working at home has all but erased both, so I should be thrilled. 

I am.

But honestly, I’ve been in my own home with just family for years and as much as I want it, I admit that I’m also used to having everything in my house my way. I want to feel enriched and expanded, not invaded. So I’m a crash test dummy too.

But what I believe living this way could feel like is so powerful for me, that I just must try. What's most important is that I’ll design the spaces to flow for group as well as solo comforts and privacy, not just squeeze a group into it. Intend it.

See what you think. Welcome along for the ride!