Tuesday Morning, September 1

1) August has come to an end. The time of Queen Anne’s Lace is over. This year my favorite month included a much quieter than usual week in Provincetown, Hurricane Laura blasting through the Old Hometown, and of course renovation of the kitchen (ending its third week today). I continue to be grateful that no one I know was killed or injured by the hurricane, and that so very many people have strongly-held opinions about shades of white paint.

1a) I was reflecting at one point last week that I miss my life with people.

2) Massachusetts holds its primary today (in which over 900,000 have already voted), and I was fifth in line at my polling place when I arrived four minutes before the polls opened. They moved the polling place to a larger space at the high school, which has a different entrance. After I’d completed my ballot, I was asked very respectfully to slip it into a manila envelope with a poll worker since they were having trouble with one of their machines. I trust the poll workers at my polling place - we are familiar to each other after all these years, if not on a first-name basis - but I can imagine people having issues with that procedure if they didn’t. I can’t imagine that temporary solution flying too well on Election Day in November.

3) The workmen have returned to lay the floor tiles today (I’m sure at the end of the day I’ll do another kitchen reno entry), and I’ve already been asked back to a) verify how the tiles should be laid out, b) reassure them that there were enough tiles for the pantry (different pattern, and a larger size tile), and c) how to resolve where the two different tiles connect at the pantry entrance since the tiles aren’t the same size (I don’t really care, but if it’s truly awful we’ll add a threshold).

Kitchen Renovation, Day Nineteen

“The late Mr. Dimmick was frequently seized with fits of whimsy so obscure that only he could truly appreciate them.” — from a prospective fauxbituary

“So Robert,” you might be asking, “just what is all this ‘Howard Johnson’s at Versailles’ nonsense?” And after seeing all the commentary and concern (concern!) about an apparently white-on-white kitchen, I see I am going to have to share more of my inspiration to convince people that, yes, I’m crazy, but not crazy in the way you think I’m crazy.

First stop: J.B. West’s Upstairs at the White House, and his conversation with Jackie Kennedy on page 199 about the new kitchen for the second floor. Asked whether she wanted to see a kitchen designer, Jackie laughingly replied “Heavens no! . . . Just make it white and ask René [Verdon] what he wants in there.” You’re not going to argue with Jackie, now, are you? Because you know what Mr. West said about her: “The trick was to read her correctly, to accomplish everything she wanted, and not to oppose her in anything.”

Truly I know only the very best people - that’s you! - for whom I am always grateful. Yesterday it was evidenced by a lot of good advice about how to evaluate paint colors: getting large paper paint chips, actually painting the different whites on the wall to evaluate, looking at the colors at different times of day, etc. My English friends expressed concern that any specifc shade of white might fade to something else, and that I’d still end up with my Philip Marlowe observation anyway.

And my goodness, such spirited advocacy for specific shades! White Dove was definitely the winner here, and even recommended by one friend especially for rooms with western exposure. (The kitchen has a west-northwest exposure.) The volume of opinions about white paint really took me by surprise.

A mid-century Howard Johnson’s greeting card.

But mostly what I noticed was an undercurrent of concern about all that white. Won’t you need sunglasses, Robert? Why not think about painting the walls a complementary color? That’s a valid question. The complementary colors won’t be on the walls, but on the floor and ceiling. The Howard Johnson’s palette is white, turquoise, and orange. Originally I’d thought of using this Assault Orange vinyl flooring - wouldn’t that set off my gramma’s teal Leatherette chairs! - and painting the ceiling turquoise, but I was sort of talked out of that because a) it’s a small room, really, and b) just no. No! So the floor will actually be pale blue vinyl tile* from a company recommended by my English friends, and the ceiling will be a pale orange that’s still bold enough not to be mistaken for beige.

The white of those walls will also be studded with Gramma’s Fiestaware, some of which was displayed in the old kitchen over the stove. The original Fiestaware palette is a bold one: yellow, green, sky blue, navy blue, cream, and my beloved radioactive orange actually made with uranium oxide.

Not actually my Fiestaware, which has definitely seen better days.

I haven’t talked a lot about furniture here (some very patient friends have heard it more than once!), but everything in the room will be mid-century. Besides Gramma’s teal Leatherette chairs and the glass magazine table between them to make my Cozy Nook, the maple desk from Gramma’s dining room will go between the windows for the coffee station**. In the end “Howard Johnson’s” was a handy catch-call for the mid-century stuff I have plus my love of garish color. Perhaps another time I’ll go into the “Versailles” part.

It also occured to me this morning that all that white will actually make a good contrast with the Red Room Bedroom. With its bordello-red walls, midnight blue ceiling, and one of my grandmother’s dark carpets on the floor, it’s a dark little cave in which to hibernate. These two rooms will be as different as night and day, and I rather like the idea of that contrast. Maybe I’ll need less coffee in the morning . . .

Note also the Franciscan Starburst, which will also feature in the new kitchen.

And if, once it’s all done, I find I really cannot abide all that white, I’ll just rename it the Varykino Room.

Varykino!

*Yes, I tested it for scuff marks at the insistence of friends, with my furlane, the ones that have recycled bicycle tires for soles. It passed the test.

**I made sure to request an electrical outlet just above the height of the desk for the coffeemaker.

Saturday Night, August 29

1) I’ve been following the Royal Collection on Instagram. Ever since they posted this photo of Queen Caroline’s ewer, I’ve been mad to own a peridot, the apple-green stone on top. I first learned about them years ago reading Jewels by Victoria Finlay, a trip through the Mohs hardness scale.

1a) The Queen Caroline in question was Caroline of Ansbach, the wife of George II.

2) Superstorm Sandy in 2012 was the occasion my first toothache, an experience of such excruciating pain that I am never without a vial of oil of cloves. I think of that now as I fear another toothache might be in the works . . .

2a) Oil of cloves is an unsurpassed remedy for toothache, which I learned about from Agatha Christie’s novel Murder on the Orient Express.

3) Oddly it’s turned into a Stewart Granger Festival here this evening, as I just finished Scaramouche and have begun Blanche Fury, so little known and so fascinating.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Eighteen

With no crew in today, I had the opportunity to be inside the kitchen and make some decisions about paint. As Joan Crawford so memorably said on Night Gallery, “I want to see something . . . COLOR!”

It hit me, seeing all those white cabinets installed, that I was going to need to match the wall color to the cabinets. A few friends suggested that really wouldn’t be a problem, but I just can’t help remembering a bit from Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep (the novel, not the beloved film version with Bogart and Bacall), when detective Philip Marlowe is assessing the décor in Vivian Regan’s boudoir: “. . . the enormous ivory drapes lay tumbled on the white carpet a yard from the windows. The white made the ivory look dirty and the ivory made the white look bled out.” I don’t want everything looking tuppence-ha’penny now, do I?

So this afternoon I moved into the kitchen with a small sheaf of paint samples, a paper cup of strong tea, a roll of Scotch tape, and Young Victoria for audio/visual wallpaper, and taped those paint samples to the inside of a cabinet door. This tends to be my method. Way back in 2016, the Final Roommate and I chose the dining room color by laying out paint samples on a large oil painting of a riverscape.

2016: dining room painting progress. The Final Roommate was a very talented interior painter.

I was not too excited about having to choose between two dozen shades of white, but the names they come up with are a delightful distraction. Minced Onion, Moonlight White, White Dove, Dove Wing, Mayonnaise, Mountain Peak White, Cotton Balls, Bavarian Cream . . . and on and on.

Not all the paint samples I looked at are visible here. As I began taping yet another to the door, suddenly I recoiled in horror. They were BEIGE! And after 19 years of mandatory beige in seven rental apartments (with and without roommates), I resolved to myself that there would be no more beige! So those got taken down and rejected right away.

Right now it’s a tossup between Cotton Balls (third column, second one down, which I had actually chosen) and Moonlight White (bottom of first column, which in the photo actually looks like it might be a closer match). AIGH!

I will use the same color for the walls in the pantry, but the window frame in there is so prominent that it will have to be black to match the cabinetry in there. After a similar process with far fewer choices, I selected Onyx.

In other news, I was able to take advantage of this weekend’s tax-exempt celebration and support local business by purchasing the exact same make and model of dishwasher ye Heaumeau Depeau had on back order from the little appliance store right on Centre Street . . . and they can deliver on Wednesday! And that is the day ye Heaumeau Depeau is delivering all the others! So let’s hear it for the little guy!

I also selected and bought severely simple curtains and rods online. That one corner by the washer dryer is going to be tricky, though, because already the cabinet door on the left can’t open all the way.

How on earth am I going to accommodate a curtain rod in that angle?

Kitchen Renovation, Day Seventeen

Maison Robaire was the first appointment on the stonemason’s schedule, which was great. About an hour beforehand, I went back and opened all the windows to air out as much as possible. When the robocall came that he would be arriving in 30 minutes, I set my timer for 25 minutes. When the timer went off, I poured a fresh cup of coffee, stepped outside, and he was just pulling up in front of the house. Truly, punctuality is the politeness of kings!

After the COVID courtesies - “Has anyone been coughing or exhibiting symptoms?” “No, everyone has been healthy.” - we got down to it. I was sure it was a simple matter of measurements.

There are three areas for countertops:

PANTRY: The pantry counter is going to have to be seamed because the room is so narrow, the countertop will be wall to wall, and there’s a long ell on one side. Apparently because it’s quartz, the corners have to be rounded, something I hadn’t even thought about. But I’m not anxious about any of that.

SINK: Very simple, just a flat rectangle with a hole for the undermounted sink. A friend suggested I ask for the sink cutout to use as a cutting board. I did. They don’t do that. And that’s OK; I have cutting boards.

STOVE: “Here,” as someone said in one of those Monty Python sketches, “is where my theory falls to the ground.” This isn’t one continuous countertop, but two small pieces on either side of the stove. One is a narrow rectangle, the other is a unique shape to go over a triangular-ish cabinet. Now, you know that the appliances are not here yet (even though they were supposed to be) and that they are now going to arrive next Wednesday. The extensive pre-checklist I got from the stonemason indicated that appliances must be on site. The contractor said he had never heard of such a thing before, and of course I wasn’t going to say anything - I want this job done! But it did make me anxious. 

Turning last to this section, the stonemason asked to see a photo of the stove, which involved me going to the front of the house to get my laptop. While there I heard this beeping start to come from the kitchen. When I returned, the stonemason had set up some sort of machine on a large metal tripod about three feet high. And the machine was beeping urgently.

“Do you have a working outlet in this room?” 

“Um, no. But we can use the bathroom outlet. Let me go around and take the plastic off the hall door.” 

More urgent beeping. Me running to the front of the house, ripping down the dusty-gritty plastic, throwing open the door to be handed the machine’s cord. It wasn’t long enough to reach the outlet. “Wait!” I said. “I have a three-prong industrial strength extension cord!” And after some panicked fiddling with the cord for either the hot plate or the convection oven, because I could not find the third (which I now realize is with the mini-fridge), we got that damn machine connected to some power, and it stopped beeping.

The stonemason’s gear, all packed up and ready to go.

Then I could show him the picture of the stove. “Ohhhh, I’m going to have to see some specifications for this.” Printing is an involved process here now, because for some reason the printer . . . oh hell, I don’t know, it just won’t print from the laptop*. But it will if I stick a thumb drive in the printer, so after a bit of finagling, I got him what he needed.

And my education continued. The stonemason took a look at what I’d given him and said “I’m just not sure how this stove is going to work.” So of course I had to ask what he meant, since all it has to do to “work” is fit in the space and be exactly 30 inches wide. Right? Is that not exactly right? Turns out the correct answer to that question is No, it is not exactly right. The 30 inches wide part is right. But the two counters don’t both meet the stove at a flat angle, plus some stoves are (or are not) made with a “lip” or something so that stove and counter meet more tightly. (I hope I’m remembering this correctly. I don’t think I’m explaining this very well.) And then he needed to factor in the overhang, too. But he explained better than I am reporting it, and he seems to have a solution. So all that’s fine.

The one remaining oddity is that the far left end of that counter will overlap with the door frame, which means notching the countertop or something three-eighths of an inch to accommodate. 

Here’s where the notch will be in the countertop.

While he did what he had to do with that machine, I adjourned to the back porch to read the news. When he was all done, he reviewed everything with me again (“Yes, yes, mmhmm, I understand, yes”), and asked about what kind of finish I wanted. “Umm . . . smooth?” This turned out not to be the correct answer. He was asking about how I wanted to edges of the counters finished, not the surface. He said a lot of words, and I chose the first option, which had “pencil” in the name. He said that was best, and the other choices were old-fashioned.

He was very nice, the stonemason, and I have a greater appreciation of what the drama teacher in Stage Fright called “an old and very beautiful art.” It was a pleasure to work with him.

After he left, and with plastic off one door into the kitchen, I went through to the front of the house, started to walk back into the kitchen, and suddenly realized “This is what it’s going to feel like when it’s all done!” Being able to enter the room from its entrance and not from the back porch, I had this pleasant taste of what my new daily life is going to be like. And I like it!

*Rant. You know, so many people - like everyone else in the world but me - have technology that works. You just press Command-P, and then Enter, and poof! A document is printed on your printer. Simple! And my beautiful printer used to work like that. And I have no blesséd idea why it doesn’t any more, whether it needs to be rebooted or restarted or reconfigured or reassembled or what. Or, more importantly, why it should need that when I haven’t done anything to it. Thank goodness a dear friend guided me to the solution of using the printer’s USB port, which will do in a pinch. But honestly, this should not be so incomprehensible. End rant.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Sixteen

This morning i was up early - anxiety about the aftermath of Hurricane Laura - but I was so wrapped up in the news that I didn’t go out back to greet the crew at 7 AM. But I could hear them getting started. This was to be the final day of the cabinet installation.

I ended up going back at midday, and they had done great work on the cabinets, as you’ll see in the slideshow below. But the door and window frames had not yet been completed.

A bit after 5 PM the doorbell rang, the contractor’s partner summoning me back to take a look at the completed work. I was delighted. And then I asked myself “Why is it so bright in here?” They had also installed the recessed ceiling lights! (Probably they had done that yesterday.) Someone is going to have to teach me how to change the bulbs.

New window and door frames look great!

A house is not a home without rubber bands hanging from a doorknob.

The one sort of mash-up element is the cabinet over the washer dryer. So many angles, but I don’t really care. And just as a reminder, yes, I do know the washer dryer will project into the window frame, and I don’t care.

I can always hang something from the angle, like Louis XIV’s wig or something.

The crew carted away most of their stuff and swept up everything extremely well. The stonemason had sent over quite a checklist in advance, including the item “no evidence of other trades,” which meant “get everyone else and their stuff right out of there so they aren’t in our way.” Unfortunately I will have to meet with the stonemason alone, but at least he’s coming early!

The stove elevation.

It occurred to me today that when I get to move back into the kitchen, nothing is necessarily going back in the place it was before. Aside from the fact that there’s cabinets in more locations than hitherto, things are not the same size. I noticed that the drawer unit by the sink is narrower than the drawers in my old kitchen, which means that my silverware caddy likely won’t fit. Little things like that will make a difference.

Sink elevation.

You can’t really see how happy I am with my mask on, but I assure you, I am wearing a big smile under my mask!

Kitchen Renovation, Day Fifteen

This is actually being written on Day Sixteen, August 27, the day after Hurricane Laura swept through my hometown. Continuing to document this home improvement is a way to keep myself together.

Tuesday afternoon (Day 14) was an opportunity to reflect on leadership, and how often leadership means being pulled away from what you need to be working on to bring full, sincere attention to an incomprehensible situation that is very important to someone else (and, of course, also to you) and also to styles of communication that demand full concentration. And I thought, “Thank God I’m not running for President!”

In the hour before I had to leave for my program, I planned and wanted nothing more than to review my script for timing and phrasing. Instead, in that one hour I was interrupted by the doorbell no fewer than three times to go back to the kitchen for something or other. Once was to point out damage to a piece of cabinetry, which had arrived that way from the maker. It will be concealed by doors, but they were shocked that I just didn’t care that much. (You must remember that I was focused on my program that evening, and working on my script.)

The cabinet is above the washer/dryer. The crack will be covered by the door, of course.

Another had to do with confirming whether a panel was actually the correct size, and I was very impressed with myself at being able to answer “Yes!” right away. This is the panel between the washer/dryer and the counter; it’s longer than the cabinet because it’s the depth of the washer/dryer.

The tall panel is the correct depth. And yes, the washer/dryer will extend a bit into the window, and yes I did know that already. I’d much rather have them there than in the pantry.

The third (if I’m remembering these things in order) had to do with the projected shimming of the cabinets on the wall with the sink - which we actually can’t do, because at the far left there is a drawer unit, and you can’t shim that. After awhile the contractor’s partner and I realized that “over the floor” and “under the dishwasher” meant the same thing. But it took awhile.

And then I fled to my program (which went extremely well, thank goodness).

Wednesday (actual Day 15) began with “Ohhhhh, that moon’s bright.” For the first time I was not on the back porch to greet the crew on arrival. And for me, it turned out to be a day like the previous day: many and varied conversations, more words spoken than I needed to comprehend a situation . . . but one relieving resolution. I did not need to be told three times in quick succession that it might not be possible to duplicate the original window frames exactly. At any moment I felt like I’d start to channel Lucy Honeychurch: “No, NO! I will not listen to ONE MORE WORD!”

But the first Big Problem of the Day was “Where are the countertops?” “What, they didn’t come with the cabinets?” “No, they’re not here!” “What was in those big long boxes?” “The panels to go around the appliances.” Uh oh! The good news: the kitchen designer at ye Heaumeau Depeau called as soon as he got my email, which was a great relief. The bad news: he’d told me right from the beginning, and proved it, that I was supposed to call the stonemason people making the counters to schedule something called a templating. So the “Oops!” was my fault. Better news: the nice stonemason people were able to schedule a templating on Friday morning, first thing!

Then the Big Issue to tackle was the Wickedly Delayed Appliances. The kitchen designer was very sympathetic, and gave me an 800 number I had already used. This time, however, I went to a different menu - customer care, not appliance delivery or whatever it was - and . . . and I actually got to speak to a real live person! Over 54 minutes (most of it on hold), two HD staff solved the problem of the back ordered dishwasher. They were able to cancel it from my original order and reschedule the delivery of all the remaining appliances for next week Wednesday. The second staffer told me how refreshing it was to speak with someone who was so courteous and not screaming and yelling all the time. So that was a great relief.

And then I really was thrilled with the progress that had been made on cabinet installation. I am so excited to get this all done and be able to move things in! Because I haven’t started to load them, it feels like I have a lot more storage than before. But that might not turn out to be true.

The pantry cabinets are coming along nicely, too. I’m especially happy with those glass-fronted doors.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Fourteen

Has it really been two weeks?

It’s been quiet here the last three days - just me, continuing to turn right after I leave the bathroom and then quickly turning left - but this morning the crew returned to start installing all the cabinetry that arrived Friday.

I have been sleeping heavily lately (which is wonderful), and I have a lot on my mind. The horoscopes have been directing me to the need for flexibility (and therefore patience). Mother always used to say “This is an opportunity to practice patience.”

Now you know there is nothing I enjoy so much as being asked questions to which I do not know the answer. And today my head is full of pre-election anxiety, and also preparations for tonight’s Etiquetteer program. So when the doorbell rang about 20 minutes ago with a request to come to the back, I reacted with willing curiosity and invisible (I hope) anxiety.

The contractor’s partner, who is top-notch and a real pro, had a couple things to go over with me, but I felt like I had to drop a few breadcrumbs along the way to try to understand what he needed. More than once I had to say “I’m not quite sure what it is that you’re asking.” It boiled down to four things, one of which started with something that was my fault:

• Two missing cabinets, each of which goes over an appliance. Solution: these two cabinets had been successfully reordered after I discovered I had given a faulty measurement for the ceiling, and were actually right there in the room with us.

• One missing cabinet, a narrow one that goes under a counter in the pantry. Solution: maybe it’s in another box.

• Is this panel between the washer/dryer and the countertop a 12” or a 24”. Solution: I have no blessed idea.

• What to do about the slope in the floor toward the center of the house. Installing the counter and cabinets as is would result in a tilting countertop (not good), but adding something else to the floor (which already has an additional 1/8 inch subflooring) would compromise the height of the countertops in relation to the electrical outlets. Or something like that. Solution: shim the base of the cabinets.

Even with two-plus cups of coffee in me, this all felt incomprehensible. But I did my very best to be patient, respectful, and present in the situation.

Later tonight, when I come back from my program, I’m sure there will be some worthy progress on the cabinet installation. I am most eager to see all this completed!

Kitchen Renovation, Day Ten, Part Two

First, I think it is extremely important to acknowledge that my burdens are light compared to what everyone else is going through in this horrible year. i am indeed counting my blessings, and grateful every day for the good people in my life.

So, on the plus side, the cabinetry arrived safely and has been stowed, the electrical inspection passed, and the “boards have been mounted” in preparation for the plasterer to come in early tomorrow and get things going.

I just can’t believe all this stuff!

I had been warned - I forget by whom; if it was you, I apologize - that a staging area would be needed because there was nothing so expansive as a delivery of kitchen cabinets in cardboard boxes. And my goodness, it must be seen to be believed! I surely wasn’t expecting so very many boxes. My back porch has now been filled to the cubic inch, and I can only hope that it doesn’t collapse. After the plasterers do their business tomorrow, much of it will move inside.

The workmen got up all the sheetrock in preparation for the plasterers tomorrow, which made me happy.

Then . . . then my mood turned when I came back from errands and saw a voicemail on my phone. It was from the company supplying most of my appliances (via ye Heaumeau Depeau). The model dishwasher I ordered is on back order, which means that the entire order will not arrive on Monday, but on the next available Saturday.

Saturday, October 3, 2020.

They only figured this out now, less than half a business day from the day of delivery?!

This - how shall I say this? - this rather upsetting news led to a series of phone calls:

• The vendor, who said “This order is through ye Heaumeau Depeau and they have a policy of not sending incomplete orders. You need to take this up with them directly.”

• HD’s 800 number, with the usual Byzantine menu of options, none of which include “To speak to an operator, press . . . “ The only option I was allowed to choose was to accept an October 3 delivery date, or a later one.

• HD South Bay’s store line. On the first attempt, they hung up on me after ten minutes of listening to the phone ring. On the second attempt, an actual person after 15 minutes, who was allegedly sympathetic, who passed me on to someone else in Appliances. Both of them began every sentence with “Unfortunately . . . “ The gent in appliances gave me a different 800 number. “You can tell them that you need a different time.”

• HD’s 877 number, which was the exact same set of prerecorded options as the first. There was no way to speak to an actual person. The dude at HD deliberately sent me on a wide goose chase.

I feel like my consumer rights are being violated. And I will deal with it tomorrow.

Later I got a voicemail from the company supplying my stove (also through HD), that it would be delivered August 28.

The icing on the cake: washing up after dinner in the bathroom, I broke a favorite bowl. I am so angry with myself about it.

All this is nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what’s going on in the world. When I wake up tomorrow morning, things will feel better, more like there’s a solution. At the moment though, I will admit to feeling helpless and like I’ve been played for a chump.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Ten

This morning I was focused on my coffee and the news of last night’s convention. But this month’s horoscope is all about flexibility, so when other subjects call for attention, I successfully changed channels.

For awhile I was simultaneously juggling multiple WhasApp and Insta threads with my English friends as well as the contractor and his partner via text: stained glass ideas, lawn ornaments, electrical inspections, sheetrock, quarantining overseas . . . all sorts of topics. I found out that the contractor’s partner was waiting for the inspector in front of the house in his truck.

When those conversations had ended, I overheard a back fence neighbor talking in their parking lot with an arborist about lopping off a few tree limbs from trees growing on my property (which legally they can do). A couple minutes later, he spotted me trying hard to get back to the news, and roped me into a 15-minute conversation about their plans, possible risk to my house, and anxiety about the remainder of hurricane season this year. We’ll have a meeting next week over drinks to discuss further.

The electrical inspector did actually show up this morning, and the inspection has now been completed. Hurrah! The workmen will now begin “hanging the boards” for the plasterer.

With all this activity, as well as the news, it’s not easy to focus on other things!

Kitchen Renovation, Day Nine

Aaaaaannnnnnnd, today the first signs of a train wreck became apparent.

All the inspections were supposed to be done by yesterday: the plumbing inspector, the electrical inspector, and the inspector inspector. Today the plasterer was supposed be here to do the walls, just in time for the cabinetry to arrive on Friday morning. Tomorrow morning. And then of course the appliances on Monday.

Well, Man plans, and God laughs.

I gather the plumbing inspector has signed off. The inspector inspector showed up this morning and, according to the contractor’s partner, left “somewhat happy” and told him to spray some more red caulk at a couple important areas. But the electrical inspector hasn’t been here yet, and I don’t think he’s been scheduled yet. The partner told me that the City office has been overwhelmed due to COVID-19 and inspections are proceeding very slowly. That’s understandable.

The plasterer cannot begin sheetrocking the walls until the electrical inspectors sign off. The plasterer also cannot plaster a room that is filled with enormous boxes of cabinetry and/or appliances. So the contractor is going to have to figure this one out.

I am remarkably calm. Twenty years ago I’d be hysterical. But I am anxious.

An interior designer friend stopped by (what a delightful, random surprise!) specifically to look things over. He was favorably impressed with the work so far, and sympathetic to the current dilemma.

Thank goodness it’s almost the cocktail hour! On my midday walk through the cemetery I spotted a corroding marble obelisk that included the epitaph “An excellent spirit was in him.” In less than half an hour I’m going to have an excellent spirit in ME, which will help!

Kitchen Renovation, Day Eight

This morning, walking home from the cemetery, I got a text from the contractor that someone would be coming in in about 20 minutes to finish the insulation in the pantry before tomorrow’s inspection. And about 11:30, that workman rang the doorbell to let me know he’d finished.

Late in the afternoon I went over to see how things were going. I keep forgetting that I’m going to have recessed lighting! So the holes in the ceiling surprised me for a moment. And I was nonplussed to see that the threshold between the kitchen and parlor had split, but it’s being replaced anyway.

Oops!

In the pantry I took measurements of the window. The real production was finding a tape measure. The tape measures (I have more than one) were always in the far right drawer in the kitchen! Not now! Eventually I found a couple on top of the piano.

Holes in the ceiling for recessed lighting. The square hole at center is for the ceiling fan.

Why measure that window? Because I am tired of the old plastic mini-blinds that were over that window, and daydream about installing a stained-glass window there. Nothing ridiculously elaborate, just opalescent milk glass with a crimson border, and some sort of motif at top center. Perhaps the Dymoke coat of arms. It will be beautiful in the late afternoon with the sun coming in!

Wednesday Morning, August 19 - The Birds

1) If you’re feeling the heat this summer, I can recommend something that will give you a quick chill: watching a hawk fly into your range of vision at roughly 30 feet. That’s what happened this morning when I was walking through what I call the “back forty” at the cemetery. I was just about to turn onto a new path and then whoosh, a very large wingspan appeared through a shaft of sunlight and settled atop a bush. Wow! I wasn’t going to get any closer and have it claw out my eyes like in The Exorcist or that movie with that Damien kid or whatever the movie was - and don’t tell me, either! - but this definitely felt like a special message I need to decode. Later it lit atop a monument, and then it flew away low through a shady section of graves.

1a) Birders love cemeteries for experiences like this. No, I don’t see myself becoming a birder, but I’ll be on the lookout for more of these big ol’ hawks.

2) Seeing that hawk lent a sinister note to the calls of shrikes in the trees as I continued my walk.

3) And then, walking down a path I rarely take, another scary bird of prey entered my range of vision. Only this one was a sculpture marking the grave of a soldier who was killed in 1923.

Intimidating, isn’t it?!

Kitchen Renovation, Days Six and Seven

Yesterday the electrician was messing about for awhile. I confess I was most incurious, but stuck my nose in about 4:30, when I came back from my walk through the cemetery. It did indeed look like he’d been busy . . . not that I could explain it.

Today I heard from the contractor that the inspection is now scheduled for early Thursday morning. The idea had been for it to be completed by Wednesday evening so the plasterer could come in to do the sheetrock walls before the cabinets arrive on Friday. I’m very much afraid that the crew will end up doing a lot of shifting enormous boxes of cabinetry back and forth. The contractor said they would “move them on the porch for plaster and move them back in the kitchen that evening. We are better looking at the cabinets than looking for them.” To which I replied, “I’ll drink to that!”

In other news, you know the cemetery has become my favorite place to walk this year. One of the creepier graves there is the Boy in the Boat, little Louis Mieusset, whose heartbroken mother erected a marble statue of him in his last moments. As the story goes, little Louis saw his pet bunny on the riverbank, reached to bring him into the boat, fell into the water, and drowned. Now, look what someone did. Someone left a ceramic bunny in front of the grave . . . WHERE HE STILL CANNOT REACH IT! Look down there, by the carved dove at bottom left. That’s a ceramic bunny vase! I swear this could be on the Twilight Zone or something.

Kitchen Renovation, Days Four and Five

Quiet days in the schedule right now, with inspections coming between Monday and Wednesday and the sheetrock guy coming on Thursday. So the weekend was really for getting the dining room truly organized as a field kitchen and cooking a full meal.

A couple weeks before demolition day, I cleared out the secretary in the dining room to make it a pantry. This is the only heirloom I have from Granny and Grampa’s house. It was between the French windows in their little living room, and Granny had set up her card table next to it to play solitaire while she watched television. In the panel at bottom left she kept a bottle of creme de menthe (only to top vanilla ice cream) and a bottle of Taylor sherry, like all genteel old Southern ladies. It makes a great pantry. The sideboard makes an adequate home for the convection oven, hot plate, coffeemaker, and toaster. And lots of storage for other kitchen stuff. Why do I have so many coffee mugs?

Clearing off the table turned out to take less time than expected. My centerpiece for the duration will be bouquets of utensils and fruits and vegetables. Half the table will serve as the kitchen counter, and the other half for dining.

Saturday night I planned to cook my first real dinner - chicken and risotto - but the chicken just refused to defrost in my lipstick red mini-fridge. So that meant boiling up a pot of pasta. And that went fine. But to keep this place organized means washing the dishes right away. The bathroom sink is small, and the logistics are a bit complicated, but I didn’t slosh too much soapy water on the floor.

Sunday night was a slightly different story. Risotto went according to plan on the hot plate. The water was heating for a small pot of frozen green beans. I slid the (finally defrosted) chicken into the convection oven and started it. I became engrossed in Seven Days in May. Just another cooking-at-home night at Maison Robaire.

And then the lights went out.

Consternation! First, unplug everything. Then I knew I’d have to take a trip to the circuit breaker, which meant going outside in the rain to get into the basement. And then moving a couple boxes of yard sale items in order to stand in front of my circuit breaker. After a couple minutes even I could figure out which switch to flip. So that was fairly easy.

Not being able to find an additional outlet within reach of the oven (I knew I should have gotten an extension cord longer than six feet!), I ended up cooking dinner in equipment shifts. First I finished the risotto. With the hot plate off, I could then switch on the oven. Oy!

But it was all delicious, if late, especially the risotto. Om nom nom.

I’ll say this. It beats cooking sausages over a gas jet like poor Magnolia Ravenal in Show Boat, but I may end up eating out more than expected.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Three

Yesterday about 5:30 PM I popped my head into the kitchen and saw the electrician vacuuming up, wearing an enormous industrial mask. And before him on the floor was the large white ceiling fan, like a shot bird of prey. It served me well (it was old when I moved in), but for the last four years it has wobbled dangerously if set on any but one particular setting. So I don’t mourn its passing, but instead eagerly await the installation of the new ceiling fan waiting in the cellar to blossom in the new kitchen.

Today the contractor showed up at 7:30 (I was grateful for the extra 30 minutes) with the guys who were going to lay the new plywood subflooring. When I was back from my walk through the cemetery at 9, it was tough to find a quiet place for a teleconference; a staple gun or something else kept going off in the kitchen, and a workman was using a circular saw in the garden to cut plywood to measure.

Everyone had gone for the day by the time I returned from a meeting in town, 4:30 PM. A tour of the kitchen showed the plywood subfloor completely laid, all the extraneous piping removed, the condo association pipes rerouted not to be outside the walls, and the new circuit breaker added. And . . . the exterior walls completely insulated, which I was not really expecting. So, the work is moving swiftly.

For the next several days the job will be in the hands of the inspectors. Thursday the sheetrock guy has been scheduled, so it will be rather quiet until then.

Kitchen Renovation, Day Two

Adjustment to daily routines continues. I can no longer walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night through the kitchen, so thank goodness I cleared a path through the parlor before I turned out the lights! More involved, though, is getting to the back porch via the front door. Negotiating keys, (not yet drunk) coffee, laptop, notebook, and unlocking and relocking two doors is a bit of a production. Wearing something with pockets is very important.

Last night I sent the contractor specs for the washer/dryer, which resulted in a call from him that I’d need an additional circuit breaker in the kitchen. “I’ll need you to have your noggin workin’ in the mornin’ to decide where it goes,” he said in his Actual-Irish-Not-Southie-Irish brogue. I told him that, having had a couple gimlets-and-waters, my noggin was not quite working at the moment, but I’d be sure to have enough coffee for it to be working in the morning.

At 7 AM. That seems to be a popular hour for contractors.

And right on schedule, he appeared with the electrician at 7 AM this morning, and I was ready on the back porch, appropriately caffeinated, to greet them. We established a discreet location for the new circuit breaker, worked out where all the outlets would go (that late-night call reminded that I wanted an additional one), and then the issue of the garbage disposal came up.

“There’s no garbage disposal here, Robert,” said the contractor.

“Well, that’s not right,” I told him. “Daddy needs a garbage disposal!” More discussion. I finally said, “There’s a solution for everything!” (Something I often had to say to my reunion committees in Days of Yore.) “And you know what that solution usually is?” the contractor asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I said “Yeah, money!” smiling through my mask. We understand each other. But this is still my favorite solution.

A hasty search through my inbox revealed that a) allowance for a garbage disposal was in the contract, and b) I had never ordered a garbage disposal. I can tell I’ll be referring to that contract as often as I used to with hotels and caterers. He’s going to pick up a garbage disposal for me.

Then the plumber showed up, nice young man, who needs to shut off the water for the entire building for half an hour. Now I am deeply uncomfortable inconveniencing the neighbors without adequate notice, knowing how I’d feel myself. And it’s a myth that people respond more quickly to texts than email. As of this writing I have heard from only 50% of the building, but the other 50% are not really morning people. Hoping for the best.

I have a couple commitments in town today - how rare, in the Time of the Coronavirus! - so will be leaving this merry band in the afternoon to get on with it. So far the only surprises have really been the need for plywood for the floors, a new circuit breaker, and my forgetting to order a garbage disposal. That doesn’t seem too bad for 36 hours.

Kitchen Renovation: Preparation and Day One

When I moved to Maison Robaire 17 years ago tomorrow, I didn’t do anything to the kitchen but buy a refrigerator and paint the walls yellow. It was a dreadful old kitchen to begin with, and 17 years of my entertaining and neglect did nothing for it. At last, the time for a new kitchen, Howard Johnson’s at Versailles, has come. This autumn I expect to celebrate my birthday in it.

There’s nothing like beginning a project by spending a week on vacation. But when I returned yesterday afternoon from Provincetown, I knew that I would have to a) empty what little was left in the kitchen cabinets, b) clear out the few remaining items in the pantry, c) hook up the new mini-fridge in the dining room, d) empty out the large old fridge, and e) buy some three-prong industrial-strength extension cords for appliances. Getting started, I was glad I had done so much already! By 8:30 PM I had completed it all, leaving only two armchairs and a very large box of papers for the construction crew to tote down to the cellar.

Oddly, the most involved part of all this was setting up the new fridge. Naive little me thought all I’d have to do was take it out of the box and plug it in. Not so! First the blesséd door handles had to be attached, the tape and plastic had to be removed from interior shelves, and then it had to be plugged in for four hours before anything could get into it. Kneeling on the floor so long, for a moment I was stuck, unable to get myself standing. And I thought “This is what you get for joking the last 20 years that you’d inherit your father’s body. Ta-da!” #badlifechoices

Cleaning out the fridge involved finally tossing out the three bottles of sparkling apple cider people bring to my parties that doesn’t end up getting served somehow, and more than a few aging condiments. This standard-size fridge has been far too large for me as a Bachelor Living Alone; the new fridge is a narrow counter-depth model that will conserve space and energy more efficiently.

After a rough night, I was up at 5:45 this morning for coffee, and the contractor and crew arrived on time a whisper after 7 AM. By 9 AM demolition was well under way. I confined myself to the dining room to sort the mountains of kitchen clutter. So many things are changing now in how I live daily life. My mail has always gone in the mail slots in the kitchen; they aren’t there now, so where am I going to put my mail? Suddenly I have to move the drain rack out of the bathtub when I bathe, and put it back when I wash my hands - or dishes.

Two issues came up during the day: the insulation inside the exterior walls (an unexpected type), and the galaxy of pipes underneath where the sink had been (most no longer needed at all). When I was called back about 4:00 for an end-of-day meeting, the demolition was complete. Fabulous! The contractor told me three layers of flooring had been taken up: two lino (ugly from even before I moved in), and what they said was a very old and warped hardwood floor (which I rather wish they’d let me see). They are now going to need to get plywood sheets to put over the subflooring, over which the vinyl tile I already have will go.

Walking into that stripped-down room it felt both smaller and larger. I am sustained by my vision of what the new room will be, more wisely laid out, with more amenities in less space.

Tomorrow I think both the plumber and electrician are coming, and then there will be several days of inspections. All the new outlets will be at counter height, whether there’s a counter under it or not. And recessed lighting in the ceiling with a dimmer switch.

Stay tuned for more of the adventure!

Sunday Night, 2 August - Forty Years Ago

1) At the very back of the very bottom of the pantry was a narrow three-foot-long package wrapped in thick brown paper. Unwrapped, it revealed something I’d occasionally wondered where it had gone: a three-tiered tea table I bought on my first overseas trip in 1980, on a work camp with my church to Haiti. And that suddenly made me remember what a watershed summer that was for me. So much happened.

1a) Now I know what you’re thinking: teenage boy + tea table purchased on vacation = gay gay gay gay gay. And you’d be right. I wish I’d figured all that out at the time!

1b) That tea table was broken on the return flight from Haiti, and Daddy got a friend of his to repair it. It got broken again when it was shipped up here in 2003, and is still broken. They obviously built it for the tourist trade.

2) Five big events took place in the three months of that summer. The first was a multi-state tour of our church youth choir that took about two weeks. I cannot say I have pleasant memories of it, but I did convince one Texas preacher that I was English. After the performance at his church someone told me the look on his face when I began speaking in my real voice was one of priceless consternation.

3) The second was the work camp in Haiti. One of the missing things from Mother’s house was the diary with photos that I made of that trip. It was memorable and emotional for a lot of different reasons, but I remember the squalor of Port au Prince, the missionary hotel where we stayed (surrounded by a high wall topped with broken glass), the beachside spectacle of a local removing sea urchin spines from the foot of someone with my church using nothing but limes and a safety pin, hearing one of our counselors and the proprietor of the hotel sight-reading Vivaldi piano duets on two highly-polished spinets in his private sitting room, and weeping uncontrollably in first love on the veranda of a tiny hotel in Cap Haitien that doubled as the Danish consulate. Then there was the trip up to the Citadel . . .

4) I think it was after this that my family took a two week vacation to Our Nation’s Capital, where we got to tour the White House for the first time. Along the way we stayed with cousins in Bay St. Louis, Atlanta to see my aunt and uncle, visited Charleston, and toured Kenmore (home of my slave-owning ancestor Fielding Lewis, a hero of the Revolution). In Washington, we stayed with a high school friend of Mother and Daddy’s and his second wife, who had danced in New York with a prominent company in the 1950s. Besides the White House, we toured all the Smithsonians, the National Gallery, saw the Gower Champion revival of 42nd Street at the Kennedy Center before it went to New York (and therefore just before Champion died), and were guests at a military tattoo. At that time tours of the WH were still guided, and I’m afraid I was a bit of a nuisance to ours because I answered all his questions correctly, and then asked where the portrait of Caroline Scott Harrison was hanging. When you’re sixteen . . .

Uncle Clinton, Aunt Eleanor, me, and Daddy, in their back yard outside Atlanta. Aunt Eleanor and I read The Thorn Birds together in 1977.

5) So you’d think that would be enough for one summer, but not long after we returned home, I had all four of my impacted wisdom teeth taken out. Mother drove me to the surgical center early in the morning. I was wheeled into the operating room, heard the nice words from Dr. dela******** before he finally put me under, and then I came to lying on my side, feeling ice cold and drooling blood. As it happened, another boy from my school and church was lying on the other side of the room, having just had his wisdom teeth removed by the same dentist! And there we were, both trying to talk while our heads were packed in with icepacks! The next thing I knew I was watching the tall tops of the pine trees spin past while lying on the back seat as Mother drove me home.

Outside the Jefferson Memorial with Daddy. Surgical scrubs were still en vogue. My cousin Terri had gotten me that shirt.

6) And then a week later, an enormous white envelope appeared in the mailbox, from Interlochen, with my acceptance into the Class of 1982, and my life truly changed forever, for the better. The mailman Mr. Ney always came to our house during the noon hour or a whisper after, and from the time we came home from Washington I had been using the front door peephole overtime to see when the mail had come - and been disappointed every day. And then that day came that delivered me from disappointment. My father is the one who made it possible, who had the idea in the first place. I’ll always be grateful.

7) The rest of that summer passed in a blur of school preparations: buying towels with Mother at Muller’s, letting different groups of people know that I would be away that fall, and then loading everything into the Ford Fairmont to drive to Michigan with Mother and Daddy. In all my life, I don’t think there was as eventful a summer as that one.

Sunday Afternoon, 2 August

1) Well, the pantry is empty at last. OK, almost empty. Just need to move out one large box of papers, a small collection of trophies, an old can of paint, and a couple other things. Progress!

2) All these time capsules to ferret through! And while most of my friends are all like this (and by “help” they mean “mental help”), I can only respond like this*. I have to take this at my own pace, and at my own time. Though with the renovations coming so soon, that pace is quickening.

2a) I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about going through Mother and Daddy’s house with my sister last year in March, and the unbelievable volume of stuff we went through. That one, warm, gritty Sunday afternoon in the garage and the absolute despair of opening yet another box to find . . . only more letters. You think you’re leaving a record of your life, and really your heirs are going to shovel most of it into the trash. If I save some of this stuff long enough, the children will be able to kindle my funeral pyre with it.

2a.1) If we’d just left everything in that house intact - not thrown out anything, including the plastic supermarket bag full of plastic supermarket bags - it would’ve made a perfect Museum of the American Middle Class. But that was not our assignment.

A fourth-grade creation of Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged. I’m afraid the clacking sound it makes isn’t as restful as traditional wind chimes.

3) Some happy discoveries that I’m retaining: a couple bottles of port (!), my college diploma (looking a bit worse for wear), the satchel Mother and Daddy brought me from Rome in 1977, the cowhorn they brought me from Switzerland in 1970, some enormous wall fans (including the one I used for the Ig Nobel Prizes back in 1993 or 1994), the heavily-spangled silk and velvet Indian umbrellas used at the beach parties in 2005-2006, and (among the large, glacial deposits of papers of all kinds), a sweet note from 1996 written on the back of a business card of a sweet beau who became a dear friend. It has a hole punched through it, and clearly came attached to a bouquet.

4) But don’t worry, I am also disposing of things: outdated technology, a broken cutting board, many extra copies of a graduate school magazine project, a 1994 calendar of Japanese prints, two mobiles the children made when they were children, the two-cassette box of La Traviata sung by Anna Moffo that had briefly been stolen by a Corrupt Roommate in the late 1980s back when I lived in Allston, Ghetto to the Stars (and recovered when I spotted it in his room); a ceramic Pierrot wall mask from New Orleans my sister gave me one Christmas in the early 1980s, a bottle of homemade mead, and a rare, nearly evaporated bottle of Chateau LaTecque ‘54, vintage 1999, homemade wine from an alumnus that I would not even use as vinegar in salad dressing. And that’s just the beginning!

5) It’s been an adventure, and that was only a couple of hours!

*Yes, this is a quote from a movie, and yes, I have a movie quote for just about everything. It’s my defense mechanism! :-)