Gettin' Stoned

With just a handful of days left before two dozen hungry people show up for Thanksgiving Dinner, we are squeaking in the first step of a kitchen reno: new sink, faucet, stovetop and counter.

Goodbye!

A last look at the sink, faucet, cooktop, and counter. . . .

Friday and Saturday were busy days at That Old House.
On Friday, the plumber disconnected the old sink and faucet (eek! no dishwasher!).
See that chip on the old porcelain sink?
That, and a leaky faucet, started this whole do-over.

You know how it goes: "We have to replace the faucet. If we do that, we may as well replace the chipped sink. If we do that, we really should replace the worn out countertops. If we do that, no sense keeping the electric stove we don't like. . . . " and before you know it, you've rebuilt the entire house.


Early Saturday morning, the electrician disconnected and removed the smooth ceramic electric cooktop,
and installed a regular outlet for the new gas one.

All gone!

Before he was finished, the crew from the stone fabricators turned up
with our new L-shaped soapstone counter, ready to install.

Within 2 hours, we went from green laminate with falling-off oak edging:

To this:

Soapstone!

Any backsplash ideas? We haven't decided yet.
Thinking maybe beadboard, maybe subway tile, maybe Hershey bars. . .
(just checking if you're paying attention!)

An in-progress mosaic:

The soapstone looks gray at this point;

after a first application of mineral oil, it looks like this:

Before noon, the installation guys were done and gone, and we had my Dad, my sister and her husband here for a pizza lunch. Before they arrived, Howard and I frantically cleaned up masses of stone dust.

We had no idea that the installation would involve this:

and this:

Do you see the coating of stone dust on everything?
Really, they should warn customers about this so you can cover things.
On the other hand, I should have realized!

The plumber is due back today or tomorrow, to connect the sink and faucet and gas cooktop, and then I can get back to cooking and doing dishes and . . . hey! Maybe I'll re-schedule that plumber.

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Next step: taking the too-big counter that we nicknamed The Isthmus, and shrinking it to human scale, topping it with butcher block, and putting open shelving above it for dish storage.

I need the dish storage, and I need for The Isthmus to stop being a catch-all for stuff.

(It's The Isthmus because it's not an island nor a peninsula,
and there weren't any funnier geographic designations left to choose from.)

Thanks to Susan at Between Naps On The Porch for hosting Metamorphosis Monday. I really am enjoying having a genuine metamorphosis to show! Visit her blog for more changes.

To Mary of Little Red House, double thanks are due -- for hosting Mosaic Monday, and for sharing her love of her own soapstone countertops with me. Her blog today will have dozens of beautiful mosaics to ogle!

And guess what we realized?
The fireplace hearth at That Old House is made of . . . soapstone!

So I'm sure we made the right choice for the kitchen.

Now, a moment of Chaotic Truth, or something from the

"You Can't Make An Omelette Without Breaking Eggs" division:

It's The Isthmus, full of stuff from the L-shaped counter and some of its cabinets. What a mess. But it's all part of the chaotic creative process. At least that's what I tell myself.

Meanwhile, this guy was very interested in the whole process,
mostly because he doesn't see his cookie jar in its usual spot:

The neighbor children came by on Sunday to visit and see our new counters. Dion is infinitely patient with the 2-year old, who likes to lift those fluffy ears and poke around underneath. This little boy was afraid of dogs, until he met our Dion. :-)

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I'm very excited about our soapstone countertop. At seven addresses over 31 years, Howard and I have pretty much made do with whatever kitchen Fate handed us, and that was fine. But I have to admit, it's tremendous fun to be making this kitchen ours, and I'm still pinching myself that we're really doing it.

Now, let's hope I remember how to cook with gas!
Or Thanksgiving might be pretty dismal. -- Cass