Monday, July 21, 2014

Thanks for the Stove

I love my sister and I think she feels the same about me. That’s why when she switched out her glass-top electric for a new gas range, she asked if I wanted it. “Sure,” I said. And that’s when the trouble started.

To put this gift in context, you should know that I consider myself at least somewhat handy around the house. I’ve done some extensive remodeling on other properties I’ve owned and the results weren’t half bad. Add that to the fact that I’m an avid cook (a skill acquired in the interest of self-preservation after many years as a bachelor) and you have the setting for the tale that follows.

When I recently moved back into the condo I bought in 1980, the almond-finish builder-grade stove had suffered a couple decades’ worth of indignity by a succession of renters. It had given up any hope of stylishness, and while the exposed coils on it still worked, level was a concept they had long since abandoned. A new (OK, gently-used) glass-top stainless range for free was like a gift from above. It deserved a place befitting its grandeur. I would give it a kitchen we could both be proud of.

I looked at my 11-foot galley with a critical eye. Would the new stove work with my electrical service? I had 40-amp 220 and the stove had a 50-amp plug. Time to call an electrician. He said as long as the feed from the box would carry the current, I’d probably be fine with a new receptacle and breaker. Otherwise, he’d have to pull a new wire. A long way. For a lot of money.

Would the new range fit? Yes, but I had to be careful because the overhanging glass top wouldn’t work with the rolled edge of my counters on either side. OK, I could use new countertops anyway. Speaking of which, counter space was at a premium so that huge microwave had to go. Off to the Big Box to find a matching over-the-range model. Found it and it was at my door the next day. The vent duct matched my old range hood perfectly, so all I had to do was mount it and hook it up. Of course the wall cabinet would have to be changed to accommodate the new microwave, so I had ordered it, too. Now to hang it below the soffit and attach the microwave. Below the soffit. The soffit that cheated me out of badly-needed storage space. I wondered what was behind it.

With easily repaired holes and a strong flashlight, I discovered the only thing the soffit enclosed above the stove was the duct for the exhaust fan. On the other side, the soffit was completely empty. I could tear them out and have 20 more cubic feet of storage! I spent the next Saturday ripping out the soffit over the stove and fridge (still the old ones — I haven’t ordered the new stainless refrigerator I’ll need to match the range and microwave yet) and cleaned up the mess with a sense of accomplishment. The other side would have to wait a while since I needed to use the kitchen and had other things to do, besides.

When I planned my attack on the sink side, I noticed the pantry cabinet had been notched out to fit the soffit. Hmmm. How would that look with the soffit gone? Closer inspection revealed that the pantry was a full inch-and-a-half taller than the tops of the wall cabinets. Darn. Filler strip? New cabinet? After all, the 30-year-old cabinets were showing their age.

Refinish? Reface? Replace? Well, that depends on the style of the new kitchen, doesn’t it? I want something casual and contemporary, with maybe a nod to Art Deco. No problem. Plenty of ideas online. Let’s just take a look at that site with all the pictures. All the pictures. Millions of pictures. So many pictures that by the time I find one I like, I’ve forgotten why I went there, having been distracted by a link to an article about landscaping with water — and I don’t even own the ground outside my condo! Time to go to bed.

Of course now I can’t sleep, thinking about redesigning my whole stinking home. After all, if I’m gonna put new flooring in the kitchen, why not get rid of that nasty carpet and do the entire place? Except for the bathrooms, of course. I’ve been meaning to replace the ugly linoleum with some snazzy tile. And upgrade the tub in the guest bath. And put a walk-in shower in the master. Once I decide on the design for both of them, of course. I’ll see if I can find some ideas online.

Two months later with the soffits removed, a narrow strip of ceiling remains above the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by partially exposed studs and rafters. It’ll be coming down, too, so I can upgrade the lighting. Looks like 700 square feet of laminate flooring will run around $2,000, plus installation. If I shop carefully, I can get a new fridge for under a grand. Then I can tackle the bathrooms.

 I’ve gone back to that web site with all the pictures several times to troll for ideas. Hundreds of photos into it without a eureka moment, I’ve decided I’m much better at building than I am at design.

I still love my sister, even when she asks me when I’m going to get the stove out of her garage. I tell her I’m not sure I can afford it anymore. She says, “But it’s free.”

Yeah, right.


---Mike McClanahan

Friday, April 11, 2014

Doggie Dramas

I was recently asked by a client to do an article about "Amazing Dog Reunions" for a doggie daycare center.
Here's my exchange with him. Fortunately, he has a sense of humor.

Me: Not sure what Amazing Dog Reunions is supposed to be about.
Events at MHM? Long-lost dogs reunited with owners? Dogs seeing one another for the first time in years?
This can go several ways.
Point me in one.
Client: It think some dog reunions after a long trip.

Me: That seems very visual to me and better suited to YouTube or Facebook videos.
Verbally, it’s kinda weak unless I go all literary on it.
Here are some possibilities:

Straight account:
We came home. The dog was very excited to see us when we picked it up at MHM. It barked, jumped, squealed, and peed on the floor. It was so excited that it peed in the car on the way home, too. We had to sell the car.

Literary account (romantic):
My heart was pounding as I approached the kennel where Bruno had spent the week. Would he still love me or would he reject me like so many other males in my life? I had my answer when the wire gate was opened. Bruno leapt onto my eager body, forcing me onto my back, and began licking softly at the drops of blood that had formed where he had lacerated my heaving breast while pawing me passionately. The air was ripe with the aroma of love. I stopped at the market on the way home and bought a large jar of peanut butter.

Literary account (hard-boiled detective):
It was time to spring the bitch from the cage that had been her prison for the last ten days. As I approached her pen, she lay motionless. Her dark, dewy eyes followed me across the room. She growled softly as I opened the door. It was a familiar sound, but I never knew whether it was a come-on or a warning. I took a chance.
“How ya doin’, babe?” I asked nonchalantly.
Another rumble emanated from deep inside her. She sprang at me, teeth bared.
I grabbed her by the silky hair on the back of her neck before she could rip out my throat. It was a neck I knew well.
I held her face defiantly close to mine. The heat of her breath was enough to curdle a mother’s milk.
Then suddenly, the tension flowed from her body like an ebbing tide and she began kissing me eagerly on every square inch of my face.
Dames are like that.


Or we could come up with another idea.