I Have A Kitchen

David finished up in the kitchen last night, after spending close to twelve hours working on it. He packed up his tools, rolled up his tarps, and vacuumed the floor. He left at 8:30 and then I made dinner. Yes, we ate late -- at 9pm. It was a simple dinner: steak, baked potato and carrots. But it was dinner made in my kitchen. David will be back in mid-January when the butcher block table top and pantry doors arrive and are ready for installation. I'll do the before-and-after post then but here's a sneak preview.

Dare I say that I like this kitchen better than the one I had at Aspen Meadows? That was my Mary Poppins kitchen -- you know, "practically perfect in every way."

This morning, I arranged my spices on the island rack.

I put pots and pans in the drawers under the cooktop, and I placed my measuring cups in the corner cabinet lazy Susan. It took all morning to move my cookware from the dining room table, floor, chairs and window sills into the kitchen. It was a labor of love.

I made French toast for breakfast.

This afternoon we went wine tasting Christmas shopping. Brett treated me to lunch at the pub in Fairplay (awesome French dip sandwich). The sun was behind the hills when we got home so I didn't get a chance to work with Winston.

But I have a kitchen. A beautiful, functional kitchen.

And there's apricot bread in the oven. Ever since I can remember, there has been apricot bread for breakfast Christmas morning. When I was young, my father cut thick slices and we toasted them while my mother ladled hot chocolate into mugs. I slathered butter onto my toasted bread and sipped on hot chocolate, melted marshmallow sticking to my upper lip. I sip coffee now, but I still eat toasted apricot bread drenched in butter Christmas morning.

Kyle and Camille fly in tomorrow afternoon and my parents are driving up from the Central Coast. Posting may be a bit sporadic while the house is full of family. You know where I'll be.... in the kitchen!