A couple months ago, Colin's mom was over and we were cooking dinner, crammed in the kitchen talking. We really should have "before" pics of our kitchen (afters not available yet...or ever, probably). No joke - it is the ugliest kitchen in existence today. I know it is all relative. If you walked into a car showroom in 1973 and saw the new flesh-colored Datsun 510 wagon my mom used to drive you'd say it was "to the max!" back then. Same goes for 1956, when our house was built, and this heinous design-suicide of a kitchen was dreamt up. Certainly, if you ran in the same circle as the Murgatroyd's (previous owner of said kitchen) you'd be maybe even be envious? (Their last name really was Murgatroyd...as in "Heavens to Murgatroyd!" Those kids must have had it rough in school). Anyway, standing up against our ugly cabinets, watching CJ cook, the conversation almost always leads to, "what are you guys going to do with the kitchen???" Translation: "this is so god-awful, do something...soon!" Our stove is as big as our new 2002 tii, and is a lovely shade of puce (not puke, puce - which, evidently looks a lot like puke). It has some sort of massive dashboard situation with an enormous clock and shelf, which I am sure was revolutionary in '56, but today serves only as a time-out timer for Cian and a place to hold Colin's various symbolic rocks and spice jars. You get the picture, it ain't pretty. The rest of the kitchen is just as charming- tortoise and chocolate colored linoleum, a beige dishwasher that smokes, melts anything plastic and sounds running Pinto when switched on. The best thing going in this kitchen is the cabinet hardware - and that came that from our last god-awful kitchen after we remodeled it. So, Colin's mom delicately suggests that we give her friends a buzz because they have a Viking stove they are trying to get rid of. My eyes light up and I said to Colin - "Call them!! Now!!" So, Colin gives them a ring a few days later and leaves the following message: "Hey, Andy heard you got a stove you need a home for, if you are still looking to get rid of it - call us. More importantly, if you still have your 2002, we'd love to buy that! Ha ha." So, since you know what's on jack stands in our side yard now, I guess you figured it out: stove, not available. So, the kitchen took a backseat and now we are 100% car-restoration focused. Colin seems to have moved on from his daily kitchen-hating angst, to a serious wish-we-had-a-garage angst. We have been married for almost 10 years, and in that 10 years this is our 4th house. We started in Petaluma, fixed up and sold. Moved to San Rafael, fixed up and sold. Moved to Tiburon, fixed up, freaked out and sold. And here we are. Back in San Rafael, and garage-less. Each home we've lived in had a "must have a garage" criteria, and CJ always went right to work happily setting up his workshop before anything else. This house, like many from the 50's, has a converted garage that is lovingly/hatingly referred to as our "toy room." Before we moved in we said, "that room is going back to being a garage!" But as soon as we started unloading the moving truck, we quickly realized we were attempting to shove 2500 sq feet of furniture into 1800 square feet, and also had two VERY "energetic" kids that needed all the room they can get. So, once the rains came last week, the "why-don't-we-have-a-garage" rumble resumed, and CJ is down on the side yard under our beach "easy up" that he erected over our newly rust-free car trying desperately to keep her dry. Scrubbing seats clean with a toothbrush, cutting out little cardboard shapes to make replacement parts and removing trim is all done while earnestly wishing for a space to work his magic. So, there he is, crouched under this ghetto contraption of a shelter in the misting rain and fog pulling out the weatherstripping and quarter windows. When he stripped the interior of the car, the carpet was not salvageable, but the rest of the interior was stored in the basement for a rainy day so he could check out what shape they were in. We are fairly certain the backseat had never seen the likes of children - no crayon marks, bubble gum or slurpee stains - it actually looked like it had never seen a passenger of any kind. My Pathfinder hides all kinds of disgusting stuff on a daily basis - little villages of dried booger collections under car seats being the most palatable. Yesterday, we were unloading the car after a day of errands, and a baby lizard poked it's head out of the bags in the back staring back at us. That was a first. So, we were pretty stoked the back seats are in such great shape. They just need to be re-stuffed with foam as the horsehair is falling out at the bottom from age. Soon we'll start searching local salvage yards for front seats and front door panels as we didn't get so lucky there - they are toast. CJ has some sunny days ahead to finish his custom air dam meant to cover the valance which has a huge hole in it....the culprit? Rust. Damn rust. The man is an artist though, and this is the kind of opportunity that gives him a chance to express himself. It amazes me what he can do with what seems like nothing. When I had my store, he took some metal rug arms out and instead of trashing them, we now have a custom fireplace screen and a bbq stand! So, while there are only a few thousand tii's of this year out there in the nation, ours will stand out from the rest with that special CJ stamp on it that makes it ours.
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