Kitchen!

So yesterday while I was baking focaccia Nick stayed home and dealt with our awesome handyman. Now look, we have more shelf/storage space in our kitchen!

It feels like a home!

Twist and Shout

Well, I expected the weather to change with the season but not this drastically.

So, there was a tornado in Park Slope! Ahhh! Alert the media. Oh wait, gawker, gothamist, and apparently everyone with a twitter account has been reporting this news. I feel like this is the new "Ground Zero Mosque" thing, only actually far more interesting. And hopefully Tea Partiers won't find a way to ruin this.

I knew something funky was going on because while at work the sky darkened and there was sleet and rain that went horizontal. And this was in MANHATTAN. And then I learned that there was a tornado in Park Slope, and I saw the video linked above. And this spooky picture (that is apparently from 1976?). Then Nick called and informed me that there were fallen tree branches/trees all over our route to and from the subway. Gothamist has pictures!

Things Nick and I learned: our "fixer-upper" apartment is not 100 percent fixed. The windows are cracked/open at the top (it didn't help that we left them open either), which of course allowed rain to get inside and drown Nick's Ninja Turtles DVD. And some furniture. And the floor.

Then we found out that our fridge is leaking.

So much to be done! But at least we have a roof over our heads... so far.

Bookslut

I grew up with parents who had a library. We're not talking like one bookcase, we're talking at least three bookcases-- LARGE ONES -- confined to a room that was basically dedicated to their ownership of books. When I was little, like ten, I used to love standing on the ledges of the bookshelves (they were built into the walls/super strong) and pulling books that looked interesting and asking my mom if they were appropriate. If they weren't, I'd get to a "sexy part" and ask my mom to skip forward. I was one prude kid.

[Random fact: the first time I got so into a book's story that I kept reading through a "sexy part" was the rape scene in THE THORN BIRDS. I was terrified of the idea of sex for a long time after that.]

When we moved to La Canada Flintridge, where my parents still preside, the library expanded. Not only did it have my mom's books from when she was a teen (we're talking 49 cent romances), but her books from college, and then my books from middle school along with my dad's science shit. An entire room was nothing but books! As this was where the "work computer" was for me and my little brother to do our homework, I spent a lot of time in that room. It was also basically sound proof, so thus the location of many a movie night with my louder friends.

Thus, I took way more books with me to college than was normal, and I took those from college to my first apartment, where I added books, and added more books, and then shipped all three bookcases worth to Brooklyn, where I had another bookshelf built so I had four bookcases, plus a bookcase for DVDs. Seriously. That's all one wall of my old apartment was:


And I love owning books. Lots of books. It's a point of pride. I like being able to say "oh, you want to read that? Well I own it, let me lend it to you." I love having people over and looking through the bookcase and talking about our similar likes or dislikes. I love recommending new books to people, and often to do that I have to peruse what I already own. It's my collection.

So, moving with Nick was wonderful but also hard in that I suddenly had to get rid of a lot of books. Not a ton, Nick, while mocking my book collection, didn't like forbid me or anything from having them. After all, the guy owns a shit ton of records. They're just able to be confined to one spot because they're thin.

But, for basic reality's sake, I had to get rid of some books I didn't read as much as I thought, or didn't really NEED to have around. And I had to get rid of two bookcases. They were shitty ikea ones anyway. So when Nick and I moved in to our pink house, we found that I had still six medium boxes full of books while the two bookcases I HAD brought were brimming.

Thus, I began the search to find a bookcase that could hold DVDs AND books. Thanks to Keagan's tip, I found the great site homedecorators.com (which I guess is part of Home Depot) and found this bookcase:


Pretty, right? Funny-- there's a REASON they don't show the books sitting straight up. Ends up the shelves barely hold them.

How did Nick and I find this out? Well, after going to Home Depot and purchasing a power drill-- my new favorite toy--


Nick and I spent two hours trying to BUILD said bookshelf. This is after we found it propped downstairs in its packaging. As the warning labels all over the beat-up package warned us, the thing was over 70 pounds. Thus, Nick and I had to individually carry up each piece of the bookcase.

I, deciding I was the next Wonder Woman, took a crack at the bookshelf. All was going swimmingly-- Nick had The Simpsons on as background fun -- until I got to the part involving hinges/the bottom cabinet. I could NOT figure them out. Then Nick got involved and did, but it took us an hour of wondering why the pictures were so poorly drawn.

But then we succeeded! And I filled the bookcase (and the below cabinet, double the times in the cabinet) with books and DVDs! And then Nick added his DVDs! Success!

So while now all of my bookcases in the apartment are double-stacked with books, we are box free. Huzzah!

Note: building the home decorators bookcase was a helluva lot easier than building the piece of shit hanging wall unit Target sent us for the kitchen.



In other news, my stitches are out! Now I just have a bandaid on my chin. So I guess I grow beards?


Em

The Hunt For The Kitchen Cabinets

My friend Vince informs me that Nick and I should be demanding a rent decrease from the landlord due to all the TLC we're putting into this place, but I have a feeling that won't go over too well. As is, we've got a pretty cheap rent for the neighborhood. But sometimes I think about approaching Mr. Henry and asking if he could help out with the whole "one single kitchen cabinet" issue.

But likely I won't.

I've spent the past few days studying the websites of places such as Target, Ikea, Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel, Overstock... and still have yet to find a kitchen cabinet I like. Who knew it was so hard?! But we need one. Or three. So I think in the end we'll just have to buy something from Target and make due.

I guess that's the quandary... do we buy something more sturdy/fancy, even though we might leave in a year, or do we just get something that will do? That's been my question all along. I've been good about staying in a sort of middle-ground area, but it's proving hard with kitchen cabinets.

Garrr.

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time there was a happy couple looking for a place to live. As Manhattan was out of the question-- the girl had too much crap, mostly old paperbacks, she was not willing to get rid of; the boy owned an impressive record collection -- they agreed to look for a spacious, hopefully affordable apartment in Brooklyn.

This proved extremely difficult.

Everyone and their grandmother was apparently looking for a September 1st start-date, and after a week of several near-misses and tense tours of run down abodes (including that of a socialist couple who never washed a dish and a hip fashion designer with a closet full of beads) the girl was at a loss and close to tears. Seeing this, the fearless boy took matters into his own hands, and stalked a new set of realtors until they showed him something passable... the infamous pink house on Garfield in Park Slope.

Sure, it lacked a kitchen. And sure, the bathroom wasn't actually connected to the rest of the rooms. But it was on the same floor! And big! And the landlord-- a ninety-six year old African American man who couldn't hear very well and needed everything repeated eighteen times-- promised to install a proper kitchen before the move-in date. The rent was cheap for the area, the boyfriend told the girl she could paint the rooms, and it was an apartment. A home to call their own.

A home that needed a lot of work, sure, but a home nonetheless.