Looking
back with the perspective of a year’s time….
It
was nice to know that we were in the right place, but adjusting to
new surroundings still took a lot of effort.
There
were practical issues. We had to figure out how to make the space
work. The bedrooms are really small, only nine by eleven feet. I
stood in the doorway and wasn’t sure we could even fit our bed
in it and still have room to walk around.
I
had to measure and calculate on paper before I believed it. If we had
a king-size bed instead of a queen, it wouldn’t have worked.
It did feel awfully small for a while, but we got used to it.
We
had a basement, an unexpected advantage, with laundry machines and
room to bring our freezer and food storage. The disadvantage was
that access was from the outside. It was different to need a jacket
and a key, or wait for a break in the rain, to go do laundry.
After
nightfall, you need a lantern, because no light penetrates that
stairwell. I quickly realized that I’d better remember to
bring the clothes out of the dryer and upstairs before I needed them
the next morning; otherwise I was heading outside in my pajamas in
view of the bus stop across the street.
The
kitchen’s upper cabinets rose all the way to the high ceiling,
and all but one started just above my head. The first thing I did
was buy a short round stepstool on casters, the kind that locks in
place when you put weight on it. It was lightweight enough to pick
up and carry to where I needed it, or nudge into place with my foot.
The
unanticipated help was that I could sit on it, rather than just
bending over, when I needed to get something at floor level. That’s
a real boon to a bad back.
Meet my new best friend in my new kitchen.
The
tougher problem was the lower cabinets. The kitchen is old, and the
long stretch of counter space is only sixteen inches deep —
seventeen where it goes into the window well. I tried to close a
cupboard door on my cookie sheets, and they were a fraction too big;
so I broke the latch, my very first day.
I put a begonia into a pot that had been part of a housewarming gift for the old house, and set it on my sunny but shallow new kitchen counter. It offered continuity and reminded me to be of good cheer.
I
find, however, now that they’re organized, that it’s easy
to open the door and see everything there, no digging things out to
get at whatever is pushed into the back.
But
it’s not like the old house was perfect. I would mutter darkly
every time cooking was a major production, say for a holiday, that
whoever had laid out my kitchen was not a cook. It had the
refrigerator and stove at perpendicular walls to each other, with a
big wedge section between, so I had to lean all the way forward onto
the balls of my feet to clean into the corner.
That
was my working space, and it only fit one person. The other side of
the stove was a narrow counter section of fourteen inches. The sink
on the opposite wall had two side sections, neither one big enough to
do a lot.
I
said that wherever I moved, my requirement was that it couldn’t
have a worse kitchen. I felt like this new one was about
equal, not great but for different reasons.
After
some time to settle in, we bought a normal-depth small cabinet (30
inches across), free standing, for the corner by the stove and moved
the refrigerator into the nook in back. It sat awhile with a large
cutting board on top of one half, as we reached into our silverware
drawer from the open top on the closer side.
Eventually
we found a counter piece for ten dollars at the Habitat for Humanity
salvage store, and had a friend install it for us.
Moving the fridge from this corner and setting up a new cabinet added some steps to my tasks, but gave me a workable space.
Now
I have one spot deep enough to roll out a pie crust or bread dough,
with room for those things that didn’t fit in the other
section. I can chop vegetables right there to toss into a pot —
it was difficult with the refrigerator there to have no place to even
set down a hot lid —, or pull my stand mixer forward and use
it.
On
the other side I have a long expanse if I need to set up an assembly
line, and small appliances like a blender and toaster don’t
need much depth. I have a working kitchen.
We
assumed that there was a phone outlet in the living room somewhere,
in addition to the one in the back room, which was obvious because it
was at the level of the light switch. No such second phone jack
existed. So we had to put in a splitter and thread a line through
two other rooms in order to have a phone in the living room (after
checking on the cost of an installation).
There
was also only one electrical outlet in that back room (or in the
other bedroom either), and it had to support our whole computer
system. The living room is much better supplied, but when the house
was wired, I suppose that they figured you didn’t need much.
Now
this would drive lots of people crazy, but everyone knows we’re
content to be a couple of dinosaurs anyway. Exhibit one is that we
still operate on a land line for our phone service and our internet.
My husband is the opposite of the ‘early adopter’ type;
and we’ve never had the money or the obsession for the newest
major toys.
It
would have been easy to moan our lot and feel anxious and frustrated.
Our starting point was the absolute certainty that the Lord had
opened this place up for us. He knew our needs, so we had faith that
every challenge would have a solution.
No
working space? We rearranged the kitchen a little and bought that
corner cabinet. Curtains for the long kitchen window? I envisioned
ruffles catching fire in the toaster, so we ordered a custom
polarized solar shade; and it ended up being one the best things we
did, because we can see out but no one can see in.
That
long window looks out at the side street, with a southern exposure,
so cutting the glare on a hot day or letting in the sunshine if it’s
cold helps keep us comfortable.
Some
solutions came out of kindness, like a stand for my indispensable
convection microwave that’s a full twenty inches deep; that
won’t go onto a sixteen inch deep counter. I put out the word
that I needed a sturdy stand for it, and a member of the ward brought
over one that was gathering dust in her garage. It fit perfectly in
the space where it needed to go.
I
do miss having a dishwasher, but I can manage. There have been times
that I would not have been able to stand on my feet for long enough
stretches to wash all my dishes by hand, but for just the two of us
it’s not too bad. If I still had all my kids at home, it would
be too much for me, but if it’s the trade-off for having the
basement, I’m okay.
And
I wasn’t even thinking yet about a garden — no apartment
would have given us that.
Those
basement stairs weren’t steep, except for the top one where the
concrete slab that forms the walkway goes across the top of it. If
all the steps had been that steep, it would have been a problem. But
they aren’t, so it’s not.
The
tradeoff for small bedrooms is larger common areas, and a dining
room. We don’t feel cramped in our surroundings.
We
had to get used to the street noise — but we’re not on
the major arterial, which is the next street to the north, heavily
traveled with no trees, or on the next street west, which is the
neighborhood commercial strip. We would have hated either of those.
Our southeast corner has a modest amount of foot and vehicle traffic,
and a pleasant setting.
The
ways we solved our problems with the space might be completely
different from how someone else would have. This little house would
not have been the best answer for everyone, but it was a good answer
for us.
The
Lord knew what would be manageable and what would not, and brought us
to a lighter, airy space with storage, trees, relative privacy, and
easy physical access. It’s an old house, and it has some
quirks. However, none of its shortcomings are deal-breakers for us.
Our
Father in Heaven knew what we would need, and what we could and
couldn’t do at this stage of our lives, and He matched us up
with a home. It worked out much better than we could have done
alone.
Marian J. Stoddard was born in Washington, D.C., and grew up in its Maryland suburbs. Her
father grew up in Carson City, Nevada, and her mother in Salt Lake City, so she was always
partly a Westerner at heart, and she ended up raising her family in Washington State. Her family
took road trips all over the United States and Canada, so there were lots of adventures.
The adventures of music, literature, and art were also valued and pursued. Playing tourist always
included the local museums as well as historical sites and places of natural beauty. Discussions
at home, around the dinner table or working in the kitchen, could cover politics, philosophy, or
poetry, with the perspective of the gospel underlying all. Words and ideas, and testimony and
service, were the family currency.
Marian graduated from Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland, and attended the
University of Utah as the recipient of the Ralph Hardy Memorial Scholarship, where she was
graduated with honors, receiving a B.A. in English. She also met the love of her life, a law
student, three weeks after her arrival; she jokes that she had to marry him because her mother
always wanted a tenor in the family. (She sings second soprano.) They were married two years
later and have six children and six grandchildren (so far). She treasures her family, her friends,
and her opportunities to serve.
Visit Marian at her blog, greaterthansparrows. You can contact her at
bloggermarian@gmail.com.
Marian and her husband live in Tacoma, Washington. Together they teach those who are
preparing to go to the temple for the first time, and she also teaches a Stake Relief Society
Institute class.