Happiness is a warm stove (and a window)

When the Raschke-Agostinis first moved to Nashville (aside from the fact that the Agostini part was still out of the country) we were amiably sharing a kitchen (and a house) with the Cajun Scorpio Girl. When we rented our own place, I was excited to move back into my own kitchen. I really missed my space in Knoxville. Even though it was tiny, it had a certain kind of charm. I could hang my pots and pans, and best of all there was a big window that poured light into my workspace.

The kitchen I have lived with for the last three years is a derelict 1970s leftover. A drop in stove that is vintage to the structure (1978), crammed into shotgun space with no window to speak of as the kitchens in the duplex are on a facing wall. I have often said that anything successfully prepared is a personal triumph over the cattywampus stove and temperamental oven which could be off as much as 75 degrees either way.

Exhibit A

The kitchen in the house we are buying is a little bigger and much more open. All of the appliances are new and under warranty. I might not have chosen black, but they all match. I would have loved to have gas, but there isn’t a gas line to the house, yet. The cabinets are original to the house and have a 1950s charm. There is also a window over the sink, from which I can see the road and the line of trees beyond. I am so excited, almost giddy, as the best thing about this kitchen is that it is mine all mine.

Exhibit B the day of the open house (the drawer was being repaired and painted)