Breathing space in small corners

It’s wonderful.

I’ve never felt this way about a house before. Comfort. Nest. Nourish. Place. Those words come to mind.

There are doves in the back yard. Last night after dinner, the kid looked out the window at the slanting sunlight and cried, “It’s the magic hour!” In seconds, she’d pulled on her coat. I could watch her running across the grass from my kitchen window. Finally.

This morning, I cried. In a blink, over the growling of the coffee grinder, I went from sleep-bleary to weeping. Everything felt like a mess. Boxes. Dirty dishes in the beautiful, new sink. I have no idea where my saucepans are.

Those old, mean words, my harsh companions: always, never, why, won’t.

So I took a walk through the rooms and looked around. The key to this phase, I think, is making breathing space in small corners. Then let the breathing space grow. Give it time. Box by box. Switch plate by washer hookup by shelf bracket.

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Found, no. 3: Slo-Cooker Plus

Ed. note: We’re all moved in and moving through our first day at the new house. So happy. Little visions of the future in every corner. No backsplash or range hood, no dining room light, no idea where the towels or forks are. But it’s home. Here’s a post I prepped for this week – a recipe appropriately named for the moment, below. Enjoy! ;)

I imagine it was a Christmas gift from a well-meaning aunt. A forgotten wedding gift, stuck in the back of the linen closet until long after the marriage ended, well past the time for party fondue or chicken for two.

Until we found it (truly, in the back of the linen closet). Barring any ugly research findings on vintage Teflon’s (?) effect on food, we might put it to work. It’s mint condition, never used, as evidenced by the cord still neatly coiled inside, the instruction manual intact, the metal rack shiny as the day it was born.

Please enjoy a serving of Chicken Booyah.

vintage Slo-Cooker

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Stove and sink!

We’re going to be light on words here for the next few days – with photo posts on the fly. I will say this – I am giddy with excitement at today’s kitchen developments. It’s happening people!

Sink in place, stove up and running! Years of grime scrubbed away from walls, doors, floors, toilets. And at least half our stuff packed.

Which leads me to an important public declaration of gratitude. None of this would be happening the right way or be any fun at all without my sister-in-law, whom I owe in so many ways right now. So many.

Lookie!

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Vintage remnants

There are still a few mid-century relics popping up across the house. Amazing what you find when you’re on your hands and knees, scrubbing baseboard. These little mysteries hadn’t registered with me — until my sweet sister-in-law was crawling along, sponge in hand, right down at their level and she called me over to see.

Make a guess?

1965 portable phone jackHere are the guts of it, for the engineering geeks:

1965 portable phone jack interior

You do know I have major sleuthing tendencies with a side of research nerd, correct? I couldn’t resist a late-night google hunt. Guess what I found?

Fedtro portable telephone outlet Fedtro portable telephone outlet back

The 1964 Fedtro Portable Telephone Outlet. Make any phone portable! Use your one phone … in EVERY ROOM! No bathtub interruptions!

So … telephones used to be hard-wired into the wall. You couldn’t unplug them. This kit essentially let you wire a plug at the end of your phone cord, and install receptacle outlets anywhere in your house.

Fellow writers — how ’bout that benefit-driven copy, ‘eh? Oh, the effusive and bygone era of the exclamation mark. Fabulous!

(I found the photos of the mint-condition kits at Etsy store TomLaurus.)

By the way, I didn’t end there. I got super geeky and looked up some history on Fedtro.  Among other electronics, they made TV tube testers, transistor radio parts, and the Powerhouse Control-O-Matic Deluxe Battery Charger — “Wonderful! Just plug in and charge!”

Have you ever lived in an old house? What’s the best piece of history you’ve found?