Typhoon Bordeaux: A Story Set in Stone

My contractor who helped plan all this out

I hadn't planned to go the new granite countertops route.  Or even do a kitchen upgrade.  ("Face-lift" is what my contractor called it)  But the lighting was bad, the formica countertops were stained, the cupboard doors didn't close, the drawers got stuck.  And after fifteen years (when I first moved in and had some work done), it did seem time for that face-lift.  It started out when a family member suggested I have the bathroom re-done so that if I stayed home in the winters, I'd be able to have some spa moments that might lift my spirits and warm up my core (which alternative health practitioners were always telling me was cold).  But after getting an estimate, I decided the price was too high and the bathroom too small for effective change.  (You know, spa tub, that sort of thing.  But then no room for a shower.)  So somewhere along the line, I turned my mind to my kitchen.  It needed work and wouldn't cost so much.

But to get back to the granite countertops, I'd been watching a lot of programs on HGTV, the home network channel.  (No violence, no miserable news, no pundits already hashing out the 2012 race.)  Seemingly without fail, buyers looking at a house would go into the kitchen and squeal, "Ohhhh, granite countertops."  Or, "We'll have to tear out these old countertops and put in granite."  So what's the big deal, I wondered.  Did I even know anyone with granite countertops?  Wasn't it all rather extravagant?  But when it got to be kitchen face-lift time, I teased myself with the thought of putting some in.  Then my new contractor said that if I ever wanted to sell the house, granite countertops would be a big draw.  By now, I'd watched enough programs to know that was true.  (The "bang for the buck" thing.  Yes, there's even a program by that name, though their make-overs run in the mid- to high-five-figures.)

So I went for it.  There was a granite supply place about a half hour away.  My contractor and I got in his blue pick-up and drove there early on.  I needed to decide that morning.  I couldn't waffle around--I was paying him by the hour, the order needed to go in (even at that, it took some three weeks), and we needed to know the colors so that he could bounce off them to repaint the kitchen.

What a choice.  Huge slabs here, there, and everywhere.  But after narrowing the choice down to four, we picked Typhoon Bordeaux.  My contractor kept calling it "a lovely stone."  A bit dramatic (I figured that was the typhoon part), it had vibrant golds and a few black streaks that would match my current golden wood floor and black stove.  It also had a wide area with softer greys, creams, and drops the color of red wine. (I figured that was the Bordeaux part.)  But what struck me was its topographic look, as if I were flying over France, looking down on valleys, rocky outcroppings, a river now and again.  And occasional shiny spots like tiny strips of silver foil or sunlight glinting off distant lakes.  I could definitely live with that!

It took four weeks exactly with the kitchen in an upheaval the entire time.  Fortunately, the gas stove was still hooked up, so I could cook.  But finding things was a problem since I'd hauled everything out of my cupboards and drawers and set it all on the dining room table or floor.  Cutlery was in a paper bag under the table, phone books were mashed under something else, pots and pans were higgledy piggledy.  Some mornings, not wanting to haul out the toaster, I fried my bread in a little iron skillet.  I'd get the day's lettuce washed before my contractor arrived (early) each morning so that when lunch-time came around, I could slip by and rustle up a salad without getting in the way.  And when my sink finally disappeared, having already used the last of my paper plates, I piled my dirty dishes in the fridge so little critters wouldn't get to them.  (There were already those rather large summer ants exploring every room in the house.)

Then:  voilà:  there were the new cupboard doors and knobs, better runners under the drawers so they'd open more easily, some new construction around the fridge, a handsome paint job that turned all the woodwork a soft white and the walls a light buttery color.

Having already come earlier on to measure and cut out a thin plywood template of my two old countertops complete with a hole for a new sink, two men arrived one morning and hauled in the finished products.  "The stones."  They maneuvered them off their truck, across the yard, up the steps, then set them in place, used some sort of compound to adhere them (along with the new sink), bore a hole for a new faucet, told me to reseal them once a year, presented me with a bill, and advised me to keep off such acids as lemon juice and wine spills.  And there the new countertops lay--polished to a high hue with rounded corners so little grandchildren would not bump into sharp edges.  They did look splendid.

"They're the first thing anyone will see who comes in the kitchen," my contractor said.  "You picked a lovely stone."  He was beaming.

Here's the Before and After:

Before:  sink side (obviously)

After:  including a new faucet

Before:  opposite side

After

Oh, and here we are in the middle of the whole shebang:

And the dining room--when things were still pretty well organized

So with a spiffed-up kitchen, I dare say I'll stick around and stop going on line to look at Houses For Sale.  But I'll still watch the home network channel which (besides its de rigueur granite countertops) likes to show off a kitchen's stainless steel appliances.  I skipped that one.  Even if one is black, one cream, and one almond, my appliances are just fine.