The Contractors arrived to day, Joe and his crew of merry men; and the end result is that we have no kitchen. Yesterday, we had a dispirited, disheartened, forlorn kitchen; today we do not even have a dead kitchen. After the work that was done there’s nothing left but the kitchen sink, and that’s disconnected.
Demolition is about half complete, I’d guess; and what was uncovered wasn’t nearly as interesting as I’d hoped, despite the jackhammers. Seriously—jackhammers. When your kitchen cabinets are made of bricks and mortar, you need jackhammers to take them out.
Seriously—bricks and mortar. It’s—it was—as picturesque as all get out, but not especially practical. I’ll try to get some pictures up later.
The View from the Foothills 
We’ll all miss your wonderful old kitchen, Will. I hope you keep the round table.
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The table is staying, no question. Basically, two sides of the room are remaining the same, and the other two sides are changing considerably. We’re trying to keep the same flavor, but only time will tell how well we’ve succeeded.
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bricks and mortar…?
The original builder definitely wanted those cabinets to last.
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Just the counters. The upper cabinets…or, more accurately, cabinet, singular, was knotty pine.
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