“The Guts to Gut” Sometimes you just have to start over, even if it means 10 weeks in renovation purgatory By Eileen Heyes, Staff Writer From the March 24, 2007 issue of The News & Observer, Raleigh It was around this time last year that our kitchen project emerged from the One of These Days file. How that happened is foggy in my memory, but best I can figure, the decision making must have gone something like this: "Dear, have you noticed? We seem to have too much money." "Yes! And not nearly enough stress in our lives!" "Whatever shall we do??" (In unison:) "I know! Let's gut the two most-used rooms in our house and rebuild them from scratch!" The rooms in question were the kitchen and family room. Each had decent square footage, but the space didn't work well. The kitchen was divided by a peninsula counter with cabinets hanging above, which made it tough for the cook to socialize with anyone at the table. The rectangular family room, about 13 by 21, connected to the kitchen by only a doorway -- again, cutting off social contact. We wanted to get rid of the divisions and transform the two rooms into one friendly open space. So it was that, after some research, we signed a contract in May and began writing checks of dizzying size. Wood Wise, our designer and builder, was first-rate and held our hands through the long series of choices. Our first decision involved cabinets. We chose unstained hickory, a dramatic wood of varying and unpredictable color, and a dark quartz countertop. "You sure are brave," the cabinet specialist said, shaking her head. She didn't have a hickory sample in the showroom because no one had ever asked for it before. It was not the last time we would hear words to the effect of: "Are you sure you want to do it that way? No one's ever wanted to do it that way." Yes, we were sure: appliance garage, bamboo flooring, one-bowl sink, 27-inch ovens, radio receiver in the pantry. Construction went as smoothly as could be hoped in a 10-week home improvement project. Still, it was a summer in Remodeling Heck. Week 1 Demolition begins. Two guys pull out the kitchen cabinets and take down all the drywall in the family room, including the cottage cheese ceilings. Honestly, what were builders thinking when they put that hideous stuff up in the '70s? One of the demo guys gets a bad scare from something hidden inside a kitchen soffit: a hornets' nest bigger than a bowling ball. It's actually quite beautiful, a work of art. Loveliest of all, it contains no live hornets. Project manager Ben Toney, understanding the emotional toll of this destruction, hands us a gift certificate for dinner at a nice restaurant. We use it that night. Week 2 Designer Susan Hickman takes us shopping for sinks and faucets. We hadn't planned a bathroom addition, but an attractive portapotty shows up at the end of our driveway. Demolition continues. Kitchen drywall comes out, along with the old light fixtures. Floors are stripped down to the subfloor. Wiring begins going in for the new light fixtures. Inside the wall we're removing, there are some troublesome pipes we didn't expect. Ben explains -- something about the heating and air-conditioning system. Moving the pipes adds $1,000 to our bill. Week 3 Wires are run for ceiling speakers, separate volume controls for each room, and the receiver in the pantry. This is our little splurge; we have resisted the sales guy's effort to sell us an entire home entertainment system. A big sturdy beam replaces the weight-bearing wall that used to separate the kitchen and family room. Electrical rough-in is finished. We write another big check. Week 4 New insulation and drywall go up. The rooms are beginning to look like something you could live in someday. Which is good, because at this point we need some cheer. The power has been cut off to both rooms and the downstairs bathroom since Week 2, so we have to take a flashlight to use that bathroom after dark. And we do use it -- to wash dishes, because it now has the only running water downstairs. We have crammed the fridge, microwave, toaster oven and coffee maker into the dining room. We have learned that nuked frozen entrees are horrifically salty and don't taste very good. We grill a lot. Week 5 Susan takes us to pick out tile, a process that involves juggling color, texture, design and budget. It's up to us to find light fixtures, so we search online for Tiffany-style pendants with matching sconces. The home alarm guy runs rough wiring. And hallelujah, the cabinets start going in. The cabinet specialist drops by to see how they look. "Well," she says, "it's not what I'd want in my kitchen. But if you like them, that's what matters." We love them. The third big check is due. Week 6 We order the lights, then shop for appliances. My husband is tempted by a compact little stove with four burners and two small ovens. I lure him to the rear of the store, where the chest-thumping cooktops with five and six burners are on display. He never looks back. The last cabinets are installed. Crown molding goes up on the cabinets and around the ceilings. The washer and dryer are taken out, to be stored in the garage for the next several weeks. We have to choose a paint color, but our brains cannot handle one more choice. We tell Susan: "You decide." Week 7 The walls are painted beige. Appliances and plumbing fixtures are delivered. A new mantel is installed over the fireplace. Our dog greets the workers every morning with enthusiasm, obviously hoping they have come to play with her. Is there anything so heartwarming as the relentless optimism of a Lab? Week 8 Workers of different trades trip all over one another. Countertops are installed, along with sinks and faucets. The appliance guy installs an oven stack (convection on top, conventional underneath), a zillion-BTU gas cooktop, and a super-sucking ventilation hood. Tile guys put in the backsplash, which features a nice diagonal design over the cooktop. The electrician hangs pendant lights over the new island. He predicts that all power will be back on by week's end. But it turns out that, with so much wiring still exposed, he leaves the electricity off to the kitchen and family room and somehow manages to also cut off power to half the upstairs rooms, including the kids' bathroom. We write the fourth big check. Week 9 Bamboo flooring goes down. We'd never seen a bamboo floor when builder Hank Wall suggested it months ago. How he put it was: "Would you be open to something wacky?" Workers put the finishes on other items. Most of the light fixtures and switch plates are installed. The dishwasher, which has been sitting in the garage for two months, goes back in. Power is restored in a burst that sends sparks flying and smoke billowing from the surge protector in my son's room. Fortunately, he is sitting in front of his computer and has the presence of mind to dive under his desk, reach through the fountain of sparks and yank the plug out of the wall. The surge protector is dead, but the computer is fine and the house does not burn down. Week 10 Speakers go into the ceilings. The family room sconces, the last of the light fixtures, are installed. The refrigerator is finally delivered and rolled into its place. The appliance garage goes in. This is a convenient little countertop storage space with an electric outlet inside for the food processor, mixer, rice cooker and juicer. We've had to explain several times along the way what this is and why we want one, because -- that's right -- no one ever wanted to do it that way before. We start bringing boxes back downstairs and unpacking them. Because the cabinet space is configured so differently now, we have to completely rethink where stuff goes. Plates, bowls and spices end up in lower cabinets. The kitchen table moves out to the family room. The project has reached "substantial completion." We write the final check. Week 11 The home alarm system is finished. We move our furniture back in, but we are mystified about how best to arrange it. I put plants on top of the cabinets and return all the comic strips and photographs to the refrigerator door. The new open room gets its test at Thanksgiving, when we make dinner for 13 people, several of whom insist on helping cook. Counter space is now abundant and accessible from multiple directions. There is a small prep sink in addition to the main one. The ovens are separate from the cooktop, so both can be reached at the same time. Yes -- it works. The kitchen is friendly, welcoming and quite functional. It's exactly what we had in mind.		Finally, the family gets a kitchen that works. The cabinets are unstained hickory, the countertops are quartz and the flooring is bamboo Just The facts The Builder: Wood Wise Design & Remodeling, 3121 Glen Royal Road, Raleigh; 783-9330 www.woodwisedesign.com Cabinets: KraftMaid, Bedford style, unstained hickory www.kraftmaid.com Countertops: Cambria natural quartz, Chatham color www.cambriausa.com Cooktop: GE Monogram, gas, five burners (all with simmer setting) Lighting: Tiffany-style pendants in kitchen, matching sconces in family room The price tag: About $71,000 for the contract, plus about $10,000 for appliances, light fixtures, sound system, alarm system and various smaller things along the way. What we can now afford to cook in new kitchen: Rice and beans Photos by Julie Leaonard Photos used with permission of The News and Observer, Raleigh, North Carolina. Reproduction does not imply endorsement.