Chalkboard baby book

Sad, but true. You're looking at the 18-22 month portion of my son's baby book. The chalkboard wall in my kitchen is a stream-of-consciousness catch-all for me as I'm cooking meals or cleaning up. Without thinking about it too much, I started to jot down little notes to remind me of things I should include in his ACTUAL baby book. 

When I get around to it, that is. This does make me think that he might just have a section of chalkboard photos for his toddler years. 

Use-cases

iPad, wedged between toaster and old-school "printed" cookbook

iPad balanced on drying dishes

iPad supported by cactus (the most stable, arguably)

I haven't done any extensive formal user research for some time, and suspect this collection of photos I've been taking in my kitchen is scratching a latent itch. I should [not] note that this iPad is on loan from a really nice client. I'm not sure it was intended to be the recipe holder that it has become, but it's going to be a sad day when I return it. Hopefully not too oiled and floured.

Mystery String

If you glance toward the ceiling in our kitchen you'll notice a string between the cupboards on one side of the room.

By mid-summer, there is usually a cluster of drying herbs hanging there.

By mid-winter, the dried herbs have long since been crushed into dark tins inside the cupboards, and we're enjoying garden basil and oregano in our pizza sauce.

So if you're ever in our kitchen, look up and see what season it is by what's hanging on the string. Dust means late winter or early spring.

quaint, inconvenient things

My family lives in a 1923 bungalow with a kitchen in sore need of repair/restoration/renovation. While the project is not on the immediate horizon, it's always tucked away in our minds, surfacing with the same frequency as the lead paint chips—or when we visit other houses the same age as ours.

When we went on this year's Twin Cities Bungalow Club Tour, we paid special attention to kitchens. The photo is from one of the houses on the tour, in Minneapolis. Nice kitty.

We have a sink like the one shown here sitting in our basement that we salvaged from our neighbor's house. It's like the one that used to be in our house, so to reinstall something like this would go a long way toward making it feel more like a traditional bungalow. Simple things, essential materials; a realm free of marble countertops and cold silver appliances.

Our constant question is, at what point does reclaiming what's "quaint" become miserable? There is a balance to be found. We aren't slavishly historical, but would prefer to follow the lead of 1920's trends over 2010's trends. Stay tuned. In (let's make a leap here) 6 years when we DO tackle our kitchen, I'll make sure to post a photo of the sink.