my new kitchen . . .

My brother and sister-in-law called to say they were coming up to see the Martha Stewart house we loved. As I danced around, showing off the house as if I owned it, I couldn't tear myself away from the kitchen, I am fascinated with the whiteness of it all. The floor is 18x18 slabs of black slate, black granite counters, white everything else including the white subway tile as a back splash.

Of course this shot doesn't show the glass fronted pantry, or the french sink work area off to the left with the white wooden shade covered windows. But it has me drooling especially since walking into my kitchen is like entering Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater's home. I got a tad carried away with the terracotta. Ugh. My white tile floor is now chipped from my clumsy fingers dropping cans of Lindsey's Black Olives, or Great Northern Navy Beans oh and the cast iron pot I've had since college. Not to mention the grout that I think I remember once upon a time being white. Or maybe that was someone else's house. My grout is anything but white. So my brain is spinning. If we replaced the white tile with black slate, painted all the cabinets white, did the tile back splash, ta da . . . I'd have my own version. I mean, I already have the black granite counter tops, black stove and black dishwasher. The fridge is white and terracotta, oh wait, that is rust. It will be replaced by a new black french door fridge. Take that Martha Stewart. I am giddy again. Oh and just for the drama of it all, this is the hall entrance to the house taken from the back forward.

You could bowl down that, play hopscotch, roller skate . . . unlimited possibilities!