Na-na-na-na. Na-na-na-na, Hey, hey, hey — Good-bye

Well, it's gone.

I'm officially a food editor without a kitchen. The demolition team arrived at 8 a.m. and by noon the kitchen I loved was dead, gone and toted out the door. All that remains is dry wall with a lot of pencil marks noting where cabinets go, where lights should align and how much my life will change in a about five weeks.

The crew arrived on time and were good guys. They worked efficiently and with little noise. They took appart cabinets (saving the ones were are going to install later in the laundry room) and even moving out the dishwasher and oven without me even knowing what was going on. I had sequestered myself in the home office to work on Am Stir and linger over the web.

Once the cabinets were removed the biggest part of the job left was to demolish the pantry. Judy couldn't resist. She asked the guys is she could have some whacks at the dry wall. She loved slamming the hammer into the wall. To me, the kitchen was a special place. For Judy it seemed like it was an obstacle to her inner-design desires.(Note to self: Don't make this woman mad. She wields a mean hammer.) She really let some aggression go.

Once the kitchen was demolished, we waited for the electrician to come by and plot out the lights. This is why I don't do home projects — too much measuring. I can handle cups and tablespoons. But ask me to add and subtract inches — especially when we are dealing with eighth-of-inches — and I am totally confused. Decisions had to be made. How may lights, where would they be put, would they be on one switch or three. We talked out the options and decided that half the lights would be on one switch and the others on another. Even though they are all on dimmers, I just didn't want the kitchen to be too hot if all the pot lights were on at once. (Just in case that was to become a problem).

A development that stunned Judy, after we had finished talking about everything, I asked the contractor if the telephone on the wall could be removed. Judy looked at me like I had burped in church. I explained that if we were doing this in part for "re-sale value" (although I have no intentions of moving) why leave a relic of the 1970's — a kitchen telephone socket — in the middle of the wall? In 10 years, land lines will be obsolete. Why redesign a kitchen and leave that large boil in the middle of a wall? We have two cell phones as well as a wireless phone that we can place near the kitchen. Do we need a phone on the wall? At first Judy protested but quickly yielded to my idea. It was as if she saw a twinkle of "acceptance of change" in my eye.

By 3:30 p.m. the kitchen had been removed and all the decisions had been made. I felt like a sailor on liberty. The tattoo was on, it was permanent, I might as well enjoy it.

Tomorrow the electrician puts in the lights and does some re-wiring.

Hey, hey good bye old kitchen. Hello new one.