Well, to be fair, it's more like a half-kitchen. I still have a functioning refrigerator and sink. But the thingummy in the middle of the floor (where the island used to be) is gone:
And in its place is less of a thingummy:
Most of the island work was below the house. Electricians and plumbers scuttled around underneath that plywood, readying things for drip lines and downdrafts and sagamores and twitchets.
Meanwhile, the granite guy meticulously measured and built templates for all future counter tops:
The process was interesting; using thin strips of lathe, he hot-glued together exact templates of the counters-to-be, writing measurements and notes to his cutters on the lath:
Where the old backsplash tile and cement wasn't removed enough, he carefully chipped away a bit more so the granite can slide underneath the future backsplash tile:
What a pretty shade of tape! Never seen that before...
His bag of tricks:
Using the World's Longest Level, he determined that our highest countertop is 1.25 inches off from level. *Sigh.* He said the former counter top builders "cheated" around the sag by simply troweling on more of the under-the-tile goo, like covering the low side of a cake with more frosting.
But you can't do that with a stone counter top. So, we worked out how to beef up the counter with wood, lay the granite level, and install a slightly-deeper-than-average "apron" of granite to cover it all up. It will look fine, he assures me.
I believe him. He's a professional.
Before he left with his lath-and-glue templates, he took photos of everything on his digital, and then he took video, too. Says it helps the guys back in the shop envision what it is they're cutting.
I spent the remainder of the day taking care of The Boy, who is still fighting an infection and a nasty fever, four days after wisdom teeth surgery. And I shuttled the entire contents of my kitchen into the dining room:
Pao appears puzzled by the mess. I'm puzzled, too. How did one kitchen hold so much...crud?
And I'm pretty good at culling out my drawers and cabinets from time to time, donating what I haven't touched in years. Except for the baking stuff. That's off limits. And the salad spinner. I need something for The Hubby to tease me about!
But my beautiful dining room! That haven of light and space and quiet meals! Now it looks like something from an episode of "Hoarders":
Never mind, doggie. I still know where your dinner dish is.