So
I can't wait to see this kitchen re-do, y'all. Lord only knows what kind of
tackiness Fun Sink will conjure up for her dream kitchen after a spending a lifetime of admiring contemporary Judiaca. Here's what I'm calling: brown walls, black appliances, brown upholstery with some sort of black/beige/brown dot and squiggle pattern, and one large shards-of-glass statement piece.
Do I sound elitist when I say that Jews love to get new everything? Because I may be, but they really, really do. I remember having a conversation with my brother-in-law (he of the yearlong chair drama) about re-covering a sofa. I love my sofa; I love the lines of it; I knew that I'd be re-covering it down the road whenever we had room for it (this conversation happened when we were in our Chicago condo), but he said, "Oh, why bother--I'm sure you'll just want to buy a new one when the time comes." The concept was so foreign to me that I never forgot the conversation. The idea of getting a new sofa never, ever occurred to me before that. Or since, actually. Even if it didn't work in a room, I'd just find another place for it until I had a need for it, or someone else did.
Maybe this makes me a hoarder; I'm not really sure. My family tends to pass furniture around and around, but getting rid of it is never an option. I inherited my dining room table and chairs from my aunt. It mostly happened because I had a dining room that needed a table and she had a table and chairs that she wasn't using. They've literally been passed around my family since my great-great grandfather had them more than a hundred years ago. And not once in that century of marriages, babies, and new houses, did it ever occur to anyone in the family to give that table away. One of these days, my house will settle down and no one will spill milk or bang Legos on the table, and then I'll get it refinished, but I won't get rid of it. And someday one daughter or another will need a table and I won't, and she'll have it until she doesn't need it anymore and someone else does, because that is how my family works. We shuffle pieces around as needed; our furniture, decor, and jewelry is literally part of a traveling collection.
I cannot imagine casting my dining room table into the street like a piece of trash in order to get something new, and I don't plan to raise my children that way. But Jews do it every day, and I find it baffling, tacky, and fascinating all at once.
Anyway, back to Fun Sink. She knows I like antiques and heirlooms--she's picked up on that much. But she thinks this means that I'll take in any sad and pathetic artifact purchased at Value City Furniture in mid-1980s. Here's how Mr. Twinkle's family works: they buy all new and horribly trendy furniture every few decades or so, and then when it's time for a re-do they call it a "family heirloom" and try to dump it on me.
Below is my dining room sideboard, a piece that has been passed around my family. It was in my mom's front hall until she saw that I had the perfect place for it. She gave it to me, figured out a temporary fix for her front hall, and has been scouring antique stores for a new sideboard ever since. (Awesome of her, I know). Unlike Fun Sink, she did not--I repeat did not--consult the staff interior decorator at La-Z-Boy for ideas on this or any other pressing home decor matter.
Do I sound elitist when I say that Jews love to get new everything? Because I may be, but they really, really do. I remember having a conversation with my brother-in-law (he of the yearlong chair drama) about re-covering a sofa. I love my sofa; I love the lines of it; I knew that I'd be re-covering it down the road whenever we had room for it (this conversation happened when we were in our Chicago condo), but he said, "Oh, why bother--I'm sure you'll just want to buy a new one when the time comes." The concept was so foreign to me that I never forgot the conversation. The idea of getting a new sofa never, ever occurred to me before that. Or since, actually. Even if it didn't work in a room, I'd just find another place for it until I had a need for it, or someone else did.
Maybe this makes me a hoarder; I'm not really sure. My family tends to pass furniture around and around, but getting rid of it is never an option. I inherited my dining room table and chairs from my aunt. It mostly happened because I had a dining room that needed a table and she had a table and chairs that she wasn't using. They've literally been passed around my family since my great-great grandfather had them more than a hundred years ago. And not once in that century of marriages, babies, and new houses, did it ever occur to anyone in the family to give that table away. One of these days, my house will settle down and no one will spill milk or bang Legos on the table, and then I'll get it refinished, but I won't get rid of it. And someday one daughter or another will need a table and I won't, and she'll have it until she doesn't need it anymore and someone else does, because that is how my family works. We shuffle pieces around as needed; our furniture, decor, and jewelry is literally part of a traveling collection.
I cannot imagine casting my dining room table into the street like a piece of trash in order to get something new, and I don't plan to raise my children that way. But Jews do it every day, and I find it baffling, tacky, and fascinating all at once.
Anyway, back to Fun Sink. She knows I like antiques and heirlooms--she's picked up on that much. But she thinks this means that I'll take in any sad and pathetic artifact purchased at Value City Furniture in mid-1980s. Here's how Mr. Twinkle's family works: they buy all new and horribly trendy furniture every few decades or so, and then when it's time for a re-do they call it a "family heirloom" and try to dump it on me.
Below is my dining room sideboard, a piece that has been passed around my family. It was in my mom's front hall until she saw that I had the perfect place for it. She gave it to me, figured out a temporary fix for her front hall, and has been scouring antique stores for a new sideboard ever since. (Awesome of her, I know). Unlike Fun Sink, she did not--I repeat did not--consult the staff interior decorator at La-Z-Boy for ideas on this or any other pressing home decor matter.
So you all see the general look of my dining room--I know you've all been there, but I need this for comparison purposes because below is what Fun Sink wants to give to me.
She has been insisting on it and I have been politely trying to say no. Mr. Twinkle has been politely trying to say no. She does not want to take no for an answer, because she believes we "need the storage space." Even though we already have a sideboard, she thinks we should shove this into the opposite corner of our dining room, because we need a place for our linens. At least I have linens. I guarantee you this piece is currently filled with paper napkins, shiny Jerusalem-themed tablecloths, and plastic see-through tablecloth covers--all of which she actually uses at dinner parties.
She essentially wants to turn my dining room into this:
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