The End of Living Loft-Style

I know you're heartbroken, devastated, absolutely torn apart about the title of today's post. "What?" You're crying out, no doubt. "How can this be the end?"

Alas, it is the end because I have exhausted all the photos I took of the loft to end all lofts. Plus, remember it is a loft. In the upstairs of a building in downtown Laramie. In other words, it's not a mansion people. And My Parents only need so much space.

So let's get to the last--but certainly not least--of it.

The kitchen.


And oh what a kitchen it is. Huge and open, with professional-grade appliances and, naturally, a few quirky accents.

The appliances might look black in the photos, but they're actually the color of eggplant. And, as you can see, even the cabinet inserts take an artistic bent. I may not have picked those inserts if this were my kitchen, but they look lovely and they do grow on you when you linger in the room for a while.

Besides, how could you ever complain in this big of a cooking space, with a great layout and room for pretty much every kitchen gadget known to humans?

Had I stayed longer, I would have whipped out the ice cream-maker and pasta-maker and this-maker and that-maker and used it all. But, given time constraints, I had to settle for frying bacon and making pancakes on the built-in griddle on the range. And I had to use the oven and the KitchenAid Mixer to whip up some cookies, which we enjoyed as dessert after a feast of Thai takeout in this cute little dining area.


In the kitchen, once you look past the gadgets and beautiful countertops and colorful appliances, you'll notice a number of interesting details.

Like Buddha sitting on top of the china hutch and other sculptures tucked in nooks in the cabinetry.


Like a telephone on the wall painted in crazy swirls of color.

Like a planter shaped like a woman's head on the windowsill and a Homer Simpson cookie jar that grunts next to it (you can sort of see them in the top photo, though they're awfully hard to make out).

On a side note, should you ever visit My Parents, be warned: Simpsons paraphernalia pop up in the most peculiar places. And no, it's not their personal collection. It came with the loft too.

The end.