As I was sorting through my kitchen cabinets today -- organizing my odds and ends (more dishes and corning ware than food graces my shelves) and occasionally stopping to scan through more of No Pattern Required (and oggle the houses) -- I found myself thinking about some of the homes I spent time in as a child.
While I spent the most time at my grandmother's, she changed things frequently enough that by the time I was a teen, aside from the layout and maybe the tub in the bathroom, the house no longer felt 'mid-century' -- rather, it had the cool, perfectionist air of the old woman whom I loved. I still miss the brick linoleum and wallpaper, the gold-black 'glitter' formica counter tops, and the saloon style shutter door that separated the kitchen from the living room.
More memorable, and still just as lost, is the lucky home of my mother's oldest sister. Unfortunately, I have few pictures of it at present. I can't even find the address! The house was beautiful though, a large ranch home of creamy brick and tawny stone. And like so many other things, it might well be lost forever.