although some people might think it a little bit of a remuddle . . . I borrow from periods of architecture as they suit me. I would begin with a 90’ x 200’ lot, and put a two-story cut limestone house, maybe 2,500 square feet, onto it. The house would be oriented southeast to northwest, to catch the prevailing breezes. It would have deep porches on the front and back, to shade the windows from direct sun and funnel fresh air in to create cross-ventilation. The walls would be solid stone, not any of this stone-veneer business, and at least eight inches thick (twelve would be better) to provide thermal mass. Because Texas is prone to hailstorms, I’d use a standing-seam metal roof (it’s also a regionally appropriate historic choice for roofing).
Inside, each floor would have ceilings of at least twelve feet, again for temperature control. The interior of the limestone would be sealed and then either plastered or plastered and then papered above the chair rail. Below that, I’d probably include a paneled wainscot in some rooms, but might leave some stone visible for accents. I’d put in fireplaces both for aesthetic pleasure and for secondary heating, but the major HVAC would be central, run from under-floor ducting. Necessity would also dictate that electric service ducting and DSL or LAN wiring would be run under-floor, with wall outlets cut into the baseboards. Wood floor planking is required, of course—good salvage heart pine or oak if I can get it. And to finish the external ventilation, I would have tall four-over-four double-hung sash windows with wood frames, and wood-framed screens.
Downstairs rooms would include the living room/parlor, dining room, library, master bedroom and bath (a concession to necessity, since I don’t get up and down stairs well now and that condition won’t get any better in future).The dining room would connect with the kitchen (a semi-detached structure) by a butler’s pantry, to include running water, counter space, and china cabinets. The pantry and laundry room are dependencies of the kitchen; the laundry room would also include an outside entrance with shower stall (tiled, not cast fiberglass) so it could also serve as a mud and cleanup room.
The kitchen would have as much counter space as can possibly be squeezed out of the walls. There is never too much kitchen-counter space. I want glass-front cabinets for dinnerware and food storage, and a plethora of divided drawers to hold my moderately enormous collection of kitchen tools. The fridge needs to be a semi-commercial Sub-Zero side-by-side or something similar, and the range a six-burner Wolf or Viking double-oven gas stove. Overhead racks on one wall for large-pan storage would be a Good Thing, and I do not want an “island” obstructing navigation. That was why God made kitchen tables.
In order to keep it from being a mausoleum, the living room would contain the downstairs television area, as well as some seats made for comfortable sitting, not just for stilted Sunday-afternoon “tea” visits, while the stereo system would be centered in and controlled from the library. The library would also function as the principal computer workstation room, with the house server living in a vented closet of its own. Wall-to-wall or floor-to-ceiling book presses are not wanted—I’m not going to go grubbing on the floor or climbing up a ladder after a book. The library would be the principal place for books, but obviously other book presses would be installed for specialty interests—craft books in the upstairs room, cookbooks in the kitchen, and so on. Each upstairs bedroom would have a couple of shelves’s worth of books of its own, for light bedtime entertainment.
The master bedroom would have to be fairly large—big enough for two LARGE armoires, two dressers, and a six-foot glass-fronted book press. If they could be disguised well enough, I’d be willing to sacrifice the armoires in favor of a pair of walk-in closets. The master bath needs to be large enough for a shower and a tub that’s a cross between a garden tub and a Japanese family bath, big enough for four people or so. This age of house is going to dictate using a pedestal lavatory—none of these dinky things that you sink into a counter for me!
Upstairs, there would be at least two bedrooms, maybe three, and two full baths. The remainder of the floor would be devoted to hobbies-and-crafts—a place for sewing garments, or building model airplanes, or constructing a train layout.
Outside, I would want to have a large spa/Jacuzzi/hot tub—big enough for four to six, and screened/fenced so that clothing is irrelevant unless specifically wanted. A covered loggia would connect the body of the house to a detached garage-cum-workshop, where the Implements of Destruction and Construction would be housed.
That, I think, covers the major points. No doubt, as we got into the building process, other ideas and improvements would occur to us, which could be incorporated as time and space allow.
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