I have a dear friend who decorated his lovely apartment on the scale of an art studio, complete with a Baby Grand and gorgeous artwork which adorns the walls. “There is only one problem,” he said. “My apartment only has a one fanny kitchen.”

Do what? A one fanny kitchen, I thought, as I jerked by head around to take a look. And there it was a teeny-tiny kitchen, maybe even to some people a kitchenette, but one fanny? Ah yes, it was then that I picked up on the meaning.

The place was intensely tiny. Oh, yes, some would dress it up as highly efficient and it was. I dare say as the one fanny stood in the middle of a five-by-seven foot space, one could fry an egg, fill a water glass from the sink, gather the garbage, wash dishes, and cook-up a fine six course meal, all at the same time while never moving a leg. Uh-huh.

I loved it!

So, one fanny, yes – and there wasn’t any possibility bringing in an additional one. That one fanny was on-its-own. Like calling to Granny, “Please come make the cornbread.” Nope, wasn’t happening.

As I continued to observe, I have to say that the one big window over the sink was a must-have. And I certainly agree painting all cabinetry white was brilliant (no pun intended). So with a blaze of brightness all over the place, perhaps the tiny space seemed larger, perhaps.

Yes, the kitchen was small, but what about the fanny? Was it a one fanny fits all?

Not, hardly. I was convinced an XL didn’t have a chance and that’s all I’ll say about that.

Don’t get me wrong. I adored the little thing and cleaning would be a breeze but what about like you know you finally got the husband to help out in the kitchen after years of harping and he finally emerged one wonderful day to make the tea, or even gosh-a-mighty, load the dishwasher.

Yes, you had finally broken through the glass ceiling which states that kitchen work was only for women-folk. After all it is the 21st century.

Eeeeek, but the one fanny kitchen would lineup a good excuse. I can hear it now. “Well you know there’s only room for one fanny.”

No, one fanny kitchens are not for all households.

Yet, I dreamed of a place where I could kick the frig shut, load the dishwasher and warm pizza in the microwave with one mighty swoop. One day, yes, maybe one day …

I forgot to mention that along the seven foot space there was a nifty little bar with one-fanny-sized-stools, four of them. So there could be four little fannies sitting in a row, just saying.

But then I began to think of calories. I always have to think about stuff like that but in this case, it is necessary. Because you see, too many calories could be a crisis. Yikes!

I would be so sad to have to move because my one fanny couldn’t get through the kitchen door. Would a one fanny kitchen diet consist of only rabbit food, you know salads and salads and salads?

There would be no ice cream, pizza, pasta or granny’s chicken and dumplings’. Ugh.

Now that takes all of the fun out of it.

But yet I dream. We all must have our dreams.

And by-the-way for all of the wives out there, burn this column after reading. We must never let the husbands of the world know there is an excuse for not helping in the kitchen.

So, I’ll get back to you about this dilemma. There must be a way to enjoy Granny’s cooking and walking into my one fanny kitchen without having to move walls. I’m working on it.

One fanny kitchen, “Who’d a thunk” it?

PS: Thanks to Wayne McInnis—(my words but his totally darling kitchen).

Anne B McKee is a Mississippi historian, writer and storyteller. She is listed on the Mississippi Humanities Speakers Bureau and Mississippi Arts Commission’s Performing Artist and Teaching Artist Rosters. See her web site: www.annemckeestoryteller.com