My dear friend, who decorated his lovely apartment on the scale of an art studio complete with a Baby Grand and gorgeous artwork adorning the walls, said, “There is only one problem. My apartment only has a one-fanny

kitchen.”

Do what? A one-fanny kitchen, I thought, as I jerked my head around to take a look, and there it was — a teeny, tiny kitchen. Maybe to some people it would be called 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 5-by-7 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 of bringing in an additional one. That one fanny was on its own. Like calling to Granny, “Please come make the cornbread.” Nope, it wasn’t happening.

As I continued to observe, I have to say that the one big window over the sink was a must have. I certainly agree that 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.

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 when you finally get the husband to help out in the kitchen after years of harping and he emerges one wonderful day to make the tea or even, gosh-a-mighty, load the dishwasher.

Yes, you have finally broken through the glass ceiling which states that kitchen work is only for women-folk since it is, after all, the 21st century. But eeeek, the one-fanny kitchen would line up 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 7-foot space there was a nifty little bar with stools sized for just one fanny, 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 because, 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 more 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.

A one-fanny kitchen, “who’d a thunk it?” P.S. Thanks to Wayne McInnis, my friend who has since passed into Heaven, but is still missed immensely. My words, but his totally darling one-fanny kitchen.

Anne B McKee is executive director of the Meridian Railroad Museum. Visit her website at www.annemckeestoryteller.com.