Living large in a tiny space

So says a little ceramic sign above Patty Lyons' kitchen. Or should we say countertop?

The kitchen is really just a sink mounted under a piece of laminate with a microwave and a kettle nearby, a crockpot, a toaster oven and a grill stowed away on a shelf. Dishes are minimal.

Lyons' own genuine style was developed so she could live happily in a space that's only a little over 200 square feet.

Unabashed, she's turned this converted carport in a quiet, residential part of Tucson's midtown into a place that's, in her own words, "cheery and happy." Much like its occupant.

"It's a bit like a student dorm," she laughs. It's a maze of chile lights hung around the room, homemade cellophane "flowers" that adorn part of the ceiling and a plethora of trinkets, covering Mexican folk art to family heirlooms to Lyons' own art and customized photo frames.

Lyons painted a pine storage system in periwinkle blue, the same blue that's on walls and on the doors of her sole, below-counter kitchen cabinet. The rest of the walls are painted bright yellow, and a ceiling beam is pillar-box red.

She's made switch plates out of punched tin and turned the ceiling of the adjoining bathroom into a sky, thanks to that same blue paint, creeping down in curves onto the top of the wall, and some white, fluffy painted clouds.

"That's my hallway," she says, pointing to the front door. "That's my library" (the painted storage shelves). "That's my dressing room" (a small clothes closet in the corner that also provides, in the back, extra bookshelves).

Lyons keeps things pared down by continuous editing of paperwork and files, by recycling books at Bookmans Entertainment Exchange, and by a mantra of "reduce and simplify."

"I was of the mind-set that I wanted to downsize, and therefore I entered into this with gusto," she says.

It's a far cry from the 1,800-square-foot, three-bedroom family home Lyons left in Indiana in 1994. Nearing 50 at the time, she quit her job, let her son remain in the house, and packed up her Toyota Celica with a tent, a few belongings and an inclination to head west.

Some friends said they were jealous, others told her she was crazy. All of them thought she was brave.

"But I don't know that it's so brave when you're doing something you want to do," she says.

She drove, stayed with a cousin in Phoenix, checked out Tucson, liked it a lot and drove on. After some time in Oregon and a spell back East to tend to her ailing father, she ended up in Tucson again in November 1996. She took a job as a live-in caregiver, lived in hostels and camped. Then one day, on a shopping trip to an antique store, she got chatting with the store's owners and told them she needed a place to live.

They told her about their converted, unoccupied carport. She rented it for a while, then moved in with a boyfriend. When that relationship ended, she moved back into the carport conversion. She worked at Sabino Canyon and for the U.S. Forest Service, before retiring several years ago.

At the start of her current stay, she negotiated what she calls "laundry rights." During her first stay, she'd had to visit a launderette, and now she has use of her landlords' laundry room Thursday mornings. She also asked if she could paint over the all-white walls.

Lyons sleeps on a daybed from Ikea. The only other seating during the day is a rocking chair. She uses the under-bed space for storage - a perennial problem in such a small space.

She's grateful for the natural shelf that comes from a built-in ridge on the wall stretching the length of the room - she uses it to set ornaments and picture frames on.

But she admits - and it's largely her own fault, because of some sizable pieces of furniture she's bought - she bumps into things a lot.

For a long time she listened only to the radio. But lately she made use of the cable hookup and mounted a 7-inch Accurian hand-held TV at the end of the daybed.

She's good friends with landlords Sharla and James Torchia, owners of A Treasure Chest on East Grant Road. She has access to their swimming pool, and they share occasional meals, says Sharla, who adds, "I can think of no impracticalities."

Lyons doesn't even really try to entertain. She's had six people in her home before, but trying to turn it into a party space is just not practical. And anyway, she never sticks around for long. Outside there's a small RV, which she packs up for driving trips every summer and during other periods of the year.

"Now that's tiny," she says of the camper van. "You should see that."

Ideas to steal

• Customize Ikea: Lyons, who dabbles in art, painted Ikea storage shelves blue, with flowers and dots.

• Punch plate: Colored pieces of punched tin - a sun and a turtle - are now switch plates after Lyons made holes in them for her light switches.

• Cellophane ceiling art: Her "upside-down garden" was inspired by a restaurant Lyons visited in Mexico, where there were crepe-paper flowers on the ceiling. Her crepe-paper ones faded, so she redid them using clear-plastic cellophane, folded into a concertina shape, and pipe cleaners.

"That's my hallway" (the front door). "That's my library" (the painted storage shelves). "That's my dressing room" (a small clothes closet).

Patty Lyons,

Midtown resident, happy in her home of 200 square feet, or thereabouts

Contact Gillian Drummond at gcdrummond@aol.com or visit her blog at www.gilliandrummond.net