Happy Anniversary!

Here we one year later and what a year it has been. We've been through dust and debris, fires and floods, chaos and destruction... and that was just the kitchen!

It's our First Year Renovation Anniversary!

It is the middle of December and our self-imposed deadline of having the main floor finished by Christmas looms heavily like snow upon the wintery horizon. But at least my days of feeling like a renovation refugee are over. I no longer have to dig through boxes and rubble to find the baking soda or muffin tins. The new stainless steel gas range is always in the same place, unlike the old electric stove which could be found drifting about the room depending on where the most work was taking place. That hefty goal of Entire Main Floor may be reduced to as much of it as possible. But I have beautiful new granite counters which take the edge off of my renovation restlessness. It's those high impact (and sometimes pricey) changes that really satisfy.

Somehow I have managed to remain happily married throughout this. Sure, there have been bad days and scary moments for us as a couple with home and marriage undergoing renovation, but we always end up banding together and shaking our fists at The House, shouting "you will not tear us apart!" Maybe that's why things can go on and on and on the way they do and we just get through it. I also know, no matter how long it takes, it will be worth it. This project is something we have always wanted to try and while we may not be renovation addicts who will flip the house the moment the paint on the trim dries, we're also not quite at the point of saying "never again." I always say never is a really, really long time.

I was feeling a bit panicked about entertaining with the house in it's constantly evolving state. But then as I gathered unwrapped toys, cash and food to donate to those whose lives have been torn apart by violence, poverty and plain old bad luck, I remembered what Christmas is really about. Who cares about a half-painted living room when friends and family come to visit? I am blessed to have wonderful friends and family and a safe, warm home in which to spend Christmas. This time of year can spin out of control so quickly with rampant consumerism. Yes, it's nice to give and get fabulous presents, but for me Christmas eventually becomes a time of quiet reflection and a time to count the simple blessings.

So even though my husband has the next two weeks off to try to wrap up a few of the projects we are so close to completing, it's okay if it doesn't quite happen. We have comfort and joy and really, that's enough, isn't it?

Taking Stock

Here we are about nine months later and I am amazed (and green with envy) that friends have had entire homes built from the ground up in the same time period. Of course, that was with the help of a homebuilder or general contractor, along with all their resources and subcontractors. Here at the Casa Galasso we inch along our renovation all by ourselves, learning as we go. The work happens on days off, mostly my hubby's, who does it all himself with our two kids in his care while I go to off to work. Anyone who has has small children can attest that this is a small miracle in itself.

Sometimes we have what we refer to as peak days, where we marvel at how far we've come, how much we have learned, and what a brilliant decision we made in buying this home with it's enviable square footage, fab layout and perfectly sized backyard and amazing back deck. We toast ourselves over dinner and rejoice in how clever we were and how wonderful this will all be when it is over. We still cling to that dream like a life raft sometimes.

Then there's the valley days, which are dark and miserable and leave us questioning our decisions, our motives, our bank balance and many times, our sanity. But, as a team, we are pretty balanced in keeping each other going, offering praise, encouragement and libations where necessary. We always remember to laugh through these thing because with a large renovation, sometimes it is the only thing one can do.

This morning I sipped coffee in my half-finished kitchen with the sun trying to stream through the somewhat foggy glass of our in-dire-need-of-replacement windows. It illuminated the kitchen cabinets which I painstakingly refinished mostly myself with some help from my mom and sister. I tried not to hate my backsplashless wall, old beige stove and wonky, recycled, but temporary countertops. But then there was the lovely new floors beneath my feet and the shiny stainless dishwasher and fridge sparkling in the morning light.

We really have come a long, long way. Considering the fact that inevitably, something always comes up as the multiple projects go along. The running list that comes to mind would include: our daughter's room from top to toe; gutting the ceiling of the kitchen and family room, replacing it and adding new lighting, the complete refurbishing of our kitchen cabinets from stripping, sanding, priming and painting as well as replacing the hardware and re-installing them. Oh, there was the small task of raising our backyard up eight inches (we were once the neighborhood retention pond) adding new drainage and painstakingly growing new lawn from seed front and back. We have also replaced 75% of the flooring on the mainfloor, repainted our family room and kitchen. We have replaced appliances, fixtures, and endlessly dealt with ever-clogging toilets. In our skimpy one month of summerish weather we have replaced half our fence and repaired the rest, ripped out mangy bushes and replaced them with lush baby cedars, built up flower beds and planted new blooms, half stripped our deck, repainted the exterior trim and are about to re-paint the front door, replace the door hardware and get new address numbers for the house. We have pressure-washed until our gumboots overflowed and hypothermia set in. Still, I'm sure I am forgetting many things.

Oh, what about the romantic November weekend spent re-insulating our attic together? How about ripping down four rodent-infested sheds? Gutting the kids bathroom? I repainted the laundry room while my daughter had a playdate and my son's room while they bunked together for a few nights. My husband can drop an entire ceiling and demo a pantry while I am at work and I am proud to say I can whip up a healthy, hearty supper under almost any circumstances just as long as my old stove is plugged in.

We have done all that and somehow stayed married, in love and surprisingly in good humour most of the time. Our kids seem to have adjusted well to "life under renovation" despite the experts warning against living in the home while the work takes place. Where pray-tell, are we supposed to live? Surely there are people who can afford a full-scale renovation, a mortgage and a rental property to retreat to, but they mostly seem to exist in the pages of the glossy design mags I so enjoy.

We are doing it though. Never said it was going to be easy every day; never said it would be over night. But we have a goal in mind. As much as I don't want summer to end, fall signifies the time to bring our attention back inside where we hope to have a main floor worthy of a wonderful housewarming/ holiday open house. This means several more months of very hard work and then a rest to enjoy our home over Christmas. How different it will look this year!

Mama Mia (Here I Go Again)

As we all know I am in the process of renovating our entire house. It's crazy, but true.

I don't usually question my love affair with white. White and I are soul mates. It makes me happy and satisfied every time. I always say "when in doubt, paint it out." In white, that is. I fearlessly painted out all the oak cabinets in my kitchen. Pretty much nothing escapes my roller and brush and I've no regrets. Until now.

Recently I was left to wonder: Is my commitment to white a real commitment at all? Or is it that when it comes to other colours, I just can't bear to go steady? Do I have colour commitment phobia?

Case in point: My daughter's bath. Well, it is a bathroom shared by my daughter and son, but my daughter is older and much more design savvy than many women in their mid-forties, so guess who has the upper hand in the design of this little loo for two? Hint: not the one wearing dinosaur underwear and a Ferrari ball cap while squirting Spiderman bubble bath all over the place.

Anyway, after being inspired by the movie Mama Mia, Sofia (of the dreamy lavender oasis bedroom) chose a stunning Mediterranean glass accent tile for her tub surround and backsplash. I was open to this at first, then when it came time to actually order it I panicked and got the same product in the white blend. Blue, green and turquoise tiles, however sparkly and beach glassy seemed like too much. I had cold feet.

Sofia was devastated by the white tiles. You see, I crushed her vision. As I mentioned before, she has very sophisticated taste for a seven year old. She has watched Design Inc. and Sarah's House religiously since she was two. So now I have been back-pedaling trying to come up with a brilliant Mama Mia-esque design scheme worthy of a Greek Villa that exists only in the imagination of my star struck child. Great.

I have come up with a few ideas, but am open to suggestions. The top third of the walls will be painted in brilliant Mama Mia blue (otherwise known as deep turquoise). I will search the ends of the earth for nautical striped towels to be hung on some sort of rustic Greek-ish bath hardware. I have not seen anything inspiring in the way of shower curtains or bath accessories for ages, so keeping an eye out. Finally, my little collector will love shiny glass apothecary jars filled with sea shells, beach glass and other earthly delights. Even though her tiles will be white, hopefully she will overcome her bathroom blues.

PS: I was recently redeemed as head decorator of the house when, on a recent episode of Sarah's House, Sarah herself tried to do a blue accent tile in a bathroom and ended up retreating to the safe, fresh and beautiful confines of white. Imagine me, a grown woman in her mid-thirties pointing at the flatscreen and saying "See? Sarah said white tile IS better! Ha!" while my daughter raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at me. After thinking it over for a moment she said, "Maybe white tile is better... for resale." That's my girl!

A Room of One's Own

A space to write and daydream...

For my entire life, books and writing have defined me. Every bed I've ever slept in has had a stack of books beside it; every kitchen I've ever cooked in has the collection of recipe books and every coffee table, magazines and picture books have covered the surface. Books are comfort food for my soul.

I remember being beside myself as a child after trying and quitting so many extra curricular activities and never knowing where I fit in. But I could always retreat to the comfort and safety of my very lovely childhood bedroom (thanks Mum). There I could magically escape through some wonderful form of the written word. Sometimes it was a novel or coffee table book, other times a hopelessly romantic issue of Victoria Magazine or an exciting foray into the world of fashion via the most current Vogue or Elle. No matter what it was I always have and always will seek solace in the knowingness that someone cared enough to string together a few words so engaging I could quite literally lose myself within the pages. It is why I love to write and why I continue to read as much as possible still today.

Because of this obsession with words, books, reading and writing, a space dedicated to my passion must be etched out in our new home. But where? This is our first foray into the world of detached dwelling-dom. We're not quite at the point of living in a charming beach house with sweeping ocean views from a sunny attic loft (converted into my own personal light-filled sanctuary, of course). And the kids are a long way from college, so we are doing our best here in the middle of suburbia to create a home that feels authentic.

I am fortunate to have a southern exposed front room with vaulted ceilings. I love, love, love how the sunshine pours in all day (that is, if the weather cooperates) and floods across my new dark wood floors. In another era this would have been a formal living room where company would have been received and tea served et cetera. But this is the age of multifunctional spaces and so being a seeker of light, this space, after careful consideration, will also double as my writing room.

I should mention there is an office in our home, but I foresee it becoming a man-den for my husband with masculine paint colors, framed and autographed sports memorbilia and many, many electronic devices. As happy as I am for my hubby to have his retreat, I need my own space and don't want to share. I need light, beauty, and a window on the world so a lovely glass topped desk facing the street should fit the bill. A comfortable, beautiful chair upholstered in a stunning and might I say elusive fabric, (as pretty fabrics are proving very hard to find locally) and a sparkly lamp or two. This space will be integrated into the formal living room, but lets face facts, who uses their formal living spaces with any regularity? Kind of a waste, if you ask me. This way I can still keep a finger on the pulse of our household and be surrounded by beauty and drenched by our fleeting moments of west coast sunlight.

I contemplated a writing nook in our master bedroom, which has more than ample space, but it kind of ruffles my feathers to go against my self-imposed and frankly, rather strict rules of engagement governing what bedrooms are for and that is the three Rs (rest, romance and relaxation). Plus, our north-facing room doesn't get the light I crave and my husband works two night shifts per block. I then considered our bonus room, which is vast, but primarily a playroom. Home to a variable fleet of toy trucks, cars, fire engines, my daughter's art supplies and the kid's television and DVD collection. I cannot imagine even a moment's peace let alone a burst of inspiration happening in there. The kitchen is lovely, but too busy and the family room is, well, for cozy family moments and so that leaves me here in my sunny alcove of dappled light. Happily.

Perhaps the biggest challenge in this space will be keeping organized. Fortunately, most of my inspiration comes from images of beauty so a coffee table book left open to a beautiful image will work in here. But what to do with all the magazine clippings, Post-Its and bits and bobs? I suppose an inspiration board of some sort is eminent. And a bookshelf, of course. I have an Ikea one in here now, but it has seen better days after years of multi-tasking in our busy little townhome. It would be fabulous relocated to the playroom for toys and I could graduate to something more grown up in the living/writing area. Maybe real, live built-in bookcases! Not a shelf, but an actual bookcase that is an integral part of the architecture in the room. No more faking it! A girl can dream, right?

Then there is the other furniture in the room. Since it is technically a formal space I would adore a dreamy antique sette with mushy down-filled cushions and a cashmere throw draped across it. Then Louis chair or two, maybe a chaise, and of course, a coffee table (stacked with books, of course) achored by a stunning wool rug and I am set.

In the end, this room is representative of a personal lifestyle shift. I am inching ever closer toward a more grown-up existence as my children get older. I am nearing a time where moments of solitude may actually be attainable instead of merely an internal longing. My writing room may seem like a desk and chair under a window, but for me it is a metaphorical new chapter in my life-- one I can't wait to start writing.

Reno Chic

I am sporting a new look. It's called Reno-Chic and it's all the rage on the runway over at my house. Well, it's not really a runway, but more of a footpath through boxes of building materials, tools, shop vacs and sometimes rubble. I strut through here with "Highway to Hell" or "Welcome to the Jungle" blasting in my head. The look itself may seem similar to the grunge look of the early 90s, but instead being a backlash to former extravagance (ie. the 80s), the look stems from necessity. It is necessary to dress this way while living amid a full-scale renovation.

Key pieces include formerly cute, but now nearing rag status sweat pants. They must be ratty and paint spattered, preferably stretched out from pregnancy and in no way can they be flattering. Next come the layering pieces: old tank tops, stained hoodies and the piece de la resistance, the paint shirt. This is a old men's work shirt, rumpled, stiff with paint splashes and of course, a few tears and stains. In order to keep the look authentic one must cultivate their own personal spin on this style over time. One day spent spent sanding baseboards does not a reno diva make.

Oh yes! The most important element and my personal favourite: the shoes! For me an outfit cannot be considered complete with out the proper footwear. Options include ratty house slippers, worn out Uggs or very old cross trainers.

Hair, make-up and accessories must be minimal for this trend. Last night's mascara and a slick of chapstick bode well with the natural blush of one's cheeks after a morning spent sweeping, scooping and suctioning up the former walls or ceiling. A modest diamond stud earring is the perfect amount of bling with hair swept up in a messy top knot.

I have a strong suspicion that when this trend comes to an end, like all trends do, there will be yet another backlash. Luxe new handbags, sexy jeans and tops proportionate with one's body are on the horizon. Beautiful new custom closets need new clothes in order for it to really shine, no?

PS: There will be no photo for this post. Pictures just don't do it justice.

Kitchen

I suppose now that my kitchen has been gutted it is time to really nail down what it is I want. It is somewhat daunting, yet very exciting at the same time. It is a luxury designing a space around one's own needs. I was fortunate enough to purchase home with a pretty functional, albeit outdated kitchen.

The kitchen of my dreams is white, white, white. This shouldn't come as much of a surprise to anyone who knows me. I am an unapologetic white addict. I have entire volumes devoted to the decoration of homes using white. It's so bright and fresh and crisp and clean, yet also ethereal, sexy and chic all at the same time. White is timeless. I am in the process of painting out my lovely circa '89 honey oak cabinets, you guessed it, Simply White by Benjamin Moore. Soon to follow are countertops in either quartz or carerra marble, subway tile backsplash with a marble accent, stainless appliances, cafe curtains, bistro chairs and dark wood floors.

I live in my kitchen so it has to be beautiful and comfortable. I love to cook and have my people hang with me as I do so, whether it's my two kids enjoying cookies and milk or girlfriends sipping wine, a big island with comfy stools to perch upon is a necessary requirement.

Then there are the things I am still questioning. A wine fridge. Seems the more wine we have in the house, the more wine we drink. Not that this a negative thing! Perhaps a nice built-in wine rack will suffice. And then there is the thorn in my side. Spices. To have them exposed or not. I think not. Some things in the kitchen are pretty to look at, but spices just aren't one of them. But I hate digging around for rogue spice containers, so my spice quandary continues. And what about cookbooks? I love the injection of bright colour my cookbooks bring to the kitchen space. Since the microwave shelf will not be going back to it's former location the nook by my sunny kitchen window may be just the place for some open shelving and my dream beverage centre. Think of a Parisian bistro with a shiny cappuccino maker and all the cups and saucer stacked up like little soldiers.