Oh, how long it's been! I cannot offer any excuses. Once I realized how much time had gone by since I last attended to my dusty little blog, I realized that may have been just how long it has been since I have attended to my soul. I confess to being overwhelmed by other obligations.
Life has become busy. I considered myself fairly warned. More experienced mothers and wives have explained this to me: Your children grow up and become more independent, but you become much busier. The activities begin. It's the beginning of the mom-taxi years. Picking up and dropping off. Laundering soccer uniforms and slicing oranges. Lunch boxes and spelling tests at the kitchen island. Oh, and don't forget to fit three to four days of work in there somewhere, a few make-ahead dinners, the epic home renovation project and quality time with that guy. My husband.
Seems part time pursuits of passion, like writing, reading and hopelessly daydreaming while staring out a window overlooking my rose garden have fallen right off the roster. But that doesn't mean that she's not in there. My inner daydreamer, writer and creative genius is always there, just below the surface, aching to get out. To be paid attention to in a most lavish fashion.
This morning is a regular morning. I am at home with my children, husband is at work and the first day of October has greeted us with gray skies. We're in our jammies and I am nestled into my writing nook (ceiling leak and drywall repair be damned) tapping away at these keys.
I had a revelation today. I may never have a luxurious grand sweep of time to attend to my creative longings. Maybe for now this is it. Me in my jammies with a steaming mug of fresh coffee surrounded by the tiny bits of inspiration that make up my crazy, wonderful life. And it is enough. With these few thoughtful lines I have appeased her and pacified the cries for attention. Perhaps some of the greatest creative works in the world have come to be in this very fashion. Here's to chipping away!
Now to hit the scary "Post" button before I convince myself this piece is not polished enough, exciting enough, glamorous enough or ANYTHING enough....
Showing posts with label renovation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label renovation. Show all posts
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Saturday, October 23, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, April 9, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, February 12, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Lavender dreams
It has been about a month and I am embroiled in a love-hate relationship with our new-old house. I look around and am intoxicated by the airiness and space all around me. Then I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work ahead of us and I want to get intoxicated.
It seems in both life and renovations certain things must happen in a certain order before one can actually proceed with the project of desire. I call it the can of worms effect. Let me give you an example. We would like nothing more than to replace the mish-mash of worn, outdated flooring throughout the main. But, we were warned, don't bother putting down a beautiful new floor until you fix that ceiling, which would mean new drywall and don't forget the potlights, which would mean we might as well get the plumbing sorted out for the master bath located above said ceiling, which could potentially mean gutting our bathroom to start fresh, which could mean doing the kids bath since we'll already have the plumber handy.... and so on.
So, in an effort to stay positive, upbeat and sane I decided to start small and work on rooms that require no modification to the structural, electrical or plumbing. This is how my daughter's room was elected to be the first finished room in the new house. Besides, she is the one adjusting to a new school, new friends, new surroundings and it would be nice for her to have a little sanctuary to retreat to when she gets home. It seemed paint was a logical place to start. Initially she wanted her same paint colour, a pale lavender, then it was light blue and hot pink polka dots, then back to lavender. This was much to our relief. Turns out neither my hubby nor I were quite prepared for our little girl to have a blue room, however girly the shade. I showed Sofia all the tear sheets I had collected from design mags before she was born and shortly after. Everything was lavender, lilac, pink and white. She seemed impressed that I had collected all these images with her in mind. The next day she tapped my arm and said, "Mum, I think I still want a lavender room."
I found myself at the paint store buying what I thought was the same paint as her old room. It was not. It was more akin to grape hubba bubba than lilac or lavender. I added more and more white, mixed and mixed and mixed and finally matched the paint to the original swatch from her old room. I will not disclose exactly how much white paint we used, but if anyone is in need of purple paint, let me know, I have gallons! Another tricky paint discovery: her new room, though larger, has a smaller window and different directional exposure. This means the identical paint looks darker. It's crazy. But with crisp, white bookshelves, crown moulding and baseboards and white painted antique furniture with sparkly glass knobs, let's face facts- it's going to be adorable. Her vintage crystal chandelier is already up and sparkling and her Eiffel Tower collection is just waiting to be displayed.
Confession: I have a feeling Sofia won't be the only one enjoying the restful lavender tones and the prismatic glow of the chandelier after a long, hard reno-filled day. But only one of us will be sipping a chilled bubbly rose.
It seems in both life and renovations certain things must happen in a certain order before one can actually proceed with the project of desire. I call it the can of worms effect. Let me give you an example. We would like nothing more than to replace the mish-mash of worn, outdated flooring throughout the main. But, we were warned, don't bother putting down a beautiful new floor until you fix that ceiling, which would mean new drywall and don't forget the potlights, which would mean we might as well get the plumbing sorted out for the master bath located above said ceiling, which could potentially mean gutting our bathroom to start fresh, which could mean doing the kids bath since we'll already have the plumber handy.... and so on.
So, in an effort to stay positive, upbeat and sane I decided to start small and work on rooms that require no modification to the structural, electrical or plumbing. This is how my daughter's room was elected to be the first finished room in the new house. Besides, she is the one adjusting to a new school, new friends, new surroundings and it would be nice for her to have a little sanctuary to retreat to when she gets home. It seemed paint was a logical place to start. Initially she wanted her same paint colour, a pale lavender, then it was light blue and hot pink polka dots, then back to lavender. This was much to our relief. Turns out neither my hubby nor I were quite prepared for our little girl to have a blue room, however girly the shade. I showed Sofia all the tear sheets I had collected from design mags before she was born and shortly after. Everything was lavender, lilac, pink and white. She seemed impressed that I had collected all these images with her in mind. The next day she tapped my arm and said, "Mum, I think I still want a lavender room."
I found myself at the paint store buying what I thought was the same paint as her old room. It was not. It was more akin to grape hubba bubba than lilac or lavender. I added more and more white, mixed and mixed and mixed and finally matched the paint to the original swatch from her old room. I will not disclose exactly how much white paint we used, but if anyone is in need of purple paint, let me know, I have gallons! Another tricky paint discovery: her new room, though larger, has a smaller window and different directional exposure. This means the identical paint looks darker. It's crazy. But with crisp, white bookshelves, crown moulding and baseboards and white painted antique furniture with sparkly glass knobs, let's face facts- it's going to be adorable. Her vintage crystal chandelier is already up and sparkling and her Eiffel Tower collection is just waiting to be displayed.
Confession: I have a feeling Sofia won't be the only one enjoying the restful lavender tones and the prismatic glow of the chandelier after a long, hard reno-filled day. But only one of us will be sipping a chilled bubbly rose.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Luxe Laundress
Found this post gathering dust in the depths of my stash of blog entries. It's from before we made the move to The House....
Today as the jungle of moving boxes encroaches upon my sanity, I find myself escaping to a wonderful fantasy world: My future master suite and strangely enough, laundry room. You see, in a week and a half we are moving out of our crowded townhome and into a single family dwelling. We are doubling our square footage and as a result, the size of our master bedroom.
The new suite of dreams includes, but is not limited to: a large walk-in closet, a dressing area, a four piece ensuite including soaker tub, space for a reading nook and a yoga mat and pleasingly, a general feeling of spaciousness. But of all the things our master bedroom has, I am most excited about what it hasn't: laundry.
You see, for the past five years I have lived with laundry in my bedroom. Our townhome had what can only be described as a laundry closet. This is a space-saving torture device invented by some developer out there who is either a) a nudist who generates no laundry, b) wears exclusively dry-clean only garments, or c) and most likely the case, a wealthy middle aged male who does not live in a townhome and has never thrown a load in or much less seen the laundry room in his sprawling McMansion perched Frank Gehry-like on a cliff overlooking a stunning vista....but I digress.
Anyway, for the rest of us, a very basic stacking washer and dryer wedged into a narrow closet of an even more narrow hallway covered by a bifold door seemed like a great cost cutter. Since the washrooms and children's rooms are too tight for even a hamper, guess where the laundry ended up? That's right! This entire time my boudoir multitasked as the familial laundromat. The hamper, iron, ironing board and drying rack have all taken up residence in my sanctuary and I can't tell you how miserable this has been.
When company came a-calling, or at least company whom I knew would appreciate a home tour, I would have to shove all the laundry accoutrements into our master bathroom shower and close the door on the situation. This was disheartening, especially given the fact that my hubby did some really charming work in our bathroom with beadboard, crown moulding, cottagey hardware and vintage-chic mirrors and medicine cabinet. Sad.
But on the horizon is a master bedroom and ensuite that is free of ironing boards and the like. Truth be told, it's not as though I am ashamed of the laundry gear. It was just the glaringly obvious fact of its wrongful placement. "And here we have our master bedroom, oops! Careful not to trip on the drying rack, you wouldn't want to get tangled up in my unmentionables..."
While all the rooms will need remodeling at some point, I am very excited at the prospect of a real, true laundry room. I actually take some pleasure in laundry and fancy myself a bit of a domestic diva in this particular division of domesticity. (I apologize for that random attack of alliteration, it just happened.) Anyway, I like that while I have no control over the many crazy events that unfold in family life, I can control laundry. I can get a stain out of damn near anything and uniformly folded towels and bedlinens fill me with a Napoleonesque sense of power. It's a small thing but moms must savour these moments.
In the new house I shall eschew the condo-sized stacker in favour of something much more substantial. Something with the words "heavy duty" or "commercial grade" in the name. And then all around my glorious new workhorses will be beauty! Crisp white paint, beautiful slate floors, charming storage baskets and (gasp!), a built-in custom drying rack, even a closet in which to store the ironing board, iron, hampers and my sewing machine. Just imagine shelves with beautiful bottles and jars to contain the various lotions and potions used for stain removal, whitening, brightening and the scenting one's linens. Oh, and the always useful utility sink with a shelf above for vases, floral frogs and other flower arranging delights! I am nearly breathless with excitement.
As the great Mies van der Rohe once said, "God is in the details." And a luxe laundry room is nothing short of heaven.
Today as the jungle of moving boxes encroaches upon my sanity, I find myself escaping to a wonderful fantasy world: My future master suite and strangely enough, laundry room. You see, in a week and a half we are moving out of our crowded townhome and into a single family dwelling. We are doubling our square footage and as a result, the size of our master bedroom.
The new suite of dreams includes, but is not limited to: a large walk-in closet, a dressing area, a four piece ensuite including soaker tub, space for a reading nook and a yoga mat and pleasingly, a general feeling of spaciousness. But of all the things our master bedroom has, I am most excited about what it hasn't: laundry.
You see, for the past five years I have lived with laundry in my bedroom. Our townhome had what can only be described as a laundry closet. This is a space-saving torture device invented by some developer out there who is either a) a nudist who generates no laundry, b) wears exclusively dry-clean only garments, or c) and most likely the case, a wealthy middle aged male who does not live in a townhome and has never thrown a load in or much less seen the laundry room in his sprawling McMansion perched Frank Gehry-like on a cliff overlooking a stunning vista....but I digress.
Anyway, for the rest of us, a very basic stacking washer and dryer wedged into a narrow closet of an even more narrow hallway covered by a bifold door seemed like a great cost cutter. Since the washrooms and children's rooms are too tight for even a hamper, guess where the laundry ended up? That's right! This entire time my boudoir multitasked as the familial laundromat. The hamper, iron, ironing board and drying rack have all taken up residence in my sanctuary and I can't tell you how miserable this has been.
When company came a-calling, or at least company whom I knew would appreciate a home tour, I would have to shove all the laundry accoutrements into our master bathroom shower and close the door on the situation. This was disheartening, especially given the fact that my hubby did some really charming work in our bathroom with beadboard, crown moulding, cottagey hardware and vintage-chic mirrors and medicine cabinet. Sad.
But on the horizon is a master bedroom and ensuite that is free of ironing boards and the like. Truth be told, it's not as though I am ashamed of the laundry gear. It was just the glaringly obvious fact of its wrongful placement. "And here we have our master bedroom, oops! Careful not to trip on the drying rack, you wouldn't want to get tangled up in my unmentionables..."
While all the rooms will need remodeling at some point, I am very excited at the prospect of a real, true laundry room. I actually take some pleasure in laundry and fancy myself a bit of a domestic diva in this particular division of domesticity. (I apologize for that random attack of alliteration, it just happened.) Anyway, I like that while I have no control over the many crazy events that unfold in family life, I can control laundry. I can get a stain out of damn near anything and uniformly folded towels and bedlinens fill me with a Napoleonesque sense of power. It's a small thing but moms must savour these moments.
In the new house I shall eschew the condo-sized stacker in favour of something much more substantial. Something with the words "heavy duty" or "commercial grade" in the name. And then all around my glorious new workhorses will be beauty! Crisp white paint, beautiful slate floors, charming storage baskets and (gasp!), a built-in custom drying rack, even a closet in which to store the ironing board, iron, hampers and my sewing machine. Just imagine shelves with beautiful bottles and jars to contain the various lotions and potions used for stain removal, whitening, brightening and the scenting one's linens. Oh, and the always useful utility sink with a shelf above for vases, floral frogs and other flower arranging delights! I am nearly breathless with excitement.
As the great Mies van der Rohe once said, "God is in the details." And a luxe laundry room is nothing short of heaven.
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