domicile

The Holiday Begins

trimming the tree
Originally uploaded by emira.

I'm just about to pop a roasted mushroom/nutloaf in pastry into the oven and in two hours we'll be on our way out to Maple Ridge for a Danish Christmas Eve with Martin's folks. Tomorrow we get to wake up when we want, laze around with the cat and eventually head over to friends/neighbours for a casual curry dinner with plenty of wine (at least I'll be drinking plenty of wine).

Neither Martin nor I are totally head over tea kettle for Christmas itself, but have enjoyed some of the rituals of this year (decorating the tree, a neighbourhood evening of christmas light displays, and particularly his daughters delight at the approaching day). That all said, I am happy that we'll be spending it together here, for our first Christmas in our little house. A few days later we'll head to island for a visit with my family, which will be nice. And as an added bonus, our island visit will include some time with my oh-so-dear friend Kate who's trucked her partner and daughter out for the holidays.

And with all these dearly loved ones, our cozy livingroom and my beloved wonderkitty near, I can only imagine that tomorrow will be a slice of bliss.

And so now, the computer goes off for a few days as Theresa just called from Edmonton to remind me to pour a bit of Christmas cheer, and so with a wee nip of cognac in hand I wish you all a series of days that fill you with love.

The enduring presence of cheese

  new bathroom door 
  Originally uploaded by emira.

Designers are influenced and inspired by the world around them. Concepts, moments and surely artifacts inspire new clothing lines, visual art, compositions and staggering works of architecture. My Martin is squarely in the midst of his prolific "swiss cheese" period.

The first piece in this body of work which has so far spanned a couple of years was the beautiful bench he gave me as a birthday gift the first year we were dating. The bench was followed by some pieces for the salon, and the inspiration of the movement can be found in other pieces like our recent collaboration on the front entrance shoe bench.

And so it came to pass that we now have four square mottled glass windows in our bathroom door. Our bathroom is the one room slated for fairly major renos (ie/ actual wall reconstruction and drywall) and I personally like to do much of my brainstorming about the new forms of storage and decor that we will eventually install here while laying in the bath. I have remarked before that I adore our bathroom and much of that has to do with our lovely tub. Bathroom love has taken me somewhat by surprise as I've always been much more of a kitchen girl, but I digress.

One day while relaxing in the tub, diffuse candle light surrounding me, I began to think that I would love to bring the feeling/presence of the tub into the rest of the house in some ways without actually moving it to say the middle of the livingroom floor. And it was that thought that brought me to think about a glass door.

Now our office doors at Raised Eyebrow are the kind of 20s detective agency doors with large textured glass centre panels, and I have to admit I have quite an affection for those. So the idea of a glass panelled door was not really a stretch. I then began to get very excited about the "textual" potential of a glass panel. That is, I began to think about the kinds of words I could produce in vinyl lettering to adorn the glass panel I was now dreaming of replacing our very ordinary and dividing wood door.

I brought my idea to Martin who pointed out that while my daydreams of bathtub soaking with translucent glass were one thing, our guests may not soo much appreciate even translucent glass when undertaking more personal bathroom activities. Fair enough.

And so it was that he began to dream of circular translucent glass inserts. Shortly after 4 circles (one with a bit lopped off) of bathroom glass were ordered. As you'll see from the photos, he then cut out the circles, sanded them to just the right size and carefully inserted them in the door. They are held in there finally held in with a little bit of hot glue.

Achoo-achoo-achoo-achoo

  Third box in 72 hours 
  Originally uploaded by emira.

I sneeze like a cat. Like my cat anyway. I also sneeze like my dad. Rapid-fire multiple sneezes that leave those around me who aren't too  used to it concerned that my head may be about to sneeze right off my body. I of course always thought this was a perfectly normal way to sneeze (my dad always did afterall) but the look of concern I got from the girl at the video counter (who I have seen far to much in the past 72 hours, yeah for mindless distraction and serialized TV on DVD!) the other day reminded me otherwise.

So what does having a bad and somewhat unattractive headcold have to do with our house? Nothing directly, except that I'm largely cooped up here as long as this virus continues to have its way with my sinuses and I remain not too fit for public exposure. And while I normally would squeal with delight like a kid on Christmas at the very idea of 72 relatively uninterupted hours of house-arrest for the simple reason that it would provide me with so much opportunity to get domestic chores long-neglected off my perpetual to-do list, the constant sneezing and virus fatigue leaves me with little energy to do much. And for someone like me, that seriously sucks. Add to that the fact that my mom is coming to visit this week, and I'm truly a ball of frustrated sneezing resentment. For while I know that my mom will still love me if my baseboards are dusty when she visits, I have what my friend Camille referred to the other day as "house pride." No kidding? You may say to the girl who writes about her house pride on her house blog, but the ironic self-evidence of that realization doesnt' make it any easier to cope with. And so, I will spend the next 48 hours trying to strike a balance between productivity, resting and getting back to work and the foreboding inbox that keeps growing in my absence, all the while taking out entire trees with my voracious kleenex appetite.