My DIY dreamcatchers were a nightmare
It all started, as most DIY disasters do, with the prettiest Pinterest image. Whimsical DIY dreamcatchers with gold beads, rustic twine, and pastel-coloured feathers.
Surely I could make that! DIY dreamcatchers would be an easy project and look great in our daughter’s bedroom.
I picked up a couple of thin gold hoops and some packages of beads — metallic gold, but also plain wood so I could paint them.
I couldn’t find feathers in the soft colours I wanted (pale purples, pinks and blues) so I bought plain white goose feathers and figured it would be easy to dye them.
The last item on my list was thin strips of leather, so I ended up buying a quarter-metre so I could cut it into strips myself. I was pumped to get started. I was so overly confident that I actually thought, ‘Maybe I can start making these to sell. DIY dreamcatchers would be so popular!’
Oh, if only I knew then . . .
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
The family that bowls together
It’s rare for our family to have a day on the weekend when all four of us are totally free. My husband works most Saturdays and Sundays, so I often feel guilty that our weekends aren’t packed with the cozy family togetherness I see happening with so many of our friends and neighbours.
Sometimes it feels like the rest of the world has Saturdays and Sundays off, and we’re “lacking” because our weekends aren’t jam-packed with cute family activities.
After a brief stop for doughnuts — fuel for bowling — we filed into the alley as a foursome. I guessed correctly at shoe sizes for the kids (their little feet are always somewhat of a mystery) and slipped into my own pair of 8s. (I love, love, love wearing bowling shoes. I know that sounds weird, but they fit me better than any shoes, ever.)
Now, my husband has always been a good bowler. His parents used to be in a league, and I’m convinced there is bowling talent in his DNA. He winds up very professionally and has a powerful swing that makes the pins explode with loud cracking sounds.
I couldn’t BELIEVE what happened next. Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
I am not an interior designer
I spent the weekend working on projects for my very first “home design” client. It’s something that’s been in the works for a couple of months now, and it’s been sort of thrilling, actually.
We have plans to work on a bunch of rooms in her home, but we’re focusing on three specifically at the moment. I’ve been loading up my truck with her furniture and taking it back to my basement to be trimmed and sanded and painted and stained. I’ve been piling lumber in the back of the truck and heading home to build her totally custom pieces. I’ve been taking thrift store finds — excitedly discussed over Facebook Messenger — and tweaking them so they’re perfect for the spaces.
I’ve been taking a TON of photos of the progress and I can’t wait to show them to you once the rooms are finished.
There is something about this entire experience that just feels RIGHT. Sometimes I dream about being able to do something like this all of the time. Put the kids on the school bus, hop into the truck, head out to somebody’s house, tour around and make notes while we chat about ideas, and then go home and start turning those sketches into REAL rooms.
But here’s the thing that makes me stop mid-daydream.
I am NOT an interior designer …
Heather’s Handmade … Car?!
Just in case you ever wondered if I have ALWAYS been attacking everything in sight with paint, fabric, and glue … yes. Yes, I have.
Today I’m going to take you on a tour of my very first car, Trixie. A turquoise 1992 Dodge Shadow with a little racing stripe along the side. We bought her the summer before I started university so I could make the drive into Halifax every weekday to attend the University of King’s College.
She came with a rusted patch on her hood, so NATURALLY I bought a can of pink spray painted and my Handy Husband (back then, he was Handy Boyfriend) helped me spray paint the entire trunk to hide the rust.
Then, because the pink trunk felt UNBALANCED, we also painted a thick racing stripe down the hood. As one does.
Oh, and added a NYC plate, of course.
Then I decided to … try something. I bought two cheap bottles of acrylic paint and jazzed up the top of the center console a little …
And thennnnnnnnnn … I kept painting … Read More
How Valentine’s Day has changed for us
I was 23 when we got engaged on Valentine’s Day of 2007. Nothing had ever been as shiny and beautiful as the ring he slid onto my finger. I spent days, weeks, months tilting my hand ever so slightly in the sunlight to watch that diamond — MY diamond! — sparkle and gleam.
Eleven years and two kids later, Valentine’s Day isn’t the dreamy champagne-and-flowers (and diamonds!) affair it once was.
There isn’t a fancy dinner by the glow of candlelight. My husband does shift work so he’s often working on the actual holiday. We’ve celebrated Valentine’s Day in the past by going out for dinner in March because that’s the first chance we’ve had, and that’s fine. (It’s never a “nice” restaurant, either — it’s a pub, because that’s what we like.)
Oh, and there definitely aren’t bouquets of flowers. Many Valentine’s Days ago, we learned that I’m very allergic. He had sweetly bought me a dozen red roses, and within minutes I was sneezing so badly we had to stick them outside on the balcony of our apartment. Doped up on Benadryl, I immediately went to bed and slept the holiday away. (My husband loves to tell this story, as he spent a very enjoyable night having beers and playing video games.)
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
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