This is Noby, the naughty gnome who pops up in the strangest places around here. Ususally after he's done something particularly cheeky. Where did Christmas go? It went by in a blur of wrapping paper, Bing Crosby and Dean Martin on the record player, a good-spirits-and-wine-fuelled charades marathon that went on until we could no longer stand (so it morphed into a few rounds of Pictionary, naturally) and far too many truffles and gingerbread cookies. It was good.
But there's nothing like an impending birthday party to get you moving again: Stella turns 4 on the 3rd. The party is planned for the 6th. I prefer colours or shapes to actual themes, so her soiree will be a pastiche of Lightning McQueen references (Stella's idea) and my fixation on aqua, lime and white. And polka dots. It will all come together. Somehow. I'll post some pictures as I pull things together this week. Auf Wiedersehen Noby, until next year.

I finished Henry's stocking. What do you fill a 9-month old's stocking with? It's a nice teal wool with that great Denyse Schmidt print everyone loves. In typical Aquarius fashion, I don't believe in following instructions (assuming I had them) and, really, how hard can a giant sock be? The cuff gave me a little bit of trouble, which you can probably see along the right edge, but otherwise a very satisfying little project indeed. Now if only that wallpaper would arrive...

it's a marshmallow world

The results of our gingerbread-making afternoon at Loblaws. It's making the house smell delicious. And making me long for snow.

Of course not all is icing sugar and candy drops chez moi. Swiper the Fox (or was it Diego?) was flushed down the toilet under mysterious circumstances the other day. Despite our determination to ignore the rather obvious problem in the hope it would work itself out, three days without a functioning loo upstairs will eventually cause someone to cry uncle. I blinked. One emergency run to the plumbing aisle at Canadian Tire later and we've added something called a toilet auger to the cache of household tools I truly hope never again sees the light of day.

There are moments in life, usually small, insignificant moments, that make you realize, indisputably, you're grown-up. If two kids and a 1/5 share in a community snowblower weren't evidence enough, telling a 19-year old clerk you have a clogged toilet ought to do it. But then, a fit of giggles, the uncontrollable kind, struck as I was explaining who Swiper was and how he became lodged in the toilet (I forgot, see, that 19-year olds don't necessarily watch Treehouse and that something called 'swiper' is easily misunderstood when you're discussing toilets) and gave me hope that maybe I'm not 100% grown-up up after all. I certainly hope not.

bee parade

My new bee arrived, thanks to Tania Howells. There are a couple of versions and I'd really welcome feedback on which one folks like best. Please leave your comments here or email me nicole(at)honey-bunch(dot)com.

The big site redesign is just getting underway. I'll have a retooled, shiny new shop with lots more bells and whistles in March, if all goes to plan. It's been a year in the planning so I'm excited beyond reason that it's finally happening. That and my new bedroom wallpaper (please come this week, please) have me rubbing my hands in anticipation. I love a new project.

in the wee small hours...

...while the whole family is fast asleep (to paraphrase Mr. Sinatra)I'm making an apron. More accurately, learning to make an apron - hence the instructions for both the pattern and my new sewing machine laid out on the table. The apron is actually made from a vintage pillow case, culled from my collection. It called for simple twill tape ties but I opted for more sturdy and washable fabric ties, which I made from different fabric, also vintage. Thank you Hillary Lang for sharing the pattern.

It's for Stella, a Christmas gift. Lately she enjoys helping in the kitchen and I think she'll be pleased to finally have an apron her own size. The kid rolls a damn fine meatball. It's part of my handcrafted pledge this year. Fun. Happy. Tired. Proud.

I am incredibly sad that James Kim did not make it back to his family. A reminder, a terrible one, to slow down. To take note. To give extra-long hugs and one more kiss. To give thanks for my funny little girl and my sweet baby and my lovely husband.

May Kati Kim find some peace.

I love these soft felt trees. It's my first sewing-actual-fabric-with-seam-allowances project since, well, since that failed corduroy vest in Mrs. McEchearn's Home Economics Class in 1981. I put popcorn in the bottom to hold them steady (the pattern from Stephanie at Little Birds calls for rice or lentils but I was impatient to finish once the end was in sight and popcorn was the first suitable thing I could find in the pantry).

Funneling popcorn kernels into a 1" opening is a task best approached with a Zen calm. That's all I'll say. But making the trees was fun and I'm quite chuffed with how they turned out. I'm contemplating making some more embellished versions out of a lovely navy plaid wool fabric from the thrift store. Soft trees for everyone! Check out other versions of the trees at this Flickr group.

On another note, I cannot believe this story, which I first heard about on Little Birds, hasn't been all over the Canadian media. My heart leapt when I learned Kati Kim and her daughters were found safe yesterday and my thoughts are with them as they continue the search for James. Please let him be found safe.

sew, a needle pulling thread

I went for a stroll the other day and came home with a sewing machine. I told you I would. The lessons, however, will have to wait. The saleswoman (Angela at Cloverdale Sewing Centre is awesome!) showed me the basics - wind a bobbin, thread the machine and away I went. My first project was this advent tree (does sewing paper count?) for Stella. The holiday issue of MS shows how to make these tags. I used 2" wide ribbon sewn onto card stock I cut in a tag shape. It makes a nice little pocket for a chocolate loonie.

That project went pretty quickly so I sewed these cards using scraps of felt. It brought to mind a saying that goes something like "he who is good with a hammer sees everything as a nail." But they're cute, right?

and the winner is...

Can you imagine winning $15,000 worth of nursery gear? I think I'd keep the velvet rope up at my house. The winner of the Savvy Mom Win a Dream Nursery Contest I mentioned back in October was announced the other day, she's from Oakville, and the lucky gal takes home all the loot shown in the pics above. Eye spy with my little eye a few things from Honeybunch: a birdie mobile, knit cowboy booties, a Japanese nightlight. That's a Mally leather bib dangling from the dresser (I cannot say enough about these bibs, especially now we're in the mushy pea phase here. They are total genius.) and that cute little blue club chair is in my shop too. I think that's an Oeuf crib. Nice. And where did they find a glider that's not covered in bonnet-wearing geese fabric?

It's a lovely room, no? But I'm biased because it's similar to Henry's (which he's now actually sleeping in after a ridiculous eight month sojourn in my bed). I used Farrow and Ball's Blue Grey on the walls. It's a gorgeous not quite blue, not quite grey hue that's really smart and fresh. Natural linen drapery panels from good old IKEA: we cut off the tab top for a cleaner finish and I'm planning to add an 18" band of print fabric to the bottom for interest (one day). The stylish glider eluded me once again, so I opted for a brown leather club chair and ottoman. I reused a lovely white and walnut change table from Stella's room and mounted pages from an antique ABC book in simple frames I painted white. Like Stella's nursery, the whole room cost less than $500. Which is not to say I wouldn't jump for joy at $15,000 worth of free tack, I'm just saying it can be done. If the lighting outside improves I'll take a few photos of Henry's room and post them later.

friday!

Hmm. Doesn't have quite the same feeling when you work from home, but what the heck. It's Friday! And it's my fifth wedding anniversary! What a busy five years: one lovely husband, two scrumptious kids, three houses, five jobs (between us) and one new business.

But there's no time to be tired - I've got one hectic weekend ahead of me: tomorrow is Holly Jolly, hosted by my talented and very creative sister-in-law (I married well in more than one sense). I'll be there with BabyLegs on (including some brand new styles not in the shop). They'll be 2/$30, so stop on by if you're in the neighbourhood. (psst: the handmade truffles from TruffleTree are not to be missed)

Feeling a bit Rip Van Winkle-ish, having come back from surf and sun to...full blown Christmas. Most houses on the street are in full regalia, Jingle Bell Rock is blasting in Loblaws, and, my God, were those snow flurries yesterday morning? My gourds look a little silly now.
So while everyone is feeling optimistic and happy and by gosh almost Christmas-y, let me point out a few great indie shopping sites.

Indie Collective is a great place to start shopping for handmade. You'll find lovely (inexpensive too) jewelery, things for your house, pretty purses and wallets, cufflinks and laptop bags and of course, baby and kid stuff - where you'll find me listed, of course!

For my fellow Torontonians, Toronto Craft Alert is an amazing resource. They list all the best local designers - small and large - as well as upcoming events. The Church of Craft's Pedal to the Metal 2 December 2nd at the Rivoli will change any lingering perceptions that crafty means uncool, lumpy macrame tea cozies. Think 40 designers of everything from zines to art to jewelery to t-shirts and 5 bands jamming all afternoon while you shop.

If you like to read as well as shop, head to Delightful Blogs for a quick pitstop. It'll point you in the direction of people who create good stuff and write about it too. The DIY-crafting section is the place to head.

Kaboodle lets you save what you find online (or offline, I suppose), organize into wish lists and share favourites so everyone in your extended family can see what's on the kids' lists. Handy. Here's an example.

Friday. Vintage spotting

I've been eyeballing this canister at the vintage store down the street all week. Finally gave in. It's our last day and that's no time to dilly dally. It's cute, no? I also spotted the '50s telephone table - not crazy about the fabric but that's an easy fix. It would be great in my little bungalow entrance way. And I just might go back to an old school phone with a spirally cord after several failed attempts to find a cordless with decent sound and reception.
And I love the little matching fabric pouches for the vintage table linens. Smart. I'm a such a sucker for ric rac. My post-vacation resolution includes taking a sewing class before Christmas. I want to make something similar for the shop.

kick up yer heels

The girls at Skirt! magazine included our cutie patootie cowboy booties in their holiday gift line up. Yippee!

Got the latest e-newsletter from weewelcome today. The big feature is this Mama Mingle event. Like the graphics. I like the idea - it can be a long, lonely year off if you don't have any friends on mat leave with you - though the term "hip" used to describe mothers and their offspring makes me shudder. Too much pressure to have the right bag, the right stroller, the non-stained outfit. Stuff I stopped caring about with baby two. Besides, I was totally reminded about how I joined the WeeWelcome forum back in April, trying to find some west-end moms or dads to hang with this spring. No one replied to my posting. Not a single person. Isn't that sad? It brought every sitting-alone-in-the-school-cafeteria humiliation roaring back.

But I'm putting myself out there again - but in a different way. When I read Shannon's post yesterday it made me yearn for a similar group in Toronto. Like-minded folks who are balancing young kids with a young business and want to get together every now and then to talk shop, compare notes, share resources. Non-competitive and totally supportive, of course!

So if you're interested, give me a holler: nicole(at)honey-bunch.com.

speaking of handmade goodies

I'll be at Holly Jolly on the 25th of November. My sister in law organizes this annual craft show that features a dozen or so jewelry, card and craft makers. I may bring a few BabyLegs, if I have enough stock (does every tot in Canada now have at least 5 pairs or what?) but I will definitely be manning the table of delicious and beautiful gingerbread cookies. Stop by and say hello if you're in Bloor West Village.

Technically I'm on vacation. But the wireless Internet works in the lanai. And by the pool. So what's a self-employed girl to do? I've got two things on my mind this week: illustrations for the new website (coming February) and Christmas prezzies. After a lengthy flirtation with modern, I'm once again loving crafty, handmade things. Pining for them, in fact. And so I've decided to only buy handmade and independent this year. It makes me happy.

So far I bought these pretty cards printed with soy ink on paper embedded with wild flower seeds, so you can actually plant the card in the garden when you're done admiring it. Isn't that clever? And this terribly cute bird made from vintage wool boucle from here.

I like to think that what my own handiwork lacks in polish is made up in enthusiasm, so I'm going to attempt these silly embroidered vegetables on a set of tea towels for a friend.

One concession to the non-handmade holiday, is the Tord Boontje collection at, yes, Target. I picked up the last two packs of the lovely laser cut paper garland pictured above ($5.99 each) and some possibly garish garland I might regret. Along with the jade green eye shadow duo. I simply cannot contain myself at that store. I hope it never comes to Canada.

gone fishin'

We're on holiday. We come back to this beach (our third year now) because this is what it looks like when it's busy. Seriously. It is a lost-in-time kind of place.

Whenever I feel guilty that I'll probably never take my kids to Disney World, I must remind myself how relaxed and happy Stella is here. We get to see her real personality (she's amazing and funny) when the usual distractions aren't present. I love that a 3-year old can be this contemplative, given the chance.

crafty, crafty, crafty

The only nice thing about having a cold is luxuriating in bed rest. Fortunately Henry is happy to just be by my side, whether that's jetting to the post office, wrapping orders, or sending endless email. So the arrival today of my highly anticipated copy of the Crafter's Companion meant we could hunker down in bed, he with a few favourite toys, me with my new book.

I don't sew or knit or embroider (I really wish I did. Maybe one day I will.) but the talented and creative folk whose work is featured here really inspire me. I buy their things - my recent purchase of gift tags and iron-on transfers came from here - and read their blogs. Occasionally, I get to sell their things in my shop.

The book profiles 17 crafty types from the US, Europe, Australia, and even a fellow Torontonian. The photos are beautiful, the projects adorable and clever and witty. Best of all, each artist contributed a pattern so there are are 17 great things to make. If I ever learn to sew, embroider or knit.

boo!

Despite an inconvenient head cold that left me woozy, pumpkins were carved, costumes made and loot bags assembled. Normally I'd advise against climbing a ladder with legs shaking and vision blurred, but it was Halloween after all, and there were bats to hang and shredded tulle to pin to the veranda. I might be a teeny tiny bit of a stage mom.

Despite the thoroughly unimpressed expression, Henry in fact had a good time making the rounds. Someone thought he was a snowball. Those are lamb ears, people, lamb ears. Pretty cute, I thought.

The chakras are realigned, my chi is in balance and all is right with the world. Ah, the restorative effect of a good long walk on a sunny fall day. A baby sleeping for 2 hours helps. And so does finishing an assignment for TO Life a day early.

So I treated Henry and myself to a leisurely two hour stroll in the big buggy. In addition to the two MacLarens, this is my other ride. It belonged to our lovely neighbours, who have lived here 40 years. They pushed three babies around these streets in this pram in the '60s. It's still in perfect condition. Lovely and fastidious neighbours.

Some photos from my walk...

Housekeeping ain't no joke, Louisa May Alcott wisely observed.

That annoying overwhelmed feeling of late is in part due to my house having reached the point where I simply cannot do another thing I need to do, deadlines be damned, until I've wrestled the hateful 50-foot snaking central vac hose out of its closet and sucked up everything in my path (and Steve wonders why there are so many missing socks. Ha.)

Remember that Flintstones episode where Wilma, determined to get a maid, smudges dark circles under her eyes and feigns exhaustion? It worked, Fred relented and, if I recall correctly, they got Gina Lollobrigida. A few weeks after Stella's birth I pulled a similar move, albeit more sympathetically: if I'm going to breastfeed this baby 18 times a day there is simply no time left to vacuum. And so we got Svetlana.

During our three-year relationship I learned something important about myself: I'm not a very effective boss. I don't like telling people what to do. Svetlana came, initially, with a translator. And things were good. She'd arrive, I'd make her tea then leave and return to a magically tidy and sparkling home that smelled like lemons and pine and a good deal more elbow grease than I've ever put in.

Alas, as happens in all close relationships, standards began to slip over the years. An errant dust bunny. A bit of crusty jam welded to the kitchen counter for 2 weeks. Suspicion that the tub had been Windexed but not actually cleaned. Long distance phone calls to Ukraine. But mostly I hated becoming one of those women who complains about their cleaning lady. So we parted ways, amicably, three months ago and I vowed to clean the house myself.

So today. House dirty. Need to vac. Conundrum: Henry is afraid of the vac. Can't do it while he's sleeping. Can't do it while he's awake. A snippet of my scintillating morning conversation with my husband:

Me: The house is pretty dirty, huh.
Him: Yeah. Pretty dirty.
Me: Henry's afraid of the vacuum.
Him: Probably because he doesn't hear it very often.
Me: (choking on coffee) What? What does that mean? Are you insane?
Him: (calmly) What? Svetlana's coming Monday. What's the big deal.
Me: Do you live here?

Sigh. What use is Calgon when the tub is dirty?

Hello. My name is Nicole and I'm overwhelmed

Funny, when I worked for someone else and not for myself the week leading up to vacation was a thing to savour. Even the simplest thing like buying sunscreen out of season felt decadent and exciting. Now? Holidays loom rather than tantalize. Vacay in ten days and there is much to do. Much to do.

As much as I hate to, for sanity's sake I'm going to defer adding this gorgeous new blanket to the site until I return November 18. I love the olive, red and chocolate brown combo. It's so modern. In the week I've tucked it around Henry's stroller I've had three people stop to ask where I bought it. I always feel a bit goofy saying "well, as a matter of fact... " Especially if I'm rockin' yoga pants - not convincingly - and a Tim Horton's at the post office at 8 am. You know?

So if you like it, love it, have to have it before the end of November, send me an email. I have this olive combo, a baby pink and pale blue option. They're a very reasonable $35 and I think they'll sell well. Oh, and they're handmade for honeybunch in fleece with wool felt.

today's work in progress

Homemade halloween costumes are one of my mother's legacies. Back in the day my sisters and I would look down our noses at kids who wore those cheapy store-bought ones - you know, the kind with the moulded plastic mask with the eye holes that were always slightly off kilter. These slipshod Batmans, Holly Hobbies and Luke Skywalkers smacked of carelessness. Of last-minute candy-grabbers. Of a lack of creativity - the biggest sin in my 8-year old worldview. My mom's costumes weren't particularly elaborate. A loopy mophead dyed red was the capper for one year's Raggedy Ann costume, a floor-length bridesmaid gown with leg of mutton sleeves and a fabric-covered cardboard bonnet during my Laura Ingalls Wilder phase.

Of course store bought outfits today are as professional and well-constructed as anything you'd find on a film set. But still. I am unable to take the easy road. So Halloween prep is in full swing. Stella wants to be a cowboy. It was a knight originally but when she couldn't convince the neighbour to be her dragon all bets were off.

Last night I hot glued this great fringe I found on a $3 tablecloth to a thrift store jean jacket. Today I tackle the pants and figure out how many warm layers I can stuff into the jacket in case the cold weather continues. Henry? He's going to be a spider.

This house is around the corner from mine. If you could zoom in on the sign in the window you'd see it reads "another AFFORDABLE new home for sale." It's listed for $1.2 million dollars. No, we don't live in Kuwait, so, yes, the sign has caused a bit of a stir in the neighbourhood.

Of course we're pleased that our decision to buy an unfashionable 1960s bungalow in an unfashionable part of town looks prescient three years later. The bulldozers moved in shortly after we did, and modest houses on big lots like ours are being demolished and replaced with new, affordable homes like this one.

At the time it wasn't an easy decision to buy our house. I had fallen for a cottage in High Park with a pretty front courtyard, wide plank floors, and a cute banquette in the kitchen. Unfortunately, Steve, who is average height, kept hitting his head on the stair bulkhead, our king bed wouldn't fit in the master bedroom, and a dodgy slopy-floored addition had our estate agent biting her lip. Far too much to overlook, of course, but at the time I was deeply conflicted. Silly. We've been so happy here, bad '80s kitchen and all.

how it might go down

I love that line. It's so Hollywood. So kids-on-The-OC-in-trouble. I never expected to hear it in a conversation I was part of. Here's how it happened.

I spent many nice July days working on the Entertaining Guide for Toronto Life (now out in the November issue). I interviewed caterers, florists, stationers and a fellow named Arnie the Ham who delivers singing telegrams as a tuxedo-clad gorilla. But my favourite assignment was "the host with the most" - a round-up of entertaining tips from fashionable party throwers around town. One of my sort-of idols, Lynda Reeves, was on the list. I'm a big fan of her magazine. In fact, I have just about every issue from 1995 on. At the handful of media-type events I've attended where Lynda's been present I admired her from afar. She sees everything and everyone without one second of unneccessary or accidental eye contact. Fierce. I'd work for her if she didn't scare me.

After vetting the interview through her assistant Ryan, actually arranging a time to speak was no simple matter.

Ryan: "Lynda's very busy with taping right now so here's how it might go down. We might call you and say 'Lynda's available in five minutes, can you be available?"
Heart sinking. Dude, I have a 3-year old and a 3-month old rattling around this house. There's very little, short of fleeing my burning home, that I could pull off on five minutes notice. But the conspiratorial "here's how it might go down" had me hooked. Me: "Yes, of course. I'll wait to hear from you."

It played out like a scene from Three's Company. You know, where Jack has a date in the kitchen and one in the bathroom and he's frantic but managing to keep them separate. After waiting all day the phone call came just after five. I have call display so in the seven seconds between the first ring and call answer kicking in I handed baby H off to my mother in law like you'd pass the cashier a frozen turkey, stuck a freezie in Stella's hand and ushered the three of them on to the porch, locked the door behind them, pounced on the phone, exhaled and in a very oozy, breathy Jack Tripper kind of way, said "hello, this is Nicole."

Unlike Jack, I ultimately pulled it off. Half an hour later I hung up the phone triumphant. I had interviewed my sort-of idol and she had no idea I was sitting cross-legged on my bed with grass-stained feet, shooing my kid away from the window with a grimace and hand gestures the entire time. Love it.

aprons

I've been collecting vintage aprons for a few years but never did anything with them. They're too cute to cut up for fabric, often they're too fragile or impractical to actually use in the kitchen. So they sit, along with the dozen or so tablecloths, pillowcases and other bits of fabric I've picked up here and there, waiting for a good idea to come along. I saw this adorable clothesline on flickr and copied it for Stella's room.
The cute pineapple bed, by the way, was scooped up for $35 and painted my favourite creamy white.

I had no idea the corn maze was spread across 12 acres when I agreed to push a stroller through its narrow, dusty rows on an unseasonally hot and windless day this past weekend. Or that there was only one way out. Or that my brother-in-law would insist on finding the 22 hidden checkpoints so we would win a prize. It's Hanes Farm on Hwy 6 and I suggest you bring a GPS or at the very least a periscope or compass if you intend to finish in under 2 hours. It's also open at night - they rent flashlights. The rustling cornstalks were creepy enough at high noon, I can imagine how deliciously spooky it'd be in the dark.