Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays, my very few – and mostly spammer- blog readers.

I made these orange slice ornaments the other day, and they’re just gorgeous. They look like stained glass when in front of a light. I followed these directions, just in case you’re wondering. Mine only took an hour to dry, and they’re still a bit too toasty.

December has been an absolute flurry of activity, cowl sales have far exceeded my expectations, and I’m extremely thankful. You’ve made my family’s holidays much happier and comfortable. Also, as per the entry below, I bought myself an early 30th birthday present.

I should really be slowing down now with the fabric buying, but on my days off from my regular day job I go shopping. And I always find some gems. It took me THREE HOURS on Sunday morning to organize my fabrics, since I work on the floor at all times, and it tends to spread from one end of my house to the other, and here’s about HALF of what I have in stock:

And would you believe that I actually still sit on this chair and sew, perched on the edge? I hope to make all of these cut pieces of fabric into actual cowls over the holidays. Starting tomorrow at 2pm until January 2 at 10am I am on vacation! Horah! I have the best employer I could ask for (outside of myself, of course)!

Happy Holidays, all!

Oh, hello…

So, I bought a motorcycle today. I’ve never driven a motorcycle. Hell, I didn’t even SIT on this before buying it. But, the dream to own a motorcycle is about 30 years old. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want a motorcycle, and I have been promising myself that I’d buy one for years and years and years. This is an early 30th birthday present to myself.

And I have Etsy to thank. And hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of sewing cowls.

I can’t wait until spring!!!

No Energy to Sew

I’ve been lagging on firing up the ol’ sewing machine lately. I started working a full time job that I love (!), but when I come home in the evenings, the sewing machine looks more like a task (a nagging task, at that) than anything else. I used to sew during every one of my son’s naps and after he went to sleep for the night, but now I hardly have enough energy to plug the thing in, let alone have the creative juices flow enough to make something nice. Luckily I have a couple of half-completed handbags laying around and was even able to finish one last night, which I’ll put up on Etsy tomorrow, probably.

My husband, son and I are taking a two-week vacation to Ontario next week that I’m looking forward to. I’m a little nervous about not having a home base for that entire time, or having to share someone else’s home (nap times are crutial, especially now that temper tantrums are in full swing), but I’m really looking forward to being back.

I was eight months pregnant when we left Ontario to move back to Nova Scotia so that we could raise our son near my family. Now, nearly two years later, we’re back for our second visit (we had a day layover on our way to Cuba in November), and this will be the first time we get to meet our new niece, Maegan, who was born a few days ago at home with the help of midwives. She was a little bit late, and my sister-in-law delivered a healthy 8lb 10oz little girl without any medical intervention. Beautiful!

While we’re there, we’ll be going to the Toronto Zoo, doing lots of shopping and having some date days (nights are often a no-go since Ash still wakes up frequently and freaks out if I’m not there), going to a baby shower for another friend of mine and I’m getting a tattoo. I can’t wait to see all of our old friends again.

Birthday Smirthday

I really, really hate my birthday. I don’t remember a time that I actually enjoyed having a birthday. It tends to fall on Easter weekend (as it does this year) and when I was a kid if I was having a birthday party most people would tell me that they couldn’t come because they were going to be visiting their grandmother and couldn’t come. Or, the dirt road I lived on (2.5km back) would be so muddy that people couldn’t even drive to my house. I eventually stopped having birthday parties.

Getting older they mostly just made me uncomfortable. I just don’t enjoy the fuss. I know I should suck up the attention and the gifts and the cake, but I just can’t help but feel awkward about it all.

I have no plans for this Sunday, other than a sushi lunch and to sleep in. I’d like to spend some time with my family and away from my family and that’s about it.

It’s Been Announced!

After 18 glorious months home with my son, most mornings spent in pajamas and afternoons spent walking around the North End of Halifax, I’ve decided to take on a full time job, and coincidentally, my favorite online parenting store was planning to open up a retail location just around the corner from my house. The owner, April, has announced me being hired on her blog, so I can now exclaim to the world just how excited I am to be a part of the Nurtured team!

I am what they call an Attachment Parent; I breastfeed, wear my son as much as possible, cosleep, cloth diaper and practice elimination communication. We are raising Ash as an organic vegetarian and are delaying or avoiding vaccinations. I care about the environment and do what I can to reduce my carbon footprint and set a good example for others, especially my child.

I made my parenting choices because they are right for me and my family, but know that not everyone will share my point of view- so I’ll be there with an open mind and open arms and lots and lots of knowledge about all kinds of choices out there. And I’m always craving to learn more, so I’m sure you’ll teach me things too!

I’ve been working at home during the past year and a half, most recently sewing handbags, and now it’s time to put on pants without an elastic waistband! See you at the beginning of April!

A Story About Cuba

This true story is about how I was nearly detained for “carrying explosives” while in Cuba.

My husband and I (and our son, and my mom and her husband) spent a week in Cuba on our honeymoon early last November, soaking up the sun at an all-inclusive resort. On our final day, we boarded the bus to the airport, paid the expensive airport fees and decided to do a little souvenir shopping at the duty free in the airport. We were browsing the aisles, picking up cheap rum, cigars and candy and I paid for it with my mastercard. As we were leaving the shop, a security officer came up to me and said, “Are you Gillian ****?” I said that I was, and he said, “Come with me please.”

I handed over our son to Clive, shrugged my shoulders as we exchanged confused looks and went with the officer. As we were walking, I asked him what it was about. He said, “Do you have a gun in your suitcase?” I laughed and said, “No!” and he said, “are you sure?” I laughed again and said that yes, I was sure there was no gun in my suitcase… why? He said that they’d found one and had to search through my suitcase with me present.

They brought me downstairs to where we went through the metal detectors, and Clive was able to look over a balcony and see what was going on. Security guards immediately surrounded me, two behind me, one on each side, and they brought out one of our suitcases and asked if it was mine. I said yes, and then realized that it was the one with all of Clive’s stuff in it.

I had no idea what Clive had in his suitcase that could be seen as a gun, but I was about to find out.

“Is there a gun in here?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“We saw a gun on the x-ray machine. And our dogs smelled explosives.”
“WHAT? Your dogs are wrong, there are definitely no explosives in that suitcase.”
“Can we search your suitcase?”
“Sure. There is no gun in there though.”

They slowly, slowly, slowly take out shirts, unfolding, refolding, pants, unfolding, refolding, underwear. A small tackle box full of fishing lures. They look at me, I tell them my husband likes to fish. They ask me to open the tackle box. They take out a tube of sunscreen, of all things, and examine it for a minute, put it back in, close it up, set it aside. A swimsuit. More pants. Shirts, unfold, refold. They find a pair of plyers. I tell them that it’s another tool for fishing. They find a large lure, and tell them it’s for bigger fish. They find a 12-inch fishing lure, I laugh and tell them that it’s for really, really big fish.

I’m seriously trying to not lose my shit. I remain calm and laugh-y the entire time. I think this is absurd. Clive doesn’t have a gun! What is going ON here? I’m still surrounded.

Then.

They lift out a belt. DING. DING. DING. DING.

Attached to the belt is a belt buckle, shaped like a gun.

They crowd around it. Try to pull its little non-working trigger. Look at the hollow back and look at me and talk amongst themselves. Try to pull its trigger again and again. I nervously laugh and tell them it’s just a belt buckle. I look up at Clive- oh- and the DOZEN OTHER PEOPLE who’ve gathered around to watch me be interrogated- and give him the dirtiest look I can muster up. He is in SO much trouble.

They continue removing all the contents of the suitcase until it’s empty and put it on the floor for another explosive-smelling dog. It slowly approaches the bag. It sniffs the handle, it moves around the bag, smelling it, it rips off the name and address tag that’s attached to the little elastic, and it lays down in front of it. No more explosives. They question me again, “Why did our dog smell explosives? Do you own a gun at home? Have you carried a gun? Where has this suitcase been?” I make the mistake of telling them we used it to go to the United States a few months ago. “AMERICA?” They seem appauled. I realize I’ve said a very, very bad word and have to reiterate: oh, no, no, it was just for business, and it was many, many months ago! I’m sorry for all of the trouble, I don’t know why my husband brought that particular belt buckle ON A PLANE INTERNATIONALLY. Let’s go grab a coffee and forget this never happened, ha? Ha?”

So, they repack his suitcase, continue to leer at me, and send me on my way. I spend the next hour giving Clive the silent treatment.