Monthly Archives: October 2012

Give Mom the Rockets and No One Gets Hurt

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Happy Monday/ Full Moon Day, everyone!  We are just coming off the high of a long weekend – it was a PD day on Friday, which was joyfully spent painting clay creations and playing video games with friends.  Thursday night was the much-anticipated Halloween Dance and it was everything everyone had ever dreamed of, and more.

Good times!  And, as promised, my non-slutty costume:

Arrrrrr!

The weekend was also spent carving pumpkins, which means that my kids make the designs for the faces, my husband does the actual carving, and I spend a great deal of time separating the pumpkin seeds from the gross, gross pumpkin goo.  I am, apparently, the only person who actually wants to eat the pumpkin seeds, and so I end up with orange stained, burning hands and pumpkin in my hair.

 
Can you spot the pumpkin in my hair?
 
The finished products were adorable, in my own view.
 
 
Is it strange to feel that Halloween is already over?  I keep reminding myself that it’s not actually Halloween until WEDNESDAY.  Maybe it’s because I’m in denial – it is supposed to be a daily high of ONE DEGREE on Wednesday, not that I’m the one who takes the kids trick-or-treating, but still.  I will probably sit with the giant bowl of candy, waiting for the non-existent trick-or-treaters to ring my doorbell.  As usual I have purchased a very large amount of candy, and mark my words, it will be a miracle if we have more than five trick-or-treaters.  Which means that not only will we have leftover candy to last us until the apocalypse, but the kids will receive enormous amounts from our neighbours who have similarly over-purchased candy.  It’s a Halloween tradition in the old-people neighbourhood that I live in!
 
Speaking of candy, I have a bit of a culture-shock thing going with our neighbours to the south.  In the United States, Smarties are – get this – NOT CANDY COATED CHOCOLATE.  American Smarties are, apparently, what is known in Canada as Rockets.  These seem to be universally despised as a treat, but for me, they are the first item I pilfer from my kids’ bags.  Rockets are like crack cocaine to me.  Sugary crack cocaine.  As well, Coffee Crisp does not exist in the States, which gave me a shock, like when I discovered that ketchup chips are not widely available there.
 
So here is my question of the day: what is your favourite Halloween treat, or if you are a parent, what is the first thing you steal from your kids’ stash?

Book Review: Hooked on Hockey

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When Simon and Schuster asked me to review Chicken Soup for the Soul: Hooked on Hockey, I laughed to myself.  Surely there are few people less qualified to review a book whose title is followed by “101 Stories about the Players Who Love the Game and the Families that Cheer Them On”.  For one thing, I may be a mommy blogger with two boys, but neither of them play hockey, nor are they particularly interested in hockey.  The NHL strike has not affected us one whit, and although I’m in a hockey city, I have not been to a Flames game since 1993.


Nonetheless, who am I to back down from a challenge?  In any event, I have a number of hockey mom friends; one of whom is going to receive this book the minute I am finished writing this review. 

I started reading this book with very low expectations; after all, I had never before read a Chicken Soup book as I assumed that they were filled with all sorts of smarmy stories.  There are quite a few smarmy stories in this book, notably in the “Dreams and Inspirations” and “Life Lessons”.  However, there were a number of well-written, entertaining stories as well.  I liken them to those kind of pleasant, light-hearted stories found in Reader’s Digests or similar publications that one may find oneself perusing in the doctor’s office.  Nothing life-changing, but warm and cozy to read.

Growing up in a rather blue-collar neighbourhood in Calgary in the 1980s, I knew very few boys who played organized hockey.  It was – and is – an expensive sport, and so most of the boys I grew up with played pickup games on the rough, outdoor rink behind our elementary school.  I would go to lace up my figure skates and there would inevitably be a game going on in which no safety equipment was utilized and the game would be over when the street lights came on, which is around 4:30 in the afternoon in the deep of winter.  The stories that most appealed to me, therefore, were the ones in the “Fresh Air and Ice” section; stories of kids just hanging out and playing, no adults required.  Being the mother of boys, I especially enjoyed the story “Rink of Dreams” where two brothers shoveled and flooded their own cul-de-sac for a makeshift rink, much to the angst of anyone driving in or out of said cul-de-sac. 

When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend who liked to take me to hockey games.  The games themselves weren’t of much interest to me, but I did like the upbeat music that was played and I always wondered about the guy who played the organ at those games.  It seemed to me – a piano player – to be a fun gig.  “Welcome Back Clark” is the story of the organist for the Maple Leafs, and details some of his song choices, notably the theme to Welcome Back Cotter to celebrate the return of former Leafs captain Wendel Clark.  I have no idea who that is, but the story itself is entertaining.  Plus I had the added bonus of having that song stuck in my head for the rest of the night.  Follow the link and you too can have this experience.

Other entertaining stories include “Got Teeth” about hockey players and their collective lack of teeth, “The Cursed Jersey” about sports fans and their superstitions, “Golden Tickets” about the Vancouver 2010 Gold Medal Game (I thought my own husband was actually having a heart attack in the last minute before overtime, and so that game stands out in my mind), and “I Married a Zamboni” about a woman who became Kate Zamboni on her wedding day.  That would be a pretty cool last name, don’t you think?  What’s more calming than watching a Zamboni clean the ice?  Well, there are quite a few things, I guess, but Zambonis are pretty cool, even for a non-hockey fan like me.  Chicken Soup for the Soul: Hooked on Hockey would make an excellent Christmas gift for a hockey mom or fan.

*******disclaimer: I received a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Hooked on Hockey from Simon and Schuster Canada.  All opinions are my own.

Domination by cookie baking

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The Boyhouse is vibrating with excitement today.  It’s the Halloween Family Dance and I am just going to say that I feel badly for the teachers today.  They are going to be dealing with some bouncy kids.  Also, my own kids snuck cookies before school this morning, so they may be riding the sugar train.

I spent a large portion of the day yesterday making these cookies for the bake sale.  In my world, first you make the cookies, then you get the power.  WORLD DOMINATION VIA THE HALLOWEEN DANCE BAKE SALE.  That’s my motto.

Mark informed his classmates that his mother was bringing the best cookies ever to the bake sale, and so I had to comply.  What else to do?  Can’t disappoint a class full of third graders.  He also told me that he is planning to bring some allowance to the dance; he wants to buy one of my friend’s cupcakes (that feature gummy candy!) and also he wants to buy one of my ghost cookies.  Puzzled, I told him that he didn’t have to buy one; I made extras for us to have at home.  He feels, however, that an example needs to be set.  A cookie buying example, I guess.

I am going to be starting to do book reviews on this blog, which I thought would be very fun.  However, the first book that I am going to review is a Chicken Soup for the Soul book about, of all things, hockey.  Why I agreed to review this book is honestly beyond me.  I mean, I’ve never in my life read one of those Chicken Soup books, not to mention I don’t even like hockey.  However.  Look for a review of this book soon.  As soon as I finish slogging through it.  Hockey.  What was I thinking?

In other news, a friend sent me a bunch of old advertisements from years gone by, and they are truly amusing.  Some of them are the “Doctors Who Smoke Prefer Camels!” type of advertising, which makes me think of Mad Men, and makes me long for the days before I had watched all the episodes, when I still had something television-wise to look forward to.  This advertisement really made me laugh:

Oh, hahaha double entrendre!  I think that’s pretty bad advice, actually.  Attention menfolk: most women would NOT be at all thrilled if you blew in their faces, smoke or otherwise.  Gross!  Two things about this advertisement: I wish I had that woman’s eyelashes (do you think they are fake?  They must be), and the guy looks disturbingly like my younger brother.  I mean, the resemblance is uncanny.  Except my brother often has a giant pornstache or beard or porkchop-like sideburns, but if he was clean shaven he would look JUST LIKE THIS GUY.  Which is weird on just so many levels, I can’t even.

Anyway!  Time to sign off, dear readers, I have much to do before the big event tonight.  For one thing, I FINALLY have a hair appointment, so I can kiss my inch-and-a-half grey roots goodbye.  Also, I need to prepare for an early dinner, fold a pile of laundry, and drop off the cookies at the school or my world/bake sale domination plan will be ruined.  Pictures of everyone’s costume – including my own non-slutty one – to follow.  Stay tuned! xoxo

Nicole’s Favourite Things; Fall Edition

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I am very cross right now for a variety of reasons, amongst them a) my dog is sick with kennel cough, which he got FROM his kennel cough vaccination, and now I am faced with a new life as someone who does not want to vaccinate her dog, b) I have had to check the yard constantly “in case” Barkley develops diarrhea, and it is gross to be constantly checking dog poop, c) there are UNSOLVABLE issues with the upcoming book fair due to the fact that the school’s Remembrance Day holiday is not the same as the one that Scholastic (and, apparently, the rest of the world) is observing, d) the unsolvable issue was brought to my attention only AFTER I had sent out a cheery “would you like to volunteer?” email about it, e) I had a very awkward conversation with the developmentally slow grocery carryout guy today about suicide, which is NOT a conversation I wish to have in the three minutes it takes to put my groceries in the car, and f) it is not slated to be above zero degrees Celcius any day this week.  I AM COLD. 

I know, I know, there are bigger problems in the world.  Wah, wah, wah, and my diamond ring is too heavy for my hand, my bed of money had a lump in it, and I am just TOO beautiful. 

Still, I am in a crabby kind of mood, so I’m going to turn things around by saying WWOD (What Would Oprah Do?). 

Welcome to Nicole’s Favourite Things, the Fall Edition!


This sweater and those boots.  When fall (or, as we say in YYC, the start of the unending winter) arrives with its crisp chill, it’s a sign for me to break out the black sweaters!  This one is my new favourite.  I got it on the “We Made Too Much” clearance section from Lululemon, and it’s warm, long, and wraps around in a snuggly way.  These boots I got for half price during the Boxing Week sales from a place that I cannot recall.  Longtime readers will remember these as the “Puss in Boots” ones.  It’s a bargain of an outfit!  I think I even bought the jeans on sale.  Thriftiness in the Boyhouse!  Relatively speaking.

Those are beehives in the background.  Related: my neighbour keeps bees in her backyard and she always gives me some of her very excellent honey, to say thank you for my flowers.  Hey, it’s a two-way street; her bees make my flowers awesome, and so Taryn’s honey is on my favourite things list!


That’s her photo, by the way.  Did I mention I love this girl? 

I bought this set of three dishtowels (I know, DISHTOWELS are on my favourite things list) and they make me smile whenever I look at them, which is often, since I spend half my life in the kitchen.  They say “They Fell In Love”, “They Got Married”, and “They Lived Happily Ever After.”  Aw.  They were probably meant for a wedding shower gift, but I bought them for myself and no regrets.  Happily ever after.  I always smile when I look at that, and imagine myself in a fairy-tale like existence, and think I AM living happily ever after!  Then I go look for dog diarrhea and the mood dissipates somewhat.


Calgary is very dry year-round, but especially so in fall and winter.  I go through a lot of lotion and hand cream, and the scents from Bath and Body Works are enough to turn you into one of those creepy “Smell My Finger” guys.  But in a good way.  Twilight Woods, Cherry Blossom, and, separate from regular Cherry Blossom, JAPANESE Cherry Blossom are my current favourite scents.

That reminds me, I have been meaning to post pictures of my renovated bathroom.  Next time, okay?

My mother-in-law is a mad knitter, and she knitted me this scarf that I think is fabulous.

Fluffy, cute, and goes perfectly with a black sweater!

It was my husband’s birthday this weekend, and I made him a reduced-sugar apple crisp for his birthday, in keeping with his low-sugar dietary restrictions.  We’re such a fun couple.  Want to invite us over for dessert?  He can’t have sugar, I can’t have dairy.  Game on!  Anyway, I made him an apple crisp, although I think that cooked fruit is, quite frankly, a waste of fruit.  One of my favourite fall things is fresh, farmer’s market McIntosh apples! 


I keep our surplus apples in the crawl space.  Right next to the hall paint, apparently. 

Another thing I love about fall: pumpkins!

Those giant pumpkins were on sale for $0.19/pound.  Apparently procrastination pays off.  I am going to be roasting a lot of pumpkin seeds this weekend!

I also love making chocolate chip pumpkin loaf, and butternut squash bisque.  Lately I’ve been making that soup with coconut milk and coconut oil instead of whipping cream and butter, and it is pretty fabulous. 

So those are my favourite things about fall.  What are yours? xoxo

Friday Fun in the Boyhouse

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Well, hello there, Friday!  It’s been a long time since I posted on a Friday evening.  Normally I’m too busy sitting on the couch making out with a bottle of wine and watching Jeopardy or reruns of 30 Rock to think about writing anything.  But lucky you, dear readers, because tonight I am sitting here making out with a bottle of wine in front of my laptop. 

Fridays are always crazy around here; crazy in a “fun, exciting” way and not in a “dress the dog up in a bumblebee outfit” way.  I won’t bore you with the details of Friday yoga practice and how it’s Primary Series day, unless you care.  Do you?  Anyway, Friday yoga practice is different from the rest of the week, and then the kids’ school has early dismissal on Fridays – at 1:10 – which means they eat lunch at the school, which normally they never do.  And – sssshhh, it’s a secret – I always have a different lunch when they are at school.  Sometimes I just eat guacamole.  Today I had crackers and a spinach smoothie.  THIS IS HOW CRAZY IT GETS AROUND HERE.  Then, of course, there is no yoga practice tomorrow, and we know what that means: I crack open the alcoholic beverages as soon as is socially acceptable.  Sometimes sooner.  Not today though; today I had to take the kids to get their hair cut at 4:30, and so I did have to wait until an actually socially acceptable time to open that bottle of Cupcake wine. 

I will tell you this: I am so thankful that, since the wet-socks-from-stepping-in-the-puddle-of-pee incident, the boys never want to play in the ballpit at Beaners. 

Today I was at the spa for a wax.  I started going to this spa ten minutes away from my house after my esthetician decided that she was quitting esthetics forever.  I tried not to take that personally, as she told me during a bikini wax and I wondered if my yeti-like condition drove her to it.  Anyway, the spa is awesome since I can get an appointment whenever I want, unlike the wheeling and dealing I had to do with my former esthetician, whose hours were varied and ever-changing (“I have an opening at 7:15 pm on Tuesday, or 2:00 pm on Friday next week…”).  It is also a full-service spa, with nice little amenities such as fluffy robes, slippers, and complimentary herbal tea and organic gingersnaps that look only the teeniest bit like dog treats.  I partake in none of those niceties because I’m just getting a wax, dammit, I want to get in and out as soon as possible.  Anyway, I was waiting in the cozy room with the lounge chairs and fireplace, waiting for the esthetician to call me, and I noticed a man.  It’s not unusual to see men in the spa, but usually they are with wives or girlfriends, getting couples’ treatments.  However, it was 10:30 on a Friday morning and this man was by himself, in the lounge chair, wearing a robe and slippers and sipping on the complimentary herbal tea.  He was also studiously reading a magazine, which, upon further examination, was O Magazine.  I found myself completely obsessed.  Was he trying to figure out how to Live his Best Life?  Was he having an Aha! Moment?  Was he disagreeing vehemently with Adam Glassman about the appropriateness of yellow skinny pants in the workplace?  Then I noticed he was near the end of the magazine.  Maybe he was finding out What I Know For Sure?  I haven’t read O Magazine in a while, so I don’t know what the latest What I Know For Sure is, but I sure am curious.

Fortunately I was called in for my appointment.  Any longer and I probably would have mentally written a novel about the Guy in the Spa Reading Oprah.

Here’s What I Know For Sure for this week:

1) If you are telling a group of people the many and convoluted ways that you stay healthy during cold and flu season, and those ways include but are not limited to excessive vitamin consumption, hand sanitizer use, and a homeopathic flu protocol, and those people are staring at you in silence, do NOT try to make things less awkward by talking MORE.  The more you talk the crazier you seem, so STOP TALKING.

2) People who look like Santa are not always nice.  I was parking my car and there was a complete asshole in the parking lot who looked exactly like Santa.

3) If you have two children who have the same sock size, buy a whole lot of the exact same socks.  That way you never have to spend time pairing and matching the socks.

I had more things to tell you about, about crazy Fridays, but I just finished my second glass of wine and I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY.  Oh yes, now I remember – apparently certain Banana Boat sunscreens are possible fire risks, because if you apply the sunscreen and then expose yourself to spark or flame prior to the sunscreen drying completely, you could set yourself on fire.  Now, I’m certainly not dismissing or belittling those who have become engulfed in flames post-sunscreen applications, but how much of a problem is this?  Who is exposing their own skin to sparks and/or flames immediately following sunscreen application?  Maybe this IS a problem, I don’t really know. 

Hey, guess what else I learned today?  Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel got married!  I thought they were married already, actually.  This was very anticlimatic information, like when I find out an elderly celebrity died who I thought had died many years ago.  Oh well.  Bringing sexy back, which for a married couple means getting into a bottle of Cupcake wine and wearing a Top Gun Halloween costume. 

Do you know how hard it is to find a non-slutty pirate costume?

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It’s only eight days until the second-most-anticipated event in my household, second only to Christmas, and that is the school’s annual Family Halloween Dance.  It is, without a doubt, the social event of the season, and it is over by 8:30 pm, which is to say that it is my kind of party.  My husband allowed me to choose his costume this year, although he balked at this one:

 
Why, HELLO there, little lady.  Of course, dressing up like a cowboy when you live in Calgary IS kind of lame.  I mean, that’s why we have Stampede.  So instead, I chose this one:
 

 
I KNOW, RIGHT?  Bow chicka wow wow.  “You can wear it other times, too,” I said lasciviously.  It came with an interchangeable name tag: Goose or Maverick.  I would have much rather it came with an “Ice” name tag, but one takes what one can get.  And I am certainly no crazy-ass-Tom-Cruise fan, but would anyone really choose Goose?  The plaque for the alternates is down the hall in the ladies’ room.
 
So my husband is finally fulfilling my dreams and dressing up like a naval aviator.  Now all he has to do is serenade me with You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling at a bar and all will be well.  While I wear my pink sweater tied around my shoulders.  In any case, I needed to find a costume for myself but I did not think this was appropriate attire for the Family Dance:
 
 
 
Plus being so matchy-matchy is a little cutesy.  Maybe for some other kind of dance.  I am always blown away by the sheer volume of slutty Halloween costumes that are available to women, and always a little disturbed by the lack of normal, family friendly costumes.  I know I’ve written about this before – click the link to see a slutty Finding Nemo and Blueberry Muffin – but seriously.  Seriously.  I have grave doubts in my mind for anyone who purchases this outfit:
 
 
It’s new for 2012!  Are those supposed to be…bullets?  Disturbing on a number of levels.  Not to mention dangerous for one’s nipples.  Oh!  But if you do want an army motif and you don’t want to be almost totally naked at your Halloween festivities, then consider this little number:
 
Or maybe you’re more of a Navy girl?  No fear.  This one is called the High Seas Honey:

I don’t mean to belittle here, but that is actually really ugly.  A romper?  Speaking of unflattering for the vast majority of the population, here is one that I was not surprised to see was on clearance:

 
 
Thos horizontal stripes are nobody’s friend.  Also, I’m not sure if this is a costume or just some bizarre nautical piece featured on fashion runways twenty years ago.
 
I decided, after some discussion with the children – who are going as a vampire and Luke Skywalker – that I would dress up as a pirate.  My word.  Have you ever tried to find a non-slutty pirate costume?  Have you?  IT IS NOT AS EASY AS IT SOUNDS.  In fact, I did find, after hours of searching, a costume that is normal, non-whorish, and even cute.  But first I looked at these:
 

Ahoy there matey!  I will wear this to the Family Dance and then I will be banned from all school functions from here to eternity.  So much cleavage! 

 
NEW FOR 2012!  Super skanky, shiny, AND slutty.  A trifecta!  Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.  There was also this little number which, to be honest, costume retailers, is more of a tutu than a pirate costume:
 

 
I also discovered this one, which came in one size.  One size fits most.  Now, how is that possible?  How is it possible to get a skirt, blouse, and vest thingy that fits most?  It seems like more specific measurements are needed for this particular outfit, which is unfortunate, because this particular outfit was among the least-slutty of the bunch.  Sure, it’s a little short, but it’s no bright pink 6-inch tutu.
 
 
Here’s the thing: after you start looking at one slutty group of costumes (pirates are a group), it is impossible to look away from other groups.  It’s fascinating.  There is a whole section on sexy clowns:
 
 
 
I’m not sure I would consider this “sexy” so much as I would consider this “weird”. 
 

 
And this one says more “skanky crazy person who misread Alice in Wonderland” than “sexy clown”.  But maybe it’s just because I don’t ever, ever, ever think of clowns in “sexy” terms.  I mean, is that a thing?  Are there men out there getting boners for clowns?  If so, why?  The face makeup?  The riding of tiny tricycles?  The pom-poms and ventriloquism? 
 
As an aside, for Jake’s fourth birthday we had a clown, and her name was Button the Clown.  I do not think she was remotely sexy, but maybe all around town certain menfolk were talking their wives into hiring Button for their children’s birthday party and then sexing the hell out of those same wives later that night, remembering how fiercely she made balloon animals. 
 
Further digression: when I called to book Button her husband answered.  Her husband who was also a clown.  A clown named Buddy.  I told my friend about the marriage between Button and Buddy and she wondered if they had little clown babies and I tell you this: the unsettling image that popped into my head made me question my own sanity. 
 

 
You know.  Now why would THIS be on clearance?
 
Given my recent unintended acquisition of Popeye related bodybuilding paraphernalia, I was amused to think of myself dressing up like Olive Oyl.  As I recall, Olive Oyl’s skirt was way longer and her sweater way less filled out:
 
 
 
I do find it more than a little creepy when I see slutty rendition of popular children’s characters, such as the afore mentioned slutty Blueberry Muffin or slutty Finding Nemo, but this Hello Kitty outfit strikes that fine balance between slutty, ugly, and also kind of creepy:
 
 
 
Potential Hello Kitty costume purchasers: from a fashion standpoint, almost nothing is less flattering than a romper suit.  The hat-and-mittens combo is just weird.  So, you’re left with an unflattering romper suit, and what is sure to be an uncomfortably warm and impossible-to-hold-a-drink-with hat and mittens combination.  The shoes and stockings are NOT included.  This is $42 plus tax and shipping, which seems excessive for the world’s ugliest/creepiest Hello Kitty costume. 
 
One thing I do not think that costume retailers understand is that wearing an outfit that has a silkscreened picture of a character does not indicate that a person is dressed up as that character.  If I put on a shirt that has Princess Leia on it, that does not mean that I am dressed up as Princess Leia.  (This is meant to be illustrative only, I do not have such a shirt.)  And therefore wearing a tiny white dress with a picture of Smurfette on it does not mean one is actually dressed up as Smurfette, even if the outfit does come with a Smurfy hat:
 
 
 
 
Same goes for Miss Piggy,
 
 
“Sassy Bedtime Bear” Care Bear, or
 
 
 
Tweety Bird.  As a side note, who would ever want to dress up like slutty Tweety Bird?  Tweety Bird is one of the most annoying characters in the history of cartoons. 
 
 
 
 
Are your kids into Katy Perry?  Mine enjoy her music, and I groove along to California Gurrls with them, but I think that if a person ever wore this to the Halloween Family Dance their child would likely require some serious therapy.
 

 

In which I reveal myself as a snob and a lunatic, all at the same time

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I had the most productive weekend!  Shit got DONE around here.  I had a number of things on my to-do list and every one of them was accomplished, even down to the “putting photos in albums” task.  For reasons that I do not comprehend, I find putting photos in albums to be one of the worst tasks, even worse than cleaning the toilet or shovelling the sidewalk.  Our snow is melted, I should add; shovelling the sidewalk is just an example.  In the case of the photo-geddon, I had put off developing pictures for thirteen months; I had photos from Jake’s seventh AND sixth birthdays.  I had upwards of 500 pictures to put in albums, and by the time the weekend rolled around, I was down to about the last 200.  I did get them all in their albums, and I felt a strong sense of accomplishment until my friend Nan asked why didn’t I just make photo books, which would be faster and easier.  Um, because such a radical idea never occurred to me?  Because I must spend hours of my time cropping, developing, sorting, and putting photos into albums in some kind of masochistic plan to suck the joy out of life?

Probably because of the chill in the air, I have been craving soup like nobody’s business.  I wanted to make my favourite butternut squash soup, but with coconut milk instead of whipping cream, but when I went to the grocery store they were all out of butternut squash.  It was puzzling; was there a sudden rush on butternut squash?  Maybe all the seniors in the neighbourhood were hoarding them?  In any case, I decided mushroom soup was the way to go, but never having made it before, I nervously opted for winging it.  I had some fresh mushrooms and some dried mushrooms, and someone had told me that reconstituting the dried mushrooms in white wine made for a lovely mushroom soup addition.  The only problem with that is that I rarely have white wine in the house; I’m staunchly a red wine type of girl.  So, off to the liquor store for this very important ingredient. 

Now, normally I’m a Superstore liquor store kind of girl, and normally I just buy a case of my favourite red and stash it in the crawl space.  I don’t shop around at the liquor store.  The last time I shopped around at the liquor store I found myself singing a duet with a perfect stranger.  A duet of Baby, It’s Cold Outside with strange gentleman in his sixties.  With a cart containing a case of wine, a twenty sixer of rum, and the biggest bottle of Bailey’s available.  This is what comes of shopping around. 

In any event, I was loathe to browse the liquor store shelves in the event that I should burst into song again, although Christmas music isn’t high on my list right now, I wanted to avoid singing “Islands In The Stream” or some such duet with any of the other shoppers, and so my goal was to go into the store, grab a bottle of Gewurztraminer or Riesling – the only drinkable whites in my opinion – and get out.  However, it took a lot of searching to find either of those.  Pinot Grigios and Chardonnays abounded, and so many bottles labelled merely with “White Wine”.  While I do not like to think of myself as a snob, I really had trouble purchasing those, even the ones labelled “Mad Housewife” or “Middle Sister”.  Even though I am both of those.  (Technically, I am a middle child, since I have brothers on either side.  Still.)  I almost got sidetracked by a bottle of “Chocolate Cake Liqueur” which kind of smells a little four horses of the apocalypse to me, and then I almost got sidetracked by some giant bottle of alcohol labelled “Kinky”.  I wish I had bought that.  Finally I found some Quail’s Gate Gewurztraminer AND Riesling.

And I also found, on sale, a bottle of Cupcake wine.  JUST SAY IT, I know you’re thinking it.  I fell for cupcake marketing.  You just can see the winery owners, stroking their goatees, “Well, if we call it CUPCAKE you just know women everywhere will fall for it!  Bwahahaha!”  It’s true.  Women will always purchase things that are in any kind of cupcake motif.  Men certainly will not; not even the most flamboyant man is walking out of the store with a wine labelled “Cupcake.”  In my defence I had tried this wine before and it makes a very nice companion on a Friday night.  Also it is a Shiraz which is my boyfriend.  MY WINEY BOYFRIEND. 

I walked up to the counter with both wines, and the very young man at the counter asked me if I wanted a bag.  “No,” I said absently, “I’ll just double-fist them back to the car.”  Did I say that out loud?  Yes I did.  So I walked back to the car holding my naked wines like an alcoholic mess who JUST wanted to make mushroom soup, dammit, leaving in my wake the two young men at the counter who were probably shaking their heads at having to work in an area with so many lame people.