Monthly Archives: August 2013

Summer’s Almost Gone, Almost Gone

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Here it is, the very last week of summer, and I’m trying to squeeze every moment out of it. I always feel kind of gloomy at the end of summer – I’m a summer-tastic kind of girl – but the gloominess is getting overridden by my excitement about September. My social life, which seems to be hinged on dog walking and hanging out at the playground during pickup and drop-off, is about to take off. I, like the kids, miss the friends I don’t see during the summer and so it will be nice to catch up with all of them.

My husband took this week off work and it’s been nice. We were up at my parents’ place at the lake for a couple of days, which is always fun. The boys refer to it as Camp Grandma, where there is always lots of ice cream and popsicles, and not much in the way of rules. It was also – and this is unusual for this part of the world – quite warm, and so they went swimming in the chilly lake.

“Smile!” “We ARE smiling.”

 



IT’S COLD.




Exploring the “shoreline”.

 

My husband also swam with them for a bit; I refrained, not wanting to get hypothermia. They went for an evening swim/ shoreline exploration while I sat on the deck chatting with my parents. Barkley came bounding across the grass with what I presumed was a flat stick of wood in his mouth. Something about the way he was holding it, and the little white protrusions sticking out of it made me look closer. Hmm, I thought, maybe it’s a root from one of the plants on the shore…aieeeeeeeeeeeeee! It was a dead fish, a fish that had met its demise some time ago. I screamed and screamed while the dog dropped it in alarm at my distress and my dad scooped it away with a shovel, taking it to an unknown destination (“DON’T PUT IT IN THE GARBAGE!” my mother screamed.) That was a bit of gross drama that I didn’t need in my life; however, it’s not the first time Barkley has found and/or done something revolting, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
 
It hasn’t all been lake time and hating my dog this week – my husband and I took the kids on an exciting family trip to Costco. I had been hoping that my last Costco trip would have lasted me the whole summer, and it would have, but my husband really “wanted” to go. It’s fun, he proclaimed. Fun. To go to Costco. With the kids. I will tell you what was “fun” about it, and that is that I didn’t have to push the million-pound cart around, nor unload the groceries by myself. I did have to play a bit of Tetris to fit all of the food into the cupboards, fridge, and pantry, but on the upside I probably am stocked up to last for the next three or four months. Currently I would be ashamed to show anyone my pantry, as it looks like an episode of Hoarders. But it was such a good deal.
 
Speaking of “good deals”, did anyone read the Fraser Institute’s report on the cost of raising children in Canada? I am no stranger to the Fraser Institute – I have a master’s degree in economics – and so I read it with some interest. It’s funny, because living in an urban centre, with children in sports, and attempting to buy quality food and other clothing items notwithstanding, $4000 sounded pretty skimpy to me. Interestingly enough, childcare was not included. Aha! Apparently the Fraser Institute doesn’t include childcare as a cost of raising a child, nor the opportunity cost of lost income from having a stay at home parent. Well then, that explains that. Knowing the Fraser Institute, there is some kind of policy implication here that states that the poor can EASILY raise their children with no assistance of any kind. Well, thank you for that conclusion, Fraser Institute! This study addresses a couple of my pet peeves: misuse of statistics (“most” people don’t require childcare) and being obstinate about the cycle of poverty. Speaking of which, my friend Hannah wrote about the costs of back-to-school and how they can be more oppressive in the long and short term for the impoverished.
 
On a much less serious note, did you know there’s such a thing as naked yoga? Well, there is. I don’t think I can adequately convey in a blog post how revolting I find it. Not as revolting as my dog chewing on a dead fish, but pretty damn revolting. Then again, possibly I’m prudish because I found it shocking – actually shocking – when we went into town at the lake and there were girls walking around in only their bathing suits. It’s like I’m 80 years old. In my day we wore coverups when we left the beach. At least an oversized t-shirt. It’s funny how many people have the perception that yoga is this very sexy thing to do. Most of the yogis I know go to bed super early and eat lots of mung beans and quinoa and whatnot. We also generally have strained, rather than sexily blissful, facial expressions during most of our yoga postures:
Good god, do not perform this naked. Ew. Gross.

 
 



Nor this, unless you want to slip and fall and break your face.

Born To Be Wild

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Today a man with a full-on business-in-front-party-in-back mullet rode down my street on a unicycle. I wonder if it was an ironic mullet, or maybe mullets are the new look for young hipsters, or – and this is a distinct possibility – this man was holding onto his lost youth by wearing the hairstyle of his heyday. I didn’t get a good look at his face, so I could not ascertain his age to determine if the latter was the case. Of course, my hair therapist has told me that after a certain age its best to choose a classic hairstyle that works best for one’s hair type and flatters one’s face shape, and then stick with modifications to that basic style. Perhaps this man is following that wise advice, although I’m not sure that mullets can be considered “classic” nor “flattering” but to each his own, after all.

This reminds me of a professor I once took classes with, a brilliant man who always wore his hair in the shortish, feathered style of 1983. At some point this man’s hair will be hip and happening once again; perhaps it is already, I’m not really that with it.

I know I’m not really with it because I read this morning that last night the Video Music Awards were on, and I had no idea. Apparently there was some kind of scandal with Miley Cyrus who is not on Disney anymore, people. Quelle scandale! To be honest, I’m kind of surprised anyone was even watching the VMAs, given that Breaking Bad was on. There are only five episodes left! Why waste time watching the VMAs when you can curl up in the fetal position on the couch, clench your fists under your chin, and sweat profusely while having heart palpitations? At least, that’s what happens to me when I watch Breaking Bad. I’m not even sure that I LIKE that show, but I’m so addicted to it that I have to know what happens OMG I hope Walt gets destroyed completely. I was watching one of those Talking Bad recap shows, and the guest, who was the woman who plays Claire on Modern Family, said that she was really “rooting” for Walt and “hoping he gets away with it” which is pretty much the opposite of how I feel. He is a man who has destroyed myriad lives and is, essentially, Satan in meth-cook form. My husband gently suggested that I not get so worked up over what is, in fact, a fictional show. Honey, are you okay? You’re hyperventilating again.

I need to thank Heather and Andrea, dear readers, who let me know that my post about Hot Carl is once again relevant. The authorities are looking for the owner of the vehicle with the Hot Carl license plate because they are cracking down on lewd personalized plates. However, Hot Carl’s license plate is over fifteen years old, allegedly, and so there is every reason to believe that the owner is just a guy named Carl who has a high sense of self-worth. Whatever you do, do not look up what a Hot Carl is in the urban dictionary. You will be very, very sorry and despair for humanity. In any case, I haven’t seen Hot Carl’s vehicle for long time. Perhaps he’s fled the city, or at very least the neighbourhood, having heard what monstrosities people do in his name. Poor Hot Carl!

Other things happening around here: the boys performed solo karate demonstrations at the open house on Saturday, which made me Explosion Level Proud. The next thing will be possible sparring, which makes me Somewhat Nervous And Also Proud. Continuing the tradition of mildly strange things happening in my eclectic neighbourhood, I noticed the young man across the alley chatting with our 80 year old neighbour lady. The young man was wearing a t-shirt that said FUCK THE TIME on it, which made me wonder what, if anything, was the lady’s reaction. Did she notice? Did she care? Was she somewhat offended, or maybe amused? We may never know. I also discovered that my across-the-street neighbour is a veteran who served in Desert Storm, which made me feel immediately bad for giggling about his penchant for mowing the lawn in only giant sneakers and red cut-off sweatpants. However, the pinnacle of my week was going to the grocery store and seeing this fellow in the parking lot:

That is one bad-ass beagle.

A peek inside my house, or the snowball effect of cleaning.

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You know when you have one of those days where you wake up totally normal, and you seem totally normal, and you go to do a little housecleaning like a normal person – bathroom cleaning here, a little dusting there, ooh, maybe should sweep the floor – and then suddenly you become an obsessive cleaning machine who starts rearranging the children’s shelving units amd scouring bootracks and the mudroom floor on your hands and knees? I had one of those days yesterday. But look how great Mark’s shelves look:

It feels like I should have taken a “before” picture just to illustrate the impact. The impact is immense! I was worried that Mark was going to be a future star of one of those hoarding reality shows, but it turns out he has little to no emotional attachment to anything obtained prior to age seven. He was just too lazy to purge craft items, Kinder surprises, and strange Lego creations from said era. The number of dried out, unused miniature Play-Doh containers obtained from years of trick-or-treating at earnest households was enormous. I felt gloomy as I chipped out the Play-Doh to recycle the tiny containers like the earnest hausfrau I am.

I really should have taken a “before” photo because prior to this rearranging all of these were on the floor:

 
It was getting a little hard to sweep around all that Lego, and I was especially worried I would break something and have to fix it, and as we all know, building Lego is not my forte. I had to fix something off of Jake’s Palpatine’s Arrest and I nearly had a nervous breakdown over it. It seemed, at the time, like so much was on the line, besides putting on a movable door.
 
 

There’s Jake’s collection, including the giant Muk-Muk-Atron that is the colourful creation in the background, made yesterday with the discovery in Mark’s room of a basketful of smaller creations, made years ago and then forgotten.

In the interest of sibling fairness, here is a photo of Jake’s fairly neat shelves. Note that his room is painted orange and blue. Home decor note: orange is a bitch to paint.

Besides obsessively cleaning, I did some gardening and the boys played in the sprinkler. I’ve got some pretty blooms happening right now:

This is the daylily that, like love, will go on. About twelve years ago my husband accidentally sprayed it with weed killer, seven years ago we paved over the flower bed with stamped concrete, and somehow it has grown into a four foot long patch of daylilies with dozens of blooms. Lazarus in flower form, if you will. Isn’t it pretty?

My much-loved and pampered clematis, which is blooming and filling up the entire trellis.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine. Most of the other flowers are done their blooming, with the exception of the annuals, of course, and the blue sage and yarrow which apparently NEVER stop blooming. The leaves on my front Mayday are starting to turn, already. I’m starting to feel a bit glum that summer is almost gone (cue Doors music) and that the kids are back to school in twelve – TWELVE – days. Once they’re back I’m going to be thrilled to have a quiet house in which to get ‘er dun, but I’m going to miss those crazy kids and their constant chatter about Animal Jam and Star Wars.

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The winner of the giveaway was Kat! Congratulations Kat, and thanks everybody for playing along! The next giveaway will be…whenever I think of one!

I can see for miles and miles

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Last weekend I went to Saskatchewan to visit with my grandma, as well as with my cousins, aunt, and my brother who moved from the big city to a small town and is now realizing that everyone on his block knows what he is doing at any given time. He has also nicely transitioned to small town life by describing his whereabouts using the Home Hardware as a landmark.

My kids stayed with my parents at the lake, and due to some awkward scheduling on my part this meant that I had to drive there to drop them off and then drive back home that same afternoon. I am usually the cheery passenger, not the responsible person, and so I was pretty exhausted when I got home. I rolled all the windows down and listened to music full blast, re-living some kind of lost youth in which I was speeding down the prairie highway with the wind in my hair, breathing in the scent of hay and diesel. Later I had to spend a lot of time brushing out the tangles. Next time I’m wearing a Jackie O scarf. Baby we were born to run.

I didn’t want to arrive at my grandmas looking like a tramp – tramps like us – and so when I picked up my rental car in the Regina airport I decorously put on the air conditioner. Knowing now what I didn’t know then, I would have foregone the air conditioner, being I spent the weekend shivering under Grandma’s high-powered cooling system, wishing I had brought wool socks, or at least pants, rather than the summery skirts and tank tops I did pack.

It’s important to learn from one’s mistakes. For example, last year when I went to visit Grandma I didn’t bring any CD’s for the two hour drive, and so I ended up listening to a lot of AC/DC and talk radio. This time, I brought some great mixed CD’s – I’m a mixed tape girl at heart, but more technologically advanced – but unfortunately the CD player was not working properly. All music was played at high-speed, which was extraordinarily agitating. Everybodywaskungfufightingthosekidswerefastaslightening. Happily, the car was equipped with satellite radio. Unhappily, there were only four stations available, and one of them was Country. The other three were a) Classic Vinyl, which heavily leaned toward Grateful Dead, b) 80s on 8, and c) Margaritaville, a station entirely devoted to Jimmy Buffett music. I have nothing at all against Jimmy Buffett and I like to Get Drunk and Screw as much as the next person, but an entire station? I wish I had a pencil thin moustache. The Boston Blackie kind. Three songs in and I was kind of done.

Of course I ended up listening to mostly 80s on 8, with detours into the other two – I took off my flip flops, stepped on a pop rock – and I noticed something I hadn’t before: saxophones were very popular in the 80s. On the way back to the Regina airport on Saturday morning, Classic Vinyl was playing a live recording of a Grateful Dead concert, Margaritaville was playing live recordings of Jimmy Buffett songs, including the witty and somewhat drunken repartee he had with the audience, and the 80s on 8 was doing a top forty countdown of music from 1986. Score! That was a pretty fun year for music, I must say. I used to listen to the countdowns on a popular music station back then, and I can remember staying awake until midnight to hear that the most popular song of 1986 was The Greatest Love of All. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I lived as I BELIEVED, no matter what they take from me they can’t take away MY DIG-NI-TYYYYYY.

It’s a good thing I’m not a long haul trucker. I would surely be insane from singing saxophone-infused songs over and over, and my hair would be terribly damaged from driving with the windows down. Also I would have to get a CB handle, and I just don’t know what that would be. How does one choose a CB handle? Or is it assigned to you when you get licensed to drive rigs? I don’t know. All I know is Rubber Duck and Big Ben are taken already.

The Opposite Of Extreme Makeovers, and a Giveaway!

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Lawsy, I’ve been busy – relatively speaking – since returning from vacation. It’s amazing how much piles up after an eight-day hiatus from the homefront. I’ve been multi-tasking like a motherfucking riot; taking the boys to the playground while mentally composing posts, responding to constant “fun facts” about animals while making 16 litres of tomato sauce, preparing frantically for my solo trip to Saskatchewan while photographing plates of tomato-based dishes. Did I mention I have a whole lot of tomatoes in my possession? My mother-in-law supplied me with “a few” tomatoes; “a few” meaning “fifteen pounds”. It’s a good problem to have, all these sweet and delicious tomatoes.

Although it’s been warm here the past few days, there is a slight change in the air and I realized there are only three more weeks of summer vacation left! Cherish every moment goddammit. In addition to cherishing moments and tomato preparation, I am also beginning my usual August routine of thinking about back-to-school items and festive things like snowsuits and boots. The children are sweltering as I force them to put on their boots and mittens to ascertain fit and what is needed for the imminent winter. In Calgary, you never know. WINTER IS IMMINENT PEOPLE. Cue music of doom; perhaps an instrumental version of Patio Lanterns or maybe The Devil Came Down To Georgia.

The music of doom was also playing in my mind as I found myself in the mall at 5:00 on Saturday night. Unfortunately earlier in the day I was getting my old grey mare roots coloured, necessitating the late-afternoon mall shop, which is – as we all know – is the most spirit-crushing time to attend to all your shopping needs. Why is that? Why are there so many crowds, screaming children, rude people, and despondent employees at that time? And why do I never learn? There were two lights at the end of this tunnel of consumerism: Sport Chek had sales on running shoes, which I liked since we had to buy the boys each two pairs, and we had dinner at the food court, which is the kids’ favourite, as I have undoubtedly mentioned before. A teenage girl and her boyfriend sat at the table next to us, along with this cute fellow:

Speaking of the old grey mare and giant orange bears, I decided that I was going to make a dramatic change in my hair colour, and so I took this photo to my hair therapist, who looked at me quizzically. “Okay,” she said, “But it’s kind of the colour you already have. It’s pretty similar.”  No no! I said cheerfully, explaining that I wanted something more coppery. She made a change to my formulation, coloured my hair, and…it’s marginally different. Dramatic overhaul fail.  It looks pretty much exactly like this photo, taken poolside last week, pre-colour. Note: my dad makes this exact same face when he’s thinking, leading me to believe once again that I am an actual younger, female, and artificially red-haired version of him. Thanks for the grey hair genes, Dad!

It’s giveaway time! Prize yet to be determined but sure to be awesome. Or at least kind of fun. Leave a comment and let me know what you’re up to this August. Or what colour your hair is. Or at what point in the year do you start thinking about snowboots? Ah, who am I kidding – leave a comment about anything and I’ll enter you in the draw. Name to be drawn August 22!

Vacation Nicole versus Regular Nicole

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Vacation Nicole

1) Vacation Nicole drinks Palm Bay at 10:00 in the morning with her father-in-law. She has a second one at 11, followed by a few more later in the afternoon

2) Vacation Nicole goes down waterslides and gets her hair wet in the wave pool.

3) Vacation Nicole eats six giant Greek salads, made with fresh-from-the-garden vegetables, in seven days.

4) Vacation Nicole eats chips and salsa for lunch, along with stuffed green olives. Plus Palm Bay.

5) Vacation Nicole does not wear underwear but instead wears swimsuits and cover-ups all day long.

6) Vacation Nicole allows the children to go to 7-11 for Slurpees every single day.

7) Vacation Nicole stays up until 11:00 – ELEVEN O’CLOCK – watching The Sopranos.

Regular Nicole

1) Regular Nicole immediately unpacks all suitcases, washes all water bottles and snack containers, and starts on the mountain of laundry.

2) Regular Nicole cracks the whip on the children regarding nutritious food and sitting properly at the dinner table.

3) Regular Nicole wears proper clothes – including a sweater, since it’s damn cold here – along with regular underwear.

4) Regular Nicole will have a glass of wine and go to bed at 9:30, right after catching up on Breaking Bad before it premieres on Sunday.

5) Regular Nicole is making to-do lists and is thinking about buying snowsuits, snow boots, school shoes, pants, and sweaters for the sprouting children.

6) Regular Nicole missed all her readers and friends and is desperately hoping they will catch her up on what’s been going on since she’s been gone.

7) Regular Nicole has apparently forgotten how to write about herself in the first person. She will work on it, she promises.