Monthly Archives: November 2013

December Advent Acts of Kindness, Crafting With Cat Hair

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Yesterday was such a wonderful, beautiful day. I looked out the window at around 4:50 pm and the most beautiful sunset was happening; the sky was deep orange and pink and the snowy ground was glowing pink as well. I called the boys to come and look at it. I tried to take a picture but it just didn’t do it justice. We watched for a while, as the colours deepened and became almost neon, then darkened to a purplish black. Twenty minutes later it was all over and the sky was dark. I suddenly understood why people post inspirational sayings, and I was inspired to do the same:

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Well said, Ferris Bueller, well said.

One of my friends was ill yesterday, and in trying to cheer her up I searched modcloth.com for links to cat sweaters, because when your head is in the toilet and/ or on the bathroom floor tile, the most cheering thing in the world is a link to a sweater that is noted for it’s “cat-itude”.

http://www.modcloth.com/shop/pullovers-sweaters/positive-cat-itude-sweater
photo from modcloth.com

But what I found even more cheering? THIS BOOK:

 

http://www.modcloth.com/shop/books/crafting-with-cat-hair
photo from modcloth.com

Dear readers, a book about crafting with cat hair. CRAFTING WITH CAT HAIR. Why sweep up all that cat hair off the floor when you can make actual miniature kitties with it? Why indeed? I feel like a) this book would make a really great gift for certain people in our lives, and b) crafts made out of cat hair would be the ultimate gift for certain people in our lives. This is a win-win situation we have here. Here’s a little description from the book:

You’ll forget about fussing over the cat hair that’s clinging to your clothing or couch when you explore this ‘purr’-fectly precious guide to crafting with fur! ….While your favorite feline naps in a beam of sun in your studio, you can use its freshly brushed fluff, a few simple tools, and basic DIY skills to fashion a set of felted finger puppets, kitten-topped keepsake boxes, delightfully detailed badges, cute pincushions, or tote bags that boast darling appliques. 

TOTE BAGS. I am horrified, yet fascinated, by this book. This is way better than the Snuggie Sutra. Delightfully detailed badges! I wonder if you could make this hat out of cat hair:

http://www.modcloth.com/shop/hats/cat-nap-hat-in-black
photo from modcloth.com

Very meta. I also wonder if actual grown women a) purchase and b) wear this hat. Now of course, we all know I’m not a cat person, and so it should be no surprise that I think this is kind of funny:

http://www.modcloth.com/shop/graphic-tees/i-swear-to-dog-t-shirt
photo from modcloth.com

And if I could knit without fears of a nervous breakdown, hysteria, or becoming fatally tangled in a web of yarn, I would buy this book AND knit my own litter of puppies:

http://www.modcloth.com/shop/books/knit-your-own-dog-the-second-litter
photo from modcloth.com

So please don’t think I’m getting uppity or waging some sort of dog person/ cat person war, which is probably as egregious as a mommy war. Who wants to talk about dogs versus cats versus SAHM versus WAHM versus breastfeeding versus bottle feeding versus co-sleeping versus I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE. Certainly not me.

We’re going to put up the tree and decorations this weekend, which is always fun and exciting. I was thinking about Advent calendars, thanks to my friend Lynn, who last year inspired me to make a “holiday activity” Advent calendar. Here’s the thing, though: I am not gifted at coming up with holiday activity ideas. Generally, once the cookies and gingerbread house are made, and the decorations up, my ideas consist of a) watching Christmas specials on TV OR reading Christmas books, and b) going sledding. I’m not up to the pressure of having 24 different activities to put in the calendar. Today, though, I thought of a different idea, and I like it: kindness acts. I’m going to challenge the family to come up with a different kind idea every day in December, and write it down on a piece of paper to put in the Advent calendar. It doesn’t have to be a big thing; in fact, I think giving someone a compliment or letting someone go ahead of you in line might be just as kind and heart warming as buying someone’s coffee at Starbucks or shovelling our neighbour’s walk, or taking in donations to the food bank. I think this would nicely reinforce the festive idea of giving rather than receiving, don’t you think?

Nicole’s Favourite Things: Sears Wish Book Edition, Part 2 – the Old Lady Edition

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Normally on Monday mornings when I’m asked about my weekend, I squint a little, trying to remember any pertinent details, when it dawns on me that really, I did nothing of note. But not this weekend! It was action-packed, baby! Kind of – Friday was a day off and so I took the kids to the dentist and then to Colour Me Mine, the unfortunately named paint-your-own-pottery place. Then I fancied myself up to go to my husband’s office Christmas party, which is not even a winter-themed holiday party, but an actual Christmas party where they say grace and everything, which makes me feel slightly scandalized. In any event, it was quite fun and I wore a dress that was not black:
 

 
Shout out to Banana Republic for excellent customer service. I would have never chosen this dress had the saleslady not foisted it upon me. I also learned that Banana Republic practices “vanity sizing” – either that or I lost a few dress sizes just walking into the store. I will say this about vanity sizing: it works. At least, it works for me. Even though I know, rationally, that I did not just magically change sizes, that it’s all just a ploy to make me feel good about myself, good enough to buy a dress and then keep browsing, well. I guess I’m so vain. There’s probably a song that’s about me.
 
When I was shopping for this dress, I saw a woman wearing a full-length mink fur coat, an actual real fur coat. The woman wasn’t elderly as one might expect, but instead a woman my own age. In a fur coat! I was startled by the sight because, well, one doesn’t see fur coats out and about much anymore. Well, unless it’s 1998 and there’s a Carrie Bradshaw sighting:
 
http://www.instyle.com/instyle/package/general/photos/0,,20364084_20365543_20781203,00.html#20781203
Photo from instyle.com. Click on it to read fun facts about this coat. “It’s raccoon, and it stank.”
 
After that I was flipping through my favourite magazine, the Sears Wish Book, and found an entire section devoted to faux furs, made to look like actual furs. In case you’re into the look but don’t want, you know, the real thing.
 
 
 
So many hats. So very many hats. To be totally honest I was a little surprised by the sheer volume of acrylic-polyester-made-to-look-like-an-honest-to-god-old-fashioned-fur-hat items. But then I remembered – the target market here are women that are going to get gussied up in outfits like these for Christmas parties at the home:
 
 
 
I’m totally going to be one of them, you know. Probably I will have the black one. Well, or this sweater with the built in brooch. It comes in black!
 

 
 
Slacks and pumps. Speaking of shoes, I have to say I really, truly love that there is something called shooties and I want this pair in black:
 
 

 
 I’m not being facetious in the least. Those shooties are adorable. So are those Mary Janes! But back to my wardrobe planning for my days as a Golden Girl in the Home.

 

 

 
Nothing says relax like Frankie and this selection of velour coordinates. “Pull-On Pant” is a fun descriptor. So is “velour tunic with detailed neckline.”

I tell you this, though. No matter what happens, no matter what I shall never wear a “Face Framer Fleece Sweater”.

 
I don’t care if it does come with a “Winter Wonderland Bird” motif. I shall not do it.
 
How about loungewear, though? I like to think I wouldn’t wear this:

 

 
But really, a velour caftan, one size fits most, seems really cozy right now. It does come in black. Perhaps we should embrace the Mrs Roper in all of us.
 
But here I am, focussing on gifts for me at some age when really, that isn’t the meaning of the season, is it? It’s all about giving, not receiving. I wonder what my husband’s reaction would be if I gave him this red plaid nightshirt.

 

 
I’m guessing it wouldn’t be joyful.

Husbands are so hard to shop for, aren’t they? But what about a little something something for some costume wearing, role playing fun?

 
I have a feeling that if I bought the bottom dress, the result would be no sex ever again. I’d probably have more chance getting lucky while wearing the raspberry coloured velour caftan. I COULD order a elf and/or Santa outfit for Barkley, but chances are he would eat it, and then we would all suffer. I would probably suffer the most.

 

Speaking of sexytimes, how about a sexy “Ultra-Plush High-Pile Animal-Print Velour Throw”? There certainly is a lot of velour in this catalogue, no? We love our velour. We want to be ensconced in velour, like a low-rent George Costanza. A low-rent George Costanza, hoo boy, that is something to aspire to. But who wouldn’t like an ultra-plus high-pile animal-print on their bed? Tiger? Panda? No, I’m too Canadian for those animals. Give me a snowy wolf or a deer any day.

In my day, the Sexiest Man Alive only had one tattoo, a forearm anchor.

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Every year, I – and several of my friends, what’s up Hannah, Nan, and Beck? – tackle the important work of disseminating the annual People’s Sexiest Man Alive list. Side note: Sexiest Man Alive? Does that wording suddenly seem strange to anyone else or is it just me? Remember when Matt Damon won the honour and he passed it on to Tom Brady? Now, that’s cool AND sexy.

In any case, I’ve written a number of posts about this in the past – here and here and here and here if you’re interested. But this year, I’m feeling rather befuddled about the Sexiest Man Alive list.

Do you know how it is when you realize that a certain era has passed? When you realize you’re not a “young mother” anymore, maybe, so you probably don’t need this giant diaper bag instead of a purse. Or maybe one day you realize that no, you really cannot shop at Forever 21. It’s that moment when you realize that you might think you’re hip and all that, but really, you kind of look like the crypt keeper who stole your teenage niece’s clothes. You suddenly realize that at 8:00 pm on any given Friday night twenty years ago, you were uncomfortably snapping your bodysuit underneath your high waisted jeans and spritzing yourself with Calvin Klein’s Obsession on your way to the club where you hoped they would play “I Like To Move It (Move It)” whereas now at 8:00 pm on any given Friday you’re wearing Snoopy pajamas, a mud masque, and drinking wine on your couch while watching reruns of The Sopranos?

What I’m saying, here, is that I have now realized I am not the target audience for People’s Sexiest Man Alive list. I know, I know, this should not be a shocking realization, but it IS. The majority of the list is, to me, full of young men I would refer to as “boys”. As in, “those are nice-looking boys”. As in, I’ve turned into my own grandmother. Example number one:

http://www.people.com/people/package/gallery/0,,20315920_20757637,00.html#30054062
from people.com

Hey, I like his music as much as the next teenage girl, but he’s so young! And short! And young! And he’s wearing red pants and a palm tree shirt and I just can’t get behind that. I AM TOO DAMN OLD.

How about this guy?

http://www.people.com/people/package/gallery/0,,20315920_20757637,00.html#30055030
from people.com

 

He is approximately the same age as the kid across the street to whom I accidentally flashed my underwear once, two years ago and who now watches me when I do yardwork. It’s uncomfortable for everyone involved. Especially for me. But this Rowan Farrow fellow was apparently fathered by Frank Sinatra back in the late eighties, I guess, which means old Frank was more virile than his fictional Johnny Fontane persona would have one believe. That’s an interesting fact, but it does not change the fact that he was born when I was in junior high school.

Sure, I think Jimmy Fallon is funny, but he reminds me more of the type of guy you’d be buddies with and then find out later that he really had a thing for you and that wrecked the whole friendship, dammit, Harry Burns was right, men and women really can’t be friends. Justin Timberlake is someone who I admire very much as he seems to be really happy, someone who is self-effacing and funny, and I do enjoy his music. Plus he’s a vegetarian! A vegetarian AND singer of Dick in a Box? Well, that’s a winning combo in my books. But he’s still too damn young; I would classify him in the “nice looking young man” category.

Adam Levine, though. Adam Levine. My husband watches that show The Voice and every single time it comes on we have this conversation:

Me: I just don’t get what the deal is with that Adam Levine guy.

Mr: What?

Me: He’s just not that attractive.

Mr: Yes, he is. You’re the only woman in the world who would say that.

Me: I think he’s creepy.

Mr: If you polled a million women right this minute, all of them would say that he’s attractive.

Me: I wouldn’t.

Mr: Well, you’re the only one.

EVERY SINGLE TIME THAT SHOW IS ON WE HAVE THIS CONVERSATION, AND IT APPEARS MY HUSBAND IS RIGHT. It also appears that he is a man very comfortable in his masculinity, and that’s pretty sexy. Ergo, my husband should be People’s Sexiest Man Alive, he really should be. What can I say, I have a thing for guys in suits who patiently watch The Sopranos with their mud-masque wearing, Snoopy pajama sporting, red wine drinking wives. But not tonight! Tonight I’m dressing up and going on the town – more about that in the next exciting installment of my adventures in the Boyhouse!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: Sears Wish Book Edition, Part 1

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Every year – generally, these days, in August – I receive my own hard copy of the Sears Wish Book and every year it brings me much joy and happiness. When I was a kid I would circle all the amazing things I wanted in the Wish Book in order to make my list for Santa; I was equally mesmerized by the extensive doll selection near the back and the “Gifts” section near the front. Flash forward a few decades and I’m still mesmerized by the “Gifts” section.

I actually really, really love the Sears catalogue – and not just the Wish Book, no – every year I order Sorel boots for the kids; they always have the sizes I need at good prices and I don’t have to drag the boys to every shoe store in the mall only to find they DON’T have any boots for boys except in size tiny and gigantic. I order flannel sheets from Sears and the very best pajamas in the world are from Sears:

 
SNOOPY!
 
Did you know there are only five weeks until Christmas?

Totally. And although I wanted to write this post back in August when I received the Sears Wish Book, I held off out of respect for you, dear reader. But I cannot hold out any longer. Here is Nicole’s Favourite Things: Sears Wish Book Edition, Part 1. Yes, dear reader, there will be more than one part. It’s a series! A series of Wish Book awesomeness. Let’s start with the “Gifts”, shall we?

Retro Gifts

I love these things. Didn’t we all have them when we were kids? I know I had that record player and the telephone. I clearly recall playing Clare de Lune over and over, and also having amazing pretend conversations on my chatter phone. However, I kind of think that if you’re looking to give these to your kids as gifts…well, let’s just say it might be more of a gift for yourself, you know? I’m not totally sure children would really love the chatter phone all that much, although, who knows? Maybe they like to pretend they’re living in the dark ages when we all had rotary phones. Actually I think my parents just got rid of their flesh coloured rotary phone recently. Not to mention my in-laws have my husband’s original TV radio and it still works; the kids used to listen to The Farmer in the Dell on it over and over when they were smaller. I’m not sure what I think of the $99 Coca Cola fridge. It seems a little bossy. Have a Coke – NOW. I don’t even like Coke. I haven’t had one in probably 30 years.

I don’t remember Hello Kitty being a thing when I was a kid. Everything on this page makes the practical side of me say this is landfill garbage; probably would break after one or two uses. The impractical, pink-deprived side of me says squeeeeee I need a Hello Kitty Cotton Candy Maker! Also, how cute is that dollhouse? Moving on.

 Dog Related Items


There is something amazing about a mug that says “I Like Big Mutts and I Cannot Lie”. Digression: if you had to have a theme song that would play every time you walked into a room – i.e., like Darth Vader – what would it be? Mine would be Baby Got Back. I think that would be epic.

Questionable Stocking Stuffers

Stocking stuffers for everyone on your list, says the caption, but I actually question this. Cake pop pans – MAYBE. But “Trendy Top” which is supposed to “Cover your waist, belly, and rear view” and then shows a picture of someone bending over and okay, there is probably a better way to tell someone that you can totally see their panties when they bend over and maybe they should cover up that belly, too, than putting such an item in their Christmas stocking. That said, I do think it’s a good idea, but maybe not for a gift? And do you see the white drill-like thing at the bottom? That’s an ear wax remover. Now, I just took Jake into the doctor to get his own severely impacted ear wax removed, and it was simultaneously revolting and fascinating, but I’m not sure that an Wax Vac Ear Cleaner would be well received as a present. Nor, maybe, an Expanding Hose and Hanger or a set of Sham-Wows. Or an Aaahh Bra, unless you knew that person very well and they requested it. I did buy one of those Hot Buns things from my hair salon, and it’s pretty cool, so maybe that would be a nice stocking stuffer.

Canadiana


A snowball maker and thrower, all in one! I haven’t really made snowballs in a long time but that seems fun, as does the Canada Beverage Survival Belt. I would totally buy one of those for my father-in-law; he would love it. The parrot corkscrew is kind of cute in a creepy-kitchy way.

File Under Hmmmm

For $29.99 a giant keyboard seems like a steal, although it’s lots smaller than the one from the FAO Schwartz in the movie Big. The tutu/ blanket set would be good although the sizing says “One Size Fits Most Girls”. That’s pretty gender specific, Sears. Hey, an Agent P clock radio! Say goodbye to your clock radio.

Probably Not

I have seen these hoodies on kids, and fine. Creepy, but fine. If I saw this on a grown man I’d dial 9-1- and then wait to be attacked. Sorry, grown men who are fans of skeleton hoodies that go over your face. These are not appropriate to wear while out and about unless you want people to profile you a certain unflattering way, the best case scenario being a guy who lives in his mom’s basement making youtube videos of his X-box cheat codes.

Nicolemania and Beatlemania

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This is where I spent the vast majority of my week:

Every year – twice a year – leading up to the book fair I feel deflated and exhausted and think this is IT. This is the LAST TIME I’m running the book fair. Then, after running the book fair, raising thousands of dollars for the school library, and feeling universal adulation and love from the student body, who call after me while I’m walking through the playground, like I’m Jennifer Lawrence and the students are the paparazzi, “Hey, it’s the book fair lady! Hiiiiii book fair lady! Hiiiii! I love my book about zombies/ Diary of a Wimpy Kid/ Pete the Cat/ Lego Friends.”, I feel like I can keep on keeping on. My friend’s son, who is in fifth grade, thanked me in a very formal and polite way for all my “time and efforts” to “make this book fair possible.”

So that’s nice. I feel good about that; much better than how I felt when I read over my emails last night. Remember the kazoos? The kazoo playing at the school’s 50th anniversary assembly? The kazoos are going to be played as part of a performance by my children of the song YELLOW SUBMARINE. I feel a great deal of despair about this for a number of reasons, one of which is I haaaaaaate that song with a passion. Also, kazoos. 

All this 50th anniversary festivity is – somehow? – connected with the advent of Beatlemania, which Mark’s teacher seems to be embracing with passion. He was assigned to write down five Beatles’ facts and five Beatles’ songs. I was trying to help him with these facts, keeping things empirical rather than subjective, but my husband was home, and the result was somewhat disastrous.

Me: They were known as the Mop Tops! Isn’t that funny? Their hair was considered to be crazy back then!

Mr: Paul sucks.

Me: That’s not appropriate.

Mr: Paul DOES suck. He still writes songs like he did fifty years ago. They suck.

Me: I liked him in Wings.

Mark: What’s Wings?

Me: Another band. Let’s keep going. The band broke up in 1970.

Mark: Why did they break up?

Mr: Because of a chick! She was nuts though.

Me: SERIOUSLY. Let’s keep on topic.

Mark: Who was the chick? Was she pretty?

Me: The WOMAN was Yoko Ono. She was John’s girlfriend. I guess she didn’t really like the other Beatles.

Mark: Some girls do NOT like their crushes to hang out with their friends.

Mr: Exactly.

Mark: *writing* They also went to India a lot.

Mr: They went to India and did a lot of drugs and went crazy.

Mark: I don’t think I should write that. *writes They went to India and got groovy.*

Me: *sigh* How about some songs? I like Golden Slumbers.

Mark: I’ll tell you one thing, I HATE Yellow Submarine.

Me and Mr: Good boy.

http://www.thecomicstrips.com/store/add.php?iid=100655
Image from thecomicstrips.com

  
My friend sent me this comic strip and YES. Although, we all know how I feel about Tom Petty. Or do you? My darling friend Stephanie tagged me on Facebook to play that game where you tell random things about yourself. She gave me the number 8, so I have eight things to tell you about! It seemed too long for a status update, and so I have crafted it seamlessly into a blog post. Also it’s Friday, I’ve been at the book fair all week, and although I haven’t cracked open the wine yet – it’s only 11:30 in the morning – I feel like I happily COULD. It’s been that kind of week. Without further ado, here is my list.

Eight Random Things About Nicole

1) I really, really can’t stand Tom Petty’s music. Do you see what I did there? I didn’t say “I hate Tom Petty” because my dad always said “You don’t HATE anybody” to which I would respond “How about Hitler, Dad? Can’t I hate Hitler? Dad? Hitler? I hate him! So I CAN hate somebody.” Yes, I was a delight of a child. Anyway, I don’t like to be super negative about a person – a celebrity is still a person, I say from my glowing book-fair-lady-celebrity – and so I will say I DO NOT ENJOY HIS MUSIC. For all I know, Tom Petty is the world’s nicest guy.

2) I do enjoy a wide variety of music. Eclectic, if you will. I love motown and fat caped glittery Elvis, I love disco and 1970’s ballads, I love hippie music from the 70s, I love catchy 80s tunes and “alternative” 80s music, which makes me nostalgic for my youth, I love old-skool rap from the 90s and hip-hop and reggae (I don’t like reggae. I love it.) I have an incredible memory for lyrics which makes me think that I could probably do a lot more with my life, if the space in my brain which knows the words to every song ever recorded was devoted to something, you know, useful.

3) I wear the colour black all the time. I almost always have something black on. This habit dates back to my youth, which I probably shouldn’t admit to.

4) Sometimes – not often, thankfully – I find myself having conversations that go like the SNL carpool sketch with Alec Baldwin and Kristin Wiig, which is my favourite sketch ever, but less fun in real life.

5) I always, without exception, choke up when singing the following songs: Landslide, Foolish Games, and How Great Thou Art.

6) I often put on my jammies by 7:00 pm on weekdays. This means that during the week my husband frequently sees me in one of two outfits: a) sweaty yoga clothes first thing in the morning, and b) plaid jammies with a picture of Snoopy on them. This is marriage, kids. As my young friend Emily says when she sees a particularly unflattering outfit, “Those are married lady pants.” I’M SURE HE FINDS ME EXTREMELY SEXY IN MY MARRIED LADY PANTS THAT HAVE SNOOPY ON THEM, EMILY.

7) Despite this, with the exception of 5 am yoga, I never leave the house without makeup on and my hair done. NEVER. I walk the dog with lipstick on, I fancy myself up to go to the Co-Op. I’m totally going to be one of those scary old ladies with bright orange hair, lipstick bleeding into my lip lines, clouds of Chanel No. 5, and super fancy matching earrings/ necklace/ bracelet sets, who get all gussied up to go down to the residents’ lounge to play canasta. Note: need to learn to play canasta sometime in the next forty years.

8) When I was in Grade 11, I was Amanda Wingfield in the school production of  The Glass Menagerie. I rocked out a Southern accent like nobody’s business. I feel that I was born in the wrong place. I think I would have made an excellent Southern lady. I secretly LOVE when people refer to me as “Ma’am”.

So now it’s your turn! Instead of tagging people on Facebook, I’m going to tag bloggers to tell random numbers of things about themselves. Who wants to start? I’ll give you…six!

Skinnygirl Drinks and Kazoo Amazingness

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It’s book fair this week, and due to all the lovely women I’ve coerced into volunteering to help me, I do not even feel my usual high level of despair/ regret/ tension that I usually get prior to the event. I’m having a teensy bit of volunteer fatigue lately, and really, I have no one to blame but myself. I’m sure it will all feel worth it when my children have a copy of the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid in their hot little hands; although I loathe those books in no small way, they love them, and isn’t reading for pleasure one of those things we should be encouraging? Even though the characters are revolting and the plot lines a depressing view of society? I guess I shouldn’t be so uppity; I clearly recall reading all the Sweet Valley High books when I was in fifth grade. If there is anything that will give a girl a skewed and unrealistic view of high school, I believe it is the adventures of the Sweet Valley High gang and the inevitable self-questioning: am I an Elizabeth or a Jessica?

Does anyone still have those books? I kind of want to re-read them now.

In addition to the book fair, there are lots of exciting things going on at the school right now. For one thing, in celebration of the school’s fiftieth anniversary, there is going to be a very special assembly at which my children are going to be playing kazoos. Just go ahead and let that sink in for a minute. Kazoos. I’m of mixed emotions about this: gratitude that it’s not a medley of recorder music, undeniable curiosity about the nature of this performance, pride that the children will be involved in such an important milestone, and kazoos. Kazoos! Kazoos.

We had dinner guests this weekend, and so in preparation for this event I dropped the boys off at karate on Thursday evening to run to the liquor store. Normally I sit in the waiting room, reading and making notes and sometimes being sternly reminded by the caretaker to turn out the lights when I leave. I sweetly, yet emphatically, assure him that I always DO turn out the lights, to which he suspiciously makes reference to SOMEONE who is always leaving the lights on. It’s not me! I swear! In any event, on Thursday I peeled out of the parking lot to get to the liquor store and back within the short time frame. I will confess that I was worried I would run into traffic issues and would arrive late to pick up the children, who would be standing in the windy, freezing parking lot in only their uniforms since they insist on leaving their coats in the car, holding their giant bo staffs and frozen water bottles, and my only excuse would be that I was at the liquor store. Happily this did not come to pass.

While at the liquor store, I discovered something called “Skinnygirl White Cranberry Cosmos”, a premixed beverage. On a whim I picked it up, and decided to try it the night before our guests arrived. You know, to make sure it was appropriate for guests. Two glasses in and I was moments away from drunk dialing all my girlfriends to tell them how much I love them. And then my husband came home from work. I’m not even kidding, all this drunkenness happened before my husband came home from work. “I was having a cocktail while I made dinner!” I giggled aloud. “Hee hee, cocktail.” 

All of which is to say, if you see such a bottle in the liquor store, buy it.    

I’ve never been in a drunken stupor, but…

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Here it is, Wednesday of time change week and not one complaint has passed my lips. Not one! My husband, in years past, has generally adopted the traditionally masculine attitude that my vehement feelings against the observation of Daylight Savings Time and the subsequent semi-annual fuck up amounts to Nicole Making A Big Deal Out Of Something Very Minor And Unimportant. Yesterday, however, he admitted he was feeling quite tired and out of sorts and maybe it was due to time change. At this admission, I feel vindicated.
 
My children have been just fine; I guess they’ve reached the age where an hour here or there is No Big Deal At All. However, I stand in solidarity with all you mothers out there who are dealing with hot crying messes every evening and wide awake little people at ungodly hours of the morning. I shall not rest until the country has caught up with Saskatchewan, which is miles and miles ahead of the rest of us for their refusal to adopt Daylight Savings Time and its abhorrent spring forward/ fall back rituals. Also, please feel free to give a verbal dressing down to the next person who says that DST is “for the farmers”. Bitch, please. Do you have any idea what time farmers get up in the morning? The actual clock has nothing to do with it, so shut up, goddammit. If I was that kind of person I’d allude to a conspiracy theory cooked up by people who want to keep mothers down by totally fucking up their children twice a year. But I’m not. Still: DOWN WITH TIME CHANGE.
 
Speaking of fucked up, how about that mayor of Toronto? Wowza, is that embarrassing. I mean, we’ve all done silly things under the influence of alcohol or excessive Girl Guide cookie consumption, but smoking crack? In a drunken stupor? Listen, we all know how I love my red wine, and my cosmopolitans, and my margaritas, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in a drunken stupor in my life. I don’t like hangovers and I don’t like falling over. The closest I’ve come to that, lately, is becoming extraordinarily drunk at the Banff Springs Hotel with my husband and two people we met at the bar while listening to a blues guitarist. The couple was from Boston, and so they and my husband immediately bonded over the Patriots. 
 
So no drunken stupors for me, but I’ve done plenty of silly things after consuming one too many glasses of wine/ cosmopolitans/ margaritas.
 
1) I completed this Cosmo quiz and realized that the answer is “yes”.
 
 
 
 
2) At Blissdom Canada, I lay down on the hotel hallway and put both legs behind my head to show Allison and Hannah that I totally could. I blame Allison for being such a doll and bringing the peach daquiri mix and rum.

 
3) I bought hot pink yoga pants online.
 
 

4) I once danced the macarena in a Mexican bar wearing Daisy Duke shorts, high heeled sandals, and a crop top.

5) One Friday night when my husband was golfing, I live-tweeted my viewing of Top Gun. “Permission to fire, sir!” “Never fire unless fired upon.” GREAT advice.

 
6) I have, on numerous occasions, accidentally flashed my cleavage.
 

7) I was not drunk while making this gingerbread house! But the result was so depressing I had to comfort myself with a bottle of wine.

 
8) I was also not drunk in this photo! But I was fairly high on painkillers following varicose vein surgery. I was also super excited to eat the pretty fruit kabobs my friends had sent over.
 
9) I illegally brought drinks in glass containers down to the pool in Maui – in the dark! – and forced my dear, sweet friend Joanne to do the same. Everyone give some love to Joanne – she was my accomplice in illegal activities. And yet I look so INNOCENT.
 
 
 
10) I got pregnant! Hey, it was Stampede week. And then six to eight months later, I walked around looking like this: