Monthly Archives: September 2017

I think I’m going to make it after all.

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It is the almost the end of September, and my 13-year-old leaves TOMORROW for a week in Quebec. Mostly – MOSTLY – I am very excited for him and this excellent travel opportunity, the ability to see a unique and culture-rich part of the country, and the chance for independence and growth. But also I am a little bit internally breathing into a paper bag.

It’s all going to be FINE.

These PRETZELS…are making me THIRSTY.

Meanwhile I have a 12-year-old who has never been apart from his brother, not for a single day of his life. He will be kept busy with friend hang-outs, violent action movie nights, a father-son barbequed meat night, and putting the winter tires on his dad’s car. Not to brag, but that kid can change tires like nobody’s business, which is a lot more than I can say for myself. I have never even opened the hood on my own car, so I am very impressed by him, as well as enabled to be as useless as I am with vehicular maintenance. If my husband can’t do something for my car, I can easily get my son to do it. I shall never have to learn self-sufficiency, and I like it that way.

As a long-time blogger, I receive pitches every single week to promote a particular product, cause, and/ or business. I use the word “pitch” loosely, as there is never any compensation involved; generally the pitch involves me promoting the said product/ cause/ business on my blog and in return, my readers can receive a coupon code for 10% off. What a deal. Who could turn that down. Well, obviously I never do this, unless it’s for a book review, because I am, apparently, a whore for free books.

Often the pitches will reveal that I have somehow gotten onto the world’s strangest mailing lists, and that the sender has never read a word I have written. Once I had the great opportunity to receive free venison jerky in exchange for a glowing review about this amazing new product, and just recently I received a media pass to sample all different kinds of duck at Duck-Fest, which takes place somewhere in Ontario. Normally I just delete these emails but some I hang onto for the pure entertainment value.

For example, in early August, I received this:

I DO need Christmas ornaments from the internet and I cannot wait to get my lucky deer, snow house, and etc.

Today, I came across this gem:

My favourite part is that the sender assumes I am a purchasing director. I guess I kind of am a purchasing director for the Boyhouse, at least as regards groceries and other household items.

Oh! But you may be wondering, how is that one year shopping challenge going? Well, I can tell you that it has been almost two months and I have purchased nary a clothing item for myself. In fact, if you follow me on Instagram – and why wouldn’t you, my feed is almost entirely baked goods, Barkley, and my outfits-of-the-day – you will know that I have been enjoying creating new outfits and combinations from my overflowing closet. I think I’m going to make it after all. I’d also like to take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile, but that might take more than just an outfit-of-the-day post. It might involve cookies.

This week has been busy, busy, busy, with a cross-country meet and preparations for my child to actually go across the literal country*, teaching and shopping for non-Nicole-clothing-items, and it always makes me feel happy and productive to be so busy, not unlike a bee or hummingbird. I like having lots to do. However, yesterday I found myself to be pretty blue. When I’m feeling blue, I always feel a bit like I SHOULDN’T be blue, not with all the things going on in the world today, not with an entire country without power and the world going to hell in a rocket-powered handbasket, and people who have health issues and financial issues and family tragedies and one of my Facebook friends posted a photo of a DEAD RACCOON SHE FOUND IN HER WALL. I mean, nothing like that has happened to me and why should I feel blue? EVERY DAY ABOVE GROUND IS A GOOD DAY, PRINCESS, JUST ADJUST YOUR TIARA AND MOVE ON. Ah, but even princesses have problems sometimes and those problems are still problems, and it’s okay to be sad sometimes, as I tell the kids all the time. It is OKAY TO BE SAD.

Well, today my tiara is adjusted and I’m feeling like my normal, cheery self, ready to turn the world on with my smile.

Do I need a beret? Maybe. But it will have to wait another ten months before my shopping challenge is done. xo

Fall is short for “snowfall”

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It is now officially fall and as I write this, the cold rain is falling, soon to turn into wet snow. Well, the beautiful summer was nice while it lasted, so I won’t complain.

I might complain just a little though. Wednesday was the first cross-country meet of the year, and it poured rain before and after the race, with a temperature of eight degrees. At least it didn’t rain during, I thought. I ran into a friend who looked at me, aghast. What are you WEARING? she said. I had come prepared; two thick sweaters, my good-to-minus-30 long winter coat, legwarmers, winter boots, gloves, scarf, and an umbrella. It worked, I wasn’t cold. My son, on the other hand, wore his regulation shorts and t-shirt, refusing to wear the regulation sweatpants and hoodie for the race, as it would “slow him down.” Sweatpants are not aerodynamic, MOM.

Fortunately I had spoken with my friend (HI FLORENCE) who is a seasoned cross-country mom; she had warned me that the parking situation would be a nightmare, and she was correct. There WERE a few hundred kids there from all over the quadrant of the city, and so you can imagine the driving/ parking/ people cutting off other people to squeeze into a non-existent parking spot situation. I was prepared, and yet I wasn’t prepared, as I had no idea of the magnitude of the meet. Anyone who knows me knows I have a bit of anxiety about driving to new places, finding parking, and getting lost, since my sense of direction is – to understate things – very poor. However! I was brimming with a bit of confidence since on Tuesday I parallel parked my minivan into a tiny spot, without hitting the curb or crying, and spacing myself perfectly between the two other vehicles. People, it was a thing of beauty. I felt like this:

But without the cigarette.

Despite that boost to my self-esteem, I did not feel equal to the task of parallel parking in the pouring rain, with a line of forty cars behind me, and so I found a spot on a side street instead.

Speaking of driving, whatever happened to the thank-you wave? Personally, if someone courteously lets me merge in busy traffic, or makes space so I can change lanes smoothly, I give at least one – and usually two – thank-you waves. The first wave is to acknowledge the courteous behaviour, and the second wave comes after I have successfully merged/ changed lanes. ALWAYS. However, when I pay it forward with my own courteous driving, I receive a thank-you wave less than five percent of the time. Why? I mean, I am driving courteously for reasons other than to receive a thank-you wave, namely to have good karma and also to not be an asshole, but it is NICE to receive one.

People, let’s teach our children to do the thank-you wave. At this point in my life, I am generally so happy and, frankly, astounded to receive a wave that I give the single-hand-off-the-wheel acknowledgement of said wave. It’s like the thank-you note to the thank-you note, which may be overkill but I regret nothing.

Tonight is the parents’ meeting for the Quebec French trip; I seem to be in some kind of denial/ disbelief that yes, my thirteen-year-old is actually going across the country without me and without the ability to text me. Deep breaths. I suppose this is character building, or training for the day when the little birds eventually leave the nest, texting or calling once a week out of a sense of duty.

Deeeeeeep breaths.

The World Is A Rich Tapestry

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You guys, it is happening. IT IS HAPPENING. Remember back in 2012, when I predicted we would see a resurgence in the popularity of the names of our mothers’ generation? I have now made the acquaintance of two young women named Barbara and Brenda; these lovely ladies are, I believe, the lead-offs in the trend that we will certainly see unfold over the next fifteen years. Mark my words, Barbara and Brenda will soon be joined by a whole host of Beverlys, Donnas, Corrines, Carols, Lindas, and Susans. IT IS HAPPENING. There is a very good chance that our granddaughters will be Bev and Barb.

Then, thirty years down the road, Bev and Barb will have their own granddaughters, and we will suddenly be swarmed by a sea of Jennifers, Julies, Michelles, Melissas, and, yes, NICOLES.

It is mind-blowing, people. Mind-blowing. Just as mind-blowing as seeing girls wearing pleated, high-waisted, belted shorts with little crop-tops. None of us learn from previous generations, we do not, not one bit*.

* Since the writing of that post, I have fully embraced skinny jeans and their beautiful ability to pair with tall boots. I know that the tide is starting to change, however. I know this because I saw a young woman, named neither Barbara nor Brenda, wearing straight-cut jeans with a belt, loafers, and a cropped top, taking me back to the days of “going dancing” and drinking vodka “slimes” out of a pitcher. Young women are the Indicator Species of fashion, as we know. Bodysuits will not be far off, MARK MY WORDS.

But I digress. One thing that we also do not seem to learn is that some things recur on an annual basis, and every year we see individuals become extremely combative with regards to the desirability or otherwise of these recurring events. For example, for every individual who lives for summer there is another who loathes the heat, for every skiier and snow-lover there is a Reynaud’s syndrome sufferer who dreads the long, cold winter (i.e., me). At this time of year, we see people firmly divided into two camps: those who love all things Pumpkin Spice, and those who do not. And of those who do not, there is a subsection of people who feel the need to disparage and shout from the rooftops how much they hate Pumpkin Spice, and how Pumpkin Spice things need to die in a fire and that Pumpkin Spice is the worst of everything and a harbinger for death by White Walkers. Or something. These are the same people who proclaim loudly that they Hate All Sports while everyone else is enjoying the Super Bowl, or that The Olympics Are A Giant Waste Of Money And Everyone Who Watches Them Are Contributing To The Decline Of Society.

We all know these people. We know, we know, such pleasures in life are just too bourgeois or pedestrian for you, special snowflake that you are. It’s not enough for you to NOT partake, you must mock all those who do. I am not a Pumpkin Spice fan myself, but far be it for me to ruin it for any of you who do love it (Rebecca, enjoy your PSL!) (HI REBECCA). While you’re enjoying your Pumpkin Spice lattes and Oreos and breakfast cereal, I will be over here waiting for MY favourite flavour season – Mint Chocolate. It’s coming.

As Swistle says, Do Not Yuck Another Person’s Yum. (HI SWISTLE). Some of us have the Cilantro Is Delicious gene, and some of us do not, and our differences make the world go ’round. The world is a rich tapestry, people.

Speaking of rich tapestries, I have been on a roll with reading excellent books lately (go read A Man Called Ove! It’s excellent.). One of the things I started doing this year, in a bid to be more like Allison (HI ALLISON), is recording the books that I have read so I can look back on the year, and recommend ones I loved. It’s also a good way to see how much I read in a year – so far I am on book number 59. I have the Calgary Public Library app on my phone, so as soon as I hear of a book recommendation I immediately put it on hold. I love the library. I love how I can read things I wouldn’t want to necessarily buy, and I love exposing myself to different genres. Once in a while, though, I pick up a book that has rave reviews and it turns out to be…how shall I say this…not for me.

I just finished a book that sounded so promising – two estranged sisters, coming together under the mysterious circumstances of their missing sister and the murder of one of their husbands – it was touted as a thriller and a mystery and I guess it was. If you really like books about the abduction, torture, rape, and eventual murder of young girls, then this is the book for you! If not, well, maybe learn from my mistake and don’t read Pretty Girls. I was somewhat traumatized after finishing it – I kept reading in the hopes that it would get better and be less violent, and IT DID NOT – and so I was happy to pick up the book I had put on hold a while ago, Difficult Women by Roxane Gay. It is a collection of short stories, and the very first one featured the abduction, rape, and sex slavery of two preteen sisters. So that wasn’t the best for my state of mind.

However, I would still very much recommend Difficult Women as it is a very compelling series of short stories; even the first one is not graphic, not really. I have had four books on hold suddenly all come in, and the next one I am reading is a “light British novel about life around a bookshop” so I am really hoping for no details about abduction, torture, rape, or murder.

September is the real New Year

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How is everyone doing, on this first week of back-to-school? So far, so good in the Boyhouse; maybe not from Barkley’s point of view, though.

Yesterday after drop-off, Barkley and I stared at each other for a while, in our silent house. But one cannot stare at the dog all day, humming Landslide or Time After Time. No, one must embrace new eras and new situations, and to that end, I taught a class, prepared for another, baked cinnamon loaf, made from-scratch cookies-and-cream ice cream, did laundry, and tidied the house. After taking Barkley for a walk I did indulge myself by staring blankly out the window for a while, but only for a little while.

We had the Best Summer Ever; it was full of fun and activity and relaxing and family time. Truly, a wonderful summer. But as all things come to an end, here we are in September. This month to me always feels like the time to make a Fresh New Start, even more so than New Year’s. I had an epiphany of sorts, and that – along with a dear friend in health crisis, who is reminding me every day of her strength and also that we need to embrace every day and live our lives with joy and intention – has had me making a few changes in my life.

For one thing, I quit my part-time-work-from-home job, mostly to focus on yoga teaching, but also because I felt that it was weighing on me; having to always be attached to my computer or phone, always checking updates and never really being off the clock, in a haphazard and unpredictable way. Yes, I realize that quitting a job to lighten my heart is a very privileged thing to be able to do, but the truth is I am a very privileged person, I am extremely fortunate, and I would like to use that in a way that best helps other people. To that end, I am focusing on yoga teaching, being more available for friends and family, and taking the time to be a better person in general. As the saying goes, you can’t pour from an empty cup, and I plan on having a very full cup to pour from.

The other thing I have been doing is moving away – yet again – from negativity and toxicity in my life. There is no room in my life for toxic people, both on-and offline, and so I’m making a concerted effort to move away from them. There’s “being compassionate to people who are obviously hurting” and then there’s “these people are killing me softly.” It’s a fine line.

So more time outside, more time cooking and baking – and good thing, because my children are bottomless pits – and more time doing things I love like reading or learning a new song on the piano. More time with my family, and to that end, what is everyone doing now on Sunday nights, now that Game of Thrones is over?

I won’t post any spoilers here but I can see nothing for it but to gradually make my way through the entire series in time for the next half of the seventh season in 2018 or 2019. Also, if I may be so bold to recommend The Verge and their recaps, they will bring you great joy. Spoilers, obviously.

Side note and slight digression: do you know how often a yoga teacher will say “bend your knee” in an average week? I don’t know either, but it’s a lot. Every single time I said it, for the past six weeks, I’ve thought of Game of Thrones, and I’ve had to literally pull my thoughts back to the present moment, and not think of – NO SPOILERS, BUT I’M DYING HERE – you know what.

This is not a spoiler at all, but what is UP with Cersei’s hair? She had her hair cut off literally seasons ago, and even in the odd GoT time spectrum, it has been a long time. It should really not look so ridiculous. Is she CUTTING it to look like that? Is she trying to look like the late Joffrey? Is this some kind of weird foreshadowing? I don’t know but if I were that actress, I think I’d be requesting a new wig.

Seriously, it’s grown out maybe an inch since her Ultimate Walk of Shame, and within that time – NO SPOILERS, IT’S KILLING ME – a lot has happened. Enough to get a new hairstyle.

Well, the original question was What Do We Do Now Until 2019, and my answer has been to binge-watch the final season of House of Cards with my husband. I’m not quite done yet – NO SPOILERS, AGAIN – but my gracious, you guys. My gracious.

In any case, I hope September is starting off smoothly for you, and until next time, xo.