Monthly Archives: January 2018

Making the days count

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This week, you guys, this week has been full-on Crazy Town Banana Pants, in terms of my schedule. I am trying so very hard to, as they say on inspirational posters, not count the days but instead make the days count, but my goodness, I’m looking forward to my Neighbour Wine Date tomorrow afternoon (HI TARYN). Don’t wish away time, I say to myself several times a day, Live in the moment; wherever you go, there you are, and I’m even driving myself crazy with these platitudes. I am trying, though. Every morning I wake up and run through my schedule in my head, thinking of the interesting opportunities in the day to come, and endeavouring not to think “How am I going to get all this stuff done?”

Yesterday I was on a full-day field trip with the Grade Sevens, and I learned something very important: junior high field trips are much, much better to chaperone than elementary school ones. By “better” I mean “easier” since I think it’s just an insurance thing to have a certain adult-student ratio, but the adults literally do nothing at all. It was relaxing, if not particularly stimulating. However, I did learn something about sustainable agriculture and the future of farming, and I also learned that Kenya’s currency is the Kenyan shilling, should that ever come up in a Trivial Pursuit question.

The bus wasn’t even too bad; certainly it was better than the myriad elementary trips I went on. For one thing, either the group is smaller or the bus is bigger, but children were not expected to sit three to a seat, and I could sit by myself without having a random child breathing their hot breath all over me while showing me something neat in their backpack, as I work hard not to throw up. The bus driver only screamed once, which feels like a win.

And today is Robbie Burns’ Day! Every single year someone asks me if I’m going to have haggis, and this year was no exception. Well-meaning people will tell me, in the kindest and most helpful way, that there is such a thing as vegetarian haggis, but really, that only makes the idea marginally better for me. So no, I am not going to have haggis. To paraphrase Mike Myers in So I Married An Ax Murderer: In fact, I think all of Scottish cooking is based on a dare.

I also think that Scotch tastes like burning. But then, I’m only half-Scottish. A British friend was quite shocked when he found out that I drink tea without milk, and then shrugged and chalked it up to my barbaric Scottish ancestry.

So things have been busier than normal this week; I never like to complain about being busy because a) I like to be busy, and b) we’re all busy. At least, I SAY that we are all busy, but are we? This morning I was listening to the news talk radio (don’t judge) on my way back from dropping the boys at school. The station is giving away tickets to see Michelle Obama. She will be speaking to an audience of about 5000, but today, when tickets go on sale to the general public, there will be only 1000 up for grabs. Therefore, these tickets are hot. I mean, not hot as in STOLEN, but hot as in much desired.

So the station is giving away tickets, and listeners could call in for a chance to win. The first caller was a self-described huge fan of Mrs. Obama, and she was a big admirer of her role and accomplishments during her time in the White House, but in order to win a pair of tickets the caller had to be able to give the name and description of one of the four initiatives strongly backed by the former First Lady. She was clearly caught off guard and stumbled about healthy eating, but unfortunately that wasn’t specific enough to win the tickets. The second caller immediately named the Let’s Move initiative, described how it targeted childhood obesity, and won the tickets. The radio host asked if she was excited to see Michelle Obama speak, and the woman said, “Well, let’s just say I’m not a fan of Michelle Obama. I don’t really like her at all. But I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

Me, in the car:

This is when my “well, we’re all busy” theory goes up in flames. Clearly, we are not all busy. Clearly, some of us have way too much time on our hands. We all like different things. We all enjoy different people. We all have different perspectives. I don’t care one way or another what you think of Michelle Obama or any other person in the world, except perhaps if that person is the current president, and then maybe I do care what you think. The point is, why? Why, why would you spend time – an entire evening of your life – seeing someone who you do not admire in the least? Why would you spend the time, the drive in the car, the parking costs, the energy, on seeing someone you actively dislike? Not to mention why would you spend time calling into a radio station to win tickets when people who really would like those tickets are also trying to win?

“I’d like to hear what she has to say” – I have one word for you: YouTube. Or, you know, read a review in the paper.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life – Mary Oliver

We have a limited time on this earth, I think about this all the time; we really do – platitudes aside – need to make it count. What will you do with your wild and precious life? Sometimes, frankly, it feels like what I am doing with my one wild and precious life is grocery shopping, but I will tell you this: I am not spending my precious time and resources to be in the same room as someone I do not like. That happens frequently enough, involuntarily. Frankly, it’s hard enough to find time to be with people who I actively enjoy and want to spend time with.

Well, it takes all kinds, as my grandma used to say, and does it ever. Does it ever.

God bless mathematical algorithms

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“We are gearing up for the saddest week of the year!” the radio DJ said this morning, which startled me: is it Blue Monday already? I guess that’s what happens when January 1 is a Monday; god bless mathematical algorithms.

For all that, I am not blue today. Last week, a combination of the frigid temperatures and impending ladies’ holiday put me at Low Level Crabbiness, With A Tendency To Spike To Full-Blown Crabbiness. Today, though, feels fine, even though HOO BOY are there a lot of reasons to be blue these days. I mean…I will not go into them all so as to not depress us all but there are people out there who are not toddlers who are voluntarily eating Tide pods. I saw a small video clip, from Tide, of Rob Gronkowski telling people not to eat Tide pods and I laughed, people, I laughed. Then I found out that people are actually eating Tide pods and my laughter turned into a blank stare of confusion and disbelief.

Let’s not dwell on this, though, because I am assuming this is a very small portion of the population who looks at laundry detergent as a delicious, delicious snack. I’m trying not to see this as a reaction to the Crazytown Bananapants presidency and the appalling news that changes every five minutes. Probably it’s a weird way to get high. Don’t tell me, I don’t really want to know. Or do I? No, I don’t.

I don’t know why or how this happened, but I have had the old 1980s ParticipAction theme song going through my head ALL DAY LONG. This is even worse than the time I had the old Channel 2&7 Hello Calgary theme song stuck in my head. Hello Calgary, hello Calgaaaarrrryyyy…channels 2&7 love you! Well, if you’re feeling nostalgic and would like to see some very fit people clad in nothing but shorts and roller skates, or leotards and tights, click here for the old commercial. If you let it keep going you will be treated to some Body Breaks with Hal Johnson and Joanne Macleod, but I don’t recommend going down that particular rabbit hole unless you have some time on your hands.

Okay, I admit that I did watch the one on Airplane Exercise. Hey, what can I say, I have varicose veins and they become painful with air travel (yes, again) (I know) (apparently it’s rare) (I’m a unique snowflake/ unicorn). I do wear my super-sexy, full length beige support stockings while travelling, in case you’re wondering about how glamourous it is to be me.

Speaking of high fashion, do you people have any idea what is going on in this world? The fanny pack is back, I repeat, the fanny pack is back. It is now called a Belt Bag which, a rose by any other name, etc. As well: scrunchies. Scrunchies are back in style, so I guess my high school self should have saved all those little puffy bands that I colour-coordinated with all my outfits. I could be the hippest mom around! All I need are my old high school jeans with big belts and giant t-shirts all tucked in and I’ll be set!

Well, they always say you can never go back again, and so I shall leave the scrunchies to the next generation. Or will I? I’m due for a Nicole’s Favourite Things so…no. No, I just can’t go back there.

Happy Monday, lovely readers, if you’re feeling blue know that I’m sending you virtual hugs and cookies. xo

Well, it’s January

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“Well, it’s January.” This seems to be my answer to everything lately, from the wildly-fluctuating weather to my own general idiocy. Well, idiocy may be a strong term for “writing down the dog’s veterinary appointment on the wrong day” but here we are. I had my entire morning planned around Barkley’s appointment. I had called a few weeks ago, specified the necessity of a Thursday morning appointment, and yesterday, when I bundled myself up and hauled us both over to the clinic, discovered that the appointment was for the next Thursday. Sadly, that time was not going to work for me so now today at 3:30 is my new time; an inferior time, if I do say so myself. Friday afternoon is no time for an appointment. Friday afternoon is no time for anything except collapsing in exhaustion from the week’s travails. However, I could see no real alternative, given my schedule over the next few weeks. No sooner than I had arranged this with the receptionist and arrived back home, I received a phone call from the vet clinic, reminding me of my appointment tomorrow at 3:30. But I just SAW you twenty minutes ago to arrange this is something I did not say to the young receptionist, instead circling “Barkley 3:30!!!” several times in pink ink on my calendar. Mental note: do not miss this appointment.

Well, at least it’s Friday, and as soon as I return from the vet I am cracking open a bottle of wine and grabbing myself a funnel. No, a glass. A glass.

When I went scissors-shopping this week, it took everything in my power not to immediately spend thousands of dollars on beautiful kitchenware at The Bay. Did you know Kate Spade has a whole kitchenware collection? I spent a lot of time looking at the beautiful dinnerware and oversized wine glasses, mentally picturing myself sipping from a 500 mL wine glass and eating dinner off a “in good taste” plate. Then I saw Le Creuset bakeware and, my goodness, how did I get out of there alive? Well, I remembered that I DO have lovely glassware (not 500 mL ones though) and I DO have lovely Denby dinnerware, and almost every single piece is chipped, because of children. Children, nay, TEENAGERS and fancy dinnerware are not really compatible and so I felt powerful and strong, if regretful, as I left with only scissors and two tiny cut-price Christmas ornaments.

Relatedly, I mused aloud to my husband at the end of December, wondering if I should cut back on my wine consumption for the New Year. He looked at me with what can only be described as a mix of horror and bewilderment, as he asked me why, why in the world I would think about doing that. Um, okay! Go grab the corkscrew, honey! After all, Santa did bring me some nice bottles for my stocking.

Santa also brought me this sweater, and I think it’s so cute and cozy that I just have to share:

It’s like wearing a bathrobe over all my clothes and it is just the best thing ever. Especially since this was the temperature when I dropped off the kids yesterday morning.

Brrrr!

Filing this also under “January Idiocy” is what I shall always refer to as the Music Incident. Monday afternoon I was subbing a yoga class for a lovely group of ladies. It wasn’t the first time I’d subbed for them, so I knew what they liked: a mix of gentle and more vigorous postures, a strong standing sequence followed by some slower, relaxed seated asana. They also seemed to enjoy the instrumental playlists that I had used for them in the past. I chose one of my favourites, “Peaceful Piano” for the class. Now, Peaceful Piano is a very long playlist and I have always played it from the beginning, so I confess that I had not heard every song on it. I put the playlist on shuffle and enjoyed some of the gorgeous music.

As the students went into savasana, the song changed. My mental process went something like this:

This song sounds familiar. Why do I know this song?

I’m feeling kind of agitated. Why am I so agitated?

Where is this song from?

Oh my god, it’s from Game of Thrones. This is Game of Thrones! This is the song that played right before Cersei blew everything up.

Oh my god, I’m playing a death song for savasana. A DEATH SONG FOR THE CORPSE POSE.

I wonder if anyone here watches Game of Thrones. 

I seemed to be the only person reliving (SPOILER ALERT) the death and destruction of King’s Landing and the suicide of Tommen, so I guess all is well. But whew, what a week. How many hours until I’m home from that vet appointment?

What’s In A Name; Perspectives; Book Reviews

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The other night, our dinnertime conversation centered on names, and whether the names we give our children are self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve always been fascinated by names and how they change with trends and generations. The book Freakonomics has a very interesting chapter on names and demographics, and of course I’m watching with interest as names start to come back into style that would have been considered ridiculous when I was a kid. The boys have become big Seinfeld fans – “Santa” gave them the complete series on DVD at Christmas – and there is one bit where Jerry reflects that calling a child “Jeeves” pretty much guarantees a career as a butler. The conversation turned interesting when one of the boys said that it was no wonder Scar from The Lion King was evil; just look at the other names the lions were given. Mufasa. Simba. Sarabi. Nala. All beautiful, majestic names, and then there’s Scar. The other boy said he hoped it was just a nickname given later in life, because if someone was born with a deformity, it seemed cruel to name them after that deformity. “I mean, if you were born with a gigantic head, it seems mean to name a baby Big Head.”

In any case, we all decided that poor Scar was a bit misunderstood and maybe even bullied a little, which is why he turned out the way he did. It’s interesting, always, to look at things from another perspective. I stumbled on this tweet stream the other day and people, it always pays to look at things from someone else’s point of view. There are always at least two sides to every story.

There are two sides to this story as well, but here is my side: my good scissors are missing. Someone who shall remain nameless but who is under fifty and is not me misplaced them; bless his heart, he was helping his father take down the outdoor Christmas decorations, a thankless task, and somehow the scissors have disappeared. Now, I have a very tidy and well-organized house, and believe me when I say THEY ARE NOT IN THE HOUSE. Possibly they were accidentally dropped in a snowbank somewhere, but I think it’s more likely they are in one of the many boxes housing the decorations that are now in the rafters in the garage.

It doesn’t matter what happened to them. What matters is that for the last few weeks I have been forced to use our secondary pair of scissors, a much cheaper and far inferior product.

The good scissors were a wedding gift from my then-boss (HI GARY, WHEREVER YOU ARE) and they were Henkels. When he gave them to me, he jokingly said “You can think of me every time you cut something” and I swear to you, I actually did. But now, upon being forced to use the inferior scissors, I found I was only thinking of my grave disappointment with each use.

Enough is enough and today I headed out in the freezing cold to purchase a new pair of Henkels from The Bay. My motto is to never buy anything at The Bay that isn’t on sale, but needs must sometimes you guys, needs must. It took a lot of internal conflict for me to buy them, with my half-Scottish side reprimanding myself for even THINKING of spending a ridiculous sum of money on scissors when a) the others might turn up next Christmas or when the snow melts, and b) they weren’t even on sale. But you know, I thought it was a small price to pay to have nice scissors again, and not think sadly of the son who misplaced the scissors – WHILE DOING SOMETHING HELPFUL, HE DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS THING.

Anyway, they are now in my possession and look:

“Just perfect” – they are, really.

It’s all about perspective! And on that note, I’d like to share my perspective on a few books sent to me by Simon and Schuster. I was not compensated for these reviews, but I was sent advance reader copies of each.

Walk It Off

Whenever I get a headache – which is rare, I am not headache-prone – I think, in the voice of Arnold Schwartzegger from Kindergarten Cop, it’s not a tum-ah. But what if it is a tumour? Ruth Marshall – an actress noted for her role in Degrassi, among other things – dismissed her tingling legs and clumsiness, only to find out that she had a giant tumour on her spine. Walk It Off is her memoir (what is the difference between memoir and autobiography?) about her diagnosis and recovery, and although it sounds quite grim, it’s actually really hilarious and heart-warming. You can’t help but put yourself in her (flat) shoes and wonder what it would be like to be in recovery and rehab, with two children, learning to walk and use the bathroom. You also can’t help but get slightly alarmed when you wake up with pins and needles in your hand, ostensibly because you slept in a weird position, but WHAT IF. It’s a really great, quick read with the kind of “a door closes and another opens” ending that I absolutely love.

Dangerous Crossing

As soon as I finished this fabulous mystery I immediately lent it to my mother, who loves mysteries and historical fiction. Dangerous Crossing is the story of a British domestic servant who took advantage of an offer from the Australian government to sail Down Under; apparently domestic servants were in short supply, and the Aussies would pay the passage of young women to go into service. This was in 1939 and really did happen. Now, with any historical fiction, there will be some parts that are NOT strictly historical; behaviours and attitudes tend to be modernized so as to not offend the reader, and this book is no exception. Also, I found myself wondering how on earth a domestic servant would afford a cream silk evening gown, and why cream? It would be hard to clean on a ship. But ignoring that, this book is delicious and fun and I really did not see the ending coming, at all. I like those kinds of twists. This would be an amazing travel read or a book to take to the beach.

Things To Do When It’s Raining

This lovely gem of a book is all about secrets and how they can tear you apart, and the healing power of forgiveness and love. Things To Do When It’s Raining has a lovely message and interesting characters, and this paragraph, I think, says it all.

Asymmetry

I saved the best for last. Of all the books I read in 2017, this might be my favourite. Asymmetry is an incredibly written, beautiful story in three parts; the first two seem like they are completely unrelated, from the perspective of two completely unrelated people, but in the third part, we see how they overlap. It’s a debut novel and it’s amazing – a must read. From a May-December romance to an Iraqi-American detained at London Heathrow, the intertwined stories are fascinating. I loved this so much that I have already decided to re-read it on my next plane trip – it’s such dense, gorgeous writing that I feel that I will get even more out of it on a second read.

On that note, I have laundry to fold and banana bread to make (I still have SO MANY frozen bananas) and a class to teach so I’m signing off. xo

Three Things I Learned Yesterday

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Happy New Year everyone! I am going to admit right now that I love the New Year; I love the idea of fresh starts and new pages and YES, we can start a fresh page of our lives every single day and YES, we can (and I do) make changes and goals any time during the year, but still, there is something about New Year’s. Last year I resolved to focus more, and uni-task rather than multi-task more, and I think that I did improve on that front. I also resolved to read more and – inspired by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) – I kept a record of all the books I read in 2017. I ended up reading 82 books, which I thought was pretty good. Simon and Schuster sent me a bunch of books to read and review and those reviews will be coming in the next little while. Suffice it to say they sent me some excellent titles, and some titles that I would say would be nice, light reads for the beach or holiday.

So what’s up for 2018? Are you making any resolutions, or goals, or words of intention? I have a hard time NOT resolving to do everything – in addition to multiple health, fitness, parenting, reading, and piano playing goals, I’ve also found myself resolving to be more like the mindfulness guru Dr. Saamdu Chetri who starts every day being thankful for the gift of twenty-four hours. Every day! Thank you for these twenty-four hours I have been given! I told my husband about that and he thought it seemed maybe a bit unbalanced. Maybe that’s true, but the principle is still a good one.

It’s a fine line, I think, between self-love and acceptance, celebrating the fabulous people that we are and the wonderful, blessed lives that we have, and also wanting to remake everything entirely on New Year’s. There is always room for improvement, though, and meanwhile, I’ll be over here practicing gratitude and patience and getting extra cardio.

The kids have been off school this week and my husband has been off work, which has been lovely and strange. I still have a modified class schedule, but yesterday I had nothing at all – so I decided I would get all my groceries in one go. That meant a trip to Costco in the morning and a trip to Superstore in the afternoon and suffice it to say that wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. Actually, now that I think of it, it WAS the best idea in terms of a cardio workout – I checked my “steps” on my phone and it turned out I walked 4.2 kilometres – although that did include a 2 kilometre dog walk. There’s a fitness hack for you – go grocery shopping! Especially when it comes to pushing heavy carts through snowy parking lots! Although I did take someone with me for each trip and made them push the cart but next time, it will be just me. I should patent this idea: get fit by grocery shopping, plus buy your veggies! It’s a win-win!

I often resolve to spend less time on the internet and social media, because sometimes it feels that no good can come of it. But then I am proven wrong, for if I wasn’t on the internet I would not have learned these three amazing things:

Pumping Gas

I had no idea that all this time that I have been choosing the “self-serve” lane at the gas station that I was doing something NOT ALLOWED in Oregon. At least, until recently, when Oregon mandated that people can pump their own gas in rural areas which has caused a bit of a kerfluffle in that state. Who knew? I mean really, WHO KNEW. Not me. Opponents to this ruling have many objections: transient people can steal their children while they are waiting in the car as the gas is being pumped, everyone’s hands will smell like gasoline, and – this is my favourite – people don’t KNOW how to pump their own gas. I am the first to admit I am a total idiot when it comes to my car – I don’t even know how to open the hood – but even I can pump my own gas. It’s really not hard. Suffice it to say that if I can do something, vehicle-wise, than it’s pretty much a guarantee even the village idiot can. Just don’t go all Zoolander at the gas station and you’ll be fine, people of Oregon.

Plinko Record SMASHED

Anyone who has watched The Price Is Right is well aware of two things: the commercials during the breaks are awesome, and Plinko is the very best game there is. This fellow from Cleveland SMASHED the previous Plinko record and went home with $39,200!

That’s enough to buy a NEW CAR.

Raw Water is a Thing Now

Years ago I remember talking to someone about iodine tablets to put in drinking water, while on a trip to Nepal. Iodine, she said, might not be the best thing but it’s better than explosive diarrhea on the hiking trail. Truer words were never spoken. But now, apparently, drinking unfiltered, untreated water is a Thing. Tap water – or even filtered bottled water – is for suckers. I live in close proximity to the Rocky Mountains, and while spring water may SEEM pristine and fresh, there’s a little thing called Beaver Fever. Or cholera. Although…if your New Year’s Resolution is to lose weight, there would be nothing more effective than contracting dysentery, so maybe this Raw Water Thing is really going to catch on!