Monthly Archives: May 2018

A Decade of Fuzziness

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Yesterday we celebrated Barkley’s tenth birthday – a whole decade of extreme fuzziness.

To celebrate, he received freeze-dried chicken, a long walk at the off-leash, and even more attention than usual. He is not allowed on the furniture, but he has figured out that he will never get scolded if he slyly puts his front paws on people who are sitting on the furniture, in order to obtain extra attention. People who are not me, I should clarify, because he knows that I won’t allow it. Everyone else who sits down in my living room must be prepared to get attacked by fuzzy cuteness.

I know there is a lot of disparagement out there for people who talk about pets in a certain cloying way, but Barkley is indeed our “fuzzy baby” and we treat him as such. Dogs are such amazing animals; so smart and wonderful and – in the words of Agnes Gru – so fluffy I could die. Well, Barkley is, anyway. Wouldn’t it be nice to live like a dog? Wouldn’t it be nice to be excited about everything – food, leaving the house, coming back to the house, seeing people you know? OMG breakfast, I LOVE breakfast, OMG we are going to take the boys to school I LOVE taking the boys to school, OMG we are going for a walk I LOVE going for a walk, OMG you’re home I LOVE YOU. 

We should be more like dogs, is what I’m saying. Except for the unfortunate characteristic of staring a person straight in the eye while defecating.

Yesterday I read “This Messy Magnificent Life” in one delicious sitting. My favourite part is when the author discusses “the way you spend your days is the way you spend your life.”

“It all comes down to one breath and then another, one step and then the next. And when you get to the end of your life…All that will matter is whether you flowered here in earth school.”

Earth school! I’m going to use that as often as possible. What did you do today in earth school? Well, I taught a class and baked muffins and emptied the filter on my Roomba.

Of course, if the way I spend my days is the way I spend my life, then much of my life is, as you know, defined by shopping for groceries. On Monday I was at Costco and for the first time ever, there was no spinach available. My husband suggested that it was due to the holiday in the US, but all I know is that I stood in the refrigerated section, stocked up on strawberries and asparagus and mushrooms, staring blankly into space. There’s no spinach. 

Luckily I had enough spinach to get me through until yesterday, when I planned to go to Superstore. Superstore, happily, did not have a shortage of spinach. Superstore also has coin-operated shopping carts which makes the parking lot much more zen than that at Costco.

Stray carts as far as the eye can see, people, as far as the eye can see. If you look closely, you can see two Costco cart collecting employees in their neon-green vests, probably saying to each other “WTAF PEOPLE, the cart corral is RIGHT THERE. Okay, where do we start?” with an air of exhausted resignation.

Do I complain about this too much? Probably. In This Messy Magnificent Life, the author compares complaining about things that have already happened to eating rat poison and waiting for the rat to die. Complaining IS lame, and I’m going to try to do it less. But won’t someone think of the cart collectors?

Anyway. NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN.

You guys, tomorrow is JUNE. JUNE IS TOMORROW. I have barely registered that it is May and now it is JUNE TOMORROW. It’s funny, when the kids were younger, June was such a gong show of activities and busyness and crazytown, and now…nothing. I am literally not feeling stressed or pressed for time or anything this June which is a novel feeling. Of course, things could change at any time. I do have a few orthodontist appointments for the boys on my schedule and if one goes the way I think it’s going to, that will mean that another set of braces is imminent. But for now I will enjoy my fairly relaxed schedule and I will NOT COMPLAIN. Well, I’ll try not to. xo

Do not tiptoe through my tulips

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It’s so strange to think that a month ago, the ice and snow had yet to melt from the backyard; the whole space is now growing, greening up, and blooming. Every single day I am out in the garden, weeding and watering and just staring at my plants, marvelling at the Miracle of Nature, and every single day there is something new growing, greening up, or blooming. Every single day I find myself humming that song from Beauty and the Beast, there’s something there that wasn’t there before, which is actually way more irritating from an earworm perspective than having Ride Like The Wind stuck in my head for five days straight.

Everything is growing well with the notable exception of my tulips. All through the neighbourhood, tulips in all colours and sizes are riotously blooming, teasing me with their beauty. My own tulips – the few that were left after the squirrels ate most of them – are the saddest specimens on the planet, or at least in the neighbourhood. Not one of them has a bloom or even a bud; the foliage is all flattened down to the ground, limp and pathetic. My husband thought maybe it was the location of the tulips, but no. That doesn’t explain it since they are all around the yard in different sun exposures. Is something destroying them specifically? All the other plants are healthy and thriving. Maybe I’m just the worst tulip gardener in the city; maybe they are faulty tulips, maybe something is specifically targeting and squishing them. All I know is that I am doomed to never have tulip blooms and I should just cut my losses and expectations.

See? That’s what all my tulips look like, as if a small anvil dropped from the sky and flattened them. I just don’t understand my Tulip Inadequacy.

I suppose that’s enough on that topic; after all, I’m sure you didn’t come here to read about my Tulip Failures. Or did you? I shouldn’t presume anything. All I know is that Junebug (HI JUNEBUG) asked me about my “Mom Book” – the old-school agenda that I write everything in: appointments, chores, classes, meal plans, and everything else pertaining to my life. Well, Junebug, your wish is my command! Here is the book, which I purchase every year at Chapters.

Bonus shot of my pedicure. It’s a 16 month calendar – although I usually do the switch-over in November – and there is plenty of room in the back for notes, important numbers, business cards, and the like. I usually have all the pertinent school notices stuck in there, along with things like the dog’s license and various receipts for anything done on the house.

It also has each month set out, and I use this to record the classes that I teach, in order to properly invoice.

When I choose my new daytimer every year, I spend time thinking about the cover, and the design, and if it’s pretty, but frankly, it stays open on my countertop and I never actually see the cover so this thought process could be for naught.

Here is what my week looks like usually the week before: a few classes, what I’m going to make for dinner each night, maybe an appointment, some notes regarding school trips, and – in the case of this past weekend – an important televised event in the way of the ROYAL WEDDING.

Side note: did you watch it? I set my alarm for four and shot awake at 3:50, because my little-known superpower is waking up before my alarm goes off.

Anyway, the week often looks pretty bare until it starts. Every week I think “oh, it’s going to be a quiet week” and every week my days are full, full, full.

What I like about this particular layout is that there are squares for different family members, although I never actually use it that way.

Note the grocery list above. I am just going to tell you my other little-known superpower: very little food-wise goes to waste in this house, and it is entirely due to meal planning and compulsive grocery lists. That notepad keeps running lists for Superstore, Costco, Co-Op, and Walmart, and I deviate very little from those lists. I know many people rely on their phones for their schedules and shopping lists but I don’t know, I guess I need the analog version. I need to be able to WRITE IT DOWN.

That concludes my organizational tips for the day: WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN AND DO NOT DEVIATE. Come hell or high water, when I write down we are having a stir-fry for dinner, WE ARE HAVING A STIR-FRY FOR DINNER. I write down little chores that I need to do, even if I do them regularly, because it is eminently satisfying to look at everything written down for the day and know that I accomplished those things.

I’m too structured, I’m completely closed off.

But in a good way!

Well, I have “make hummus” written down for this afternoon and that hummus is not going to make itself, people. Have a wonderful weekend! xo

Fight the (flower) power

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Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in a non-volatile climate. What would it be like to know that spring and summer weather would stretch out, consistently, day after day? I suspect it would change my behaviour significantly. The past week we have had absolutely gorgeous, SUMMER temperatures, complete with sunshine and warm evenings, and all I can think of is this won’t last, carpe diem, CARPE DIEM. I have been spending every spare minute outside doing yard work and gardening and feeling somewhat resentful at having to come inside. The thing about Calgary is that this could end at any second; we could have snow any time now, enjoy this while it lasts!

The warm weather has made my garden suddenly explode with greenery; after this terrible winter it feels like a gift. My Mayday is apparently the Ferrari of trees, going from barely-there leaf buds to being in full bloom in less than 48 hours, a beautiful gift that is filling the yard with glorious scent.

Speaking of gifts, I hope your Mother’s Day was restful and lovely. Very early on Mother’s Day morning, my husband and I walked over to the Co-Op to buy hamburger buns for dinner, and there was a man with a baby in a bucket seat and a very small toddler, looking at the giant display of flowers and cupcakes set out for those last-minute shoppers. The toddler was very cute, suggesting the flowers that were PINK, DADDY, DESE FLOWERS ARE PINK AND PWETTY AND MOMMY WOULD YIKE THEM, AND SHE YIKES CHOCOLATE CUPCAKES THAT ARE PINK, DADDY. I smiled because it was very obvious that, in addition to the flowers and cupcakes, there was a mom at home who was receiving the gift of “sleeping in.” Throughout the day I continued to see men with small children walking around the neighbourhood and to the playground, giving Mom the gift of Time To Herself. Having been the grateful recipient of such gifts in the past, I felt a lot of joy for those women.

I have just finished reading Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom and I don’t think that I am exaggerating when I say it completely blew my mind. If you haven’t read it, it discusses women’s health issues in a very holistic way, but the author is also an OB-GYN and so it isn’t total hippie-dippie hoo-ha. More “complementary and preventative” than “alternative,” if you know what I’m saying. There is a great deal of discussion about honouring yourself and your body, treating your menstrual cycle in a sacred way – think “Red Tent” rather than “the curse” – and really acknowledging your feelings and moving on with your life, in order to achieve health and wellness. For example, instead of pushing through exhaustion and monthly stabbiness, acknowledge that you need time to rest and reflect; PMS symptoms are your body’s way of telling you to please slow down. Today’s patriarchal society rewards a stiff upper lip and being productive at all costs, but fight the patriarchy and rest when you need to!

And although I’m all about honouring my cycle and self-care – my whole life is one big self-care event these days, it seems – I am also a total hypocrite. I have been fighting a case of the sniffles since Monday and if you think I’ve slowed down, well, I haven’t. See above, re: warm and sunny weather. Yesterday I felt poorly enough to lie down for a few minutes, thinking I would have a nap. After lying in bed for five minutes I became too excited thinking about all my new plants I had purchased at the garden centre and so instead got up and planted twenty-five of them. Yes, twenty-five. In my defense, I knew that today would be rainy and I wanted to let them settle in with some good precipitation.

Maybe I should skip my cardio workout today, I said to my husband this morning while stanching the bleeding from my nose due to blowing it every five minutes or so. He looked at me silently for a moment, and then said You THINK? I guess that was my stab at Slowing Down and Resting. I am trying to treat myself in the same way I would treat a friend, with compassion, and yet I can’t help but think it’s just the sniffles, I think I can go on. Meanwhile I’m looking down the barrel of the neti pot and wondering what, exactly, constitutes an overdose of Advil Cold and Sinus.

Ah, but we are mere hours away from a glorious long weekend, two days away from a royal wedding, and there is sunshine in the forecast. Carpe diem, people, and also pass the Vitamin C.

Swedish Death Cleaning

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Not long ago, someone asked me if I’m still on my “no shopping” challenge and yes, yes I am. Only about 2 and a half months to go, not that I’m counting or anything. Well, I wasn’t counting – it’s been much easier than I thought it would be. For one thing, you may remember that clothing acquired in the form of Christmas and birthday gifts was still perfectly acceptable, and I received a few lovely things for my birthday from both my mom and my husband. I haven’t been tempted at all to purchase new clothes, until yesterday.

Yesterday I met my best friend (HI TARA) for lunch at a restaurant in the mall, and as I walked back to my car I stopped to look at a display in a shoe store. New sandals! In the Soundtrack of My Life, I could hear Tempted by the fruit of another…in my mind. They were so cute, and just the kind of thing I like: comfortable looking sole, black, with nothing between the toes. I swear if the salesperson on duty had been good at his job, I would have walked out with a pair. But happily for me and my apparent lack of willpower, the salesperson ignored me and so I left. I went home, opened my closet, and looked at all the pairs of sandals I have that are, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as the ones in the store, the main difference being the ones in my closet were not new.

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

A few weeks ago I read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning and while I was attracted to it because of its title – DEATH CLEANING – I found reading it to be quite delightful, despite the somewhat grim subject matter. Death cleaning is what happens after someone dies and the writer, a woman who seems to be about ninety, very cleverly and wittily writes about her experiences in that area and how she is preparing for her eventual demise. Our material consumption, she says cheerfully, will most likely destroy the planet but does not have to destroy our relationships with the people who will be death cleaning for us when the time comes. I guess that is one way to look at things.

The author’s absolute zest for life and sense of humour makes me wish she lived here and was in my Seniors’ Yoga class. She sounds like a doll.

“There is enough sadness already” – this woman is my spirit animal!

I don’t anticipate death cleaning for anyone anytime soon – knock on wood a thousand times – and I fervently hope my own death cleaning will be many decades away, but it’s an interesting concept, keeping things in your house that only bring you joy and/ or are useful to you right now. From my own experiences of Kondo-ing the house and my life, and this whole One Year Shopping Challenge, I have found that I am indeed much more conscious of the things I bring into the house. I want to be very aware of the things I consume; I want my house to be filled with lovely and joyful things, yes, but not items that will eventually end up in a landfill. I mean, as much as possible, everything probably will end up in a landfill at some point; see above quote by the Swedish Death Cleaning Lady. I am also much more aware of my tendency to hoard things, which is a completely unnecessary and ridiculous tendency. I live in walking distance from two grocery stores and a Walmart; I can drive to Superstore in ten minutes and Costco in less than twenty. If at some point I get low on bathroom cleaner, I can go out and buy bathroom cleaner, I do not need to have several bottles in backup. With the notable exception of cereal, I have become very good at not buying multiples of household staples. ONE backup is enough of everything. Except cereal, I think there’s about fifteen boxes of different kinds of Kashi and Mini-Wheats in the pantry.

What can I say, we go through a lot of cereal and when it goes on sale, I like to stock up. DON’T JUDGE I HAVE MY LIMITS. It will all get eaten, all of it.

But speaking of things that spark joy, check out this adorable trio given to me from some very dear friends (HI SAMMI HI RICK):

They are living on the hutch in the kitchen and believe me when I tell you they Spark Joy in a Very Big Way. They make me smile every time I look at them, which is several times a day. Look at their blissed-out froggy faces! They are aspirational, in an amphibious sort of way.

Karaoke Queen

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This morning I saw an article titled “Best Karaoke Songs of All Time” and of course I clicked on it; I’m not made of steel, people. I was sadly disappointed though, only one of the songs – Don’t Stop Believing – was, in my mind “best.”

I love karaoke, and not in a If I Have Enough Drinks kind of way, no, I would surely karaoke dead sober at the airport at 6:30 in the morning if there was a machine available, or while waiting in line at the grocery store. If it was socially acceptable I would be karaoke-ing all the time, any time, any place. As it is, I just sing along to the radio and live with the songs that are constantly stuck in my head.

Did I mention that a few weeks ago I had Ride Like The Wind stuck in my head for five days straight? It was quite something to have and I’ve got such a long way to go, (such a long way to go), to make it to the border of Mexico going through my head on a loop for a hundred and twenty hours. I even dreamed about the song, which made me a little bit concerned about my sanity and my life choices, specifically what songs I put on my Spotify playlists.

I have a theory about karaoke, and the types of people who are attracted to it. There are, as I see it, three main types of people. The first type are the people like my friend Dom (HI DOM) who have good voices, can sing well, and have fun doing it. These people sing crowd favourites, and are very enjoyable to listen to. On our recent trip to Huatulco, there were a number of people participating in karaoke night who fall into this category. Notably – other than my friend Dom – was the teenage brother and sister combination who sang Bohemian Rhapsody while their father Dad Danced onstage.

The second type are the people who appear as though they believe they will be discovered on the Voice and who choose songs that are not necessarily popular with the crowd, but that showcase their talents. I am NOT judging here, but it is decidedly less enjoyable to listen to a young woman earnestly singing several Amy Winehouse songs, as opposed to an enthusiastic-but-less-musically-talented person singing Sweet Caroline, which happens to be one of the actual best karaoke songs ever written. Also included in the I Am A Contestant On The Voice In My Own Mind category was an older woman with a soprano voice singing The Long and Winding Road, and another lady who sang I Will Always Love You. People, a Whitney Houston song is always risky. Only Whitney can sing like Whitney; one might as well try to sing along to The Phantom of the Opera. Unless, of course, you are the fellow in Say Anything singing The Greatest Love of All. If you haven’t seen that particular movie in a while, here is the very classic clip.

Which brings me to the third category, into which I fall: the person who loves to sing but has a less than stellar voice. What can I say, what I lack in vocal talent I make up for in stage presence:

For the record, I’m singing You’re So Vain.

I often think of the Soundtrack Of My Life, and what songs remind me of different times of my life. This morning I heard When The Night Feels My Song and I became overwhelmingly nostalgic for those years with the kids when they were little; that specific song used to be played on CBC Kids, which is what led me to the bout of nostalgia. Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You will always remind me of late night feedings with my firstborn, as we didn’t have many channels then and that song was played a lot on Much Music, which I watched in an attempt to stay awake during those times. The Cha-Cha Slide brings me back to the early years in elementary school, as my younger son – strangely enough – performed to that song in kindergarten. And of course there are the songs that take me back to my own school days; Don’t Worry Be Happy, Mony Mony, and anything by The Grapes of Wrath and Depeche Mode. I Like To Move It (Move It) will always remind me of my bar-hopping days, and the Gypsy Kings bring me back to the days when my husband and I were dating.

I’m not sure what song is playing in my Life Soundtrack right now, as Ride Like The Wind has now wound its way back into my brain. Oh my god, maybe THAT’S it. Hoo boy. I think I need to go listen to something else to try to shake this. xo