Monthly Archives: August 2019

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “One Is The Loneliest Number” Edition

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I am going to tell you something that will probably make a large percentage of you become very envious: my husband and kids went camping in Alaska, and they have been gone ten days, returning this evening. Ten days, alone. Now I’m going to tell you something that will probably make a large percentage of you very angry with me: I do not, as it turns out, enjoy being alone for that long.

Sure, I’m all for a day or two of solitude, where I can eat Greek salad for dinner and never once turn on the television, particularly to Bloomberg or any kind of sports network, but I have discovered something about myself: I really, really enjoy people around me. What can I say, I’m a people person. This was the longest I’ve been apart from the children; indeed, it’s the longest I’ve been apart from my husband in our twenty-one years of togetherness. So I found myself being a bit lonely and blue, particularly after spending the weekend at my parents’ house; walking into my silent empty house seemed almost too sad to bear. I’m always a bit blue the last week of summer, and this was even worse than when I took the kids to see Inside Out just before the September long weekend, years ago. I was feeling verklempt and then when – SPOILER ALERT – Bing Bong died I cried and cried uncontrollably. It’s like Bing Bong is dying and I’m all alone in my empty nest. 

The thing is – and I’m sorry for all you mamas out there who are just desperate to use the toilet unaccompanied or who want to just sit down for five minutes without someone needing something, I’m sorry, I really am – I do get time to myself every day. I do get time where no one needs anything and not one person has tried to accompany me to the toilet for many, many years. And so this felt a bit like a long stretch of time where I realized that the days are very long indeed when one is alone.

However, I’m not complaining, not really, because the boys had a great time with their dad, Making Memories, as my mother-in-law says often. Many Memories Were Made, and meanwhile I scheduled in something fun every day, so I got to Make My Own Memories.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “One Is The Loneliest Number” Edition

Greek Salad and Pita

It was tempting to slide back into my single-girl eating days and have popcorn for dinner, but instead, I made myself a balanced dinner every night. If you’re going to eat a balanced dinner instead of popcorn, then why not make your very favourite meal? Recalling that I am a person who consumes the same exact thing for lunch every single day, it follows that I do not mind repetition in my evening meal either, which means that over half the nights I had Greek salad with hummus and pita for dinner. My favourite! My family is always happy to eat what I make but I’m pretty sure there would be a mutiny if Greek salad was on the menu for five out of seven days.

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I Heart Books

I’ve always been an avid reader, and I always carve out some time to read every day, but with no one there to talk to or cook for, I read for many hours a day while they were gone. I’m on my sixth book since they left, which means my library pile of last week has been whittled down a lot:

As a brief aside: Class Mom is a very fun, light read, and is especially great for those of us who have been in the trenches, so to speak, when it comes to volunteering at elementary schools. Those days are long behind me but well I remember some of the, shall we say, drama.

Following The Nursing Home Schedule

When one is not immersed in household duties, there are many more hours in the day, which may explain why, on Sunday evening, I stretched and thought it was time to start preparing for bed. It was 6:30. I have always been a morning person and when left to my own devices, this tendency becomes extreme. I ate dinner between 5 and 5:30 every evening, with the exception of Sunday, when I ate at 4:20. I had my pajamas on by 6 or 6:30 most nights, and was sleeping well before 9:00. Then, of course, I found myself wide awake even earlier than normal, when I would listen to some weird overnight talk radio show until it was an acceptable time to get to the yoga studio. I shall be one hundred percent ready for the nursing home, when the time comes. I embrace their early-to-bed ways.

30 Rock

Someone – I think it was Lynn (HI LYNN) – told me that 30 Rock is now on Amazon Prime, and hoo boy, is it ever still an excellent show. I’ve rewatched several episodes and it is still very, very funny. Of course, with any show more than a year old, there are some episodes that, let’s say, would not be created today. For example, Jenna gains weight and it’s a whole thing, and also, Bill Cosby writes an angry letter to Tracy. Tracy says that Cosby interfered with Eddie Murphy’s Oscar win, and it’s an interesting line, as today it is well-known that ye old rapist hated Murphy and tried to sabotage things for him, as he felt Murphy was a stain on the black community. Oh, how the worm has turned.

Extended Outdoor Activity

Having all this extra time on my hands has meant I’ve been able to do a few really fun outdoor things, like last week’s hike to Ha Ling Peak. On the weekend I went for a 22 km bike ride at my parents’ house; usually I ride with the kids and we do more exploring than serious hills and whatnot. I took advantage of my aloneness to go the distance, so to speak.

Speaking of distances, Taryn and I went to Healy Pass yesterday and it ended up being just under 21 kilometres of hiking. It was the best hike I have ever done, so I will leave you with these gorgeous shots:

And how often do you stand in two provinces at the same time?

All in all, an amazing day. Today is also amazing; I’m getting so excited to see the guys that I’ve been singing The Boys Are Back In Town all day. Have a wonderful long weekend, everyone, and may the first week of September go smoothly. xo

Princess Problems

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Those of you who know me – not even particularly well, because this is something I have talked about at length – know that I don’t have many fears or phobias, but I do have one that stands – or shall I say flutters – above the rest. I am absolutely terrified of moths. This time of the year until the first hard frost, they are everywhere. Everywhere. However, last Saturday morning I was completely unprepared to find one in my water glass.

It started off like any other Saturday, really, with me starting the coffee pot and then blearily picking up my water glass; I like to start the day with two big glasses of water to get the hydration going before I drink my pot of coffee. Imagine my panic when I saw a moth – still alive – fluttering around in the water. I did what anyone would do: I backed away quickly and started screaming for my husband, who immediately dealt with it by throwing the water and moth outside, and offering to throw out the glass itself. I suppose I should be grateful that this didn’t happen on a weekday, when I get up at 4:30 and drink my two glasses of water in the dark. Imagine drinking water with a moth in it. 

I had to take some deep breaths just typing that.

If that wasn’t traumatizing enough, this morning after yoga a moth must have followed me into the house. There is currently a moth in the house and I don’t know where it is. I am alone in the house and there is a moth and I’m in low-level panic. The moth was last spotted in the kitchen, but who knows where it is now. It could be anywhere.

Deep breaths.

In other less-traumatic-but-extremely-annoying news, Friday night my food processor suddenly died, with all the hummus ingredients piled in it, unprocessed. While it’s true that my food processor gets a lot of use, I purchased it in May 2018, and I feel that we should be able to expect more than a fifteen-month lifespan for our expensive small appliances. After all, my old Cuisinart lasted eight years of heavy use before developing a weird thing wherein it wouldn’t stop processing until being unplugged, which struck me as a pretty hazardous feature. I went through the five stages of grief fairly rapidly, stalling on “anger” for a while as I thought of how much I loved this expensive new Breville food processor. Fifteen months is not an acceptable lifespan! My mother-in-law still has her chest freezer from 1962 and it still works.

The upshot of all of this is that I ended up a) using my Vitamix to make hummus on Friday, thus stoking my rage even more, as anyone who has ever tried to get the last bit of hummus out of a Vitamix can understand, and b) buying a new food processor. Princess Problems, I know. Princess-Who-Uses-A-Food-Processor-Several-Times-A-Week Problems. Let’s hope this Cuisinart will outlast its predecessors.

If moths and dead food processors weren’t enough to make me a donkey on the edge, I had a dentist appointment on Monday. What is it about the dentist that makes us dread it so? I said to my husband that it was because it “takes so long” but that isn’t factually correct. After my “scaling” I thought to check my watch; it had been only about forty minutes, as opposed to the three hours I thought it had been, what with the scraping and water scaling and the weirdness of someone else’s gloved fingers in my mouth. I mean, a bikini wax takes only about ten or fifteen minutes less than that, and I’d rather have a hundred bikini waxes. At least with a wax I can converse with my esthetician about her upcoming trip to Nova Scotia and how her boyfriend is a jerk. At the dentist’s, I’m forced to sit back and listen to Tom Petty. I’d rather have a Pap smear, and my doctor can never, ever find my cervix on the first try, but instead is constantly apologizing for the “discomfort.” I’d still rather do that than have dental scaling, but I guess since I want healthy gums and teeth, I will persist. I will complain about it, but I will persist.

In happier news, today my friend (HI TARYN) and I hiked up Ha Ling Peak; I hadn’t done that since 1998, when it was called something else that I will not repeat here. It was just recently reopened after a lot of trail renovations, and it was just a beautiful day. See?

It definitely made for a great day – now, if only someone would come over and find and kill this moth for me, everything would be coming up Nicole! xo

Blasts from the past

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Today I learned that there is a place called Babyland General Hospital, and it is a destination for those who really, really love Cabbage Patch Kids; there are tours available and Cabbage Patch Kids up for adoption. Admission, says the website, is free and you can see Mother Cabbage on display beneath the branches of the Magical Crystal Tree. Did you know that each Cabbage Patch Kid is the result of Mother Cabbage being pollinated by “fanciful Bunnybees” and if you happen to visit Babyland General Hospital, you can “witness the birth of a hand-sculpted Cabbage Patch Kid.” Who knew?

Frankly, I am a bit curious about the birthing process as it was my understanding that each Kid was just plucked from the garden, like an actual cabbage. How very wrong I was, apparently. And who knew there was one massive Mother of all Cabbage Patch Kids?

The world is a marvelous place, full of interesting twists and turns. You never know what the day is going to bring and what you might learn.

For example, this week I learned that people still use film in cameras. I know! I was surprised too. I was picking up prints at London Drugs and there was a sweet, friendly girl beside me who had several canisters of film to be developed. She and I started chatting when I expressed my amazement at her old-school method of photography; she told me how excited she was to get the film developed as she had no idea what photos were actually taken. Remember back in the day when you’d take film in to be developed? Half the roll would be no good as the photos would be bad quality, or someone would have their eyes closed or head turned. The other half would be photos you didn’t remember even taking, particularly if it took you a long time to actually take the film in to the developer. “Get the camera!” would be the chorus whenever something noteworthy would happen, but often it came too late and the photo opportunity was gone.

Now we have carefully curated selfies and dramatically filtered photos of our dinner to fill our creative needs, and no one ever says “I wish I had brought a camera!” as our cameras are ever-present in our hands and back pockets.

I don’t miss those days of the film camera, I love being able to capture important moments in an instant, like when my mom and I were sitting on her deck this week and the resident eagle flew overhead and perched in his favourite spot in the yard:

Or, just as interestingly, when I was making myself some lunch and came across this cherry tomato:

Without my phone, important moments like this would be missed, and eventually forgotten. The memory of that sexy tomato would just fade into oblivion.

I was having coffee with a good friend this week (HI NICOLE) and she was impressed that I actually print out photos and put them into albums. I try to do this every few months, but generally it becomes a thrice-yearly labour of not-exactly-love. What a tedious job it is to upload, crop, and adjust the lighting on hundreds of photos, and then arrange them by approximate date and put them into albums. Yet I persist, mostly because one of the things I love to do when I visit my parents is to peek at our old albums; group photos where half the people are unflattered by the camera or the lighting is bad or my dad took the photo and no one at all is even aware he’s taking a picture and so every person is turned the wrong way. Oh, the memories! Each photo that features myself is a fantastic timepiece; take, for example, this photo of me on my thirteenth birthday:

Everything about this is great, but my hair in particular is tremendous. Also of note is my mother’s spoon collection on the wall – remember when people would collect spoons? – along with the serenity prayer in cross-stitch and a “God Bless My Kitchen” plaque. The brown fridge! The decorative fake fruit and flowers in the background! Tacos for dinner! The next photo is photographic proof that I have always enjoyed a pink birthday cake:

And so I print out photos so that my own kids can, in the future, take a trip down memory lane by paging through the photo albums, to remember the chilly day we biked around the lake and discovered that the town has followed in the lead of many places by adding comically large novelty Adirondack chairs for fantastic photo ops. Tiny people in huge chairs! What fun.

Don’t you love when you meet people who are just so in love with their lives that they glow? In talking to the girl with the film, it was revealed that she works for the Alberta parks division, and lives in a little hut in the mountains, far from wifi or cell reception or people or anything at all, in Peter Lougheed Park. “It’s so amazing!” she said to me. “When I come into the city it feels crazy, and I’m so happy to get back to my job! It’s just the greatest!” Shine on, you crazy diamond. It was a brilliant reminder that we are all so very different, and also that I love meeting people so wonderfully happy. I mean, to me it sounds nightmarish, and if I was in a similar situation I would either end up like Jack in The Shining or I would just wither away to nothing. A furry, grey-rooted nothing. There’s a place for everyone in this jigsaw puzzle that is life.

Speaking of The Shining, the boys rented it from the library to watch with their friends one afternoon at our place. As they were planning the viewing, my husband and I talked about how terrifying we found it, to their bemusement. “We’ve seen clips on YouTube and it seems really lame,” was their response. Well! I have to say that they are actually correct; the movie does NOT hold up well. “That wasn’t scary, it was just weird,” their friend said after the credits rolled and the lights were turned back on, adding that it should have really been a psychological thriller instead of a horror film. Was it not?

Well, I’m not going to re-watch it to find out; the few scenes that I did see did seem pretty dated and silly. I put the book on hold at the library though, as I’ve never read it. I will report back! Meanwhile, have a lovely weekend, everyone. xo

Girl’s Blouse and the Forward March of Time

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I was walking the dog the other day when I ran into one of the young neighbour girls. She’s the youngest of three and the last to fly the nest; she told me that she was headed to university in Ottawa at the end of the month. I cannot even begin to tell you how unexpectedly this information affected me. I teared up as I told my husband about it. I’ve know her since she was a BABY, I said tearfully, ALL of their girls are gone now. GONE. I’m pretty sure I’m projecting my feelings about fleeting time, empty nests, and the general preciousness of life on this unsuspecting 18 year old.

All of which is to say: can you even BELIEVE it’s August 9? August is my month to cling to the last vestiges of summer, such as it is, even while some of the leaves are starting to change and I’m organizing my thoughts as to what we need in terms of school supplies and pants that actually fit the boys, the boys being in that odd teenage stage where they are tall and skinny and good luck finding 29/34 jeans in any store.

August is also my month to realize that I’ve gained weight, probably due to the fact that we always take a trip to see my mother-in-law at the end of July. What can I say, booze. This happens every August, but it was a bit shocking to see that I’ve put on seven pounds since the end of June. I’m HOPING some of that was water retention, but the long and the short of it is that it’s time to cut back on the boozy coolers.

Seven pounds in a month is one thing, but I have been very active, and so it feels a bit like a slap in the face. I guess the old adage you can’t outrun a bad diet is very true, but still. You especially can’t outrun a bad liquid diet, but hey. Needs must.

We all hiked up Big White on our trip, which is over 11 kilometres and 500 metres of elevation. I was impressed with the kids’ endurance level and also happy that my hip was fine with it.

“Thoughtful Instagram pose”

This week since we’ve been back has been a strange combination of Back To Routine and Fun Activities, which is giving me an odd, time-warp kind of feeling. Yesterday my friend and I took the boys to the mountains for a short hike; apparently it was too short as they complained that it wasn’t enough of a challenge. Well, game on, boys. I guess from now on it’s all endurance all the time. The hike was pretty though.

Tuesday I went back to teaching, my husband went out of town on business, and the boys went to a sleepover birthday party. Ten years ago I would have committed any number of criminal activities in order to have an evening to myself, but now it just feels kind of dull. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed making a special dinner just for myself – Greek salad and pita on a Tuesday! – but while I was reading in complete silence I realized I miss the dull-roar noise level of our house. At any given time a) my younger son is practicing drums, b) my older son is playing Iron Man on his electric guitar with the amp up high, c) the kids are talking in their Outside Voices, d) my husband is talking in his Regular Voice, and e) my husband is listening to Bloomberg and/ or Sport Centre. It was pretty quiet with just me and Barkley. I spent my evening reading, with a “clarifying and polishing” face mask and my feet swathed in cotton socks to keep the lotion on. Hashtag: living the glamourous life.

The cut of those socks remind me so much of my grandma and her penchant for Isotoner slippers. It makes me miss her so much. I can just picture her in her kitchen, wearing light-blue Isotoner slippers, capri pants, and a flowered blouse.

Speaking of blouses, the boys and I have been re-watching all six seasons of Downton Abbey in preparation for the new movie coming in September. Although, knowing me, we will see the movie when it comes out on Netflix. Anyway, we all love Downton, probably because of the terrible soap-opera story lines and fluctuating awfulness/ brilliance of the characters. I mean, what is UP with how terrible Lord Grantham is in seasons 3-4? Won’t someone PLEASE give Lady Edith a little bit of support for once in her whole pathetic life? How many deaths can be attributed to Bates, really? What does all this have to do with blouses? Well, some of the old-timey British sayings are just too awesome to not incorporate into daily conversation. “I jolly well WILL!” “Splendid!” “Oh, crikey.” But the very best line comes from good old Murderer Bates himself, when chiding Jimmy for over-reacting about Thomas’ moves. “Why are you being such a big girl’s blouse about it?” Everyone in our house uses the term Girl’s Blouse several times a day now, as it is possibly the greatest semi-insult ever. One only needs complain about the slightest thing to be immediately named a Girl’s Blouse.

Boy: I’m a little tired today.

Any other member of the family: Stop being such a big girl’s blouse about it.

My husband: I have a lot of meetings today.

Me: Why do you have to be such a girl’s blouse?

And so on.

The city, as if to boost everyone’s self-esteem from being constantly referred to as a random article of women’s clothing, has put up signs everywhere with motivational sayings on them. “You can do it!” I’ll see as I’m driving down the freeway. “You made a difference today!” I’ll see posted as I’m coming out of the Superstore parking lot. I like the idea behind it but I’m puzzled as to where they came from. It’s like the world is conspiring to make us feel good about ourselves, which is lovely. I was unwrapping a vitamin C drop and noticed that it, also, is concerned about my self-esteem. “Don’t give up!” it told me. “March forward!” Well, crikey. I jolly well WILL march forward, thank you very much. But not too quickly; August is speeding away as it is.

Happy Friday everyone, xo.