Monthly Archives: April 2021

I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot; Fifty-Eight Weeks In

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Thank you everyone for the lovely birthday wishes; it was a beautiful day. It was the rarest of Calgary spring days: warm and sunny, and without the gusting winds that often accompany warmer temperatures. I filled the day with all my favourite things, and had two slices of cake, and all is wonderful. Along with thoughtful gifts from my parents and the guys – and chocolates in the mail from my longtime friend Elise (HI ELISE) and my favourite wine from my favourite winemaker, my friend Brian (HI BRIAN) – my “big gift” was this addition to my garden; the guys have been putting together the raised beds and filling them – three truckloads of dirt – over the past month.

Yes, that’s snow, and I can’t wait to start planting, but wait I must. You know, it’s Calgary.

The biggest gift of all, though, was getting an appointment to get my first Covid vaccination. The vaccine rollout in Canada has been so slow and so plagued by supply issues that my hope was I would get vaccinated in the fall, and – because it’s Canada and second shots are coming a full FOUR MONTHS after the first – was just crossing my fingers I’d be fully vaccinated by Christmas. The bar, it is low. But then last Monday the government announced that they were opening up AstraZeneca vaccines for people in the 40 plus category.

For those of you not in Canada, here is what’s happening; AstraZeneca (AZ) is considered to be the, how shall I say this, bottom of the barrel vaccine. It’s somewhat less effective than Moderna and Pfizer, the other two available vaccines (BUT STILL VERY EFFECTIVE) and there is a very small risk of blood clots. Older adults were refusing the AZ vaccines, which led to a huge glut, and so with cases spiralling out of control, vaccine eligibility was opened up to people 40 and over, whereas previously it was only for older adults, people in health care, and people with high-risk health issues.

My friend Cathryn (HI CATHRYN) tipped me off that a pharmacy near us was doing the vaccinations, so I booked an appointment for this coming Friday, and then the next day she texted me to say that her appointment was cancelled due to supply issues for pharmacies. You guys, there was a huge glut of vaccines, and then after opening up eligibility to the 40 plus group, there was an almost immediate shortage.

Gen X, I love us. We spent our unscheduled and unsupervised youth hanging out at the smoke doors or 7-11, with packs each of cigarettes and birth control pills in our bags. Of COURSE we are going to take the unwanted vaccine. Just shoot us in the arm, please, thanks. Good enough.

All through the last fifty-eight weeks I’ve felt like this whole pandemic is a weird sociological experiment, and the vaccine rollout has only strengthened that feeling.

Anyway, after Cathryn told me about the cancellation, I managed to snag an appointment at the massive Alberta Health clinic at the convention centre downtown, the very next day. The appointment was for 11:50 and I wasn’t supposed to be there more than five minutes prior to my appointment, but I had taken the train and, due to my nervousness about being late paired with my semi-unfamiliarity with the train, was there at 11:15.

Side note: the train, my god, the train. Public transit squicks me out at the best of times, but during a pandemic? Ugh. Going downtown was fine, but coming back there was a fellow passed out, maskless, lying down on one of the car benches, and another fellow, staring out the window and rocking, with his mask hanging onto his ear. Addiction is a terrible thing, and this pandemic certainly has not helped those suffering, but also, being inside a train with maskless individuals whom I am loathe to approach was nerve-wracking at best. Also, the station going home is in the most desolate part of the city; I felt like I was in a weird apocalyptic movie.

Anyway, I needn’t have worried about being early. The lineup was like one at Disney World, winding through plus-15s and various rooms throughout the convention centre, all very well organized and spaced out. All told, it was a 50 minute wait to get through the line into the actual clinic, and then another five minutes until I was processed. I didn’t mind. It’s been so long since I was around people, and I was just so grateful to have the chance to get my vaccine. There were hundreds of people there and almost all of them were on their phones, with the notable exception of one guy, who had brought a Rubix Cube, and so I spent my 55 minutes people-watching. There were so many cute outfits to look at, and also, there were “fun facts” posted on the wall every twenty feet or so, so I spent a lot of time thinking about them. Did you know that walnuts, cashews, almonds, and pistachios are NOT considered nuts? Technically, they are seeds. I know that peanuts are legumes, so what ARE nuts? I spent a lot of time thinking about this. Macadamia? Brazil nuts? What else is there? Also, a blue whale consumes half a million calories in one mouthful, and the French-language Scrabble champion of the world is from New Zealand and doesn’t speak French. He just memorized the French dictionary for the tournament in which he was crowned.

I love looking at other people’s clothes. So many of us matched our masks to our outfits – once we were in the clinic we were made to swap out our fancy masks for disposable medical ones though – and one lady really killed it with her long purple dress with a coordinating scarf AND mask made from the same material. Madam, I salute you. Some people were in pajama bottoms or sweatpants, some had gorgeous boots, and the woman in front of me had a gorgeous Prada bag. I spent so much time thinking about clothes, what constitutes a nut, and shuffling from floor marker to floor marker that before I knew it, I was being squirted with hand sanitizer and given a medical mask.

The nurse who administered my shot was named Lovejoy, which brought me even more happiness than I thought was possible. Lovejoy! She wished me a happy belated birthday, gave me my shot, and sent me to the waiting area. I felt so well for the rest of the day that I kind of wondered did I get a shot, was this all a dream, but then I woke up the next morning with a very sore arm. Well, like an idiot, I slept on that arm, which is silly but we cannot control our sleep selves. It was easily controlled with Tylenol, and I was fortunate to have no other side effects. As of right now, my arm is sore like a bruise when I apply pressure, but otherwise is just fine.

Outfit of the Week

This week’s outfit is the one I wore to the vaccination clinic. My mom gave me this old-school library stamp tee for my birthday; it was really too cold for a short sleeve, so I paired it with a black cardigan (naturally), jeans, and tall boots.

Prior to my shot I had a cute coordinating mask, but you’ll have to be satisfied with the medical one.

If you get a shot and don’t take a selfie featuring your bandaged upper arm, are you even vaccinated?

Pandemic Reading

Homegoing. Some people are just so talented. Yaa Gyasi is one of those people. I loved her Transcendent Kingdom, and Homegoing is her debut novel. This incredible book follows the lineage of two half-sisters, one who lives a life of luxury in the Cape Coast Castle in Ghana, and one who ends up in the dungeon of the castle, sold into slavery, headed for America. An absolutely epic, fantastic book.

The Knockout Queen. Back when the libraries were open, several weeks ago, I picked this up on a whim. Then, I put off reading it because so many of my holds came in, many of which I had been waiting a long time. When I finally picked it up, I was blown away. It is just so good. I immediately put all the author’s other books on my “to-read” list. I can’t tell you much about it without giving things away but it follows two best friends who have secrets. It’s SO well-written, and disturbing, and witty, and original.

And Every Morning The Way Home Gets Longer And Longer. Backman is very hit and miss for me, but this little novella about dementia is very sweet and sad.

Kindred. This was written in 1979 and would have been a very important book of the time, illustrating the monstrosities of slavery from the viewpoint of a modern Black woman. However, I can’t say I enjoyed it as I dislike time travel as a literary device. I just can’t suspend my disbelief in order to lose myself in the story, especially one of such seriousness and importance. If you like time travel, you’ll love this. It was fine, but a bit flat for me.

All in all, it was the most amazing birthday week; we are one small step closer to hugging our people. Sending you all love and virtual hugs. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Pro-Aging Skin-Care Edition

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It was my birthday this week! I love birthdays so much; mine, obviously, but also everyone else’s. I mean, it’s the day you came into the world, let us celebrate! And as I said in my last post, every day we are alive is a gift, every birthday we celebrate is a blessing, let’s have some cake.

My driver’s license was set to expire, and so off I went to renew it; there’s nothing quite like official government photos to make you aware of your chronic Bitchy Resting Face. This is my BRF in 2016:

And here’s me now:

After I turned 40, I really ramped up the skin-care regime; before then I was still breaking out occasionally – acne AND wrinkles, wow, thanks – but in my 40s those pimples finally (FINALLY) stopped (please god, I hope I didn’t just give myself bad skin juju, I HAVE DONE MY TIME), and so I focused all my skin-care on products aimed at reducing the physical signs of aging (I will NOT say anti-aging, I will NOT). Here’s 2016 me, the non-blurry-official government BRF photo:

And here’s me now:

I feel like the regime and products I have been using have definitely slowed the wrinkle roll; I’m not aging BACKWARDS, but I’m also not rapidly spiraling into life as one of those dried-apple dolls. Not yet, anyway. NOT THAT IT MATTERS, WE EARN OUR FACES, AGING IS A GIFT, but you know. I like my moisturizers.

On that note…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Pro-Aging Skin-Care Edition

You all know me, but in case you’re new here, a note: nothing is sponsored, I get nothing for free, Nicole’s Favourite Things features items and products that I love and use and paid for. Even though it SEEMS like Neutrogena sponsored this post, they didn’t. (Although, that would be nice).

Cleanse

I wash my face three times daily: once when I first wake up, post-workout-in-the-shower, and at night. I am always shocked when I hear people say things like “I didn’t remember to remove my makeup before bed” because what. How. Anyway, Dove bar soap with cold water when I wake up, Neutrogena Ultra Gentle Daily Cleanser in the shower (which, heads’ up, is more scented than you’d think an “Ultra Gentle” cleanser would be), and Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair at night. The latter is gently exfoliating and keeps my skin glowy, and it’s great for makeup removal.

Good Morning Part One

Since it’s generally 4:30 am when I wake up, after washing with Dove and cold water the most I can manage, pre-coffee, is a simple moisturizer: Neutrogena Rapid Tone Repair with SPF 30. This product is really incredible, especially for a woman like me who, as I mentioned before, had acne and wrinkles at the same time. Any leftover red spots or uneven skin tone from said acne is repaired with continuous use. I use SPF 30 at all times of the year because I generally get my daily walk in pre-shower, and you can get sun damage even in the winter, people.

As an aside, it is REALLY hard for me to write the word “acne” in that, I had it. It’s funny how that shame just stays with us, isn’t it? I could write a whole book on what acne does to a woman’s feelings of self-worth and esteem, but for now, I’ll just recommend this as an excellent product.

Good Morning Part Two

I alluded to these products in my last post: The Ordinary. Fantastic price point – less than $10 per bottle, and each bottle lasts MONTHS – and I think they’re effective. The argireline solution is for my forehead furrows (we earn our lines, we earn our lines) and the caffeine solution is for under the eyes to reduce puffiness and dark circles. Post-shower-and-gentle-foaming-cleanser, these two are the first things I apply.

Sun Protection, Yes, Even In Calgary

After using The Ordinary, I apply a BB Cream with SPF; I have been a fan of Smashbox for years, but they are DISCONTINUED, WHAT EVEN, and so as soon as I squeeze the last drop out of this tube, I am going to try this new product, from It called Your Skin But Better:

It was recommended to me by a friend, but also, I love the name.

When the sun is more intense – non-rainy-or-snowy days from May to August – I use an intense SPF sunscreen, plus Garnier BB Cream without SPF. I like Neutrogena (hi, sponsor me) because it’s light and non-greasy.

Good Night, Sleep Tight

Post-nighttime cleansing with Rapid Wrinkle Repair, I apply the Ordinary argireline solution to my forehead, smooth Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair Nighttime Lotion all over my face, and then use Rapid Wrinkle Repair Eye Cream underneath my eyes. After I’m sufficiently lubed up, I toddle off to bed to get my beauty sleep. I know, I know, for us perimenopausal women sometimes sleep is a literal dream, but someone told me once that just lying in bed is almost as restful as actual sleep, so I’m going with that.

Those are my current favourite skin products, do tell, what are yours? xo

Pro-Aging; Fifty-Seven Weeks In

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I really hate the term anti-aging. I know it’s just semantics, really, but I hate it. What a ridiculous concept, anti-aging. We are all aging every single moment; as they say in Les Mis, at the end of the day you’re another day older. The only way to stop aging is to die, and I do not want that, not for me, or for you. I mean, of course, it is inevitable, we are all going to die at some point – one day nearer to dying – but I hope that is a long, long time away for all of us. Therefore anti-aging equals pro-death, QED, and so I am going to use the term Pro-Aging. We should be embracing aging, celebrating it, even, as we go through our one wild and precious life.

Embracing and celebrating aging, however, doesn’t mean we cannot use all the products and methods in our power to minimize and soften the actual visual signs of aging, though. While I am Pro-Aging, I am also Pro-Aging-But-Still-Pro-Moisturizer-And-Keeping-The-Skin-Glowing-And-Supple-And-Maybe-With-Less-Eye-Bags-And-Just-Generally-Less-Haggard-Looking. That’s a lot to write, though, so I will stick with Pro-Aging, and you can just mentally add that coda.

As an aside, isn’t it something that when MEN visibly age, the tendency is to consider them even MORE handsome than when they were in the prime of their youth, whereas women are considered crones, and not in a positive Wisdom Years kind of way? Gray hair equals distinguished, wrinkles equals life well-lived, whereas for women, the goal is to keep looking the same no matter how many years are under our belts, no matter how well-lived our lives are. It is incredibly unfair, just like everything else in our goddamned patriarchal society, and yet, I am still going to go through my extensive skin-care regime twice daily. I WANT to Fuck The Patriarchy and I also want to maintain my skin’s elasticity, so.

All of this is to say that last October, my dear friend Denise (HI DENISE) told me about a product she had been using on her forehead and under her eyes, and I immediately went home and ordered some. There are two things you need to know about Denise, and the preeminent one is that she is a couple of years older than me, yet looks ten years younger. Her skin is amazing. The second thing is that she is a very practical woman: she would never, ever recommend a product that would be at a La Mer-type price point, or one that is available only in an obscure little shop across the city, or similar. When she recommends something, it is always at a reasonable price and available at the drugstore or mall, and this product that she recommended – called The Ordinary – is exactly that. Each product is less than ten dollars a bottle, and I bought mine online at Sephora. I purchased a caffeine solution for day, and an intense one “for dynamic lines” for my forehead, day and night. I have been using them religiously, since late October.

Since, in the words of the late, great Nora Ephron, everything is copy, I took a photo of myself in October, pre-The Ordinary. I thought it would make a great blog post and I envisioned my skin like Denise’s, smooth, supple, and, if not totally line-free, then line-free-adjacent.

Here’s me in October:

And here’s me now, after nearly six months after twice-daily use.

I know what you’re thinking. How do I tell her I can’t see a difference. How do I tell her she’s been buying snake oil. I know. I know.

At first I was disappointed, and then I thought about it. No change in my skin in six months of product usage, six months of a global pandemic, parenting teens, having a husband work a high-stress job from home, and dealing with an elderly dog with cancer; within that time frame a locked-down Christmas, one kid going into quarantine, and our country going from a second to a third wave of Covid cases. Did I mention the schools closed again this week and the kids are home learning, AGAIN? No? I didn’t? Well, the schools closed this week and the kids are home learning.

No change is actually a WIN. It’s not like I have a control factor, that is keeping me from getting older every single day; no change is actually an improvement. Nothing short of surgery is going to have some kind of Benjamin Button effect, here. After the last six months, by all rights I should look like the Crypt Keeper, or, at the very least, much more haggard.

I am turning 46 this week, and I look 46, and that’s how it should be. I am going to celebrate my second pandemic birthday, and I am going to embrace every one of my wrinkles, and every part of me, because it is a goddamn gift to be alive, it is a gift to age, and I hope to see many, many more birthdays and signs of aging.

Outfit of the Week

This week is remarkable in that, for the first time since September, I wore a SHORT SLEEVED TOP. Not just once, but FOUR TIMES this week! Don’t get me wrong, yesterday it snowed and today’s high is going to be JUST above freezing, and we are going to get MORE snow this week, but let’s celebrate the little wins. It was nice last week! I raked the lawn and tidied a couple of garden beds! And I wore this to teach my Friday zoom class:

Short sleeved tee! Yoga pants that are really light, with no legwarmers! NO SOCKS.

Pandemic Reading

Wow, No Thank You. Fans of Samantha Irby’s bitches gotta eat will really enjoy this book of essays. She has a talent for writing about pretty serious topics in a hilarious way. My favourite essay was called “Hung Up” where she talks about the ability to block and mute people on the internet, because you can’t do that in real life.

Several years ago, a woman on my Facebook said in her own status “Enough with the kid pictures, I am not interested in them! No one wants to see what you eat, either.” I tilted my head to the side for a good couple of minutes before thinking, wow, we are different people. Because I am HERE for the kid pics, and pet pics, and I genuinely am interested in what you had at your last meal. I love your outfit of the day and what you saw on your walk and what you’re reading (of course!) No need to humblebrag, full-on brag about your new job, or your kid getting into an elite post-secondary program, or the really cool cake you decorated or sweater you knitted. I AM HERE FOR THAT CONTENT and I am 100% happy for you. Got a new exercise program, or piece of furniture, or bouquet of flowers? I’m interested! Bring it! I have LOW interest in your hot takes about vaccines, or the government, or any kind of weird rant about conspiracies. Luckily, there’s mute! If only life could be as curated as our IG feeds! All of which is to say I liked this book, but especially that essay.

13 Ways of Looking at a Fat Girl. You know when someone recommends a book, and you get it from the library, and the cover seems familiar, and then you start reading and realize you’ve already read it? After checking my spreadsheet I see I read this in 2019. Oh well, worth a reread, although much of it is deflating and made me feel despondent. I don’t think there’s a woman alive who wouldn’t see herself in at least one of the characters. The book itself covers so much ground with regards to society, how we view ourselves, how we treat ourselves, how others view and treat us depending on our physical appearance, and the overwhelming brain power given over to food and thinking about our bodies. You could write 100 dissertations on this book and still have topics to cover.

Fame. Justine Bateman’s treatise on fame and our society is pretty interesting. The writing style is very conversational, so a quick read but one that gives lots to think about in our reality show world.

Wishing you all a beautiful week and stay tuned for my pro-aging Favourite Things coming soon! xo

Two Steps Back; Fifty-Six Weeks In

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My older son gets terrible hay fever – May is the worst month for him – and although I’m hopeful that his outdoor-mask-wearing habit will help, I am fully stocked up on the allergy medications that, over the years, we have found to work for him: daily doses of Reactine, plus the Walmart store brand allergy sinus pills when needed.

Until last week, I had set foot in Walmart exactly once during the pandemic, and that was back in August to purchase school supplies. I did manage to get the last bottle of the pills in question:

My husband asked me to pick him up a bottle of nighttime Advil while I was there and, well.

So we are in the “third wave” of the pandemic, and it’s hard not to feel despairing about it. We were doing so well! And now we aren’t. We are back into mini-lockdown mode, and for those of us who have been stringently Following The Rules throughout, and then some, it is Very Frustrating.

I have created my own Coping Mechanisms, apart from the all-important one of severely limiting my time on my phone, looking at news and social media; I can tell when I’ve been scrolling too much, I get fidgety and anxious and snappy and have difficulty focusing on anything. Other than putting my phone away, I have found that for my mental health, I have been doing a lot of the following: reading, playing piano, and exercise. I already tell you what I read every week, there’s not much to say about playing piano except that I like it, and so today I am going to talk about exercise.

I realize that the subject, at the best of times, can be fraught; if you are a person for whom this is true, or if you just think the subject is unbearably dull, skip ahead to this week’s outfit – new bum warmer! – or to the reading list, as there are a couple of good titles this week.

I think the key to maintaining a regular exercise program is threefold: choose things you actually enjoy, a time of day that works, and then make it a habit. I find that once I establish a habit it feels wrong to miss, and also according to my watch I am on a 371-day streak, so I can’t break it now. I am, and always have been, a Very Early Morning Person, and so I finish my yoga practice and cardio workouts before 8:00 am every day, later on weekends.

We are all so different, and that is wonderful! I have friends who love to swim, and to do bootcamp or HIIT workouts, and play racquet sports, and practice barre and Pilates, none of which are things I personally want to do. Sure, barre and Pilates intrigue me in a I should really try them kind of way, but let’s face it: my Peloton app has those classes, some are as little as ten minutes long, and I have never once tried one, which is an answer in itself. My daily movement involves yoga, cardio, and walking.

Yoga

I have been practicing yoga since 2007, and it is really more of a mental health boost than a physical one. Don’t get me wrong; yoga is great for strengthening and stretching those muscles and keeping the joints healthy, but the mental benefits cannot be discounted. My daily practice has changed a lot over the years; it’s Ashtanga-based but gentler, it’s slow and stretchy and meditative. On weekends my practice is more yin-based, and a few times a week I sit in meditation for as long as I can, time permitting. With the pandemic, I now have coffee and read a poem or two before I start. I also have been reading a fabulous book that I recommend to everyone called Wake Up To The Joy In You. It is a book of weekly meditations, and when my mind wanders during my yoga practice I bring it back to my breathing and the focus of the meditation for the week.

Welcome to my studio!

Early morning yoga has been my “me-time” since the kids were very small, and it’s still my favourite time, even now. I love practicing in my dark, quiet house before anyone even thinks of waking up. Although, with teens, and me in perimenopause, it seems like it’s only a matter of time before they are going to bed when I’m getting up.

Cardio

Where yoga is more for mental health, cardio is definitely more physical; I think it’s so important for heart and lung health. Hopefully I won’t end up like Jim Fix. I LOVE a good sweaty cardio workout – I love that Dripping With Sweat feeling, and also that My Lungs May Explode feeling – and I am fortunate to have a home gym at my disposal.

I feel pretty!

I do cardio six days a week, varying in length and activity to keep things interesting. Now that it’s not a skating rink outside, I am running as well as spinning on my Peloton or using my elliptical trainer. The variety in activity keeps me engaged, and I have some excellent motivational playlists that I use for running or elliptical training – I am a person who is very motivated by music. I find nothing pushes me up a hill like a good blast of Eye of the Tiger or Crazy Train. I am also a person who gets a “runner’s high” after any kind of heart-pumping cardio; you should probably send thoughts and prayers to my family who are subjected to my rapid-fire chatter after cardio at 7:30 in the morning.

Walking

A few years ago, when I injured my hip, one of my seniors said to me “RUNNING? Why would you RUN? What’s wrong with walking quickly? You get to the same place, it just takes a little longer.” I love running but he is absolutely correct. Walking is, in my opinion, a very underrated exercise. Where yoga is more for my mental health and cardio for physical, I think walking is the perfect mix of both. I love being outside, even when the weather is terrible, which, let’s face it, it’s Calgary, the weather is terrible most of the time. Most of my walks are Shmoopy Walks, with my husband, but when he’s not available I put on my headphones and groove to the Hamilton soundtrack, or walk with a friend. The occasional physically distanced walk is my only social life these days, so I treasure them. Plus, there are always lovely places to go, regardless of the season.

Until the pandemic, my walks consisted of short Barkley walks, and so one thing I am grateful for this past year is rediscovering of my love of walking, and not the kind of walking where I stop every twenty feet for Barkley to sniff a shrub for two minutes, and where I have to be on High Alert so he doesn’t eat discarded tissues on the ground.

On that note, what is with all the discarded tissues? My friend Sue in Fredericton (HI SUE) has been picking up discarded disposable masks on her daily walks – more than 600 in a single week – and while I see the occasional mask, it’s not to that extent. However, I see DISCARDED TISSUES everywhere, and I have to be fully alert or Barkley will snap them up and eat them. I will do pretty much anything for my dog but I will not remove someone else’s used tissue from his mouth, be better, people.

Anyway. All of this is to say is that I have rediscovered my love of walking, sans Barkley. (He gets walked too, don’t worry, it’s just not something I include as exercise, due to the slow-boat-to-nowhere pace.)

Outfit of the Week

Speaking of terrible weather! Spring in Calgary is so weird and variable; one day might (MIGHT) be quite pleasant, and the next day snow and gusting wind. I have not been buying clothes this year; it’s not a rule or anything, just a resolution to appreciate my wardrobe, and also, it’s not like I have a bustling life outside of my home. However, I made an exception to buy just one more bum warmer from My Cozy Buns, the local woman who repurposes thrifted sweaters. Look how cute!

It goes with almost everything in my wardrobe! Black! Grey! White! I’ve paired it with yoga tank and leggings – naturally – plus a long sleeve tee. I later put on a sweater because, Calgary In Spring, and I need layers.

Pandemic Reading

What an incredible writer, what a compelling read. This is one of my favourite types of books: related short stories. All these stories are conversations, between women, in different times and places. It was a thought-provoking, unsettling, at times very disturbing read. I liked it but you might not. Themes of rape, power, being a woman are throughout.

In the past few years I’ve become interested in the role of trauma and how it affects our physical bodies. My friend Monique (HI MONIQUE) recommended this to me, about racialized trauma. It is a book intended for healing trauma, using somatics and mindfulness, not just in people with black bodies, but those with white ones and people in law enforcement. It is written with great compassion and wisdom. As a white bodied woman, at times this was a very difficult and uncomfortable read, which makes it all the more important. It promotes healing and understanding for the one and only race – the human race. A vitally important book for all of us.

If you don’t live with wrestling fans, or you are not one yourself, you may not know that this weekend was The Event of the Year, Wrestle Mania. (Me: I thought the Royal Rumble was the Event of the Year. Boys: No, Mom, that is the SECOND biggest Event of the Year. This is the biggest.) This weekend has been looked forward to with great anticipation for MONTHS.

(Thanks to Marion (HI MARION) for sending this, I really feel it.)

What I’m trying to say is that if you have a house full of very loud chaos – not to MENTION the Masters’ and all the golf updates – then this is a good book for you. It’s fine. It’s a time travel book that has some fun pop culture tidbits from the 80s to today. It’s a book you don’t want to overthink and it isn’t challenging in any way, so good to read while people are yelling “USO! USO! USO!” or “HE’S GOING TO USE THE SWING!” or “Look, Mom, it’s Edge!” You don’t need to concentrate, it’s not a bad book, it’s a light weekend read, and also, the one guy I kind of like in the WWE lost.

Life in the Boyhouse, am I right? Also, this is the reason I am rarely sad when celebrities die; I often think they are already dead. Like Hulk Hogan!

Have a beautiful week, my friends, and it is only 363 days until the NEXT Wrestle Mania, Jesus take the wheel. xo

Magic; Fifty-Five Weeks In

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I have discovered an enormous upside to the physical aging process, other than the “not dying” part of the aging process. Not dying is a pretty big upside, but this new discovery is also huge.

First, some background. Every morning, because I am vain and also a bit masochistic, I examine my face in my Daylight 10x Magnification mirror, tweezers in hand. I pluck my eyebrows and also stray hairs from other parts of my face, notably the chin and upper lip. Hormones, am I right, ladies? If you know, you know. I feel like this daily ritual keeps me from becoming the Bearded Lady, not that there is anything wrong with that, but it’s not generally the look I am striving for. In addition to random stray hairs, I am also on the lookout for something I affectionately call my Magic Chin Hair.

The Magic Chin Hair is a tenacious, wiry black hair that appears intermittently on the underside of my chin, and it is magic because of its ability to grow a centimetre in a 24-hour period. One day I will peer under my chin and there will be nothing, and the next day, the literal next day, there it will be, waving at me in all its glory. If I put a time-lapse camera under my chin, I could maybe watch it bloom like one of those videos showing a rose going from bud to full blossom. Is it silly to ascribe an actual personality to a chin hair? Because for a long while I thought it was just an extrovert, as it always seemed to make its appearance when I had a social event, back when I had social events and didn’t have a mask on every time I was around other people. Fancy Christmas party? Dinner with friends? Social event with my husband’s colleagues? It was inevitable, the Magic Chin Hair would show up, excited to get its mack on, and I, the cruel mistress I am, would unceremoniously pluck it.

I hadn’t seen Magic Chin Hair for a long time, and you may think it’s crazy, but I wondered if it was pandemic-related. No need to get up when there’s no getting down, if you know what I’m saying. But then I was looking closely at my face, as I do, and I noticed something: Magic Chin Hair was there, but is now white.

Is this a thing that is going to happen to ALL my stray facial hairs? Are they all going to turn white? This is LIFE-CHANGING. White chin hairs are far superior to black chin hairs, and I will die on this hill. Don’t get me wrong, I still plucked Magic Chin Hair, white or not I didn’t really want a long hair protruding from my face. It feels like that could be a very slippery slope on the way to looking like Santa or Kenny Rogers.

Sometimes a person I haven’t seen in 25-30 years will post a photo of their child, and that child will look exactly like the person in question, when I last saw them. It’s both heartwarming and unsettling, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I do love social media for that kind of connection; for me it’s all about the updates and photos of kids and pets and food and – when it was appropriate – vacations.

It’s because of social media that I made kind of an error the other day. I was outside the library with Barkley, dropping books into the chute, and a man smiled at me, a man who looked very familiar. It occurred to me that he looked just like the Facebook photos of a man I went to high school with. “Hi!” I said, “Scott, right?” He shook his head and said his name was Dave. “Oh, sorry, you look just like a guy I went to high school with,” I said, and JUST as the words were coming out of my mouth I realized that he was a good many years my junior, and could justifiably be offended by the implication that he and I were teenagers together, when in reality I am probably closer to his mom’s age than to his.

That wasn’t the only awkward interaction I had at the library. The library is about a kilometre from my house, so the 2k loop is a perfect length of walk for Barkley. I generally have a book to pick up or drop off a few times a week, and so we take that route, and I fasten his leash to the bench outside the door while I dash in to pick up a hold. This is a process that takes about ninety seconds, maybe 180 if I stop to pile a few extra books from the “New and Notable” display in my arms. A few weeks ago I was doing just that and as I was leaving, I heard a woman speaking to the librarian at the door, whose job it is to count the patrons coming in and out and ensuring that everyone is sanitizing their hands upon entry and is appropriately masked. The woman in question was talking about a dog, and I heard her say “I sure hope the owner is in here!”

Uh oh. Was this about leaving my dog unattended for less than two minutes? Did Barkley somehow morph into an aggressive barking dog, rather than the sweet, waggy guy he is? I smiled at the lady nervously and said that I thought that was my dog she was talking about, and was he bothering her? “Oh no!” the woman said. “I just…you know how dogs sometimes look like their owners? I was going to look for someone with really long bangs and wild shaggy hair! I would have never guessed it was YOU.”

For the record, my hair that day was in a bun, like it often is. Also for the record, Barkley has since had his spring haircut and I think he lost about ten percent of his body weight.

See? Magic.

Outfit of the Week

Recording the outfit of the week makes me consciously appreciate the clothes that I already own, as I shop my closet. I truly believe we should all feel good in our clothes, and I do love my wardrobe. As well as my chin hair, I anthropomorphize my clothing, thinking that each piece gets excited to be chosen for the day. Putting together a cute outfit gives me a lift every single day, even when I have nowhere to go and nothing to do, I still like feeling cute and put-together.

This week’s outfit features a sweater that I love but don’t wear often as it is very impractical. For one thing: cream. You can be guaranteed that something will be spilled on this by the end of the day. For another thing: those sleeves. I love the way they look but unless I fold them over and roll them up, like we used to do to our jeans back in the eighties, they fall into the dish water or drift dangerously close to the oven element when cooking. It’s so cute though. I know for a fact that the long-sleeve tee was purchased in 2010, and my old jeans and boots complete this outfit.

Pandemic Reading

This book of essays was so original and charming! I didn’t realize until I read the author bio that she is an actress/ comedian/ the lamb in Zootopia. One of the essays has to do with planning a garden, and how she wanted that garden to reflect what is inside her, and also she wanted flowers that her dog would sniff and the flowers were sticky and ended up on her dog’s face, and it was just absolutely sweet and charming, and I felt it in my soul. I loved the way she speaks about herself – “I washed my dear little face” – and I vow to speak that way about myself. Thanks to Swistle for the recommendation (HI SWISTLE).


What an incredible, troubling, hopeful book with so many layers and nuanced characters. This deals with a Barbadian woman, and the generations of women before her, who are living with systemic abuse. If you have ever had the luxury of lying on a tropical beach, and have wondered about the lives of the people who are working to make a living from you lying on a tropical beach, well. This is a debut novel and I look forward to seeing more from this author.

A woman’s marriage is in shambles, they’re too broke to get a divorce, her son is a teen who doesn’t need or want to be around her…so she starts wearing her dog in a baby sling. Seems like a funny concept but was kind of grim and depressing. There were funny parts but mostly it fell quite flat for me.

I hope you all had a lovely long weekend; however you celebrate, I hope there were lovely treats involved! I personally am now about 10% Mini-Eggs. xo

This Is Not An April Fool, I Really Am Cross As Two Sticks

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I have been Quite Cross this week; not Constantly Cross, but Intermittently So. Some of my You’re On My Last Nerve feeling could probably be attributed to hormones and upcoming ladies’ holidays, the looming “third-wave” of Covid cases, the super-slow vaccine rollout that is seeing people get their second shot FOUR MONTHS after their first, and the fact that it was spring break and the most excitement I had to look forward to was cracking open the extra-large bag of Mini-Eggs, but much of it was just General Ridiculousness and Can People Even Do Their Jobs.

On Monday morning I got a call from the orthodontist’s office; I assumed before picking up that it was simply a reminder call for our appointment for my son to pick up his retainer, for which the orthodontist took impressions of his teeth the week previous. Instead of an automated message, it was an actual person, who began explaining to me in great detail that the orthodontist took impressions of my son’s teeth in order to make the retainer that we were to pick up. Yes, yes, do go on. After a few minutes of this, the woman relayed the real reason for the call: the lab had somehow broken the impression and instead of picking up the retainer, my son would have to get impressions all over again. Then, we could pick the retainer up the day after that.

Accidents occur and these things happen, but honestly, can anything be easy and straightforward with this son’s orthodontia? Can it? The answer, of course, is no. From the initial criminal orthodontist to the one that put on brackets that had to be replaced, to finding a new orthodontist, who only happens to work in Calgary every other week, to my son actually breaking brackets, to a global pandemic that slowed his treatment by at least six months, to a twisted tooth from the bracket being on the wrong tooth that was attached to his elastics, to a process that took a solid eight months longer than anticipated. I mean, of course the lab broke his impressions. Of course we have to go to the orthodontic office three times in the space of one week, of course I am running out of ink in my printer printing off Covid consent forms because there is no online option. WHY is there no online option? Why am I printing things out like it’s 2010?

Anyway, we have the retainer, and I celebrated to myself prematurely about being free from the orthodontist office, as my son informed me that we needed another appointment in a month and then one every two months after that. “Every two months…for how long?” I asked, picturing me sitting in the parking lot until he’s an actual adult. He didn’t know. No one knows. Forever, I guess.

My second grumble was with the veterinary office. Barkley has a recurring medication that I refill about once every two months, and the vet has a really great system wherein I call and leave a message, asking for a text when it’s ready. I always get a text within a day or two, and then I wait in the parking lot for them to bring it out to my car (pre-Covid I would just pop in and pick it up). Anyway, eight days had passed since I called and I hadn’t heard a word, so I called the office to speak to someone directly, and after being put on hold, hung up on, and calling back, I finally spoke with a woman who told me that the medication had been sitting there FOR EIGHT DAYS. She told me a text had been sent, I said I hadn’t received it, and in my mind, a Deadlock Had Been Reached. I didn’t really care what happened, I was just going to come and pick up the medication, and I said as much to the woman in a pleasant voice. “No!” she said. “We NEED to find out what happened so it doesn’t happen again! Maybe we can call you!” I said, it’s fine, a text is fine, this has never happened before, it’s a glitch. Then, the woman suggested that the fault was MINE, that I must have deleted the text, because the text had been sent, therefore it must have been delivered to me.

Hold up there, lady. I am not a time-traveller from another era, unfamiliar with this little glowing machine in my hand that pings every once in a while to let me know that there is communication that went from another person to space and back. I don’t even receive that many texts, let alone texts that I would just randomly delete. Also, I could see the text chain from the vet office, with the last text being from January, exactly two months before. The text has not been deleted, I cannot say what happened but it is NOT THAT.

The final Source of My Crossness has to do with a company that has efficiently and reliably delivered floral arrangements and gift baskets for me on many, many occasions over the past decade, including – and this is important – to my parents. I have been always happy with this company, up until a couple of weeks ago, when I ordered flowers for the occasion of my parents’ wedding anniversary. I waited to hear from my mother, and waited, and waited. Finally I asked if she had received anything – no – and then checked my confirmation emails over and over to see if I had erred on the date or address. It would be unbelievably out of character for this to happen, but you never know. I had not erred.

Finally, my mother texted me to say that my parents had gone out to pick up the flowers from the Purolator depot, and thank you, they were lovely. Wait, what? My PARENTS, who are senior citizens, had to go out IN A GLOBAL PANDEMIC to pick up their own flowers for which I had PAID A DELIVERY FEE OF FIFTEEN DOLLARS, to be delivered TO THEIR HOME. Let me tell you, I was pretty unhappy with this turn of events. I sent a strongly-worded email to the company TWO WEEKS AGO, and not a word have I had in response.

What if my parents were infirm? What if they had no access to a car? What if they had Covid or any other illness for which people often send flowers? What did I pay a delivery fee for if the flowers were not to be delivered? I am LIVID about this, not just about their shoddy customer service and radio silence, but also, now I have to find a new floral/ gift basket delivery company. SUGGESTIONS WELCOME.

Other, smaller grievances include our customary Spring Gusting Winds, which have been blowing all the needles off of my neighbour’s evergreen tree into our yard, which means that our mudroom is constantly covered with dead evergreen needles which seem to get everywhere: into my boots – discovered only when walking and one dislodges and stabs me in the toe – on Barkley’s fur, and into everyone’s feet any time we walk downstairs, for a painful reminder of Spring. Also, for mysterious reasons, frozen petit peas have been completely unavailable at Superstore, which everyone knows are far superior to those tough, bigger peas and there are rumblings again of a toilet paper shortage – although, apparently in Canada we have our OWN toilet paper manufacturers. We are, apparently, Toilet Paper Self-Sufficient, even if we don’t have enough vaccines, so I guess that’s something. At least we will not have to resort to wet washcloths, which is a plus.

My final grievance is that I painstakingly chopped up Mini-Eggs to stir into homemade vanilla ice cream as a Special Holiday Treat, and after I complained about how chopping Mini-Eggs is a bitch of a job, someone mentioned that I could have used a food processor. WHY WAS I NOT SMART ENOUGH TO THINK OF THAT? Oh, and also, I had a coupon for $6 off a $60 purchase at Co-Op, and when I got to the till I was at $57, and I panicked and bought caramel eggs that were 2 for $3, and later saw that same exact item at Superstore for $0.88, and this has bothered me ENORMOUSLY. Like, that extra $1.24 I spent to get $6 off feels disproportionately wasteful.

Well. That’s enough grievances to last a while. My Sith name today is, apparently, General Grievance. Time to move on with life, and maybe grab a handful of the leftover Mini-Eggs. xo