Monthly Archives: January 2024

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fancy Was My Name Edition

Posted on by

A few weeks ago, we were having dinner and Fancy came on, via the Nicole’s Karaoke playlist, which sparked a discussion with regards to the mother-daughter relationship between Fancy and her mother. Well, she basically prostituted her daughter, I said, to which my son answered, What do you expect? She named her daughter Fancy. Obviously she didn’t think she’d grow up to be a lawyer.

One of my Favourite Things in the world is having Responsible Adult Children. Recently Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked what has, so far, been the best age when it comes to children, and I have thought about this a lot. I think I suffer from recency bias because if you asked me at any time in my children’s lives what the best age is, I would say, with great enthusiasm, this one! I loved babies and toddlers, I loved preschool and elementary school, and I loved – and am still loving – the teen years; yes, even the awkward junior high years. I’ve loved all the ages and stages and I think I just enjoy my children more and more as the years go on, as I see them grow and change and become more and more the people they have always been, but more awesome.

So there is probably some recency bias here, but wow, do I love my kids being Responsible Adults. My husband and I went away to Secrets Maroma in Mexico for a week; we have, over the years, gone away together several times, but never for very long, because when the kids were younger there were just so many logistics to account for, plus the typical motherly guilt about leaving the children behind. But now we have very few constraints and my younger son wasn’t working last week, so we left him to be in charge of the house and also Rex, which is no small task, given that he has Very High Needs when it comes to exercise and general affection. He drove us to the airport at 5:00 am, and picked us up in the middle of the night (read: 9:00 pm); I came home to a perfectly clean house – albeit one with an empty refrigerator, because he cooked all his own meals for the week – a happy dog, and no laundry to do except for the myriad bikinis and sundresses crammed into my carryon.

It was a really incredible week, and a perfectly indulgent one. We met up with friends, relaxed, ate and drank and soaked up the sun and played in the Caribbean. I have zero complaints; no notes. I do have many Favourite Things, though, so without further ado:

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fancy Was My Name Edition

Life In Front Of The Curtain

The incredible vacation started out on the flight. We had splurged on premium seats and friends, I do not think I can ever go back to economy. I can’t! I won’t! Well, I will – we have a few upcoming flights that are not premium – but as god is my witness, I will never go economy again if I can help it. Flying in general feels like a tedious exercise in maximum discomfort, but flying premium? Oh la la. I felt a Mad Men-level of glamour, like it was the 1960s and everyone was dressed up for a fabulous flying experience. I mean, they served us actual meals on actual crockery and drinks in actual glasses; we got snack packs and offers of booze, refreshing hot towels, and the exclusive use of the premium bathroom. On a practical note, my circulation and varicose vein issues are pretty bad, even with my full-length, medical grade, “nude” compression stockings, and with the roomy seats and legroom I was able to stretch out quite a bit. Also, our flight was ninety minutes delayed on the tarmac before takeoff, and I think I might have died, or at the very least, been incredibly annoyed at having to sit in a cramped economy seat for an extra hour and a half on top of the over six hours of flying. As it was, I just chilled out and read, sipping from my complimentary water bottle. Ten out of ten, would recommend.

Here’s Your One Chance, Fancy, Don’t Let Me Down

We have been to many of the Secrets/ Dreams resorts in the past, and they are all really great. This one, however, was beyond everything I could have imagined. Every single detail was pure luxury. The rooms were beautiful, the pool areas were stunning, the service was incredible in every way; I have often thought that all-inclusive resorts are a bit like a fancy summer camp for adults, because it’s so easy to meet people and there are fun activities people can partake in, pretty much every hour of the day. My preferred activities were reading by the pool, cooling off in the pool, and swimming in the gorgeous turquoise Caribbean Sea. I did, however, partake in Spanish lessons one morning.

Hablo Espanol

I have been learning Spanish via Duolingo for a while; 702 days, to be exact. My son got me started on it – he’s learning Japanese – and every week we go on our Friends Quest together to maintain our positions in the Diamond League. Anyway, I felt like I had learned a lot, but I don’t have any friends to speak Spanish with, face to face, with the exception of my husband’s colleague’s wife, who very patiently, and with great encouragement, spoke with me at his retirement party in September.

Therefore, I was a little nervous to attempt to converse with actual people; practicing on an app is one thing, actually speaking is another. I was worried that I would use the wrong word or phrasing, I worried I’d use the wrong verb conjugation. Then, just before we left I had a pedicure, and the esthetician, who spoke little English, had a brief conversation with me about the weather; at that moment I realized that I would never judge someone learning English for using the wrong grammar or conjugating a verb incorrectly, so it stood to reason that the same would go for me, speaking Spanish.

I was right! Also, I was amazed at how well I could carry a conversation; I could understand everything being said to me, and even when it took me a moment to formulate a response, I could still formulate the response. Now, I probably have the conversational ability of a preschooler (I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK SPANISH WITH YOU PLEASE) but it was so great to be able to practice. My Spanish lesson at the resort was fun and also enlightening; the teacher informed me that, in Mexico, one should never say estoy caliente, because that doesn’t mean I’m hot, it means I’m horny. This, I felt, was excellent information to have.

The Sharks Like It

After discovering that this invention was the highest valuation on Shark Tank, my husband bought us LARQ water bottles. The cap contains a special UV light that kills bacteria and there are two modes: regular, and “adventure.” I wanted to use fewer plastic water bottles, which are ubiquitous at these resorts, and so I was excited to give this a go. Now, there are two things to note: a) the concierges warned against drinking the tap water in the rooms, and b) there must be a big filtration system somewhere on the resort because there are a lot of fruits and vegetables, not to mention ice in drinks and jugs of water in restaurants. I did not know about a) until I had filled this bottle from the tap, and drank from it, at least four times. I didn’t get sick so I guess it works.

While I was by the pool, I asked one of the bartenders if I could have water to fill my bottle, thinking that he would just fill it from a tap behind the bar, but instead he just opened up a couple of plastic bottles and poured them in. That was a little discouraging, but then I discovered a bottle filler NEAR the bar. I’m sure it was filtered just fine, but still I used my little UV light, feeling like a well-hydrated rock star.

I got some kind of mystery marks on the bottle, which I THINK came from a travel-size black plastic tissue pack that melted in the heat, but happily, after an application of baking soda paste with a Scrub Daddy, they have since disappeared.

Here Comes The Sun(screen)

Just like (hopefully?) I will never go back to economy seats, I will (absolutely!) never go back to checking luggage. Generally it’s not too difficult for me to pack carryon only, but the one thing that is tricky is ensuring I have enough sunscreen. On our trip to Maui last year, I just purchased a lot of sunscreen on the island, but I didn’t want to do that here because omg, do you know what a bottle of sunscreen costs in a Secrets resort? FIFTY-EIGHT US DOLLARS. With the exchange rate and tax, we are looking at almost a hundred dollars for a measly bottle of Banana Boat.

But sunscreen we must have, and there are only so many travel-size bottles one can squeeze into the regulation one-litre bags, especially when one needs to take hair products, makeup, and night cream. It was serendipitous that I came across these solid Neutrogena stick sunscreens, which do not count as liquid, obviously, because they are solid. Bonus for the fishies in the sea, it’s mineral.

Some of you may remember my lament last year about mineral sunscreen and the white cast it leaves on the skin, and this one, despite being “Ultra Sheer,” is no exception. However, it works really, really well, as evidenced by the little spots of sunburn on my knees and breasts where I obviously missed with my application.

Welcome To Margaritaville, Population: Me

My husband’s birthday is in October; we went out for dinner to celebrate. Since that day, I have made dinner every single night. Every. Single. Night. So what I’m saying is that I was very excited to partake in unlimited food items that I had absolutely no hand in preparing. The food at the resort was so incredible, so vast in variety and so well-prepared and fresh, and, in comparison with other resorts, the plant-based offerings were Off The Chart. I couldn’t even begin to believe my luck. I’m used to very limited options, and so I was amazed at all the delicious vegetarian and vegan food available. At breakfast there was CHIA PUDDING. And little waffles made with almond milk. And incredible fresh fruit. And made-to-order smoothies. Lunches had me plowing through vast amounts of lentil and chickpea salads, and chips and guacamole; so much guacamole, friends. There were fresh berries and caramelized pumpkin seeds, there was every dessert you could imagine, and every dinner was more delicious than the last.

Of course there were also mango margaritas by the pool!

Probably it’s good to only have gone a week, my liver may have exploded in protest if we stayed longer. But oh! So delicious.

Outfit of the Month

I know, I know, I KNOW that we are all trying to avoid fast fashion. I really am. But also? I am not made of stone, and I found this dress at Old Navy last summer for ten dollars. That is TEN CANADIAN DOLLARS, which is essentially free for my American friends. What price my morals? I know. Anyway, I keep all my clothing for many years, to the chagrin of my husband, and so I’ll probably have this cute dress for decades. The sandals are old Skechers, but I think I need to retire them. I think these sandals are a half size too small. A few times after a big dinner and lots of wine, I had to walk barefoot back to the room as my swollen feet exploded out of their strappy cages in the heat and humidity. Probably that is not an ideal thing to do, but I’m still here, with intact feet, so I guess it worked out fine. I’m in the market for dressy new sandals, is what I’m saying.

This week of rest and relaxation was exactly what I needed after such a hectic and stressful year. I feel so rested and ready to take on anything. Up first: figuring out how to make my own caramelized pumpkin seeds, and finding new sandals. xo

Five For Friday: The Five W’s Of Rest Edition

Posted on by

When (Is It Beddy-Bye Time). Years ago I came across a rather treacle-y poem called The Last Time, which talked about the many “lasts” in parenting, the upshot of which is enjoy it all because one day they won’t hold your hand to cross the street, you won’t read them bedtime stories, they won’t climb into your bed at night. Etcetera. I will admit that at some point in my life I would have been very emotionally moved but now it just fills me with puzzlement. When WAS the last time any of those things happened? Things I thought I’d never forget are completely lost to the annals of time. I cannot remember when I stopped tucking the children in to bed for the night, for example. I cannot remember what ages they were when I would have supervised bedtime and told them it was Lights Out. Were they 12 and 13? 11 and 12? Who can say. All I know is that it has been many years since I was responsible for anyone’s bedtime except my own, and my own bedtime happens much, much earlier than the rest of my family, including my husband. We never go to bed at the same time; I typically am in bed well before 9:00 pm and am fast asleep by the time he retires for the night. This is not a commentary about the state of our marriage, don’t worry! I am more of an Afternoon Delight kind of gal, rather than a Pina Colada one. Making love at midnight, are you crazy? Unless I decide to start a cocaine habit, that is OUT.

Where the magic happens.

Why (Am I Obsessed With Bedtime). Even without cocaine, I am a pretty high energy person, somewhat like a Jack Russell terrier, and I believe strongly in the yin/ yang connection – if a person has too much yang in their life, their bodies will force them to get yin, typically via a illness. Believe me, I have been there. Our go-go-go society pretends to value productivity at all costs, but in my mind true productivity can only come from a rested body and mind. REM Y REM is my motto – Rest, Exercise, Meditation, Yoga, and REM sleep. I really make a point to prioritize sleep; if I have a bad night of sleep, I have no compunction whatsoever about taking a sleep aid the next night to get reset. I feel no shame in that game; needs must, sometimes, as my grandma would say. I have always been an early riser; I wake up naturally between 4 and 4:30, and because of this I work my bedtime backwards from there. I typically get an average of 7 1/2 hours of sleep a night during the week, according to my watch, and I get a little more than that on weekends; I can usually coax myself back to sleep for an hour or two. It’s not often that I get less than 7 hours of sleep, but when I do I can really tell in my face and body, which become haggard-looking and creaky, respectively, not to mention my brain, which becomes foggy and unfocused. I’m like a cross between Aunt Bethany and C3PO. I’m not, however, an actual robot and I am in perimenopause, so despite my best efforts, plenty of nights have me waking up sweaty at strange hours with my mind racing, but I try to take it in a zen way, which means I am often doing breathing exercises in the middle of the night and telling myself that a) just lying and resting is beneficial, even if I’m not technically sleeping, and b) my body is a wonderland and hot flashes are a natural part of a woman’s life, if she’s lucky, which I am. Usually this borderline unhinged way of thinking is enough to lure my body back into slumberland, or into an incredible state of boredom that is akin to slumberland, at least until 4:30, when I am Wide Awake and Ready For The Day.

Good morning world!

What (Do I Do To Prepare). The act of getting ready for bed feels almost ritualistic for me; I love the feeling of ending the day and preparing for my cozy bed. I start my bedtime routine about an hour before I actually snuggle into said cozy bed; I floss and brush my teeth, I detangle and brush my hair, I remove my makeup and put on a number of different moisturizers on various parts of my face and body, and I put on my pajamas. Every day I carefully choose pretty workout clothing even though my gym is in the basement and I work out before anyone else is awake, and every day I put on a coordinated outfit with jewelry and makeup even if I am going nowhere and seeing no one, so it should surprise no one that every night I wear pretty, matching pajamas. Every evening I choose my pajama set based on the season, the temperature, and my general mood. I have many pajama sets, thanks to Christmas and birthday gifts mostly from my mother, but also from my husband. I have worn pretty nightwear for my entire life, so the idea of NOT choosing a pajama set is as foreign to me as not matching my bag to my shoes, or going a day without makeup, which is to say, incredibly foreign. After I am pajamaed and lubed up, I join my husband on the couch for a while, reading while he watches TV. I don’t read in bed because I reserve the bed for sleep and sexytimes only, and also to fold laundry on. I am adamant about not using any screens, other than the TV in my periphery, before my bedtime, to the chagrin of anyone trying to text me after 8:00. By the time 8:30 rolls around, I’m making my way up to bed and nestling in.

Where I wish the magic would happen.
Stop! Jammie Time.

Who (Changed My Life With Her Life-Changing Magic). Many years ago I adopted the KonMari method of decluttering and tidying, and I started rolling all my clothing pieces that reside in drawers. The exception was pajamas, which tend to be floppier than regular clothes, and resist rolling. My pajama drawer felt like a mess compared with its daytime-wear compatriots. That is, until a few years ago, when Gigi (HI GIGI) mentioned her brilliant method of rolling pajamas: she puts the top and bottom flat together and THEN rolls them up, and it is simply genius. Why didn’t I think of that? In any case, I have done that ever since, which means I have perfectly organized pajama drawers, and can choose my set with ease.

Rolling, rolling, rolling in a pajama drawer.

Where (Am I Going). In the theme of rest and relaxation, my husband and I are heading to Mexico for a week. We are meeting our good friends down there and I am so excited; am I more excited about the trip itself, or about not preparing dinners for a whole week? Who can say. I’m just happy to be going somewhere, to be honest. Maybe I’ll even have some pina coladas! Who am I kidding, I don’t even like pina coladas, no euphemism implied. Today is filled with all those exciting pre-holiday things, like a pedicure and sugaring, and seeing how many bikinis and sundresses I can squeeze into a carryon. In any case, I’m looking forward to fun, food, and lots of relaxation; I will catch up with you all when I return. Take care, friends. xo

Doctor Teeth and the Winter Mayhem

Posted on by

We received a little blast of winter this past week: a couple of inches of snow, followed a few days later by some cold days, and by “cold,” I mean the low minus 20s. Friends, experiencing forty-eight years of Canadian prairie winters has prepared me for this moment. Never have I felt so hardy. I went to Costco the day after it snowed, and the parking lot was maybe a third full. The entire store was eerily quiet and when I went to check out, the cashier with the most gorgeous head of hair –the secret is Moroccan OIL oil, not the Moroccan oil shampoo, the OIL – told me in all earnestness that the day previous was beyond busy, as people prepared for The Big Storm. I blinked a couple of times, thinking about the two inches of snow and the temperature around zero. I felt not unlike Lieutenant Dan in the crowsnest of the Jenny, screaming “You call this a storm?”

My mother-in-law has, over the past six months, expressed amazed astonishment at my willingness to leave the house in even the slightest bit of inclement weather. I will take this at face value as a perceived compliment on my strength of spirit, even though I think it is completely unwarranted; she praised me for being brave for driving in These Conditions, These Conditions, again, being two inches of snow and slightly icy streets. In Calgary, if you didn’t go out when there was snow on the ground, you would never go out. Rex and I need our daily constitutional – I am not sure which of us need it more, to be honest – and so the streets shall be braved.

In addition to our daily walk, which is typically around six kilometres, give or take a little, Rex goes out a few times a day to do what we call Exploring. We have two acres of unfenced property, and let me tell you, the “unfenced” detail was cause for much concern on my part prior to and during the move. What if he chases an animal and get lost, what if he runs away, what if he goes onto the road and gets hit by a car. It turns out that all those worries, like most worries, were merely depleting my mental resources and were ultimately unfounded; dogs can be trained to obey property lines, even unfenced ones. There are dogs at all three of the nearest properties to us, and they all stay on their own properties, more or less, unless two or more dogs are out at the same time. In that case, all bets are off and a dog party will certainly ensue. I have looked out the window to see Rex in a cluster of dogs at the end of the grape rows, all happily wagging and sniffing. After a few minutes of this they all magically return to their own places.

Of all the things I should never have worried about, Rex running away would be top of the list. Rex likes to be within sight of me or, more preferably, within petting distance at any given moment in the day. In my recently Ask Me Anything, Engie (HI ENGIE) wondered what a day in the life of Rex was like, and, other than the Explorations, his day is my day. He gets up when I do, around 4:30, and hangs out with me while I practice yoga and exercise, he is in the kitchen when I’m cooking or in the office when I’m writing. If I’m folding laundry or reading he is directly at my feet. When I shower I will open the bathroom door to find him directly on the other side of it. He is my fuzzy shadow and I really love it.

That is why last Thursday was so strange, because he was at the vet all day getting a dental cleaning. No one followed me from room to room! No one lay down directly behind the rolling office chair, so I could stand up and sit down with complete impunity, with no worries that I would accidentally roll onto a fuzzy body part! I went into the pantry without anyone at my heels, hopefully looking at the container of freeze-dried liver!

Do not get me started about the ridiculousness of a professional dental cleaning for a two-year-old dog; despite the fact that for the past nine months I have brushed his teeth and given him a dental chew every single day without fail, he still had pretty massive tartar buildup. I think Barkley was eight or nine by the time we had to give him a cleaning, but here we are with Rex, age two.

It’s funny how seasons of life change. With the kids I went through years of toothbrushing instruction, semi-annual dental cleanings, and braces, my god, the braces. I spent so many years in the orthodontist office – or, in the case of the pandemic, the orthodontist parking lot – and I figured that once my children were grown, the only teeth I would need to think about would be my own. And now here I am, brushing my dog’s teeth with beef-flavoured toothpaste, checking his gums, and having earnest conversations with the vet about the dental genetics of different breeds. If you’re interested, poodles and terriers have, in the vet’s words, the Worst Teeth Of All. That was interesting to me, as my childhood dog, Spike, was a terripoo. I asked my mom if he had bad teeth, and she couldn’t remember. But then again, she said to me, we didn’t BRUSH dogs’ teeth back then. True enough.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of my mom, she happened to mention that it was minus 55 with windchill at her place, minus 42 ambient. It sure made our little blast of cold seem cute! But it was still a chilly weekend, so I lived La Vida Hygge, wrapping up well for our walks and spending the rest of the time puzzling, reading, and, obviously because this is my life, cooking. Some hits and misses in the book department this week; here we go:

More Myself. My son very thoughtfully bought this book for me for Christmas, knowing that I love a) Alicia Keys and b) memoir about women, specifically celebrity women. And I will say that Alicia Keys has had an incredible life; she is a talent beyond talent, a woman who has been writing, composing, and producing her own music since she was fourteen years old. Fourteen is also when she met Krucial, who was her first serious boyfriend. He was 24, and a father. I HAVE SOME QUESTIONS. In his (very slight) defense she told him she was 17 (still not cool, omg), so imagine his shock when, two years later they are LIVING TOGETHER and he discovers her real age. Which was sixteen. Good lord. The way she glosses over that detail in this book is really unsettling. Anyway, she is an incredibly talented woman who has also started a number of social justice campaigns as well as a charity that supplies antiviral medication to babies of women living with HIV, so that they do not contract the virus through breast milk. All great stuff, right? Well, let me tell you, despite the incredible wealth of material, this memoir is SO DAMN BORING. There is a part where she relates a conversation with Oprah, who tells her to keep her private life private, as her Stedman relationship going public is a huge regret for her. Alicia apparently takes this to heart because there is NO juice here. It reads like a matter-of-fact listing of her professional and personal accomplishments, completely devoid of any emotion or vulnerability. Even when discussing a nervous breakdown that led her to a transformative solo trip to Egypt, it was like “I was overtaxed and exhausted. I went to Egypt. It was a transformative experience.” As a memoir, it fails.

Games and Rituals. I really love everything this author has written, and this newest collection of short stories is no exception. This is my favourite genre: everyday, ordinary occurrences made extraordinary. This is Writing Goals right here! The sign of a really good short story is that it makes you think about all the backstory that isn’t there, the iceberg beneath the surface, so to speak. I loved it. There is one particular story about a woman and her elderly father that I will be thinking about for a long time.

Cat’s Eye. Recently Allison (HI ALLISON) mentioned her daughter reading her copy of Bluebeard’s Egg, and that set off a massive craving in me to read some Atwood. I wanted a novel, not short stories, and Cat’s Eye is perfectly suited to January: much of it takes place in the dreary, drab winters of Toronto. I have read this many times and every time I read it, it hits just a little bit differently. I find something new to identify with every single time I read this moving story about a woman who returns to Toronto, the city of her youth, and is confronted by all the myriad ghosts of her past. I have always found this book to be one of the most realistic when it comes to how young girls behave towards each other, the various cruelties that girls and women can inflict on each other, and the lifelong effects of the small and larger traumas experienced in youth. It’s about healing and understanding. It is a work of art, full stop.

Our winter blast seems to be waning and it looks to be a beautiful week ahead. I hope you are all staying warm and maybe also living La Vida Hygge where you are. xo

Live Your Life With Arms Wide Open

Posted on by

I became a little bit obsessed with Hamilton in the summer of 2020. What can I say? It’s a pretty catchy soundtrack, and I had some time on my hands. The lyrics Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now became my mantra. Merely repeating those words in my head really helped centre and ground me over the subsequent months and years. While I was on one of my endless walks or runs, while I was in the garden or masking up to go to the grocery store, I would look at the world around me and repeat look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now.

I have always been very moved and motivated by music. Even from a child, I could be moved to tears by a lyric or a beautiful melody. I remember feeling my heart swelling while in church, as a very small child, singing How Great Thou Art. Although I don’t go to church anymore, I strongly believe in a higher power – as they say in Desiderata, …be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him (HER) to be – and I still can feel that swelling while thinking of that hymn.

Last March, I was on the Peloton when a song was played, one I hadn’t heard for a long time. That time period, March into April, was one of the most emotionally difficult of my life. I was drained, stressed, exhausted, and my heart was cracked such that I was unsure if I could ever come back, if I would ever feel like myself again. I constantly repeated to myself my longtime mantra, borrowed from Allison over a decade ago, There will be a time after this. (HI ALLISON). I knew there would be a time after, but I wasn’t sure what I would be like in that time after. I just didn’t know. Can I handle the seasons of my life? I didn’t know if I could.

The song in question was Unwritten, and the lyrics seemed to say everything to me.

I am unwritten
Can’t read my mind
I’m undefined
I’m just beginning
The pen’s in my hand
Ending unplanned

Do you know the feeling when a piece of art or music just seems to see into your soul? Do you know what it’s like to encounter the absolutely perfect thing at the perfect time? That was this song, which I had long ago forgotten about.

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it

I thought about all the times I had changed over the course of my lifetime. Ending unplanned indeed. A younger me would never even recognize the woman I am now, or even believe that it would be possible to be me, the way I am. When I was young, and dissatisfied with myself, I found the idea of change exciting and invigorating. Any kind of change, anything new was thrilling and the harbinger of great things to come: a new adventure, a new outfit, a new lipstick, a new school. Anything new was a fresh new start, a chance at a different kind of life. You might be thinking to yourself, that’s a tall order for a new lipstick, but maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to be that age, or the life-changing magic of Revlon’s Love That Red.

Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips

Somewhere along the line in my life, change ceased to be exciting and invigorating, and instead became something exhausting and to be feared or avoided.

Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

But listening to this song, I realized that I needed to change my thinking in order to deal with all the other changes in my life. My perspective was off. I was holding on so tightly to my idea of myself and my life that I couldn’t see the beauty of transformation. I couldn’t see the possibilities in front of me, I could only see losses. I couldn’t move past what was cracking my heart.

I break tradition
Sometimes my tries are outside the lines
We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes
But I can’t live that way

Some people choose a word or a phrase in January that will set the tone for the year to come, but I don’t do that. I tend instead to grasp onto phrases or concepts whenever they come into my life, such as Friluftsliv, Embrace the Season, and Hygge, and then I keep them with me forever. Back in March 2023, look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now started to transform into live your life with arms wide open. What better way to live your life than with arms wide open; open to new experiences, new people, new ways to live. This became my theme for my year of change and continues to be my theme for my life now.

In my recent Ask Me Anything, Suzanne and Elisabeth both asked about Teenage Nicole (HI SUZANNE, HI ELISABETH) and what she was like. It’s hard to say, exactly, because Nicole at 13 was a very different person than Nicole at 16 or 19. The only similarities between these Nicoles would be that they all strived for good grades, played the piano, and loved books and music. I think the tween and young teen years are probably universally the worst in anyone’s life, particularly for girls. I was a very unhappy and emotional, and therefore difficult, young girl who spent a lot of time feeling unaccepted, unwanted, and unliked; those things were probably not true, at least not to the extent I thought they were, but that was my perception. I was highly negatively impacted by the diet and beauty industrial complex and was constantly dissatisfied by my appearance. I found a lot of solace in music, particularly the dreary and dark, and also in the line from Desiderata that hung on my grandma’s wall, the same Desiderata that hangs by my piano now: You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and stars; you have a right to be here. I remember reading that around age ten, and it meant so much to me then, sad little me; it means so much to me now.

But you can change your life, and I did. I remember the transformative feeling every summer of my teens, when I would decide what my fashion style would be for the coming school year, and with that fashion style, what would be my life. Was I working from the outside in, instead of the other way around? Yes, I was. But by the time I was sixteen, I had made many positive changes. I changed schools, I changed my clothes, I changed my friend group, I changed my after-school activities, and yes, I changed my lipstick, wearing Love That Red every day. Was it a bit much for 9:00 am math class? Probably. But a child of the universe does not back down when armed with transformative red lips.

And the point is, we can all make changes. We all have seasons in our lives that are more difficult, and I have so recently been through one of those. A lot of those changes were happening to me, but the biggest change I made was in my own mind, deciding to live my life with arms wide open, feeling the rain on my skin. Or snow.

Weekly Reading

Tom Lake. After months of having this book on hold, Santa brought me my very own copy. And I am so glad he did because I LOVED THIS BOOK. Oh god, I loved everything about this. This is a love story, and a warm cozy family story, it’s a tragedy and it’s an uplifting heartwarming story about the world. It is absolutely gorgeous. It made me want to have two sisters so we could braid our hair together, it made me wish I had worked in summer stock, it made me happy in every way. It concerns a story a mother is telling her daughters about her past – and isn’t that something? It’s something so ordinary and yet not, the life a woman has before her children are born, the life a woman has before the life she has, the adventures of youth and the coziness of middle age. I want to go back in time and experience this book newly, all over again. What a beautiful book.

The Beast Within. This is the second in the series about Disney villains, and it concerns the Beast. IS the Beast the villain? I guess so. Anyway, it’s his backstory, including a friendship with Gaston, and it’s okay. I didn’t like this that much but since I liked the Evil Queen book, I am going to continue with the series.

There is still no snow in town, and so my husband and I drove out to the mountains on Friday to try out our new cross-country skis; it was our first time on skis in 21 years, if you can believe it. Next up: learning to snowshoe! There are a few wintry days forecasted this week which will make it feel more like January. I hope you are all enjoying this start to the new year. xo

Holiday Reading and Roundup 2023

Posted on by

Happy New Year! The house has been deep cleaned and de-Christmased, and life is returning to normal. During the holidays I cozily thought about leaving up the tree and decorations until January 6, the actual Twelfth Day of Christmas. Not to be a tiresome pedant, but the first day of Christmas is actually Christmas, not December 12, as is often assumed. Anyway, at one point I thought how lovely it would be to extend the Christmassy feeling all the way through Advent to the Epiphany, and then I woke up on January 1 with what can only be described as Big New Year’s Energy, and knew that it was all going down that day. I should know myself better; New Year’s is always when I want a fresh clean house.

Our houseguests left the morning of the first, and they were such a joy to have that I didn’t want them to leave. We had so much fun and laughter; we went for long walks and consumed lots of good food and wine, we played a game and watched a movie, we had espresso martinis in the afternoons and put together a 1000 piece puzzle in five hours. The boys watched a lot of hockey and football and the girls companionably read books together. I wanted them to actually move in with us and stay forever.

All the festivities went well: the open house was a success, Christmas dinner turned out very well, and Tuesday’s lunch turned into a very pleasant visit for the most part. I enjoy my husband’s cousins, particularly the couple who live in Calgary; we have always seen each other around the holidays and I was happy to continue that tradition. However, my ability to be a gracious hostess was severely tried when two relatives, who had said that very morning that they would not be able to make it, showed up three hours late, just as everyone was preparing to leave. At that point all topics of conversation had been exhausted, the food was all gone, as was a significant percentage of the content of our beverage fridge, and all the dishes had been put away. The result was fifteen people standing awkwardly in the kitchen for another full hour, making small talk which had already been made for three hours, while my soul briefly left my body. This was a highly unsatisfactory end to the festive season. Had the gathering ended by the specified time, I would have been pleasantly contented with our festive gatherings and my ability to be a hostess for nine out of the past eleven days, but as it was, by the time everyone left I was a bitter husk of my former self.

I didn’t have a lot of downtime during the holidays, but I did squeeze in some pretty decent reading. Without further ado, I give you:

Nicole’s Holiday Reading

Fates and Furies. This was an intense book about secrets, perspectives, and the multiple sides of every story. I have to admit I wasn’t sure about this for the first thirty pages, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to read about a slutty guy doing lots of drugs, but I wanted to give it a chance since the author was interviewed extensively in the courses I took this fall. I’m glad I did give it a chance, the story really picked up. It’s a poetically written book about a marriage and how it works; this is not a plot heavy book but wow, it’s gorgeously written and very complex.

How To Love The World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. I read a little of this book each day pre-yoga practice for the past few months and it’s a beautiful way to start the day. Uplifting, lovely poetry about everyday things. A lot of the poems appeared to have been written in the pandemic, specifically during lockdown, so it definitely has that flavour.

Middlemarch. It is a bit surprising to me that I hadn’t read Middlemarch prior to this, what with all the women’s English literature that I love, but here we are. I’ll say that if you’re going to tackle an 837 page book, doing it in the holiday season while on a blogging and writing break is a smart idea. I liked it but found it tricky at first to keep track of all the characters. So many characters! So many. I spent a lot of time thinking wait, is he her brother-in-law, no, wait, who is this guy? and then flipping back to try to decipher. Perhaps I should have taken notes. I loved the statement about women’s lives during that time period, which is an endless source of fascination for me. By the way, do you like the bookmark? My younger son spent months working on, designing, and drawing bookmarks for me, and you will definitely be seeing them in future posts.

 The Book of Awakening. This is a book of daily meditations, and it is absolutely beautiful. The focus is on being present to the life that you are living right now, to bring in joy and contentment. That said, this is the third year that I have read a book of specified daily readings, and I am not going to continue that for a fourth. I found this with Rumi, with the Stoics, and now with this – the first month feels life-changing, then it starts to feel repetitive, and by the end of the year I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the daily lessons. Still, a brilliant book to come back to every once in a while. 

Maybe Once, Maybe Twice. I heard this book raved about on a podcast, Bad on Paper, saying it was a really unique and original romance, so I thought I would check it out. I have to say, it was a pretty fun read to start 2024! The concept is a bit weird, honestly, but stay with me for a moment: an aspiring musician realizes that she’s thirty-five and the clock, it is ticking. She wants a music career and a baby, but she’s working for her mom’s real estate company instead. Well, here she is, thirty-five, and she realizes that at two different points in her life she made one of those “If we’re not married by 35, let’s marry each other” promises, to two different men. Then, as she turns 35, they both come back into her life. What to do? So, what I’m saying is that premise was strange but if you can mentally get past it, it’s a pretty fun book about second-chance romance, with a really good best friend subplot, which I am here for. It really is an original concept and there are a lot of twists that you don’t normally see in a romance. 

I have lots on my TBR list, and a goal to get better at DNFing books that are a drag to me. We will see how that shakes out this year! I hope you’re all enjoying your start to January – I’ll just be over here, catching up on life! xo