Monthly Archives: July 2024

Six Wildly Random, Semi-Related Things

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Gnot Cool. I enjoy the podcast Decoder Ring, and this past week they had an episode about The History of Lawn Ornaments, and the first half of it was about garden gnomes. I am here for this content! Earlier, CCR (HI CCR) sent me this article about a group IN KELOWNA called the Gnome Restoration Society. At first I was charmed by this idea, then I read it closely and realized that the society TOOK a man’s gnomes, repainted them, and returned them. Doesn’t that feel a bit presumptuous? If I looked out my window one morning and my gnomes were gone, I would be absolutely furious, and/or depressed. Then to return them, all repainted? Keep your hands off Salvadore, Gnome Restoration Society!

What Could It Be? At least twice a day I think about an interview I heard months ago of a woman who is in an open marriage and wrote a book about it; it was one of the wildest, and kind of saddest, things I have ever heard. During the interview she spoke about her husband; she said there was one thing that she would NOT do, sexually speaking, that her husband wanted her to do, and so he enjoyed his part of the open marriage with someone who would do it. My question is, what could this possibly be? She had already talked about her enthusiasm for the following: three-ways and multiple partners at a time, pansexuality, oral, anal, BDSM, spanking, sex toys, dressing up, being tied up, tying her husband up, pornography, filming and being filmed. What else is there? The reason I think of this at least twice a day is that the product that she recommended for the listeners is a waterproof, wipeable dog blanket that is used to cover furniture to protect it from muddy paws, dog hair, and the like. She, however, does not have a dog. She uses it as her sex blanket. I mean. Okay? I guess there are a lot of fluids involved for her, maybe more than I generally think there are. Anyway, I guess I was influenced, not for a sex blanket, but for my actual dog, and not for furniture, but for my car. I found something that covers the back seat and keeps it clean because wow, Rex is pretty dirty after our walks, particularly now that he cools his paws in the creek and then walks on the dirty, sandy paths. But seriously. WHAT ELSE IS THERE?

Hitting The Floor. Listen, it’s not his fault. Rex has giant furry paws and he cannot help being so filthy. Well, it’s partly his fault, because when I’m gardening he rolls down the bank beside the garden, over and over, and that bank is not watered, so he ends up constantly covered in dead grass, which ends up all over the house. This is in addition to all the dirt and sand that gradually falls out of his paws during the day post-walking; well, I feel like I could hire someone to vacuum five times a day every day, and that might keep our floors clean. MIGHT. As it is we are all constantly grabbing the vacuum or broom in a vain attempt to keep from being ankle-deep in filth. We have a very clean and tidy, organized house with the exception of our floors. Our Roombas just are no match for this, we have to do it manually. Well, I remember when Barkley died and the floors were clean; I don’t want that trade-off, so I guess we will all just keep cleaning in the hopes that the floors wills stay clean for more than 30 minutes.

Attack of the Killer Squash. I have never grown a pumpkin before and the plant is literally taking over the garden. Every single day it’s extended its tendrils a little further, and has a few more flowers and tiny tiny pumpkins on its extensive greenery, and I know what I should do is trim it down, but I don’t want to. I want to see what happens. Also, I’m not Almanzo Wilder here, I am not going to start feeding a pumpkin milk so I can win the blue ribbon at the county fair; if I end up with dozens of tiny pumpkins, well, it will be perfect for the upcoming Decorative Gourd Season.

My zucchinis and butternut squash plants are massive as well; all of these were grown from seed and they seem to be in a battle with the pumpkin.

Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma. It was serendipitous timing that this book came up on my library holds, because there has been a very upsetting revelation recently with regards to someone I deeply admire. If you know me at all, you can probably guess to whom I am referring, but please, I beg of you – I AM ACTUALLY BEGGING, FRIENDS – do not broach the subject with me. I do not want to discuss it, not now, and possibly not ever. But I did find this book extremely helpful for me to process my very complex, very private feelings, as it deals with separating art from artists. Can we separate the art from the artist? If we can, should we? It’s a very nuanced and thoughtful book, the thesis of which is that there is no one answer, and every individual person’s history will inform their reaction to such behaviour, which feels like an obvious conclusion, and yet it was one I appreciated. The author is a memoirist, and can’t seem to help herself – this nonfiction book took a memoir turn in the latter third. I wasn’t surprised to see that the examples of women who were “monstrous” were those who sacrificed their maternal and familial duties for their art, as she drew parallels with her own life, which, okay? In terms of the book, that seemed like a real choice, particularly since the examples of men were true examples of monstrous behaviour: rape, violence, pedophilia. Perhaps the author is making a statement on how men and women are viewed in general by society, and how judged women are for things like not paying enough attention to their children, and how venerated men are for being manly geniuses, who cares if they are violent, mean, and abusive – Picasso and Hemingway are two main examples. It is sad, of course, that Sylvia Plath neglected her children and then killed herself, but that does not seem to be even close to being on par with, say, the actions of Bill Cosby. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the whole point. Anyway, this book was well worth the read, for me, and gave me a lot of things to think about.

It’s Belle. I had one of those magical Costco trips, wherein I entered the store to complete chaos: lineups snaking down the store, aisles crammed with people waiting for samples, an inability to get from one aisle to the other without cart road rage, until I finished shopping, at which point there were no lineups at all. I sailed over to the checkout and the fellow who was boxing up my groceries said, in the most genial way, “Hi! Who’s your favourite Disney character?” It reminded me of an interview I heard recently where a woman talked about her hatred for small talk and social niceties like asking how are you? This should, in the mind of the interviewee, be abolished. It is useless, she said, and she related a story about how she used to hang up on and threaten to break up with the man she eventually married, until he stopped asking her how she was. It struck me as terribly pretentious and also, we live in a society? Asking other people about themselves, even in the most banal of ways, shows that you are not a narcissistic asshole? However, I will concede that there is only one real answer when a stranger asks how are you, whereas there are many answers to what’s your favourite Disney character, so I think this guy might be on to something. After all, he would probably see thousands of people a day. I related this to my husband later, and he wondered if it was only Disney movies, or if the entire Disney universe is included – Star Wars, Marvel, Muppets – in which case I might have to amend my initial response to include Miss Piggy.

Take a Break! Run Away With Me For The Summer. It’s time for my Summer Blog Break! Take care of yourselves, friends, and I will see you in a couple of weeks. xo

Summer Yummers

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I am absolutely, without a doubt, a Summer Girl. It is my favourite season, and I feel like last year I was cheated out of it, a bit, with the move. Everything was so busy and so stressful and so emotional – I sobbed with hopelessness in the parking lot of the library when they said I couldn’t have a card until I had an official identification proving my Kelowna address, as a small example of my mental state – that I didn’t really get to enjoy the season. So, this summer I am soaking up every second of it.

All of this is to say that when I say wow, it’s hot, it is observational, not a complaint. This Calgary girl will never get over the novelty that opening the front door is similar to opening an oven door; after all, it’s a dry heat and I have a shady deck to lounge on and an air-conditioned house to retreat to when it’s too much. As a brief aside, if you have air conditioning, what do temperature you set it on? We keep ours at 24C, which I feel is just enough to take the edge off without having constant cold air blowing. I like to be comfortable in my summer clothes inside.

I’m not sure if this is my body’s way of making sure I can enjoy my outdoor time before it gets too hot to be active, but my natural wake-up lately is in the three’s. I have long been a 4:00 riser, but for the past couple of weeks, when temperatures have been soaring into the late 30s, I have been up for the day at a time that starts with a “3.” I hope this is just a Rhythm of Nature thing, and not a harbinger of things to come, in which I am waking up earlier and earlier until I am not sleeping at all. I guess I’ll see what happens in a month, and in the meantime, it’s nice to be able to see my son before he heads out to work in the morning.

In other heat-related news, my meal preparation changes vastly in the summer; our dinners are light and easy, and I use the oven only rarely. This is despite the fact the oven is new and very well-insulated, and, as I mentioned before, we have air conditioning; between those two factors I don’t worry about the house heating up, but still, I’m all about the low-effort meals.

It’s been a little while since I shared a week of meals; I am inspired by my gorgeously talented friend Suzanne to do so (HI SUZANNE). As a note, half of the meals I made are meatless, but I did use my air fryer to prepare chicken for the guys Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. Do you have an air fryer? It’s an appliance that is symbolic of my consumer life with my husband: he wanted to buy it, I said we didn’t need it, he bought it, and now I use it all the time. You would not believe how often this happens in my marriage. Anyway, it’s brilliant for our family because it has two baskets, one I keep pristine for the vegetables, and the other is used for meat only. I cannot tell you how much this has changed my life; I hate hate hate cooking meat, and this has made the process almost painless.

I don’t use a lot of recipes in my cooking; the kids call it “Mom’s Free-Styling Again.” I kind of throw things together until they seem good to me, like the wild thing that I am.

Monday: Asian-Inspired Noodle Salad

I’ve been making a variation of this Asian-inspired noodle salad for years; I cook the noodles and some edamame in the morning, so that it’s nice and chilled by dinnertime, and I add in any vegetables I feel like. In this case, it’s grated carrots with chopped peppers and zucchini from the garden. I added cashews and some sauteed tofu, plus garden green onions and cilantro. The dressing is made up of equal parts sesame oil, rice vinegar, and soy sauce, with a little bit less of a part of lime juice. I add a big spoonful of brown sugar and another of chili garlic sauce, plus some minced garlic and grated ginger.

Tuesday: DIY Tortilla Wraps

This is my go-to for a quick and easy meal; I slice up any vegetables that are around – avocado, pepper, tomato, and garden lettuce and green onion, and I set out hummus, salsa, and cheese, along with the aforementioned air fryer chicken breasts.

Wednesday: The Big Salad, With Lots Of Stuff In It

My most prolific garden vegetable, by far, is kale; we have been enjoying kale salads multiple times a week for two months now. I, like Elaine Benes, love a big salad, with lots of stuff in it, and this week I added candied pecans, roasted chickpeas, apple, dried blueberries, and goat cheese crumbles to the kale. I served it with a balsamic vinaigrette, and some crusty bread.

Thursday: Pesto Pasta Salad

I have SO much basil; this is but a pittance of what I still have in the garden.

I made up a nice batch of pesto and added it to cold pasta and peas. I also roasted some asparagus, broccoli, and cauliflower, as an exception to my “no oven” guideline.

Friday: My Big Fat Greek Salad

Friday is my favourite day of the week, which calls for my favourite meal of all time, the meal I could eat on repeat every day for the rest of my life: Greek salad with pita and hummus. No matter what the season, I make this meal on Fridays. I have a little tip for those of you who make your own hummus: add a little soft tofu for extra creaminess, and pulse in some (pitted) black olives. Delicious!

Saturday: The Best Thing To Come Out Of Foods Class

This pasta salad has been a summer favourite since 2018, when my younger son brought the recipe home from his junior high Foods class, a class that was a source of much angst since he and his kitchen group of four friends were extremely unpopular with his teacher. I mean, I am always on my kids’ side, but thinking about five teen boys in one group who constantly were making grievous cooking mistakes and in a state of hilarity about it, well, it’s hard to really blame the teacher. Particularly since I knew all these boys and had them in my house and yard many times over the years, I knew what the, how do I say it, vibe was like. She only likes the girls, my son explained, and I felt like I understood the entire situation. Anyway, one thing he did make without disaster was this pasta salad, and I adapted the recipe for my own preferences. I like to set out a lot of veggies, and everyone can build their own dish.

Sunday: BBQ Day

My husband usually grills something on the barbeque on Sundays; this week it was burgers. After the food-poisoning disaster of Canada Day, I found my favourite chipotle black bean burgers again at Costco, after a long hiatus. We also had sweet potato fries and a kale Caesar salad.

Sweets To The Sweet

I baked zucchini loaf with our garden zucchinis and…

It’s an ice cream cake, sort of. I made chocolate banana ice cream for the bottom layer, pulsed Oreo cookies with fudge sauce for the middle, and topped it all with Cool Whip. I used to love DQ cakes, but one such slice would give me at least as much pain as the expired veggie burgers, so I thought to try my hand at something non-dairy. It was a hit!

Weekly Reading

If last week’s theme was infidelity, this week was male authors. I very rarely read books by men, particularly heterosexual men; out of the 75 books I have read this year, 8 are by men, just to give you an idea.

Wellness. When I downloaded this book, I was stunned. How long IS this, I asked. I looked it up: the paper edition is 611 pages. SIX HUNDRED ELEVEN PAGES. That is, in the humble opinion of this gentle reader, way too many pages. And now that I have read it, my question is where was the editor? Was there an editor? This book could have been cut by a third, easily, with no effect at all on the story. Because it’s a really great story, but there is just so much descriptive backstory and whole chapters that could have been condensed to a single paragraph. SO MANY PAGES.
I did have a Mrs Lynde “Isn’t that just like a man?” moment, because doesn’t it seem like these editor-light tomes are always by men?
Anyway, once I got past my initial despair, I found the first two hundred pages to be relatively quick and easy to read, and the subject matter itself is very interesting: it’s about a marriage gone boring. What happens when the fires of anti establishment youth fade into the ashes of just regular, middle aged family life? There are so many segues and they are mostly quite interesting: the placebo effect, Facebook algorithms, how modern parenting is informed by parenting past, and complex familial relationships. All good stuff. But THIS IS TOO LONG. Again, great story, when the writing is good it’s really good, but it badly needs an editor.

Heaven and Earth’s Grocery Store. This was a good story of a Pennsylvania town in 1936; it centres around the Jewish owners of a grocery store, serving a Black community, and the way they work together to help a child who was unfairly institutionalized. There are some truly moving and heart-breaking parts, and it ends in a clever, satisfying way.

I hope you are all having a beautiful, summery week with lots of yummy things! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The One Year Anniversary Edition

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Exactly one year ago today, I loaded up the car and drove eight hours solo, with only Rex and a queue of podcasts for company, to move from Calgary to Kelowna. The entries from my one-line-a-day journal from this time last year are kind of nuts; frantic descriptions of packing, cleaning, and purging, interspersed with lawyer meetings and nervous breakdowns. I said to myself a million times, between crying to myself singing along to The Climb and Unwritten, there will be a time after this. And there was! There was a time after that! This is the time, and it’s good.

Here we are one year after that time of pure chaos, and so I give you:

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The One Year Anniversary Edition

Better Homes and Gardens

While it’s true that I loved my cozy little bungalow in my warm and wonderful community, with the gardens that we designed and built and planted and cared for over twenty-three years, wow, do I love my new home and gardens. There’s something amazing to me about upsizing to a spacious house with clean lines and huge windows and lots of light, with a giant yard and garden and a growing season that is over twice as long as what I experienced before. Every single morning I go into my garden, and every single morning I am filled with delight and happiness.

I cannot even believe the amount of produce we’ve had so far and how gratifying I find it, harvesting vegetables and incorporating them into my meal plans. And the things I don’t grow, I can buy at the local farm market for what seems to me to be incredibly low prices.

Now, am I going to have approximately one million tomatoes and half as many zucchinis? Possibly. But I will take on the challenge of Extreme Produce Glut with gusto.

Scrub a Dub Dub

I’ve always wanted an ensuite bathroom, and now I have one, complete with the makeup table of my dreams. I love the light colours of the walls and tiles but I noticed that I was getting weird, gross orange and black stains on the floor tile grout. I mean, I’m all up for seasonal Halloween decor but not on my grout and not year-round.

You know me, I am all about the hippie cleaning products and using white vinegar and Scrub Daddies for everything, but nothing like that was removing these stains, no matter how much elbow grease was applied. I don’t like bleach and I don’t like harsh-smelling products that make my eyes water, but the stains were making me insane. Or, in-stain.

Desperate, I bought this CLR cleaner as a Hail Mary, and HOT DAMN.

I realize that this would be a much more dramatic photo if there was a “before,” but you’ll have to believe me, this is an incredible, almost total improvement on the situation.

Hair Affair

If you, like me, always squint and look with extreme interest at bathroom photos to decipher the types of products that are kept in a shower, well, squint no more! I am more than happy to talk about my new favourite hair product, Prose, and I am not even a little bit embarrassed to tell you that I heard it mentioned on a variety of podcasts many times over, and because the algorithm is always listening, those products also started showing up in my social media feed. Then I started to get codes for 50% off and I ask you, what’s a girl to do?

Now, you know I’m never going to talk about beauty products unless I’ve used them for at least a few months; I started using Prose shampoo, conditioner, and something called a pre-shampoo mask in early March and I do not think I can adequately express the metamorphosis that I have experienced.

How Prose works is that you fill out a survey about what your life is like, including things like your postal code, exercise routines, and diet, as well as what trauma you put your hair through on the daily and what your hair goals in general are. For me, I heat style and colour my hair and my main goal is to KEEP my hair. Then they send you products that are specific to your needs, including scent preferences. The labels have your name on them which is an adorable touch, I think.

I admit I was skeptical at first but not anymore. I feel like my hair has a new lease on life.

You Put The Lime In The Coconut

I try to spend as many hours a day as possible outside, and in the heat of the day, the shade of my deck is a perfect place to be. And what could be nicer on a Friday afternoon in summer than an icy cold cocktail?

Now, my friend Liv (HI LIV) told me at least a decade ago about coconut tequila, but to be honest, it fell off my radar, at least until last December when a friend made me an unseasonable, but very welcome, margarita. What made it so delicious, I asked? COCONUT TEQUILA. It was everything Liv had been trying to tell me for ten years, and more.

My coconut-lime margarita life was on hold until about a six weeks ago, when I a) found a lime margarita mix at the grocery store, and b) actually went to the liquor store in search of coconut tequila. There’s no going back now, it’s my new favourite drink for the summer.

You Put The Pine(apple) In The Coconut

But of course one cannot survive on coconut lime margaritas alone. I like a refreshing non-alcoholic beverage for regular weekdays, and Bubly came out with a pineapple coconut flavour that I am obsessed with.

Look, the can is so friendly! Hola!

Outfit of the Month

Do you have a Summer Uniform? I sure do, it’s a plain black tank top with a Lululemon skirt, the kind that has shorts attached underneath so I can go about my daily business without being worried I am going to show my panties to the world, or, more specifically, my children. No need to traumatize them.

Very occasionally I’ll swap out the black tank for a white one, but since I am a walking disaster, I will almost inevitably be ending the day with stain remover when that happens.

When it comes to clothing, I’m not a very colourful gal generally, except in the summer. I have this same skirt in a variety of colours. I’m at the point in life where if there is a piece that fits, feels good, and is cute, then I like to get multiples of that piece. The Uniform fulfils the three C’s: cool, comfortable, and cute. The sandals are Skechers slides, which are absolutely perfect for slipping on and comfortable enough to walk around in.

One whole year! Thank you to all my wonderful friends who have made the transition so smooth; my Calgary friends who wished me well, my Kelowna friends (especially Sammi, HI SAMMI) who welcomed me with open arms, and every single reader who sent love and encouragement my way. I love and adore you all. xo

Feel The Heat

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It’s Getting Hot In Herrre

We are having day after day of hot, sunny weather, and I am here for it; this is what I have always dreamed of experiencing in the summer. I love it.

When it comes to outdoor activity, it is a little toasty, and so morning routines around here have been altered and shifted slightly to accommodate; for example, I am walking Rex extra early, in the shady greenway by the creek, so that he doesn’t get heatstroke, burn his paws, or, less traumatically but very annoyingly, lie down in the shade refusing to move for five minutes at a time while people pass me, calling out encouragingly “you can do it, buddy!” This slightly earlier new routine makes me feel very At One With The Universe, like I am Living In The Rhythm Of Nature. My younger son, who is on the grounds crew at a golf course, has to get up at 3:20 am to get to work before 4:30, and so he probably feels less blissful about these new natural rhythms.

We all know how Rex feels about being wet, so it really says something that he has been cooling off his paws in the creek.

Sign, Sign, Everywhere A Sign

This will surprise exactly no one, but I strongly believe in signs from the universe, and I had one this week on one of my very early morning walks. I saw not one but two hummingbirds, which I associate with my grandma, hummingbirds being her favourite of all the avian beings. I also associate them with myself when I have had too much coffee and very little sleep, a la Apu from The Simpsons. Nonetheless, seeing the hummingbirds made me think I was being visited by my grandma who, I should hasten to mention, did not believe in reincarnation and would probably be horrified at me thinking hi Grandma at the sweet little birdies.

Although I see literally many hundreds of birds a day, I rarely see hummingbirds, and to see two of them felt very special. It also felt bizarre because I saw them when I was mulling over the concept of infidelity, which was the theme of the two books I read this week; if there was one thing that my grandma hated more than anything, it was infidelity. This is not to say the rest of us are over here championing stepping out on our spouses or whatnot, but I have never encountered anyone in my entire life who has felt so strongly about it as Grandma did, and believe me, she could hold a grudge about it like nobody’s business.

And in the context of the books I read this week, I thought, you know, Grandma was on to something. Both books featured infidelity prominently, and both books ended tragically. One of the books in particular – Loving Frank – felt like a cautionary tale about married people having affairs, specifically married women having affairs in the early 1900s. This historical fiction tale resulted in the woman leaving not only her children and husband but the continent entirely, her reputation in tatters, only to have things end in a startlingly horrifying way.

Something that I find truly fascinating is what happens next when it comes to infidelity. What happens when the passionate fire fizzles away? Was the fiery wreckage that was the previous life worth it? Sometimes it seems to be, sometimes it seems that the adulterers find their soul mates and live happily ever after, the end. But more frequently, it seems like the affair was not worth the homewrecking, as Grandma would say, and often it seems that the forbidden nature of the affair was the exciting and enticing part, and once the pair are settled into their new life, they find that it’s not all they thought it would be. It’s a little bit like the man I heard interviewed this past week, about losing a significant amount of weight with the help of Ozempic; he conceded that he was the same person, with the same unhappiness and insecurities, but in a smaller body. It’s like that, but with extramarital sex.

And then there’s a third option, which is a secret affair that is never revealed, which is the most interesting to me as I am a very nosy person who is endlessly fascinated by such things. There is a scene in the Bridges of Madison County (a snore of a book, don’t bother, friends, but the movie is okay) where Francesca sees Robert and puts her hand on the car door handle, but ultimately decides to stay, because she KNOWS. She knows what will happen if she leaves, and she knows it will never be like that magical weekend again. This is also the theme of What Is Remembered by Alice Munro; it is the very most moving story of one afternoon in a woman’s life, and what comes out of it, that I have ever read.

Anyway, as I was walking along I was pondering all of these things, including how one of the most famous pair of adulterers seem to be now the happiest they’ve ever been: Camilla Parker-Bowles and KCIII. As I thought this, the hummingbirds zipped by my face, and I am sure it was my grandma, judging me. Girlie, why are you thinking about that homewrecker? I could hear her voice and see her shaking her finger at me accusingly, as like the hummingbirds flapped their tiny wings. Maybe I’m just projecting, though.

Cue The Barry White Albums

Speaking of birds, my nest was completely empty this weekend as my sons went on a brotherly road trip together, along with a friend. It doesn’t seem all that long ago that I was worried about them driving two kilometres to the mall solo, and now here they are, motoring around highways and mountain passes, and I don’t think twice about it. Sunrise, sunset, the landslide’ll bring you down.

It’s not like I actually see my kids all that much, other than at dinnertime, as they are busy with their own lives. They also don’t cramp my style in any way; one of the great joys of adult children is that they do their own thing, and I do mine, and we just enjoy each other when we see each other. Still, it was strange to not see them all weekend, and I will say that the one dinner I prepared – we went out one night and to a barbeque on the other – I was confused as to food proportions. How much dinner do two people need? My husband looked at the gargantuan salad I had made with slight despair; it was big even for me, and I feel like I have endless appetite for giant salads. I suppose I’ll get used to it in time.

Weekly Reading

I had a DNF this week, which was a book called Happy And You Know It. I picked it up because I liked the author’s recent book, One Star Romance, but I just felt like I could not get into a book about wealthy New York moms behaving badly at a baby music class. You know what, I read and enjoyed The Nanny Diaries, and that was good enough for me in that genre.

Loving Frank. As mentioned above, I enjoyed mulling over the nature of marriages and affairs, quelle scandal, while reading this, although I did find the book dragged for me a lot. I don’t love historical fiction generally, so that’s on me. I picked this up because of my lovely friend Birchy (HI BIRCHY), who mentioned it and has been busy touring FLW-designed houses all over the Midwest. I hardly even knew who FLW was prior to this, and so I feel like I am being enlightened and educated by my wonderful bloggy friends. I feel like the subtitle of this book could be Frank Lloyd Wright: great architect, kind of a dick.

Leaving. This book is incredible! INCREDIBLE. It was the most moving, beautifully written story about a second chance at love, of infidelity and the aftermath, of complicated families and love. It absolutely blew me away with its gorgeousness and heart-wrenching descriptions of choices and decisions. It’s very much a character book, as opposed to a plot book, so do NOT come at me! While I was reading this I didn’t want to do anything else, and while I wasn’t reading it I was thinking about it. Just WOW.

I hope you are all enjoying the summer in all its glory! The garden is so productive right now, and it looks like I’m going to have approximately one million tomatoes and a whole lot of zucchini. The boys are coming home tonight, so I think I’ll turn some of my already-myriad zucchini into chocolate loaves, and maybe add it to yet another gargantuan salad. I hope you are enjoying the bounty of the season. xo

Poison

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My husband is always incredibly supportive and encouraging of anything I decide to do, and so last August when I told him that I wasn’t up to teaching yoga in our new city – the thought of starting over was overwhelming and discouraging, and it felt like time for a pivot – he was in full agreement. When I quietly mused about taking a creative writing course with the thought of writing a book, he was one hundred percent on board immediately. Of course I could write a book! It would be a best seller! Maybe even on Oprah’s book club! I don’t even know if Oprah still has her book club, and it feels aspirational just to get it finished and maybe published, as well as highly unlikely it will ever get to best seller stage, but it’s nice to have such blindly enthusiastic support.

That same supportive husband accidentally poisoned me last week.

Now, clearly I am not writing this beyond the grave – or am I? – so this poisoning was pretty mild. And there was nothing nefarious to it – I think? – but before we get to that, I was reminded of an exchange between myself and my mother-in-law several weeks ago.

She was pulling up her rhubarb in the garden, and my feelings about rhubarb are not as strong as my feelings about celery, but they are close, and so I was assuring her that no, I did not want any. The leaves were enormous, I would say almost three feet long, and my mother-in-law asked me if I knew that the leaves of the plant are poisonous.

I did know this, which begs the question: what person in history found this plant with incredibly toxic leaves, the root of which is so sour and awful that it requires pounds of sugar to make it palatable, and thought hey, what a great idea for dessert.

Getting back to the foliage, I recapped an Alice Munro story for my mother-in-law, one in which the protagonist concocts baked goods with the toxic leaves, in order to seek revenge on her cheating husband. My mother-in-law listened intently, nodding, and then said That seems pretty slow. I can think of a faster way to get rid of the cheating bastard. True, but also, that would be an entirely different short story.

Now, lest you draw any parallels between these two story threads, my semi-poisoning was not a result of me stepping out on my marriage, nor did it have anything to do with rhubarb and baked goods. It did, however, involve a veggie burger.

My husband was festively preparing to grill burgers for the family plus our houseguest, and while rummaging through the freezer, he noticed that I had not one but three different kinds of veggie burgers. He mentioned that in addition to a few boxes from Costco, there was an open box with chickpea and sweet potato burgers; ever since Costco discontinued my beloved chipotle black bean burgers, life has been but dull and meaningless from a veggie burger standpoint, and so I agreed to the latter type. It all seemed very innocuous, until later in the evening, when I was feeling uncomfortably bloated. I chalked it up to eating a big slice of Guinness cake, took a Benadryl for my many mosquito bites, and went to bed.

I woke up a few hours later feeling like Count Almasy returning from the desert – I have been WALKING for three DAYS – and I could not get enough water. The next morning I dragged my strangely exhausted self out of bed and, getting dressed, I couldn’t help but notice my stomach. Now, perimenopause has given me a soft, cuddly tummy, but this was not that. It was distended to resemble, both in size and firmness, that which I had when I was approximately five months pregnant, which extended to six months after drinking my morning water. I and my stomach went through my normal morning routine, but I was dizzy and fatigued, and, distressingly, when I got home from my Rex walk, I was completely uninterested in breakfast. Not only was I not hungry, but I was also strangely repulsed by even the thought of consuming anything at all, except more water.

I continued on with my day, but by the time I had showered and not had lunch, I was exhausted from just existing, so I thought I should sit down for a moment. Something that you should know about me is that during the day I am almost never tired, and I never “sit down for a moment” without some seated project like reading, writing, or Duolingoing in mind. I immediately fell asleep in my chair.

At this point in the Trifecta Of Weird Things, I was getting suspicious. No one else felt off in any way, and so my husband inspected the package of veggie burgers, and they had expired eight months ago.

Now, typically we cycle through food very quickly, the exception being veggie burgers as I am the only one who eats them. But we have been in this house less than a year, and is it too much to ask of a frozen food to still be good after eleven months? I really don’t know.

You poisoned me! I kept saying to my husband before dozing off again, as he gave the package the side-eye. Now, to be sure, it wasn’t terrible in a Praying For The Sweet Release Of Death kind of way. I wasn’t – how to put this delicately – expelling anything in any way, but I was experiencing considerable stomach pain, so much so that I started googling things like intestinal blockage signs of and sudden onset Crohn’s disease. My algorithm should be interesting now.

It took 24 hours of no eating, plus another two days before I felt like myself again, and my faux pregnancy has subsided to my usual soft, cuddly tummy. But you can bet I’m keeping my eye on that husband of mine. If he starts concocting suspicious-looking baked goods, I’m sounding the alarm.

Weekly Reading

A huge upside to enforced rest due to accidental poisoning is that I got quite a bit of reading done.

Refuse To Be Done: How to Write and Rewrite a Novel in Three Drafts. This book has some very helpful advice about editing and revising, which I am taking to heart. One of the books I read this week could have really used this. Thanks for the recommendation, Laura (HI LAURA!).

Peacocks of Instagram. WOW. You know I love a collection of short stories, but a collection of interconnected short stories by a female Canadian author? SIGN ME UP. I loved these slice-of-life, ordinary-yet-extraordinary stories about safety, privilege and the lack of it, and when a person can call a place home. Big thank you to Pearl (HI PEARL) for mentioning this!

The Idea of You. Okay. First of all, this book has legions of fans and has been made into a movie, so kudos to the author for this level of success. In fact, the way I heard about this book was from one of those fans, and the premise sounded kind of interesting: 40-year-old woman meets her 12-year-old daughter’s favourite boy band, and ends up having an affair with one of the 20-year-old members. I think this band is roughly based on One Direction. Given all the real life examples of wildly May-December relationships – Al Pacino, Robert de Niro, BILL BELICHICK WTF GRANDPA, LEAVE THE 24 YEAR OLD GIRL ALONE – I thought, hell yeah, older woman, let’s fucking go. Well. Was I wrong. As I said, a very successful book but so not for me. The writing is SO bad, I can hardly even describe how bad it is. About 80% of this book is soft-core porn-level sex scenes in a variety of luxurious locales – think Aspen, Anguilla, Cote d’Azur – and the other 20% is worry about her daughter finding out about the affair, angst when she does find out about the affair, the ocean of fans who suddenly hate this woman for having sex with this Harry Styles-like boy band member and how they make her life hell, and some boring parts about art. Here’s an example of the writing that probably says it all: “And how in God’s name had I ended up here, on my knees in a five-star hotel, sucking some guy in a boy band’s dick? And dear Lord, please don’t ever let my daughter do this.” I mean there’s a part where she is upset because a paparazzi photo of them in flagrante goes viral, and she talks about her life being ruined, how she’s going to lose her daughter, her gallery, everything. Her life is a complete shambles, she says. Then, the next sentence: “But you are really, really good at eating pussy, so maybe it was worth it.” Honestly, I think the author could have used an editor, or at least the Refuse To Be Done book, but what do I know, she’s crying all the way to the bank.

Amazing Grace Adams. Well this was quite the ride! This novel follows a woman who has just Had Enough and has a bit of a breakdown, leaving her car parked in traffic to walk to deliver a cake for her daughter’s sixteenth birthday. It’s kind of wild, this book that both takes place over just a few hours, interspersed with multiple timelines from the past. We, the reader, are meant to believe that this breakdown is entirely spurred on by perimenopausal symptoms, the stress of mothering a teen girl, and her work-life balance, and the whole time I kept thinking okay, okay, a bit dramatic, but okay. But then! There is a big reveal, and things started to make sense, but then! There is a OMG HUGE REVEAL and everything, everything clicks into place and wow, what a well done book. In the acknowledgements, the author says she was inspired by the movie Falling Down, and yes, that really tracks. Thanks to Anna (HI ANNA) for the recommendation!

We are having a bit of a heat wave right now, and other than having to walk Rex super-early in the morning to beat the heat I am so here for it. Summer! Bring it all on! I hope you are having a beautiful, summery week as well, with no poisoning, accidental or otherwise. xo

What Have I Become?

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One thing I didn’t realize would happen, with a retired husband and children no longer in the public school system, is that long weekends don’t really register for me anymore. Every weekend is a long weekend, therefore no weekend is a long weekend.

This is not to say that the Canada Day weekend was really affected by the school system, but since the school year finishes at the end of June, July 1 always felt like the big start to summer. We have a young houseguest – our dear friends’ son, who is himself a very good friend of my sons’, particularly my oldest, with whom he shares a birthday – and when my son mentioned he was coming, I thought oh yeah, I guess that IS a long weekend.

Personally, living in this beautiful climate, I feel like summer started weeks ago, so this holiday feels like a bit of a non-event. Interestingly, though, since Kelowna is very much a tourist town, I have noticed things like increased traffic and a lot more beach-themed items for sale in shops and stores. My new favourite bookshop was displaying all the beach reads, Ogopogo stuffies, and such items that are beloved by tourists, like a new cookbook written by my husband’s family friend, which pairs wines from the Burrowing Owl winery with menus using seasonal, local produce.

Speaking of which, I am still working my way through Julie’s cake cookbook, and this weekend, in honour of our guest I decided to make chocolate stout cake, with the single Guinness I had left in the fridge. I had more, but my son and our guest decided on Friday night to make stout floats using some of the homemade ice cream in the freezer. We didn’t have vanilla, so they improvised with mint and reported that it wasn’t very good. You don’t say? Mint and Guinness are NOT a winning combination? Colour me surprised. Well, the cake WAS very good, although it completely sunk in the middle. I did wonder why Julie had indicated that the batter was to be divided between two loaf pans; I thought that sounds silly, I’ll just pour it into an 8×8. Joke’s on me. Well, it tasted great, even if I flipped it over to hide the sunken middle.

As everyone who knows me even marginally knows, I love being outside. In good weather, particularly summer, I have low-level feelings of resentment for every moment I spend indoors. I think this is partly due to living almost my whole life in Calgary; if the weather is good, you had better enjoy it, because it could abruptly end at any moment. Any time the weather is nice, I just want to spend all my time outside.

At night, though, I like a bed, and walls, and the incredible modern inventions of running water and flush toilets, and so I am not a person who has incorporated camping into my life. Imagine telling our foremothers that, instead of hauling water from a well or creek and then heating it painstakingly on the stove, which has been fueled with wood chopped by hand, just so someone could take a stab at being some semblance of clean, that we have clean water at our fingertips, and not only that, we can choose the temperature? Imagine how exciting that would be for them, and then imagine telling them that we shall eschew this modern miracle to go hang out in the woods and be swarmed by mosquitoes at every turn?

So my stance on camping has historically been a negative one, but my husband found a loophole in my “bed, walls, toilet, and running water” argument by purchasing a camper. I am sure he’d love it if I said “our camper” but really, it’s HIS camper. I’ve been very pleased that he has used it with the boys, and was a bit startled to be asked to go with him and meet up with another couple this past Friday.

My first instinct was to Shut This Shit Down, but after a calming meditation, I realized that a) this was not in keeping with my current Live Your Life With Arms Wide Open mantra, b) the other couple was being really kind and welcoming, and were proposing so many accommodations and fun activities for me, c) sometimes marital harmony is preserved through compromise, and d) it was only for one night.

And you know what, friends, it was actually pretty fun! My friend brought an extra kayak and lifejacket for me, knowing that would be something I would love, my husband packed lots of wine and coolers, and my friend’s husband brought an entire cake and encouraged me to eat two pieces. I felt like the subject of Tonight’s The Night, but in a non-sexual way; like I was a terrified virgin who needed smooth jazz, soft words, and some wine to get things going.

Several of my camping friends, on hearing the news, congratulated me enthusiastically, saying that I would love my new life as a Happy Camper. I would not go so far as that; I cannot with any honesty use the word “love” and “camping” in the same sentence, but it was pretty fun. I did love the kayaking and the walks the girls did with the dogs while the guys went fishing, I did love the cake and the wine and sitting by the fire until I was overcome with mosquito bites.

The happy result as far as my husband is concerned is that I have agreed to go annually, on my one night only condition. I know! What have I become? Someone who is dousing themselves in witch hazel, that’s what.

Weekly Reading

One Star Romance. I expected this enemies-to-lovers book about a man who rates a woman’s debut novel one star, and then the two of them find themselves as best man and maid of honour at their friends’ wedding, to be a light and fluffy read. It was not! It was so much more involved: it is a romance, for sure, but it’s also a book about friendship and family and growing up. I really liked it! It definitely took me by surprise, it’s a very clever and thoughtful book with some great character arcs.

1000 Words: A Writer’s Guide To Staying Creative, Focused, and Productive Year Round. I heard this woman being interviewed on a podcast; she created the 1000 Words of Summer, which is a motivational group for writers. The key is to write 1000 words a day for two weeks in the summer. This was intriguing to me because 1000 words a day, four to five days a week was exactly how I wrote my first draft. This book is about the craft of writing, but is mostly meant to be motivational and inspirational, including short essays from a number of very accomplished authors.

What did I just say? First draft? I had a goal, very quietly kept close to my chest, of writing a first draft of a novel in 2024, and on June 5, I completed that goal! I finished the reread last week and am preparing for the second draft now. I will have much more to say about it, I’m sure, in the coming weeks.

Happy Canada Day, friends! Here’s to July! I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo