Monthly Archives: August 2025

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Memories of My Yoga Students Edition

Posted on by

For the past few weeks, I have been doing a careful line read of my upcoming novel Inhale Exhale for final submission. It’s a book about a middle-aged yoga teacher who is looking for love, and while reviewing it, this middle-aged former yoga teacher has been reflecting a lot on the hundreds of students I have taught over the years. All of them meant something to me; some of them meant a LOT to me and have impacted me to this day. This month’s Favourite Things is an homage to them.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Memories of My Yoga Students Edition

Boney M(acPherson)

Every winter – starting in October, because it was Calgary – I would caution my senior ladies about slipping on icy sidewalks. The best way to recover from a fall is to not fall in the first place, I would say as we worked on balance and core strength. But sometimes that is not enough; one of the ladies told me about a friend who fell and broke her hip, but it wasn’t the fall that broke it – her hip spontaneously broke, causing her to fall.

I’ve been concerned about my own bone density for years, and I work hard at improving it through strength training and lots of calcium and Vitamin D. I became curious about the weighted vests I had been seeing all over the internet, and decided to get one of my very own.

I feel RIDICULOUS in it, like I am Sipowicz about to bust into a sketchy-looking apartment without a warrant. With my waist leash, fire hydrant-shaped poop bag carrier, cross-body bag, and workout clothes, I look deranged. But hopefully deranged with strong bones!

I really like the functionality, if not the looks; it has little sandbag-weights that can be added or subtracted, and with all of them the vest is 18 pounds. Is it working? Who knows! I don’t have a home bone density testing machine. But I feel like it can’t hurt.

Entering My Elastic Waistband Era

My senior ladies, such a lovely, fun bunch, also talked a lot about the joy of elastic waistbands, and they were right. Last month I bought a pair of Lululemon Dance Studio Crops, and whoa nelly. They might just be the most comfortable pants ever.

I mean, they LOOK comfortable. It’s not like these are sexy structured pants that surprise everyone by being comfortable. But I am embracing this New Pants Era of mine. In fact, I bought a second pair in black!

Judy, My Guiding Star

I have talked before about Judy, the octogenarian who embodies everything I wanted in life, and everything I wanted to BE in life. I adore her. Once, she visited her sister in Nashville, and brought me back this little set of bracelets, because they reminded her of me. They go perfectly with my new pants!

It’s All About The Literary Merch

I taught Yoga for Stroke Survivors for a few years, and one of my students was the personification of one of those before/ after yoga memes.

I mean, I don’t blame him. This man suffered a debilitating stroke in his forties; he went from being someone with a successful and lucrative career who enjoyed international travel and home improvement projects to having difficulties with things like walking and, um, filtering his language. He was angry. Every Thursday afternoon he would come blustering in to the studio, speaking VERY loudly about those fucking morons at the City, they can’t even get the buses to run on time, and no one cares about the fucking ICE on the sidewalks, he slipped and fell, what the FUCK, and by the way, his goddamn neighbour won’t even shovel HER sidewalks, and she can’t hire anyone because she’s POOR and it’s not HIS fault she’s poor, why should he have to deal with HER problem. It wasn’t something you’d expect in a yoga studio, let’s put it that way. But after yoga? After yoga he was an absolute doll. He would be laughing and joking and speaking kindly to everyone. Really, it made the job very satisfying, if a bit trying at times.

One day he came in with a shirt that read Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, and I asked him about it. Don’t let the bastards get you down! he said to me, and two things popped into my head; first, that saying must have been extremely resonant for him, as he felt pummeled down by the bastards – his stroke, the city, his neighbour, literally everyone in his way – every day. But also it seemed very familiar to me in some way, like I had seen it before but couldn’t place it, and it wasn’t until 2020, when I reread The Handmaid’s Tale in preparation for The Testaments, that I remembered.

A few months ago I saw this tee at Redbubble – I credit the popularity of the TV series which I have not watched and I WILL not, do not come at me – and I thought YES. I thought of my student but I also thought of the political situation we are living through now, particularly in Elbows Up Canada, and I thought I must have this.

On another literary note, I have been meaning to talk about my Most Ardently tee, which I love.

It goes great with the mug my son gave me for my birthday:

I have heard Austen novels criticized as being nothing but fluff, just stories of women seeking husbands, but I think that is an extremely ignorant and narrow view. Her novels are about so much more than that! Yes, there is a lot of marriage talk, but what could be more economically powerful for women throughout time? Women had literally no power at all, no choices, no money, no ability to hold property. Poor Mrs Bennett is universally thought to be a ridiculous figure, but let’s just think about this for a moment: if her husband predeceased her, she’d be homeless. She had five daughters and not one of them would be able to live in their home once their father died. The only thing that could be done is to have at least one of them marry in a financially advantageous way. LITERALLY THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE, NETHERFIELD PARK IS LET AT LAST. The whole inciting incident of Sense and Sensibility is that the women WERE homeless after the death of Mr Dashwood! They had to rely on the kindness of a distant relative who let them live in a cottage at a reduced rent because they couldn’t even take the dishes from their house that they had lived in for twenty years. So DO NOT TELL ME that marriage wasn’t an important economic decision for women, because it WAS. Do NOT disparage Miss Jane Austen, because I will not have it! NOT ON MY WATCH. Also, she is the wittiest writer that ever lived. I will hear no arguments! I will also enjoy my Jane Austen merch!

Woo, I got a little worked up, I have to take a breath here. Let me calm down by looking at this face:

Heads Have Rolled For Less

On the topic of women and economic power and “things that seem fluffy but are far from it,” I am obsessed – obsessed! – with The Gilded Age. It’s by the creator of Downton Abbey, of which I have watched every episode and every (not great) movie, and you can really tell the similarities between the two series. There’s even an American heiress marrying a cash-poor English Duke – shades of Cora! The Gilded Age has it all: high drama, secrets, betrayal, upstairs/ downstairs people, making money, losing wealth, living the American Dream, fabulous older ladies with complicated storylines. It’s all about society and power and oh my god, the costumes. The costumes are SO good, there are so many wild hats, and we are now done Season Three and I’m a bit bereft. I hope this show runs for another ten seasons. IT IS AMAZING, I love it, the writing is SO sharp and tight, and did I mention the costumes?

The stories are still pretty relevant today, honestly.

I love how Julian Fellowes really creates characters for older women with a lot of depth, romance, and wisdom.

Outfit of the Month

First, I would like to stave off any criticism about my clotheshorse ways by giving you an old/ new outfit:

YES THOSE ARE THE NEW BLACK COMFORTABLE PANTS. They are just as comfy as the beige ones, but the lady working at the library told me I “always look so elegant and pulled together” while I was wearing them, so score one for elastic waistbands. Speaking of comfortable, those sandals are Skechers circa 2022, and I don’t know how old the top is, but I bought it at Jacob, which went defunct in 2015.

Isn’t it cute, with the little ruffles? Proof that I’m not just wildly shopping, I like to hold onto pieces for years and years.

Ah, I have such lovely memories of all my students, from the enthusiastic Ashtangis to the devoted Hatha practitioners, from the Seniors and the Stroke Survivors to the chilled-out Restorative students, from the Strength and Tone ladies to the Thursday Morning Foundation class, every single student was special to me and I learned so much from all of them. Happy almost-long-weekend, friends. I hope it’s wonderful. xo

Our Best Friends

Posted on by

As you might imagine, I very frequently get asked for book recommendations. As you might not imagine, I am almost as frequently completely at a loss for book recommendations.

I am loathe to recommend anything across the board, or really, anything at all unless I know a person well and I know their reading taste. Everyone is so different, and just because I love a book most certainly does not guarantee someone else will. In fact, my experience has been that, very often, books I love are met with dislike, boredom, or, at best, neutrality and polite confusion as to what I love about it.

And the same goes for me. I often find myself with unpopular opinions about popular books. I have a few friends who know me well enough to never recommend dystopia, for example, or fantasy. I sometimes enjoy a thriller but rarely a mystery, and horror books are far too scary for me to even contemplate.

But there is one book that I really do think every woman can benefit from. I first read it five years ago TODAY, and it completely transformed my life.

I picked up Your Body, Your Best Friend at the library in August 2020, and after I finished I immediately ordered a copy for my shelves. The author is a yoga teacher and a Zen Buddhist practitioner, and her life journey was so resonant and relatable that it felt like someone had actually looked into my soul and then written it into a book.

The book explores the concept of maitri, or loving-kindness, as practiced towards oneself. If we cannot practice maitri with ourselves, we cannot truly practice it with the world. We as women are conditioned to make ourselves small, to not take up space, and to punish ourselves or withhold joy if we don’t measure up to a certain standard. We are taught to compare ourselves to other women and to compete with them, as if the world is a cake with finite pieces, and we will only get a piece if someone else doesn’t.

I cannot overestimate how significant this book was for me. I looked at myself – really looked deeply – and realized that I had been unkind to myself lo those many years.

I have had a lot of personal growth in five years.

The moment I finished the book I vowed to never weigh myself again, and I still haven’t, five years later. That was the most concrete action I took; the rest of the lessons that I internalized were less obvious, until I reread the book this week. I have reclaimed joy in movement and joy in food, I have recognized the need for body intuition and for rest, and, crucially, I have realized that our bodies are always changing, along with our minds, our emotions, and our perspectives, and this is a beautiful thing.

Movement for joy!

Taking joy in food and movement, rather than seeing those things as punishments or rewards, is a really big thing.

Food is joy, full stop.

There was something else in the book that I found devastatingly relatable: the author’s height and age of puberty. I was also a tall girl and an early bloomer, and if you think that being 5’7″ and having a C-cup bra in seventh grade sounds good, think again. To this day when I see young teens who could “pass” for twenty, I close my eyes and say a little prayer for them, because I know what that is. I know the feeling of body hatred, I know the intense desire to be smaller, to be thinner, to be less curvy. I know what it is to wear giant sweatshirts and to walk with a slouch. I know what it is to be sexualized at a young age, to garner attention and not know what to do with it, and most of all, to feel shamed for it. I know that deep body shame.

I think we all, no matter what our experience, wish we could go back in time to love our younger selves, to wrap those shamed and self-hating girls up and keep them safe. It occurred to me that there is a way to do this.

It occurred to me that the menopause transition is very similar to puberty. In both cases, there are changes that are completely beyond our control, that make us somewhat unrecognizable to ourselves. Wild things are happening to our skin, our faces, our bodies. There are hormonal ebbs and surges, there are insecurities, and, of course, there is shame.

Until someone invents a time machine in which we can all hop on and hug our younger selves and reassure them that they are, truly, beautiful inside and out, why don’t we all do something radical and accept our truly beautiful selves as they are right now. Why don’t we all accept that our bodies are going to change as we journey throughout this life, and acknowledge that for the precious privilege that it is.

Just like we cannot truly show up for others until we show up for ourselves, let’s practice loving-kindness to ourselves NOW, as a gift to those young, insecure girls that we were, back when we were thirteen.

Weekly Reading

I am continuing to dissociate from the world by reading three books a week, so I have a couple I want to talk about in addition to Your Body, Your Best Friend. But first! Big news! I had a DNF! I started The Heart of Winter, but after reading This Is A Love Story last week, I just could NOT. I could not read about another long and tumultuous marriage that ends when one half of the couple gets a terminal diagnosis and dies. Instead, I read…

One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot. Instead of The Heart of Winter, how about a book about a 17-year-old girl with a terminal illness who befriends a similarly-dying 83-year-old in the hospital where they are both soon to meet their demise! CHEERFUL. But it is a lovely book about two friends who decide, in the hospital’s art program, to make 100 paintings for each of their 100 years, telling their life stories along the way. There are parts that you REALLY have to suspend disbelief – would a father truly just leave his 17 year old daughter in the hospital to die alone? would a nurse really be so mean to a dying teenager just because she wants to go to the chapel to visit the chaplain? how did Margot pay her bills if all she ever did was be an animal activist? – but it is just a sweet, cute book about cross-generational friendship.

Abigail and Alexa Save The Wedding. Continuing with this week’s unofficial theme – friendship – two very different ladies find themselves soon to be related via holy matrimony…in this case, they are the mothers of the bride and groom. One is a very West Coast Greek Single Mother, the other is East Coast WASP Of Reduced Means, and all is going pretty well until their children decide to CALL OFF THE WEDDING! No! Not after they’ve already secured the venue! And bought dresses! This cannot stand! The two women work together, along with a group of ladies called the Merry Widows, to bring the couple back together. Capers ensue! Let’s not overthink this, it’s just a fun, fast read.

I hope you have all had a lovely week! Mine has been filled with reading, obviously, and also a LOT of time in the garden. Lord have mercy, I have more tomatoes than I could have ever imagined. This year’s tomato is last year’s zucchini, let’s put it that way. And believe you me, I have a lot of zucchini. Lovely problems to have, for sure. xo

Enjoying What I Have

Posted on by

I am constantly striving to be really mindful in terms of consumption and shopping, to be thoughtful in my purchases and to buy only what I actually need. Lately, though, I have been sliding into Mindless Clothes Shopping Territory, and I feel that it should be curbed.

It started innocently enough. Out of necessity, I have bought a lot of clothes over the past nine months, post-giant-closet-purge. Since my body changed shape, and so much of my wardrobe no longer fit in the way I wanted it to, I replaced many items with more suitable ones. I don’t regret that or feel bad about it, but I do think that “needing new jeans” didn’t really need to translate to “I just bought six pair,” and yet here we are. Wanting a new little black dress didn’t really mean that I should buy three, and I probably didn’t need five pair of capri pants and several tees and workout pieces. But again, here we are.

My bid to love my clothes again has led to me buying a lot of clothes.

The thing is, though, I do love my clothes, especially my new ones, and the truth is that I didn’t really need to hang onto things that were almost twenty years old and were ill-fitting into the bargain. I can now say with confidence that I love everything in my closet, I would happily don anything in there and feel good about it. I’m pleased with the state of my wardrobe but the nine-month shopping spree needs to end.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m just mindlessly popping onto my favourite shops’ websites, Just To Look, which of course leads to Oh That’s Cute, which then leads to Add To Cart and Checkout, which is becoming a problem. How many tees does one woman need? I don’t know but probably not seventy-six. And that doesn’t even include tanks or yoga tops.

Clearly, my tops were not part of the Great Closet Purge, and also, it’s time to reign it in. I need a reset, but I’m not sure what form that will take, exactly. I do not want to do another no-shopping challenge, if only because my husband might leave me and my mother will disown me if I attempt that again. I don’t want to say I’m not going to buy anything for x amount of time because what if my body changes again? I mean, I hope not, because this could become a very expensive endeavour, replacing clothes constantly. But I didn’t see the changes coming the first time, so it’s possible it could happen again. Also, I want to feel free to buy a new parka, if needed, or winter boots, and not feel shame about it, the way I still feel about the 100-Day Challenge, even though I’ve played piano for more than 100 days this year, just not consecutively.

So it’s time to incorporate more mindfulness into my shopping habits. I am going to make a real effort, going forward, of shopping my closet before doing anything else. I have so many beautiful things, I really do not need more. Everything fits now, nothing needs replacing, I do not need one more thing no matter how cute it is.

A few months ago, Sarah (HI SARAH) casually mentioned that she was going to enjoy what she has and those words echoed in my mind; I have been thinking about it a lot since then. We all know how exciting it is to get a new little something, whether it be a lipstick or panties or even some kind of home good, but where does it end? I DON’T NEED SEVENTY-SEVEN TEES.

I was talking with someone about Swedish Death Cleaning, and while I don’t expect to die anytime soon – or, at least, I hope not – the last thing I want when I shuffle off this mortal coil is to leave behind a landfill’s worth of clothing items. Also, I just realized that I read that book in 2018, which is startling. I thought it was during the pandemic! What is time.

Anyway. I am going to try to retrain my brain, which has unravelled in the past nine months, and which USED TO BE good at mindful shopping, to just Enjoy What I Have. I have so much! I’m going to enjoy it.

Weekly Reading

Ruby-Fruit Jungle. I picked this up on a whim at the library, and I did not enjoy it at all. It’s a landmark lesbian coming of age book, but I found it to be a tedious and dull read. 

Dream Count. Wow. Wow. This novel was so beautiful, so heartbreaking, so moving. I thought about it constantly, even when I wasn’t reading it. At one point I was gasping for breath, it was such an incredible story with the most complex fleshed-out characters. It begins in the pandemic and ends in the pandemic, and in between are the stories of four African women whose lives are intertwined in different ways. When something terrible happens to one of them, we see how unfair the world is not only to the less-privileged, but also to those we “other.” I found the storytelling from four points of view to be absolutely engrossing and the character I liked the least in the beginning became the most interesting and sympathetic one to me. Many lines of note stood out to me, such as “I look at her and think that it isn’t about this particular rape. It is about any rape at all. Ahemen prefers men. In the face of any rape story, she will craft for men the most gorgeous of excuses, and for women her instinct will be distrust.” I absolutely have known women like this in my life. The description of early pandemic days, when we were all conjecturing as to what to do, how to avoid being ill, what news we all had, is so very real. If you, like me, enjoy character-driven books about complicated women, multiple points of view, and absolutely stunning writing, you will love this book.

This Is A Love Story. As a woman dies of cancer, she and her husband recall their life together. This book is very moving not because they lived an idyllic, romantic, perfect life, but because they didn’t. It is a very real story about a very real marriage with ups and downs: work stress, living a creative life, paying the bills, postpartum depression, an affair, and, above all, a very strained and distant lifelong relationship between the woman and her only son. The writing style is very unique and interesting; much of it is written in the second person, which is a rare choice, and the rest of it is told from a few different points of view. My favourite part about this was not the story about the couple, but the little snippets about all the people moving through the physical centre of this story, which is Central Park. I often look at the people moving around me and think about what their stories could be. We all have a story housed within us.

*******

Upon discovering my Great Tee Collection, I fielded a couple of questions from my family. From my younger son: do you WEAR all of them? The answer to that is yes, although some get worn more than others. From my husband: how long did it take you to amass that many? I would say about fifteen years; I hang all my shirts to dry and I try to buy nice quality items, so they last a long time. But the long and the short of it is that I am now on a self-imposed shopping hiatus! I hope I can keep to it, and that my bad habits haven’t stuck. I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo

Together Again

Posted on by

The Boys Are Back In Town

My husband and son have returned from their hiking trip in Scotland! They hiked the West Highland Way, which worked out to be 154 kilometres over eight days, and they enjoyed Edinburgh as well. It was quite the adventure, and it’s great to have them home.

After two weeks of eating out, they were pretty excited for some, as my husband put it, home cooking. For some reason that phrase feels like a weird sexual euphemism, I blame Paul Newman. In any case, both of them requested a Big Fun Salad, and I was only too happy to comply.

Salad Days

They had great timing, as it turned out, because I just cut what was the last of the kale and spinach. I have pulled the plants and will be reseeding in a few weeks, when the bulk of the hot weather has subsided for the year, and hopefully I will have a nice fall harvest.

I guess it will be farm market kale and spinach for me until mid-September, but in the meantime, I am not short of tomatoes or zucchini.

Zen and the Art of Gardening and Piano Playing

These vegetables don’t grow themselves, people. Well, the zucchinis kind of do. But the garden itself takes a lot of work and I spend at least an hour a day tending to it, the perennials, and my flower pots. I always leave my phone in the house and just concentrate on the plants, and it is a very zen practice. There is something so meditative about weeding, which, along with laundry, is one of the most Sisyphean tasks ever. Other Sisyphean garden tasks include picking tomatoes and zucchini, but those tasks at least result in yumminess.

I read The Connection Cure this week – more about that in the Weekly Reading section – and it sparked a lot of thinking about the things we do for our mental and physical health. Gardening is one of them for me, but I don’t know if I would say that I am always in the moment while doing it. More likely, while I weed or deadhead or harvest, my mind is wandering about what the hell am I going to do with all these tomatoes, do I have time to roast them later to freeze, and how long will it take to grate up all these zucchinis, and also what am I going to write about this week, and would anyone be interested in a deep dive on The Duchess, and how sexy was Ralph Fiennes, and I wonder if The English Patient is on Netflix and would it be weird to just fast-forward to all the sexy scenes, and how Lady Chatterley’s Lover was basically soft-core porn, and also they changed the ending, and oh my god, look at that butterfly!

Similar things happen in my brain when I’m walking or cooking or doing anything household-task-related, but almost never while I’m exercising or practicing yoga. The one time I can guarantee that I will 100% be in the moment is when I’m playing piano. I have seen people carry on conversations while playing, but I absolutely cannot. I don’t even think about the next note, I am only ever thinking about the note I am playing the second that I am playing it, which makes it, for me, the most Zen practice of them all. I mean, if I so much as thought of Ralph Fiennes I would lose my place in the music, let alone any idle thoughts about my husband pretending to be a gamekeeper on a large English estate, asking me if I would like coarser treatment.

Freshen Your Drink, Governor?

As I mentioned last week, I have taken the opportunity of alone time to watch several British period dramas, and they have not disappointed. Despite my general dislike of book-to-screen adaptations, I rewatched Sense and Sensibility, which, along with Emma and Pride and Prejudice, cycles in and out of being my Number One Jane Austen Favourite Book. I also watched the aforementioned Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which contains not only full frontal nudity but also such graphic sex scenes that I did wonder how they could possibly be filmed without actual penetration, or at least a massive boner on the part of the gamekeeper. I score pretty much zero on the Kinsey scale, and yet I never want to see full frontal male nudity on the big screen, even when the screen is just my TV. As Elaine Benes said, The female body is a work of art. The male body is utilitarian. It’s for getting around, like a Jeep.

Nudity or not, the movie was completely engrossing, as was The Duchess – so good! – and The Other Boleyn Girl, which, along with a rewatch of the first three episodes of Downton Abbey, completed my British Period Drama Fortnight.

There is a growing movement among streaming services to cater to what is called second-screening, which is the phenomenon of watching TV while being on a phone. Streaming services are creating shows that are meant to be watched while distracted, and so there will be a lot of repeated dialogue and summarization of events.

I put the blame entirely on the glorification of multitasking, which I consider to be an incredibly harmful and focus-fracturing concept. Just like I cannot talk and play piano simultaneously, no one, but no one, can actually put mental energy into two things at the same time. It’s just not possible! Sure, we are all listening to podcasts while folding laundry, but I would submit that folding laundry requires very little mental energy. The idea that we can scroll on our phones while watching a movie and absorb any information at all is ridiculous. Bring back single-tasking! Let’s just focus on doing one thing at a time! Including watching TV!

I’m Your Biggest Fan, This Is Stan

Something that almost always absorbs all my attention is a good book; I love that feeling of just sinking into a delicious state of reading. If you follow me on Instagram you know that I post all of my book reviews over there, and I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, I want to be honest in all my reviews, but on the other hand, I don’t want to be mean or negative if I don’t enjoy a book. It’s a tricky balance, but on the flip side, I want everyone to know when I truly love a book, and if you remember from last week, I posted a glowing review about Standard Deviation by one of my favourite authors, Katherine Heiny.

I casually logged into Instagram to see that I had a new follower, and friends, I cannot be calm or casual about this: KATHERINE HEINY HAD FOLLOWED ME. Not only that, but she sent me a direct message saying that she was “flattered to be anyone’s writing goals, but you are very funny already.” OH MY GOD PEOPLE.

I might have passed out for a moment. Katherine Heiny! Sent me a message! I have all of her books on my Favourites Shelf! I am as starstruck as a person could be! Katherine Heiny, who I adore and whose writing is over-the-top incredible!

NO I CANNOT CHILL.

And speaking of books…

Weekly Reading

The Connection Cure. I heard this author interviewed on the Ologies podcast, and I found her so fascinating that I knew I would have to read her book. Social prescriptions are growing around the world, and address environmental factors in wellness; instead of asking “what is the matter with you,”’ the question is “what matters to you.” There is a growing body of empirical evidence that links positive health outcomes with movement, time in nature, artistic endeavours, acts of service, and a feeling of belonging. It is all very common sense, but still it was shocking to me to read about the loneliness epidemic, how it has increased since 2020, and the debilitating impacts it can have on health. An important note is that social prescriptions – finding a community, helping a person discover a feeling of belonging, or joy through art, along with movement practices and time in nature – are to be used in conjunction with modern medicines and therapies. Overall an interesting read.

How To Be Married. Jo Piazza is a pretty buzzy author these days, but this book – part memoir, part non-fiction dive into how marriage is viewed in other countries and cultures – came out in 2017, before the buzz. It’s been a while since I myself was a newlywed – in fact, I don’t really remember what our first year of marriage was like – but I found this to be an entertaining and touching read. The tagline mentions her “really hard” first year of marriage, and my thoughts ran to infidelity, dark secrets, and disagreements about loading the dishwasher, but the reality was much sadder. Four months after she was married, the author learned that she had the genetic mutation for muscular dystrophy, which had left her own father extremely disabled and her mother – his caretaker – to have a nervous breakdown from the stress and resentment that comes from being a caretaker. She also lost her job right after they signed a mortgage on a house in San Francisco, a notoriously expensive city. I found the book very interesting and the peek into other cultures to be fascinating. Apparently I am like a Frenchwoman, I learned, as I would never in a million years use the toilet with the door open. Some things, as the Frenchwomen said, should be private.

The God of Small Things. My friend Maya (HI MAYA) had mentioned this book and I was surprised that I hadn’t already read it, as it was published in 1997. It is a heartbreaking, beautifully written book about a family in Kerlala, a terrible tragedy, and the shocking aftermath. It concerns caste, family ties, and dark secrets, and it is so moving and absolutely compelling. The story jumps timelines which might be confusing to some, but I found I was completely immersed, and so I was able to absorb it in stride.

I’ve wanted to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat for thirty years, and on Friday I finally did! We were in the front row, which meant two of my girlfriends ended up receiving leis from one of the cast members – cue getting lei’d jokes – and it was a really great night out. As a child, the story of Joseph was one that was incredibly wild and disturbing to me – parental favouritism, selling one’s sibling to slavery, tricking another sibling into thinking he was going to be imprisoned or killed – but the musical itself is a hoot. I hope your week is filled with delight and music, and doing only one thing at a time. xo

Alone Again, Naturally

Posted on by

Time, Unspooling

Something I did not calculate in my recent time-tracking project was the amount of time that I spend in conversation with the people I live with, mainly my husband. I realized, as he has been on his Tour de Scotland, that a lot of time is spent talking, which makes many of my tasks longer than when the only thing I hear is the Sound of Silence or, technically, the Sound of Podcasts. The point is that my tasks this past week have all been completely uninterrupted, which, coupled with the fact that my novel is in for final edits, led to a lot of free time. I have filled some of this time with various long-neglected photo projects and with British period dramas. Mostly, though, I am reading and talking a lot to the dog, which are all obviously one-sided conversations, answered only with a wag. Who’s a good boy, who is, you are, you’re so good, you’re so good, ooooh I love you so much, are you a doughnut, yes you are, you’re my doughnut. Etcetera.

I Am Like A Dog

Rex and I have a lot of similarities: we both have big feet, we love walking, we look great in black, and we thrive on a fairly-rigid schedule. Another similarity occurred to me this week: we both can eat the same meals over and over without getting bored.

Sometimes I will come across a quiz that will have the question if you could eat only one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? I never have trouble answering. For me, I could eat Greek salad with hummus and pita for the rest of my life, and I would never get tired of it. Case in point: I have, at the time of writing, eaten five Greek salads in the past seven days, and I will make more tonight.

Dinner for one.
I have to use up these tomatoes somehow.

I know plenty of people who need a lot of variety in their menus, and who don’t repeat the same meal within a thirty-day stretch. And then there’s me, who has had a green smoothie for breakfast every day for the past decade. Don’t get me wrong, I like many other things! But when it comes to making dinner for just myself, I revert to my favourite dinner, which is quick and simple and has freed up even more time in the day over this past week of Single Girl Living.

My son texted me last week to let me know he’d be popping by to make sure I wasn’t spiralling into insanity, and also to eat dinner. Rarely do I allow input as to what I’m making for dinner, but since I’d been alone for a while, I asked what he’d like to have.

The Colour of Gratitude

Several months ago I wrote a guest post on my friend Elisabeth’s blog (HI ELISABETH) about gratitude. One of the questions was if gratitude was a colour, what colour would it be? I skipped that question. I couldn’t answer it, I couldn’t think in those terms at all – until this past week.

I realized, as I chugged down my coffee just before my yoga practice, that I DID know the answer. For me, it’s the colour of the sky as the sun rises: pink and purple and pale blue. Our house faces west, and at this time of year the sun starts to rise during my yoga practice; as it rises behind me I can see the western sky change and reflect those colours. At a certain point, the mountains on the other side of the lake glow pink, and it never fails to flood me with gratitude.

STOP! BIRCHIE TIME!

Speaking of gratitude and blog friends, Birchie was here visiting me this weekend! I cannot believe she made such a long trip for little old me. (HI BIRCHIE!) We had a great time and got along like nobody’s business, just as I thought we would. We explored the downtown area and shops, we drank margaritas on my deck, we went for a wine tasting, we watched Dirty Dancing and When Harry Met Sally, we talked and talked and talked. Of course, she accompanied Rex and I for our long daily walks.

Weekly Reading

The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus. Canadian debut author alert! I love that this author has had this level of success – a Jenna Book Club pick! And I also really enjoyed that much of this story took place in Edinburgh and a country house in Scotland, because my husband and son are there right this second. So that was delightful. I enjoyed the octopus symbolism. I loved all the friendships and the details of university life in Edinburgh. But the truth is I wanted to like it more than I did. There were so many characters to keep track of, and it was written in third omniscient, which made it hard to connect to or care about any of them. I kept losing the plot, like literally, I kept forgetting the main driver of the plot. When the big reveal happened, I literally had forgotten the point.

Fifty Things That Aren’t My Fault. When I was young I loved reading the comics, or, as my dad called them, the funny pages. My three favourites were For Better or Worse, Garfield, and Cathy. Cathy! Ack! I used to identify with that heart-sweatered heroine a lot, and yes, I realize that sounds like the punchline to a bad joke. In any case, I was excited to read this book of essays by her creator. Now I think “did I hate myself?” Because so many of these essays are written with self-deprecating humour that slides into self-loathing, so many of these essays are about demonizing food and hating our appearance and nagging her daughter. I mean, I guess they could be amusing if you were in the mood for “ha ha, none of my clothes fit, and I just ate a container of ice cream so I hate myself” kind of humour, which I was not, honestly. There are some poignant thoughts about feminism, aging parents, empty nests, and the weird phenomenon of having bigger feet as we age, but most of it was cringe. I actually checked the publication date to see if this was written in the early 2000s, which would explain a lot, but no. It’s from 2019. Did we all hate ourselves in 2019? I don’t think I did.

Standard Deviation. After two mediocre books in a row, I needed a win, and so I went with this gem. I first read it in 2022, and it was one of those “books I read from the library but loved so needed in my collection.” Katherine Heiny is writing goals for me. Her books are kind of plotless, with all sorts of fun characters, and I love them. This is such a delightful and funny read about a couple raising a special-needs child who becomes really, really into origami. There is really nothing else to say about it except that it is a pure joy to read.

During our wine tasting, I discovered my new favourite wine from a very special, VERY local winery, Tantalus, that was just released on Saturday! We were one of the first to taste it. Birchie is leaving me today to continue on with her adventures, and so there will be many more British period dramas and Greek salads in my future! Have a beautiful week, everyone. xo