Author Archives: Nicole Boyhouse

Everything’s Coming Up Nicole!

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I know I’m a couple of days late, but Happy Robbie Burns Day! I had a friend tell me excitedly that there are vegetarian versions of haggis available, to which I blinked a few times in response. Blink. Blink. The meat in the haggis isn’t what’s stopping me, people.

One of my friends posted a photo of her baby wearing a 30 year old onesie that had a Care Bear on it; I think it was Bedtime Bear. Remember Care Bears? I had – and this probably won’t surprise you – Cheer Bear, the pink one with a rainbow on its tummy. Just thinking about that makes me smile; in fact, a lot of things are making me smile today. Negativity brings us all down; I find that even if I don’t react to negative information or negative comments, they still grate on me and put me into a bit of a slump. I think the opposite holds true for happy things, so here are a few things that are making me happy today.

Becoming a Bonnethead. My friend Hannah is starting a series of posts recapping all the Laura Ingalls Wilder books and giving some historical background, and I am just going to say this makes me extraordinarily happy. Like, insanely excited. I think all us rabid Laura fans should unite and become Bonnetheads. Not literally – it might be strange to see us walking the streets in sunbonnets, and much less charming than the Red Hatters – but in our minds. Every morning, let’s put on the sunbonnets of our souls. Her first post is here. Pig slaughter and meat smoking? Good times in the Big Woods.

Giant Socks. I am embracing the trend – and I use that word very, very loosely – of wearing giant socks on the outside of my pants. Why on the outside, you may ask, joining the club started and chaired by my husband. My pants are too tight to wear them underneath, that’s why. Once you get used to wearing giant socks outside your pants, you become addicted to the cozy feeling. See also: my penchant for legwarmers. It’s like that secretary in Splash, but with socks instead of a bra. And also, better.

socks

 

1 Cup Pyrex. Several weeks ago, my favourite little one-cup measuring cup met the granite countertop with more enthusiasm than was necessary, resulting in shards of Pyrex in the most surprising places. It proved oddly difficult to find a replacement. There were tons of cheap plastic cups and tons of giant four-cup cups, but my humble little one-cupper was proving to be a rare commodity. Today I FOUND ONE! The fact that this is one of the most exciting things that has happened to me in a while probably says something about me.

Archie Comics. During winter break, my husband found a box of his old belongings, among which were Atari games, a Rubik’s cube and Xeroxed cheat manual, and a pile of Archie comics from the 70s. What fun! I had a great time reading through them and asking myself the age-old question, am I a Betty or a Veronica? I’d like to be a Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, but most likely these days I am Miss Grundy.

archie

 

Cleaning Out My Drawers. It’s funny what you find when you go through a drawer that is generally untouched. I have a few drawers downstairs that I shove various items into that I don’t feel can be thrown out. Today I looked through one, trying to find a camera battery charger, and found the following items: a bag of Halls in a flavour that they don’t make anymore, and haven’t for some time, a deck of playing cards with a Kokanee beer motif, a couple of blank party invitations with Bakugan characters and the slogan “Have A Ball” on them, some free NFL stickers from Sports Illustrated, extra bolts for baby gate installation, and a manual on installing and caring for a Peg Perego infant car seat. This was an even better haul than the time I found maternity pantyhose in my lingerie drawer.

Let’s make it a Meme Monday! What’s making you happy today? Let’s rub our rainbow tummies, give the Care Bear Stare, and spread some cheer.

It Had To Be You

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This morning I was stopped at a red light, on my way home from yoga, and I saw, walking along the street, a young man dressed exactly like Turtle from Entourage. I did a double-take; these days it’s unusual to see such a style, not unlike spotting the Loch Ness Monster or similar mythical creature. I watched him stride along the street in his maroon-coloured ball cap and matching tracksuit, and thought, not without admiration, there goes someone who is comfortable in his look.

Speaking of somewhat questionable fashion decisions, my kids were ecstatic yesterday at the idea of Justin Bieber being in jail, and when I explained to them WHY he was in jail, they decided that impaired drivers/ street racers should be imprisoned for life, or possibly executed. Their view of the penal system, when I explained the actual probable outcome for the Biebs, was dim indeed. They proceeded to call him, in a derogatory way, “Justin BEAVER” as though they were the sole originators of a terribly amusing witticism.

I later heard on the “news” that Vanilla Ice is offering advice and support to poor Biebs/ BEAVS, and while discussing this important matter, my friend and I were curious as to how Vanilla Ice obtained so much celebrity. As far as I know, he really only had Ice, Ice Baby. How did he become such a star? I heard One Night in Bangkok on the radio today and while it was – and still is – an amazing song, I would put it in a similar category to Ice, Ice Baby and I do not even know the artist of said song. I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.

I do know that Vanilla Ice has some kind of television show and he was on some other kind of reality show, but to be honest, I don’t care that much. Does it seem to anyone else like there are no good television shows anymore? I’m not talking about fantastic Netflix-y shows like Breaking Bad or Mad Men or Downton Abbey – and yes, I know something terrible has happened with Anna but don’t tell me! I’m only on the second season! I mean that there are no sitcoms I find watchable anymore. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety, but all my old favourites I find repulsive lately: Modern Family, for example, and Parks and Recreation. They used to be so funny! Now I just find them grating. Even Suburgatory, which I had ONLY just gotten into, seems lame and sad. There’s The Mindy Project, which is funny, but is now on hiatus.

Oh well, maybe I’ll start watching American Idol. I have not watched that show since the Chris Daughtry Debacle of 2006. To be honest, I cannot deal with all the drama and the terrible, terrible singers who nevertheless are suffering from Extraordinarily High Self Esteem Syndrome. But I was tipped off by a girlfriend that there IS a reason to tune in:

HarryConnick

photo from harryconnickjr.com

 

What was that? I think I blacked out for a minute. My husband was flipping channels and there he was, on the screen and I gasped out loud. I had a thing for him way back in the early nineties when I was busy with my giant hair and high waisted jeans, and I can just say now that he is improving with age. My husband and I watched for a few minutes. Dear man, he is very confident and comfortable in his masculinity, because he immediately began an argument/ discussion with me regarding the relative attractiveness of men on reality musical shows.

 

Mr: That Keith Urban would be really good looking if he had a better haircut.

Me: Who?

Mr: Keith Urban, the other guy there.

Me: No.

Mr: What are you talking about?

Me: What are YOU talking about? He’s not good looking at all! He’s not even a little bit good looking.

Mr: This is going to be another one of those things where YOU say he’s not good looking and then you’re going to find out that every other woman in the world thinks he’s good looking. This is JUST like that Adam Levine thing. He’s probably one of those Sexiest Men Alive.

 

Note: Husband was right. He was one of the Sexiest Men Alive. This is an insult to George Clooney.  

PUPPY!

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So I guess we’re cheering for the Seahawks now?

Patriots

This photo is for the Cake Chick who was appalled to see me in Ravens wear last Superbowl.

 

Even my local old-people Co-Op was on the Patriots (short lived) bandwagon:

TomBrady

What a dreamboat, or, as I usually think of him because I’m apparently 100 years old, “What a good looking young man.”

 

It’s very strange, the whole continent seems to be in some kind of polar vortex/ snowpocalypse, and here in Calgary, things are mild. We’re usually the trendsetters in the polar vortex world, and yet here we are with warmer-than-seasonal temperatures, which is not without its own special difficulties. My elderly neighbour has gotten her vehicle stuck in the soft, melty snow in the alley twice in the last week; once I came home to see her trying to dig herself out, alarmingly, and yesterday I came home to see her son trying – in a futile sort of way – to dig her out. This morning there were three vehicles stuck in the alley, in the ridges left by the garbage trucks. The snow everywhere is melting in the sunshine and then freezing solid, leaving skating rinks for sidewalks and glaciers for lawns.

Sunday afternoon I decided enough was enough – the melting cycle had exposed our back yard for what it is, a dog’s yard – and I went out with a trowel in one hand and bags in the other, determined to tackle the unsightly mess. I’m happy enough with the warmer temperatures but the picturesque quality of the snowy backyard is gone, and in its place is glacier like snow speckled with dirt, pine needles, and frozen canine fecal matter. I tried my best but sadly most of Barkley’s offerings to the atmosphere were frozen solid and would have needed an ice pick to be chipped away. I sighed, wondering what was the point.

What was the point? That’s a terrible attitude to have. In these cases, I always think of my friend Swistle and her “drops IN the bucket“. They may be drops in the bucket, but they are still IN the bucket, and IN > NOT IN. I think this is a good attitude to have, because no, it does not need to be all or nothing. Just because I couldn’t clean up the entire yard doesn’t mean I should shrug and let the frozen fecal matter take over. A handful of minty M&M’s doesn’t mean that the whole day of healthy eating is ruined and I might as well eat all the snack bags of Doritos that are sitting in the kids’ Halloween bags (STILL, yes, it is January). This is a basic mathematical principle, people. Handful of minty M&M’s >>>> eating everything in the house. Small steps DO add up and so while it may feel pointless to sweep up all the pine needles on the floor knowing that the dog is just going to track in MORE pine needles momentarily, it still makes a difference. After all if I never swept up the pine needles, eventually we would be ankle deep in them. Have I mentioned Barkley is very furry this time of year and everything sticks to his gigantically fluffy body?

Last night I had a dream that we got another puppy. I blame my friend Sue for sending me this link of the cutest puppies on the internet. Go take a look, I’ll wait.

I showed the photos to the boys, who were appropriately “awwwwwwwed” by the photos, even while Jake was indignant that Barkley was not among them. They’re cute, he said somewhat grudgingly, But Barkley is cuter than all of them put together.

Without any further ado, then, I give you Barkley: The Puppy Days.

011 IMG_1618 IMG_1626 IMG_1630

Jake’s right, I think.

Late to the party.

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I have been relentlessly cheery today, so much so that I’m even annoying myself. Maybe it’s all the green smoothies I’ve been drinking; today I made one with frozen strawberries and, while it was very tasty, it looked like sludge.

But it has a great personality!

But it has a great personality!

I think my cheerfulness is actually directly related to the unseasonably warm temperatures we have been experiencing. It’s a spring-like feeling, the sun shining and the snow melting into messy piles of brown slush that very closely approximate the “great personality but non-photogenic” smoothie I had for lunch, which is a little disturbing to think about. Spring in January! Obviously I am not taken in by this; I recognize we have a solid four months before spring is actually here, but that does not mean I am not enjoying being able to move my fingers while walking the dog.

So I’m feeling cheerful and have spent the morning happily doing things around the house, singing random cheerful songs like “Burning Love” and “Sweet City Woman” and even, strangely enough, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree”. I’m not singing these songs now, however, because the boys are home and they have a friend over. I have to keep checking to ensure that there is just one extra kid, because by the sounds of it there are about 40. What are they doing that necessitates so much enthusiastic yelling? I DO NOT KNOW. Well, it’s Friday, and in approximately ninety minutes I’m going to pour myself a big glass of wine and watch Downton Abbey. My husband and I, for the past several months, have been working our way through all six seasons of The Sopranos, which we own on DVD. Why we have all six seasons on DVD I cannot explain, but we have been doggedly watching them like it’s our duty to humanity. We swore we wouldn’t start a new series until we finished, and finally, finally last weekend we finished. I know I’m about seven years late to this party, but that was certainly an anticlimactic ending. I was expecting some sort of apocalyptic-all-ends-tied-up Breaking Bad-esque ending, but no.

In any case, I am now free, free as a bird – AND THIS BIRD YOU CANNOT CHANGE – and so I started watching Downton Abbey on Netflix. Here’s the problem: as a rule, I do not watch television during the day, unless you count the morning “news” I watch while eating breakfast. Lately I haven’t even been watching that because the local newscast has almost exclusively focused on a) FLU OUTBREAK PANIC PANIC PANIC EVERYONE GET YOUR FLU SHOTS OMG OMG WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, followed by b) we are all out of flu shots and we don’t know why. I can conjecture why. In any case I’m sure there were other things happening in the world, however, by the time the local news decided that “other events” were worthy of coverage, I would have already turned the television off in exasperation at hearing the same flu clinics are mobbed we’re all going to die and now we’re out of vaccines, sorry, we can’t imagine why there was such sudden demand. It’s been so bad that I find myself watching the Business News Network with my husband and having earnest conversations on whether or not to hedge our currency exposure.

Sorry, I nodded off for a second there.

Anyway, back to Downton Abbey. I find myself hopelessly addicted to this show, but the problem is my husband seems to be completely uninterested for some reason. Apparently if the show doesn’t contain strip clubs, chopping off people’s heads and hands before sending them to a watery grave, murderous rampages, or a former junkie chained to an underground meth lab who is forced to produce crystal for a dead-eyed sociopath who is in love with a logistics coordinator for a manufacturing conglomerate who is illegally shipping said meth around the world, then my husband is just not interested. Even when I explained it was a British period drama about social hierarchies, he remained unmoved. And so I’m trying to watch the episodes before he comes home from work in the evenings, but that is proving to be difficult, what with preparing dinner, and cleaning up from dinner, and supervising homework. Apparently trying to voraciously wolf down episodes on the sly is not in keeping with being an involved parent.

Why not, you may say, just watch the episodes while he was home? Screw it, as it were. Well, the issue here is that my husband actually likes to TALK to me, apparently. He finds me scintillating for some reason. And trying to carry a conversation – even one about currency exposure and should we be looking at Asia? – while constantly pausing and rewinding Downton Abbey just isn’t working for me. So I think I’ll knock off a bit early today, and spend the rest of this lovely Friday afternoon conjecturing if Bates and Anna are going to get it on, servant style. What? I’m only on the first season, DON’T TELL ME.

Truly Upsetting Recipes from the Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites, and Puffy Pirate Shirts

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On Friday I was visiting my parents and going through old albums, feeling nostalgic for years gone by. Not all of the albums had dates written in them, but as it turns out I can predict with 95% accuracy the year based on my hairstyle and clothing in the photos. Long, straight hair with hairbands and ripped jeans with tights underneath? 1990. Gigantically teased bangs and permed hair with Benetton t-shirts and acid washed jeans? 1988. Babydoll dresses with combat boots? 1991. Super short kilts with turtleneck sweaters that probably made my dad age 100 times faster? 1992-3. High waisted jeans with puffy pirate shirts and spiral permed hair, drinking a bottle of Evian?

Pirate

1994. This photo sums up the early nineties quite nicely, I think, including the home décor.

That hair was soon to be sacrificed for the Rachel cut, as I joined practically every other female aged 16-34 in getting those layers that took forever to grow out.

heart

 

Speaking of hair, this morning I was having a startlingly good hair day. It was amazing, voluminous but not too voluminous, wavy but not too wavy, grey roots noticeable but not too noticeable. Sadly, the wind is gusting 65 kilometres an hour, and three minutes before I had to leave the house the snow started. And not regular January snow, either, but the super wet, heavy snow that is more typical for spring than winter. Sadly. Wet, heavy snow plus gusting wind equals a demolished good hair day. Since I am nothing if not spunky and tenacious, I did manage to salvage something out of my initial “one hour of fabulous hair”, enough to take a picture:

selfie

A number of people have sent me the link to Buzzfeed’s “Truly Upsetting Vintage Recipes” and honestly, a startling amount of them reminded me of church potlucks of my youth. In fact, I have a cookbook given to me by my mother, many years ago, entitled “Canadian Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites Cookbook” and it features an entire section of “Meat and Macaroni Salads”. Don’t get me wrong, the baked goods in this cookbook are amazing – no one makes muffins and “squares” like the Lutheran Ladies, but the “Salads” sections are sadly lacking in yumminess. Of course, this book was published in 1983 and things were different back then. I don’t know about you, but the salads of my childhood were iceberg lettuce-based, with a few radishes and cauliflower pieces thrown in, topped with Thousand Island dressing. That’s what salads WERE back then, people, at least in my part of the world. We didn’t have fancy herbs and lettuces and avocados and vinaigrettes; vinaigrettes were white vinegar with some vegetable oil, lettuce was iceberg, and no one knew what cilantro was. We all survived, and now we’re all completely spoiled with our year-round produce availability based on the 10,000 Mile Diet. Nowadays I get all uppity if the grocery store kale isn’t crisp enough, or if there’s no fresh basil in the produce section. COMPLETELY SPOILED.

But just to show that I haven’t forgotten my roots, I will share with you a couple of recipes from the Lutheran Ladies.

Truly Upsetting Recipes From The Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites

1) Vera’s Weiner Pie. Besides the impressive name, this recipe involves potatoes, onion, celery, carrots, and turnips in a creamy sauce, along with a “package of wieners” and a “pie crust”. Vera, is the pie crust homemade or frozen? We will never know. How did Vera come up with “wieners” in a “cream sauce”? WE WILL NEVER KNOW.

2) African Chow Mein. I’m just going to let that title sink in for a moment. This recipe utilizes the flavour combination of hamburger, celery, and onion, together with rice, soy sauce, canned mushroom soup, and – oddly – molasses. What makes it African? What makes it chow mein, for that matter?

3) Beet and Cream Molded Salad. Molded salads were the backbone of the church potluck, were they not? Fortunately I have never actually seen the beet and cream one, which involves canned beets, orange jello, and sour cream.

4) Watergate Salad. Again, the title is the most impressive thing about this salad, which really just sounds like something that would have made me cry a little at the church picnic. I mean, it’s no African Chow Mein, but still I wonder – what makes this worthy of the Watergate title? It’s crushed pineapple, pistachio pudding mix, non-dairy whipped topping, miniature marshmallows, and nuts. Not my cup of tea, but it just doesn’t seem scandalous enough for the name.

5) Vegetable and Pineapple Souffle. This odd recipe mixes lime jello with mayonnaise and vinegar, then adds crushed pineapple, cucumber, celery, and ONION. I’m really confused about the flavour combination.

6) Jellied Chicken Salad. Have you ever looked at a packet of Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup and thought, I wonder what this would be like in jellied form? Well, here’s the recipe for you – also includes cooked chicken, celery, onion, apple, and lemon jello.

7) Summer Salad. I think you could probably make this any time of the year; the ingredients are always available these days. One can of tomato soup, 1 package of lemon jello, cottage cheese, mayonnaise, celery, green pepper, onion, cheddar, and chopped chicken. You could use shrimp OR salmon instead of chicken, to shake things up a little.

8) Liver Casserole. Entire recipe reads as follows: “Sear liver. Place in layers as follows: Liver. Onion. 2 apples. Place bacon slices on top. Cover and cook 1/2 hour at 350 degrees. Uncover and cook 1/2 hour more.” Ah, simplicity.

9) Hungarian Style Baby Beef Liver. I was going to write the recipe for this one but I got as far as “skin liver” and I don’t know what that means and my mind is racing. I guess what makes this recipe Hungarian is the paprika involved.

10) Jellied Egg Salad. Lemon jello is very popular in this book. This recipe involves lemon jello, mayonnaise, cottage cheese, and sliced hardboiled eggs. I need offer no further comment.

The Stages of Costco

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It’s true, I’ve never run a marathon, but shopping at Costco in the winter sure makes me feel like I had. This is probably an indication that I should never, ever run a marathon, but really, that wasn’t on my list anyway.

Because even the thought of Costco during the month of December makes me curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth, I generally make a large shopping trip in November and then avoid it until all the Costco related items in the house are essentially gone. Today, I found myself pushing a part with a few hundred pounds’ worth of groceries through the soft slushy snow in the parking lot, then doing the requisite dozen trips to get it all into the house and up and down the stairs to put said items in the basement pantry and main-floor kitchen. I felt like I had an actual intense cardiovascular workout, and to be honest, I probably haven’t done one of those since I took up “spinning” and step aerobics, back in the nineties. Whew! The good news is, I’m all warm. The bad news is, I need some Robaxecet. Lifting giant flats of sparkling water and boxes of coconut milk is core-strength building, I kept telling myself.

There is a group of people that I find amazing – everyday heroes, if you will – and that group consists of people who can go to Costco and purchase one item. How this is possible I do not know. An elderly gentleman was behind me in line, holding a single package of hydrating hand cream. I implored him to go ahead of me, me with my 300 pound cart, and he courteously argued with me for a moment. “I’m sure you have much more to do today, and I don’t.” he said. After a few moments’ conversation, he DID go ahead of me and we chatted happily about the need for super hydrating hand cream at this time of year.

A few weeks ago, a friend mentioned the “stages of Costco shopping”, and I found it brilliant, to be honest.

Stage One: NO COSTCO

At this stage, you do not think that you will actually purchase enough groceries to warrant the membership fees.

Stage Two: Reluctant Member

After some deliberation, and possibly spousal pressure, you relent and get the membership. You go through fear, loathing, and denial every time you go, but still you cannot turn down the giant wheel of cheese for $10.

Stage Three: Over Purchasing

This stage can last a while. Wow, that’s such a good deal! you may think as you purchase giant vats of everything from Greek yogurt to shampoo, which leads to….

Stage Four: Regret

At some point, we all purchase something we instantly regret, we know we’ll never use up, and that our grandchildren will have to deal with when they are cleaning out our homes for the estate sale. In my case, this is an enormous two-pack of plastic wrap and a gigantic box of 100-calorie packages of Snapea Crisps.

Stage Five: Acceptance and Reality

Happily, this is the stage I’m at now, where I can actually bypass an item – no matter how great a deal it is – by thinking that I might end up on one of those hoarding reality shows, with thirty tubes of toothpaste stashed beside 100 bars of soap. This doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t currently have two giant jars of coconut oil and three enormous bags of chocolate chips in the pantry. What, I bake a lot! I’ll use it! Really! I don’t want to run out!

Speaking of running out of things, the other day I noticed that I had almost run out of hand sanitizer, which filled me with great panic. At this time of year, and especially with the insane media play about the flu – which has led to mass panic and vaccine shortages – it feels like one can never have enough hand sanitizer. Here’s a tip – Costco only sells hand sanitizer OVER THE COUNTER and also, it’s alcohol free. Why does it need to be over the counter? I don’t know. Maybe it’s like in my local old-people Co-Op, where they have to keep the tooth whitening strips at the customer service desk because of thievery. Are people making off with the giant bottles of sanitizer? This seems unlikely, but maybe during the cold and flu season there is a hoarding problem that would lead to – like the flu shot – shortages and panic. Well, I can understand that.

 

Green Smoothies are the Cocaine of the Smoothie World

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I know I’m in the vast, vast minority here, but I actually really like January. Everything feels fresh and new and invigorating. I was always that kid in school who loved to get new school supplies, but especially new journals; I loved the feeling of the smooth untouched pages with all the potential in the world. In January, I feel like anything can happen. So today, as the kids went back to school, I felt like I could smooth open the new hypothetical journal and write 2014 in bold letters.

Maybe I’m just high on green smoothies. I’ve been on a bit of a green smoothie binge since the New Year and I swear, those babies are the cocaine of the smoothie world. I’ve been having one every day at lunchtime for the past week, and it seems to perk up my day with high energy, and also the kind of smug good feelings that one can only get from drinking four cups worth of liquified spinach. So far today I’m crossing items off my to-do list like nobody’s business, rubbing the smoothie on my gums and talking really fast and occasionally grooving out to hits from the mid-nineties like I Like To Move It, Move It.

Speaking of food, I realized something over the weekend and that is that religious extremism is very similar to dietary extremism. Imagine, if you will, someone who practices a different religion than you do. No big deal, right? You may know that person’s religious leanings, but likely it doesn’t affect the way you feel about that person. Now imagine that person constantly talks about their religion with zeal, spreading lots of good news and glad tidings. Maybe it’s interesting, and maybe you appreciate that person’s efforts, but maybe you also want to spend a little less time with that person. What if that person starts to try to coerce you into their religion? What if that person starts to predict doom and darkness and terrible suffering that will overcome you if you don’t convert to their religion? What if that person believes that once you know the truth, you will embrace their religion with the same zeal, and if you don’t, well, that’s because you have not sufficiently evolved enough to do so? How much would you enjoy spending time with that person?

And so it is with dietary extremism. Especially at this time of the year, love it though I do, the dietary extremists come out of the woodwork with siren songs coaxing you to come over to the dark side. Frankly, I find it distasteful, but I also find it amusing to think of extreme Paleo people in the same room as extreme Vegan people, or Low-Carb people with Low-Fat people, maybe all of them attending a potluck function. Chaos and calamity would ensue! It would surely be interesting – maybe therein lie the makings of a reality television show – because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that “dietary extremism” and “sense of humour” seem to be mutually exclusive. Here’s the thing: I follow a vegan diet, but not strictly so – the occasional dairy product or egg finds its way in, and my neighbour the urban beekeeper supplies me with honey that was helped along by my flower gardens. I also cook all sorts of non-vegan things for my family, although I do try to ensure that these things come from healthy, non-factory-farmed sources. I would rather use butter than margarine, vegan though the margarine may be. I prefer whole, unprocessed foods when possible but I also reach for the breakfast cereal every day. We are so fortunate to have a choice, you know? So many people don’t, due to time constraints or financial situations or inaccessibility to good food sources.

It’s a good thing to remember at this time of year, when we’re smoothing out the first few pages on our new day-timers, thinking about what 2014 will bring. I think that we can all resolve to just do our best, whatever our best may be, and keep the thought that everyone else is also doing their best, whatever that best may be. It’s a nice perspective.