Author Archives: Nicole Boyhouse

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The South African Safari Edition

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I’ve been home for twelve days now, and my trip to South Africa already feels like a dream. It was a dream! Every little thing was perfect. When we arrived at the Johannesburg airport, the gentleman who was escorting us to the tiny airport that housed all the little bush planes said to me hopefully it won’t be the last, when I said it was our first time to South Africa. From your lips, sir, to god’s ear.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The South African Safari Edition

Oh, I’m Driving My Life Away

We were in three different parts of South Africa, and each place was quite different in terms of landscape and animal populations, and we booked with a company called And Beyond. The woman who arranged all our transportation and accommodations is called Tonya Siebert, and she was fantastic. I highly, highly recommend them. Game drives happened twice daily, and each drive was between three and four hours long. A friend asked if I was ever bored, and the honest answer is no. I don’t think I COULD get bored, because there was always something new and different to look at. It was incredible to see animals up close, just living their lives and doing their thing, not caring one bit about the car full of people taking their photo.

This giraffe was so close to our car that I was holding my breath until it walked away, at which point I relaxed enough to take a photo. One woman in our group said “Was anyone else nervous? That giraffe looked right into all of our SOULS.”
Lion, doing her best Rex impression.
Posing for an African safari catalogue.
Where do you think you’re going? We OWN this road.

On our very first game drive, right after we saw these lions, our guide stopped the car and suggested we get out to stretch our legs and have a drink. I assumed he was just reminding us to hydrate, so I opened the glass bottle of water they had given me, and started to chug. Then I saw what they were setting up.

It was a full bar with snacks. A FULL BAR WITH SNACKS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BUSH. This happened on each drive; in the morning they would serve coffee, tea, or an absolutely delectable beverage called Mochachocolottamarula, which is basically coffee with hot chocolate mix and a delicious liqueur called Amarula. I had one every single morning and I plan to make this a part of my Christmas holiday celebrations.

This brings me to my next point.

Food, Glorious Food

I had nothing but amazing food for the entire time that we were there. The travel company had sent us a lot of paperwork to fill out, and one part of it involved food preferences. For each meal, I was given a special menu that had my name on it and every single thing was incredibly delicious and was similar to the regular menu my husband was given, that did NOT have his name on it. For example, if he was offered steak, I was offered a cauliflower “steak,” if he was offered a pasta dish mine would not involve meat. The food was so fresh and flavourful, and I have to mention the avocados, which were the best avocados I have had in my life! Every day my menu was different, varied, and universally delicious.

I was also introduced to the South African Pinotage, a wonderful red wine, and enjoyed my favourite Aperol spritzes as well. Also, when they made a gin and tonic, they made a gin and tonic.

One thing I loved about the lodges is that they were equipped with a water filtration system, so drinking water is simply served in glass bottles. There was no plastic and no waste. Any food scraps were sent to local pig farms, and grey water was used for irrigation.

Is This The Real Life?

The accommodations were stunning as well at each of the lodges. Kirkman’s Kamp, in the Sabi Sands, was probably the most convivial; it was quite small, so we got to know all the other travellers, and there was a bar that everyone would go to post-game-drive-pre-dinner, which made for a very fun atmosphere.

Ngala Safari Lodge was gorgeous, and featured a swimming pool that elephants would come to drink out of every once in a while. This happened while we were there but we missed it; later that night we heard the elephants making a lot of noise, and hyenas screaming. I don’t know what happened, but this is why guests are not allowed to walk by themselves after dark.

The most interesting and luxurious accommodations of all were in Phinda Forest Lodge. Each room was a separate structure in the sand forest, and each structure was built around the trees, literally.

Our deck.
The main eating area.

People Who Like People

Each safari vehicle was equipped for six guests, and I did wonder what the others would be like. It’s always a bit of an unknown when you join a group, and I always hope for the best. I am happy to report that all of our safari-mates at each of the three lodges – eleven other people in all, from all over the world – were all incredible and I am so happy we met them and spent so much time together.

Every second night each lodge would host a boma dinner, which takes place in an enclosed, open air area, and involves a family-style buffet dinner. Each safari group, along with the guide, would be seated at one table, and there was often traditional singing and dancing around the firepit. Of course I loved that, but as a people person, I also loved eating dinner with a big group and learning everyone’s stories. I am a person who wants to know the story of your life, even if it doesn’t get us out of Chicago.

A special evening drinks break, on the last night with our new and fabulous friends from NYC. I suspect we got extra special treatment because we were with them, and I’ll take it!
The special drinks table was set up right beside a hippo pond, and anyone who has known me for a long time will know why hippos are so special to me.

Fuck The Patriarchy

I love all the animals, and I especially loved learning about their habits and lives. But there was something VERY UPSETTING about the fact that all the female lions hunt and the male lions have first dibs on all the food; the females eat only after the males are done. Female rhinos are always trying to dissuade the males from mating with them if they already have babies, because if they get pregnant too soon the babies will die. It just feels like the world over, males are dominating females and making them weaker, see also the excess of valium prescriptions during the women’s revolution and the emphasis on thinness from the time women got the vote.

YES I AM PROJECTING MY FEELINGS ONTO THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.

My favourite animal is, as I have mentioned before, the elephant. Elephants are matriarchies, but that’s not the only reason I love them. They are such intelligent, incredible animals. The female-led group all help each other raise babies, they support each other, and they rally around each other and their offspring in case of danger. Let us all be elephants!

Plus, baby elephants are the cutest thing I have ever seen. They practice threatening behaviour by flapping their ears out wide, which made us all go awwwww, he’s threatening us. They have to learn to use their trunks, so we watched them dip them wildly in the water.

We also learned that hyenas are a matriarchy. We watched them at their den, and the little cubs were so cute and fun to watch. I used binoculars to get a really close look at them and was absolutely alarmed to see the junk on the baby male. I actually thought it was a fifth leg. It turns out that hyenas have a very high concentration of testosterone, so that even female genitals are, shall we say, elongated. Listen, I’m not drawing any parallels or jumping to conclusions, all I am saying is that it’s a sight to be seen. Or not, depending on your interest in animal genitalia.

Outfit of the Month

Imagine my minor distress on finding out that black clothing is discouraged on safari; I have been diligently shopping my closet for the past several months, but I had to face facts. I needed some new clothes. I have become a big fan of Solbari sun protective clothing, a company out of Australia. If anyone knows about sun protection, it’s the Australians. I purchased a couple of long-sleeved tops in creamy beige and moss green, as well as a long-sleeve light beige button-up top from Lululemon. I wore the long-sleeve tops with my beige Lululemon Dance Studio Crops or my newly-purchased dark green Daydrift pants. Light, loose, comfortable clothing – with elastic waists! – was the order of the day, when you are spending six to eight hours a day in a safari vehicle.

I also wore cute Skechers walking shoes, which have now seen me through Morocco, London, and South Africa. May they travel to more destinations in the future!

I can hardly believe June is almost done, friends. How was your month? Tell me everything. Even if it won’t get us out of Chicago. xo

I’ve Been To London To Look At The Queen

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And by Queen, I mean the much-loved late QEII, in deference to my much-loved late Grandma Fern, who hated Camilla Parker-Bowles with the fire of a thousand suns.

Not That Kind of Weed

I am happy to report that, after seven solid mornings of work, I have finally got the weed situation under control. In the berry patch and veggie garden, it looked as though someone had planted a thick groundcover throughout. After my first hour of weeding that area, I looked up and felt a sinking despair, with a mere three square feet cleared and so much left to go. However, as my former boss used to say when we had a financial position he wanted to reverse, I just chipped away at it and here we are.

Who’s Eating Off The Floors Anyway

The hardest thing about travelling is leaving Rex behind, it’s true, but it’s also true that Rex is JUST FINE. He’s better than fine, actually, because he boards at a kennel that is known as the Country Club for Pets at which he a) has his own “suite” for sleeping and eating, b) has playtime with other dogs, and c) is known and loved. There are young people whose entire job it is to play with and cuddle the dogs, and one of them runs the Instagram account, so I was able to check in daily to see the big galoompa bounding around, wagging and barking. He always jumps into the car enthusiastically when I ask him if he wants to see his friends, and then he jumps into the car enthusiastically when I pick him up. He’s basically enthusiastic about everything.

Everything, except water. Unfortunately, due to a plethora of dogs and Sunday staffing, the kennel was unable to bathe him before I picked him up. No problem, I thought. He needs a cut anyway. I called the groomer only to find out that his girlfriend was on vacation, and will not be able to take him until this coming Thursday. Let’s just say that Rex is very, very dirty, and leave it at that. Things are not improved by his love of rolling in dead dry grass, and because his fur is just generally filthy, brushing out the grass only lodges it in further. Basically, he spends the day shedding things all over the house. I can feel little…somethings in his fur, said a gentleman I speak to daily on the walking path, as he petted Rex. Clouds of dust rose from Rex’s off-black body, like that of Pigpen’s from Peanuts. Those are grass seeds, I replied grimly.

My sister-in-law, unaware of Rex’s absolute fear and loathing of water, suggested I put him in one of our walk-in showers, just to get some grime off. I immediately pictured a terrified and traumatized Rex bursting, Kool-Aid Man-style through the shower door, leaving a Rex-shaped hole and shattered glass in his wake.

Well, it’s a small price to pay for his happiness, and in the meantime I am vacuuming a lot. Pristine floors are overrated anyway.

The Royal We

Weeding backlogs and a filthy dog are worth it to be able to travel to places I’ve always dreamed about. One of my clearest early memories is from the summer that I was six, and was staying with my grandparents: Grandma Fern woke me up at 2:30 am so we could watch the Royal Wedding together. I remember watching Diana getting out of the car absolutely ensconced in silk, and that gigantic dress and train seemed to me the absolute height of beauty. Nothing could have been more gorgeous. Nothing could have been more special than being awake while everyone else slept, just me and Grandma Fern. Thirty years later, I got up at 2:30 in the morning for another Royal Wedding watch with my Anglophile friend Julie (HI JULIE), who provided tea and scones with clotted cream. The moment I got home I phoned Grandma Fern, and we spent a lot of time dissecting the details, including whether the aforementioned Camilla Parker-Bowles should have been INVITED to her stepson’s wedding. She is NOT his stepmother, do not say that, do not ever say that! She’s nothing but a home-wrecker, Grandma said sternly. Grandma Fern was not interested in the expectations of the era and time healing wounds and the heart wanting what the heart wants. I changed the subject to Kate’s sleeves.

Ever since that day in July 1981, I have been interested in the British Royal Family in general, and Diana in particular. My interest may have bordered on obsession; I still have all my scrapbooks, special edition People magazines, and the myriad coffee table books featuring Diana, the Radiant Princess that I would receive as Christmas gifts. I have not one but two paper doll books of Diana and her clothing, one to cut out and one to keep, and let me tell you, that wedding dress was a bitch to cut out. I am rarely, if ever, affected by celebrity deaths but I was devastated by Diana’s. I avidly watched The Crown up until Season Four, and then shut it off, never to return, because I could not handle reliving the crash, fictionalized or not.

It felt surreal to be in places I had watched and read about. I teared up when I saw Buckingham Palace, thinking how much Grandma Fern would have loved seeing it.

I share a birthday with the late Queen Elizabeth, and to see Westminster Abbey, where she and all the other British monarchs were coronated, was incredible. It is impossible to thoroughly tour everything in London in only five days, but this was on my must-visit list. My husband booked us tickets, and we spent a few hours audio-touring and being amazed.

I did not realize how many burial vaults are in Westminster Abbey, not only of monarchs but also notable scientists, politicians, and writers. There are over 3300 people buried there! Jane Austen is not one of them, but she has a memorial stone in Poet’s Corner.

Another place I wanted an in-depth tour was the Tower of London. I love these kinds of historical buildings and as we went through the rooms, I imagined what it would be like to live or be imprisoned there.

The Tower also is the home of the Crown Jewels, and we were able to see them as well as the changing of the guard in front of the building. It felt incredible to be there, like I was a tiny part of history.

My husband had planned a secret afternoon post-Tower touring, and that included a rooftop flower garden and a walk to a tiny church, St Dunstan, a medieval structure in the middle of city streets. I love a medieval structure!

One of the biggest highlights was seeing Hamilton at the Victoria Theatre, which was a three-minute walk from our hotel. Hamilton is my favourite musical, followed only by Evita and The Phantom of the Opera, so I was VERY excited. It did not disappoint! For those of you who remember my 2020 obsession with the soundtrack, you will know how moved I was for the entire time, and how I sobbed when it was quiet uptown.

London! What a fabulous city, I cannot believe I was THERE. I looked at the Rosetta Stone! With my own eyes! And you can bet that I said Look kids, Big Ben! Parliament, approximately one million times over our five-day visit. Mostly in my head, to the benefit of my marriage.

Weekly Reading

I will share my vacation reads in a separate post (spoiler alert: I had a LOT of DNF’s), but let me tell you about this incredible week of reading: two of my favourite must-own authors had new books out, David Sedaris and Ann Patchett. Since the Sedaris came out a month after my birthday, and months before Christmas, I pre-ordered it. I didn’t even know that Patchett had a new book coming out until it was already released, and when I discovered this fact I jumped up from the table where I was having pre-game drive coffee and scurried over to where our safari-mates, a delightful couple from NYC, were seated. The night before, the woman and I had bonded over our shared love for Patchett, Elizabeth Strout, and my Fuck the Patriarchy lipstick case. I think I had jazz-hands as I told her that there was a NEW ANN PATCHETT OMG and of course I bought it when I went to pick up my preordered Sedaris after arriving home.

All of which is to say that it has been a five-star reading week!

The Land and Its People. I will say I had a tiny bit of trepidation because Happy-Go-Lucky, Sedaris’ last collection, left me upset and depressed. If you know, you know. However, The Land and Its People affected me in the same way Calypso did – I found myself laughing until I cried. A few of the essays about his parents are heartbreaking, but mostly I was literally guffawing the whole way through. GUFFAWING. I also – as with Calypso – found myself feeling seen, as he talked about DuoLingo, getting his steps in, and going on safari in Africa. This was absolutely wonderful and hilarious and felt like a breath of wry fresh air.

Whistler. Ann Patchett can do no wrong in my view, and this glorious new release is no exception. Oh! I loved it so much. It’s the story of a woman who encounters the man who was briefly her stepfather, after over four decades of absence. It’s about secrets and family, friendship and love, trauma and healing. All the characters are so rich, and the story is just so beautiful, made even more poignant as the stepfather was based on her late, dear friend Jim Fox, and that there are three fathers featured in the book, which Patchett famously has written about having. The main character and her sister are around my age, and there was so much that resonated so deeply, from aging parents and cleaning out houses to the claim that “old men love me.” Girl, same. It’s just a breathtakingly beautiful book and the ending left me staring into space for many minutes. It’s just so hopeful and gorgeous, with a message that people are good and decent, despite how things sometimes feel.

The thing about going away when we did is that when we left, it was spring, and now it is full-on summer! I have to keep reminding myself of the day and month. It’s the last full week of June already! It looks to be a beautiful one here in the Okanagan valley, and I hope it’s beautiful where you are. xo

Five For Friday: The Packing List Edition

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What I Packed. As always, my husband and I took carryon luggage only for our almost-three-week trip to London and South Africa. I also had a large shoulder bag in which I stashed my smaller crossbody bag, and he took a backpack. Everywhere we went, the luggage porter would look at us and say That’s it? That’s all you have? Yes! I like not hauling large suitcases around, which is good, as it would have been really impractical for taking the Tube in London, what with all the stairs and escalators. I feel footloose and fancy-free, zipping around with only a small carryon. I like not having to wait at baggage claim, and I especially like not having a massive case of anxiety about lost luggage. I am not an anxious person generally, but as soon as my bag is out of sight I assume someone has lost it, or it is somehow being destroyed and I will never see my clothing and curling iron again. So carryon works for us in all respects.

Clothing-wise, including what I wore on the plane, I took three pairs of pants (moss green, beige, black), three black tanks, three black tees, and three long-sleeved UV protectant shirts in cream and moss green. I also packed two long floaty skirts, a bathing suit and cover up, a hat, shortie pajamas, two light scarves, socks, and underwear. I took one nice top to pair with the black pants for the theatre, where we saw a performance of Hamilton. For footwear, I wore cute Skechers walking shoes and I packed a pair of sandals. Also, because I’m the hottest bitch in this place, bringing sexy back, etcetera, I wore my beige, full-length, medical grade compression hose on the plane and packed two pairs of compression calf sleeves. We used the complimentary laundry service that each of the lodges offered, and I also did some sink laundry while we were in London.

Enjoying a glass of wine before Hamilton, in my one nice top. Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now.

What I Overpacked. As always, I packed way, way, way more underwear and socks than I could possibly use. I am okay with that, though, and I will not change my ways. What if for some reason I COULDN’T do laundry? THEN WHAT? I’m not going to wear unwashed panties or socks, thank you very much. I also took far too much sunscreen: two sunscreen sticks, face serum sunscreen, and two 60 mL tubes of Neutrogena sheer. As it turned out, I could have made do with only my face serum sunscreen, as I wore my long-sleeve tops on all the safaris, and I found that the bottle was more than enough for the few times I needed to lube up my shoulders and arms in London.

A few people spoke to me fearfully about malaria, but June is a very low risk season in South Africa. Still, I packed two small bottles of some kind of hippie insect repellant, and didn’t use any because a) it was too cold at night for mosquitoes to live, and b) even if it was mosquito season, each lodge provided an enormous bottle of bug spray in each room which would probably have worked much better than the plant-based essential oil woowoo I brought. In retrospect, I would have brought none at all and saved the space in my little liquids bag.

Leopard, totally relaxed in the long grass beside our vehicle, unbothered by mosquitoes or us.

What I Didn’t Use. It has to be pretty hot before I will submerge myself in an unheated swimming pool, and the temperatures never got above 26 C, so my bathing suit and cover up went unused. I also rarely wore my hat, not because it wasn’t sunny – it was! – but because the safari vehicles can move pretty fast and even with the chin strap the hat wasn’t comfortable to wear, what with the broad brim flapping around. I don’t regret taking them though; I like the option for both swimming and hat-wearing.

I also didn’t use my light scarves; it was too hot in London, and it was too casual on safari to wear them. Neither scarf takes up much room so it isn’t much of a regret on this front either.

I wore my scarf one day and then within thirty minutes tied it to the strap of my bag because I was sweating, as they say, like a New York waiter.

What I Should Have Packed. For years I had a 35-40 day menstrual cycle, followed by years of a 21-25 day cycle. In the last six months, it has stretched out again, and my last period before our trip was a 52 day cycle, which started only two weeks before we left. I’m in the clear! I thought happily, but then, wary of my own cheerful prediction, I added a few pantyliners to my toiletries case.

I was right to be wary. The very first day in London, I got my period – surprise! – which was lucky, since there are Boots pharmacies everywhere you turn. If that had happened in the middle of the bush, I would have been fucked. I mean, not literally, since I had my period, and I’m old-fashioned that way. But I did think of the scenario in which I would be free-bleeding in the wild, attracting predators and the hatred of my fellow safari-goers.

The moral of the story? If you have a uterus, even if you think that uterus is closing up shop, PACK PERIOD SUPPLIES.

Is there a Boots around this corner? MAYBE.

The Unexpected Star of the Show. The importance of wearing neutral safari colours – dark or moss greens, shades of beige and khaki – were drilled into us before we left Canada. No bright colours! Avoid black! For the love of god, no animal prints! In one of the lodges I did see a woman in leopard print pants who also had a small baby in a front-carrier with a pink and blue blanket, and again, I am not generally an anxious person BUT COME ON. Anyway. I unearthed a rarely worn dark green fleece jacket, which features a windproof vest and hood, from my closet. This was a pandemic purchase and one I have frequently regretted. The jacket was impractical for cold, windy Calgary walks, and it is too warm for Kelowna walks. I hate wearing layers that have hoods, and I kind of hated the colour as well. Why I didn’t donate it years ago, I have no idea.

I’m glad I didn’t, because it was absolutely perfect for safari! It was a nice layer to have on cold morning and evening drives, and the colour was more than acceptable. I shall NEVER donate it, in case I ever get the opportunity to go on safari again.

The star of the show, my fleece jacket. Also starring a female lion practicing pandemic protocol, keeping six feet away.

Happy Friday, friends! xo

Out of (South) Africa

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Fly High Free Bird

On Saturday night at about 8:30, my husband and I arrived home from South Africa after a solid forty-five hours in transit, which included five flights, a jeep ride to an airstrip in Phinda forest, an epic seven hour stopover in London Heathrow, and, less dramatic but very nice, a half-hour drive from the airport in my older son’s Toyota. All that travel sounds more onerous than it really was, as we had lie-flat seats for the long-haul flights – eleven hours from Johannesburg to London, and nine and a half from London to Vancouver – and also fancy lounge access at all airports, which included, thankfully, showers.

Still, that is a lot of travel and when we got home I hugged my sons, unpacked my suitcase, showered, and fell into bed. I woke up Sunday feeling…fine? I feel like it’s a jinx to say I’m totally back to normal life, un-jetlagged, but I think I’m back to normal life. It feels strange to think that a week ago I was on safari, and now I’m back to thinking about the garden, thinking about the weekly meals, thinking about catching up with friends, thinking about exercise and dog walks and everything that makes up my daily world.

London Calling

The journey to South Africa was much less exhausting than the journey home, because we stopped off in London for five nights. London! What an incredible city. It was a wonderful experience to actually be in places that I have only read about for my entire life. I felt quite emotional, just being there. We were there for a heat wave, which was fantastic. We didn’t have a drop of rain, which meant that the city was alive with people, walking through the parks and spilling out of pubs, enjoying the sunshine and heat.

In addition to all the Big Sights of London, my husband created an itinerary in which I would be constantly surprised and delighted. I am, if you recall, the vacation GOER, while my husband is the vacation PLANNER. So while I knew the big-ticket sights we would be seeing, there were plenty of surprises he had planned for me. Like this:

The mothership is calling me home! I didn’t go to any classes, because they are all in the evening and the wait lists are a mile long, but it was a thrill just to be there.

After Peloton, we went to the Devonshire for the “best Guinness in London,” and then to Waterstones.

I have much, much more to say about London, but that will have to wait for another day. I did have a Very Exciting Encounter, though:

Elisabeth! She and I had a one-day overlap in London, so I was lucky enough to meet up with her and her husband at a pub. YOU GUYS. Her beautiful soul just beams out of her beautiful face. I could have talked to her for three days straight, but alas, we both had places to be and things to do. (HI ELISABETH)

This Time For Africa

Something I did not expect for our trip was the type of plane we would be flying on once we were in South Africa. We flew on a double-decker AirBus from London to Johannesburg, and I knew that we would be taking smaller, regional flights once we landed. When I heard “smaller, regional flights” I assumed that the aircraft would be a regular prop plane or something similar, with actual airports. I did not expect to be boarding an eight-passenger bush plane and to be landing on a tiny airstrip in the middle of the bush, an area patrolled by safari jeeps to ensure no large animals would be in the way when the planes flew in. It was quite the experience! We took six such flights, and it was so much fun. The roads, I gather, are not great and the routes to different safari lodges are long and indirect, so flying in was fabulous.

I also assumed we would be seeing animals from afar, using binoculars and just hoping for glances. What I did not realize was that we would be off-roading through the bush, and that we would be so close to wild animals. Honestly, those animals could not care less about safari vehicles, and of course the guides were knowledgeable about giving the animals the space that they require.

I got a feel for things on our first game drive, when a group of four male lions just casually walked by our vehicle and then calmly laid down in the road. If I reached out my arm, I could have touched them, that is how close they were. That first night we also saw African wild dogs, which is a rare sighting, hyenas, and giraffes.

Every lodge had rules that guests could not walk around by themselves after dark, because animals saunter in and out at their leisure. I didn’t feel overly concerned about this until our last lodge, in Phinda, where there are baboons and monkeys everywhere. Baboons are the most terrifying animal and I was petrified whenever I saw one.

It was also unnerving to be charged by a male rhino in the Sabi Sands. Fortunately we were on a straightaway road, and our guide just floored the gas to zoom away. All other rhinos we saw were pretty relaxed, although we did come across a group of mamas with babies, and it was incredible to see how they circled around the young ones protectively.

In each safari group, there is a tracker and a guide. When it comes to the big cats, the tracker – as the name would suggest – looks for tracks and other signs in order to find them. We saw several every day; lions, including cubs, leopards, and cheetahs. Different reserves have different concentrations of animals, depending on the landscape, and in Phinda forest, our final park, leopards are difficult to see. Although we had seen several in Ngala and Sabi Sands, we did not see any at Phinda until our last night, when the rest of the group had already left, and it was just me and my husband on our final game drive. The guide asked what we wanted to see and I said casually, Let’s just drive around and not bother trying to find any of the big cats. I don’t care if we see any, unless one walks in front of our vehicle. Guess what happened!

The elusive leopard walked right in front of our vehicle. It felt like a great sendoff from an absolutely perfect trip.

I love travelling, I love experiencing new things and places. We met so many wonderful people and we saw so many incredible things. I am so, so lucky. And although I love travelling, I also love my home. I was telling my older son – who is home now! – that when I am travelling I am so thrilled to be travelling, and then when I’m home I am thrilled to be home. So here I am! I have a three-week backlog of weeding to tackle, as well as catching up with all my friends. Currently, I have 206 unread blog posts in my reader, so it will take me a bit of time to get through them. Also, did I mention the weeds? In the meantime, tell me! How are you, friends? How have you been, what’s been happening, what are we doing these days? Tell me everything. xo

Maitri, Loving Kindness

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I try to incorporate maitri, or loving-kindness, into every aspect of my life, but I specifically do a maitri meditation a few times a week. This involves repeating the following four times: May you be safe, may you be happy, may you be healthy, may you live with ease. Each time the mantra is repeated, the mind is to focus on different people, the first being someone who is easy to love, followed by someone who is difficult to love. After that, the focus is on oneself, and then the mantra is sent out to the universe at large.

Easy To Love: My Boys

In my Ask Me Anything, Christa (HI CHRISTA) asked Were you ever disappointed not to have a daughter? Thank you for such a deep and vulnerable question, Christa! The short answer is no. I was thrilled to have two boys, although I’m sure if I had two girls, or one of each, I would be equally thrilled. The interesting thing is that as soon as I knew I was pregnant, I was certain I was having a boy. Then when it was clear our second child was a boy, I was over the moon that I would have brothers. I feel extremely fortunate in that they are the best of friends, as well as being wonderful sons.

I wanted two children, and that is what I got, so I was and am perfectly content. I will say that I was asked frequently whether we were going to “try for a girl,” which is a question innocently meant but one that I found, and still find, very upsetting and offensive on a number of levels. Being the mother of those two boys has been the great joy of my life, and I would not change it for anything. They have grown into remarkable young men who are easy to love, and hence they are frequent recipients of the first maitri meditation.

Difficult To Love: A Sociopath

One of the best things about having an Ask Me Anything is the wide variety of questions. My dear friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked Have you ever met a sociopath in real life? Well, Suzanne, not only have I met one, but through the marriage of a close family member, I was related to one! Technically I still am. I cannot say more, because there are eyes everywhere, but suffice it to say that this person is the literal worst person I have ever met in my life: cruel, diabolical, and manipulative.

I have tried to focus on this person in the second part of the maitri meditation, but I have never been able to make it all the way through. I feel like if I ever do, I will have reached samadhi. Maybe then that person would cease to be a sociopath! Perhaps I should try harder.

Loving Myself

Exactly seven years ago this weekend, I suffered an immense and debilitating hip injury just two days before my first – and, as it turned out, last/ never – road race. It was the most physical pain I have ever experienced, and I had two unmedicated births. It took a long time to be able to merely move without extreme pain, and for many months afterwards, I couldn’t walk without a limp. Looking back, I can see very clearly that I brought this injury on myself through over-training and under-fueling. In the months before, many friends had commented on my physical appearance and I brushed them off, but now when I look at photos of myself, I can see what they were saying.

In addition to my training, I was teaching 10-12 yoga classes a week, and at every class I would remind my students to pay attention to their own bodies, to work within their own boundaries, to respect limitations and particularly pain. I was a hypocrite. I pushed myself past my own limits, for reasons that now seem stupid. My body tried to tell me quietly that it was too much, and then it finally forcibly shut down my training, forever, as it turned out.

I am a firm believer that we all need a balance of yin and yang in our lives, and if we don’t take enough yin, our bodies will force us to through exhaustion, illness, or, in my case, injury. I recently read something, with regards to injury, that said my body didn’t fail me, I failed my body, and that really resonated. I failed my body by not listening, I failed my body by letting my ego take over, I failed my body by not nourishing it properly or treating it with respect and gentleness.

I do not necessarily subscribe to the idea that every painful thing is a blessing in disguise, but in this case, it was. It just took me a while to see it. As Ma Ingalls says, there’s no great loss without some small gain, and in my case, I gained massive empathy for people with chronic pain; it’s exhausting and deflating. More than that, I was reminded that I need to treat myself with tenderness and loving-kindness. I treat myself the same way I would my dearest friend, I treat myself with as much love as I would a small child.

I gave up practicing Ashtanga second series for the primary one, with modifications to care for my hip. I did restart running eventually, but gave it up in the fall of 2022 in favour of long walks with Rex. One of my senior yoga students, back in 2019, asked about my limp and when I told him it was a running injury, he looked at me incredulously. Running. Running? Why would you run? he asked. What is wrong with walking briskly? What IS wrong with walking briskly? Nothing at all. In fact, I prefer it.

There are still Peloton rides and there is strength training, but there is also a lot of restorative yoga and gentle stretching. Most importantly, I nourish my body and soul with plenty of nutritious food and, of course, delicious treats. I won’t deprive myself. After all, would you tell this little girl she couldn’t have that cake?

I also meditate a lot, and I direct my maitri meditation towards myself, as I should. As we all should.

Weekly Reading

Awake. I picked up this book without any preconceptions; the author, I discovered, is pretty famous in evangelical circles, and when her marriage blew up due to infidelity on her husband’s part, she was “cancelled” by some of those circles. I found this book to be disjointed, dull, and the epitome of telling instead of showing, and I really should have DNF’d it. But, I had DNF’d the previous two books I had picked up prior to that, so I decided to push through. It was not worth the push, although I will say that her husband’s “voice to text” to his girlfriend in the middle of the night was a sign of someone begging to be caught. Also, that voice to text was “I just can’t quit you.” ARE WE IN BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, SIR? Ridiculous.

Let’s Just Say It Wasn’t Pretty. I thought I would enjoy this collection of memoir-like essays about being a not-conventionally-pretty woman in appearance-obsessed Hollywood, but I was wrong. I did relate to the essay about bad hair days, but the rest were navel-gazing, self-indulgent, and grinding. It was written in 2014, so there is no excuse for all the loving anecdotes about her beloved friend Woody, as well as the multiple appearances of the word “retard.” This book made me like Keaton less and I wish I never read it.

The Blind Assassin. So, after two DNF’s in a row, and two books that I SHOULD have DNF’d, I needed a win. I needed a five-star. I pulled out my favourite book of all time, a book I have read many, many times before. My dear friend Lisa (HI LISA) had recently read this for the first time, and while she texted me about it, I became overcome with cravings to reread it. I sighed the sigh of pure happiness as I read “Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.” So starts this masterpiece, which is a story within a story within a story, and has the most incredibly beautiful, incredibly clever, incredibly symbolic, incredibly powerful writing of any book I have read. I think about it all the time; the characters, the plot, and certain lines are in my brain forever. It is a work of art and I love it immoderately.

My feelings on the podcaster who recommended The Idea of You as the Best Book Ever.

The final maitri meditation is toward the universe as a whole, and I am sending out those thoughts to all of you, as I take a blogging break. May you be safe, happy, healthy, and live with ease. I will see you in a little while, friends. Take care. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Mine, His, Ours Edition

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Our houseguests have gone home and it occurred to me, not for the first time, that our friendship is rare, in the world of Couple Friends: all four of us get along, as they say, like a house on fire. Not only that, but our kids all get along. Our older kids were born on the exact same day, only two hours apart, and even though those two had that special bond, they both have fun with the other two as well. In other words, all eight of us get along in any and all permutations and combinations, and I think that is very special. These are Our Friends, as opposed to friends who “belong” more to one partner than the other.

I don’t believe that when you get married, you have to share everything, even friends. There are things that are shared and there are things that are individual, and this extends to household items. The houseplants are mine, the leaf blower is my husband’s. The Peloton is mine, the squat rack is his. We share the Vitamix but each have our own coffee maker; mine is a standard drip pot, his is a fancy espresso machine that I refuse to learn how to work. The grills are his and the stand mixer is mine, the puzzle board is shared property. The televisions and sound systems are his, the piano is mine. The camper is his, but I think he wishes it was ours. Alas for him.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Mine, His, Ours Edition

Ours: Wine Tastings

If you visit me, there is a 100% chance that I will take you for a wine tasting. It is my number one activity to do with houseguests, and there is a special, personal reason for it that goes beyond my love of wine: my husband’s family used to own the vineyard and winery that is now Tantalus. My husband’s grandfather worked to own the land, and my husband himself planted a number of the old Riesling plants that are still producing fruit. The backstory might be his, but I count this as ours since our son now works for this very vineyard. And also, again, I love wine.

Mine: The Veggie Garden

I mentally split up our yard as well as the interior of our house. The large perennial border is ours, but the lawn is definitely his. The veggie garden, on the other hand, is mine. It’s early in the season yet, but everything is coming up nicely. I have already harvested the arugula, and the kale will not be far behind.

Anyone else hear the ominous music playing? IT BEGINS.

Every year, I kind of forget the vast volume of greens we get. It’s a good problem to have! Arugula salad for all!

His: The Iris Garden

I think of our flower planters as ours, but also a little bit mine, while the iris garden is definitely his. There were several old irises and tulips growing above the rock wall that lines our carport when we moved here, and my husband has spent a lot of time restoring the overgrown bed, weeding and dividing and planting. May is the month it really shines!

Mine: Gnomes

This is an obvious one; the gnomes are clearly mine. This year I decided to hide them all within the gardens, and seeing them poke out between the plants makes me smile. It’s the kind of thing I would have loved as a child, hidden gnomes, and it brings me so much delight.

Mine: Special Sunscreen

When we travel, my husband does not pack shampoo because, as he says, hotels always provide it. This is true, but also, I will never not take my own hair care products. Who knows what kind of products they have? Who knows what state my hair will be in, using some random product? What if they only have 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner? Relatedly, he uses the same sunscreen on his face that he uses on his body and there, as with using hotel shampoo, I draw a very thick and bold line. I am very choosy about the sunscreen I will use on my face, and my current favourite is one that my friend Suzanne alerted me to: Neutrogena Face Serum Sunscreen. (HI SUZANNE)

It doesn’t leave a residue, it absorbs quickly, and it works under makeup. What more do I want from a sunscreen, other than SPF protection?

The makeup table that the sunscreen is pictured on is something else that is mine, and mine alone, although the ensuite is ours.

Outfit of the Month

I don’t think I have ever in my entire life considered my husband’s opinion when I buy clothes or get dressed. I just assume that if I like my outfit, he will too, but even if he didn’t, it would have no effect on my sartorial choices. As my beloved Aunty C says, I dress for me.

To that end, this month’s outfit involves a black tee from the Gap, Skechers shoes, the world’s most comfortable pants from Lululemon, and a silk scarf from Cambodia. I wore this for a girl’s lunch out, but I think this is a perfect travel outfit. I’ve had those pants for years and they are versatile, light, and stretchy. What more do I want out of pants?

Of course, this blog is mine, and mine alone. Perhaps my husband would have a different view on things, but he doesn’t have a blog! I’m pretty sure he agrees on the iris garden, makeup table, and gnomes though. What are your favourite things this month, friends? Tell me everything. xo

The Sand Mandalas of Everyday Life

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Ever since he retired, my husband accompanies me to Costco almost every time I go. It’s like a standing, extremely non-sexy day date. We keep the magic alive, what can I say. Follow me for more marriage advice!

It IS nice to have the company, and to also have a witness to the absolute chaos that is shopping at the only Costco in a 200 kilometre radius. We were there a few weeks ago, and I learned an important lesson: the week before Mother’s Day rivals that of the one before Christmas. Evidently this has to do with the garden centre, and not because everyone is obtaining massive ingredients to put on a feast of sorts. Whatever the reason, both the parking lot and the warehouse could only be described as insane, with lineups to the cashiers snaking all the way down to the end of the store. Every aisle was crammed with people, and my husband suggested that we turn around and go home.

THERE’S NO TURNING BACK NOW.

I had a significantly large list to get through, and it would not improve by NOT shopping. Also, even with all evidence to the contrary, I had a weirdly optimistic feeling. There was a shopping cart with two wheels jammed into the meridian near our car, and we had rescued it rather than taking one from the carrel. I cannot save all the abandoned carts that litter the parking lots, but I saved that one. Also, who DOES that? It’s so much more work to jam half the cart onto the meridian than it is to just wheel it over to the carrel that is twenty steps away.

In any case, my optimistic feeling panned out. The shopping experience was somewhat hellish, to be sure. As we were finishing up, I told my husband I would just grab a few things from the produce section and meet him in the lineup. I started walking, holding my tomatoes, cucumbers, and sweet potatoes, and then I kept walking. And walking. Where was he? The lineup had magically disappeared and he was preparing to put our items on the conveyor belt.

And that is called Cart Karma, and is why we rescue shopping carts.

In my not-so-recent Ask Me Anything, my friend Diane (HI DIANE) asked What are three things you consider yourself an expert on? As I’ve gotten older, I feel like I am less and less an expert on anything, and more of a lifelong learner, although I do consider myself pretty knowledgeable in the area of karma, both cart and regular.

Sometimes I think of my life as one giant sand mandala, the kind that Buddhist monks make and then destroy as a way of practicing non-attachment and impermanence, except instead of a beautiful divine palace, my sand mandala is a pantry full of groceries. It’s a thing of beauty. I love the feeling of having a stocked fridge and pantry, so full of fresh ingredients, destined to become delicious meals. But nothing lasts forever, and I know that in mere days the stock will deplete, only to lead to me heading to Superstore and Costco with grim determination to create the mandala again. Impermanence!

I also think I am an expert when it comes to the sand mandala that is actual dinner. For over two decades now, I have honed my skills in this area. I make a weekly menu plan, I grocery shop, and then I execute. I know dinner is a struggle for many families, so I don’t want to flex too much, but I enjoy cooking and everyone in this house enjoys eating my cooking.

But dinner truly is a beautiful sand mandala. There is a lot of preparation involved, and although I am the kind of cook who literally throws things together with only a that seems good thought, and definitely no recipe, it still is a labour, the product of which gets destroyed upon setting it on the table.

The ultimate sand mandala at this time of year, though, is weeding the garden. Can a person be an expert on weeding? I don’t know, but if so, I am one. I spend time almost every day weeding, with the understanding that the next day, I will be out there weeding again. There’s no end to the weeds, and although that can feel a bit Sisyphus-ish, it’s also very Zen. Impermanence, non-attachment, etcetera.

Malcolm Gladwell popularized the notion that it takes 10000 hours to become an expert on something, and if that is the case, then most of us are experts on things we didn’t plan or want to be. Like, am I now an expert on laundry? Washing dishes? Vacuuming the floor because someone fuzzy likes to go on adventures in the vineyard and tracks in acres of dry grass and other vegetation remnants?

It’s best to practice non-attachment in those areas as well. Clean laundry, dishes, and floors are all impermanent and, like Newman said about the mail, they never stop. But the brief time where the laundry is clean and folded, dishes are all put away, and the floor is gleaming, well. It’s beautiful, and it – like everything else – will not last.

Weekly Reading

My reading count this week is bonkers, and almost entirely due to the fact that I read a total of three books on Mother’s Day alone. What can I say, other than yoga and walking the dog, I did nothing but read that day. I also had two DNF’s that I expected to love and did not: Still Life and Mornings In Jenin. You win some, you lose some.

Pick a Colour. This was an interesting little book, told from the point of view of a nail salon owner, who used to be a boxer. It’s a commentary on social status, power dynamics, and the road not taken. 

A Winter Book. My friend Laura (HI LAURA) suggested this book of short stories by a famed Finnish children’s author. These are auto-fiction, and span from the author’s childhood to her old age. My favourites were the episalatory variety, but all contain vast nature descriptions of the Finnish landscape, both within Helsinki and on the isolated island where she spent a lot of time.

The Bobbsey Twins and the Tagalong Giraffe. The book that spurred a lifelong desire to go on safari in Africa! I read this when I was seven, and for the past forty-four years I’ve been longing to go to Africa to see the animals. And I will be, soon! Now, will my adventure involve an orphaned baby giraffe named Crackers who I will accompany to a new herd of giraffes? Who can say? I hope so! 

The Things We Never Say. If you know me at all, you know how much I love Elizabeth Strout. She is an auto-buy author for me; I love everything she has ever written, and this, her latest, is no exception. It is an incredibly moving story of a high school history teacher who learns a secret that changes how he views his own life and the world at large. As he teaches the American Civil War to his students, he is faced with a country divided, and he learns that everyone has things they never say to anyone. It is a statement on loneliness, and how a person can be dreadfully alone even when surrounded by people. Strout’s writing is, as always, beautiful and precise and I loved reading every word of this.

Kokoro. It would be difficult to overstate how much this book moved me, how much it resonated with me, how seen I felt while reading it. I wanted to note down every phrase that was meaningful to me, but I quickly realized I would be soon transcribing the entire book. This book of Japanese wisdom for living a life of meaning and fulfilment, particularly for people in midlife, is incredible in every way. I think I had an out-of-body experience reading this. I think the lessons are for everyone, but particularly for those of us in our “back nine eras.” Thank you again to my friend Laura (HI LAURA) for bringing this book to my attention, and I will be immediately looking up everything this author has written.

I cannot BELIEVE I forgot to mention one of my favourite Canadian groups, in last week’s post: Blue Rodeo! Here I am with JIM CUDDY, at a 2008 Plates of Gold Olympics fundraiser. If I look starstruck, it’s because I was. Also in the photo was my husband’s colleague’s wife and Kelly Hrudy, both cut out to make it look like it’s just me and Jim Cuddy. I also got to meet Sale and Pelletier, which will mean a lot for you pairs skating fans out there.

We have had houseguests for an extended long weekend, and it feels just like a holiday. I’ve been flexing my dinner-making muscles, as well as my wine-drinking ones. I’d like to extend my sand mandala metaphor to include the latter, but I cannot think of how to do it. xo