Category Archives: Beauty and body

Boyhouse Year In Review 2022

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Happy Almost New Year! I hope you have all been having a restful and restorative week! I have been enjoying myself immensely; lots of sleep, puzzles, books, food, and wine. We spent a few days at my parents, which is always fun, and involves games and food and more wine.

As is usual at this time of year, I’ve been reflecting a lot on the year that’s passed and the year that is to come. One of the biggest benefits to having a blog is the ability to look back, and wow, have we come a long way since this time last year. Late December/ early January were an absolute low point; things were dismal. Happily, on our Roller Coaster of Life, things have been more up than down; so let’s take a look at what happened in the Boyhouse in 2022.

January

The New Year started off pretty bleak and grim, with winter break extended and all diploma exams cancelled, and to distract myself from complete despair I talked about my concepts and mantras I try to live by every day, the kids did go back to school and I decided to stop reading the news, I talked about actual quantifiable goals that I work towards every day, I talked about how much I hate filtered photos, how I actually thought about Botox, and how I was unfriended by a high school acquaintance not once but twice, and I had a roller-coaster of a week that included new neighbours, a cancelled trip, a mouse in the house, and a possible hoarding issue with macadamia nut milk. This month’s Favourite Things were of the Hygge variety, appropriately enough.

February

I talked about all the fun physical changes that come in one’s forties, including but not limited to moustaches and chin hair, I had massive gratitude for all the Galentines in my life, I showed you a Week of Winter Outfits (spoiler: lots of sweaters and legwarmers), and I talked about automatic car starters and marital mismatches. I also told you all about the daily choices I make to show myself some love.

March

All Covid restrictions were dropped, and I went to Costco and lost my mind, it was exactly two years since the pandemic started, and we celebrated my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, two years and one week in, we got Covid, and we eventually recovered enough to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary with a Banff getaway, and my son turned 18. While we were isolated, I talked about the things that made my recovery happier.

April

I talked about the juxtaposition of my desire to wave at every neighbour and my reluctance to talk to them and hear insensitive comments about Barkley (god, that was hard for me to read), there were many signs of spring in my life, Salvadore came into my life and brought so much gnome-related happiness, we had a massive snowstorm and I scheduled appointments like a boss. It was my birthday and I talked about 47 things I love.

May

I was absolutely exhausted from the neighbour’s construction, our internet went out for seven hours and somehow we all survived, we had a lot of snow and I went to the garden centre, I shared my Week of Spring Outfits, and my son had his high school graduation ceremony, dance, and banquet, none of which I thought would happen, and I am eternally grateful. At that point I stopped my Weekly Covid Count. I also shared with you my makeup routine, and included my 4:00 am bare face.

June

I lived on the edge and planted my tomatoes slightly early while the construction guys listened to Dick in a Box, I had a weird medical mystery, my midlife crisis manifested in me giving Salvadore an actual bubble bath, and I confessed to having Low Level Shame about ghosting my long-time hair stylist. I also joined my husband in Banff for a Fancy Conference. Well, I was there for the Fancy part, he was there for the Conference part.

July

On June 30, we said goodbye to Barkley, and we were all brokenhearted. We started off the summer with some visiting relatives from California – including my teenage pen pal – and our usual trip to the lake for Canada Day, I found solace in hiking, my garden, and cooking, and I also snapped at door-to-door solicitors, I talked about Cart Karma, I started a Big Project and Curated my Closet, and in the face of a Calgary Heat Wave, I shared my Week of Summer Outfits. It was also the Ten Year Anniversary of Nicole’s Favourite Things!

August

We went on vacation, I read a lot, I vowed to have Just One Backup of everything in the house and kind of failed, I got all nostalgic, my husband and I went to Mexico where I spoke broken Spanish and sang karaoke, and I read a lot more. Notably and for the first time ever, I travelled with ONLY carryon, and I can never go back, proving that YOU SHOULD NEVER JUDGE.

September

Life has its ups and downs, and to that end there were mice in the house and the boys drank our expensive Patron mixed with Dr Pepper, on the same day I cleaned my kitchen with a toothbrush, the Queen died, my son turned 17 and when I went grocery shopping I realized I had some kind of Psychological Long Covid, and I thought about house staging and photo filtering, and showed photos of my unstaged, unfiltered home. My son went backcountry camping and to distract myself from thoughts of giardiasis I talked about a variety of Favourite September-Related Things.

October

My son did not get giardiasis, but we had a number of run-ins with local wildlife, one of my students introduced me to the concept that Gratitude Is The First Step To Joy, and I listed off some of the things I am grateful for, Rex came into our lives and has brought us so much happiness, I shared my Week of Fall Outfits, I talked about body changes and the concept of “flattering” when it comes to clothes, and I prepared for Halloween like a crazy person. I also celebrated all things fall-related!

November

I rapidly shifted into Winter and Tiny Secret Festive Season, we celebrated our one-month Rex-aversary, I finished my Christmas shopping, I joined all the cool kids in doing a Day in the Life post, I revealed my longtime desire to join a flash mob, and my son decided to join the throngs of men who observe Movember. I talked about Christmassy favourites and just regular favourites.

December

We all started Advent calendars, and mine was a puzzle one, I went to an actual holiday party with actual people and actual fancy clothes, I answered your questions about the holidays, I took the car in for servicing and it was a huge ordeal, I revealed my favourite childhood gifts, and I celebrated my girlfriends. On Festivus I talked about my favourite holiday things and also how I jerry-rigged the furnace.

It has been quite a year! 2023 will be a year of change for me; I’m not great with change, and I love my life as it is, but change is part of life, so here we go! Time to jump in. Happy New Year to all of you. Thanks for being here on this journey with me. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The It’s Fall, Y’all Edition

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We have had the most beautiful October with the longest stretch of sunny and warm weather; it’s been the kind of weather that evokes that Anne Shirley quote – I’m glad I live in a world where there are Octobers – which, believe me, is not a normal state of affairs in Calgary. Our first snowfall came fully 2/3 into the month, which is late for us. Here are our Halloween decorations before the snow:

And here is the after:

This is fall in Calgary! You just never know what the day might bring. All of this means that it’s time to pull out the thigh high wool socks, the bumwarmers, and the winter boots. It’s also time for a Favourite Things!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The It’s Fall, Y’all Edition

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers

Well, you didn’t think that I would get through an October Favourite Things post without talking about decorative gourds, did you, motherfuckers?

After last year’s fiasco with local wildlife stealing my little gourds and eating them, I decided to keep my miniature gourds inside. Those soft crafted pumpkins were gifted to me by a friend (HI TARYN) and regularly get wagged off the piano stool by SOMEONE. The piano stool was my great-grandmother’s, and I only recently incorporated it into my main-floor décor.

The Girls

Sometimes I can really visualize my future self, and one of those iterations of my future self is Crazy Plant Lady. I mean, I can really see it; me, at an advanced age, lipstick on, wearing flowing black old-lady tops, talking to houseplants, and referring to them all as her babies. It’s already happening, to be truthful.

It all started when my friend Denise (HI DENISE) relocated to Houston, and gave me her 17-year-old Christmas cactus. This Christmas cactus is as old as my youngest child, people. I am a Garden Person but I haven’t had indoor plants for years, other than my almost-zero-maintenance jade plant; still, I promised to care for it tenderly. I immediately named it Noelle and started researching How To Care For A Christmas Cactus.

The first order of business was to re-pot it, and for that I needed some more soil. Too long, didn’t read; I should never be left in the garden centre alone. I decided that along with a new pot and some soil, Noelle needed a friend, and this decorative pepper plant was just the ticket. I named her Pippa. If I had more space Noelle would have had a whole clique of friends, alas, I do not have space.

I had this cute little plant vignette for a week or so, but when we found out that Rex was coming to our home I moved them to the top of the hutch. I wasn’t sure if Rex was a plant-eater – he decidedly is NOT – but I thought his gigantic wagging tail might easily knock over The Girls. This turned out to be prescient, as the aforementioned soft gourds are often flying across the kitchen.

Scrub-a-Dub-Dub

I have loved the Rocky Mountain Soap company for years, but I have always ordered their products online. This generally worked great, but sometimes I ended up with a scent that I disliked. A few months ago I was at the mall which is five minutes from my house, and discovered that they had a new, REAL LIFE store! How exciting! I was able to sniff to my heart’s content, and I bought this lovely Blood Orange Body Scrub:

It’s orange, so I feel like it suits a Fall Favourites. It smells like a creamsicle, or The Body Shop Satsuma line. It’s the perfect blend of scrub and oil, so that it really moisturizes while exfoliating. It’s great for those of us who – pardon me for being indelicate – tend to get ingrown hairs in the bikini area.

Hair

I saw this gorgeous photolog of a woman’s journey to grow out her grey hair, and I was kind of inspired, but not inspired enough, if you know what I mean. One day I shall stop dying my hair, but that day is not today. However. My hair seems to grow fairly fast, if my roots are any indication, which means that in the days leading up to Colour Day, they are fairly dramatic. My roots are almost totally white, which means I am always playing the game of is that my roots or is my scalp showing, am I losing my hair or is it just white. It’s not the most fun game.

I wear my hair up in a bun fairly often, particularly on teaching days, or on days that I don’t wash my hair. I found this hair band, which has trailing ends to make it look like a scarf, and I love it. It makes me feel like a fashionable hippie, or a fortune-teller, but in the best possible way.

I love it because it’s quite wide, so it covers up my roots nicely. I have many hair bands, but this is my new favourite because of the long scarf detailing.

Rex, Enthusiastic Subscriber to Friluftsliv

It’s been over two years since I decided to embrace my Norwegian heritage and the concept of friluftsliv; winters in Calgary are long indeed and I was tired of dreading them. I mean, what can you do about weather? There are two options: you can be miserable, or you can adapt. Well, I guess there are three options: you could move, but I didn’t foresee myself packing up and moving to Maui, the only place that I know of that has perfect weather year-round, so really, there are only two feasible options.

So here we are with quite a bit of heavy, wet snow on the ground, and the stunningly beautiful warmth of this fall in the rearview mirror. In years past, I may have felt a bit disheartened at the prospect of cold, cold, and more cold for the next six or seven months, but NOT TODAY, SATAN. I have layers and I shall wear them, I have many pairs of winter boots, I have bum warmers and thick coats, and I have Rex.

It’s impossible not to be moved by his pure joy at the first snowfall. What a dog! In the ayurvedic world, I believe Rex would be pitta. Bernese mountain dogs are built for winter conditions, so I have a lot of vicarious joy coming my way, as we come into the season. And hey, there’s nothing like winter to soothe those hot flashes, am I right?

Hot Stuff; Heart Stuff

Speaking of hot flashes, Kari (HI KARI) had written this post about menopause, from a Gen X woman’s standpoint, and it is tremendous. All 34 menopause symptoms, each with a song from the 80s. This post was from 5 years ago, but I like to reference it from time to time because High and Dry.

Specific to that point, this How To Apply “No-Makeup” Makeup: A Guide For Mature Women is absolutely worth a read.

This month, Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) wrote a post about measuring with your heart, and I felt seen. I never use the amount of vanilla that a recipe calls for; I at least double it or I just glug glug glug it in. Other things I measure with my heart: to-be-read book lists, grated ginger in any stir-fry recipe, chocolate chips in desserts and cookies, and nut butters in my smoothies.

Speaking of nut butters, has anyone else noticed how tiny the Reece peanut butter cup “fun size” treats are? What the what? When did this happen?

Peanut butter chocolate is still one of my favourite things, but as of next week we will be entering my favourite flavour season: MINT CHOCOLATE! But that is a topic for another post. What are your Favourite Things this month? Tell me everything. xo

Flattering

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I find it interesting that there will be concepts that I take at face value for my whole life, and then I hear another point of view, which changes that concept forever for me. These are all things that I have taken for granted as meaning one thing – usually with a value attached – and then I find myself startled to discover another side. It’s like when you discover that Ring Around The Rosy had its roots in the bubonic plague, which really puts a dark light on all those games we played in preschool. Or, and this is specific to me and my incredible naivety, when I was 23 and learned that the whole point of Three’s Company was that Jack was pretending to be gay in order to have female roommates. Even more specifically, when I was even older than that I learned that the Duke boys were running a still, and that is why they were in and out of trouble with the law since the day they were born. Also, what the what, Confederate flag and the General Lee. It was startling to me, as an adult, to discover who exactly General Lee was and what the Confederate flag stood for. What can I say, this was not covered in my Canadian public school curriculum. All I remember from my childhood, specific to that television show, is that my older brother had a Dukes of Hazzard-themed TV breakfast tray, the kind that a child could use to place their cereal on while sitting on the floor and watching Saturday morning cartoons, and that the show would inevitably cut to commercial when the General Lee was flying off a bridge or some other ridiculous thing. My own breakfast tray was Smurf-themed.

All of this is to say, in the strangest and most round-about way possible, is that in the last couple of weeks I have been really thinking about the term flattering. Along with, I’m guessing, the vast majority of people, I have always had a positive association with the word flattering, but now I am not so sure. I was listening to a podcast, and the guest said that when we use the word flattering in terms of clothing or outfits, it is almost universally intended to mean smaller. Sure, sometimes we say a colour flatters our skin tone or a neckline flatters our face, but in general, it’s true: when we say an outfit flatters us, we mean it makes us look smaller than we are, and this realization kind of blew my mind.

As women, we are socialized from Day One to take up less space. Smaller, thinner, quieter. As the mother of teen boys who work out to become bigger, and who are always trying to take up MORE space, this realization was unsettling.

A few weeks ago I mentioned that my body has changed in the past year and a half; some of it is menopause-related, but a lot of it is due to adding strength training into my workouts. I added strength training back in January 2021, when the gym was closed – and even when it did open, it felt unsafe – and it was far too icy and cold for me to run outside. I wanted to strength train to reduce the risk of injury when I started running again, and then I added a bit more upper body training in a bid to stave off osteoporosis, which my doctor informed me I am at high risk of developing. All medical literature indicates that bone density is improved by strength training, and although I do find it incredibly boring and tedious, I do it regularly; I never miss. This regularity means that my body shape has changed, and some body parts have become bigger. Namely, my glutes and quads; I have a real Baby Got Back situation going on these days.

Here’s the thing: I want to be strong. I want to have lots of juicy muscle protecting my aging joints and bones. I want to be healthy and active for life; I want to be able to still keep moving in my Golden Years. Basically, I want my body to be as strong as possible until I shuffle off this mortal coil; this is why I exercise. I exercise for health, it’s not about esthetics.

Except, it kind of is a little bit about esthetics, and here is the problem.

A lifetime of conditioning ourselves as women to be smaller and take up less space in this world takes its toll on our brains. There is a weird cognitive dissonance here: I regularly exercise to become stronger and healthier, and then being stronger and healthier means that my pants are tight across the thighs and bum. It’s hard to reconcile my newfound bootyliciousness after living 47 years in a society that values smallness, thinness, and pants that don’t fit because they have become too big. Add that to my perimenopausal soft, round tummy that proudly asserts itself despite any exercise routine and, well. It evokes feelings, is what I’m saying.

A while ago, Jamie (HI JAMIE) talked about this exact same phenomenon, but with her shirts no longer fitting due to a stronger and larger upper body. On the one hand: muscle is what we are working for! On the other: patriarchal pressures to be small and take up less space. Jamie has suggested a t-shirt saying “How are you going to smash the patriarchy with small delts?” I want one of my own, but with glutes instead of delts.

One of my most special, prized possessions is a framed Desiderata; the original hung on my grandma’s wall and I had it reframed years ago. I look at it every day. When I was a kid the words that most spoke to me were Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. Isn’t that everything? Isn’t that just everything? We all have a right to be here, we all have a right to take up space, we all can celebrate our bodies exactly as they are, in whatever way they change and grow as we age.

I’m pretty sure these running pants would not be considered flattering in the typical sense of the word. But you know what? They go great with all my black tops AND they have side pockets.

Weekly Reading

It’s Okay To Laugh (Crying Is Cool Too). This was a very good memoir. This woman lost her dad and husband from cancer, AND had a miscarriage, all in a six week period. She writes about her life with levity and wit, and I’m looking forward to reading more! Many thanks to Lisa (HI LISA) for the recommendation. In what felt like a Baader-Meinhof twist, I was reading this and then heard the author interviewed on a podcast, and I liked her even more after hearing her speak. She has a new book coming out and I have it on hold at the library, stay tuned.

The Real Wallis Simpson. When the Queen died, my local library had a big display of royal-themed books, and I picked this one up, saying to the librarian “Do I WANT to know the real Wallis Simpson?” Not to constantly talk about the patriarchy, but PATRIARCHY. Wallis was, of course, the most vilified woman in Great Britain. I did not realize how popular Edward was with the general public, although I did know that Mrs. Simpson was blamed entirely for the abdication and near-downfall of the monarchy. It is important to note that – proven through correspondence – she did not ever want to marry Edward, nor did she want him to abdicate, but once he did abdicate, well, the die was cast. It should also be noted that Edward never really wanted to be king in the first place, according to his own personal correspondence. This book was quite interesting and also very, very sad. It shows that no matter who you are, you need a purpose in life and a reason to get out of bed in the morning, which Edward struggled with after the abdication. This book also paints the Queen Mum in a very unflattering light. It shows her as a woman who held a lifelong grudge – she thought that her husband’s illness and death was brought on prematurely due to the strain of suddenly becoming a king – even though the abdication meant that ultimately her daughter would be the Queen, beloved and revered, for so long.

We had our first snowfall of the season this year, and I have a very, very happy dog on my hands. Also a very, very wet dog! It’s a good thing I have been working out, because walking this guy in the snow takes a lot of effort. I hope you all have a lovely week! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Carryon Only Edition

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I have noticed throughout my life that whenever I secretly judge something, it always comes back to haunt me. I’m not talking about things I judge loudly, like not returning a shopping cart, but things I silently think that I will never do myself. I have long since abandoned such thoughts about parenting in particular, because I have learned that all I have to do to curse myself is to think I would NEVER let my kid do that or similar, and the thing happens.

One thing I have silently judged for as long as I can remember is people who travel with only carryon luggage; not the people with slim and light bags, but the people who take the maximum size possible and then jam that suitcase into the overhead compartment, leaving no room and no little inconvenience for the people around them. For god’s sake, I would think, meanly and with great resentment as I was forced to squash my tiny bag under the seat in front of me, Just pay the $25 and be done with it.

Well, here we are, in the summer of 2022, and the resounding chorus from anyone who has travelled is that a) their luggage got lost and was never found, b) their luggage was lost but was returned to them on the last day of vacation, rendering it essentially useless, and c) they waited for an hour to get their luggage at the airport terminal, while exhausted and already late due to a delayed flight. C is the Best Case Scenario.

My husband and I just got back yesterday from a long-anticipated trip to Mexico. We had a family vacation there planned in March of 2020, which turned into – after vaccines became available and we were so optimistic for the future – one for March of 2022, which would have coincided with both our 20th anniversary and our older son’s 18th birthday. We cancelled that trip in January 2022, what with everything going on, and it was lucky we did, as my son tested positive for Covid the day before we would have been due to leave. We decided to turn it into a vacation for just the two of us, and I have much to tell you about. First, though, luggage.

I am a notorious overpacker. For one thing, we have the kind of credit card that gives free checked luggage with every flight, which exposes my just pay the $25 thought process as privileged and tone-deaf. In any case, even before the free luggage benefit, I’ve never given it a second thought. Six black tank tops? Why not! Five pairs of shoes? Sure! When we travel by car, we take my minivan, which is generally stuffed full. But I will tell you this: the only thing that makes me feel more anxious than travelling without a giant suitcase full of my favourite things from home is LOSING that giant suitcase full of my favourite things from home. Therefore, given all the Lost Luggage Drama that has been a trademark of this summer’s travel, and with a lot of encouragement and tips from my friend Janet (HI JANET) I was determined that I could do it. I could do it! I could! I could go Carryon Only. Here’s how a terrible, spoiled overpacker ate her own words and went to Mexico with only a carryon suitcase and a smile.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Carryon Only Edition

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Toiletry Bottles

The biggest thing holding me back from taking only a carryon is, of course, toiletries. It will not surprise anyone to know that I use a wide variety of liquid-form toiletries and hair products on a daily basis, and, of course, that is something that is very restricted in carryon luggage.

Aside from the fact that I have an environmental issue with those tiny plastic bottles of toiletries, they seem to be following in the footsteps of lemon juice and popcorn, in that they are very hard to find right now. I don’t know what the Trial and Travel section looks like in your local drugstore, but I have visited a few in the past month and mine are largely empty swaths of space, interspersed with the occasional basket containing tiny bottles of Pert Plus and mouthwash, a few brands of tiny toothpaste, and, strangely, mini-spray-deodorants.

Janet clued me in to companies that sell little refillable bottles for exactly these purposes, and so of course I bought a few sets. I even found one that had little tiny SPRAY bottles, so I could fill them with my hair products. I did buy couple of tiny toothpastes, because what are you going to do, but most of my other products I just squeezed into the little bottles. Sunscreen was the biggest challenge but my favourite Ultra Sheer Neutrogena sunscreen is in a smallish bottle anyway, and I figured we could probably just buy sunscreen, if push came to shove.

My husband is a person who can travel with almost no toiletries; he’s happy to use whatever the hotel or resort supplies, which feels like a risky business to me, but which also meant that he could take a few of my things in his luggage.

I couldn’t decide between the pretty little silicone bottles or the ones with the case, so I got both. But check out the labels that came with them:

Are we bringing our own sauces with us? If so, it’s good that there is a label for it; we would hate to confuse a condiment with a body wash, and vice versa.

Waterproof Mascaras and the Wipes That Love Them

I don’t wear waterproof mascara very often, but it’s a must in Mexico, what with the humidity and the swimming. I recently bought the waterproof version of Maybelline’s Great Lash mascara in a fit of nostalgia; I used that mascara exclusively in my junior high years entirely due to an article in Sassy magazine about the Fancy Hollywood Makeup Artists who swore by it. You know what, it is a really good mascara; there is a lot of bang for the buck here.

When I use waterproof mascara at home I use a liquid remover with a microfibre cloth, but that seemed like a ridiculous waste of liquid packing space, so I decided to buy makeup remover wipes. I know! I know. They are environmentally terrible, but this is a special occasion and I promise I won’t do it again. It is well documented that I love Neutrogena everything, and so I bought these wipes and gave them a trial run before I left. They do the job perfectly; not a trace of mascara was left on my lashes, and no irritation around the eye area either.

Gleaming The Packing Cubes

My friend Kim (HI KIM), who travels a lot, mentioned packing cubes in a Facebook post as being “life-changing,” and so of course I investigated, and bought myself a set in a very pretty blue. Kim was RIGHT. Such a simple thing and yet it kept my little suitcase perfectly organized; I don’t tend to unpack when we are in vacation, choosing instead to literally live out of my suitcase, and these cubes made it so easy to find what I needed each day. Swimsuits in one cube! Dresses in another! Underwear in a third!

Plus, the set came with a dirty laundry bag and a little makeup bag, which I used for my very-pared-down-for-the-trip makeup items.

Compression Digression

If you have known me for any length of time, you know all about my circulation issues. If you’re new, hi! Welcome! Also, I have circulation issues! These issues crested into “the worst case of varicose veins I have ever seen on such a young woman,” as the surgeon who stripped them back in 2011 said; that stripping should have been the end of it, but I am a special flower who has developed new ones, to the alarm of my current physician. Too long, didn’t read; I wear compression stockings or calf sleeves a lot, but particularly when travelling to ward off blood clots and, I guess, death. The compression stockings I wear for flying are pretty hard-core; they take significant effort to put on and take off, and they look exactly like something my grandma would wear. Thick, “nude” stockings, what could be more stylish?

My husband: You can barely tell you’re wearing them!

Me: silently wonders if my husband is losing his vision.

The ones I wore for the flight to Mexico were thigh-high, as opposed to my full-on pantyhose stockings, which I wore on the way back, because I wanted to be able to easily (or, “easily”) peel them off in the airport bathroom to shove into my bag when we got to our destination. Wearing a skirt meant this was easy to do, and as a bonus the skirt also hides the invariable bulge at the top of the stocking. Vanity should have no place in this situation but it does.

Canadian friends: I have found it to be a terrible pain to buy medical grade stockings here. If you want anything more than light grade knee-highs, a prescription is needed, which I have, but then it’s a matter of getting measured at a pharmacy, and ordering them, and it’s just a pain. Easier and cheaper – even given the exchange rate – is ordering them from the US; I like this website.

Kindle The Reading Fire

I am going to preface this by admitting that I used to say I would NEVER use an e-reader, never. I like books! I like pages! My husband bought a Kindle back in 2012, and it has sat unused for the past several years in a drawer. Last year, a very lovely friend (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) sent me her very wonderful manuscript to beta-read, and the best way for me to read it was on an e-reader. It turns out that, like many other things I said I would never enjoy, I really liked reading that way. Don’t get me wrong: I still much prefer paper books. But with limited luggage and also reading outside with sunglasses as opposed to reading glasses, the old Kindle (with large font) was just the ticket. I loved how I could load it up, and pop it into my bag.

The only problem is that a ten-year-old piece of technology is very SLOW when it comes to uploads. I think if we are going to travel more I am going to put a new Kindle on my Christmas list.

Safety, Measurements

When flying, there are so many safety measures in place, and those two words made me think of the two posts that I read this month that really stayed with me, but in very different ways.

Erin (HI ERIN) wrote an incredible piece about the meaning of safety in childhood, drawing on her own experiences, and it is very powerful and moving. I found myself holding my breath while reading, and reminding myself to breathe through the difficult parts.

As I thought about people, myself included now, I guess, shoving their carryon luggage in the overhead compartments and maximizing every last inch of space, this hilarious post about the meaning of an inch popped into my head. I think we can ALL relate.

I have so much to talk to you about! The flight! The trip! The books I read! The leaving of my teenage children to their own devices for five days! But those things will have to wait, as I have much to do to catch up on life! Soon. I promise! xo

The Big Project

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Longtime readers may remember the great Life Changing Magic I experienced, back in 2016, accomplished merely by Tidying Up. I Kondo-ed my entire house that year, section by section, and then followed that with the No-Shopping Challenge of 2017-18. The two experiences, together, really changed my consumer behaviour for the better. I became incredibly mindful of all purchases, but particularly clothing purchases. I bought clothes and shoes with intention. In terms of household items, I established a routine wherein I would have one backup in storage of all food or cleaning staples, and when I used that backup, I would add the item to my shopping list. This worked really well for me. Nothing expired or got freezer-burned, my clothes were all pieces that I loved, and I didn’t have a cupboard full of useless products, bought on a whim.

Then the pandemic hit.

I know I don’t have to tell you how it affected my personal consumer behaviour, because it probably affected yours in the same way; the mere idea that there could be a shortage of an item was enough to make me panic and buy that item whenever it was available, no matter that I already had a backup of that item, or, in some cases, several backups of that item. At one point I had one hundred pounds of flour in the house – four twenty-five pound bags, I just kept picking up a bag every time it was available – and although I do indeed bake a lot, that is really too much flour for a family of four. It was at that point I told myself that I could not buy any more until I had used up the last backup, and I kept to it.

Flour wasn’t the only thing I panicked about; I still have a lot of baking powder and, bizarrely, cream of tartar. I could make enough play-dough for every preschool program in the city at this point. My freezers were all full and so was my pantry, and I realized that all my good and reasonable consumption patterns had taken a turn.

I definitely needed a reset when it came to purchases, particularly in the area of groceries and household products. At the beginning of the pandemic, I bought some non-hippie cleaning supplies when they became available – remember how we couldn’t get things like Lysol? – and because I usually use my natural, hippie, probably-isn’t-effectively-killing-germs-but-they-smell-nice cleaners, I still have those bottles, unused, in my cupboard.

Then I read The Curated Closet and, looking at my own overflowing closet, it was like a little light went off in my head. Time for a project, and not just a project, but A Big Project. I needed to Change My Life, again.

I started with what can only be described as a mix between the Kon-Mari method, the Curated Closet ideology, and Swedish Death Cleaning. I apologize for referring to my own eventual demise two weeks in a row, but I promise you I am not planning to shuffle off this mortal coil just yet. However, I did have a what am I keeping this for moment while looking at some of my things, remembering when my grandma was moved into long-term care from her apartment. In cleaning out her apartment, there were so many items that, sadly, no one had use for. I want someone to use the things I have, even if it’s not me using them.

One of my friends was collecting linens and the like for a couple of charitable projects of her own, and so I made the plunge and donated four full sets of old towels and three blankets that I was keeping for no particular reason. Well, there was a reason for the towels: my thinking was that in case our basement ever flooded, I would have extra towels to mop up the water. For context, this has never happened, and we have lived in this house for 22 years. Our basement got slightly wet near a single window back in 2005, the summer I was pregnant with my younger son, and that was due to an enormous amount of rain and a malfunction of our eavestroughs. Those eavestroughs have long since been fixed, and being our basement didn’t even get a drop of water during Calgary’s 2013 flood, I felt that four extra sets of towels, particularly ones that are never used, were just too many towels.

After that, I had momentum going for me. I tackled my closet and dressers, and believe me, that is a task in itself. I tend to buy quality, non-trendy pieces that last a long time, which means I have many things that are over a decade old, but still are in great shape. I have been the same size for probably fifteen years, but my body shape has changed, if that makes sense, so some of those items, while they technically fit, did not feel good at best or felt unflattering at worst.

I made a vow to keep only pieces that I love and that make me feel, if not gorgeous, at least cute. LOVE means different things, right? The love I feel for my husband and kids is different from the love I feel for a glass of cabernet franc, or for coconut milk ice cream. Similarly, the love I feel for a fabulous black dress is different than the love I feel for a cute old tee, emblazoned with the words Shine On, that I wear when I am gardening. But the key to cleaning out my closet was I wanted nothing in there that I didn’t love or that I didn’t feel fabulous in. Can you feel fabulous in yoga pants and a sweatshirt? I think you can, because I do, albeit in a different way than when I’m in a dress and heels. Different costumes for different activities! Gardening clothes are different from workout wear, and both are different from going-out clothes, but different doesn’t mean better or worse. Right? My body shape is different, but that doesn’t mean it’s any better or worse than five or ten years ago.

In an effort to show the clothes I love some love, I bought a big set of velvet hangers, got rid my mishmash of plastic and wire hangers – NO! WIRE! HANGERSSSSSSS! – and took every item out of my closet and dressers. When I wasn’t sure about something – a dress I hadn’t worn for years, for example – I tried it on and if I didn’t feel spectacular, I put it in the donation pile. If I felt meh about a piece, I put it in the donation pile. I thought, if it doesn’t Spark Joy or I don’t Love It, it goes. The hardest part was getting rid of sweaters that were expensive to start with, even if I had gotten a lot of wear out of them. But there were some that I just didn’t love anymore, for whatever reason, and I thanked them for their service and hoped they found their way into the closet of someone who would love them.

Fortunately for me, in the middle of this the Kidney Foundation happened to call to see if I had any donations; this was their haul, three of those bags being from my sons’ cull of their respective closets.

One of the rules from The Curated Closet is to carefully examine your wardrobe, identify gaps or needs, then – and only then – make careful, measured purchases. I have to say, in a completely honest way, that I have no gaps or needs, even after this massive cull. You guys, I have a lot of clothes. It’s ridiculous. I am not going to go on another No Shopping Year, mostly because if I do I fear my mother will disown me and my husband will leave me, but I have made a few rules for the next year, starting May 27, which is when I began The Big Project.

  1. No quick purchases. If there is something I think I need in the clothing department, I am going to wait at least a week to purchase it to see if I can be without it. Chances are I already have several similar items in my closet; i.e., my twenty black sweaters and thirty-two black tees in a variety of sleeve lengths and fits.
  2. Socks and underwear are exempt from Rule #1. Those items can be purchased whenever required.
  3. Seasonal essentials are somewhat exempt from Rule #1; I have many, many pairs of gloves and scarves and hats, but should I require something that will allow me to live my vida hygge, or friluftsliv, I shall not hesitate.
  4. Decent footwear is vital to my well-being, and if any of my current sandals, shoes, running shoes, or winter boots wear out, they can be immediately replaced.
  5. If it doesn’t make me feel fabulous, it doesn’t belong in the closet. This means new purchases, yes, but it also means I need to assess my old favourites from time to time, as my body changes with perimenopause.

So here I am, almost two months into the Rules already, and I have kept to them so far! The next step is dealing with the pantry and household goods; stay tuned.

Weekly Reading

Hooked. This was so interesting; the cover somewhat suggests one of those weird lecture-style books about the dangers of food, but it was not like that at all. Instead, it’s a smart and well-researched book on the nature of addiction, the role memory plays in our eating lives, and corporate manipulation. There is a lot about the processed food industry, and a sideline about the famous McDonalds lawsuit. I was excited to read about Indra Noori and PepsiCo, whose memoir I had recently read. Noori famously worked towards bringing healthier choices to PepsiCo, and was lauded for it by everyone BUT Wall Street. That was a detail that was not in her memoir, and apparently one of the reasons she stepped down in 2018. Investors, apparently, wanted more of those crazy unhealthy multi-product items on the menu.

Tacky: Love Letters to the Worst Culture We Have To Offer. I put this on my library hold list for a reason, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what that reason was. Did I hear about it on a podcast? Did I read about it in an interview? In any case, it was very, very different from what I was expecting, which was, as it says on the cover, “…a masterly ode to unfettered, unrestrained, and unrepentant joy.” I’m pretty sure I would not use the word “joy” to describe this collection of essays. I was expecting joyful discussion of tacky pop culture, and each essay did circle back to a different piece of pop culture, that’s correct. The author is many years my junior and so the pop culture in question that shaped her youth were things that I vaguely remembered from my twenties and thirties and, in the case of Guy Fieri, my forties. I suppose it’s because of my age that I had that not-unfamiliar motherly/ big sisterly feeling of alarmed disappointment when I read about her frankly quite horrifying and unhealthy exploits. Honey, you deserve better than this, I thought constantly, along with For the love of god, make better choices. So I’m not the desired demographic. I will say that each depressing essay was extremely well-written; the author is a talented essayist, even if I find the content disturbing and sad.

Heart Talk. I am including this in my weekly reading, although I have been reading it, one or two pages at a time, for months, before my yoga practice in the morning. It was a lovely way to start my practice; it’s such a gem of a book about self-care and self-love. Perfect pre-yoga reading!

I hope you are all having a lovely summery week, friends! I am going to leave you with photos of “the twins,” taken on my morning run when I was up at my parents’ place last week. Aren’t they sweet? xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 10th Anniversary Edition!

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This month marks the tenth anniversary of Nicole’s Favourite Things! A whole decade of writing about beauty products, clothes, food, and the occasional gadget. Two things: a) wow, I have been writing this blog for a very long time, and b) looking back at my very first Favourite Things, I still have all of those tops.

Ah, summer. I have been working very hard for this past year to really Embrace The Season, but here we are in my actual favourite season, so no hard work is needed. I love summer. I often idly wonder if I would actually miss seasonal changes if I lived somewhere like Maui, where it’s just one long summery paradisiacal day after another. Maybe I would? But it’s hard to imagine.

In my first Favourite Things, I expressed my love for summer clothes, and summery beauty products, and produce-heavy salads for dinner with berries for dessert. I still love all of those things and I probably always will! If I lived in a place where it was always summer, would I miss my sweaters and boots? Would I miss hearty winter meals and moisturizers for chapped skin and lips? Like I said, maybe, but it’s hard to imagine.

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I am Embracing The Hell Out Of Summer. When it’s sunny and warm, I just want to be outside all day long, and feel mild resentment when I have to go indoors. I have been like this my whole life; maybe I’m solar powered.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 10th Anniversary Edition

Non-Psychologically-Scarring Skirts and No-Bra-Required Tank Tops

In honour of my first Favourite Things, I am going to talk about skirts with shorts attached and yoga tanks with built-in shelf bras. These are Enduring Favourite Things, and I have many of the same skirt and top but in different colours and patterns. What can I say, if it works, it works. Listen, living in Calgary there are, annually speaking, approximately 20 days total in which wearing light summery clothing is appropriate. That’s probably a high estimate, actually. The upside of this is that good summer clothing can last forever, as the chance to wear it out is limited. The moment the temperature rises above a certain point, which would probably be considered chilly for my Southern friends, I don a skirt. I think they are cute, and they are very practical with the shorts underneath; I never have to worry about accidentally psychologically scarring random passersby or, more likely, my own children when the wind picks up.

I also love a good yoga tank with a built-in shelf bra; this is a thing that works for me mainly because I am, how shall we say, not exactly overly gifted in the chestal region. I wear these year-round, as a layer mostly, but on warm days they can stand alone.

Talk To Me Goose

My love for Top Gun is well-known; I have loved it since I walked to the theatre with my cousins and older brother in Estevan, Saskatchewan, in the summer of 1986. To this day I remember my outfit on that sweltering prairie night: jeans and a pale pink, tie-dyed, off-the-shoulder short sleeved sweatshirt, despite the heat. I was smart enough by that time to realize that the one theatre in Estevan boasted air-conditioning, and let me tell you, they wanted you to know they had air-conditioning. It was always freezing, and if you were naive enough to wear summer clothing to an evening show, you would be blue by the time the movie ended. Anyway, back when Hannah, Allison, and I cowrote a fun nostalgic blog (HI HANNAH HI ALLISON), I wrote one of my favourite pieces ever, about Life Lessons From Top Gun.

All of which is to say I love Top Gun, and I love the NEW Top Gun as well. Do not ask me to tell you which one is “better.” That is an impossible choice akin to the one Sophie made, and I will not make it. In any case, my husband bought me this shirt, and I love it so much:

It must be worn with aviators. It’s a law.

Pedicures and Sandals

In the summer I swap my boots for sandals, but because I am 47, my sandals need to be of the utmost comfort. Who has the energy for painful footwear anymore? I have found Skechers sandals to be the cutest and most comfortable of all the sandals. These are my favourite, and they are good for walking too:

But I also love these sparkly slides, perfect for the days at the lake:

I have heels for the rare occasion that I need them:

I keep my feet groomed throughout the year; being a yoga teacher my feet are on display constantly, so regular pedicures are a must. I used to exclusively do my own pedicures, but there is the cutest little nail salon just down the street from me, and their prices are fabulous. With each pedicure they give a hot stone massage AND they exfoliate using orange slices, which I love. I still touch up my polish between pedicures, but I definitely go to the salon more frequently in the summer.

Lettuce Pray and Flower Power

There is a great line in Sorrow and Bliss, when the husband acquires a plot in the community garden, and he says that they will now be self-sufficient, in the area of lettuce. I feel seen. I am currently self-sufficient, in the area of kale, as we just had our third cutting. I’ve also had two cuttings of Romaine, and although my leaf lettuce has been very very slow to grow this year, I am expecting to be able to cut it next week. At least, I hope so. Harvest time! I get so much joy out of gardening, it’s unbelievable. It feels like a superpower: do you like this salad? I GREW IT MYSELF.

The first of the roses bloomed – I grow John Cabot climbing explorer roses, explorer roses being the only ones I think are sufficiently hardy to survive our winter temperature fluctuations. This is always exciting as the first one is quickly followed by a wall of blooms.

Let The Spinning Wheel Turn

This week marks my two-year anniversary of the arrival of my Peloton! It was, without a doubt, my very favourite thing to come out of 2020. I know the bar is pretty low, but still. On the actual date of my first ride – which is this Sunday – I plan to revisit the same class I did then, a 45 minute disco ride with Leanne.

It has been a really fun way for me to increase my cardio fitness, and it is measurable: that first 45 minute ride, my output was 277. My usual output these days for a similar class is around 400. If you know, you know! Do you have a Peloton and want to be Peloton friends with me? If the answer to that is YES, my leaderboard name is NicoleBoyhouse.

Wistfulness and Avocados

I have two favourite links this month, both summery in their own way. The first is from my longtime, beautiful, smart, and all-round lovely bloggy friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE). Suzanne wrote about how you can’t go home again, and the piece, like her, is beautiful, smart, and all-round lovely.

My other favourite link is from a newer blog friend, Jamie (HI JAMIE). Jamie wrote about toxic diet culture, body acceptance, taking up space, and avocados as a metaphor for our bodies. I love a good metaphor and I love a good avocado, but most of all I love her message, particularly in the summer when we are inundated with images of “beach bodies” and “bikini bodies” and what have you.

There’s so much to be grateful for in the summer, there is so much to love, but I particularly love and am grateful for YOU, my dear readers, for being here and for listening to a decade of Things that are my Favourite. xo

A Hair Affair

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I had a haircut last week, which is an infrequent enough occurrence that it merits a mention. It’s hard for me to believe that, pre-2020, I had a professional cut and colour every five to six weeks. Looking back, it feels like that was a grievous waste of time and money. I remember asking long-haired friends, mid-2020, how frequently they cut their hair and the average answer was, at best, two to three times a YEAR. This was eye-opening for me, to say the least.

It sounds silly, but the realization, back in April 2020, that I could easily and effectively colour my own hair was incredibly empowering and life-changing. I know, I know. But I had been going to a salon for colour for over two decades at that point, so I really didn’t know how great home hair colour is, how easy it is to apply, not to mention the massive savings of time and money. I mean, a box of Garnier is about 5% the cost of a salon visit, and I don’t need to book off an entire afternoon to refresh my colour; I can do it whenever my roots start to irritate me, which is every four weeks at the very most.

This brings me to what I have been wanting to say for the past eighteen months or so, and that is that I have been going to a new hair salon. This is the fourth time I have had my hair cut by this very lovely young woman, and I have never been happier with my hair. She is incredibly patient and doesn’t say a word about the state of my ends, which, with 5-6 months between cuts, are quite scraggly and dry. She shows me exactly how much she is going to cut off, and then she does it, without any surprises. She doesn’t lecture me on colouring my own hair, even if I have roots showing. She DOES tell me I should wear my hair down more, to cut down on breakage, but I accept her professional opinion while not generally adhering to it.

I am very happy with this new salon, but I feel low-level embarrassment and shame about leaving my old salon, which brings me to the question: how do you break up with your hair stylist?

Typically, if you are unhappy with or outgrow a service or a consumer good, you simply just stop patronizing or purchasing it. If you have a poor experience with a restaurant, you just stop going to that restaurant. If you outgrow or change so that the goods you consume no longer suit you, it’s easy to just stop purchasing them. This is just part of life, if it wasn’t, we would all still be using Aussie Scrunch Spray in our spiral permed hair and wearing Lip Smackers and using Wet & Wild nail polish, we’d be reading Sassy magazine and shopping at Mariposa, and yes I know that some of these things are no longer in existence. Nonetheless! Change is part of life, and we have power as consumers to vote with our dollars and feet.

But I think we can all agree that changing hair stylists is Another Thing Altogether. The relationship between a woman and her hair stylist is an intimate one and is based on trust that is built up over the years. No other service is quite so intimate, except perhaps estheticians that work on the bikini line. I mean, the woman who does my euphemistically-named Bikini Plus body sugaring sees me completely naked from the waist down, and has me put my legs in positions that would make me blush if I wasn’t basically dead inside when it comes to Intimate Esthetics. Other than the long-suffering Body Sugar Woman, the hair stylist holds the title for Most Intimate.

I was with my previous hair stylist for nineteen years, which, at the time that I last saw her, was almost as long as I had been married. I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but when I last saw her in September 2020, my visit left so much to be desired, and was so disappointing on a number of levels, that I felt I needed to start the search for a new stylist. My hair, which I had been growing out, was shorter than I wanted, my layers, which I had been growing out with the help from that same stylist since December 2018, were more pronounced, and the colour was way darker than anything I had ever had before. This wasn’t the first time I had been disappointed by my cut and colour, but it was the first time I had been disappointed after I realized that I could easily colour my own hair for a fraction of the cost, and that long hair just doesn’t need to be trimmed that often.

It has taken me this long to actually write about it, which really says something about my feelings. This brings me back to the original question: what would you do? I will tell you what I did do, and I feel Low Level Shame about it, and that is that I just stopped going to her. I didn’t make another appointment. When I received a text from her, I didn’t respond.

Did I ghost her?

I feel like I DID, but yet, what was to be done? As I said, if I was disappointed in the service of a restaurant, or even a nail salon, I would just patronize another establishment. But after nineteen years, I disappeared without a trace, and I feel weird about it to this day.

I try to think about it in terms of my yoga classes. If someone stopped coming to class, would I want them to tell me why? I would if the answer was that the time was no longer convenient, or they moved and the drive was too far, or anything else that was beyond my control. But if the answer was that they hated my teaching style or my voice or my personality, well, then, I probably would not want to know. I think I’d rather just be ghosted.

Weekly Reading

After my run of cancer memoirs and death memoirs and serious non-fiction, I decided to migrate some available titles that were on my For Later list to my Hold List, and they came in mid-week, which turned out to be perfect timing.

How To Pronounce Knife. Oh wow, I absolutely LOVED this collection of short stories! Each story is about a Lao refugee and the immigrant experience, and each is from a completely unique point of view. Every story is captivating, compelling, and incredibly moving. I didn’t want to put it down and I didn’t want it to end. It’s been a while since that happened. Thanks to Allison (HI ALLISON) for the recommendation.

The Inner Life of Animals. This was a wonderfully interesting read about animals and their lives. Ravens mate for life, there have been documented inter species adoptions, and goats are quite the disciplinarians. It was a delight to read, animal lovers will adore it. There is a small section on moths, which are, as we know from last week, not my favourite creatures, but I am trying to look at them in a different light now. I’M GROWING AS A PERSON. Relatedly, there is an anthill in my backyard and I discovered it when I went to weed one of the garden beds, and when I say “discovered,” I mean I stepped on it and I had ants swarming sockless feet and bare legs. I tried to brush them off and they swarmed my arms and got inside my gardening gloves. It was, shall we say, unpleasant. Instinctively, I am sad to say, I thought about going into the house and boiling a kettle of water to pour on the hill, but then I stopped: that seemed like an unnecessarily cruel action given that they were just doing what they are supposed to do. I mean, if they were in my house it would be a different story, but they were as far away from the house as could possibly be, and so I thought live and let live and just went on with my weeding, from another, far-away-from-the-ant-hill angle.

The Right Swipe. This was a cute and kind of smutty piece of brain candy. The creator of a dating app meets an ex-football player who is the nephew of a dating website owner…there are twists and turns but of course it ends the way it should, for a light romance. Fun fact: I never remember if it’s swipe right or swipe left if you like someone – dating apps were way before my time, but now I’ll remember (right is the right one). This is part of the Modern Love series, and I read the third one last summer (First Comes Like). Each book is a separate entity, so there is no need to read them in order, which is good, because I didn’t.

Yours Cheerfully. This was a delightful and charming sequel to the delightful and charming Dear Mrs Bird; a plucky young magazine correspondent befriends women working at a munitions factory during WWII. The problem is many women are mothers…and childcare is hard to find. How can they support the war effort and care for the children? It’s a wonderful read with a real women-supporting-women theme. Imagine everyone pulling together for a common goal? IMAGINE. I read the first half of this on Friday, a dark, cold, rainy day on which Roe v Wade was overturned, meaning our nearest neighbours lost fundamental rights and agency over their own bodies, and I kept thinking of these themes. There was a line in the book that said “some women want to support women, and some women don’t,” and boy, isn’t that the truth. Anyway, it was a wonderfully uplifting book for a very sad weekend.

The news seems to get worse every day, so I will leave you these images of Barkley, apparently playing hide and seek with me. Stay strong, my friends. xo