Category Archives: Big Thoughts

Tent Poles Of Life

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Last week I listened to a podcast on the case against convenience and efficiency in our modern life, and it was fascinating. Who DOES benefit from people being more “efficient” with their time? If we can get lunch delivered right to our offices, is that really better than walking to go pick it up? Who benefits? It’s not us, the people working through lunch. There is always a cost to convenience, and someone is paying. Sometimes it’s all of us, from an environmental standpoint, sometimes it is a workforce in poor conditions, sometimes it is through loss of personal security and identity. It has been many years since I have worked in an office, but this still resonated with me deeply, particularly the comment that we are all trying to save time, but what are we saving time for?

It’s a good question. Some longtime friends visited us this week, and we were talking about their upcoming retirements. I’m not sure if I can claim that I am retired since I’ve worked only part-time at most since March 2004, but my husband thinks that the key to a happy retirement is to become time-inefficient. This doesn’t mean that he’s lazy or unproductive, but instead it means that he doesn’t rush to cram everything into every possible moment of the day. His workouts are no longer a rushed hour before leaving for the office, but a whole-morning affair, complete with stretching and meditation. Yard work is no longer crammed into the few weekend hours that weather would allow, which is a good thing, since we have so much more yard here than we did in Calgary. Life is more relaxed and happier, particularly since there are no longer insane demands on him, like meetings at 10:00 on Easter morning, as an example.

How we spend our days is how we spend our lives, which is a sentiment I both love and also feel uncomfortable with, given that I spent at least five hours grocery shopping, driving to and from grocery stores, and putting away all the groceries this week. Is my life just groceries now? I suppose there are worse ways to spend my one wild and precious life.

One fun thing I spent time doing this week was make a double batch of cupcakes for my friend Sammi’s birthday (HI SAMMI). There was a big party for her, which was delightful. Happy birthday to my beautiful Sammi!

Speaking of friends and ways we spend our time, my friend Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) is hosting her semi-annual walking club. It’s my time to shine! I am the QUEEN of the daily walk; I haven’t missed one since March 2020, and before that, I walked probably 99% of the days since Barkley came into our lives in September 2008. If my day is a tent, metaphorically speaking, then my daily walk is one of the tent poles adding structure to my life. It’s a time for moving meditation and podcast listening, gentle exercise and fresh air, enjoying being outside and the beauties of nature, such as this sight from last week.

Free candy! Hold me back!

Another tent pole in my daily life, for half the year at least, is the garden. At the party on Saturday, a friend’s husband asked me how my summer was. Great! I gardened all the time! I answered, garnering a puzzled and somewhat pitying look. Well, I love it, but garden season is coming to a close and I’m going to have to figure out what I did for all those hours in previous offseasons. Oh right, I wrote a book.

As will be obvious from my Favourite Things post last week, an important tent pole is my daily shower, makeup, and hair routine, together with, at the end of the day, my makeup removal, cream application, and dental hygiene routine. These are both very vital parts of my day, as in I cannot imagine my day without them. How would I function?

I saw something several months ago that I have thought of nearly every day since. A fairly well-known Canadian writer had posted a photo of herself in a t-shirt with something witty on it, and that was the point of the post. However. I cannot remember at all what the t-shirt said because the side note of the photo was that the writer was wearing two day old makeup. I cannot get over this. I have to remind myself that the world is a vast tapestry and we are not identical robots. Still. It’s hard for me to fathom not showering daily, let alone going TWO days shower-less, short of extreme illness, surgery recovery, or camping. It is harder still to imagine going two days without washing one’s face. What would her pillowcase look like? What does her skin look like? How does one have eye makeup on for two days without it devolving into raccoon eyes? WHAT KIND OF MAGIC MAKEUP IS THIS?

Well. As I said, we are all different and have different priorities and ways in which we choose to spend our time. I am comfortable with the tent poles that give structure to my days, and therefore, my life. Well, mostly. I would prefer to spend less time vacuuming the floor, which is a tedious tent pole of my day, but that’s the tradeoff for having this guy in my life.

Weekly Reading

Reading is, of course, an important part of my day, and I finished two very good books this week.

Big Little Lies. I first read this in 2017, but decided to reread in preparation for the newly released Big Little Truths, for which I am in the library queue. The queue is pretty long, so hopefully I won’t forget everything by the time my turn comes. Anyway. Rereading this catapulted me back into the days when my kids were in elementary school: the fundraising for Smart Boards, the mom cliques, the playground gossip. This is such a propulsive, funny, and very thoughtful read about a very serious subject: domestic abuse. Moriarty is an excellent writer, and I have a little six-degree connection – a woman in our Morocco tour group taught math to her daughter! I felt starstruck just knowing that! Also, Rex would like you to know that he’s not telling any lies, big or little.

Tunnel 29. Big thanks to blog reader Allison R (HI ALLISON R) for telling me about this excellent nonfiction book that reads like a novel! It details the creation of a tunnel underneath the Berlin Wall through which 29 people escaped East Berlin, but more than that, it is a picture of post-war Germany, the division of the country, and the very grim living situation of East German people, particularly those in East Berlin. I had no idea about the Stasi – the spy network – that infiltrated every part of East German life. This was a very fascinating book and one I’d recommend if you are interested in German and Soviet history. I clearly remember the Berlin Wall coming down, I was a teenager, and this brings so much more context to that event than I have ever had. 

If I were more on the ball, I would have been singing Earth, Wind, and Fire’s September this time last week, but alas. Perhaps I’ll change it to the 28th night of September, just for today. How has your September been? I hope you have a beautiful week, friends! xo

I Just Called To Say I Love You

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I had the most delightful, friend-filled week. It started with a visit from my friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE). Suzanne is a very talented writer and a dear friend, and being able to see her in person, as opposed to on a screen, was wonderful. I can’t believe you’re HERE, I kept saying, and I couldn’t. It felt too good to be true! And for those of you who follow and read her beautiful words, let me tell you something: this woman is a class act, she is absolutely gorgeous inside and out. I adore her! Then Suzanne left and before I could become bereft, my friend Tara (HI TARA) arrived. Tara and I have been the best of friends since the first day of grade nine, and we have gone through all the big life stages together. There is something just so special about that. She’s the sister I never had.

The visits were perfect, marred only by the thick blanket of smoke that billowed in on Monday, when Suzanne arrived, and didn’t billow out until Friday night, after Tara left, albeit briefly. It has billowed back in, as there are some pretty serious fires fairly close to us right now. The air became so bad that my sons, both of whom work outdoors, texted me photos of them wearing masks, along with some wry Covid-era commentary. I told them they were a couple of sheeple before stepping into the shower to scrub the smoke smell out of my hair and skin, the yellowish rinse water swirling at my feet.

For most of the pandemic, I found myself reciting the Serenity Prayer like a mantra, and I do that now with forest fire season.

I was so honoured that my friends came so far to see little old me – through the smoke no less! – and as I was thinking of my luckiness, I came across this newsletter talking about the five-year stranger phenomenon. It was the first time I had heard this theory, but I’m well aware of the concept that friendships can fade when our lives cease to physically or mentally overlap, or when we change and grow. I have always subscribed to the theory that people come into your life for a reason, season, or lifetime, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel a pang when a friendship fades.

It’s so easy to keep in touch these days, and maybe it is too easy. It’s easy to feel like we really know a person while looking at their social media highlight reel, but relationships with any depth require more effort than that. However, the fact is that I love these highlight reels, I love seeing updates from people who would otherwise have faded from my life. I feel sure I would have lost touch with the girl I volunteered with at the nursing home when we were fifteen, and now I am celebrating her extensive travel and upcoming nuptials. I’ve become friends with former yoga students and people I have met while travelling, reconnected with people from grad school, and have become close with a cousin (HI KAREN) through our shared love of books and dogs, all due to social media. I love that I have these tools to communicate, but I admit that sometimes they can take the place of true heart-to-heart connection, the kind of intimacy and closeness we all need from our friends. I also admit that they can sometimes reveal unsettling information about a person, information that I was happier not having, from pandemics to politics and everything in-between. Because these relationships are often surface level, I can compartmentalize, but I would still rather not know if someone is using the term sheeple unironically.

My husband has a friend who loathes texting, so much so that he will return any text with a phone call. The more I think about this, the more I like it. Not that I’m going to do this – it’s a little much to make a constant stream of phone calls all day long in response to, say, someone’s Connections results – but I do like hearing my friends’ voices. Whereas I used to worry that a phone call would interrupt their day, I now think well, they can NOT answer if it’s a bother. And sometimes it IS a bother, and they don’t answer, and that’s okay. They can listen to my I just called to say I love you voice mails, and call back when and if they are so inclined.

Many years ago, I adopted a mindset reframe that I had read about: instead of saying I don’t have time for X, I say X is not a priority for me, and then I see how I feel about that. If I feel aghast, and I reassure myself that no, no, no, X really IS a priority, then I make the time. If I feel it is a true statement, then I just let it go. Not everything can be prioritized! A big priority for me is to show up for my friends. Sometimes it’s not physically possible; one of my best friends lives in Halifax (HI HANNAH), which is just about as far away as you can get without leaving the country or falling into the ocean. But we must have the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, and be grateful for modern technology that allows us to still communicate about everything from tulip murderers to the weird guy who talks angrily on Facetime with no headphones at the gym.

It’s not the new year, but I have a resolution to make more phone calls, send more cards and messages, and physically be there whenever possible. Have the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know that placing a phone call on speaker in a public place is both an act of aggression and an invitation for me to eavesdrop on every word.

Weekly Reading

Kin. This book literally took my breath away several times. I will admit I went into it a bit apprehensively, being the only person I know who didn’t enjoy this author’s acclaimed An American Marriage. But wow, this book! It is a dual perspective between two “cradle friends,” motherless girls who grew up together but whose lives took two very different paths as adults. It’s a story about the deepest kind of friendship, the kind of friendship that is more than family, the kind of friendship in which each person is truly known. It’s immersive and evocative, heartbreaking and hopeful, viscerally beautiful and moving. I loved this so very much.

The Big M. For us ladies of a certain age comes this collection of essays about THE CHANGE. It’s an inspiring and empowering collection about the physical, mental, and emotional changes that come during perimenopause and the menopause transition. Some of the essays were absolutely great, some less so, but all in all a good collection.

It looks to be a smokey week around here, with fire fighters working around the clock. Meanwhile, I will just be practicing serenity and peering at the sky, optimistically thinking I might see a patch of blue. Have a lovely week, friends. Stay safe. 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

Pencil Marks

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My husband works out every day in the mid-to-late morning, and he uses our extensive speaker system rather than headphones, which means I can frequently hear what music he’s working out to. Instead of a carefully-curated, peppy and motivating playlist like the one I use, he just has a playlist of “songs that he likes,” which can lead to what I think is an eclectic soundtrack for weight lifting. I find it amusing, for the most part; a Taylor Swift song might follow Enter Sandman, and then we could suddenly be thrown into early-2000s hip-hop, after which is Crazy Train. But the other day the song Buy Dirt came on. I went downstairs and, upon seeing my crying self, my husband turned off the music.

He had the same level of baffled bewilderment as when I talked about White Wine in the Sun, as well as when we watched a recent Joni Mitchell tribute and Both Sides Now was performed. I just don’t get why it makes you so sad, he said. It’s a song about…clouds?

My whole life, I have been very emotionally moved by music, very frequently to tears, and not always are those songs obviously wrenching to others. Some are – Landslide, for example – but others, like Is Somebody Singing or Miley Cyrus’ The Climb can destroy me emotionally because of specific memories associated with them. Usually I can hear at least a few lines or maybe an entire verse of my own personal tear-jerking songs before welling up, but I didn’t even make it to “chasing dollar” in Buy Dirt. I don’t even know if I made it to the lyrics, honestly, before dissolving.

A few days later, when he watched me emotionally decompensate just thinking about the song in our silent house, my Man of Action deleted it from his playlist. I’m sick of it anyway, he said, but I really know he just didn’t want me to accidentally hear it.

It IS a moving song, but I was much more emotionally fragile than I have been in a long while, for a few reasons. Typically every month before my period, I have a day or two of fatigue and disrupted sleep, a couple of hot flashes and an elevated resting heart rate. This month, I have had to date fourteen solid days of that with no period in sight, plus a very upsetting new symptom I had never had before: no appetite. This lasted for days. Not only did I have no appetite, but I had revulsion for food. I love food! I love to eat! I am, like Andy Sipowicz, an enthusiastic eater! But there I was, pushing my pasta around my bowl like a picky child, asking if it tasted weird to anyone else. This lack of appetite was accompanied by an intense, constant, and unquenchable thirst, to the point that I started googling am I diabetic, signs of kidney disease, and is HRT right for me?

This was reason number one for my emotional fragility: I was running on days of poor sleep, a racing heart rate, and almost no food, with a bloated and extended torso from all the water I was gulping down. Not to mention the hormones! Or, lack thereof, I guess.

But there was another reason I was fragile, and that is that my older son left on Saturday for an eight-week solo backpacking trip around Central and Eastern Europe. I am truly so happy for him; we encouraged him in this, and he planned it all so well. It’s something I really wish I had done at his age, and I think it will be such a great learning and growing experience for him. He’s seeing the world! The birdy is really flying far!

But the truth about it, it all goes by real quick. Every single month we all marvel that it’s a new month, how did that happen, time goes so fast, it’s almost May, can you believe it. My god, time really does go by real quick. My son is off seeing the world, all by himself. This feels like a whole new era, and it’s a wonderful new era, but the pages are flying off the calendar at cartoonish speeds.

I have loved every single age and stage my sons have gone through, every one of them. (Even when we were thirteen? my younger son asked. Yes. Maybe even especially then! I have so much love for the growth and expansion of those early teen years.) I am so proud of them; I can barely believe my good fortune. Sometimes I feel like I will literally explode, I love them so much. I will literally explode and all that will be left of me will be a pile of heart-shaped confetti.

When I was a kid I loved the book Jane of Lantern Hill, and I remember reading the part where Jane asks her mother if they could ever stop time. At the time, I thought that was absurd, why would anyone want to do that? I couldn’t get older fast enough. I wanted to be grown, to be autonomous, to be on to the next thing.

Well. I don’t want to stop time, but it all goes by real quick.

I have had some tests and I am confident my doctor, who is a brilliant and progressive young woman, will have some solutions for my physical self. In the meantime, the present moment is what we have, and so I will be over here, sweatily appreciating it. Thank you, body, for bringing me this far in life. Thank you for being a wonderland that is doing miraculous things as my estrogen plummets the depths of the ocean. Thank you, deodorants, for existing. Thank you, modern world, for giving me washing machines to wash my extremely sweaty jammies every day and for the clean tap water that I can gulp down to compensate for this excessive perspiration.

My son has landed safely in Europe to start his adventure. My best friend Tara (HI TARA), whose eldest daughter has travelled solo extensively, texted me with the uplifting message that we raised our children to be independent, so we shouldn’t be surprised when they are. We did! Look at them fly!

Watch their pencil marks and the grass in the yard all grow up.

Weekly Reading

Simple Abundance. My dear friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) had mentioned this book to me last year, and I decided to start reading the short daily essays on my birthday over the next year. It was a really lovely, uplifting experience. I think it probably would have been a bit better had I started in January as the book intends – each month builds on the months before – but it was still a wonderful reminder to look at the simple things in life and take joy in them.

Wilderness Tips. his is a reread, but it’s been a while! There are some really great stories in this collection, and in my current state of mind I was particularly moved by the last paragraphs in the last story, Hack Wednesday.

When The Cranes Fly South. DO YOU WANT TO READ A SUPER SAD BOOK THAT WILL MAKE YOU STARE OFF INTO THE DISTANCE FOR A LONG TIME? This is the book for you! In retrospect, maybe not the best choice for this past, emotionally fragile week. Wow, it’s sad. An elderly man, whose wife is now in dementia care, lives alone with his elkhound dog, and has home care come in four times a day (this is Sweden, and such things are realities! Yay Sweden). His son, quite rationally and reasonably, thinks that the giant dog is really too much for the situation. After all, the old man sleeps most of the day, the dog gets very little exercise, and he’s worried the old man will fall when he’s taking the dog out. Very reasonable and rational. But also, the dog is the man’s main companion and great love. As the man snoozes the day away, he dreams about his long life; his loving mother and kind of awful dad, his move to Northern Sweden as a young man, meeting his best friend and his wife, and his son’s childhood. It is a very moving story about breaking cycles, new generations, love, and what matters in life. Fun fact: this is translated from the Swedish by Alice Menzies, and that was the name of one of my great-grandmas!

Zero-Sum. Before he left, my older son was telling us about his Managerial Economics course, and – as my husband and I both have Masters in Economics – I was extremely interested. It sounded like Managerial Economics was similar to Industrial Economics that I took back in 1996 or 1997. In any case, game theory featured heavily, which was very exciting to me. And then, my library holds came in and Zero-Sum was one of them! It was like my very own Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Anyway, I have never before read Joyce Carol Oates, which seems like a grave omission. Every short story in this collection contains a zero-sum game, and it is absolutely fascinating and almost breathtaking in its literary creativity. The writing is just so smart, and every story is such a brilliant and interesting topic. Some of the stories were a bit dystopian/ horror based for me, but most of them were diabolically good.

I am going on my own, much less exotic adventure this week: a road trip to visit my parents. That is, if the weather-warning level spring snowstorms stop for a couple of days. Hopefully there won’t be any avalanches! In the meantime, take care of yourselves and I’ll see you next week – when it will be May. Can you believe it? xo

Modern Miracles

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This spring I’ve felt something akin to survivor’s guilt when I see the weather forecasts coming out of Calgary, and in the rest of Canada in general: heavy snowfall after heavy snowfall. I almost feel guilty that things are in bloom and I’ve been out in the garden for weeks! We have had a dry winter and spring, so hopefully that doesn’t spell doom when it comes to forest fire season. Well, there’s no point mentally rehearsing for bad things to happen; either they will happen or they won’t, I don’t need to dwell on it. Instead I will just focus on what’s in front of me.

Speaking of not mentally rehearsing for doom, the news continues to be objectively horrible and frankly terrifying. Recently both my friends Suz and Bijoux (HI SUZ HI BIJOUX) gently reminded me that whatever happens in 2026, our great-grandmothers had it much worse. I think there’s room for both feelings: gratitude to be living in the modern age where we have such luxuries as the vote and refrigerators, and sadness that the current masters of the universe are insane, evil clowns who value human lives just slightly more than they do mosquitoes.

But Suz and Bijoux are right; my great-grandmothers’ lives were extremely hard and full of tragedy. One of my great-grandmothers died in childbirth, and another had a number of unspeakable hardships imposed on her by the various men in her life. And the only thing worse than having oppressive, unkind men was to have no man at all – my grandma was widowed in her thirties, with no money and six kids aged twelve and under. Life was, to put it mildly, not easy for her. Two of my grandmas had babies who died, and all of these women lived through the Depression and World War II.

Meanwhile, here I am, brushing my dog’s teeth.

They also had to do laundry by hand, and if there is anything that should make us grateful to live in this moment in time, it’s the invention of the washing machine. Of all the household chores, the laundry is the absolute easiest to deal with: dirty clothes are put into one machine and then, wet clean clothes are transferred to another. It’s magical! It’s a miracle of the modern age!

My husband’s grandmother, in whose house we now reside, worked for a time at the laundry in the hospital, and if there is a more physically taxing, miserable job than that, I don’t know what it is. Just think of all those heavy soiled sheets and blankets and towels, being washed by hand on a scrub board, and then wrung out and hung to dry. Imagine the state of your hands. Just doing laundry for a household would be difficult enough, what with the hauling and heating of water, and the misery that would be diapers. But working as a laundress in a hospital setting? I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

Adjacent to the daily appreciation I feel for my washing machine – “He worked hard, Grandpa.” “So do washing machines.” – is the immense gratitude I have for running water. Isn’t it amazing that we have it? So many things have to happen in order for us to have clean, running water: scientists work to ensure that it is safe to drink and workers put that science into action, infrastructure is conceived, built, and maintained to transport that water to our homes, which are plumbed and equipped with heaters so that, with the merest touch of a finger, we are served with water whenever we want it and at the exact temperature we desire. It’s truly a daily miracle. For so many centuries, this was not the usual thing. For so many centuries, a simple bath was an enormous undertaking.

My life is soft and luxurious by any standard, but in comparison to my ancestresses, I might as well be the Princess of Wales.

What was good about them? my mother-in-law once said in response to someone’s pining for the good old days. She’s not wrong. There have been rapid technological changes not just in my lifetime, but also in that of my children’s, who were born before smartphones, streaming, and the maps feature in the car. I remember the wild feeling of being able to pause live television, and the idea that if I like a song, I can simply listen to it on my phone. But just think of the advancements that came into being in our grandmothers’ lives. For one thing: indoor plumbing. Imagine the enormous quality-of-life boost that our grandmothers had when they went from outhouses to indoor bathrooms. I am not sure where this fits on the scale of running water to washing machines, but it’s up there, Steve. A few years ago, I checked the website for the campground at which my family reunion was to be held, and I noticed that they proudly advertised modern flush toilets. It was honestly a selling point to me. Who wants to live without modern flush toilets? Not me. Now it’s become a family joke; whenever my husband books accommodation for a trip, he lets me know that there are modern flush toilets.

I am an optimist by nature, but I do need to take care not to veer into toxic positivity. Earlier this week I wondered if we were indeed going to see a nuclear war, and at least we have toilets was not as cheering as one might think it would be. If my obsessive listening to The Rest Is History has taught me anything, it’s that there have always been despots and atrocities, there have always been men in power who behave terribly, and everything passes. Everything passes, and hopefully we learn and grow, globally. I listened to three episodes on Operation Barbarossa and the Battle of Stalingrad, and all I could think of was Stalin versus Hitler. Stalin versus Hitler! I need say no more, we can all draw our own parallels. I will leave it there and go pour myself a glass of water from the miracle that is my kitchen tap.

Weekly Reading

Stay With Me. This book was a wild ride, and I was here for it. Set in Nigeria against the backdrop of political instability and military coups and resulting dictatorships, it is the story of a couple who have been unable to have a baby. The man’s family decides it’s time for him to have a new wife, and pressures him into a polygamous marriage. The only way for this polygamous marriage to be dissolved is for the first wife to become pregnant – which she does, in kind of a shocking twist. The shocking twist gets stranger as the book goes on. I liked this book a lot but it’s definitely a twisted story. I read a surprising number of books that are set in Nigeria, and every time, I feel grateful to be in Canada.

Any Other Family. I picked this book up on a whim and I’m glad I did. The premise is a bit complicated: a young and incredibly fertile woman has four children who she has chosen to put up for adoption, due to her youth. The four children are adopted among three sets of parents, and the birth mother is involved. It’s all like a big extended family. While the three families are on vacation, the birth mother calls to tell them that she is, once again, pregnant, and will also be giving this one up for adoption. The story is about how the three adoptive mothers cope with the news and with the newly expanding family; it is a triple POV story. Despite the confusing and somewhat unbelievable premise, I was immersed immediately and very invested in the outcome. I kind of wish we could have seen the birth mother’s POV, but maybe that could be a follow-up book. This was really well written and completely engrossing.

The spring air really does give me a feeling of hope and optimism; my little arugula seeds are sprouting, and flowers are popping up everywhere. Now, will I be devastated from opening my news app as soon as I publish this? Maybe! But at least we have washing machines. xo

Reason, Season, Lifetime

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In yoga, we try to cultivate what is known as “beginner’s mind,” which means that we want to approach our practices with openness and a sense of curiosity, letting go of expectations of what we “should” be doing, and focusing on what we are doing. In this way we can experience growth and mindfulness, without preconceived notions, judgement, or ego getting in the way. For example, just because I could do this in 2012 doesn’t mean I should be able to do it now:

My yoga practice looks much different these days, but it is still nourishing and joyful.

My friend Tara (HI TARA) sent me this Facebook memory from 2009:

No context needed, really, given that on that date I had two preschoolers and a puppy in the house, the days are long but the years are short, etcetera. This little gem explains a lot of what was going on in my house at the time, and it also made me think how incredible children’s minds are, and how their view of the world is so full of wonder and curiosity. My friend Pearl (HI PEARL) wrote about how, instead of “living every day as if it’s your last,” we should live every day as if it’s your FIRST. It reminded me of how I spent hours, literally hours every week just walking around the neighbourhood with the boys and standing there staring at different cars or trees, because they were fascinated with them. The whole world is fresh and new from a child’s point of view. There was a mechanic who lived at the end of our block; he had many cars in his yard that were in various states of disrepair, and the boys would spend HOURS peeking through the fence to look at the cars. HOURS. Occasionally there would be construction or demolition in our neighbourhood, and we could eat up an entire afternoon just watching it. There were always rocks to pick up and house decorations to notice, there were puddles to splash in and sticks to brandish, making me concerned that someone was going to lose an eye. We spent so much time doing what would appear to be nothing from the outside observer.

This was a time of my life where I was very in the moment, even if my mind occasionally wandered while the kids splashed in snowmelt. I was very present, in large part because smartphones weren’t around then, and there was nothing to do but watch the kids at play. I would like to remember it as a time of great mindfulness and presence, and I do, but truthfully I remember it as being often very lonely.

Every time my life has changed and I’ve entered a new era, I’ve been a bit nervous, worried about making new friends. The years before my children were in elementary school were lonely ones, particularly when they were babies. I did have friends, but scheduling playdates with everyone’s naptimes and preschool and the inevitable viruses that all the children had in perpetuity was difficult, and even when we did get together, conversation was constantly interrupted by said children. I went to a weekly playgroup but friendships never got past the surface level. Some of it, I think, was the inability to converse uninterrupted, but some of it was weird parenting time that we were in. Gen X women, it seemed, reacted to their own free range childhoods by becoming total weirdos when it came to parenting, especially in those early years. One had only to bring cupcakes with pink frosting to a soccer game to garner judgement and disdain. A certain kind of conversation about breast or bottle feeding could drive a wedge between two women, and bad feelings could fester forever.

Friends truly do come into your life for a reason, season, or lifetime. I have been so lucky to have found a circle of women here who are the epitome of encouraging, of lifting up other women. This weekend, they gave me a party, and I am still so warm and fuzzy from it. I mean, would you look at this cake?

My friend Sandi (HI SANDI), who was the beta reader that gave me the title Inhale Exhale, had this VEGAN cake made! Isn’t it incredible?

Can you even? Can you even believe this? It was beautiful.

In my Ask Me Anything, Anna asked how I met my wonderful new friend group, and the truth is that I was very, very fortunate (HI ANNA). I had been friends with Sam, hostess with the mostess (HI SAMMI) since 2014, and when I moved here, she threw a girls’ night to introduce me to some of her friends. Then some of those friends introduced me to their friends, and now we have a circle. We are all in a similar stage of life and we are all open to meeting and getting together and doing fun things. It’s a real gift; I was very worried that I would be lonely here, but it’s been the opposite, as you can see. (HI SQUAD).

Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked what is an absolute deal breaker in a friendship and I’ve been thinking about that since she asked it, months ago. I would be much more likely to reseat the theatre than to dramatically end a friendship, to be honest. I mean, if someone was a toxic mean bigot, that would be a deal-breaker, but I probably wouldn’t be friends with such a person in the first place. I have had friendships fade away, and I have been ghosted, but if someone has time for me, generally speaking I’m going to have time for them.

It’s interesting that the word “friend” is such a wide umbrella term for me. In the same way that I use “love” to describe both my feelings for my children and for Aperol spritzes, I use “friend” very liberally. Former schoolmates who I haven’t seen for decades but keep up with on Facebook, a random woman I met at a blog conference in 2013, the people I talk to briefly every morning on the walking path, all of these people I consider my friends. But on the other end of the spectrum are the lifelong friends who have seen me through every iteration, and loved me all the same, even during my Jim Morrison poetry phase. There are also the local friends, my squad, who I see regularly and miss desperately when I don’t talk to them for three days. And then there are the long distance friends who make an effort to keep in touch and who I might not see for years at a time, but when we do it’s like no time at all has passed.

Of course, there are all of you, my long-distance blog friends and readers, my pen pals. Without all of you, these words would just be floating off into the abyss, and so I’m grateful for all of you.

Weekly Reading

Just one book this week but it was a big one, clocking in at almost 500 pages.

Homeseeking. This is an epic story that follows two people over a six-decade span, from their childhood home in Shanghai to Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the US. This is the kind of book that you want to read with references – I learned so much about Chinese history, the Chinese diaspora, relations with Taiwan, and multiple languages. The author makes a very interesting stylistic choice, telling the story from both points of view but in different timelines. She also changes the names subtly to reflect the different languages being spoken (Shanghainese, Taiwainese, Mandarin, Cantonese, English). It’s a love story but it’s also a story of devastating choices and occurrences. I’m not going to spoil anything, but I did wonder what would have happened to the male character had he stayed in Shanghai; I think he would have been killed in the Cultural Revolution. I learned a lot reading this, and I’m really glad I read it.

Happy March, everyone! One of my dear new friends just turned 50 yesterday, and I’m so excited for her to enter this new decade. Thirty years ago I kind of thought 50 was the end of the line, so to speak, and even fifteen years ago I thought it would be a wrenching time of Landslide feelings. Now I realize it is a decade for reinvention and revival, and the empty – or semi-empty – nest has allowed me space to really cultivate and bring richness to my relationships, with friends and with my marriage, and also with my adult children. Spring is springing here in the Okanagan Valley, and I am feeling the renewal. I plan to spend this month, and hopefully all to come, with the goal of viewing the world with a beginner’s mind, with curiosity and awareness. The buds on the trees are swelling, the perennials are greening, the grey and clouds of winter have lifted, and I spent time yesterday weeding. It’s happening! I hope you all have a beautiful, lamb-like first week of March. xo

My Hours of Rest and Relaxation

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I have long believed that to be healthy we need to balance the yin and yang in our lives, and if we do not get enough yin – rest, recovery, rejuvenation – then our bodies force us to, in the form of illness or injury. And indeed, any time I look back on my life and remember times when I was completely taken out by a virus or, in one spectacularly debilitating case in 2019, injury, I absolutely know that the time preceding that was one of stress and exhaustion.

Sometimes that can’t be helped, of course. I had two babies in less than eighteen months and the second one was colicky, and the ensuing sleeplessness and generalized exhaustion was beyond my control. However, there are many times in my life when I had sleeplessness and generalized exhaustion and it WAS in my control; I am a high-energy person and I have a tendency to Do More, Push Through, Just Keep Swimming, etcetera. If I don’t balance that level of activity and energy expenditure with adequate rest, disaster ensues. It’s a lesson I’ve had to relearn many times.

And so these days I am very tender with myself, I take care of myself like I would a small child. I make sure I am nourishing myself on every level: I ensure that I’m getting the proper sleep, that I’m resting emotionally and mentally, that I have adequate nutrition and hydration, and that I am spending time with people who fill up my soul.

Recently a number of friends mentioned that they feel a deep sense of guilt when relaxing, that they feel taking time to read or do other quiet solo activities feels “lazy,” and, although this wasn’t said outright, intimated that they really need to be productive to feel valued. I have been thinking about that a lot lately, particularly since reading The Relaxed Woman, which is affirming, transformative, and inspirational, and everyone should read it. I am going to become a Relaxed Woman evangelist, is what I’m saying.

But something really resonated with me, both with these conversations with my friends and also by reading The Relaxed Woman, and that is this feeling that in order to rest, we need to earn it, we do not deserve rest on its own.

I read Bridget Jones’s Diary when it came out in paperback, circa 1997, and at the time I found it hilariously funny and deeply relatable. There is a part where Bridget is talking with her friend Tom about her daily intake of calories.

“A thousand?” said Tom, incredulously. “But I thought you needed two thousand just to survive.”

I looked at him nonplussed. I realized that I have spend so many years being on a diet that the idea that you might actually need calories to survive has been completely wiped out of my consciousness. Have reached point where believe nutritional ideal is to eat nothing at all, and that the only reason people eat is because they are so greedy they cannot stop themselves from breaking out and ruining their diets.

So funny, back in 1997! So relatable! Look at us disgusting people, greedily eating food! I want to travel back in time and hug myself. This is especially relevant at this time of year, when eating regimes and body ideals abound: we don’t need to earn food. We deserve to eat just by existing on this planet, and similarly, we deserve to rest. We have value in who we are, not what we can do, not in how productive we are or how how much we can squeeze into a day, particularly for the benefit of other people.

Instead of asking, “Have I worked hard enough to deserve to rest?,” I’ve started asking, “Have I rested enough to do my most loving and meaningful work?” – The Relaxed Woman

I love January; I love the fresh-start energy of the month. I love having a fresh new planner and notebook, and plans on how to fill them. Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten. But there is a balance between productivity and rest, and resting is not lazy. Giving our bodies, minds, and souls respite is not lazy. Taking time for ourselves in whatever ways we need is not selfish. We wouldn’t drive a car for every moment of the day and then be angry when it ran out of gas. We would just fill it with gas.

I think we have all internalized this ideal of Superwoman, that we can do everything at all times: we can parent perfectly and work hard and keep a spotless house and be thin and fit and gorgeous and whip up three perfect meals a day and it all looks Instagram-worthy at every moment. This Superwoman ideal, says the author of The Relaxed Woman, harms women by perpetuating the myth that women really don’t need to rest or to take time for themselves; they can do everything for everyone and put themselves last, always, and happily. It is anti-feminist, and so damaging to celebrate this idea that we can just work ourselves into the ground and be lauded for it, like modern day martyrs.

This poster, along with one depicting a fish and a bicycle, were on my office wall when I was in grad school, and although both concepts were over two decades old at the time, I still felt they were relevant, and mostly are still relevant to this day.

We have normalized the idea that a woman’s work is never done and I feel that in 2026, we should stop that. This is the month where we are all enthusiastically setting goals, and I do think that’s great. We can aim to improve areas of our lives while still taking time for ourselves without guilt, without shame, without feeling lazy or unworthy. Our work can be done. We can rest, in whatever way “resting” means.

My goals are, as every year, evergreen and unchanging, along with being extremely nebulous and difficult to quantify: ideas like being present and practicing patience, living life with arms wide open and go placidly amidst the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence. Daily I subscribe to my REM Y REM practice, which stands for Reading, Exercise, Meditation, Yoga, and REM sleep; without those restful things I cannot be my best self and I cannot show up in the way that I want to.

In this month of goals and intentions and fresh starts, my wish is that we all know we are deserving of rest without having to “earn” it first, that we can aim for the stars AND take tender care of ourselves, that feelings of guilt and shame over resting and relaxing can dissipate, and that we become the person that our younger selves needed.

Weekly Reading

Radical Acceptance. Speaking of meditation! What a perfect choice for the first book of 2026! To be honest, I have been very slowly reading this book for the past several months, and just happened to finish it today. The lessons in Radical Acceptance are beautiful and loving; basically, for all you yogis and meditators out there, it’s about practicing loving kindness towards ourselves and others, and gives very practical advice on how to do that, using many very relatable examples. The author is not preachy, but instead – as you might expect – loving and kind in her writing. One great takeaway is the RAIN approach toward negative emotions: Recognize, Accept, Investigate, and Nourish. This really spoke to me and has helped me through some emotionally turbulent times. 

Moral Disorder. Of course I had to reread Moral Disorder after reading Margaret Atwood’s memoir! This is the most auto-fiction of all her collections, and it is one of my favourites. I love this glimpse of her life through interconnected stories, both from third and first person points of view.

After two solid weeks of intense and intentional rest – extra sleep, extra reading, lots of puzzles – I feel refreshed and ready to get back into my regular routine. Hello January! I hope you all are similarly rejuvenated and have taken – and are taking – adequate rest. xo