Category Archives: Book Reviews

Let The Music Play

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Turkish Delight, On A Moonlit Night

I am currently in a delightful chapter in my life in which my children are grown and my husband and I are healthy and mobile, and so we have big plans to do a lot of travelling. It’s a big world out there and I want to see as much as I can for as long as I can; no one knows what the future will bring, and so I want to experience as much of other countries and cultures as I can.

Recently we have been talking about Türkiye, which I briefly visited as a teen on a school trip, and would love to see a lot more of. Unfortunately, the planning for this trip may be the undoing of my sanity. Every time I hear, see, or even think of the word “Istanbul,” I immediately follow it up in my head with was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul not Constantinople, been a long time gone, Constantinople. And that’s the best case scenario; frequently I will go through the entire song in my head before I can rest. Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turrrrrkkkkksss. Istanbullll.

I don’t know what percentage of my brain is dedicated to song lyrics and other quotations, but it’s significant. I wonder what incredible things I could accomplish, were I able to clear my mind of Getting Jiggy With It, a song that went through my head incessantly when I was writing my very last exam in grad school. I got an A in that exam, so I guess it all worked out, but I’m not sure I’ve ever really recovered from scribbling down equations to the mental chorus of no love for the haters the haters mad cuz I got floor seats at the Lakers see me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders.

Speaking of which, one only need say to me here’s the situation before I mentally reply my parents went away on a week’s vacation.

Does everyone’s mind work this way, or is it just me? One of my favourite scents from Bath and Body Works is Butterfly, and every time, every single time I select that body lotion post-shower, I hum to myself See the dog and butterfly, up in the air he likes to fly.

Seriously, if I could rid my mind of song lyrics, random quotations from movies, Seinfeld, and the Simpsons, along with toxic diet culture, I would be a fresh book waiting to be filled. Staring at the blank page before you…

It’s Not Easy Being Green

We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately, which means that everything is greening up. It’s also likely the reason Kermit was hanging out on my door last week. In any case, it’s officially Garden Season, so prepare yourselves for an onslaught of Garden Updates for the next six months or so. I planted my first rows of kale and spinach on the weekend, the berry patch is all budding, and my husband and I went to the plant nursery. It is way, way too early to plant tender veggies like tomatoes and peppers, and yet I came home with exactly that.

I’ll be bringing these in every night for the next month.
Housewarming gift from the incomparable Suzanne, (HI SUZANNE), relevant to my interests.

Oh, and on the topic of green things, I have an update to my avocado woes. I bought a bag of avocados at Superstore, and, like a person completely beaten down by life, expected nothing out of them. Why did I buy them then? I don’t know. Maybe there was a shred of hope left in my soul. But then when I cut them open, every last one was perfect. It was enough to restore my faith in the world.

Ladies, Leave Those Umbrellas At Home!

My dear friend Sandi (HI SANDI) invited me along with her sister to a paint night this week, and as usual, it was so much fun. I did have doubts about my own skills, however, when I saw the sample painting. My initial thought was no way, this is going to be a mess, but you know what, it turned out pretty well!

I will say that the teacher, as well as anyone else who walked behind me and observed my painting, said repeatedly oh, that’s so interesting, what you’re doing with the skirt. To pull a quote from one of my favourite Seinfeld episodes, WHAT? I HAD A DIFFERENT INTERPRETATION! And if you can name that deep cut episode off the top of your head, let me know and I will send you a prize. What will the prize be? I have no idea.

It reminded me of my probably long-deceased childhood piano teacher, Mrs. Rechel. Along with exam pieces for the Royal Conservatory, I was encouraged to choose some “modern” pieces to play for fun. Frequently I would be playing these pieces of choice for her, and her mouth would just be a thin line. Oh, that’s very interesting, she would say, or, in some cases, Hmm. It’s certainly different.

Hot Carl In The City

Speaking of things that are different, I was reminded this week of the day back in 2012, when a car parked in my neighbourhood had a license plate HOT CARL. I remember wondering about the owner of this car, if his name was Carl and he had very high self-esteem, and then someone pointed out to me that a Hot Carl is a sex act that involves feces. To this day I think about this. Was the car owner really into Hot Carls? Or was he just a guy named Carl who thought he was all that and a bag of chips? Or – and here’s another deep cut – was he a fan of The Simpsons? This mystery is one for the ages. It will never be solved. Unless, of course, he (I assume that this person is a he) reads this and chimes in. Carl, are you there?

I came across this thought circuitously, because Jenny (HI JENNY) had posted an interesting photo of a car, a Range Rover no less, that proclaimed across its rear window Make Money Not Friends. You know what, I admire that kind of honesty. I would rather see that then some asshole who is cutting people off and behaving badly with a bumper sticker saying Choose Kindness. At least with the Range Rover, you know where you stand, and you would also expect to be cut off in traffic. Although I guess it’s not comparable after all, since we don’t know where we stand with Hot Carl.

Speaking of traffic, on my walk the other day I saw a man on a motorcycle wearing a mascot head in the shape of the Easter bunny. I wish I had the wherewithal to take a photo but to be honest, I was too stunned. I hope he had a helmet on underneath.

Mom? Mom? Was that a giant rabbit?

Weekly Reading

Girl, Woman, Other. This book blew me away; it is a work of art. I love women’s stories and I love short stories, and this really delivered. Each of twelve chapters is the life story of a different woman, and all of those short stories are interconnected in some way. The women are Black and British, and all their stories are unique and yet universal. It’s incredible to me how a good short story writer can convey so much with such an economical use of words. The writing style of this book is powerful and moving and adds to the emotionality of the experience. Loved it!

Tiger Eyes. My reread of Judy Blume continues with this, which was absolutely not a favourite of mine as a youth, but it’s a really fascinating read as an adult in 2025. The premise is very sad; a teen girl’s father is shot to death in his corner store, and her family transplants to New Mexico to be with relatives during the aftermath. The town in New Mexico is Los Alamos which is famous for being the place in which the atomic bomb was developed, and which itself was populated by physicists who research that and other weaponry. It’s a wild setting for a YA story, particularly one that was published in 1981 during the Cold War. This completely went over my head when I read it around age 11, as did the themes of grief, loss, and depression. Blume is such a master of weaving such heavy topics with those of sex, alcohol use, and family troubles, topics of deep interest to young readers. It was great on the reread, and there is quite a bit about Oppenheimer and American foreign policy, as well as changing ideas about Native Americans. There is still a bit of dated language which is unsavoury for the current climate, but it would have been still ahead of its time.

Bite By Bite. My friend Laura (HI LAURA) has never steered me wrong yet. She said this was her favourite food memoir, and the words “food” and “memoir” perked up my ears. Wow, was this a joy to read. Every chapter focuses on a different food – the majority are fruits, many exotic fruits, but she also waxes poetic about foods as varied as black pepper, gyro, waffles, shave ice, and lumpia. This book focuses on the joy of eating and how foods build community and celebration, and it is truly a delight. Talk about leaving toxic diet culture behind – this just made me want to celebrate the many delicious flavours in this world. Now, did an essay about pawpaw – a fruit I have never seen, let alone tried – bring me to tears? It sure did.

On the topic of joy and food: the grapes have all been pruned and tied and are ready for spring. Please enjoy Rex enjoying the prunings! Happy April, friends. xo

A Dive Into Jane Eyre; Seventy-Nine Weeks In

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This past week I was a beta reader for a book concerning parenting young children; it’s hard to remember what those early years were like when my youngest just turned sixteen!

Also, I was so sleep-deprived back then that I barely remember 2005-07.

My son had, by all accounts, a great birthday. His brother, who knows him better than anyone, made him a “loot box,” which is apparently a thing. Everything in the loot box was labelled “rare” and “ordinary” and something else that I don’t remember. He found cans of spray paint in the garage and was up late the night before, spray painting in the backyard.

I didn’t even know we HAD spray paint.

This week has been a roller-coaster, emotionally. Our province has declared a state of emergency as our health-care system is collapsing, Covid cases are out of control, and the government finally implemented what is essentially a vaccine passport system, but no one is calling it that, instead it is a “vaccine exemption program.” Businesses, other than places like grocery stores, can either shut down or operate with extreme restrictions, or they can run fairly normally, as long as patrons can show proof of vaccination. The community centre I teach at has implemented the program, and I taught my first in-person class since – as an older student pointed out – November 12, 2020. But who’s counting!

I realized just how much I missed teaching in-person, with the ability to adapt and modify postures based on individual bodies. I think Zoom killed my zest for teaching, a little, and I feel like I’m getting my mojo back.

All of which is to say it’s been a busy and somewhat emotional week, and my Pandemic Reading consisted of the beta read and Jane Eyre. Have you ever read Jane Eyre? My grandma gave it to me when I was probably 14 or 15.

It was very unusual for Grandma to not write the date in the flyleaf, so I’m guessing about my age, and in any case, I didn’t love it when I read it over three decades ago. I found it quite dark and grim, and I didn’t remember much about it except that everyone was mean to Jane as a child and that there was a crazy wife living in the attic.

Jane Eyre is often lauded as a romance, and Reader, it is not. It is a Crazy Town Banana Pants book that I just have to talk about or I will explode. If you are uninterested in Jane Eyre, or you don’t want spoilers for a 174-year-old book, then please skip the rest of this post, and I’ll see you next week.

Pandemic Reading: Jane Eyre

The Victorian Age Was Rough For Orphans

I mean, obviously. But Jane is orphaned as a baby and is taken in by her mother’s brother and his wife; the uncle dies and on his deathbed twists a promise from his wife that she will always care for Jane “like one of her own.” SPOILER: she does no such thing. Jane is emotionally isolated and neglected, and suffers physical abuse from her male cousin, and when she fights back, she is locked up alone in the “red room” where her uncle died, until she has a total breakdown. Then she’s sent to boarding school for her insolence.

Charity Schools Were Uncharitable

Also, obviously. This is the Victorian age. But the school Jane is sent to essentially starves the students, forces them to walk miles to church in the winter in inadequate clothing, and is basically wretched. Typhus hits the school and kills over half the girls, and the good news is that the survivors get more food, as dead students don’t eat much.

Jane gets an education, though, and becomes a teacher. Eventually she applies for, and receives, a private governess position at Thornfield Hall. Her new master is Mr Rochester, who has taken on a ward, Adele. Sweet little Adele. She is the saddest character in this whole book, and that is saying something. Adele’s late mother was a French dancing girl who claimed Rochester was the father of her baby; Rochester, of course, denies it, and as he says in nineteenth century language, the woman was slutting around so who knows who the father is? But certainly not him! However, he feels guilty enough to take in the little waif and to secure the services of a governess.

Mr Rochester Is Terrible

I have seen Rochester referred to as a romantic hero, and that makes me concerned and worried for the people who think that. He puts down Jane in every way imaginable – her looks, her ability to play the piano, her personality – and yet she falls in love with him. Jane, no. You can do better. Is it Stockholm Syndrome?

The English caste system is pretty awful, and Rochester gives a house party for his similarly wealthy friends which includes one Miss Ingram, to whom he implies he will be married, as she is big and busty and beautiful, as well as rich, unlike tiny plain Jane. Miss Ingram and the other ladies show a lot of disdain towards the help, but particularly towards the governess. People who work for their money are considered pretty low. Anyway, during this house party, a Roma fortune teller comes to Thornfield, and all the ladies go into the room in which she is sequestered to hear their fortunes. All are dissatisfied with said fortunes, and are especially so when the housekeeper informs Jane that she must go hear her fortune as well. Why the governess, she’s not really a person. Jane goes to get her fortune read, the fortune teller ascertains that she has feelings for Rochester, and then it is revealed that the fortune teller is Rochester himself all dressed up, what even is happening here.

After all that, Rochester tells Jane that he’s going to marry Miss Ingram, and talks about her incredible beauty and accomplishments. Just as Jane is beaten down by this revelation, he says just kidding, I totally want to marry you, I just wanted to make you jealous. WHAT THE WHAT DID THAT JUST HAPPEN. People. If someone treats you in this weird way, they are not romantic heroes, they are crazy town gaslighters.

It Gets Worse

They quickly go to get married, because Jane is improbably in love, and Rochester keeps talking about how they will immediately leave the country and start travelling. Like, immediately. Foreshadowing? As soon as the clergyman asks if there is any reason why this marriage shouldn’t go on, someone steps up to say, yes, he has a reason, and the reason is that Rochester already has a wife, who is still living. In fact, that wife is living in his attic.

The long and the short of it is that Rochester, being a second son and so not entitled to his family fortune or Thornfield Hall, in his youth went to Jamaica where a marriage was arranged for him with a very wealthy woman. A very wealthy mixed race woman. After they were married and her fortune secured into Rochester’s hands, he realized that they were an unsuitable match – possibly due to her race, possibly due to mental illness that ran in her family. It seems like Bertha, the wife, doesn’t enjoy his brand of repartee, which Rochester interprets as her also being mentally ill. In any case, Rochester’s father and brother die, leaving him with the family fortune AND Thornfield Hall, to which he repairs with his wife. But, he considers her a lunatic, so he locks her up in the attic with no companion except a gin-addled woman who also does some sewing for the household. As you do.

Oooookayyyy.

Well, if she wasn’t mentally ill to start with, she certainly is after a decade or so of living in the attic. In any case, after this reveal, Jane, who is uninterested in bigamy, leaves Thornfield Hall in the dead of the night and ends up wandering around the moors, cold and starving, until a nice family takes her in.

There’s Nothing That Says Loving Like Marrying Your Cousin

Serendipitously, that nice family ends up being related to her, and for Jane, who thought she had zero relations other than her abusive aunt and cousins, this is a truly great thing. She also inherits some money, so she is now an independent woman, and, sidebar, it was really shitty to be a woman back then. If you did not have means for independence, you would have to hope to be married to someone who could provide for you, or possibly live out a life eking out a living as a governess or doing some kind of housework or service.

Anyway, the family consists of two sisters and a brother, who are Jane’s cousins on her father’s side. The male cousin is a missionary going to India to convert all those heathens, and he wants Jane to go with him as his wife. When she turns him down, saying no, dude, that’s gross, we’re cousins, but I’ll still go to India to help with the conversions, he gets really mad and doesn’t want to talk to her. The men in this book are really terrible and seem to feel that women should just be happy to be married and stop asking questions, which was the reality back then, but god.

Okay, Now It Gets Weird

Jane takes her independent means and, for reasons unknown, goes back to Thornfield Hall. Again, Stockholm Syndrome? It turns out that the place has burned down; Bertha the Attic Wife was responsible for the fire and also is now dead, so Rochester is a free man. Yay? Ugh. Rochester is also now blind and has lost a hand, due to the fire, but Jane is undeterred and we are treated to that famous line “Reader, I married him.”

What Happened To Adele?

WELL MAY YOU ASK. Poor Adele. When Jane first leaves Thornfield, she’s sent to a boarding school, where she is miserable. When Jane returns, she fetches Adele, who is so happy to see her it is heartbreaking. However, Jane is now the wife and caretaker to the decrepit Rochester, and has no time for poor Adele, so she’s sent to ANOTHER school, and Jane has a baby, and I’m not sure how she’s taking care of said baby because Rochester literally demands all her time and energy.

Rochester Is A Perv

When Rochester proposes to Jane, he is forty and she is eighteen, which is one thing, but the fact that Jane is constantly described in terms of her size and appearance as “tiny” and “child-like,” well. It’s really gross. An age difference is one thing, but a forty-year-old man going after a teen who appears much younger is quite another. By the time the dust settles, Jane is maybe twenty and is now saddled for life with a man who a) has a lot of physical needs b) screwed his way around Europe in his youth, fathering god knows how many children WHILE Bertha was living in his attic, and c) HAD A WOMAN LIVING IN HIS ATTIC.

Well. It was worth the reread just to experience the crazy nature of the book, with its racist undertones and really bad relationships. The single best thing about the book is that Jane is pretty upright and refuses to bend her morals: she won’t take jewels or wealth, she won’t marry anyone just for the sake of marrying them. It’s really interesting to reread books at different stages in life – have you done that for any old favourites lately? Tell me all about it. xo

We’re all going to die

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Every morning when I drive home from my yoga practice, I see a sign that would be a balm for weary travelers. Travelodge: Your Room Is Waiting For You. What a nice slogan! Alas, it is meaningless, since the motel was demolished months ago, and now the sign advertises for an empty lot. It feels like there is some kind of symbolism there but I just cannot seem to make the leap.

Today I heard that the house featured on The Brady Bunch is up for sale in Los Angeles, and also that it is “one of the most photographed homes in America, with 30-50 visitors every day.” I guess we all have different interests, and the world is a rich tapestry, but still, that number surprises me. I am surprised that anyone at all visits it, but I must remind myself not to be close-minded. After all, I am a person who has a strong desire to see the Jungle Room at Graceland, and also the stained-glass peacocks.

Also, I do not think I have seen even one episode of The Brady Bunch.

We have been having such a beautiful summer, with great weather and lots of sunshine. I was writing down the date for one of my class sign-ins, and I had a small crisis when I realized that July was more than half over. The days are long but the years are short is something people say when you are home with little kids, but now it just seems like life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. (Thank you Ferris Bueller).

Speaking of life moving fast, I just finished reading this book:

This is a very silly title. We all have 100% chance of death; P=1. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.

Semantics, yes. But of course, the book isn’t about living eternally, or even Yoda-like, it’s about using nutrition to assist in the staving-off of premature-death-causing diseases. It is a very interesting book and written in a fairly compelling way, and for some of us who have been following plant-based diets for years, it’s a bit like preaching to the choir. I will say this though: the alarmist use of non-statistics is my least favourite part of the book, and that makes up a large part of this book. It’s quite misleading, and I say this even as a person who is plant-based. Statements like studies show that even one serving of egg per week can increase your chance of x disease by 30% are very misleading if you do not tell the reader what the original chance of x disease is. For example, if your current risk of, say, kidney cancer is 2%, and you increase your chance by 30%, then your new risk is 2.6%. Maybe it is the econometrician in me, but that kind of statement makes me crazy. Most people, I am sorry to say, do not have a particularly good understanding of statistics, and this kind of writing does not help. AND I AM SOMEONE WHO AGREES WITH THE WHOLE PREMISE OF THE BOOK.

The premise is decent, and I think that no matter if you eat an egg serving a week or not, we could all stand to increase our intake of fruits and vegetables, plant-based proteins, and flaxseed. My god, the author of this book is obsessed with flaxseed – that, and turmeric – so much so that you might wonder if he was being paid by Big Flaxseed. Or Big Turmeric. Well, I like and consume both of those things, so I guess I’m okay.

We go through a lot of fruit and vegetables in this house. I love vegetables and I have a big appetite for them; I personally can eat an entire head-and-a-half of roasted cauliflower at one sitting, and I do this weekly. I have been known to consume a full head of kale at a time, and once when I was preparing Sunday dinner my husband came into the kitchen and stared at me.

Mr: Nicole, no. NO. This is insane. No one can eat that much asparagus!

Me: Hold my purse.

All of which is to say that I eat a lot of produce personally, and so does the rest of my family. However, even for me reading the recommendations for the “Daily Dozen” was overwhelming. Like, I just don’t think I can fit all those things into my life. How much flaxseed can one person eat?

Well, as I said, it’s a good premise and eating more whole foods, fruits, and veggies are better than eating highly processed things of dubious nutritional value, if you can. It reminded me that I wanted to tell you about my favourite green smoothie, which is a really good way to get more leafy greens into your diet, if that’s something of interest.

Nicole’s Favourite Green Smoothie

I have one of these every single day, except when I am out of town and have no access to a blender. I usually have this at lunch, but I think most people would enjoy it more as a breakfast food. I, however, tend to have very little time for lunch, so this fits the bill. I use eight cups of spinach for this recipe, but I don’t recommend anyone new to green smoothies starting with that. Maybe start with ONE cup, then work your way up.

Someone once said to me, in a very unkind way, that they do not enjoy smoothies because they are not infants and prefer to chew their food. Hey, I like chewing food just fine. However, I usually have 10-15 minutes to eat lunch, and I just don’t think I could eat 8 cups of spinach in that amount of time. Plus, I LIKE this smoothie. I can chew food at the two other meals in a day. My jaw is not atrophying, believe me.

Anyway, here is the recipe!

8 cups baby spinach (this is a lot of spinach! I’m like Popeye. Start small and work your way up, or you will be completely grossed out.)

1 cup almond milk

2 tablespoons almond butter

1 frozen banana

a whole lot of cinnamon

The ingredients! Do NOT give me a hard time about the tetra-pak almond milk. Maybe when I have a lot more time in my life, I will make my own almond milk, but today is not that day. Note the red moose in the background – my older son made that in Industrial Arts class. It poops out gumballs! Although we have no gumballs so this is theoretical.

I’m strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach, I’m Popeye the Sailor Man.

Almond butter = food of the gods.

Mmmm. Liquified spinach. So, first blend the spinach with the almond milk and butter. THEN add the banana and cinnamon. Trust me on this. GET THE SPINACH BLENDED FIRST OR ALL WILL BE ASHES. I keep bananas individually frozen for this purpose, and I always break the banana into pieces before freezing. You don’t want to not do this, unless you want a blender tragedy, or even just unblended chunks of banana.

I have no idea how much cinnamon I add. I just shake it on until the top of the liquid is all covered, thickly. I like a lot of cinnamon. Hey, it’s anti-inflammatory!

This may not look appealing to you but it’s making me hungry.

So there you go! Even though every day we are one day nearer to dying, and I am on that slow journey to death just like everyone else, I swear that these green smoothies make me more energetic and healthy. Are you also a green smoothie lover? If you try this, let me know, I’m DYING to know what you think. Dying. Ha! xo

Unmoored

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The boys have been visiting my parents this week, and I don’t mind telling you that I have spent this week feeling greatly unmoored, particularly yesterday. I had no classes to teach yesterday and it was a moon day, which meant no early morning yoga either. I spent a few hours just wandering around the house, drinking coffee and looking at social media, until I decided that I should probably go to spin class, if for no other reason then to get out of the house at a specific time.

From all accounts, the boys have been having an Epic Week, which is to be expected when visiting indulgent grandparents who live on a lake with access to every kind of fun thing you can imagine. During last night’s phone call, they informed my husband that yesterday they a) went mini-golfing, b) went to the Aquasplash, c) had ice cream at the local parlor, and d) went for dinner at a restaurant specializing in chicken wings. If there could be anything better for young teen boys, I do not know what it could be.

After class today I am heading up there myself, and am crossing my fingers that the extreme thunderstorms will hold off for a few hours after I get there, so I can also have some fun in the sun. It’s been beautiful and hot here, the garden is in full bloom with riotous colours, life is good.

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I recently read one of the best books I have EVER read, and that is really saying something. It’s called The Women In The Castle, and a student had recommended it to me a month or so ago. The description seemed pretty meh, to be honest, and I had just finished a bunch of very depressing reads. For those interested in depressing reads: Nearly Normal, which deals with the most dysfunctional childhood you can imagine, living off the grid for years with her clinically insane grandfather, then squatting in abandoned places with her mother while her mother has sex with near-strangers right beside her, and as much drug use as you might expect for such a story, in the 1970s. After that was Educated, another crazy dysfunctional childhood with an absolutely nutjob set of parents. Both of these books are testaments to human resiliency but honest to god, they are also so sad. Finally, I read Diana: Her Story and I have much to say about that, but will save it for later. Shortly thereafter, I got around to reading Lilac Girls, which my mother had lent me and which deals with Nazi experimentation on Polish women in a concentration camp, which pretty much finished me off, mentally. I considered reading the Sweet Valley High box set I had found as a countermeasure, but I had a few library books come in.

So I had mentioned in a class that I had read these depressing books and needed a pick-me-up, and a student came up to me after class and recommended The Women In The Castle. I dutifully put it on my library hold list, but it a) deals with Nazi Germany, and b) I wasn’t sure that it sounded like an uplifting, life-affirming book. When it came into the library I reluctantly started it, and then found I couldn’t put it down. What a wonderful, incredible, thought-provoking book. Believe me when I say you will not regret reading this, even if you are not a fan of historical fiction.

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Speaking of historical fiction, I was thinking about the movie Forrest Gump yesterday. It’s been 24 years since that movie came out; I loved it then and I still love it now. The other day I came across this question: what’s your favourite little moment in a big movie? We all know I’ll have what she’s having, but what about Don’t fuck with Mr. Zero and Someone is staring at you in Personal Growth? Those are perfect moments in a perfect movie. Actually, When Harry Met Sally is full of perfect moments. However, if I have to choose one small scene in a big movie, I would have to go with this one in Forrest Gump: when Forrest finds himself listening to a Black Panther talk about the war in Vietnam, and he is watching Jenny’s boyfriend yelling at Jenny from across the room. The douchebag smacks her and Forrest goes mental, all the while Hey Joe is playing to a crescendo. That, in my opinion, is a scene of perfection.

There’s another small moment prior to that, when Jenny introduces her gross boyfriend to Forrest, who is all dressed up and decorated in his uniform. The boyfriend says “Who’s the baby-killer?” and it occurred to me yesterday, that guy would fit in perfectly on twitter.

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Just now, I looked at twitter. There was a recipe, and I am not joking here, for Red Velvet Corn Dogs. I thought for certain that it must be a mistake, or maybe one of those cutesy recipes in which a cupcake is shaped like a corn dog but no. No. The recipe calls for, among other things, red velvet cake mix and a 10-count package of hot dogs, so the apocalypse is officially on us. Also, 2 quarts of canola oil, for frying. “Enjoy with your favourite dipping sauce!” is the note that the recipe cheerfully ends on. Enjoy. With your favourite dipping sauce.

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A few weeks ago, I was in the baking section of my beloved local Co-Op when I saw this:

Whoops! I know that, come fall, everything will be pumpkin spice this and pumpkin spice that, but this is a bridge too far, in my mind. Perhaps the Red Velvet Corn Dog people might find this useful and inspiring. Mark my words, we shall soon see Pumpkin Spice Refried Bean Pie, if this is any indication.

What’s In A Name; Perspectives; Book Reviews

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The other night, our dinnertime conversation centered on names, and whether the names we give our children are self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve always been fascinated by names and how they change with trends and generations. The book Freakonomics has a very interesting chapter on names and demographics, and of course I’m watching with interest as names start to come back into style that would have been considered ridiculous when I was a kid. The boys have become big Seinfeld fans – “Santa” gave them the complete series on DVD at Christmas – and there is one bit where Jerry reflects that calling a child “Jeeves” pretty much guarantees a career as a butler. The conversation turned interesting when one of the boys said that it was no wonder Scar from The Lion King was evil; just look at the other names the lions were given. Mufasa. Simba. Sarabi. Nala. All beautiful, majestic names, and then there’s Scar. The other boy said he hoped it was just a nickname given later in life, because if someone was born with a deformity, it seemed cruel to name them after that deformity. “I mean, if you were born with a gigantic head, it seems mean to name a baby Big Head.”

In any case, we all decided that poor Scar was a bit misunderstood and maybe even bullied a little, which is why he turned out the way he did. It’s interesting, always, to look at things from another perspective. I stumbled on this tweet stream the other day and people, it always pays to look at things from someone else’s point of view. There are always at least two sides to every story.

There are two sides to this story as well, but here is my side: my good scissors are missing. Someone who shall remain nameless but who is under fifty and is not me misplaced them; bless his heart, he was helping his father take down the outdoor Christmas decorations, a thankless task, and somehow the scissors have disappeared. Now, I have a very tidy and well-organized house, and believe me when I say THEY ARE NOT IN THE HOUSE. Possibly they were accidentally dropped in a snowbank somewhere, but I think it’s more likely they are in one of the many boxes housing the decorations that are now in the rafters in the garage.

It doesn’t matter what happened to them. What matters is that for the last few weeks I have been forced to use our secondary pair of scissors, a much cheaper and far inferior product.

The good scissors were a wedding gift from my then-boss (HI GARY, WHEREVER YOU ARE) and they were Henkels. When he gave them to me, he jokingly said “You can think of me every time you cut something” and I swear to you, I actually did. But now, upon being forced to use the inferior scissors, I found I was only thinking of my grave disappointment with each use.

Enough is enough and today I headed out in the freezing cold to purchase a new pair of Henkels from The Bay. My motto is to never buy anything at The Bay that isn’t on sale, but needs must sometimes you guys, needs must. It took a lot of internal conflict for me to buy them, with my half-Scottish side reprimanding myself for even THINKING of spending a ridiculous sum of money on scissors when a) the others might turn up next Christmas or when the snow melts, and b) they weren’t even on sale. But you know, I thought it was a small price to pay to have nice scissors again, and not think sadly of the son who misplaced the scissors – WHILE DOING SOMETHING HELPFUL, HE DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS THING.

Anyway, they are now in my possession and look:

“Just perfect” – they are, really.

It’s all about perspective! And on that note, I’d like to share my perspective on a few books sent to me by Simon and Schuster. I was not compensated for these reviews, but I was sent advance reader copies of each.

Walk It Off

Whenever I get a headache – which is rare, I am not headache-prone – I think, in the voice of Arnold Schwartzegger from Kindergarten Cop, it’s not a tum-ah. But what if it is a tumour? Ruth Marshall – an actress noted for her role in Degrassi, among other things – dismissed her tingling legs and clumsiness, only to find out that she had a giant tumour on her spine. Walk It Off is her memoir (what is the difference between memoir and autobiography?) about her diagnosis and recovery, and although it sounds quite grim, it’s actually really hilarious and heart-warming. You can’t help but put yourself in her (flat) shoes and wonder what it would be like to be in recovery and rehab, with two children, learning to walk and use the bathroom. You also can’t help but get slightly alarmed when you wake up with pins and needles in your hand, ostensibly because you slept in a weird position, but WHAT IF. It’s a really great, quick read with the kind of “a door closes and another opens” ending that I absolutely love.

Dangerous Crossing

As soon as I finished this fabulous mystery I immediately lent it to my mother, who loves mysteries and historical fiction. Dangerous Crossing is the story of a British domestic servant who took advantage of an offer from the Australian government to sail Down Under; apparently domestic servants were in short supply, and the Aussies would pay the passage of young women to go into service. This was in 1939 and really did happen. Now, with any historical fiction, there will be some parts that are NOT strictly historical; behaviours and attitudes tend to be modernized so as to not offend the reader, and this book is no exception. Also, I found myself wondering how on earth a domestic servant would afford a cream silk evening gown, and why cream? It would be hard to clean on a ship. But ignoring that, this book is delicious and fun and I really did not see the ending coming, at all. I like those kinds of twists. This would be an amazing travel read or a book to take to the beach.

Things To Do When It’s Raining

This lovely gem of a book is all about secrets and how they can tear you apart, and the healing power of forgiveness and love. Things To Do When It’s Raining has a lovely message and interesting characters, and this paragraph, I think, says it all.

Asymmetry

I saved the best for last. Of all the books I read in 2017, this might be my favourite. Asymmetry is an incredibly written, beautiful story in three parts; the first two seem like they are completely unrelated, from the perspective of two completely unrelated people, but in the third part, we see how they overlap. It’s a debut novel and it’s amazing – a must read. From a May-December romance to an Iraqi-American detained at London Heathrow, the intertwined stories are fascinating. I loved this so much that I have already decided to re-read it on my next plane trip – it’s such dense, gorgeous writing that I feel that I will get even more out of it on a second read.

On that note, I have laundry to fold and banana bread to make (I still have SO MANY frozen bananas) and a class to teach so I’m signing off. xo

Strange things are afoot on the internet; The Shoe on the Roof

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Just in case you’ve always wondered what it’s like to live in this meteorological hellscape, on October 28 it was 24 degrees Celsius, and within a week we had a 43 degree temperature drop. It is basically impossible to acclimatize to that kind of temperature swing, and so this is what I look like when preparing for a dog walk:

Except with my head covered.

The bad weather really started on Halloween; it poured rain all afternoon and I despaired for the kids and their costumes. It had mostly let up by 7 pm, but by then, the damage had been done; the Trick or Treat crowd was greatly thinned. My own kids, however, made out like bandits, and we now have a metric tonne of candy in the house, probably to still be here next summer, if the past is any indication of the future. They were also, they said, toasty warm.

At least the snow held off until the next day, but it is a winter wonderland around here now. It’s given me a very festive feeling, and I will say that I am almost entirely done Christmas shopping, with the exception of the calendars I make for grandparents and other relatives; that shall be done this weekend, I think.

One of the things that I vowed to do this year was to read more and be on social media less. So far, so good, and since it’s November, I feel like I can pretty much say that was a New Year’s goal that I achieved. I am on my 72nd book since January 1, which I think is a pretty solid number. Notably, Simon and Schuster Canada sent me a copy of The Shoe on the Roof, and it was a very interesting read. Three homeless men all believe they are the true Messiah, and a psychology grad student decides to cure them of the delusions by bringing them all together; after all, only one can really be a Messiah. What a great thesis topic, he thinks. But the twist is that the student was himself the centre of a study; in fact, his entire childhood was exploited as a study in children’s behaviour, by his father, a renowned psychiatrist. Lots of twists and turns, it was like nothing I’d read before. I recommend it!

But I am not a book-reading robot, and so I do still enjoy my daily fix of social media. It’s a strange, strange world though, and sometimes I see things I wish I hadn’t seen.

Okay, we all know babies’ bums are adorable but…I can’t get behind (heh) this. I’m imagining the scenario in which teenaged children figure out that the table centrepiece is really an imprint of their own derriere. I’m also wondering how many diaper wipes it would take to get that paint off. I’m also…well, I just…you do you, bum imprint people. I’ll just enjoy the “tiny handprints” playgroup crafts of days of yore.

One of the things about Facebook that I like, generally, is that I can see businesses and pages that my friends have liked. I have discovered some sweet yoga sites, some tasty recipes, and some fabulous fashion that way. But then one day something pops up that you cannot un-know.

Will someone please tell me what I’m looking at, here? Actually, maybe don’t.

Is this a sauna? A portable sauna?

 

WHAT IS THIS

While something like this might come in handy for those frigid dog walks, I think I’ll pass.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Book and Movie Edition

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Now that I’ve gotten my Spring Rage About Time Change out of the way, I’m feeling much better. Coffee helps. My body feeling like it’s 3:30 in the morning when it’s really 4:30 in the morning is making it very easy to get to sleep at my usual hour. I’m slowly adjusting, so in eight months I will be prepared for my Fall Rage About Time Change.

As an aside, there is a huge psychological difference between 4:30 am and 3:30 am. The former feels like “dawn,” the latter feels like “middle of the night.”

Anyway. I had meant for today’s post to be a praise for a few movies and books I’ve seen and read lately, but things got away from me. Let’s keep going on a positive note, shall we? I am sure, dear reader, that you do not want to hear any more about time change until at least November, if ever again.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Book and Movie Edition

Zootopia: We saw this on the weekend, and it is just excellent. Lots of fun cameos, and a really engaging story. We were in one of those theatres with reclining La-Z-Boy-type chairs, and I didn’t fall asleep, which means the movie must have been pretty good. The animation is very cute and all through the movie I kept wondering whose voice is this, I know this voice. It’s Jason Bateman!

The Skeleton Twins: My husband sold me on this because it stars Bill Hader and Kristin Wiig. Hilarious, right? Well, it’s funny but in a dark way, and is one of the most interesting and compelling movies I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, given that I usually watch movies with three guys, I’m normally forced to view things with lots of explosions and shooting. This was a very refreshing change. Luke Wilson’s turn as the loving, kind husband is absolutely heart-wrenching. The acting is great, the story is great, and there’s a lip sync scene which is to die for.

Fishbowl by Bradley Somer: I picked this up on a whim at the library while Mark cleaned out the children’s section on Greek mythology. It’s a lovely book, written – sort of – from the point of view of a fish who jumps out of his bowl and falls down a 27-floor building. It’s also about the lives that go on within that building, and it’s absolutely delightful with many turns and twists along the way. A very happy, enjoyable read – and it doesn’t even end with a dead fish, improbably enough, so points for that.

Mean Streak by Sandra Brown: Another grab from the library’s New and Notable section, this book is not the type I usually gravitate toward. I’m not much of one for a suspense novel or a mystery, but this one is a fascinating page-turner about a woman who goes missing, her captor, her husband, and a larger background than it first appears. Plus, there’s some good sexy scenes, if you’re into that.

The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant: I read The Red Tent years ago and enjoyed it; I have always thought it would be kind of nice to have my very own red tent during my Ladies’ Holidays, if only to save my husband and children from my pre-menstrual pretending-I’m-not-crabby-when-I-really-feel-murderous-rage-over-this-unrecyled-envelope demeanor. So I was interested to read this book by the same author, about a Jewish girl born in 1900, living in a Boston tenement. It’s a really engaging story that shows the change in women’s attitudes and attitudes towards women over the twentieth century; it has kind of an “Oprah’s Book Club” feel to it, but I like that sort of thing.

Come Away With Me by Karma Brown: Karma and I have mutual friends and we are Facebook friends, which is my way of bragging/ living vicariously through someone else. This book is incredible, and I can’t say too much without spoiling it, but suffice it to say that you need to read it for yourself. I really loved it; there are some great travel descriptions as well. Part of the book is set in Maui, which is my favourite place on this planet, making it even more enjoyable.

Sweetness In The Belly by Camilla Gibbs: I recently read This Is Happy, and to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I didn’t see what all the hoopla was about, but I did enjoy the parts where Gibbs discusses her travels to Africa, specifically Ethiopia. This reminded me that I had Sweetness In The Belly – inspired by her experiences – on my bookshelf. It was a book club read from long ago when I actually belonged to a book club, but I couldn’t remember anything about it at all. I started reading it and I remembered why: there is an extremely graphic female circumcision scene in the book. Back in 2006, I closed the book at that scene – which is near the beginning of the book – and I never re-opened it after that. In my defence, I had a one year old and a newborn at the time, and hormonal mood swings meant that reading about female circumcision was not in the cards for me. This time reading it, I made it past the scene, and I’m glad I did. An excellent book that spans the 1960s-1980s and describes the Ethiopian crisis we all remember, it is both a love story and a wonderful peek at a culture and country rich in history.

On the blog front, Cara-Lynne is an incredibly sweet woman who years ago wrote me a kind note telling me how much she enjoyed my Boyhouse adventures. She now has her own blog; it’s all about yoga and inspiration! I really enjoy reading it and I hope you do too. You can find it here.

What are you reading these days? Have you seen any good movies lately? That sounds like a pickup line, I know, but I’d love to hear about it if you have. xo