Category Archives: Books

This One Goes Out To The Ladies

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Something that really changed for me during the pandemic was the way in which I wrote this blog. Prior to March 2020, I wrote a few times a week, when I had time, about anything that came into my mind. Once lockdown started, I, like an extremely privileged and much less talented Virginia Woolf, suddenly did not have a room of my own. We live in a 1962 bungalow, and the desktop computer along with the actual desk that I had always used was utilized first by my older son who, unlike my younger one, did not have a laptop to do schoolwork with. Later, when we had purchased him a laptop, my husband took over the desk, as opposed to the dreadful “stand desk” he had put together on our bed. Those were trying times.

Recently I was chatting with a friend about all the wonderful hobbies she has; she is very crafty and lately has taken up spinning her own wool and then knitting with it. I am hopeless at any kind of fibre art, or craft or visual art, really, and I was lamenting my lack of hobbies. But Nicole, she said, you have a hobby! You have written your blog for all these years. I immediately perked up because yes! I have written the blog for all these years!

When lockdown started I didn’t want my writing to go by the wayside, but at the same time, I had absolutely no opportunity during the workday hours to write, and if you know me at all, you know that writing in the evening is not an option; I’m basically in a comatose state by the time 8:30 rolls around. I suppose I could have purchased my own laptop and worked at the dining room table, but I didn’t want to spend the money at the time. Instead, I decided I would write a little bit every morning before my yoga practice, and just jot down ideas at other times during the day, polishing up the posts on the weekends. I decided that I would publish once a week; perhaps twice if I had the physical space and mental energy to do so, but certainly once.

I have my own laptop now, and also my husband only works from home a couple of days a week, so technically I could write at any time of the day, but I have continued with this early morning habit. My Monday morning posts are long and could certainly be broken up into multiple posts, but I don’t want to do that. I like creating, I like really thinking about the way I want to say things, I like crafting sentences and putting words to my ideas. This blog is very much a record of my life; I can see my voice changing as the years go by, and although it is a journal for me, I want it to be more than that.

It’s Women’s History Month, and I took a Peloton ride that was a WHM Epic Sing-a-long; it is exactly what it sounds like, with fun music by female artists, and the instructor encouraging the in-studio audience to sing. This particular audience was unique in that there were a number of other female Peloton instructors, and it was fun to see them go to town with P!NK and Kelly Clarkson numbers. At the end of the ride, the instructor said “We are powerful women! But more than that! We are women who lift up and support other women!” and let me tell you, I was here for that. It was so fun, and I was walking around humming the playlist, on a high all day.

A few weeks ago I read the book Girls They Write Songs About; while I was reading it, I was mesmerized, when I wasn’t, I was thinking about it. I have been thinking about it ever since. It’s a really incredible book about the choices that women make and also about class, New York City, and, crucially, female friendships and how they can endure and also end. I was thrilled to discover that the author, Carlene Bauer, was on a podcast I enjoy – Everything is Fine – which is also the podcast on which I heard about the book in the first place.

Bauer said what she wanted to convey in the book, among many other things, is that friendships can end due to female-specific envy. When two women are in a “have and have not” situation, their friendship cannot withstand that kind of envy, and this is also where judgement comes in, with regards to life choices and situations. Bauer said that when we are young, we dream with our friends about our futures; you cannot judge the people you dream with, and when you do start to judge them for their choices, you can no longer dream with them, and the friendship ends. It is envy, she said, that powers the judgement, and then the friendship crumbles.

My initial reaction to this was no, that can’t be true, but on further reflection, I realized that just because I don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean it isn’t. I thought about my own friendships; past and present, the ones that are strong and the ones that have ended. Does envy play a part? Probably. The friends that are the closest to me are also the friends who have made similar life choices, and who are in similar life situations. I want to be a person who unequivocally lifts up and supports other women in their choices, but am I in an echo chamber of my own making? I don’t know; it’s an uncomfortable thought. It’s pretty easy to lift up and support women who are just like me.

Female-specific envy is something that I think exists, and results from our patriarchal society. We have been conditioned to think that there is only so much room, there is only so much space, that opportunities are limited and competition for those opportunities is fierce. Obviously this is a construct, because life is not a pie in which we all get a little sliver or a giant slab, and once it’s finished, it’s finished. It might be an artificial construct, but the bindings of that artificial construct are tight and lasting.

I started this blog in 2008, because it was something I thought I could do. I have always enjoyed writing, and I had started reading blogs on the Babycenter newsletter – Catherine Newman’s, in particular – when my older son was born in 2004. By 2008, my younger son had started preschool, I had branched out to reading a few more blogs, and I had just gotten my bearings after the stunning years of having two babies less than eighteen months apart. Over the past fifteen years, the blogging world has changed many times – from so-called mommy blogs to monetization, and back again to personal blogs – and here I am. Here we all are.

I love writing because it gives me record of being here on this earth; I like to look back and see what I was doing at any given time over the past fifteen years. I want my history written down, no matter how mundane or tedious that history may be at times. But more than just that, as bloggers and readers, we have a community that is supportive and does truly lift each other up, regardless of circumstances or choices. A lot of negative things have been said about our digitalized world, but I truly think that there is a lot of beauty in it. How else would I have discovered all of you? I have met so many wonderful women here. Some of us have met in person, some of us may never meet in person. If you are reading this, know that you matter to me, that you are important, that you are worthy, that you are deserving of every good thing this world has to offer. We are a community – whether or not you are a blogger, whether or not you are a commenter, whether or not we have ever met – and we are in this beautiful, messy, complicated life together. Together, we can truly work towards breaking those bindings.

Weekly Reading

Remarkably Bright Creatures. I am going to tread very softly here, as I know many people love this book. I am not one of those people. I did start this right after time change, so perhaps I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. However, I figured out the big “twisty character connection” before the halfway mark and that was the only thing that kept me reading this, to see if I was right. I was. This was not the book for me. I found it dull, I didn’t like the voices, and the characters grated. Onwards and upwards.

Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage.  love every word Alice Munro has written, and this collection contains one of my favourite stories: What Is Remembered, a story about a woman having a one-time affair and how her choices affect her life. 

Swimming Lessons. It’s the mark of a good writer that can make a reader feel very passionately about the characters, and let me tell you about the husband in this book: he’s not the very worst husband in the literary world, but he’s up there, Steve. I was in a constant rage while reading this, and also in my mind quoting Amy March “one does have a choice who one loves.” Word, Amy. Each chapter that went by had me internally screaming LEAVE THIS ASSHOLE, RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAAAAAAAAGGG. So, um, the book is well done? With a decent ending, but also RAGE RAGE RAGE. And another one of the characters, I kept thinking “this woman needs therapy, STAT.” Well written book but also, all the negative feelings.

Thank you to Stephany (HI STEPHANY) for participating in my Ask Me Anything with the following question: Why did you start your blog and what keeps you blogging year after year? That concludes all my questions – for now! If you have one, fill out the linked form.

Happy Women’s History Month, my friends. Take good care. xo

Three Years

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TIME CHANGE, AM I RIGHT?

It feels like every single March we are all stumbling around for a week like zombies, children crying and pets confused, people getting into accidents, all for something that is completely made up and useless. Every single March we are all shaking our fists at the people who could do something about this, but don’t. There are places in the world that do not change time, WE COULD BE LIKE THAT.

I wonder if, along with feeling furious about time change, every single March I will also think about the start of the pandemic. It has been exactly three years to the day since the First Pandemic Lockdown, and wow, what a weird time that was. At times I find it hard to believe what it was like, what we did, and all the strange things that started to feel just normal. Did we really not go anywhere at all? Did we really feel guilty if we forgot something at the grocery store and had to go out for a second time in less than a week? Was there really no toilet paper on the shelves? Did we really feel constantly panicked if another person got within our six-foot bubbles? Did I really come home after buying groceries and just sit and stare into space for a while? It was such a strange, disturbing time. I mean, some people were disinfecting their groceries and leaving them in a separate room for 48 hours before putting them away. Not me though; that was a bridge way too far.

Just before the Big Lockdown, my life was so busy, and although we had heard about this novel coronavirus in the news, I didn’t really think it would change anything for me or in my life. I was teaching ten classes a week, I was preparing for our spring break trip to Mexico, and I was frantically going to parent meetings and doing last minute fundraising for my younger son’s West Coast sailing trip, that he had been looking forward to for three years. Cue the ominous music; you already know how those vacation plans turned out. But at that time, I thought that other than needing to stock up on my husband’s blood pressure medication, all this in the news would turn out to be a whole lot of nothing.

Only a few days before March 13, 2020, two things happened that made me wonder if something was indeed about to affect me personally.

First, one of my students in Seniors’ Yoga approached me before class. This student was, and is, a Professor Emeritus in Epidemiology at the university. She cautioned me about my upcoming trip to Mexico, saying that I may want to reconsider. Of course I listened to her opinion, and although I still thought at that time I would go, her words did stay with me.

The second thing was my monthly coffee date with my friend Nicole (HI NICOLE) who is also a professor at the university, in chemistry. Nicole seemed very concerned with my Mexico trip as well, asking if I had access to a kitchen (I did not, it was a resort I was headed to) and generally giving off a Very Worried Vibe. She also mentioned that the university was going to close down, and there were rumblings that the schools would too. I was in disbelief about this; schools CLOSING? There was no way that could happen! That would be a disaster!

Honestly, it was a disaster, wasn’t it? Of all the pandemic mitigation strategies, I think that closing the schools was the worst. I remember feeling absolutely devastated that our schools were now closed indefinitely; I still think that the damage to our children and young people was extensive and will be long-lasting, from an educational, developmental, and mental health point of view. Online schooling, while it was the best possible option at the time, was just so detrimental in so many ways, particularly for children in vulnerable situations or in underserved communities. It was terribly detrimental to my own children, who are in no way underserved or vulnerable, and who have all the privilege in the world. We all need to be around peers, physically, and this is especially true for the young.

I often think that the pandemic was a zero-sum game; in order for one thing to be taken care of, other things had to give way. Of course we as a society have to care for each other; as of right now, nearly seven million people have died from Covid, and who knows how many people have been disabled or have had their quality of life severely impacted by the virus. There is absolutely no way to say what those numbers would have been like had there been no mitigation measures.

That said, the mitigation measures themselves have had harsh consequences; hence, my zero-sum game theory. It’s not just an entire generation of youth who have been developmentally stunted in some way, I also often think of the global mental health decline, the vast number of suicides and increased dependence on substances, the loss of people’s livelihoods and the decimation of entire industries. Clearly, we were – and are – all doing our best, everyone was just dealing with ever-changing information and regulations, but wow. What an awful and divisive time. I think it’s going to take a long time to heal in this new era that we have entered. Are we in a post-pandemic state? Covid is still around, people are still falling ill, but are we still considered to be in a global pandemic? I have no idea.

I have spoken before about psychological long Covid, but something else occurred to me this week. Back in the 70s, a comedian who shall remain nameless had a bit about cocaine usage, a pretend dialogue with a cocaine user. “It intensifies your personality.” “Yes, but what if you’re an asshole?” It seems to me that the pandemic, like cocaine, has intensified my personality. In some ways, that’s fine, perhaps even good, but in others, it is not great, Bob.

One thing I have noticed is that my dependence on routine and rituals for comfort has become less of a charming, cozy groove and more of a rut. I am a person who has always been quite regimented in my day-to-day life; I thrive with a routine, I love knowing what I’m doing on any given day. When the pandemic hit I took great comfort in creating new daily routines and rituals, and for the most part, I think they have been greatly beneficial. However. I think my comfortable routine is starting to veer into the “unhealthy dependence” category.

Don’t get me wrong; I happily give and accept invitations for visits, social events, and meals when possible. I enjoy all of those things but every invitation is met with momentary internal mental gymnastics – but I do X on that day! – and I am really, really working on changing this. I don’t want to be like Homer Simpson when Marge had plans on Saturday night. “Saturday night! But that’s our special night! What’s so special about…oh, I don’t know. A little so-called Dr. Quinn? Medicine Woman?”

I think the pandemic has tamped down my sense of adventure, which may have happened anyway with age – who’s to say? – and I don’t like it. It’s not like I’m turning things down, but I have moments of hesitation and worry about my schedule disruption, and I don’t want those moments to get any bigger, or to become consequential. There is a lot of joy and satisfaction in my ordinary day-to-day life, yes, but the memories I cherish stem from times that I broke out of my routine, when something new or different happened, when I travelled or saw a friend or experienced something I hadn’t before. I don’t want to live my life just plodding along, every week the same; I want to be able to appreciate my comfortable routine by breaking it, and then coming back. I want to reignite my adventurous self, while still finding daily joys in ordinary things. I need to spread my wings and find adventures where I can.

First, though, I need to get caught up on sleep. TIME CHANGE. Good lord, when will this madness end?

Weekly Reading

You Just Need To Lose Weight. Maintenance Phase is such a good podcast, and the co-host, Aubrey Gordon, is such a smart and articulate woman. This is her second book and it is educational, illuminating, and important. It will make you think about language we use and it’s implication, as well as the biases we as a society hold.

Dial A For Aunties. Omg, this was such a cute and funny book! It’s part slapstick comedy, part mystery, part romance, part love letter to the author’s mom and aunties. What happens when a woman accidentally kills a blind date? Her aunties help her with the body! But the family wedding business has a big event upcoming and putting the corpse in a cake cooler was not the best idea. This was so silly and funny and if you need a laugh and a light read, this book is for you! 

The Summer I Turned Pretty. I read this whole series when the guys were in Alaska in 2019, and so when I saw this at the library I thought I’d give it a reread. Fun fact about reading a YA romance when you’re 47? You really empathize with the parents.

My friend Lee (HI LEE) posted this on Facebook and I felt that this really sums up how I feel after time change:

All right, time to gear up for the week! Take care, friends! xo

March Madness

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Marching Into March

In many parts of the world, March marks the arrival of spring, but in Calgary, March is firmly a Winter Month. My birthday is in the last third of April, and I feel like that is the tentative start to spring, although it can certainly snow in any month of the year. Yes, you read that correctly. I have experienced snow – in the air, not on the ground – in both July and August. March is typically the snowiest month of the year, which has brought great joy to Rex, and a lot of lower back stretches to my classes, to alleviate any pain from shovelling. Most of my ladies outsource that job, but I think lower back stretches are always appreciated.

Calgarians have a strange tendency to disparage climates in other locations, probably to make ourselves feel better about our six, seven, eight months of winter. Any mention of typically beautiful cities with short winters – particularly cities in BC – will conjure up a “well, it’s horrible and cloudy there in the winter,” and while that may be true, and Calgary does have lovely blue skies often, it feels very much like sour grapes to me. Also, while we do enjoy a lot of sunshine, our winters are very long and very cold, and we also have a lot of this:

It’s cloudy here too, people.

All of which is to say that while I am embracing the season, friluftsliv, hygge, et cetera, I am also enjoying photos of spring in other parts of the world. It will be a while before my garden boxes are green, and in the meantime, I need to break Rex of this very bad habit:

All By Myself

It has been a bit of a strange weekend, here in the Boyhouse. My husband was out of town for the first time in months, my older son was working closing shifts Friday and Sunday, and my younger son was at the high school wrestling City Championships. Friday night, it was just me and Rex at home for dinner, which felt very odd. I think the last time I was home alone for dinner was when the guys took a trip through Yukon and Alaska in 2019. I had my usual favourite dinner of Greek salad with pita and hummus, plus some red wine and tortilla chips and salsa, because I am a girl who knows how to enjoy herself. I topped it all of by watching the first two episodes of Season One NYPD Blue. I used to love that show, and I still do, but I wanted to see what it would look like thirty years after its release. It turns out, it is a great timepiece of New York in the early 90s, and the camera work is just as interesting as I remembered.

Now, these days I do not watch much television (do we still call it television? I mean shows in general) so let’s just take this observation with a grain of salt, but there really aren’t many non-beautiful people cast in TV or movies anymore. It seems like everyone on-screen now is gorgeous, and has perfect teeth, and boy, that was not the case back in the early 90s and prior. I think 90% of the cast of NYPD Blue is pretty average looking, if not downright unattractive, which is kind of remarkable by today’s standards. All these regular-looking people, living full – if dramatic – lives, having romances, friendships, successes and failures.

I feel like it was the advent of Friends that kicked off the whole We All Look Fantastic And We Have This Amazing New York Apartment; but before Friends, we had this:

Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon

Speaking of popular culture from the 90s, I watched Pulp Fiction with the boys on Saturday night. My older son had seen it recently and, hearing a story about how the first time I saw it I was on a date and I fainted during the scene where Mia gets an adrenaline shot in the heart (spoiler alert for an almost thirty year old movie), asked if I wanted to rewatch it with him. My younger son, exhausted from a full two days of wrestling, decided to join, asking first what the movie is about. We looked at each other for a moment and I said I don’t know. It’s kind of plotless? I still don’t know how to describe the plot but it really holds up. I am not a Tarantino fan, but this movie is the exception. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a hitman who has a spiritual awakening. Also, the soundtrack, as the kids say, slaps.

Memories of Barkley

I was at the library this week, and a young, lovely librarian lit up when she saw me. Hi! she said excitedly. How is your sweet dog? I must have looked a little blank for a moment, and she continued to chatter about the days of curbside pickup, and how she loved bringing my books out and seeing that cute brown labradoodle, I have a brown labradoodle, right, and he is just like a stuffed animal, so cute?

Oh.

You know that moment when you’re going to say something that will cause awkward feelings, but you have to do it anyway? Her face fell as I explained that he died, but I loved that she remembered him so well.

The very next day I was walking Rex, and to mix up his route I walked down a street that was part of Barkley’s loop to the library. A woman was shovelling snow and she stopped to ask if she could say hi to Rex. I didn’t recognize her but clearly she recognized me as she asked how long ago Barkley died, and how sorry she was, and how she always liked seeing the two of us on our walks.

It was really nice to hear these two women – both kind of strangers – talk about Barkley in such a sweet way. The last couple years of his life were so fraught; I walked him every single day to keep him ambulatory, and every single day a stranger would comment on his appearance, generally in a “what’s wrong with your dog” kind of way. Every single day. I had people stop their cars on the street, roll down their windows, and ask about him. I had people ask if I was aware he had a lump on his side, as if it could have possibly been missed. I had one man ask when I was going to put him down. It was all very hard, but these two women were so kind, and so sweet, that it really helped erase all the sad feelings I had about that time.

Library Thievery

The reason I was talking to the librarian in the first place was because I had gone in to pick up a book I had put on hold, and it wasn’t on the Holds shelf. I wondered if it was still on the cart, although I had received notification that the book was in the day before. It wasn’t, and this led to a lot of searching and typing on the computer, and the librarian sighed deeply. “It’s a popular book,” she said, “and sometimes people see these popular books on the cart, and they TAKE THEM.” I honestly was startled at the thought of looking at the holds cart, seeing a book with a name receipt to indicate the person who had put it on hold, and then, shrugging at the rules, taking the book out. Of all the places for breaking the rules, I never think of the library as one of them, but the librarian told me gravely that this happens all the time. It’s one of the issues with the self-checkout. WHO KNEW. Certainly not me! I am a rule follower generally, and so it would never occur to me to sneak a popular book off of the Holds cart that wasn’t for me. Consider me shocked.

Weekly Reading

This feels like a good time to segue into weekly reading. I had a couple of real winners this week!

Girls They Write Songs About. Oh wow, this book! I was mesmerized. I read this very slowly because I needed to absorb every single word, and I reread many pages a few times. But how to describe this? There’s not really a plot. But it’s a story about women, about choices and relationships and work and becoming. The narrator is around my age and the story begins in NYC in 1997, and I could see myself in this story, the multiverse version of me, that is. It’s just an incredibly written, beautiful, raw, dark book that is also affirming and uplifting, but very real. I was on a real high after finishing this book; I could not stop thinking about it, so I logged into Goodreads to see if there were others who felt this way. This was a big mistake. There were so many negative reviews that I immediately logged back out, because I did not want to be brought down. What I am saying, then, is that while I absolutely loved this book, it seems like many people do not, so, you know. Your mileage may vary.

The Marriage Portrait. I had put this on hold, but unsurely; historical fiction is a tricky genre for me as I feel it is so hard to do it well. Often I find that modern values will be placed in historical fiction, to the detriment of the plot, and the dialogue can feel very off. Also, there was a lot of buzz about this book and that doesn’t always translate to me to be an enjoyable read. I mean, sometimes it does, but often I am disappointed. I read the jacket before starting the book and two things stood out: I had read and enjoyed this author’s memoir about her multiple brushes with death, and The Marriage Portrait was an imagining of the life of the subject of the portrait in Robert Browning’s My Last Duchess. I, along with everyone else, probably, read and dissected this poem in university; I really liked it and at that moment, I was in. I did enjoy this book about a young Florentine woman married off to the Duke of Ferrara; and some of it was a little heavy-handed with the imagery, and I quibble with the ending, but for the most part it was a sweeping story that really hooked me in. I was in the perfect mental space to be transported by this novel.

Happy first week of March, everyone! I wish you all an abundance of blue skies, good books, fun shows, and maybe something growing in your garden besides a 95 pound dog. xo

Getting Controversial In The Boyhouse

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It was so cold here last week, with an enormous dump of fresh snow; it looked really pretty, in contrast to my Walking Outfit, which was not so pretty. Snow pants! Toque! Giant fake-fur hood! Frosted-over eyelashes! Teenage me, who wore tiny skirts with tights that were Just as warm as pants, Mom, would have been horrified.

Speaking of horrified, I have a complaint. It may be more of a personal pet peeve, but it is something that bothers me greatly, and that is when people state subjective opinions as objective facts. Or, more accurately, when people state negative subjective opinions as objective facts. There is a big difference between saying I hate chickpeas, and chickpeas are gross. When a person states an opinion as a well-known fact, such as Alice Munro’s writing is boring, I get my back up: no, YOU THINK it’s boring. There is a big difference between a person’s perception and the actual quality of the item in question. You can think whatever you want to about whatever you want, but opinions aren’t facts.

And I love hearing other people’s opinions, even negative ones! But words matter to me, and hearing Top Gun is a terrible movie is not the same as I hate Top Gun. Hate away! Opine that it’s terrible! But that is not an objective fact. There are many things that I don’t like, but that doesn’t make them objectively terrible; for example, I dislike action movies and books by Jody Picoult, but objectively, those are not bad things. They are just things that I dislike. I might THINK they are bad, but they are not, objectively.

Interestingly enough, my impassioned opinion about opinions-as-facts does not encompass positive opinions. If someone said to me ketchup chips are the finest chip ever invented or dogs are god’s greatest creatures, I would not be offended, particularly since those are two opinions I share, but even if I did not share them, I would be happy that someone else found joy in weird Canadian salty snacks and puppers. Therefore, all you Cat People reading this might be thinking How dare! Cats are god’s greatest creatures! and although I won’t agree I will just be happy for you and your purring companions. Enjoy your kitties! I’ll be over here with my fuzzy favourite, who may be wondering if I am indeed somewhere inside all those layers.

Anyway, I was thinking of this – my opinion pet peeve – because in my not-so-recent Ask Me Anything, Stephany (HI STEPHANY) asked what controversial opinion do you hold? I thought about this for a long time, because I didn’t think I hold any controversial opinions. I believe that people are all equal and deserve to be treated as such, regardless of gender, skin colour, sexuality, religious beliefs, or abilities, and that all people should have autonomy over their own bodies and be able to make choices that best suit their own life journeys; these seem to be topics that generate controversy for reasons I cannot fathom, but to me, equality and autonomy are not a matter of opinion.

This weekend I realized that I do indeed have a very controversial opinion, and that is that I hate pie. Yes, all kinds. To me, pie is a grievous waste of fruit at best, and a flaky monstrosity at worst. Cake all the way, baby. Cake all the way. With the same passion that I hate pie, I love cake; yes, all kinds. I even love grocery store sheet cakes that are universally considered to be subpar, with frosting that is universally considered to be too sweet. If one of them was in my house right now, I would cut myself a giant corner piece just to get the extra frosting, and arrange it so I could get an extra frosting flower on my piece as well.

Usually when I voice this extremely controversial Anti-Pie opinion, someone will ask what about pumpkin, what about rhubarb, what about apple? No, no, no. And I am not yucking anyone’s yum, here, but the thought of biting into a soft piece of cooked apple makes me physically shudder. Listen, I love apples. There’s nothing like a fresh, tart Macintosh to make my heart sing. However. I do not love COOKED apples. I don’t like pastry in general, but the thought of eating a piece of pie with soft, mushy apple in it…I can’t. I have always been this way and probably always will be this way.

So I hate pie, but I love my guys, and they love pie, so I make one for them every so often, and one of those occasions was this weekend.

Many perfectly good apples were sacrificed in the making of this dessert.

Speaking of desserts and Ask Me Anything, my lovely friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked what are your top recommendations for baked goods? This was fun to think about because I bake something at least twice a week, often more. Usually that baking is a snack loaf or muffins for the boys, but sometimes I throw together a batch of cookies or a cake. I am absolutely loving Julie van Rosendaal’s cake cookbook, and her pumpkin snack loaf is in regular rotation around here. The Lutheran Ladies have an amazing banana muffin recipe that I use frequently, as well as an oatmeal chocolate chip muffin that I based this recipe off of.

I wrote a weekly food blog at YMC from 2013-2017, and I have all of the recipes, plus some that I wrote on this blog, listed here. It is split into sections and one of those sections is Baked Goodies; I think my favourites from that list are the Pot of Gold Cupcakes, the Chocolate Chunk Coconut Cookies, Old Fashioned Oatmeal Cookies, and, of course, my Grandma’s Gingersnaps. My mom’s Sugar Cookies never fail, and are a holiday staple around here.

I do love baking, but I should note that all of the above recipes are my own variations of the original. I never follow a recipe to the letter, because I am a wild rebel when it comes to baked goods. I mean, why limit ourselves to a teaspoon of vanilla when two teaspoons would be more delicious? Why use a whole cup of sugar when you can cut it to three-quarters and no one notices? Why not try coconut oil or add some extra chocolate chips? It’s a fun way to play with baking, and when the weather is dipping into the minus-a-lot, it feels like a nice, cozy activity.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of cozy activities, it was a good week for getting some reading and puzzling done.

Mary Jane. I was born in the year in which this book was set – 1975 – so I can’t say from experience, but it seems to me that people in the 70s were really separated into Establishment and Counterculture. This book – a sweet, cute coming of age story – deals with a young girl who is hired to be a summer nanny at a house that is definitely Counterculture. They smoke pot! The doctor is a psychiatrist, not a medical doctor! The wife doesn’t cook or clean and the house is a disaster! The girl is from a strict Presbyterian home that, inexplicably, has a framed picture of President Ford in its dining room. Anyway. The girl – Mary Jane – brings her mother’s housewifery skills into the chaotic household, and she learns what it is to be accepted, and becomes part of the family. It’s a sweet little book, although I found the dialogue to be stilted and contrived, but light and enjoyable nonetheless. One thing I really liked, which is quite unusual, is that at one point Mary Jane thanks her mother for teaching her all her skills, and says how much she values them. In my own life, I spend a great deal of time creating a calm household with lots of delicious food in it – see above! – and sometimes I wonder if this is time well spent. It was nice to see it valued in a book that was very tongue-in-cheek in name.

Navigating The Messy Middle. Many many years ago I read Ann Douglas’ Mother of All Pregnancy/ Baby/ Toddler Books, and I loved them. Canadian content! I feel like I’ve come full circle, reading her book about being a woman in midlife. Well, maybe not full circle; perhaps in 20 years I’ll read about being a woman in the golden years. Anyhoo. This is a book that is almost entirely made up of interviews with other women, and it is incredibly inclusive and diverse. Because of the interviews, it reads like a series of long-form old-school magazine articles, if that makes sense. It makes for a nice fast read. I don’t know if there’s anything particularly new or earth-shattering here, but it is such an affirming book. Because of the diverse viewpoints, it really made me feel both seem and like we are all on a journey, with different paths, but together. Very uplifting and encouraging: from being a sandwich generation to body changes! I really liked the sections in friendship, relationships, and “raising” young adult children.

BFF. When I started reading this, I thought this seems familiar, and that is because the author also wrote the memoir Group, and there are a few overlaps between the characters and stories in that memoir and this one, about the author and another women who lived their whole lives with a lot of difficulties maintaining female friendships, but who become very close friends. Here’s the thing: I didn’t love Group, and I didn’t love this book, which is probably on me – note to self: read the synopsis BEFORE blindly putting a book on my library list. I didn’t love BFF for the same reason that I didn’t love Group, and that was that I found the author to be incredibly frustrating. Yes, I realize that flaws and foibles are what makes for a good memoir, however, get it together, author. I guess her particular flaws and foibles were just especially upsetting to me. However, this wasn’t wasted time; there were some thought-provoking parts, particularly about female friendship triangles, and the end of the book had some really insightful thoughts about the pandemic and how it helped the author reconnect with long-lost friends.

You guys, Wednesday is MARCH! March! What a whirlwind life is, even when not much is going on. I hope you all have a cozy week, doing things you love, and maybe even eating some cake – or pie, I won’t judge! My aversion means more pie for all of you! xo

Call Me! On The Line! Call Me Any Any Any Time!

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Last Wednesday I woke up refreshed and invigorated; I just knew it was going to be a good day. I had a vigorous and energizing yoga practice followed by a workout, I had fifty dollars worth of PC points to use at my weekly Superstore grocery shop, and I was looking forward to my monthly phone call that afternoon with my soul sister Janet (HI JANET). We catch up via phone when we can’t see each other in person; she is a Battery Charge Person, and I look forward to our chats.

I dropped my son at school, who apologized to me for running a few minutes behind schedule. No matter! Things are not as they were at the height of the pandemic, when lineups outside the grocery store past opening time were typical and the grocery store itself felt fraught and depressing. I was thinking about how far we’ve come in nearly three years, smiling to myself as I noticed the plethora of fresh produce. What a gift! I thought, looking at the ten dollar strawberries. We get all this fruit in the middle of winter and it’s so beautiful! I noticed that the mushrooms, for the first time in weeks were not shaggy or slightly slimy-looking, but instead perfectly fresh and firm. Romaine lettuce was five dollars for a three-pack of hearts, which a year ago would have seemed expensive but now seemed like the best deal anyone could ask for. It was what I like to call Scottish Valentine’s Day, and instead of just the usual Kinder Surprise or low-end chocolates, there were boxes of heart shaped Lindors discounted. Lindors! Discounted! There were no shortages of any item I was looking for, even Advil, and then when I went to check out, my favourite cashier, Susan, was there. What a day to be alive, I thought.

My mood continued as I took Rex for his long walk; during the walk he kept alternating looking up at me and smiling with running and rolling merrily in the crusty, dingy, solidified snow. It was so joyful. I did not encounter the nasty man who, the week earlier, had taken his female dog who was in heat to the offleash park, and who yelled at me for having an offleash male dog. An offleash neutered male dog. In the offleash park. Who, I may add, was running in large circles adjacent to the in-heat dog, and not bothering her in any way. Anyway, that man was not there and Rex played happily with other sweet, if much smaller, dogs, and I chatted briefly with their lovely, pleasant owners.

I got home just in time to grab the laundry out of the dryer, so I could fold it while chatting with Janet. I called her and I could hear her pick up, but I couldn’t hear her talk. Huh. I ended the call and tried back. It was the same thing, but now Janet was texting me saying that she could hear me talking, saying hello hello are you there over and over.

After a few more futile attempts, we decided to FaceTime, which I don’t love but needs must, sometimes. At the end of our call I called my husband, who was working at home, thinking that maybe something was wrong with Janet’s phone, but just to check.

It was the same issue, but worse: now he couldn’t hear me and I couldn’t hear him.

My husband then told me his company had asked all employees to update their phones; there was an important IOS security update. Oh! Problem solved, I thought. I updated the phone and restarted and the phone worked again. I called to make a few appointments and felt just fine about life.

Around 4:30, one of my sons called, and I could not hear him. He texted me “I can hear you, can’t you hear me? I’m working overtime, can dinner be at 7?”

I was feeling Extremely Frustrated. I restarted the phone. I force-closed the app. I toggled the airplane mode on and off, just like a google search had told me to do. These were temporary fixes, they would work briefly and then not at all. I kept trying, and then I accidentally deleted the phone app.

My phone now did everything under the sun but work as an actual phone.

Now, I don’t know if you have ever deleted something as essential to a phone as a phone app, but it is not as easy to replace on the home screen as you might think. It’s not like other apps where you can just zip into the app store and replace it. It took over an hour of dedicated trying to get the little icon back on the home screen, and once it was back on the home screen, it still did not work. I felt like I was losing my mind. I powered off my phone, took some melatonin, and went to bed.

The next day I woke up, drank some coffee, and started my daily pre-yoga readings. This was one of them:

OKAY BOOK OF AWAKENING, I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING HERE.

Perspective! No one was ill, or dying. This was not any kind of tragedy, having a phone-less phone. It was, at worse, a mild irritation. At this point, I thought what is the worst case scenario, here? And that was, if my phone continued to mysteriously not work, I could take it to the Genius Bar, or I could…get a new phone. As my husband has been continuously pointing out, this is not a new phone, despite my protests that we “just bought it.” Objectively, we did not JUST BUY IT: even though the pandemic has completely obliterated our sense of time, time has still passed. The phone was purchased in 2019 and it was an outdated model even then.

Later that evening, my husband asked if my phone was working again, and I answered that I didn’t know. I went the whole day without trying, perhaps thinking that it would magically fix itself. Reader, it did not. At this point my husband started up his work laptop, typing furiously. His employer has a special employee purchase plan and, at some point this week, I am going to have a new phone that will, once again, function to make phone calls.

How very exciting and how very fortunate. The whole incident made me recall the days in which calling someone on the phone was the only way to communicate with friends, other than passing notes in class. Oh, the days of stretching the curly phone cord as far as it would go to have hours-long phone conversations until my dad lost his mind (WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT FOR SO LONG?) and we had to get call-waiting so that the line wouldn’t be tied up for hours on end. And now, here I am, thirty-five years later, ruining my whole day because I could only use texts, Facetime, messenger, and email to communicate with anyone at any time. My goodness. I kind of want to slap my own face, but instead, I’ll just be pleased at the prospect of a new phone with a really cool camera. Remember the days when we’d think oh, I wish I had a camera right now? Similarly to the long curly phone cord, those days are gone, gone with the wind.

Weekly Reading

Butts: A Backstory. What a peachy read! This was so incredibly interesting, even if it sounds a bit silly: the examination of society and it’s obsession with butts. Specifically, women’s butts. It’s a fascinating read, starting with the horrific treatment of Sarah Baartman, and the rise of the bustle, to Buns of Steel, J Lo and Kim K, Sir Mix-a-lot, and twerking. There’s a section on how women’s pants are sized, if you’ve ever wondered why pants don’t fit well. Until relatively recently, clothes were made to fit individual people; sizing as we know it now is a relatively new phenomenon. Clothing manufacturers took a page out of the army’s book and just decided to measure a thousand women – all white women, crucially – and then take the average. It worked for the army! Except that women’s bodies have so much more variation than men’s. Clothing is made to fit an arbitrary average, which, as we all know from rudimentary math, is not meant to fit anyone really. Therefore, if you find yourself frustrated with trying to find the perfect pair of pants, know that it’s not YOU. It’s the pants. There is, unsurprisingly since I just mentioned Sarah Baartman, an incredible amount of racism in our fascination with the old badonkadonk, and this book was very enlightening and informative. I really enjoyed it. I had heard this author on the Forever 35 podcast; if you’re a podcast listener you may want to listen to the interview.

The Dream Builders. On it’s surface, this book is about an American-backed condominium complex being built in a city in India (a T**** Towers, to be exact), and the people whose daily lives are affected by this construction in one way or another. Beneath the surface, it’s so much more: a new kind of colonialism, globalization, poverty, caste, and the interconnections between all people. It’s an incredibly written book from so many different viewpoints, and I found myself very touched and moved by the stories and struggles. It was a book that really showcased the theme that we never really know what’s going on in someone else’s life. We might see their highlights, we might see the shell of their outward appearance, but we cannot know everything a person has been through or is experiencing. I was told about this book by my friend Maya (HI MAYA); the author is a friend of hers. Can I claim this talented author as MY friend, in a secondhand, six-degrees-of-separation way? No, I can’t, but I will be eagerly anticipating more from this author!

I hope you all have a wonderful week! Today is a holiday here – it’s Family Day! – and we had a lovely Saturday night visiting my parents at the lake. The weather is supposed to take a turn for the very cold, so Rex will be happy. My older son, who is working outside this week on the days that are forecasted to be the very coldest, might be less so. xo

Happy Galentine’s Day!

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It’s February 13, and you know what that means!

Happy Galentine’s Day!

I don’t know what it’s like in your house, but in mine, Valentine’s Day is kind of a non-event. Not a total non-event; we do celebrate with cookies:

And cake:

But other than baked goods and the tank top decorated with a bee and the words Bee Mine that my husband gave me one year, we really don’t celebrate it around here. If you know me at all, you would know that the bee top won me over for years to come, although I am still waiting on the I Choo-Choo-Choose you card.

So there’s no big romantic dinner (on a Tuesday, are you crazy?), and wine mid-week disrupts my sleep; my husband and son have pollen allergies so floral bouquets are a no-go as well. I could really get down with heart-shaped chocolates, although I usually like to buy them discounted on February 15. What can I say, I’m half-Scottish. We spent Friday night watching a special on Super Bowl commercials, and Saturday watching only the funny parts and fast-forwarding the rest of Old School, so who’s winning at romance now?

I do like to lean into the idea of GALENTINE’S Day, though. Last year at this time I vowed I would host a Swistle-style Galentine’s party (HI SWISTLE), but I remembered that vow only a few days ago, so that was a no-go. Next year, maybe. Instead, I put together a bunch of silly classroom cards for my Monday afternoon ladies, and taped a strawberry Lindor to each one. If you have never tried a strawberry Lindor, my goodness, you are in for a big treat. If you like fruity chocolate, that is, which I do.

For Christmas I received a new Garmin watch, and one of the new features on it is a “Body Battery,” which uses metrics like heart rate, stress levels, and sleep quality to measure the body’s energy reserves throughout the day. I am OBSESSED. I used to focus on Steps and Intensity Minutes, but now it’s all about the Body Battery, baby. Well, I still look at Steps and Intensity Minutes, but other than hitting my daily goals, I don’t really care much. With the Body Battery measurement, it’s fascinating to me to see my energy levels go up and down, and what affects them. If I read for an hour, what happens? If I walk for an hour, what happens? It’s not like I need data from a watch to tell me that I’m tired or refreshed, but it’s nice to have that confirmation, if you know what I mean.

Here’s the reading after a decent sleep:

And a not-great-but-not-terrible sleep:

And here’s a Friday night sleep, after I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine:

Oops! Well, the cost/ benefit analysis still comes up in favour of Friday night wine, as it is a treat I look forward to, but everything has its price, I guess.

In terms of batteries, and recharging them, I sometimes think of people in this way. There are people who I feel literally energized after talking to or visiting with, and there are those who I can feel my battery draining away in their presence. It’s not that I dislike those people, or never want to see them, but I do limit my time around them, and bring awareness to myself and how I’m feeling when I am around them.

In a Charge My Battery move, I signed up for my friend Sara’s (HI SARA) yoga event at a local art gallery. This is the first led yoga class, not taught by me, that I have attended since 2018. Sara has a thriving online teaching presence, but every few months she has an in-person event and the stars lined up for me this weekend, and I was able to attend.

Let me tell you, what a treat it was. My daily practice and, obviously, the classes I teach are all set by me; I flow through my own cadence and breathwork and asana. What a treat it was to follow along with the nourishing, delicious class of asana Sara put together! If you’re local – or even if you’re not, because she’s online! – you should really check out her classes. Rumour has it that her sweet dog Alton is always on or near the mat during her online classes.

I’m sure this guy would love to be on my mat too! But he’s still sleeping when I’m practicing.

Weekly Reading

I didn’t really make any New Year’s Resolutions, or choose a word of the year, or what have you, but after reading that nightmare of a book back in late December and regretting the time wasted in reading it, I have decided to just…not finish books if I don’t want to. Generally I push through, thinking maybe it will get better, and you know what, it rarely does. Why am I wasting my time? NO MORE. So far this year I have picked up and then immediately taken back to the library four books. The first was Something Wilder, by Christina Lauren. I have liked and not liked their books in the past, and I read the prologue and the book jacket before deciding that this one was not for me. The second was The Opportunist, which I had picked up on a whim at the library, and by the first chapter I was completely irritated by the characters. The third was a book that is actually quite good, but that I realized I had read before, in August 2020, which is When You Read This. Does that happen to you? I will start a book and by the first or second chapter I will think wait a minute…and then I’ll check my spreadsheet and see that yes, I’ve been there and done that. So, there was nothing wrong with When You Read This, but if I’m going to reread something, I want it to be on purpose. The final Did Not Finish Or Even Start was Matthew Perry’s memoir. I do not, as a rule, enjoy addiction memoirs, and by flipping through it casually I could see that it was ENTIRELY about his addictions. Also, after reading a paragraph here and there I saw that it was trying really hard to be funny, and I decided not to waste my time.

Anyway, I had some real winners this week in the reading department. In what can only be described as Library Kismet, all the books that came in on my hold list this week were romances. Does the library know it’s Valentine’s Day? Maybe!

The Bodyguard. Well! This was just the most delightful read! It was exactly what I needed this week. The plot, while a little silly, is just so much fun and I am 100% here for it. It follows a woman who works as a specialized bodyguard, and she is put on duty to guard a Chris Hemsworth-like movie star from a stalker, as he has moved to Texas to be near his ill mother. He doesn’t want knowledge about the stalker to add stress to his family, so the bodyguard needs to be undercover; she has to pretend to be his new girlfriend. PEOPLE. I AM HERE FOR THIS. I think we all know what happens in romance books when there is a pretend relationship – SHIT GETS REAL, Y’ALL. I can’t say enough about this cute book, because although, like I said, the plot is a little silly, the theme is REALLY good and heartwarming, and the epilogue, my goodness, the epilogue. A delight. The narration and dialogue are really funny, too. If you need a pick-me-up, go get yourself this book, stat.

In A New York Minute. Oh my gerrrrrrd this was SO MUCH FUN TO READ! I am dying! It’s such a good romance – it starts with the worst day ever: a layoff, a sweaty subway ride, a wardrobe malfunction to end all wardrobe malfunctions. Listen, while carrying the box from her desk after being laid off, her dress catches in the subway and completely rips down the back, leaving her as exposed to the New York commute rush as wearing a hospital gown. And someone is live-streaming it onto Instagram stories. A stranger comes to her sartorial rescue – but the two are opposites. OPPOSITES YOU GUYS, I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN. It’s such a romp and I never say this, because I generally deeply dislike when books are adapted for the screen, but if this was made into a movie, I’d watch it. The happens to be cohost of one of my fave podcasts, Forever 35. If you love joy and happiness and warm fuzzy feelings, I recommend both book and podcast! 

Nora Goes Off Script. Well, with this, I am 3/3 for incredible romance novels this week! This was so good; a screenwriter’s home is the set for her movie, and the leading man stays on for a while after to rest and recharge. He settles into her routine as a single mom, and they end up having an affair. This takes twists that I did not see coming, and was a delightful mix of “I am woman hear me roar” and heart warming romance. Oh, and by the way, the screenwriter is a Hallmark-movie style screenwriter who makes it big with a different style of script, and I was here for it. A Hallmark-type-book with a twist, about a Hallmark-movie-writer with a twist! I loved it. 

Happy Galentine’s Day, my friends, and may your Valentine’s Day be filled with self-love and battery recharging. May your February 15 be filled with half-price chocolates. xo

Living La Vida Loca

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Well, it finally happened: one of my sons came home AFTER I had gotten up for the day. It was only a matter of time before we became ships passing in the night, but the reason for the lateness was so ridiculous that it could have only happened to a teenage boy.

The boys went to a movie with friends on Thursday night; my younger son and his buddies did not have school on Friday because why would they have a full week of school after a three-week exam break and, before that, winter break? My older son didn’t have a shift the next day, so they headed to the movies after I went to bed, i.e., 8:30.

I got up to use the bathroom at 3:00 and noticed that while my younger son’s door was closed, indicating he was home and sleeping, my older son’s was not. Weird, I thought, Is he up playing VIDEO GAMES? He hasn’t done that in a very long time. I peeked outside and his car wasn’t there. I noticed a note in the kitchen, left by my younger son. The note indicated that my older son was waiting with his friend for a tow truck to come for his friend’s car. “EVERYONE IS SAFE” my son had written on the note, circling it several times, god bless.

A few things to note: I know of at least three of my sons’ friends who have crashed their cars on snowy and icy roads, and this particular friend was one of them. I also know of their friends with unreliable vehicles; my younger son regaled me with a story about one friend’s car that stalled out on an extremely busy six-lane thoroughfare, and the three passengers – my son included – had to push it off to the side and do some emergency work to get it moving again. Since my son had indicated that everyone was safe, I assumed hopefully that the situation was more like the latter than the former. In any case, I went back to bed, where I dozed fitfully.

By the time I had gotten up for the day, 75 minutes later, my son still hadn’t arrived, at which point I called him. They were still waiting for a tow, the vehicle was stuck in the snow, everything was fine. Okay.

I did some writing, drank some coffee, and started my yoga practice. Still no son. He finally came home at 5:45, exhausted, to me on the yoga mat and my husband losing his mind over the irresponsibility of youth, when it was revealed that the vehicle stuck in the snow was stuck in the snow in a school field (HOW DID YOU GET INTO A FIELD IS YOUR CAR OKAY WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOUR FRIENDS). I was pretty calm though; the driver is a strict non-drinker, my son’s car was not involved, no one was hurt, there was no damage at all, even to the vehicle in question. It turns out that after the movie and McDonalds, the group got the brilliant idea to drive through the junior high school field in his friend’s MOM’S SUV. To top things off, while on the field the driver thought it would be fun to drive on to the outdoor skating rink, which is surrounded by mounds of snow from where the rink had been shovelled clear. This is where the brilliant plan fell apart, the front wheels on the ice, the SUV bottomed out on the snow, the back tires wedged into the field snow.

Why this seemed like a good idea to anyone, no one can say, but hours of shovelling and wedging boards underneath the tires and even having a couple of passing-by twentysomethings helping, while they (probably drunkenly) laughed hysterically proved futile, and they phoned for a tow. The reason my son stayed was because it was his phone they used – the driver’s phone had died. By the time the tow truck arrived it was discovered that a) the emergency plan did not cover a vehicle not on a legal roadway, and b) they didn’t have a winch to pull it out, so nothing could be done.

In my recent Ask Me Anything, Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked: If one of your sons was about to get married/ enter a long term relationship, what would be your number one piece of advice? Other than stay on legal roadways, I would say that a couple should be in sync for the Big Things. My husband and I differ in many ways and those ways do not bother me much: he eats meat and I do not, he prefers puzzles that are super-difficult and I like the kinds that have lots of individual pictures to work on, he likes TV shows about gold mining in Alaska and people training for the Special Forces whereas I would rather read a book. But on the Big Things – money and raising kids being the top two – we agree. Sometimes, though, our end result is the same but our journey is different, and that is exactly the case for this late night school field caper. My feeling was Alls-Well-That-Ends-Well-What-Have-We-Learned, whereas my husband was WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING YOU IDIOTS DO NOT EVER DO SOMETHING THIS STUPID AGAIN. We get to the same place, but we take a different road to get there.

Part of my calmness stems from the fact that I remember very well what it was like to be young. I very much recall, when I was about sixteen or so, visiting my cousins in the summer and, after we got bored of driving up and down the main drag of their small town for what seemed like hours, we drove through farmer’s fields. Why? Who knows. I also remember being in the car with two girlfriends, and one of them said “Oh, turn right here,” at which point the driver turned right there, as in, into a grassy park, as opposed to turning right at the next possible right-hand turn. Imagine, if you will, three screaming sixteen-year-old girls, in a car stuck in the grass. I don’t remember exactly how we got the car out but it felt harrowing at the time.

Lisa (HI LISA) asked: Is there a stage of parenting you especially loved or loathed? What advice would you give to someone in the earlier stages of parenting like me? I actually have not loathed any stages of parenting; I have enjoyed them all but I will say that my enjoyment has increased as they have gotten older. There are times when I think with affection back to their cute, chubby baby and toddler selves, but I do remember how much physical work it was just to leave the house. I loved their school years and their preteen years, despite the angst and the social and scholastic navigating that had to happen. I think I love the teen years best of all, even when they stay up all night doing stupid things, and even though in the first few months of driving I was on the edge of my seat whenever they were out.

Since I was asked, I will offer two pieces of parenting advice. The first is start now with open communication. I always wanted my kids to be able to talk to me without sneaking around, lying, or deception. It’s easier said than done when the kids admit to something you’re not happy with, like, for example, driving in a friend’s mom’s vehicle through a snowy field. Anyway. Around four years ago, my son was dating a girl who was, according to her parents, not allowed to date until she was 18. The solution to this problem is that she was telling her parents that she was out with girlfriends when she was out with my son. I mentioned this to a friend of mine who said “What? That’s unacceptable! You have to call those parents or tell your son she can’t see her until they are in the know!” Well. That is exactly what I DID NOT do. I wanted at least one adult to be informed, and that adult was going to be me. Forbidding or restricting teens will only blow up in your face, and it will ruin the parent-child relationship. I didn’t want my son to start lying to me about this relationship, so I just listened a lot until the relationship ran its course.

My second piece of advice is something that my friend Allison (HI ALLISON) said many years ago, in the context of chaperoning a field trip, but what I think is a valid process for any occasion: there will be a time after this. It’s a mantra that has gotten me through many times: from my own times of field trip chaperoning to parenting teens through a pandemic and online schooling. One day, I would think, I’ll remember this time as a time that has passed, and now we are in a different time. When things are tough, remember that; there will be a time after this.

Weekly Reading

Carnival of Snackery. I wanted to reread this, David Sedaris’ diaries from 2003-2020, after reading Happy Go Lucky, in which he revealed the disturbing nature of his father’s abuse. Having this information changed the reading experience for sure. There are many anecdotes about his father, and they really hit differently; instead of seeming like a mean-spirited buffoon, his father takes on a whole different persona. I love this book because I can see how some of his essays came about – Carol the fox makes an appearance, and so does his FitBit. It’s endlessly entertaining and often startling, against a changing social and political backdrop.

Bad Vibes Only. For the most part I really enjoyed this book of essays. A few of them didn’t resonate, but for the most part I found these thoughtful and thought-provoking, balanced, and smart. I particularly liked the essays about body image, and I found myself gasping out loud about an essay about a child left in the backseat of a car, and parental judgement.

Convenience Store Woman. This was such an interesting little book about a woman who has always struggled to fit into normal society – until she finds a job at a convenience store, and is able to live with purpose and within defined parameters. But her single status is distressing to those around her, so she takes up with a man who is a grifter and who encourages her to quit to find a better paying job, with which to support him. It’s an unsettling commentary on societal expectations for women, but also a cheer for those who are not neurotypical, and a celebration of differences.

In other, non-human-teen news, Rex went to the groomer’s this week! Here’s the Before and After:

Look at this saucy pose.

We’re just driving on legal roadways, right?

Have a beautiful week, friends! xo