Category Archives: Books

A Hair Affair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did I ghost her?

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

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

Weekly Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look At Me, I’m Growing

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All Is Well, I Hope

First of all, thank you so much for all your lovely comments about my mysterious, asymptomatic ailment, but a special thanks to Erin (HI ERIN) for sharing her story and reminding us that yes, we should be vigilant on following doctor’s orders when it comes to infections. I hasten to assure you that I did indeed finish my round of antibiotics and have been instructed to go for follow-up lab work, as apparently “lack of symptoms” is not a reliable indicator for being infection-free in my case.

A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall

We have had a lot of rain, and a few really crazy rainy days in the past few weeks, to the point of the declaration of a State Of Local Emergency, which is fairly alarming. Much less alarming, but still of personal concern, is Salvadore’s cleanliness, or lack thereof.

He became very muddy during the downpours. I brought him inside not once, but twice to give him a bath.

As I toweled him off, my older son looked at me with some concern. “Are you okay, Mom? I think you might be having a midlife crisis.” I am having a midlife crisis! And it is entirely manifesting in gnome-related care. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go sing a lullaby to my gnome.

Hurry! Or Your Memories Will Be Lost Forever And It Will Be All Your Fault.

Speaking of midlife crises, the ongoing saga between me and the graduation photography company continues. I am still getting emails about my son’s graduation photos, but they have taken on a whole new ominous level: if I don’t order soon, they will be deleted and lost forever. Deleted! Lost forever! Okay, photography company. That’s a bridge too far. I am almost at the point of unsubscribing but I haven’t got the photos from the grad ceremony yet, and by the time that happens my younger son will be posing for grad photos. I’m caught in a trap, I can’t walk out.

Fly High, Free Moth

If you know me at all, you know I have a mild phobia of moths. What you don’t know is that I have been working very hard to overcome this phobia, and I have had ample opportunity to do it because at least once a day I notice a small fluttering somewhere in the house, often first thing in the morning when I’m on my yoga mat. I try to breathe through it, thinking calmly, the moth is just living its life, just like I am, it is not going to bother me, it’s fine, ommmm. Generally this works but the other day there was a tiny moth on the cupboard where the coffee mugs are kept. I calmly took out my mug, poured some coffee, repeating my mantra, when the moth leapt (leapt?) off the cupboard door and fluttered right in my face. Luckily I didn’t scald myself by dropping the coffee. I congratulated myself on not freaking out and just stepped back away from the fluttering, at which point the moth fluttered down and flew INTO THE TOASTER.

What to do, what to do. I waited for a moment, thinking that surely the moth would fly out the way it flew in but no, no, this did not happen. I thought about what would happen if I just left everything as-is. Would the moth get toasted the next time someone wanted a bagel? Would I be the person to inadvertently eat a toasted moth with toasted bread? But how to get a moth out of a toaster? I turned it upside down and shook it. I took out the crumb tray and still, no moth exited that I could see. I tapped the toaster frantically thinking that maybe the moth would fly out. I sat down and drank a cup of coffee and stared off into space for a while. Eventually I used a flashlight to peek into the toaster and I could not see a moth so I figured it either somehow escaped without me noticing or it immediately died and disintegrated. I cleaned out the crumb tray an extra time to be sure.

It’s Lilac Season, Motherfuckers

The lilac bushes are in bloom all over the city, including, of course, my yard, and it’s absolutely glorious. I love lilacs so much; when I was a kid I wished so hard that we had our own lilac bush, because my long-suffering mother would not let me pull blooms off of neighbouring bushes FOR SOME REASON (HI MOM). Instead I would have to be satisfied with just sticking my face into the blooms on my way to and from school, and I still stick my face into blooms on my walks around the neighbourhood. Barkley stops to sniff, I stop to sniff, our walks are even slower than normal. Every day I walk around the yard to check out the gardens and I spend some time smelling the lilacs.

Other exciting garden news: I have rows of tiny lettuce and carrots, and rows of larger peas; one of my zucchinis has blooms already – IT BEGINS – and on Sunday I harvested some kale and Romaine for a salad. My Siberian iris started with one bloom and then exploded, and the columbines are all budding.

The yard is pretty soggy with all the rain which is making weeding difficult, but I’m in that happy place of having Vigorous Perennials in every bed, which cuts down on the weeds significantly. Consider this your helpful gardening tip of the day: plant perennials that want to take over the world, and the weeds will not stand a chance. I feel like there’s a Life Metaphor in there somewhere.

Weekly Reading

No one asked, but I am going to tell you how I decide what book to read next: in addition to a select few books that I own and haven’t read yet, I have a “For Later” list of 233 books on my library app. Every once in a while I will migrate some books from “For Later” onto my “Hold” list, depending on their availability, trying to time things so that I don’t get 12 non-renewable books all at once, which is what happened to me earlier this month. When this happens, I read the ones that are due first, which has meant that, coincidentally, I have read a LOT of memoirs and non-fiction books lately.

Left on Tenth. I wanted to like this. I did not like this. It sounded like something I would like: two widowed people finding love again in their seventies, but there was so much medical detail about a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment that I just felt exhausted and sad reading it. Also, the writing style was so choppy and disjointed that I found it difficult to focus. It could be that my reaction was because it was Another Cancer Memoir, in a long line of Memoirs, so perhaps take my review with a grain of salt.

Butter Honey Pig Bread. This was an interesting and beautifully-written novel about a woman who is an Ogbanje – a spirit who dies repeatedly in childhood and is reborn – and her twin daughters, who are somewhat estranged after one experiences a childhood trauma. Thanks to Allison (HI ALLISON) for the recommendation.

They Left Us Everything. OH GREAT, ANOTHER MEMOIR ABOUT DEATH, AND BONUS, THERE IS A WHOLE CHAPTER ON PUTTING DOWN THE DEAD MOTHER’S ELDERLY DOG. So clearly I was not in the greatest headspace to read this memoir of a woman going through her deceased parents’ home and possessions after their passing. To be fair, I did enjoy parts of it; there were some interesting stories and I liked thinking about the things I inherited from my own grandmas that are important to me and would not be at all important to anyone else – one example would be all the old magazines with Princess Diana that my Grandma Fern kept. Grandma and I watched the Royal Wedding live at 2am back in 1981, and it is one of my best memories. But the rest of the book I found to be sad and upsetting, particularly the stories about her childhood memories of her parents and her parents’ marriage. Those were distressing at best. Still, some thought-provoking parts about the nature of stuff and our attachment to things, and the memories they hold. The author believes that you should NOT go through your stuff before you die but leave everything for your kids to deal with, which I do not agree with. The author lived in this house for 16 months, going through what sounds like hoarder-level possessions, and who among us has the time to do that?

On that note, I will leave you with a teaser for my upcoming Nicole’s Favourite Things, coming this week. In the meantime, take care and keep growing and shining, you crazy diamonds. xo

A Medical Mystery

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What’s the opposite of a hypochondriac? Whatever it is, I think I am one.

I had my annual physical this week, and my doctor has started giving me the lab requisition prior to my appointments, so we can discuss the results together. I have never had any issue with my lab work with one exception: I have a weirdly low white blood cell count, which is something that sounds pretty alarming. If you look up “low white blood cell count” the first dozen or so results will be cancer in various forms, followed by autoimmune things like lupus and AIDS. Another possible reason for low white blood cells is low Vitamin B12 levels, but my Vitamin B12 levels are absurdly high, along with my iron levels, which is fairly unusual considering my plant-based diet. In any case, I’ve had low white blood cells for many years, and I’m not dead yet, or incapacitated in any way, so I guess that’s just the way it is for me. My doctor agrees, saying some people just have lower than normal levels; it’s one of those weird unexplained things, and I’m fine with being weird and unexplained.

Anyway, other than that small and strange issue, my lab work is always just fine, so I was very surprised to get a phone call from the doctor’s office a few weeks ago. I was in Superstore, because where else would I be if not grocery shopping, and the nurse informed me that my lab results were back and I have a bladder infection, and so she would call in an antibiotic prescription to the pharmacist near me. Imagine, if you will, feeling perfectly normal and healthy, standing beside the red peppers with a mesh produce bag in one hand, talking through a mask to a nurse who is telling you that you have a bladder infection, while other shoppers dart around you and your giant cart, trying to grab a pepper, with soft mellow music playing in the background. “A bladder infection?” I said, “I don’t think I have one.” She said that I sure did, and listed off the symptoms of such an infection, familiar to all of us, but not applicable to me at that moment.

While still shopping, my husband texted me to say that the pharmacy had called, and I had a prescription ready? The pharmacist was confused since I haven’t had a prescription in a decade or so, and my husband was confused because he “didn’t know I was sick,” and I was confused by the whole thing. By that time I had only made it to the bakery section, and they didn’t have the pitas I like. On my way home I picked up the prescription and then I put it in the cupboard and forgot about it.

I figured that if I developed symptoms, I would certainly take the antibiotics; we were going into the long weekend and what is worse than getting a bladder infection or UTI and having to wait to see the doctor, but if I’m being honest, I thought the lab maybe made a mistake. I mean, wouldn’t I KNOW if I had a bladder infection? If you know, you know, I thought.

Fast-forward to my doctor’s appointment and after all the usual things, he brought up my “recent bladder infection” and asked if the antibiotics cleared it up, at which point I told him that I never took the antibiotics because I didn’t think I had an infection. This led to a careful examination of my results, an assurance that my name and health care number was right there, and a gentle admonition that Some People Can Have Infections With No Symptoms.

Me: But wouldn’t I KNOW?

Doctor: Usually, but not always.

Me: Can it clear up on its own? I feel fine.

Doctor: On some occasions your immune system might fight it off for a while, but untreated infections can go into the bloodstream and cause sepsis.

Me: I am pretty sure I would know if I had sepsis.

Doctor: Well, yes. You’d be delirious and probably hospitalized. That’s why we don’t let it get to that point. That’s why I prescribed the antibiotics.

Huh. Solid point. He went on to say that perhaps my symptoms present differently, and was I feeling a bit more tired lately? That could be it.

Come to think of it, I was feeling a bit more tired than usual, but I chalked it up to nightly hot flashes, my son’s graduation, the frenzy of gardening that comes when Calgary gets decent weather, finishing up my yoga classes until September, and an existential crisis about it being June and my sons growing up. But I guess there could be a medical component in there.

This whole thing is WILD to me. I mean, what are the chances that I just happen to have an infection right when I go for lab work? What if this had happened a few months ago? If my only symptom is tiredness, I would never seek medical attention, never. Theoretically, could I be a little bit tired and then go into sepsis? God, I hope not. This is just like when Covid hit our house, and the first person who tested positive was completely asymptomatic the whole way through, and my only symptom was being tired. Should I be suspicious every time I feel a little tired? I’m going through perimenopause here, what is Normal Tired and what is Halfway To Sepsis Tired? What is It’s Been A Long Week And I Need More Sleep Tired and what is Pack Your Bag For The Hospital Tired?

Well. I went home and started the antibiotics, to my husband’s horror – “You mean you DIDN’T take them already? You got those three weeks ago! Why wouldn’t you take what the doctor told you to take?” – and I feel…fine. Less tired? Who can say? If I listen to my body, it’s going to say I’m fine when in reality, who knows? Hopefully by the time you read this I will not have dropped dead from some mysterious ailment with no symptoms.

Is that bad luck to write? I hope not. I feel a little superstitious, but not enough to delete. I’m fine! I’m sure I’m fine.

Weekly Reading

This Is The Story of a Happy Marriage. About halfway through this book of essays is a 40-page essay entitled The Wall, which is about the author’s experience going to the LA Police Academy as research. I felt sure I had read the essay before – most in the book had been previously published – but on examination I didn’t think I read a 40-page essay in the Washington Post in 2007, when my kids were 2 and 3. The next essay – and please keep in mind, people, that by this time I was well over halfway through the book – seemed very familiar too. I looked at my spreadsheet where I record all my books read and discovered that I had already read this, in 2018. Oops. Some of the essays were very much worth a reread, some were not.

Atlas of the Heart. There was so much food for thought in this intelligent, yet easy to read book about connections and emotions. Some chapters really resonated with me. The section on “Bittersweet” summed up exactly how I’m feeling these days and the existential crisis I am having.

“Sadness about letting go of something, mixed with happiness and/ or gratitude about what’s been experienced and/ or what’s next.”

No Cure For Being Human. We all know that life is short and miraculous, and technically we all know we could be living our last day today, but what if you REALLY knew today could be your last day? What if you were living with an incurable and terminal disease and you’d already outlasted expectations? How would you live your life? This is a truly beautiful book about finitude and living within our limitations as people. I read her first book, but in my opinion this one is much better and more uplifting.

And now, my dear friends, I shall pass the microphone on to you. Where do you land on the hypochondriac scale? Have you ever had a medical issue without knowing you had a medical issue? Are you having an existential crisis of any kind? Have you ever read more than half a book before realizing you had already read it? Tell me everything. xo

Bits and Bobs, June-Style

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Happy June!

Here Is The Envelope, And I Am Pushing It To The Max

June 1st is typically considered Calgary’s Safe Day To Plant Out Tomatoes And Other Delicate Plants, but Danger Is My Middle Name and so I planted out mine on May 31.

I do like to live on the edge, and so does Salvadore; he has been moved into the garden, specifically, into the zucchini patch. It has been so much fun, the past two months, as he has magically moved every single night after I go to bed. I never know where he will end up; I could open up the cupboard to grab my coffee cup in the morning, and his cute little face is peeking out at me, or he might be behind the television or hiding behind the yoga frogs. Last weekend I noticed the paper towel roll unravelling on the countertop, and I went to fix it, only to find Salvadore ensconced in paper towel.

Zucchinis For Days

I started zucchini plants from seeds this year, and the thing about me is that I have a quirk wherein I get very attached to all of my plants, but particularly the ones I start from seed. I start to refer to them, and I am not joking here, people, as My Babies. “Look at My Babies!” I will say to my actual children, who know I would never refer to them as my babies. What this means is that I have a very hard time thinning plants, which is why I decided to use seed tape for my lettuce and carrots this year. Last year I thinned exactly zero carrots, and the result was a lot of extremely tiny carrots.

Wouldn’t that be nice if that’s what baby carrots actually were, rather than whittled down regular carrots? Just smaller-than-normal carrots that were never thinned in the garden because the gardener was a little bit crazy? Instead, baby carrots are just manufactured out of regular carrots, which begs the question: what happens to the whittled off part of the carrots? Does it go through a grater and end up in bagged salad mixes? Does it just get thrown out? If so, how wasteful. I guess I could look it up but honestly, I feel like I have already given this too much brain space and I should really move on with my life.

Anyway, I ended up with six very healthy looking zucchini plants. If you have ever grown zucchini, then you know how prolific they are, and if you know me, which you really should by now, you will have deduced that I planted every last one of them and I am going to have a lot of zucchinis this year. I mentioned this to my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH), and she suggested I just grow All The Zucchinis and then give away or donate the ones that I cannot use, rather than killing any of My Babies. This is a brilliant idea as there is a Little Free Food Library at the end of my street, which empties out daily.

Flower Power

For the past several years, I have ordered plants from a fundraiser, first for my own kids and then for a friend’s. Don’t get me wrong, I still go to the garden centre, but I love getting big flower planters for my front yard from the fundraiser: they are great quality, well priced, and I can just get them loaded into my car directly rather than awkwardly maneuver through the garden centre balancing six large planters on one cart, which is a recipe for disaster. This year the plants arrived the day after my son’s grad, because why not do everything on one weekend? It was well worth it; the plants are gorgeous and my front yard makes me so happy.

I usually buy one other thing from the fundraiser, just for fun, and this year I bought a ten-pack of assorted vegetables. The pack included four different types of tomatoes, a cucumber, a Romaine lettuce, two peppers, and…a zucchini.

Hurry! Only One Day Until The Next Sale

My son had his grad photos taken back in January, and I was so excited to get the proofs – both emailed and in the actual mail – shortly thereafter. In the envelope there was a coupon code for 30% off photo packages, which was perfect; I wanted a big package for the grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and to have some for our home and for Christmas cards. I immediately ordered, they arrived, I framed most of them, I was happy.

Ever since that day I have been bombarded constantly by Limited Time Offers, both over email and on little postcards that end up in my mailbox every few weeks. Hurry! Order your grad photos now! I am not sure how many photos the company wants me to have, perhaps they think I should wallpaper my house with my son’s smiling face and cap and gown, or maybe send wallet-size photos to everyone I have ever met? In any case, I can’t unsubscribe because this company took photos at the recent grad ceremony, and I have been waiting for those to arrive, and I am way too anxious to take myself off their mailing list because I want the ceremony photos.

I realize that this would never happen, a company that sends out physical mail as well as an email every other day is not going to forget about me when it comes to possibly selling me more photos in a different capacity. But what if they do? I don’t want to miss out! Also, there will almost certainly be another, probably meaningless, coupon code. If everything is always 30% off, doesn’t it indicate a lack of mental capacity on my part if I actually ordered something at full price? The discount is always there, therefore, meaningless.

Step One: Cut A Hole In The Box

The house next door has had a new crew working on the exterior for the past couple weeks; they have been putting up stucco by hand. It is a very arduous process, and very quiet; the only sounds emanating from the house are from the softly-playing radio and from occasional communication between the crew members. They have been working long days; normally they start before six, and they are still at it when I go to bed at night, which, granted, is rarely past 8:45.

The other morning I was opening up the windows to let in the fresh breezes, and I could hear their music playing. I recognized the song. It was Dick in a Box.

I was kind of startled as I don’t think I have ever heard that song unaccompanied by video, but there it was. Hey girl, I got something real important to give you.

When I was in grad school, I was friends with a Norwegian girl who told me that she perfected her English by watching musicals and noting down words she didn’t know, to look up later. She told me she learned the word “devoted,” by watching Grease, from “Hopelessly Devoted To You,” among, obviously, other words. From hearing the crew speak, I know that English is not their first language, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they subscribe to the same methodology, and if so, well. “What does Backstage at the CMAs mean?”

Weekly Reading

Such Big Dreams. This was a very enjoyable debut novel about a Bombay street-kid-turned-office-girl for a human rights law office. The author so skilfully weaves themes of caste, corruption, slum life, paternalism, and the role of NGOs and foreigners in India. It’s a fascinating POV and very unique. 

My Life In Full. I saw this woman speaking on BNN and I immediately went to put her memoir on hold. It’s fascinating! Indra Nooyi was CEO and chairperson of PepsiCo and under her leadership, the company transformed ethically, environmentally, nutritionally, and as a more family friendly workplace. This is an incredibly honest memoir that details her struggles with work-life-family balance, her work ethic that allowed her to rise through the corporate world, and her early life growing up in a multigenerational home in India. She never fails to credit her support system and her luck, but she also worked incredibly hard. It was really interesting to read so soon after Four Thousand Weeks; it was a completely different perspective. It was also really fun to read about PepsiCo’s transition from 1994 to today, all the inner workings of the company. For example, the logistics of shipping chips to different locations is incredibly complex, and if the company wants a sales boost, they introduce a new and For Limited Time Only flavour of chips, which I found fun to think about.

Tired As F*ck. I picked this up solely based on the cover, and so I didn’t realize this was a memoir; it’s really a series of essays that read like blog posts, so very quick and easy to read. This poor woman suffered years and years of physical and mental health issues, including a horrific dental problem and subsequent surgeries that made me shudder. Anyway, it’s about dealing with minor trauma and how stress can give your body a domino effect of problems. I liked it okay; I had her other book on my list but I think I’m going to pass on it for now. Why do I keep reading memoirs by very young women when I cannot relate to them at all? I don’t know.

First Darling of the Morning. This was an interesting collection of stories about Umrigar’s early life in Bombay, from her childhood in the 60s to her adolescence during the Emergency, to her activism in college and departure for America. I enjoyed this very honest and raw account.

This is my last week of classes, my kids’ last week of classes before finals, and it has been raining for the past two days, so everything is lovely and green. I hope you have had a happy start to June! xo

1/4000, But Hopefully 1/5200

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Since about July of last year, my mom has been asking me if a) I thought my older son would have a graduation ceremony, and b) if so, would they be able to attend. Every time she asked, I had to shrug and say I had no idea, because honestly, who could tell anything that would happen more than a week in advance, if that? Earlier this year, when I received information that there would be a ceremony, and after that, a banquet, I could hardly believe it. For a long time I kept the idea that anything would really happen at bay; after so many cancelled plans, I didn’t want to pin my hopes on anything.

But Friday, they DID have a graduation ceremony, and there WAS a banquet and a dance, and it was absolutely wonderful. The ceremony was very long, as there were 698 students in my son’s graduating class, but for the entire three-plus hours, I kept thinking, this is amazing. This is amazing! Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now. Friday was a very long day, I was up and going for almost twenty hours, with the morning graduation and then the banquet and dance in the evening, but it felt absolutely incredible. If there is anything that has come out of the pandemic, for me, it’s an intense feeling of gratitude for things I would have taken for granted previously. Yes, my feet hurt in these heels, yes, I’m exhausted, but I’m here, and I’m experiencing this incredible thing that so many people have not. My sons have, like everyone else, missed out on so much during these past two years. They have missed so many things in their high school experience that can never be recovered, but this evening, with crazy dancing and loud music, was wonderful.

I was in awe of all the beautiful girls in their gorgeous dresses and shoes at the banquet. Every single one of them was beautiful, and I’m sure every single one of them doubted their beauty. I made a point of complimenting every girl I encountered, and I’m glad I did, because when I was in the washroom I overheard girls complaining about their “fat arms” and girls, no. No. Girls this age just have no idea how beautiful they all are, in that full glow of youth; I wish they did know, I wish they did appreciate it, but I guess we were all the same. We are probably still the same, just maybe without that full glow of youth.

It seems like sometimes books come to me at exactly the right time; this week I read Four Thousand Weeks, the title of which is derived from the number of weeks we have if we live until age 80, which means that if things go the way I hope they will, I will have fifty-two hundred weeks. Anyway, this book is excellent and I would recommend it to everyone. One of the theses of the book is that we can’t possibly get everything done in our life – our four thousand weeks – so we need to just accept that and do the best with the time we have. You cannot do it all, so don’t even try or waste your resources stressing about it, is what the book says.

I mentioned this book to one of my son’s friends, casually in passing, and he said “Four thousand? That doesn’t seem like very much.” Truth.

This week was an incredibly full one; at one point I thought Tuesday was Thursday, if that gives you any idea. In addition to the graduation day and all my regular weekly obligations and frantic May gardening, I spent part of an afternoon taking photos of my son and his friends in casual settings with their caps and gowns, I watched my son’s Drama Fest, which was the first onstage performance at the school since 2019, I attended a funeral, I taught a chair yoga class for a Senior’s Health and Wellness afternoon, and our family went to see Maverick, which was absolutely tremendous and well worth the two years that I’ve been waiting for it to be released. None of those things seemed possible to me a few months ago, and here they all happened in the course of a week. Even in a non-pandemic time this would seem like a full week, but every time I started to feel a little frazzled, I thought of Four Thousand Weeks. Things will get done, or they won’t, but these are important and prioritized and I’ll do what I can. And you know what? Everything got done that I wanted to get done, and here we are in a fresh new week.

For a few years now, I have been actively replacing the words “I don’t have time to do that” with “That is not a priority” to see if changing the words is comfortable for me. For example, if I say “A visit with my friend is not a priority” instead of “I don’t have time for a visit with my friend,” it doesn’t feel right, and then I make the time. Changing the wording in my mind has absolutely changed my behaviour. After all, four thousand to fifty-two hundred weeks is a precious, miniscule amount of time in the cosmic sense, and I want to spend it as best I can.

Speaking of precious time, today is Barkley’s birthday! When you have a dog who is the human equivalent of ninety-eight, every single day is precious.

Pandemic Reading

Four Thousand Weeks. This book is so balanced and smart and does something that not many books do – it acknowledges implicit privilege with regards to how we spend our time. I loved that the author referenced Richard Scarry’s Busytown as a bit of a busyness utopia – everyone has plenty to do, but they aren’t stressed or unhappy and they finish their workday when they finish their workday – as those were my favourite books when I was a kid. This book got me thinking a lot about how I spend my time and mental energy, especially this busy, busy week.

There is a large chapter on time saving devices, and how they do not actually save time at all because they just encourage us to add more to the pile and to be impatient, which is something I genuinely think about a lot. Washing machines, dishwashers, microwaves, EMAIL, my god, especially email, all of these things are supposed to be liberating and time-saving, but we just try to do more, more, more, and not only that, we have unrealistic expectations on how fast we do things. It’s like things are supposed to be instantaneous now; I had to recognize that in myself this week as I turned on my Peloton. It took maybe five to ten seconds to boot up, and I found myself becoming completely unhinged and impatient in those five to ten seconds. What is wrong with me?

Another part of the book, which I really liked, is about living a meaningful life, and what that entails. I find myself to be a little bit sensitive on this subject at times. There is a woman who is in my life, and who will always be in my life, and each and every time I see her she makes mention about how I have “wasted my education.” Now, I generally feel I can rise above such comments, considering the source, but it’s still THERE, it still pokes. I do not think this, by the way, I do not think that it was a waste in the slightest; I worked in my field and the financial rewards were very good, I am satisfied with my accomplishments and I don’t have any regrets from leaving that field, either. But still. It’s hard to hear this a few times a year for years and years without it affecting me at all.

I ran into a dear friend this past week; this friend gave up corporate life to take a job with a lot of flexibility, but not much in the Status Department. He mentioned all the intangible benefits to doing this for the past several years: greatly improved health indicators and being able to help out with his mother, who suffers Alzheimer’s were the most significant. But, he said, it was hard to check the ego at the door, because when you meet new people one of the first things they ask is What do you do? I told him I related to this one hundred percent. When I left my job on the trade floor to be a stay-at-home mom, it was pretty much a conversation-ender. No one wants to hear about that at a party.

But the truth is that we all have a purpose, and only a very small number of people in the history of the world are going to accomplish things that will never be forgotten. Does that mean the rest of us are insignificant and forgettable? Maybe in the cosmic sense, but what matters is now. Maybe a meaningful life is one that just leaves the world a little bit brighter than before.

On that note, I hope you all have a bright and happy week ahead, as we forge into June (JUNE!). xo

A Week of Spring Outfits; 114 Weeks In

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The other morning after class I complimented one of my ladies on her cherry-red top. She always looks good in one of her several red, pink, and purple tops, but that morning she looked particularly glowing and lovely, and I told her so. She thanked me and then said, “Well, Nicole, you know, I’m a Spring.” I smiled at that, and she followed it up with her theory that even if you don’t get your Colours done officially, you can tell what season you are by what clothing you gravitate towards. Her theory said that we naturally choose the clothes and colours that suit us best, and you know, I think she’s right.

I know for myself, I gravitate towards what I recently heard referred to as the New York Rainbow – black, grey, and white – and simple cuts and lines. I read The Curated Closet this week, which is all about discovering and cultivating your personal style and esthetic, one that works with your lifestyle, without succumbing to trends that are unsuitable or fast fashion, so it’s fitting that this week’s post is all about clothing.

As a note, I recognize that fashion trends are not aimed at me or my demographic. I know! I know. The trendsetters are not putting together lookbooks with the 47-year-old Calgary woman in mind, but wow, this season’s fashion trends are not at all suited to me or the esthetic I aim for. Let’s just forget about the bright colours and patterns that I don’t feel comfortable in, let’s just forget about how SHORT all the tops are this season, which are not flattering for my perimenopausal figure, let’s just talk about about cut: everything is ruched and ruffled and the puffy sleeves are enough to satisfy Anne Shirley’s deepest desires. Everything is ruffled! Everything has ruching! Sleeves are all puffed and shoulders are expanded upon! Needless to say, this isn’t an esthetic that works for me, which, on the upside, means that it’s pretty easy to refrain from mindlessly shopping.

One of the topics in The Curated Closet is the Uniform; not an actual uniform, but the type of clothes a person wears daily. Do you have a Spring Uniform? My Spring Uniform is not too dissimilar from my Rest Of The Year Uniform, which is to say fitted pants – yoga leggings or skinny jeans – and longer, often flowing tops, with lots of layers. Layers are key when you live in a climate like Calgary’s – spring is incredibly and wildly volatile, and temperatures, precipitation, and wind speeds can and do change hourly. Also, we had windchills below zero this week with icy cold rain and, yes, snowflakes in the air, which, well, I’ll just be over in the corner crying softly, thinking about my garden.

My dad told me that he read that this spring is the coldest Western Canada has had in…I forget what he said, actually, but whatever it was I found it weirdly comforting. I had started to lose all perspective and just accept that we lived in a frozen hellscape where summer will never come, never. Ah! This isn’t normal! Sometimes it IS warm! It gave me a weird sense of hope.

Anyway, back to clothes. While I’d like to showcase seven days of light springwear, this is not my reality. Instead I give you seven days of clothes while dealing with crazy weather fluctuations! Please note that while two of the pants are new within the last year, most of these pieces are several years old, some more than a decade old. When I buy a piece, I want it to last a long time and I want it to incorporate into my wardrobe smoothly. Not to anthropomorphize my clothing or anything, but I want all my pieces to get along and play nicely together. I love getting dressed in the morning; putting together the Day’s Costume based on my activities and the weather is always fun for me. One of the reasons I love Marie Kondo is her Sparking Joy concept; my clothes spark joy and they all have a role to play in my life. Okay, maybe I anthropomorphize my clothing. But what of it? It’s not like I think they have a secret life and are enacting little dramas and romances when I go to bed at night. (But what if they do? That would be fun.)

One Week of Spring Outfits

Thursday

The week starts on a Thursday! Thursday is a teaching day, and this is a pretty typical teaching outfit for me: yoga tank and leggings with a tee. The fitted tank is essential, because tees tend to ride up during things like downward dog, and I prefer to keep my midriff covered at all times. It’s hard to tell from the photo but the tank is a black and charcoal camo print, and the tee matches the charcoal. It’s all about the little things.

This is a little thing but I left the house with just a sweater and scarf! No coat! No boots! No gloves! As mentioned above, with our weather this is NOTABLE. Most people associate scarves with fall, but I associate them with spring and jauntily strolling around with only a light sweater as protection against the elements.

Friday

This was hands-down my favourite outfit of the week. The jeans are new and a perfect fit, which is miraculous because I bought them online during Black Friday sales, which is risky! The risk paid off! Sweater, tank, and scarf are all many years old, and the shoes are the cutest and comfiest little Skechers. Well, not little. My feet are pretty big. But I’m wearing SHOES without SOCKS and not BOOTS. Spring!

Saturday

We have been trying to go bowling at our fitness club as a family as often as possible, and the last time we went, there was a young girl’s birthday party going on and it was glow-in-the-dark bowling with a dance competition on the big screen! So much fun. I have moves like Jagger, people. Anyway, these jeans were also part of my online Black Friday purchase, and this top, well, I love it. I bought it while shopping with my mom in her small town, probably seven years ago now. It doesn’t get much wear because it’s so lightweight, the weather has to be warm, but not too warm, to wear it.

Saucy bowling shoes courtesy of the club.

Sunday

Gardening day! It was warm enough to be in the garden, and so I was out there for a long time, edging and weeding and basically spinning around with happiness.

The jeans date from 2008 and have, clearly, worn right through the knees. The tee was a $5USD purchase from Maui in 2015 or 2016, and it always gives me happy tropical memories. Those shoes are my gardening shoes; they are Skechers with a flower motif.

Monday

Monday is a teaching day, so my uniform of tank, tee, and tights is the order of the day. This was the warmest day of the week, and so my tights are capri-length, and again, shoes with no socks!

Tuesday

Well, nothing can last forever, and this was the day the weather changed for the worse. No more shoes without socks, no leaving the house without a coat.

I have to tell you about this coat: I bought it when the boys were in preschool. PRESCHOOL! And this week my son graduates high school. I love it just as much as when I bought it; it’s a little “off-brand” for me colour-wise but I love it. It’s lined, it’s waterproof, it has a hood and is long enough to keep me warm on these chilly spring days.

Underneath: a sweater, but a light sweater, paired with a tank and the most comfortable pants you can imagine. These pants are from lululemon, and they are actual pants with a button and zipper, but they feel like yoga pants. It’s magic.

Did you know Sorel makes non-winter boots? They do! These are cute and comfortable AND water-proof, so good for snowy/ rainy spring days that are not below freezing. Did I just type that sentence? Yes, I did.

Wednesday

Wednesday is grocery day, and so I need something akin to workout wear. I mean, this was my haul from Superstore and Costco last Wednesday:

It took 52 minutes to put everything away. Forget carry-out service, I need a service to help me actually put the groceries away in my house.

Anyway, this Extreme Workout requires comfortable clothes that I can move around in, and that means yoga tank and pants, and this cute light sweater that cannot be worn without something underneath because it’s roomy and moves around a lot, if you know what I’m saying.

That’s it for the outfits, now for the books!

Pandemic Reading

These Precious Days. OH. I don’t think I can adequately express how much I loved this. I have read many essay collections and none have affected me like this. Everything resonated. Everything moved me. I feel a kinship and connection to the author that is incredibly strong. I loved every single word. I’m a fast reader but I slowed down because I didn’t want this to be over. It was such an incredible read for me and I cannot say enough about it.

The Curated Closet. As I mentioned above, this was a perfect book for my Week of Spring Outfits! This was so much fun to read! It’s all about discovering and establishing your own personal style and aesthetic, with helpful hints on how to shop mindfully, look for quality and fit, and detox your closet. Very fun and really well laid out and photographed. It has inspired me to go ahead with a Big Project that I have been turning around in my mind for the last few months.

Honor. I pride myself on being honest in my reviews, and this is painful for me to say. I have been looking forward to reading this for months; I was so excited when it came in at the library. I love this author and I was so interested in the very important story and theme. I want you to know that, to know just how much I hate to say what I’m going to say: I am disappointed. I found the characters to be one-dimensional and it was difficult to care about them, the dialogue is stilted, and the narration seemed contrived and heavy handed. It pains me to say it. Based on the author’s other works, I expected to be transported and amazed, but I wasn’t. It lacked the nuance and subtlety I love about her other books. It’s a decent book, it’s worth a read, but it’s not incredible or transformative and that is what I expected. It might be just me, and having high expectations, but this was a let down. 

I have a hugely busy and exciting week ahead, the sun is supposed to shine (mostly), and so I am feeling great and optimistic! I hope you have a wonderful spring-y week! xo

You Could Stuff A Throw Pillow With That Chest Hair; 113 Weeks In

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I was planning to post a Week of Spring Outfits, but this is what it looked like at the beginning of the week:

Although the week ended in a spring-like fashion, I thought the early part would overlap too much with my Week of Winter Outfits, what with my winter boots and warm sweaters. But I’m dying to talk to you about clothes and fashion for spring! Maybe next week.

You know what’s fun to do when you’re wearing your winter boots and it’s 5 degrees and snowy in May? Go to the garden centre! It sounds like I am being sarcastic, but believe me, I am not. I prefer to shop at less busy times; this sounds like a Pandemic Thing but it’s really just a Nicole Thing. I have always hated shopping at busy times; once, pre-pandemic, I went to Costco on a Sunday afternoon and my thought was this is how it ends for me, I guess.

When the sun comes out and the weather feels more May than March, it’s almost like the entire city remembers that a) it’s spring and b) gardens exist, and the garden centres are abuzz with activity. But with weather like we’ve had, well, I’m not saying I had the whole place to myself, but it was pretty easy to socially distance.

I texted my modest haul to my husband, who marvelled at my plant-buying restraint. What he didn’t know was that I have six flower planters and a ten-pack of vegetables on order from a fundraiser arriving in a couple of weeks, and what he does know but doesn’t always remember is that the majority of my gardens are filled to the brim with perennials, and so my plant needs are not so large. Also, after my garden centre trip I went to Superstore, where the gift with purchase was…a flower planter! What I’m saying is I’m pretty excited to get in the garden and get as much as I can out of our very short growing season. You can expect many, many garden updates from me over the next few months.

On a non-garden note, here’s an exciting update for you: I have finished watching Season One of The Golden Girls! At this rate I’m going to finish the series by 2026. Season Two opened up with two fantastic episodes: Blanche thinking she’s pregnant, but is instead going through menopause, and the ladies becoming mistaken for sex workers and ending up arrested. There is a guest appearance by the man referred to throughout the episode as Mr. Burt Reynolds, and I actually laughed out loud with delight when the gentleman in question appeared at the door with Sophia. Sorry, spoiler alert for a 37 year old TV show.

Anyway, it got me thinking two things: first, this might have been one of the very first mainstream television shows to discuss The Change, even if there are plot holes you could lose your house in. I mean, who thinks pregnancy at age 55? And also, in the history of the world is there one woman whose periods just naturally stopped with no other changes at all, and that was her menopause? But I cheer the effort to address something that women then, and sometimes now, seem loathe to address.

Second, heartthrobs in the 80s were very different from heartthrobs today. They were so much hairier! No chest waxing for Mr. Burt Reynolds (do guys still wax their chests? Or did that go out with the 40 Year Old Virgin?) I will tell you, people, when I saw that giant moustache, tanned skin, and brown leisure suit walk into the Golden Girls’ home, well. It was a look.

It reminded me of our 1987 family trip to California. We did all the usual things, including the most boring viewing of the Spruce Goose, which only served to make me appreciate the casino episode of The Simpsons. Anyway, one of the things we did was go to Universal Studios, and I don’t remember a single thing about it except that there were life-size cardboard cutouts of then-current heartthrobs, notably Tom Selleck, which you could get your photo taken with to trick your friends into thinking that you had your photo taken with the ACTUAL Tom Selleck. The 80s! Such a quaint time. My mom did have her photo taken with “Tom,” his arm floating a couple of inches above her shoulder. I myself had my photo taken with one “David Hasselhoff.”

It was an odd choice to be sure; I have never in my life seen an episode of Knight Rider, and certainly I wasn’t interested in David Hasselhoff at that time. My celebrity crushes in 1987 were limited to Iceman and Maverick (NEW MOVIE COMING OUT SOON OMG), Corey Hart (I was in his actual fan club), and, weirdly, Ralph Macchio from the Karate Kid Part II.

Another odd choice is my Garfield zodiac sweatshirt paired with a collared shirt but again, it was 1987 and I felt pretty hip. Also, there’s no need to ask “What’s your sign” when it’s in Garfield form on your body, for all to see.

Pandemic Reading

Before I get into the books I read this week, I am going to tell you about something I did that I never do: I took a book back to the library without reading it. A friend had highly recommended a book and I immediately put it on hold, without any other information, and when it came in I was distressed to see that it was a memoir about addiction. Addiction memoirs are right up there with sci-fi and dystopian novels for me, in the category of Things I Don’t Want To Read. Not only was this an Addiction Memoir, but it was also a Parenting With Addiction Memoir. I kept putting it off and renewing it, and finally I decided I would flip to a couple of pages to see what it was like. The very first line I read concerned putting a child to bed and then doing a line of coke, and I was like that NOPE octopus gif.

Here is what I did read this week:

Black Widow. I heard this woman on a podcast and I knew I had to read her book about being suddenly widowed at age 44.  It’s such a compelling and touching read but also extremely witty and somehow funny. 

The Great Gatsby. CONTROVERSIAL OPINION ALERT. I first read this 25 years ago and HATED it. Like, I have a visceral reaction to even the title. But my younger son is reading it for English, so I decided to reread it. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t like it but I can appreciate it as a social commentary, a time capsule, a voice of a generation, etc. Still. My son suggested I don’t like it because it’s written by a man and the main character is a man, and you know, he’s probably not wrong. I find it dull, although the ending is decent. I know, I know, I am in the massive minority here, everyone loves it and it speaks to them, but that is the great thing about literature, we can all like what we like. And I don’t like this – but I can appreciate it.

Everything Must Go. I almost quit this book before I began: the very first paragraph, THE VERY FIRST ONE, deals with putting down a much loved dog riddled with cancer. Um, that sucked. I immediately checked the book jacket to see if this was a major theme in the book – it wasn’t – and then continued reading. The dead dog was only tangentially in the story but TRIGGER WARNING for those of us with elderly, cancer-ridden dogs. Anyway. The book is about a woman dealing with her mothers dementia, written from both points of view. The author’s signature seems to be light and easy books about heavy and difficult topics, and that’s how I’d describe this. DEAD DOG THOUGH YOU GUYS. It’s fine. It’s fine. Barkley’s still here. I’m fine. Everything is fine. This book is fine.

More than fine? My new kale patch! I felt a little nervous, putting actual plants in, but kale is pretty cold tolerant so I think it will be fine. I hope you have a More Than Fine week, my friends. xo