Category Archives: Books

It’s All Right, I Think We’re Going To Make It; 112 Weeks In

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A couple of weeks ago our neighbourhood had an outage with our internet service provider; the outage went from 10:30am to after 5:00pm. It’s really amazing how many things are attached to our internet service: TV, the landline, the Peloton. The boys came home after school and were shocked – SHOCKED – that there was no internet. What is this, the nineties? It was actually a bit of a problem since most of their homework is done online, but luckily, my son had an actual paper worksheet for his chemistry homework. My husband was in the office that day, very fortunately, and came home to immediately turn on the NFL draft. I reminded him to show gratitude to the universe that the internet was back on and he could actually watch the draft, after hours of the outage, but I don’t think he absorbed that same feeling.

Of all the things to go out – power, water, etc. – the internet is by far the easiest to deal with. It’s ingrained in our lives but it really is a luxury. However, I still had a low-level sense of worry that happens anytime I have the smallest blip in one of the many incredible services in my life: what if it NEVER comes back on. How will I file my taxes?

Luckily I had a number of podcasts downloaded, so I could listen to my Little House on the Prairie recaps without any issues. Priorities, people.

If the outage had happened this past week, however, I may not have noticed much: it’s been beautiful and I’ve been so busy outside. Oh, you guys, I have had such a good week. It’s amazing what a week of sunshine and warm weather will do for me. Am I solar powered? Maybe. In any case, we had a stretch of five glorious days, and I spent the majority of them frantically working in the yard and gardens, knowing, in the back of my mind, that the beautiful weather is fleeting and colder temperatures and precipitation, possibly of the snow variety, are right around the corner.

Which is, of course, what happened, but at least I got the back perennial beds all cleaned up and the backyard raked. The weekend was chilly, there was snow on the ground when I woke up this morning, and we have more snow flurries forecasted today, but I am unbothered because at least I had last week.

My pretty new gardening gloves that I got for my birthday, on the road to being filthy.

Soon I will be relocating Salvadore to one of my garden beds. He is still MAGICALLY moving around every night. Last week I woke up to him being engrossed in my book about tree care, written by our arbourist.

I guess he’s really interested in trees! It makes sense, he’s a woodland gnome.

My mom’s birthday is this week (HI MOM) so we celebrated on the weekend and I baked this cake:

It occurred to me that at this time last year, my sister-in-law and I had been planning a celebration for my mom’s birthday/ Mother’s Day, but Covid numbers went through the roof, we went into a lockdown, and it was a very scary time. It feels strange that was only one year ago; it feels like an age. Vaccines were just starting to be available at that time, I was teaching only on zoom, and cases were reported in the news, daily. We all waited for the daily numbers, and for me, I had hope that with the vaccine rollout, we would be THROUGH the pandemic by Christmastime.

People are really amazingly strong. I think if anyone told us what we would be going through, back in 2019, none of us would have believed it or, importantly, thought we could handle it. I think if, in May 2020, I was told that there would be fully another two years PLUS of the pandemic, but things were going to get progressively weirder, I would have just shriveled up into a little ball. But we just push through, don’t we? What are we in now, the sixth wave? And there is no way to know “daily numbers” anymore, at least not here, and even home rapid tests are less than accurate for all the new changes.

My kids mentioned that one of their friend’s dad is quite sick with Covid, so his whole family is currently staying with his grandma to allow him to isolate in their home. I said “I thought they all had it at Christmas?” and immediately the boys jumped on me. “That doesn’t MATTER, Mom! You know you can get it again, right? You can have Covid more than once!” Which, true; also, that doesn’t feel great, but at this point, what can we do? Do we just shrivel up in a ball? Or do we adjust the way we are living, and try to live our best lives in the healthiest, safest way possible?

In any case, I am glad to have celebrated my mom’s birthday with her. I have seen my mom, obviously, but this was the first time in two years I saw her for her birthday, and if there’s one thing that has come out of this pandemic, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the – checks title – past 112 weeks, it’s to not take anything for granted or to think there’s always next time, there’s always next year. Live in the now, as Garth says to Wayne. And in the now, I’m reading a lot of books and doing a lot of gardening.

Pandemic Reading

Birth: The Surprising History of How We Are Born. When Stephany (HI STEPHANY) mentioned this book, I knew I had to read it. I’m fascinated and horrified by the history of medicine, and this history of birth, midwifery, and obstetrics is fascinating and horrifying. A few times I felt faint reading some descriptions of obstetric procedures, and frequently I found myself inadvertently Kegeling. But it’s a great read – and I’m glad I read it AFTER having babies. I really liked reading about the changes in attitudes towards birth, how they were affected by social changes, and since it was published in 2006 it ended with the attitudes I remember from my own pregnancies and births. I’m sure things have changed now too, but that ship has long left the harbour for me. Perhaps one day I’ll have daughters-in-law who might let me share their experiences, if I am very fortunate.

How To Be Fine. I am a fan of the By the Book podcast, and so I really enjoyed reading this book about the authors/ hosts and what they learned from self-help books, what they hated about self-help books, and what they wished self-help books talked about. It was published in 2020 so I would be very interested to read a book where they tackle the books they read and lived by during the pandemic. How To Be Fine In A Pandemic? That would be a fun sequel. If you like that podcast you’ll love this book.

Bright Lights, Prairie Dust. There’s a lot more to Karen Grassle than just her role as Ma Ingalls: she was a theatre actress in the 60s and has fought for women’s rights for decades. Still, it was fun to read about Little House – spoiler, Michael Landon was an asshole – and life in New York in the 60s. I didn’t love this book though; it wasn’t laid out that well and it ended abruptly. Also she struggled with alcoholism and mental illness and that is a very large part of the book – it’s a bit hard to read at times. Still, glad I read it. 

I hope you all had a lovely weekend and cheers to the week ahead! May the snow flurries be few. xo

Maybe She’s Born With It, Maybe It’s Maybelline; 111 Weeks In

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Very frequently, of late, I have looked into the mirror and noticed what I thought was mascara smudged under my eyes. Each and every time, I try to remove the smudged mascara only to realize that it is not smudged mascara at all: it is just my skin, and that is how it looks now. Since this happens almost daily, you would think that I wouldn’t be surprised by this, but you would be wrong. I am surprised, every time.

My undereye circles are a bit more pronounced this week; I have been just a little short on sleep for several nights in a row. It turns out that those fifteen or twenty minutes each night start to add up, and I’ve been feeling just a little bit tired.

There was a parent meeting for my son’s club wrestling, and it was in person. I was so startled by this turn of events, I hardly knew what to do. I was waiting for information on a zoom link, and when the information came that the meeting would be in person, at the university, you would think that someone would have told me that I was slated to perform an interpretive dance in front of an audience of 1000. What do I do, where do I go, what do I wear, how is this going to work? It was fine, of course, although it has been over two years since I have been in a room with thirty other people. It has also been almost 25 years since I was at that part of the university, and it was very fun to walk by the fitness centre and the racquet centre, places I used to spend considerable amounts of time at, and that have – not surprisingly – changed a great deal.

There are lots of changes afoot. The people that bought the house next door, and are renovating it completely, are so nice and I am so looking forward to having them as my neighbours, not just because I think they will be a lovely addition to our neighbourhood, but also because that will mean that their renovations will be complete.

I see the gentleman a few times a week, on the occasions that I happen to be outside when he’s checking on the progress of the renovation. We always have a quick chat and he always says, in the most amiable way, “I hope the noise isn’t bothering you too much!” to which I respond, perkily, “No, no, it doesn’t bother me at all!” And that’s true! Mostly.

I am a person who can easily absorb loud noises and just go on with life; it’s almost like the sounds of hammering and beeping and what have you becomes white noise to me, with the exception of the afternoon that they jackhammered out the front steps and walkway. When that happened, my whole house shook intermittently for two hours, and my nerves, people. I kept repeating my favourite coping line, stolen from Allison (HI ALLISON) a decade ago: there will be a time after this. There will be a time after the jackhammering.

But mostly, it’s been just fine. I don’t have any babies or small children for whom the noise might disturb their sleep schedules, and the dog is almost completely deaf, so he is unbothered. The only problem came last weekend, when it appeared that the workers were on some kind of deadline, perhaps to coordinate trades for the week ahead. For five days straight they worked until 10pm.

For normal people, I am sure that wouldn’t be an issue, and if you were standing on the street, you probably wouldn’t have noticed, but the side of the house they were working on was the one nearest my bedroom, and 10pm is over an hour past my bedtime. I lay awake, hearing the hammering of…pipes? I don’t really know what they were doing. There will be a time after this. This is temporary. It took me a long while after they finished work to fall asleep, and I repeated my sleep mantra, which is My body is resting, even if I don’t sleep I am still resting my body. I generally find that soothing enough to fall asleep without becoming stressed out and anxious that I’m not sleeping enough.

The construction is temporary, the neighbours are not, right? I like all our neighbours; I cannot stress enough how important it is to me that the neighbours and I get along. There is absolutely nothing to be gained by a feud between neighbours; I will do anything to keep the peace, including never saying anything about workmen being noisy right up until the bylaw deadline. After all, over the past 22 years our neighbours have been wonderful, and that includes the times when we have had swarms of children in our yard, jumping on the trampoline and screaming, and also my son’s daily drum practice. I feel grateful to have had such fantastic people of all ages and personalities living nearby, and I just know our new neighbours are going to be lovely.

And the more work they do on the house, late in the day, the faster the renovation will be done. Right? Right. In any case, I got a little more sleep last night, downgrading my undereye circles from Raccoon to Lightly Smudged Mascara.

Pandemic Reading

The Ex-Boyfriend Yard Sale. When a broke actress finds herself in major credit card debt, she tries to think of ways to raise money: what if she sold the items given to her by ex-boyfriends? The idea of valuing such items turned into a one-woman stage show, and then, obviously, this book. She enlisted the help of mathematicians and economic theorists to create a formula for valuing gifts from exes, and the value the exes brought to her life. The economic theory and math was fun to read, and for me, it made this book a worthwhile read. However.

Listen, we have all had our share of bad relationships and made our share of bad decisions. What would it be to read a memoir in which no bad choices were made and everything was just fine. AND YET. I found myself constantly frustrated with and disappointed in the author. MAKE BETTER CHOICES, MY GOD. If a man has sex with you for three years, and yet refuses to be called your boyfriend, that is not just a red flag, it is an entire skyscraper ensconced in red velvet. If a man tells you he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you, don’t keep trying to be in a relationship. Even if he does “give you six orgasms” or an orgasm that “lasts three minutes” every time you have sex (which, what?). There is a part where she tells him everything she wants in their relationship, and people, this is THREE PAGES LONG and lists everything from “spending every holiday together, just the two of us” to “never letting our sexual desire fade” (understandable, given the six-orgasms-per-sexual-encounter), to “buying a sectional for snuggling.” After this three page monologue, the guy says that he doesn’t want any of those things, and he cannot give her any of those things, AND YET SHE PERSISTS IN TRYING TO HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM. Girl, this is a booty call. He is not spousal material. The whole time I was reading this, I kept thinking, girl, no. Just no. Stop calling him. I don’t know, maybe I’m just getting too old to read these kinds of memoirs.

Whoa, that was a long review. I have feelings, I guess. Moving on.

The Story Hour. I enjoyed this book about the relationship between two women; one from India, the other her psychiatrist. Midway through I thought I knew where it was going, but it turns out I didn’t at all. I like that. The major theme was the mistakes that we make, how we atone for them, and can we forgive others’ mistakes as well as our own. Thrity Umrigar is a real talent; her ability to craft characters that are multi-dimensional is breathtaking. It also made me think about the judgements we make about people, and how there is always so much more to their stories than what we see.

It’s been a more social week than usual; lots of visits with friends, so I’m feeling happy coming into May. May! Already! Every month it feels shocking to change the calendar. Happy May to you, my friends. xo

Move Over, Sansa; 110 Weeks In

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It was only a few weeks ago that I was marvelling at all the Christmas decorations in the neighbourhood; lights and Santas and candy canes alongside the brown grass and spring bulbs. It turns out my neighbours know what’s what.

Santa’s coming! In only eight months.

Oh, you guys, we got so much snow this week; it really felt relentless. It was the kind of heavy, soft, wet snow that causes chaos on the streets and possibly heart attacks for shovellers. I went to the grocery store and passed a school bus, completely stuck in the snow, with a couple of kids inside as the driver tried to make her way out of her predicament, but only became more and more stuck. Let me tell you, as someone who has had her car stuck in the snow more than once, I felt for this driver. She kept doing the thing that feels instinctive but is the exact thing that you should absolutely not do, gunning the engine. She kept doing this, the wheels spinning and the bus becoming settled deeper into the snow. Who among us, right? Except that most of us are not doing this in a school bus with children inside. I really emphasized; if I were that driver, I would be a sobbing mess.

That wasn’t the only bus with such issues. My kids told me that there were many absences at their school, probably due to transit issues, and when they went to buy lunch, the Subway shop was closed, probably due to no employees making it to work.

Friluftsliv, right? I went for my walk and discovered that the walking paths were – not surprisingly – unplowed, but I stoically decided to soldier on. Do you want a good leg workout? Wade through eight inches of thick, heavy, wet snow.

Me: It’s just snow, it’s so pretty, it will be fun! Nature! Also me, ten minutes later: My god, what am I doing with my life.

The weather, obviously, was not conducive to outdoor running, so as the first few snowflakes fell on Friday morning, for the fourth day that week, I decided to go to the gym. This was my scene when I got home.

Do I live in Winterfell now? Am I the Queen of the North?

Did you ever watch Game of Thrones? What a crazy show that was, and how disappointing was that ending? Given the show’s general theme, I just assumed that it would end, Sopranos-style, with a blackout and everyone dying, perhaps with the world blowing up. I did not expect such a neat little package tied up with ribbons.

Back when I was watching it, I never knew what was happening. Half the time it was too violent for me to watch and so I’d cover my eyes or leave the room, and the other half, well, I just didn’t know what was going on. I mean, it is a fairly complicated show with so many characters and backstories, and so I was constantly texting my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) with questions every thirty seconds. Who is this guy? What is with all the horses? Where did they come from. OH MY GOD HANNAH WHAT DID THEY JUST DO TO THIS GUY. Oh, he was bad? Wait, he’s the guy that raped all those women? Oh. Wait, who’s THIS guy and why can’t anyone kill him? Oh, he’s immortal. Hannah deserves a medal for patience with me – “No spoilers but, um, don’t get too attached to that character, Nicole.” – and maybe one for valor. (Wait, how did he get killed? They skinned him alive? Oh.)

One thing about a snowy, grey day is that it motivates me to get things done around the house; on Tuesday I had several phone calls to make and appointments to arrange, none of which I wanted to do, but I decided to JUST GET IT ALL DONE. What is it about making appointments that makes a person want to lie in the fetal position and cry? And yet. I was, in my humble opinion, a BOSS. I started with a phone call to the orthodontist to arrange for a new retainer for my younger son; the only time I could get in conflicted with my sons’ previously scheduled doctor appointments. No matter! A broken retainer trumps an annual checkup. I phoned the doctor and rescheduled, then, feeling like I was on a roll, made eye appointments and ordered extra contacts for my son, and then called our insurance company about some changes to our auto insurance. I felt like I was ON FIRE, checking off everything on my list.

Speaking of appointments, last Friday the boys had dental appointments, and two weeks ago I had called to confirm them. Remember my dentist and the plethora of reminders? Well, I had an email reminder AND a text reminder for one son, but not the other, so I called to confirm, to make sure they both had appointments at the same time. Perfect, everything was in order. That was fine until this week: the dentist emailed me, texted me, and – when I did not respond within ten minutes – PHONED ME to confirm Friday’s appointment. I assured them that the boys would be there as scheduled, but also? I had already confirmed two weeks ago? “Oh,” the woman on the phone said, “This wasn’t marked as confirmed.” At this point, I had, in a two week span, two emails, two texts, and a phone call, and apparently so had my husband.

I discovered that little nugget of information on the day of the appointment. I had another text, another email, AND my husband called me to say “Do the boys have a dentist appointment today? I keep getting emails.” OH MY GOD, DENTAL OFFICE. WE WILL BE THERE. Listen, I realize that people forget their appointments, the dental people have a job to do, but no one in this household has ever been late or forgotten a dental appointment. Is there no way to NOT send a dozen reminders to the households who have never been late or forgotten an appointment? No, I know there isn’t. I know there is no way but I WISH THERE WAS A WAY.

I also wish the snow would melt so I could do some work in the yard and garden, and I might just get that wish this week. Do other people constantly refresh their weather app in the hopes that it will yield a favourable forecast, or is it just me?

Pandemic Reading

No Presents Please. I really thought I would like this a lot more than I did. This is a collection of short stories, set in Mumbai, about everyday people with their everyday lives. This is normally one hundred percent my jam, and I did like some of the stories, but mostly I found them dull and unnecessarily convoluted.

What If This Were Enough. This collection of essays – about living in the present, about eschewing consumer culture, about living mindfully and fully – is thoughtful, intelligent, and nuanced. I agree almost totally with the sentiments – ALMOST, not totally, do NOT throw shade at Marie Kondo, not in my hearing – but I can’t help but feel I would have enjoyed it more if I had read it when it was published in 2018. The pandemic and age has changed my perspective, so it didn’t TOTALLY resonate with me. Most of it did, but there was a little part in me that internally rolled me eyes at times. Am I becoming a cynic in my middle age? I hope not.

The Secrets Between Us. This is the sequel to The Spaces Between Us, which I loved loved loved and raved about previously. It is a very satisfying sequel, and I was so happy to read the two so close together. It deals with women and their lot in life, friendship, hardship, choices, and connection. I didn’t love it as much as the first one, but I did love it.

I just refreshed my weather app, again, and it looks like – maybe? – it is not going to snow this week! We shall see. Have a lovely week, my friends! xo

Rituals; 109 Weeks In

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I was listening to this fantastic, new-to-me-but-well-established podcast the other day, about the importance of ritual and soulful practices in our everyday life. It got me thinking about all the little rituals I incorporate into my day, from my coffee-and-early-morning reading and writing to putting on my five different moisturizers before bedtime. Some of the little rituals came about because of the pandemic: daily inspirational reading and poetry before my morning yoga practice and my long daily walks are the two most notable ones. However, some rituals predate the pandemic by a long shot, and one of those is Sunday Dinner.

We eat dinner as a family every night, with the exception of the evenings when my younger son is at wrestling practice; those nights, it is just the three of us, and I save him a plate for when he’s home at 8:30 pm. Sunday Dinner is a different thing, though. It’s a big, semi-elaborate meal that always ends in dessert.

I cook a lot; it feels like half my life is devoted to food acquisition, preparation, and the cleanup afterwards. It can be very boring and tedious; this is why I listen to so many podcasts. But there is one thing I am never bored of, and that is making Sunday dessert. Throughout the week I bake a lot of things and I make a lot of ice cream, but I don’t partake in any of those; Sunday dessert, however, is my jam. I think about different recipes and I always get excited, choosing and then making the Dessert of the Week.

This past weekend was really fun for me, though, because we went up to my parents’ house for two nights. Not only did I not cook for two days, I also had my favourite dessert:

My birthday is coming up this week, so we had a combined birthday/ Easter celebration.

Not only did we have a wonderful dinner made by my mother with my favourite strawberry angel food cake, but we went out to dinner in an actual restaurant, we played a lot of games, drank a lot of wine, and my mom and I went shopping.

I have been searching for the perfect garden gnome for my entire life, and this fellow was the first thing I saw at Merry’s Mercantile, and I love him so much. His name is Salvadore.

Side note: longtime Calgary bloggers may remember Merry as Merry About Town or Merry With Children! She has the cutest little store in Bentley, and if you are ever in Central Alberta, you must go. You must! I saw this and I did not buy it, which I regret deeply.

Regrets about mug non-purchases aside, it was a nice finish to what was a really cold, grey, snowy week. On Wednesday I was getting groceries and the parking lot was so cold and windy that I checked my weather app.

Feels like minus 18! No wonder I was cold. Luckily the weather is supposed to turn warm and more “seasonal” this week; I feel like the whole city was starting to slip into depression, what with the return of winter.

Back to the topic of groceries, there are supply chain issues that are AFFECTING MY POPCORN PURCHASES. Boom Chicka Pop has gone from just my favourite light kettle corn being unavailable to being all flavours being completely unavailable. And – AND – there was also no Skinny Pop popcorn, my second choice, which feels like a Punishment From The Universe for buying something with such a stupid name. What’s next, am I going to be forced (“forced”) to buy Lesser Evil popcorn, just because I publicly announced I would not support a company that assigns moral values to food? Or will that start a chain reaction of more popcorn emergencies? I’m in a vicious circle of my own making. The snake is eating its own tail!

Sure, I could make my own popcorn. I do own all the appropriate accoutrements. But I don’t want to. I look forward to opening a bag of popcorn on Friday night and not doing anything else; I don’t WANT to pop my own popcorn, like a Luddite. Is a bag of popcorn too much to ask for?

Pandemic Reading

Girls Lost. I really appreciated the quality of the writing and the creativity of this book. This author is renowned and award-winning, and I loved the Swedish setting. It’s a really unique concept and English classes everywhere could have a field day with the symbolism of a meat-eating flower whose nectar turns girls into boys; the theme of toxic masculinity and violence is strong. However, I didn’t really love the book as a whole, as magic and fantasy are not to my taste. If they are to your taste, though, I think you might love this.

The Space Between Us. Wow, just wow. This is one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, perhaps ever. There’s just so much in here, I hardly even know where to begin. This is a story of two women; one is the house servant to the other. It’s a story about intertwined lives, about class differences, about the incredible burden of being a woman, about how pain is universal, about poverty and literacy and education and the lack thereof. It’s set in Bombay but honestly, the lessons are for everyone, all over the world. It’s an incredibly written book, with so much beauty and sadness. I was distraught and uplifted and so sad to finish this. It is the first book I have read by this author; I have had one of her books on hold for a few months now, and I just put everything she’s ever written on hold. I cannot say enough about this book and how it touched me.

How To Be A Grown-Up. I picked this up on a whim since the authors wrote The Nanny Diaries, which I really enjoyed back in the day. This book is okay; it deals with a woman going through a separation from literally one of the worst non-physically abusive character you can imagine. I mean, this guy is a complete loser of a child-man. So I found it hard to get into the story as I was so constantly incensed by what a jerk this guy was, and how he reminded me of someone I know who is also involved in a divorce from someone I know, and I am not going to put any more details than that but THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW ME WELL KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. I guess I found it triggering? Anyway, it’s fine, this book is fine, I liked it fine, everything is fine. Parts of it are really, really funny and parts of it are astonishingly distressing.

I am very much looking forward to this week, and not just because it’s my birthday; I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of milder weather so I can find a spot for Salvadore to live. I hope you have a beautiful week, my friends. xo

Signs of Spring; 108 Weeks In

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There are a really surprising number of houses with Christmas decorations in my neighbourhood. Depending on the snow and cold, it is not unusual to see lights up throughout January, and perhaps even to February, but now it’s April 11, we haven’t had significant snow or really frigid temperatures for a long while, and some people are still feeling merry. It’s not just lights on houses; there are a few candy cane lanes still up, and even the occasional snowman. It makes me smile, seeing the juxtaposition of Santa with the emergence of spring bulbs.

One of my favourite houses on my walk route, has, after a winter hiatus, reinstated its extensive gnome collection and garden tchotchkes in its front yard. Those happy little gnomes, bumblebees, and animals are a Sign of Spring, to be sure.

It’s been Calgary Spring Weather around here: chilly and windy days, mixed in with the occasional gorgeous warm day and sporadic snowfalls. Last week I saw my first shirtless runner of the year; another Sign of Spring! One can spot runners in shorts any month of the year in Calgary; as long as it’s sunny there will be a runner with purple legs and probably painful knees dashing down the paths, even in temperatures well below zero. But a shirtless runner! It’s like spotting the first robin of the year.

Speaking of running, I have restarted my running routine. I am very much a fair-weather outdoor runner; I will not run when the paths are icy, and I will not run in below zero temperatures. I will walk in any weather, in any and all terrible conditions, but running? NO SIR. Typically, in the winter, I use the treadmill at the gym, but over the last two years for some reason, I just don’t know why, I have not. I actually was using the treadmill up until early December 2021 – my club required all adult members to be vaccinated to use the facilities – but at that point I just did not feel comfortable taking off my mask and breathing heavily in the presence of other people taking of their masks and breathing heavily. Or breathing at all. In any case, I took a little hiatus, using the cardio equipment in the comfort of my own home, and I am happy to report my reentry into the running world has been completely smooth and painless.

It’s not like I was concerned that my Olympic dreams would be crushed or anything, taking off a few months, but I did wonder how it would feel, getting back into it. I am not getting any younger, people. I practiced non-attachment by not looking at my Garmin until the end of the run – pretty easy to do when it’s 1 degree Celsius and I had my thumbholes and gloves on – I wanted to just run by feel. Do numbers matter? No, they do not. Still, I was pleasantly surprised to see that my time was only one minute slower, total, on six kilometres, as compared to when I started my hiatus. By my third run, I was basically back to my old pace, but this week looks like my run days will be below zero for the daily high temperature, so perhaps I am back to cross-training for a few days. I suppose I could go to the fitness centre and use the treadmill, but honestly, I don’t want to, and joyful movement is all about doing what I want to do when I want to do it. Right?

Barkley went in for his spring grooming; every April I feel like we could enter him into some kind of Extreme Makeover contest, because he looks like a completely different dog. For one thing, after a winter of Extreme Fuzziness, he seems to lose about ten percent of his body weight JUST with a haircut. For at least a week after his grooming, we all marvel at how small he is, relatively speaking, underneath all that fur. He’s still over 50 pounds, so it’s not like he turns into a teacup poodle, but he’s small relative to his winter self.

My beloved groomer might generally hate people, but I think she likes me, because when I took him in she petted him and then looked at me with extreme kindness and compassion, and said “He’s pretty matted, we’re going to have to go short, are you going to be okay?” I said of course, and that she should do what she needs to do, and I have to tell you that Barkley now has a renewed lease on life. It’s like he shed the weight of the world with the weight of his fur, and has a spring in his step like I haven’t seen for a while. Spring! He’s Springing into Spring! His lump is, honestly, pretty hard to look at, but he’s so happy right now.

As a bonus, not one person has mentioned it, while passing us on walks. Are the people in my neighbourhood reading my blog? Am I giving off A Vibe? Is the lump so horrible looking that people are actually shying away from asking about it? I think it’s the latter.

No matter. It’s a part of Barkley and will be for the rest of his life, and I’m just happy he’s here, he’s moving and grooving, and that spring is starting to show itself, in all sorts of ways, big and small.

Pandemic Reading

Good Citizens Need Not Fear. I love when an author is inspired to write a book based on family experiences, and that was this collection of stories, set in Ukraine in the years leading up to and immediately following the fall of the Soviet Union. It follows people living in a building that “does not exist,” according to municipal records, and how those people make a life for themselves. Those lives are pretty bleak and grim, but the strength of community is apparent. Very interesting and cleverly written.

Everything Happens For A Reason. If you believe in the prosperity gospel, which states that good things will come to you, material things, if you believe and surrender to God, then what does it say about your faith if you become suddenly diagnosed with Stage IV cancer? This divinity scholar writes about her experiences and her grapple with faith throughout the process. I found it a fascinating, fast read.

The Secret Keeper of Jaipur. This is the sequel to The Henna Artist, which I read a while ago and could not remember much about. However, it all came back to me as I read this book; happily, The Secret Keeper of Jaipur catches the reader up on the preceding book and all the characters. I didn’t love this book about gold smuggling and an engineering crisis but I liked it just fine.

I hope you all have a wonderful week, filled with signs of spring! xo

Doing The Wave; 107 Weeks In

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“You and your waving.” My husband said to me on our walk one day, as I waved enthusiastically at a person across the street, only to realize that I had no idea who that person was. This happens more often than you might think; then again, if you know me at all, you would probably not be surprised at the frequency at which it happens.

I am a waver, and I like to greet or acknowledge people, even when I don’t know them. If I pass someone on the sidewalk, at the very least I will nod and smile. More likely, I will give a nod, smile, and a subdued Hand Up Half Wave:

Sometimes I will add the Finger Wiggle, which, if I’m wearing mittens, looks the same as the Hand Up Half Wave, but the feeling is there:

However, if I see someone I know – or I think it’s someone I know – I give a much more active and enthusiastic wave:

This is subdued considering that internally, when I see a friend, I feel like this:

I may or may not have the reputation of being the Crazy Friendly Lady in the neighbourhood, but I embrace my role as Neighbourhood Greeter.

Last week, Barkley and I had just gotten back from our walk, and I was taking advantage of the thaw to clean up the backyard of Barkley-related detritus, when I heard a cheerful “Hello there!” I looked up and saw my new next-door neighbour over the fence. “Oh, hi!” I said and waved happily, realizing at the last minute what was in my hand.

I have waved a dog waste bag at people on the street more times than I can count, while on Barkley walks, but always the bag is CLOSED. When my new neighbour greeted me, I was mid-pickup, my hand was ensconced in the bag and it was full, FULL, people, of dog waste and that is what I waved at him. As I realized what I was doing, I slowly dropped my hand and smiled, asking him how his reno was going.

If he was offended by the view inside a dog waste bag, he didn’t show it; instead he invited me to come and see what was happening. I had never been inside that house before; it was like being inside my own house, but taken down to the studs. I like to think of the neighbourhood, which was established in the early 1960s, and all the original owners choosing the little bungalow layout that suited them best.

There are still a few original owners on our street; Mrs G, next door, is one of them, and Mr. and Mrs. C, down the street. I like to think about all the changes they have seen in sixty years; I have seen a lot in 22 years. I’ve seen a lot in two years, with all my extensive neighbourhood walks, with and without Barkley.

Barkley is going in to get his spring haircut this week (fur cut?) and I am dreading it, not because of the actual grooming – he loves our local groomer – but because of the inevitable comments from strangers that ensue. When he’s really fluffy – as he is now – his lump is hardly discernable, but that will certainly change this week.

I like to think the best of people, and I like to think that people mean well, and they are just concerned for his well-being, but reactions from strangers about his very large lump are hurtful reminders to me that my dog is at the end of his life, and I don’t feel like I need any more reminders. “What IS that?” people will ask, or “Is that a lump on his side?” which is, in my opinion, lacking in intelligence as we all have eyes and we can see that there is, indeed, a large lump on his side. Sometimes I will get a “Can’t you do anything about that?” which also strikes me as unkind, as well as stupid, because if the benefits of removing it exceeded the costs to his well-being, well, I would.

Honestly, it’s enough to make me want to give up my Friendly Neighbour persona.

It’s gotten to the point that I got teary-eyed with gratitude when I saw a lady on our street, who looked at Barkley’s lump, and merely said “He’s still getting around, isn’t he!” I almost cried. He IS still getting around, thank you, thank you.

I was speaking to the groomer about this, as I was arranging his upcoming appointment. The groomer is a person who I would describe as being exactly suited to her job, in every way. She is not, however, a People Person. She is a tall, sturdy, strong woman with a lot of tattoos and who gives off a vibe of Tolerating Dog Owners But Barely. I like her a lot.

Anyway, she is great with Barkley, and I mentioned my dread at having his lump exposed to the world, and the inevitable slew of comments that will follow in the weeks to come. She paused for a moment and said to me “Tell you what I would do. Do you want my advice?” I said of course I did, to which she responded “You tell those people to mind their own fucking business, that’s what.” I started laughing and she said, “I’m serious! Tell them to fuck right off and mind their own business.” After that she said, in a world-weary way, “GOD, I hate people.”

I laughed and laughed, imagining myself responding in this way. That would destroy my Friendly Neighbourhood Lady persona entirely. I would NEVER, but I am happy to have such commiseration, and in the meantime, I will tell them to fuck right off and mind their own business in spirit.

Pandemic Reading

Wish You Were Here. Ugh, this is on me. It is my own damn fault. I do not like this author at all – god knows, I have tried. I find her writing to be contrived, cliched, gimmicky, and heavy-handed. So WHY did I think it was a good idea to pick up this book that IS ABOUT THE EARLY DAYS OF THE PANDEMIC? I will never know. “You did this to yourself,” I said to myself throughout the book. Anyway. I very much disliked it.

The Souvenir Museum. This was a well-written and clever collection of short stories. The settings were all different, but some of the characters intersected or appeared in multiple stories, which I like. All in all enjoyable.

The Reading List. This is a very sweet and moving story about an unlikely friendship, based on a found list of books to read, all of which are books I personally have read and loved. It works with the theme of family, born and chosen, friendship, the importance of community, and the role of books and libraries in our lives. If you are a library and book lover, then you might love this as much as I did. But I’m going to give a huge caveat here: TRIGGER WARNING. There is a sad subplot that I know for a fact will be very upsetting and triggering to a couple of my readers in particular, and if you think that might be you, please please please message me before you read this book. I am not going to tell you what the trigger is because it is a spoiler; instead, message me.

Happy April everyone! I hope spring is springing where you are. xo

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!; 106 Weeks In

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Let’s celebrate! It’s all right! Baby!

I would like to tell you that I have that song in my head, but no, no. I have had 24K Magic in my head for four days now, but not the whole song. Just ONE line, over and over. Every so often I will burst forth with it: Put your! Pinky! Fingers! To the! MOON!, which elicits one of two reactions: my older son will dutifully put up his pinky fingers, my younger son will close his eyes briefly, with the silent agony that comes with having Not A Regular Mom, A Cool Mom.

Speaking of music, thanks to my dad we have discovered a music channel on TV that is called Greatest Hits, and it’s true, every song that plays was a hit at one point. The screen shows the song that’s playing, and the one that will follow, and it is bananas. We have been watching this to guess what could possibly come next, but no one could actually guess what does come next. It’s like someone took all the Top Ten every year for the last sixty years, put them in a giant hat, and randomly drew them out. Whitney Houston will be followed by Bo Diddley, and after that, it’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Justin Timberlake is followed by Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree, and then it’s Heat of the Moment. Hit Me Baby One More Time will be followed by a Shania Twain song, and just when you think you’re in the 90s, the station plays Super Freak.

A small digression about Shania Twain: she is the one and only celebrity I have ever been compared to in my life. This was in the mid-nineties, and I was wearing a denim vest with a tank top underneath, and I would be flattered by the comparison, but the gentleman in question who was comparing me to the lovely songstress was near-passing-out-drunk.

Last night during dinner I asked my husband if he’d put on some kind of Disney music channel: it was Beauty and the Beast, followed by The Rainbow Connection, and he answered with a look only. Immediately after Kermit and Miss Piggy’s duet was Frank Sinatra followed, strangely, by Faith Hill. What is happening at the Greatest Hits station. Who is in charge of the playlist?

But back to Celebrating! We have had a lot to celebrate this week – it was our 20th anniversary, and my son’s 18th birthday, both on the same day. It was also spring break, we were able to come out of isolation, and the snow has all melted!

It’s still March, though, so we have snow ahead of us, but it’s nice to get the base layer off the ground. In fact, I was walking to the little salon in our neighbourhood to get a pedicure, and suddenly I thought “what just blew into my face?” I literally thought small particles of a building material just blew off a roof or something; it’s hard to describe, but it was like being hit in the face with confetti in a wind machine. It was a sudden, out-of-nowhere snowstorm – there were no warning flakes, nothing except sudden total snow and wind. It’s melted now but it was bizarre, even for a lifelong Calgary girl.

To celebrate our 20th anniversary, my husband and I went back to the scene of the crime – Banff. We spent a night at the lovely Banff Springs, and it was wonderful.

So, that was perfectly lovely, and I was grateful that we were out of isolation in time to go.

We celebrated my son’s birthday with cake and a nice dinner, and an afternoon of bowling – he also celebrated with his friends, once THEY were all out of isolation. Covid has made its way through almost all of my sons’ friends, after two years of nothing.

Pandemic Reading

Apples Never Fall. WOW!!! I loved this book! I have enjoyed all of Moriarty’s books, and this one is EXCELLENT! A woman goes missing; her husband is the main suspect. Did he do it? Full of twists and turns, secrets and astonishing, unexpected wisdom, this book was fantastic. Surprise: there is a small pandemic-related storyline. I cannot tell you anything else – you know how Moriarty is, just when you think you’ve figured it out, there’s another twist.

The Mother-in-Law. This was a pretty decent – mystery? Maybe? I’m not sure what to call it. – about a woman who appears to have ended her life, due to terminal cancer. The problem is, after death no cancer is found, nor the poison she apparently took to end her life. So what happened? It wasn’t hard to guess, but a decent read nonetheless. It had me thinking a lot about the mother-in-law/ daughter-in-law relationship. Is there any relationship with such potential to be fraught? This is an interesting “from-both-sides” perspective.

Once when the boys were babies, someone at playgroup said that you never really appreciate your own mother until you become one, and that really resonated for me. Certainly I appreciated my own mother more, once I was in the Mother Shoes myself. But I realized something, and that was that with two boys – two heterosexual, cis boys, as I have – I will be, if I am very lucky, a mother-in-law, and that is a very different relationship, as we all know. It’s something that seems far away right now, but it is something I think about. It’s something I will want to get right, but it is so delicate, and it so much depends on personality and patience, it seems.

Anyway, that was NOT the point of the book, but something I have been thinking about nonetheless.

Enjoy these last few days of March, my friends! I hope it’s going out like a lamb for you. xo