Category Archives: Eating a Rainbow

Dreams Can Come True, Look At Me, Babe/ Kalette, I’m With You

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I have been doing a massive house decluttering and purge, using a technique I learned from Apartment Therapy: choosing one small area and setting a timer for 15 minutes. It is extremely effective; I find that the less time I have to wonder do we need this item, the more efficient I am at letting go. Granted, I found three full drawers of user manuals for appliances that we no longer own, so letting go is not really so difficult.

Other than the defunct user manuals, there are many items that I feel could be of some use to someone else, and so I have been sorting things into various donation piles. The Kidney Foundation had, most fortuitously, called to see if I had any donations of clothing or household items, and I accepted their offer with more enthusiasm than I think the telephone caller had anticipated. I do think they are a worthy cause, but I think that the best way to donate items, both from an environmental and a community-minded standpoint, is through our neighbourhood Buy Nothing page. I envisioned giving as much as I could away to the community, and then bagging up the rest for the Kidney Foundation pickup.

At this point, I am ready to just set fire to everything.

Donating things through Buy Nothing, while very worthy, is just so much work. I have noticed that, while there are great people who are excited to take my old books and DVDs, and who schedule a time to pick up and actually pick up at that time, there are also those who make me wonder what I’m doing with my one wild and precious life. Almost always there will be someone who gives an enormous window for pickup – I’ll be there between noon and 9 pm on Wednesday – and then doesn’t pick it up for days, leaving me to wonder if I should ask if someone else wants it, or should I leave it on the step, and is it okay for things to sit out in below-freezing temperatures for days at a time? About a eighteen months ago I had gifted a number of cleaning products to a woman in the group who then didn’t pick them up for two weeks; I had messaged her a number of times, only to get the answer that she’d “be there tomorrow.” At the end of two weeks, my sister-in-law had stopped by to drop off Girl Guide cookies – I have to support my nieces! A case of cookies is not too much! – and I ended up giving her the bag of Lysol wipes and such. Two days after that the original woman messaged me to ask if she could come and get them that evening, and I was so irritated I ghosted her. That was probably rude on my part, but what can I say, it was in the thick of the pandemic, and my patience for such things was wearing thin.

In any case, things are slowly making their way out of my house, with the exception of some of my old textbooks, which according to the city’s website are only fit for the recycle bin. No one wants outdated textbooks for any reason, in any capacity, so there go my myriad economics and finance textbooks from the nineties. But why? Surely someone out there is looking for Varian’s Microeconomic Analysis, Third Edition, 1992. Or a twenty-five-year-old copy of Adjusting To Volatile Energy Prices. I am having a small crisis about the environmental impact of a small amount of broken toys that are heading for the landfill, but let’s move on.

As I clear out old detritus, this week I brought in many new items, in the manner of food. I am constantly amazed at the amount of groceries a mere four people go through in one week. A few weeks ago I was lamenting the apparent end of kalette season, but, thrillingly, it was NOT the end. It was a mere blip. Two girlfriends (HI JANET HI TRACY) had texted me to say that they had seen kalettes in the wild/ Costco’s refrigerated produce section, and so off to Costco I went. Dreams can come true!

When I saw the display I immediately got the song Dreams stuck in my head, and it stayed there for days. The problem with this song is that I really only know the chorus, along with the words I know what I want, and baby, it’s you, and so that was going through my head, over and over, on a loop. On my way home, I heard Anne Murray’s Snowbird on 70s on 7, and it reminded me of the show Sensitive Skin. Did you ever watch it? In the premiere, the husband was writing a piece on the cultural impact of Snowbird and for research purposes, listened to it on repeat for days on end, as he began to lose his mind. I could really see this happening to me, but with Dreams. Not that I’m listening to it on repeat, but my brain thinks I am.

I remember Sensitive Skin as being a really good show, but when I watched it I was 39, and my kids were 9 and 10. I think seeing it now, it would hit very differently: a middle-aged woman, empty nest, moving from her home in the suburbs to a downtown condo, aging mother, midlife crisis. At 39, I probably thought “Interesting!” and then moved on with my life. Or, “I like what she did with her hair.” These days, I would be more likely to dissolve in a puddle of mascara and tears and hot flashes.

Speaking of landsliding, my son finished his last exam on Friday, and so has this entire week off before starting his last semester of high school! In mere months, we will be out of the public school system! Just to add to the wow, time, feeling that I have, my thirty year high school reunion is coming up in June. I mentioned it to my dinner guests last weekend, who then asked if I was going to go it, and it turns out that I am actually kind of organizing it? I am not exactly sure how this happened, and I didn’t really need an extra project, but here we are.

Look at that sweet young thing! She had no idea that thirty years on, she would be wondering about reunion locations.

Weekly Reading

After last week’s fairly heavy and dark reads, this week was Very Mysterious.

The Accomplice. This book was mentioned by three friends – Suzanne, Engie, and Allison (HI SUZANNE HI ENGIE HI ALLISON) – and their synopses made me think it looked interesting. It was very fun to read! I so rarely pick up mysteries, but when I do, I enjoy them. This book had everything: ride-or-die friendship, murder, extramarital affairs, romance, greedy stepfathers, and hilariously nosy neighbours! A fun read that kept me up past my bedtime (by ten minutes but STILL).

Death on the Nile. Would you believe I had never read an Agatha Christie in my life? It’s true! I saw this at the library and thought, maybe I should get on that train. After all, Agatha Christie is kind of a big deal. I have a very soft spot for Egypt, having travelled there twenty-three years ago, AND I cruised down the Nile, albeit in a less-fancy way than the characters in this book.

No one got murdered on that cruise, that I know of.

At some point in my life I realized that I no longer associated myself with the beautiful young protagonist, and instead, found myself in sympathy with the motherly characters. See also: no longer a Handmaid, more like a Wife. Or Martha. Anyway, in this book there is one character who is described as an older, grey-haired woman. She’s 50. I mean, in the absence of hair colour that character is the closest to me, but it cracks me up that what we see as middle-aged was seen as quite advanced, back in the 1930s. Speaking of 1930s, there is some objectional language describing the Egyptian people, which is not unusual for a book from a British author in 1937, but should be noted. All in all, I really enjoyed this book – it was very entertaining.

The Lifeguards. This was a decent thriller/ mystery about three friends that have three sons who are also friends, and who come across a dead body. There are secrets, and a twist I did not at all see coming, but the ending was not very satisfying to me. Questions, I have them! But I did like it – not love it – it was just fine! Three mysteries in one week, who am I?

So it’s been a mystery-filled, decluttering-filled, kalette-filled week in the Boyhouse. What will this week bring? I hope it brings you lots of happiness. xo

Should I Just Burn The House Down Or…

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It’s a tough day in the NFL, my husband said conversationally a few weeks ago. I thought that meant someone died, but no, it was the day the draft picks got cut from 80 down to 53. My husband watches the NFL draft every year – the sound when someone is drafted is actually the ringtone on his phone – which means I vicariously watch the NFL draft every year. I do like seeing the absolute joy when a player is drafted, particularly from the family members watching, and, even more specifically, the happiness on his mother’s face. The years of work and sacrifice and wondering if it will ever pay off; then when a player’s name is called you can see the relief and pure joy. Now imagine that same mother, just a few months later, when her son gets cut. Even if the player survives the cut, such a career is tenuous at best. I always think of a player’s mother, when I see one get carried off the field with what my husband will inform me is a career-ending injury, sometimes before the season even begins.

Parenting is hard, is what I’m saying.

So it’s been a very roller-coaster week around here, and I’m not going to get into all the ups and downs, or bore you with my subsequent existential crisis, but I will say that Thursday was my last first day of school ever, and I came home to a completely empty house, for the first time without a sad Barkley to commiserate with.

Well, onward. Let’s rewind two weeks to our Mexico trip and how the boys fared on their own.

I was a bit nervous to leave the boys to their own devices for five days. What if there is an emergency? I kept saying, but when my husband asked me what kind of emergency I was pondering, I just couldn’t articulate. I don’t know, someone gets gravely ill or the house floods or the furnace explodes or something? But the fact is that a) we have left them overnight before with zero issues, b) they are both very responsible and have pride in the house, c) they are both fairly competent in the kitchen, and d) my older son is 18, so technically an adult. I had two rules. Rule Number One: No parties! Rule Number Two: If you do have a party, erase the evidence and make it look like you didn’t.

I mean, we have to be practical here.

The boys did have friends over, and I know all their friends and they are all good kids. I wasn’t worried; as long as no one barfed in my house or got alcohol poisoning, everything was fine by me. Let’s not be naïve! I’m of the belief – and this may be controversial, and it really depends on your own personal situation – that the European way of introducing alcohol as something that is not forbidden, but should be consumed in mindful moderation is what’s best for my family. I also don’t want the boys sneaking around; I know some of their friends hide booze from their parents, but I wanted my kids to tell me if they were having a drink. If you want a drink, have a drink, but don’t sneak around and for god’s sake, don’t barf or drive or do anything stupid. Open communication! It’s something that has worked for us; my older son is legal drinking age now, but we’ve been doing this for both boys for a few years. Again, this is something that should be looked at on an individual basis but for us, it’s worked. I think flat-out forbidding things makes them that much more desirable, which leads to bad decisions.

In any case, I knew that they had a few friends over early in the week and a few drinks were consumed. I know this not only because they told me but because there was cheap beer leftover in the downstairs fridge (Mountain Crest, who are these people), and my husband’s very expensive five-year-old bottle of Patron was opened, even though we have many half-empty bottles of cheap vodka in our liquor cabinet BUT WHATEVER. Side note: kids, if you are going to take from your parents’ liquor cabinet, don’t choose the very most expensive bottle. And then don’t tell us you MIXED IT WITH DR PEPPER. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THESE PEOPLE ARE MONSTERS. Anyway, I texted my sons while we were getting ready to come home, and was surprised that my younger son didn’t text me back until late in the morning. He’s an early riser generally but he said that was up late because he needed to “take care of some things late last night.” I was sure they didn’t have friends over at that particular evening, since my older son had a job interview early the next morning, so I figured he was just cleaning things up from two nights previous. We got home to a perfectly clean house, and I just shrugged it off. I don’t need to know every single detail, the house was clean, who cares.

The day after we got home, I decided to make a loaf of banana bread. I reached into the drawer under the oven where I keep all my baking pans. I noticed something suspicious. I moved the pans and confirmed that it was not my imagination. I started screaming my younger son’s name over and over, moving over to the cupboard underneath the sink. He came running out, probably thinking I was dying, which I was in a way. By the time he got to the kitchen I was taking everything out of the cupboard under the sink, screaming incoherently.

Me: That thing you had to take care of, what was it? WHAT WAS IT?

Younger Son: It’s okay, Mom. I took care of it. You don’t want to know.

Me: THERE IS MOUSE POOP EVERYWHERE, WAS IT A MOUSE.

YS: Um, yes. But I didn’t see any poop! I didn’t know about that.

Me: THEN HOW DID YOU KNOW THERE WAS A MOUSE?

YS: I saw it.

Me, now hysterical: WHERE WAS IT?

YS: Um, in the hallway.

It is a miracle I didn’t black out right there. I mean, I feel a bit dizzy just writing that. Reader, it is impossible to convey my reaction and the depths of my feelings, but when I relayed this information to my mother on the phone later, she let out a low-pitched sound like aieeeeeeeeeee and that pretty much sums it up. My son assured me that he found the traps and caught the mouse! It’s all okay! But how did he know there weren’t many mice, and if they were in the hallway, what is to say they aren’t everywhere right now. What if they are in my dressers, what if they are in my bed. At this point my husband, who was working from home and had been on a call, came upstairs to see me spiralling into insanity, hysterically disinfecting everything in sight and wondering whether boiling all the baking pans would suffice or if I should just burn down the house and start over.

Five traps later and things seem to be under control, mouse-wise. But for how long? I ran into one of my neighbours down the street, who casually mentioned, with no prompting from me, that they were having mouse problems. They mentioned a certain trap they had obtained and that in the last week they had caught over thirty mice in their house and garage. MY NERVES. THIRTY. If it comes to that I will have no mind left, none at all. As it is my poor fragile sanity is hanging on by a thread.

Whew, let us change the subject to something infinitely more pleasant: my garden. The flowers have been gorgeous; the roses are still blooming, the daylilies are beautiful, and we’ve had lots of tomatoes and zucchini. I thought I would have more zucchini, given I have seven plants, but perhaps I overplanted. Maybe there is just too much competition for the soil. Lessons for next year, I guess.

Exhale. In any case, the crazy week ended on a high note, as I spent a couple of nights at my parents’ house on the lake. It was a great way to end this very beautiful summer.

Weekly Reading

The Lies That Bind. Okay, so the first 2/3 of this book, I was thinking this is a cute little romance! It takes place in the months before and after 9/11; I was 26 in 2001 and so the events and the cultural details really resonated (remember Fodor’s guides?). Then it TOOK A TURN. Then it got really wild, like a weird train wreck that you have to keep reading but the whole time you think wait, what? What? Did that just happen? I’m not recommending it but I’m not NOT recommending it either. It just…was not at all what I expected. Reading it, I felt like that meme:

Literally, me as I was reading this.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. I hardly know how to describe this gorgeous piece of writing. The author spent twelve years creating new words for the very specific emotions we all experience. It’s brilliant and profound, and also makes me feel very, very seen. What a unique and creative work!

Here we are; the long weekend is over. We are officially in September and fall mode! I guess it’s back to reality on all fronts. Happy September to you all! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 10th Anniversary Edition!

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This month marks the tenth anniversary of Nicole’s Favourite Things! A whole decade of writing about beauty products, clothes, food, and the occasional gadget. Two things: a) wow, I have been writing this blog for a very long time, and b) looking back at my very first Favourite Things, I still have all of those tops.

Ah, summer. I have been working very hard for this past year to really Embrace The Season, but here we are in my actual favourite season, so no hard work is needed. I love summer. I often idly wonder if I would actually miss seasonal changes if I lived somewhere like Maui, where it’s just one long summery paradisiacal day after another. Maybe I would? But it’s hard to imagine.

In my first Favourite Things, I expressed my love for summer clothes, and summery beauty products, and produce-heavy salads for dinner with berries for dessert. I still love all of those things and I probably always will! If I lived in a place where it was always summer, would I miss my sweaters and boots? Would I miss hearty winter meals and moisturizers for chapped skin and lips? Like I said, maybe, but it’s hard to imagine.

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I am Embracing The Hell Out Of Summer. When it’s sunny and warm, I just want to be outside all day long, and feel mild resentment when I have to go indoors. I have been like this my whole life; maybe I’m solar powered.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 10th Anniversary Edition

Non-Psychologically-Scarring Skirts and No-Bra-Required Tank Tops

In honour of my first Favourite Things, I am going to talk about skirts with shorts attached and yoga tanks with built-in shelf bras. These are Enduring Favourite Things, and I have many of the same skirt and top but in different colours and patterns. What can I say, if it works, it works. Listen, living in Calgary there are, annually speaking, approximately 20 days total in which wearing light summery clothing is appropriate. That’s probably a high estimate, actually. The upside of this is that good summer clothing can last forever, as the chance to wear it out is limited. The moment the temperature rises above a certain point, which would probably be considered chilly for my Southern friends, I don a skirt. I think they are cute, and they are very practical with the shorts underneath; I never have to worry about accidentally psychologically scarring random passersby or, more likely, my own children when the wind picks up.

I also love a good yoga tank with a built-in shelf bra; this is a thing that works for me mainly because I am, how shall we say, not exactly overly gifted in the chestal region. I wear these year-round, as a layer mostly, but on warm days they can stand alone.

Talk To Me Goose

My love for Top Gun is well-known; I have loved it since I walked to the theatre with my cousins and older brother in Estevan, Saskatchewan, in the summer of 1986. To this day I remember my outfit on that sweltering prairie night: jeans and a pale pink, tie-dyed, off-the-shoulder short sleeved sweatshirt, despite the heat. I was smart enough by that time to realize that the one theatre in Estevan boasted air-conditioning, and let me tell you, they wanted you to know they had air-conditioning. It was always freezing, and if you were naive enough to wear summer clothing to an evening show, you would be blue by the time the movie ended. Anyway, back when Hannah, Allison, and I cowrote a fun nostalgic blog (HI HANNAH HI ALLISON), I wrote one of my favourite pieces ever, about Life Lessons From Top Gun.

All of which is to say I love Top Gun, and I love the NEW Top Gun as well. Do not ask me to tell you which one is “better.” That is an impossible choice akin to the one Sophie made, and I will not make it. In any case, my husband bought me this shirt, and I love it so much:

It must be worn with aviators. It’s a law.

Pedicures and Sandals

In the summer I swap my boots for sandals, but because I am 47, my sandals need to be of the utmost comfort. Who has the energy for painful footwear anymore? I have found Skechers sandals to be the cutest and most comfortable of all the sandals. These are my favourite, and they are good for walking too:

But I also love these sparkly slides, perfect for the days at the lake:

I have heels for the rare occasion that I need them:

I keep my feet groomed throughout the year; being a yoga teacher my feet are on display constantly, so regular pedicures are a must. I used to exclusively do my own pedicures, but there is the cutest little nail salon just down the street from me, and their prices are fabulous. With each pedicure they give a hot stone massage AND they exfoliate using orange slices, which I love. I still touch up my polish between pedicures, but I definitely go to the salon more frequently in the summer.

Lettuce Pray and Flower Power

There is a great line in Sorrow and Bliss, when the husband acquires a plot in the community garden, and he says that they will now be self-sufficient, in the area of lettuce. I feel seen. I am currently self-sufficient, in the area of kale, as we just had our third cutting. I’ve also had two cuttings of Romaine, and although my leaf lettuce has been very very slow to grow this year, I am expecting to be able to cut it next week. At least, I hope so. Harvest time! I get so much joy out of gardening, it’s unbelievable. It feels like a superpower: do you like this salad? I GREW IT MYSELF.

The first of the roses bloomed – I grow John Cabot climbing explorer roses, explorer roses being the only ones I think are sufficiently hardy to survive our winter temperature fluctuations. This is always exciting as the first one is quickly followed by a wall of blooms.

Let The Spinning Wheel Turn

This week marks my two-year anniversary of the arrival of my Peloton! It was, without a doubt, my very favourite thing to come out of 2020. I know the bar is pretty low, but still. On the actual date of my first ride – which is this Sunday – I plan to revisit the same class I did then, a 45 minute disco ride with Leanne.

It has been a really fun way for me to increase my cardio fitness, and it is measurable: that first 45 minute ride, my output was 277. My usual output these days for a similar class is around 400. If you know, you know! Do you have a Peloton and want to be Peloton friends with me? If the answer to that is YES, my leaderboard name is NicoleBoyhouse.

Wistfulness and Avocados

I have two favourite links this month, both summery in their own way. The first is from my longtime, beautiful, smart, and all-round lovely bloggy friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE). Suzanne wrote about how you can’t go home again, and the piece, like her, is beautiful, smart, and all-round lovely.

My other favourite link is from a newer blog friend, Jamie (HI JAMIE). Jamie wrote about toxic diet culture, body acceptance, taking up space, and avocados as a metaphor for our bodies. I love a good metaphor and I love a good avocado, but most of all I love her message, particularly in the summer when we are inundated with images of “beach bodies” and “bikini bodies” and what have you.

There’s so much to be grateful for in the summer, there is so much to love, but I particularly love and am grateful for YOU, my dear readers, for being here and for listening to a decade of Things that are my Favourite. xo

Five For Friday: Nature, New Things, and No Soliciting

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  • New Dishes. I have a very loose, “let’s see how this goes” goal of making one new thing for dinner each week, or, trying one new recipe. These are two different things as I am notoriously poor at following recipes when it comes to dinners. I am essentially one of those people who I loathed when I worked at YMC, a person who changes pretty much every element in a recipe, and then comments on that recipe, but without the commenting part. So, I guess not at all like a person I loathed. In any case, this week’s new recipe was cold quinoa salad with lots of veggies and edamame, a Thai-inspired dressing, and crispy chickpeas and lentils. If you’ve never had crispy lentils, I recommend it: I tossed some drained and rinsed canned lentils in olive oil, salt, and pepper and roasted them at 400 convection for about 20 minutes; they are small little things so I wasn’t sure how long to do it, and I checked on them every five minutes. My whole family loved it, I repeat, my family of meat-lovers LOVED THE LENTILS. I normally dislike leftovers and never eat them, but I put aside a small container for myself, as it was a perfect lunch to take on our hike the next day.
  • The Path Sometimes Taken. I also have a loose goal to go to the mountains More Often, which is about as loose a goal as one can get. Yesterday the boys and I hiked around Stewart Canyon which is about seven kilometres and not as much elevation as I typically like in a hike, but it was a lovely day. Once we reached the end of the trail, there was a small path with a sign that said “Warning: Path Ahead Not Maintained,” so of course, we took it to see what would happen. What happened is that we had to climb over many fallen trees until we got to the point where the path was completely blocked, at which point we turned back and ate the afore-mentioned lunch.
  • There’s A Sign, Read It. Speaking of signs, we have a No Soliciting one on our mailbox. At least ten years ago, but probably more, our doorbell stopped working. I asked my husband, who is very handy and who has repaired many, many things in our house over the past 22 years, to please NOT fix it. At the time, I was home alone most days, and the only people ringing the doorbell were door-to-door solicitors, and I am never going to want to save money on my heating bills or purchase a paper copy of the Calgary Herald. If I was having company, I’d watch for people at the door, and all my friends know to knock, anyway. This was great for a time – it’s pretty easy to not answer the door when there’s no doorbell – but then solicitors started knocking. Can I just say the best thing about 2020 was that door-to-door soliciting stopped? Anyway, sometime in 2021 it restarted, which is when we put the sign on our mailbox, which is directly beside our door. Yesterday I was relaxing after our hike, reading, and I heard a very loud knock at the door. I looked up, thinking it was a delivery and wondering what we had delivered, when I saw a man looking in the window at me reading in my chair. I could see he had a lanyard and a Telus uniform, and I just knew, the way you know about a good melon, that he was here to talk to me about changing internet service providers. I opened the door, and as soon as he greeted me, I said “I have a No Soliciting sign, and I ask that you please respect it.” I said it pleasantly and politely, with my face arranged in a pleasant and polite way, and then I shut the door. I could see him lift up his hands and shake his head in a what’s with this woman kind of way and I will tell you, I was VERY annoyed. This is the second such interaction in as many weeks. The first was a fellow with no lanyard and no uniform who told me he was selling “organic meat and seafood,” which a) ew, b) I eat neither meat nor seafood, not that he would know that, c) who sells MEAT door-to-door, d) we are in land-locked Alberta, SEAFOOD, really, e) this sounds like a scam, and f) I HAVE A NO SOLICITING SIGN ON MY DOOR. I could have pointed out any of those things but I went with f. Anyway, after yesterday’s interaction I found myself unaccountably enraged. I mean, over-the-top, screaming-into-the-void enraged. I immediately texted my very good friend and neighbour Taryn (HI TARYN) and asked her if I was overreacting. She very gently said that I had every right to feel that way but also, perhaps, my emotions were near the surface as I didn’t have a fuzzy companion by my side when I opened the door. She was 100% right, of course. I went into the garden to calm down a little.
  • Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz. I have been spending a lot of time in my garden this week; Tuesday was a particularly low and sad day, but I found it healing to watch the giant fat bumblebees buzzing around. They seem to love the flowers just below the kitchen window, and I could watch them forever, collecting their pollen, as busy and purposeful as can be. The first of my daylilies are blooming, my roses are just about to, and my columbines are putting on a glorious show. This weekend I will have my THIRD cutting of kale, which is the upside to this very cool and rainy start to the summer. It’s maybe not great for the rest of the garden, but I have a tiny little pepper on one of my plants, so there’s hope.

  • Reliable? Or “Reliable?” This sign is on my running route and it cracks me up every time I pass it.

Happy Friday, friends! xo

A January Roller Coaster; Ninety-Eight Weeks In

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Tomorrow is February! I simultaneously feel like it’s February, whee, already! and also that New Year’s was several months ago. I’m looking at the calendar, and the first of the month, with the taking down of the tree and the Fresh Start of New Year’s, feels like a fuzzy date eons ago. February! Is tomorrow! The month of hearts and chocolates, and, in two weeks tomorrow, the month of DEEPLY DISCOUNTED hearts and chocolates! I have already sourced myself some Lindor strawberry chocolates, and I have plans for my heart-shaped cake and cookies, AND we are having dinner guests this weekend, for which I have planned a Mexican Theme, given our actual trip to Mexico in March is no more, for The Usual Pandemic Reasons, Not That I’m Sad About It But We Would Have Celebrated Our 20th Anniversary And My Son’s 18th Birthday Whilst There. Anyway.

Hidey-ho Neighbourino

We are getting new neighbours, and this is me:

A few weeks ago, a For Sale sign went up on our next-door neighbour’s lawn, and not only did it sell within 24 hours, but there was a BIDDING WAR. It must be the incredible neighbours, no?

I met my new neighbour-to-be a few days ago and he seems incredibly pleasant, which is always nice. I am friendly with all my neighbours, and good friends with a few of them. Our former next-door neighbours were nice people; we lived next to each other for 21 years, and were friendly but not friends. They would very kindly purchase big buckets of candy popcorn for the boys every Halloween, and we always exchanged pleasantries with them in passing. They kept to themselves mainly, so they weren’t the kind of neighbours who would have extra keys or anything, but we had a very cordial relationship.

So I was surprised to see the For Sale sign, and even more surprised to discover that the house was vacant when it went up for sale: a) they didn’t tell us they were moving, and b) when did they move? I am home ALL THE TIME and I never once saw a moving truck or anything that would indicate that they were leaving. I mean, you’d think I’d have seen someone moving a couch or boxes or something. Did they move on Christmas Day?

These were the neighbours who have had Hot Rod the Plumber many times over the past few months, so perhaps it was in preparation for their Stealthy Big Move.

Wisdom from my teabag.

What’s The Over-Under On This

The other day Stephany (HI STEPHANY) posted about being an over-or-under-buyer, and it is clear that I have over-buying tendencies, which have been vastly exacerbated by the pandemic. These tendencies really flared up through 2020, and I tamped them down somewhat in 2021, and I have just had another round that has ended with OMG Nicole Please Stop Buying This.

Now, in my defense, nothing goes bad in this house, in terms of food. With the exception of the occasional mushy mini cucumber, I never throw anything out. This is a combination of meal planning, targeted grocery shopping for those meals, and having two teen boys who will hoover anything down that is edible and in the house. I always have backups in the pantry of household staples: flour and oils, nut butters and baking items, toilet paper and soap and toothpaste. If the backup comes into use, then I buy another backup. It gives me an enormous amount of comfort to know that if we run out of an item on the main floor, there is a backup in the pantry downstairs.

Non-dairy milk is a staple for me.

From 2012-2021, I used exclusively almond milk for myself – the guys happily use dairy – but in 2021 I discovered macadamia nut milk, and I never looked back. It’s creamy, it’s delicious, and buy it by the case at Costco. I go through about a case every two weeks, what with smoothies and all, and since I am at Costco every two weeks, I generally have TWO cases in my pantry at any given time. You know, just in case there’s a delay in my Costco shopping. And then it was December, and I bought an extra case, and by the time my first Costco trip of 2022 came around, I had THREE cases in my pantry.

There was, during that first Costco trip of 2022, no macadamia nut milk.

Now, the rational part of me said that I had three cases at home, and there was certainly no shortage of different non-dairy milks in the city. We are so used to abundance that it is unsettling to not have exactly what we want exactly when we want it but there is still An Abundance of Food. My last Superstore trip showed very few varieties of eggs, for example, but there were still eggs. My favourite hippie crunchy natural peanut butter has been out of stock for weeks but there is still the store brand hippie crunchy natural peanut butter. There was no – oh my god, I cannot believe how spoiled I am – organic spinach for my smoothies, but there was plenty of spinach. The frozen fruit section is pretty sparse but there are still non-frozen fruits. This is not Ceausescu’s Romania where people are lining up to get bread. We have plenty of everything.

And yet, I pushed the Panic At The Disco button, about the macadamia nut milk. I thought, well, if it’s not available, maybe I can find another kind of creamy non-dairy-non-almond milk. The next week at Superstore I bought two different brands of cashew milk and an oat milk, just to try, just in case, what if there is no macadamia nut milk ever, what if, what if.

And here I will interject to say that this is all ridiculous, and also back in 2012 when I first went non-dairy, the options were almond or soy; those were my choices, along with the saddest item ever, known as rice milk. Now there are so many different kinds and brands and really, I want to punch myself in the face at my reaction to this blip in the macadamia nut milk supply.

Very long and kind of boring story short, the next time I went to Costco, there was a big display of macadamia nut milk, and I bought two cases, and I now have four full and one partial case, along with cashew and oat milk, and this is ridiculous, and I am spoiled. Imagine! Imagine transporting the Ingalls family, or a Victorian, to our modern life. Wait, you can eat more than a single potato and a slice of bread in a day? Vegetables and fruit are available to you in the winter?

All of which is to say, on my next grocery trip my mantra will be You do not need any more non-dairy milk, for the love of god, Nicole, do not buy any more non-dairy milk. I hope my mantra holds. I have officially gone from Prudent Backup Buyer to Slippery Slope Towards Insane Hoarder.

Mousetastrophe

Speaking of hardships, we had a mouse in the house last week; this is a thing that happens every three to five years, and every single time it happens I feel like I might die. It’s not enough that we are in a global pandemic, now I have to think about the Hanta virus? Not to mention the possibility of a MOUSE near our FOOD. The FOOD that we EAT. From the moment I discovered mouse droppings underneath the kitchen sink to the moment said mouse was summarily removed from the premises, I felt like a haunted shell of a woman. My younger son strolled into the kitchen to find me sweeping out the droppings and spraying down the kitchen sink cupboard with non-hippie super-chemical cleaning spray, and asked what was going on. I told him, in that kind of eerily calm voice that means I am having a breakdown, that there was a mouse in the house. “I see,” he said, “It is going to be okay, Mom. It’s going to be okay.” Then he turned and went to find the traps.

It turns out that in the times of adversity, I can be sanguine and can face almost everything with good cheer and a Can-Do Attitude, but a mouse in my kitchen is One Toke Over The Line, Sweet Jesus. Global pandemic? We can do this. Husband working from home, forever? It’s fine. My kids constantly facing cancellations and disappointment? It’s making us stronger and more resilient and flexible. Mouse in the house? I AM GOING TO DIE. Later, over dinner, I suddenly put my head in my hands and said I had a bad feeling. There was no noise. I just, like Lawrence in Office Space, had a feeling. The boys scurried over to the cupboard, and my older son announced, “We got him!” at which point I screamed frantically and ran from the room.

Later, the boys would tell me I reacted like a contestant on The Price is Right, but with less happiness and high-fiving.

Pandemic Reading

Black Girls Must Die Exhausted. I really loved this book; I was hooked from the first page and became completely invested in the characters. Tabitha is 33 and the trajectory of her life is perfect; she has checked all the boxes she wanted to check…until some medical news comes her way, derailing her plans. This book is so much more than the sum of its parts: important social issues in an incredibly readable and entertaining book. It is a book that normalizes Black culture and I think that is a really important thing: the tendency is to make white the default. It’s enlightening and joyful, as well as a thought-provoking book. I just saw that this author has another book coming soon, I will be reading it for sure. 

The Art of Travel. Okay, first, a digression. I put this on hold over a year ago; it is the only copy in the library system, and I was fifth in the queue. The rule is that books cannot be renewed if there is a hold on them, and so the reader has three weeks before returning. Let’s do the simple math: five people, three weeks, fifteen weeks. Add in a couple of days of processing and transit, and we will say that I should have expected to read this about four and a half months after putting it on hold. It was over a year! The library eliminated late fees, which in general I think is a good thing, except that it can lead to Very Bad Behaviour by patrons who just don’t bring the book back. I was number ONE in the queue for over two months. WHO DOES THAT.

Anyway. It’s not a complaint, exactly, as I had more than enough to read over the past year. It’s more of an observation, and slight admonishment. We are living in a society!

Back to the book. It’s an interesting, and at times, delightful little book about travelling, and the search for happiness, and the theme is that wherever you go, there you are. We tend to idealize vacations, thinking our troubles will melt away with sunshine, palm trees, and margaritas, but honestly, if we are unhappy in life, a change of scenery MAY not be the ticket. The author writes about different places and brings in 19th century artists, writers, and philosophers (ALL MEN, OF COURSE), which makes this a really unique and interesting read. Even though Flaubert sounded like a real ass.

The Most Precious Substance On Earth. This is exactly the kind of book I love: it follows a woman from her teen years to adulthood, and it’s an “ordinary is extraordinary, day-to-day life” book. But. It’s a Big Downer of a book, I felt, and there is a Huge Upsetting Disturbing Occurrence in the first little bit that is written so casually and calmly that I thought at first that it didn’t really happen. Content warning for parents of girls, specifically teen girls. You may not want to read this. It’s touching and sad and also funny and smart. I’m glad I read it but be aware that at times it is a hard read.

Happy End of January, everyone! The month that seemed to be months-long is at its end! How was your January? xo

Goals, Goals, Goals; Ninety-Six Weeks In

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If you’re not singing that title a la Motley Crue, then I don’t know what to say. If you are, sorry/ not sorry for the earworm.

As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t set particular goals or resolutions or words-of-the-year in January, but I do like to look at my collective year-round goals during this month. What can I say, I like the Fresh Start feeling of the New Year, even if it is January 17, and New Year’s already feels like it was several months ago. Time has no meaning.

You know, I’m not even sure that I can classify most of these as goals. They are just things I aim to do every day. Well, I guess technically that is the definition of a goal, but it doesn’t feel like I need to strive to do these things; at this point, they are just habits, habits that I write down in my agenda every week as a to-do list.

Honestly, I think that is the key to any goal: make it a habit and write it down so that you can cross it off, either mentally or physically. What is it about a list that I love? I have no idea, but it’s motivational.

Before we get into that, I have to tell you something that brings me joy and happiness every single day, and that is the increasing amount of daylight. I first noticed a couple of weeks ago that it wasn’t dark at 4:30 pm, and then I started watching for the sunset. Now it happens around 5, and the sky is dusky and navy blue for a few minutes after that, and it’s really lovely.

More daylight! I also realize that since giving up the news, I have more TIME in the day. I didn’t think I spent much time reading the news, but apparently doomscrolling and obsessively checking Covid numbers and updates took up more time than I thought, which gives me time to do other things, like work on my goals/ habits.

So, goals! I’m going to call these all goals, for lack of a better word. These are the Quantifiable Goals, as opposed to my Hippy-Dippy Goals; Yoda-like, there is a do-or-do-not-do feel to them.

Food Is Delicious, Can I Have Some More Please

One goal that I started to work on a few months ago is to add new recipes to my roster. Longtime readers will remember my Eating A Rainbow meal plan that I literally never deviate from. Like, never. During the Christmas holidays, we had Greek salad on a Thursday instead of a Friday and my kids both told me that they were confused all of Friday as they thought it was Saturday. We’re having Greek salad and it’s NOT Friday, what’s happening, all is chaos and turmoil.

You’ll be happy to know that I am still not deviating from my meal plan, but I am adding to it: Pasta Night is still Monday, but occasionally I’ll try a new sauce, Stir Fry Night is still Tuesday, but I might try a different kind of stir-fry. I know! Saturdays, I might try an entirely new thing. I know. How wild can I be?

My general goal is to try two new recipes a month, whether that be for a meal or dessert or baked goods. So far, I’ve nailed it for December and January, so I hope to keep that up. I have so many cookbooks and I don’t use them frequently; I am more of a free-styler when it comes to cooking. I am a recipe developer’s nightmare as I use them as a vague jumping-off point, but still! I’m trying new things! I received this book for Christmas:

Did I follow the recipes to a tee? No, I did not. But so far, the recipes that I free-styled from it are GREAT – Manchurian sauce for stir-fry night and “nacho seasoning,” which I used on one of my usual black-bean recipes – and will be in the regular rotation.

Joyful Movement

Whenever I think of Joyful Movement I think of this:

Mmm. The Land of Chocolate.

The truth is that I really love cardio workouts and getting sweaty and red-faced.

Because I do love this kind of workout, I usually do something sweaty six days a week. The key for me is to do things that I love: Peloton biking and running are the main activities, but I am on a running hiatus right now. I will not run outside when it’s slippery, snowy, icy, and/ or below zero, so typically I use the treadmill at my fitness club for the winter months. My fitness club is still open and requires all members to be fully vaccinated to use the facility, but even so I don’t feel great breathing heavily, maskless, while others around me are doing the same. Instead I’m getting cozy with my elliptical trainer, which is fairly boring, but I find a good playlist helps a lot with my motivation.

I classify these things as Joyful Movement because I truly enjoy them; if ever I feel like I have to do something, rather than I want to do something, I take it as a sign to stop.

A small note here: a year ago I started strength training, and it is NOT a Joyful Movement, in fact, I kind of hate it, BUT I keep up with it because I feel it’s important for injury and osteoporosis prevention. I also keep all strength workouts to ten minutes or so, and really, I can do anything for ten minutes. Right? Right. Occasionally one of my sons will observe me doing my workout, with a massively bitchy look on my face, and say “Go Mom! You’re totally not going to get The Osteo!” which makes me smile and motivates me to keep going.

Go Outside And Play

I make a point to go for a walk every day, every single day, even when it’s minus 30. I think the fresh air is so important and even the coldest walks boost my mood, albeit because I feel hardy and accomplished when I go out in such weather. If I’m walking by myself, I listen to podcasts, which are also Joyful Things.

Keep The Streak, But Don’t Be Weird About It

Speaking of walks, in March 2020 I decided I would get my daily step goals, as dictated to me by my Garmin watch, and keep that streak going. People, I kept that streak for 504 days, FIVE HUNDRED AND FOUR. I finally broke the streak because I was quite ill with inadvertent iron poisoning, the story/ cautionary tale of which I will save for another time.

I felt sad about breaking my streak, even though I couldn’t be far from a bathroom, let alone go on a 5km walk. But honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. Did I think I would keep my streak FOREVER? Would I keep going until I had one foot in the grave? I had to shake it off and let it go, thinking I can start a NEW streak, won’t that be fun or something, and now I’m on a 147 day streak. Will I exceed my previous streak? Who knows? Who cares! The point is, sometimes you have to let things go.

On December 28, 2020 I started a Peloton activity streak, which means I am on day 385; 385 little blue dots! If you know, you know. I think this is something that sounds more impressive than it is: for example, when I was on vacation I kept my streak by doing 5 minute stretches or meditations. Hey, logging an activity is logging an activity, and although I meditate every day by myself, sometimes I like a guided meditation, especially when it will earn me a blue dot.

Put That OM In The OMG

While we are on the topic of meditation, this is something I do, along with my yoga practice, every single day. Most days my practice takes around 45-55 minutes, but some days I recognize that I need less. On those days, I may do only standing postures and then sit in meditation for 20 minutes, or I may do a restorative practice, or I merely sit in meditation. I think there is an idea out there that if you roll out your mat, you have to “make it count” and do a certain number of postures for a certain amount of time, and I am here to say THAT IS NOT CORRECT. Some days a five-minute meditation may be all you need, some days you may take child’s resting pose for 20 minutes, and some days you might spend an hour on your practice. And when I say “you,” I mean “me.”

Tickling The Ivories

A year or so ago, I was talking to my son, who is a drummer, about my piano playing. I was finding it hard to learn anything new, my fingers just weren’t what they used to be. Yeah Mom, maybe if you actually practiced more, it would be easier, he said, and he’s right. I vowed to play at least three songs a day, every weekday.

It’s incredible what actual practice will do for you. My fingers remember all my old exam material, I can play without music in front of me, and best of all, I’m really enjoying finding new music to play. Some days I’m pressed for time and play three one-page songs; other days, I go through all four verses of Piano Man.

Pandemic Reading

In 2021, I read 156 books! I do not have a goal number for 2022, but I try to pick up a book instead of my phone when I am bored or have a few minutes to spare. More books, no doomscrolling, we shall see how long this lasts but so far so good.

I Heart Hawaii. I discovered, AFTER reading this, that this book is number eight of eight in a series. Eight! Well, I did not need to read any previous books about the foibles of a British girl in New York City to follow the plot of this one. It was just silly and fun and fluffy, and I recommend it if you just want some mind candy. It’s nice to read about Hawaii in January, I think.

A Carnival of Snackery. Oh, I love David Sedaris! Although I don’t enjoy his fiction, his personal essays are pure gold. If you are like me, you’ll LOVE this book. It’s comprised of his diaries and it’s just so good. At times I laughed so hard my husband came upstairs, alarmed, thinking I was having some kind of breakdown. Even Barkley, who is deaf, would pick up his head and stare at me as I cry-laughed, unable to breathe. It’s not all hilarity though; much is sad and thoughtful and tragic. Since it’s diary entries, there are many current events: the Iraq War, elections, school shootings, police violence, racism, and violence towards and changing attitudes about homosexuality. It ends, of course, with the pandemic. Throughout are observations about his various relationships, and particularly poignant is his fraught relationship with his father, who suffers ill health and is actually diagnosed with – but recovers from, at age 97 – Covid.

Devotions. I started reading this, poem by poem, in March 2020. I would start my day with one poem. After a while, I added other poetry to the mix and then would read one or two poems a week. I had been holding off on reading the last few poems for a couple of months, just going back and rereading favourites, because I didn’t want to finish this. In the words of Grace in Alias Grace when she is asked why she’s not eating the apple given her, Then it would be gone. Finally, I did read the last poem. Mary Oliver’s poetry resonates with me so deeply; her love of nature, her uplifting messages. I just might start again from the beginning.

Goals, goals, goals. That’s all of mine – any of yours you want to share? xo

Secret Santa, Bits and Bobs; Ninety Weeks In

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This year I started following the lovely San over at The In Between Is Mine; she is so smart and articulate, and I am forever fascinated by people who are fully fluent in more than one language, as she is; English is not her first language and yet her English is perfect. I mean, I took YEARS of French – I was even the winner of the French Award in Grade 9 – and although if I read a page of French I would be able to get the general gist of it, I cannot have a conversation beyond Salut! Comment ca va?, let alone WRITE anything in French. In any case, I love San’s blog and I also love that she put together a Secret Santa Mug Swap, which I happily signed up for, knowing that it would be well-organized and smooth.

I came home from a walk this week to find a package on the doorstep; I didn’t recognize the name or return address, and was briefly confused before remembering SECRET SANTA MUG SWAP!!!

Just imagine my delight to open this lovely box from Leanne (HI LEANNE!) that was decorated by her daughter:

Not only did she include the sweetest, coziest mug, mint chocolates (MY FAVOURITE!!! TEAM MINT CHOCOLATE FOREVER!), an adorable mug ornament for my tree, and a BRACELET HANDMADE BY HER DAUGHTER, but she also added a lottery scratch ticket, and I won $5!

I feel like I won the lottery in more ways than one. Thank you, Leanne, for such a kind and thoughtful package. It certainly brightened my entire month! I cannot get over your wonderful generosity and thoughtfulness! And again, thank you, San, for organizing #secretsantamugswap2021; it has been a great way to meet and connect with new people. There are so many incredible people in the world, I am honoured to know so many – and welcome, Leanne, to the Boyhouse!

Much, much less exciting than opening up a lovely package full of wonderful surprises was that my younger son developed a terrible head cold. This is the first cold in our house in over two years. Sneezing, it’s so 2019! He missed three and a half days of school, which, in Grade 11 requires MUCH catch-up work, and an entire week of wrestling practice, which was most devastating to him. I mean, he probably picked up the cold during wrestling practice, as it is the only time he is unmasked when not at home. I have been waiting for the rest of us to succumb; so far, no one has, let us all knock on wood.

Over the past few weeks, I have received numerous texts from friends about the grocery situation; we have been all updating each other regularly. Due to the devastating flooding in BC, and the resulting completely washed-out highways, things have been wildly hit and miss in the grocery store. One afternoon two weeks ago a friend texted me to say that the produce shelves were empty – literally, empty – but then the next day as I anxiously wheeled my cart into Superstore, I was pleasantly surprised to see business as usual in the produce section. I had spent the day before mentally planning to use frozen produce and figure out a whole new menu plan, which turned out to be unnecessary.

We are so lucky to live in this day and age. I was reminded of The Long Winter, wherein the Ingalls family and the entire town of DeSmet nearly starved to death as the trains carrying supplies were unable to make it through due to blizzards; I thought well, if I have to use frozen spinach in my smoothies, it will not be a tragedy. It’s not like I’m grinding wheat in my coffee grinder to make a single loaf of bread for six people, or going slowly mad sitting in the dark all day listening to the wind, or twisting hay to burn so as to not freeze to death prior to starving to death.

Although there have been produce shortages here and there, that has not been my experience as of yet. However, I found that anything coming in from the port of Vancouver is…still at the port of Vancouver? I don’t really know how it works. In any case, things coming from China and its neighbours, like rice, noodles, and things like sesame oil, are completely unavailable.

Fortunately I had the foresight to buy a 25-pound bag of rice and several bags of noodles when the flooding started, which should last us a while. Stir-fry night, like my heart, shall go on.

This week was also the much-anticipated unveiling of the annual Spotify Unwrapped, and as always, I was somewhat surprised. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that Aretha Franklin was my number-one artist – LOVE Aretha; I will never get enough of watching this video, that FUR COAT DROP, QUEEN – but I was a little surprised that none of her songs were on my top five. Yes, I know how math and algorithms work, but still. Did I really listen that much to Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch? I guess I must have. The algorithm does not lie. I also apparently listened to the Evita soundtrack quite a bit, as Andrew Lloyd Webber made my top five artists. You must love meeee….

My younger son, being home, compared his list to mine and it was quite funny. He’s the drummer and is very into 90s grunge, and his “Audio Aura” was Bold and Angst, whereas mine was Mellow and Happy, both of which check out. His fourth most popular genre was “Pirate” which I did not even know was a thing. Pirate? Apparently, in addition to his bold and angsty music, he listens to a number of sea shanties, so Pirate Mystery solved.

Pandemic Reading

Persephone’s Children. Wow, this book is like nothing I’ve read before. It is so original and creative, and incredibly moving. It’s a memoir of a woman’s journey to leave an abusive relationship, told in essay form BUT each of the essays is structurally very different. Think: script for a play, a multiple choice quiz, a crossword. There is a lot of mythology, horticulture, and magic woven into the story. It’s mostly about a biracial woman finding the strength to leave her emotionally abusive, gaslighting husband, but also about motherhood, her family of origins, and her experience growing up as “other” on the Canadian prairies. It’s an absolutely fascinating debut!

Christmas Shopaholic. I’m not sure I could put two more different books side by side! Anyway, this was very silly and sweet and ultimately satisfying. I have only read one other Shopaholic book – the OG one, many years ago – and when I first started reading this I thought maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead. I was NOT enjoying the first bit, but then I kind of got into it. It’s light, you know? Very Christmas spirit-y.

Glorious Frazzled Beings. My friend Marion (HI MARION) loaned me all five of the 2021 Giller Prize Shortlist! I don’t think I’ve ever read a whole shortlist for a literary prize before, so this is pretty fun. I decided to start with this gem of a collection of short stories, and I feel like an entire university Can Lit course could be created just around this one book. The writing is gorgeous, with lots of magic, otherworldliness, and more-than-humanness, which is not generally something I enjoy, but I did in this book.

Happy December, everyone, I hope you have a wonderful week. xo