Category Archives: Embrace the Season

Wrapped, Rapped, Rapt

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Last Friday I woke up to the lightest dusting of SNOW, and people, I do not think I have ever been so excited by such a meteorological event. The first snow, IN DECEMBER! This is incredible to me, and also it felt so special and festive, even if it didn’t even cover the grass and disappeared by mid-morning. It snowed lightly throughout the weekend, though, so I may be able to use my new skis very soon!

I spent many hours last week grocery shopping and wrapping gifts and packing parcels to be mailed. So many hours, people. Any week that I visit Costco AND Superstore is going to feel exhausting, in the grocery shopping department, but whoa nelly. I think I’ve mentioned before that the Kelowna Costco is the busiest in Canada and second-busiest in North America, right behind the one in Maui. How they measure this I do not know, but having visited both many times I believe it. In any case, this past week it seemed worse than usual, in that it was almost impossible to move the cart as there were people literally everywhere, and then the lineup went two-thirds of the length of the store. She died the way she lived, standing in line at Costco. On the plus side, I had a nice conversation with two ladies, one with regards to the giant stuffed bear in her cart. Have you seen those? One bear fills an entire cart and costs $150; she was telling me that it was for her grandchildren but that she kind of wanted to keep it for herself. This was extremely understandable. “Touch it!” she said to me a little intensely, but I did as she said.

The other lady was also very intense, about the role of ingredient substitutes such as artificial sweeteners or keto-friendly bread in our society. I didn’t disagree with her opinions – after all, I myself am not a fan of those or meat substitutes – but her level of disapproval was, shall we say, heightened. Costco shopping can be a fraught time, emotions run high.

I generally like all manner of holiday-related jobs, such as baking or treat-making or decorating or what have you, but there is one festive job that is at the very bottom of my list, and that is gift-wrapping. I strongly dislike gift-wrapping, possibly because I am so abjectly terrible at it. I might be the worst gift-wrapper over the age of five. I don’t know why I am so bad, but I am: I’m always cutting the paper too big or too small, and then I am trying to either repair the gaping strip where the ends don’t meet or, alternately, folding up huge wads of paper on the sides. There is no in-between. I use far too much tape and somehow I always manage to tape strands of my own hair onto the gift itself; perhaps the stress of wrapping makes my hair fall out, I don’t know. And this is if the gift is in a box, which is the best-case scenario. If it’s irregularly shaped, forget about it. You might be thinking to yourself gift bags exist, which, indeed they do, but we are tear-open-the-gift-wrap people around here, and I also have four rolls of Costco wrapping paper purchased years ago and I still haven’t used them up. I might take them to my grave at this rate, the grave I’m working myself into by standing in line buying such things as giant rolls of Costco wrapping paper.

Anyway, one of the best things about having a newly-retired husband is that I can delegate such jobs to him, and he is happy to do them. I can’t outsource all my wrapping to him, though, which means all the gifts directed to him will be a jumble of wrapping paper and tape.

I don’t know how you get through the various drudgeries of your day, like gift-wrapping, but I mostly listen to music or podcasts. Spotify Wrapped came out this week and it turns out that I, as my friend Nicole said (HI NICOLE), am an actual teenager.

You guys. I am in the TOP ONE PERCENT OF SPOTIFY LISTENERS. Now, in my defense I did spend many hours this year packing and cleaning and moving and unpacking, but still. 93,784 minutes is a lot of minutes. My peak day was July 18, which checks out. That was moving day and I drove eight hours listening to podcasts, then spent another couple of hours unpacking the car and organizing things, so 643 minutes sounded about right.

I’m always a bit surprised when Spotify Wrapped comes out, to see what my top song was. For several years running it was, inexplicably, Midnight Train to Georgia, but this year it was Dog and Butterfly by Heart. Who could have guessed? Certainly not me.

The interesting thing about my top artists is that Wilson Phillips made it in there. There is only one song that I listen to of theirs, and that is Hold On. I feel like that says a lot about my mental state for the first half of the year. I had no idea I listened to that much TLC, but otherwise, I’m not terribly surprised.

I seem to be missing something in my brain – probably because it’s filled up with song lyrics – that allows me to create any kind of visual art. If, for example, you asked me to draw a car or a dog, I would be completely unable to. It would almost seem as if I had never in my life seen a car or a dog, but had only received a verbal description. Here’s a…tire? A dog has…a tail? It’s really bad and probably somewhat related to my inability to wrap gifts with any kind of normalcy. This past weekend we went to a party and I was asked to bring a veggie plate. My beautiful friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) sent me a few photos of Christmassy veggie plates, to see if I wanted to try to recreate one. I was a little nervous – as I said, this is not my forte – but after looking at the photos, and with strong encouragement from my husband, who suggested I try the absolute easiest one, I did it!

My husband, thankfully, made the star. I know I’ve seen a star shape but…?

Weekly Reading

I had a DNF this week; it was I Have Some Questions For You. I had started reading the e-book in September, and it just wasn’t captivating me, and I ended up not finishing it by the time it was due back at the library; I put it back on hold and thought I would finish it later. Well, it came in this past week and after another chapter or two I thought life is too short and I cannot waste any more time on this. This could be because I had just finished the below book.

The Invitation. By the time I got to this book, I was on a four-book meh streak. I thought this might break the streak; it’s a story about a woman in a loveless marriage having a one-night stand, and then the two lovers being inadvertently thrown together on a yacht in 1950s. Friends, it did not break the streak. Five meh books in a row.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful. Finally! The streak of meh books was broken! Thank god. I don’t think I could have taken another one (my DNF was right before this one). Anyway, I loved this author’s earlier book, Keep Moving. I read it in the thick of the pandemic and whoa nelly, did it ever resonate. What I didn’t know (or maybe I forgot?) is that she wrote Keep Moving while going through an absolutely terrible divorce, and this book, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, is about that divorce. Her prose is absolutely gorgeous and can I just say that a toxic marriage and dreadful divorce make for very good writing material – as one of her friends said, at least you’re a writer so all this material isn’t wasted. Isn’t that a silver lining? I love dark humour and I loved this book. 

Shelley: Also Known As Shirley. I first read this book in 1987; I was at my grandparents’ house, bored, and helped myself to my grandma’s paperback collection in the basement. I had never seen or heard of any movie Shelley Winters had been in, and in fact I didn’t even know who Shelley Winters WAS. But I have always been interested in women’s and girls’ stories only, and this was one of the few books about a woman. Well! You can see how many times I read this book over the years, because it completely fell apart. I haven’t read it for a long time though, and so I thought I’d revisit it to see how it holds up. IT HOLDS UP! This is one juicy autobiography, and wow, did she ever live an interesting life! As a child she lived in tenements in Brooklyn; when she was about nine her father’s haberdashery shop burned down and he went to prison in Sing Sing for arson. It was a wrongful conviction, so he got out after about a year but sunk into a deep depression. By the time Shelley (then Shirley) was 14 she dropped out of school, got her working papers, and organized a strike at the Woolworth’s she worked at, which led to all the Woolworth’s in the five boroughs being unionized! She became a model, acted in Broadway and off-Broadway plays, was discovered by Harry Cohn and ended up in Hollywood. Oh, and she got married to a man who was in the air force. He came home from the war and they got divorced, and this all happened by the time she was NINETEEN. If that wasn’t enough, she had so many interesting friendships and affairs, going on a publicity tour to Europe while engaged to a costar, and ended up meeting and marrying Italy’s biggest star, Vittorio Gassman while she was there. Later they had an absolutely explosive divorce while starring in an Italian film. This book HAS IT ALL. Wow, what a fun, star-studded read!

I know I talk about Costco with exasperation a lot, but here’s where it pays off: it’s kalette season again! I consider myself to be an unpaid Kalette Influencer; if you see them, just know that they are a life-changing vegetable that is here for a good time, not a long time. So have a good time, the kalettes won’t shine every day! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Gnomevember Edition

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I don’t usually leave my Favourite Things until the last day of the month, but here we are! November is an underrated month, in my mind. It’s the month of Tiny Secret Festive Season and Christmas shopping, it’s preparing holiday cards and baking gingery things. It’s Mint Chocolate season, which is my favourite of all the flavours, and it’s the month to start playing holiday music with abandon. There are so many happy things, that without further ado I bring you:

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Gnomevember Edition

Gnomevember

One could argue that any month in the Boyhouse is Gnomevember, really, but if every month is a specific celebration of gnomes then perhaps no month is a specific celebration of gnomes, if you know what I mean. So when Michelle (HI MICHELLE) started talking about Gnomevember, I was clearly going to be all in. One of my favourite things this month is that Michelle’s dollhouse has now been overtaken by gnomes, and it is the most charming thing I have ever seen.

A few weeks ago I was getting the mail and there was a little package in there labelled Tiny Secret Festive Season, from my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON). She had sent me this little guy, who lights up, which is a desperately needed thing as the sunset is now at 3:59 pm. 3:59 pm!!! What will happen by Winter Solstice? I’ll be lighting this guy a lot, that’s what.

He was in a plastic bag, with a note “Help, help, I can’t breathe,” which was the most delightful little surprise. Obviously I saved him.

The very next day my sweet friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) came by for a visit, and with her came this guy:

If I wasn’t overwhelmed enough with the kindness and love of my dear friends, this arrived in the mail from the beautiful and talented Suzanne (HI SUZANNE).

And, of course, my old Christmas gnomes have set themselves up on the kitchen windowsill.

Am I actually living in a full-sized version of Michelle’s dollhouse? MAYBE! Dreams do come true, people, and my home is happily gnome-tastic.

Brace Yourselves

I had received a number of questions about my bracelets, and so I wanted to show you my Christmas one. I wear it from November 1 to January 1, and it just brings me so much joy.

The bangle itself is engraved The Best Is Yet To Come which is a really lovely sentiment. A few of the charms are also engraved: the gingerbread man says Life Is Sweet, the mistletoe says Meet Me Under The Mistletoe, and the snowflake scene says, appropriately enough, Merry Christmas. Each charm was a gift from either my husband, the boys, or my parents.

A few years ago, I had trouble with the clasp spontaneously opening up, and sometimes I’d find that a charm had slipped off it, usually, and kind of depressingly, into my dish glove. But December of 2021 I was out shopping; there was a ton of snow, I was wearing my warmest coat and gloves, I was in and out of the car with my mask on, and everything felt just uncomfortable. I don’t wear a mask anymore, but I clearly remember the awkwardness of it, especially in winter with all the clothing layers and going in and out of the minus 20 weather. Anyway, I got home from groceries and errands, and noticed that my bracelet had unclasped and my cute little snowman charm, a gift from the boys, was missing.

It was December 2021, people. I think we all remember what that time was like. Everything felt challenging and depressing, it was the second pandemic Christmas, we were heading into yet another lockdown, my kids’ schooling was weird and constantly interrupted, and my missing snowman was the last straw. I sat on the floor and sobbed. I sobbed like a small child forced to sit on Santa’s lap against her will. I sobbed like a small child forced to interact with a clown at a birthday party, and then later losing the balloon that said clown had foisted upon her to reduce the sobbing.

I retraced my steps, including those to the snow-covered London Drugs parking lot, to no avail. And you might think there is a happy, snowman-charm-related ending to this story, but you will notice that there is no snowman on the bracelet. This is not about the snowman. My favourite thing is that my younger son, aged 16, went to the Pandora store in the mall on December 23 of that year to see if he could replace it. The thought of him, with his friend who was just our houseguest two weeks ago, being at the Pandora store looking for a snowman charm for his mom brings me more happiness than even that charm could. He was unable to replace it as the snowman charm had been, as they say in Pandora-speak, retired. Over the past two years the guys have looked for a snowman multiple times, only to be told either no longer exists, or that they could buy the snowman from the movie Frozen, which, I am sorry to say, is a subpar snowman and one which I do not wish to have.

Anyway, I love this bracelet for the two months of the year that I wear it, it brings me so much joy and happiness, and I will just hold the snowman memory in my heart.

Drink And Be Merry

With the exception of 2020, we have seen my husband’s cousin and her husband (HI DARCY AND DEREK) around Christmas every year, and they share my great love for Christmas Vacation. Last year they gave me these fabulous stemless wine glasses:

Years ago, knowing also my great love for Buddy the Elf, they gave the boys each a mug with hot chocolate mix and marshmallows; I have coopted these for my morning coffee:

Play That Christmas Music, White Girl

Almost universally, I love Christmas music. I love the classical and instrumental, I love churchy hymns, I love modern pop songs, midcentury ones, and everything in between. The only song I really strongly dislike is Wonderful Christmastime, which puts me on edge like you would not believe. My son would also like to tell you, dear reader, that in the Boyhouse we also loathe songs that feature out-of-tune children, such as Two Front Teeth, but I am pretending that such songs don’t even exist.

One song that I love so much that I have an entire playlist devoted to the original and all of its covers is Last Christmas. I play it on the piano. I sing it to myself in the shower. I can never, ever get enough of it.

Other favourites include Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, Santa Baby, Baby, It’s Cold Outside (I KNOW BUT I LOVE IT), and Driving Home For Christmas. I always, always cry when I hear White Wine In The Sun, so may I recommend it to anyone who would enjoy a nice cathartic holiday cry? Ditto with River.

On the more modern side, I absolutely LOVE N’Sync’s Merry Christmas Happy Holidays. Although, now that I have said “modern,” I should probably check when it was released…okay, well, it looks like it came out in 1998. Huh. I also love Underneath the Tree by Kelly Clarkson, and that was released in 2013, so I’m within a decade. THAT IS MODERN ENOUGH.

Here Baby, There Mama, Everywhere Daddy Daddy

I have an important hair update for you! This past weekend marked exactly one year since I started taking Nutrafol for hair loss, and I can tell you it has made a huge difference. My hair no longer falls out in big clumps. I am no longer cleaning handfuls of hair out of my hairbrush or unclogging the drain. I wish I could say this was a sponsored post because that shit is EXPENSIVE, but alas, I am paying for it myself. The expense is worth circumventing my eventual nervous breakdown due to balding, and so I will keep it up.

I do have one teeny tiny grievance about this Favourite Thing, and that is my roots. The first week after I colour my hair, I am in love with myself and my reflection. The second week, as my white roots come in and I have a halo around my face, I toy with the idea of just letting it go, colour-wise. I think about my many friends who have embraced the grey and who look absolutely fabulous, and I think, hey, that could be me! The third week, I begin a descent into despair, becoming increasingly unhappy with not only the colour, but also the texture of my roots. Before four weeks have passed, I have a headful of hair colour and a timer set.

The problem, as I see it, is that my perimenopausal menstrual cycle is now, and has been for a while, three and a half weeks at best, and somehow this has synced up with my hair colour cycle. My extreme dissatisfaction with my hair and general appearance perfectly correlates with the days leading up to my period, and although I would like to break this cycle, I cannot. I am trapped in a problem of my own making. I am a snake eating my own tail.

That said, as with all the privilege in my life, I feel I cannot complain. Can a person take an incredibly expensive supplement for hair growth, and then complain about the hair growth? No. That is ridiculous. So I embrace my boxed hair colour. In any case, if you are curious, Nutrafol really has worked for me, and I had a grandmother who actually wore a wig, so let me tell you, genetics are not on my side, people.

Outfit of the Month

Some families have matching pajama sets on Christmas Eve, but in the Boyhouse, we have WWE Christmas sweaters for Decorating Day.

If you haven’t been around for the past two Christmases, I will fill you in: the guys bought WWE sweaters post-Christmas 2020 for 80% off, and I resisted strongly getting one of my own, for reasons which I feel are obvious. However, as the year went on, I started to feel a little left out about it, and so my husband looked into buying me a sweater. By that time, there was only one woman’s sweater at 80% off; the rest were at regular price, and regular price was far too high for me to want to spend. The one discounted sweater was cute enough, but it was only available in a size that was six sizes larger than the one I normally wear. My choices were a comically large but inexpensive sweater, or one that fit properly but was ridiculously costly. I suppose I could have gotten a men’s sweater, but I believe in lifting up other women, even if the women in question are lifting each other up only to body slam them in the ring.

You can clearly see my Scottish heritage, in my extremely oversized sweater. Anyway, the point is that Decorating Day is a Big Deal, and so we all wear them for the festive occasion.

It’s been a really great November – STILL NO SNOW, YOU GUYS – and now it’s time to bring on December! Do you have anything you’ve loved this month? Tell me everything. xo

November Bits and Bobs

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My son was telling me about a throwback party he attended at the university bar; the throwback era, he said was mostly between 2012 and 2014. I was momentarily stunned into silence, and then had him list off a few of the songs that they had played: a lot of Pitbull and the Black-Eyed Peas, the notable era exception being the 2005 hit Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira. Shakira Shakira! All the songs he mentioned are on my Nicole’s Workout Spotify playlist, and they are all songs that I consider to be “modern.”

This reminded me of an 80s Retro party I myself went to at the bar at my university, and the year was probably 1995, so I guess the years go by and yet nothing changes. Still. At the time, I remember dancing to My Sharona and thinking how fun it was to dance to such retro music, and here is my son, grooving to Mr Worldwide. Sunrise, sunset.

We have a houseguest this week! My younger son’s best friend is visiting from Calgary, and he scheduled his visit to coordinate with the ending of my son’s seasonal golf course job as well as my older son’s reading week, so the house is full and so, if you will forgive the sentimentality, is my heart. My older son’s roommate just happens to be a good friend of both boys, so he has been over here as well and I am in my element, feeding everyone in a “Eat, Eat!” kind of way.

Speaking of my younger son, once again he has decided to grow a moustache for the month of November. Typically he only shaves every four or five days, meaning that he usually has a stubbly scruff most of the time, but now he is clean-shaven except for his old-timey Clark Gable-style moustache. As always I am a strong proponent of body autonomy, even in the facial hair department, but also, Clark Gable-style moustache. Remember that Jimmy Buffett song Pencil Thin Moustache? It’s not unlike that.

Rest in peace, Jimmy Buffett. He sure brought a lot of joy to this world, and particularly to me. He also brought us the song Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw which I secretly wanted to play at my wedding, but did not. Imagine how funny that would have been, though. I just got a water bed, it’s filled up for me and you. What a glorious time piece of a song. The 70s is my favourite era, music-wise: soft rock, yacht rock, cock rock, Motown, and, my top genre, disco. It would be very, very difficult for me to find a song I do not bop around to happily that was created in the 70s. Even the ones with terrible lyrics and misogyny I will happily sing and kitchen disco to, notably When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman and If You Want To Be Happy. I joked about having the latter played at our wedding and my husband was horrified at the very thought. It would be a fun ironic song if it wasn’t blatantly mean-spirited. Still, I will groove to it.

I was grooving down the pathway the other day and I stopped to talk to a gentleman I frequently talk to, who just so happens to look exactly like Kenny G. He and I are probably going to one day spin off this planet with our excessive morning positivity; he’s a kindred spirit, Kenny G is, is what I’m saying. He gestured to the path in front of me saying “Are you enjoying our Golden Mile?” and I was so charmed by this turn of phrase.

The path has been carpeted with leaves, and somehow Rex managed to walk an entire 90 minutes with a leaf on his head. I guess he was feeling Fall Festive.

Less festive is the fact that the dog park has been very, very muddy of late. I stopped to speak with yet another gentleman on the path, while our black and white dogs sniffed each other. The gentleman laughed at Rex’s paws, which were completely covered with mud. “Rex! Your boots!” he said, and I replied with a “This is the problem: no white shoes after Labour Day!” The man looked at me in the most puzzled way, with a completely furrowed brow, and then smiled and nodded as he said his goodbyes. Later, I asked my husband if men do not know about the Labour Day White Shoe rule and he replied with what are you talking about, so I guess that answers that, at least in the Boyhouse.

Weekly Reading

Pineapple Street. Have you ever picked up a book based solely on hearing other people mention the title, without looking at the synopsis or anything about it at all, and then, on starting it, realize that it’s completely different from what you might imagine? This was exactly my experience with Pineapple Street. In my mind it was something exotic, maybe something tropical, maybe women in a different country and their lives? Well. I did not realize Pineapple Street is in Brooklyn Heights and that this book would be about an ultrarich, old money family. I guess that is exotic in its own way, there’s no rich like NYC rich, am I right? But I have to say, while it’s a readable and easy book to digest, the writing is pretty lazy. All the characters are completely one dimensional and then most of them do a 180 near the end of the book with no nuance whatsoever. The theme is millenial heirs of old money, and it’s like the author thought “okay, three kids, we will make one of them represent the millenials who want to give away all their fortune because they disagree with inheriting large sums of money, one of them will just enjoy the money and work in the family business, and the last one, let’s make her someone who gave up her career to have kids and wants more, more, more money. Great, we covered it all.” Like I said, this is readable and for those of us who like to read about fashion and tablescapes, it’s kind of fun, but it’s not profound or nuanced or going to set the world on fire. I later learned that the author is actually a publishing executive so, you know, that answers that.

Please Don’t Sit On My Bed In Your Outside Clothes. This hilarious, smart, and thoughtful book of essays was written in 2020, so it definitely has a Quarantine Flavour to it. This woman has had a very, very different life experience from me, which makes this all the more eye-opening and thought-provoking. She has a way of starting with a hilariously shallow topic, that suddenly delves deeper, having me think of things in a totally different way, i.e., the concept of self-care. The essay that I think will stay with me the longest is the one about performative allyship, which is something that I have been thinking about since the summer of 2020. Actually, I’ve probably been thinking about the concept of people using social media to “raise awareness” without doing anything meaningful since the days of women posting their bra colours on Facebook to “raise awareness” about breast cancer. Friends, we are all aware. But what are we going to do about it? One takeaway from this is, in terms of allyship, that it can be actively harmful to repost violent viral videos. Marginalized people do not need to be inundated with that in the name of “raising awareness.” Anyway, this was a very enlightening – and did I mention, very funny? – read.

Some of you will remember a while back that I was interviewed as a guest post on my good friend Elisabeth’s blog (HI ELISABETH); sadly, that blog was deleted and my interview, including the story about topless sunbathing, was lost forever. Well, the happy news is that Elisabeth RE-interviewed me and it’s up there today, so please go check it out. Another piece of happy news is that my friend and writing support Laura Bray has a substack and this month she is offering 20% off paid subscriptions, in honour of her birthday month (HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAURA!). Do go check her out as she is a gifted writer and an all-round lovely person.

On that note, have a beautiful week, friends! xo

Five For Friday: The Small Grievances and Their Associated Upsides Edition

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  • At the end of October I always head to Bath and Body Works to purchase festive hand soaps for Tiny Secret Festive Season, and this year was no exception. I prefer regular liquid soap to the foaming variety for reasons that are mostly hard to articulate, with one exception: foaming soap never seems to pump nicely, instead I seem to always have to apply what I consider to be excessive force just to wash my hands. The result of this is that the soap often shoots out wildly, in the best case scenario into my sink, in the worst case scenario onto my sweater. As I shopped for my soaps this year, I noticed that all the soaps were of the foaming variety; when I asked the salesperson about it, she directed me to one small shelf near the back, where the selection was very small and the bottles themselves very bland, and not festive at all. According to her, foaming soaps outsell regular by twenty to one, and so the company has now focused the majority of their festive soap effort on foaming. Rather than buy a sad, pine-scented hand soap – I love pine trees, but I don’t want pine-scented hands – I gave in and bought the foaming soaps. The scents are glorious – Coconut Snowball! Twisted Peppermint! Winter Candy Apple! – and I’ve mostly mastered the pump-without-spraying-my-sweater, but not entirely. I’m learning and growing as a person.
  • Despite all this festive hand-washing, last week my husband and I succumbed to the cold-like viral sickness that has been going around. I was, pardon my indelicacy, desperate for my Neti rinse, but I could not find my squirt bottle nor the giant Costco 200-pack of Neti salts to go with it. I looked everywhere, but sadly concluded that those items must have been part of my Insane Moving Purge in the spring. I wasn’t comfortable sharing indoor air with anyone, so instead of going to the drugstore I ordered a new bottle and salts from Amazon, which I thought was a one-day delivery, but it ended up being three. As soon as it arrived I ripped the package open and showered the sinuses I love with love, if you know what I’m saying, and it was such a relief. I washed out the bottle and then went to put it under my bathroom sink, where I found my old bottle, partially hidden behind my hair products. I was very annoyed, thinking this whole time I could have been Neti-ing. However, I had noticed on the package that the company recommends replacing the bottle every three months and at that point, I’d probably had my old bottle for at least eight years, so it was probably for the best. Although, doesn’t it seem like an environmental disaster to throw out a perfectly good bottle every three months? That seems like an excessive reaction, and a ridiculous waste. I’ll probably keep this one for another eight years, I have not died from not replacing my Neti yet.
  • This might be a uniquely Canadian problem right now, but has anyone else noticed the sugar shortage? About five weeks ago there was no brown sugar at Superstore, and then there was no white sugar, and this lasted up until this week. I mentioned this to my mother-in-law who had NOT noticed, but then she called me in a panic to say that the workers at the Rogers’ factory were on strike. Ah! No sugar tonight! This explains why I could buy a giant bag of imported brown sugar in the international aisle but not in the baking aisle. I think the strike is now resolved but sugar is, of course, slow to get back to its regular supply level. I was at Costco and they had the giant ten kilo bags; an older couple was there with two carts, one of which was completely full with sugar, and they were working on filling the other one. Should I be hoarding sugar too? I thought. Maybe? Is this like 2020? The woman noticed me looking at her, lost in my own thoughts, and I startled myself back to reality. “You must have a lot of baking to do!” I said in the most pleasantly normal voice I could, trying not to sound accusatory like I know what you’re doing, you hoarder. “We have a lot of JAM to make!” she said, and I wondered if she had some kind of jam home business, or if it was all a cover to profiteer on the sugar black market, like we were in Europe in World War II. Either way I grabbed a bag, which I technically didn’t need, but let us remember Lessons From The Pandemic: if you see it, maybe buy it. Within reason, of course, let’s not forget how I ended up with six boxes of expired cream of tartars in 2023, and I don’t even use cream of tartar.
  • I have been talking about the nightmare that is time change for twenty years, so I won’t bore and depress us all with its history, how it makes no difference with energy usage which is WHY it is touted to be still in existence, and how everyone is just fucked up for a week twice a year, including, importantly, the pets of the world. JUST PICK A TIME AND STICK WITH IT, I DON’T EVEN CARE. What I did not realize is how early it gets dark here; it is completely dark at 4:30 pm. I even thought I was maybe hallucinating a little, due to time change and my brain fog from my lingering sickness, but no, a check of my weather app tells me that the sun sets at 4:21 pm. What will happen in December? Well, there’s nothing for it but to embrace my inner Dane and get Hygge with it. I have my light-up gnome and electric candles, so I can participate in the Danish Hygge ritual of candles without the fear of scary actual candles burning my house down.
  • I have been so looking forward to a women’s weekend retreat that was to take place next weekend. I haven’t been away by myself since my YMC days, and I was so excited as my friend Sara (HI SARA) was teaching the yoga sessions, and in addition to that there was going to be snowshoeing, lovely meals, and a comedy night. I was hoping to meet other snowshoeing women in the area, and did I mention it was a weekend of meals someone else prepared? Bring your swimsuit for the hot tub! the website said cheerfully. DONE AND DONE. Then, earlier this week, I got a notification that the weekend was cancelled, or, technically, postponed until 2024. And this after my husband bought me a new headlamp so I could take part in the Night Snowshoe Adventure. Well, I did get use out of the headlamp when I walked Rex before sunrise a few weeks ago; the completely unlit path was a little terrifying even with the headlamp, and I kept waiting to get murdered or for us to get attacked by wildlife, but perhaps wildlife could smell Rex and kept out of our way.

Happy Friday everyone! I hope you have a great weekend. xo

Conversations With Strangers

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Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Tiny Secret Festive Season! If you’re new here, welcome! Everyone is welcome in the Boyhouse. Also, if you’re new, you may be wondering what even is Tiny Secret Festive Season. The short answer is that it is something that I have created to enjoy the Christmas holiday spirit in the face of those who think that November 1st is Too Early to start being jolly. Generally in Canada “Too Early” can be defined loosely as “Anytime Before Remembrance Day, You Disrespectful Bitch” all the way to December 1st. In the US, the consensus seems to be “Before US Thanksgiving.”

But why should there be time restrictions on Being Jolly, I ask, and so Tiny Secret Festive Season was born. Now, if you are a person who is in agreement with the Too Early sentiment, well, you are still welcome here but just know that I am keeping it a secret from you, hence the Secret part of Tiny Secret Festive Season. On the other hand, if you’re a person who likes to mimic Costco and start your Holiday Jolliness in July, well, that’s not really Tiny, is it? You’re still welcome here, in fact, I salute you! But that is not what Tiny Secret Festive Season is.

The key is that one must incorporate small, festive items into everyday life, so on the outside one is just living a regular everyday life. But on the inside! Secretly there are small things that are making our Inner Elf feel known. For me, that means a) festive hand soaps by the major-use sinks, b) wearing my Christmas bracelet every day, c) using Vanilla Candy Cane foot cream, d) hanging holiday-themed tea towels on the oven door, e) playing holiday music for my daily piano practice, f) wearing holiday-themed pajamas, and g) using Christmas napkins at the dinner table.

In other festive news, we had not two but THREE Trick-or-Treaters on Tuesday! I gave my husband a meaningful look as I dropped a few assorted full-sized bars in the little girl’s pillowcase; the lesson, people, is to always buy extra candy. I think this is a lesson not just for Halloween, but for life. Now, was I a little surprised to get a knock on my door when I was in my pajamas with no makeup on and a face full of night cream? I was. But I overcame them, in the spirit of the holiday.

Speaking of which, I do think the myriad night creams and serums are working, in that my skin is softer and more, dare I say, radiant, but there is nothing in this world that is going to fix my raging case of Bitchy Resting Face. It’s pretty bad, friends. Several years ago I was at a get-together with friends from high school, who I hadn’t seen since those days, and a man looked at me and said that I looked disgusted with everyone. I replied with surprise that this is just my face in repose.

One area in my life that happily appears unaffected by my Bitchy Resting Face is that people, particularly strangers, are apt to talk to me very openly about a wide variety of topics. Maybe I give out an aura that I want to know everything about them, which is true, I do. People are endlessly fascinating to me. I think that small talk is a wonderful way to connect to people in this shared human experience, and it often, for me, leads to incredibly involved discussions about someone else’s life. I think that people are often very lonely, and just want someone to listen to them, and when I die I hope my photo evokes conversational memories for the populace. Oh hey, that’s the woman I talked to about my eyelashes and how I was using that new L’Oreal Telescopic mascara while we were in the security line at the airport.

Eyelashes are definitely a hot topic of conversation for me these days – are they real, if not, what mascara are you using – and much preferred to the one I once had about the occasional utilization of Smooth Move tea on days that a person is, shall we say, backed up. This conversation took place after a yoga class, with a young yoga student who was just in my class. I generally do not want to talk about bowel movements – I am even grossed out by the poop emoji, do NOT text me with that thing – but I guess I am happy that I’m a safe space for such discussions, and also that I am clearly just a regular gal. Also, I should probably not be so squeamish; after all, as the children’s book says, Everybody Poops.

I can talk to pretty much anyone about a wide variety of topics, is what I’m saying.

Sometimes, looking back, I have no clue how lighthearted chitchat turns so intense. In the last two months alone things have escalated. I don’t know how the piano tuner got on the topic of how his wife died of cancer only four days before their thirty-third anniversary, but I was happy to hear he’s found love again in the shape of his colleague at the middle school they have both worked at for twenty-five years. I’m not sure why the woman with the cute Labradoodle at the dog park tearfully told me that she yelled at her children that morning for losing their shoes and then cried after school drop off, but I’m glad our dogs could play together while I assured her that parenting IS hard. I’m still a bit worried about the cashier whose dad was in the hospital with what they thought was a gall bladder flare; he’s ninety-six and she was waiting for The Call. I felt badly for the older gentlemen couple on the walking path who just got back from two weeks in Paris in which they never got over their jet lag and also stayed at a very high priced, but inconvenient location, dissuading them from going to Europe ever again.

Possibly the most interesting conversation with a stranger of late was at, of all places, Superstore, and in this case I actually DO know how one topic segued into the next. I complimented the cashier on her Tree of Life necklace, which led, immediately and startlingly, to how she wanted to turn into a tree when she died, as opposed to being cremated. We briefly touched on the unsettling environmental impact of cremation, at which point I, having recently heard a science podcast on the topic, brought up the idea of human compost, and with that, we were off to the races, unfortunately for the people behind me in line who were listening to this grim topic of What To Do With Our Bodies When We Die. We both agreed that we believe souls can live on, and maybe we’d both return as birds to visit the flora that our composted bodies were nourishing. I contemplated this beautiful idea as I wheeled my giant cart away and I didn’t notice my 16-pack of Kleenex had fallen off the bottom of the cart and was lying in the middle of the parking lot until another woman called my attention to it. Another opportunity for small talk and human connection, but after discussing usage of my future corpse I was not equal to it. I thanked her, picked up my Kleenex and went home.

Weekly Reading

Sweetbitter. I typically dislike books in which the protagonist is a very young mess of a woman (SEE BELOW), with vast amounts of drug use, description of the aftereffects of drug use and drinking (SO MUCH VOMIT), and bad choices in general. Typically I avoid those books but there was something really captivating about this story of a young Ohio woman who lands in NYC and starts a job as backwaiter at a very upscale restaurant. If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant the scenes of stress and conflict during a shift will resonate, even if the restaurant in question was Moxie’s in the 90s, and not an expensive NYC place in 2006. Nothing really happens, and yet everything happens. It’s a compelling read.

Really Good, Actually. SPEAKING OF HOT MESS YOUNG PROTAGONISTS. I have to say, this book was quite a ride. At first, I found it absolutely delightful and so very clever – lots of smart pop culture and literary references, like the “soft animal of her body loving what it loves” while she ate hamburgers, for example. Then, midway through I thought “wait, is this the whole book?” Then the delight really took a turn into “wow, if this woman was in my life I’d never speak to her again.” As an example, there is a scene in which her dear friend and her fiance have decided to adopt a dog, and instead of being happy for this turn of events, she says “We all know a puppy is just a down payment on a dog funeral” which, hey hot mess protagonist, just go fuck yourself. I found myself warming to the her a bit near the end as she tries to redeem her sorry self, but in a cool, detached, “If I saw her in the grocery store I’d maybe have a polite conversation about seasonal vegetables” way. It’s yet another book about a hot mess of a young woman going through a divorce, is broke, and her thesis as yet unwritten. It’s very readable, but kind of like Train Wreck Readable, and tl:dr; I am probably, yet again, too old for these books. But fun fact: the author was one of the Schitt’s Creek writers!

Happy November, everyone! How are you doing? It rained here for a few days and I cannot even express how novel that is to me. Rain? In November? It’s not snowing? Well, as they say, it’s hard to hold a candle in the cold Gnomevember rain. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Oooh, It’s October Edition

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At the risk of sounding like an incredibly demented Little Miss Sunshine, I do not have a Least Favourite Month. I don’t have a Most Favourite Month either; I love April because it’s my birthday, and December because of Christmas, I love July and August because of the heat and summery vibes and I love September because it’s my younger son’s birthday and, together with January, there are those fun Fresh Start Feelings. I love May and June because of gardening, and March because it’s my older son’s birthday and our wedding anniversary. Even the less-popular months like November and February I love; the latter because I like to celebrate Galentines’, Valentines’, and eating half-price chocolate, and the former because of Tiny Secret Festive Season. October, of course, is a great month for Halloween and all the festivity that comes with that, including, but not limited to, fun sized candy.

But in my mind, due to a lifetime lived in Calgary, October is the beginning of winter. The leaves were always blown off the trees, meaning that the trees would be naked until May. It would always snow. The constant wind meant that wearing lip gloss and having my hair down at the same time was hazardous. My whole life I have always secretly wondered at those people who are strongly Fall People; it always seemed aspirational to me, while I dug out my winter coat and boots, to be walking around in October in only a sweater and scarf, with leaves still on the trees, eating fresh apples and looking at pumpkin displays that hadn’t been frozen and thawed so many times that they turned into mush.

But wow! Do I ever love fall here! October is gorgeous; even on the rainy and cool days, it’s beautiful. I’m turning into a Fall Person! And so of course it’s time for…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Oooh, It’s October Edition

If You Leave Me Now

Now, of course I greatly enjoyed the fall colours when I lived in Calgary, of course I did. Every year for approximately two to three weeks, I would walk around like the aforementioned demented Little Miss Sunshine and photograph the changing trees against the blue sky backdrop. Then there would be a hard frost and an enormous windstorm and the trees would be mere sticks against that blue sky backdrop. And then it would snow.

You guys, not only are the leaves in full, glorious colour right now but they have been for over a month AND there are some trees on which the leaves are STILL GREEN. What is this magic? It is so gorgeous, I can’t even. I CAN’T EVEN. I have gone from demented Little Miss Sunshine to possibly scaring fellow walkers with my enthusiasm for fall foliage. The vineyard is golden, trees are all green, yellow, orange, and red, RED, you guys. I can’t get over it. I actually phoned my husband the other day, while driving, to shriek about the alternating colours of the trees near the library. I would have taken a picture but you know, I was driving.

The Book Of Love

Speaking of the library, after my rough start I am getting really comfortable with my local branch. I still have my CPL account for ebooks, but I am finding the selection here for paper books is quite good. I went in the other day to pick up a hold, and ended up cleaning out almost their entire shelf of “Staff Picks.” As I went to the counter with my arms stacked, I mentioned somewhat sheepishly and guiltily that I had done so, and the librarian checking me out cheerfully said That’s what they are there for! We will just put in new ones!

Also, the loan period is four weeks, which seems gloriously generous and justifies my giant, greedy piles.

People Of The World, Spice Up Your Life

If you are not following my friend Suzanne’s blog (HI SUZANNE) you are sadly missing out: not only is she an incredibly gifted writer who is an absolute delight to read, but she also frequently posts recipes and dinner ideas. Last fall she posted the Perfect Fall Cookie and my goodness, friends, you need this cookie in your life.

This particular one was more chocolate chip than cookie, which should be Cookie Goals.

Now, because I’m me, I made a few changes: I added vanilla and omitted the cloves, and I did not want eight giant cookies, I wanted many, smaller cookies, and so I just adjusted the baking time accordingly. They were perfection, all the beauty of fall in cookie form.

Kale-ing Me Softly

Back in the spring, my sister-in-law thought I would be sad, moving to Kelowna, particularly since I would miss out on a whole year of gardening, and so she planted some cherry tomatoes and kale for me in my mother-in-law’s garden. You may remember that my mother-in-law is next door, but what I haven’t mentioned is that the garden will be mostly my responsibility next year. I have BIG PLANS, including raised beds for all the veggies, but in the meantime, I had these lovely cherry tomatoes and kale that were just for me.

The kale is STILL GOING STRONG. I have had so many cuttings of it this year, and it’s still going! We’ve been enjoying giant salads every Sunday dinner since we arrived here, and it’s been so prolific that my husband MAY have hinted that he’s tiring somewhat of kale. Well, too bad for him, because we still have some in the garden! Plus, my favourite farm market still has them in giant bunches 2/$5, so get ready for more Vitamin K!

That sounds like a joke, but kale really is high in Vitamin K. Moving on!

Snack-ual Healing

Let’s stay with the topic of food for a while; I have two items that I am obsessed with. Now, the first one I am a little shy to tell you about, as I JUST wrote about the madness of diet culture and my belief that we CANNOT assign some kind of morality to food choices, we just can’t. It’s absolutely wrong and destructive and I WILL NOT DO IT.

But OMG, this popcorn. Look, I know. I know the name is stupid and goes against every single thing I just said, but this popcorn is SO good. Could I pop my own corn and toss it in a coconut oil and nutritional yeast concoction to make something similar, precluding me from financially supporting a snack food company called Lesser Evil? I sure could. Will I? NO, because this is so delicious and also I make every single thing from scratch around here, just let me have this. Let me just have something easy.

I picked this up at Costco on a whim; I was hungry, and also I was stuck in a cart traffic jam, waiting for a dozen people to get their free sample of crackers and file out of the aisle so I could move on with my life. I saw this and was intrigued, and let me tell you, it is every bit as amazing as I could have ever hoped. It’s spicy and sweet, and tart and sour all at the same time. It’s like an incredible chewy candy, but it’s fruit. It is so good and I plan on grabbing several bags the next time I spot this. Of course, this is Costco we are talking about, and so who knows if I will ever see it again.

Smooth Operator

If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you will know that I have been a Neutrogena devotee for years, decades even. You will also know that any skin care or beauty product must be used by me for a minimum of three months, and must show some kind of benefit, for it to be featured in my Favourites. Well! Let me tell you about this:

I started using Neutrogena Retinol Plus about six months ago, both the eye cream and the regenerating night cream. I was initially attracted to it because it comes with a warning label: NOT FOR BEGINNERS. This cracks me up so much, but it also indicates that it involves some pretty potent retinol. Well, this is not my first retinol rodeo, people, I’ve been riding that retinol bull for some time now.

Does it work, you may be asking, and the answer is I think so? But it’s impossible to tell, really, because time keeps marching forward and I do not live in the multiverse, people, and so there’s no Nicole Without Retinol to compare to. But I do think that my makeup-free face is less haggard-looking than it was when I started; then again, when I started I was in the midst of preparing for a move and an empty nest and my husband’s retirement, and was having a nervous breakdown every other day, so who can say what the cream is doing. It could be working OR I could just not be under an unbelievable amount of stress, who knows. What I know for sure is that my forehead lines are a permanent fixture and nothing short of surgery or massive filler injections is going to change that, so que sera sera.

Welcome To Her Dollhouse

Do you need a little pick-me-up? Of course you do! Well, let me tell you about my lovely friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE). She is an artist and a crafter and she has been working on a dollhouse for a while now, and let me tell you, it is the MOST incredibly adorable thing you have ever seen. Like, I have actual fantasies of shrinking myself down to live in that dollhouse. Every single new addition is better than the last, and I honestly feel like I might spin off the planet whenever I look at it, it is SO cute. I go and look at her photos at least once a week, when I need cheering or when I just want to see how the doll-half lives. THERE ARE GNOMES, PEOPLE. I find when I’m looking at it I am barely coherent because LITTLE TINY ROLLING PIN AHHHHHH.

OOTM

Look at me, swanning around with no coat, just a jaunty sweater and blanket scarf! This is Peak Fall Fashion Goals for me.

Rex wants you to see his white tuft, which matches my outfit.

These pants, boots, and top have all been discussed at length before, I am sure, but what I want to talk about is this cream poncho-like sweater. I bought it from lululemon at least ten years ago, and while I love it, I don’t wear it often. Mostly, because it’s cream and I almost always immediately spill something on myself whenever I don light-coloured clothing. But there is a funny story attached to this sweater, and that is that I was wearing it at the playground, underneath my winter coat, while waiting for the kids to finish sledding after school one day. My friend Helena (HI HELENA) came up to me and pulled me aside to tell me that she thought I should know I had toilet paper hanging down in the back.

Now, first of all, god bless everyone who tells people things like this, whether it’s a toilet paper mishap, lipstick on the teeth, chocolate on the face, or skirts tucked into pantyhose. These people are doing the lord’s work. But the thing was, I did NOT have toilet paper stuck in my waistband and hanging down below my winter coat, it was just that the jaunty edges of the poncho-like sweater gave the ILLUSION of having toilet paper stuck in my waistband and hanging down below my winter coat, and I think we can all agree this is not a look anyone would aspire to.

Therefore, I swore I would never wear that sweater again underneath any outerwear, and since I lived in Calgary until three months ago, this meant that my opportunities to wear it were greatly reduced. Calgary is not a place that really encourages a person to go anywhere without a jacket. But now! Now I can wear it in all its glory, I just have to make sure I’m not going to immediately spill wine or salsa on it, which is what happened the last time I wore it. Resolve Stain Remover: also a Nicole’s Favourite Thing.

Hilariously, one of my Favourite podcasts, Nobody Panic, released an episode this week called How To Be A Basic Autumn Bitch and it spoke to me, people. It spoke to me. I hope you are enjoying October too, and if you have Favourites to share, I’d love to hear them, as always. xo

Gratitude and Grievance

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Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Yesterday my husband and I took a ten hour road trip to visit my parents. It was a gorgeous drive but I am a tiny bit tired; not, however, as tired as I was Saturday morning when I was woken up several times by a pack of howling coyotes in the vineyard. They even woke my very hard-of-hearing mother-in-law up, so you can imagine how loud that must have been.

What I’m saying is I’m not feeling particularly rested this holiday weekend, but it was such a beautiful drive and, of course, it was lovely to drive into my parents’ very welcoming home. This is what I’m looking at right this minute:

I meditate every day, as part of my self-care REM Y REM; most days the meditation is part of my yoga practice and savasana, but once or twice a week I listen to a guided meditation. A few weeks ago I listened to one that had a gratitude theme, and one of the lines in that meditation was What you focus on is what you see more of. I mean, yes, obviously. But also YES!

Let’s say, for example, that you wake up one morning and perceive, on looking in the mirror, that for the first time in a very long time, possibly years, a pimple has inexplicably developed underneath your left eye. Perhaps, instead of feeling gratitude for the exuberance of youth that has suddenly revisited your face in such a way, you unhappily focus all your vision on this little red protuberance. In fact, you focus on it so much that, upon viewing your reflection, you cannot see anything else. You might as well have no other facial features; your face has become Only The Pimple.

At the same time, you might notice that it has been three weeks since you last coloured your hair, and so the hair framing your Only The Pimple visage is white with grey accents, contrasting sharply with the rest of your kind-of-orange-fading-red hair. Instead of feeling deep gratitude for this interesting confluence of Youth and Old Age that is your current reflection, you feel simultaneously grieved for your loss of youth and also for this strange resurgence of youth. Instead of thinking that your body, indeed, is a Wonderland, you are laser focused on what you perceive as flaws, which are really not flaws at all but just glorious markers of the human experience.

What you focus on is what you see more of, and if you step back and soften the focus on the things that you are unhappy with, and maybe take a selfie with the knowledge that car lighting is the very best kind of lighting, maybe you can focus a bit more on gratitude than on grievances.

I’m sure that’s what the guided meditation meant.

So many of my friends have Gratitude Journals, and I deeply admire that, although I do not have one myself. My friend Ally (HI ALLY) recently brought my attention to something called a Grievance Journal. I had never heard of such a thing before but indeed, there are many such items for sale; the price of such things might surprise you, for example, this grievance journal is $208. Ally correctly pointed out that one could simply purchase a simple spiral notebook that would serve the purpose, but we are often more inspired by thematic stationary, aren’t we?

My thought on this is that anyone who had a diary with a lock and key in their youth was most likely keeping a Grievance Journal. I shudder to think of my own teen angst committed to the pages of my locked diaries, but on the other hand, maybe I was a trend-setter without even knowing it! I was Grievance Journaling before Grievance Journaling was cool.

Then again, what is a blog but a repository for grievances – and gratitude, of course. And because it is Thanksgiving, I will share with you, my dear readers, something that I am very grateful for. One year ago tomorrow Rex came to live with us!

I like to call this our Rexaversary, although I’m sure my husband would like me to note that he hates that term, and no one really knows why. Perhaps it reminds him of Brexit? Or the ridiculously stupid Wexit? As a side note, a couple of years ago we were at the dinner table and my older son said, out of absolutely nowhere, “Remember that thing, Wexit?” and for no reason at all we all became hysterical with laughter. WEXIT.

Anyway, it is one year tomorrow that we received such an incredible gift. He was much loved by his former family, and I still can’t believe my luck that we were the ones chosen to care for our Big Silly, our Notorious D.O.G., our Doughnut, our Puppy Pup, our Rexie. He’s brought so much joy to us every single day; it’s ironic that I was the person who, after Barkley died, was so devastated that I refused to even consider bringing another dog into our family, and now I have a shadow, every waking minute.

My view upon getting out of the shower.

I did feel, a year ago, like Clifford the Big Red Dog was coming to live with us, but after a year of Rex, he just seems like a normal-sized dog, and all other dogs are miniature. Anyway, it’s appropriate that this celebration day coincides (ISH) with Thanksgiving as we are all so thankful to have his Big Silly Energy in our home.

Weekly Reading

The Magician’s Assistant. I really enjoyed this book about Sabine, a magician’s assistant who was married to the magician. When he dies, she discovers everything about his past that he had kept hidden. What’s not to like? Complicated families, interesting female protagonist, beautiful prose. It checks all my boxes! The thing about Ann Patchett is while many of her books follow a similar theme of brokenness and family secrets, they are all so different and unique. Content warning for mentions of domestic and child abuse.

The Perfect Marriage. Did you ever read the Sweet Valley High books? Remember how the physical descriptions were “All American good looks, with blond hair and blue eyes, size six?” That was what this book was like, a grown up SVH, but a “thriller.” The physical descriptions of the characters were so over-the-top: he is a hunky six-foot-two man with broad shoulders, she is a tiny blonde with never a hair out of place, wearing her Louboutin heels and pencil skirts. Basically, a man is accused of murdering his mistress and his wife is his lawyer for the trial. Is this well-written? No. Are the characters interesting and nuanced? No. Is the dialogue natural and believable? No. Is the plot in any way realistic? Absolutely not. Is this book hilariously entertaining in its ridiculousness? Kind of! It’s pretty ridiculous but hey, it’s a fast read and won’t require any heavy thinking or reflection.

I hope you are all enjoying this holiday weekend, or, for my non-Canadian friends, this Monday in October! I am grateful for all of you. xo