Category Archives: Embrace the Season

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Nifty Fifty Edition

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In honour of my milestone birthday, this month’s Favourite Things consists of fifty favourites throughout the years. Buckle up, buttercups!

Age 0-10

  • Pink was my favourite colour and, by association, flamingoes became my favourite bird after I saw them in the Calgary Zoo. When I grew up, I wanted to be a pink flower.
  • I loved dolls and the dollhouse my grandpa built for me when I was about four. I had a Cabbage Patch Kid named Kora Candi, who my mom risked life and limb to get for me for Christmas 1982, and for whom my grandma made a large wardrobe. I also loved my Cheer Bear and a stuffed rabbit named, unoriginally, Mrs. Bunny.
  • I loved The Muppets, particularly Miss Piggy, who I have an affinity for to this day. (Moi?) I lived for weekly episodes of The Muppet Show and still love The Muppet Movie and The Muppets Take Manhattan, but The Great Muppet Caper is a hot mess.
  • The only other show on television that I really loved was Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness; whenever I see Canada geese – which is daily – I remember his voice talking about how they mate for life, and now the featured newly-widowed goose will be alone forever. Sob.
  • I don’t remember not being able to read; according to my mother, at age two she would give me new library books and I could read them. Busy Busy World by Richard Scarry was one of my favourite books; I loved thinking about different countries and cultures. Because of this my grandma made me a (pink, naturally) quilt in which each square featured a little girl from a different country; the Canadian girl had a Mounties uniform, for example. Years later when I read Cat’s Eye, so much of it was resonant but especially when Elaine learns about different countries. She thinks I can go there someday, I don’t have to stay here.
  • Speaking of going places, the height of luxury, for me, was the rare time our family would stay in a motel that had a pool. What could be more amazing than a pool? A waterpark! Swimming was one of my very favourite things.
  • Winter was something to look forward to because of skating. I took figure skating lessons as a child and I would also spend many hours on the outdoor rink behind our house, sailing around and feeling free, imagining, somehow, that I was Princess Diana. Did she figure skate? I don’t know. I was enamoured with her and at age six, was woken up at 2:30 am by Grandma Fern to watch the Royal Wedding.
  • I loved The Bobbsey Twins, A Little Princess, and, especially, Little Women. To this day I have a soft spot for those books. I loved everything by Laura Ingalls Wilder and LM Montgomery, but especially the last two Emily books and Jane of Lantern Hill. My interest in stories about girls’ lives continues to this day.
  • I knew how to read music from learning the recorder at school, and after figuring out where middle C was located, I would painstakingly plunk out tunes on my grandparents’ piano. At age ten my parents got me my own piano and lessons, and playing the piano is still one of my Favourite Things.
  • Also at age ten, I was introduced to the Sweet Valley High series, and I spent a lot of time imagining that high school would be JUST like that. Was I ever in for a surprise!

Age 11-20

  • It was summer of ’86, and it was a hot night in Estevan, Saskatchewan. My brother, cousins, and I walked from Grandma Fern’s house to the Orpheum movie theatre, famous for its bone-chilling air-conditioning. I was wearing jeans and an off-the-shoulder pink short-sleeved sweatshirt, my hair was ill-advisedly cut to resemble Madonna’s in Papa Don’t Preach. Those characters were going to Top Gun. It was a formative moment for me, and I have never enjoyed an action movie like I did this. The theme song is now my ringtone, and at least weekly I think and you, asshole, you’re lucky to be here!
  • Also formative, but distressingly so, was my obsession with Priscilla Presley’s memoir Elvis and Me, which was later a (terrible) made-for-TV movie. It was, in my young mind, so romantic! Elvis’ buddy asked the FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD Priscilla, in a German army base cafe, if she’d like to come to a party, and there the epic romance started. Hoo boy, that did not age well.
  • Aging much better (although in some cases, NOT GREAT BOB) were the movies that I loved: Dirty Dancing, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, La Bamba, Can’t Buy Me Love, and Say Anything. When Harry Met Sally came out when I was 14 and superseded Top Gun as my favourite moving of all time.
  • My favourite TV show was The Wonder Years, and, relatedly, I loved all sorts of Sixties music, notably The Doors and The Beatles.
  • Concerts were so cheap then, and I went to many, including INXS, Depeche Mode, 54-40, Billy Joel, Barenaked Ladies, and The Grapes of Wrath, the latter of which hail from Kelowna. I have a six-degree separation from the man I had such a crush on back then, Tom Hooper. I daydreamed that I would marry him and live in Kelowna, despite the fact that he clearly hated it and couldn’t wait to leave. Well, I did marry someone from Kelowna and he’s a rock star in my mind.
  • School dances were so exciting and something to look forward to, even if someone was always crying in the washroom.
  • My aunt gave me a copy of Mists of Avalon when I was fifteen, and that made my obsession with Elvis and Me look like a passing glance. King Arthur’s court, but from the women’s point of view? Yes please!
  • I was a dramatic kid and teen, and my flair for it found a home in drama class and in school plays. My biggest role was Amanda Wingfield in The Glass Menagerie; I copied my Alabaman cousin’s accent to land the role.
  • I was a teen in the late eighties, early nineties, when giant hair and lots of hairspray were de rigeur. I had Clairol hot rollers and, paired with Revlon’s Love That Red lipstick, I was ready for a day at school. It was in high school that I discovered I was really good at math, particularly calculus, so imagine a red-lipsticked, giant-haired me, going back to first principles.
  • I read my first Margaret Atwood book – The Handmaid’s Tale – when I was in high school, spurring a lifelong love for her writing. In my first year university, I was introduced to our other national literary treasure, Alice Munro, through her Lives of Girls and Women. To this day it’s a favourite, and I’ve read and loved every single thing she wrote. I also read Pride and Prejudice, which started my adoration of Jane Austen and all of her books, but particularly Emma and Sense and Sensibility.

Age 21-30

  • I discovered I loved group fitness classes in university, most notably step aerobics, but also boxercise.
  • Going to grad school was such a great experience for me; I received my master’s in economics with a 4.0 GPA.
  • While in economics, I met a man who became my friend for a few years before we started dating. Reader, I married him.
  • But before we got married, Margaret Atwood – whose entire catalogue I had already devoured over and over – published The Blind Assassin, which is my all-time favourite book.
  • A very close runner-up, and my ultimate comfort read, is Diary of a Provincial Lady, which I picked up completely on a whim at a used book store and have read so many times that my copy has fallen apart.
  • My boyfriend/ future husband and I went to Egypt, where we rode camels and donkeys as well as really sketchy trains, took a tiny cruise down the Nile, and climbed to the top of Mount Sinai to watch the sunrise.
  • Living so close to the Rocky Mountains meant that most weekends were spent going on hikes out there, soaking up the most beautiful place on earth. We got also married in the Rockies!
  • I loved making my own grown-up paycheques. I liked my jobs, especially when I was working on the trade floor. The job was difficult and the hours were long, but the money was great and I loved dressing up every day.
  • We bought a cozy, fixer-upper house in a beautiful, tree-lined neighbourhood, where we lived happily for twenty-three years.
  • Speaking of which, at age 29 and 30 I received the best gifts of my life: our sons. Being their mother has been the great pride and joy of my life. Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked recently if I ever wanted more than two children, and the answer to that is no. I always wanted two, and when my younger son was born I knew our family was complete.

31-40

  • When I was 32, I decided to try an Ashtanga class at the Yoga Shala, as a little break from mothering two very little boys. That one class changed the whole course of my life; I started a daily practice in their Mysore program, and I still practice that way – albeit at home – to this day. I met so many wonderful friends there as well, and I think with so much fondness and nostalgia of our early, silent mornings, practicing together.
  • Barkley came into our lives at 13 weeks, and while in retrospect it seems a little bonkers to have such a young puppy with three-and-four-year-old boys, I would never change it for the world. He was our loving fluffy stuffed animal come to life, and everyone who encountered him loved him.
  • At age 33 I started a blog, and that also changed everything! I met Hannah and Allison, who are to this day my rock and safe space (HI HANNAH HI ALLISON), along with so many other great friends.
  • In addition to my personal blog, I also wrote short essays for YMC, and they eventually hired me as one of their weekly food writers, where I was the Meatless Mummy. I was there for four years, and it was really a great experience; I worked with so many wonderful women (and two men!).
  • After a few lonely years at home with the kids, I was absorbed into the Circle Moms when my oldest started kindergarten; so named because after school we would all stand in a circle and chat while the kids were on the playground. Later, the Circle Moms became the Brentwood Babes.
  • After the one-two punch of having two children in less than a year and a half subsided, we started travelling to kid-friendly destinations with them. They were great travellers, and our favourite place was Maui. We have been lucky enough to visit there six times now.
  • We also spent a lot of time at my parents’ place at the lake, particularly during the summer, where the weather could go from hot and sunny to single-digits and hailing, all within a day. There was always lots of time on the boat, and lots of board games.
  • Our neighbourhood proved to be a great one to raise kids in. My sons were able to walk to every school they attended, there was shopping and the library and the pool all within ten minutes’ walk.
  • A great privilege of my life has been to spend time with my sons; all through their childhood we’d spend so much time at the Calgary Zoo and Science Centre, playgrounds and Calaway Park, splash pads and sledding, movies and Just Dance nights. I treasure the time I spent immersed in their daily lives.
  • My 40th birthday party was an absolute blast; it included being serenaded Top Gun-style by my husband’s buddies and also chugging Baby Duck after midnight.

41-50

  • My favourite trip we ever took with the kids was to Disney World and Universal Florida; they were the absolute perfect age for it and it was so much fun.
  • I decided to take yoga teacher training at age 41, and I was one of the oldest in the class.
  • Since I had been involved in the yoga community for so long by this point, I was able to pick up so many classes right away. My friend and mentor Sharyl (HI SHARYL) had me assist her in Yoga for Stroke Survivors, where I learned so much about bodies and resiliency, and I eventually solo taught that class, along with Ashtanga, restorative, hatha, and my favourite, Yoga for Seniors. I am still in touch with many of my beloved students.
  • We travelled as a family with our very dear friends – our chosen family! – to Mexico many times pre-pandemic. When kid schedules became too complicated, my husband and I took couples’ trips to Mexico with our friends sans kids, and that was incredibly fun too.
  • The teen years are often vilified but I loved them; I loved seeing my kids grow up, graduate high school, and become the fun, responsible, wonderful adults that they are.
  • When we said goodbye to Barkley, I said Never Again! But three months later, Rex came to our family, and wow, I cannot imagine life without our Big Silly, our Doughnut, our cartoon dog come to life.
  • Moving provinces was chaotic, but when the dust settled, so did I. I love where I am so much. Our new house is an absolute dream, complete with my beautiful garden. I am so happy here.
  • I worried so much about making new friends when we moved here, and all that worry was for naught. I have such a beautiful circle of friends, women who constantly amaze me with their fun-loving personalities, their generosity, their kindness, and their ability to show up for one another. I am truly so fortunate.
  • Italy is my favourite place I have ever visited, and going there with my husband was a highlight of my life.
  • I knew I wouldn’t be teaching yoga when we moved here, but I wanted something to fill my time, so I decided to write a book! I took a series of novel-writing courses, and through that, and my blogging friends, I met some very supportive women who are also writers.

Thank you, dear readers, for all your support and kindness! I’ve been reflecting so much on everything I am grateful for, being fifty years on this earth, and I am so grateful to all of you. xo

Let The Music Play

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Turkish Delight, On A Moonlit Night

I am currently in a delightful chapter in my life in which my children are grown and my husband and I are healthy and mobile, and so we have big plans to do a lot of travelling. It’s a big world out there and I want to see as much as I can for as long as I can; no one knows what the future will bring, and so I want to experience as much of other countries and cultures as I can.

Recently we have been talking about Türkiye, which I briefly visited as a teen on a school trip, and would love to see a lot more of. Unfortunately, the planning for this trip may be the undoing of my sanity. Every time I hear, see, or even think of the word “Istanbul,” I immediately follow it up in my head with was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul not Constantinople, been a long time gone, Constantinople. And that’s the best case scenario; frequently I will go through the entire song in my head before I can rest. Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turrrrrkkkkksss. Istanbullll.

I don’t know what percentage of my brain is dedicated to song lyrics and other quotations, but it’s significant. I wonder what incredible things I could accomplish, were I able to clear my mind of Getting Jiggy With It, a song that went through my head incessantly when I was writing my very last exam in grad school. I got an A in that exam, so I guess it all worked out, but I’m not sure I’ve ever really recovered from scribbling down equations to the mental chorus of no love for the haters the haters mad cuz I got floor seats at the Lakers see me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders.

Speaking of which, one only need say to me here’s the situation before I mentally reply my parents went away on a week’s vacation.

Does everyone’s mind work this way, or is it just me? One of my favourite scents from Bath and Body Works is Butterfly, and every time, every single time I select that body lotion post-shower, I hum to myself See the dog and butterfly, up in the air he likes to fly.

Seriously, if I could rid my mind of song lyrics, random quotations from movies, Seinfeld, and the Simpsons, along with toxic diet culture, I would be a fresh book waiting to be filled. Staring at the blank page before you…

It’s Not Easy Being Green

We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately, which means that everything is greening up. It’s also likely the reason Kermit was hanging out on my door last week. In any case, it’s officially Garden Season, so prepare yourselves for an onslaught of Garden Updates for the next six months or so. I planted my first rows of kale and spinach on the weekend, the berry patch is all budding, and my husband and I went to the plant nursery. It is way, way too early to plant tender veggies like tomatoes and peppers, and yet I came home with exactly that.

I’ll be bringing these in every night for the next month.
Housewarming gift from the incomparable Suzanne, (HI SUZANNE), relevant to my interests.

Oh, and on the topic of green things, I have an update to my avocado woes. I bought a bag of avocados at Superstore, and, like a person completely beaten down by life, expected nothing out of them. Why did I buy them then? I don’t know. Maybe there was a shred of hope left in my soul. But then when I cut them open, every last one was perfect. It was enough to restore my faith in the world.

Ladies, Leave Those Umbrellas At Home!

My dear friend Sandi (HI SANDI) invited me along with her sister to a paint night this week, and as usual, it was so much fun. I did have doubts about my own skills, however, when I saw the sample painting. My initial thought was no way, this is going to be a mess, but you know what, it turned out pretty well!

I will say that the teacher, as well as anyone else who walked behind me and observed my painting, said repeatedly oh, that’s so interesting, what you’re doing with the skirt. To pull a quote from one of my favourite Seinfeld episodes, WHAT? I HAD A DIFFERENT INTERPRETATION! And if you can name that deep cut episode off the top of your head, let me know and I will send you a prize. What will the prize be? I have no idea.

It reminded me of my probably long-deceased childhood piano teacher, Mrs. Rechel. Along with exam pieces for the Royal Conservatory, I was encouraged to choose some “modern” pieces to play for fun. Frequently I would be playing these pieces of choice for her, and her mouth would just be a thin line. Oh, that’s very interesting, she would say, or, in some cases, Hmm. It’s certainly different.

Hot Carl In The City

Speaking of things that are different, I was reminded this week of the day back in 2012, when a car parked in my neighbourhood had a license plate HOT CARL. I remember wondering about the owner of this car, if his name was Carl and he had very high self-esteem, and then someone pointed out to me that a Hot Carl is a sex act that involves feces. To this day I think about this. Was the car owner really into Hot Carls? Or was he just a guy named Carl who thought he was all that and a bag of chips? Or – and here’s another deep cut – was he a fan of The Simpsons? This mystery is one for the ages. It will never be solved. Unless, of course, he (I assume that this person is a he) reads this and chimes in. Carl, are you there?

I came across this thought circuitously, because Jenny (HI JENNY) had posted an interesting photo of a car, a Range Rover no less, that proclaimed across its rear window Make Money Not Friends. You know what, I admire that kind of honesty. I would rather see that then some asshole who is cutting people off and behaving badly with a bumper sticker saying Choose Kindness. At least with the Range Rover, you know where you stand, and you would also expect to be cut off in traffic. Although I guess it’s not comparable after all, since we don’t know where we stand with Hot Carl.

Speaking of traffic, on my walk the other day I saw a man on a motorcycle wearing a mascot head in the shape of the Easter bunny. I wish I had the wherewithal to take a photo but to be honest, I was too stunned. I hope he had a helmet on underneath.

Mom? Mom? Was that a giant rabbit?

Weekly Reading

Girl, Woman, Other. This book blew me away; it is a work of art. I love women’s stories and I love short stories, and this really delivered. Each of twelve chapters is the life story of a different woman, and all of those short stories are interconnected in some way. The women are Black and British, and all their stories are unique and yet universal. It’s incredible to me how a good short story writer can convey so much with such an economical use of words. The writing style of this book is powerful and moving and adds to the emotionality of the experience. Loved it!

Tiger Eyes. My reread of Judy Blume continues with this, which was absolutely not a favourite of mine as a youth, but it’s a really fascinating read as an adult in 2025. The premise is very sad; a teen girl’s father is shot to death in his corner store, and her family transplants to New Mexico to be with relatives during the aftermath. The town in New Mexico is Los Alamos which is famous for being the place in which the atomic bomb was developed, and which itself was populated by physicists who research that and other weaponry. It’s a wild setting for a YA story, particularly one that was published in 1981 during the Cold War. This completely went over my head when I read it around age 11, as did the themes of grief, loss, and depression. Blume is such a master of weaving such heavy topics with those of sex, alcohol use, and family troubles, topics of deep interest to young readers. It was great on the reread, and there is quite a bit about Oppenheimer and American foreign policy, as well as changing ideas about Native Americans. There is still a bit of dated language which is unsavoury for the current climate, but it would have been still ahead of its time.

Bite By Bite. My friend Laura (HI LAURA) has never steered me wrong yet. She said this was her favourite food memoir, and the words “food” and “memoir” perked up my ears. Wow, was this a joy to read. Every chapter focuses on a different food – the majority are fruits, many exotic fruits, but she also waxes poetic about foods as varied as black pepper, gyro, waffles, shave ice, and lumpia. This book focuses on the joy of eating and how foods build community and celebration, and it is truly a delight. Talk about leaving toxic diet culture behind – this just made me want to celebrate the many delicious flavours in this world. Now, did an essay about pawpaw – a fruit I have never seen, let alone tried – bring me to tears? It sure did.

On the topic of joy and food: the grapes have all been pruned and tied and are ready for spring. Please enjoy Rex enjoying the prunings! Happy April, friends. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Not Quite In Style Edition

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One of the best things about aging is that I no longer care about being in style. I said this to my husband, who vehemently disagreed that this was the case, leading to an involved conversation about semantics. I maintain that having personal style and caring about how a person presents oneself is very different from being in style. I care very much about my own personal style, but as far as trends are concerned, I’m indifferent.

I’m sliding towards my fiftieth birthday not knowing celebrity gossip or who even the young celebrities are these days; my only exposure to new music is from Peloton pop rides, and I am solidly ensconced in styles that I like without regards to current trends. I can really, really relate to women who were wearing their hair feathered or mulleted in the late nineties, with frosted lipstick and blue eyeshadow. I hope I’m not there.

I think there is something to the idea that later in life a woman adopts a hairstyle that harkens back to her favourite time of life. I once mentioned to a hair stylist that I worried I was in a hair rut, always wanting the same old thing, and she said Well, look at Barbra Streisand! She’s had the same hairstyle for years, and she looks great. I was unsure of how I felt, being compared to septugenarian Babs, since I was about thirty-four at that time, but I embrace the comment in the spirit in which it was intended.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Not Quite In Style Edition

Forever In Blue Jeans

Up until last week, I would have said that the current, very in vogue style of barrel or wide leg jeans was only for the very young, but then my gorgeous friend Carolyn (HI CAROLYN) swanned into book club on Thursday wearing a pair and looking like a total fox, and so I stand corrected.

The key to styling those jeans, I think, is to counterbalance the voluminous legs with a crop top, a fitted, tucked-in tee, or a bodysuit, and to accessorize with a wide belt. Unfortunately for me, I am reluctant to call attention to my own personal belt area, and so this is a fashion I am not going to participate in.

I think the most universally flattering cut of jeans is the flare or boot cut with a nice chunky heel, but heels are not part of my daily life anymore, and so I will also sadly pass on this style as well. I find I look frumpy in a flare with flats, what can I say. Fortunately, I am in the I don’t give a fuck stage of fashion, and so I still embrace the wildly-out-of-style skinny jeans. What other pant can you wear tall boots with? I also appreciate that skinny jeans go well with long tops, which covers the exact spot I wish to cover up, namely my tum-tum.

My one concession to wide leg jeans is a meet-you-in-the-middle style, the boyfriend jean. I like them cuffed with ankle boots, or little flats in the summer.

Here’s a hot tip for all my fellow Canadians: go to Mark’s, as in the former Work Wearhouse. They have a great selection of Silver jeans, which are in my mind the best brand around. Silver jeans have so much stretch without getting stretched out, which is a remarkable feature for denim. They have so many different styles and cuts, and almost always there is some kind of BOGO deal happening at Mark’s. I’m not sponsored by Mark’s! I just love that store.

These Boots Were Made For Walking

Speaking of Mark’s, my younger son just bought his first pair of steel-toed boots. According to his somewhat-trend-aware brother, my son is in the height of fashion: the aforementioned boots are Timberlands, albeit the tan colour is now splattered with oil and grease. I also have Timberland boots – from Mark’s! – which look nice, Mom, but they aren’t exactly in style. Well, no, mine are a) black, not tan, and b) winter boots. They might not be the height of fashion, but I still think they are cute, and they are perfect for our long morning walks.

Cute, comfortable, grippy, warm, and waterproof, what more does one want from winter walking boots?

Entering My Elastic Waist Era

Many years ago, I was laughing at the Sears catalogue that described a particular style of pants as “pull on pants.” Aren’t we all pulling on our pants? Well, yes. Pull on pants became code for any clothing associated with the elderly, but just like everything else I have looked at judgmentally in my life, it has come back to haunt me. Here I am, pulling on elastic waist pants and loving them.

I bought these from Lululemon and they are quite honestly the most comfortable pants I have ever worn. I’m not even sure how to describe them: like sweatpants that look like actual dress pants would be the closest I can come. I think these would be the perfect travel pants; comfortable enough to wear on the plane, wrinkle-resistant and honestly, pretty cute. I wouldn’t showcase the elastic waist, but I wouldn’t be showcasing my waist anyway.

Maybe She’s Born With It

I have long been a proponent of drugstore makeup; in my mind Maybelline’s Surreal Falsies is the single greatest mascara ever invented, and I love that brand’s Ultimatte lipstick. I am newly a convert to another lip colour, thanks to my friend Sarah (HI SARAH), who brought Super Stay Ink Crayon Lipstick to my attention. Friends, this is a truly remarkable product.

The colour stays on for hours, HOURS, even after eating and drinking and even dabbing one’s mouth with one’s napkin. I’m not sure how it stays on after sexytimes, but I’m guessing it performs in that area as well.

It’s Asparagus Season, Motherfuckers

I am so excited that asparagus is in season and, relatively speaking, less expensive than other produce right now. “Less expensive” is a very general descriptor and in the not-so-distant past would have meant half the price that I’m paying now. However, in season is in season, and we are consuming the hell out of asparagus right now.

Something occurred to me the other day: when I was a kid we never had out-of-season produce. Whether that was because it was prohibitively expensive or just not available in the 80s, we would have never had, for example, strawberries in January. I wonder if we are starting to move in that direction now. In any case, we are moving into Garden Season, which is my favourite season! In the next few weeks I’ll be planting some hardy greens, and I cannot wait to be harvesting my own produce. Hopefully I’ll finish the grated zucchini I have in the freezer before zucchini season begins again.

Chocolate zucchini bread, original recipe from the Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites. Much better than their weird section on casseroles and meat salads. I still have a drawer full of zucchini.

Outfit of the Month

Earlier this month the girls and I went to see a string quartet perform ABBA songs, and we thought it would be fun to dress up in our most disco wear. When this conversation first came up I was excited, and then thought wait, I don’t HAVE any disco wear. Then I remembered the dress I wore for my husband’s retirement dinner, paired it with my dressiest boots, and headed out on the town.

To be totally honest I was worried the dress would no longer fit, but happily that wasn’t the case!

March is an exciting month for us, what with birthdays and our anniversary and the anticipation of Garden Season; this weekend my husband and I are going to belatedly go on a date – A DATE! – for our anniversary, which is going to be a Favourite Thing for sure. Did you have some Favourites this month? Tell me everything. xo

Pretty Nice Little Sunday

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It was a big weekend at the Boyhouse with lots of things to celebrate. Twenty-three years ago yesterday I was wearing this outfit:

Just swanning around Banff, like you do.

And then twenty-one days ago yesterday this guy made his entrance into the world:

Spiky hair, don’t care.

The truth is that ever since our son was born our wedding anniversary has been kind of eclipsed. He arrived at 11:55 pm, he couldn’t wait five more minutes? In any case, this necessitated a celebratory cake.

Yesterday was also Rex’s fourth birthday, but honestly, that is a lot of things for just one day. I mean, I kind of celebrate Rex every day, but I like to think of Rex Day as the day in October when he came to us. That said, I did buy him a dapper new collar.

Thoughtful Instagram pose.

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you might be thinking wait, didn’t you just buy him a new collar to replace the one that was destroyed at the kennel and yes, I did. I had ordered a collar from an Etsy artisan in Ukraine back in November, it took months to get here due to the postal strike, and it was a disappointment from day two, when the size adjustment wouldn’t hold. It was constantly becoming loose and twisted and although it was not cheap, I had to admit defeat. I chalked it up as a sunk cost and ordered another collar – from a Canadian artisan this time – and I’m very pleased with it. I like the plaid that reflects the Scottish ancestry of his last name, which is my last name, which is different from my husband and sons’ last name.

With my son’s birthday upcoming, last week I was digging out the sheet music for the song that most reminds me of his early infancy. Back in 2004, we didn’t have very many TV channels, streaming didn’t exist, and neither did YouTube or phones that weren’t actual telephones. I was always scared I would fall asleep during nighttime feedings – god, I was so tired – and would drop the baby, so I would watch whatever was on at two in the morning. Usually this was either an infomercial or MuchMusic videos, and I would generally choose the latter. If I Ain’t Got You by Alicia Keys was very popular at that time, so I probably watched that video five hundred times.

I only need to hear the opening bars to be transported back to that time. Nostalgia is a lovely thing, because I have a tendency to gloss over all the hard parts – the exhaustion, the crying, the uncertainty if I was doing anything right – and I focus only on the feeling of holding the baby and sniffing his head.

A recent episode on the Bad on Paper podcast focused on music, and one of the discussion questions was what song always makes you cry, at which point I realized something interesting: Landslide, always a sobfest in the past, no longer makes me cry. I used to not be able to get through half the song without dissolving into a puddle of sadness, but no longer. Am I dead inside? Maybe. But I think the truth is that anticipatory grief is worse than the grief catalyst itself, the empty nest. Then again, I still have a son at home.

I did go through a period in 2023 where everything made me cry, most notably Miley Cyrus’ The Climb. Crying to Miley Cyrus while on the Peloton is an image that neatly sums up my mental state at that time. I still feel strange when I hear there’s always going to be another mountain, but I don’t cry. I think the only song that currently has Cry Power for me is White Wine in the Sun; I start listening to it, nodding along and feeling seen – the hymns have nice chords but the lyrics are dodgy – and then, bam. I need the tissue box.

Another discussion question was what was the first song you remember liking, and that is an easy one for me to answer: Queen of Hearts by Juice Newton. I still love that song, and I still bounce around like one of the kids in Charlie Brown’s Christmas when I hear it.

I’m 100% one of the girls in purple.

I asked my son and husband if they remembered their first loved song; my husband’s was We’re Here For A Good Time by Trooper, and my son’s was, distressingly, Gold Digger. Only a really good mother listens to Late Registration on CD in the minivan while her two small children are absorbing every word.

I remember clearly the moment I realized I had made a grave mistake: I had taken the children over to my parents’ for the afternoon, when my not-yet-three-year-old son said to my mother Grandma, I ain’t got no money so I can’t get no hoes. I had barely recovered from that revelation when his not-yet-two-year-old brother yelled We want prenup! We want prenup! My mother, understandably, looked at me in confusion and asked what they were talking about, at which point I realized that there would be no more Late Registration in the minivan.

Weekly Reading

White Tears, Brown Scars. This very thoughtful and insightful book details the ways in which women of colour have been excluded from the white feminist movement. It is an account of lived experiences, with a lot of focus on Middle Eastern and Indigenous women, which is something we need to see more of. Those of us living in Canada are well aware of our dark past with regards to our treatment of Indigenous peoples. There are so many – hundreds? thousands? – missing and murdered Indigenous women that are omitted from news media, for example. This book also explores the reprehensible practice that Canada – and the author’s native Australia – had of taking Indigenous children from their families in order to assimilate them to white culture. Sexual violence affects all women, but this book shows how much more it affects women of colour, and the biases about such travesties. One thing the book didn’t touch on, but is something I think about a lot, is the large percentage of caregiving jobs that are performed by women of colour – nannying and childcare, eldercare and home care, cleaning and housekeeping – so that white women can thrive in their careers. It’s a very uncomfortable truth. Women of colour face not only the misogyny that all women do, but also racism. A small aside I found interesting is the note that there is a tendency to refuse to give women – all women – respect with regards to names and titles. The best example I can give is presidential candidates: women are referred to familiarly by their first names, men by both names or last name only. No one ever says “Al,” “Bill,” or “George,” for example. Just a little something to be aware of. This is an important book, and it is even more important today than it was when it was published five years ago. Thanks to Stephany (HI STEPHANY) for the recommendation.

Like Mother Like Mother. Someone recently asked if I would rather have a) a book with great writing and a bad plot, or b) a book with a great plot but bad writing, and every time, I will choose the first option. It will surprise no one who knows my taste that I barely need a plot, I just like good writing and well developed characters. So, this book is the b option. I thought the plot had a lot of promise – an intergenerational story of three women, one of whom writes a roman a clef about her mother, who is a very powerful newspaper editor, renowned for “bringing down” a corrupt president in the year 2018. I wonder who that president is modeled after? Anyway, the mother is heralded in the media world but is a really terrible and largely absent mother, who grew up herself without a mother. Themes of intergenerational trauma, etc., abound. The daughter goes on a quest to find what happened to her grandmother, it’s a whole thing. There’s nothing wrong with the plot. The plot is fine. The writing style, however, really didn’t do it for me. It’s choppy and uneven, and the reader is absolutely flooded with backstory, given to us through the least believable dialogue one can imagine. We skip timelines constantly, sometimes as much as three times in a single page. The characters are one-dimensional caricatures. It’s a book that tells, rather than shows, and I did not enjoy it at all. Additionally, the author acknowledges the “sources of several unattributed quotations buried in conversations.” WHAT. This is not a thing we do! 

WHAT.

Joy For Beginners. I think the best way to describe this book is “cozy.” It’s a lovely read about a woman who, after cancer treatment, decides to embrace life and face her fears by rafting down the Grand Canyon with her daughter. She gives all her friends challenges to take on as well; we read about how they accept the challenge. There are a lot of insightful and relatable vignettes about womanhood as we go through middle age: marriage and divorce, motherhood and empty nesting, travelling and walking long distances. Thanks to my friend Laura (HI LAURA) for bringing this to my attention. Laura leads the book club for Melissa Gilbert’s Modern Prairie website and this is the book they discussed this month. No big deal, just mentioning that MY FRIEND is super cool.

I believe that the soul lives on long after our bodies die, and I think in a former life Rex was a lawyer. He is not allowed on the furniture, but he seems to think this is appropriate. Three paws on the floor – he’s found a loophole. Hope you all have a beautiful week! xo

Forward March

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It’s a strange phenomenon that, no matter how long I’ve been away, it always takes the same amount of time to catch back up on life, which is two solid days. Three weeks, one week, four days: it’s all the same. It’s similar to Rex’s reaction to my return whether I’m picking him up from the pet resort or I’m coming back from grocery shopping: the extreme excitement is just the same.

Speaking of grocery shopping, I was at Superstore this week, and in the deli section I spotted Arlene. Arlene and her friend Adele walk three times a week on the same route that Rex and I often do; they are older ladies who always have a bag of dog treats with them for the pups they encounter. Of course, they adore jolly old Rex, and so I have had many interactions with them over the past year or so.

I approached Arlene to say hi, and she looked at me blankly. I realized that this was an out of context meeting, and so I said maybe you don’t recognize me without Rex! She had a strange look on her face, and said no, that’s not it. She reached out and touched my hair very gently and said you just look so…different. Your hair…

I started to laugh, realizing that she had never seen me post-shower, with clean hair and a full face of makeup. Normally she sees me in a toque, with only a swipe of mascara and tinted lip balm, because that is the minimum makeup I will leave the house in.

Someone else looks different around here, and that someone is Rex. It seems we have been catapulted into spring around here: we left in the snow and came back to spring weather, which is lovely. It also means that we are now firmly in Mud Season. Rex hadn’t been groomed since before Christmas, and because this is not my first Pet Resort Rodeo, I had booked him in to the groomer’s the day after we got back. That was not a minute too soon as he was, to put it mildly, filthy. But now he’s soft and velvety, and his paws were a pristine white for a new record of 15 hours.

Since we got home very late on Tuesday night, and since there is a three-hour time difference between here and Cancun, and since I really didn’t get a whole lot of restful sleep on my vacation due to continuous over imbibing of fun beverages, I was dragging last week. It reminded me of a question posed to me by Suzanne (HI SUZANNE), which is Do any eye creams/anti aging serums actually WORK? Or I guess I should ask you which ones do YOU use because you look fabulous. Well, colour me flattered, my friend! I will take that compliment happily, even though last week I felt much less than fabulous. Much, much less. In any case, I have a lot of thoughts about this question.

I think the word “work” is kind of relative, and that there are three big things to remember: a) as my older son told me a few months ago, you cannot stop the forward march of time, b) there is nothing that you can apply to your skin that will reverse what lack of sleep, lack of hydration, or too much hydration in the form of alcohol will do to your skin, particularly that under the eyes, and c) no cream will ever be the same as a surgical or cosmetic procedure. I will never forget the fancy retreat I was at with my husband’s work: I was speaking to a couple of lovely women who were from Houston, and when they revealed that they were five to ten years my senior, I gasped. Your skin is so fabulous! I said, Do you use a retinoid? Or something else? They looked at each other, and then at me with extreme pity. Oh honey, one said, Creams? Don’t waste your money. What you need to do is go to a doctor’s office.

So those are the caveats to what I’m about to discuss. I’m not interested in going to a doctor’s office, and while I drink a ton of water and prioritize rest, I am not going to give up my weekly wine or cocktail. And of course time takes its toll on us all. However! I do think there are some products that do help slow down the progress toward Apple Doll Face or, as I sometimes feel, The Crypt Keeper.

First – and I never think this needs saying, but then I hear anecdotal evidence that it DOES – wash off your makeup every night. Never go to bed with makeup on, it ruins your skin. It doesn’t matter how, it just matters that it is done.

Second, use a night cream. I currently use three different ones: Neutrogena Retinol Pro Eye Cream and Night Cream, and Cerave Hydrating Serum. These retinols mean business, and advertise that they are “not for beginners.” What I’m saying is that these are probably not appropriate for sensitive skin, but there are thousands of such products out there, the key is putting something on consistently each night after washing.

I am about to blow your mind. I recently discovered that the optimal way to apply undereye cream is to work from the OUTSIDE IN, using only your ring finger. I know! I had always gone from the inside out, but I do think it makes a real difference. It is not like the lines will disappear entirely, but as esteemed beauty editor Val Monroe so elliptically said, the lines around my eyes are the least unbeautiful ones. I will leave you to unravel that sentence.

Third, apply something for daytime. I like The Ordinary Caffeine Solution for under my eyes; it supposedly helps with puffiness and dark circles, and I think that’s moderately true. I also use The Ordinary Matrixyl 10% for my forehead and marionette lines. Doesn’t “marionette lines” sound so much nicer than the reality? I have recently switched from Smashbox’s Original Smooth and Blur primer to Resurface Smooth and Renew. I haven’t used it long enough to really report back on any changes or improvements, but what I have been using for at least three years now is Ilia’s Super Serum Skin Tint in SPF 40, and I love it.

Does any of this do anything for my skin? Empirically it’s impossible to tell as there is no control factor here; I’m not doing half my face to see how it fares compared with the product-free half. But it does make me feel good about myself. Yes, I look like I am almost fifty, because I am.

Speaking of the forward march of time, my husband and I watched the movie Conclave on the weekend, and this is remarkable for a number of reasons. I rarely watch movies because I am almost always bored or I fall asleep halfway through. I was interested, though, since we were recently in the Vatican, and also my husband read the book and enjoyed it a lot. This in itself is a weird role reversal, as he knew the entire plot of the movie; typically he is a person who wants to know nothing at all that is going to happen, whereas I need every spoiler possible. But it was a really good movie and I enjoyed it immensely.

How this ties in to the forward march of time is that in the first scene I gasped is that Ralph Fiennes? He’s such a good actor, but my main memory of him is from The English Patient. It’s strange to think how many times I watched that movie, given its length. What a sexy movie it is, filled with actors who I had – and still have – immense crushes on. Colin Firth! Willem Dafoe! Naveen William Sidney Andrews! And, of course, Ralph Fiennes, who had played such an intense and sexy character, hoo boy. His performance will flood the basement. I always thought, and still do, that Count Almasy would be great to have a hot and steamy fling with, but terrible to be in a relationship with. Imagine! You’d ask the guy to pick up the kids from school and he’d stare at you intensely; you’d be like oh GOD, we cannot have sex right now, the kids need to be picked up from school. “Honey, can you fill out these forms for the school?” “I do not WISH to write my NAME.”

Anyway, it was odd to me to have a picture of Ralph Fiennes in my head and then be faced with Ralph Fiennes now, thirty years after The English Patient. It would be like if I time travelled from 1995 to now and looked in the mirror, expecting a line-free face with a few errant pimples, a dark brown Rachel haircut, and super perky breasts to see myself now. Imagine how startling that would be.

Also startling was the music at the resort we were at last week. There were so many boppy dance remixes of beloved songs, like Eye in the Sky, for example. I love the Alan Parsons Project but it was a bit bizarre. The strangest by far was a cheerful dance remix of Wish You Were Here. Imagine Did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage, but with a fast paced techno beat. I think the only song that would be stranger remixed in such a way would be Everybody Hurts.

I got so much reading done on that holiday, between humming along to the dance remixes of Your Song and Both Sides Now, so look for a book post later this week. Until then, happy March everyone! Take care of yourselves. March forward. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Entering My Tankini Era Edition

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About four months ago I was purposefully striding down the hall with my arms full, heading for the donation bags I had set up in the laundry room. My older son was home at the time and observed my unusually stern expression. Whatcha doing, Mom? he asked and when I informed him that I was DONATING all these BIKINIS that don’t SUIT me anymore, his face became a study of concern and compassion. Oh, he said, oh MOM. Are you okay?

Well, I was okay and I am okay and the wonderful thing about having an emotional breakdown over one’s wardrobe and donating over a third of it in November is that, as my husband pointed out in an uncharacteristically Pollyanna-ish way, Black Friday and Boxing Day are both right around the corner.

Technically speaking, all the bikinis do still fit me. I could wear them, I could. I strongly believe that anyone who wants to wear a bikini should wear a bikini, but the thing is, I don’t anymore. I just don’t feel comfortable in them, and I don’t want to expose my softened and expanded midriff. I kept all the bikini bottoms except two tiny scraps of material which historically toed the line between swimwear one can swim in and exposure hazards; both items have not only edged over that line, they have gone off the high dive and are now at the bottom of the proverbial pool. I prefer not to exit the water showing everyone in my vicinity the sugaring job on the old honeypot, and so those bottoms went into the donation bags, along with about ten little tops.

My go-to store for swimwear is La Vie En Rose, and they were indeed having both Black Friday and Boxing Day clear outs, and I ended up buying six tankini tops, a couple of very high-waisted bottoms to replace the Danger Zone ones, and three coverups, all for less than $160. Can you believe it? Huge bonus, La Vie En Rose is a Canadian company, which is something I consider very seriously these days, the aggressive international political situation being what it is.

Speaking of which, I returned very late Tuesday night from a week in Mexico, for which I was motivated to acquire the aforementioned swimwear. I feel a kinship with the Mexican people and all things Mexican for reasons which I am sure you can discern. Of course it was a wonderful trip, and I enjoyed myself immensely, but something in the air felt very tense and awkward. I wasn’t poolside chatting with many strangers, let’s put it that way.

Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my unwritten but intense anxiety about my country being annexed and what would happen should that occur. You came here for Favourite Things, and Favourite Things you shall have.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Entering My Tankini Era Edition

Colour Me Beautiful

As everyone knows, my go-to colour, in swimwear and everything else, is black. To that end I did purchase mainly black tankini tops in different styles, but I did bravely branch out at the sight of two handkerchief tops for $10 each, one in green and one in a green and blue pattern. I’m not about to start dressing in jewel tones, or patterns for that matter, but I did feel very pretty in these two items.

Black is still my favourite, though.

It occurs to me that you might be wondering why not a one-piece? and my answer to that is simply no. One-pieces never fit me well and I find them extremely uncomfortable, in a wedgie/ camel toe way, not to mention the washroom problem, similar to that posed by the wearing of a jumpsuit. How does one use the washroom in a one-piece without the one-piece touching the disgusting floor beside the toilet? It’s untenable!

Caribbean Queen

A good swimsuit is key for me, as I do like to swim in the ocean. I like pools too, but the ocean! The Caribbean is absolutely perfect for swimming; it’s warm and gentle and perfect.

But You Can Leave Your Hat On

I love the heat but I don’t love being in the sun; I am very careful about my skin, particularly on my face. I took two big floppy hats with me; they both are easy to reshape after being folded up or crushed into a beach bag.

They both feature chin straps, which come in handy if that ocean breeze means business.

Black Hole Sun

I use sunscreen – Neutrogena 60 Dry Touch – even in the dead of winter, and so you can imagine how careful I am about application while in the tropics. Since we are Carryon Only people, I need to be smart about packing liquids. Stick sunscreen is an incredible invention, and I have two that I’d like to mention here.

Shiseido is absolutely great; it goes on so clear that I only applied it in front of a mirror to ensure I didn’t miss any spots. The downside is that it’s very expensive for this teeny tiny stick, and it feels like way more plastic than I like for the amount of sunscreen that I got.

My sweet friend Joy (HI JOY) works in this great little environmentally responsible store, and I saw this when I went to visit her. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this is the best sunscreen I have ever used, in terms of efficacy and scent. It is mineral but it doesn’t leave much of a white cast once it’s rubbed in, which is really remarkable. The container is plastic-free as well, so I feel like this is a little-known winning product.

Winner, Winner, Avocado Dinner

One of the many activities offered by the resort is a guacamole-making class. Although we both have made guacamole many, many times, my friend Jen and I thought it would be fun to join (HI JEN). At the end of the class, we were all given chips and asked to present our guacamole in an artistic way, and after the judging we would be able to eat it. Here’s what my plate looked like:

Who knew that my humble offering would be the winner of the Great Guacamole Contest? Certainly not me, but it was.

I think I won for two reasons, neither of them to do with actual guacamole. First, I was the only person attempting to speak Spanish. Second, Jen and I were the only people who weren’t obnoxiously yelling during the lesson, and then complaining about having to wait ninety seconds to eat their guacamole, or just eating their guacamole after saying that they weren’t going to wait for anyone or anything. Nevertheless! It doesn’t matter what the metrics were, I WAS THE WINNER!

After the class Jen and I enjoyed our guac, and washed it down with our favourite mango margaritas.

Outfit of the Month

As I have mentioned before, a huge percentage of my Little Black Dresses were victim to the Great Closet Purge of 2024. Happily, I found some cute ones in the November/ December sales, and this one is my favourite:

It feels very sexy and swishy and, crucially, it isn’t tight in the waist. It came from Ricki’s, another Canadian company, and I paired it with my extremely comfortable, extremely cute Skecher sandals.

I am the early bird of the group, and every morning I got up in the dark to find us all poolside lounges and to watch the sunrise. Most days looked like this:

But on our final morning, the sunrise was so startlingly beautiful that I almost couldn’t stand it.

I hurried down to the beach to watch the colours reflect off the water.

It was like Mexico was saying goodbye to me. How grateful I was to be able to experience that.

Speaking of gratitude, my sweet friend Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked me to write a guest post on just that topic; I would love it so much if you checked it out. It would be my Favourite! I hope you were also able to find a lot of Favourites in this month; I know it’s been hard lately. I hope you are all well. What did I miss when I was gone? Tell me everything about your lives. xo

Reseating The Theatre

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I listen to a lot of podcasts; if those podcasts were audiobooks I’d probably be able to increase my Yearly Books Read by at least 100. Alas, they are not! I walk a lot and also do a lot of boring household things, like laundry and chopping vegetables, and podcasts entertain me while I do that. One of my favourites is Were You Raised By Wolves, and a couple of years ago it introduced me to the concept of Reseating The Theatre.

The idea is this: your life is a theatre, and everyone in your life is somewhere in the theatre and its vicinity. You are the star, and you are on stage. Perhaps there are one or two other people onstage with you, but perhaps not. There are a few people who are backstage, and then there are a few people in the front row; those people are the most important in your life. There are people in the orchestra and people in the mezzanine. Some people are in the balconies, and maybe there are a few balcony tiers. Some people are wandering around in the lobby and still others are not allowed in the theatre at all.

The brilliance to this is that not everyone gets full access to the show that is your life; of course they don’t, imagine how exhausting that would be. But the theatre metaphor is perfect because it allows me to prioritize my time and energy; the people in the front rows and backstage are my ride-or-dies, and I give those relationships a lot. I get a lot out of them too. People in the mezzanine and balconies are welcomed and even cherished in my life, but they get less personal attention, and some people are more like friendly acquaintances who I’d happily chat with, but who I wouldn’t be necessarily hanging out with.

I like to think that everyone has a theatre, and just like they have a seat in my theatre, I am seated in theirs. An important thing to note in this metaphor is that circumstances can change and people can be reseated.

I truly believe in the old saying about friends coming in to your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. How this relates to the theatre is that seasons change, and people can move from the balcony to the orchestra, or from the front row to backstage, or from the mezzanine to the lobby, depending on the circumstances. If I realize that I have been reseated in someone’s theatre, and not in a growing in importance kind of way, then I can feel free to move them back in mine, and not feel obligated to expend more energy.

It’s so important to meet people where they are in life, but also to put them where they need to be.

Recently Elisabeth asked (HI ELISABETH) what personality trait do you absolutely require in a friend? This question, frankly, stumped me, probably because I have a very wide and flexible definition of the word friend. The people backstage are obviously my closest friends and confidantes, but I also consider the people on the third tier balcony to be friends, just in a less intense way. There are friends that I do fun activities with, friends I feel comfortable travelling with, friends that I read with and talk with about books, friends that just sit and talk and listen as I pour my heart out. Some friends check all those boxes, some check just one. There’s room for everyone in the theatre, is what I’m saying, but obviously not everyone can be everything.

I have a few lifelong friends (HI TARA, HI ELISE), women who have known me since my very awkward early teens, and even earlier, and who have loved me this whole time. That’s really saying something! I mean, I went through a period of obsession with Jim Morrison, who had been dead for decades by that time. Also, ew. On the flip side, I have some friends who I have known only a short time, but they have quickly moved from mezzanine to the front rows; these are women I love to spend precious time with. Some previously close friends have slowly lost touch with me over the past couple of years, and so I have sadly moved them back in my theatre. Very, very occasionally, I will find myself no longer with anything in common with a person, or at a place in which I find myself to be in constant disagreement with every decision that person makes, when that person is just too toxic and too difficult. That situation requires a move to the lobby, or maybe even outside the theatre.

I am very grateful for the friends who do not let distance stand in the way of our relationships. I can think of at least four friends who live far away but who I consider to have front row seats. One of my dearest friends, Hannah (HI HANNAH) could not live farther away from me without leaving the country or falling into the ocean, and yet we chat several times a week. My friend Nicole (HI NICOLE) has never failed to keep our monthly friend date since we started them in January 2018; since I moved we call each other every month. Allison (HI ALLISON) lives in Ottawa but when I saw her last spring for the first time since 2014, it was like no time had passed. And Jen (HI JEN) will be sipping poolside margaritas with me next week; she is a sister to me, except that we never fight.

All of these friends are so different, but the common thread is that they always have time for me, they always are supportive and loving, and I always know where I stand with them. They always make me feel uplifted and fill me with positive energy.

Speaking of being uplifted and filled with positive energy, I hope you all had wonderful Galentine’s and Valentine’s Days! Galentine’s for me was such a special day: the morning with The Squad, an afternoon writing date with Laura (HI LAURA), and an evening at the theatre with my relatively new, but already very dear, friend Sandi (HI SANDI). Look at this incredible spread of goodies! It just doesn’t get any better than that.

My dear friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) made this cake. You know how I feel about cake!

I did make my own cake for my Valentine and Valentine-adjacent sons, and also for myself, because we all need more heart-shaped cakes in our lives.

Weekly Reading

It was a reread week around here!

The Husband’s Secret. This was the first of Moriarty’s books I had read, back in 2017. It got me hooked on her style – twists and turns and very complicated characters. I loved it in 2017 and I loved it now, this story of secrets and choices and how they affect our lives. It’s such an interesting thing to think about: if you made a different life choice, where would you be right now? Who would be around you? It’s fascinating and so well written; it’s an unputdownable read.

The Burgess Boys. This was historically my least-favourite Strout – the bar is high, though! – but I thought I would reread it, after Bob Burgess featured so heavily in the new, and much-loved-by-me, Tell Me Everything. I liked it so much more on the reread, although it would still rank last in all the Strouts. It is a very bleak and grim story, and all the characters are either absolutely abhorrent or really pathetic. But I did find it to be a good reread and things resonated with me differently this time around, particularly the character of Helen, who is mourning her empty nest. (hashtag: landslide, relatable). I think that the story line, which centres around what appears to be a hate crime but might just be a crime of stupidity, is absolutely relevant today, with its theme of xenophobia and distrust of immigrants and different cultures.

It snowed this weekend! We have had so little snow this year that it is remarkable and exciting when it happens. It snowed just in time for me to leave it! I am off on a little adventure that will feature sunshine, beaches, and a whole lot of mango margaritas. I’ll see you all on the other side; take care of yourselves. xo