Category Archives: Embrace the Season

The People I Meet On Vacation

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On the very first leg of our journey to Italy, as we settled ourselves into on the plane, three women took their seats in the row in front of us. They were all very attractive and stylish, and approximately ten to twelve years my senior. One of them turned around and informed us that they would be connecting to Rome, on a two week girls’ trip. We are going to Rome too, I began, but it was clear that this woman was interested in monologue, not conversation. She continued to talk, informing me that on her last long-distance flight, she met the Man Of Her Dreams, who was on his way to give a speech to the United Nations. Before I could respond, she said that he hadn’t returned her phone calls yet but that was probably because he was doing medical work in the Amazonian rainforest. The best thing is, she continued, he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

I glanced at her companions, who were silently staring straight ahead.

It was a lot of information to process in ninety seconds, but by the time we landed in Calgary for our connection I had mentally sketched out an outline for a novel based just this conversation, if one could call it a conversation. I also considered my husband, who rarely, if ever, wears his wedding ring. Perhaps the two of us appeared to be on some kind of illicit, Me and Mrs. Jones-style trip of our own.

I love meeting people and learning their stories, and rarely do I get such a complete character sketch in such a short period of time. I always want to know more: where are they going, what are they doing, what are their lives like? I wondered this about the young English woman with a heavy Manchester accent who boarded the Vaporetto in Venice, with the largest wheeled duffle bag I had ever seen. She wore an enormous, but cozy, cream fleece sweatsuit, her ponytail secured with an absolutely gigantic coordinating cream scrunchie. She had two male friends with her and talked incessantly for the entire ride, so of course I listened in. I brought my speaker, she said, patting a small bag by her feet, So we can keep the sound UP. What sound, I wanted to ask, where are you staying that you can do that? That’s a nice place, isn’t it? she suddenly gestured around her. All those green umbrellas. What a specific detail! My head whipped around, looking at all the Venetian buildings, unable to see one green umbrella. What green umbrellas? I missed the green umbrellas!

On our very last day of the trip, we had a small group guided tour of the Pantheon; it was so small, in fact, that it was just us with one other person, Joan, a woman from Boston. This happened to be on the day of the US election, so I asked Joan how she was doing. Ludgio, our guide, listened to our exchange and then said I understand this is a stressful election, but I don’t know why. What is it all about? Joan explained very briefly, and then Ludgio said something that was both astonishing and also kind of refreshing: I have heard the name Donald Trump, but I don’t know anything about him. Talk about ignorance being bliss. IMAGINE. Imagine how wonderful it would be to go through life like that, having never heard that grating voice, having never been exposed to such views! Sure, I’ve heard of the guy, but…

Granted, Ludgio is an Albanian ex-pat living in Italy, who lost all his life savings opening up an art gallery that closed during the pandemic, so it’s not like he was living a life of ease. I’m sure Albania has had its share of political unrest, but I am – maybe blissfully? – ignorant on the topic, as well as on the politics of Italy. Our hotel in Rome was right beside the Italian Parliament building, and every afternoon reporters would be typing away on their laptops, accessing the hotel Wi-Fi. I eavesdropped on their conversations but my Italian is pretty rudimentary, and so I remain ignorant.

Ludgio said something incredibly inspiring, though. He told me that he wakes up every day and has his espresso while looking up the tours he was scheduled to work; he worked to pay his bills and then he came home to paint, have a nice meal, and maybe drink a beer with friends. Anywhere you go, you can live a good life, he said, Just try to live a happy life. I feel like Ludgio had seen some things, and here he was, living his best life, an artist who was making a living talking about art history, while selling paintings on the side.

Ludgio wasn’t the only Albanian we met. In Venice we ate at an Albanian family-owned place, and they were really doing an incredible job for Albanian tourism, if such a thing exists. The only exposure I have had to Albania involves the Alice Munro short story The Albanian Virgin, in which a young Canadian girl sneaks off her cruise ship to take a horseback guided tour, and ends up getting shot and kidnapped by a mountain tribe. She develops Stockholm Syndrome, after which she falls in love and runs away with a Franciscan priest. Based on that story, I’d never considered it as a travel destination. These fellows were convincing me otherwise, talking about the beaches, mountains, and pure beauty of the country. They insisted on treating us to shots of grappa after our meal, and so we left with very warm feelings about the Albanian community. Maybe I will visit Albania! If I do, hopefully I won’t end up in a hostage situation.

Speaking of Canadian literature, after our tour of the Pantheon my husband and I climbed the steps of the monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II, which gave panoramic views of Rome. A woman asked if I would photograph her, and she gave me exact instructions on how to do that, which I genuinely appreciated. I found out she was from Poland. Are you from America? she asked in a very strident voice, to which I responded quickly in the negative. Oh! Canada! My favourite author is from Canada! Have you heard of Margaret Atwood? WELL. I could hardly believe that I would find a fellow Margaret Atwood fan in Rome, of all places, from Poland, of all places. We had a great conversation about The Edible Woman before we went our separate ways.

I did a lot of reading while on trains and planes, in between all my people watching, and so I have many books to tell you about, and I will, a little later. I did want to mention that I had a DNF this week, which I had downloaded to my Kobo only because it was immediately available and I was running out of reading material before my flight home. It was The Au Pair Affair by Tessa Bailey, and listen. I know a lot of you out there love the spicy open-door romance, but to me this was just a really long modern Harlequin-style soft-core porn. Which is fine! I’m not judging. Whatever floods the basement! But I just don’t personally like reading about throbbing cocks and Cardi B-style WAPs. In the same way that I find action movies boring, I find spicy sexy books to be whatever is the opposite of erotic. I never think that I’m a prude, but then I read something like this and I think…I guess I am? The funny thing is that when I was searching for something to read, I saw the author’s name and, like Ludgio with Trump, thought Tessa Bailey, I know that name, but…

Friends, I think I’m finally over my jet lag! I had an absolutely epic, ten hours of uninterrupted sleep on Saturday night and my eyebags went from steamer trunks to pocketbooks. Today is Remembrance Day, which means that it is also the end of Tiny Secret Festive Season, and although I haven’t talked about it, you can bet that I have been celebrating.

I have also been celebrating being reunited with Rex, who has also just gotten over his exhaustion from his vacation. It’s hard work, playing all day every day for three weeks, let me tell you. Especially when there are Halloween parties to attend:

So it’s back to regular programming for us: cooking, writing, and walking down the Golden Mile. I hope you had a great weekend, friends. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Trick or Treat Edition

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I never really understood Anne Shirley’s feelings on October until I moved here. It is so beautiful right now, I can barely stand it. The colours are gorgeous, and every day is a little bit different. I’m becoming slightly unhinged, talking about leaves to my family every day.

I mean, I am stopping perfect strangers on the street to talk to them about fall colours, which isn’t TOTALLY out of line for me, but I am starting to become a tiny bit concerned about my sanity. Also I’m starting to worry that people are going to recognize and avoid me from here on in.

For the first time ever, I will not be celebrating Halloween in the traditional sense, and so I’m a little early this month, talking about my Favourite Things! Some of these things are tricks, some are treats, and some are both.

Gourds, Decorative and Otherwise, Motherfuckers

You guys, I grew my own pumpkins!

Cute, right? Have you ever seen a more perfect pumpkin? There’s more where that came from, in addition to my massive haul of butternut squash.

And, of course, more zucchini.

I could not resist the siren call of the motherfucking decorative gourds. It’s the season, motherfuckers!

Fruit Is Nature’s Candy

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, grape harvesting is done, and so I have thoroughly enjoyed my own backyard Concords.

There is so much incredible fresh fruit right now, and my favourites are pears and apples. A neighbourhood girl was selling plums from her own backyard trees to raise money for the Terry Fox Foundation, so of course I had to buy some.

But the apples, my god, the apples. I cannot get enough of those delicious, tree-ripened McIntosh apples. I’m eating two or three a day right now. I may turn into an apple. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES.

These apples are delicious! As a matter of fact they are, she said.

The Other Kind of Grape

We live at the bottom of a vineyard; we own, along with my mother-in-law, two acres of it, but the rest is owned by the founder of Tantalus Vineyards. What you may not know is that those vineyards were owned by my husband’s family until my late father-in-law sold them to Tantalus twenty years ago. They still have a block named after him, and they still have the Old Vines, planted by him – and my then-teenaged husband – in 1978. The winery is, therefore, a place I like to visit, particularly when we have out-of-town guests, and so I took my parents there for a wine tasting.

I love their homegrown Riesling, but I REALLY love their Syrah. The Syrah grapes are not grown on the adjacent property; instead they come from just south of here, and sadly they, along with 95% of Okanagan grapes, were decimated by the cold snap we had here in January. Yes, you read that right: 95% of ALL wine grape crops in the Okanagan were destroyed, which means that there will be little to no 2024 vintage. People, if you love Okanagan wines, get them now while you can.

I was disheartened to hear that of 110 Syrah grape plants, from which this wine is made, 108 are gone. You can bet I’m going to savour these wines that my dad bought for me, because it will be many years before they are available again.

Just An Ordinary Girl In An Ordinary World

On a less-apocalyptic note, let’s talk about Ordinary products. I have been using this line for a few years, ever since my wrinkle-less friend Denise (HI DENISE) told me about them. I have loved their caffeine undereye serum, but I branched out and bought the multi-peptide one, and I really think it’s made a difference.

I also bought Matrixyl for my forehead wrinkles, and while I don’t think these are miraculous, dermatologist office substitutes, I think they work pretty well. Things don’t seem to be getting worse, and sometimes the status quo is the best we can hope for.

Ghosting the Blessed Life

Whenever someone visits my house for the first time, there is a guarantee that they will comment on the volume of bananas on my countertop. I don’t blame them; as a family we go through a vast amount. I personally go through fourteen bananas a week, entirely in smoothie form.

My breakfast smoothie is made up of cashew milk, nut butter, a frozen banana, and a ton of spinach. I always feel great after consuming it; it’s a nutrition bomb full of vitamins, fibre, calcium, and iron.

The one thing it’s not super high in is protein. I mean, yes, there is protein involved, but I don’t feel it’s enough to adequately fuel my very active, plant-based lifestyle. This means that every lunch I make myself a smoothie with protein powder, cashew milk, and yet another frozen banana. It feels like a milkshakey treat, and I look forward to it. I used to buy the Protein Works vegan line, but it was a) expensive, and b) only available in the US or UK, and so I was always paying exchange rates and shipping. I decided to branch out and I’m so glad I did.

Ghost vegan protein powder tastes exactly like a delicious chocolate milkshake, not too sweet or cloying, and it has a perfect, non-gritty texture.

I’ve tried a few of the Blessed flavours, to much disappointment. The chocolate, usually a safe flavour for me, is frankly disgusting, and the strawberry isn’t much better. The chocolate coconut is okay, but this! This vanilla chai, which sounds like a risky choice, is really, really good. Once in a while I’ll even use it instead of nut butter in my spinach smoothie and it works great.

Outfit of the Month

It’s my Fall Uniform!

Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) recently was talking about buying multiples of the same clothing item, which is a very relatable topic. I have bought three pair of the Infinite Fit Silver jeans that I spoke about last month – they are stretchy and comfortable and, amazingly, don’t lose their shape. They fit like a more-structured yoga pant. These ones are the straight cut, which I like to wear cuffed with booties. The sweater is just a light old one from the Gap, and the tank top underneath is from Lululemon, both about six years old. I wear some combination of jeans, boots, and a black – or, if I’m feeling saucy, grey – sweater, often with a tank underneath, basically every day. Why mess with the uniform?

As previously mentioned, I won’t be celebrating Halloween in the traditional sense, and that is because I’m going on a big adventure! To that end, I will be taking a blog break. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, sometime in November, but until then, take care of yourselves, friends. Treat yourselves tenderly, and maybe treat yourself to a few treats as well. Or tricks! I don’t judge. xo

Bear-ly An Update

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After the neighbourhood started locking up their garbage in the spring, we hadn’t seen any signs of our resident bears until about a month ago. All of the ripening fruit around here was beckoning the bears with their fruity siren songs. Three weeks ago, my mother-in-law was sending me text after text, updating me on the sightings on our road; first the mama bear and her THREE cubs were in her friend’s fruit trees, then they were in another neighbour’s raspberry bushes, and then, finally, she spotted them herself, hanging out by our machinery shed. Later that night the bears pawed through our recycling bin, which was probably as disappointing to them as it was upsetting to me. The claw marks that they left on our bins were, to say the least, alarming.

I am relaying this very calmly, but I was not feeling very calm. I was very, very worried on behalf of Rex and all the myriad neighbourhood dogs, should they have a Close Encounter of the Bear Kind. In fact, a few weeks back Rex and I were headed to the garden and he took off at full speed. Typically this means he’s chasing off a deer or a squirrel or even a flock of birds, but as I saw a fuzzy brown bum disappear through the grape vines and down towards the hay fields below, I knew. My mother-in-law told me no, it surely must have been a deer, but I knew. I knew. And I was worried because although he’s proven he won’t go near a full-grown bear, the cubs are very small, and hence chaseable, for this time of year. I don’t think they are any bigger than Rex himself.

I was anxious and worried every time I let Rex out of the house or left the house myself. I’d scan the yard from every angle, I’d arm myself with the flashlight if it was dark, and my husband kept our bear-scaring noise-making gun loaded and our bear spray nearby.

I was writing in the office when my husband asked me to come look out our bedroom window.

There they were, snacking away at the grapes.

Something happened at that moment. I realized the bears are not here to terrorize me. This isn’t the 1976 film Grizzly. They are just trying to prepare for winter, they are trying to survive; which, by looking at those skinny tiny cubs, feels unlikely right now. They are eating the fruit and when the fruit is gone, they’ll move on, I thought, and that is exactly what happened. The fruit has been picked and/ or eaten, and the bears are no longer en evidence.

But in that moment, looking at those cubs, I felt an immense peace settle over me. It was a perfect example of changing my attitude when the circumstances were not in my control. Honestly, I felt at that moment like I could be a motivational speaker.

Literally nothing changed, except my feelings about the bears. I still scan the yard, I still take out the flashlight, I still watch and listen carefully, but I no longer feel anxious or even upset about it. They are just doing what they naturally need to do, and we can coexist.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not stupidly thinking that these bears are my friends or my pets or – if we go back to 1976 and the Governor General award-winning book Bear – my lovers. But I probably won’t see them until next spring, and I have a feeling that I won’t see those cubs again at all.

Weekly Reading

The unofficial theme this week is Unstable and Chaotic Women.

All Fours. Listen, there’s the usual chaos that surrounds perimenopause, and then there’s completely going bananas. When I put this on hold a few months ago, I saw a five-star review that simply said “middle-aged women going insane is my favourite genre” and I think “middle-aged woman going insane” pretty much describes this book. Wow, is it wild. IS IT WILD. A podcast was discussing it; one of the hosts had not finished, and the other said “have you got to the weird part yet?” and after reading this, I can say “what weird part?” THE WHOLE THING IS THE WEIRD PART. It is absolutely bonkers and I really enjoyed it BUT here is a warning for anyone who is sensitive in a totally normal way – this is very graphic, and very crazy, and it totally made me think of that woman who wrote a book about her open marriage and who recommended a waterproof dog blanket for a “sex blanket” as it was wipeable, for all the fluids. There are a lot of fluids in this book. So it’s about a woman’s journey into her own sexuality, gender, marriage, and kind of everything else? But it’s also really symbolic and pretty in-depth about women’s lives, expectations, and roles in society. The insights about being a woman in midlife, with all the power and all the invisibility and all the expectations, are spot on. It is also really, really funny. As an example: she is filming herself doing what can only be described as a mating dance, and she carefully buttons up a blouse and tucks it into giant beige panties, pulling the shirt hem through the leg holes. She looks at herself and thinks “this is a new outfit he’s never seen before.” I MEAN. I would not recommend this to anyone who has any kind of squeamishness about…kind of anything sexual, but also about open marriages and infidelity, and also, weirdly, dog poop? But I have to say I could not stop reading it and while I am generally a squeamish person, particularly about fecal matter – who isn’t, really – I did really enjoy this. But then, I like the kinds of books that have a lot of metaphors and symbolism.

Same As It Ever Was. It takes massive talent to create a such an incredible character arc and redemption story; it takes so much talent to write such a compelling book with such an unlikeable protagonist. I spent the first half of this 500 page book strongly disliking and being frustrated by the main character; it took until the halfway point when I could see a complex backstory that was breathtaking. When I say “frustrated,” I mean that I passionately wanted to shake this woman by the shoulders and tell her to pull herself together, for the love of god. Her behaviour was absurd to me, and incredibly unrelatable. But then! Then we are introduced to her mother and wow, this mother makes all other mothers look like Mother Mary. This woman is one of the meanest women in literature – and yet, the backstory is woven in so cleverly that you can’t help but feel a bit of pity for her. This is such a complex family story about mothers and daughters, about marriage and aging, and about friendship. It’s beautifully written and so satisfying.

We are heading out on a road trip this week! Not an All Fours type of road trip – I hope, dear god, I hope – but a fun time nonetheless. I will catch up with you all when I’m back, and in the meantime, please enjoy these lovely photos from our beautiful, currently bear-free, home base. Don’t be deceived by appearances: the creek is gorgeous right now, but incredibly stinky. It’s Salmon Spawning and Subsequent Death season, and the creek is full of dead salmon. Alarmingly, every once in a while there will be a decaying salmon on the walking path and I’m just not sure of the logistics. I’m surprised I haven’t seen the bears down there, snacking, but I guess they don’t like already-dead fish. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cheap Trick Edition

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It’s sunset season!

I know what you’re going to say: sunsets occur on the daily. This is true – sunrise, sunset – but since I retire so early I don’t generally see sunsets from May to August. Sunrises, I see those every day. But sunsets? No.

I really do believe that The Best Things In Life Are Free, like sunsets, but also, I believe that You Get What You Pay For. This is a fun dichotomy, which involves me feeling very Mary Oliver about my surroundings, and also being a complete snob about yoga wear.

One thing I genuinely, desperately miss is the Sears catalogue, particularly around the holidays. Remember the Wish Book? The first few pages would be dedicated to gifts under a certain dollar amount and I absolutely loved looking at those pages. Did anyone I know need a pair of Maple Leaf themed mittens or a cubic zirconia brooch in the shape of a snowman? Probably not, but I loved looking at them. I was thinking of that recently, realizing that so many of my Favourite Things tend to be on the pricier side. But there are many things I love that are not so expensive, and so I decided that this month, every Favourite Thing would be under ten dollars. Cheap, cheerful, and immensely helpful to my life, all of these things give a lot of bang for the buck.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cheap Trick Edition

Fly Away, Bye Bye

It’s fruit fly season! I do not remember ever having fruit flies in Calgary – perhaps the nights were just too cold for them? I have no idea – so wow, was I in for a shock last fall when my fruit-full kitchen was descended upon. Of course I made all those homemade traps with coffee filters and red wine and jars covered with perforated cling wrap, and they all worked fine, but I kind of hated the look of them. I found these cute little traps that I fill up with apple cider vinegar and a drop of dish soap, and voila. It’s a watery graveyard filled with those tiny little bastards.

Bzzzzz

Did you love Lip Smackers back in the 80s? I sure did, and I remember clearly graduating from those fruit-flavoured lip balms to Kissing Potion, a truly grotesque lip gloss that came in a little bottle with a roller ball, like those old-school roll-on deodorants. Younger readers, I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, but girls of a certain age, you know what I mean.

My point is that I have had a lifelong love of flavoured, tinted lip balms and glosses, and I expect this love affair to continue until I become human compost at the base of a tree. I have graduated from Lip Smackers and Kissing Potion to Burts’ Bees. I love their entire line of balms, tinted balms, shimmers, and glosses. Typically if I’m going out I wear lipstick, but tinted balms, shimmers, and glosses are good for when I’m just hanging around the house or walking the dog. Life is too short to go without lip colour, I say.

I’ll tell you what I don’t love: plain lip balm. Variety is the spice of life and I like to be spicy. I cannot be confined to plain. I’m not going to walk into an ice cream shop with 100 flavours and order vanilla, you know?

Colour Me Happy

Speaking of colour, I spent two decades of my life paying for professional hair colour, and when the pandemic hit and I started doing it myself, I knew there was no going back. To say I regret the time and money spent on professional hair colour would be a vast understatement. Well. There is no going back, only going forward, and as god is my witness I shall never pay exorbitant prices for hair colour again, not when I can buy a box of Garnier for under ten dollars and be done and on my way in 30 minutes.

I feel so strongly about this that I actually broke up with a hair stylist who gave me the best haircuts of my life, because she just would not stop hassling me about colouring my own hair, even after I asked her not to. I did have a worrisome moment recently though; I had applied my colour and was practicing my DuoLingo while it set, and then when I went to rinse I noticed that I had dripped colour on my beautiful white bathroom cabinet. It had been soaking in for thirty minutes and was not budging. I felt actually sick.

I turned to the internet for advice, and discovered, as in everything else in life, that I was not alone. The internet suggested a Mr Clean Magic Eraser with hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol; I had both items in the house, and lo, it worked. It worked! It didn’t take the finish off the cabinet, but just…magically erased the hair colour. TRULY MAGIC. ERASER.

It’s Good But Not That Good, If You Know What I Mean

Since I seem to be revisiting my youth, remember back in the 90s when Herbal Essences first came out, and the entire marketing campaign centred around a woman using the shampoo and having an orgasm in the shower because it smelled so good? Oh, to have been a (fruit) fly on the wall at that executive meeting.

I don’t use that shampoo, but I do use Herbal Essences Touchable Hold hairspray (touchable hold, is this also a sexual euphemism? I need to get IN TOUCH with the marketing team.) Anyway, it is honestly the best hairspray I have ever tried; it doesn’t make my hair sticky or crunchy. IT MAKES IT TOUCHABLE.

This is not to say that hair that is crunchy or sticky is not touchable. I mean, anything is touchable. WE CAN TOUCH THINGS. I really need to talk to the Herbal Essences people. Anyway, the long and the short (heh) of it is that this is really good, long lasting (double heh) hairspray and it’s about six dollars a bottle. I’ve never had an orgasm using it, but it does smell pretty good.

Happy Snoopy Dance

Circling back to the Sears catalogue, the one thing I wanted and never got was a Snoopy Sno Cone Machine. Friends who did receive this item have since told me it was an absolute disappointment of a fake appliance that broke immediately; this does not stop me from coveting it, somehow. I suppose it’s because Snoopy is my spirit animal; I feel like my whole personality can be summed up by that beagle.

So it’s no wonder that I immediately snapped up this little cutie:

I know most people in the modern age now keep grocery lists on shared apps or digital notes or what have you, but I am old-fashioned, and I like a piece of paper with a pen. I don’t want just any piece of paper, though. I want a cute piece of paper. This little notepad is absolutely perfect, and I smile every time I note down yet another thing to buy at the grocery store, why do we eat so much food.

Outfit of the Month

In keeping with the theme of the month, I bought that tee on Maui in 2016 for FIVE AMERICAN DOLLARS. The rest of the outfit was definitely over my ten dollar limit, unless I think of each piece in terms of cost per wear, in which case I’m in the clear. The grey yoga tank and the shoes I bought in 2017, and I have worn them many, many times. The jeans, as you know from my ongoing saga, are new, but let me tell you a little about them. They are Silver brand, and are called “Infinity Fit.” It’s a strange thing because they are JEANS, but they come in sizes S, M, L, etc., rather than regular numbered sizes. I was pretty skeptical but they were on a major clearout from – wait for it – Mark’s, as in Work Wearhouse, and so I thought I’d take a chance. PEOPLE. It is like wearing slightly stiffer yoga pants. Yes, they are jeans, with a button and a zipper, but they are so incredibly stretchy. And yet they keep their shape all day long! Needless to say I ordered more than one pair in different washes and styles. It’s the dawning of a new era, the era of my stretchy jeans.

Oh, September! It’s such a beautiful month, especially here in Kelowna. It’s absolutely gorgeous, friends – cool, crisp mornings followed by warm, sunny afternoons, the leaves juuuust starting to change colour, the garden and neighbouring farm stands absolutely filled with produce. Right now I can step outside and cut a bunch of perfectly sweet, ripe Concord grapes for a little snack, and it’s the most joyfully delicious thing. I hope wherever you are, September is just as sweet. xo

Nature, Nurture, Nerd

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I am very accustomed to drawing a lot of attention on my daily walk, because I am accompanied by a living embodiment of a gigantic cartoon dog whose facial expression is exactly this for the duration:

Every day people pass me and actually laugh at him, in a good-natured, look at that silly dog kind of way. He’s a happy guy is something I hear many times a week. I am constantly being stopped and asked what breed he is, how much he weighs, what is his name, can they pet him.

So I’m used to attention and being stopped and spoken to, and therefore I thought nothing of it as a gentleman jogger approached me and started talking. He wanted to let me know that there was a vole on the path that didn’t seem to be moving. I was happy for this information so that I could be on guard. Last week on a walk Rex pounced into a garden full of daylilies and, startlingly, half-killed a small bird, leaving it flapping and bleeding on the sidewalk. It was, needless to say, very upsetting.

It reminded me of how Barkley, who looked exactly like a Gund stuffed animal, was actually a blood-thirsty killer. He once cornered and caught a squirrel and then tried to break its neck, he mangled a bird in our backyard that I THINK was already knocked out by hitting a window, but who knows, maybe Barkley was faster than I thought, and, unspeakably, ate an entire mouse, which I found out the hard way. Do not ask me what that hard way was, let us never speak of this again.

What I am saying is that I am no stranger to horror masked in furry adorableness.

I appreciated the public service announcement about the vole, not wanting another to deal with another harrowing Rex-versus-small-wildlife incident. Less appreciated was the way the man kept looking at my chest as if I was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I thanked him and went on my way.

It was so strange, every man who passed me kept glancing at my chest and then smiling at me. This would have been par for the course back in my youth; in those days, men had no compunction about ogling a young woman’s chest in a not-secret way, and also I was a lot more, shall we say, gifted back then. However, in the year of our lord 2024, I like to think that ogling isn’t the socially-sanctioned pastime it used to be, and also, the girls are not the glorious globes that they once were. Not to be too descriptive, but let’s think of semi-deflated water balloons, and you’ll probably have a good idea why I never go braless. Well, that and I can’t stand the feeling of being free and floppy.

On the way to the family reunion in August, we had stopped at my aunt’s house and I ended up visiting with one of my older cousins who I don’t see often at all. He told me that he had stopped using social media as his wife was worried about internet safety and stalking, to which I replied that I had reached a stage in life where I would be a little flattered to have a stalker. I was, of course, joking – NO ONE STALK ME PLEASE – but I thought of that as I walked with Rex, being the recipient of many chest-glances. I had this strange mix of what is with all these creepy perverts at 7:30 am and still got it, baby. As I have said many times before: life is a tapestry.

It wasn’t until I got back to my car and caught a glimpse at my reflection in the window when I remembered what tee I had pulled on that morning.

Well. That explained that.

It is widely believed that dogs react to the energy of the household and take on personality aspects of the owners, and I think that has been very true in my case with both Rex and Barkley. Those aspects do not, however, overpower their inherent nature, as evidenced by the fact that when opportunity strikes, they become killing machines disguised as fuzzy cutesters.

And for me, there is no overcoming my natural nerdy tendencies, particularly when it comes to announcing such tendencies to the world, and completely forgetting such announcements.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of (book) nerdy tendencies, I had a couple of interesting and thought-provoking reads this week. I have a lot to say, so buckle up!

Splinters: Another Kind of Love Story. About her best friend, the author of this memoir wrote: “It was that she felt, in certain ways, fatigued by our friendship. I was always in the midst of some dramatic transformation…I was always poised at the threshold of some major change, or reeling in its aftermath. She said ‘It gets exhausting.’” I feel like that summarizes my experience reading this book – which, I will hasten to add, is absolutely gorgeously written and completely compelling. But it is kind of exhausting and I feel like if I was this woman’s friend, I would feel similarly fatigued. The author is a sober alcoholic who essentially transfers her neediness and addictive behaviour to the care of her infant daughter. I mean, I feel for this child. I cannot imagine what her life is going to be like in the future. Anyway, the author separates from her husband, who, by the way, is a widower and still grieving his first wife and really, THIS IS A BAD IDEA. They were in couples therapy when they decided I know, let’s have a baby to fix this marriage, which, no no no no no. Surprise surprise, the marriage is in shambles, and the author rails against custody for him, not because he isn’t a caring father – he has a child from his first marriage who is mentioned only as a passing fact once – but because she doesn’t want her baby to be away from her. She doesn’t want her baby to have two homes. The description of her marriage reminds me of my theory that relationships between two creatives are usually doomed. I’m sure the blame goes both ways, there are two sides to every story and her ex does sound like a dreadful, angry man. But also? His first wife just died of cancer and he was writing a book about the experience while he was married to this author. SO MUCH TO UNPACK. Anyway, post-separation she very quickly becomes involved with a man who doesn’t believe in monogamy, but she can CHANGE HIM. Well, until he gives her chlamydia. Here is the PSA I will put into the world: girls, you will never change him. People are who they are, do not go into a relationship thinking well, I can fix that. It’s not fair to either party. This is such a chaotic memoir but who wants to read about a dull life? I couldn’t put this down, honestly, so well done, I guess? I applaud the author for her vulnerability and also her self-awareness. It takes a lot of bravery to paint such an unflattering portrait of oneself.

A History of Burning. CANADIAN AUTHOR ALERT! Wow, this is an absolutely incredible epic story of a family, spanning 1898 in India to 1992 in Canada. The family starts with a teenage boy living in poverty in India; he is promised a job and a better life, and ends up, unknowingly, getting on a rickety boat heading to what is now Kenya to build the railroad. He realizes the terrible things he needs to do just to survive and to find that better life, and he does them. He ends up in Uganda, where his family lives for seven decades before being ousted by Idi Amin’s rule. There they go to Canada, which ends up not to be the promised land for “their kind,” but they work to build that better life and community. It is devastatingly sad, heart-pumpingly terrifying, and incredibly touching story. It is so well done, so thoughtful, so perceptive, so eye-opening. There is a very interesting literary device: each chapter is told from the point of view of a different character, in the third person close, until about 2/3 of the way through the book, in which it switches to first person for one character only. This line near the end summarizes everything: “They left to keep their family whole, something their ancestors had understood. But this time, it was their choice…How sometimes, holding on required letting go.” Chills!

Speaking of letting go and nature versus nurture, this weekend I listened to a podcast about, of all things, Finding Nemo. It has been many, many years since I have seen that movie, but it was interesting to hear the discourse about parenting styles and anxious overparenting. I listened to this podcast just after I had been subjected to a very tiresome conversation about being a parent of adult children, and as I listened I couldn’t stop considering it. I think I have completely morphed, parenting-wise, into Crush the turtle. There was a Dory quote discussed a lot in the podcast: If nothing ever happens to him, then nothing will ever happen to him and here I am, quoting words of wisdom from a cartoon fish.

On that note, I hope you all have a wonderful week in which lovely things happen to all of you. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Zucapocalypse Edition

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August was a bit of a wild ride for me: I took an epic road trip to a family reunion, my husband and older son were gone for three weeks, the garden went completely rogue, my pretend sister came for a visit, I spent lots of one-on-one time with my younger son, and, just recently, I began watching Season Two of NYPD Blue. Those of you who know me know that NYPD Blue is, strangely enough, one of my favourite television shows ever, but I have only ever watched Season One. I could never bear to watch the departure of John Kelly, which left me at a watching impasse. Have I watched Season One in its entirety multiple times? Yes I have. And now, after approximately two decades of this, I am ready to move on to Season Two which, I should probably note, originally aired in 1994. I AM READY.

I have a lot of non-television Favourites this month, though, and since September is SUNDAY, it is time to tell you about them!

I’ve Been Itching To Tell You About This

A few weeks ago I mentioned the myriad leprosy-like spots on my lower legs due to biting flies that resulted from the family reunion. At one point they were so painful and so itchy – not to mention so unsightly – that I wondered if it would be less painful to saw my own legs off mid-calf, and walk around on the jagged ends of my tibia. It was honestly agonizing.

I had some 0.5% cortisone cream in my medicine chest but it was a) ineffective, and b) expired. Possibly those two things are related. Anyway, I discovered this extra strength hydrocortisone cream; I thought I’d try the store brand as well as the Polysporin, and I am so happy to report that both really do work. If you, too, find yourself in a situation where you are considering amputation just to stop itching for One Damn Second, then give these a try!

Is That A Zucchini In Your Pocket Or…

Well, you knew you weren’t going to get through a summertime Favourite Things without more garden news, didn’t you? It’s insane. Every single day I’m picking a bowlful of tomatoes, as well as some late-season raspberries, and at least two or three zucchinis of various sizes.

Friends. The zucchini situation is out of control. Every single day I’m adding it to stir-fries, I’m making it into chips, I’m roasting it, I’m grating and freezing it, I’m sauteeing it, I’m baking it into every single thing I can think of: muffins, cake, brownies, loaves, and even, during a particularly low moment, cookies.

The cookies were great, by the way. Anyway, despite all that this is my current situation:

Every day I use up a zucchini and then I go into the garden and there are three more to be picked. I am overrun.

I have given away at least fifteen of these monsters and, despite keeping on top of the garden and harvesting them every day, they just keep coming.

But it’s not all about the veggies, although it’s mostly about the veggies. The flowers are beautiful too.

Feeling Fried

Up until this past week, when the temperatures have cooled off a bit, it has been too hot to cook, even though I have a well-insulated oven and an air-conditioned house. Hot meals have just not appealed. I have not really cooked dinner in August, other than this past week, nor have I for the entire month of July. Instead, we have been subsisting almost entirely on salads, bowls, and wraps, with the occasional barbeque thrown in there. Now, of course I have turned on the stove to cook the quinoa, pasta, noodles, or rice for those bowls and salads, but I was doing that early in the day and just assembling dinner at the regular mealtime.

I have been relying a lot on my air fryer; I always do when making chicken for the guys, but I have been using it a lot this summer for plant-based proteins like chickpeas. I have a double basket air fryer, so I can dedicate each basket to meat and non-meat items.

I usually roast chickpeas in the oven, but now that I’ve done them in the air fryer, I’m not going back. The result is so nice and crunchy!

I’ve also done some zucchini in the air fryer, which was really tasty.

I have an idea! my son suggested this week. How about next year, you plant LESS zucchini?

Tea (Towel) For Two

Last fall my dear friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) sent me a housewarming gift, and I think of her every time I use these precious tea towels. I wish I could reciprocate by sending her zucchini.

I mean. What could be more appropriate?

It’s true. I do.

The Hardest Part Is…

It’s been said that the hardest part of any workout is just getting started, but I would say that no, that’s not true. The hardest part is putting on a sports bra.

I go through what the Edies would call four Costume Changes a day, which makes for a lot of laundry, certainly, but with my current schedule there is no getting around this. In the morning I change out of my pajamas – always a matching pair! – into a yoga tank and leggings. I take my yoga practice, which is followed by what I think of as My Vigourous Exercise, a combination of the elliptical machine, the Peloton, and strength training. After that, I am very, very sweaty.

Whatever you are picturing right now, in terms of sweatiness? Multiply that by 100. When I say “sweaty,” I mean that there is a literal pool of sweat under the Peloton and my clothes are actually soaked, such that they make a wet thud when I drop them into my laundry basket. You could wring out my clothes and get another whole puddle; if I weighed myself I would probably drop several pounds of water weight after each workout. It’s a lot.

I don’t shower until around 9 or 10 in the morning, after I have walked Rex and worked in the garden, for obvious reasons. This means that I require another Costume Change, as I cannot possibly function in completely sweat-soaked clothes. I usually put on a tee and leggings, and since I don’t want to get my nice bras all sweaty, I put on a sports bra.

Why are sports bras the most difficult item to don in the world? I don’t know, but they are even on a day when my skin is not damp and sticky from a workout. How, friends, are we putting on our sports bras? Do we shimmy them on from the bottom up, do we pull them on and get our shoulders stuck from the top? Do we find ourselves partially strangled, with one breast supported and one arm tangled into the straps? What do we do? There is no easy way. I was so tired of this gymnastic routine that I searched and found a bra at lululemon that fastens in the front, and it has been a game changer.

I don’t know how I got this far in life without having one of these. I mean, you put it on like a jacket and then zip it up. It’s so simple! It also has great support, not that I really need it for dog walking, but it’s nice not to be bouncing around.

Outfit of the Month

Although I was distressed to get rid of a towering pile of ill-fitting jeans, including a pair from 2008, I am in love with these new crop jeans. The brand is Silver and the cut is Suki, and they are so comfortable and stretchy, without becoming baggy and stretched-out by midday, which is really saying something. I love them so much I bought two pair in different washes. To assuage my low-level guilty feelings about buying all new pants and contributing to the environmental disaster that is the textile industry, I wore this cute, light, 3/4 sleeve cardigan that I bought at Jacob circa 2014. The top is from Gap from a few years ago, the sandals are Skechers, and the bag is one I bought at lululemon back when I first started teaching yoga. It’s a workhorse!

I wore this outfit to go shopping with my older son, who’s moving back to university on Saturday!

See the holes in the garden behind me? That’s from deer. They haven’t been eating our (deer resistant) plants, happily, but they have been sauntering through the yard in the middle of the night, when our resident deer-chaser, Rexie, is asleep. I’ve also been awakened several times by howling coyotes outside our window, and the other evening my son said hey Mom, don’t let Rex out for a while. It turns out there was a mother bear with two cubs wandering through our property. It’s like I’m living in Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness, which, along with The Muppets, was my favourite television show when I was a kid. It’s been a journey from The Muppets and Lorne Greene to NYPD Blue, just as it’s been a journey from my 2008 jeans to today. Life, it’s a wild ride, isn’t it? I hope you’ve had a just-wild-enough August, and if there’s anything you’ve loved this month, I would love to hear it. xo

Waisting Away

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Over a year ago, I noticed something that I had literally never noticed before, and that was that every single woman over a certain age that I knew, or even encountered in a casual way, sported a thickened waist and a soft tummy. I first noticed it in one of my classes, and that was what struck me: all of these beautiful, fit, active, strong women, these women who could stand in warrior poses for extended periods, who gamely planked and held boat pose while I told them corny jokes to pass the time, they all had the same extended waistline. It did not diminish them in any way.

It is a well-known part of the perimenopausal experience, and it is a part of life, should we be so lucky to make it this far. Just like when our breasts and hips develop during puberty, so does our waistline expand as our estrogen plummets. There is a medical explanation for this, and it is that the extra padding around the midsection is our body’s way of holding on to estrogen with all its might. It is unavoidable.

Now, you might be saying no, no, it is avoidable, look at so-and-so, she is over fifty and she’s as slim as ever, to which I would respond in one of four ways: a) it’s possible that person has a relationship with a doctor’s office that I do not have, b) it’s possible that person has a relationship with food that I do not wish to have, c) it’s possible that person won the genetic lottery, but that leads to d) even with winning the genetic lottery, eating next to nothing, and having cosmetic medical intervention, that person probably still has a larger waistline than she did when she was 20, or 30, or even 45.

Here is my confession: prior to around age 48, I privately thought that I might be an exception to the rule of the middle-aged spread. I am a very active woman, I consume vast amounts of fiber, water, fruits, and vegetables, and, with the exception of my pregnancies, I have always had a fairly small waist and flat stomach. I didn’t spend much time thinking about belly fat because I did not think it was something that would affect me.

Then, a few months ago, I found myself rage-cleaning my closet. I amassed a huge pile of pants that either no longer buttoned up, or that did button up, but the waist cut into my body in such an uncomfortable way that made me worry about losing circulation to my lower body. If there is anything worse for self esteem than not being able to breathe when sitting down in jeans, I’m not sure what it is.

This month marks the four-year anniversary of the last time I weighed myself. I have no plans on breaking that streak, so I have no idea if my weight has changed over the years. It probably has. I think I am generally the same size everywhere else, except for my waist and general torso area. I used to have a moderate hourglass figure, but now it is more like a rectangle, and the week before my period it resembles an oblong balloon, of the type used to make balloon animals.

And the truth is, other than the annoyance and expense of having to buy new pants with a more forgiving waist and a curvier fit, I don’t really care. No one is more surprised than me by my indifference, believe me. But I feel like I have wasted too much time and energy in my one wild and precious life thinking in a negative way about my body and about food. I will not do that any longer, or at least, I will try not to.

Because this is what life is, isn’t it? Our bodies go through different iterations, just like our minds, our thoughts, and our interests. I’m not the same person I was at twenty, THANK GOD, and so why should I think my body should be the same?

I’m still thinking about that memoir, in which the author’s mother was so happy to have lost so much weight, the weight loss itself due to terminal illness. Something really distressing occurred to me. I realized that every woman I know who has lost a significant amount of weight either did so due to illness – physical or mental – or suffered physical or mental repercussions FROM losing a significant amount of weight. Our society’s conflation of thinness with health is flawed, to say the least. One need only point to the Minnesota Starvation Experiment as proof of the life-long mental toll that even a diet of limited duration can take.

Not to mention a lifetime of societal conditioning that positively reinforces women who take up less space, and that pressures women to become smaller and smaller. My son said to me the other day that it’s so weird that diets for men are like, the Carnivore Diet, and diets for women are like “eat 200 calories a day.” He’s not wrong. There is certainly societal pressure for men’s bodies to look a particular way, but it tends to be a pressure to be stronger, more muscular, more ripped, more more more. Whereas, for women it’s all about being less. It’s almost like society wants men to be stronger and women to be weaker. Wow, what a shocking new idea, I bet no one has ever realized that before.

Well. Be the change you want to see, I guess. There are two non-surgical options here, as far as I can see, looking over my pile of ill-fitting pants: I could futilely rage against the perimenopausal machine, restricting my diet and cutting out wine, margaritas, and cake, obsessing over calories and obliterating any comestible joy in my life, or I could lean in, put on my new pants, and marvel at the natural rhythms of the aging female body. The end result is going to be the same – this soft, rounded tummy is going NOWHERE – but to quote the Serenity Prayer, it’s all about the wisdom of knowing the difference.

Weekly Reading

Such A Bad Influence. Suspense is not usually a genre I read, but I enjoyed this book about a young influencer who mysteriously goes missing. It’s a well-plotted book with a really interesting ending, but it’s also a smart commentary on living a life online, and what happens to those children who “grew up” on the internet.

The State of Affairs. Infidelity is a topic that is quite fascinating to me, particularly how it is portrayed in fictional stories. This book, by a noted psychotherapist, delves into the definitions, causes, and results of infidelity. What is infidelity? Is it, like Bill Clinton (do not get me started on how that man ruined that poor woman’s life) thought, merely intercourse? Is it chatting with a former lover on Facebook? Is it kissing, is it a date, is it a thought, what is it? After the definitions (spoiler: there are many definitions) the book moves on to why people cheat, how they cheat, and what happens to all parties involved afterward. It’s a really well-researched, fascinating book.

It’s plum, peach, and nectarine season around here, and the farm market is full of them! I can never think of the word “plum” without saying in my head “this is a very plum…plum” in the manner of Count Almasy in The English Patient. God, I loved that movie, and wow, would I not have the patience to spend three hours watching it now. Anyway, I took some of these very plum…plums and baked them into a sunken plum cake, recipe from THE cake cookbook. One year ago the city was on fire, if you remember, and so did I ever welcome this lovely rainy weekend, not the least because it was perfect for baking. I also baked zunana muffins, which only used up a quarter of one of my giant zucchinis, and made zucchini chips. Is everything going to contain zucchini from now on? Probably.

It’s the last week of August, can you even believe it? I cannot! Enjoy your week, friends! xo