Category Archives: Empty Nest Travel

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 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

There’s Too Much Confusion, I Can’t Get No Relief

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They’re Both White Guys

This is a strange confession to make, but I constantly get Keanu Reeves and Johnny Depp mixed up in my mind. Before you say anything, I know. I know! They are essentially opposites: one is famously kind, generous, and charitable, and one is absolutely not. One lost his longtime girlfriend in a car accident following the stillbirth of their daughter, the other is a domestic abuser. The only reason I can think of that they get mixed up in my head is that I watched them both on the big screen in my youth, formative movies like Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Edward Scissorhands. They seem to be forever melded in my mind, which is terribly unfair to poor Keanu.

1984, Plus One

Engie (HI ENGIE) asked me what was the worst year of my life and although I don’t really like to relive or dwell on the past, particularly painful things, I will say without a doubt it was the year I was in fifth grade, 1985. It was, generally speaking, an upward trajectory after that. I’m not drawing any parallels here, but it’s interesting to note that Keanu came onto the scene in 1986, which was also the year of my favourite action movie of all time, Top Gun. Are these things related? Maybe!

The truth is that I think fifth grade is universally rough for girls, and it was terrible for me, and not just because I had an ugly home perm. (Engie also asked if I could erase one thing from my memory, what would it be, and that home perm might be up there, Steve.) But fifth grade. It was a time of friendship problems; I remember reading Cat’s Eye many years later and gasping because I felt so seen. Ten year old girls are absolutely vicious. Also, at that time I was wearing a bra and was the tallest girl and second tallest person in class, which might not seem like a big deal but it sure was. In the eighties, boys could run around, unchecked, snapping bra straps and making mean and bullying comments about girls and their anatomy, and that, in addition to the frenemies with whom I’d be best friends one day and then shunned the next, over and over, made that year miserable.

My cousin had a book called Girltalk, and I read it the summer after fifth grade. There was a section on friendship and to this day I remember this life-changing sentence: you don’t like everybody, so why should everybody like you? It was revolutionary and I still think about it all the time. Generally speaking I like most people, but it’s a good reminder that we are not going to be for everyone. I’m not saying my life completely improved because of that book, but it sure helped a lot.

Is This Really A Good Idea?

Speaking of the eighties, it looks like Netflix is rebooting Little House on the Prairie, and I have a lot to say about this. I know that I am a terribly pedantic person when it comes to adapting books to screen; I almost never think it is a good idea. The answer is almost always a teeth-gritting NO when I’m asked if I’ve seen the movie/ series/ show that was based on a book, particularly a beloved book. There are a few exceptions, of course, but generally speaking, I loathe the trend that everything must be adapted to be watched. Then again, should I ever be lucky enough to have my novel published and someone wanted to adapt it to the screen, I would sell out without a second thought. What can I say, I contain multitudes.

If you were a young girl in the late seventies and early eighties, it’s likely you watched the Little House on the Prairie series, and possibly you also read the books. I did both and it was an early lesson in the very loose way the words “based on” can be used. The television series was really a vehicle for Michael Landon to walk around as a shirtless hero; it was not at all like the books, except for the names of the characters. Or, I should say, SOME of the characters. There was a lot of artistic license taken here, for example, nowhere in the books was there a young girl named Sylvia who becomes pregnant after being raped by a weirdo blacksmith with a clown mask on, only to be saved from eternal shame of having a baby out of wedlock by falling off a ladder and dying.

I did love the books, because they were about a girl and her life, and if there is anything I want to read about in this world it is a girl and her life. I will not waste my one wild and precious life reading boring, male-centric stories. I just won’t! You can’t make me! But being charmed as a young girl reading about another young girl in a different place and time making “houses” beneath large maple trees is one thing. The grim fact is that Charles Ingalls deeply believed in manifest destiny and to that end dragged his family around the country, plunging them into hunger and poverty again and again, because he believed in his divine right as a white man to just displace anyone who happened to be living in the space he wanted to live in. Is this the message we need in 2025? I’m going to go ahead and say no.

I Have No Answer To This Question

Speaking of moving around, Elisabeth asked (HI ELISABETH) if you could live in one place outside of Canada for one year, where would you choose to live? Only three months ago I would have enthusiastically answered Maui, which is truly a paradisical place. But now I’m not sure the US is the best place for a Canadian. My husband and I have been planning a spring hiking trip to the Canyonlands, but sadly we have decided to cancel it. I don’t want our tourism dollars going to a government that shows outright hostility towards my country and dismissal about our national sovereignty. It also seems like a bad idea to have my physical body there. The long and the short of it is that I don’t know how I would answer Elisabeth’s question. I don’t have a backup answer to this hypothetical question, I guess another tropical island paradise that I have yet to visit. Or, Maui in (hopefully) four years.

Yoga Club Update

I just had to do some deep breathing after typing the above, which reminded me: how are we doing with Yoga Club? I hope everyone is making time to do one or more postures per day, and if that hasn’t happened, I hope that everyone is practicing loving-kindness towards themselves. There is a new three minute video on my humble little YouTube channel, demonstrating cat-cow in my kitchen; as an added bonus, Rex is featured! In all seriousness, cat-cow is a fantastic movement for spinal mobility, and I hope you give it a try.

Weekly Reading

Flowers in the Attic. Hands up if you also read this at age 12, or some other inappropriate age, hiding it from your mother! Did we all slip it in between the covers of our Trapper Keepers? This was such a wild reread. It has it all: incest, Oedipal complex, daddy issues, stepdaddy issues, child neglect, child abuse, child death, locking your own children in an attic in order to inherit millions of dollars from your weirdly religious father who disowns you for marrying your half-uncle. Honestly, it’s kind of hard to argue with the “maybe don’t marry/ fuck your relatives” part of the book. Not only does it have the most bizarre and over-the-top plot, it also is terribly written. I don’t know what’s worse, the over-explanation of every single detail, the excessively over-written descriptions of every scene, or the dialogue. The dialogue! It’s honestly the worst. I guess the key demographic – Gen X preteens – benefited from the multitude of explanatory details, being preteens, but wow, is this bad. It’s so bad it’s kind of good? I was entertained, if disturbed all over again. I mean, there is a kind-of-sibling-rape, there is the poisoning of children via arsenic powdered doughnuts, and there is the terrifying scene where the grandmother drugs her granddaughter and then pours tar all over her hair. Just writing that out makes me feel like I was in a fever dream while I read it.

Here One Moment. If you knew exactly when and how you were going to die, would you live your life differently? How much of life is pre-determined, and to what extent are we in charge of our own destinies? Those are just some of the questions raised by this novel about the travellers on a very delayed flight from Tasmania to Sydney; an old lady in an apparent fugue state suddenly stands up and goes through the entire flight cabin, telling each person how she expects them to die and at what age. Soon after, people do start to die in exactly that way. This was a really thought-provoking book for me, although I will honestly say that the backstory of the apparently clairvoyant old lady was pretty tedious, and it takes up about half the book. It all ties together very cleverly in classic Moriarty fashion; all in all I enjoyed it, with that one caveat. For those of us math-and-statistics nerds, there is a lot of really interesting discussion on probability, including a paragraph about the birthday paradox. I remember being in a lecture hall with two hundred other students, while my statistics professor had everyone stand up when their birthday was called, and sure enough, someone in that room shared my birthday. There is a very high probability that two people will have the same birthday when there are seventy-five people in a room, which I think is a very cool fact. Anyway, this is well worth the read, despite the boring backstory.

Well, will you look at that. I started this post thinking I have nothing to write about this week and here we are, 1700 words later. And it all started with Keanu Reeves! Thanks for reading, friends, and keep on practicing that loving-kindness! xo

Five For Friday: The 2024 Five Star Edition

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Five Star Books. I suffer terribly from both recency bias and an inability to remember when, exactly, events occur, and between those two things and the volume of books I read every year, I rarely can answer what were your favourite reads this year without referring to a detailed spreadsheet. For example, before I wrote this I would have said the absolute BEST books I read this year were Long Island Compromise and Margo’s Got Money Troubles, both of which I read in November, and the soon-to-be-reviewed The Girls From Corona Del Mar, which I read this week. But I had so many other five-star reads this year: Tom Lake, Games and Rituals, The Rachel Incident, Commonwealth, My Last Innocent Year, The Whispers, Happiness Falls, Sandwich, The Menopause Manifesto, Peacocks of Instagram, Leaving, Come and Get It, Summer Romance, A History of Burning. I realize that it’s only December 13 (hey, it’s Friday the 13th!) and there could still be some five-stars coming my way, but last year I wrote a similar post on December 8 and then only had one: How To Love The World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. It gets a mention here because I missed out on it last year.

Five Star Re-Reads. I love re-reading old favourites, some of which have been read many times before. Sometimes I pick up these books because I don’t have any library books on the docket, sometimes I pick them up because I just read a string of bad library books and need a literary palate cleanser, and sometimes I just want the comfort of knowing I’m reading something that is going to be great. My five-star re-reads this year were Cat’s Eye, The Friend, Open Secrets, Early Morning Riser, Diary of a Provincial Lady, Amy and Isabelle, and Too Much Happiness.

Five Star Music. It is so exciting when Spotify Wrapped comes out; I love to see what I’ve listened to over the year, and to hear what other people have been musically obsessed with. My top artist has been the same for a few years: Aretha Franklin. I am, apparently, in the top 0.1% of listeners who also think that Aretha is the Queen. I wasn’t surprised to see that, and I wasn’t surprised that Whitney Houston was in the number two spot – also a queen, but with a lower-case q and with sadness about the disease of addiction – and that Alicia Keys and TLC were in the number three and four spots. Queens, all of them. I was, however, a bit surprised by my number five.

One of these things is not like the others! Well, I guess he was the King, and that goes with my musical royalty theme.

As for the top songs, well, my list was a surprise.

I would like to note that Dog and Butterfly moved from number one in 2023, and that I am in the top 0.01% of global listeners when it came to Linda Ronstadt’s Ooh Baby Baby. Either no one else plays that song, or I play it a lot, or both.

Five Star Podcasts. I subscribe to many, many podcasts, and I enjoy them all for different reasons. However, I would like to talk about the ones that I get extremely excited about, and desperately want to listen to immediately when new episodes air. The first is Were You Raised By Wolves, an etiquette podcast that brings nothing but delight and joy to my day. You may think that modern etiquette is a pretty dull theme for a podcast, and you would be in concert with my husband and sons, who think that my listening habits border on the insane. But it’s honestly so much fun, and the hosts have wonderful chemistry. I always learn something new and interesting, like it’s bad etiquette to pass the salt without the pepper. Who knew?

The second is Bad On Paper, a podcast about reading and writing. The hosts are in their thirties, and also have wildly different reading tastes from me. This was made evident when, on the rabid recommendation of one of the hosts, I read The Idea Of You, which was possibly one of the worst books I have ever consumed. But I do love listening to them. They do episodes on Obscure Erotica around Valentine’s Day, which is how I ended up reading Unhinged and Squeak, two absolutely insane books, one about a woman having sex with a sentient door, and the other involving balloon animals. They just released a Holiday Obscure Erotica episode, and I’m not saying I’m going to read Santa Claus Is Going To Town On Me. But I’m not NOT saying that, either.

I also love listening to The Girls Next Door, which I think I heard about from Stephany (HI STEPHANY). Truthfully, I tried to listen to them about a year ago and I turned them off in irritation. I just could not! I think that Stephany eventually wore me down with her enthusiasm. On her recommendation, I downloaded a very specific episode which I cannot for the life of me remember, earlier this year, and I was hooked from that moment on. It’s just a lovely little podcast full of friendship and fun; they just released an “80s Kid Christmas” episode and as someone born in 1975, I was here for that kind of nostalgia.

Do you like food? Do you like cooking? Do you like the general demeanor and energy level of the SNL skit Shweddy Balls? Then you’ll love Cookbook Club, where they soothingly discuss recipes they make from a specific cookbook, a different one every episode, alternated with cooking topics. If you ever want to hear a debate about whether white sprinkles belong in rainbow sprinkles, and if not, how to make your own custom rainbow sprinkle mix, then this is the podcast for you!

I prefer to listen to smaller, independent podcasts, but I need to tell you about a big exception: Heather McMahon’s Absolutely Not podcast. I have had to stop walking to bend over, put my hands on my knees, and make donkey-like wheezing sounds from laughing so much while Rex looks at me with concern. Possibly I shouldn’t listen to her on our walks.

Five Star Travel. If 2023 was the year of upheaval and change, 2024 has been the year for travel. In January we went to Mexico, in March to Las Vegas. In April and May we were in Ontario and Quebec, only to come home, turn around, and road trip to see my parents in Alberta. In August I went on a road trip with my parents from their place to southeast Saskatchewan for a family reunion, while my husband and older son were on their own road trip to Tuktoyaktuk, and we went for another road trip to Alberta in October for my dad’s 75th birthday. After that, we spent three weeks in Italy! All of our trips were wonderful in different ways, and I swear it’s not recency bias, but Italy was a very special trip of a lifetime.

The world is so big and interesting, there are so many places to go, there are so many books to read and things to listen to. I love hearing what other people also love, whether it be books or music or podcasts or travel. So let me know, my five-star friends, what you’ve loved this year. Tell me everything. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Travelling Light Edition

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It’s been three weeks since we got home from Italy, and the whole trip feels like a dream.

We had a little extra time in Monterosso al Mare, a tiny town in Cinque Terre, before our boat left to take us back to Manarola, so we and our guide wandered around, poking into little shops. I was specifically looking for Christmas ornaments, but I stopped when I saw a display of gnomes or, as they are called in Italy, gnomi. The gnomes were embroidered with thing like I Love My Cat and Best Grandma, all in Italian. As I started to turn away, one caught my eye:

FRIENDS. I hysterically showed my husband, who assumed that it was part of a display with names from Abby to Zachary, but NO. This was the only named gnome in the entire display and, possibly, in the entire town. I don’t know how or why but it is not for me to question fate.

We didn’t bring home many souvenirs; along with the Nicole Gnome (Gnicole Gnome?) we bought a few gifts for the boys and a couple of tiny Christmas ornaments. We were very limited on space as we had decided to continue our Carryon Only tradition, which was a definite choice for three weeks away. By nature I am not much of a light traveller, but I have become one. In fact, I viewed the whole trip as a challenge, and in the end it felt like my very limited selection of clothing was actually kind of freeing.

I wore a fleece dress on the plane and packed two t-shirt-style dresses, along with a pair of jeans and pants, four tops – two short-sleeved, two long – and a sweater. I wore boots on the plane and packed a pair of shoes, and that, along with socks, compression stockings, and underwear, made up the entirety of my wardrobe for three weeks.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Pack Light Edition

Backpack, Backpack

Once we were in Italy, we traveled almost exclusively by train or on foot, and to that end we didn’t want to be dragging around wheeled suitcases on cobblestone streets. We splurged on carryon sized backpacks that had extra safety precautions in place, like interlocking zippers and clips, to foil any would-be pickpocketers. This turned out to be a brilliant idea. In addition to cobblestones, there were so many uneven paved surfaces, stairs, and – in the case of Siena’s train station – series of escalators, and having backpacks made travel so easy. They were pretty heavy and not super comfortable, and I think the most we walked with them without a break was about two kilometres, so they wouldn’t be ideal for a major backpacking trip. However, they were perfect for our purposes, although they were smaller than regular carryon suitcases, meaning that I had to be extra efficient with packing. I also took a medium-sized crossbody bag to use as a purse.

Cubism

I have been a fan of packing cubes for a couple of years now, but Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) introduced me to the concept of compression packing cubes, and wow, did they ever make a difference. I was able to squeeze all of this into my backpack; it was not effortless, but I did it!

The Laundry Never Ends, Even In Italy

There is just no way to pack enough socks and panties to last for a three week trip. Well, there is, but not in a way that is conducive to using only carryon luggage. These detergent strips work pretty well for bathroom-sink-laundry; it’s easy to just tear off a small piece, and it dissolves quickly. I personally prefer a more scented detergent, but this got the job done.

Face It

Typically when it comes to makeup I am an Ilia Super Serum Skin Tint gal, but that product does not travel well. The bottle always seems to leak, and the last thing I wanted was a bunch of Bom Bom coloured serum all over my liquids bag. Yes, the colour I use is called Bom Bom, what of it?

Anyway, since I was limited on liquids, and I wanted to bring little containers of my favourite Prose hair products, I needed to be efficient. I was looking for something that would be a primer, sunscreen, moisturizer, and makeup all in one, which is a pretty tall order. To that end, I headed to Shopper’s and was immediately accosted by a gorgeous Estee Lauder representative named Olga who bossed me into trying their Futurist Hydra Rescue.

Let me tell you, friends, Olga knew what she was doing. This stuff is incredible; it’s moisturizing, has great coverage, lasts all day, and has an SPF 45. She took one look at me and assessed my colour, and when I poked at another tube on the display, she said No! This is perfect shade for you. And you know what, she was right.

This product is even more expensive than Ilia, which I think is plenty pricey, but it really goes a long way volumetrically. Olga showed me how little I needed – A drop! You need only a drop! More than that, you look like clown. – and again, she was right. Most of my trip was spent outside in the sunshine, and my skin stayed dewy and protected, with JUST A DROP.

Totes Cute

When I was sixteen, I was in Rome on a school trip, and let me tell you, it was a blast. My friend Danna (HI DANNA) and I were the recipients of a LOT of male attention, being cute sixteen-year-old girls and all. Truthfully more attention was focused on Danna, with her beautiful Nordic features and waist-length blonde hair, but everywhere we were, we heard “Ciao, bella!” It became our catchphrase.

I saw tourists walking around with tote bags all over Italy, emblazoned with pictures of landmarks and, yes, of David and his penis. I think it’s kind of tacky to use a Rome tote bag while in Rome, but I knew I would want this for my daily life when I got home. It folded up well so I could semi-easily squeeze it into my very packed luggage. Did I really need another tote bag? No! But it’s really sturdy and it has a zipper on top, which feels handy. It’s the perfect size for library hauls, but most of all, I like walking around announcing Ciao Bella to the world.

Spritz and Soup

Here’s the most obvious statement one could possibly make: the food in Italy is divine. Everything is absolutely delicious and, strangely, reasonably priced. I partook in so many amazing meals, and most of them consisted of pasta and wine.

One thing I hadn’t tried prior to our trip was an Aperol spritz, which is possibly the most deliciously refreshing beverage one could consume. And consume them I did!

My husband bought Aperol and prosecco so we can make these at home. Now, will they taste as good as the ones in Italy? It’s doubtful. But I am a Determined Woman and I will Give It A Try.

A non-pasta comestible I became obsessed with was pappa di pomodoro, a Tuscan soup made with tomato and – wait for it – stale bread. Does it sound weird? Yes. Is it incredibly delicious and do I wish I could be transported back to Tuscany to eat it? Also yes! I did attempt to make this at home, but it was like the time I tried rice milk ice cream: sadness in food form. My husband suggested I drink half a bottle of Chianti and then try my homemade pappa di pomodoro in order to accurately compare the two, but no. I’m just going to hold the savoury soupy memory of it in my heart.

Outfit of the Month

You know I wasn’t going to leave you hanging after telling you what I packed for the trip! I got so much wear out of this black tee dress THAT HAS POCKETS, and as a bonus I wore it with my full-length compression hose on days where we’d be standing a lot. After years of having only thick beige compression hose, I finally sprung for a couple of pair of black ones which just look like regular tights. Those boots are Sorels; they are unlined rain boots and they really go with so many different outfits.

I brought along my favourite blanket scarf, and of all the things I packed, this was the item that was used the least. We had really warm temperatures everywhere except Venice, and we were given blankets on the plane, so I didn’t really need it. Still, it looks cute with the dress.

November has just flown by, what with the trip, and catching up from the trip, and having a semi-breakdown about the postal strike, but here we are in the holiday season! What are your favourite things right now? Tell me everything. xo

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

Five (times two) For Friday: The Arrivederci Italia Edition

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WELL HELLO THERE! Where have I been? I spent just shy of three weeks in Italy; it was a dream vacation and I will remember it forever. Of course, I am in the what are words and how do we use them phase of jet lag, and so behold, I give you a photo-heavy overview of the ten places we visited.

  • Roma! We started and ended our vacation in Rome, which is my favourite city that I have ever been to. I was there on a school trip in Grade 11 and what I remember most is that I couldn’t walk five steps without being blown away by something incredible, and this was exactly my experience now, all these years later. We spent a total of six nights there, and we could have spent sixty and would still not have experienced everything. All of our touring was on foot along the cobblestone streets, dodging the tiny cars for whom things like “lanes” and “pedestrian areas” are fluid and flexible concepts.
  • Vatican City. On my husband’s birthday we went to the Vatican and had a small group tour of the museum and St Peter’s Basilica; of the six people in our group, three were celebrating birthdays. We were led by a very handsome and charming guide named Massimo, who appeared to be some kind of celebrity in the tour guide world. Everywhere we went we heard calls of Ey, Massimo!, to which he’d respond with a lift of his hand and a Ciao. Ciao! Allora., like he was on the red carpet, faced with the paparazzi, and we were his entourage, following behind, rarely getting our tickets checked at the security points. He spoke of himself in the third person. Why do you not let Massimo show you? he’d say, demi-sexually, with his hand on our shoulder if one of our group was lagging or distracted by something. I was the only non-Catholic in our group, which made me the subject of many, many jokes; Massimo gestured widely to the vast number of confessionals in the Basilica. You can surely find an English speaking priest, he said, looking at his watch, And you have until 7pm, that is enough time, no? It was 11am at the time, and I didn’t think eight hours would be quite enough to confess everything, and so I remain non-Catholic.
  • Civita de Bagnoregio. Rome must have been sad that we were leaving, as the beautiful weather TURNED on our departure. We had hired a driver to take us to Montepulciano with a stop at Civita de Bagnoregio, as driving in Italy – especially Rome – is pure madness. Madness, I say! Our driver, Roberto, was achieving speeds near 150 km/hour in the driving rain and fog, on winding roads, and I wondered if this would be the end, beautiful friend. Happily it wasn’t, but the weather did not let up for Civita, a tiny crumbling village on top of a mountain. On the upside, it wasn’t crowded.
  • Montepulciano. After that, Roberto zoomed us over to Montepulciano, a non-crumbling village atop a mountain in Tuscany. It is famous for its wine, which I enjoyed, and we toured a cellar that dated from 1337. We stayed in the most adorable six-room hotel, that was so full of tchotchkes, it felt like staying at someone’s nonna’s house.
  • Siena. We took the train to Siena, also in Tuscany, and enjoyed the food and wine there. Notably we explored the Duomo and climbed the Panorama del Facciatorre and Porto del Cielo, which gave a marvelous view of the city and the basilica. They were accessed by tiny, narrow, spiral staircases, so this is not for the claustrophobic. Fortunately I wasn’t, although the Panorama was a bit nerve wracking, being only a few feet wide with very low railings, towering above the city. We had the added pleasure of seeing longtime friends whom we hadn’t seen in twenty years. We moved on up in the world by staying in a ten-room hotel, which was gorgeous. In the incredible main piazza, I discovered a love of pigeons, channeling my inner Bert, or maybe even my inner Bobby Simone.
  • Firenze! We took the train to Florence, where we were to spend five nights. That’s a lot of nights in Florence, but we had several day trips, via train, planned. The train system is so great in Italy! While in Florence we enjoyed the Renaissance art, and also a little bit of market shopping. Almost everywhere, you can buy David penis-related merchandise, from fridge magnets to key chains to postcards to the type of apron that makes you look like your head has been transposed onto David’s body. It’s all so cheap and weird, which makes the viewing of the actual David even more spectacular. I remembered our teacher chaperone, back on my school trip in 1992, purchasing a plastic replica of David, and I can just imagine it on his coffee table, lo these many years later. I refrained from purchasing any penis-related memorabilia, so anyone expecting one such postcard will be disappointed.
  • Lucca. Our first day trip via train was Lucca, and it was kind of a low point. I had been excitedly anticipating this medieval walled city but we visited it the day before their famous comic and gaming conference, the largest in Europe. We got off the trip with several costumed individuals, including a man who looked exactly like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. The medieval wall was covered in tents from various sponsors, and their main square was filled with a tent advertising Squid Games. There was even a giant inflated anime character beside the church. Still, it was fun to stroll around.
  • Cinqueterra! If Lucca was the low point, Cinqueterra was the high. Our guide, Stephano, picked us up in Florence and drove us non-insanely to Manarola, which we strolled through to catch the train to Corniglia, where we hiked through the hillside to Vernazza. We had lunch there, then took the train to Monterossa al Mare, where I was surprised to see so many people on a beach vacation. This is the Speedo capital of the world! Stephano told me, gesturing to the many men so attired. From there we took a boat back to Manarola and headed back for Florence. It was such a great day, one of the best of my entire life.
  • Pisa! Like David’s penis, there are replicas of the Leaning Tower of Pisa everywhere, and so my expectations for this sight were fairly low. Was I ever wrong! We took the train to Pisa and when we came up to the historic building I absolutely gasped. It is so incredibly beautiful. It honestly took my breath away. We climbed to the top, and it was kind of unsettling to feel the slant in the floors and in the winding spiral steps. They’d slant one way, then, as you’d make your way to the other side, they’d slant the other. Also, there is a law that if you don’t take a photo pretending to hold up the tower, they make you go home, but it’s harder than you think!
  • Venizia! Venice is such a chaotic, beautiful, wild, crazy place. It is a frequent stop for cruise ships, and we got there on a Saturday afternoon, which was maybe not the best timing. There was incredibly dense fog, and we wandered the streets, getting pleasantly lost, until our wandering brought us into masses of people crammed into streets lined with incredibly high-end shops. It felt all the world like being in the Venetian hotel in Vegas, except with poor air quality. We had to stop and fortify ourselves with several Aperol spritzes. The next day was much more fun; we got up very early and took the Vaporitta, the water bus, through the city while listening to an audio guide. I had fully expected to want a gondola ride, but when I saw the reality – bumper to bumper gondolas, people queued up as for a Disney ride – I didn’t want to anymore. The population of Venice is diminishing rapidly as it is very expensive to live there, doing day-to-day things like getting groceries is nearly impossible, and there are very strict government building codes that prevent changes to dwellings that are decaying, mildewed, and subject to frequent floods. I’m really glad we went to Venice, because it’s an incredible sight to behold, but I don’t want to go back.

And now I’m home, and trying to catch up on life! I’d love to catch up with all of you, as well. I missed you! Currently I have 304 unread posts in my reader, so it might take some time – help a girl out and tell me what I’ve missed! News did follow me and so I did not miss the US election results. While I’m always sending Care Bear Stares to my friends around the globe, I’m sending extra to my friends south of the border. I hope you can feel them. Tell me something good, friends, or tell me what’s happening in your life, tell me something fun, tell me something serious, just tell me anything. xo