Category Archives: Fashion

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Self-Care During A Global Pandemic Edition

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Over the weekend, the situation changed hourly. By Sunday night, essentially everything was shut down: libraries, the gym, yoga studios, SCHOOL. School is – and I can’t think too much about this, I cannot think more than a day or two at a time right now – closed indefinitely. INDEFINITELY. Like I said, I can’t think too much about this. My kids are absolutely crushed; they are devastated about not seeing their friends, of course, but also worried about the academic implications. The high school is getting online learning going, and my high school student only has two core subjects this semester, both of which I personally excel at, math and English, so I will be able to help him as much as I can. He is currently reading To Kill a Mockingbird, which is one of my all-time favourites, so I am re-reading it now so we can have some good critical discussions. That, along with online math lessons, should be at least moderate to keep up with what will be needed in Grade 11, the important grade in terms of post-secondary early admissions.

The junior high, however, has stated that teachers CANNOT provide ANY school resources at this time, which, well. All of my son’s textbooks are online, so we can figure things out, and he is a very methodical worker so I’m hoping he will be able to self-learn. Of course I am here for his math and English as well – he is slated to study The Outsiders, which we have at home – but I’m unsure about the science and social studies curriculum. Well, we will get through. There will be a time after this, I keep telling myself. This isn’t forever.

The funny thing is that this week I had planned in my head to write a Favourite Things: Self Care Edition because of how busy this week always is, getting ready for spring break. It seems like an entirely different lifetime, doesn’t it? Like, normally I would be scrambling trying to fit in my bikini wax between classes, get the dog to the boarding kennel, and pack all the bags. I might even feel resentful that I am the key bag-packer in the house. OH TO HAVE THAT RESENTMENT.

Like I said, I can’t think too much about it. I can’t think about indefinite school closures, I can’t think about the escalation of cases and deaths, I can’t think about the massive economic fallout that this will have on everyone. We all have to take care of ourselves, and with that in mind…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Self-Care During a Global Pandemic Edition

Daily Mantra

Every day I repeat to myself that there are many things out of my control, so I can only control what I can control. It’s like I’m basically repeating the Serenity Prayer to myself over and over. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. We can only control our own thoughts, our own movements, our own actions. I can’t control the schools closing indefinitely but I can help the kids with lessons every day.

Daily Yoga

Yes, the studios are all closed but I have a long and well-established practice that I can easily do at home. Even if you DON’T, now is the time to start. God, if there was any time to start a home yoga practice, it would be now. My studio is starting to offer classes online – I’ll be teaching one this week, stay tuned! – but of course there are also countless YouTube videos out there. My husband is benefiting from my I-Miss-Teaching state of mind, and I’m giving him mini at-your-desk sessions throughout the day. Roll out your mat, and breathe.

How do you like my home yoga studio? Squeezed in between the kitchen and the dining room table which is also doubling as my husband’s work-from-home station. Well, that’s the great thing about yoga, all you need is enough space to roll out your mat.

Keep Active

With the gym closed, and my treadmill running and spin classes obviously being non-existent, I am putting in extra efforts to keep active. I am lucky enough to have an elliptical trainer in my basement, and fortunately the weather is decent – so long daily walks are on the schedule. The sidewalks are still pretty icy so I’m not comfortable running outside, but I will revisit that later. In any case, daily activity is important. And so is fresh air! At least this didn’t happen in January, I think to myself. Right? Because the days are longer and the sun is stronger. Get outside, breathe the air, be active.

Nourish Your Body

Let me tell you, on Friday I was in Let’s Eat And Drink Whatever We Want My God This Is The Apocalypse mode, and that was fine for a couple days, but definitely not sustainable. For one thing, if I keep drinking a bottle of wine every night I would quickly run out of wine. For another, I don’t want to outgrow all my clothes because well, no shopping for a while. So I’m keeping up with my Eating A Rainbow meal plan, there seems to be absolutely no issue getting fresh produce right now so I’m making sure the boys are eating their usual mammoth amounts of fruits and vegetables, and, of course, I’m having my daily green smoothies.

 

Cue the choir of angels: look at that avocado. My mom gave me that cutting board for Christmas after my son destroyed one of mine crushing candy canes.

Green Smoothies

This deserves its own heading. I have said countless times before that I swear by green smoothies for health and energy. I have one every day; my favourite is this one, but if you don’t want to click the link it is a cup of almond milk, two tablespoons almond butter, a frozen banana, a whole lot of cinnamon, and like 8 cups of spinach.

Hydrate

The green smoothie is hydrating, but so is water. Whenever I say I drink 4-5 litres of water daily, the question that always arises is “Don’t you pee a lot?” I mean, I guess? I don’t really monitor how much other people pee, but I would guess I probably do pee more than normal. I have a pretty water bottle that makes me happy every time I fill it, and if you think that sound frivolous, have you met me? I’m all about frivolous. On that note:

Make Yourself Feel Pretty

If there is nowhere to go and nobody to see, it’s pretty easy to slump into a series of Pajama Days. If that’s your jam, great! But for me, that is very bad for my mental health. So, every day I shower, put on a nice outfit. I put on makeup, do my hair, and wear my jewelry. I have been having a series of great hair days lately; isn’t that always the way? Great hair days and no one to share them with. Well, I’m sharing them with you now!

For God’s Sake, Step Away From The Internet

Yes, it’s important to be informed and yes, things change on the hour. However, constantly refreshing your feed is NOT the best idea if you want to stay sane. Or maybe it is, maybe that’s how you feel in control; for me, I have to step away. I mean, unless I want to see people fighting on my facebook page about whether or not the virus can survive in a warm climate, or the usual Internet Divided which happens for literally everything – EVERYTHING – but just feels gross now, the teams divided into We Are All Going To Die versus We Are All Overblowing Everything. As usual, there is no middle ground, and so it’s really better to Stay Off The Internet. Or just check in once or twice a day. The news is not going to be good no matter how you slice it, so just check in with what you need and get on with your day.

The exception? Cute photos. Look at this guy!

I’m also reading a lot – the library is closed but luckily I have tons of books that I love and am going to re-read. My mom gave me The Testaments for Christmas, which I haven’t read yet. I am not sure I can read something of a dystopian nature right now, but soon. In the meantime I will be sharing my reading list with you.

Please note that these are things that make ME feel better. Maybe they will resonate with you, maybe they won’t. Just stay safe, stay healthy, and remember that yes, there will be a time after this. It’s not forever. xoxo

And I try, oh my god do I try, I try all the time

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…in this institution.

I’m not exactly praying for a revolution, per se, but honest to god, yesterday I took the quadruple whammy: time change, Mercury still in retrograde, the eve of the full moon, AND after somewhat of a hiatus, my Ladies’ Holidays arrived. What timing. There is nothing we can do about moon phases and planetary movement, there is little to be done about Ladies’ Holidays, and here we still are, many years after the war ended, still pretending that Daylight Savings is indeed saving daylight and energy. We all spring forward like zombies, for absolutely no reason whatsoever except that we have to do it, or we will be an hour late to everything in society.

THERE IS NOT ACTUALLY MORE TIME IN THE DAY. We do indeed have more daylight, but that is due to the revolution of the earth around the sun, not moving the clocks forward.

Anyway, I am trying, OH MY GOD DO I TRY, to not make Time Change Week a self-fulfilling prophecy, I am trying to be positive and pretend like it’s any other week, I’m trying to look on the good side – wow, it sure is light out when we are eating dinner! – but I just spelled prophecy with an F and well. Well.

It’s going to be a very hectic week, in any event. I have a meeting at the school for my younger son’s sailing trip, which leaves in three weeks. I mean, hopefully. Given that we can’t do anything about external circumstances. The point is, there is actually a parent meeting! We also had a last-minute fundraiser because – and this may or may not surprise you – the poinsettia fundraiser did NOT do as well as expected. Isn’t that strange, in the middle of a recession in Alberta, people aren’t clamouring for $40 arrangements right before Christmas. I cannot believe it either. Well, I leaned in HARD to this fundraiser as it was for Co-Op grocery and gas station gift cards; this is an actual useful fundraiser for things people might actually want. Maybe we can all use our Co-Op gift cards to stock up on toilet paper. They had it on sale this weekend.

Anyway, my lovely friends were more than generous for this fundraiser; I instantly blew past the minimum I needed to sell and ended up nearly five times that. My hope is that this fundraiser will be as wildly successful for everyone as it has been for me, and that the administration will take note and, perhaps, come to the conclusion that gift card fundraisers are the way to go, and the poinsettia one can stay in the trash where it belongs. Technically the future doesn’t matter for me, as I won’t be doing this ever again, but I like to think of myself as benevolently hoping for the next generation of sailing-trip parents.

God bless you all, for your tips about bra shopping and fitting, and sharing your similar anguish and bust-related woes. My friend Megan (HI MEGAN) sent me directions on how to measure myself for a bra, and let me tell you this: the size of my old bra was so incredibly wrong, it was startling. In fact, it was such an odd size that it qualified as a “specialty” one, which is how I ended up deciding to visit the specialty shop just across the street from the studio at which I teach. I had a class Friday at lunch, but I gathered all my mental strength and zipped over to the shop, giving myself a nice window of time before class. Or, at least, I thought it was a nice window of time.

When I related my tale to the lady at the shop, she tilted her head and said that at that store, they don’t do such pedestrian things as measure for bra size. As I looked at her, confused, she just said that I would try on bras until I found one I liked and that fit. Ooo-kay. She brought me the size I thought I was, which did not fit. Then she brought me another one, and it did not fit. Then she brought me the size of my old bras, and, unsurprisingly, that also did not fit. Twelve bras later, all different sizes and styles, none of which was even close to fitting, I found that I had ran out of time and had to get to the studio.

God, I hate wasting time. More than anything else, that makes me crazy. Well, it’s probably a good thing anyway, since the only thing I hate as much as wasting time is wasting money, and every single one of those bras were over $150. At one point – probably around Bra Eight – I would have paid all that and more just to end this hellish shopping experience and leave with something to show for my efforts. I guess on the bright side, if I’m going to wear the wrong size bra, at least I can do that with the ones I have in my lingerie drawer, at no additional expense.

I left the store with my self-esteem somewhat in tatters. I mean, who can’t get a bra that fits at a specialty bra store that specializes in hard-to-fit sizes? Me, apparently. I think I’ll try a non-specialty store in the hopes that I am not as special as I think I am.

Well, I tried. Oh my god, did I try.

All Panic, No Disco

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This week is a Costco week, and I happened to have a little bit of time on Monday morning to venture over there. I had seen the news about long lineups and store craziness, but honestly, from the photos I saw it just seemed like a regular day at my busy Costco. However, I have never been there at opening before, mostly because I only discovered a month ago that Costco opens at 9:00; I had always thought it was 10:00 and would time my arrival to be just shortly after that. Wow, people really get to the checkout quickly I would think, seeing lineups at 10:15 and assuming that all those people were power-shopping after their 10:00 arrival. Anyway, what I’m saying is I’ve never been to Costco at 8:55 before and it was an experience.

I don’t know if this is normal behaviour, or if it was Coronavirus panic, but carts were lined up awkwardly through the parking lot, waiting for the doors to open. Maybe this always happens; I don’t know. I turned to ask the lady beside me if it was always like this, but she was wearing a mask and latex gloves, so I felt she probably didn’t want me to strike up a conversation.

My friend Janet, of beautiful hair fame, (HI JANET) said she was at Costco and the greeters were wiping down carts with antibacterial wipes, but using the same wipe over and over. I’m not sure what we are doing here.

I have a natural tendency to overbuy things when they are on sale, and I have to really fight that tendency so as to not end up with an overflowing house. That said, I always – always! – have backups of important things like my most-used food staples, soap, toothpaste, dish soap, and – wait for it – toilet paper. I never buy it at Costco though, only Superstore when they have a sale or there are special PC points involved. So I was probably the only person at Costco on Monday morning without giant stacks of Kirkland toilet paper in my giant cart.

It was impossible not to notice. When I later heard that Costco ran OUT of toilet paper, I was completely unsurprised.

Well. I don’t ever think it’s a bad idea to be prepared for an emergency, and the great news is that Superstore still has plenty of toilet paper, people, plenty. I have been slowly and quietly putting a few extra things in my pantry and medicine chest like ibuprofen, vitamins, and, alliteratively enough, shelf-stable staples. If it’s all for naught, well, at least I won’t have to buy chickpeas for a while.

I am generally very good at cleaning out my cupboards; rotating canned goods and making sure they all get consumed. However, I was organizing things in my canned-good cupboard and I noticed a jar, way at the back. I pulled it out and it was a jar of olives, not the brand I normally buy, and in fact, I couldn’t remember ever buying them. They had pits, for one thing, and I always buy pitted. I looked at the top and people, they expired in 2013. Expired! How long does it take for olives to expire? When did I even buy these? We renovated our kitchen in 2012, I would have thought I would have discovered the olives prior to that. Who knows?

I had a friend over for tea the other day (HI T) and we were talking about my long-ago shopping challenge. I mentioned to her that, because of the shopping challenge and also when I Kondo-ed the house, I am a lot more aware of the things I buy and bring into the house. Other than, apparently, olives. But I am more mindful of what I buy; sometimes I am too mindful, as is the case with my ill-fitting bras. One of my exceptions to the shopping challenge was a new bra, because my old ones didn’t – and do not – fit properly. I finished that shopping challenge in 2018. Buying a bra was one of my 2020 New Year’s Resolutions.

My friend told me that I really should get on that resolution, that she herself had been bra shopping and, after being measured, discovered that she is a much different size than she thought she was. She and I wear the same size bra, or DID until she got fitted. Her new size made my eyes pop out of my head. Could I ALSO be that size? I know a number is just a number and a size is just a size, but I was wowed. And so it was with this thought in mind, plus her assertion about how much more comfortable she is in her bras these days, I decided to bite the bullet and go to the mall.

I probably wouldn’t have even gone to the mall had I not needed to purchase a birthday gift for a special soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old, but there I was, gift purchased, with thirty minutes to spare before I needed to leave for my afternoon class. I power-walked through the mall to get extra steps in, and circled around to the Victoria’s Secret. Well, to what WAS the Victoria’s Secret. The store was shuttered, with not even a sign remaining. How long has this been closed? I thought. I was just in the mall in January, and it was open then. Regrets, I have them. All this time, I have had a Victoria’s Secret five minutes away from my home, all these years, and now it’s gone. I could have been buying a bra anytime I wanted, and now, no. They probably had a closing out sale! I COULD HAVE HAD A DISCOUNTED NEW BRA IN MY (HOPEFULLY) NEW BRA SIZE! Don’t take life for granted, people. I took Victoria’s Secret for granted, and now it’s gone. Probably because I couldn’t even get it together enough to got shopping. I started humming You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone…

I stood there, staring, at the shuttered window with the song going in my head on a loop. I must have stood there for three solid minutes, probably looking like a lunatic, while another song came into my head, courtesy of the Evita soundtrack. So what happens now…where am I going to…

It goes without saying that I left the mall with my New Year’s Resolution still unfulfilled. Yes, I do know that there are other lingerie stores. Yes, I do know I could visit The Bay where I could get chided by an older Eastern European lady for wearing an incorrect bra size, before being steered toward the Olga line. But I’ve only worn Victoria’s Secret bras for the last decade, and I am feeling bereft. Yes, I do know that there are other Victoria’s Secrets in the general Calgary area, but I tell you this: if I didn’t go to a shop only five minutes away, there is no way I am going to get in the car and drive to the outlet mall outside the city limits, or, worse, to the mall in the south side of the city, to get to which I have to take my most-loathed-it-must-have-been-engineered-and-planned-by-a-group-of-drunks freeway.

No, I am going to just accept that I will probably wear my current bras when I’m in the nursing home. We are together for life, now. Me and my ill-fitting bras, together forever.

Strange Things Afoot In The Boyhouse

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Somebody’s Got a Case of the Mondays

In general, ever since I quit my Monday/ Tuesday morning teaching job at a studio across the city, I very much enjoy Monday mornings. I like having the time, before my Monday afternoon class, to organize things from the weekend, time to write and time to bake things and run errands and, sometimes, even sit down to play the piano. However, today feels like the most Monday-ish of Mondays, and not in a happy way. I feel like I could possibly blame this on a combination of the greyness of the day and my menstrual cycle, but let’s face it: at this age who knows what a menstrual cycle actually is. It’s like the cycle piece of my Garmin app is about to self-destruct from frustration about the lack of any predictability. How can I blame my period when it could be anywhere from three weeks to three months? Maybe I’m just a crabby bitch.

It’s The Last Week of February

I said to one of my students last week that it feels like it was just New Year’s, and now next week is March. MARCH. I logically know that there are 24 hours in every day and 7 days in every week, but it still feels startling, how fast time goes. I also acknowledge that, for most people, January and February go by with snail-like speed, but I honestly cannot believe how fast the time has gone. NEXT WEEK IS MARCH. Which brings me to…

What Is Going On With The Principal?

My younger son is going on a West Coast sailing trip at the end of March, directly after Spring Break. He’s flying out to the coast, and sailing on a tall ship for five days. It will be a great experience I’m sure, and yet I cannot help but worry that we have had no parent meetings for this trip since the one in October, in which the principal showed us a video of the trip he took in 1999, told us to pressure other kids into going on the trip, and brought up my much-despised poinsettia fundraiser. I have no other information, other than a pack list obtained from my son. The kids have had weekly meetings to go over important learn-to-sail-what-to-do-if-there-is-a-man-overboard but there has been no other information emailed out. I mean, I don’t even know what flight he is going to be on or any of the times. This, from a principal who is kind of famous for sending out many, many emails.

Last week the kids made sandwiches for a shelter, which they do every year, and for which they rely on parent donations of sandwich items and plastic bags. We received the email about this the evening before the five-day weekend, for items to be received on the morning the kids got back to school. A little notice would have been nice, particularly since I had already done my shopping for the week and had to make a special trip just to obtain my required sandwich bags. In addition, there was no reminder email about booking parent-teacher conferences. It’s so out of character, I’m wondering if there is a serious issue with the principal, or if he’s preparing for retirement or something. Have you seen him? I asked my son. Is he still…around?

Speaking of parent-teacher conferences, the booking process is all online, which I love. Bookings opened at 7:00 am last Tuesday, and at 6:58 I was at the computer, obsessively refreshing my screen. I like to book all the teachers one after another, and I wanted a specific time, so I was happy that my obsessive-refreshing paid off. I realized with a start that this was my last parent-teacher conference booking ever, which did not at all make me feel mournful and Landslide-y, but instead incredibly joyful. As god is my witness, I will never be obsessively refreshing the conference-booking-site again.

Seriously, though. Why no parent meetings? March is a short month, school-wise, with March break and the annual musical theatre performance…there are not that many days available for a parent meeting. What is going on.

Am I Actually Karl Lagerfeld?

I have been successfully doing the February Clothing Challenge, where I wear a different outfit every day. I started to take photos of each outfit to keep track, but became extremely bored of it, mostly because even when I’m wearing a different outfit daily, my outfits are all very similar. I mean, how many photos do I need of me wearing yoga pants and tank underneath a long-sleeved tee with one of nine drapey black cardigans? Sure, sometimes I wear one of ten black non-cardigan-sweaters, and sometimes I – crazily enough – wear a sweater/ cardigan that is grey or cream, and on non-teaching days I wear jeans, but honestly, I feel like I am one of those people who wear basically the same thing every day.

I used to see those articles about people wearing the same clothes every day, and I would think that was gross – because I had the mistaken idea that they were literally wearing the same exact clothes daily – and also boring. But I guess I am one of those people, along with Karl Lagerfeld, Mark Zuckerberg, Simon Cowell, and the late Steve Jobs. Well, no one has accused me of being particularly exciting or of living on the edge, so I guess I’ll just keep on keeping on.

Why Does Autocorrect Want Me To Yell At You?

Ever since I got my new phone, it does the strangest thing: when I start typing a name, any name at all, it autocorrects the name to all capitals. Let me be clear: I’m not misspelling the name, or not usually, anyway. This has been irritating as I either have to delete and retype the name, or I send the text or message in a way that looks like I am yelling at the recipient. Why is this happening? I really don’t know and I don’t know how to fix it. I guess what I am saying is that if I send you a text and you think I’m yelling, I’m not. I swear.

Well. I feel less crabby now that I’ve written all this down; I guess it’s time to go out into the grey, cold day. Happy Last-Week-of-February, everyone! xo

Brass Monkey, that funky monkey

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All high schools in the city, it seems, have a reputation or something that they are known for. Some schools are known for their excellence in fine and performing arts, some schools have fabulous vocational programs, some schools excel at sports. The nearby Catholic high school, for example, has won the city championships in football pretty much every year since its inception. Our high school has a reputation for academia, and the demographics in the school reflect that.

So it was with interest that I attended Math 10 Parent Info Night on Tuesday. We are a very mathematically-inclined family, and even though I couldn’t imagine what the info night would cover – I already had the course outline, complete with weighting for each unit, test schedule, and information about notes-for-purchase and the required graphing calculator – I wasn’t going to miss it.

It turns out that, hilariously, in addition to a discussion about different streams of math and the various avenues available for academic assistance, the math department felt the need to give a somewhat prolonged lecture with an underlying message to parents to just calm the fuck down. It was priceless.

I consider myself to be, in many ways, a very strict parent. I have high expectations for my children in terms of academic performance, work ethic, and general behaviour, but in that crowd, I looked like a lax, overly permissive hippie.

My son’s math teacher got up to speak; he is an older, very formal gentleman who is of Ethiopian descent. He began with a very long story about how he is actually a physicist, he loves teaching high school math but his first major was physics. This went on for some time, causing me to tilt my head and think where is he going with this. Eventually he revealed that his daughter, in high school, was struggling in physics. More than struggling, she was suffering. And so, after some discussion with the teacher, he withdrew her from physics. In the car on the way home she sighed with relief and said “I didn’t think you would let me drop physics.”

At this point the teacher appealed to the parents, saying that he did not know WHY she would think that she had to take physics, just because HE was a physicist. That was HIS dream, not hers. I half expected him to start reciting Your children are not your children, but instead he stated that, as parents, we may have dreams of our children being engineers or doctors or what have you, but there are many, many different paths to success in the world.

He concluded by saying, with much pride, that his daughter is now a high school band teacher. I smiled, and looked around at my fellow parents, expecting a certain smiling reaction to a man who has revealed with pride and joy that his daughter chose her own path, one that has led to success.

The room was silent. All the parents were leaning back in their chairs with their arms crossed, and a look of bemusement mixed with horror on their faces.

Well.

After that the presentation opened up to a Q and A session, which was equally ridiculous. One mother kept pressing to see what SPECIFIC grades a university engineering program required for entrance, a question literally impossible to answer. A father asked which math stream was appropriate for a student who has career aspirations of being an astronaut. Sir, if your child is going to obtain a PhD in Astrophysics, probably that child should pursue the more RIGOROUS math stream?

At that point I booted it out of there, and when I got home and relayed the story my son pointed out that I did, indeed, look a little bit like a hippie with my yoga pants and mala, which seemed a bit aggressive on his part. It’s not like I was wearing Birkenstocks or sporting leg and armpit hair.

I do very much value academics, but I am also very happy that my son is taking drama this semester. I played Amanda Wingfield in our high school production of The Glass Menagerie, and I can still do a mean Southern accent. I also played – bizarrely – Shelly in Grade 11 when our school did Buried Child, and if you do not know this play, I suggest you google it and sit in awe that a high school actually put on such a thing.

Anyway, the current unit in my son’s drama class is lip-synching, and he and a friend have chosen Brass Monkey as their assignment.

As a slight aside, during the week the boys work out in the “dungeon” after school; they alternate days and if I didn’t already know their workout schedule I would be able to ascertain it based solely on the playlist blasting from the basement. My younger son’s playlist is almost entirely Guns and Roses, interspersed with some dreadful death metal and – strangely enough – Elton John. There’s something weirdly unsettling about having Tiny Dancer follow Mr. Brownstone. My older son’s playlist is similar, except that it is Van Halen with Led Zeppelin, with the occasional Michael Jackson tune.

I am not judging, here, my own workout playlist is similarly eclectic, with everything from Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock to the Pointer Sisters to Jimi Hendrix to Eminem.

Because of the impending Brass Monkey performance, my son has been working out to the Beastie Boys exclusively this past week, and let me tell you this: if I thought having Honky Cat in my head for six days straight was bad, it was NOTHING compared to Brass Monkey. Honky Cat, at least, has lyrics that I know and are varied. Now I just keep mentally yelling Brass Monkey, that funky monkey, Brass Monkey junkie…over and over in my head.

Yesterday my son was working out and I was inspired. I ran down the stairs and screamed at him “WHAT’S THAT NOISE?”

He stared at me for a moment – I’m not a screamer, especially not for no apparent reason – and then it dawned on him. “Mom, you’re just jealous, IT’S THE BEASTIE BOYS!”

It was as proud a moment as could be. I felt like his math teacher, beaming with pride and joy. I also felt like this:

Well, this Cool Mom is off to do some cardio and maybe I’ll add the Beastie Boys to my playlist today. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “Yes, I Am Still Talking About My Feet” Edition

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Last week I stepped into my Sorel boots and immediately got a very wet sock. It turns out that, after nine years of service, they have given up the ghost. There was a big crack in the sole of the boot; farewell, Sorels.

I actually checked the blog to see when I purchased them and, indeed, it was January 2011. Even though these boots were perfect for just stepping into, making them ideal for wearing to and from the gym and yoga, I am not that sorry to see them go. They were heavy – like walking with 1980s-style ankle weights – and due to their age, not even very warm anymore. Plus, they are extremely unattractive, which in a way was a bonus: no one would ever voluntarily steal them from the gym or wherever. Who would want such ugly, heavy boots? That said, my friend Taryn (HI TARYN) is attempting to fix the sole so at least they can be donated, as the thought of just dropping them into the garbage was a bit too much for me. Maybe someone will indeed want them.

I can really understand, as I age, how old people end up with substandard things they have had for decades, just because they are “too good” to throw out. For one thing, time goes by so quickly – we are more than a third through February, people, wasn’t it just New Year’s a minute ago – and so things purchased years ago can still feel “new.” I just bought new towels, the old ones going to our “vacation house” (it’s a LONG story that I might get into sometime), and the difference is night and day. How have we lived this long with what essentially feels like burlap, when we could have been enjoying these new towels that feel like I am drying myself off with an actual cloud? Well, those burlap towels were purchased when we renovated in 2012, and they probably felt like clouds at the time too, but that was EIGHT YEARS AGO. Things wear out, like towels, and Sorel boots, and flannel sheets, which currently also feel like burlap and which are, as we speak, on sale at Costco for $49.99 per set. But my sheets are perfectly fine and serviceable, I think, I just bought them. Probably also eight years ago, at the least.

Anyway. I may work myself up to new flannel sheets at some point, but right now, maybe because of my Sorels, maybe because of my panic-at-the-disco about gel pedicures, I want to talk about feet. I promised you all that I would talk about my favourite foot care products, and I do not disappoint. Whether you do your own pedicures, or you are looking for some nice products, or you are just actually interested in the state of my feet, I have recommendations for you. Without further ado…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “Yes, I Am Still Talking About My Feet” Edition

Soak Them

The first thing I do when giving myself a home pedicure – if I have time, that is – is to soak my feet in (usually very) hot water, with a sprinkle of the Saje bath salts below. I am not sold on Saje bath salts over any other bath salts, but I a) do not take baths* and b) a student gave me this giant bottle of salts, and so I like to use them. They are a lovely lavender scent, and they are “yoga” brand so, fun! But, you know, use whatever you like.

*I feel weird saying I do not take baths, because it makes me sound like an unwashed barbarian. I’m sure you all assume that to mean that I only take showers.

Anyway, I soak my feet for 5-10 minutes or so, depending on how much time I have, and then I painstakingly remove my nail polish. I say painstakingly because I have worn red nail polish on my toes since I was sixteen years old, with no breaks, and so my natural toenail colour is, shall we say, unattractive.

After soaking, if time permits, I quickly file any dry, crusty parts off of my feet with the file above. I have no idea where that file came from. Did I buy it? Did it come in a gift pack? I have no idea. I just know it’s been in my bathroom drawer for many years and it is a very good quality foot file.

Spa Ritual Polish

Honest to god, this is the best nail polish ever. It’s what they use in the fancy salon I frequent with my mom on Mother’s Day for our annual pedicure. I usually buy a bottle while I’m there, and it lasts me pretty much the whole year. This colour is Soulful, which makes me smile. The polish advertises as being vegan and cruelty-free, which is nice, but it also makes you wonder how a nail polish could NOT be vegan. It’s probably best not to think about it. Anyway, this is a super-long-lasting polish, and the pink colour in the above photo is what I use on my fingernails. It’s a nice natural colour, called Idyllic. Idyllic and Soulful, that’s me.

Don’t Forget The Top Coat

The white bottle in the group photo is the official top coat for Spa Ritual, and it does make the pedicure last a long time. However, I haven’t noticed a significant difference – other than price, hoo boy, the price – between that top coat and good old Sally Hansen:

I don’t think I’ve ever used it as a base coat. Maybe this accounts for my hideous natural nail colour.

O’Keefe’s Foot Cream

I have tried every single foot cream/ foot balm/ foot “rescue” that you could possibly imagine, and they all worked in a fair-to-middling kind of way. My husband was swayed by an O’Keefe’s commercial to try their dry skin cream and reported it to be better than anything he had ever tried, including Gold Bond. I thought I’d try the foot cream, and was almost put off by the cost, but I soldiered through.

People, this is the greatest foot cream of all time. It is like a literal foot miracle. Dry skin, cracked skin, crusty skin, all GONE. I was braced for it to smell medicinal and old-people-ish, but it is actually light and minty scented. I cannot say enough about this cream; for once the commercials do not lie. Just a word of warning, as with any foot cream, be sure to put socks on after use, and it’s probably best to use it at night and not right before you put on shoes or sandals. Unless you like footprints on your floor and sliding out of your shoes.

 

It’s been almost two weeks since my last home pedicure – not bad!

Feel free to share your favourite foot products with me, and have a happy Monday! xo

Maybe they are “regular”

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I am absolutely a morning person, and yet I’ve had a few strange occurrences over the past few days that have caused me to figuratively tilt my head and raise my eyebrows at myself. On Saturday I started the coffee without noticing that the pot was on an angle, and by the time I finished washing my face, brushing my teeth, and feeding the dog there was half a pot of coffee that had spilled out on my countertop. Half a pot of coffee is a lot of coffee on a flat surface; it took me many minutes and many dish clothes to clean the mess up. I had to move all the small appliances and twenty-five bananas out of the pool of coffee and, of course, the angled pot had pressed up onto the filter and so there were grounds all through my coffee maker as well. My coffee maker was in need of a vinegar cleaning anyway – I am not sure if I’ve EVER given it a vinegar cleaning, and I have had this coffee maker since at least 2012 – but still. It was not, I thought, the best way to start a new month.

Then, this morning I went to yoga practice with my pants inside out. I didn’t even notice until I was two-thirds of the way through; if they were black I’m sure I would have never noticed, but they were blue, with a black gusset, and so it was fairly obvious.

Despite these two occurrences, February seems to be off to a good start. Saturday my husband and I had a date to The Casbah, where I had the single best meal of my life. I am not exaggerating. It was epic. If you are in Calgary, you really must go. Not only is the food incredible – I’m serious, it was the best meal I have ever consumed – the atmosphere is wonderfully romantic and lovely. I have always wanted to visit Morocco; one day I will and I will eat all the chickpeas and tajines and couscous you can imagine.

Then yesterday, in addition to being a palindrome, Kansas City won the Superbowl, which I was excited about. I also made a delicious dessert that I hadn’t made for a while, strawberry daiquiri pie. It’s the easiest thing in the world: a few days before, put two cans of full-fat coconut milk in the fridge. Scoop out the thick and creamy part to use, whirl it in a food processor with three cups of sliced strawberries (I used thawed frozen ones), two tablespoons of lime juice, and 1/2 cup honey. Pour it into a graham cracker crust (1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs with 1/4 cup melted coconut oil). Freeze, eat with magic shell chocolate (2/3 cup coconut oil melted with 1 cup chocolate, add 1 teaspoon vanilla and 1 tablespoon honey).

Most importantly, though, today my son went back to school. Hurrah to the end of exam break, all is back to normal in the Boyhouse.

So February is great so far, and I am happy to report that I am no longer hearing Honky Cat on a loop in my head. I was talking to the boys about this and my younger son pointed out it was excellent that I didn’t have Bennie and the Jets stuck in my head, because no one knows the words to it. I realized with a start that this was true. I don’t know the words to Bennie and the Jets; I would venture to say that no one does*. I would say that the entire population might know “Hey Kids,” followed by a great deal of mumbling, then “She’s got electric boots,” more mumbling that culminates in “B-b-b-bennie and the Jets.” But nothing else.

My son told me he had looked up the lyrics and it was worth doing; if you are interested you should do this because whoa nelly, none of those words a) make sense, and b) sound like anything at all in the song.

Speaking of things that don’t make sense, I had to go to Walmart for a few Walmart-y type things, one of which was Advil. The Pain Relief aisle is the same as the Family Planning aisle – huh, let’s not think too much about this – and there was a man there, talking with one of the employees. The employee – who was, I feel it is important to mention, female – had a box of condoms in her hand and was reading it.

Employee: This says “Extra Large.”

Man: No, no, that’s not what I need. Is there an “Extra SMALL?”

At this point I seriously considered browsing through the KY jellies and multiple personal lubricants just to hear the rest of the exchange. Mostly, though, I was impressed with this man. I mean, who has the confidence to ask for extra small condoms in a normal, non-whispery voice? Who has the confidence to actually go to a physical store to look for extra small condoms, rather than special order them online? May we all hold ourselves in such esteem.

Also? I’m pretty sure they DON’T have extra small condoms. I am pretty sure that the condom companies would never market them that way. It’s probably like in Starbucks, where a small is a Tall.

Well, there’s no good way to segue into this, but look at what I saw in the Co-Op the other day:

CANNED HAGGIS. Who knew there was such a thing? Not me, that’s for sure. As if haggis itself isn’t gross enough – “I think all of Scottish cuisine is based on a dare,” Mike Myers – CANNED haggis? Who would buy this? Let alone who would pay $13.29 for a can of haggis? No Scottish person, that’s for sure. If there is one thing that unites us as a people, it is frugality.

As a note I have never actually eaten haggis, canned or no, and I never will. But I just can’t imagine it being good in any capacity, even if I wasn’t vegetarian. Note the mushy peas next to it. Shudder, shudder, shudder.

I have decided that I WILL challenge myself to wear a different outfit every day in February. Let’s see how this goes. Today is cold and snowy and grey, which is a very February kind of day, I think. So why not brighten it up by digging through my closet to come up with different things? If there’s one thing I love, it’s clothes. And Moroccan food. And Elton John.

Here are my first three outfits of the month: date night, my only football-themed top for Superbowl Sunday, and a very typical “teaching day” outfit.

*Technically it is not no one; other than Elton John, my friend’s husband does actually know the words, which is a very excellent party trick in my opinion.