Category Archives: Fashion

He’s gone, oh I, oh I, I have to learn how to face it.

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THE MANNEQUIN IS GONE. For all it’s creepiness, I’m strangely bereft, and also very puzzled: where, exactly, did it go? It wasn’t garbage day. Did one of the neighbours take it and, if so, what are they doing with it? It’s also strangely unnerving because when it was behind my house I knew where it was. Now, it could turn up anywhere. It’s like when your toddlers are underfoot and they’re noisy and messy but at least you know where they are. When they sneak off silently to another room, you do not know the carnage that awaits. This is how I feel about the mannequin; also, I never got to dress him up in a jaunty hat and scarf to take a photo.

Today I made the monumental decision to buy myself and the boys new socks. This sounds like a nothing kind of decision, but honestly, I hate buying socks with a weird, irrational passion. There is no explanation for this. I tend to wear my socks until they are literally falling apart, and then I just hoard them like a weird sock-wearing squirrel in my sock drawer. Then – because I only wear black socks – the socks inevitably get mixed together and I wear slightly mismatching socks, or one normal sock with one almost-worn-out sock and…I don’t know. I have a closet full of clothes, drawers full of sweaters, panty drawers full of attractive panties, and yet my sock drawer is a disaster. There may be some psychological explanation for this, but I don’t know what it is.

Anyway, today I had enough. I threw out ALL my socks, because they are all nearly destroyed, and all the boys’ socks, because of the same situation, and bought a total of twenty-four pairs of cheap socks. Now we all have nice socks, and I promise on my honour not to hoard them when they are worn out.

What a weird thing to be cheap about, I know. I don’t understand it either.

So People magazine came out with the Sexiest Man Alive and it’s Chris Hemsworth. Honestly, I’m just excited that I actually recognize a celebrity. All that action-movie-watching with my children has finally paid off! To be honest, Thor isn’t my type, really, but I can appreciate him as an excellent physical specimen. I’m sure my husband will have something to say about this, the way he did when I said that Adam Levine is not attractive, but he just got back from a business trip late last night and so I haven’t had a chance to divulge the very important information regarding the 2014 Sexiest Man Alive.

Wouldn’t it be fun to make a list of the Sexiest Man Not Alive? I tried to think of some but only came up with Almanzo Wilder.

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Oh, Manly. You save the town from starvation, you save Laura’s sanity by rescuing her from red-rum, red-rum Mrs. Brewster’s house, taking her home by sleigh in minus 40 degree weather when she said she wasn’t interested in you, you purchase a pretty hair comb set and anonymously leave it for Laura at the town Christmas tree, you buy her a pretty brooch and surprise the bejesus out of her on a totally separate Christmas Eve, you build her the cutest house with cupboards because you know a woman won’t love you without a proper kitchen. And yet, you actually turn into a pretty lame duck, what with your amassing massive debt, your inability to farm, your crippling diphtheria. And again, I regret every minute I spent reading The First Four Years, a truly depressing book. Why didn’t I leave off at These Happy Golden Years? Regrets, I have a few.

Anyway, I keep trying to think of deceased men that would be considered sexy and I can’t think of any! This is wrong. There must be someone! I’m having dead-sexy-men writer’s block, people. Any suggestions?

How to be the most glamourous, exciting, and charming girl in your set.

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So much sadness, my washer died mid-cycle today, leaving behind a stinky mess of sopping wet clothes and an odour that is permeating the basement. Goodbye, washer. I’ll miss you. Meanwhile I spent a sizeable chunk of time pulling the clothes out and finding places to hang them so they won’t mildew prior to my camping out at a VERY KIND friend’s house with my laundry basket. I feel a bit like a desperate university student, like I’m going to start dragging a garbage bag full of clothes around with me. Also, I dripped some of the icky undrained water on my sweater and leggings so now I feel like I smell a bit. I probably do smell a bit, distressingly enough.

Anyway, there are worse problems, right? Like finding this is in the green space behind my house:

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I was backing out of the garage, on my way to run errands, and I saw a leg sticking out from behind a pile of branches. Hmm. I have seen people, on many occasions, passed out in the alley and green space behind my house, so I assumed it was a similar situation. Hours later, it was still there. By this time I had the kids in the car and I had to know – was it a body? I told the kids to stay put and I nervously approached what I HOPED wasn’t a dead body. The kids kept yelling from the car, to not go near it, because it was DEAD. Mom, NO. NO! Don’t go near the dead body!

And yet, I was compelled to approach it, because I worried that if it was actually a dead body, we would have an unreported dead body in the alley, and that seemed way worse than my viewing said dead body. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just a mannequin with its arm ripped off, and yet, it wasn’t all that reassuring. How did it get there? What, exactly, are my neighbours up to?

Speaking of creepy, I’ve been going through my Childhood Boxes of Terror, as my husband calls them, and there are some very interesting findings indeed. For example, a Xeroxed letter from Corey Hart, indicating my admission into the Corey Hart Fan Club.

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And in case you’re not sure it gets better than that, it does.

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This ain’t my first rodeo OR Royal Baby Watch.

Those old People magazines are a hoot, by the way. The hairstyles alone are worth the price of admission. Plus, there are so many cigarette ads! Virginia Slims – You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby. Not only did I collect these magazines, paper doll books, and commemorative publications, but I also had this:

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Not only does it have very carefully pasted magazine and newspaper clippings that are very carefully labelled, the front of the book features swoopy writing and a My Little Pony puffy sticker.

Have you ever felt lacking in charm? Maybe you don’t feel beautiful? Or glamourous? Lord knows that after bailing out a smelly dead washing machine, I feel a little wilted. Well, I have the antidote for you:

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Do YOU want to become the most glamourous, exciting, and charming girl in your set? Faithfully following the pointers in these books will lead to instant popularity and, needless to say, happiness. These were published in the early 60s and they are GOLD. There is an entire section answering the question as to why one should use deodorant, and another whole section on the monthly curse, although it is not titled as such. If you’ve noticed an increased interest in homemaking and grooming, you may be ready for the talk.

Well, I am pretty interested in homemaking at the moment, specifically, how to get my home to not smell like a mildewed sewer. It’s a good thing I’m going to be recipe testing this weekend for homemade vegan Baileys. I have a feeling I’m going to need it, if only to dull the pain of missing my dear, departed washer.

Achievement Unlocked

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Over the last few weeks I’ve been doing a nice mix of online shopping and blast-through-the-mall shopping, and I can proudly announce that I am all done Christmas shopping, including teacher’s gifts and stocking stuffers. ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. I think this is a new record for me, but I don’t think I’ll be breaking this record any time soon. November 4th is probably as early as I’m going to get.

One reason I wanted to get my shopping out of the way is that next week is the Scholastic Book Fair, and I am running it for the sixth year in a row, making this my thirteenth book fair. Thirteenth! I wonder if it’s unlucky. Maybe they’ll forget to send us the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid, or extra supplies of cake pop erasers. That would be unlucky indeed. In any case, next week is spoken for, and so this morning I had a little bit of time so I hit the mall with a vengeance. I only got distracted once, by the Sorel boot display at Town Shoes. If there had been a saleslady around to answer my question as to the cold-rating of some very cute and non-clunky boots, I would have been poorer in money but richer in boots. Alas, it was not to be.

My usual reason for getting my shopping done in November is that Christmas shopping in December is completely depressing and soul-destroying. It all starts with the parking. The mall parking lot is always full, with cars creeping behind pedestrians to see where they are parked and parking-lot-rage-infused people who wait with their signal lights flickering only to have someone else sneak in to the desired spot. There is always a lot of honking, and people wandering in front of cars, and a general feeling of “this must be what hell is like”. Actually inside the mall is terrible too: it’s freezing outside and so you have your winter coat and boots on, but the thermostat is set to “Hades” inside. There are insane lineups, crying children, and extraordinarily tense adults. It’s like all the bad parts of Disneyland without the fun of Dole Whip and the Jungle Cruise. It’s all the exhausted princess-gowned and mouse-eared children, sobbing in limp, over-stimulated piles, being dragged along by the arm by parents with grim, let’s-just-get-through-this expressions, and hour-long lineups and relentless heat, and tinny music on repeat, without the joy of churros and corny jokes about rhinoceroses.

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Disneyland Joy!

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Jungle Cruise Joy!

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Pluto Joy!

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Goddammit, why don’t they sell booze at Disneyland?

That’s what Christmas shopping in December makes me feel like.

Speaking of which, I was looking for blind bags for the kids’ stockings. Do you know what blind bags are? They are the plastic bags that have a toy – like Lego – inside and it’s a surprise as to what it is. Jake had wanted some for his birthday but I was unable to find them at Toys R Us, so I searched for some online. Online shopping – greatest invention ever, except for when looking for blind bags on the internet. For lo, what did my search results yield? A “Deluxe Grade Deer Carcass Bag”, complete with illustrated picture of a deer with x’s for eyes. “Holds one deer carcass OR one elk quarter!” the description added cheerily, and while I’m sure these are very useful items for people who hunt, it was not the kind of blind bag I was looking for. These are not the blind bags you are looking for. So, yesterday when I hit the mall I looked again for these apparently elusive items and found quite a number of them, so I’m guessing blind bags are a popular stocking stuffer, but less popular for those September babies. I also found this:

Han

Bow chicka wow wow.

I did not buy it, but I did stare at it admiringly for a few minutes. Is it weird to have a crush on an inanimate object?

Last night the boys had a hip-hop performance at the school. Part of the funds raised by the Parent Association go towards artists-in-residency, and this year the school hired a fellow to teach hip-hop. The first time I saw this dance teacher, when I was doing some volunteer work at the school, I did a double-take. I wondered if he was a parent, and if so, for what class?

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In addition to being an enthusiastic and engaging dance teacher, this guy has fashion sense.

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Seriously, it takes a certain something-something to really pull this off!

Then I remembered about the residency and asked the boys their thoughts about this dance teacher. They were very enthusiastic, which isn’t something I normally say about their reactions to dance. The performance was unbelievably great, and involved a very cleaned-up version of Thrift Shop. (This smells like my…soccer cleats. What? It was 99 cents!) If you’re a Parent Association person in the area, and are looking for artists-in-residency options, have I got a recommendation for you! It’s not every day I get to see my kids throw down the moves like stars. It’s also not every day I get to see acid-washed jean overalls paired with a leopard-print shirt, and it WORKS. For some, it works.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fall Is Almost Done Edition

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Yesterday morning I woke up and headed to the bathroom to change into my yoga clothes. I wondered why I was feeling so exhausted, when I had gone to bed at a decent time; then I looked at the clock. It was 3:45. I’m just glad I figured that out before I left for the yoga studio, because that would have been weird.

This morning it was -5 Celsius when I woke up, which feels officially like winter. I pulled on my legwarmers and dug out my gigantic mittens so that I wouldn’t freeze walking the dog. Fall just really flew by, and it’s been forever since I’ve done a Favourite Things post, so today I bring you…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fall Is Almost Done Edition

Lee Valley Apple Peeler

Remember how I brought home 100 pounds of apples and fifty pounds of grapes from my in-laws’? I juiced the grapes (most of them, the rest I either ate or gave away to fruit-loving friends) and then mixed the thick, pulpy juice to make fruit leather. It’s amazing, and if I figure out how to write it up as a recipe without being totally vague (“puree some apples, add some juice, and dry it in a dehydrator”) it will be over at Yummy Mummy Club. In the meantime, check out the fruit leather!

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The kids tell me this is The Best Fruit Leather Ever. Grapes, apples, and the secret ingredient: LOVE.

Seriously, it’s really good. But what does this have to do with the Lee Valley Apple Peeler? My husband gave me the apple peeler for Christmas – he knows what I like, apple peelers and diamonds – and I am not exaggerating when I tell you it is the single greatest apple peeler in the history of apple peelers. If you have a need to peel 100 pounds of apples, or any amount of apples, really, this is the tool to have. Peels, cores, slices, ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I think I’m a little bit in love with the apple peeler and that is not at all disturbing.

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Apple carnage.

Halloween Festivities

Finally I got our decorative scarecrows up, only to have them taken down ten days later because the kids said they “didn’t fit with the theme”. The theme being creepy decorations.

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Scarecrows are inappropriate additions to this house of terror.

A friend and I were talking about how as the kids age the Halloween decorations morph from happy little jack-o-lanterns into death and dismemberment. The cutesy little ghost and orange-hatted black cat are MY decorations, the kids put them up to humour me. Although, the black cat’s head is hanging on by a string so maybe “partially beheaded black cat” might be part of their overall vision.

In any case, we carved pumpkins this weekend and I de-gooped enough seeds to roast. This never happens. I usually get so bored with my job as pumpkin de-gooper and seed-cleaner that I end up throwing them out. This is a mistake! Warm roasted pumpkin seeds are more than worth it. Or kind of worth it, anyway.

Beauty Products

As you know, I’m always trying out new things – especially hair product. My, oh my, is my hair dry at this time of year. It’s only going to get drier and more straw-like. To add insult to injury, I realized this morning that it’s official: I cannot go six weeks between colourings any more. I’m starting to look like Arlene from Dragon’s Den and although I love her fabulous shoes, I want mono-coloured hair. In any case, I bought these giant bottles of Organix Coconut Milk Shampoo and Conditioner at Costco, and not only do I smell tropical, my hair is also noticeably softer.

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I love buying gigantic shampoo.

Speaking of Costco, I bought Crest 3D White toothpaste in a pack of four, which is always a risk, as far as I’m concerned. This is the thing about Costco: it’s not the place to shop if you just want to try something out. But I’m glad I took the risk of buying an insane amount of toothpaste because this is the most amazing toothpaste I’ve ever tried. If it’s possible to be in love with my apple peeler, then I’m having a torrid affair with this toothpaste.

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I’ve already used one of the toothpastes. Costco score!

On Thanksgiving weekend, we visited some friends (hi Sam!) and while having a casual conversation, Sam asked if I had been whitening my teeth. I probably talked a little TOO excitedly about this toothpaste. If you have a coffee/ wine/ grapes habit, you might want to consider this.

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White teeth! I think that’s a book, actually. I’m pretty sure I read it for a book club back in the early 2000’s.

Sexy Ebola Containment Suits

My friend sent me this article today, and the title alone made me literally LAUGH OUT LOUD, no acronyms involved. “The Inevitable Comes To Pass: Of Course A Sexy Ebola Containment Suit Exists”. And of course, upon reading this article I had to find where one buys a Sexy Ebola Containment Suit.

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Go buy one now before they are out of stock! It’s a steal at $59.99. Buy the boots and your partner’s outfit for only $189.99!

Honestly, I’d much rather see one million posts about Sexy Ebola Containment Suits than most things that are in the news these days. Bring it on, weird Halloween costumes. For example, this costume which is clearly Smurfette but there must have been some kind of licensing problem:

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Troll-ette? You are fooling no one, costume website.

Or a Sexy French Fries Costume, because I don’t know about you, but when I hear “French Fries” I think “SEXYTIMES”.

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There is also “Sexy Hamburger” and “Sexy Taco” but that makes me feel extremely uncomfortable, so you’ll have to be satisfied with the fries only.

Pretty Leaves

On a more wholesome note, this has been the prettiest fall that I can remember. The colours are gorgeous! It must have been that early-September snow?

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This dogwood has never looked so pretty!

Fall Food

Fruit leather does not a meal make, so hooray for butternut squash season! I have a fabulous creamy butternut squash soup recipe over at Yummy Mummy Club, plus this very fun, very fast, very easy recipe for Dark Chocolate Raspberry Mousse Trifle. The trifle requires THREE TABLESPOONS of beer, which means you have to drink the rest or allow it to go to waste. Don’t be wasteful! Make this recipe and sip a brewsky while it’s chilling. You can be chilling while it’s chilling! Do people still say “chilling”?

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You know you want it.

ButternutSquashSoup

A very satisfying soup.

So there you have it! My favourite things – before winter sets in! And as usual, this is not a sponsored post, I didn’t receive anything for free, I just really like all these things! Also as usual, it’s giveaway time! To enter, leave a comment about what your favourite thing is about this time of year and you could win! A random winner will be drawn Friday, November 7. xo

Maintaining cardiovascular health, one asana at a time.

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Apparently all one has to do is write about the possible return of Hammerpants in order to witness for oneself the return of Hammerpants. This morning as I was leaving the yoga studio, a young man popped in, holding a skateboard, and wearing wildly-patterned Hammerpants. There you have it, people, proof that truly, everything old is new again. And also that we never learn from our mistakes. For the record, he seemed like a very nice young man, Hammerpants notwithstanding. Don’t judge a book by its cover, etcetera.

But who am I to talk fashion! Look what I bought:

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So pink!

To you, they might just be bright pink running shoes, but to me, they are a symbol of a new era. I last bought running shoes approximately fifteen years ago, and my last cardiovascular workout was approximately ten years ago. I used to be quite devoted to aerobics and spin classes – remember step aerobics? – but then when I was pregnant with Mark I was too worried to continue with them. We bought an elliptical trainer for the basement, and I did use it post-partum to help lose some weight. I got pregnant with Jake when Mark wasn’t quite nine months old, and the workouts stopped soon after. Once Jake was born and I had a colicky baby and a one year old, exercise was pretty much the last thing on my mind. I was lucky to remember to eat anything at all, and pushing a double stroller on snowy sidewalks was enough of a workout, thank you very much.

Fast-forward a couple of years, and I started practicing yoga. Eventually I did a closet purge and my running shoes that had been gathering dust for years went into the donation bin. My husband, however, has been telling me for the past SEVERAL YEARS that he is concerned I do not get enough cardiovascular workouts. The conversations go like this:

Mr: I’m worried you don’t get enough cardio.

Me: I exercise a lot! I do yoga every day!

Mr: That’s not cardio.

*Digression: this isn’t really true, as anyone who has practiced Ashtanga yoga knows. One word: vinyasa. Also, one cannot go into kapotasana without getting the old heart thumping, am I right, fellow Ashtangis? And yet, we’ve had this same exact conversation so many times that I have given up trying to convince my husband that yoga is good for the heart and cardiovascular system.*

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It’s impossible to do this without getting all sweaty and increasing your heart rate: therefore, it is a cardiovascular workout. Will someone please convince my husband?

 

Me: Well, I walk the dog every day. For at least half an hour. That is cardio.

Mr: Maybe it’s cardio if you’re seventy. I don’t think that’s enough for you. You wear heels when you walk! That’s not a workout.

Me: I only wear one inch heels.

Lather, rinse, repeat this same exact conversation for at least the past five years. Maybe more, I’ve blocked it out. Anyway, last week I realized that my husband worries about me and my heart health, and really, would it be so bad to squeeze one or two turns on the elliptical trainer per week? It certainly wouldn’t hurt. In any case, I needed shoes, and so I bought the above-shown hot pink runners. Then, I got so excited about my pretty new shoes that I briefly entertained the notion of going to spin classes. Those were fun, way back in the late nineties/ early 2000’s. Loud music, group energy – sounds great to me!

I started looking into nearby classes and became immediately discouraged for the following reasons: a) all the classes seem to require special cycling shoes, so I wouldn’t get to wear my pretty pink shoes anyway, b) special cycle shoes are available for rental but wearing shoes that have had someone else’s sweaty feet in them seems gross to me – there’s a reason I don’t like bowling, c) a 45-minute class would take ninety minutes once I factor in travel and sign-in time, d) we have a home gym in our basement for that exact reason – extreme convenience. What is more convenient than one’s own basement?

I did realize something strange when I was looking at one website. It was for a Spin and Hot Yoga Studio, and putting aside my general distaste for hot yoga, I read the “New Student Etiquette” for both spin and yoga classes. It was fairly straightforward – no heavy perfumes, no smelling of alcohol or cigarettes, which is completely reasonable given the sweaty gross atmosphere of a hot yoga class. I would imagine being next to someone stinking of White Diamonds or smoke would be pretty gross in a hot-as-hell room. Then I came across the following rule:

Practicing in your underwear will not be permitted.

I thought about this for a long time. Is this a problem in hot yoga classes? Is this an actual issue that needs to be addressed? I have been practicing yoga at my beloved studio for seven and a half years, and not once have I seen a person practicing in their underwear. Not once. I had visions of very sweaty people in giant granny panties, or maybe a thong. Does this happen? I don’t know. Perhaps they mean sports-bra-like tops? A lot of sweet young things wear those with cute little booty shorts, but I wouldn’t classify that as underwear. It’s a mystery.

Anyway, I concluded that for my little workouts I would be content with our home gym, and Saturday I did actually exercise. I did some interval training that I remembered from lo, so many years ago, and it felt pretty good. I blasted some great 80s music and sang along breathlessly, which made Mark quit his Skylanders game and creep upstairs quietly. Call me! On the line, call me any, any time. Call me!

I told my husband the RPM’s I maintained and the levels I kept with, and he was actually impressed, which just goes to show that Ashtanga yoga and dog walking are actually great at keeping one in cardiovascular shape. I guess I’ll still do a workout once or twice a week, though, because I can’t let such cute shoes go to waste!

Rainy Day

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I’m writing this on the couch, accompanied by a sick, sniffly Jake, who is busy watching Phineas and Ferb. Oh, September, the return to the petri dish that is the elementary classroom. Actually, the boys each had a minor bout of the sniffles during the first week of school, which turned out to be only a one-day affair, which I, sadly, made worse for Mark. His colds always morph into coughs, and I gave him some over-the-counter cough suppressant, optimistically thinking that this would actually suppress his cough. Instead, he continued coughing and just passed out on the couch for a few hours, feeling lethargic and pale for the rest of the day, and, eventually gagging on his own cough and barfing. Note to self: don’t try to medicate the children unnecessarily.

I’m hoping this cold is as equally short-lived as the first one; I’m still scarred from the cold-that-morphed-into-pneumonia event of 2011. I also have a hair appointment tomorrow and I don’t want to miss it – my roots are insane. I feel like a scarecrow, with orange straw-like hair and startling grey roots, but with non-ragged clothing.

In any event, I’m pleased that the colds are going on this week, instead of next week, when I’ll be out of town for the Blissdom Canada conference. I’m going to be out of town for five days, which is by far the longest I’ve been away from the kids. I’m getting pretty excited to see all my Yummy Mummies and bloggy friends – Hannah and Allison! – and as my excitement grows, my husband’s wanes. He’s always supportive of my endeavours, but I think he’s getting worried about the ensuing to-do list resulting from me not being there. I keep giving him little reminders about what needs to be done while I’m gone, and I think it’s starting to overwhelm him. I don’t totally blame him. After all, I didn’t do any laundry this weekend – I usually do a load a day – and the resulting laundry mountain was immense.

Buoyed by my kitchen reorganization, I’m newly motivated to reorganize and purge my entire house. I’m setting a goal to spend an hour a week reorganizing/ purging one area of my house for the entire winter. First stop: my closet. My closet is a cesspool of clothing, shoes, and bags. It’s really out of control. I oscillate between feelings of despair and regret – for the love of god, no one needs this many sweaters – and a feeling of complete unwillingness to part with a single thing. But I must part with a few things because my drawers and shelves are literally overflowing. And again, I’m faced with the question of how many of a similar item I need. Do I need twenty five black sweaters in different cuts, lengths, and trim? Do I need eight black t-shirts with different necklines, along with twelve black tank tops and seven pairs of black yoga pants? Should I consider buying something that isn’t black? What is wrong with me?

Right now cleaning out my closet feels like some sort of weird psychological experiment, or like I’m on a reality show where someone is going to admonish me for my clothing choices.

Empty Nest Overcompensation

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The kids are in karate camp this week, which means that I am kid-free for SEVEN HOURS A DAY. This is not something that happens ever, even during the school year, since they come home for lunch. I seem to be compensating for this empty nest by DOING ALL THE THINGS. I have been unbelievably productive, to the point where I’m starting to question my sanity. I mean, do I really need to be frantically busy every second that the children are not here just because they’re not here? Do I need to seize every single moment to do something useful or work-related? It’s not like they are toddlers; I can actually accomplish things when they are at home.

In the face of all this me-time, I did what any girl would do: book an appointment for a dental cleaning and check-up. Perhaps not the most hedonistic thing to do but my dental experience has improved exponentially by the introduction of an electrosonic dental-scaler. Maybe it’s hydrosonic. I don’t know, in any case it’s so much better than the old-school scalers of yore which would leave me with bleeding gums and in a foul mood for the remainder of the day. (note to self: floss EVERY day). I used to think that a Pap smear was highly preferable to dental scaling but the advent of this electro/hydro thingy, and my recent experience with a substitute OB/GYN who could only be described as “ham handed” has me singing a different tune. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a trip to the spa, but then again I’m not desperate for me-time pampering, given that I just had a weekend at my parents in which I was completely spoiled. For one thing, my mom and I had pedicures and lunch out; for another thing, I spent hours like this:

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And watching this:

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And also consuming lots of wine and chips and other tasty things. So, I’m feeling pretty relaxed going into this nearly kid-free week, with the only stressors being a) packing lunches and b) making sure the kids are covered in sunscreen before 8:30 am. This is more challenging than it sounds; apparently I’m off my school-year game.

Another thing I’ve saved to do this week is bra shopping. My very favourite black bra finally gave up the ghost, as I uncomfortably discovered when the underwire broke loose. I had to walk around wearing my ridiculous “for special occasions” push up bra. I just wanted a regular bra, not one that would “add two cup sizes”, not one that is described as “sexy” or “flirty”, just an everyday bra to wear under everyday tank tops. A trip to Victoria’s Secret was in order! You all know how I love Victoria’s Secret: the pretty, generous, and nicely lit change rooms, the fancy displays, the sweet and business-like salesgirls who don’t yell at you for wearing the wrong bra size like the ladies who work in The Bay. Now, I know it’s not for everyone, but for us run-of-the-mill B cups, Victoria’s Secret is excellent. Plus they have this Body by Victoria collection, and it is amazing. Super soft, non-ridiculous bras.

Speaking of ridiculous, look what I saw at the mall:

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A one-piece, strapless, DENIM short set. Why. WHY.