Category Archives: Festivities

The Return of Tiny Secret Festive Season; Thirty-Four Weeks In

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Last Thursday, in a single adrenaline-fuelled afternoon, I finished my Christmas shopping. I do most of my shopping online, but there are always a few things that I want to physically look at, hence last Thursday’s trip to the mall.

The mall, you guys. The mall. One thing I will say about the mall is that Covid safety precautions are being followed to a tee, from social distancing to mask-wearing to extra cleaning to hand sanitizing stations everywhere. I had to sanitize my hands each time I entered a store, RIP my skin. So, I congratulate the mall and all my fellow Thursday afternoon mall-goers for following the rules and embracing the new protocols. I only saw ONE elderly woman with a mask under her nose, which is a big improvement over any other time I have been out in public.

However, it’s still the mall. I started off in a Let’s Fucking Go kind of mood, all energized and excited because, in the very first store I found the exact perfect gift for my husband’s sister. I am not a person for whom Gift-Giving is my Love Language, but I swear I got a little burst of serotonin when I obtained the item.

I was energetic, happy, and chatty for the first hour, but by the time I got to my last stop, The Bay – what IS IT with The Bay, you guys, why is it always so dreadful and why do I continue to shop there – I was definitely flagging. I was sweltering in my mask, winter coat, and boots, loaded down with bags, and dying for a drink of water when I got to the checkout and the person in front of me was having a very long discussion with the cashier about a coupon, and why couldn’t it be used in this situation, and okay, let’s put everything on separate bills so it could, and I GET IT, WE ALL WANT TO SAVE MONEY BUT WHY ARE THERE ONLY THREE TILLS OPEN FOR THIS ENTIRE GIANT DEPARTMENT STORE.

Anyway. Eventually I was back in the parking lot, sitting in my car just staring out the window for a good five minutes before I put on my seat belt and drove home.

Once I got home, with all my shopping in the rearview mirror, I immediately became festive-feeling and swapped out all my hand soaps for ones that are named Winter Candy Apple and Frosted Coconut Snowball, so the Tiny Secret Festive Season has begun! My grocery notepad has been exchanged for a festive-themed one, on November 1 I put on my Christmas bracelet and brought out my red-plaid pajamas, and I’ve been using Vanilla Candy Cane body butter on my feet at night. Sugar cookie and gingerbread dough have been made and are in the freezer, and on Thursday I will swap out my poppy and apple-themed tea towels for Christmas ones. My Buddy the Elf mugs will make their appearance this week for morning coffee, mark my words.

We had a short streak of extremely mild weather, and so my husband and I took advantage of it to hang the Christmas ornaments in our Mayday tree. Every November there is someone who, if a person expresses even mild joy about the festive season, will sternly and austerely remind that person that no one should ever express such feelings prior to Remembrance Day, that it is disrespectful and wrong. Let me tell you: I do not agree with this character assessment. If a person wants to go full-on Clark Griswold the second the Halloween decorations come down, let your sparkly, Santa-themed flag fly. Let’s take joy where we can and if that means watching the Hallmark channel, putting up a tree, or just eating peppermint-flavoured goodies in November, DO IT.

If you think for even one moment that we are, in the Boyhouse, not going to embrace a 18 degree day IN NOVEMBER and use it to glovelessly tie ornaments onto a tree with tiny little strings, then you have another think coming. Unfortunately, this weekend was snowy with wind warnings, and subsequently we had to send the boys out looking on the street to find a couple of balls that had broken off in the wind, but that’s tradition. Calgary tradition.

Pandemic Reading

This was really fun to read, about working in the bond markets – specifically Salomon Brothers – in the 1980s. Woo! What a ride. Some of you may know that I worked on the structured products desk on a natural gas trading floor, and did this take me back. I worked during the California Crisis, when natural gas and electricity prices skyrocketed, and I remember the market volatility and all that ensued. Also, let’s just say that bond traders in the 1980s were not dissimilar to natgas traders in the 2000s. I remember one guy – Tom – who became so infuriated that he repeatedly smashed his phone on his desk until it broke. He had to go to an anger management course, but I don’t think that was as effective as the reaction of the rest of the floor. Any time Tom would walk by, everyone would exaggeratedly cover their phones. If he came to discuss a deal, someone would say Don’t fucking touch my phone, man, I need it. This went on…well, it’s probably still going on. The pranks and dares, too. I remember one guy was paid $10 to EAT a piece of styrofoam. He did it and was quite unwell for the rest of the day. There was also a bet to see who could drink more water in the span of 30 minutes and then not use the bathroom for two hours. The winner, I recall, was not feeling well after over-hydrating. Ah, good times. Anyway, this book was a lot of fun if you’re into that sort of thing, but note that it was written in 1989 and the extremely insensitive language reflects that.

This was just LOVELY and a perfect read for the festive season. So Christmas-spirit-ish. The author was born and raised in Calgary, too, so yay!

I will leave you with my newest Tiny Secret Festive items – a series of handmade bookmarks by a VERY talented, young local artist. Aren’t they adorable? I have a number of her bookmarks but I really wanted some festive ones, and now the problem is choosing which to use!

Have a beautiful week, my friends. If you’re also a Tiny Secret Festive person, how are you celebrating this week? xo

Halloween and Blue Moon Rising; Thirty-Three Weeks In

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There was a war going on in our neighbourhood and my husband declared himself the winner.

So how was your Halloween?

We had about 25 Trick or Treaters, which was a great number for our street. Our neighbours told me that they each had about six, and so I think kids were only going to houses with lots of decorations this year; a signalling thing, I suppose.

I handed out full-size chocolate bars like a Very Fancy Lady, in the most Covid-safe way I could think of. Most of the people in my neighbourhood, according to the Facebook page, had treat tables set up with little bags, and in one case, a giant spiderweb with full-size bars stuck in the web. However, I like to see the sweet costumes, and so tongs and PPE it was.

We weren’t going to carve pumpkins as the Decorative Gourds I bought are now, due to the extreme cold and snow, mush, but my friend offered me hers and so I stole an idea from my son’s friend:

I’m having a bit of a Nora Ephron I Feel Bad About My Neck moment here.

My kids did not Trick or Treat, being “too old,” but they did wander the neighbourhood for a few hours with their friends, all eight of wearing burlap sacks on their heads. Eight giant teen boys wandering around in the dark wearing burlap sacks on their heads, what could possibly go wrong.

Speaking of scary and spooky things, I have been reading Hans Christian Anderson Fairy Tales. When was the last time you read an actual fairy tale, one that hadn’t been modernized or Disney-fied? YOU GUYS. Shit gets REAL in Fairy Tale Land.

It all started months ago when I put this collection on hold at the library, as I was thinking about the original Little Mermaid. I knew it was a sad ending but couldn’t exactly remember how it went, and yes, it is definitely worth reading about the sharp and shooting pain that the Little Mermaid has once her fin is severed and she’s walking around on legs. It is a very sad story, but no more sad than most of the tales in this collection.

For example: The Little Match Girl. I vividly recall reading this story as a child; it was terrifying then and it’s even more so now. Here’s the premise for this tale geared towards children: a little girl, whose job it is to sell boxes of matches to passerby, is wandering around the street barefoot on New Year’s Eve. Let us recall that Hans Christian Anderson was Danish, and therefore it would be VERY cold wandering around the street barefoot on New Year’s Eve. She’s barefoot because she has no shoes; she wore her mother’s shoes to go out to sell matches, but as they were too big she lost them while dodging carriages in the street. Anyway, here it is, New Year’s Eve, and she is scared to go home as she has sold no matches today, and if she goes home without the pennies she would have earned for selling matches, her father will beat her.

Let’s just let all that information sink in for a moment.

So anyway, here she is, freezing cold and hungry – obviously she hasn’t eaten either – and not all that willing to go home. In any case, home is a literal shack with holes in the wall, and there’s no food there anyway. She sits down in a little corner of the street and tries to warm her hands by lighting a match, and from the illumination she starts to hallucinate things like a warm fireplace, a roast goose dinner, and a Christmas tree. She lights match after match and the hallucinations – yes, children’s story – continue until she sees her dead grandmother, the “only person who ever loved her.” She begs her grandmother to take her to heaven with her, and she subsequently dies, frozen, with a smile on her face.

WELL.

Another story I remember from my childhood – I am sure I had one of those little records with a book that you could read along with, that had a little chime when it was time to turn the page – was Thumbelina. Wow, is that a messed up story. I remember loving it as a child, and I can see why: everything is in miniature. Thumbelina has a walnut shell for a bed, a tulip petal for a boat, a little hammock woven out of grass. So sweet! And yet the story itself is Crazy Town. Thumbelina gets kidnapped by a toad’s mother so that she can be the toad’s bride. Hello meddling mother-in-law. She is, understandably, distraught about being kidnapped and marooned on a lily pad so she can’t escape her toady bridal chamber, but some fishes and a butterfly help her escape. When winter comes she seeks shelter with a little field mouse, who introduces her to her neighbour, a mole. The mole wants to marry her and all her troubles will be gone, as the mole is portrayed as being wealthy. The only catch is, because her new husband will be a MOLE, she will have to live underground forever and never see the sun.

I feel like a whole series of dissertations could be written about the symbolism herewith.

Anyway, Thumbelina finds what everyone thinks is a dead bird, but it’s really only just frozen. She nurses it back to health and it helps her escape her safe-yet-forever-underground life of Mrs. Mole; she subsequently lands in a flower and marries a little tiny prince who is in charge of all the flowers, and yay, happy ending.

Pandemic Reading

Thankfully, I did read something besides the unsettling and opium-trippy fairy tales this week.

I cannot recommend this book enough. It follows a woman who is principal of a Muslim girls’ school that is targeted by a shooter; it describes her life growing up and coming of age as a Muslim in America. It’s a very moving and important read.

On the other side of the spectrum was this book. It was the book equivalent of coming inside after shovelling snow in the freezing cold, and having a chai and a gingersnap. It’s a sweet, satisfying, warm hug of a book.

This series of essays about being a gay black Christian man in America was both hilarious and thought-provoking.

Here’s my best shot of the Blue Moon on Halloween; and on that note, Happy November! Or, as I like to call it, Happy Countdown To The Christmas Season! I’m thinking about all my American friends this week, and hoping for a peaceful transfer of power. Stay well. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Thanksgiving Edition

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With the Thanksgiving weekend, the amazing streak of weather has ended, leaving us with mostly bare trees and, well, some snow. I’m not sad, though; I knew the streak would end and I’m just happy, in a We’ll Always Have Paris kind of way.

“You do realize, this is what it’s like in the rest of the world?” a student said to me last week as I marvelled at the fact that we still had leaves on the trees in October. Leaves! On the trees! In October! The rest of the world is lucky, because this is a rare and precious GIFT in Calgary. Normally, we have a hard freeze in early September, followed by a gusting windstorm, which typically means that we have bare trees from September through to May. Wow, writing that down is a bit depressing. Anyway, NOT THIS YEAR.

Finally I understand what all you fall-crazy people are talking about. Usually fall is just a precursor to the long winter ahead, but NOT THIS YEAR. Any year that winter doesn’t start in September, well, that’s one less month of winter. Every day, every single day of this pandemic, I have been spending a lot of time outside, walking and/or running. The past six weeks, with glorious sunshine and warm temperatures, each walk has felt like a beautiful gift and I find myself humming look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now.

Last week I went for an early morning 6 km before dropping the kids at school; I watched the sun come up and brighten the sky. When I started the run it was dark and drizzly, and when I was finishing, I saw a double rainbow.

If there is one thing that this pandemic has taught me, it is to appreciate every little thing that there is to appreciate. As Ma Ingalls always said, usually when the crop failed or they were almost literally starving or freezing to death, there’s no great loss without some small gain. Many things have been lost in this pandemic, but I am determined to keep my eyes open for all gains.

And it was Thanksgiving this weekend! So I think it is appropriate to write…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Thanksgiving Edition

The Reno

One year ago, we started our renovation of our vacation place, which was my husband’s grandmother’s house. I am incredibly thankful for it for many reasons – reliably flushing toilet! functional kitchen! – but mostly, it has given us a beautiful place to stay in order to safely visit my mother-in-law. The aforementioned functional kitchen also means that I was able to roast a bunch of vegetables and chickpeas, and make a big salad, and contribute to the Thanksgiving dinner that I otherwise would have had almost nothing to eat at. After eating a plate of peas and carrots last year, and then later sneaking into the kitchen to scarf down peanut butter toast in secret, this is a huge gift.

My contribution!

Also, it has a perfect place for me to drink my coffee and smoothies at, while reading.

Fall Colours

A few weeks ago we visited my parents for my dad’s birthday, and I have never seen such colours at that time of the year. Am I turning into a Fall Person? What’s next? Pumpkin spice lattes? (answer: no).

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers

This never gets old; a friend pointed out it was written ELEVEN years ago and wow, sometimes it seems like life is one of those fast-forward cartoons of pages tearing off of calendars. Anyway, the Co-Op had an assortment of decorative gourds, white pumpkins, and, of course, the regular kind. They were also selling bags of assorted decorative gourds but it turns out I have Real Opinions on decorative gourds and so carefully chose each one carefully from the bin.

There is a competition in the neighbourhood between my husband and a younger guy down the street, when it comes to seasonal decorations. As I was walking the dog, the young upstart asked me where OUR Halloween decorations were, as his have been up for two weeks already. Game on, shit is getting real this weekend. In the meantime, my decorative gourd display is the best motherfucking decorative gourd display on our street, DEAL WITH IT.

My dear friend Taryn (HI TARYN) gave me this sweet thing, so I can celebrate Decorative Gourd Season year-round. IT IS ALWAYS DECORATIVE GOURD SEASON IN THE BOYHOUSE NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Grapes and Apples, Oh My

I know, I know, I just wrote about apples, but the season is full-on and I’m gorging. My mother-in-law saved me this “small amount” of Sheraton grapes from harvest a couple of weeks ago and my younger son and I tried our best to eat them all on the long weekend. We failed.

Typical conversation with my mother-in-law:

Her: Do you want me to save you some grapes?

Me: Sure! Just a small amount, you know, a few bunches would be great.

Her: sets aside ten pounds, thinking that is a small amount appropriate for one to two people to eat in three days

If I had one more day, I could have finished them. Alas.

My New Running Pants

To be honest, now that there is snow on the ground I’m going to be taking my running workouts back to the treadmill, but these funky new pants from Lululemon are my new favourite and have extended my season outside. They have pockets! And lots of support! And sweat vents! And I’m colourful like a speedy peacock!

Seasonal Masks

It all started when my older son mentioned he wanted a Halloween style mask; my friend Liana (HI LIANA) mentioned her friend Maria. She had made some masks that I had bought back in the summer, and it turns out she had just got some seasonal fabric for Halloween and Christmas. Well, and I had to get some adorable llama and birdie ones, just because.

Thank You For Being A Friend

In the spirit of gratitude, I want to extend my thanks to you, dear reader, for indulging me by reading this blog. My goodness, it has been TWELVE YEARS. Thank you for being a friend. xo

Mask courtesy of my friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE)!

Like A Half-Birthday But Less Festive; Twenty-Six Weeks In

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So, for those of you who are counting, 26 weeks is exactly half a year. Six months of this pandemic! Back in March, six months felt like The Worst Possible Scenario. Now it is Just Life and I don’t think at all at how long this will go on; no one knows and speculating isn’t helpful.

This is where having a blog pays off; I look back and see the evolution. I think we have all gone through the five stages of grief, on a number of different levels, and I am now firmly in the Acceptance Stage. Happy Half-Birthday to the pandemic, I guess. Over the last six months I’ve gone from drinking a lot of wine and eating mini-eggs to frantically cleaning and reorganizing my laundry area and every other part of the house to learning how to teach yoga online to colouring my own hair and giving myself a bikini wax (WE’RE GOING TO NEED MORE WAX).

When the pandemic first started, only the most paranoid of us were wearing masks; that quickly changed and now I am leaning hard into Mask Fashion, coordinating my masks with my outfits.

Back in March and April, grocery shopping was the most harrowing, depressing, and soul-sucking activity; I remember feeling absolutely drained after a Superstore trip, and scheduling a whole day so that I could wait outside, in the cold, to get into Costco, and then feeling so disheartened that I would have to repeat the whole thing over and over again. Now, grocery shopping is just grocery shopping, still some things missing on the shelves but nothing really to write home about, unlike in the earlier months when we were all panicked about toilet paper, flour, yeast, and – for a few strange weeks at our house – baking powder and sauerkraut.

Speaking of which, I have discovered a huge downside to the boys being back at school and that is I have to bring the groceries into the house all by myself. What is this bullshit. For six months I have strolled into the house holding only a jug of milk or the bag with the bread and eggs, and commanded everyone to bring in the heavy bins, and now I, I am the one bringing in those heavy bins, this is an outrage. Groceries aside, I have barely lifted anything for six months, including but not limited to the laundry basket, outdoor chairs, and clothing donation bags. If the school shut-down lasted longer, it’s likely all my upper body muscles would atrophy completely.

The boys just finished their first week of classes; I am thinking week by week and one day at a time when it comes to school. They all wear masks – they are mandatory everywhere here – and although my older son tells me that “social distancing doesn’t exist,” well, we are doing the best we can. I mean, there is only so much physical space in a building, and there are 2300 kids, so take a deep breath, mask up, and wash hands.

It’s my thought that the kids are way better than adults in adjusting to a different world. It is my younger son’s fifteenth birthday tomorrow and on Friday afternoon he celebrated with friends, his usual “hangout” group. They had massive amounts of food in our back yard, always keeping distanced from each other, and when they weren’t they put on masks, even though they were outside the whole time.

The boys finish school at 1:00 on Fridays, and so the party started at that time and went until 6:30 pm, not before five large pizzas were consumed in addition to all the baked goods. Strangely enough, my son had an online math test to do on Friday “any time between 1:00 and 11:00 pm” and so he settled into his test after his friends left. Does that seem strange to anyone else? Well, I’m not criticizing. Finally, finally, FINALLY after years and years of filling out forms until my hand seized up, the school has taken to online forms. I guess they don’t want germy plague-ridden papers coming into the office, and although I don’t really think anyone’s catching The Covid from paper, I am not questioning anything. How many reams of paper have I gone through in my life, filling out the exact same thing over and over? How many Septembers have I spent rubbing my ink-stained hands as I fill out my phone number over and over, signing my name until it doesn’t look like my signature anymore? The biggest bonus is my sons are filling them out themselves, although I was a little taken aback that my younger son put in my husband as “Parent One.” I am usually Parent One! I’m the main contact! When I said this to him, he said “Oh, I thought it went by age.” Well.

This week I have gone back to teaching in-person classes at the community centre; I am now teaching two online classes and two in-person classes per week. It feels a bit strange after a six-month hiatus to see people again, but I will say this: if I contract Covid, it won’t be from that. The community centre is very strict: hand sanitizer before entering, one (masked) person at a time allowed in the lobby where we take off our shoes, there are x’s on the floor to mark where mats can go, and the x’s are three metres apart, and we leave via the emergency exit door so as to not run into anyone coming into the centre. My students don’t wear masks when actually practicing yoga, but I wear one to teach, and it isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

Six months seems long, but it’s really a just a blip. I’m trying not to think ahead to the next six months and the long winter on the horizon, instead buying more warm clothes and taking things a day at a time. At least the masks will keep our faces warm.

Pandemic Reading

This book was, frankly, bizarre. I thought it sounded like a funny concept: man has an affair, so his wife decides she is going to have her own affair to get even, and is thrown into the new world of dating. But…the underlying theme of the book was stay married no matter what because divorce is awful and hey, we all make mistakes. I thought of googling the author to see if she is a fundamentalist Christian, but I guess I don’t care enough about it.

I have NO idea why I put this on hold at the library. Did someone recommend it to me? Was I drinking and library app-ing? Who knows. This was fine, not enjoyable but not terrible. It was very repetitive and gave advice like instead of flipping out when someone doesn’t change the toilet paper, just discuss your needs instead. I mean, that’s probably sound advice but I didn’t really need a whole book about it.

Six months, you guys. We can do this. xo

What Day Is It? Twenty Weeks In

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Very late to the party, but last night I finally watched Hamilton and it was worth staying up an hour past my bedtime to do it. The music! The costumes! The entire cast and ensemble! Normally I fall asleep within minutes of watching, well, pretty much anything, but this felt like an EVENT.

Watching Hamilton on a Sunday night did not help my complete disorientation with regards to time. As I mentioned, last week was our week of summer and we spent some days at my parents’ place up at the lake. This feeling of festivity and holiday, along with my husband STILL WORKING EVERY SINGLE DAY, has left me feeling like this:

The other day I squirted dish soap into the sink full of dirty dishes and turned the hot water on full blast. I puttered around, putting things back in the fridge and wiping the countertops, and when I turned back to the sink, anticipating it to be nearly full, I was startled to see it empty, just a couple of bubbles sadly resting on the dishes. I went into full panic mode that something! Had happened to our sink! And we are in a pandemic! And my husband is working EVERY SINGLE DAY! And I’ll have to call Tony The Hot Plumber to come and fix it and it’s just one more thing to schedule into the week that I don’t know what day is what! And then I realized that I didn’t actually PUT the plug in.

Well. I was at Superstore last week, and at the entrance is a giant bottle of hand sanitizer and a giant bottle of spray with which to wipe down carts. At the Co-Op – which I rarely frequent these days, given my enormous once-weekly routine – there is a bottle of spray that is meant for both wiping carts and sanitizing hands. Like I said, I am rarely there these days so it’s not like that is the routine I’m used to. I am used to Superstore. So I don’t know why I sprayed both my hands and the cart with the same bottle, belatedly realizing that the bottle contained BLEACH. I stood there in the entrance way, masked people zipping around me to grab the actual hand sanitizer, while I realized that I bleached my own hands and waited for my skin to dissolve.

That incident did NOT help the dried-out old-lady appearance of my hands.

Peas from my parents’ garden! If there’s anything better than eating them straight out of the pod, I don’t know what it is.

In addition to fresh garden veggies, we spent time paddle boarding and lots of time on my dad’s boat. It was warm enough to swim, although the water – like any Alberta lake – is NOT warm. The boys had a great time jumping from boat to water until, in what can only be described as a testosterone-fueled attempt to jump the furthest, my older son sliced his toe open on the edge of the boat. Oops. I hope Grandma’s not upset that I got blood all over her towel. Luckily it wasn’t deep enough for stitches, and also luckily, we take butterfly bandages with us wherever we go.

Well, we had a great week and it looks like there will be MORE sunshine and warm weather this week too! I can hardly believe it.

Pandemic Reading

I picked this up on a whim at the library and was glad I did; on the surface it’s about how we live our lives online, and what that means. What does it mean if someone likes your post? Or doesn’t? But deeper than that, it’s about systemic barriers for women of colour and trans women in the music industry, white privilege, and how the world tries to pit women against each other. A timely read, that’s for sure.

I picked this up because it was touted as uplifting, but I frankly found it just extremely sad. It’s a memoir written by a man dying of a very strange and debilitating neurological disease, and as he wrote about his childhood, I was reminded of the theory that painful and traumatic childhoods are associated with chronic health issues and illness in adulthood.

That’s it for me this week – August, my god, it’s August – I’m off to enjoy the next few days of summer. Next week…an update on my herb garden! I bet you can’t wait. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Pandemic Birthday Edition

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I love birthdays. I love my own birthday, of course, but I love other people’s as well. There’s no better time, in my mind, to make someone feel special than on their birthday.

My Pandemic Birthday was on Tuesday – I’m 45! – and in the weeks leading up to it I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I wouldn’t get to go out for a huge Moroccan dinner…I wouldn’t be able to drive up to the lake to visit my parents…my mom wouldn’t be able to make me my traditional pink birthday cake…for my 40th we had a huge party and now we are on lockdown…

But as it turned out my Pandemic Birthday was absolutely wonderful, and possibly one of my best ever. It is certain to be one of my most memorable. We’ve been celebrating all week, and I have been enjoying every one of my favourite at-home things.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Pandemic Birthday Edition

A Dinner I Did Not Have To Cook Or Make Decisions About

I’m sure those of you who are – generally speaking – the designated cook in the house can relate to the desire to just not have to think about dinner. I told my husband that I wanted a dinner that not only did I not cook, but I also didn’t have to think about in any way. I would buy any groceries that were written on my list – my husband has a chronic lung condition and also high blood pressure, and so he’s in the Higher Risk category, and we are trying to keep the people leaving the house to just me – but I would not make the list.

Saturday was the night of the Big Dinner, and the guys did great. They grilled vegetables and portobellos and made sweet potato fries, all favourites of mine. Of course there was wine, and cake.

Cake

The guys made me an angel food cake – my favourite! – with non-dairy whipped cream and raspberries. I was not at all expecting them to bake a cake, but several weeks ago my older son had asked me to buy a box of angel food mix. It was his birthday, but then he said he wanted strawberry cake instead, so the box had been lingering in the cupboard ever since. Was it forward planning on his part? I have no idea. I’m just happy to have had cake.

Mindful Mornings

On the day of my actual birthday, I wanted to do every single thing I love – that could be done in-house. I wanted to be very mindful and enjoy each moment. I would like to be like that every day but that’s a lot to ask of a human. In any case, it was a good reminder to stop, look, and enjoy. I got up early, drank some coffee and read some lovely messages from friends, practiced yoga with my online group, drank more coffee and my favourite green smoothie, and then did a little cardio.

Teaching Yoga

I’ve been teaching Zoom Ashtanga yoga classes on Tuesdays and Fridays – and starting next week, seniors too! My boss offered to teach for me this week but I really wanted to see my students, albeit in “gallery view.”

Being Outside

You guys, it is FINALLY SPRING here and yes, we sure could still get snow anytime but that is what Calgary spring is all about. Enjoy the non-snow days. Carpe non-snow diem. My birthday was unseasonably warm and so I spent as much time outside as possible. I went for a walk with Barkley and a longer walk with the guys. I did some yard work, which is my actual favourite. The sweet girls down the block from us are constantly ramping up their sidewalk chalk game with various 2D obstacle courses and hopscotch patterns. On Tuesday, they had switched up to a long spring-themed course with flowers and a red carpet. I felt like the red carpet was there just for me.

The Godfather

On Saturday, we watched The Godfather with the boys, complete with popcorn and more wine. Sunday I decided to reread the book, which probably explains the insane mafia-related dreams I have been having all week. They would not send each other Christmas gifts, but they would not murder each other. Best line.

Gifts

I wasn’t sure what would happen for my birthday, in terms of gifts, but my husband bought me books by Elizabeth Strout, who I love, and the new Little Women movie. The boys bought me new Pandora charms: a mom and baby owl, a cactus offering “Free Hugs,” and a heart-shaped “Mom” charm.

Friends

I was the lucky recipient of so many notes, calls, and messages. My darling friends Allison and Hannah (HI ALLISON HI HANNAH) sent me flowers and a balloon:

Then my dear friends Denise and Duncan (HI DENISE HI DUNCAN) dropped off wine and vegan chocolate fudge ice cream. That alone would be wonderful enough but they dropped it off while wearing inflatable T-rex costumes and blasting “Danger Zone.”

Honestly, I could not be luckier or more blessed. Halfway to 90 feels great so far. xo

Excuse Me, I Moustache You a Question; Four Weeks In

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Up until last Thursday, all three of the male members of the Boyhouse were sporting moustaches. These are Dark Days.

They all just stopped shaving when they stopped leaving the house; I think my husband’s last day in the office was March 11 or 12, and the boys were last at school March 13, so it had been a while. My husband’s was a beard, which he shaved into a goatee, and then into a moustache, the style of which can only be described as a mix between that of an old-school cop and a serial killer.

Possibly in part because he values intimate relations, the moustache has been shaved. The boys, however, have assured me that they are going for it for the duration. There is nothing quite like the teenage moustache; I will leave it at that.

They both had haircuts before everything shut down, and my older son had complained at the time that his was much too short; by the time all this is over, he is going to look like Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, and my younger son is going to look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. My husband was flipping channels the other day and we watched the end of The Karate Kid – the “OG version” – and it occurred to me that Shaggy could go for a Johnny look – all he’d need would be a bandanna. Johnny, you’re a cream puff.

Well, I’m a strong believer in Body Autonomy, even when it comes to moustaches. Let your fuzzy flag fly, boys. I’ve always thought hair arguments between parents and their kids are silly; hair is the easiest thing to change and is so temporary.

In other, more exciting news, I have a new coffeemaker! It’s a new version of my old Cuisinart; thank you to Samantha (HI SAMANTHA) for the suggestion of pouring pre-measured water into the receptacle right before pressing the power button. Even with this new, hopefully non-leaking coffeemaker, I am going to continue with this practice. Actually, because I tend to be in auto-pilot before 5:00, I have been filling the pot with water the night before so even if I just press the power button without filling the receptacle, I’m not going to start a fire or anything.

But back to the Coffeemaker Hunt. My husband suggested Visions Electronics, which struck me as a very odd suggestion. I associate Visions with televisions and sound systems, but they also sell a wide variety of appliances. This magnificent creature was on sale for $100 off, so how could I refuse? They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and with an extra $5 off for curbside pickup.

Only an hour after placing my order I had a message from customer service saying that they actually did not have it in stock at the store in question, and so they could refund me OR send it to me via courier at no additional cost to myself. It was not a difficult decision. What was difficult was the number of times I anxiously refreshed my email to see when it would be shipped. Too long, didn’t read, I have a coffeemaker.

First cup with the new coffeemaker!

How was your Easter weekend? Although it was snowy and cold, which was frankly quite depressing, we had a lovely one. We watched Top Gun on Saturday night, which, as you know, is one of my top three favourite movies.

Why WOULDN’T you wear tight jeans to play beach volleyball?

Easter morning, I packaged out the Costco box of Lindors in paper bags and hid them in the house, according to the clues that were written in poetry form. I reused last year’s poems but the boys didn’t remember and they still don’t know where we keep the honey.

It has been many years since we did a puzzle together. I’m pretty sure the last one we did would have featured very large pieces and Lightning McQueen. Three weeks ago or so, Co-Op had a number of puzzles on sale by the cash register for $2.99; when I brought this Friends one home the boys were a bit confused. What were the OTHER choices? Well, boys, the other choices were Anne Geddes babies and Frozen 2, so let’s enjoy Friends. It was actually really fun, even with all of us randomly yelling out “We were on a BREAK!”

Pandemic Reading

My parents gave me The Testaments for Christmas and I’m so glad I was too busy reading library books to open it until now. It was really nice to have something new to read. I had just reread The Handmaid’s Tale around Christmastime in anticipation of receiving The Testaments, but hey. I have time on my hands. I read it again this week so it was very fresh in my mind. The Testaments was great, and I loved how the stories went together, but – and I realize this is an unpopular opinion – I kind of liked the open-endedness of The Handmaid’s Tale. But it was definitely an exciting and fascinating way to finish things.

Pandemic Fitness

Despite the snow, it was a good week for walking. The snow just helped with the leg workout, I guess. I’m hoping to start working running in again, once the paths are not terrifyingly icy.

Yummy Things

I count it as a win that I didn’t eat all the Mini Eggs, and instead used them for this:

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Hang in there, everyone! xo