Category Archives: Fleeting Time

Winter Is Coming

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My gracious, it’s been a hell of a week, and it’s only Wednesday. We were having a lovely time up at the lake with my parents, boating and swimming and tubing, enjoying what felt like the last blast of summer, when Barkley got sick. He got sick in the middle of the night, and after the sixth time of letting him out, I gave up all pretenses of sleep and just curled up on the couch. He seemed to be better when we got home Sunday evening, but worsened through the night. I’ll spare you the gross details but by Monday morning he couldn’t keep down water. Too long, didn’t read: he ended up overnighting in the animal hospital, but now his sweet fuzzy self is home with us. Exhausted, on medication and a special diet, but home. I didn’t realize how many dog commercials are on TV until he was not there. I didn’t realize how much companionship he provides me, until he didn’t. But! He is home and we are all happy.

Bokey

Besides being worried, and spending my nervous energy doing things like scrubbing down the oven door and cleaning grout with a toothbrush, I’ve also been preparing for back to school. We’ve been busy buying school supplies for the first time – everything is provided at our elementary school, so this is new territory – plus winter coats and pants that actually fit. I took the boys shoe shopping, which is something that never fails to break my spirit. Just stepping through the door at Sport Chek makes me feel like I’m losing the will to live, and that’s before I look at the prices of running shoes. As I was leaving, a random lady said to me I feel like I’m hemorrhaging money at this time of year, which is an apt statement that no one can disagree with.

But, we are all ready for school to start – in less than two weeks! – and I have been continuing with my Kondo-ing. One huge benefit of Kondo-ing everything is finding things I haven’t looked at in years. I found the arty, black and white album of engagement photos that we had done back in 2001. Well, I had them done, I think my husband could have done without them. To be honest, I never liked those photos; it turns out I do not look good in black and white, and also I didn’t like the artistic shots. There was one where we were kissing, with a C-Train speeding by in the background. I guess the photographer was going for the Hello Calgary look, I don’t know. Oh look! A northbound train! Let’s kiss!

Along with the photos, I discovered hundreds of CD’s, including, bizarrely, the soundtrack to Ally McBeal and a copy of Please Hammer Don’t Hurt Them. At this moment, I have eighteen bags and boxes slated for donation, not to mention a ton of recycling and – unfortunately – several bags of garbage. I still haven’t gone through the children’s school and artwork; that part is going to be an emotional landmine, so I need to wait a little bit for that.

Meanwhile, we all have haircuts this week, plus we are going to try to squeeze in some fun activities between the arctic-like weather that seems to have settled in. Yesterday I wore boots and a blanket scarf and it snowed in the mountains. Winter Is Coming! I just hope we get a few weeks of fall first.

Kondo-ing My Life

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I consider myself to be a very self-aware person. I know that I can be very easy to live with, in some ways, but very difficult in others. I can recognize my faults along with my positive character traits. So I recognize that at the end of the summer, I become a bit of an emotional mess. Landslide, and all that.

My end-of-summer melancholy is always tempered by my excited-to-start-fresh-in-September attitude, so I’m not trying to say that I become a mopey, weeping person by mid-August. I’m just saying that in the past I’ve had to choke back tears all through Inside Out, which turned into full-blown sobbing about Bing Bong. The year Jake started kindergarten I cried so hard while on hold with the printer Help Desk that the gentlemen on the other side told me that maybe I should go get myself a drink of water, and he would take care of everything. Then he sent me a new printer. 

Anyway, I know myself. And Mark is starting Junior High and Jake is in his last year at our beloved elementary school, where we have spent the last eight years and where I have made a wonderful circle of friends and volunteered at extensively. I’ve been afraid of changing…because I built my life around youuuuuu…

But, as they say, Time Makes You Bolder and so I have taken charge and have redirected all my energies into a complete household reorganization.

I’ve had The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up on my library hold list for a while, and last week it came in. I devoured it. I know, I know, it’s 2016, and KonMari/ Kondo-ing things is so last year. I may be a day late and a dollar short, but let me tell you, I love that book. IT IS LIFE CHANGING MAGIC, PEOPLE.

For those of you who haven’t read it – I can’t be the only one who hadn’t read it, right? – the premise of the book is simple: surround yourself with things that bring you joy and get rid of everything else. Ask yourself why you are holding on to certain things; if it is something that doesn’t bring you joy, then send it on its way, expressing gratitude for the role it has played in your life. For example, don’t feel badly throwing out that lipstick that doesn’t suit you. It taught you a lesson, and that was worth the price you paid for it. That sweater that you don’t like, someone else might love. Send it on its journey.

This, my friends, is exactly the kind of hippy-dippy, non-attachment, Let The Sunshine In kind of thing that I love. Bring in the good energy, block out the bad.

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Now, let me be clear: my house is pretty clean. I am a very organized person by nature. I also live in a bungalow that – including basement and storage area – is 2200 square feet. I don’t really have the room to be a hoarder, and I don’t have a lot of clutter. If you were to stop by unexpectedly, I would not be worried about the state of my house, because the state of my house is always clean. Well, truly, if you were to stop by unexpectedly I’d never answer the door because I don’t want to be murdered by a random stranger, or, in the best case scenario, I don’t want to be solicited for money/ talked to by politicians/ offered lawn services by someone who is scary looking but is probably harmless.

But you take my meaning.

However, there are areas in the house that could definitely be improved on. I have kept so much of the kids’ schoolwork and art work that the bins I purchased for such items are overflowing. I have whole shelving units that were filled with stuff I didn’t know what to do with. The downstairs closets are a disaster, and my hall cupboard was so jammed with stuff that the doors didn’t always close. I have baskets and bins that have loose papers and magazines that I have yet to deal with.

And so I started to Kondo the house, and while it isn’t the very most satisfying thing I’ve done in my life, it is right up there. Every day I’ve been rampaging through the house, like a Kondo machine, bagging things and boxing things and reorganizing things all over the place. In fact, I’m planning to write about this whole experience, so lucky you, you will get to see photos of organized drawers and re-purposed shoe boxes.

It hasn’t all been rabid purging around here though; this week has been all about doctors and dentists and check ups and orthodontists…there was so much non-fun going on that I took a break from my frantic pace to take the kids to the local amusement park. It turned out to be the best day ever; the kids were chosen to be “park openers” which was a thrill in and of itself, and then they were second in line for the log ride. Tons of fun were had by all, but I think my favourite moment was when the park official was telling them what they needed to do, and asked “Are you brothers or friends?” “Both!” they answered, and I swear, I got a little teary.

I guess Kondo-ing everything doesn’t totally keep me from being a bit of an emotional mess. But my house sure is clean.

timbermills

My Face Says I’m Disappointed, But My Heart Says I’m Happy

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Well, hello there! So much has happened in the last two weeks; my husband took time off work and we Vacationed Like Nobody’s Business. First of all, the boys finished off their week of karate camp with a mini-tournament, and all I can say is that I really get Aly Raisman’s parents. I really do. I cannot imagine the nervous breakdown I would have in the highly unlikely event that my children were Olympic medal contenders, because I find myself sweating, with heart palpitations, just watching the karate kids sparring in a fun-tournament-that-has-no-real-consequences. Johnny, you’re a cream puff. It’s not just for my kids, either; I find myself all tied up in knots watching ANY of the students.

Happily, the mini-tournament went well, and the boys did not have to compete against each other too much, which was a huge relief. They are in the same belt and age group and so this has happened in the past; it is just as much fun as you might imagine.

Just as a quick side note: the only summer Olympic event I actually am interested in watching, albeit briefly, and never very closely, is women’s gymnastics, and unfortunately this is the only summer Olympic event my husband is NOT interested in watching. This means there is a lot of Ooh, look at that! kind of commentary, followed by total disinterested silence from the other spouse. Occasionally there will be a polite Ah! in response, but those Ah!’s are few and far between.

After karate camp, my husband took the boys Camping For Real, which meant that I stayed home and made avocado fries and kale chips and watched back-to-back episodes of NYPD Blue before falling asleep at 8:45. I also tried to soothe Barkley, who had apparently fallen into a deep depression after hearing the truck being packed up and being left behind. Poor puppy. Who can blame him? NYPD Blue isn’t everyone’s taste. He sat outside in the backyard, staring at the garage for hours, until I tempted him in with treats, only to go back outside again. It was like a less-sad version of that movie where the dog waits for his deceased owner at the train station until death finally releases him from this heart-breaking hopefulness.

God, now I’m depressed.

Vacation! Back to vacation. We spent a few days at my parents’ place, and the weather cooperated enough for us to not only go boating, but for the boys to go tubing and swimming as well. My dad snapped this photo of me, and it cracks me up.

BOAT

I look like I am Deeply Disapproving of all this Fun In The Water, but really, this is just what my face looks like in repose. I was fully approving of the aquatic good times, I swear.

We then spent eight days at my in-laws’ place, where we had not one but two lovely dinners with friends, I enjoyed a Girly Afternoon With The Girls complete with mani-pedis and lunch, the boys went swimming several times, my husband and I took not-sad-anymore Barkley for long walks along the creek, and we went bowling twice.

BOWLING

Notice anything about this photo, other than my saucy bowling shoes? My shirt – which I chose while shopping with my mother, who thinks I wear Too Much Black – is not only colourful, it is long sleeved. It seems the below-average temperatures like to follow me wherever I go this summer. The chilliness didn’t really kill my summer buzz, but I would like more opportunities to wear my cute summer clothes before fall sets in.

To be honest, it kind of feels like fall has already set in; soon we’ll be doing things like wearing socks and sweaters and non-flimsy scarves. August is a bit of a funny month for me; for example, I spent this morning at the orthodontist, and next week the boys have appointments with both doctor and dentist. I need to make optometrist appointments, and I have to buy a LOT of clothes. I had the boys try on every clothing item they have, only to discover that Mark has zero pants that fit. Jake now has three pair of Mark’s old pants – the only ones that weren’t worn completely out – and nothing else. There’s only three weeks left of summer vacation!

Well, I need to cram some fun times into these final three weeks, as well as all the important health-and-clothing related business. Maybe I’ll take the kids to the amusement park, so I can look Deeply Disapproving there.

Starting summer with a (lightning) bang

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Usually the last few days of school are accompanied by lots of feelings and emotions about the end of school; the kids are both excited at the thought of lots of unscheduled days ahead and worried about them, they are happy to be through with school and sad about not seeing their friends, they are looking forward to a new adventure and emotional about leaving their teachers and classrooms behind. But this year was different because as soon as school let out we have been swept up in a whirlwind of activity.

Thursday was the farewell ceremony for the Grade Sixes, followed by a dance which was – by all accounts – EPIC. Friday was the last day of school and we barely had time to bask in the glow of excellent report cards and excitement about new scholastic adventures before we headed off to the airport. My cousin was getting married the next day, and it was a big, old-fashioned family-reunion-type wedding. I was a teenager when I attended her baby shower, and it is very special to see someone who I used to babysit get married.

We rushed to the airport, which, in retrospect, was completely unnecessary. Sudden electrical storms had all flights grounded; no planes were taking off or landing for hours. As the time ticked by I started wondering if we were even going to be able to take off that evening. After a two-hour delay we finally boarded, but the electrical storms that had plagued us in Calgary followed us all the way to Regina. The entire ninety minute flight was extremely turbulent, and by “extremely turbulent” I mean “bouncing off our seats and swaying back and forth in the manner of a carnival ride.” The flight attendants were unable to do anything but remain seated with seat belts securely fastened. It was by turns terrifying and sickening, and when we finally landed I was relieved to see that the weather was fine. Sure, it was late and dark, but at least it wasn’t storming. We had a two-hour drive ahead of us on a bumpy, two-lane, secondary highway.

Half an hour into the drive, the electrical storms started again. Have you ever been in a prairie electrical storm? When lightning flashes, the entire sky lights up in a blinding flash, followed by complete darkness. This, along with a) oncoming traffic in the form of semis on a two-lane highway, and b) rain coming down in sheets, made for a very very long drive. By the time we got to our hotel, it was after midnight. I had been up for over 20 hours straight by that point, and the winds were so strong I had a hard time actually walking through the parking lot. We checked in, got into our room, I went to set up the pullout couch for the boys, and realized there were no linens or pillows for them. Since it was so late, we (read: my husband) had to go to the main desk and retrieve them. By the time we got the bed made up and everyone settled, I was beyond exhausted.

The next day I wondered how much makeup would be required to cover up my eye bags. The lighting in the bathroom was unflattering at the best of times, but after that day of travel, I looked about thirty years older. I kept asking my husband if that was what I really looked like, until he got irritated with the questions. I ended up taking selfies in different parts of the hotel room to see if there were any differences, happily, it wasn’t as desperate as I thought.

eyebags

We’re going to need a bigger makeup bag.

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Getting better…

Of course, I’m happy to say it was all worthwhile to see my cousin so happy, and married to someone who obviously loves her very much. I got to see cousins I hadn’t seen in twenty years or more (many of whom I used to babysit. See also: I am getting old.) My male cousins were good sports to dance with me even though they desperately didn’t want to. The boys and I did the twist, and I even danced with my dad, who complained that I don’t follow well. It’s true. I’m brutal.

I’m also happy to say that the trip home was much less dramatic. We did pass this motel on the way home, and it made me laugh.

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You guys, it has cable television AND in-room coffee. Why didn’t we stay there? Now that would have been an adventure.

Tea for Two (and more)

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Last week was the Volunteer Tea at the school. I go every year but I don’t really look forward to it, if you know what I mean. I don’t dread it or anything, but it has always felt like more of a duty than a great pleasure or celebration. With the exception of the year Jake was in kindergarten, my children have never been involved in the performances, and so it’s mostly just a morning of drinking bad coffee and watching other people’s children. Which is fine! I always like seeing my friends’ kids perform and I always, always enjoy the completely adorable kindergarten performance, but, well, you know.

This year was different. For one thing, I am VERY COGNIZANT of the fact that I have only one more year left at the school, which makes me enjoy things a lot more. For another, Mark was the emcee for the tea, which was the first time ever he had emceed. I was PRETTY EXCITED when he told me of his moment in the spotlight, although that excitement was slightly dimmed by the fact that he had already known for two weeks and hadn’t thought to tell me.

This is the conversation we had a few weeks ago.

Mark: Are you going to the Volunteer Tea?

Me: Of course, I go every year.

Mark: Oh good, because I’m the emcee.

Me: OMGOMGOMG THAT’S AWESOME I’M SO PROUD OF YOU AND I’M SO EXCITED! Did you just find this out today?

Mark: No, Ms. H. asked me a couple weeks ago.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me?

Mark: I AM telling you.

Mark and his emcee partner did a great job, and the highlight for me was winning a door prize and having Mark call out my name – he was so excited. The door prize, by the way, was a begonia. I had already put in all my bedding plants so I really had to squeeze it in, but it looks beautiful.

And, of course, the kindergarten performance was a delight. The three morning kindergarten classes filed in and it took way longer for them to get set up for their song-and-dance routine than the actual routine, which is quite entertaining in itself. Okay, you stand there, now we are making a circle, remember, face your partner. I just love how some kids get really into it, and others sort of stand there and mouth the occasional word.

Speaking of which, one of the Grade One/ Two classes performed a song about different Canadian coins, which is one of those tenacious earworms. I was humming along for days: the beaver, oh! The beaver! A little part of history…But I digress. I was mentally picking out my friends’ kids in the class and smiling at the enthusiasm of the hand gestures, when I noticed a boy in the back row standing stock still. I kept my eye on him as he looked side to side, and then began slowly edging back, behind the boy beside him, who was taller. It was super stealthy; he edged inch by inch until he was completely behind the other boy. I assume he thought he was hidden from view. The gig was kind of up when the other boy realized something was happening, turned around, and jumped a little to see someone right behind him. Since they were on the top row of risers I was a little nervous it would all end with someone falling off but luckily, no such incident occurred.

In addition to hosting the Volunteer Tea, later on the same day the school hosts a Senior’s Tea for the elderly in our community, of which there are many. All the morning’s performances were to be repeated in the afternoon for the seniors’ entertainment, and Mark and his partner were, of course, emceeing as well. As in most senior’s groups, there is a dearth of men; however, Mark mentioned that there was one elderly fellow who chatted with him for a bit. The festivities were about to start, and Mark asked him to take a seat. “Okay!” the old man said. “We’re a little short at home. Which one should I take?” Ah, old man humour. Who can resist it?

I knew for a fact that my sweet next door neighbour was at the tea, and so I asked Mark if he had seen her.

Me: Did you talk to Mrs. G?

Mark: I don’t know. Maybe.

Me: What do you mean, maybe?

Mark: Well, I said hi to everyone who came in the door.

Me: Well, did you SEE Mrs. G?

Mark: I’ve got to be honest with you, Mom. All those old ladies? They look alike to me. I can’t tell them apart.

Me: Oh.

Mark: Well, they all have short grey hair and glasses and they all had kind of the same clothes, so I just really didn’t know. And there were so many of them!

Well. At any rate, by all accounts the tea was a success. We followed it with one of those very busy, productive weekends that had me crossing things off the to-do list like crazy. I even helped my husband clean the eavestroughs. Every year, it’s the same. My husband briefly considers hiring someone to clean the eavestroughs. Then he says that he’s not going to pay “some asshole” $90 for something he can do himself. (Note: it’s always “some asshole.”) Then, midway through cleaning out the disgusting debris, while I hold the ladder and try not to get disgusting debris dripped on my person, he says Why didn’t I just HIRE someone to do this? By the time the job is finished, however, he says he is GLAD he never hired anyone, and it’s not so bad, while I scrub off whatever has dripped on me and track pine needles everywhere. Ah, it’s nice to know what to expect in life, sometimes, isn’t it? Just like an old man joke, it’s nice sometimes to know the punchline.

Tiny Handprints On Furniture And Walls

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How was your weekend? I know that Mother’s Day can be fraught with all sorts of emotions and mixed feelings for some people, and if you are one of those, I hope you had some peace over the weekend.

I had some nostalgic, emotional moments when I realized, late Saturday night, that I had not been disallowed from unpacking any backpacks this week. Steph had commented on my Throwing It Back post last week that she remembered when her son no longer brought home Mother’s Day crafts from school, and that comment resurfaced in my brain after I realized that no one had panicked when I opened up backpacks this whole past week. Now, rationally, I know that all things eventually come to an end, and just like it would be very weird to get one of those “Tiny Handprints” poems from a nine-year-old, so too would it be strange to get a Mom-related acrostic poem written on a doily from a teenager. I knew such crafts would no longer come one day, I just didn’t realize that this Mother’s Day would be that day.

Landslide.

It was apparent that my hunch was correct on Sunday morning. Every year for Mother’s Day, my mom and I get pedicures and I go to the garden centre and buy whatever I like and call it my “Mother’s Day gift.” In actuality, I do not want a physical gift on Mother’s Day, just this nice little pedicure-and-plant-buying ritual. But I’ve always had some kind of craft to look at and admire on Mother’s Day, so it did feel a bit strange. I realized that I would never again receive a Mother’s Day craft. Never again is a very powerful concept.

I went to yoga and while I ujjayi breathed, I thought of all the moms in Fort Mac, and how the boys helped me plant the garden the day before, and how everything is wonderful and I really don’t even have room on my dressers for more crafts anyway, since I’ve been displaying most of them since I was given them and things are a little crowded with construction paper. I left the Shala smiling and with renewed perspective.

People, I came home and the boys and my husband had cleaned the entire house. They even scrubbed the baseboards, mopped the downstairs bathroom, and vacuumed the stairs.

Fuck the doily crafts, this was the best Mother’s Day gift ever.

I was completely surprised and frankly, elated. It came to me that motherhood is just one long string of eras, and I am out of the crafting era and into the “acts of service” era and this era is awesome. Not that I didn’t love the preschool teas…

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They were adorable. I enjoyed the “spa day” that Jake’s kindergarten teacher had devised, and I wore my bright-pink nail polish with pride, or something…

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What I’m saying is I love this new era, I really do. The boys helped my husband make dinner and they all cleaned up and it was kind of a Mother’s Day fantasy come true, to be honest. I used to long for moments by myself, to have a cup of coffee without someone needing help in the bathroom and to make dinner without someone crying in the kitchen, I used to just long for moments where no one was touching me or needing something or talking to me.

And now I have it. I have whole pots of coffee in peace, unless someone desperately needs to know what Reverend Lovejoy’s wife’s name is, or someone wants to expound on their theory that Star Wars could be real, we really don’t know, the universe is so big. No one ever cries when I am trying to get dinner on the table and when the kids get home from school they just hang out and don’t need a thing from me. I’m going to Toronto for YMC-related things tomorrow and it’s really not a big deal. Things will keep on ticking without me; they might be more slightly more complicated, but our little world will keep on turning while I’m gone. I’ll be missed, but not in a oh my god, the universe just imploded kind of way.

I didn’t mean to get all maudlin, but suddenly I understand those irritating old people who would say things like “Enjoy them, it goes so fast” in the grocery store when one kid would be crying in the cart and the other would be pulling things off the shelf. I mean, I’m not going to turn into one of those people because comments like that are in the Top Ten Least Helpful Things To Say To A Mother, but I understand them. And if I went back in time I’d still long for a cup of coffee in peace, I’m sure.

Still.

So to all you mamas of little ones out there, you are doing a great job. Keep on keeping on. And to all you mamas of older kids out there, well, I get it now. It actually does go fast and we can’t stop time, so we better enjoy the ride while we are on it. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my very clean house, and pack for my trip tomorrow, and plan to talk about Star Wars and The Simpsons nonstop at the dinner table tonight. xo

Taco Tuesday and Toasters

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Last Friday, I came across a Jimmy Kimmel clip and realized something quite shocking: in the world of emojis, “eggplant” is code for “penis,” “peach” is code for “ass,” and “taco” is code for “vagina,” which makes all those recipes I’ve posted, complete with cutesy emojis, kind of offensive. When I realized this, I heard from one person who went so far as to say that she had NEVER seen anyone use those particular emojis for the food which they are modeled after. In other words, all those Taco Tuesday posts take on a very different meaning from what I had intended.

I feel like one of those old people who use “LOL” as “Lots of Love!” and who horrify their children by saying they want to Netflix and Chill with the whole family. After all, it was a mere six months ago when my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) tipped me off as to the Netflix and Chill meaning, and who really knows what hip new saying I will find out is a horrifying double entendre in another six months. After all, I’ve been using eggplants and chili peppers all over the place ever since such emojis were made available to me.

In other exciting news, we got a new toaster this weekend. I had been waiting for my old toaster to die for years. I hated it immediately; it was so finicky with the dial that the slightest movement would take the bread from the “dry bread” stage to the “completely burnt and inedible” stage within seconds. Toasting one slice of bread only was a complete act of faith, and the “Cancel” button never worked, so that when I could see the toast going into the “OMG it is going to burn” stage my only option was to unplug it. When it died this weekend I actually cheered. The great satisfaction I have for our new toaster is matched only by the satisfaction I got from getting it 40% off on Bay Days, and makes me think that I probably could have done this sooner.

I read a piece this weekend entitled “Memo to parents: Your adult children don’t want your stuff.” The premise was this: we all have our own style and tastes, and limited space, and we don’t want to fill that limited space with your “heirlooms.” The whole piece gave me massively mixed feelings; as someone who lives in a small bungalow that is entirely filled with my own furniture and artwork of my own taste, I understand the author’s point of view.

But on the other hand, it really made me sad. It made me sad to think about people of my grandparents’ generation, saving up to buy something good and lasting, and then have no one want it. And I get it, I really do, but I still think it’s sad. People are not their things, and the world is about more than just possessions, but still. I have a few things that belonged to my grandmothers, and I treasure them very much.

In terms of our old toaster, I held onto it because I didn’t want to waste money on a new one when the old one still worked, however substandardly, but I also knew that it wouldn’t last forever. Things are made to be disposable now, more’s the pity. My mother-in-law still has the chest freezer that she had when she was first married; they just celebrated their 54th wedding anniversary. Back then, things didn’t get thrown out. Now, we are lucky if our washing machine lasts more than five years, or if our dishwasher doesn’t need to be replaced twice in a decade.

Part of what I think is sad is that there is a huge disconnect in thinking between generations. Back in our grandparents’ day, you took pride in your possessions, and you assumed you would pass them on when you died. Part of that was because our grandparents didn’t really have much in the way of “stuff.” Today, we have way too much stuff, and we take great joy not in passing it along to beloved family members, but getting rid of it in trash bags at the Goodwill. So it is an entirely new way of thinking, in this world of more, more, more.

Of course, the dark side of taking great care of and pride in your possessions is the propensity to not use it. I was thinking of this when I read my friend Swistle’s (HI SWISTLE) post about using the “good stuff.” How many of us have boxes of things that we never use because they are too precious? I have my grandmother’s china, a full set, that was given to her on her 40th anniversary. It was saved for me, the only granddaughter on that side, and given to me at my wedding shower. It is absolutely precious to me, it is beautiful, I love it, I am happy to have it, and yet, I never use it. Each piece is carefully wrapped up and stored.

This. This is ridiculous. Why DON’T I use it? I should not need an occasion to use the beautiful china. Sure, I don’t have the cupboard space to store it properly, but wouldn’t it make an everyday dinner kind of special, and worth the effort? I don’t even need to worry about it getting broken because I cannot remember the last time one of my children broke a plate or anything. And if it did get broken, at least it would be used and enjoyed.

But here’s the thing: life is brief and fleeting and we shouldn’t waste it eating substandard toast, so to speak. My husband has given me two beautiful diamond rings; one is an anniversary ring for our tenth, and the other is a solitaire for my 40th birthday. They are fancy and yet I wear them almost every day, taking them off only for gardening or rolling out cookie dough or similar. They make me feel happy and sparkly. If we have pretty clothes, or expensive shoes, or a gorgeous handbag, why should these things hide in our closet when we could use them every day and make ourselves feel fabulous? What are we saving these things for? If our generation is indicative of future generations, no one will want these things when we die so we might as well use them now. How sad would it be to die with boxes of super-fancy soap and unused guest towels? So let’s agree to drink the wine, use the truffle oil, and set out the china for pizza night. Or Taco Tuesday.