This morning I was driving to the yoga shala, and the radio was playing Sunglasses at Night. Boy in the Box was one of my favourite albums back in 1985, and so I turned it up and sang along. I pulled into a parking stall, still singing. You’ve gone to bed with a guy in shades, oh no. Then I turned off the car, went into the shala and did my practice. An hour and a half later I got back into the car, turned it on, and Sunglasses at Night was on the radio. Again. At the exact same part of the song as it was when I turned the car off. You’ve gone to bed with a guy in shades, oh no. I sat motionless for a moment, feeling like I was in some surreal universe. Where am I? Did I actually GO into the shala? Did I record Sunglasses at Night on a CD and not realize it? WHAT IS HAPPENING? It was, I should mention, the same radio station, which means that a hit from 1985 was played twice in less than a two hour period. Very strange beginning to the day.
Speaking of strange and also going to bed with a guy in shades, I heard George Michael’s I Want Your Sex on the radio the other day. Feel free to make a comment about the nature of the radio stations I listen to at this time. Anyway, I clearly remember when I Want Your Sex came out and how terribly shocking it was at the time, back in the day before Eminem and Nate Dogg wanted a bitch with double-D’s to fuck in the back of a Hummer truck, or Rihanna was looking for a guy to go downtown, or even when Nelly wanted someone to fuck him good AND suck him good. George Michael was scandalous back in 1987, but here’s the thing: I find the expression I want your sex to be very strange indeed. You want my…sex? Is this something anyone has ever said in the history of time? I mean, until Bruno Mars recently intoned that your sex takes me to paradise. Bruno, do you mean having sex with you takes me to paradise? Because that would make a lot more sense.
You can tell that it’s Friday, can’t you? Suddenly things are getting X-rated around here. Unrelated to my strange thought processes spurred by hits from the mid-to-late eighties, it’s International Women’s Day! International Women’s Day, and I just typed an entire paragraph about inappropriate song lyrics. Anyway, it turns out I’m going to be spending International Women’s Day evening with a couple of my favourite girlfriends, who are coming over to taste test some new recipes. One of them is chocolate pudding made out of cauliflower. I know what you’re thinking, but it is actually pretty good, and it’s not just me saying that – Jake told me it was not bad, which I consider to be a win, given he was aware of the ingredients.
This is not to say my kids don’t like vegetables; they do, just not cauliflower. Does anyone really like cauliflower? I like it roasted, but other than that, it is a pretty lame vegetable. It doesn’t even have a pretty colour and YES, I realize I am focussing on appearances, but it doesn’t taste great either. I like vegetables that are beautiful inside and out, if you know what I mean.
I had something lovely to say here about inner and outer beauty, but Patio Lanterns just came on the radio, which may be the worst song ever written, other than Might As Well Go For A Soda, and so now I have lost that train of thought. Patio Lanterns, for the love of god. Is there a worse song? Because right now even Macarthur Park seems awesome.
In any case, have a lovely International Women’s Day, let’s celebrate each other and how far we’ve come. xoxo
Category Archives: Food
Nicole’s Favourite Things, Aloha Edition
The book fair is done! All loose ends are tied up; everything is finished until next November, when I will be relating my book fair sob stories once again. For those of you who have asked WHY I do this to myself, over and over like one of those fifty-shades types of girls, well, I ask the same question of myself when I find myself photocopying, cutting, and sorting 420 draw forms, or answering “The posters are five dollars. Yes, that one is five dollars too. They are all five dollars” a thousand times, or handling all that warm, sweaty money. The answer is, of course, that my kids tell me that they are so excited I’m in the school doing the book fair, and when I walk down the halls I get random hugs from children, and the school librarian tells me how happy she is to be ordering more books for the learning and literacy program and the ESL students. I even got thank you cards made for me by a couple of students, which makes the memory of sorting through the reorder forms fade significantly.
This week is flying by; book fair, make up karate classes, and, of course, readjusting to regular life after vacation. Yesterday my girlfriend who was volunteering with me asked me to tell her all about our vacation, and I had that far-off feeling that I was on another planet some time ago, and now the memories are all that remain. I’m trying to keep that aloha feeling going, so without further adieu I give you…
Nicole’s Favourite Things, Aloha Edition
As always, my favourite things are just things I love and I think you might too. These posts are never sponsored, I received nothing for free, and I was not compensated by any companies to write this post.
Lulu Bands
Not to be confused with lululemon, these are essentially ponytail holders that don’t damage your hair and don’t leave those annoying ponytail bumps in your hair when you take out your ponytail.
I know what you’re thinking: what is that, a scrunchie? Is this 1990? But no, they are not scrunchies, they look cute and non obtrusive in your hair, and you don’t need to worry about breakage, which is especially important for us fine-haired girls with over-processed, brittle hair. I’m wearing one in this picture – see? Not scrunchie-like at all.
Cheap Pedicures
Normally, the term “cheap pedicure” gives me visions of gross things like foot fungus or similar. I prefer to go once or twice a year to more expensive spas to get pedicures; where I live prices of these kind of services (and everything else) are fairly inflated, and so generally getting a pedicure doesn’t even cross my mind. However, I failed to recall the priniciples of supply and demand. In Maui, there seems to be a nail salon on every block, and the prices are insanely low. How could I resist? Plus during my pedicure I got to sit next to an older gentleman from Arizona who talked to me about dog breeds and golf. You just can’t buy that kind of entertainment.
Old Navy Swimwear
Last summer I bought some bikinis from Old Navy for $5-8 a piece. A steal! I also bought some skirts during the Boxing Week sales for $8 each, and they are cute, wrinkle free, and super comfortable. Their regular prices are not bad, either, and there is usually some kind of online discount to take advantage of.
Cute skirt, and perfect for travel. Also – Fern – shout out to my grandma! Love you, Grandma!
Sunglasses
My husband has always hated my old sunglasses. He’s had a vendetta against them for years. So, on this trip, we popped into a Sunglass Hut where I was helped by the most flamboyant man ever. This guy knew his sunglasses, and he fitted me out with these lovely things:
as well as a set of aviators so I can pretend I’m actually in Top Gun. Can I just give a shout out to that flamboyant man? He gave me a totally mouth-turned-down frowny face every time I tried on a pair of glasses that didn’t suit me, shook his head, and said “Um, NO.” I kind of fell in love with him a little bit, especially when he told me that his “friend” was in town from Las Vegas, and they had some champagne on the beach watching the sunset. He also said, when I told him we were leaving soon, “Well, being in paradise doesn’t pay the bills, am I right?” Truth.
Coconut
We were on holidays! And so the freezer in our condo was kept well stocked with all sorts of frozen treats. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself as the boys ate sundaes and ice cream sandwiches, meanwhile the rice milk ice cream I had purchased for myself tasted exactly like sadness. Then I discovered So Delicious Coconut Milk products, and OMG people. OMG PEOPLE.
I used to think that I disliked coconut; it turns out I dislike artificial coconut flavour and also shredded coconut, the texture of which resembles old dried-out dental floss to me. GOD BLESS THE COCONUT. I use coconut milk in my cooking and baking, coconut oil, and now I am a coconut milk “non-dairy frozen dessert” convert. Speaking of coconut, the one thing I regretted from our last Maui trip was that I didn’t bring home any coconut scented lotion. “Really, you REGRET not buying a bottle of lotion?” my husband said, confused at my use of the word regret. Yes! I regretted it! So I made amends to myself:
I’m wearing it right now and I keep sniffing at my coconuty hands. Smell my finger! Really, it smells like coconut.
Side note: the more times I type coconut, the weirder the word looks to me. Anyone else have this experience?
Speaking of smells…
Routine Natural De-odor-cream
I know, I know, I’ve extolled the virtues of Routine De-odor-cream before, but here’s another plug. It’s all natural deodorant, my friend makes it, and it WORKS. I spent my mornings at the beach, my afternoons doing my yoga practice and then going to the pool, and even with all that hot sun and sweating and activity, I STILL SMELLED FRESH. My very favourite is Sweet Jane, but I took Lucy in the Sky with me to Maui, thinking the lavender would be a bit, um, fresher. I was right! I did not smell in the least like a feral hippie. So, if you’ve ever been concerned about using natural deodorant – as I was in the past – FEAR NO MORE. This product really works.
Ah, it was a great trip. Now we are into March, my goodness, and it’s Friday! Which means wine time, also one of my favourite things.
February and Friday Happiness
It’s the first day of February! January is over, for those of you who had a case of the January blues. And here in Calgary, the weather today is unseasonably warm, the snow is melting, cars are filthy. This warmth is in sharp contrast to earlier in the week, when it was minus 37 with windchill. I went to pick the boys up at lunch – the boys who went to school wearing snowpants, parkas, neck warmers, hats, mitts, and boots – and was sadly disappointed with the sight of them sprinting across the icy playground to meet me, hatless and frozen. Mark, in particular, cheerfully popped out of his school door wearing only his coat, and unzipped at that. By the time he made it to the car he was blue, and I asked him what he was thinking. “Well, the sun was shining,” he said, “So I thought it was warm out.”
The blue skies of Calgary in the winter can be deceiving. There is a very special breed of Calgarian who ignores the information on the temperature gauge and instead dresses based on what the sky looks like. You can see these purple legged people everywhere, running along the pathway system, wearing shorts despite the minus 20 temperatures. It appears that I have birthed one of these people.
But hey, it’s Friday, it’s February, AND it’s a PD day, which I love. I am still in my sweaty yoga clothes, the kids are in their jammies playing Poke Park on the Wii, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with the giant batch of vegan sour “cream” I made yesterday. I was reminded after I made it why I avoid soy. Possibly this can be used as an ingredient in some other recipe; it certainly cannot be used on its own because NASTY. Oh well, either I salvage it or I forfeit $1.49 worth of soft tofu. The consequences are not that dire.
I went shopping at Costco yesterday, which isn’t generally my favourite thing to do, but thanks to short lineups and the fact that only one person disparaged my choice of almond milk, it wasn’t too bad. At least I wasn’t buying this:
Cocoa Pebbles! I had no idea those were still in production. I have never actually eaten these in my life: my mother, wise woman, did not believe in sugar cereals for children. Once in a while we had Honey Nut Cheerios, but that was the extent of it. Still, someone must be eating them. At first the words “Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs” popped into my head, but then I realized that is advertising for a totally different cocoa-flavoured-cartoon-branded-cereal.
I’m not criticizing, mind you. Critiquing people’s grocery choices is so not me. Hell, for all I know this is a base for a Rice-Krispie-esque Square. Perhaps a Valentine’s Day treat for that special someone. Speaking of Valentine’s Day, I came across this on Facebook, and I wish I knew the creator:
These really leave those “Bee Mine” or “I Choo-Choo-Choose You” cards in the dust. The dust, I say! Quit Stalin, I shall say to my husband. And he will shake his head at me, brow furrowed, probably wondering why his wife is such a nutcase.
For example, this morning I was scrolling through news headlines and saw “Ed Koch Died In The Closet.” The first – the very first – thought that went through my head was how did he die in a closet? Did he fall into the closet, and did no one find him? Poor guy. Then I read the article. OH. Light bulb. I took that for a sign I needed more coffee.
Then, to top off my nuttiness, I realized that there is a whole folder of messages in my Facebook account that I didn’t know was there! A sweet note from a woman at the Yoga Shala, from OCTOBER that I had obviously never replied to since I didn’t know it was there. Rude! Also in that folder, this classy note from an unknown stranger:
Hello, I am Oscar. I am 45 year old and i am italian live California. I came across your profile and it would be my pleasure if we can be close friends…
Is this how people meet people these days? It creeped me out – possibly unfairly. I mean, maybe Oscar just needs a friend. A CLOSE friend. Anyone want to be Oscar’s friend? Anyone?
Being a MILF
I was driving home from yoga this morning and I heard “You Shook Me All Night Long” on the radio, and it occurred to me – not for the first time – that the line “knocking me out with those American thighs” had much different connotation back in 1980 than it would today. American thighs probably doesn’t have the same seductive imagery these days.
Unless, of course, the owner of the American thighs are following the MILF Diet. Have you heard about the MILF diet? I had been blissfully unaware until yesterday, when I discovered that there is a book and website devoted to becoming a MILF via nutritional intake. The book describes a MILF and her diet in the following way:
A true milf is confident, sexy, and radiates natural femininity. By eating whole, plant-based foods, you, too, can find balance and dynamic health, and unleash your inner MILF. It’s simple: you are what you eat. So, to fulfill your true potential for health, happiness, and MILFiness, it’s best to avoid refined sugars, processed foods, dairy, and meat.
You guys, that is totally MY diet! Plant based, no meat, avoiding dairy, refined sugars, processed foods…do you see what I’m saying here? I AM A MILF. Either that or the MILF people stole my diet plan.
Who am I kidding, I didn’t need a diet book to tell me about being MILF-y. I felt Mrs. Robinson-like the first time I accidentally flashed my thong while gardening in my front yard, and noticed the young guy across the street standing there, staring at me. HOWDY NEIGHBOUR. Nice day, isn’t it? That incredibly awkward situation did have an upside: I now only garden in yoga pants and with long shirts. No need to disturb the neighbourhood, or to make my other across-the-street neighbour feel like it’s okay for him to mow the lawn wearing only giant sneakers and a pair of cut-off red sweatpants. This is not that kind of neighbourhood, people! We have real estate values to think of, here.
MILF is one of those words – or acronyms, to be more accurate – that some people find incredibly offensive, and to be sure, it isn’t the most polite way of saying that a woman is attractive. It’s better than, say, hootchie mama, but that’s about it. Still, it’s best not to think of it literally; in the fucking sense, I mean. I would prefer not to think of men – especially those who live across the street from me and with whom I now have very stilted, awkward conversations about the weather – thinking of me as someone they’d like to fuck. Because ew. Just…ew. I’m sure this goes without saying, but bedroom-sexy-times imagery is something I would prefer to keep between me and my husband.
Apparently though, the term has evolved to simply mean a woman who is a mother who happens to be attractive, which is okay, unless you take everything from When Harry Met Sally as Biblical-level wisdom:
Harry: No man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Do you see what I’m saying here? I’m saying this term, which started out kind of gross and offensive, and which is generally now thought to have a gentler meaning, is really just gross and offensive, due to the nature of men wanting to have sex with attractive women. It’s a circular argument. That is, if When Harry Met Sally is considered to be an accurate representation of male/female relationships, and if it’s not, then I just do not know where to turn. TOP GUN? Never fire unless fired upon? It’s unthinkable. SAY ANYTHING? They take your money and tell their friends everything. It’s about economics, man. No way. THE BREAKFAST CLUB? Don’t play with the bull, young man. You’ll get the horns. No, no, no.
One might think that I should possibly get on top of pop-culture references that are less than twenty-five years old. This might be something to think about in future posts.
But really, do you know what I find offensive about the term MILF? It’s an inaccurate acronym. It really should be MILTF, but I guess that’s just too complicated. Also? In The MILF Diet, the author refers to – get this – DILFs. As in “Dad I’d Like To Fuck”. Is it me or has the whole thing just gone too far? There was a line, MILF Diet author, and you crossed it. That is a big fucking envelope and you are pushing it to the extreme. First a diet based on how to get random male university students to want to fuck you, now we have to pull men and some kind of Freudian imagery into it? Not to mention that DILF just makes me think of DILLHOLE, which isn’t exactly a term that makes me think of sexy-times. The whole thing smacks of idiocy.
It appears I may have had too much coffee today. Wait. WAIT. Is coffee allowed on the MILF diet? Probably not. I have overestimated my position as a MILF. I guess I will abdicate and just go on with life as a regular mom.
Oooh, I hated the Colonel, with his WEE BEADY EYES
After my last post, I had a few people grumpily say There is NOTHING good about January, to which I respond, sunnily, There is only a week left! One week and then we are into February! So there’s a positive thought for you, even if it is just time tick-tick-ticking away. Also, tomorrow is Robbie Burns’ Day, for all you of Scottish or partial Scottish heritage. Time for the annual viewing of So I Married An Axe Murderer, complete with Rod Stewart and the Bay City Rollers impersonations. My dad is probably gearing up for a Haggis feast right this very second. I was in the grocery store the other day and noticed this sign:
It’s so cheerful! Got Haggis?
Gracious, that’s repellent. Well, the Scots are not known for their cuisine, that is for sure. Anyone for some sausage cooked in a lamb’s stomach with a side of boiled potatoes? OH YES PLEASE. Has anyone noticed that there is not exactly a plethora of Scottish cookbooks around? There is a reason.
So I’m not a fan, of haggis or boiled potatoes. But each to his own, right? For example, my husband hates my new hairband, which I think is the cutest thing ever. It has a bow on it! And lest you think that I look like I’m about to break into the Good Ship Lollipop, the bow is very small:
I think it’s cute, anyway. It occurred to me that the gap between what my husband thinks is cute and stylish and what I think is cute and stylish is often very wide indeed. I do tend to pause, if he has issue with something I think is tres adorable, because after all I do not want to become one of those women who bring to mind the wretched “mutton dressed as lamb” saying. It’s good to have feedback, even if that feedback isn’t exactly what we want to hear.
Which brings to mind something I meant to mention last week, but I was too mired in the January Blues. Kate Middleton is, in my opinion, the most beautiful woman in the world. What I wouldn’t do for her hair and her wardrobe. Her shoes! Anyway, she is, without a doubt, stunning. This portrait, however, is not:
Now, I’m no artist. (This is an understatement. I can draw little stick people, daisies, and a happy little sun and that is about it.) However, I find myself a bit depressed about this portrait. If this can happen to Kate, what chance do the rest of us have? At least her hair still looks fabulous, even though her eyes look strangely dead and she looks like she needs to sleep for twelve hours.
All of which is to say, feedback is good, even if it is not what we wish to hear. And yes, I know that Kate was purportedly thrilled with this portrait, and to that I think, well, what is she going to say? Is she going to threaten to have him beheaded and throw a bucketful of paint at it? I’m guessing NOT. I’m guessing she dug deep into her good manners reserves, smiled politely, went home, and berated William with questions “Do I need a new undereye concealer? My god, why didn’t you TELL ME?”
One Week
The first week of January is gone, and I’m completely scattered, so here are some random things going on in the Boyhouse:
1) The boys go back to school tomorrow, and I am having my usual last-day-of-vacation mixed feelings: happiness about the return to routine, and melancholy about the fleeting nature of time, and what city will the kids go to university in, and will it be close, and god, I sure hope my future daughters-in-law like me. Physically this manifests itself as me cheerfully filling in my calendar for the week with errands and appointments that are unpleasant or impossible to do with the children, and also me randomly grabbing and hugging the nearest child, or screaming “I LOVE YOU!” down the stairs where the children very patiently say “Thanks, Mom.” THANKS MOM. It’s like my life is a weird sitcom episode.
2) My appetite, which has been absent all week, has returned with a vengeance, so in between my week planning and my melancholy, I am also thinking near-constantly about FOOD. Let’s see, I should go to Costco on Thursday, and maybe make quesadillas tonight, I have to remember to make up the School Council agenda, should I maybe make some of that eggplant dip right now, hmmm…do I have any crackers? Because the kids were disappointed that I baked brownies to take to a baby shower yesterday rather than for their own consumption, I baked another pan of them this morning, combining my food obsession with my over-indulgence due to the aforementioned fleeting nature of time.
3) Yesterday I actually got teary eyed watching Ray Lewis come onto the Ravens’ field for the last time. I would blame hormones but I can’t really, which reminds me of the evening not long ago when I was lying on the couch, tearful with hip pain, with a heating pad on my back, washing down Tylenol for Body Pain with red wine and Christmas chocolate, crying to my husband about being sad, so very sad, since my incredible back and hip pain indicated that I would now have to spend the rest of my life in a chiropractor’s office. I became annoyed with my husband for not being more sympathetic to my plight as a cripple. Then I started googling chiropractors, acupuncturists, and scoliosis. Maybe 2013 will be the year where I finally recognize ladies’ holiday symptoms rather than concluding that life as I know it is over and the rest of my life will be all about pain management and sadness.
4) Speaking of Dr. Google, I fell down the rabbit hole last night by looking up “rashes and stomach virus” since Jake had developed a rash on his stomach and chest. Instead of concluding reasonably that Jake, being prone to rashes, simply had a bumpy red manifestation of the virus that we had – probably Norwalk – I started clicking links that were, frankly, terrifying. Consulting Dr. Google is never a good idea. I blame my undernourished brain.
5) If there is a bright side to contracting a virulent stomach virus such as Norwalk, it is that a post-Christmas cleanse becomes completely unnecessary. Not that I was really contemplating a cleanse; I did the Wild Rose cleanse back in 1999 and although that is now nearly fourteen years ago, I still get the shivers thinking about it. That cleanse was the reason why, whenver anyone tells me that they are doing a similar detox, all I can think is exploding intestines, and I hope you have a nice bathroom. But in any case, being sick has made post-Christmas weight-loss plans unnecessary, which is a minor upside to a deplorable week.
How was the first week of January for you?
Nicole’s Favourite Things: Holiday Edition, part 2
Part 2 is finally here! As is winter break; the kids are off school, it’s minus a billion outside, and I have nowhere to be and nothing particular that needs to get done, so I’m drinking Bailey’s and coffee and listening to Christmas carols. Festive! Without further ado, I present the random things I love about the holidays.
Nicole’s Favourite Things – Holiday Loving Edition
Booze
So, as I mentioned only a couple of sentences ago, I am drinking Bailey’s and coffee. When else is having an alcoholic beverage at eight in the morning socially acceptable? IT’S THE HOLIDAYS. Bailey’s and coffee is my second-favourite holiday drink, the first being red wine. It’s red, therefore festive. Back in the day, my old roommate and I used to drink hot chocolate and Bailey’s, which is also nice, but significantly higher in calories and lower in caffeine zing. Coffee it is! I like having this with my mother, who drinks her coffee black and the Bailey’s ON THE SIDE. She is the only person in the world that I know of who does this. I’m old-school, glugging it right into my coffee. Hence the somewhat randomness of this post.
Family Togetherness
Oh, hahaha! I just thought of Christmas Vacation “Hallelujah, holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?” But honestly, now that my kids are older and are at school all day, I miss them. It’s fun having them home even if they talk my ear off about their pretend restaurant and what would I order if I was there, and if I ate meat, what kind of meat would it be? Also, would I like a side order of cilantro? And did I know that (something something something I’ve tuned this out) King Boo (something something) Yoshi in (somewhere something) Mario Kart?
The other day I went to buy some dog food in the strip mall near my house, the parking lot of which is terrifying. I always feel like I take my life in my hands whenever I venture into that parking lot: so many seniors blindly and without reflexes driving their gigantic boats of cars, mixed with super-impatient university students blazing past them. It’s QUITE unnerving. Anyway, I stopped in at the nearby drugstore after buying dog food, and there I witnessed perhaps the most entertaining elderly mother/ adult daughter argument ever. The elderly mother was very loud and belligerent, and the daughter was trying in vain to shush her. At one point, she shouted “Goddamn it, Susan, stop pushing a tree on me. I don’t want a goddamn tree!” “Ssssh, Mom.” “I mean it, I don’t want a goddamn tree!”
Oh, family togetherness for the holidays. This brings me to the next point:
The Tree and Ornaments
We have a fake tree, because of various allergies in our house, and so the tree goes up December 1st or earlier. It looks like Christmas threw up on it, and I love it:
The boys have their favourite ornaments. Mark likes the Joy one, with the snowmen. Sweetly enough, this is the ornament I purchased the year he was a baby, on his first Christmas! Jake loves the purple sparkly reindeer, among many, many others (notice the Ben 10 one below it). He likes to have all his favourites close together on the tree.
That little tiny creche is one of my favourites. I also bought that cute little gingerbread lady this year. The tiny snowman in a Santa suit is left over from a set I bought with my roommate – of hot chocolate and Bailey’s fame. When we left the apartment we shared, I got custody of the little snowmen.
This little set of penguins is cute. They fit together like matryoshka dolls. The boys set them up, and Mark put the baby in the middle because, as he said, “Babies like to be with their moms.” Aw. My heart exploded.
Years ago, my mother-in-law gave me this old glass bowl with feet. It sits on my end table year round, with ocean-smooth rocks, seashells, and drifwood in it. At Christmas, I put in some old ornaments from my husband’s childhood, also given me by my mother-in-law.
When I graduated from university, I took a trip to Mexico with a couple of girlfriends. While shopping one day, I found these little nativity clay figures. The little barn came later, from somewhere that I don’t recall. But setting up the creche is a fun tradition in our house, especially since the kids have named the sheep and cows and like to play with them. One of the sheep is named Mo, I don’t know what the others are called. Oh wait, let me ask the boys. Okay, the others are Eely and Blimblimblim. What? Aren’t all livestock named Blimblimblim? It’s as common as Spot the Dog or Bessie the Cow.
Since our tree has a finite number of branches, but my ability to buy new ornaments each year is infinite, some end up in otherwise merely decorative vases. Note the pine cones, those were collected years ago from my in-laws’ place.
Look at these cute little snowmen! Even though the girl one is missing buttons, it brings me back to the days when we were starry-eyed newlyweds, instead of the staid old married couple we are now. Kidding! We still grope each other in public.
The bathroom – destination for broken ornaments everywhere. More of those little snowmen!
I put a bow on our medicine cabinet, and my husband was not a fan. Why? No one knows.
Christmas Music
It’s no secret I’m a huge fan of such slutty festive favourites such as Santa Baby and Baby, It’s Cold Outside. But did you know I pretty much love all Christmas music? The exception being Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime. Even thinking of this song makes me stabby. Last year I acquired Michael Buble’s Christmas album, and it is seriously fabulous. I could listen to it all day long, and lately I have been. It has the cutest male version of Santa Baby. “Slip a Rolex under the tree.”
I also love playing holiday music on the piano. I’ve had that Rudolph song book – which is completely falling apart – since I was maybe 12. I still love it.
Food
Food! I love festive munchies. My mom makes something that used to be called butterhorns, but my husband started calling them honey buns, and Jake started calling them funny buns. Semantics, people. A rose by any other name, etc. This is my favourite treat and I only eat them at Christmas. I also love my mom’s chocolate Yule log, for which I am going to eschew my non-dairy thing. I must have Yule log! Sadly, I am facing my first Christmas without cheese. I’m not sure what I will do to compensate for this: maybe lots of mixed nuts and bits and bites? I don’t know, and at this point I’ve had enough Bailey’s and coffee that I really don’t care. Food, what? MOAR BAILEY’S PLZ.
So tell me, dear reader, what are your holiday favourites? What do you love best about this time of year? Tell Nicole everything. xoxo