Category Archives: Food

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Not Quite In Style Edition

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One of the best things about aging is that I no longer care about being in style. I said this to my husband, who vehemently disagreed that this was the case, leading to an involved conversation about semantics. I maintain that having personal style and caring about how a person presents oneself is very different from being in style. I care very much about my own personal style, but as far as trends are concerned, I’m indifferent.

I’m sliding towards my fiftieth birthday not knowing celebrity gossip or who even the young celebrities are these days; my only exposure to new music is from Peloton pop rides, and I am solidly ensconced in styles that I like without regards to current trends. I can really, really relate to women who were wearing their hair feathered or mulleted in the late nineties, with frosted lipstick and blue eyeshadow. I hope I’m not there.

I think there is something to the idea that later in life a woman adopts a hairstyle that harkens back to her favourite time of life. I once mentioned to a hair stylist that I worried I was in a hair rut, always wanting the same old thing, and she said Well, look at Barbra Streisand! She’s had the same hairstyle for years, and she looks great. I was unsure of how I felt, being compared to septugenarian Babs, since I was about thirty-four at that time, but I embrace the comment in the spirit in which it was intended.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Not Quite In Style Edition

Forever In Blue Jeans

Up until last week, I would have said that the current, very in vogue style of barrel or wide leg jeans was only for the very young, but then my gorgeous friend Carolyn (HI CAROLYN) swanned into book club on Thursday wearing a pair and looking like a total fox, and so I stand corrected.

The key to styling those jeans, I think, is to counterbalance the voluminous legs with a crop top, a fitted, tucked-in tee, or a bodysuit, and to accessorize with a wide belt. Unfortunately for me, I am reluctant to call attention to my own personal belt area, and so this is a fashion I am not going to participate in.

I think the most universally flattering cut of jeans is the flare or boot cut with a nice chunky heel, but heels are not part of my daily life anymore, and so I will also sadly pass on this style as well. I find I look frumpy in a flare with flats, what can I say. Fortunately, I am in the I don’t give a fuck stage of fashion, and so I still embrace the wildly-out-of-style skinny jeans. What other pant can you wear tall boots with? I also appreciate that skinny jeans go well with long tops, which covers the exact spot I wish to cover up, namely my tum-tum.

My one concession to wide leg jeans is a meet-you-in-the-middle style, the boyfriend jean. I like them cuffed with ankle boots, or little flats in the summer.

Here’s a hot tip for all my fellow Canadians: go to Mark’s, as in the former Work Wearhouse. They have a great selection of Silver jeans, which are in my mind the best brand around. Silver jeans have so much stretch without getting stretched out, which is a remarkable feature for denim. They have so many different styles and cuts, and almost always there is some kind of BOGO deal happening at Mark’s. I’m not sponsored by Mark’s! I just love that store.

These Boots Were Made For Walking

Speaking of Mark’s, my younger son just bought his first pair of steel-toed boots. According to his somewhat-trend-aware brother, my son is in the height of fashion: the aforementioned boots are Timberlands, albeit the tan colour is now splattered with oil and grease. I also have Timberland boots – from Mark’s! – which look nice, Mom, but they aren’t exactly in style. Well, no, mine are a) black, not tan, and b) winter boots. They might not be the height of fashion, but I still think they are cute, and they are perfect for our long morning walks.

Cute, comfortable, grippy, warm, and waterproof, what more does one want from winter walking boots?

Entering My Elastic Waist Era

Many years ago, I was laughing at the Sears catalogue that described a particular style of pants as “pull on pants.” Aren’t we all pulling on our pants? Well, yes. Pull on pants became code for any clothing associated with the elderly, but just like everything else I have looked at judgmentally in my life, it has come back to haunt me. Here I am, pulling on elastic waist pants and loving them.

I bought these from Lululemon and they are quite honestly the most comfortable pants I have ever worn. I’m not even sure how to describe them: like sweatpants that look like actual dress pants would be the closest I can come. I think these would be the perfect travel pants; comfortable enough to wear on the plane, wrinkle-resistant and honestly, pretty cute. I wouldn’t showcase the elastic waist, but I wouldn’t be showcasing my waist anyway.

Maybe She’s Born With It

I have long been a proponent of drugstore makeup; in my mind Maybelline’s Surreal Falsies is the single greatest mascara ever invented, and I love that brand’s Ultimatte lipstick. I am newly a convert to another lip colour, thanks to my friend Sarah (HI SARAH), who brought Super Stay Ink Crayon Lipstick to my attention. Friends, this is a truly remarkable product.

The colour stays on for hours, HOURS, even after eating and drinking and even dabbing one’s mouth with one’s napkin. I’m not sure how it stays on after sexytimes, but I’m guessing it performs in that area as well.

It’s Asparagus Season, Motherfuckers

I am so excited that asparagus is in season and, relatively speaking, less expensive than other produce right now. “Less expensive” is a very general descriptor and in the not-so-distant past would have meant half the price that I’m paying now. However, in season is in season, and we are consuming the hell out of asparagus right now.

Something occurred to me the other day: when I was a kid we never had out-of-season produce. Whether that was because it was prohibitively expensive or just not available in the 80s, we would have never had, for example, strawberries in January. I wonder if we are starting to move in that direction now. In any case, we are moving into Garden Season, which is my favourite season! In the next few weeks I’ll be planting some hardy greens, and I cannot wait to be harvesting my own produce. Hopefully I’ll finish the grated zucchini I have in the freezer before zucchini season begins again.

Chocolate zucchini bread, original recipe from the Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites. Much better than their weird section on casseroles and meat salads. I still have a drawer full of zucchini.

Outfit of the Month

Earlier this month the girls and I went to see a string quartet perform ABBA songs, and we thought it would be fun to dress up in our most disco wear. When this conversation first came up I was excited, and then thought wait, I don’t HAVE any disco wear. Then I remembered the dress I wore for my husband’s retirement dinner, paired it with my dressiest boots, and headed out on the town.

To be totally honest I was worried the dress would no longer fit, but happily that wasn’t the case!

March is an exciting month for us, what with birthdays and our anniversary and the anticipation of Garden Season; this weekend my husband and I are going to belatedly go on a date – A DATE! – for our anniversary, which is going to be a Favourite Thing for sure. Did you have some Favourites this month? Tell me everything. xo

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (a meal plan)

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I had the most delightfully social week, with visits and connections and gatherings every day, culminating in the most wonderful girls’ night out on Friday night: a candlelight tribute to ABBA, as played by a string quartet. I love music generally, almost all genres, but I really love disco, and ABBA specifically. We all dressed up in our most disco outfits, and when the audience was encouraged to sing at the last song, Mamma Mia, we got it started. Actually we might have been the only ones singing. It was a fun concert followed by snacks and rose at my friend Joy’s house (HI JOY).

Joy’s kitchen, photo by Joy!

In a move that I did not see coming, and was not mentally prepared for, my older son is not moving home for the summer. I’m luckier than most in that he lives fairly close by, and comes home every Sunday night for dinner. On occasion, he’ll text me to say he’s coming by for dinner on a weeknight; my friend Sam (HI SAM) was driving me home on Friday, and we were talking about this. She asked if on those random weeknight visits I make him a special dinner, but that’s not the case. I have a meal plan, and I rigidly stick to it; he knows this and is happy for pretty much anything I make.

Do you meal plan? I don’t know how I would live without one; the thought of not knowing what to make for dinner at 5:00pm gives me waves of anxiety. I meal plan, I shop accordingly, almost nothing is wasted, except for the occasional mini cucumber that goes mushy. Why is it only one cucumber? You’d think I’d be able to account for this by now. In any case, here’s what we ate last week.

Monday

This was a stir-fry with rice stick noodles, tofu, cashews, broccoli, carrots, and the lone half pepper that was left in my fridge.

Tuesday

Wednesday is grocery day, and by Tuesday things were getting a little Mother Hubbard-y. I made coconut rice with roasted sweet potatoes and the last of the broccoli. The guys also had air fryer chicken breasts.

Wednesday

I baked a loaf of the no-knead bread that I mentioned last week and served it with The Big Salad. It’s a big salad! With lots of stuff in it!

Thursday

This was a very busy day and so I made one of the easiest and quickest meal around: black bean tacos!

Friday

Since the ABBA concert was early, I had my favourite meal – Greek salad with pita and hummus – all by my lonesome at 4:30pm, just like the senior citizen I aspire to be. My younger son made breakfast for supper for himself and my husband; this is their standard Guy’s Meal, since it isn’t a meal that’s great for me to eat.

Saturday

Another quick meal as my husband and I were out drinking wine with friends in the afternoon (well, I was drinking wine). Crispy cauliflower fajitas with red pepper and the only bit of the CRAPPY AVOCADO I could salvage. Friends, I have had the worst time sourcing avocados since we moved here in 2023. The farm market is a good place, but they are not open in the winter. Costco has been nothing but a disappointment; every bag of avocados I buy ends up being completely unusable, and if I wanted to throw away $12.99 I would not choose to do so while hoping to have guacamole. This particular avocado came from Superstore, which is a hit and miss avocado source. Local friends, help! Or should I just give up my dreams and wait until the farm market opens in May?

Sunday

Sunday dinner is the only one that actually centres around meat; I made a roast beef dinner with lots of veggie sides that I can enjoy. Asparagus is in season right now, so we are enjoying that in all its roasted glory, along with roasted potatoes, roasted broccoli, and homemade Caesar salad.

Sunday is also my day to make a dessert, and I decided to make frozen strawberry daquiri pie, made with evaporated coconut milk. Typically I don’t hoard food anymore, but I had grabbed several cans when they were on sale at Christmas, and I’m glad I did as Superstore is no longer carrying them. I’m hoping this is a seasonal thing and I will have enough to keep me going until next Christmas. Just when I thought I was out of the hoarding habit, they pull me back in.

Weekly Reading

Didion and Babitz. I have long admired Joan Didion’s writing, which is what attracted me to this book. I knew next to nothing about Eve Babitz, also a writer and a visual artist, and wow, now I know too much. I did not like this book AT ALL. The author proclaims that she is obsessed with, loves and adores Babitz, and that bias comes out wildly in this book that is supposedly about a feud-like, frenemy relationship between two writers. Instead, it reads as a confusing narrative about a 60s party girl who lived the messiest life you can imagine, and who died in extraordinary squalor. Babitz accidentally set herself on fire, is what I’m saying. There is little about Didion and what there is, is mean and scathing and tends toward body-shaming. The author says of Didion’s grief after the death of her husband and child, that it was disingenuous and unfelt, as an example. Mostly, though, this book is incredibly hard to follow because there are so very many names involved, randomly dropped here and there with zero context about who these people are. I found this boring and confusing and honestly, so biased and mean. I would have DNFed but the part about Babitz having sex with Jim Morrison (while he was with Pam, god, the Sixties were a gross time) and being a “regular at the clap clinic” was semi-interesting, so I kept going. I wish I hadn’t. 

Her First Palestinian. This short story collection, by a Canadian author born in Kuwait to Palestinian parents, has some really great stories, and some that really didn’t do it for me. For the ones that I didn’t enjoy, it was the writing style that did me in; the author’s attempts at creative POV and styles just did not work for me. However, the stories that hit really hit, and all of the stories were extremely interesting in concept, if perhaps not in execution. They centre around Palestinian immigrants and refugees, the difficulty of living a life in which your existence is questioned, and the experience of working in an unnamed but powerful kingdom in West Asia (Saudi Arabia, perhaps?). It’s well worth the read; the last story in particular is very nuanced and moving.

Isola. I think that historical fiction is the most difficult genre to write; it’s so rare that an author can really capture the time and place in a way that is captivating and realistic. This is one of those rare novels. What an incredible work; this compelling page-turner is based on the true story of Marguerite de la Roque, who in 1542 is coerced into leaving France with her guardian, sailing to New France (now Quebec, Canada) in search of riches. She angers her guardian by having a romance with his secretary; her guardian then MAROONS the two of them, plus Marguerite’s servant, on an island between what is now Newfoundland and Quebec, just south of Labrador. The island is deserted and they have few supplies; and if you know that area at all, well, winters are brutal even if you DO have shelter. She survives for two years, eventually all alone. It is an incredible story and an epic work of art. This was definitely worth the hype!

I’m looking down the barrel of a much quieter week, which will be great for my writing. For those of you who have asked, thank you! It’s going well, I’m on my third draft of my novel – still as yet unnamed, I’m hoping I can figure that out soon – and am in the thick of revisions and edits. I also wanted to check in with everyone who is participating in Yoga Club! I hope to get a new little video up soon but in the meantime, keep doing your one (or more) pose a day, keep practicing loving-kindness toward yourself, and remember that we are all in it together. xo

Feeling Salty

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Grumpy McGrumperson

How are we all doing with the transition to Daylight Saving Time, I ask as I drink my third cup of coffee and glare angrily off into the dark morning? I swear to god, I swear to GOD that the next person who says “we do this for the farmers,” I will murder that person. Straight up murder. Stab stab stab right to the heart. THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK, PEOPLE. How would fucking with the clocks benefit people who work WITH THE SUN? You know who doesn’t change time? Saskatchewan. So do not come at me with such stupidity. DST started in World War I to save electricity. Today we live in a world of automation and blue lights, and I would challenge anyone to prove that any electricity is being saved at any time due to this ridiculous clock changing construct. WHEN WILL THE MADNESS END.

Unsolved Mystery

Speaking of madness, I was very surprised to receive a renewal notice for my driver’s license; I have had this license for less than eighteen months, when we moved here from Alberta. I made a renewal appointment for last week and I will say that it was as quick and painless as anything government-related could possibly be. I did ask the woman why my license expired so quickly, and she said it was because it was my first BC license. Okay? But also, no one in my family has a license expiring this year, and we all got them at the exact same time. Granted, my husband would have had a BC license thirty years ago, but this doesn’t explain my sons’ licenses. It’s a mystery, and not one that I plan to investigate further. I simply paid my $75, got my jowly, unsmiling photo taken, and went on my merry way. I look like such a bitch, I said to the woman who took my photo. We all do, she replied.

Money Money Money

The licensing fee felt like a cash grab; just one more cash grab in a world that is going broke. Last week alone I spent over a thousand dollars on groceries, which feels absolutely insane, as there are only three of us in this house. Almost eight hundred of that was at Costco; I hadn’t been there since January, and my staples were all at Desperation Levels, which explains a lot.

But I do wonder how people with limited means make ends meet. I am not a person with limited means, and I find my grocery bills to be insane. We don’t eat out or get takeout, and with the exception of a bottle of Reactine and a bag each of my favourite popcorn and my husband’s favourite granola, the thousand dollars of groceries was entirely made up of what I would call ingredients. I’m not walking around making it rain in the grocery store, and yet I spent A THOUSAND DOLLARS. Other than the occasional lone mini cucumber softening in the produce drawer, we consume everything I buy, I don’t consider myself to be a wasteful or even a spontaneous shopper – I have a Meal Plan and a List and I stick to both rigidly – and yet our grocery bills are wild. How is everyone managing this? I have no idea.

Five Long Years

I am feeling a little extra sensitive this week as I realized that this Thursday marks the five-year anniversary of the first pandemic lockdown. I am glad I have this blog to look back on, because otherwise it would be very hard to recall and believe the details. Even with the blog it’s hard to reconcile, everything was so weird and dystopian, and we all know how I feel about dystopian fiction, let alone living in it. I was scolded online for patronizing the library, once it reopened, as the virus could be living within the pages of any book at any time. THE VIRUS COULD BE ANYWHERE was the general feeling, and it’s enough to make a person spiral into madness. It was such a grim, terrifying time that then turned into a divisive, despairing time. How depressing it was, how we were all trying to keep our spirits up while life as we knew it devolved into chaos. Remember when people were putting paper decorations in their windows so that neighbourhood children would have something to look at on those walks of desperation that we were all on? In my neighbourhood, someone had a sign that said And the world came together as the people stayed apart and wow, did that turn out to be untrue. Spoiler alert: the world did the opposite of coming together.

Pandemic Hobbies, Five Years Late

On the topic of things people did in the pandemic to pass the time, last week The Squad (HI GIRLS) took a class on how to make sourdough bread. This was one of those pandemic hobbies I never got into, and I can with confidence say that I never will. Friends, making sourdough is complicated! There are so many steps! Then again, I am a person who for the past fifteen years has been baking no-knead bread, which is quite possibly the laziest bread-making methodology ever. The class was really fun, though, and should I ever want a loaf of sourdough, I will just buy it from the woman who ran the class. I think what did me in was the reveal that remnants of the dough, stuck on bowls or whisks, cannot be washed down the drain lest it block up the plumbing. I instantly imagined our entire septic system being clogged up from attempting to bake bread, and abandoned ship immediately.

Plus, I don’t think I could make anything as pretty as this:

My skills in the hand/ eye coordination department, not to mention the visual artistic department, are limited to say the least; see below.

Blast From The Past

One of the best books I read that featured the pandemic was called Unravelling, in which a woman talked about the efforts she went through to knit herself a sweater. She sheared a sheep, spun the wool into yarn, dyed the yarn, and so forth until months later she had herself a sweater. It was a very enlightening and eye-opening look at what goes into the creation of clothing, a statement on fast fashion, and a history of women’s undervalued but extremely important work.

If ever my value to society was determined by my skills in the fibre arts, well. It would be disastrous, is the short version. I am quite possibly the least competent person in the world when it comes to anything that requires hand/eye coordination, particularly in this realm. I famously almost failed home economics in junior high – and I was a very high-achieving student – because of my complete inability to sew. I swear the teacher passed me out of relief of never having to see me again. I took that class for three years and every single day saw me ripping out stitches and trying to rework them. Whereas my friends had tees and shorts that they could theoretically wear – not that any of them did, but they COULD – my projects had been ripped beyond repair. I have three clear memories from those days. The first was in seventh grade, when I had to borrow bright green ribbing for the neckline of my pale pink t-shirt from my friend Elise (HI ELISE), because my own matching pink ribbing had been destroyed from constantly taking out the stitches that had sewn the neck hole shut several times. The second was in ninth grade, when I would chattily sit beside my friend Tara (HI TARA) as the sewing machine whirred beneath her competent hands and I ripped out stitches, again and again. The third memory is how we junior high girls – for we were all girls – tormented our teacher, Miss Herget, by unthreading the serger. Someone would walk casually past the serger and then stealthily swipe their hand through, unthreading it, which would result in Miss Herget having a mini-breakdown. Every single class: WHO unthreaded the SERGER? she would scream, while we all silently assumed expressions of innocence.

To this day my husband will not let me near a needle and thread. I cannot even tie a knot in a thread; it ends up being several knots, not unlike a string of tiny anal beads. The last time I tried to sew a button on a pair of pants, back in 2001 or so, my husband found me bent over, sobbing, as I had somehow cut a giant hole in the seat of said pants. Was this karma for unthreading the serger? Who can say.

Weekly Reading

The Woman Who Stole My Life. Isn’t it great when you discover a well-established author? I don’t know where Marian Keyes has been all my life, but I do know she has a whole catalogue and I am going to read it in its entirety! I loved this book about a woman who is diagnosed with the very rare Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which results in her entire body being paralysed. Unable to talk or move, she is confined to her bed while her family resumes life as best they can without her. She ends up having a special connection with her neurologist, which leads to a whole new life in a whole different country. This book was so clever and so witty and so intensely thought-provoking, all at the same time. It’s about karma, and communication, and connection. Every single character was a complete delight. As a side note, I was both surprised and not to go on goodreads to discover that this book had a LOT of very poor reviews. This kind of tracks for me as any book I really love often has a low rating, and vice versa. I never a) look at goodreads for ratings and reviews, and b) take said ratings and reviews seriously. I am my own woman! And I loved this. Can’t wait to read more. Over 500 pages, and this book didn’t drag ONCE. 

All In Her Head. We all know, or should know, that the medical community has long been misogynistic and has disbelieved or dismissed women and their health concerns. This book explores the long and dark history of how women’s health has been mismanaged, destroyed, or ignored by the largely male medical community. Yes, things are getting better, but vestiges remain, as seen very recently. Traditionally women have not been included in clinical drug trials because of our pesky old hormonal cycles, which is alarming to say the least. Drugs were not tested for female bodies, and then when those drugs didn’t work as they did for men, the it’s all in her head attitude prevailed. In any case, it’s just one more thing in a long list of things in which women’s concerns and lived experiences have been minimized and dismissed. This is an interesting and enraging book, and it sure shows that men have been really worried about women and masturbation. Hoo boy, masturbation was historically blamed for everything from nervous conditions to scoliosis. Thanks to Stephany (HI STEPHANY) for bringing this book onto my radar.

Friends, I hope you are all taking care of yourself, this week after time change. Drive safely, get your sleep, treat yourself gently. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Entering My Tankini Era Edition

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About four months ago I was purposefully striding down the hall with my arms full, heading for the donation bags I had set up in the laundry room. My older son was home at the time and observed my unusually stern expression. Whatcha doing, Mom? he asked and when I informed him that I was DONATING all these BIKINIS that don’t SUIT me anymore, his face became a study of concern and compassion. Oh, he said, oh MOM. Are you okay?

Well, I was okay and I am okay and the wonderful thing about having an emotional breakdown over one’s wardrobe and donating over a third of it in November is that, as my husband pointed out in an uncharacteristically Pollyanna-ish way, Black Friday and Boxing Day are both right around the corner.

Technically speaking, all the bikinis do still fit me. I could wear them, I could. I strongly believe that anyone who wants to wear a bikini should wear a bikini, but the thing is, I don’t anymore. I just don’t feel comfortable in them, and I don’t want to expose my softened and expanded midriff. I kept all the bikini bottoms except two tiny scraps of material which historically toed the line between swimwear one can swim in and exposure hazards; both items have not only edged over that line, they have gone off the high dive and are now at the bottom of the proverbial pool. I prefer not to exit the water showing everyone in my vicinity the sugaring job on the old honeypot, and so those bottoms went into the donation bags, along with about ten little tops.

My go-to store for swimwear is La Vie En Rose, and they were indeed having both Black Friday and Boxing Day clear outs, and I ended up buying six tankini tops, a couple of very high-waisted bottoms to replace the Danger Zone ones, and three coverups, all for less than $160. Can you believe it? Huge bonus, La Vie En Rose is a Canadian company, which is something I consider very seriously these days, the aggressive international political situation being what it is.

Speaking of which, I returned very late Tuesday night from a week in Mexico, for which I was motivated to acquire the aforementioned swimwear. I feel a kinship with the Mexican people and all things Mexican for reasons which I am sure you can discern. Of course it was a wonderful trip, and I enjoyed myself immensely, but something in the air felt very tense and awkward. I wasn’t poolside chatting with many strangers, let’s put it that way.

Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my unwritten but intense anxiety about my country being annexed and what would happen should that occur. You came here for Favourite Things, and Favourite Things you shall have.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Entering My Tankini Era Edition

Colour Me Beautiful

As everyone knows, my go-to colour, in swimwear and everything else, is black. To that end I did purchase mainly black tankini tops in different styles, but I did bravely branch out at the sight of two handkerchief tops for $10 each, one in green and one in a green and blue pattern. I’m not about to start dressing in jewel tones, or patterns for that matter, but I did feel very pretty in these two items.

Black is still my favourite, though.

It occurs to me that you might be wondering why not a one-piece? and my answer to that is simply no. One-pieces never fit me well and I find them extremely uncomfortable, in a wedgie/ camel toe way, not to mention the washroom problem, similar to that posed by the wearing of a jumpsuit. How does one use the washroom in a one-piece without the one-piece touching the disgusting floor beside the toilet? It’s untenable!

Caribbean Queen

A good swimsuit is key for me, as I do like to swim in the ocean. I like pools too, but the ocean! The Caribbean is absolutely perfect for swimming; it’s warm and gentle and perfect.

But You Can Leave Your Hat On

I love the heat but I don’t love being in the sun; I am very careful about my skin, particularly on my face. I took two big floppy hats with me; they both are easy to reshape after being folded up or crushed into a beach bag.

They both feature chin straps, which come in handy if that ocean breeze means business.

Black Hole Sun

I use sunscreen – Neutrogena 60 Dry Touch – even in the dead of winter, and so you can imagine how careful I am about application while in the tropics. Since we are Carryon Only people, I need to be smart about packing liquids. Stick sunscreen is an incredible invention, and I have two that I’d like to mention here.

Shiseido is absolutely great; it goes on so clear that I only applied it in front of a mirror to ensure I didn’t miss any spots. The downside is that it’s very expensive for this teeny tiny stick, and it feels like way more plastic than I like for the amount of sunscreen that I got.

My sweet friend Joy (HI JOY) works in this great little environmentally responsible store, and I saw this when I went to visit her. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this is the best sunscreen I have ever used, in terms of efficacy and scent. It is mineral but it doesn’t leave much of a white cast once it’s rubbed in, which is really remarkable. The container is plastic-free as well, so I feel like this is a little-known winning product.

Winner, Winner, Avocado Dinner

One of the many activities offered by the resort is a guacamole-making class. Although we both have made guacamole many, many times, my friend Jen and I thought it would be fun to join (HI JEN). At the end of the class, we were all given chips and asked to present our guacamole in an artistic way, and after the judging we would be able to eat it. Here’s what my plate looked like:

Who knew that my humble offering would be the winner of the Great Guacamole Contest? Certainly not me, but it was.

I think I won for two reasons, neither of them to do with actual guacamole. First, I was the only person attempting to speak Spanish. Second, Jen and I were the only people who weren’t obnoxiously yelling during the lesson, and then complaining about having to wait ninety seconds to eat their guacamole, or just eating their guacamole after saying that they weren’t going to wait for anyone or anything. Nevertheless! It doesn’t matter what the metrics were, I WAS THE WINNER!

After the class Jen and I enjoyed our guac, and washed it down with our favourite mango margaritas.

Outfit of the Month

As I have mentioned before, a huge percentage of my Little Black Dresses were victim to the Great Closet Purge of 2024. Happily, I found some cute ones in the November/ December sales, and this one is my favourite:

It feels very sexy and swishy and, crucially, it isn’t tight in the waist. It came from Ricki’s, another Canadian company, and I paired it with my extremely comfortable, extremely cute Skecher sandals.

I am the early bird of the group, and every morning I got up in the dark to find us all poolside lounges and to watch the sunrise. Most days looked like this:

But on our final morning, the sunrise was so startlingly beautiful that I almost couldn’t stand it.

I hurried down to the beach to watch the colours reflect off the water.

It was like Mexico was saying goodbye to me. How grateful I was to be able to experience that.

Speaking of gratitude, my sweet friend Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked me to write a guest post on just that topic; I would love it so much if you checked it out. It would be my Favourite! I hope you were also able to find a lot of Favourites in this month; I know it’s been hard lately. I hope you are all well. What did I miss when I was gone? Tell me everything about your lives. xo

Cold, Cold, Cold, Warmer, HOT

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Cold As Ice

We are in the midst of a cold snap around here, but I use that term very loosely. It’s more “cold” than COLD, or even Cold, but still, it’s the most winter we’ve had all year. I took the opportunity to look out my snow pants and heated mittens, and I’m winning all the style awards on our daily walks. It’s honestly a bit of overkill for these cold-but-not-COLD temperatures, and by the end of our walk I’m a little sweaty.

My creativity has taken a huge hit this week; I have been unable to write anything that I would want anyone to read. Someone suggested it’s the weather, but I think it’s directly related to the torrential volume of grim and terrifying news. I have broken my own rules for news and media consumption, and have succumbed more than once to doomscrolling, leading to higher than normal screen time and a feeling of complete emotional depletion. But we are in a fresh new week, the perfect time for a fresh new start; I am re-implementing my boundaries and refreshing my Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum attitude.

Cold Hearted Snake

We are also in a fresh new lunar year, and I recently learned about Ben Ming Nian, which is when it is the year of your own Chinese zodiac sign. I would have thought that this would be a very lucky thing, but it turns out it is not; the superstition is that people in their zodiac year are offending the God of Age, Tai Sui, and will therefore have a year of challenges and bad luck. My husband is a Snake, and so I guess he will have to watch out – although, according to the Chinese zodiac, the Snake is the second-luckiest sign, and so it might all just work out evenly.

As an aside, the first-luckiest sign is that of the Dragon, and apparently there is a mini baby boom in China during that zodiac year. It reminded me of when I was in prenatal class and I learned that there was a mini baby boom every November due to Valentines-related sexytimes, and, in Calgary specifically, one in late March/ early April. The latter correlated to wild Calgary Stampede-related sex which – and I’m sorry, because I know my mom and possibly Aunty C are reading this – was the case for my firstborn. My second born was in September, which, well, you can do the math. Let’s just call it a visit from Santa. Interestingly enough, the divorce rate also spiked after Stampede, for different, but related, reasons.

But back to the subject at hand. After learning about Ben Ming Nian, I looked up the Year of the Rabbit, which is my sign. The last one was 2023, which was indeed a year of great challenge for me! The others were 2011, 1999, and 1987, and I definitely remember challenges in all those years. Of course, I’m also a person who related completely to a story about an ill woman who got magically better after taking placebos, even AFTER she was told they were placebos. The placebo effect is my entire personality some days.

Recently Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked how do you feel about astrology and horoscopes? I have never really connected with the Chinese zodiac, and I think horoscopes, as seen in the newspapers or women’s weekly magazines, are silly and irrelevant, but I have always strongly believed in astrological signs and the zodiac. I would have been great in the 70s dating scene. As soon as I know someone’s birthday I feel like I know all about them. Oh, I’ll say sagely, You’re a Pisces. Oh, that makes so much sense. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have married my husband if his sign was incompatible with mine, but I’m not NOT saying that, either. More likely we would have never dated, had he not been a compatible sign, because yes, I am that person. Listen, a Taurus wants what a Taurus wants, and I am not going to waste my time with someone who does not appreciate my bull-like personality and love of luxury.

This Leaves Me Cold

Speaking of sexy compatibility, I was so excited to see that Bad on Paper released their annual Obscure Erotica episode in honour of Valentines’ Day. Some of you may remember that this podcast introduced me to the wild world of weird erotica, featuring everything from Clippy, of Microsoft Office fame, to the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. I personally have read about sex with Santa Claus, balloon animals, and a sentient door. So I was interested to hear what had been chosen on the podcast, and I will tell you right now: no. NO. No no no, things have officially gone too far in the obscure erotica world.

One of the featured books was called The Devilled Egg Made Me Do It, which, predictably, explored sex with a giant sentient egg. This egg, named Damien – he’s devilled, after all – has horns, chive-like body hair, and a tail that is actually anal beads. Just the words “anal” and “beads” together make me immediately and inadvertently Kegel. To say that I was disturbed even listening to this discussion would be a vast understatement. I was amused that the protagonist’s name was Shelly, but not amused enough to read this book.

The other host, though. I feel disappointed in her beyond all imagining. The book she chose was called Garden Gnome Sex Party and I need not say more. IS NOTHING SACRED? There were hats involved, that’s all I’m going to say. This was obviously upsetting to a gnome aficionado like myself, although it did remind me of a very funny Gravity Falls episode, in which everyone thinks Mabel’s boyfriend is a vampire, and it turns out he is just a tall pile of gnomes with a costume over top.

Since these writers utilize pseudonyms, they could be amongst us right now. I’m just going to say it: if I hear anything, ANYTHING, about my beloved Salvadore and friends being written about in an untoward way, there will be hell to pay.

Warming My Heart

Let’s shift gears from (very weird) Valentines to Galentines! The squad came over, plus a few new ladies, and it was so much fun. I am so grateful to be around such a fabulous group of women.

Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) has been encouraging everyone to find joy in gratitude this month (FIG!) but honestly, I need no encouragement. I’m HERE for the gratitude fest, is what I’m saying, and right now I am so very grateful that I have this wonderful group of friends. I’ve lived here for just over a year and a half now, and I will never not feel incredibly lucky that I have the Golden Gals Squad surrounding me. I’m also grateful for Canadian rose from my favourite Vineland Estates, and for chocolate.

I’m also grateful for cold and wintry Saturday afternoons and that Engie’s Cool Blogger’s Book Club (HI ENGIE) chose The Blue Castle, by one of my favourite childhood authors.

Weekly Reading

What else have I been reading, other than The Blue Castle? Well, I am proud to say that I DNFed a book I was not enjoying: Stanley Tucci’s Taste, which is a memoir through food. There was just too much meat and seafood descriptions, so I abandoned ship. Fortunately I had some good books this week:

The Husbands. This was such a fun and original book; it’s the story of a woman who comes home after a night with friends to discover that not only is she married, but she has been for years. After her husband goes up to the attic to fetch something, a different husband comes down. And so it goes, every time a husband goes to the attic a new one is in her life, and her life itself is new. It was an absolute delight to read this; I’m not usually one to enjoy magic or alternate universes, but this one was so fun and the ending was perfection. Big thanks to Suzanne and Lisa (HI SUZANNE HI LISA) who assured non-magic-loving me that I would love this, despite the premise. I did!

Summer Fridays. I was 24 in 1999, which is the same as our protagonist in this book – don’t you love when that happens? This lovely, fun, nostalgic book takes place in a hot New York City summer, and there are so many city-related details. A friendship is started between a young woman and her fiance’s (very close) colleague’s boyfriend (did you get that? I had to think for a minute). That friendship turns to something else, but this is not just a straightforward love story because, well, she’s engaged. I really enjoyed this book, it was a perfect read for this little cold snap we are having. It’s light, full of fun nostalgic details (“you’ve got mail!”) and startlingly sensitive for a book that’s essentially about infidelity. Thanks AGAIN to Lisa for the recommendation, is this the Lisa Show, maybe it is! (HI LISA)

No One Can Pronounce My Name. I expected to enjoy this book about the immigrant experience, queerness, friendship, and finding your people in the unlikeliest of places, but I did not. I should have DNFed! You win some, you lose some.

On our walk on Saturday, Rex and I came across a couple of mating raccoons. It was extremely disturbing, to say the least, as Rex barked and barked at what he must have assumed was a two-headed animal, while the male raccoon made eye contact with me as he humped away. I guess love is in the air in the animal kingdom too. I hope you have a week filled with chocolates, hearts, rose, and no wild animal sex shows. Unless you like that, in which case, who am I to judge? xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Jan Stan Edition

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I asked my son if people still used the word “stan,” and he said what do you mean, like the Stan countries? When I explained that no, I wasn’t talking about the Central and South Asian, mainly former Soviet countries, I was talking about describing how I feel about things I like, he tilted his head. I don’t think people your age say it, probably. Excuse me? I was listening to Stan before you were BORN. I am TAKING BACK the Stan.

I know January has been a rough, grim, and frankly terrifying month, on the international front particularly, but you know me:

And to that end, there are many things I found I could Stan in the month of Jan. I would like to go on record to say that January sunsets are truly things of beauty, and even though we still haven’t made it to 5:00 yet – tonight’s sunset is at 4:48 – there is more and more daylight and clear skies every day.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Jan Stan Edition

If I Could Turn Back Time

Where have the Cerave products been all my life? I know where they have been, inexpensively hanging out in the drugstore, so I suppose the real question is WHY haven’t I used them before now? A few months ago my skin was feeling so tight and dry with the change in seasons, and I bought this moisturizer for my first morning ablutions:

It’s revolutionary! I put it on first thing in the morning after washing my face; it’s much thicker than what I would usually use on my face, but it absorbs by the time I’ve brushed my teeth. In the summer I prefer a much higher SPF but I think 30 is perfectly fine for a) winter, b) walking in partial darkness, and c) the cloudiness that is typical of winters here.

I also purchased this product, allegedly a “serum,” but which seems more like a lotion:

I put it on before my Neutrogena retinol night cream, which leads to a LOT of tingling, but I think it actually does make my skin brighter and softer and maybe – MAYBE – even lessens the look of wrinkles. Does it turn back time? Absolutely not, but I think that’s just too tall an order for any kind of topical treatment, particularly one for less than $20 at the drugstore.

Bundt and Hustle

As I have mentioned before, I have been diligently working my way through my friend Julie’s cake cookbook (HI JULIE) since I bought it in 2022. I ran into a roadblock, though, because a number of recipes call for a Bundt pan, which I did not have until this Christmas, when my son gifted me one. This was along with a copy of Commonwealth, which I mention only because it otherwise sounds like he gave himself a Christmas gift under the guise of generosity. Also, I wanted both of those things. In any case, I made Julie’s Family’s Chocolate Cake, and instead of the ganache called for, topped it with a cream cheese frosting in order to use up the last of the four pack of Costco cream cheese I had purchased for a friend’s birthday carrot cake.

I foresee many Bundt cakes in our future. I have the pan, nothing can stop me now!

Snow Much Fun

It’s so strange to me to live in a place where in January there is next to no snow on the ground. Yes, it has snowed. But each snowfall was accompanied by a melt within a day or two. Someone recently informed me that one year it snowed here in December and that snow was still on the ground at the end of January, and my response was one of befuddlement. This was not as winterly impressive as that person thought. I’m from Calgary? Sometimes the snow from October lasts until May? But in any case there is no snow here in the valley, and so my husband and I have been occasionally driving up into the mountains to do some snowshoeing.

I love snowshoeing so much. What a great way to experience the winter. It’s fantastic exercise that takes in the beauty of nature, and it also makes me feel Wholesomely Canadian.

There is also no falling, and after I bruised my tailbone last year cross-country skiing, I am a big fan of staying upright in wintry conditions.

I Understand You Completely

I don’t know what is going on lately, but there seems to be an explosion of Pride and Prejudice merch available, and I am here for it. Before Christmas I was shopping at Indigo and although I most certainly did not need to buy myself anything, let alone another mug, I could not help myself.

Not to get all snobby and pedantic, but this delights me on so many levels. A regular, non-Jane-Austen-stan might think oh yes, there IS no enjoyment like reading and yes, we all feel that way. But it’s much funnier on a deeper level. The quote actually belongs to Miss Caroline Bingley, who is ostentatiously picking up a tome of a book in order to impress Mr Darcy. After flipping a few pages she abandons the book for other, more enjoyable pursuits. It’s a deep cut, and it makes me absolutely delighted every time I use it.

While purchasing new clothes, I came across a whole lot of Pride and Prejudice-themed items, and I immediately added to cart this sweatshirt, purchased two sizes larger than normal in order to be as cozy and comfy as possible.

I had to explain the significance of Most Ardently to my husband and son, who looked at me like Shrek and Donkey when they first hear the song Duloc Is A Happy Place. They much preferred my tee that the three of them bought me several Christmases ago:

Poor maligned Lydia. She’s only trying to exercise the only economic power women had back then. Also, we were all fifteen once, and I’m sure if I lived in that era my head would also have been turned by a red coat, even if I am a Charlotte Lucas at heart.

Paint It Black

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my girlfriends here? I adore The Golden Gals Squad; they are always up for something fun, and to that end my friend Sandi (HI SANDI) booked us in for a paint night at a local restaurant.

Credit for the above goes to my friend Sara (HI SARA), and honestly, she saw me. I was objectively the worst painter in the group by a long shot. I was there for the vibes and the hysterical laughing.

My husband, of Supportive King fame, said wow, it’s so much better than I thought it would be! I mean, me too? But the bar was pretty low. Also I’m not sure what he thought it would look like, but probably he assumed it would be tear-stained. Frankly, it looked nothing at all like the demonstration piece – for one thing, there is supposed to be a stag involved but I know my where my artistic limitations lie – but it wasn’t like I was planning on displaying this anywhere in my home anyway. I’m not Botticelli, people! This isn’t the Birth of Venus! It’s just a bunch of apparently dancing trees in a winterscape. Happy little trees! Let’s have a moment of silence for Bob Ross.

Outfit of the Month

This month’s outfit has a nice mix of old, new, and medium pieces. The polka dot tank and long-sleeve tee date from around 2017, the jeans are new, obviously, and nicely stretchy, and the cozy long sweater was purchased sometime during the pandemic. I don’t know when, as all those years blur together and what is time anyway, but I do like the sweater. It’s a perfect layer for an occasionally hot-flashy woman like myself in the dead of January, because it’s easy to slip off.

A few years ago I saw a meme about Decorative Gord Season, the Canadian version, which included a photo of the Barenaked Ladies’ Gordon album, Gordie Howe, Gord Downey, and, of course, Gordon Lightfoot. These days around 4:48 pm I start humming Sundown, which is an honourary favourite thing this month.

I know there is a lot to be glum about right now, and I personally have to completely skip over the news and even the headlines, lest I spiral into complete and utter despair. But I hope you can find a lot of beautiful things in your own little world, and I hope you found some this January. xo

Five For Friday: The Good, Bad, and Unspeakable Edition

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ONE. One of the greatest pleasures in the world is good food, and Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked what was the single best meal you had in 2024? I mean, I went to Italy for three weeks. I had so many good meals! Plus, my garden was so prolific this year that I was able to eat so well, and so fresh, for months. But if I had to choose one meal, just one, it would be the pappa di pomodoro in Sienna.

A close runner-up would be this bruschetta in Rome, complete with Aperol spritz:

Not pictured but always remembered are the myriad bowls of delectable pasta with tomato-based sauces and with pesto, the baskets of bread with balsamic vinegar and oil, and one particular cup of orange non-dairy gelato from a place in Rome, just down from our hotel. The gelato had tiny pieces of candied orange scattered through it and I may be thinking about it until I shuffle off this mortal coil.

TWO. It was during our trip to Italy that my husband and I decided we needed more intentional connection. Do not worry, this is not going to be a discussion about intercoursing, although of course that is a good thing to keep the home fires burning, as it were. I think that marriages, and relationships more generally, go through many iterations over time, particularly if there are children involved. When the kids were very small it felt like my husband and I were amiable zookeepers, just trying to figure things out to keep the zoo inhabitants thriving. Then those inhabitants got older and busier and my husband’s work ramped up and life just became demanding. Now, of course, all those things have changed; one might think that because my husband is retired, we are together all the time, but that’s not the case. The two of us often have parallel days, with the exception of dinner, which we eat together every night with whichever of our children is around, and at which we have never allowed screens or devices. Unless, of course, if there is an “important” football game during the dinner hour, and then it’s screened quietly in the background in the room adjacent to the dining room.

In Italy we decided it would be good for us to have a devoted time together, just the two of us, no phones or books or television, and so we decided to have a weekly cocktail hour. Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked how did you come up with the idea, and how do you implement it? As with everything in my life, it’s scheduled – usually on Fridays, late in the afternoon. My husband makes us cocktails or pours wine, and we turn everything off, and talk. It’s a fun treat that I look forward to, and I think it’s good for the old marriage vows.

THREE. It’s not all sunshine and cocktails around here, though. We disagree on a few things and probably always will. Elisabeth (HI AGAIN ELISABETH) asked what topic are you most likely to disagree about? We disagree about cilantro, the definition of the patriarchy, cake frosting, and whether or not Rex should have a treat just for coming inside after a romp around the yard. I’ll leave you to decipher who is on which side here. But the topic that we disagree on the most, and that I have waved the white flag about because one can only fight so long, is how to hang up towels.

My husband hangs up all manner of towels – bath, hand, tea – folded neatly down the middle. I think that folding in thirds, with the outside edges hidden, is far superior from an esthetic standpoint, and also from a use-of-space standpoint, particularly with regards to bath towels. Friends, you cannot change a leopard’s spots, and I know when to fold them, literally, in this case. I listened to a podcast in which a man said that he gave up fighting his husband about leaving his dirty underwear on the floor, and just picks it up, and now it’s marital bliss, and I thought oh god, at least I’m not living with a grown man who is incapable of using a goddamn laundry hamper. If this long-suffering dirty underwear-retrieving fellow could survive such atrocities, I could survive incompatible towel folding methodology! Do you want to have towels folded in thirds, or do you want to be married? I asked myself, and so now I spend upwards of forty-five seconds a day refolding his neatly folded towels.

FOUR. This is not, however, the silliest thing we’ve ever argued about, which was another question from Suzanne (HI AGAIN SUZANNE). That distinction goes to a fight we had in 1999 regarding a Sex and the City episode, and although the particulars have been lost to the annals of time, I still remember the episode, and the key line “Your girl is lovely, Hubble,” said to Mr Big by Carrie. She talked about being a wild horse, running free, and it was this that sparked the argument that led to door slamming in our tiny apartment. Again, I don’t recall the specifics of this incendiary topic, but I remember the emotion behind it.

FIVE. I opened up the Ask Me Anything form to see that there was a new question! And it was from Kyria! (HI KYRIA) I excitedly scrolled down to see the following: Tell us a poop story.

Me:

Kyria! No! Everyone knows how I feel about the worst emoji ever invented! No no no!

But I don’t like to disappoint, and I did say ask me anything, not ask me anything that is unrelated to bowel movements. So I will say that I am thrilled that dietary fibre is finally having a moment. I feel like I have long been a Fibre Evangelist; I don’t like to track my food consumption – that way lies madness – but I am sure that I far exceed the recommended intake, mostly via fruits and vegetables, but also with beans and legumes. I mean, when I was a kid my favourite cereal was Raisin Bran, which requires no further comment on my part.

Years ago in my yoga teacher training, the woman who was leading the sessions about chakras spoke passionately about the muladhara, which is the root chakra. Her words have been burned on my brain lo these many years: she said, on the topic of having a bowel movement, that it was the happiest time of the day. At the time I thought that was an unhinged response to using the toilet, but on further reflection I cannot say that she’s wrong. Anyone who has ever suffered in that department knows what a literal bummer it is.

But in addition to improving that happiest time of the day, fibre is so important for our health. It’s vitally helpful for aging generally but for women in perimenopause and menopause specifically. There have been numerous empirical studies that show the multiple benefits of fibre for women in controlling perimenopause symptoms, which is wildly exciting to me. Bring it on, I say as I spread the word, stepping onto my bran-shaped soap box, raising my fist in the air, my fist full of chickpeas and kale.

Do you have a question for me? Let me know and I’ll do my best to answer it. Please, though, no more questions on poop. I think I’ve exhausted the subject. xo