Category Archives: Hello Calgary

Five For Friday: The 1988 Version

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My writing partner Laura (HI LAURA) has been using her old journals and diaries for writing prompts, which in theory would be a great idea for me to do as well, had I not shredded and thrown out all of mine from my childhood and teen years. It’s probably for the best, honestly. No one needs to remind themselves of such misery. Even though I think of the years between fifth and ninth grade as being the absolute low point of my life, Laura convinced me to look back at my old yearbooks, in lieu of my long-lost diaries, and to write about a moment in time, 1988.

The yearbooks have a page in the back for students to fill out, things like Favourite Subject, and Best Friends, and also – weirdly – “Most Gorgeous Guy” and “Best Looking Girl”. Did the purveyors of the yearbook really think that we needed to know who were “The Jock” and “The Jockette” in the years to come? I guess they did. In any case, it was an enlightening journey, going back 36 years, to one of the least-joyful years of my life.

  • I don’t know what you were doing in 1988, but I was finishing seventh and starting eighth grade. The junior high years are universally miserable, aren’t they, but I feel they were particularly so in the 80s, and even more so for girls. Age thirteen is a tricky age to be in any case, what with the angst and the complete lack of self-esteem and the desperation to fit in and belong; there are friend crises and romantic crises and clothing crises, and everything in the world seems like it is just poised to constantly thwart you and break your spirit. And as if the generalized agony and misery of seventh and eighth grade were not enough to destroy a girl’s soul, the styles in 1988 finished them off. I am going to make a bold statement right now: no one, but no one, looked good in 1988. There was just no chance. If it wasn’t bad enough to have acne made worse with the use of St Ives Apricot Scrub followed by Sea Breeze astringent, hairstyles that surrounded our poor little scoured faces were insane. Who decided that spiral perms with bangs teased to be vertical were a good idea? This is when we were made aware of the diminishing ozone layer, so we all traded in our aerosol hairsprays for pumps, which we used to make our hair into literal walls. When gravity started to take its inevitable toll on those bangs, we rallied by holding them straight up and spraying them until they dried into a solid form. Why did we do that? What were we thinking? Who came up with this ubiquitous hairstyle?
My Grade Eight yearbook photo
  • I’m not going to say that fashion was worse than the hairstyles – what could be worse than vertical bangs? – but it was pretty bad: loose-fitting jeans that were rolled or pinned at the ankles, which is generally an unflattering silhouette, gigantic tees that were tucked into those jeans, and Keds or their knock-offs, with no socks, which necessitated a toxic amount of baby powder sprinkled inside to keep the feet relatively odour-free. In my school, there was one type of denim that was acceptable, and one type only: Levi’s, with the red tab. Wearing an orange tab would result in incessant teasing, and wearing literally any other kind of jean would make a person a social pariah. At my school, there was no room for variety.
Definitely Levi’s, with my Garfield sweatshirt
  • I loved – and still love – all kinds of music, and I would make mix tapes from the radio, so that every song would be slightly cut off or have the radio station’s jingle or the DJ’s voice fading in or out. My favourite band from that time was INXS, and that was also the first concert I ever went to. Following that, I had concert fever and would go to see any band, at any time. Those were very inexpensive endeavours; I think most concert tickets were under $20, and I was a pretty in-demand babysitter at the time, albeit one who made $2.50 an hour, and so the money that I didn’t spend on hairspray and Cover Girl makeup went towards concerts. 1988 was also the year I got into Depeche Mode and retro music like The Beatles and The Doors.
From the Peer Leadership Program
  • When it comes to non-music pop culture, I was glad to have my yearbooks to remind me of my favourites. According to them, my favourite movies in 1988 were Heathers, which, if I thought about it, I could have guessed, and Rain Man, which I absolutely would not. Rain Man, really? Who knew? When it came to television, I loved The Wonder Years – also, if I thought hard enough I could have remembered that, I’d probably still enjoy it today – and Head of the Class. Gun to my head, I would have never come up with Head of the Class. All I remember, mostly, is that the teacher was the guy who was Johnny Fever on WKRP, and Robin Givens, who was married to Mike Tyson, was a student. Oh, wait, you guys, I just googled it and apparently Dan Schneider, the gross abusive pedophile (allegedly), was also on that show. You are dead to me, Head of the Class. Not that I remembered you prior to this exercise, but still. Dead. To me.
Student of the Month
  • In 1988, the whole city had Olympic Fever – the whole city, it seemed, except for me. If there is anything more contrarian and eye-rolly than a thirteen-year-old girl, I don’t know what it is, but I was So Sick of Anything To Do With The Olympics, MOM. I mean, the most prestigious international athletic event taking place in your own city, who cares, am I right? I did enjoy the figure skating, though, and was able to take in an event to see Canada’s sweetheart, Elizabeth Manley, and also the battle between Katarina Witt and Debi Thomas, the latter of whom had a shockingly terrible life, post-Olympics. She was a fabulous skater, though, and that was also the year of the Battle of the Brians, and of Gordeeva and Grinkov. But other than the figure skating, I could not have cared less about the Olympics, and was extremely salty at being forced to watch speed skating practices as a school field trip. I was also annoyed at the joy of the city-wide celebration when the Flames won the Stanley Cup the following year; It’s Just Hockey, WHO CARES (sorry, Darren, if you’re reading this, I’ve grown since then, and also, HI DARREN). Ah, it’s hard to be thirteen. Everyone is irritated with your attitude, and truth be told, YOU are irritated with your own attitude. My strange contrarian attitude towards anything that brought happiness to the city makes my listed “Ambition” even weirder: I wrote that I wanted to be a mayor. Not THE mayor. A mayor. I do not remember ever being interested in the least in municipal politics; maybe I just wanted to keep out all sporting events from the city (or town, I guess) I ruled over? Who can say. I do find it strange that I didn’t list my ambition as being Prime Minister, or even a Member of the Legislative Assembly; I stopped at “a mayor.” I’m generally a Go Big or Go Home kind of gal, so this is puzzling, to say the least.

This little trip down memory lane was fun, but it has left me with more questions than answers. For a much less weird foray into the past, don’t forget to check out, and subscribe to, Laura’s Substack – she’s a gorgeous writer with beautiful art and thought-provoking essays, plus prompts for writing and journalling. I hope you all have a great weekend, perhaps one thinking of your own 1988, or your thirteen-year-old self, or maybe even your hopes and dreams of one day becoming the mayor of a random municipality. xo

A New Chapter

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I was thinking a lot about the last chapter in A Tree Grows In Brooklyn this week, when Francie goes back and looks at her neighbourhood, wanting to remember it just as it was. This week I was in Calgary again, for forty hours, and it was so interesting to see it from new, non-resident eyes.

Even for a short trip, there is just so much to do to prepare, isn’t there? My parents drove back through to spend the night in Kelowna on Monday, and then Tuesday was a flurry of laundry and groceries for my younger son for the week, and taking Rex in to the boarder’s. Before I move on, let’s just acknowledge that everyone with pets knows the particular and unique stress of leaving their beloved fuzzball behind. I will say that Rex has done great with boarding in the past, but this is a new place, and I follow this place on Facebook, and was a little bit stressed and anxious when there were photos of the various dogs posted but not one was Rex. He’s THERE, right? I said to my friend Jen (HI JEN) who graciously hosted me and my husband in her home. Like, if he was dead or gone or sick they would have told me, right? Like I’m not going to get there Saturday and they are going to say “Oh sorry, Rex isn’t here, he died.” She assured me that IN ALL LIKELIHOOD I would have received at least a text if something dire had happened. My husband suggested I call to check in, but my thinking is that one should not ask a question if one is not prepared for all the answers. If he wasn’t well, what was I going to do? Be stressed and tearful for the remainder of the trip? This felt like the recent time that a woman was at my house for a social event, and I casually threw out a you’re okay with dogs, right? as my big buffoon wagged wildly. No, not really, she said, at which point I was completely at an impasse. What to do? Don’t ask questions if you don’t want the answers. Anyway, with regards to the pet resort, I took some ujjayi breaths and assumed no news was good news, and in the end, that was absolutely the case.

But back to the trip. My sister-in-law drove me to the airport so that I arrived two and a half hours before my fifty minute, domestic flight was due to leave, on my request, because I am secretly this guy:

My husband, let the record show, thought this was an insane move on my part, particularly since my flight got delayed, but let me tell you, it was incredible. I was travelling by myself, with no one else’s schedule to accommodate, the dog was safely being cared for by someone else, and I had nothing to do but read for hours and eat at Subway. What could be better, I ask you? I think I was the least-stressed person in the entire airport, as I was completely untethered and without any obligations or commitments. The people seated next to me on the plane were nearly hysterical as they missed or were probably going to miss their connections, due to the delay, but I was as zen as could be. What is time, anyway?

My husband picked me up at the airport, and the city was gloomy and cold and drizzly, and it turns out that after two months in small-city, slow-paced Kelowna I was unused to the massive traffic snarls in Calgary, but still in my zen state I was completely unbothered. The next day, though, YYC pulled out all the stops. September in Calgary can be really beautiful; the leaves were as yet still on the trees and were beautifully golden, and the sky was so blue.

I had an entire day at my own disposal while my husband and friend were at work and her kids were at school; I went for a long walk, alternating between looking at the cute little shops in Kensington and the cute little old houses in Hillhurst Sunnyside. I would never want to live in a pre-war house, what with the newspaper insulation, wonky electricity, lead pipes, and complete lack of closet space, but I love looking at those houses and imagining the lives of the people in them. I especially enjoyed looking at all the lovely tiny yards with gardens, particularly one that was filled with gnomes.

My people!

It was just so incredible to have a day in which I had absolutely no responsibilities, no one to take care of, and nothing to do. I was able to write, and read, and walk, and I still had many hours of the day left. I don’t know if I can adequately describe how therapeutic this was for me, after months and maybe even years of just frantic doing-ness, but I was filled with pure joy and contentment. It was fun to see Calgary through non-resident eyes, but I will say that I found it a little emotional – I used to take the kids to that park! Remember the wading pool! They loved this playground! – and I think it’s easier, now that they are adults, to NOT be where they grew up. I felt very Landslide-y, which I do not feel much in my new home. Maybe it’s the bandaid-ripped-off concept of changing every single thing all at once.

Speaking of changing every single thing all at once, there was a very special reason that I was in Calgary, and that is that I was attending my husband’s retirement party! My husband officially retired last Thursday, and I nearly bought him a t-shirt reading “I tried to retire but now I just work for my wife.” NEARLY. Anyway, there was an amazing dinner for him, surrounded by his colleagues who I have gotten to know quite well over the years, and it was a really wonderful experience.

The next day we drove our hostess-with-the-mostess out to Banff, to meet up with her husband and spend the night before heading home. We had just the best time with our friends, having drinks and dinner and then more drinks, walking through Banff and browsing through little shops. These are our friends who are more like family, who I love so very much, and it was so great to spend time with them. It was also great being in Banff; the larches were changing, the temperature was crisp but not terribly cold, the mountains were show-off gorgeous, and we were staying in the beautiful Rimrock hotel, which in itself a treat.

The following morning we drove back to Kelowna, and I pretty much wanted to just collapse from exhaustion, but we had tickets with friends (HI SAMMI) to see a performance of The Piano Man and The Rocket Man that evening. I am SO glad we went, it was so much fun to see a tribute to two of my favourite performers, and Sammi had booked us tickets very close to the stage, which was just great. The two of us girls bonded by crying through Candle In The Wind, which I would have been much more stoic about had they not flashed images of Princess Diana on the screen. My girl! The people’s princess!

The rest of the weekend was mostly just spent getting my life organized and put back together, and also spending time with Rex, who was not dead and who also seemed to really enjoy his new pet resort, even if they didn’t flood their Facebook page with his photos. What a missed opportunity for them! His smiley face could have been the best free advertising ever.

Weekly Reading

The Dutch House. First of all, Ann Patchett. What can you say about Ann Patchett except that she’s an absolute gift to this world. What an incredible writer she is. This book is one of the most satisfying and wonderful reads I have ever experienced and you guys, that is saying something. It’s an absolutely perfect book. It’s about family and home, the complexity of relationships and the responsibilities we take on. It’s about forgiveness, and rage, and how people change and yet somehow stay the same. I am absolutely uplifted by this book and also astonished at the sheer genius and quality of the writing. This was a work of art, and is everything I love about books.

It has, obviously, been a very action-packed, busy, fun-filled week, and I am looking forward to a calmer and probably more productive week. I hope you all are enjoying this beautiful month of September. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Goodbye, Calgary Edition

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Anyone who lived in Calgary in the 1980s will remember, probably with no little nostalgia, the Hello Calgary promotional video on Channel 2&7, back when there were only about thirteen channels. To this day I could sing the lyrics at any given time: Makes no difference where I go, you’re the best hometown I know. I heard recently that this particular jingle was used in many cities at the same time, just changing out the name, but I like to burrow back into my bubble and think that it was just for YYC. I found the original clip on YouTube and watching it evoked such a sense of nostalgia and happiness for me: the skyline, the prairies melding into the foothills melding into the Rockies, the Stamps and Flames, the old-school and problematic, but still beloved, zoo of my youth.

And now it’s time for me to say Goodbye Calgary, so I thought it was only appropriate that I tell you my favourite things about living here.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Goodbye, Calgary Edition

Brentwood Babe

As everyone knows, I love my neighbourhood of Brentwood. It feels like a small town; people know each other by sight, I am friendly with all my neighbours, it’s where the kids walked to school from preschool to graduation. I think it’s the nicest community in the city. The trees are big and established, there are wide sidewalks and boulevards for walking, and it is adjacent to Nose Hill, a large wild natural park.

It’s a very walkable neighbourhood; if I forget a grocery item I can walk to the local Co-Op, buy it, and be home within fifteen minutes. Speaking of the Co-Op, I love that not only do the employees know my name, but they also know my Co-Op number. Other great walking destinations that have greatly contributed to my quality of life are the library, the Pharmasave – the owner always makes sure my favourite scents of Routine are in stock – and Anna’s Nail Salon. I can walk to all three of these in a ten minute period.

Loopty Loop

Speaking of walking, I started a daily loop during Covid and have kept it up all this time – now with a giant fuzzy companion. Depending on which route I take the distance is between five and seven kilometres, winding up the hills through the neighbourhood to the offleash paths, and down again. I love to look at the foliage and garden changes throughout the year, and it’s always a great part of my day.

One of the first signs of spring in the neighbourhood is when one of the houses on my route puts out their gnomes. This couple has dozens and dozens of gnomes in their front yard, and I am here for it. Here is just a small sample:

There are so many lovely gardens in the neighbourhood, and I love watching them change with the seasons.

Food, Glorious Food

Also in walking distance is Jamesons’ pub, which I have mentioned before, and which has the most delicious Santorini bowl. I have eaten there twice this week, once on a date with my husband and once with all the Brentwood Babes, who were wishing me farewell. I had the same waitress both times, who remembered my exact order, which made me feel very much like I was going where everybody knows my name.

Not in walking distance, but something I love and have mentioned before about is Aida’s Bistro. It is the best Lebanese food outside of Lebanon, I am convinced. The Mouh sandwich is to die for; it’s (usually) worth the drive through dreadful traffic and even worse parking, and that is saying something.

Living The Lake Life

Calgary is a landlocked city, but two hours north is beautiful Sylvan Lake, where my parents reside and where I went to summer camp as a child. I am very, very fortunate to have such a gorgeous respite from the busy city at my disposal.

When I told my yoga ladies that I was moving, one of them immediately said “Oh no! What about your parents? They’ll miss you so much!” Well, thank you, I had NOT THOUGHT ABOUT THAT AT ALL. That is the hardest part of this move, of course, and while I will of course be visiting them, a nine hour drive through the mountains is quite different from a two hour drive through the prairies.

Rocky Mountain High

Speaking of the mountains, being so close to the Rockies is a really glorious thing. There are many beautiful places in the world, but I think that nothing compares to the grandeur of the Canadian Rockies.

Flower Power

Last summer we were at our house in Kelowna, when a friend of my husband asked about our home in Calgary, and if the house itself was similar to the large, newly built Kelowna one. I told him that it was a 1962 bungalow, at which point he said that he thought I’d be very glad to leave it behind for our beautiful new house. I admit that I got my back up, and told him that I have been nothing but happy in our lovely, cozy home. Sure, it’s a little short on storage space and I would like if it had more than two bathrooms, but it’s my home, and I will always love it and remember it with tenderness.

I particularly love my gardens; when we bought the house I was charmed by the gorgeous big trees – a Mayday and Manitoba Maple in the front, spruce and lilac bushes in the back – but the gardens were a mess. They had, according to my neighbour, once been the talk of the neighbourhood, but after the original owner sold in the 80s, they had been severely neglected and, when we moved in, were completely overgrown with weeds. Over the years I dug new beds, planted and worked them, and I have been happy with the pops of colour all through the summer.

I hope the new homeowners love the gardens too!

Outfit of the Month

It feels appropriate that my last week in Calgary is Stampede Week! I haven’t been to the grounds in years, but I love Stampede spirit in the city, and so I dug out my boots and hat for date night.

Is it possible for fast fashion to become slow fashion? I bought this dress for about $10 at Old Navy in 2018 or so. These days I feel pretty conscious of where my clothes are made, so I don’t love the concept of buying something like this NOW, but I have it, so I’m keeping it. Plus, it’s pretty cute, and I love the sundress-with-cowgirl-boots look.

Stampede is such a funny time in Calgary. I remember back when I would work on the trade floor; my trusty colleagues would suddenly come into work with Wrangler jeans and big belt buckles, with colourful Western-style shirts, and it was a little disconcerting, to see the change from office wear to I’m A Cowboy Now. But it’s fun to get in the spirit of things, even if I don’t have any events to go to these days.

Well, Calgary, we have had a good run! Not only is this home to so many Favourite Things, but this is the home to so many of my wonderful friends. Throughout the years I have been so fortunate to have been absorbed into the yoga community, the mom community, and the Brentwood community; I am lucky to be in touch with my oldest school friends and to live just a few doors down from a very dear friend. I have friends who are my chosen family, and every single friend – whether or not I have seen them lately – has been a gift in my life. I’ll miss them all, but luckily it’s so easy to stay in touch now – and I have a beautiful new deck suitable for wine drinking when friends are passing through Kelowna!

I have quite a bit to get through in the next few weeks before I’ll be drinking wine leisurely on the deck, though, and on that note, I am taking a blog break to get moved and settled. I will catch up with all of you on the other side! Take care of yourselves, friends, and be well. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Summer Solstice Edition

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If my life lately was a cartoon, it would be illustrated with one of those daily calendars, and the pages would be flipping through in fast-motion, flying off into the wind. Time seems to move quickly the older we get, but this past month has been absolutely insane. Not only are we moving next month, but one month from today we WILL BE MOVED. I will be IN my new house, probably unpacking boxes. Right now that feels impossible but it’s true.

Anyway, June is flying by and there are a lot of things that I loved, and that made my life significantly better this month.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Summer Solstice Edition

What’s A Yeti?

I cannot see the word “Yeti” without instantly thinking about the clueless woman at Disney’s Animal Kingdom, who spent forty-five minutes surrounded by Yeti-related material only to be astounded at the existence of the word Yeti, lo these many years ago now. What’s a Yeti? Anyway, for Mother’s Day this year the guys gave me two insulated Yeti cups, which are perfect for keeping any cold drink cold. They are intended to be for white wine, but they work great for any beverage, particularly, in my case, a nice gin and tonic or a flavoured sparkling water.

Since our new city is very hot in the summer, I anticipate using these a lot while I read on our beautiful deck.

Dog and Bowl-erfly

Rex is not a dog who is made for the heat. Or, even the slight warmth. Basically, if the sun is shining and the temperature is above about fourteen degrees, he gets hot. He’s a Winter Dog for sure; on warm days he enthusiastically runs and rolls at the dog park, and then droops for the three kilometres it takes to get home. May and the first part of June saw a stretch of unusually hot weather, and that coupled with my concern about how Rex will handle our new city had me searching for solutions. Solution number one: walk him as early as possible in the day. Solution number two: always carry water.

I bought this silicon dog bowl that is foldable and hooks onto my belt bag. I feel a bit like a much-less-cool Sherpa, what with the waist leash and a water bottle jammed into my bag and then a bowl hanging off that same bag, but it works.

All Hail The Kale

Since we are leaving in peak garden growing season, the only vegetable I planted this year was kale, as it is an early harvester and one that just keeps growing after cutting. We have had three really big cuttings of kale already, and a fourth one is going to happen this weekend. I love kale. I love it. I love it in all forms but one form that is extremely popular in my house is the kale Caesar. I use this dressing (thanks to Birchy, HI BIRCHY, for the recommendation) and I massage it into the kale about half an hour prior to eating. Garden kale is so much more tender than grocery store kale, but I still think it is a good idea to let the dressing sit for that time.

Rainy Days and Mondays

As I mentioned, it was much hotter and drier than normal for about six weeks in May and June, and I was experiencing a weird cognitive dissonance. Personally, I love hot and dry weather. It’s my favourite. I was, on a selfish individual level, very happy to be outside in the soft air and sunshine, wearing only skirts and tanks. However, the part of me that has concern for other people and the world in general kept whispering this is really bad. The northern part of the province was suffering from wildfires, grass was crunchy underfoot, and it felt honestly a bit apocalyptic. It’s Calgary, and we did not have one day in May in which the temperature dropped below freezing, nor did it snow. This is weird.

Things took a turn last week, and I could see it in the photos taken of me and my ladies at our final yoga classes. Monday afternoon, we were all in tees and capri-length pants, some ladies in shorts. Thursday morning, we were all in sweaters and jackets and long pants. It’s been very rainy and chilly – two days ago I had to pull out my light winter coat and gloves to walk Rex, the temperature did not get above eight degrees – and while I don’t LIKE this, it does feel more normal and less like We Are All Going To Die In A Fiery Inferno That Is Our World.

Which brings me to rain gear; on days that I don’t need to wear a winter coat in June, I am loving this cute little raincoat from Lululemon. It’s pushing it for Calgary – I have a lined raincoat that I wear more often, and this is not lined – but in my new city, it will be perfect for rainy days that are not also freezing cold. Did I mention that it was eight degrees for a high? On June 20th?

What do we think of Hunter boots? I don’t find them super-comfortable for walking, but no other footwear is so effective at keeping my feet dry. Plus, I feel at one with the spirit of my birthday twin, QEII, who used to wear Hunters to muck around in the stables. All I need is a plaid hair scarf.

I Was Influenced Dot Com

A few months ago, I saw a sponsored post on Instagram that showed a woman wearing “the most comfortable jeans ever, the only ones I travel with!” This woman was doing cartwheels and yoga and even the splits, and I was kind of fascinated. Because I looked at the post for all of thirty seconds, rather than half a second scrolling by, my algorithm immediately changed and I was inundated with advertisements and sponsored posts for Mott and Bow jeans. Every time I logged onto social media, there it was; a post with a woman talking about the most comfortable jeans in the world. They were really cute, too, and I was especially intrigued because my current jeans were not the most comfortable jeans in the world. In fact, they were becoming less and less comfortable as time went on.

I have mentioned before that I have been strength training to, as my kids say, stave off The Osteo, and a side effect of gaining bone density is that I have also gained a very juicy booty and thighs. My current jeans could not contain all this lusciousness, and I was just feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy in them. It’s one of my rules that I need to feel happy and beautiful in all my clothes, and so I was again thinking about the woman cartwheeling around in her Mott and Bow jeans.

And I will say that buying jeans online is a pretty risky business, especially for a Canadian dealing with exchange rates on already fairly-pricey items. I went to the website, selected a cute pair of skinny jeans, and filled in their size calculator, at which point my suggested size was exactly the same as that in my current jeans. I was skeptical, however, I was also desperate for jeans and held my nose and jumped off the high diving board. The jeans arrived and IT WAS A REVELATION.

Never have I experienced jeans like these. The fit, despite my deep skepticism, was perfect. They are cute and flattering and so very comfortable. Rex and I decided to showcase this comfort with some downward dogs.

Now put your leg up, Rexie! Good boy.

I immediately ordered two more pairs: another skinny and one that is called a “boyfriend” jean.

So I guess there are two lessons here: one, Instagram ads really do work if they hit you at the right time in your life, and two, if the jeans don’t fit the body, change the jeans.

Outfit of the Month

Speaking of comfortable clothes, my favourite outfit this month is so comfy and cute: a tee shirt dress!

My son and I went out for dinner while my older son and husband were at the new house, and I wore this super-comfortable, super-cute tee shirt dress from lululemon. It was a bit chilly so I paired it with tights and boots – these boots are actually Sorels, and are unlined and perfect for rainy or wet weather. If I had a denim jacket I think it would be perfect for this outfit, but I don’t, so I’ll accessorize with my favourite fuzzy black-and-white item.

There are so many things that are getting me through this month of transition – I am a person who likes to be organized and neat, and my house feels like it is exploding around me – but a month from now, everything will be…well, it will still be kind of a disaster. But eventually things will be neat and organized again, and in the meantime, why don’t you tell me what your favourite things were this month? xo

Don’t Worry About A Thing Because Every Little Thing Is Going To Be All Right

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Let Your Love Flow Like A Mountain Stream

Last week I was channeling Miley Cyrus, this week I am all about Bob Marley. It’s been a very busy, very productive week, and – to also channel Melissa Manchester – I think we can make it.

Friends, this is going to sound like the most Out There, Hippie Shit ever, but I made a bit of a mental shift and suddenly, things started magically clicking. Maybe they would have clicked anyway! Maybe this is just a weird coincidence! Maybe our minds have nothing to do with what happens in our lives BUT early last week I was doing my yoga practice and throughout my sun salutations I kept thinking this is what my life is, this is my life, and then as I moved on to standing postures I thought I choose how to respond, and I accept this life and THEN throughout my seated vinyasa and closing I thought of the line in Desiderata, whether or not it is unclear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. I finished my practice, feeling peaceful and zen, and then everything started falling into place. Can that really be a coincidence? Maybe. But also? Maybe not.

My husband and older son drove a truckload of boxes and household items, including all our artwork, to our new house this weekend, leaving only nails and picture hangers, plus an incredible amount of dust on the walls. Did you know that the walls behind your pictures and artwork get very dusty? They do! In any case, I was absolutely astounded by the sheer amount of things my husband squeezed into his truck, and am now feeling much, much better about the move in general and what happens if everything doesn’t fit into the moving van in particular. I also have phoned the moving company not once, but twice, and they have been nothing but wonderfully reassuring, even in the face of my incredibly panicked, probably stupid questions. One such question? How do they make it fit? The women on the phone did not give me an answer like “lube, obvs,” or “that’s what she said” although I kind of wish they did. Instead, they explained, over and over, that the movers were essentially professional Tetris players, and after seeing what my husband – not a professional Tetris player – fit into his regular truck I am definitely feeling more confident.

We are also in the process of donating and selling cheaply a lot of items in the house, which means I was using our neighbourhood Buy Nothing group a lot, and you all know how that goes. My heart strings are pulled by stories of breakups and divorce and children needing items, and when I reach out to those people to arrange for a pickup or drop off? Crickets, they are chirping. I had reached my this is not worth it breaking point, and less than an hour after that the Diabetes Association called to see if I had any donations to be picked up. YES PLEASE, and also, the universe is unfolding as it should, om.

Doctor Doctor Give Me The News

I had two appointments in this past week with two different doctors, and at each appointment I ended up getting into a long, completely non-medical-related conversation. These conversations went on so long that I started to worry about other patients, and if their appointments would be delayed. I kept trying to close off the conversations with a smile and nod, and then they just kept going. What is it about me? I am a chatty person for sure, but there is something about me that seems to encourage long, in-depth conversations with random people, which, don’t get me wrong, I love, but also what about your other patients, you guys?

To illustrate the completely unrelated, non-medical nature of these conversations, one of the doctors talked to me about Snowmobile Culture In Rural Saskatchewan and his Love For Ice Fishing, which led to Bush Parties of Our Youth and Cruising Main Street As A Saturday Night Activity. This conversation was after my regularly-scheduled Pap smear, in which we also discussed Nicole’s Cervix: It’s In An Unusual Spot Which Is Why This Is So Awkward, a conversation we have every single time I get my Pap.

Doctor: I’m so sorry, this must be painful for you.

Me: I’m fine.

Doctor: I’m not! I’m sweating here.

Me: *starts laughing while the speculum is searching in vain for my elusive cervix, makes everything actually painful and even more awkward*

The conversation with the second doctor was my fault entirely. I noticed a photo of a much-younger him crossing a finish line, with a neon sign saying the time was 11 hours and 35 minutes. I asked the doctor if that was an Ironman he competed in, as I couldn’t imagine what else it could be, which started a very long discussion about how it was his first of three, segueing into How The Pandemic Changed Our Exercise Routines, which led to an involved discussion about my love for Peloton and his love of swimming pools and how devastating it was when they closed in 2020, and concluded with his suggestion that I myself compete in an Ironman before I turn fifty. Sir. I think you have grossly overestimated my interest and abilities, flattering as that is. Also flattering is that this doctor informed me that I am the “healthiest person he’s seen in years” and was definitively able to rule out MS as a cause for my constantly-going-numb left foot. Unfortunately, there is no telling why this happens and has happened for five years now, but a diagnosis of Definitely Not MS is really happy news.

Also happy news is that we have a date for the medical procedure for the recently-mentioned health issue, and that date is BEFORE we move. Now, this is the Canadian health care system so anything can happen, but as of now we have a date, we don’t have to think about going back and forth between provinces, and I am just so goddamn grateful.

This Is The End, Beautiful Friend

I wonder if all the community centre’s recent HVAC woes have helped me come to terms with saying goodbye to my beloved yoga classes. I taught my last two classes this week, and I felt very at peace with it. I expected to be very emotional and teary but I wasn’t; I was just happy that I was able to spend so many years at this place, getting to know all my wonderful students. They were so lovely, giving cards and notes and gifts and baking, and only one student burst into tears, which made it easier on me.

Many people have asked if I will teach yoga in my new city, and the answer is I don’t really know. I probably could, and I have a few ideas, but the yoga industry, such as it is, is very different from when I started teaching, what with so many studios closing after and during the pandemic. I advertised to the Calgary yoga community to take over my classes, and my inbox instantly exploded, and each interested potential teacher was incredibly qualified. There are just so many teachers competing for not very many classes, and I feel like the same is true for my new city. It might be time for a pivot!

School’s Out FOREVER

Speaking of pivots, my younger son has his last exam tomorrow, which means we are DONE with the public school system! I am no longer a Mother of School Aged Children, instead I am a Mother of Semi-Functioning Adults. Landslide to infinity.

Weekly Reading

Hold My Girl. Friends, I want so badly to champion every single book written by female Canadian authors, I really really do. I want to tell you to read and support all of them. But this book, well. I didn’t HATE it. I read it to the end because I was invested enough in the story to want to see how it turns out. And on the positive side, it did provoke some interesting thoughts about what makes a parent: is it biology, is it nurture, and is love like a pie that is finite or is it ever-expanding the more people we let in? So the concept – about an IVF mixup that led to two women discovering that the babies they had (one late-term miscarriage, one healthy birth) were not, biologically speaking, their babies – is interesting. The execution, however, was lacking. The story itself is cliched in every way, trite, and the dialogue stilted. And there are so many parts that I thought what, that would never happen, like how the women’s eggs were purposefully switched by the nurse who was a friend of one of the women (what, why), and the doctor revealed the name of each woman to the other without legal representation (what, how) that I just lost the thread a bit. Anyway, it’s fine but I hate that I can’t be more enthusiastic about it.

Buy Yourself The F*cking Lilies. I am not a person who is bothered in the least by swearing, generally, but I have a history of strongly disliking books that have a bleeped out F*ck in the title. If you can’t just say Fuck then just don’t say it, you know? I’m looking at you, Mark Manson and Caroline Dooner. Yes, I know this is a publishing thing but I stand by my anti-f*ck stance. I feel similarly when people use the word “effing” or “fricking.” Say it or don’t say it. And I also had a moment in the first few pages where I thought oh no, I am way too old for this as the author describes waking up in a hungover haze after her 25th birthday when she drunk-dialed her therapist and, although she doesn’t remember it, said she had nothing to live for. But I had heard her interviewed on a podcast and she seemed really lovely, so I gave the book a chance and I am SO glad I did. I really loved this book, which is part memoir, part self-help, part enthusiastic cheerleader. Yes, some of the self-help did not in the least apply to the stage of life I find myself in, but the rest of it was just so cheering, so affirming, and the author herself does so many things that I do personally – make your bed every day, treat yourself in small ways every day, don’t hang out with people who make you feel terrible – that I wondered could I write a book like this? It was truly joyful to read, and I am looking forward to reading her latest.

I am feeling energized and optimistic for the week ahead, like the universe is unfolding as it should. I hope you all have a wonderful week. xo

Miley and Me

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The other day I woke up with No Scrubs stuck in my head; this isn’t an entirely strange thing, as I do like that song, and hear it fairly often on one of my playlists. What was strange, though, was how tenacious it was. All through my morning yoga practice I kept hearing hanging off the passenger side of his best friend’s ride over and over. A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from ME. Then I took a Peloton ride and the very last class was No Scrubs, and it started to feel surreal. After that there was no getting away from it; I wondered if this would be like the time I had the Lido Shuffle stuck in my head for days, and kept hearing it on the radio, and is this is how it starts, the descent into madness.

The next day I chose a Peloton ride that had a No Scrubs-free playlist, but it turns out that I am becoming unhinged anyway, as I got all choked up singing along to Miley Cyrus’ The Climb. There’s always going to be another mountain, I’m always going to want to make it move, it’s always going to be an uphill battle…at which point my singing voice started cracking and I started rapidly blinking back tears. To MILEY CYRUS.

Well, things have felt a little Uphill Battle-ish lately. Every morning I wake up with renewed positivity and optimism, and just as soon as I cross a few Stressful Things off my list, five more Stressful Things take their place. This past week a very unexpected, fairly serious health issue popped up in the Boyhouse, which is causing me considerable worry, as we are moving next month, and this needs to be taken care of prior to that. We are not just moving house, but moving provinces, and let me tell you that I absolutely love the Canadian universal health care system for the most part, but it can be hard to get things in a very timely manner, and inter-provincial health care is not ideal. Switching provincial care and finding new providers is going to be a Big Deal, but I’m trying to keep my head up and take things step by step.

This move is something that’s been in the works for a while, and although I have had some emotional ups and downs about it, I am definitely looking forward to being settled into my new home. In the interim, however, everything feels like chaos. I am not a person who Does Well With Change, in fact, I’m kind of the opposite, and everything is changing at once. EVERYTHING IS CHANGING ALL AT THE SAME TIME. It’s like ripping off a giant bandaid, or getting a Brazilian wax all in one strip. OUCH, but also, it isn’t dragging things out, I guess.

Anyway. Things will get done. In not too long, I will be on the other side of this. On the huge plus side, my son had his second dental surgery this week and it went really well. It went so well that I had a few moments of regret that the first went so badly, but we cannot change the past, people. He and I spent an afternoon watching Forrest Gump, and because I am currently an emotional wreck, I spent much of it blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. We both agreed that the best parts of the movie were the Vietnam scenes and the friendship between Forrest and Lieutenant Dan, and that the music, as the kids say, slaps.

One thing I am very much looking forward to in my new home is gardening. The growing season is solidly four months longer than it is in Calgary, and this winter is going to be all about planning and designing my new beds. The trick will be to keep Rex out of them, which takes some doing. Incredibly, after a winter of being sat on and walked on – Get out of the garden! I said countless times this winter, only to be answered with a look of innocence before slowly trampling the beds on his way out – my Siberian irises are in full, gorgeous bloom. On the other hand, Rex seemed to have killed my creeping Jenny in the hosta garden. Who knew one could kill creeping Jenny? I thought it would survive nuclear fallout, but apparently, it cannot survive a winter with Rex.

Weekly Reading

Foreverland: On The Divine Tedium of Marriage. It’s interesting how sometimes a book will come into your life at just the right time, and will resonate with you so strongly that you might look around, wondering if someone is actually inside your house. Or your head. I don’t think I’ve ever read a book of essays that is so honest, so candid, and yet so funny and self-deprecating as this. It’s divided into four sections that can be described as courtship and engagement, wedding and early parenthood, house, home, and parenting older kids, and, finally, bumps in the road, including dissatisfaction, illness, and the pandemic. I cannot even describe how much I related to so much of this book, even for things that happened long ago; it has been a very long time since I had a newborn, but her description of the feeling that the baby was an actual part of her body and when she was separated from the baby, it felt like she was literally missing an organ was so exactly what I too experienced. It is a rare book that makes a person feel completely seen and less alone, but this absolutely did. It’s really a beautiful, yet brutally honest, look at so many facets of marriage and life, and I loved it.

Funny You Should Ask. I read most of this in waiting rooms so I think I was a bit distracted and found this book a bit hard to get into. It’s a nice light romance about a journalist who interviews a movie star and then they meet again ten years later for another interview. The interview skyrocketed her to fame, it started a bunch of rumours, I don’t know, it was fine. I liked it just fine but didn’t love it. Apparently this book went viral on TikTok, so my meh reaction could be just me.

The Paper Palace. Wow, this was a really incredible book. On the surface, it’s about a woman who has just had a clandestine encounter with her oldest friend, and now she’s faced with the choice: leave her marriage and her much-loved husband and children, or stay and figure out how to deal with the fallout. One might think, as I did initially, if she loved her husband so much, why the affair? This book delves into the past fifty years, and how it affected a twenty-four hour period. It’s filled with secrets, and horror, and love; it shows the butterfly effect of single actions, and the connections between us. It is so well written and the descriptive writing is beautiful. I had no idea what was going to happen or how it was going to end, and it’s the kind of book that leaves you wondering and wanting more. I really loved it.

This week felt so long, but I am, Monday morning once again, filled with renewed positivity and optimism to tackle the ever-growing To Do list. Happily, my skin care routine is working and I look fantastic.

I hope you all have a beautiful, uncomplicated week. xo

Crying In Superstore

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I am not at all a stress or emotional eater – in fact, in trying times I tend to lose my appetite and forget to eat – but I am a Taurus, and I love to treat myself, particularly when I have had a lot of onerous or tiring tasks. Not always is that treat food-related, although I do love a good Lindor or a bowl of chips with guacamole. More often that treat is a book I’ve been looking forward to after I have washed the floors or an interesting podcast to listen to while doing something boring like folding the laundry. Friday nights that treat is a nice glass or three of wine, to celebrate the start of the weekend. Sometimes I treat myself with a nice bottle of scented lotion or a new beauty product. And then sometimes, I feel the need to bake myself a cake.

Hoo boy, it has been a week, and also, there is more to come. In a nine-day span, every male in this house will have had a medical thing to deal with: my older son had LASIK surgery last week, which turned out to be a real success, my husband has a colonoscopy today, and if you have ever had one yourself, you know that the prep is much, much worse than the actual procedure, and my younger son has not only another podiatrist appointment this week, but his dental surgery got bumped up to this coming Wednesday. That latter is actually a blessing, since I received information that the Grade 12 BBQ and yearbook signing party is on the day that he WOULD have had the surgery, had the surgery not been moved. As it is, he won’t miss the festivities, and he will be hopefully all healed up by that time.

By saying yes to everything and being encouraging of all activities, I have been really committed to ensuring my son has a really great senior year, and I think that he has. In the past, the school has put on a banquet for graduation – except, of course, for the 2020-21 grad classes – but this year, the school decided to have a big dance instead, with grads only, no family members allowed. The school did, however, ask for parent volunteers.

Me: Oh hey, honey, the school needs parent volunteers for the…

My son: No.

Me: But…

My son: NO.

I mean, it’s probably for the best. Who wants their mom hanging around their grad party, even if she is considered to be the Cool Mom? The theme was “A Night In Hollywood” and my son went with a group of his buddies, and it was the best time ever, the end.

Careful readers may have noticed that I said every male in this house, and as such, Rex is included. Oh, Rex. The day of my son’s graduation I took him to doggy day care, as I didn’t want to leave him alone in the house all day. It’s like I have a giant furry toddler. The very next day he whimpered at 5:30 am to be let out and then had, how shall I say this delicately, explosive stomach upset. ONE day at doggy day care! IT IS JUST LIKE HAVING A GIANT FURRY TODDLER. It seemed to be a fairly isolated incident, with a couple of less-dramatic incidents, and he had his usual enormous level of energy, eating and drinking normally. I didn’t worry and I moved on with my life.

That is, until Tuesday when he again whimpered to be let out, this time at 5:00 am, and then he was outside a LOT. One thing no one really tells you when you have a baby is how much time and energy you spend examining their diapers and noting things like colour and “seediness.” The same goes for pets. I found myself examining the back yard and when I discovered blood in one of the very loose stools, I went from Perfectly Calm to Panic at the Doggy Disco. I called the vet who said that they could not get him in until the next day, but if I wanted to come by to grab some probiotics, that would probably help. The next day was when my son was having eye surgery, and then he had checkups the day after that, and it was all the way across the city, during rush hour, and no, I could not bring Rex in the next day, all was ashes.

Panic Level High, I headed to the vet to pick up probiotics and then found myself bursting into tears at the front desk, being completely unable to speak, and unfortunately, the woman I was sobbing in front of was not the same woman who I spoke with on the phone, so she was completely puzzled and alarmed. Who is this crying woman? Did her dog die? Finally the woman I had spoken to did come by, looking at near-hysterical me, and then asked me to wait a moment. She came back to say that if I was willing to just drop Rex off for the afternoon, the vet would squeeze him in between appointments and then call me when she had examined him.

I zoomed home and then zoomed back to the vet, then zoomed over to pick up groceries, but I could not calm down. I could NOT calm down. Rationally I couldn’t understand it: I was doing everything I needed to do, Rex, by all measures other than his BMs, was obviously fine, everything was okay. Still, I couldn’t settle. I would take deep breaths and then my eyes would well up, looking at the bananas and spinach. Then I had a notification on my phone, which is when I realized the date: it would have been Barkley’s birthday. At that point I started crying in the produce section. It was just too much. Everything in my life felt like Too Much. I managed to settle myself down enough to finish shopping – buying all sorts of weird “low fibre” foods for my husband’s upcoming colonoscopy prep – and to drive home. I had just finished putting everything away when the vet called me with the good news that Rex just needed to be dewormed, he was fine, and I could come and pick him up.

Because of Rex’s size, he was in an exam room all by himself, as opposed to in a kennel. The vet started to lead me to the room he was in…and it was the room in which Barkley died.

So it’s been kind of an emotional week, I have to say, and I’ve got a lot to get through this coming week. One foot in front of the other, the only way out is through, etcetera, but hopefully there will be less crying at Superstore.

Weekly Reading

Yellowface. I really love when a book has a lot of nuance, a lot of questions, and nothing that is black or white. This satirical novel about a woman stealing her dead friend’s manuscript, editing it, and passing it off as her own is absolutely incredible and full of so many unanswered questions. The biggest question it poses is who gets to tell what story? This is a very interesting question to me and I think about it a lot. For example, years ago I read American Dirt and really enjoyed it; it was only afterward that I found out about all the controversy surrounding the author. But does that take away from the story? For me it didn’t, for you it might. It’s important to note that women have been telling men’s stories, and vice versa, and I don’t tend to think that’s wrong. Of course, there is the added layer of the publishing industry and the biases and exclusions involved. To add to the irony, the author tells a story about a white woman, which she is not. In addition to the big question, there are many small ones. What about the creative process? Where do stories come from? If an idea comes from a conversation, and a book is written about it, was that a stolen idea? Another theme in this book is the role of social media in our society and the “pile ons” that can happen. There were just so many things that brought to mind the last fifteen years of social media, trolls, etc., and how they affect real people. This book shows the competitive nature of publishing and how everyone is scrambling to get a piece. At the heart of it, this book shows how a lie can turn into a giant web of lies, and how keeping secrets can kill a person from the inside out. I almost never say this, but wow, this book lived up to the hype!

When The Apricots Bloom. I thought I would love this book about 2002 Iraq. It has, theoretically, everything I love in a book: description of a different culture, an alternate look at an international political situation, three women protagonists and how they are connected. But yet, I did not like this book AT ALL. The plot, which should have been interesting – the secret police, espionage! – dragged and the dialogue was terribly stilted. What a disappointment.

On this emotional roller coaster of a week, I had my first kale harvest of the year! The gnomes must be helping. I had planted a few different varieties and they were delicious. I hope you all have a beautiful, non-roller-coaster style week, with lots of fresh produce and minimal produce aisle crying. xo