Category Archives: Housewifery

Two Christmas Miracles; Ninety-Two Weeks In

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Here we are, in the homestretch to the Festive Finish Line, and I have not one, but TWO Christmas miracles to tell you about. Cue the hype-up music – are you ready for this?

Christmas Miracle Number One: Costco

Last week I was due for a Costco trip, and during this Pandemic At The Disco, I have gotten into the habit of combining that with my weekly Superstore trip, so that I hit Superstore at or around opening at eight, and then Costco at or around opening at nine. To say I was not looking forward to this would be an understatement: it’s always a physically exhausting activity, but it was also minus 20 and there was snow on the ground, which makes parking lot cart maneuvering extremely difficult.

I dropped the kids at school and zipped over to Superstore; there were numerous weirdly empty shelves, and those empty shelves seemed extremely random and unrelated to each other or any Weird World Events. With Superstore, it’s a tossup whether or not there is a Pandemic Shortage or just Superstore Weirdness. For example, there were some imported rice and noodles, but no eggs. There were tons of fresh greens, but only two kinds of apples. Other than that, the trip was without incident, unless you count the side-eyes I got from humming and grooving to the store’s Christmas music. What? The best way to spread Christmas cheer is by singing loud for all to hear, not that I was actually singing – no one needs to hear that – but still, I was doing my part for society. If you don’t want me to cart-dance to Last Christmas, then don’t PLAY Last Christmas, Superstore.

One of the side-eyes I got was from the cashier, and I smiled and told her that I love that song. She replied, somewhat grumpily, that she had been listening to it since November 15. So have I, but by choice I didn’t say, because there really is a difference between listening to songs on repeat by one’s own volition or not, as evidenced by the many, many times I heard Werewolves of London back in my university waitressing days. I get it, is what I’m saying.

As a side note, Last Christmas will always have my heart (I gave you my heart), but this year I’ve also been auditorily addicted to N’Sync’s Merry Christmas Happy Holidays, Chris Rea’s Driving Home for Christmas, and Kelly Clarkson’s Underneath The Tree. It’s an interesting mashup, what goes on in my head.

In any case, I got what I needed at Superstore, loaded up the car, and headed over to Costco.

Costco, ten days before Christmas. I blasted the 70s on 7 channel, singing loudly, like a football player listening to In The Air Tonight before a big game. I was literally hyping myself up, thinking I’ve shopped here in spring 2020, I’ve made it through the Great Toilet Paper and Flour Shortage of 2020, DO YOUR WORST, COSTCO, COME AT ME, BITCH.

Costco:

I will tell you this: I haven’t seen Costco like that since 2019. It was so quiet, the shelves were full of everything that I needed (and more, it is Costco after all). I was in and out in half an hour, and, I don’t know if it was just because it was so early in the day, but there were no stray carts in the parking lot. IT WAS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.

Christmas Miracle Number Two: The Dryer

I got home from my epic grocery trip, still in disbelief over the ease at which I procured said groceries, and started unloading and unpacking the car. While doing so, I thought I would pop the clothes from the washer into the dryer; I took the time to hang the delicates to dry – mostly a few sweaters and some yoga clothes and sports bras – and then pressed the start button.

Nothing happened.

I stood there motionless for a moment, and then started pressing the button with increasing force and rapidity, like I was in a hurry waiting for an elevator; I knew that it was useless to do so and yet I was powerless to stop myself. Needless to say, nothing continued to happen.

My immediate thought was this is karma. I was JUST complaining about how much time I spend doing laundry, this is the universe’s way of reminding me of the incredibly blessed life I lead. NEVER COMPLAIN. My second thought was thank god it was the dryer. I mean, of all appliances to go, the dryer is the easiest one to live without. Clothes can be hung to dry. I have many friends in the neighbourhood who would certainly let me use their dryer if needed. Laundromats exist. Also, the day before I had laundered all the flannel sheets, so it was very lucky that it didn’t break down at that time; that would have been tricky to deal with. As it was, I used everything I could think of in the basement to hang the wet clothes on: I filled our drying rack, then moved on to my son’s music stand, the barbell weight stand, and the small step ladder. I would have gone to Walmart and cleaned out their supply of drying racks, but my husband stopped me. He thought he could solve the problem.

Here’s the thing about the Pandemic and The Way The Pandemic Has Affected My Brain: I just assumed that I would be living without a dryer indefinitely. Well, I guess I don’t have a dryer now, better go buy some drying racks. Can you blame me? There’s so much buzz about the supply chain, I just assumed there was no supply. My husband phoned and left a message with a local repairman; I put on my snow pants and went for a walk, secretly vowing to go buy many drying racks on my return. While I was out, my husband texted me to say that the repairman was on his way.

What?

I had no idea that a repairman coming that same day was even an option, but John the Repairman was there when I got back. After calling around, he said there were parts locally available and he would return on Friday to fix the problem. “The only problem is I can’t test the motor,” he said, “But that’s a rare problem. If the motor’s gone, it’s a thousand-dollar fix.”

Cue ominous music.

Friday morning John the Repairman came back, and within fifteen minutes came to report that the worst indeed came to the worst: the motor was dead. We decided not to fix our ten-year-old dryer, I gave John the Repairman a bag of Christmas treats, and he left. I started another small load of laundry, hanging the clothes to dry, while my husband looked at the Lowes’ website.

THERE WERE MANY DRYERS IN STOCK AND AVAILABLE.

Still, I didn’t quite believe it. The next day my husband and son went out and returned with a brand-new dryer in the truck. They recruited my older son in helping to maneuver it down our narrow basement stairs, unhooked the old dryer, loaded it on the truck, and within the hour I had a working dryer. Am I living in an actual Christmas movie? IT IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.

It is also a reminder of how lucky I am. I feel like I should never complain about anything ever again. Especially about anything food related: I don’t want karma to come back and take my fridge or freezer or stove. I briefly had a I’m so tired of making dinner feeling and then snapped out of it. DON’T THINK SUCH THOUGHTS, NICOLE, THE UNIVERSE IS LISTENING.

For the last several years, we use this cute wooden Advent calendar as a Gratitude Calendar: every day we each write one good thing about our day on a slip of paper, and then on New Year’s Eve, we read all of them. I feel like all of my remaining days I should write I have working appliances, thank you, Universe, I have working appliances.

Pandemic Reading

This week I finished the Giller Prize shortlist, and just in time for all my library holds to un-pause and start streaming in.

On the right is the completed pile of Giller Prize shortlisted books, loaned to me by my friend Marion (HI MARION), the left is the pile of library books, and in the middle is the book that I have been reading by bits and pieces for months.

On to this week’s reading!

The Listeners. Based on the description, I would have NEVER picked up this book, but I’m glad I did as I think it’s important to expand my mind and read different things once in a while. That said, I did not love this book, but I did appreciate it for the excellent writing and interesting storyline. A woman hears a strange humming noise; it keeps her up at night, causes migraines and nosebleeds, and no one else can hear it – until one of her students mentions it. She finds a group, all of whom can hear the noise, and things start to fall apart. This is a book that draws parallels to conspiracy theories and cults, and is really incredibly interesting. There are a few parts that jump from one place to another, which makes it a bit tricky to follow, but on the whole this is really well written.

What Strange Paradise. This was the winner of the Giller Prize, and I can see why: it’s exquisitely written and quite timely in terms of subject matter. A migrant boat full of refugees is washed up on the shore of a Greek island, and there is only one survivor: a young Syrian boy. This is very moving, and obviously, given the subject matter, tragically sad.

The Holiday Swap. This is a Hallmark holiday movie in book form, and I am 100% here for it. It has everything: identical twins – one a glamourous TV host, one a homebody running the family bakery – who switch places for a week, an idyllic, snowy, mountain-town setting, romantic interests in the local firefighter and a physician’s assistant, delicious baked goods, a rescue dog, and a cat named Gateau. There are some twists and turns but, naturally, everything works out in the end. This was just a lovely, light, fun read, especially after my string of Very Heavy Books.

I wish you all a very happy holiday season! I hope you can find light, love, and laughter. And maybe some puzzles, games, and delicious treats as well. xo

What Day Is It Again; Ninety-One Weeks In

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I do not know what’s going on with my neighbours and their drainage, but this guy has returned several times since I first sighted him in October:

I did finally catch a glimpse of him, after an embarrassing amount of peeking out the window whilst folding laundry, and it was, to be honest, a bit of a let down. I mean, I’m sure he’s Hot Rod for someone, but not for me.

Speaking of folding laundry, I have been really wanting to do one of those “snapshot of my day” posts, but I spend so much time doing boring things like folding laundry and cleaning the kitchen that I find it somewhat depressing. I love reading other people’s “snapshot of my day” posts and “my day in pictures” post, and meanwhile, here’s me:

3:00 pm: Nicole folds a massive load of laundry while listening to a podcast about the development of the polio vaccine, hashtag living my best life.

I did consider it last week though, and even took a photo of my Morning Practice Space, the festive prettiness of which really makes up for the squishiness of which, and the “bumping into the wall and/ or table” of which.

Maybe one day! Maybe one day I will treat you to A Day In The Life of Nicole, and you can all be wowed by the incredible amount of things I get done before 10:00 am, and simultaneously, but differently, wowed by the complete lack of things that I do after 7:00 pm. One of my yoga students asked if I still go to bed at nine o’clock, to which I replied that nine is a LATE night for me these days. I’m essentially comatose by that time.

I keep thinking it is much later in the month than it actually is. For the last week I’ve had these panicky Christmas is next week feelings, and then I have to remind myself of the actual date. I blame the fact that this is the last week of school and of my classes of 2022; usually these things go into the 20s of the month, but not this year. It feels like December is flying by, but I am going to reiterate: it is the thirteenth. Christmas is NOT this weekend, no matter what my brain keeps saying.

I’m not complaining, just, apparently, confused. Oh god, remember last year? Last year at this time, things were in a pretty dismal state; school had gone online, which was absolutely dreadful, and there was a “no gatherings at all” rule. I’m sure lots of weirdness lies ahead, but I’m going to just take things as they come. Basically, as long as the kids are in physical school, I don’t really care what else happens. That is my bar, and it is low.

Because of last year, I think I have developed a Come At Me attitude when it comes to almost everything, but particularly grocery shopping. I am planning to visit Costco after my usual Superstore grocery run this week, and in years past I would never have gone to Costco so close to Christmas (IT’S NOT THAT CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS, NICOLE, IT’S ONLY THE THIRTEENTH). Anyway. This year, I don’t care. I mean, what can happen – will I have to line up to get in the store? Been there. Will I have to line up in the store? I did that two weeks ago. Will there be shortages? WHO CARES, I JUST WANT MY CASE OF MACADAMIA NUT MILK AND SOME KALETTES. IF THEY AREN’T THERE I’LL GET SOMETHING ELSE, HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT, COSTCO.

A few updates from last week: there are limited supplies of both rice AND noodles at Superstore, as well as other imported items – I was able to snag a bottle of sesame oil, which was one thing I was actually running low on. My pantry is pretty full right now, as I have that It’s A Pandemic And We Are Going Into Shortage Season feeling.

Also – and I am wary just writing this – no one else has succumbed to The Cold. May our good health continue!

Pandemic Reading

I have been wondering if I should even tell you about this, but it’s a tiny nag at the back of my brain. About six months ago, I received a message from a woman I know who told me that she purchased a couple of books I had enjoyed, and she wanted to let me know that they were completely boring and she hated them. She went so far to say that one of the books that I had loved was the worst book she had ever read. With that in mind, I wanted to clarify a few things.

Reading is very subjective, and, with the exception of a few books that I think are IMPORTANT, such as Caste or My Grandmother’s Hands, I do not necessarily recommend any of the books in my weekly reading recap. I might love a book – which I really, really do this week – but that doesn’t mean I think YOU will love it. Maybe you will! But we all have such different tastes, and my love of a book does not translate into an across-the-board recommendation for all. I have read many books that people have raved about it, that left me feeling meh, but that’s on me, I think. There are also whole genres that other people love, such as sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, that I am extremely averse to. That doesn’t mean those books are inherently bad or boring in any way, they just aren’t for me.

With that in mind, I was pretty taken aback by that message; I knew it wasn’t a personal affront, but it kind of felt like one. All of which is to say that when I absolutely love a book, I don’t expect you to, but maybe you will (if you are Anna (HI ANNA), my book twin, I DO expect you to!). Shared enjoyment of a book has nothing to do with friendship, either. One of my best friends, Allison (HI ALLISON) loves sci-fi and horror, Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) loves a good mystery, and many of my friends love fantasy and time travel, which I do not.

This week I have continued my reading of the Giller Prize shortlist, which was loaned to me by my friend Marion (HI MARION), and I am about to rave about a book.

Son of the House. I am going to come right out and say it: this might be the best book I have read all year. After looking at the Giller Prize shortlist, this was the one I was most excited to read, and it did not disappoint. It checks every box for me: the minutia of women’s lives in a society that oppresses them, and how they overcome the various oppressions, a description of a country and culture that is not my own – in this case, Nigeria – and multiple eras and points of view with intersectional, but seemingly unrelated, characters. Two women – one, a formerly impoverished housemaid and one a wealthy, educated principal of a school – are kidnapped in Nigeria and they tell their stories, and it is a fascinating, incredible, beautifully written book. I loved it so much.

Fight Night. In contrast, this was the book I was LEAST excited to read on the shortlist, having not been a big fan of Toews. However, I was pleasantly surprised! This was a really good read; it is written from the viewpoint of a child, so the narration is unreliable and interesting. As with most of Toews’ works, the subject material is quite dark and disturbing, but the book itself is quite lovely and touching. It has a very strong theme of family and struggle, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this.

Have a great week, everyone, and if you are like me and continuously confused by the calendar, Christmas is in twelve days! It’s not this coming weekend, it’s NEXT weekend. xo

Thirst Traps and Letting Go; Eighty-Eight Weeks In

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These Pretzels Are Making Me Thirsty

I love listening to podcasts while doing menial household drudgery or slowly walking Barkley around the neighbourhood; it makes me actually look forward to doing dull things like folding the laundry or other mind-numbing tasks. I feel like I learn new things every day; I discovered the “We Didn’t Start The Fire” podcast, which goes through every single lyric in the Billy Joel song, with different expert guests for each topic. I am only at Sugar Ray, so I have many more episodes to go, but I’m learning so much.

Small note for anyone who wants to look up that podcast: they have the absolute WORST theme song, it is We Didn’t Start The Fire played on the kazoo. The kazoo! I will never understand some artistic choices. If you can get past the kazoo, the podcast itself is very enlightening.

On Stephany’s recommendation (HI STEPHANY), I started listening to You Can Sit With Us, which is not at all enlightening, but is just some younger women chatting about their lives in a mindlessly soothing way. Well, it’s not totally un-enlightening, because this week I learned about Thirst Traps.

I have a number of younger women on my Instagram feed, and so I had seen Thirst Traps without knowing there was an actual name for it. I just thought they were Sexy Photos That People Post On Instagram To Get Attention, Not That I’m Judging, but Thirst Traps is much more succinct.

At the dinner table, I told the boys that I learned what a Thirst Trap is, and their reaction was pure horror. “Oh, GOD.” my older son said. “How did you learn about that? Did one of your friends tell you? ARE YOUR FRIENDS POSTING THIRST TRAPS.” My younger son, apparently too anguished to speak, merely bowed his head, with his forehead in his hand, pained at the thought. I assured him that neither myself nor my friends were posting Thirst Traps, but that I heard it on a podcast, to which they responded with “WHAT PODCAST, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FUCKBOIS OF LITERATURE?”

To be honest, I haven’t been listening to the Fuckbois; it is such a great concept but the execution is…not.

Anyway, there will be no Thirst Traps from me – for one thing, just no, but for another, my sons and a number of their friends inexplicably follow me on Instagram. My feed is almost entirely books, with some baked goods, a landscape, and an occasional selfie thrown in for good measure, so I’m not sure why any teenager would be interested in it, but in any case, No Thirst Traps For Nicole. The mental anguish of my children would be too much.

Let It Go, Let It Go

It has been a very productive week; I was completely inspired and motivated by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) to tackle some shelves in our storage room/ pantry and purge items no longer needed. I did this years ago, when Kondo-ing everything in the house, but you know, I think as the children grow up I need to revisit my storage areas more regularly. No one has used Lego in years, not to mention the adorable Playmobil pet clinic. I gave those things to the little girls across the street, and put a number of things on my local Buy Nothing page.

What is it about purging our stuff that feels so great? I feel a Mary Oliver poem coming on:

It’s not like I want to burn or trash all my things – so wasteful, Mary! – or keep NOTHING, I do love my stuff, even as I let things go. One thing I haven’t been able to get rid of yet is a set of alphabet and farm animal fridge magnets. I know! It’s time. Just…not yet. I was silently judging my husband for not letting me get rid of his underwater camera that he took travelling when he was in his twenties, thirty years ago. I mean, it takes film. Film! We aren’t going to use it. But he’s sentimentally attached to it, just like I’m sentimentally attached to a box of fridge magnets, and I have a stainless steel fridge.

I Am Santa, Baby

My holiday cards and the photo calendars that I order for the grandparents every year arrived this week, which meant that I was able to package up and mail the parcel I send to my mother-and-sister-in-law. This is one of those jobs that feels like it should take, at the most, half an hour, but always ends up taking up an entire afternoon.

I have at times felt resentful that somehow the job of purchasing, wrapping, and mailing gifts to my husband’s family has fallen to me, but I remind myself that a) there are many, many jobs around the house that my husband does automatically, that don’t even occur to me to TRY to do, and b) our parcel makes up over half of their Christmas gifts, and so I would feel terrible if I didn’t send them. It’s unacceptable to me to think of my mother-in-law, all by herself on Christmas morning, with nothing to open. Also, choosing a gift for my nearly-eighty-year-old mother-in-law is not really in my husband’s wheelhouse, but it is in mine, so here we are.

Anyway, I had a few parcels to mail, and since it was November 16, I felt that the post office would be a quick in-and-out, and was I ever wrong. In fact, I am not sure I could have been MORE wrong. There were at least fifteen people in the lineup that snaked down the aisle, and only one person working at Canada Post. Forty minutes later, I collapsed into my car, exhausted. Note to everyone reading this: if you need to mail anything, go now, or just assume you’re going to need to schedule an hour for this errand and maybe take a book. Actually, even if you do go now, take a book.

Pandemic Reading

Speaking of books!

The Thursday Murder Club. I don’t often read mysteries, but I enjoyed this book about a quartet of septuagenarians who meet on Thursdays to discuss unsolved murders. The developer for their retirement community is found dead under mysterious circumstances, and so they are on the case! It’s nice to read a book about older people who are thriving and enjoying life; this isn’t a thing that happens much in literature. There was a line about how they used to get up early because there was so much to do – work, family, etc. – and now they still get up early because who knows how much time they have left, and they want to make the most of it. I liked that a lot.

Even So. Hmm. Okay. So. The first two-thirds of this book was really great; in fact, I thought “this is the story I’ve always wanted to write.” It read like a thriller; very fast-paced and action-packed, about a very well-off woman who has a seemingly beautiful life but blows it up by having an affair. It’s REALLY good. But then, it takes a turn and becomes a religious allegory. The last third of the book is all about redemption and forgiveness and is very heavy on Catholic imagery and beliefs. Essentially, it IS an allegory, with themes of sin, lust, greed, followed by guilt, redemption, and forgiveness. I wish I had known that going in. It felt like a book I might have read when I was in confirmation class at age 14. It’s almost like the author wanted to hammer her faith into the reader’s head; it’s pretty over-the-top. Unless you want a lesson in Catholicism or God’s plan for your life, I would pass on this book.

Consent. I have read many, many books in my life, but none so abjectly horrifying, shocking, and disturbing as this. This is a memoir written by a woman who entered into a relationship with Gabriel Matzneff, who was an acclaimed writer who wrote about pedophilia, RAPING CHILDREN and having sex with young girls and boys. Did you hear that? He won awards for his work. The author entered into this relationship when she was 13 and he was 49, and all the adults in her life, including her own mother, were complicit. It is absolutely unbelievably shocking. A fourteen year old girl, who essentially is living in a hotel with a fifty year old man, skips school constantly and no one does anything at all. When she leaves him at age 15, because he had taken up with a younger girl, her own mother says “are you sure? He loves you so much” which, what. This woman is only three years older than I am, and this took place in the 1980s. The 1980s! So many adults saw this relationship, knew about this relationship, and shrugged it off because Matzneff was, apparently, a literary giant. This man wrote about sex tourism in the Philippines, where he would buy 11 and 12 year-old boys for his own sexual pleasure. He wrote about all his young conquests, including the author of this book, and people bought those books and applauded him, awarding him literary honours. How did this happen? This is just such a disturbing book and if you have daughters, maybe take a pass.

On that note…time to sign off. Have a beautiful week, everyone! xo

The Case of the Missing Gourds; Eighty-Four Weeks In

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I don’t want to alarm anybody, but something is eating my decorative gourds.

I started out with eight white mini-pumpkins, and I am down to two. My husband suggested someone was STEALING them, but I think that is unnecessarily suspicious of people in my neighbourhood, and also, if our home is going to be the the victim of theft, I don’t think it is the mini-pumpkins that are going to be targeted.

No, something is eating them, and the proof was staring us into the face when we noticed two large bites taken out of the decorative red gourd. At first I was willing to believe that a murder of crows was carrying off the mini-pumpkins, but the nature of the bite marks on the red gourd do not suggest a bird. Perhaps it is one of the many wild rabbits in the neighbourhood. I was prepared to cast the blame on my usual nemeses, the squirrels, but people, this is no squirrel.

I sprinkled cayenne on the gourds to deter predators, but on the upside, if this carnage continues, I will not have to worry about composting anything come November 1.

It has been an interesting week, and not just because of the disappearing gourds. We had a municipal election, which I voted for in the advance polls and as such kept forgetting that the election was not over. Why are there still signs around? Oh yeah. I knew the platforms of the frontrunners – enough to make an informed choice – but I have not been paying attention to the news at all as a self-care measure, and so I was very surprised to see 27 mayoral candidates. TWENTY-SEVEN. Who are these people and where did they all come from?

I was driving to the Superstore, which is ten minutes from my house, and noticed a big sign for one of the mayoral candidates that I never had heard of before. This gentleman’s tagline was “Calgary’s Cheapest Mayor” which, what. Who is doing your PR, sir?

Actually, whoever is doing the PR must have known that someone like me would immediately look up this gentleman’s platform because CHEAPEST MAYOR WHAT. I spent far too much time thinking that maybe he’s a guy who gives holiday cards saying that in lieu of gifts, a donation has been made to the Human Fund, or when splitting the cheque at dinner he pays exactly the amount for his entree, without tax or tip, or doesn’t offer to pay for part of the appetizer even though he ate half of it. Maybe all of those things are true, but they were not on his platform. It should be obvious but he was running on a platform of low expenditures and taxes, but what I did not know was that this person refused to door knock or go to any in-person interviews or meetings at all due to the pandemic. Maybe he didn’t want to spend money on gas? He did not win, nor did he even come into the top 20, but I shall give a little nod to his determination.

Speaking of Superstore, this week I earned an unprecedented 40,400 PC Points, and for those of you who are not in Canada or who do not shop at Superstore (who hurt you?) there is an app that tracks all your purchases, Big Brother-like, and then offers you points for things you regularly buy, which can be exchanged for store credit. For example, this week my offers include 200 points for every $1 spent on grapes and 1000 points for every $5 spent on the brand of yogurt I buy, among others. You get the idea. Anyone who spends a few months examining the patterns of the offers can figure out the basic algorithm, which is what I have done, and I shop accordingly to maximize my points and why are you looking at me like that. Anyway, I have been holding out on buying a few cosmetic items – Neutrogena products, mostly, but also hair colour – because I knew the points offers would be soon and THIS WAS THE WEEK.

My husband is of the belief that if I ever won the lottery, I would be more excited to receive the funds in PC Points than in actual cash, which is untrue, but also not totally untrue, if you know what I mean.

Speaking of my husband, it was his birthday this week, and you know what that means! Cake!

Since the rule in this house is that birthdays are celebrated for at least a week in some way, I also baked a pie on the weekend, and that, along with cooking some giant meals, meant a lot of time in the kitchen. Yesterday alone I washed dishes SEVEN TIMES. I am thinking that next weekend, I might heat up some frozen pizzas, set out some pre-made salads and Halloween candy, and call it a day.

Pandemic Reading

In The Country of Others. I have always been interested in Morocco, and this book gives incredible depth and detail to that country post-World War II, leading up to the revolt against French colonialism. It follows a war bride Frenchwoman who marries a Moroccan man and goes to live in a desolate farm in that country. It was well done and contained many layers, but I found the writing to be somewhat…disjointed, maybe? I can’t think of the right description. It almost felt like a series of vignettes linked together, and it did feel like it was a translation and that English is not the first language of the author, which it is not. The themes are very dark and disturbing – triggers include domestic abuse – and it is very nuanced as well. So much symbolism, for those of you who like that. I liked it, but did not love it, and I’ll be thinking about it for a while.

What Fresh Hell Is This? Oh, you guys. This book is really incredible: so empowering and liberating. From managing perimenopause in a patriarchal society that diminishes aging women to examining your own life and lighting a match to what doesn’t serve you, to realizing that menopause is not a disease or a defect, but a normal part of life – albeit one with effects that can be mildly bothersome to downright dreadful – this book is enlightening. It also is inclusive of people who experience menopause and do not identify as women or were not female at birth, which I am sorry to say, is a point of view I had not considered. It gives great advice about managing effects of menopause in a way that is in no way patronizing, and includes topics that can be very sensitive, like the feeling of becoming invisible or losing our looks or femininity. I especially liked how the author talked about the importance of social support and referenced the Golden Girls episode when Blanche realized she was going through The Change. There were a few things that did not feel relevant for my life, like the idea of opening up my monogamous relationship to explore my sexuality, for example, but the entire attitude shift that is celebrated in this book was really great. Thanks to my friend Cherie (HI CHERIE) for the recommendation!

On that note, I hope you have an empowered and liberated week, this last week of October! May the Halloween candy last until Sunday. xo

It’s A Conspiracy; Seventy-Seven Weeks In

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I find anything to do with the 1918 influenza pandemic fascinating; in part because it ended, and that gives me hope, and in part because I realize that we also will be a footnote in history. This week I read the book Gilead – more on that later – and came across this passage:

I read it over and over again. There’s just so much in here that fascinates me: people wearing masks to church, if they even went, and sitting as far apart from each other as possible, just like today, but I think what is most fascinating is “there was talk that the Germans had caused it with some sort of secret weapon, and I think people wanted to believe that.” Conspiracy theories abounded even in 1918, it seems.

Earlier I had made the mistake of peeking at my Facebook and seeing a local yoga teacher – who I unfriended long ago – posting YouTube videos about Covid on a friend’s wall, and how “natural immunity” is better than being vaccinated, and how she got the Delta variant and is just fine, and that the pandemic itself is a conspiracy created by the wealthy, who have just got wealthier, and you know what, I’m glad they didn’t have YouTube or Facebook in 1918. All I know is if this woman lived a century ago, she’d be accusing the Germans of launching viral weapons of mass destruction. It’s boggling how people can dismiss the top minds of the world for the likes of YouTube, but here we are.

It’s been an eventful week here in the Boyhouse, what with school starting and getting back into routine. I generally dislike school starting before Labour Day, but it’s also kind of nice to have this little break to ease back into things. The boys are happy with their classes and seeing their friends; my younger son is in Phys Ed, which, in Grade 11, is basically “all fun outings all the time.” I don’t think they are actually in the gym itself at all, they are busy kayaking and playing pickleball and bowling and going to golf simulators, and after a year of intermittently taking gym class online and in his bedroom, it feels overwhelmingly exciting. I do not remember gym class as being remotely fun, but then again, I didn’t take Phys Ed when it became optional, in Grade 11. Good lord, no. Maybe it was just as fun back then; maybe that’s the reward for sticking it out for a decade.

In any case, he’s happy, and my older son is happy, albeit with a fairly heavy workload.

The first day of school coincided with us getting – wait for it – our furnace ducts cleaned. One of the guys, in the midst of the cleaning, brought this to me with the words “There was a sheep in your vents!”

I clearly remember my younger son dropping that sheep down the vent while playing farm animals, which goes to show you how infrequently we get our vents cleaned. That sheep has been missing for at least ten years, probably closer to twelve. When did my kids stop playing farm animals? I can’t remember. In any case, the fellow in charge of the duct cleaning gave me some stern words about the state of things, and how the ducts need to be cleaned every two years rather than every sixteen years, and how our furnace filters are too thick for our furnace and don’t allow the most efficient airflow, all of which I am sure I will forget in due time.

In other news, my husband and I went on a beautiful hike to the Big Beehive at Lake Louise, which is where we got engaged twenty-one years ago. Returning to the scene of the crime!

Classic photo of Lake Louise, angled so that there are no crowds visible. Because, hoo boy, there were crowds. This viewpoint, around the Chateau, is always filled with visitors, and it was not easy to keep distance from people, even with our very early start.

Next stop: Mirror Lake. That’s the Big Beehive in the background, and we’re going up!

Lake Agnes, isn’t it beautiful?

Don’t go chasing waterfalls…

View of Lake Louise from the top of the Big Beehive.

View of the glaciers on the way back, looping through the back way.

Almost back! You can see the Chateau in the background. Why is it, when hiking, that the last couple of kilometres feel like they last forever? We saw a bridal party just after this, getting photos done, and it was so lovely.

Pandemic Reading

Good Company. A few weeks ago, Ally (HI ALLY) asked what my favourite genre of book is, and, if you read that post, you will know I had a hard time defining it. Female protagonist, slice-of-life, the ordinary written as extraordinary. Or something like that? I know it when I see it? Well, I will tell you this: this book is exactly what I love in a book. It’s near-perfect to me. Flora discovers her husband’s supposedly long-lost wedding ring, and secrets unravel. A book about love, friendship, marriage, and motherhood. I loved this so much. You may note that the author also wrote The Nest, and I can tell you that I disliked The Nest greatly, and if I had realized the author was the same I probably wouldn’t have picked it up, so I am glad that I am somewhat vacant when I put books on hold.

Gilead. I tried to read Home by the same author years ago, but I could not get into it. I recently found out that it is second in a series, Gilead being first. Perhaps that is why I couldn’t get into it, and I had recalled that friends had raved about it. I took this out from the library sight unseen – and if I’d read the synopsis I wouldn’t have at all. See what I mean about vacantly putting books on hold? Sometimes it works out for me and sometimes it doesn’t. This one DID, although the synopsis sounds super dull – an elderly man writes a letter to his young son, explaining his life and that of his father and grandfather, all three of them preachers. Boring? Strangely enough it wasn’t boring to me. Maybe it’s my churchy background, or my summers spent in small prairie towns. I liked it quite well and found it beautifully written, so I will give Home another try.

Single, Carefree, Mellow. Is Katherine Heiny my new favourite author? Maybe! I’m 2/2 for her books – the other one being Early Morning Riser – and this collection of short stories is an absolute delight. What a witty and smart writer! This is absolutely my jam and I loved it so much. If you love short stories, particularly short stories about women and their lives, you will love this. One of the stories was a bit hard to read, because it dealt with a dog with cancer, and of course I read that on a day that three separate people asked me about Barkley’s extremely large lump, but it too was a beautifully written story.

Happy Labour Day, friends! I hope you get a restful day before the bustle of the week begins. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “I Love My Garden” Edition

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Well, as I write this it is 7 degrees Celsius and we had a huge hailstorm this weekend that mushed flat all my garden beds and flowers. Prior to this, with the heat and the no mosquitoes, I was thinking what was wrong with me all these years, Calgary is not so bad, look at this beautiful summer, and well. Well, complaining gets us nowhere AND I have enjoyed my summer and my garden immensely, and seasons change and so do I. Calgary has many great things about it; the weather is not generally one of them.

Sometimes during the summer I wonder what I do with my time when I don’t have the garden to tend to, which is how I feel now with the weather changed and no need to water or work in the garden. What DO I do with my time? Oh yeah, I usually have a job.

Anyway, I love my garden immoderately. I have been working on the flower beds for twenty years – twenty! – and over the last two years I have delved into herb gardening. This year, as you know, I started my first vegetable garden and it has been so satisfying. I mean, it’s not like we are saving lots of money growing our own vegetables, because it was kind of expensive to build the garden beds and fill them, but it’s been so much fun.

Let’s tour around my garden, shall we?

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “I Love My Garden” Edition

The Perennials

My entire goal with perennials is to have something blooming at all times of the year, so I mix up early and late bloomers, as well as long bloomers, and so there is always something pretty and colourful to look at.

Early spring:

June:

July:

August:

The roses bloom from July until September, as does the yarrow and ornamental sage.

My hostas and creeping Jenny are quite stunted this year, partly because of the hot, dry weather, and partly because Barkley, in his dotage, has decided to walk through them several times a day. If admonished, he stands in them, staring at me in a what are you going to do kind of way, and since there is nothing I am going to do to discipline a 13-year-old dog with cancer, I guess I’ll live with my stunted shade garden.

Speaking of Barkley, every single day when we are walking – every day! – someone will stop me to ask “what’s wrong with your dog?” and it gets very tiresome. While I appreciate the sentiment of concern, I very much dislike the conversation that follows, and I am much too polite not to answer. I prefer the days when people would stop me to tell me how cute he is or to ask about his breed. He’s still cute and I still think Labradoodles are a wonderful breed! Please don’t ask about his giant growth on his side.

The Annuals

Over the years I have used annuals to fill in the blanks in my perennial garden beds, but now there…are no blanks. I use annuals mostly in containers in our very dry and shady front yard, as well as this pretty little one in our very sunny back yard:

The Herbs

I cook every single day but apparently, I don’t use many fresh herbs. The past few years I’ve been buying an assorted ten-pack of herbs from a fundraiser, and while I’ve enjoyed the element of surprise as to which herbs I’ve received, I’m not going to do that again. I only ever use fresh cilantro, basil, and oregano, and the rest I just water and…do nothing with. Well, not nothing. I am in the process of drying all the herbs for winter use – I do use a lot of dried herbs, but I don’t tend to use recipes with dried herbs in the summer.

If you’re interested in drying herbs, I really recommend a dehydrator. Also? Basil is a bitch to dry, with the thick leaves. As an example, parsley takes about two hours to dry in a dehydrator, and basil takes…a lot longer. I have no idea how much longer because I kept checking it over the course of two days, discovering the leaves still weren’t dry, and then restarting the dehydrator, only to forget about it for hours at a time.

Last year I attempted mint extract and it was a complete failure. I am not sure if it was user error or if I had the wrong kind of mint; I have so much mint this year and nothing to do with it. I might try the extract again, but I’m not sure if I want to waste the vodka on it.

The Veggies

This is my first year of veggie gardening; the guys built and filled five garden boxes for me, and I really recommend this kind of gardening. I’m a bendy kind of girl, but having the raised beds is just wonderful. Also, Barkley pees on the side of the garden boxes, and if the beds were in the ground he would be peeing on our vegetables, which seems suboptimal.

This year we grew radishes, carrots, beets, lettuce, kale, peas, potatoes, tomatoes, and zucchini with a lot of success, although I will say that next year I will use seed tape for the smaller seeds as I am terrible at thinning things out. I also tried peppers and cucumbers, which were unsuccessful – unsurprising, perhaps, but if there was any summer they could grow it would have been this one, with the heat.

I think next year I will increase the amount of kale, decrease the carrots, and omit the radishes altogether. I thought I would enjoy growing carrots more than I do; although if I use seed tape it’s sure to be more satisfying than my tiny, unthinned carrots.

Our growing season is so short here; at best, I have another month, but realistically we could get frost any day now, and snow in September is not unusual. I’ve made the best of the growing season, and I will enjoy it for as long as it lasts! Do you garden? Tell me everything. xo

Summer’s Almost Gone; Seventy-Five Weeks In

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I don’t think I can adequately describe the relief I felt when I received an email from the Calgary Board of Education, stating that not only would masks be mandatory for students K-12, but all other health protocols would remain in place. With the Delta variant of Covid cases skyrocketing, again, and the general mask mandate dropped in the province, I was somewhat concerned about in-person school. I just want my kids to go to school for the year, and maybe even see my oldest have a graduation ceremony, is that too much to wish for. But I was so happy to get the email about masking; masks kept us all so healthy last year – we’ve never had such an illness-free year – and with all of us fully vaccinated, I feel even better.

I was feeling less happy to see that school starts not on September 7, like I thought it did, but September 1, which means this is the last week of summer, I’m not ready. I am just not in the headspace yet, but I’ll get there, and meanwhile, our hot summer weather ended abruptly and now it’s cool and rainy and it feels like fall. The universe is trying to prepare me, is what I’m saying.

August is a month where I always feel a little glum and melancholy and Landslide-y, and the grey, chilly, rainy days are exacerbating those feelings. Well, these days are good for getting things done in the house – when it’s warm and sunny I spend most of my day outdoors, and there were a few things I really did want to get done before school starts (NEXT WEEK OMG) and I get back to teaching yoga and we are all busy with our fall schedules. Like making jam.

My husband reminds me that we have air conditioning, if I want to make jam on a warm day I can, but I never do want to do that. Jam making is for chilly days, I will die on this hill and also we have many months of chilly days, but few warm ones.

So Many Empty Boxes

One of the things I have wanted to accomplish practically since the pandemic hit was to clean out our storage/ furnace room. My husband, god bless him, likes to keep the original boxes of any electronic equipment while said equipment is under warranty, just in case there’s an issue. The problem is that he never gets rid of the boxes after the warranty expires, and therefore we have perfectly good storage shelves that are jammed full of empty boxes. We still had the PS4 box from Christmas 2014, for example, along with boxes for stereo equipment we no longer own.

Summer is coming to an end, the pandemic has been going on for seventy-five weeks, I go back to teaching in two weeks, IT IS TIME TO CLEAN OUT THE FURNACE ROOM. I took out every single box, rearranged everything, and was able to put all the bins full of childhood art and school projects, bicycle gear, and assorted sports things ACTUALLY IN THE STORAGE ROOM instead of behind my son’s drum set. He’s thrilled that he no longer hits his elbow on the bins when he’s practicing.

This is the van full of cardboard my older son and I took to the recycle depot, and doesn’t include the three garbage bags full of packing materials, RIP our earth, that came out of the boxes.

Not one day after The Big Cleanup, my husband – in a typical act of service to make my life easier – had ordered some new windshield wiper blades for my car. As he grabbed his keys for the garage, he said “Don’t throw out these boxes, just in case these blades don’t fit.” Dear reader. I answered him with a look only and, fortunately for our marriage and everyone involved, they DID fit and my husband subsequently recycled the boxes.

No YouTube Videos On How To Break In To Your House

Speaking of the garage, a couple of weeks ago older son went to get out the lawn mower, and couldn’t unlock the garage door. We typically lock the person door with just the knob, rather than the deadbolt, and while the key fit in the knob, it wouldn’t open. Obviously the automatic openers for the big car door were in the cars that were locked in the garage, and the keypad has not worked for years. My husband searched up YouTube videos but to no avail: all videos instructed what to do if you were locked INSIDE a house, rather than outside, because I guess YouTube doesn’t want to advertise how to break into someone’s home.

Anyway, it was either call a locksmith or actually break down the door, and we took the former option. We now have a garage door that locks by deadbolt only, in case such a thing should happen again. Unfortunately, we are all in the muscle memory mode of just twisting and locking the knob, and the number of times I’ve thought oh yeah, I need the key to lock the door over the past couple of weeks is extensive.

Burn Baby Burn

Remember how my son, after his braces removal, wanted to burn all his orthodontic elastics, and, failing that, his masks? This is what happened on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip:

Pyromaniac dreams do come true, I guess. You are still going to need masks! I admonished him after seeing these photos, but he countered with a) it was just one mask, and b) that mask was unravelling anyway. Was it? Was it really? Well, he does have at least eight other masks, and it’s not hard to get masks now anyway, and what happens on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip stays on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip.

I Have Found My People

You all know how I feel about Thoreau and, also, many of the widely celebrated male authors/ fictional characters (Jay Gatsby, I’m looking at you). So I was so excited to discover this podcast:

The Fuckbois of Literature! If you, like me, think that maybe a person can’t claim to be self-sustaining while living intentionally in the woods when his mother is bringing him sandwiches and doing his laundry, then this is the podcast for you.

I’ll Take The Rapists For $500, Alex

On Peloton, people have the option to add a hashtag to their user profile, and those hashtags are used to connect with other people. Sometimes the hashtag has to do with a favourite instructor – I, for example, am part of the #yestoyoucrew and my son is a #denismenace – sometimes it concerns career choices, interests, or life in general, like #teachersofpeloton, #pelotonmoms, #peloforwine, #pelotonsingles.

I was riding the other day and the person on the leaderboard ahead of me had the hashtag #therapistsofpeloton and friends, it took me a really long time to realize that it was therapists of Peloton and not the rapists of Peloton. I spent some time being shocked that a) someone would cop to being a rapist, and b) there was a whole group of rapists, connecting through exercise.

In my defense, it was pretty early in the morning and I hadn’t yet drank my whole pot of coffee.

Outfit of the Week

I’m really glad I posted all those summery outfits, because SUMMER IS OVER and it’s time to pull out my jeans, socks, and long-sleeve shirts. This top dates from 2016, and I bought it in the small town where my parents live. Isn’t it cute? It’s great for this kind of weather as it’s too thin for winter, but great for a typical Calgary summer day!

The whole reason I have started the Outfit of the Week was to appreciate and express gratitude for my wardrobe; I am thinking about taking it off the blog and onto Instagram only, where outfits of the week belong. You all know I love clothes; I love reading fashion blogs and I love seeing Outfit of the Day posts. If you, like me, also enjoy seeing what people are wearing, you can check it out on Instagram. If you’ve hated my OOTW, lucky you! No more scrolling by to get to my weekly reading list.

Pandemic Reading List

The Soulmate Equation. I have read and enjoyed a few books from Christina Lauren, and this one did not disappoint. It’s just a very sweet and fun romance with very loveable characters. The main character is a single mom and freelance statistician (how often does that happen in a romance book, the statisticians are highly underrepresented in fiction) who is matched up with the founder of a DNA-based matchmaking company. Throw in her energetic seven-year-old and her romance-writer best friend, and you have got yourself a feel-good read.

Think Like A Monk. This book was so inspiring! As you know, I love the idea of living a peaceful and purposeful life, and this book deals with the kind of mindsets that work towards such an ideal. From feeding your brain positive material to finding your life’s calling, this book is full of wisdom and inspiration.

I discovered that I have a LOT of internal work to do. I enjoyed this book so much I started listening to the author’s podcast, and the first one I listened to had an interview with an absolutely lovely young woman, who spoke intelligently and with great enthusiasm about overcoming trials in life, the biggest being the death of her mother when she was a teenager. She was witty and smart and spoke about her work to empower young girls and women, and after the podcast I looked up the show notes to see who this remarkable young woman was. The link took me to her Instagram account, and people: if I had seen her Instagram first, I would have never listened to the podcast. I would have completely dismissed her as having nothing to say, and I would have been very wrong. It was a wake-up call that I need to examine my own biases as a person. Well, it’s a journey. We all have work to do.

And on that note, it’s Monday of the LAST WEEK OF SUMMER and although it doesn’t feel summery, I am going to embrace it. I hope you do too. xo