Category Archives: I almost failed Home Ec

The world is a magical sphere.

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Yesterday was Pi Day and I spent much of it thinking of the magic of mathematics and, by extension, the world. Just think about this – for every single circle in the world, every single one of them, if you divide the circumference by the diameter, you get pi. YOU GET PI EVERY TIME. Isn’t that just incredible? Life is beautiful, made up of so many magical moments, and we should never let a day go by without appreciating them. In eager anticipation of pi day, I made a strawberry daiquiri pie for Sunday dessert; this recipe, but I omitted the avocado and cut the coconut milk to one cup, and then I poured my homemade magic shell on top and let me tell you, it was a glorious celebration of the circle.

Speaking of glorious things and mathematical magic, my husband sent me what must be one of the sexiest texts a girl can get: he informed me that he will soon be able to collect PC Points at Esso. You know that feeling when someone just GETS you? That’s the feeling I had when I read that. For, dear reader, I have become completely obsessed with collecting PC Points and redeeming PC Points and making up my grocery list with PC Points in mind. One day I swept into the yoga studio and excitedly told the girl at the desk my main accomplishment that morning: getting 10,600 points IN ONE SHOP BUYING ONLY THINGS I NEEDED AND NOTHING FRIVOLOUS. She was duly impressed. It’s gotten to the point where I eagerly anticipate Thursday mornings, when I can load my new offers onto my app. More importantly, I have figured out the basic algorithm and can make my list with that in mind. For example, I can predict with 90% accuracy when a certain offer is going to pop up, and I shop accordingly.

Is anyone still reading this?

In case there is any confusion, I am not being paid by Loblaw’s or anything, this isn’t in any way sponsored, it’s just that whenever I’m not teaching yoga I’m grocery shopping or cooking. This is literally true. Having young teen boys who eat pretty much constantly, and being a person who likes to make everything from scratch, my life is entirely revolving around my yoga classes and going to the grocery store, which may explain why my main source of unhappiness in the world is due to grocery carts gone awry.

Slight digression: my younger son pointed out that we had quite a few blueberry-pomegranate juices in the pantry, commenting that they “must have been on sale!” For years I have been slowly turning into a female replica of my father, and now it appears that I am simultaneously turning into my mother.

Back to the point: life is beautiful, math is beautiful, and I’m trying very hard to just take the heavy snowfall event that is going on right now in stride. The snow had just started its slow melting process and now everything is back to square one; this is not atypical for Calgary, but it does feel like winter will never end and spring will never come and we will be stuck with snow drifts and treacherous roads until the end of time.

The first person to complain about the “heat” when it gets to be 25 degrees in Calgary is going to get stabbed.

Well, perhaps not literally stabbed. Maybe just stabbed with an angry glare, like the Care Bear Stare but with much more vitriol.

My childhood Cheer Bear! This is, generally, my spirit animal, except when thinking about snowfall warnings and grocery carts.

Last weekend I found myself at the mall – not to worry, I’m still on my One Year Shopping Challenge, unbelievably enough, with four and a half months to go and I have bought nary an item – but I wanted some compression socks for running. I did enjoy peeking at the window displays and looking at the young girls wandering around, young girls being my fashion barometer. It’s one thing to see items remembered from childhood back in style, but it is, frankly, quite another to see items worn in one’s twenties back in style. It reminds me of the fleeting nature of time; the nineties were actually NOT JUST YESTERDAY, PEOPLE. Crop tops are the thing now, and while I loved them in my step-aerobics youth, I do not feel a woman of my age can really wear them without looking, as they say, like mutton dressed as lamb. What a gross and deplorable saying, and yet, it can accurately describe the feeling I have when I mentally try on today’s styles. Pants with very high waists, distressed and ripped jeans, cropped tops, and the like – these were things I wore in university. I finished grad school twenty years ago this year, TWENTY YEARS. So it only makes sense that they are now on point again but still.

Well, my wardrobe these days basically consists of yoga wear, topped with a cozy sweater and finished off with warm boots. I rarely wear a bra anymore due to the handy shelf bras in yoga tanks, which is starting to feel like a slippery slope. But even my much-loved lululemon is reflecting the styles of the nineties. For one thing, they now sell what is called a Belt Bag but is, in actuality, a fanny pack. The day I wear a fanny pack is the day I die, but there you go. Also for sale: the scrunchie. The SCRUNCHIE. I did love a good scrunchie back in the day, but I don’t think it’s mine to revisit. It reminds me of the Sex and the City episode where Carrie criticizes her boyfriend for writing a novel featuring a woman wearing a scrunchie, which seems like a very specific detail for a man to write about.

Ack! I just browsed a fashion site and came across a photo of a young woman wearing a floral dress with ankle boots, which was half my wardrobe, back the nineties. I guess I’ll just go back to researching my wrinkle creams and I’ll tell you about my amazing vegetarian glucosamine supplements another day. xo

This winter has frozen my brain

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Do You Want To Build A Snowman

No, not really. It’s been the snowiest – or one of the snowiest? I don’t really know – winters on record, and frankly, I am at the point where I cannot even conceptualize a time where I won’t be wearing numerous layers and a coat that requires its own postal code. I cannot remember what the yard looked like without giant drifts of snow, and I am starting to forget what it was like to drive down the street. I refuse to drive down the our street due to the enormous snow banks and ruts – if a car comes in the other direction, one of the cars must somehow get somehow onto a snow bank in order for the other to pass. It feels like a recipe for disaster, and as we all know, automobile-related disasters can only end in dramatic tears and frantic phone calls to my husband who, inevitably, will be at work and unable to help. I shall not drive down my street until such time as I do not need a four wheel drive and/ or nerves of steel. I was looking at my closet yesterday and noticed all the footwear that is lying dormant. I know there was a time when I wore light shoes and even light boots, but I cannot really remember it. I’ve lost all perspective – haven’t I just always worn heavy boots every single day? The local meteorologists insist that the melt is coming, but frankly, I can’t imagine it. I feel like I’m in a much less-gory and not-at-all-incestuous Game of Thrones winter, which is destined to last until we all die from lack of food/ murder/ being killed by White Walkers.

I’d Rage Against The Machine But I’m Too Tired

I realized with a start that time change is THIS WEEKEND. Goddamn Daylight Savings and all the lies associated with it. The Alberta government – not for the first time, and certainly not for the last – was the cause of grave disappointment when they announced that they would not do away with the time change, because “everyone else is doing it.” I feel like my own mother, if everyone was jumping off a bridge, would you do it too? Are we all lemmings here? If EVERYONE thinks that time change is an antiquated concept, and that it really does nothing for energy savings, and that it is inconvenient and the cause of many car accidents and issues due to pure exhaustion, then why doesn’t EVERYONE band together and just agree to do away with it? Every single year I think this and I am sure that given that this ridiculousness has lasted this long, I will be in the Home saying the same exact thing.

Awkward Is As Awkward Does

This week I had my annual physical, and my doctor’s office was very accommodating when I mentioned I was a little tight on time. I got there a few minutes early and the nurse promptly weighed and measured me, and took my heart rate and blood pressure. I was quickly escorted to the room where I was asked to change into the robe. I glanced at the enormous robe, momentarily forgetting which way to put it on. Does it tie in the back or the front? At that exact moment, while I was standing in the freezing room, completely nude, the doctor knocked and started to open the door – thinking, probably, that he was helping me out by not making me sit idly in the freezing room, but instead starting the checkup right away. I appreciated his promptness but, as I said, I was standing there naked, so I asked for just a moment, please. Does it tie in the front or the back? I remembered from my mammogram a few years back – when I made the wrong choice – that that gown tied in the front. Were we doing a breast exam today? Maybe? Front or back, front or back, just make a decision. I quickly pulled it on and tied it in the front just as the doctor knocked again and walked in. It was immediately apparent that I had, gravely, made the wrong decision. The doctor looked at me quizzically as I awkwardly said I couldn’t remember which way to put the gown on. “Well,” he said tactfully, “Usually it’s the other way.” USUALLY. Like there are other women out there desperately holding the gown together at the front, showcasing their complete lack of medical gown intuition. There were a few awkward moments when the doctor was testing my reflexes and listening with his stethoscope. Wardrobe malfunction! I am not generally a shy person and the doctor has seen it all before, but still, there is something unsettling about unexpectedly flashing the doctor while just sitting on the examining table as he asks questions about general energy levels and if I’m still getting my periods.

That’s One Way To Get More Business

With all the snow, and the usual thawing and refreezing cycle, sidewalks and parking lots have been absolutely treacherous. A few months ago I came across an elderly woman who had just fallen and, subsequently, broken her arm while walking on the sidewalk. She was just sitting there on the sidewalk, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. If you can make it down the sidewalks without such calamity, you need the agility of a mountain goat to climb over the huge snowbanks surrounding them. Walking the dog is becoming an adventure, is what I’m saying. The other day I saw a man slip and nearly bail right in front of a chiropractic/ physio clinic. Sheer ice…right in front of the clinic.

All The Ladies In The House Say HEY

Happy International Women’s Day! I may not still have my posters of the Feminist Manifesto and the fish on a bicycle, but the principles are still there (automobile-related incidents notwithstanding.) Keep on keeping on, you beautiful women. Let’s continue to lift each other up and support one another. xoxo

Three Dozen Reds

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I often get pitches in my inbox to feature Tips/ Products That Would Interest My Readers, and I could have the Pleasure of Writing About Them Free Of Charge, and, of course, these are not things that I do. However, on occasion something pops in my mailbox that I find myself enjoying so much that I HAVE to share.

In the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, I received a few pitches to write about romantic things like dealing with late-winter plumbing issues or the differences between water softeners and water filters, and are these people actually spying on me? Am I on camera right now?

But the email that really stood out was the one with the subject title “Eating Pizza In Bed Is Top Relationship Deal-Breaker!” I stared at that subject title for some time; I didn’t want to click on the email because I desperately wanted that to be true. The TOP relationship deal-breaker. Not incompatibility, not infidelity, not differences in managing personal finances. EATING PIZZA IN BED.

Sadly, I did click on the link and further, this was a relationship deal-breaker in terms of pizza eating, not the intricacies of human partnerships, and although it’s been some time since I was in the dating world, I can’t remember having any issues with how people eat pizza and how pizza consumption would affect my feelings towards them. Unless, I guess, that person shoved an entire piece in their mouth and proceeded to have a conversation while chewing, but that applies to any kind of food, not just pizza.

The other deal-breakers were listed as picking the cheese off the pizza, not eating the crust, asking for anchovies and/ or pineapple on the pizza, and eating pizza with a knife and fork. I plead guilty to the last one, because I am one step away from becoming Mr. Pitt, but we order pizza about once every two years, so it’s a pretty moot point. We have homemade make-your-own-pita-pizzas weekly, though, and I always use utensils; my husband still likes me so I think I’m okay.

But really, who eats pizza in bed? Who eats anything in bed? This might be my own personal thing but I like my bed free of food particles. Those duvet covers are a pain to wash and I don’t want to be dabbing remnants of pizza or anything else off of my pillows. I swear, even if I was a married lady on Downton Abbey, I would prefer to come down for breakfast rather than be served a tray, although if that was the case, someone else would be dealing with toast crumbs or Kashi cereal in the blankets. Still, it’s the principle of the thing.

I would kick ANYONE out of bed for eating crackers, make no mistake.

Years ago I read one of those click-bait articles that was titled something along the lines of “The One Thing Successful People Do Every Day” and that one thing was making their bed. I am a huge proponent of this and my kids have been making their own beds for many years, which apparently bodes well for their future successes. I literally don’t understand why people don’t make their beds – no judgments here, I just don’t understand. It takes less than two minutes, it looks neat and tidy, and at the end of the day, I want to get into a nice neat bed, not a jumble of sheets and blankets.

To me, THAT would be a deal-breaker, since I don’t think a non-bed-maker and a bed-maker could really live together in harmony. Although, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe they could make it work, not unlike a gardener-and-flower relationship. I mean, my husband deals with the fact that I cannot handle the TV turned up past a certain quiet volume, and I deal with him folding the tea towels in halves instead of in thirds, so who knows? We all have our relationship crosses to bear, I guess.

Well, this post certainly went a different direction than I had intended. I had intended to write about Valentine’s Day, and how some people place a lot of importance on it and others scorn it, and what happens when the twain meet? My friend and I were talking yesterday of Valentine’s Days Past; she worked in a grocery store and remembers hordes of men rushing in at 5:30 pm on The Day to buy crappy grocery flowers. I remembered one year visiting my parents in Palm Desert and my mom and I went shopping. I wanted to buy some bras at Victoria’s Secret – this was before the chain came to Canada – and the store was flooded with men, with crazed, desperate looks in their eyes. I didn’t make the connection until I realized it was February 14, and noticed the salesgirls had their hands full choosing probably inappropriate items and ringing up gift cards.

For me, Valentine’s Day is a nice excuse to make heart shaped baked goods – this year, a raspberry cake and sugar cookies – and to relentlessly tell my husband I choo-choo-choose him.

This year, though, he ordered me three cases of red wine, which is probably the greatest gift ever given in the history of mankind. Unless, I guess, it was four cases, but that seems excessive. I sent him texts with the bee emoticon so I am just going to say that I got the better end of the deal.

Happy belated Valentine’s Day, my friends. May your wine be rich and plentiful, and your pizza be delicious and eaten with a knife and fork at a table, just like god intended.

Bonus Barkley-on-a-snowy-day picture, just because I love you. In the spirit of Valentine’s Day (a day late!).

What’s In A Name; Perspectives; Book Reviews

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The other night, our dinnertime conversation centered on names, and whether the names we give our children are self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve always been fascinated by names and how they change with trends and generations. The book Freakonomics has a very interesting chapter on names and demographics, and of course I’m watching with interest as names start to come back into style that would have been considered ridiculous when I was a kid. The boys have become big Seinfeld fans – “Santa” gave them the complete series on DVD at Christmas – and there is one bit where Jerry reflects that calling a child “Jeeves” pretty much guarantees a career as a butler. The conversation turned interesting when one of the boys said that it was no wonder Scar from The Lion King was evil; just look at the other names the lions were given. Mufasa. Simba. Sarabi. Nala. All beautiful, majestic names, and then there’s Scar. The other boy said he hoped it was just a nickname given later in life, because if someone was born with a deformity, it seemed cruel to name them after that deformity. “I mean, if you were born with a gigantic head, it seems mean to name a baby Big Head.”

In any case, we all decided that poor Scar was a bit misunderstood and maybe even bullied a little, which is why he turned out the way he did. It’s interesting, always, to look at things from another perspective. I stumbled on this tweet stream the other day and people, it always pays to look at things from someone else’s point of view. There are always at least two sides to every story.

There are two sides to this story as well, but here is my side: my good scissors are missing. Someone who shall remain nameless but who is under fifty and is not me misplaced them; bless his heart, he was helping his father take down the outdoor Christmas decorations, a thankless task, and somehow the scissors have disappeared. Now, I have a very tidy and well-organized house, and believe me when I say THEY ARE NOT IN THE HOUSE. Possibly they were accidentally dropped in a snowbank somewhere, but I think it’s more likely they are in one of the many boxes housing the decorations that are now in the rafters in the garage.

It doesn’t matter what happened to them. What matters is that for the last few weeks I have been forced to use our secondary pair of scissors, a much cheaper and far inferior product.

The good scissors were a wedding gift from my then-boss (HI GARY, WHEREVER YOU ARE) and they were Henkels. When he gave them to me, he jokingly said “You can think of me every time you cut something” and I swear to you, I actually did. But now, upon being forced to use the inferior scissors, I found I was only thinking of my grave disappointment with each use.

Enough is enough and today I headed out in the freezing cold to purchase a new pair of Henkels from The Bay. My motto is to never buy anything at The Bay that isn’t on sale, but needs must sometimes you guys, needs must. It took a lot of internal conflict for me to buy them, with my half-Scottish side reprimanding myself for even THINKING of spending a ridiculous sum of money on scissors when a) the others might turn up next Christmas or when the snow melts, and b) they weren’t even on sale. But you know, I thought it was a small price to pay to have nice scissors again, and not think sadly of the son who misplaced the scissors – WHILE DOING SOMETHING HELPFUL, HE DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS THING.

Anyway, they are now in my possession and look:

“Just perfect” – they are, really.

It’s all about perspective! And on that note, I’d like to share my perspective on a few books sent to me by Simon and Schuster. I was not compensated for these reviews, but I was sent advance reader copies of each.

Walk It Off

Whenever I get a headache – which is rare, I am not headache-prone – I think, in the voice of Arnold Schwartzegger from Kindergarten Cop, it’s not a tum-ah. But what if it is a tumour? Ruth Marshall – an actress noted for her role in Degrassi, among other things – dismissed her tingling legs and clumsiness, only to find out that she had a giant tumour on her spine. Walk It Off is her memoir (what is the difference between memoir and autobiography?) about her diagnosis and recovery, and although it sounds quite grim, it’s actually really hilarious and heart-warming. You can’t help but put yourself in her (flat) shoes and wonder what it would be like to be in recovery and rehab, with two children, learning to walk and use the bathroom. You also can’t help but get slightly alarmed when you wake up with pins and needles in your hand, ostensibly because you slept in a weird position, but WHAT IF. It’s a really great, quick read with the kind of “a door closes and another opens” ending that I absolutely love.

Dangerous Crossing

As soon as I finished this fabulous mystery I immediately lent it to my mother, who loves mysteries and historical fiction. Dangerous Crossing is the story of a British domestic servant who took advantage of an offer from the Australian government to sail Down Under; apparently domestic servants were in short supply, and the Aussies would pay the passage of young women to go into service. This was in 1939 and really did happen. Now, with any historical fiction, there will be some parts that are NOT strictly historical; behaviours and attitudes tend to be modernized so as to not offend the reader, and this book is no exception. Also, I found myself wondering how on earth a domestic servant would afford a cream silk evening gown, and why cream? It would be hard to clean on a ship. But ignoring that, this book is delicious and fun and I really did not see the ending coming, at all. I like those kinds of twists. This would be an amazing travel read or a book to take to the beach.

Things To Do When It’s Raining

This lovely gem of a book is all about secrets and how they can tear you apart, and the healing power of forgiveness and love. Things To Do When It’s Raining has a lovely message and interesting characters, and this paragraph, I think, says it all.

Asymmetry

I saved the best for last. Of all the books I read in 2017, this might be my favourite. Asymmetry is an incredibly written, beautiful story in three parts; the first two seem like they are completely unrelated, from the perspective of two completely unrelated people, but in the third part, we see how they overlap. It’s a debut novel and it’s amazing – a must read. From a May-December romance to an Iraqi-American detained at London Heathrow, the intertwined stories are fascinating. I loved this so much that I have already decided to re-read it on my next plane trip – it’s such dense, gorgeous writing that I feel that I will get even more out of it on a second read.

On that note, I have laundry to fold and banana bread to make (I still have SO MANY frozen bananas) and a class to teach so I’m signing off. xo

Winter Solstice, a.k.a. The Day The Vitamin D Supplement Was Meant For

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Happy Winter Solstice! As of today, we will have exactly seven hours and fifty-three minutes of daylight, which is NOT VERY MUCH. However, at least we aren’t in the Arctic! And days start getting longer tomorrow, so there’s that. Also! We are in the Final Countdown To Christmas, so there is much excitement around the Boyhouse. I have two more classes to teach before I have a week off, and let me tell you, as soon as I get home from class tomorrow, I am (finally) cracking open that Almonde Baileys I bought, putting on a pot (YES A POT) of coffee, and watching Christmas Vacation with the children. I have been looking forward to that moment for weeks now. It’s going to be glorious.

The boys – including my husband – will also be decorating their traditional gingerbread house tomorrow. We are a bit later than normal but I shrug my tired shoulders at the notion of a gingerbread house schedule. I was reminded by Facebook of the house they made eight years ago:

Nothing can top that baby. Nothing!

For those of you in the throes of festive stress, come here, sit beside me, while I make you an Almonde Baileys and coffee. It’s a stressful time, although I am currently feeling like a motherfucking boss since I zoomed over to Superstore as soon as I dropped the kids at “school” (no actual academic activities will take place on this day, thank god, since no student has any focus at the moment) and, people, I managed to rack up 9,500 PC Points. LIKE A BOSS. And it was all buying things that I would normally buy, rather than weird one-off things that will sit in my pantry for years to come. I AM THE QUEEN.

On Monday I drove past the mall on my way to get a wax (TMI? Sorry, I am literally on my second POT of coffee and my filters, as it were, are blurred) and there were cars lined up along the road just to get into the parking lot. I can’t imagine what the parking lot itself was like, but I did see a lot of very slow moving vehicles. My god, the mall. If you or someone you love is heading there any time this week, my thoughts and prayers are with you. GO WITH GOD, PEOPLE. And don’t forget to be nice to the people working the checkouts.

Hmm, I had more to say but in my coffee-fueled haze I cannot remember what. Oh yes! The banana update. Were you all on the edge of your seats, waiting for an update? Well, wait no more because here it comes: the bananas went from greenish to completely black-and-brown in a matter of 24 hours.

But, Dear Reader, you need to know that when I took off the gross peels, with the exception of the very tip, inside was a firm, yet ripe, banana.

That photo looks a little “not safe for work” and also that is what Reynaud’s looks like.

All of which is to say that while I do love Costco and all of its outsized goodness, I will never buy bananas there again.

Happy Holidays to all of you wonderful people. I wish for you a time of joy, happiness, and peace, and if anyone wants some banana bread, I have a freezer full of bananas for you. xoxo

Can you spot the Barkley?

Nicole’s Mom’s Sugar Cookies, a.k.a., the best sugar cookies known to humankind

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Yesterday we had another big snowfall; I don’t even know how many that makes so far this year – four? five? I have already lost count – but I watched the thick, fluffy flakes fall from the sky and it was like a switch turned on in my brain.

As I had mentioned in my last post, I have finished my shopping, but I will tell you this: the super-festive-Nicole-the-Elf feeling did not kick in until yesterday. And hoo boy, has it kicked in. Keep my husband in your thoughts, for I think I may be already driving him crazy. This morning, as I sipped on my seventh – yes, seventh – cup of coffee, I talked in a rapid-fire voice about how I had picked up extra coconut milk and I was thinking maybe this year I’d make peppermint truffles in addition to my usual dark chocolate, and I wonder if dipping some in white chocolate would be good, or too much, and should I roll them in crushed candy canes? He just looked at me in the way you might look at someone who is in danger of spinning off the earth, at 7:00 am, and then left for work.

I ventured out into the Winter Wonderland yesterday to pick up a few items from my local Co-Op, and when I walked in became immediately immobilized when confronted by the giant festive display inside the store. When I say “immobilized,” I mean I stood there staring at all the items for sale for at least five minutes before strolling over to pick up bread, avocados, and peppermint extract, and then circled back to choose three different kinds of candy canes.

Speaking of peppermint extract, has anyone else found it difficult to obtain lately? Is there a shortage? When I find it, the price seems to be the same, but it has been hard to find lately.

So the house is now stocked appropriately with coconut milk, chocolate, peppermint extract, molasses, and candy canes; all things I need for my usual holiday baking sweatshop. There’s just one little issue: I don’t have a whole lot of people to bake FOR.

See, here’s the thing: when the kids were in elementary school, there was always a bake sale or a classroom party or a potluck for the teachers to bake for. This year: nothing. And while the kids are in the human-garburator stage of life where they eat so much it makes one’s head spin, they really cannot eat eight dozen cookies prior to those cookies going stale. They really can’t. And yet, I have already made double batches of both sugar cookie and gingerbread dough, both sitting in my freezer, waiting for the day they come alive to be eaten. And that doesn’t even account for my giant batch of gingersnaps I make come December. When I told my older son that we would have at least eighty gingerbread men to decorate and I wasn’t sure why I had made so many, he said “It’s okay, Mom, we can give them away to people!”

Bless the child. YES WE WILL. So prepare yourself, people in my circles, because you will be the recipient of baked goods this year. I’m already planning my random acts of cookies so watch out, you might have something sweet forced on you, and if I’ve had as much coffee as I’ve had this morning, you may be alarmed at my beaming face.

But this recipe! Recently a friend asked me for it and I was appalled to see that I did not have it anywhere online. Let me tell you, it is my number one most popular cookie recipe. My kids’ friends are always asking me to send it to their moms, teachers used to email me for it, and I have sent it out myriad times. Yet, I have never blogged it*. This is my mom’s sugar cookie recipe and I am just going to humbly tell you that it is no-fail, amazing every time. Well, once it failed since I forgot the baking powder. But if you actually follow the recipe, it’s no-fail. My friends used to love these cookies when my mom made them, back in my childhood days, and now my kids’ friends do, and it feels like this beautiful cookie-circle-of-life.

Nicole’s Mom’s Sugar Cookie Recipe

1 cup butter, softened

1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla

2 eggs

3 cups flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

Cream together butter, sugar, and vanilla until fluffy. Beat in eggs. Mix in flour, baking powder, and salt.

THIS IS THE IMPORTANT STEP: EITHER CHILL THIS FOR TWO HOURS UNTIL EASY TO HANDLE, OR FORM INTO 2-3 BALLS, WRAP, AND FREEZE UNTIL YOU FEEL LIKE CUTTING OUT 7 DOZEN COOKIES. I usually make the dough, freeze it, and then a few weeks later, actually bake the cookies. Pro-tip! You don’t have to do everything at once.

On baking day, obviously you will have thawed the dough, but kept it refrigerated. Preheat oven to 350 degrees, or 325 for convection oven. Line baking sheets with parchment paper and do not think for a moment that you can skip this step! Use the parchment paper, trust me.

Roll out dough on floured surface, about 1/4 inch thick. Cut into festive shapes (for birthdays I make stars, for Valentine’s, hearts, and for Halloween, there are cats, pumpkins, and ghosts). Bake for 10 minutes, until edges are browned. I like very soft cookies, if you like crunchier ones, then add a couple of minutes to bake time. Allow to cool before frosting.

Now, some of you (HI LIV, MELODY, AND AMANDA) are die-hard pipe-and-flood types, but I, alas, am not. I am more a “whimsical smear of buttercream with a few random sprinkles” kind of a cookie decorator. There is room for all of us in this world. If you, like me, are limited in your decorating abilities, then I recommend the following delicious frosting to spread on the cookies:

Nicole’s Easy Buttercream

1/2 cup very soft butter

4 cups icing sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla

2-3 tablespoons milk

Cream together the butter, icing sugar, and vanilla (add the icing sugar slowly or you’ll have a hot mess of a countertop). Add the milk to thin to the correct consistency. This might yield slightly more frosting than you need, but YOU CAN FREEZE IT TOO. Amazing. Add food colouring if you wish. Get ready for compliments, people!

*edited to add: apparently I have already blogged about these cookies! But, the recipe is so nice, we can have it twice.

For best results

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On my tube of toothpaste is written the following:

For best results, squeeze the tube from the bottom and flatten as you go up.

For best results? First of all, I do not think that how an individual squeezes a toothpaste tube is going to affect, in any way, the efficacy of said toothpaste. I am absolutely certain – absolutely certain – that the cleaning, freshening, polishing, or whitening power of the toothpaste is not going to change regardless of my squeezing methodology. Second, isn’t it just common knowledge that squeezing from the bottom and flattening the tube is the most effective way of extracting the toothpaste? Third, the toothpaste tube is not the boss of me. If I want to squeeze my toothpaste tube from the middle until it gets awkward and THEN squeeze from the bottom and flatten as I go, I will. I am not at the mercy of Big Toothpaste.

Lately the bananas I have been purchasing have been embellished with a sticker that claims that I can “win a banana costume” which makes me simultaneously want to go to the banana website for my chance to dress up as a giant banana, and wonder if anyone out there is really doing this. Do you think that a banana is this year’s hot new costume? To be sure, I have not yet seen a “sexy banana” costume advertised anywhere, but then again, I haven’t really been looking either.

Thanks to social media, I was made aware of a sexy goldfish costume, which, well. It is astonishingly expensive, but then, maybe one could wear it on more than one occasion.

PEOPLE, I JUST GOOGLED SEXY BANANA COSTUME AND IT WAS MORE DISTURBING THAN I EVER IMAGINED. My google search led me to many, many obscene looking men’s costumes, plus a couple of women wearing strapless yellow minidresses with white detailing at the neckline, I suppose to mimic the white inside peel.

This is a timely reminder to never google anything unless you are prepared for the results.

There has been a lot of talk about emotional labour, and how women bear the brunt of it, and that is certainly true in my house. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of things that happen in this house that I do not have a thing to do with, and they are deeply gender divided. Wrapping up the air conditioner in a tarp, putting up seasonal outdoor decorations, cleaning gutters, lawn maintenance, leveling the strangely-mobile washing machine, and anything at all to do with vehicle maintenance are a few examples I can think of. Not only do I not have anything to do with those activities, I also actively avoid learning how to do them myself. Not today, sir.

However, when it comes to the Departments of Health, Education, and Welfare, well, I am those departments. I am the person who knows exactly what is in the fridges, freezers, and cupboards, and what will be the lunches, dinners, and home-baked snack foods for the week. I am the person who schedules all doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments, along with parent-teacher interviews. I know the email addresses for every single teacher the kids have off by heart and I know when their homework is due and when they have exams and what their marks were. I know clothing sizes and when the towels and sheets were last changed, and where all the winter gloves and hats are. Just today I bought pumpkins and Halloween candy, without which the upcoming holiday would not be the same.

Starting last year, though, I drew the line at Halloween costumes. I feel that at this age, the kids can either come up with their own thing, or ask their dad for help. This is my new line in the sand. I AM DONE. If I am going to spend time and mental energy thinking about a Halloween costume, it will be for idle wondering if anyone actually goes to a party dressed as a sexy M&M and if so, why.

My god, I just saw a “sexy nun costume” and I feel like somewhere, we went terribly wrong. Just like with the US president opening his mouth, every time I think something can’t go more downhill, IT DOES. Oh, it does.