Category Archives: I almost failed Home Ec

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Zucapocalypse Edition

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August was a bit of a wild ride for me: I took an epic road trip to a family reunion, my husband and older son were gone for three weeks, the garden went completely rogue, my pretend sister came for a visit, I spent lots of one-on-one time with my younger son, and, just recently, I began watching Season Two of NYPD Blue. Those of you who know me know that NYPD Blue is, strangely enough, one of my favourite television shows ever, but I have only ever watched Season One. I could never bear to watch the departure of John Kelly, which left me at a watching impasse. Have I watched Season One in its entirety multiple times? Yes I have. And now, after approximately two decades of this, I am ready to move on to Season Two which, I should probably note, originally aired in 1994. I AM READY.

I have a lot of non-television Favourites this month, though, and since September is SUNDAY, it is time to tell you about them!

I’ve Been Itching To Tell You About This

A few weeks ago I mentioned the myriad leprosy-like spots on my lower legs due to biting flies that resulted from the family reunion. At one point they were so painful and so itchy – not to mention so unsightly – that I wondered if it would be less painful to saw my own legs off mid-calf, and walk around on the jagged ends of my tibia. It was honestly agonizing.

I had some 0.5% cortisone cream in my medicine chest but it was a) ineffective, and b) expired. Possibly those two things are related. Anyway, I discovered this extra strength hydrocortisone cream; I thought I’d try the store brand as well as the Polysporin, and I am so happy to report that both really do work. If you, too, find yourself in a situation where you are considering amputation just to stop itching for One Damn Second, then give these a try!

Is That A Zucchini In Your Pocket Or…

Well, you knew you weren’t going to get through a summertime Favourite Things without more garden news, didn’t you? It’s insane. Every single day I’m picking a bowlful of tomatoes, as well as some late-season raspberries, and at least two or three zucchinis of various sizes.

Friends. The zucchini situation is out of control. Every single day I’m adding it to stir-fries, I’m making it into chips, I’m roasting it, I’m grating and freezing it, I’m sauteeing it, I’m baking it into every single thing I can think of: muffins, cake, brownies, loaves, and even, during a particularly low moment, cookies.

The cookies were great, by the way. Anyway, despite all that this is my current situation:

Every day I use up a zucchini and then I go into the garden and there are three more to be picked. I am overrun.

I have given away at least fifteen of these monsters and, despite keeping on top of the garden and harvesting them every day, they just keep coming.

But it’s not all about the veggies, although it’s mostly about the veggies. The flowers are beautiful too.

Feeling Fried

Up until this past week, when the temperatures have cooled off a bit, it has been too hot to cook, even though I have a well-insulated oven and an air-conditioned house. Hot meals have just not appealed. I have not really cooked dinner in August, other than this past week, nor have I for the entire month of July. Instead, we have been subsisting almost entirely on salads, bowls, and wraps, with the occasional barbeque thrown in there. Now, of course I have turned on the stove to cook the quinoa, pasta, noodles, or rice for those bowls and salads, but I was doing that early in the day and just assembling dinner at the regular mealtime.

I have been relying a lot on my air fryer; I always do when making chicken for the guys, but I have been using it a lot this summer for plant-based proteins like chickpeas. I have a double basket air fryer, so I can dedicate each basket to meat and non-meat items.

I usually roast chickpeas in the oven, but now that I’ve done them in the air fryer, I’m not going back. The result is so nice and crunchy!

I’ve also done some zucchini in the air fryer, which was really tasty.

I have an idea! my son suggested this week. How about next year, you plant LESS zucchini?

Tea (Towel) For Two

Last fall my dear friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) sent me a housewarming gift, and I think of her every time I use these precious tea towels. I wish I could reciprocate by sending her zucchini.

I mean. What could be more appropriate?

It’s true. I do.

The Hardest Part Is…

It’s been said that the hardest part of any workout is just getting started, but I would say that no, that’s not true. The hardest part is putting on a sports bra.

I go through what the Edies would call four Costume Changes a day, which makes for a lot of laundry, certainly, but with my current schedule there is no getting around this. In the morning I change out of my pajamas – always a matching pair! – into a yoga tank and leggings. I take my yoga practice, which is followed by what I think of as My Vigourous Exercise, a combination of the elliptical machine, the Peloton, and strength training. After that, I am very, very sweaty.

Whatever you are picturing right now, in terms of sweatiness? Multiply that by 100. When I say “sweaty,” I mean that there is a literal pool of sweat under the Peloton and my clothes are actually soaked, such that they make a wet thud when I drop them into my laundry basket. You could wring out my clothes and get another whole puddle; if I weighed myself I would probably drop several pounds of water weight after each workout. It’s a lot.

I don’t shower until around 9 or 10 in the morning, after I have walked Rex and worked in the garden, for obvious reasons. This means that I require another Costume Change, as I cannot possibly function in completely sweat-soaked clothes. I usually put on a tee and leggings, and since I don’t want to get my nice bras all sweaty, I put on a sports bra.

Why are sports bras the most difficult item to don in the world? I don’t know, but they are even on a day when my skin is not damp and sticky from a workout. How, friends, are we putting on our sports bras? Do we shimmy them on from the bottom up, do we pull them on and get our shoulders stuck from the top? Do we find ourselves partially strangled, with one breast supported and one arm tangled into the straps? What do we do? There is no easy way. I was so tired of this gymnastic routine that I searched and found a bra at lululemon that fastens in the front, and it has been a game changer.

I don’t know how I got this far in life without having one of these. I mean, you put it on like a jacket and then zip it up. It’s so simple! It also has great support, not that I really need it for dog walking, but it’s nice not to be bouncing around.

Outfit of the Month

Although I was distressed to get rid of a towering pile of ill-fitting jeans, including a pair from 2008, I am in love with these new crop jeans. The brand is Silver and the cut is Suki, and they are so comfortable and stretchy, without becoming baggy and stretched-out by midday, which is really saying something. I love them so much I bought two pair in different washes. To assuage my low-level guilty feelings about buying all new pants and contributing to the environmental disaster that is the textile industry, I wore this cute, light, 3/4 sleeve cardigan that I bought at Jacob circa 2014. The top is from Gap from a few years ago, the sandals are Skechers, and the bag is one I bought at lululemon back when I first started teaching yoga. It’s a workhorse!

I wore this outfit to go shopping with my older son, who’s moving back to university on Saturday!

See the holes in the garden behind me? That’s from deer. They haven’t been eating our (deer resistant) plants, happily, but they have been sauntering through the yard in the middle of the night, when our resident deer-chaser, Rexie, is asleep. I’ve also been awakened several times by howling coyotes outside our window, and the other evening my son said hey Mom, don’t let Rex out for a while. It turns out there was a mother bear with two cubs wandering through our property. It’s like I’m living in Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness, which, along with The Muppets, was my favourite television show when I was a kid. It’s been a journey from The Muppets and Lorne Greene to NYPD Blue, just as it’s been a journey from my 2008 jeans to today. Life, it’s a wild ride, isn’t it? I hope you’ve had a just-wild-enough August, and if there’s anything you’ve loved this month, I would love to hear it. xo

Life, Unstaged and Unfiltered

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A couple of weeks ago I was at a farewell party for friends of ours who are relocating to the States; we had a very interesting conversation about what it’s like to buy a house from afar, and also about selling and listing a house in today’s market. The housing market in Calgary isn’t as hot as it was, but it’s still pretty spicy. My friend mentioned how tired she was from getting the house ready to list: decluttering and cleaning and staging, on top of having to disappear for hours while the house was being shown. It occurred to me at that very moment, that when we were house hunting, back in 2000, there was no such thing as “staging” your house. In fact, I clearly remember when I first heard the term “staging,” and that was in 2007 when a girlfriend was selling her very beautiful home, and hired a staging company which, because her home was already like a showhome, wasn’t really necessary.

The conversation quickly turned from Staging to Misleading Realtor Photos, which is a real phenomenon. Sometimes I’ll snoop on a realtor website to see homes in my 1960s-established neighbourhood to see houses that appear to contain enormous, spa-like bathrooms and infinitely spacious living areas, only to see that the curtains do not match the carpet, so to speak. Well, I guess it’s nothing like that. It’s more like this house is 1100 square feet, how is it housing all these giant rooms? Very good photography, that’s how.

Here is where I go back to my own experience, almost 23 years ago, in which there were no digital photographs and I don’t even think homes were listed on the internet. You found out what houses were available through a realtor or by seeing lawn signs. Wow. I feel like my own grandmother here, but I can still remember going to the open houses or scheduled showings, and being handed a sheet of paper with tiny, grainy photos of all the rooms of the house, plus the yard. There was no trick photography involved, and, as I said, no staging whatsoever. Generally the houses would have been cleaned before viewing, but not always, as evidenced by the house with the rabbit hutch, complete with several rabbits, in the basement of one house we looked at. If I think about it, I can honestly say I’m pretty sure this house, the one I live in now, was not at all cleaned when we viewed it. In fact, I’m pretty sure it smelled like old grease.

One of the things that I loved about house hunting, which would never happen now, was seeing all the little touches of home that painted a picture of the current residents and their lives. I loved seeing family photos on the walls, children’s toys in the rooms, even shampoo bottles in the shower. These people use Dove soap too! Just like me! I wonder if those hair masks really work. I loved it. Now, of course, everything is sanitized of anything that could indicate that people reside in the house that is on the market. Family photos are replaced by stock wall hangings, all toiletries are stashed under the immaculately clean sink, nothing about the kitchen would indicate that actual humans had cooked actual food in it ever, so pristine are the appliances.

Here’s a question: how do you live in your house when you are trying to sell it, what with keeping it pristine and staged? I realize people move house all the time, but people, HOW. It must be exhausting.

I find it so interesting that fancy, and possibly misleading, photography and special staging are such an important part of selling a home. It’s so in tune with the times that we live in, where everything is filtered and set up Just So, and then exhibited on social media. I came across a former yoga teacher’s instagram account, and all the photos of herself utilized a sparkling, soft-focus filter; when I say “sparkling,” I mean that they had literal sparkles on them. Listen, I like sparkly things as much as the next person, but it is so jarring to see someone In Real Life when you are used to seeing them Filtered, let alone with a Sparkle Filter.

I am just so fascinated by other people’s actual lives and homes, which is why I don’t like filters and I don’t like home staging. I absolutely loved this piece on Catherine Newman’s house; she was the very first blogger I ever read, and was an inspiration to me when I started the Boyhouse, back in 2008. Her home is glorious; I love every little beautiful detail. The puzzles! The books! The toiletry products! The lovely Ally Bean (HI ALLY) wrote about sharing slices of our lives that are messy, unstaged, and perfect in their perceived imperfections. I was inspired to show you a few completely unstaged, beautifully imperfect pieces of my life this past week:

Making dressing for a Thai-style quinoa salad. Fun fact: I recently was scolded on Instagram for calling it a Thai-style quinoa salad, as it contains tamari, which is Japanese. The scolder thought it should be a Western “Asian” sauce, which felt a little aggressive to me. I didn’t name it! That was what it was called! In any case, it’s delicious and everyone loves it and I think that Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) had originally linked to it, which gives me warm and fuzzy feelings when I make it. She posts so many good recipes on her “Dinners This Week” feature; if you’re not following her, you SHOULD.

Roasting lentils and chickpeas for the salad, and then cleaning up. My dishrack looks like this all the time. I don’t mind washing dishes but I HATE drying them. Hate it. It was always my job to dry dishes growing up and as god is my witness, I shall never do so again. (Lie: I do occasionally dry things, but only when there is so much stuff in the dishrack that one more item threatens to topple everything, like Aunty Ant climbing aboard the plane in Busy Busy World.)

Anyway, here is the end product:

This is our back entry/ mudroom, and this is as good as it ever looks, because I was the only one home. Generally there are more shoes, and since my younger son is a size 12, those shoes take up a lot of space. Note the bin to hold recycling, that is stuck on my boot. Usually once it’s in a state of Almost Overflow, someone will take it to the blue bin in the garage.

Speaking of my younger son, this was the sight that greeted me in the basement: his gear for this week’s camping trip was piled up and added to as items were obtained. It was like this for a solid week before he had to do the gear check at school and actually get everything into his backpack:

That sucker is heavy. Note the Aquatabs for water treatment on top of the day pack. Am I obsessed with the fact that they will have no potable water? Yes. I am.

Moving on! This is “my” side table in the living room, and it is a source of happiness for me. My mom gave me the piano-themed coasters when she was stuck in Moose Jaw during an enormous snow storm and couldn’t leave for three days, so she went shopping (I love my mom, shopping is her cure for everything). There is a jade plant and a vase given to me by former yoga students, pussy willows that I kept from a bouquet my friend Sarah (HI SARAH) gave me on my birthday, a family photo, and Barkley’s paw print. There are also books!

I always have a jumble of books from the library, plus a couple of books of my own that I’m slowly reading or referencing. My older, Seinfeld-obsessed son “won” a Seinfeld-themed Clue game that we haven’t played yet but I sure am looking forward to.

So those are a few pieces of my life this week, no filters, no staging, just little slices of joyful jumbles.

Weekly Reading

A People’s History of the United States. I finished! I finally finished! It took me at least six weeks to get through this because a) it’s huge, b) it’s really heavy, and c) it was so disheartening, dark, and depressing that I could only make it through a chapter a day at best. AT BEST. However, it’s a very important and eye-opening read. It’s very hard to read, particularly about the treatment of indigenous people, black people, immigrants, and basically anyone who is not a privileged white male. I’m not going to lie, some chapters were extremely dull, long, and repetitive – the formation of unions and strikebreaking chapters went on forever – but mostly this was a whole new look at things we may have taken for granted. There’s a very upsetting chapter on manifest destiny and if you’ve ever wondered how Hawaii became part of the US, well, it was annexed. The Dole family had a large part in that. There are, of course, chapters on the slavery, violence, and how white men thought it was perfectly fine to just eradicate Indigenous people, since they were unable to enslave them, in order to increase their living space. “Why shouldn’t we just take over everything and have everything at the expense of others?” seemed to be the major theme. This book delved into events that I remember from my own childhood but was fuzzy on, since I was a child, like the Iran-Contra affair. This is an incredibly important read, but very difficult as it challenges mainstream beliefs and is VERY upsetting. In case you think I’m being a Smug Canadian, I am not: I am fully aware that any “people’s history” of any western country would be also horrifying, for what it’s worth. Canada’s treatment of Indigenous people is the darkest stain on our history; it goes beyond horrifying. Anyway, this book is worth reading but be warned: it’s a monster of a tome and very heavy.

The Crown Dissected. Hugo Vickers has been a Royal commentator since 1973, and it brought me so much joy imagining him watching The Crown, frame by frame, and delving into it. Think about it! Elderly British man, sighing as he brings out his many reference books and notes, and then detailing every little thing in the episode and why it is historically incorrect. Some of the issues are big, and some are “Tommy Lascalles hair is parted on the wrong side and his moustache is too big.” I am 100% here for this. What an absolute delight to read. Listen, there are so many awful and horrifying things happening in the world; I was happy to be lost in ridiculous details such as the wrong insignia was used on personal stationary, or the purple on Prince Phillip’s uniform was too bright, or that the incorrect year was shown and dramatic license was taken with all the royal relationships. HERE FOR THIS.

Run Towards The Danger. Wow. I am very interested in the ways that trauma informs a person’s day-to-day life and wow, did this woman suffer a lot of trauma. These essays made me audibly gasp many times. From her experiences as a child star in a time when a child’s safety came secondary to everything else, to her scoliosis surgery, to extremely high risk pregnancies, to a debilitating head injury, to her silence during the Jian Ghomeshi trial due to her fears of repercussion (spoiler alert: this woman was yet another of his victims), these essays are at times distressing, horrifying, but ultimately hopeful. A must read from a brave woman. Fun fact: she was the main character in the show Road To Avonlea, which I never watched as I was just a bit too old, but was a Canadian staple in the early 90s.

So here we are, the last week of September already! It’s going to be a busy one. I hope you all have a lovely week! xo

Losing My Religion; One Hundred and Three Weeks In

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A brief timeline of Covid-related happenings over the past six months, if you will indulge me:

Fall: After “Open for Summer” which had all restrictions dropped, massive Covid outbreaks, ICUs are full, masks once again mandated, and vaccines required to go to restaurants, fitness classes, and entertainment venues.

Mid-December: Gathering restrictions for (largely unvaccinated) children under 18 dropped entirely. Gathering restrictions for adults continue, but there is no differentiation between vaccinated and unvaccinated.

Christmas-New Year’s: The biggest Covid outbreak yet, demand for testing far exceeds supply, PCR tests become impossible to get except for health-care workers and hospital patients, rapid test supply completely runs out and people line up the block, Soviet-bread-line-style, at pharmacies for a chance to get one.

January: The people I know who have Covid exceed the people I know who don’t have Covid. Back to school is delayed, diploma exams cancelled, Fuck Lydia.

Mid-January: School reopens, and medical masks and rapid test kits are distributed to every student, with the understanding that they are all supposed to test themselves twice weekly. Parents are warned that school could go online “at any time.”

February 14: NO MORE MASK MANDATES FOR CHILDREN UNDER 18, INCLUDING IN SCHOOL SETTINGS. This occurred exactly one week after the last delivery of masks and test kits. My kids have reported that “no one” goes without a mask at their school of 2300, including themselves.

March 1: All restrictions dropped completely, it’s a free-for-all.

My friend Janet (HI JANET) asked if I would stop my week counting now that restrictions were dropped, and my response was no. This is not our first rodeo. Let’s see how this plays out, and in the meantime, we are coming up to the two year mark.

My older son is graduating in a few months, and it is also my parents’ 50th anniversary in a couple of weeks, so I had the need for a lot of photo frames, one of which was a kind of odd size. I had run into a photographer friend who assured me that all could be found at Michael’s, which is how I found myself at Michael’s, last Tuesday morning.

Here’s the thing: I deeply admire crafty people. I follow a few very beautiful crafty blogs, which are purely pleasure and contain nothing that I would be able to do. I have incredibly crafty friends who paint and cross-stitch and knit and crochet and even spin their own wool. My mother-in-law knits everything from dolls to slippers, often making up her own patterns. My mother crochets and sews; she made clothes for us when we were kids, as well as our Halloween costumes and my kids’ Halloween costumes, even when my older son decided he wanted to be an eagle one year, and a pattern for an eagle could not be found.

I, on the other hand, once ripped a gaping hole in my pants when I tried to sew a button on; I almost failed the sewing portion of junior high Home Ec, where I spent three years ripping seams out until my projects were filled with holes.

What I’m saying is that I feel very out of place in Michael’s. As soon as I step through their doors I feel immediately overwhelmed, and the chorus from Creep starts to go through my head. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here. As I stood near a display of Easter items – could I make my own wreath? No. – women dashed around me, grabbing fake flowers and pastel coloured eggs. I felt like an alien who had just been dropped onto the planet and was unsure of the customs or language of the people around me. Where. Are. Frames.

My legs eventually became ambulatory again, and I did find the frames, albeit not before getting distracted by a huge display of baking supplies. Ooooh, there are so many sprinkles. I got what I needed and then, because Costco was next door, I decided to just stop in there rather than rush over post-Superstore on grocery day, which is Wednesday.

And now I will say that I have been in a bubble for many months, as my routine is this: go to Superstore for opening at 8:00, after that head to Costco for opening at 9:00. It’s rushed but civilized, and it’s exhausting but fine.

Costco at 9:00 is very, very different from Costco at 11:13.

It was pandemonium! Pandemonium! There were people everywhere, including one woman who was clearly in a rush, as she kept sweeping past all of us patiently making our way down the aisles, bumping our carts aggressively and sighing as though the state of the union was dependent on her getting out of Costco quickly with her giant detergent and frozen fries. Plus, since the mask mandate was lifted, at least a third of the customers and staff were maskless, and I am just not used to seeing that many faces. Sample tables were open and there were people jammed around them, trying to get a piece of ham or a pickle. My usual quiet, gentle Costco experience was no longer. As I wheeled my cart towards the parking lot, silently admiring the fellow behind me whose cart held nothing whatever except two jugs of milk, the song in my head abruptly switched away from Creep.

That’s me in the aisle, that’s me in the parking lot, losing my religion.

I have not said anything for many months about people not returning their carts, probably because I have been there right at store opening, which is too early in the day to give people a chance to prove that they are terrible. But my god! People are terrible. As Gigi said (HI GIGI), people are VILE and have no conscience. I mean, look. The cart carrel is RIGHT THERE. It is TWO parking spots away. WHY.

Seriously, WHY. I know there are people out there who say ridiculous things like people are hired to collect the carts and those people need jobs, and to the people who say that I say, fuck you. I mean, people are also hired to clean public washrooms but we are not peeing all over the floor and throwing our toilet paper and paper towels everywhere just so those people can have job security. The people are hired to collect the carts FROM THE GODDAMN CARRELS AND LEAVING CARTS HERE THERE AND EVERYWHERE IS NOT HELPING THEM DO THEIR JOBS OR SOMEHOW INCREASING THEIR JOB SECURITY. IT IS JUST BEING A LAZY ASSHOLE.

Well. I am going back to my first-thing-in-the-morning bubble, because as we all know, we cannot control what other people do, we can only control our reactions, and as such, I will just go into my own personal rage corner, this blog. Also, when I see this kind of mayhem like I did this week, I rescue one of those poor abandoned carts that just want to go to their HOME, the carrel, to take into the store for my own use. Small steps lead to marathons, and small gestures can change the world. Even in the Costco parking lot.

Why doesn’t Costco retrofit their carts so that a coin is needed for their use? It would certainly solve the problem. Why am I not in charge of these things?

Pandemic Reading

Life and Other Near-Death Experiences. This was a light book about a heavy topic: cancer. I had recently read the sequel to this book, without knowing it was a sequel. Whoops! It would have made more sense to read it in the correct order. I liked this book fine, I didn’t love it, but it was fine.

My Monticello. I am mixed on this book, which is made up of short stories and a novella. I loved the short stories and thought they were so smart and moving. The novella was a great concept, but it just dragged for me; I could NOT get into it. I would say all in all that this was a very original and interesting book – lots of fascinating facts about Thomas Jefferson and his Black descendants – but the novella was a bit too dystopian for my personal taste.

This book is bananas. BANANAS. It is dark and juicy and hilarious and horrifying and terribly sad, all at the same time. The details are so good! Some are hilarious – “(the waitress) tells us the specials in such a way that we know put some responsibility as patrons in her section us to just go right ahead and fuck ourselves” – and some details made my eyes get wider and wider and my eyebrows started to disappear into my hairline. Whoa Nelly. Like, it’s CRAZY. Every single situation is crazy. That said, it was really good! I was compelled to keep reading even when I was supposed to be doing other things. I am looking forward to more from this author. What a debut!

Happy March, everyone! Next week is our two-year Pande-versary, who would have thought? Take care of yourselves. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Hygge-Chaka, Hygge-Hygge-Hygge-Chaka Edition

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I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me, January you just don’t realize what you do to me…when you are cold but it’s getting more light you let me know everything’s all right…

Ever since I read The Little Book of Hygge, I’ve been a bit obsessed with the concept: winter in Calgary is long, and being intentional about being cozy fits the bill. This January has been all over the map, weather-wise, from extreme cold to pretty mild, but windy days.

Some of the things featured in this month’s Favourite Things have been featured in previous Favourite Things; because of that, I had some doubts. Should I continue with Favourite Things if I’m repeating them? Should I press myself to continue with this monthly feature if I’m just going to write about the same things over and over? Do I have no new ideas for anything and is it all for nothing? Nothing, I say???

What can I say, we are in a global pandemic. Dark moments, even about silly blog features, happen. Originally I started Favourite Things with items that I had recently purchased, and now I just like to celebrate the things I like. Apparently, some of these things deserve celebration OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Celebrate the good things! Right? There are no RULES to Favourite Things other than being things that I love that month. There’s no LAW I can’t write about bum warmers over and over. THERE IS NO LAW.

Anyway. This month it is all the things that make me feel hygge. If you can’t feel hygge in January, when can you? Well, if you live in Calgary, there are plenty of opportunities, but I digress.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Hygge-Chaka Hygge-Hygge-Chaka Edition

All The Sweaters, All The Time

I follow a number of fashion blogs, several of which are in California, one in Texas, and one in Florida. The latter blogger once mentioned that she had two sweaters for cooler temperatures, and when I read that, I stared into the distance for a while. Two! I can’t even imagine a world in which I didn’t have a sweater on for nine months of the year. Nine months AT MINIMUM. I have an enormous collection of sweaters: some are light, for mildly cold days, and some could be considered a cold-weather jacket for warmer climates.

Bonus: fuzzy slippers and fuzzy dog, both hygge.

I wear a lot of long cardigans, especially on teaching days when I need to strip down to only two layers (yoga tank and long sleeve tee) for class, without ruining my hair. If I’m not teaching, I wear pullover sweaters with layers underneath. Always, always layers. I can’t think of a single instance wherein I would have a sweater on without at least a tee or tank underneath.

Warm Up That Booty

I have mentioned bum warmers so many times, but they deserve a mention for their place in the hygge lifestyle. A local woman makes these out of thrifted sweaters, and they are just so cute and snuggly.

I have three that I alternate between, but this one is my current favourite as it’s a little bit longer. The other two have matching mittens, but this one goes nicely with my battery-powered heated mittens.

She’s Got Legs, She Knows How To Warm Them

Bums aren’t the only thing that need warming! I wear legging-style yoga pants most days, and those thin pants are just not enough for warmth. On teaching days I wear fitted, stirrup-style legwarmers to keep me warm in that cold, cold community centre; the floor is linoleum over concrete, and it is VERY cold, even in the spring and fall.

Years ago my mother-in-law knitted me several pairs of legwarmers, and they are incredibly thick and cozy. I wear them for walks on days that are cold, but not cold enough for snow pants.

They are too heavy to wear indoors or while teaching but perfect for walking. Options! It’s good to have them.

Sock It To Me

On non-teaching-but-still-wearing-yoga-pants days, I like to wear super-long socks as an extra layer. I have a number of pairs, mostly in black or charcoal.

It takes me a significant amount of time to get dressed in the morning.

It’s Tea Time, Bitches.

One of the interesting things, reading about hygge culture, is that Denmark is a huge consumer of coffee. Me too, Denmark, me too.

The very first thing I do every morning, before I drink two glasses of water, before I wash my face and brush my teeth, before ANYTHING at all, is start the coffee pot. I drink essentially a pot of black coffee every morning and I am not ashamed to admit it. The coffee is not strong, I just like a lot of it. Don’t worry: I drink a ton of water every day too, about 4 litres a day, so I am pretty hydrated and also, yes, I do have to use the bathroom a lot. Sometimes I’ll meet someone who doesn’t drink coffee and never has, and I will be in awe, wondering what that’s like.

Anyway, I have developed a Tea Ritual in the afternoon. When you drink an entire pot of coffee before 8:30 in the morning, you probably don’t need more caffeine in your life. I mean, you do you, but I don’t need more caffeine in my life. However, I like a nice warm drink in the afternoon as sort of a break in my (not-so-busy) schedule. It’s a little treat to look forward to, choosing an herbal tea from my massive stockpile and sipping.

Remember this mug? Leanne sent it to me (HI LEANNE) in the Secret Santa Mug Swap, and it is absolutely perfect for an afternoon cuppa. It’s the perfect size and shape, and it makes me feel cozy and hygge just looking at it, let alone drinking from it.

Girl Put Your Apron On, Tell Me Your Favourite Song

You know what is super hygge? Baking delicious things!

I kind of combined two recipes, and made some changes to end up with this pumpkin swirl loaf, which turned out to be super delicious. The boys asked me if I EVER follow a recipe exactly and I had to really think about it. Pie crust! I never deviate from a pie crust recipe because, let’s face it, pie crust is a bitch to make.

Here’s a Happy Homemaker Hint for you: when rolling out pie crust, roll it between two pieces of wax paper. Take off the top one, and just flip it over onto the pie pan, and peel off the bottom layer. It’s so much easier, although it can still stick and make you swear.

Anyone who knows me knows I despise pie, particularly apple – it’s a grievous waste of good apples! – but I lovingly make them for my family. Well, lovingly and swearingly; as you can see, I had to do some crust patching. Ah well, the whole thing lasted less than 24 hours, so I guess no one cares about esthetics.

Those are my favourite things for this chilly month of January; things that make me feel all the hygge. What are your favourite things? xo

Hippy-Dippy Goals; Ninety-Four Weeks In

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Happy New Year!

As I mentioned in my 2021 roundup, the year ended – and the New Year started – on kind of a low point. The boys were supposed to be going back to school tomorrow, but on December 30 it was announced that winter break would be extended to the 10th, and January diploma exams, of which my older son was due to write three, would be cancelled.

For the past several months, I have been saying to myself that as long as the kids are in school, I can take anything. I could go back to patchy grocery store shelves, I could line up at Costco, my husband could continue to work out of our basement, I could wear a mask anywhere and everywhere and see friends outdoors, I could forgo parties and travel and everything else, just let the kids be in school. They have been so happy in these past four months, and, well. Here we are.

The announcement made me feel like folding in on myself like an accordion, and to just go to bed. I did, however, get up on New Year’s Eve, rolled out my yoga mat, and picked up my poetry books. I read the final Rumi poem of the year, I did it, you guys, and then, because it was completely uninspiring to me, I opened up Mary Oliver’s Devotions and came across this:

This whole pandemic, all ninety-four weeks of it, I have been thinking to myself Just Keep Swimming. But it occurred to me, after reading this, that the past ninety-four weeks have had a lot of long lonely falls and frenzied risings. Perhaps all these swings will mean that our children will be the most resilient generation, learning to pivot and adapt and thrive in any circumstances.

My younger son scoffs at the idea of New Year’s resolutions or goal setting; he sets goals throughout the year, not just in January. I am the same way; throughout the year I add goals or concepts or mantras that I want to live by, and then I start right away. However, it’s nice to lay them out in January, feeling like it’s a fresh start; at the least, January is a good time to reflect on past goals and future ones. There’s nothing quite like a brand-new calendar to make you feel fresh and rejuvenated.

OKAY, CALENDAR, I’LL TRY.

It must be said that the majority of my goals are completely unquantifiable. Not all of them – I’ve had “buy a new bra” on my annual list for YEARS and finally, last year, I bought not only one, but THREE, STRIKE IT FROM THE TO-DO LIST – but most. How do you measure “mindfulness,” for example? I like having unquantifiable goals, though, because they are things that you can always keep in mind and work on throughout the year, and easily add to. Over the next couple of weeks, I am going to lay out some actually quantifiable goals that I work on daily. I mean, what else is there to write about in January? The never-ending feelings of despair that come from nearly two years of pandemic life? The fact that my teenagers will never experience normal high school life? The worry that my sons’ activities that they love will be cancelled? The concern about their education and preparation for adult life? NO. I’ve written enough about that. I’ve thought enough about that. We have all had enough.

Anyway, for today, I want to talk about the concepts and mantras that I use for everyday living.

Embrace The Season

Back in *checks blog* June 2021, I was inspired to Embrace the Season, by an incredible woman who has since passed. Rest in peace, Melanie. I think that Embracing the Season that you are in is probably the best way to go through life; you are here, this is now.

There are wonderful, joyful, inspiring things happening in every season of our lives, yes, even this one, yes, even though it’s actually minus 28 right now. It’s Winter, both literally and figuratively, let’s treat ourselves like favoured children, like our most loved ones. Right? Right.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

This goes with Embracing the Season. I’m planted here, in this city, and this is where I’ll bloom. I can make things better one tiny step at a time; I can do this with my yoga classes and my interactions with people, friends and strangers alike, I can make my yard and home into something beautiful, I can write things that will hopefully reach people in the way that I intend. I’m going to bloom, damn it.

Does anyone remember the old poem called You Learn? It was sort of about breakups and relationships, and I read it as a teenager. Back then, it was deeply meaningful to me; I’m pretty sure I read it after a breakup. Oh, the fires of youth. Anyway, there is a line in there that I have remembered lo these many years, and it was Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. Let’s plant our own gardens, and we can bloom in them.

Friluftsliv

It feels very appropriate to talk about Friluftsliv when it’s MINUS 28. I first discovered this concept in the fall of 2020, and I have adopted it in my life. It’s a Norwegian word that means, roughly, outdoor living, and goes with the idea that there is no bad weather, just bad clothes. I like to tie Friluftsliv in with Embracing the Season and Blooming Where You Are Planted because this is where I live, and where I live is more often cold and unpleasant than not. I go for a walk every day, no matter the weather, and I can tell you that dressing appropriately is the key. With proper clothing, even minus 30 is doable, with the bonus that I feel like a hardy Norwegian superstar afterwards. This segues nicely into…

Hygge

I absolutely love the concept of hygge – am I spiritually Danish? Maybe. – because what could be better than coziness and warmth in the winter? I see lots of books and warm drinks and baking in my future; not that this is a change for me, but still. Hygge.

Gratitude and Awe

Sometimes it’s easy to have feelings of gratitude and awe; maybe the sky is brilliantly blue and the trees are covered with snow, and it’s a perfect scene. Maybe my family picks up some of the household chores without being asked, gratitude, gratitude. Maybe we will get an email from the school that says the kids are going back – too much to ask? Maybe.

Several months ago I was listening to an interview with Giselle Bunchen, of all people, and she said that she practices gratitude daily; when she has a plate of fruit she thinks of the farmers, of the sun and the rain that helped the fruit to grow, the people who pick the fruit, the person who drove the truck to the supermarket, and the people who work at the supermarket. When you think about it that way, an apple can seem like a miracle. Then I was reading Wake Up To The Joy In You, and there was a paragraph about the miracle that is a book: the process to make paper, the years of perfecting the printed word, the writer who wrote the book, and the miles the book has travelled to be in your hands. When you start thinking about life that way, everything is miraculous. It takes practice, but I’m trying.

Pandemic Reading – The Year Long Books

A Year With Rumi. I did it! I finished this! I did consider, very briefly, not finishing, but then the day after I posted about it, the poem of the day was The Guest House, which is probably my favourite Rumi poem (the bar is kind of low), and I took that as a sign to keep going. 365 poems and just a handful resonated with me; apparently I’m not a Rumi person. “Is it because he’s a man?” my son asked me. Maybe?

Wake Up To The Joy In You. I loved this book of meditations so much that I think I will re-read it in 2022. I read one chapter a week and then kept the meditation in mind throughout the week. I cannot say enough about this book; it’s an incredible journey of self-care and self-acceptance and self-love, and what could be a better thing to start the year with? I mean, look at this last chapter. EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO READ.

Pandemic Reading – The Regular Week

How To Be A Victorian. Good lord I am glad to live in the modern age, even with a global pandemic and the polarization of our population on literally every topic. AT LEAST WE HAVE WASHING MACHINES. And food. And toilets. And central heating. And pretty much everything else. This book is an incredibly well-researched book about daily life in the Victorian age – the author has lived and worked on a “Victorian farm” and I admire her commitment to detail. Corsets, skirts, brushing her teeth with soot. Going without water-based washing for four months. Eating suet, SUET PEOPLE. Anyway, some chapters dragged for me and others were fascinating, particularly the home remedies and medical chapter. Oh! And the air quality in Victorian London was so gross – pea soup fog, no proper sewage…yay for the modern age! There is a passage about the pea soup fogs of London; at the worst of times you could wave your hand in front of your face and not see it. IMAGINE. Anyway, thanks to my friend Jeni (HI JENI) for the recommendation. Talk about gratitude. I AM GRATEFUL FOR MY LIFE, I SWEAR.

The Relatives. I was really interested to read this as I have been mixed on Gibb’s books. I loved Sweetness in the Belly, but did not love This Is Happy – sorry to all of you who adore that book. I really liked The Relatives, a lot. In fact, I devoured it. Such an interesting cast of characters, all interrelated but unknowingly. I am going to give some trigger warnings here for…a lot of things? Infertility, child neglect, abuse, and a lot of kind of gross imagery. But for all that, I really enjoyed this.

Love and Other Words. This was so disappointing for me. I really like this author and I really do like a nice, light romance, but this just didn’t do it for me. It dragged so much and I had a hard time caring about the characters and the story line. Blah blah blah. Anyway, not for me but on to the next book!

I feel like this post has been a bit of a journey for me, since I started writing it. I am still low-level worried and anxious and sad about school, but we are here, we are together, we’ve come this far and we can keep going. Right? I mean, let’s think about the Victorians. We have running CLEAN water, we might be facing Covid but we have vaccines and medical care and, presumably, we are not going to all die of cholera, because of the running water. My kids are at school, not in a sweatshop doing child labour, and today I’m going to bake muffins and do laundry and neither of those things will require massive amounts of physical exertion. Life is good, even when it feels a bit disheartening. How are you feeling, this New Year? Tell me everything. xo

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

Living La Vida Hygge; Eighty-Six Weeks In

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This was the most perfect book to read during the first week of November with colder temperatures and shorter, darker days:

Wait, wait. I know what you’re going to say. I am about five years late to the hygge party – actually, closer to six, given that we are almost done 2021 (WHAT). In my defense, I have had The Little Book of Hygge on hold at the library for many months, and it just came in last week, and so really I’m more like four and a half years late. Or five and a half, depending.

Many of you will remember that last year I started to embrace the Norwegian part of my heritage, adopting the concept of friluftsliv, getting outside and enjoying the fresh air, no matter the weather. And believe me, in Calgary that can be a challenge, but it is a challenge I have accepted. Then, in the spring, I decided to Embrace The Season, in every way possible. Now, I am adding to the roster the concept of hygge, which, to be honest, I have probably always embraced.

Hygge, for those of you also late to this party, is pronounced HOO-ga, which is super fun to say, like an old-timey air horn, and it is roughly translated as a feeling of coziness, intimacy, warmth, home, and safety. It’s the feeling I hope my kids get when they come home after school and activities, and it’s cold outside and I’ve baked muffins for their arrival. It’s the feeling I get when I’m having a hot drink and it’s cold outside and everyone is home and happy. It’s the feeling I get when I switch the bed to flannel sheets and start wearing legwarmers over my yoga pants on the daily (it’s a look).

Maybe I am spiritually Danish, because this book resonated with me a lot, except for the part about how much meat the Danes eat and how many candles they burn, as I don’t eat meat and I am terrified of candles with their possibility of setting the house on fire. Candles are fire hazards, people. I even get a little nervous with birthday candles. Anyway, there is a description of Danish fashion: all black with the exception of summer, when Danes get crazy about colour and break out the grey, with scarves and layers and hair in buns. IT’S ME, YOU GUYS. They are describing ME! Also, Danes lead the world in cake consumption, which is a fun fact that I am here for; cake is the queen of all the desserts, I will die on this hill.

One thing about living in a cold climate, when you are a person who does not like the cold, is that you really have no control over your environment. I guess that is true in any climate, none of us can control the weather – can we? – and so there are two ways we can react: we can complain endlessly, or we can accept it as it is and embrace the things that make it beautiful. I have chosen the latter, mostly, as I think complaining about the weather is the most useless thing we can do, and wishing the weather was different is futile. We get what we get, and we don’t get upset, as we say to preschoolers. I mean, sometimes I am going to be upset, but I’m trying.

So I’m embracing the concept of hygge, although as I said I think I have ALWAYS embraced it, I just didn’t know there was a name for it. It’s going to be ALL COZINESS ALL THE TIME around here, now that we are back to standard time and soon the sun will set just after four o’clock and temperatures dip low. As an aside, in the recent municipal election there was a question about getting rid of time change altogether and adopting Daylight Savings Time year-round, and I have feelings about this. It got voted down because people realized that the sun wouldn’t rise until 9:30-10:30 in December, but here’s my question: why Daylight Savings Time? Why not have Standard Time year-round? This was our chance to get rid of time change altogether, and it has been ruined. Why was Standard Time not an option? WHY? Do we really need the sun to be setting between 10:00-11:00 pm in June? STANDARD TIME MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE, WHO MADE UP THESE POLLS.

Anyway, that’s one more thing I can’t control, so I’m not going to rail about it – much – so let’s get back to hygge. The festive season is the perfect time to consciously be hygge. It’s pretty easy to Embrace the Season when you love the season, and it’s not yet so cold that my face hurts to be outside. Actually, we had a couple of unusually warm days last week – it was warm enough to run outside! – and we have had the most gorgeous sunrises lately. Yay for November!

Oh, one other great thing about November: kalettes are back at Costco!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. I was so excited to see them on my trip there this week and I kind of think that I should be getting some kind of kickback from The Kalette People, as I convince at least one person to buy them every time I see them, giving them a rave review and also my favourite way to prepare them – roasted, with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I’ll see a person – almost always a woman – at the display looking at them and then I will strike up a conversation about how much I love them, and the person inevitably puts a package in her cart, possibly to put an end to my enthusiastic raving, who can say. Well. Roasting vegetables is very hygge, in my humble opinion, as is baking:

Upon the kalette discovery I immediately texted my friend Janet (HI JANET) about their reappearance, and she said that she was also just at Costco and was going to text ME about kalettes, and don’t you love having friends like that? That kind of friendship is so hygge.

Pandemic Reading

Other than The Little Book of Hygge, I read a few books this week:

Things To Make and Break. I liked a couple of the short stories in this collection, but mostly this was not for me.

Broken (in the best possible way). It has been many years since I’ve read Lawson’s blog, but this series of essays reads just like I remember it: funny in a silly, over-the-top kind of way, and also dark, raw, and sad. This was very hit-and-miss for me, but fans of the blog will really love it, I’m sure. There were two essays in this book that I found quite beautiful, but mostly this wasn’t for me.

Yoga Pant Nation. I read and enjoyed the first two books in this series – Class Mom and You’ve Been Volunteered – and so I was happy when my friend Anna (HI ANNA) mentioned there was a third. It’s very light and fun and fluffy, and if you, like me, have ever clocked tons of hours volunteering at an elementary school, you will find this very relatable.

The Rules Do Not Apply. Have you ever gotten through a good chunk of a book only to realize you’ve read it before? There was a chapter about the man with whom the author’s mother was having an affair that seemed vaguely familiar and upon looking at my book record, I saw that I read this in 2018. I couldn’t remember any of it, so it was almost like a fresh read! For the first 2/3 of this book, I found all the people – particularly the author – to be extremely unlikeable. But there’s a heartbreakingly tragic event – which I had no memory of – and a redemption arc.

Wow, that’s a lot of books this week. Well, once winter starts to settle in, reading is very hygge for me! Have a great week everyone, remember our bodies are an hour ahead of what the clock says, in case you start feeling starving for lunch at 10:30 am. xo