Category Archives: I almost failed Home Ec

Lockdown, Redux; Thirty-Seven Weeks In

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Double Up The D

I am a person who feels very strongly about the benefits of various vitamins and dietary supplements, and if you are a person who, like my dad, thinks that AT BEST such items are useless and a waste of money, not to worry. I am not going to try to sway you to the side of tumeric supplements and the various vegan glucosamine options available to you. I am, however, going to talk about Vitamin D.

I am not a medical professional or being paid by Big Vitamin, but I want to encourage you all – especially those of us in the Great White North – to double your Vitamin D intake. I have long been a believer in Vitamin D, and not just for the bone growth and development that it is officially touted for. I think Vitamin D plays a significant role in mood stability and also immunity. Current research shows a correlation between Vitamin D deficiency and the more severe of the Covid symptoms for those who contract it, and I feel vindicated.

Although, technically, I think that a Vitamin D deficiency is probably present in most severe cases of viral and bacterial illness, not just Covid, but let’s stay on trend here.

We all take a multivitamin in the Boyhouse, which contains 400 IU of Vitamin D, but that is, in my non-medical opinion, NOT ENOUGH. During the summer we take 1000 IU in addition to the multivitamin – yes, I spend a lot of time outside in the sun, but I am always wearing sunscreen which prevents Vitamin D absorption – and then, when we roll the clocks back, we take 2000 IU. Actually, this year we started taking the double dose early, since we had such a stretch of cold and grey weather, but you know. I approximately time it with the end of Daylight Saving.

School’s Out…For A While

I feel like we need all the Vitamin D we can get our hands on, not only because the sun is setting before 5 pm, but also because new restrictions were announced on Tuesday, and the only one that affects me – as I was already NOT gathering with people, NOT eating out, NOT playing team sports, NOT going to worship services, and really NOT doing anything at all – is that all grades 7-12 students are doing “at-home learning” now until January 11.

I had a really hard few days last week; I am generally perky and optimistic, but I was feeling extremely despondent and sad. Monday morning as I was finishing my cardio workout, my watch started exploding with notifications from Power School, saying that my younger son was marked “in isolation” for the week. As it was 7:45 am and he was a) still at home, and b) healthy, I was very confused. It turns out that there was a Covid case in one of his classes and he was to be home for two weeks.

To be totally honest, I was not worried about his physical health; the case was in his math class, all kids are masked and relatively distanced, and it wasn’t one of his friends with whom he eats lunch (outside, also relatively distanced). I was, however, worried about his mental health. He’s a very social kid and the thought of him spending hours doing schoolwork alone in his room on his laptop was…not great. The next day, however, I learned he would soon be joined by his brother, as everyone was transitioning to “at-home learning.”

So that was a blow. I get it. I do. But! My kids have been thriving in their strange, masked-up school environment. They have never complained about wearing masks, they have never complained about all the restrictions, they wear masks even when outside, when they are with friends. We’ve had a few days to process it, and the school is doing everything to make this a smooth transition, learning from the chaos that was in the spring, but still. It’s a blow.

Also we do not have a big house and, well. Everyone is home, all the time.

All Quiet On The Grocery Front

Before the restrictions were announced on Tuesday, I was getting multiple texts from friends saying a) Costco and Walmart were both completely sold out of toilet paper, b) lineups at Costco were snaking doubly through the warehouse, and c) everything was terrible.

Wednesday is my regular grocery shopping day, and all I could think was I can’t do this again, I can’t do it. I was so stressed by the thought of grocery shopping, I hardly slept Tuesday night. I hauled myself to the grocery store for 8:00 am, right after seniors-and-those-with-disabilities hour, and…it was fine. Busier than a regular Wednesday at 8:00 am, but fine. There was plenty of everything, including toilet paper and other paper products, there were tons of cleaning supplies, including Lysol in spray and liquid AND wipe form, and all of the usual staples were stocked up. The only thing they did not have was large packages of spinach, of which I usually buy four per week. I figured this was just a delay in shelf stocking, and that there was no actual spinach shortage, so I am not ashamed to tell you that I completely cleaned out the store of smaller packages of spinach, stacking seven of them in my cart. As god is my witness, if I have to give up my daily green smoothies, someone is going to get stabbed.

Despite the overall fine-ness of the shopping experience, and despite the fact that I got a Lindor chocolate house as a gift with purchase instead of the dreadful poinsettia (they give them away for free, do NOT try to fundraise with them, NO ONE WANTS THEM) I was in a funk. I could not shake it.

Do you know what DOESN’T work when you’re in that kind of sadness spiral? Telling yourself that a trip to Superstore in a pandemic is not exactly standing in a bread line in Ceausescu’s Romania. Telling yourself that your life is not exactly like that of the dad’s in that movie about the little boy who was a ballet dancer, the dad who was a striking coal miner in 1980s Britain, who had to chop up his dead wife’s piano just to use the wood for the fire, who eventually crossed the picket line and endured the verbal abuse of his former friends just so he could provide for his family. I mean, next to that, I am practically Kate, Duchess of Cambridge.

I eventually told myself that while a paper cut is not a broken leg, it still hurts, and I sat with my sadness for a while. I went to bed early and felt much more myself the next day.

Oh Yes, We Need A Little Christmas. Right This Very Minute.

The tree is up!

That was the boost this week needed! This year’s ornament is a narwhal. The unicorn of the sea! Bye, Buddy, hope you find your dad!

I also started my Christmas baking, kicking things off with my annual gingersnaps (thank you, Co-Op, for having molasses).

Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down.

Pandemic Reading

This was lovely and sweet and as soon as I finished it I put every single one of Camille Pagan’s books on my “to-read” list.

It is, I think, very important to read stories about people who encounter life differently from me, with different backgrounds and experiences. With that said, I did not at all enjoy this book. While it was beautifully written, I found it extremely disturbing, upsetting, depressing, and sad. It probably didn’t help that I read most of it on Wednesday of this week.

Following up on my reading of Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales, Grimm’s are also pretty nuts. Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) in particular mentioned Hansel and Gretel, which was in this collection. HOO BOY. Did you know that in the original version, Hansel gets turned into a fawn, then they live in the forest for a long time, the King goes on a deer hunt and injures him, and then falls in love with Gretel and marries her? This is all after their parents abandon them in the woods to die and instead they get taken in by a witch who – for reasons that are not clear – locks Hansel only into a cage to fatten up in the manner of veal, for later feasting. Not at ALL a disturbing concept for children.

It’s the last day of November and as we head into December let’s all remember to be extra kind and patient with people in customer service, and people in general. Everyone has something going on, always, but especially this year. In the meantime, enjoy this Barkley photobomb. xo

19th Nervous Breakdown (in the grocery store); Thirty-Five Weeks In

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The province announced what I am going to call a very mini-shutdown on Friday the 13th, and it called to mind the last Friday the 13th, eight months ago, when the very mini-shutdown led to the total big shutdown. It’s enough to make a person turn superstitious. I’ve been oscillating between despair that a mini-shutdown is going to do anything at all, sadness that there is really no way to police what seems to be the real driver, large private gatherings and that people are just going to keep partying, slight hope that two weeks might make a difference, and a what can you do other than recite the Serenity Prayer over and over kind of feeling. I’ve been refreshing the news all weekend but so far, still a very mini-shutdown, also still the depths of despair about a looming full-scale one. Well, today I feel calm and zen about the whole thing, it’s like I’ve been constantly preparing for the possibility of a full-scale shutdown. My house is stocked, my pantry is full, my Christmas shopping is complete and I have two cases of wine in the basement.

What more could a girl need?

Two of my favourite bloggers, Suzanne and Swistle (HI SUZANNE HI SWISTLE) have been regularly writing about grocery store shortages, and I find it endlessly fascinating, the things that are available and unavailable in other parts of the continent. Forget continent, there are variances in our province. My mother, who lives two hours north of me, couldn’t obtain a ten-kilogram bag of flour, whereas in my grocery stores, flour is plentiful. In fact, last week Superstore had the ten-kilogram bags on sale for $8.98. EIGHT DOLLARS AND NINETY-EIGHT CENTS. For ten kilograms of flour. Of course I picked one up, even though I had two bags at home, which leads me to my next point.

My brain has completely changed in the past eight months; I used to be able to calmly think oh, I have flour at home, I can get some when I need it, but not anymore. NOT ANYMORE. Suzanne referred to this as Grocery Store Pathology, this panicked feeling that if you do not seize the moment and buy the things that are available to you, they may not be there next time.

Here’s the thing: circling back to the grocery store shortages, I have not really noticed anything in short supply over the past few months. There has been talk about aluminum shortages, but I bought soda water in cans last week and there certainly didn’t seem to be any shortage of that. Flour – as mentioned – pasta, rice, frozen vegetables, toilet paper and paper towel, all of those things are plentiful right now. The one thing I’ve noticed – and this probably isn’t a pandemic thing, it’s more like a weird Superstore thing – is that I haven’t been able to get my favourite kind of peanut butter, Just Nuts Crunchy.

All the other Just Nuts peanut butters are available: creamy, sea salt, honey, but the crunchy hasn’t been there for weeks, and I was starting to get into my one backup jar, so I was feeling a bit desperate. I mean, I only eat peanut butter on toast once or twice a week, so the situation was not DIRE, but it felt like it was. I took a leap of faith and bought the store brand natural crunchy peanut butter, although I was somewhat irritated to discover that it was a dollar more expensive than the name brand for the exact same size. The store brand! More expensive! This is an outrage, I want to talk to the manager.

Anyway, as I was in Superstore last week I was feeling so serene about everything – it’s fine, everything’s fine, if the worst thing that happens is I eat store brand peanut butter, well, I am better off than pretty much everyone – until I got to the baking aisle. I needed a carton of molasses with which to make my annual gingersnaps. I had finished my last carton making gingerbread a few weeks ago. I pushed my cart, humming along to the music, and then, puzzled, retraced my steps. I looked again. People, there was no molasses. I stared at the empty shelf for a solid minute and then felt like I might have an actual breakdown right there in the baking aisle, next to the dried fruit, shredded coconut, and shortening. CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED, THERE ARE NO GINGERSNAPS. It was a 180 degree flip, from calm and serene to everything is terrible. On the outside, I’m sure I seemed perfectly fine and put together, but it’s like when your sock starts sliding off into your boot: I was not fine. I smiled at people through my mask, I chatted with the cashier, I gestured to the elderly man who had literally a loaf of bread and a package of sausages to go in front of me, but on the inside, I was like the Sadness character from Inside Out.

I made it to the parking lot, and it had not been plowed. I immediately regretted the soda water and the ten kilograms of flour, as my cart became immovably stuck in the snow. What even is the point of all this flour. I cannot make gingersnaps. Is there even a molasses substitute. All is ashes.

Literally, I could not move the cart, using all my strength and momentum. I stared up the aisle of the parking lot, seeing my car in the distance. There was nothing for it but to abandon my cart and carry each bin, one by one, to my car as fast as I could. By the time I had gotten down to the last bin, a very kind woman stopped and helped me move the cart to a packed-down part of the parking lot, and from there I was able to maneuver it to my car, the whole time wondering how many calories I was burning during this shopping trip. Her kindness perked me up, and I decided to stop at the Co-Op on the way home. I don’t like doing two grocery shops in a week but I thought I would just pop in and pop out, to see if they had molasses. People, they did, they had shelves of it, and I bought TWO, which is much more than I need but hey. Grocery store pathology. I can always use it next year.

Pandemic Reading

Apparently Toxic Masculinity was the unwitting theme of the week. Last week it was Liar’s Poker, this week:

I am unsure if I am recommending this to you or not. I mean. At its core, it’s a story about a family, told from multiple points of view. It’s also a study of toxic masculinity and the rise of supporters of a certain person who wanted to make America great again. So, it might be a wee bit raw. It was well-written. It was well done. It was thoughtful and insightful and very smart. But. I cannot say it was enjoyable.

This was a really wonderful book – by a Canadian author – about being a young woman in a secret relationship with an older, prominent politician. Well, you probably think you know where this is going. But it has turns I did not expect and an ending I did not expect, and it was very well done. It was probably the most brutally honest, yet enjoyable, book about being young and in a toxic relationship. Speaking of toxic masculinity! It’s up there, Steve.

This was the week to pull out the Christmas tea towels, coffee mugs, and music. 70s on 7 has been changed to the Hallmark channel while in the car, and my festive Spotify playlists have been on repeat. We need a little Christmas, right this very minute. Stay safe and healthy, friends. xo

Dressy Sweatpants and Mom Jeans; Thirty-Two Weeks In

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I absolutely appreciate when companies know their customers; I love when businesses see an opportunity and seize it, particularly this year. It’s a Read The Room kind of thing; find out what the people want and give it to them.

Which is why I find it endlessly entertaining, the advertisements that I have been getting on Facebook lately. It is almost exclusively Peloton gear followed by a company that is making something called “Dressy Sweatpants” or “Dressy Leggings.” It feels very yin-yang to me. It’s the season to move! alongside Why people love the Dressy Sweatpant! Leggings, but Dressy! You guys. I’m all about comfort in our own homes, but let’s face facts here: there is nothing dressy about sweatpants. We can add all the ruching we like but they are still, ultimately, sweatpants.

This is absolutely not a criticism of sweatpants; after all, I am a woman who wears yoga pants at least five days a week. I wear yoga tanks with built-in shelf bras almost daily, to the point that it feels weird to wear a regular bra. I am all about being comfortable in our clothes and in our own skin, but we don’t need to make believe that the clothes we love and wear are something that they are not. Dress pants are dress pants. Sweatpants are sweatpants. IT IS OKAY TO BE WHO WE ARE, AND THAT EXTENDS TO PANTS.

Wow, I have feelings about this.

I was rummaging in my legwarmer drawer and discovered an unopened package of black control-top pantyhose. Pantyhose, you guys. Like, to wear with a dress. I stared at it like it was a relic from another time, which, let’s face it, it is. I tried not to think of my closetful of beautiful (black) dresses; when will they be worn again? Who knows. And heels! Well, it’s best to put that thought away for a while.

Why, you may ask, was I rummaging in my legwarmer drawer? First of all, yes, I have an entire drawer devoted to legwarmers, and that is because I live on Planet Hoth, apparently. Calgary is a city that takes mean-reversion, with respect to temperatures, very seriously; the gorgeous fall weather has completely turned to the depths of winter. As a brief aside, it was minus 18 yesterday morning when I went to the car wash, to help out my husband who was going to put on my winter tires. I filled the car with gas while I was there and I am not exaggerating: it took nearly twenty minutes to fill the tank. Twenty minutes! I kept looking at the numbers moving so slowly, and I would go into the station to tell the attendant that there was something wrong. “It must be because of the cold,” he told me, which, well. It’s Calgary. Minus 18, while unpleasant, is not unusual, and I have filled my car in much colder temperatures. However, there was nothing to be done about it as I’d already prepaid. I tried to be zen and just drink my travel mug of coffee and scroll through my phone, thinking this is what I’d be doing anyway, at home, but meanwhile, I was freezing and wondering if there was a It’s Going To Blow kind of emergency going on with the pump.

Last week was my husband’s birthday and he took the day off work; our original plan was to go hiking in the mountains, but the black ice and blowing snow on the highway deterred us. We ended up in a provincial park in the foothills, and the minus 13 windchill meant that we had the whole park to ourselves! We ended up hiking 8 km in gusting wind and snow, but I am trying to embrace my Nordic ancestry with the mantra there’s no bad weather, just bad clothes and hence, legwarmers. Well, legwarmers and many other layers too.

Circling back to companies and businesses, I have been getting many, many texts lately from Garage, a store I have never shopped at in my life. How did they get my number? Was it sold to them by some other store? I have no idea, but I am amused at their constant texts to me about buying the coolest mom jeans. The Coolest Mom Jeans. I have much to say about this, but mostly: Wrong Audience.

Do any moms – and the group to which I am referring is my own mid-forties age group – actually wear Mom Jeans? I mean technically, we are moms, and so our jeans are mom jeans, but as I am sure you know, I am referring to the high-waisted, pleated front jeans that were ubiquitous in the early nineties. I think there is some kind of Fashion Law that states if you wore something in high school, and the style comes around again – like it has with these specific, high-waisted, loose-fitting, fitted-ankle jeans – then you should not wear it again. Not that I need a Fashion Law to tell me what to do. It’s not a thing that is going to happen anyway.

Remember when the Blue Jays won the World Series? I was rocking the Mom Jeans back then, although at the time they were just Jeans.

I’m not sure anything in this photo could be more “early nineties” if it tried. Pirate blouse! Mom jeans! Spiral permed hair! Evian water! The home decor!

Anyway, thank you very much, Garage, but I am not revisiting my erstwhile youth.

It occurs to me that, since I don’t know anyone at all in the Mom category who wears Mom Jeans, perhaps they should be renamed Grandma Jeans as I think that style is more of my OWN mother’s generation.

Unless – UNLESS – the younger generation of moms are all wearing these jeans. This just occurred to me right now. All of my mom friends are in their forties, but we are the Old Moms. The Young Moms, for all I know, could be rocking these. Meanwhile, I am living in yoga pants and long sweaters and am being marketed “dressy sweatpants” and “leggings, but dressy.” That is, when I’m not getting texts about the latest Mom Jeans.

On another note, this week Le Chateau announced that they are closing their doors; Canadian women of a certain age sighed with nostalgic sadness on hearing that. Le Chateau was where I spent my hard-earned babysitting and Pizza Hut money; I saved up to buy a pair of red plaid hot pants – HOT PANTS – and wore them with black tights, a turtleneck, and a blazer for my first day of Grade Eleven, at a new school. I don’t often wish that we had cell phones when I was in high school, but I wish I had a photo of that outfit. Instead, I will leave you with this classic, from a class trip to Italy:

That was the same blazer I started the year with, sweetly paired with jeans – high waisted and belted, I am sure – and a floral crop top. Ah, the spirit of youth.

Pandemic Reading

I am not going to pan this book entirely because it had a nice underlying theme – be who you are, accept other people for who they are – and it had great descriptions of clothing and society in 1950s New York, Miami, and Havana. However, the plot line was ridiculous and the book itself was very silly.

I like to read popular books to see what the hype is all about, and this one was decent – but ultimately unsatisfying and disappointing. It could have been so much more, but wasn’t.

This was very fun; it’s a contemporary Bengali classic and a translation, which I always find interesting. Three generations of Bengali women, with a little reincarnation thrown in…quite fun and, despite the name, light.

Happy Halloween week, everyone! The decorative gourds are getting mushy and there is too much snow to put up the gravestones and crosses, but who knows! Anything can happen. Don’t forget that Saturday is a Blue Moon AND it’s time change, so let’s take a deep breath and have a treat or two.

Bizarre Even For These Days; Twenty-Seven Weeks In

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This has been a bit of a bizarre week, starting with a phone call cancelling an appointment due to an unbelievably scary accident, happily segueing to a midweek birthday, followed by a letter summoning me to jury duty, and then finishing with a pre-dawn visit from the fire department due to our carbon monoxide detector going off. Happily, there was no carbon monoxide leak, the screaming detector was, apparently, at the end of its life span. Thanks for letting us know so dramatically, carbon monoxide detector! Your replacement has been installed.

I was scheduled to get my hair cut this week for the first time in six months, and when I heard the voice mail from my hair therapist’s colleague advising that she needed to rebook my appointment, the first thing I thought was She’s Got Covid. During the brief greetings I waited to hear the words, only to listen instead to the awful details of my hair therapist’s husband’s accident that entailed airlifting, and intensive care, all in another province, and with the usual difficulties around Covid protocol, after which the colleague cheerfully said, “So I have to rebook your cut and colour!” At that point, it seemed like the least important thing ever, and I told her so, as she pencilled me in for later this week. “Wow, thanks for being so understanding, you’re being so GOOD about this!” the colleague said in a voice that made me wonder: what are OTHER people doing? Are other people NOT being understanding? What is happening to our society?

I’m going to go out on a limb and say something that might be strongly disagreed with: this pandemic has been GREAT for my hair. I know! I know. For one thing, as we all know, I’ve been colouring at home and saving so much time and money, it is not even to be believed. I picked up a couple more boxes of Garnier at Superstore and they were on sale for $4.99 each, plus I got PC Points; more about points later. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents, people. The other part about the pandemic is that after not cutting my hair for six months, it has grown out beautifully. Pro tip: if you want to grow out your hair, stop cutting it. It’s true that I need a trim, as the ends are pretty dry and damaged, but I love the length. A while back I wondered if I should grow it out or not, and the decision, like so many others, was taken out of my hands.

The above were taken at the end of February and the middle of March, so you can see that my hair was above my shoulders at the time. This is from the weekend:

With mask-wearing and yoga teaching, I have my hair in a bun a lot, and it’s so much easier to put it up with the extra length; in other words, I don’t need twenty bobby pins to hold it in place. I’ve decided to follow in the footsteps of my good friend Denise (HI DENISE) who gets a professional colour semi-annually, and my friend Nicole (HI NICOLE) who gets a cut the on that same schedule.

In addition to my long, not-exactly-luscious-but-definitely-convenient Covid hair, I have developed Efficiency Skills when it comes to grocery shopping. I have never before received so many Gifts With Purchase as I have during this pandemic, and I am just now, twenty-seven weeks into this, that I am calming down about Buying All The Things. There are not many shortages of food or other necessities, and so I have finally relaxed about having backups of staples such as pasta or flour. ONE backup is all that is necessary, although I still have three bags of flour in my pantry purchased in the spring, which should get me through to Christmas at least.

I was at Superstore for my weekly shop, and you know how there are some employees who are REALLY good and dedicated when it comes to their jobs? I appreciate that so much. I remember when I waitressed in university, a customer said to me “You must really love your job! You’re always smiling!” I agreed, although I did NOT love my job. I mean, have you ever worked in a restaurant? It’s hard. Smiling was just part of the job. So, I really appreciate when others, no matter what their job is, embrace it, which is why I felt lucky to have the most cheerful cashier ever this week, who exclaimed over the quality of my produce, like I actually grew it myself and didn’t just pick items from a bin. “Do you collect PC Points?” she asked and I scanned my app for her. “You can use your points when you shop to get good deals, and don’t forget to check back every Thursday for your new offers!” I paused for a moment, imagining a world in which I did NOT spend time figuring out the offer algorithm, and subsequently making my weekly list based on when I was most likely to get points and for what items, and what I would get points for the following week, a world in which I did NOT wake up Thursday mornings and think, yay, it’s PC Points day!, a world in which I did NOT text my husband excitedly to tell him my points balance. Instead, I just nodded and said “Yes, you bet!” God bless that cheerful employee. I’m going to seek her line out next week.

As a runner, I always smile in solidarity when I see other runners in the street or pathways, even when not running myself, which probably means that I am perceived as the Crazy Smiley Lady much of the time. Well, I have become appreciative of a good smile, since we are masked so much of the time. Anyway, I was out walking Barkley, doing our forty-minutes-to-go-merely-two-kilometres pace, and I saw a young man running on the street perpendicular to me. I slowed our already-not-exactly-super-sonic-speed so that he could pass with lots of room, when I noticed something odd: he was not wearing shoes. He was perfectly clad in what I would call Real Runner Wear: a tidy ball cap, a sweat-wicking sleeveless tee, and running shorts. All that was missing was shoes. And socks. I watched him go up the street, making great pace, occasionally looking at his smart watch and occasionally brushing gravel and debris off his feet. What even. What is happening here.

So it has been a surreal week, more so than normal, but there was delicious cake, and some good books, and a smokey but lovely long walk with a friend.

Pandemic Reading

As soon as I finished this I went to the library app and bookmarked all of Emma Straub’s other books; this was SO good. Again, the slice-of-life book is the type I love best, and this had to do with adult sibling-and-parent relationships, families, and finding love.

My longtime friend Tracy (HI TRACY) recommended this book and it is FASCINATING. From Vietnam vets to survivors of child abuse, this book examines how trauma changes our brains and also our physiological makeup and also explores different therapeutic approaches to working with traumatized people.

Well, hello to Monday and I’m looking forward to what will hopefully be a less bizarre week. Take care, stay well. xo

One Day More; Twenty-Three and Twenty-Four Weeks In

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Summer’s Almost Gone

School starts TOMORROW, and at this time every year I have feelings of melancholy and why-is-time-so-fleeting and landslide. I would say that I am having those feelings on steroids this year. Despite everything, we have had a really good summer; last week the boys got back from their annual camping trip with their dad, and said that they have had the best summer ever. The best. Summer ever. In 2020.

A habit I’ve established during this pandemic is reading a poem every morning before my yoga practice, and then during the yoga practice I meditate on an aspect of that poem. Last week I read this by Mary Oliver:

The present is what your life is, and you are capable of choosing what that will be. I love that. I guess if my boys can think that Summer 2020 has been the best summer of their lives so far, I can march forward into Fall 2020.

Both boys will be in high school, and they have a lot of health and safety protocols that make me feel as comfortable as I’m going to feel. Although every time I turn around someone is raging “But HOW can they POSSIBLY (fill in the blank: social distance, eat lunch, have gym or drama class…)” and I have to just take deep breaths. They will do their best with mandatory masks and eating lunches in designated classrooms and sanitization stations; they won’t have lockers, or change rooms and tote boxes for gym, which should be interesting. Take a deep breath and jump in, is what it feels like.

The masks arrived!

Small Non-Pandemic-Related Grievance

Last week I learned that my Garmin watch automatically resets after 150 days of a movement streak. I discovered this while running on Friday; my watch congratulated me on my FIVE day step streak, when it was really 155 days. Well. This is a good opportunity to practice non-attachment and remember that this is just a fun gadget, not something that is dictating my life, all evidence to the contrary. Om.

Super Exciting Grocery News

While I was on vacation, my dear friend and soul sister Janet (HI JANET) texted me to let me know that after a two year hiatus, Costco is once again stocking the 34 ounce jars of sundried tomatoes. I am not sure I can adequately convey my excitement at this news; I have been buying the Much More Expensive, smaller jars of sundried tomatoes at Superstore, with which I make my pasta sauce for our Monday night meal. As soon as I was home I hightailed it to Costco.

That should hold us for a while.

In addition to that, after months of not having giant rolls of parchment paper, those were back in stock. When they went missing a few months ago, I went into Pandemic Panic At The Disco and started stockpiling parchment paper from Superstore, thinking that would be the next thing that would be completely unavailable, and that upset me more than the difficulty finding baking powder, back in April. Long story short: I now have enough parchment paper to see me into the spring of 2025, give or take.

Vacation

I was so burned out prior to our vacation. I was just emotionally exhausted; being everyone’s Emotional Support Person was really draining me. My goals for our vacation were as follows: sleep, go for walks and runs (BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO BREAK MY STEP STREAK WHAT), read a lot of books, and drink wine. That is exactly what I did.

We also had some beach time with my sister-in-law; her apartment complex has a private beach which was deserted during the week. It also happened to be about 38 degrees, so that was perfect.

Pandemic Reading

I got so much reading done on vacation, which I’m glad of, as my library pile was actually fairly daunting. It’s still daunting but that’s because I have become a Weird Book Addict who can’t seem to stop putting things on hold and picking up three extra books every time I go to pick up a hold.

This was interesting: a trend forecaster sees a movement toward less technology and more actual communication and physical contact and touch. Meanwhile her boyfriend is part of an antisex neo-sensual movement. It is especially interesting to read NOW, as we are all not allowed to touch one another and my god, I miss hugging people.

A psychological thriller, and I won’t say more than that for fear of spoiling.

This was about one of Iran’s most famous women; all about poetry and feminism in a place and time that was not friendly toward women.

Just a fun, light read about a heavy topic: cancer.

Another book about cancer; I guess the man who wrote this is very famous, which I didn’t know when I picked it up. It’s very sad and touching.

If you’re at all interested in politics and racial issues between Indian and Black people in Kenya, this is a great read.

I think every woman should read this book. This was life-changing for me. It’s like a switch went off in my head. I should write an entire post just about this book, it affected me THAT much.

I really enjoy Moriarty’s writing, but this might be one of my favourites. It was just totally satisfying in every way.

Reading this book was exactly like watching a movie on the Hallmark channel, in a good way. Very soft and feel-good.

Well, off to prepare for a strange, staggered-entry week. Let’s do this! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Herb Garden Edition

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Earlier this week we got back from ten days at our vacation place; more about that later, but it was relaxing and chill, which I desperately needed. Prior to that my husband was out there for eight days by himself, which both worked out well – we have spent 24/7 together since March – and also was a challenge in terms of solo parenting emotional people getting ready for school/ worrying about possibly not going to school/ not knowing if their friends were going to school or taking the online option, not to mention preparing for the vacation itself, and all that entails. You all know what I’m talking about.

After coming home from ten days away, there was much to be done and I just now feel like I’ve caught up on groceries and laundry, scheduling the kids to go get their school ID and paperwork – school starts TUESDAY and I have feelings, but that will be left for another post – as well as picking up the dog from the kennel and – because the kennel either lost my booking or I failed to book him in for grooming – scheduling a visit to the groomer’s.

He’s happy to be back, can you tell?

Vacation, school, and everything in between will wait for next time. What I really wanted to talk about today is…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Herb Garden Edition

I have had so much fun this summer, growing herbs. I have kept them in pots by the back door, where it is sheltered and receives a blast of south-west sun, so it is also the hottest part of the yard. This year I grew basil, oregano, two kinds of mint, parsley, and chives, and I also transplanted my grown-in-house cilantro to a pot outside, and although transplanting cilantro is apparently a no-no, it worked great.

Pre-harvest! That’s the cilantro in front.

I learned some very important lessons: basil needs to be grown in a pot by itself, rather sharing a pot with the oregano, because oregano is super-bossy and totally takes over, don’t plant parsley unless you really love parsley or know people who do that don’t mind being constantly gifted parsley, and that I don’t actually use a lot of fresh herbs in my cooking.

I mean, I DO, I use cilantro often and chives are always a nice addition to dishes; I like to use fresh herbs while making salad dressings, and mint is nice for the occasional mojito. But honestly, my herbs were so prolific that I couldn’t possibly use them all fresh. So I got a little Ma Ingalls If Ma Ingalls Had An Herb Garden And Wasn’t Mostly Starving To Death On The Bald Prairie Most Of The Time:

Mint Extract

Fun fact about mint is that you should always grow it in a pot, unless you want it to take over your entire garden. It is VERY prolific; I would cut it right back, and within a day or two it would be happily popping back up. I decided to make some mint extract using a “recipe” I found on the internet.

First, fill a jar with a cup and a half of fresh mint. Or thereabouts!

Then muddle it to release the essence.

Add a cup or so of vodka, enough to cover things up. No need to get neurotic about the measurements. Just pour!

Fun fact! I was gifted that giant bottle of vodka on my fortieth birthday; I do like vodka but clearly I don’t have mixed drinks that often.

Don’t drink the vodka while you are doing this! Wait until later.

Once the vodka is added, let it sit in a dark cool spot for a couple of months, and then strain out the mint leaves. Did it work? Who knows! I’ll let you know around Christmastime.

Dehydration Nation

Longtime readers will remember my love affair with my dehydrator. Remember that episode of Friends when Joey has a roommate obsessed with dehydrating fruit? This? This, my friend, is a CANTALOUPE. I feel seen, is what I’m saying. Crazy Eddie, I feel you.

Anyway, my love affair continues as I used that baby to dry my herbs, particularly parsley, because OMG look at the parsley.

This was the second round of dehydrating parsley; it now looks like I need to do it a third time. WHO WANTS PARSLEY.

Excess of parsley aside, I have to tell you that it is very satisfying to have homemade dried herbs, like I’m “putting up” for the winter.

A Seedy Story

As my cilantro started to flower, my thoughts turned to seeds. Could I save the seeds for future plantings, possibly saving myself $1.99 for a seed pack? The answer is an unqualified yes.

The key to saving seeds is to allow them to DRY, and I didn’t use the dehydrator for that, I just left them on a paper towel in what is usually my indoor herb/ predominantly cilantro garden. The seeds in front were, I think, picked too soon. I may just grind them up with a mortar and pestle to make coriander. The rest are drying nicely and look like the seeds that you can buy in a package. I might be saving myself MORE than $1.99 this year. Maybe more like $2.98.

I think next year I will try a different variety of herbs; maybe just one type of mint and probably no parsley. That spot is so hot and shaded that I might just try growing tomatoes too. Wouldn’t that be fun; my very own caprese salad garden!

So tell me: have you been gardening this year? xo

Does Anyone Else Remember Hammerman; Fifteen Weeks In

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Last week, for no discernible reason, I remembered that MC Hammer had a cartoon television show called Hammerman; the actual show I do not remember at all, probably because I didn’t actually watch it, except that it featured magical shoes. Due to the magic that is the internet, I could watch an episode, or at least the theme song, which I recall was incredibly long and detailed, but I’d rather leave it as a strange memory bouncing around in my brain.

It’s funny sometimes, how popular culture from one’s childhood can just resurface for no particular reason. I’m not talking about Hammerman, as I was a teenager at the time of its popularity, such as it was, and again, I never watched it. But occasionally some Saturday morning cartoon memory will pop into my head, most notably from School House Rock or an obscure commercial for cheese (I hanker for a hunk of cheese!). I can still sing the entire theme song for ParticipAction – do it with your friends, you both can bend, do it with some hustle, you can make some muscle – and I can also still feel the shame of getting the Participant sticker, rather than the badges, handed out at gym class. I still cannot do a pull-up.

It’s incredible to think that forty years ago we were all exclusively watching Saturday morning cartoons and arranging our bathroom and cereal breaks around commercials; we had to wait a whole week to see who would be on the next episode of The Muppet Show, and an entire summer wondering who shot JR, and now anyone can watch anything at any time. I mean, I remember getting our first PVR approximately 13 years ago and the amazement that came from being able to pause and rewind live television, and now here we are, able to access Hammerman or Conjunction Junction on a whim. If I wanted to I could watch every single episode of The Facts of Life; my childhood self would be amazed and envious.

I remember learning, back in the Eighties, that some of the songs that were huge hits were also cover songs: I Think We’re Alone Now, Lean On Me, I Can’t Help Falling In Love, You Keep Me Hanging On. In recent years I discovered the OG versions of Hard to Handle and There’s Always Something There To Remind Me, and for all of the above, I prefer the originals. However, there are a few songs that I think are better as covers: Lovers In A Dangerous Time (Barenaked Ladies), Knocking on Heaven’s Door (Guns and Roses), and Light My Fire (Jose Feliciano). If you, dear reader, have any thing to add, I would love to hear it.

Speaking of hit songs, last week I learned something incredible: Jimmy Buffett has just released a new album. JIMMY BUFFETT. HAS JUST RELEASED A NEW ALBUM. Does anyone else find that amazing? I mean, for one thing, he’s 73 years old. For another thing, the man has an enormous number of albums to his name and I would challenge you to name any of them. You can’t, can you? And yet he is an incredibly successful recording artist with a devoted following, not to mention a Sirius channel of his own. Talk about finding your niche in the world. It’s quite inspiring, really. Where would we be without Margaritaville? Searching for our lost shakers of salt, I guess. We all enjoy Margaritaville, of course, but my personal favourite Jimmy Buffett song, one that I do not think gets enough accolades, is Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw. That is one catchy tune, and I am not being facetious. I just got a waterbed, it’s filled up for me and you.

Well, I’ll be singing that one all day, which is better than a few minutes ago, when it was ParticipAction, get with the action, do it, do it, do it.

Pandemic Reading

This was a fun week of re-reading the Rosie series. Initially I had thought that the trilogy got better and better with each book, but after reading them all this week, I have decided that they are all equally excellent in their own way, which is a huge and rare accomplishment for any trilogy. I really love how the books portray a person who processes the world differently, with so much affection and humour.

Yummy Things

I have been having the occasional Friday afternoon wine date with my dear friend and neighbour Taryn (HI TARYN); last week I made the three house trek to her backyard, carrying my brand new (thank you, Superstore, for your free gift with purchase) camping chair, and this tote bag packed with wine, my keys, and a glass. Isn’t it cute?

For Sunday night dessert last night, my older son made a pan of Reese Peanut Butter Bars; if you like peanut butter and chocolate and you see a package in the grocery store, buy it! The bars were very yummy and simple to put together.

What’s Blooming

This has been a strangely late year for almost all my shrubs and plants; the roses are coming along but still pretty stick-like, the dogwoods are not completely leafed out yet, and although my newly-planted clematis is blooming, my established one is not. However, the lilacs are fully out and almost finished, and the Siberian irises are glorious.

Pandemic Fitness

When running and walking this week, the lilac scents have been absolutely wonderful. Our fitness club has reopened with lots of restrictions, and I haven’t yet gone, but I’m considering doing a reconnaissance this week, as the weather has changed from Pleasant to Cold and Rainy. We will see.

Have a wonderful week, everybody! Keep safe! xo