Category Archives: Kondo-ing my life

Swedish Death Cleaning

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Not long ago, someone asked me if I’m still on my “no shopping” challenge and yes, yes I am. Only about 2 and a half months to go, not that I’m counting or anything. Well, I wasn’t counting – it’s been much easier than I thought it would be. For one thing, you may remember that clothing acquired in the form of Christmas and birthday gifts was still perfectly acceptable, and I received a few lovely things for my birthday from both my mom and my husband. I haven’t been tempted at all to purchase new clothes, until yesterday.

Yesterday I met my best friend (HI TARA) for lunch at a restaurant in the mall, and as I walked back to my car I stopped to look at a display in a shoe store. New sandals! In the Soundtrack of My Life, I could hear Tempted by the fruit of another…in my mind. They were so cute, and just the kind of thing I like: comfortable looking sole, black, with nothing between the toes. I swear if the salesperson on duty had been good at his job, I would have walked out with a pair. But happily for me and my apparent lack of willpower, the salesperson ignored me and so I left. I went home, opened my closet, and looked at all the pairs of sandals I have that are, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as the ones in the store, the main difference being the ones in my closet were not new.

I think I’m going to make it after all.

A few weeks ago I read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning and while I was attracted to it because of its title – DEATH CLEANING – I found reading it to be quite delightful, despite the somewhat grim subject matter. Death cleaning is what happens after someone dies and the writer, a woman who seems to be about ninety, very cleverly and wittily writes about her experiences in that area and how she is preparing for her eventual demise. Our material consumption, she says cheerfully, will most likely destroy the planet but does not have to destroy our relationships with the people who will be death cleaning for us when the time comes. I guess that is one way to look at things.

The author’s absolute zest for life and sense of humour makes me wish she lived here and was in my Seniors’ Yoga class. She sounds like a doll.

“There is enough sadness already” – this woman is my spirit animal!

I don’t anticipate death cleaning for anyone anytime soon – knock on wood a thousand times – and I fervently hope my own death cleaning will be many decades away, but it’s an interesting concept, keeping things in your house that only bring you joy and/ or are useful to you right now. From my own experiences of Kondo-ing the house and my life, and this whole One Year Shopping Challenge, I have found that I am indeed much more conscious of the things I bring into the house. I want to be very aware of the things I consume; I want my house to be filled with lovely and joyful things, yes, but not items that will eventually end up in a landfill. I mean, as much as possible, everything probably will end up in a landfill at some point; see above quote by the Swedish Death Cleaning Lady. I am also much more aware of my tendency to hoard things, which is a completely unnecessary and ridiculous tendency. I live in walking distance from two grocery stores and a Walmart; I can drive to Superstore in ten minutes and Costco in less than twenty. If at some point I get low on bathroom cleaner, I can go out and buy bathroom cleaner, I do not need to have several bottles in backup. With the notable exception of cereal, I have become very good at not buying multiples of household staples. ONE backup is enough of everything. Except cereal, I think there’s about fifteen boxes of different kinds of Kashi and Mini-Wheats in the pantry.

What can I say, we go through a lot of cereal and when it goes on sale, I like to stock up. DON’T JUDGE I HAVE MY LIMITS. It will all get eaten, all of it.

But speaking of things that spark joy, check out this adorable trio given to me from some very dear friends (HI SAMMI HI RICK):

They are living on the hutch in the kitchen and believe me when I tell you they Spark Joy in a Very Big Way. They make me smile every time I look at them, which is several times a day. Look at their blissed-out froggy faces! They are aspirational, in an amphibious sort of way.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

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Can you even believe it is August already? We were on vacation last week and since I’ve been back I’ve noticed the huge change in daylight. Before I left the sky was light when I left the house at 5:00 am; now I have to turn on the outside light to go to the garage. I don’t need to close the blinds tightly when I go to bed because it’s already dark.

I know in many, many places in the world, August is still considered “summer” but to me, it begins to feel like fall. The air feels cool and crisp, and even though we have had the warmest, most beautiful summer I can ever remember, I am not ready for it. One thing to note about this city: our summers are short and once the weather turns, it turns. There’s no going back.

Don’t go, summer! Don’t go.

One thing about August is that it’s time to prepare for school; one of my tasks today is to figure out what clothes still fit the boys and what needs to be purchased. Spoiler alert: nothing fits and the children currently have bare drawers where once there were jeans and long-sleeved shirts. It is also the time to think of winter gear – no, it’s not too early, technically we can have snow any time now.

Recently a friend finished a one-year non-shopping challenge, in which she bought no clothes for a whole year. A whole year! I wondered if I myself could – and perhaps, looking at my overflowing closet of much-loved clothes – should take that challenge. Readers may recall that I did a challenge like this last year after I Kondo-ed my closet; I vowed not to buy any clothes for approximately six months, and I did it. Could I do it for a whole year? I was thinking August 1 might be a good start date for that, keeping in mind that asking for clothes for Christmas and my birthday would still be acceptable. Technically speaking, that is. If there is one thing my husband loves to buy for me for such occasions, it is Lululemon wear. What’s not to love? He knows my size, my style preferences (Wunder Unders, Power Y tanks, and long flowy black sweaters) and he can order it online. I shall not take that joy away from him/ I need an out in case a really cute top comes on “We Made Too Much.”

Anyway, I’m considering it. A whole year, though! I wonder if I could do it. I certainly wouldn’t do it for the boys, since their pants are currently in the “capri” zone and their shirts are inadvertently “three-quarter length.”

Speaking of which, does anyone actually like three-quarter length shirts? As a long-limbed girl, they make me feel like an ape or an orangutan wearing human clothes for some kind of animal-based sitcom.

We were on vacation last week, visiting family and friends, and for the most part it was very lovely; lots of long walks, pool time, sunshine, and tasty drinks. This week has been all about getting back to routine, such as it is in the summer.

Someone mentioned to me that my life looks pretty sublime, at least according to Facebook, which is kind of a funny metric. I mean, my life IS pretty sublime, I certainly have no complaints; the vast majority of my time is spent teaching yoga, preparing food, or grocery shopping, all excellent endeavors that I enjoy very much. But of course we rarely talk about the dreary parts of life, like washing dishes several times a day, or cleaning the yard of previously-digested dog food, or pestilence.

Yes, pestilence. We arrived home from vacation to discover that some young people in this house had improperly disposed of Freezie wrappers in the downstairs garbage can, leading to sticky fruit liquid on the floor, and an infestation of ants. Ants! Fortunately one of those young people redeemed himself by googling DIY ant traps, and so we mixed a cup of sugar with half a cup of water and a tablespoon of Borax, and I highly recommend this route. We soon had a Gone With The Wind-like scene featuring ants in the place of wounded soldiers.

Later that same evening, my husband and I were watching Game of Thrones and I found myself staring off into the distance as a coping mechanism during a particularly grim scene. I saw…something. Something black and long and…it disappeared into the useless little cupboard over the staircase. I looked, and my alarmed husband asked what exactly I was looking for. I said that I thought – maybe – it could be a mouse. My husband looked at me and said, “OH NO” in the manner of someone who has to deal with the fallout of a major disaster. We looked but couldn’t see any signs of previously-digested mouse food, and so I said maybe it was just my imagination.

You know how you say something, but you really don’t believe it? That was me. I just knew there was a mouse in the house but had no proof. Sure enough, the next day I took out the kitchen compost bin and underneath it was a sure sign. I called my husband, who asked me, in a very worried voice, why I sounded so calm. He was remembering my near-breakdown after The Moustastrophe of 2013. That evening I went out to teach a class, and my husband and the boys set traps. Later, after I was in bed, apparently there was a snap and then there was much jockeying and arguing about which boy would get to dispose of the mouse carcass. Another trap had to be set on the off chance that the deprived child would be able to act as Mouse Undertaker, but happily, this has not yet come to fruition.

Favourite Outfits of My Teen Years

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It’s no secret I love clothes and fashion, and I always have. Every day is an opportunity to play dress-up, in my opinion, or at least to wear something pretty. Some of you may remember when I Kondo’d my house (and life), I discovered something important about myself: clothing sparks joy for me. I love my entire wardrobe; I love every last one of my twenty-plus black sweaters, my dozens of black tops, my twelve black bikinis, and my two shelves full of tightly rolled up yoga clothing, in varying hues. My friend Lyndsey (HI LYNDSEY) is a professional organizer, and I’m pretty sure she would faint if she saw my stuffed-to-the-brim closet. BUT I LOVE AND WEAR THEM ALL, LYNDSEY.

I’m at the point in my life where I am very comfortable with my own sense of style. True, I do like to keep up with current fashions, but I don’t feel the need to adopt them unconditionally. For example, I’m not a person who is flattered by peasant blouses or white jeans, and I’m literally too cold to wear the cold shoulder look. I’ve already done my time in pleated shorts and cut-off jeans, and so I shall leave the youth fashion to the youth for whom it is intended.

And yet, it is very fun to look back at the fashion I adopted when I myself was a youth. Last week, my friend Swistle (HI SWISTLE) wrote about favourite outfits in high school, and I have been thinking about it almost non-stop since then. I’ve been riding a wave of nostalgia for the late 80s/ early 90s, and the accompanying terrible fashions. I was at my parents’ place on the weekend and I thumbed quickly through a few photo albums. HOO BOY. Those were the days, my friends.

My own personal style really changed a lot from junior high to senior high, and it also changed a lot from year to year. I feel that the summers were a time of renewal and reflection about our own personal fashion, and that September was a time of new beginnings, clothing-wise. It was the time where we all decided what we wanted our look to be, for better or worse.

Grade Seven, 1987-88

My very favourite outfit was one that I have photographic evidence of, since I wore it on the first day of school. It was a long, full skirt that was meant to look like denim but was actually cotton. I paired it with knockoff white Keds, a white tank top, and a blue-and-white striped blouse that I tied in front.

I also had a denim slouch bag! And, if you look closely, light-blue nylons. I wore a lot of skirts in the beginning of grade seven; notably a light-blue bubble skirt, a beige ruffled skirt that I paired with an enormous white t-shirt, tucked in, and a pale pink skirt that I wore with a pale pink sweater and pale pink ankle boots. I was a sight in pastel, apparently. I wore skirts until I figured out that junior high boys were terrible and that they always tried to look up skirts when walking up the stairs, or flip them up when you were innocently standing at your locker.

Grade Eight – 1988-89

Once I figured out the terrible truth, I lived in jeans and gigantic sweaters. I had a few cable-knit sweaters that I begged for – and received – at Christmas. They were ENORMOUS. I wore acid-wash and other light-wash jeans, Levi’s with the red tab, rolled up at the ankles. Nothing is so terribly unflattering as baggy, high-waist jeans rolled at the ankles with a gigantically baggy, tucked-in t-shirt. But such was the fashion back then. I found this gem at my parents’ house and it cracks me up uncontrollably.

Ah, nothing says excitement like being fourteen years old and getting your photo taken for the no-cavity club at the dentist. Just look at the size of the t-shirt, with polka dots, no less. Look at the knockoff Swatch watch. LOOK AT MY HAIR.

A store had just recently opened up, in the spring of 1989, a store that was, to me, life-changing. It was called Freedom, and it sold many items like jeans and t-shirts embellished with peace signs. Oh, how I loved that store.

Grade Nine – 1989-90

Grade Nine was my year of predominantly black sweaters – a trend I have kept for a lifetime since – a ton of jewelry – ditto – and ripped jeans or long, multicoloured broom skirts. I also embraced band t-shirts from long-since-unbanded-and-usually-dead musical acts, such as The Doors.

Another dentist photo! I guess I’ve always been good at brushing my teeth. It is very hard to tell in this photo, but I have – in addition to a LOT of necklaces and my dad’s old watch, a long fake-silk scarf used as a belt in my jeans. My jeans would have, of course, been Levi’s 501s, and they would have been frayed at the bottom and, rather than rolled, pinned tightly at the ankles.

Grade Ten – 1990-91

Grade Ten was the year I fully embraced the dichotomous look of either ripped jeans or dresses. There was no in-between. I loved babydoll dresses, particularly crushed velvet ones, worn with tights, army-style boots, and a trench coat. It was the look of the early nineties, along with long, permed hair. Sadly, I have no photographic evidence of this in my possession, but I do have this lovely one with a classic Sulky Teen look.

Long, silver chains with crosses were my jam, along with silver hoop earrings and a mood ring. My mood ring was stuck on black, however, because even then I had terrible circulation and my hands and feet were always freezing. In fact, I remember a boyfriend I had around age 16, who looked at my bare feet and asked, alarmed, how I bruised them so completely. They were just purple from my lack of circulation, and were totally normal for me.

Grade Eleven – 1991-92

My very favourite outfit I remember so well, but I cannot find a photo of it. I wore it on my first day at my new high school, and it was red plaid HOT PANTS paired with thick black tights, a black mock turtleneck, and a black blazer. I also wore black loafers. God, I loved that outfit. Jeans, loafers, and blazers were very stylish at my school at the time, and I wore them all the time. Jeans were, thankfully, no longer pinned or rolled, but they were high-waisted and straight-legged, and t-shirts were oversized and tucked in. I found this treasure from my high school Europe trip, in which I’m wearing one of my favourite outfits, complete with Revlon’s Love That Red lipstick.

Also from that trip: my beloved leather bomber jacket, which I bought in a Florence market, paired with pink striped shorts and gladiator sandals.

Vogueing was popular back then.

I also had this outfit, which I absolutely loved and I would still probably wear today, mutton dressed as lamb be damned. I bought it at Le Chateau, and it was a short black skirt embellished with fabric daisies, and a swingy matching top. Oh, how I loved it. Note also my exclusive use of Love That Red.

Grade Twelve – 1992-93

Sadly, I cannot find ANY of my casual photos from grade twelve. I’m sure there are some in existence, but I cannot locate them at this time. Suffice it to say that by Grade Twelve, I had gone full-on Princess in my clothing choices. Kilts and turtleneck sweaters were my signature look, with my long, hot-rollered hair and Love That Red lipstick. I also seemed to have a lot of coloured jeans – high waisted and belted, naturally – and silk blouses. SILK BLOUSES, PEOPLE. It goes without saying that those blouses were also ridiculously oversized, as was everything back then. Although I don’t have any photos of these terrific outfits, I do have one on my graduation day of my hot-rollered hair:

That took SOME effort, let me tell you.

So now it is your turn – what were your favourite outfits in your teen years? Were your favourite clothes a sign of the times?

Small side note: I just realized that the song, Sign of the Times, is by Harry Styles. Guys, I like something by Harry Styles! I’m a modern girl! Proof positive that my husband is WRONG when he says I’m stuck in the past, in terms of music. Although it is true that my favourite genres are Motown, 70s soft rock, and “Fat” Elvis. Is that a genre? I don’t really know, but Kentucky Rain is my jam. xoxo

A very long confessional post about bathroom cleansers.

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Something very momentous happened this week, an event that is quality-of-life altering for me.

Before I get to that, a little background information. Most of you who have known me for a while know that my go-to cleaning solution is white vinegar. I am, you might say, a white vinegar fiend. At any given time my house smells like an odd cross between a bakery and a pickling factory. There is, in my humble opinion, no better nor more cost-effective cleaner than white vinegar. Occasionally I will mix it up by using a hippie essential-oil based cleaner, but for the most part, it’s all white vinegar all the time.

Well, most of the time. There is an exception to this rule, and that is the bathroom sinks and toilets. When it comes to that, I go all out; I like the kind of cleaners that boast of killing off 99.9% of germs, the old-school, scrub-free disinfectants. When it comes to the bathroom sinks and toilets, the harsher the cleanser the better, in my opinion. I feel fine about this because, as I mentioned, I only use these cleansers for relatively small area, and so one bottle of cleanser can last…well, I don’t really know how long it can last. Months, I suppose.

So it was several months ago that I impulsively bought a different cleanser; it was on a price rollback, it promised to kill off 99.9% of germs – including staph bacteria, which is not something I had thought of before but sure am thinking of now – and it advertised a “spring-fresh scent.” Now, I am not the kind of person who actually sniffs cleansers in the Walmart cleaning solution aisle, because a) I don’t want to look like a weirdo, b) who sniffs cleansers anyway? Certainly not me, and c) it doesn’t seem like too big of a deal what your bathroom cleaning solution smells like.

Oh, the naivete. It turns out that it DOES matter, it matters a lot, because this cleaning solution was, while effective at its job, terrible in the scent department. It smelled like a chemical factory mixed with formaldehyde, which is not a scent I enjoy, nor is it one that I associate with “spring-fresh.”

And yet, I kept on.

I continued to use the abhorrent-smelling-but-effective cleanser, and every time I did – three times a week, because that is how often I clean my bathrooms – I would hate it. The bathroom would smell like a chemical factory with formaldehyde for hours afterwards, THREE TIMES A WEEK. So for a large part of the week, I basically hated my ill-scented bathroom and everything else around it.

Now, at this point, you might be saying, But Nicole, when you Kondo’d your life, you realized that saying goodbye to things that do not spark joy is the key to happiness and tidiness. Why did you not just get rid of the bathroom cleanser and buy another one, in a non-offensive scent?

Why indeed? Well, as it turns out, I can get rid of lipglosses that do not suit me after only one use, I can get rid of ill-fitting clothes that originally cost a tidy sum of money, I can donate an entire lifetime’s worth of compact discs because of Spotify, but I cannot get rid of any kind of household cleanser. I know! It was $2.99 worth of cleanser, that I used for MONTHS AND MONTHS, and yet I continued to use it until the bitter end.

Sure, I could have poured it down the sink, and although eventually that is where the cleanser all goes, for some reason I felt like that was environmentally unsound to do so all in one shot. Ultimately, though, it is probably to do with my Scottish ancestry. I also keep using hand soap until the soap itself is a centimetre long and a millimetre thick, and my long-suffering husband throws it out. I flatten toothpaste tubes until not another drop can be extracted, I keep shampoo and conditioner bottles upside down, probably using a ton more water in the shower as I violently shake out the last drops.

Once, I was watching a Shark Tank episode with my kids, who love that show. On it was a woman who had invented something called the Spaddy Daddy. It was a long, thin spatula that could be used to scrape out every last ounce of body wash, conditioner, or liquid soap out of a bottle, and all I could think was Brilliant. This woman is a goddamn genius. She is my people. I do no think the Spaddy Daddy is available in Canada, but it is clearly the greatest idea of our generation.

Side note: why has no one ever invented a nail polish in which the brush goes all the way to the bottom? It is impossible, not to mention eminently frustrating, to get any nail polish out of the bottle once it is less than 1/3 full. What a waste. Someone told me that this could be solved by putting nail polish remover in the bottle to get the last bit out, but that seems to me that it would compromise the integrity of the nail polish, and so I have never tried. Instead I throw the bottle in the trash, 1/3 full, a little harder than is necessary.

All of which is to say that I could not, and would not, throw out the gross-smelling bathroom cleanser, but this week, I FINISHED IT. I have started on a new, citrus-scented one, and my quality of life has improved immensely.

Accomplishing Things and Reading Motivational Quotes

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You guys, the Mayday tree is budding, the tulips are up, all sorts of hardy plants – yarrow, daylilies, ornamental sage – are making their appearance in my backyard, and today it RAINED. Do you know how rare it is to get rain in Calgary in April? Usually it’s snow. I feel like I’m in some exciting new world where winter doesn’t last eight months.

Now that I’ve said that, it will probably snow tomorrow.

Similarly, I realized that it has been over a year since I was last ill. I made it through the entire winter – including close-quartered yoga teacher training when a number of my fellow students were hacking up lungs and feverish – without getting sick. I thought, perhaps I should write a post about that, but then decided that was hubris, and in doing so I was guaranteeing I would be immediately struck down with the bubonic plague. So this brief mention is all you, dear reader, will have to endure. In any case, my “stay healthy” regimen consists mainly of daily smoothies containing 8-10 cups of spinach, washing my hands like a surgeon, never directly touching doorknobs, and having children who are no longer mobile petrie dishes.

I currently have five library books piled up on my side table; four of them came in within two days of each other, and the other one was a title I picked up on a whim, so I’ve been reading a lot. I finished What Alice Forgot, and while it wasn’t my favourite by that author, it was certainly thought-provoking. The premise is a woman falls and hits her head and is suddenly missing the past ten years of her life; she doesn’t remember her children, her friends, her impending divorce.

If you woke up tomorrow with no memory, none whatsoever, of the past ten years, and had to just reintegrate into your regular life, can you imagine what that would be like? Imagine if you still thought you were the same person you were in 2007. It boggles the mind. I had only just started practicing yoga in 2007, I wasn’t 100% vegetarian, I didn’t have a blog, and I looked a lot like this:

Well, I FELT like that, anyway, since I hadn’t slept through the night since 2003, and by that point I was pretty tired. I really looked like this:

Whatever happened to that denim jacket? I guess I donated it; I barely remember it.

Anyway, it’s an interesting thing to think about, if you just erased the past ten years. All the friends that you would have made in the past ten years, you’d have no memory of. The children’s school years, family dramas, deaths, home renovations, etc., all of those would be GONE. My god, I wouldn’t even remember Barkley. I would just suddenly be thrust into a home with a super cute fluffy dog who insistently nudges me when he wants to be petted, and begs for carrot ends.

Well. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.

It’s been a real Get It Done week in the Boyhouse. I don’t know if it’s post-vacation energy or the fact that I’m reading motivational quotes, but I have been Down To Business around here. You know those little jobs that take hardly any time, but are annoying and you hate them? I’ve been doing all those jobs! And I have to say, it is incredibly Empowering (motivational quote-inspired) because damn, now those stupid little things are Done. Going through the pile of mail and filing things and recycling others, picking up boring items at Walmart, vacuuming the stairs. That kind of thing. I feel a vast, and probably greatly overstated, measure of accomplishment in doing those little chores.

I will confess to one of the stupidest jobs that I always put off; I hesitate to even call it a “job” because really, it’s almost nothing. I don’t think this can even qualify as a job, but here goes: Sunday nights I make a big dinner, and usually there is gravy. My gravy boat resides in the cupboard above the fridge, and every Sunday night after the dishes are done, I just let the gravy boat sit on the counter for a day or two before I put it back, because it seems like too much work after all that cooking. Because pulling a chair two feet and then getting on the chair and putting the gravy boat back in the cupboard is just a Bridge Too Far. But having the gravy boat on the counter is incredibly annoying to me, and I keep thinking to myself, all Monday and Tuesday, I need to put the gravy boat away, I need to put the gravy boat away, I need to put the gravy boat away, before I finally do it.

This is a long and boring way to say that last Sunday I just PUT THE GODDAMN GRAVY BOAT AWAY ON SUNDAY NIGHT and honestly, it was – is Life-Changing too dramatic? – Life-Changing. I mean, I have to do it anyway. It takes literally thirty seconds. Why do I aggravate myself by not just doing it? This thought spiraled into other areas in my life. Why put off something that can be done right now, and get it off the Giant List of Things To Do? Why have something as stupid as a gravy boat hanging over me? FREEDOM.

So, I urge you, dear reader: go DO IT. Do whatever it is hanging over your head. Do the thing on your to-do list that will take no time but you don’t want to do it. Make the phone call. Schedule the appointment. Just Do It And Then It Will Be Done, is my new motto. It is incredibly Freeing, I tell you.

Just in case you’re wondering, no, no one else in my house will put away the gravy boat because I have somehow created a Reign of Terror around putting things away incorrectly in the kitchen. I know! I need to figure out how to rectify this issue but in the meantime, Gravy Boat Serenity rests on my shoulders.

The hardest part is getting started

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It’s frigidly cold right now; cold enough for me to drive to pick the boys up from school, when they normally walk home. While I was waiting at the junior high, two girls walked by in the snow, purple and shivering, dressed in ripped skinny jeans, light jackets, and running shoes with no socks. Girls! It’s minus 24! Put on some socks. I had to restrain myself from grabbing the unknown girls and wrapping them in my car emergency blanket.

Last night was the junior high school play and I had promised to go. I was supremely grumpy at the thought: not only was I exhausted, but the thought of going out in the cold and snow AGAIN was too aggravating to even contemplate, not to mention that neither of my kids were actually involved in the play. However, their friends were, and they really wanted to go, so I put on my best Adult Attitude and my favourite lipstick, and drove over to the school. I am happy to report that The Little Mermaid was actually very delightful, and I was impressed with the quality of the singing and set. The boys’ bestie was in one of the biggest roles, and he rocked it. Best of all, I was home by 8:30, so I consider that a massive win.

The whole evening reminded me that, as for everything – exercising, attending something you don’t want to, cleaning up the kitchen after a massive cooking-fest – the Hardest Part Is Getting Started. I’m almost always happy to have Done Something, even when I Desperately Do Not Want To Do Something.

Speaking of things that I’m happy to have done but desperately did not want to do, yesterday I went bathing suit shopping. I know! I wasn’t supposed to buy myself any clothes until my birthday but a) I have been very good about this and b) needs must, sometimes. I needed a bathing suit and for various, uninteresting reasons, I found myself in a bathing suit deficit situation. So I took a deep breath and off I went.

Now, I have no issues with my body. I like my body. I am in the best shape of my life, including those years in university when I went to five step and boxing circuit classes a week, followed by weights and a quick turn on the Stair Master. And still, bathing suit shopping is agonizing.

I think part of it is the lighting. Why is the lighting so poor? Is it like a cult, or prison, where they just want to break your spirit so that you just desperately grasp at anything that fits moderately well, just so you can leave? Another thing is the selection. I went to La Vie En Rose Aqua, and in general I like that store very much. Their online store has a ton of selection but – as I am finding is often the case – instore is a different story. And much as I’d like to just buy something online, with bathing suits it can be tricky, if not impossible. The salesgirl, who was young enough to be my daughter, and not in a “teenage mother” kind of way, either, kept offering to call other stores to see if they had certain items in my size, as if it isn’t actually 2017.

Anyway. I did end up with something I’m very happy with – a black bikini with polka dots and a bandeau-style top – so all is well that ends well. I went into the store thinking I would step way, way out of my comfort zone and buy a NAVY bikini with white polka dots, based solely on the fact that my friend Liv (HI LIV) thinks I should wear more navy, or “black light,” as she calls it. Hilariously enough, her opinion on that stems from this photo of me in my swanky navy mammogram gown. Discovering your colours vis a vis mammogram gowns! But I do agree that it IS a good colour on me, but as soon as I tried on the navy bikini I knew I couldn’t do it. What can I say, colour and I have a shaky relationship. But you knew that already.

Another thing about bikini shopping specifically is that there are two types of tops: those for the busty, and those for the less-gifted. One semi-unpleasant realization, as a Less Gifted Girl, bikini tops geared towards Our Kind seem to be all padded. Sure, you can remove the padding, but who is going to do that in the change room? It is startling, to say the least, to become some kind of Mrs. Robinson-type while trying on bathing suits. I mean, suddenly I had a rack to rival a Victoria Secrets model, in stark contrast to my Sophia Petrillo face. It’s kind of tempting to keep the massive padding in but my bikini goals are now to be comfortable and relatively attractive, but not in a way that will embarrass tween boys. Thus, the bandeau-style top.

And while we are on Unpleasant Topics, it is time change this weekend. So, gear up for a week of crabbiness and general ennui. There is an MLA who has put forth a motion to abolish time change in this province, and I will say that I never thought I would be so positive about our current provincial government. I can’t even go with the semi-sarcastic saying about a blind squirrel getting a nut, because I am so thrilled with the mere possibility. YOU GUYS THIS COULD REALLY HAPPEN! My angst about time change for all these years may be coming to an end! I can’t believe it either! The sham that is time change MAY BE OVER.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: It’s The Little Things Edition

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We said goodbye to my father-in-law this week. He passed away after a long illness and will be very much missed. To many people he was a larger-than-life character, the life of the party, a legend, but to me he was the man who welcomed me into the family with open arms. He and I spent a lot of time sitting together on the deck, sipping Palm Bay and chatting. Sometimes we would just sit in companionable silence.

So it’s been a sad and stressful few weeks. Have you ever noticed that when you’re having a sad and stressful time, it’s the little things that do you in? Silly things like discovering that the boys’ non-jean-pants were all three inches too short, and that I accidentally put a hole in my brand-new black medical grade support stockings were enough to make me want to curl up in a ball on the floor. It’s funny how the little things can get you down when there is a world of much bigger things going on.

But just like little things can get you down, little things can also lift you up, and so I’m concentrating on all the happy, joyful, and ridiculous things that are going on in my world, right now.

How Much Are The Posters

It feels like a lifetime ago, but the Book Fair was just last week and we raised $3600 for the school library, as well as the ELL and home reading programs. Even more notably, the New Book Fair Lady did it all herself – I only had to work a couple of shifts and count money – and she did a fabulous job (HI HAYDEE). This is my second last book fair, and, happily for me, the shifts I worked were extremely poster heavy. It seemed everyone wanted a poster, but more importantly, they wanted to know how much were the posters. Haydee had put up signs all around and yet I was asked the question an incredible amount of times. Perhaps Scholastic has been reading this blog, because they sent three times as many posters as they normally do, and so not only was I asked was the kitten poster five dollars too, what about the one with doughnuts on it, and the one with Rey from Star Wars, was that five dollars too, I also had to search through three giant boxes to find the appropriate one. Not that I’m complaining. I’m going to miss those questions one day. Maybe.

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Notice the slightly passive-aggressive wording – “EACH!” – at the bottom. Yes, each. Each poster is, in fact, five dollars.

 

A Celebration of Superior Workmanship

My friend Lynn (HI LYNN) wrote a post wondering if shopping at Costco does indeed save you money, and oh, Lynn. How much time do we have? Not enough. In short, I shall direct you to my post from nearly three years ago, The Stages of Costco, which is something all of us membership holders need to go through. I STILL have the plastic wrap I refer to in that post from January 2014.

But what I really wanted to talk about was the fellow who packed my cart, the last time I was there. In the spirit of there are no small parts, only small actors, I appreciate very much when someone puts their all into their job, no matter what that job might be. And so I say bravo to the Costco employee who packed my cart in such an amazingly efficient way that I not only complimented him on a job well done, but also pointed it out to the elderly fellow who checked my bill upon leaving. Longtime readers might be amused to know that the bill-checker at the door was the same one who flirts with me by saying that redheads are his favourite, and he loves my smile. Aw. Flirting with elderly men while shopping for groceries is my favourite too!

Look at this cart! It’s a thing of beauty. Well done, sir. Well done.

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Sailors Take Warning

This time of year can be a wee bit depressing, what with the sun setting at 4:30 in the afternoon and not rising until after eight in the morning. But occasionally the sunrise will make up for it all. Now, even in the midst of summer I am up before the sunrise, but there’s something about the cold winter morning sunrise. The other day the entire world was bathed in pink – sidewalks, frosty lawn, it was all pink.

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Do I Need A Title?

I have been very very good about not buying myself anything since Kondo-ing my house, but I am still of the old-school people who use paper agendas, daytimers, and calendars. While I was Christmas shopping a few weeks ago, I saw this and decided I needed it to hang by my desk for 2017.

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We learn from the horses, people. Strength does NOT come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will. Let us all learn from the yogi horses.

Usually I have a Canadian landscape calendar by my desk, but that was before I knew about Horse Yoga.

Get Your Asana In Gear

I am a mere 36 hours away from becoming a Registered Yoga Teacher, and to celebrate, my husband bought me two t-shirts. I wore this one to Yoga for Stroke Survivors yesterday, a class my friend Sharyl (HI SHARYL) has been teaching, and that she has graciously allowed me to assist with.

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Honestly, it is my New Favourite Shirt Of All Time.

New Toothpaste (Not An Ad Nor Sponsored)

You know what’s ballsy? Buying toothpaste at Costco. Well, let me rephrase that: buying NEW, UNTRIED toothpaste at Costco. It’s a real commitment; you could find yourself brushing your teeth for the next four months with sub-par toothpaste. I have done that before, suffered through a toothpaste flavour I abhorred just because I had four tubes to work my way through. Thinking of it now, I should have just donated to the drop-in centre or food bank, but hindsight is 20/20 people. Anyway, I usually buy a four pack of Crest 3D Whitening, because coffee, but I rolled the dice and purchased this:

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It is like having my teeth massaged by minty fairies. It’s like having a haven of freshness and white teeth and unicorns and happiness, all in one little tube. I mean, do these look like the teeth of someone who regularly drinks 8 cups of coffee each morning, plus red wine on the weekends?

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Ah, it’s the little things. I have also been trying out a new eye cream, but that is a whole other post. For now, I’d like to know what little things make YOU happy? Tell me everything. xoxo