Category Archives: Living La Vida Hygge

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Brought To You By The Letter C Edition

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As I was putting together my Favourite Things this month, I realized that all of them started, or sort of started, with the letter C. So many C words! But not this C word:

My friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) sent that to me a few years ago and I think about it constantly. Every time I feel grumpy or irritated, including but not limited to around the holiday season, I think I’m a cunty reindeer topiary today! It is immediately cheering.

So I guess that IS kind of one of my Favourite Things.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Brought To You By The Letter C Edition

Correcting The Crepe

Listen, I am a Lady of a Certain Age, and while I do not, Nora Ephron-like, feel bad about my neck, I also don’t feel great about it. I mean, it’s fine. When I smile fully all the ligaments pop out like a striated tree trunk, and it’s slightly shadowed by jowls, but in general, it’s fine. It’s a neck. Nothing is going to change those features.

But I do want the skin on my neck – and decolletage – to be as smooth as possible, and so I was influenced by a podcaster to buy this cream from Gold Bond:

I must tell you that the influencer in question is in her thirties and so I question how much crepe she is correcting, here, but I have been using this for the requisite (for me) three months, and I can say that I do see a difference. I apply a little to my stomach and lower back as well, and I really think my skin is much softer and less crepey. At the very least, it’s extremely moisturizing and also unscented, so it would probably be great for anyone suffering from winter-dry, sensitive skin.

Caffeine, Inside and Out

There are people who don’t mainline caffeine like their lives and the lives of their loved ones depend on it, and there are people who don’t wear mascara. I salute them all. However, as we all know I am an addict of both items. In addition to drinking vast amounts of coffee every day, I also like to use it in my skin care routine, specifically in my daytime undereye cream. I used to exclusively use The Ordinary Caffeine Solution, but a few months ago I bought Neutrogena’s Caffeine Undereye Cream SPECIFICALLY because I got PC points for Neutrogena products at Superstore.

Does it work? I have no idea, because I do not know what I’d look like without using a caffeinated undereye cream. But it has a nice little tingle to it and my undereye bags do not look like steamer trunks, so I will take it as a win. I do have little wrinkles around my eyes but, as esteemed beauty editor Val Monroe says, those are the least unbeautiful lines on my face.

Casing The Joint

Speaking of the letter C, my beloved Aunty C (HI AUNTY) has been gently after me for years to use a silk pillowcase, and for years I have gently ignored this advice because I am half Scottish. I already have a pillowcase! I would think, in a miserly manner, looking at the price of silk pillowcases. Plus, if you have one you have to have two, as they are hand-wash-hang-to-dry items. What am I, made of money? However. Blissy had a wild Black Friday sale, and I quickly consulted Aunty C to get her opinion on the brand. She mentioned that a couple of other brands had a better gromme count, something I have zero knowledge about, but, as she says, at the end of the day, the sale wins. I crossed the Rubicon, so to speak, and she was right: I’m never looking back.

Not only do I see an improvement in my skin and less hair breakage, but it’s also cooler, and I think we all know that Ladies of a Certain Age enjoy a bit of coolness in the bedroom. We are Hot Stuff, literally and figuratively.

Plus it comes in such a cute little box! What I wouldn’t have done for a handy little box like this when I was a kid, in which to keep treasures and doll clothes and whatnot. I have saved the boxes and maybe there will be a treasure that needs a home.

Creatine-ing a Monster

My husband and sons have used creatine “for gains” for a number of years, and I was always quite critical of this. My husband would assure me that creatine is “the most researched supplement on the planet” which is probably true, because men. However! I dug in my heels and argued against it, and my argument was an unresearched “that’s stupid.”

Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Just like everything I have viewed through the Judgmental Lens in my life, this has come back to bite me. It all started when my husband started telling me about new research regarding perimenopausal women and creatine, and how many benefits accrue from its usage, including increased bone density. And that, right there, is my kryptonite. I feel that I spent my prime bone-building years neglecting my poor skeleton, if not outwardly abusing it. I have been trying very hard to make up for those lost years, and so I now grimly scoop some creatine into my morning BCAA mixture.

I’ve been using this for, again, three months, and I really have gotten stronger. The econometrician in me would like to note that it is impossible to net out the changes from regular strength gains through the routine I’ve had in place for the last five years, as I am not living a sliding-door kind of double life. However, I have noticed a real increase and that makes me and my skeleton happy.

Cardio Queen

To me, there are few things less interesting to read or write about than the details of workout routines, but I got a very fun, workout-adjacent question in my Ask Me Anything from Lindsay (HI LINDSAY): How do you select your Peloton classes? Do you plan them in advance or go with vibes on the day?

This summer will mark six years since my husband, in what can only be called an act of self-preservation, rearranged our basement in order to fit the Peloton which he had ordered for me. It is never a chore for me to do my nearly-daily ride, and that is because I have a very specific, very joyful way of choosing them: I have a backlog of “bookmarked” rides based on the instructor and the playlist. Over the past six years I’ve developed a roster of favourite instructors based on general vibes and class programming (more climbs, fewer sprints): Ally, Cody, Hannah, and the entire British team. I rarely, if ever, take classes outside of that roster. But that’s not enough – I am very motivated by music, and so I always check the playlist first. My preference are “decades” rides, specifically from the 80s and 90s. If there is a disco ride? I can’t hit “start” fast enough!

I typically have a length of time in mind based on the day of the week, and so I look at the bookmarked classes and choose one. To answer Lindsay’s question, it’s a little bit planned and a little bit vibes, but it’s always great music and a fun, usually but not always British, instructor.

Sweaty selfie! Disco ride! Strange neck ligaments! This photo has it all.

Outfit of the Month

I was toying with discontinuing my favourite monthly outfit, but you know what? I love seeing other people’s clothes and so I’m going to keep it up for a while yet.

I have a few girlfriends – Florence, Carolyn, and Darlene specifically (HI FLORENCE HI CAROLYN HI DARLENE) who wear a lot of white and they look like snowy foxes. So crisp! So lovely! And I love the way I look in white so I always want to emulate that Snowy Fox Look, but practicality must, occasionally, prevail. All these gorgeous women go about their days in white tops and even white pants, looking fresh, and I do not know how. I know if I so much as buttoned up a pair of white pants, seconds later Rex would lean against me after rolling around outside, or I would sit in something, or I would immediately spill food or drink, or I would suddenly and unexpectedly experience an epically heavy rogue period. But every once in a while I throw caution to the wind and put on a white top, like this sheer Lululemon one with a white-and-grey striped tank underneath, a grey cardigan for warmth, and jeans.

But of course I spend ages in the kitchen every day and so I try to keep things pristine with an apron; this one was brought from Scotland by my parents many years ago.

Sadly, at dinner I managed to somehow spill salsa on my sleeve, rendering the apron useless for the intended purpose. I guess one of my Favourite Things is also Oxy Clean, for such occasions.

Friends, I am taking a blog break for a couple of weeks, and when I’m back I will have news, stories, and adventures to share. Take care of yourselves tenderly, and I will see you all (C you all?) in February. xo

Nostalgic Festive Chaos

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I love looking around other people’s houses, and I love seeing all the little touches that make a house a home: photos and artwork, knickknacks and book stacks, colour and materials and furniture. I particularly love it during the holiday season when I think homes reflect the personalities of the inhabitants. My personal theme for holiday decor is Nostalgic Festive Chaos. Nothing need match, and indeed, it’s preferred if it doesn’t!

My tree in particular is a historical record of our family. We add at least one ornament every year, something that speaks in some way to the year that has passed. When the kids were younger, my parents would give each of them an ornament that would also reflect their interests that year, which means we have everything on our tree from Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Tank Engine to Roman Reigns as a snowman, the latter of which careful readers might be able to discern in the photo above.

Every ornament has a story; sometimes the stories are simply that I took my preschoolers on an outing to Walmart and we ended up with stuffed decorative snowmen, and sometimes the stories are more involved and emotional.

The Santa in the middle came from Rome, the white and red ball in the very bottom right-hand corner came from Tofino the year of the Vancouver Olympics, and the ball beside the snowman came from my best friend Jen (HI JEN).

This year’s new ornaments came from a ceramics factory tour in Fes: the goat and the hand of Fatima. My friend Sandi (HI SANDI) brought me that snowman with a Scottish cow from her trip to Scotland; she has the same one, so when I look at the ornament I feel extra connected to her. My sweet friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) sent me the handmade gnome, my friend Sharyl’s husband (HI SHARYL) carved the little snowman in the bottom left corner, and the Clue ornament came from my parents, after many, many games of Clue with the boys at their house one summer. Each of the four snow globes has a family member’s name on it, and the narwhal was our ornament from 2020, because I could not bear to have anything on the tree that reminded me of masks or Covid or isolation. A narwhal seemed much the better choice! Bye Buddy! Hope you find your dad!

One of the most marvellous things about having children is that their personalities are all their own. One of my sons dutifully hangs all his childhood craft ornaments, most notably the kindergarten photo of him in a Santa hat mounted on a CD and surrounded by glitter, but he puts them on the very back of the tree, unperceived by anyone. The other son insists on having his preschool angel in the most visible spot on the tree. Every year we laugh at it, because the face. The face is like something out of a horror movie. This year it’s next to our Barkley ornament, and close to Bob Ross, even if it is as unartistic as can be. I love how different my boys are in this respect. It’s like the New Year’s that they came home from the same party: one of them was the designated driver, who made sure everyone got home safely, and the other one was missing his shirt.

Twenty-five years ago, my husband and I were visiting his parents and I gathered these gigantic pine cones from this very property, so it feels very full-circle to have them on the table in this house. I have displayed them in this bowl for twenty-five Christmases now.

I have had this Nativity scene for even longer; I bought the figures in Mexico in 1997, and every year setting up the creche is an event. The gnome in the background was given to me by my friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) on the first Christmas we lived here, and behind the creche is a bowl of rocks and driftwood from a long-ago trip to Vancouver Island, which is displayed year round, and to which I add some ornaments from my husband’s childhood. I have to be careful though, because ornaments from the 60s are VERY fragile. I have, sadly, shattered a few accidentally.

In my last office Christmas party before resigning, the executive assistant to the CEO had made – by hand – one of these felt snowmen for every one of the 150 people at the party. The work that went into that astounds me, but then, I am unable to even sew on a button, as evidenced by the missing buttons on these fellows. Buttonless or not, I display them every year in honour of my former career and for the tireless woman who always went above and beyond in every way. The vase and candlesticks were wedding gifts from my husband’s company, and I like to fill the former with ornaments that are missing hooks or are otherwise unsuitable for the tree.

I had many worries when we moved into this house two years ago, and one of the most consuming worries was where are we going to hang the stockings. I definitely had better things to worry about than not having a mantel, however, I will say that I am pleased with this stocking placement. The low-key Advent calendar was bought on one of those I must get out of the house with preschoolers trip to Walmart, to ceremoniously count down to Christmas.

Last, but definitely not least in this tour of Nostalgic Festive Chaos is this pair of candles that I purchased from London Drugs in 1999 for our new apartment. The snowman has a bite taken out of his hat, courtesy of my then-teething older son, when he was eight months old.

Speaking of bites and chaos, this weekend was our Annual Gingerbread Decorating.

Weekly Reading

HOLD ONTO YOUR HATS. This week’s list is CHAOS.

Wild Dark Shore. Wow, what an ending! There are so many twists in this book and I didn’t see ANY of them coming! My friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE), who loved this book enormously, warned me nervously that it is “dystopian-adjacent” and it IS. It is just teetering on the edge of dystopian which, of course, is something I avoid at all costs. Why, though? Suzanne asked me what it is about dystopian novels that are a big NOPE for me, and I really had to think about it. What is it? I think it’s the despair and the futuristic feel. I also think that climate-change dystopian novels – of which this is one – give me anticipatory anxiety. The thought that this COULD happen is really, really scary for me and I’d rather not read about it. HOWEVER. Like she said – and I agree – this is more dystopian-ADJACENT, and if the story was not so compelling and the writing so beautiful, I probably would have abandoned it. The story itself, and the message of a family fighting for each other, and the hope that goes into just living when the world around you is being destroyed, was a message that I really liked. The twists and turns were also so well done! So while this is a book that is upsetting in idea – people taking care of a seed bank off the coast of Antarctica, seeds that are being saved for the end of the world as we know it – the story itself was both beautiful and thrilling.

The Face on the Milk Carton. Another one from my friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE, again) who had read this with her daughter. What happens when a girl recognizes her younger self as a “missing child” on the side of a milk carton? Was she kidnapped? Memories start to surface for her and she seeks the truth. This is a YA book and I would say it’s for slightly older tweens, as there is a surprising (for me) amount of sex talk between the 15 year old protagonist and her boyfriend. Actually her boyfriend is a bit of a sex pest, which feels accurate. I remember this phenomenon from being a 15 year old girl myself in 1990, when this was published.

Wave. When I read about this book on my friend Julie’s blog (HI JULIE) I thought it was a novel about a woman who, along with her parents, husband, and two small children, was caught in the tsunami in Sri Lanka 2004. She was the only survivor. I was surprised, then, when I picked it up to see it is not a novel but a MEMOIR. And it is very raw, as you can well imagine, the descriptions of actually being swept away and then dealing with the sudden death of all her family members. Eventually the woman goes on to heal, but it is obviously very painful in every way. A remarkable story and one that is devastating. 

The Relaxed Woman. I have not felt this way about a book since I read Your Body, Your Best Friend in August 2020. I wondered if this woman and I actually share a brain and, interestingly enough, she is also an Ashtanga yogi and meditation practitioner. Maybe we are long-lost sisters! This incredibly affirming, uplifting, inspirational, and also very smart and well-researched book examines the guilt and shame that we as women are conditioned to feel when we require rest and restoration. It examines the very damaging ideal of “Superwoman,” the woman who can do it all and push through everything in order to be as efficient and productive as possible. It shows that not only is the Superwoman mindset terribly damaging to our personal physical, mental, and emotional health – not to mention our relationships and actual quality of work – but it is also damaging to feminism and women as a whole. When we refuse to take the rest our bodies, minds, and souls need, we are perpetuating this myth that we need to “earn” rest, just like we need to “earn” calories. It’s just wrong. We don’t need to EARN anything, we deserve it just by being humans on this earth. And in fact, we need it. Our bodies need it, our souls need it, our minds need it. This shows how constant “busyness” damages our physical health – including metabolism – and our minds, with brain fog and cognitive decline. The book blends neuroscience and psychology to show – without victim blaming that can often rear its head in these types of books, I’m looking at you, Dr Mate – how to journey towards becoming a Relaxed Woman. There are very practical and gentle suggestions in this book, and if I was a billionaire, I would buy one for every woman on this earth. I am not, sadly, and so I will just buy my own copy and tell everyone about it. I put sticky notes in for reference but then realized the entire book is a sticky note. I have so much more to say about this, but will write a blog post about it – but not until January, because I am RESTING.

Yes, I am resting – I am taking a holiday break and will be back for my annual roundup on New Year’s Eve. Until then, friends, take care of yourselves and I hope you all have a beautiful holiday season. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fight The Gloom Edition

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November is such a grey and gloomy month, isn’t it? As I write this, the sun rises at 7:29 am and sets at 4:02 pm, and those precious daylight hours are only going to get worse before they get better. However! November is also the month of Tiny Secret Festive Season, which morphs into Full On Festive Season, and all the happiness and light that brings to me. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. It’s not the depth of winter, not even close, but the sentiment stands. In the depth of November, within me I found some Favourite Things.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Fight The Gloom Edition

It’s Puzzle Season, Motherfuckers

November through March – i.e., the non-garden season – is unofficially Puzzle Season around here. I love a good puzzle but I definitely gravitate towards the less difficult realm. Do I want to go insane while staring at 1000 pieces of hell? No I do not. My husband is a person who enjoys wildly difficult puzzles, like the one we did of a canoe on a lake with a background of mountains, or the one of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in which every single piece was the exact same shape. I like a series of vignettes, is what I’m saying.

The completed puzzle!

My older son gave this Jane Austen puzzle to me for my birthday, and I saved it to kick off Puzzle Season. It’s a very special puzzle because the photo on the box does not contain the solution. The Puzzler must put the characters together, figure out who goes with whom, and then use the conversational clues to figure out how to arrange them for the final product.

ELL-OH-ELL Mr Darcy

You need to be a Fan, is what it boils down to.

Oh, Caroline Bingley. Go pretend to read a book.

It’s a really clever idea and it was so much fun. I tried to explain WHY it was so amusing to my family, and their eyes started glazing over.

Fun fact: I used It’s Puzzle Season, Motherfuckers for a Favourite Things last December, and it also included a Jane Austen puzzle! Will the pattern continue? Check in with me in 2026!

Oh, I’m Writing My Life Away

On the topic of Items Received For My Birthday That I Am Using Seven Months Later, my dear friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) sent me this notebook.

Mary Oliver!

I was absolutely delighted, and I knew that I wanted to save it for a special use. Right now Inhale Exhale is out for review with Clarion, which means that the process is out of my hands, as nerve-wracking as that is. Time to redirect that nervous energy and start something new!

Work in progress.

Two of the women in my writing group, Gill and Michela (HI GILL HI MICHELA) swear by Morning Pages; they say that there is something about it that really sparks creativity. I am not at the Morning Pages Life Stage yet, but I have been using Suzanne’s gorgeous notebook to handwrite thoughts about my new project in a very stream-of-consciousness way. And I have to say, it has worked. Creativity has been sparked!

On the same topic:

Isn’t that a beautiful cover? I am SO pleased with it. If you’re wondering what it’s about, wonder no more!

My publisher, Friesen Press, is a hybrid one, which means that my path to publication is not traditional and I won’t have the ability to pre-order, or to give you an exact release date quite yet. However! It will be available at all the usual bookstores, and the MINUTE I have that information, it will be here on the blog, it will be on my Instagram, it will be on Facebook, it will be sung from my own rooftop. I absolutely loved writing this, and I hope people will love reading it.

Me and my writing buddy.

She Walked Up To Me and She Asked Me To Pose…Y-O-G-A Yoga

I realize that a discussion of yoga mats might be more topical in, say, January, but in my mind ANY time is a good time for yoga. Also, it’s possible that one might want a yoga mat for Christmas, and I have very strong feelings on this topic.

As a small digression, I would like to go on the record to say that yoga truly is for everyone. No one is “bad at yoga.” No one “can’t do yoga.” No one is “too stiff” to do yoga. There are as many ways of practicing yoga as there are people on this earth. Some people do seated postures on a mat, some people do standing postures, some people sit in a chair, some people lie in savasana. And, as I said sternly to my husband and son who were watching a commercial with a football player doing a barre practice while someone jeered, no yoga teacher has ever “laughed at” a student. If such a thing has ever occurred, it has not been in my hearing, and I would posit a theory that such a person is not truly a yoga teacher. Yoga teachers are almost exclusively a gentle, loving bunch who only want the best for their students. If a person can sit quietly and listen to the sound of their breath for thirty seconds, THEY ARE DOING YOGA. Yoga doesn’t necessarily mean putting legs behind one’s head, although it can. Yoga doesn’t necessarily mean touching one’s toes, although it can. Yoga is LIFE and it is practicing loving-kindness to oneself and to the world around us, and it means leaving a room a little brighter than one found it. In this definition, I would venture to say that we are all yogis. We are all practicing yoga every day, or at least we have the potential to. Being able to touch one’s toes is a nice thing, but it doesn’t define a yoga practice.

Back to the topic at hand, which is my own personal physical yoga practice, and my mat of choice, which is a Manduka Pro Black Mat. It is expensive, yes, but it is the best mat on the market. It is thick and heavy and doesn’t move around while you practice, even if you are taking vigourous vinyasas. It gives cushion for the knees and for the sitz bones, and mine are going to go with me to my grave. My (theoretical) great-grandchildren will be cleaning out my room at The Home and will wonder why Grandma had so many mats.

Because I do have SO many mats. There are four – FOUR – Manduka Pros in this house, although one is my husband’s, given by me for Christmas one year.

My husband’s mat, foam roller, and yoga balls. I feel like a picture is worth a thousand words here.

One of the mats was purchased to leave at this house, when we lived in Calgary, so that I didn’t have to schlep it back and forth. Another was my practice mat, which I kept in a storage space at the Yoga Shala, and the other was my teaching mat, which lived in my minivan and would be taken to all the non-Shala places I used to teach. And then the pandemic happened, and the Shala closed, and my classes went from ten a week to two, and those two were taught via zoom; my need for multiple mats evaporated, but my mats live on.

The collection.

Ever since my friend Gillian (HI GILLIAN) turned me on to them in 2009, I have been a devotee of the mat cover. These microfibre covers serve several purposes: a) they keep your hands and feet from slipping by being grippier the more sweaty one gets, which is good news for a sweaty gal like myself, b) although this seems to completely contradict what I just said, it makes your feet slide nicely when doing vinyasa, c) it feels nicer than a naked rubber mat, and d) it keeps the mat clean and is machine-washable. Need I say more? And yes, I have three, one for each of my mats.

The practice space, complete with practice buddy in doughnut pose.

Friluftsliv!

A little while ago, my friend Sarah (HI SARAH) said plaintively in response to all the autumnal celebrations that fall is already really nice, what are we doing about winter? Well, what I do, and what I have done for the past five and a half years, is to embrace my half-Norwegian heritage and the concept of friluftsliv, which means that life is best lived outside. I go outside every single day and I also embrace the somewhat strident Scandinavian belief that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes. To that end, I want to talk about something that has definitely made my Favourites in the past: the bum warmer.

Walking In Winter Fashion

A woman in Calgary that I met through a Yoga Shala holiday market buys old sweaters at thrift stores and transforms them into a skirt-like item, the bum warmer, and then uses the remainder to make headbands and mittens. You would not believe the difference this makes, warmth-wise! I have three of them but this is my festive season set. I top off the look with legwarmers and a toque, and I am cozy and toasty and ready for the outdoors. It’s very hygge, and also very ecologically friendly.

You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone

To think I took something as mundane as the mail for granted for almost my whole life. I didn’t realize how much happiness sending and receiving mail gave me, particularly during the holidays, until the Canada Post strike shut it all down last year. I am a little scarred from that experience, and have been frantically writing out my cards in order to get them into the mail, just in case the current rotating strikes turn into a full-blown one.

On a recent episode of The Girl Next Door podcast, one of the hosts talked about her secret fear of getting a paper cut on her eye, and while I don’t share that particular worry, I am always concerned that I’m going to get one on my tongue while licking envelopes. Anyway.

I loved pen pals when I was younger and it’s a thrill now to have my own grown-up ones. Sometimes it’s more than a postcard or a note; last week I received a parcel from my friend Lisa (HI LISA).

Imagine my surprise when it contained a SIGNED copy of Wreck! I almost fainted. Lisa! Talked to Catherine Newman! And she signed a book just for ME! I could die. Have I read it yet? No, because I still have eleven library books that need reading. But I cannot WAIT. Thanks Lisa!

Outfit of the Month

In the spirit of shopping my closet, everything in this outfit is at least seven years old, with the exception of the jeans. It’s a whole thing with Jean. Please don’t make me relive my Jeans Crisis.

The lined coat is from lululemon, circa 2013, and the sweater is from the same place but a few years later. The boots are lightly lined and perfect for this weather right now – not too warm, but warm enough.

What are you doing to stave off the Novemberies? I know my dear friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) is celebrating Gnomevember, but I would posit that every month is Gnomevember in the Boyhouse. Tell me all your Favourites this month, I would love to hear them. xo

A Day In The Life: Saturday, What A Day, Grooving All Week With You

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Everybody’s doing it, so I will too! Day in the Life posts are abounding in my lovely blog community, and I realized that a) it’s been a while for me, and b) I’ve never done a WEEKEND Day in the Life, and so here we are. Even though I have no job, no kids who are in the school system, and a retired husband, I do like to make a distinction about weekend activities. I could probably make every day the same, but I thrive on a schedule and routine, and I like to have a different one for weekends.

Saturday May 3

3:55 am. I wake up at my normal time, but then I remember it’s Saturday! So I doze off and on for a couple of hours before getting up just after 6:00 am. Every single day, I do the same thing when I get up: I go downstairs, start the coffee, and drink two big glasses of water. After that I let Rex out of his crate and after he’s joyfully greeted me like it’s been years instead of hours since we’ve seen each other, I let him outside. While he’s there I fill his bowls and do my morning ablutions – wash face, brush hair and teeth, apply SPF moisturizer – and then go check on him. He’s still out and about, probably sniffing the resident coyote or deer scents. When we moved here I fretted so much about having no fences, but it turns out dogs really can be trained to stay within their range, and he does. He’s out there for a while this morning, so I pull out my laptop, pour a big cup of coffee, and start answering blog comments.

I’ve been taking branched-chain amino acids in the morning lately; it’s supposed to help with perimenopause-related fatigue, and I think it does. I mean, I’m very much a Placebo Effect person, so who really knows. I let Rex in after about twenty minutes, and he flops at my feet while I edit my Monday post and read a few blogs, as well as my daily Simple Abundance reading and a Mary Oliver poem.

7:25 am. Time for walkies, but before that I give the downstairs bathroom a quick cleaning. I get dressed, brush my coffee teeth, put on a little mascara and tinted lip balm, and head out with my favourite fuzzy companion. We walk by the creek, which is super high, so we take the high path instead of the more-fun, but now flooded, low one. We meet and greet a lot of the regulars, including but not limited to the man with the chocolate lab who always has a ball in his mouth, an older fellow wearing a “Canada Is Not For Sale” hat – elbows up, sir! – a couple with a fifteen-pound version of Rex, and a gentleman who refers to himself as “Grandpa” and who, every single time I see him, tells me the same joke regarding a quote from Winston Churchill and the inscrutability of women. He always says Stop me if I’ve told you this before but at this point, I’m never stopping him.

9:05 am. I arrive home to a bustling kitchen, where my husband and son are making breakfast. I make my own breakfast – a green smoothie – chug some more water and coffee, and notice how gross the floors are, even though they’ve been vacuumed and washed twice this week already. I do it a third time, wash the blender and accoutrements, call the vet to order Rex’s preventative lice/ flea/ tick/ heartworm medication, brush my now-green teeth, and head downstairs.

9:45 am. After a week of more-strenuous workouts, on Saturday mornings I like a Peloton recovery ride, so I choose a 20 minute one. Following that I give myself the gift of a restorative yoga practice with a silent meditation, and Rex tries to hold my hand while I have my legs up the wall.

10:30 am. I feel great! I drink some more water, and then Rex and I head to the garden. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon so I’m taking advantage of the sunshine to check things out. I get super excited to see that my spinach is close to harvesting already, weed a little, and then head back to the house as the clouds gather.

10:55 am. I make our bed, clean the ensuite, and change out the towels, after which I take a shower. Makeup on, hair done, and dressed, I put an absolutely enormous load of laundry in the washer, write out a few birthday cards, and read a document my husband asked me to review.

12:15 pm. I drive to the library to exchange some books and then to the vet to pick up the medication plus Rex’s expensive dental chews. I mail the cards, go to the bank, and then grudgingly to the grocery store to get eggs. I have long considered the egg industry to be terribly cruel, and to assuage those feelings and compromise with my egg-loving guys, we get a biweekly egg delivery from a local urban farm; I can see the hens on one of our walk routes, and they look happy and healthy. We get two dozen every two weeks, but I did not account for our older son being here for a transitional week between his dorm closing and moving into his new apartment. I spend some time talking to the employee about which eggs are most humane, buy ANOTHER two dozen, and hope fervently that the humane eggs really are.

1:15 pm. I’m home, and I’m hungry. My general view of leftovers is simply NO. I will not. The exception to this is Greek salad; I have lately been making a ridiculously large salad on Friday so I can have the leftovers on Saturday; I round it out with a protein smoothie, supplements, and lots of water. After that I brush my teeth and start food prep: two dressings for the next day’s dinner, and pasta sauce for tonight. Fun fact: I wrote about using my grandma’s trick of adding baking soda in order to cut the acidity of tomato sauce when I worked for YMC; this was in 2015 and so, predictably, my editor titled it Tomato Sauce: You’re Doing It Wrong. Wow, did I get blowback from that. Good times on the internet. As I reminisce about the days when you could expect an attack on your character for adding baking soda to tomato sauce, I wash all the dishes and wipe down the countertops.

2:30 pm. I practice my DuoLingo – I’m learning French and Arabic along with my Spanish – and then fold the giant load of laundry while talking to my mother on the phone. I brush Rex’s teeth and let him outside with a chew, I bake a pumpkin loaf and chop up cauliflower while drinking wine. I wash the associated dishes again, because I am spending my wild and precious life doing so, and also because I cannot abide a messy kitchen.

4:00 pm. I pour another glass of wine and settle in to read for a while, occasionally ambling to the kitchen to cycle pans of cauliflower into the oven and heat up water for pasta.

6:00 pm. Dinner time! We eat the roasted cauliflower with the internet-maligned pasta and sauce (it’s delicious), and the guys clean up the kitchen while I take Rex outside. I go upstairs to change into my pajamas, I brush and floss, wash my face, and apply my night creams along with my hand and feet moisturizers.

7:15 pm. Thus sexily attired and lubed up, I come downstairs to snuggle with my husband on the couch. We watch a movie – The Hit Man – but it’s so boring that I fall asleep for half an hour, and then when I wake up I’m incredibly confused. I watch the end, not knowing what’s going on, and then I go to bed.

9:10 pm. Good night!

I hope you enjoyed this peek into my Saturday! I’d love to hear about yours. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Jan Stan Edition

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I asked my son if people still used the word “stan,” and he said what do you mean, like the Stan countries? When I explained that no, I wasn’t talking about the Central and South Asian, mainly former Soviet countries, I was talking about describing how I feel about things I like, he tilted his head. I don’t think people your age say it, probably. Excuse me? I was listening to Stan before you were BORN. I am TAKING BACK the Stan.

I know January has been a rough, grim, and frankly terrifying month, on the international front particularly, but you know me:

And to that end, there are many things I found I could Stan in the month of Jan. I would like to go on record to say that January sunsets are truly things of beauty, and even though we still haven’t made it to 5:00 yet – tonight’s sunset is at 4:48 – there is more and more daylight and clear skies every day.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Jan Stan Edition

If I Could Turn Back Time

Where have the Cerave products been all my life? I know where they have been, inexpensively hanging out in the drugstore, so I suppose the real question is WHY haven’t I used them before now? A few months ago my skin was feeling so tight and dry with the change in seasons, and I bought this moisturizer for my first morning ablutions:

It’s revolutionary! I put it on first thing in the morning after washing my face; it’s much thicker than what I would usually use on my face, but it absorbs by the time I’ve brushed my teeth. In the summer I prefer a much higher SPF but I think 30 is perfectly fine for a) winter, b) walking in partial darkness, and c) the cloudiness that is typical of winters here.

I also purchased this product, allegedly a “serum,” but which seems more like a lotion:

I put it on before my Neutrogena retinol night cream, which leads to a LOT of tingling, but I think it actually does make my skin brighter and softer and maybe – MAYBE – even lessens the look of wrinkles. Does it turn back time? Absolutely not, but I think that’s just too tall an order for any kind of topical treatment, particularly one for less than $20 at the drugstore.

Bundt and Hustle

As I have mentioned before, I have been diligently working my way through my friend Julie’s cake cookbook (HI JULIE) since I bought it in 2022. I ran into a roadblock, though, because a number of recipes call for a Bundt pan, which I did not have until this Christmas, when my son gifted me one. This was along with a copy of Commonwealth, which I mention only because it otherwise sounds like he gave himself a Christmas gift under the guise of generosity. Also, I wanted both of those things. In any case, I made Julie’s Family’s Chocolate Cake, and instead of the ganache called for, topped it with a cream cheese frosting in order to use up the last of the four pack of Costco cream cheese I had purchased for a friend’s birthday carrot cake.

I foresee many Bundt cakes in our future. I have the pan, nothing can stop me now!

Snow Much Fun

It’s so strange to me to live in a place where in January there is next to no snow on the ground. Yes, it has snowed. But each snowfall was accompanied by a melt within a day or two. Someone recently informed me that one year it snowed here in December and that snow was still on the ground at the end of January, and my response was one of befuddlement. This was not as winterly impressive as that person thought. I’m from Calgary? Sometimes the snow from October lasts until May? But in any case there is no snow here in the valley, and so my husband and I have been occasionally driving up into the mountains to do some snowshoeing.

I love snowshoeing so much. What a great way to experience the winter. It’s fantastic exercise that takes in the beauty of nature, and it also makes me feel Wholesomely Canadian.

There is also no falling, and after I bruised my tailbone last year cross-country skiing, I am a big fan of staying upright in wintry conditions.

I Understand You Completely

I don’t know what is going on lately, but there seems to be an explosion of Pride and Prejudice merch available, and I am here for it. Before Christmas I was shopping at Indigo and although I most certainly did not need to buy myself anything, let alone another mug, I could not help myself.

Not to get all snobby and pedantic, but this delights me on so many levels. A regular, non-Jane-Austen-stan might think oh yes, there IS no enjoyment like reading and yes, we all feel that way. But it’s much funnier on a deeper level. The quote actually belongs to Miss Caroline Bingley, who is ostentatiously picking up a tome of a book in order to impress Mr Darcy. After flipping a few pages she abandons the book for other, more enjoyable pursuits. It’s a deep cut, and it makes me absolutely delighted every time I use it.

While purchasing new clothes, I came across a whole lot of Pride and Prejudice-themed items, and I immediately added to cart this sweatshirt, purchased two sizes larger than normal in order to be as cozy and comfy as possible.

I had to explain the significance of Most Ardently to my husband and son, who looked at me like Shrek and Donkey when they first hear the song Duloc Is A Happy Place. They much preferred my tee that the three of them bought me several Christmases ago:

Poor maligned Lydia. She’s only trying to exercise the only economic power women had back then. Also, we were all fifteen once, and I’m sure if I lived in that era my head would also have been turned by a red coat, even if I am a Charlotte Lucas at heart.

Paint It Black

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my girlfriends here? I adore The Golden Gals Squad; they are always up for something fun, and to that end my friend Sandi (HI SANDI) booked us in for a paint night at a local restaurant.

Credit for the above goes to my friend Sara (HI SARA), and honestly, she saw me. I was objectively the worst painter in the group by a long shot. I was there for the vibes and the hysterical laughing.

My husband, of Supportive King fame, said wow, it’s so much better than I thought it would be! I mean, me too? But the bar was pretty low. Also I’m not sure what he thought it would look like, but probably he assumed it would be tear-stained. Frankly, it looked nothing at all like the demonstration piece – for one thing, there is supposed to be a stag involved but I know my where my artistic limitations lie – but it wasn’t like I was planning on displaying this anywhere in my home anyway. I’m not Botticelli, people! This isn’t the Birth of Venus! It’s just a bunch of apparently dancing trees in a winterscape. Happy little trees! Let’s have a moment of silence for Bob Ross.

Outfit of the Month

This month’s outfit has a nice mix of old, new, and medium pieces. The polka dot tank and long-sleeve tee date from around 2017, the jeans are new, obviously, and nicely stretchy, and the cozy long sweater was purchased sometime during the pandemic. I don’t know when, as all those years blur together and what is time anyway, but I do like the sweater. It’s a perfect layer for an occasionally hot-flashy woman like myself in the dead of January, because it’s easy to slip off.

A few years ago I saw a meme about Decorative Gord Season, the Canadian version, which included a photo of the Barenaked Ladies’ Gordon album, Gordie Howe, Gord Downey, and, of course, Gordon Lightfoot. These days around 4:48 pm I start humming Sundown, which is an honourary favourite thing this month.

I know there is a lot to be glum about right now, and I personally have to completely skip over the news and even the headlines, lest I spiral into complete and utter despair. But I hope you can find a lot of beautiful things in your own little world, and I hope you found some this January. xo

One Day In Your Life…

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Aficionados of obscure Canadian bands from 1988 will certainly be singing along to that title: …shouldn’t be a problem. One day in your life, shouldn’t cause you pain. Because it’s one day that you might never be around here, and I’ll never ever see you again.

Well. That got a little dark for a minute.

My favourite day of the week is Friday, or, as I like to say to my sons’ extreme consternation, Fri-YAY. My older son says Mom in that certain way that our offspring have to say that we are unbelievably lame creatures, us mothers, whereas my younger son merely closes his eyes to indicate the psychic pain I cause him for using a term like Fri-YAY.

But it is a Fri-YAY to me, I save special treats for that day and I minimize jobs and chores, and here’s how last Friday, the final Friday of November 2024, went down.

3:56 am. I wake up and think about things until the clock strikes four, and then I get out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, where I start that pot of ambition. I drink two glasses of water, perform my morning ablutions, and get dressed in the clothes I have set out in the main floor bathroom the night before. I turn on the Christmas tree and get Rex out of his crate, which is a true highlight of my day, since he behaves as if it’s been years since we’ve seen each other. He’s like the Mary Oliver poem about starting the day in happiness come to life.

Friday is a great day in Rex’s life, because it’s Garbage Day. I grab my flashlight and coat and we go to the shed where the bin is locked up away from bears. As I drag it up to the road, he runs back and forth excitedly. After that, we go inside where I fill his food and water bowls, fill my own coffee cup, and start my laptop. This is my designated blog reading time, so if you’ve ever had an incoherent comment from me, probably the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.

5:21 am. Yoga time! I read a poem first and then meditate on it while I practice.

This is followed by a Peloton ride.

7:15 am. The sun will be coming up in 15 minutes, which is perfect timing as I don’t like walking in the dark. I rehydrate and change my clothes, put on mascara and tinted lip balm, and we are ready to go! For a change I decide to hike up Knox Mountain. There’s no snow at our house but there is a bit on the mountain, and that adds many, many minutes to our walk, as Rex eats, rolls in, and frolics through the scant snow.

9:31 am. We finally get home and I am ready for breakfast. I make a smoothie, tidy up the kitchen, and decide that I cannot abide the state of the floors – side eyeing Rex – and so I give the main floor a quick vacuum and wash.

10:20 am. I shower and scrub out my shower – I do this while my hair mask is absorbing, hot housekeeping tip – and then moisturize, apply makeup, and get dressed. I practice my Spanish to let my hair dry a little before taking the blow dryer to it. I’m on a 1006 day streak!

11:43 am. I don’t usually write on Fridays, but I’m on a self-imposed deadline to finish my second draft before January, which is when my Revise and Edit course begins. I set my mental timer for twenty minutes, and after that I treat myself to reading a couple more blogs.

As Laura and Suzanne know, once the glasses are on, it’s Business Time. (HI LAURA HI SUZANNE). Does anyone remember the Flight of the Conchordes? When you get down to just your socks, it’s Business Time. Anyway, it’s not THAT kind of business.

12:21 pm. Lunchtime! Yesterday I had made a vanilla ice cream mixture and so I put that in the ice cream maker to churn while I eat lunch. I add chopped up Oreos and consider myself a contender for Mom of the Year. I read a chapter of my current book, which is Real Americans.

1:30 pm. I have a pedicure appointment at 2, but I need to stop at the library first. I do this and later discover after I left another of my holds came in. I had put all my holds on pause when we went to Italy, and I currently have eight library books at home, plus three at the library, plus TWO MORE in transit. Oops. I have a lovely pedicure, and come home to see my husband and son in the yard putting up the outdoor Christmas decorations. Rex is out with them too and he’s pretty excited to see me. He comes inside with me where I brush my teeth, call my mother, and then come back out to be a consultant for the decorations. Should the walrus and the penguin be together? Where does the llama go? Should the snowman go under the overhead vines as a welcoming committee?

3:59 pm. This is it. This is the day where the sun sets before 4:00. I’m mainlining Vitamin D at this point. We go back inside and have Cocktail Hour: first, a chilled shot of Limoncello to sip, reminding us of Italy, and then a glass of Chianti.

5:00 pm. A knock on the door, and it’s a delivery from UPS. My dear, sweet friend Elise has sent me a package and it’s absolutely incredible. Does she know me or what?

5:30 pm. It’s time to make dinner, and it’s my favourite, the one I could eat on repeat indefinitely: Greek salad with hummus and pita. What better day to have my favourite dinner? Since I (always) make dinner, the guys clean up the kitchen.

7:00 pm. While they are cleaning up, I change into my pajamas and do my dental and skincare routines. Then the three of us watch an episode of NYPD Blue. It is a ROUGH one. If you know, you know. After that we are all kind of silent, and I read a few more chapters of my book while my husband watches hockey and my son disappears.

8:47 pm. Bedtime! I’m calling it a day. A Fri-YAY.

Weekly Reading

To The Women. I have been reading these poems in the morning before yoga and let me tell you, this uplifting collection could not be better timed! has words of wisdom about body image, aging, and loving yourself more and more as time goes on. For those of us side-eyeing our wardrobe as it relates to our newfound perimenopausal tummy, this is a really inspirational look at aging.

The God of the Woods. About halfway through this mystery-thriller about a young girl who goes missing from summer camp is this quote: “She read Walden out of sheer boredome and found herself annoyed by Thoreau: his self-regard, his tone of superiority, the way he doled out advice so obvious as to be insulting. Here was a rich person playing, thought Louise. There were poor people far more resourceful and self-sufficient than he was; they just had the grace and self-awareness not to brag about it.” HELLO. Seldom have I felt so seen. I don’t think I’ve ever had my feelings about Thoreau encapsulated so well, so that boosted the book for me right there. But more interestingly, that paragraph basically sums up the whole book. It’s a foreshadowing and a thematic statement all in one and I AM HERE FOR IT. I love when authors leave little hints like that. Anyway, this is not my usual genre, but I picked it up because it’s so buzzy right now. And even though I don’t love mystery-thrillers, I really liked this, I found it a nice twisty entertaining read that kept me guessing until the end. Damn if I don’t feel bonded with Liz Moore right now, too. Living deliberately my ass.

Real Americans. This was an interesting reading experience, a book about three generations of Chinese-Americans that deals with wealth, class, assimilation, fitting into society, and, wildly, the ethics of genetic modification. It’s also about family and making the best choices given the circumstances. I really loved the first third of the book and then I liked it a bit less as it went on. As literature, it’s quite a remarkable accomplishment, spanning decades and generations and weaving historical events into everyday life. There are some interesting questions raised: what role does fate play in our lives, what does it mean to be part of a family, is wealth incompatible with living an ethical life? It’s a thought-provoking and very well written book.

Congrats to all my friends who participated in NaBloPoMo! I saw quite a few “day in the life” posts and was inspired to do my own – waiting until December, of course! I’m always a bit reticent to do these posts – is anyone really interested in the minutia of my life? – and then I realize that I myself am fascinated by them, so why not. Next up: an AMA! Happy December, friends. xo

Seasonal Specialties

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It’s that time again!

Did I scream a little in delight at seeing them in Costco? Yes I did. Did the woman who was looking at them curiously step away in low-key alarm? Yes she did. No matter. Kalette season is absolutely glorious, and those little cruciferous treats are a glowing light in the darkness.

It’s November. We live in Canada. I said that at Sunday dinner and my older son looked at me with a forced neutral expression. Facts? he said, but I wasn’t stating the obvious for no reason. I was commenting on the very low number of daylight hours right now – and it’s only going to get lower! – no matter where one is in the geographic time zone. Right now the sun sets at 4:02 pm, which means that the world is dusky around three and completely pitch black by five. Until I moved here I had never experienced precipitation in November as anything other than snow, the musical stylings of Guns and Roses notwithstanding. However, in addition to the super-early darkness, it’s been very drizzly and grey over the past couple of weeks. What I’m saying is that I’m leaning in to coziness and light.

As an aside, a few weeks ago my friend Cara (HI CARA) mentioned that Axl Rose is an anagram, after which I read Long Island Compromise, so it feels like the Baader Meinhof effect is in full force.

We are not much of a Soup Family; I make soup at most four to six times a year. I know! I know. But we just aren’t a family of soup lovers. However, I had a baguette left over from Big Salad Night, and so I whipped up some roasted butternut squash soup – using one of my many garden offerings – and topped it with crispy roasted lentils. It was so warming and cozy.

When the guys were looking for gift suggestions for me, I brought up a cookbook that I thought was interesting, to which they responded Why? You never use cookbooks. It’s true. I free-style almost everything, including that soup, and it generally turns out well. But cookbooks are so pretty to look at!

Speaking of recipes, some of you may have noticed that my Soul, Food recipe index is no longer functioning. Longtime readers will remember that I had a weekly recipe column on the YMC website from 2013-2017. Erica, the website owner, recently retired and I did not realize this would mean that the entire site would be shut down and four years’ worth of weekly recipes would be lost to the ether, forever. I am practicing non-attachment.

One of the most popular was a recipe I make only once annually, and that is my grandma’s gingersnaps. I baked up a batch this weekend, which felt wonderfully cozy and festive. If you too wish to have six or seven dozen gingersnaps at your disposal, cream together 1 cup each of soft butter and molasses, add 1 cup of brown sugar and 1 1/4 cup white sugar (yes, it is a lot of sugar, these are cookies, let’s all settle down). Add 2 eggs and 1 tablespoon of vanilla; once that is all blended together mix in 2 teaspoons of baking soda, 2 1/2 teaspoons of ground ginger, and 4 cups of flour. At this point I put the mixing bowl in the fridge for a couple of hours, and then when I’m ready to bake I roll the dough into one-inch balls, rolling each of the balls in white sugar to coat. Bake – ON PARCHMENT PAPER-LINED COOKIE SHEETS, DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP – at 375 degrees, or 350 convection. I like a really chewy cookie so I bake them for eight to ten minutes maximum, but if you want a typical snappy gingersnap, bake a few minutes longer.

I MAY have snapped at my husband and son for snapping up gingersnaps before I snapped a photo.

The coziest, most seasonal news of all is that as of yesterday, the tree is up! I love our insane mishmash of holiday ornaments and decorations. What we lack in artistic cohesiveness, we make up in pure nostalgia and happiness. In the next few weeks, the sun will be setting before 4:00, but the holiday glow is enough for me.

Weekly Reading

I Hope This Finds You Well. Last week I mentioned my strange run of books that dealt with premature death and its devastating aftermath, and said that I needed to read something light. When this popped up on my holds list, I thought perfect. It’s billed as a “wildly funny, heart-warming office comedy.” Sometimes I think there is something vastly wrong with me because books that are marketed as “laugh out loud” funny never are to me, whereas I was crying with laughter while reading Long Island Compromise. Anyway, I think it’s a huge disservice to bill this book as a comedy because it really isn’t – it deals with trauma, depression, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, domestic abuse, infidelity, child neglect – although there are very heart-warming moments. Jolene is a traumatized, socially awkward, anxious woman who discovers through a glitch in her computer that a) her office mates are all talking about her behind her back, and b) there are layoffs coming down the pipe and she might be one of them. So it’s kind of the socially anxious person’s nightmare. It’s office politics with grown-up mean girls. There are some great messages in here: the people in your life are important, everyone has things they are dealing with, opening your heart to people leads to better understanding and friendships. Also, you know I love championing female Canadian authors, particularly debut authors, and this author is from Calgary! The book takes place in Calgary, and there are all sorts of place references in which I was saying “I know where that is! I know where that is!” and the company is “Supershops” which seems to be a play on Superstore, also a place of which I am very familiar. I love that, even if I didn’t love this book.

Margo’s Got Money Troubles. Another book that was very different than I thought it would be – but in this case, it was in a brilliant way. The plot synopsis sounds like this is a zany raunchy comedy: at nineteen, Margo finds herself pregnant by her college professor, who wants nothing to do with the baby that she decides to keep. Her mother, an ex-Hooters waitress now in a relationship with a super-religious guy, is not supportive but her father, an ex-pro wrestler, is. He moves in at the same time Margo loses her job and realizes that she had no plan for childcare or income after the baby was born. What to do? Well, what she decides to do is to start an Only Fans account, taking advice from her dad on how to create a character and market herself. Sounds like a silly romp, right? But it’s one of the most thoughtful, fascinating, ultimately heart-warming book. It’s so witty and smart, and the writing on a line level is frankly brilliant. It IS very funny, but subtly so, and the author makes a really interesting stylistic choice: sometimes it is in the first person, sometimes in the third person, depending on Margo’s feelings about the subject at hand. When she goes into the third person, it’s when Margo wants to view her younger self with love and compassion, and it’s just so powerful. As a reader, it’s a very meta experience as the book explores character development in entertainment, making it feel like we are breaking the fourth wall in a way. I had an extra jolt of enjoyment because of the pro wrestling thing: as we all know, the males in the Boyhouse are all well-versed in that world, and I had some great discussions with my younger son, as he gave me more information on different wrestlers that were mentioned in the book, their characters and backstories. It really added to the experience. As a whole, it’s an intersection between the Madonna and the Whore, it’s a commentary on women’s autonomy over their own bodies, it highlights how society views young mothers and sex workers, and it asks the question as to what is a good life, and who is entitled to it? Every character is complex and nuanced. It’s a really brilliant book. Here is a quote that left me breathless: People are all so lonely. Even when they do horrible things, if often comes down to that, if only you take the time to understand them. It seemed like that should mean the world could be better, that people could help each other, like Jesus said. And yet that’s not what happens. That hardly ever seems to happen at all. Also this: I had always thought that love was supposed to come from other people, and somehow, I was failing to catch the crumbs of it, failing to eat them, and I went around belly empty and desperate. I didn’t know the love was supposed to come from within me, and that as long as I loved others, the strength and warmth of that love would fill me, make me strong. I mean. Does it get better than that?

Speaking of things that couldn’t be better, Rex allowed me to dress him up festively, only going through three stages of grief: depression, bargaining, and acceptance.

Happy last week of November, friends. I hope you have a week full of light and coziness. xo