Category Archives: Luckiness

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Landscaped Edition

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I realized just as I wrote that title that I have a sugaring appointment this afternoon, but lest you get the wrong idea, what I am going to talk about today is NOT that kind of landscaping.

It’s full on summer and I am enjoying the gorgeous weather, although today is “coolish.” Of course, in Calgary this would be considered just a nice June day, but here it’s considered cool. Anyway, today I wanted to take you for a tour of my newly landscaped backyard – NOT THAT KIND OF LANDSCAPED BACKYARD, PEOPLE. We started the project in April and it finished a couple of weeks ago.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Landscaped Edition

Perennially Pretty

We had professional help for our yard; it was just too big and too overwhelming of a project for my husband and I to take on by ourselves. It’s a new climate, we have deer, and I wanted to have things blooming at all different times of the year. I am SO happy with the final result, and I look forward to seeing the flower beds fill out in the years to come, as all of these are perennials.

Can you spot Salvadore? Bonus if you can spy the other gnomes in this photo.
Gustav the gnome is hiding in the tree.
The old gas pump for farm equipment.
Before this was all rough grass; I originally wanted to xeriscape but we decided to put rock in along with the old farm equipment.
A reminder to go placidly amid the noise and haste.

Colour Me Colourful

We wanted to have some more colour, and so we added pots of annuals. You can see in the above photo we have a large one at the steps – by the most gorgeous purple clematis – and we put some on our deck as well.

Berry Happy To Just Veg Out

I have gotten so much incredible edibles out of my garden already (NOT THAT KIND OF EDIBLES), that I can hardly believe it’s only June. I have so many greens, you guys! It’s all salads all the time around here:

Plus a healthy dose of cilantro:

And basil:

And I’ve even harvested some raspberries, along with strawberries:

Also, garden spinach in smoothies is LIFE ALTERING, even more so than, say, getting sugared.

Just Thelma, No Louise

My lovely friend Sandi (HI SANDI) and I went to lunch and a movie last week, and I had to admit that the last time I saw a movie in the theatre, it was Top Gun: Maverick. Before that, it was Greta Gerwig’s Little Women in 2019. So what I’m saying is that I don’t see a lot of movies; mostly I find myself bored and distractable. But Sandi suggested we go see Thelma, which I had never heard of, but upon discovering it was about a ninety-two woman who gets scammed and then goes on a caper with her friend and his scooter to get her money back, well. I was IN. It was such a pro-aging delight, and I think the key to a good movie watching experience is to watch with a girlfriend, as opposed to, say, the members of the Boyhouse who enjoy action movies and things that are upsetting, like bombs exploding or guns firing.

On that note, I wanted to bring up something to see if anyone else can relate: I need spoilers, else I cannot get through a movie or television show. I get too stressed and anxious watching anything even remotely upsetting. Even with a feel-good movie like Thelma, which at 107 minutes is pretty much perfect, I was feeling all sweaty-palmed and worried. I have been known to google plots or to text my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) for detailed spoilers so I know what to expect. Anyway, Thelma was absolutely wonderful and I highly recommend it, particularly as a raised fist in solidarity to combat feelings of invisibility and irrelevance that are forced on aging people, particularly women.

Me, watching a movie.

The Vulva Shaped Soapbox

Speaking of raised fists and aging women, I don’t know if I’ve ever talked about The Menopause Manifesto. I generally use the library for most books, but some books are necessary to have on the shelf at the ready, and this is one of them. I bought it in 2021 and have been using it as a reference ever since; my symptoms have vastly (VASTLY) changed in the past three years and I have never come across any book so helpful, compassionate, and evidence-based than this one. Dr. Gunter is THE last word in women’s health, and particularly in the menopause sphere, and she rails against misinformation and the so-called fixes that are sold to women desperate to find relief from their symptoms, from the merely bothersome to the downright debilitating. It’s a must read for any woman who is lucky enough to live long enough to go through this perfectly natural, but often cloaked in shame, stage of life.

Simply Irresistable

As I said, women can start to feel less attractive and more invisible as we age, but do you know who finds me even more sexy and irresistible than before? Mosquitoes. Hello summer, and my daily walks down by the creek do not go unnoticed. I have always been a person who has been hotly pursued by mosquitoes, but these days I am even more irresistible to them. It’s like I’m Princess Di, and they are the paparazzi, but with less-devastating, itchier results. Maybe it’s because you eat so much potassium, my son helpfully mentioned, and that could be true, but my whole life I have been One Sexy Bitch to those blood-thirsty insects.

Typically I put on bug spray prior to my walk, but I forgot to the other day, the exact day I was wearing a really cute yoga tank with criss-cross straps and an open back. My entire body, but particularly my back, is now covered in welts. I happen to have allergic reactions to mosquito bites, not the My Girl deadly kind of allergic reaction, but just swelling and bruising and terrible itch. I also have allergic reactions to anything that is supposed to soothe said bites, and my friend Laura (HI LAURA) told me that she is the same way. Of course she is, we are basically the same person, except she’s American. Anyway, she suggested Thayer’s Witch Hazel with Rose, and friends, IT WORKS. I had immediate relief, plus it smells lovely.

Outfit of the Month

Remember when I mentioned that my dressy sandals were just half a size too small, and my feet were swelling and falling out of them? I replaced them with these from Skechers, and I wore them to a recent birthday party ALL NIGHT. Not once did I slip off my shoes, as is my wont. Comfort and cuteness, it’s a winning combination

Here’s the full outfit: the same black Lululemon City Sleek pants that look like real pants, but feel like yoga pants, that I have talked about at length for years. The top is from long-defunct Jacob, and I don’t know exactly how long I have had it, but I do know I wore it to my 40th birthday party, and I am now 49.

June was a great month for me, and when I compare it to the nervous breakdown of LAST June, well, it looks even better. Do you have any favourite things from this month? I’d love to hear about them. I have an interesting weekend ahead of me, including a houseguest and an adventure, and I wish all my Canadian friends a lovely long weekend! And for you non-Canadians, I hope you have a wonderful regular weekend. xo

Joy (pump it up pump it up now) Pain (keep it going keep it going now)

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Recently my husband and I were at a birthday party for a friend; a video of that party was created and shared with me. I watched it, my eyes widening, and then I watched it again. I called my husband over to watch it with me. Do I really look like that? I asked, astonished. He nodded. All the time? He raised his eyebrows and said When you’re at a party, yes. All the time.

Friends, I looked like a maniac, an absolute maniac. My mouth is wide open in almost every shot, head thrown back, laughing. When I’m not laughing – and my son, in the kindest way, I’m sure, overheard me and my girlfriends on our deck one afternoon and said we were cackling like a coven of witches – I’m smiling maniacally with all my teeth showing, hugging people and throwing my arms around people and gesturing to people to get in the picture, and just generally touching people a lot.

What can I say, I love being around my girlfriends and also, apparently, touching people.

Recently Lisa (HI LISA) wrote about joy, and that post and the associated comments really made me realize two things: either I have a really low bar for what constitutes a joyful feeling, or I am an incredibly easily-delighted person. I think it’s probably a bit of both.

I think I was about ten when my grandma gave me Emily Climbs and Emily’s Quest for Christmas, and let me tell you, I identified so strongly with Emily Starr in a way I never had identified with any fictional character before. Of course, the other books I was reading at age ten were the Sweet Valley High series, and although I thought they were aspirational, in my heart of hearts I knew I wasn’t going to turn sixteen and suddenly become an All-American, blonde, blue-eyed, size six twin who drove a red Spider Fiat to school and dated the star of the basketball team, although I did want to be the editor of the school’s paper, had the school had a paper.

But Emily! I was so very Emily, and one of my most Emily traits was the flash. I absolutely experienced the flash, a feeling of awe and joy and overwhelm in the face of natural beauty; as a matter of fact, I experience it every single day. You might think that’s an easy thing, given that this is my view every morning:

But the truth is I have felt it my whole life, yes, even in Calgary, even on the greyest, beigest, windiest days. There was always something outdoors that was beautiful, and if that makes me sound like I’m constantly dancing around like Julie Andrews singing that the hills, streets, sidewalks, and backyards are alive with the sound of music, well, I’m not NOT like that.

I get a lot of joy out of being outside; let’s leave it at that.

But there are so many other things that bring me deep joy on a daily basis: talking to my boys and wondering how they became so insanely hilarious and wonderful, hanging out with my husband, and particularly travelling with him as he is an excellent travel companion, not to mention planner, Rex, who is the canine personification of pure unadulterated joy every minute of the day, unless we get caught in the rain and end up walking 3 kilometres in a downpour. Delicious food brings me great joy, as does a perfect cocktail or lovely glass of wine, reading or writing a moving sentence or paragraph, being in my garden, eating things from my garden, and that feeling when everything is perfectly hygge and cozy, everything tidy and in its place.

Music brings me joy, all kinds of music, whether I’m playing it myself or listening to it. I’ve constantly got a song in my head – hence my dancing around Julie Andrews-style all the live-long day – and the other day I had a sudden craving to listen to an album. Other than Aretha Franklin’s 30 Greatest Hits, I never listen to albums, only curated playlists, but here I was, suddenly and inexplicably desperate to listen to the Barenaked Ladies’ debut, Gordon.

That album, so unique and original, came out when I was in high school and listening to it I was instantly transported back to 1992, singing Hello City with my friend Tracy when we were in chemistry together (HI TRACY). It turns out I remember every single lyric to every single song, even the lesser-known, more obscure ones like Box Set. Disc one! It’s where we’ve begun. It’s all our greatest hits. And if you are a fan then you know that you already got ’em.

I was feeling weird and unsettled the week before and for days after I wrote about 1988, mostly due to unpleasant memories, but also because I did something I have never done before and never will do again: I googled two ex-boyfriends. I discovered that the one I was dating during the Gordon time frame is now an executive at Spotify, and the one from 1988 is now a film critic and acclaimed playwright. Who knew? Certainly not me, and before you get the wrong idea, I will never google another ex, because a) I mostly can’t remember their last names, and b) even if I could, I would probably discover something upsetting but maybe not surprising, like incarceration or death.

I mean, maybe not, maybe all these guys are just living regular lives, but I am not about to discover them. In any case, I was telling a friend – whose name, coincidentally, is Joy (HI JOY) – at the birthday party about my general feeling of unsettledness; she looked deep into my eyes and asked in the kindest, most compassionate way if it was because I was wondering about the path not taken. NO NO, OH MY GOD, NO. It wasn’t that at ALL, I have absolutely no regrets about the dynamiting of Walnut Grove, so to speak, I love my life and wouldn’t wish it any different. I didn’t realize what that feeling was until I listened to Gordon. I may not have liked you, oh but memory is a strange thing oh, Enid? Enid I remember you.

Weekly Reading

I have a WILD variety of books this week, and I loved them all.

Bird By Bird. “You’ve never read Bird By Bird?” Laura asked, shocked, when I told her what I was reading. (HI LAURA). I know! Better late than never to read this absolute gem of a book, full of wisdom and compassion for all those trying to live a creative life. A must for all writers!

Sandwich. First of all, I have loved Catherine Newman since her Bringing Up Ben and Birdy days, and a lot of this book evoked nostalgia. She is such an incredible writer. This book really captures the feeling of a menopausal woman, sandwiched between her aging parents and young adult children; it takes place during a week they are all vacationing together at Cape Cod. It involves family secrets and lies, the wild roller coaster of emotions and feelings from being together, and anxiety and joy that comes from family. So much of this was very resonant with me. I did not expect a main story line about reproductive health and rights, but I was very here for it. A few times, reading this, I felt like my heart was going to explode. It’s very moving and very beautiful. 

Sociopath. This book was absolutely fascinating. I learned so much through this memoir of a woman who is a diagnosed sociopath. She details her struggles throughout life, the destructive ways she leaned into her sociopathy, and how doing things that society condemns – theft, stalking, breaking into houses, and even violence – allowed her to feel SOMETHING. It’s really an eye-opening and interesting read.

My husband was the main organizer of his 40th high school reunion, and the event was this past Saturday. Months ago, we were having dinner with another couple, and with regards to the reunion, the woman said to me “You’re going too, right?” When I said no, she reacted with a level of shock that was disturbing to me. She recommended, in the most serious way, that I just…go to the same location and, in her words, keep an eye on things. After I got over my surprise, I couldn’t help but feel sad for such a display of low self-worth and lack of trust in her own relationship. In any case, it sounds like a good time was had by all on Saturday, and I WAS a bit jealous, not due to any kind of romantic rekindling, but because my own 30th reunion didn’t happen due to a lack of interest. I hope by the time my 40th rolls around all that will have changed.

Happy last week of June, everyone! xo

Knocking Off The To-Do List

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Thank you all so much for your commiseration about the wildlife situation around here; I am happy to tell you that since the neighbourhood collectively locked up their garbage, Baloo seems to have moved on to greener pastures, hopefully one that has natural, non-garbage food to eat. I know things will be different once fruit season kicks in, but for now, I’m breathing a sigh of relief. Now, am I low-level on the edge in the morning, obsessively checking the windows before going outside or letting Rex out? Yes I am. Did my heart rate increase by fifty on hearing a suspicious noise as I prepared for my yoga practice, only to discover that it was my mother-in-law innocently moving her recycling bin? Also yes. I thought you were the bear! I scream-whispered at five in the morning.

Just to add to the excitement, Rex and I have taken what I call “urban walks,” as opposed to our walks along the nature paths or up Knox Mountain, four times over the past two weeks, and each time we have seen coyotes. One even followed us down the sidewalk for a while, as Rex barked and barked and I used every ounce of strength to hold him back. Do I find that incredibly unsettling? Yes I do.

This park bench is on our urban walking route, and it brings me so much joy, I cannot even. Looking at it makes those coyote encounters feel worthwhile. It’s like there is an entire story written in just one sentence; I feel like Lloyd’s bench is a book that is just waiting to be written.

Speaking of books, I have one of those five year, one line a day journals, and now that I’m on my third year with it, I’m really seeing the payoff. I consider this blog to be a journal of sorts, but the one line a day is such a good way to capture, briefly, what was going on in my life, and I can see at this time last year, I was basically having a nervous breakdown.

One of the many things causing my breakdown was the uncertainty of basically everything to do with the move, and more specifically, the change in medical care. Last Wednesday, I went to note in my journal that I had, with pride and excitement, accomplished something I have been working on for more than six months, and on that very day, one year before, my husband had received some pretty devastating medical news. Now, before we all hit the panic at the disco button, let me reassure you that my husband is still alive and thriving, but at the time, we didn’t know what was going to happen. He needed a medical procedure, and we were six weeks out from moving to a new province. We didn’t know if he’d be able to get it before we left, and if he wasn’t, what were we going to do? Come back? We’d already sold the house, the movers were booked, and once a person moves to a new province, there can be a huge, sometimes indefinite delay in getting a doctor and finding medical care.

Things worked out fine for him, ultimately, but we were still doctor-less until just this week, and quite frankly, that was sooner than I could have even hoped. I’m thrilled to check “find a doctor” off our collective to-do list. Just this week we also found a dentist, due to my son somehow cracking his retainer in half and needing a new one, and started the process to renew all of our passports.

Why is dealing with anything government-related so tedious and painful? Remember the last time I had to renew the boys’ passports? At that time I dealt with the most competent government employee who had a zest for his job that I have never seen before or since, and it was still a process and a half. I am steeling myself to go to Service Canada today, thoughts and prayers greatly appreciated.

My dad, in the most dad way possible, has gifted my husband and I, along with our sons when they started driving, motor association memberships every Christmas of our married life, and one of the perks of the membership is the ability to get professional and discounted passport photos, so off we all went to cross this task off our to-do lists. Is there anything less flattering and more distressing than a passport photo? It’s worse even than a driver’s license photo. I pulled my hair into a bun, remembering the last time, when I had to smooth and sleek my hair into oblivion, and prepared myself mentally to see myself as others see me, face in grim repose.

What I didn’t prepare for was the ego-crushing admonishment that I was “too shiny” and had to use blotting papers not once but three times before the photographer was satisfied, and then I had a “there’s something on your face” that turned out to be just my face. Fellow Gen X ladies: it is very hard to unlearn the Matte Or Death lessons of our youth, but in the interest in not looking like one of those dried-apple dolls, I have been using products that are meant to mimic the dewy glow of youth. Am I comfortable with the dewiness? No, I am not. However, I recognize that matte products, on Women Of A Certain Age can exacerbate the physical signs of aging on the skin and YES, I EMBRACE MY AGING PROCESS, and YES, I AM PRO-AGING, but I would also like to not look completely like the afore-mentioned dried-apple doll. And so here I am, using non-matte tinted serums with all the hyaluronic acids and whatnot, and I get a stern talking-to by the passport photographer that I am JUST TOO DAMN SHINY. One cannot win. And then, even with all that shine, my age is vastly apparent, like a dried-apple doll that has been brushed with olive oil. My neck, in this photo and probably in life, resembles a narrow, striated tree trunk, and my facial expression toes the line of sociopath. Well. As I said, there is no good passport photo, and I will continue to never use filters on my regular photos, to lessen the shock value of reality.

Weekly Reading

Open Secrets. After my run of meh books last week, I felt that I had to break the streak with a reread of one of my favourite Alice Munro collections. Well, they are all my favourites, how can a person choose? I have wholeheartedly loved every single story she ever wrote. RIP Alice Munro! As a side note, celebrity deaths almost never affect me, I either think the person has already died, or else I just don’t feel anything at all. But Alice Munro! She was such a gift to the literary world; she was such a beautiful talent and I feel sad she is not in our world anymore. Anyway, this collection is absolutely marvellous, two of the stories – The Albanian Virgin and Carried Away – are stories I think about literally all the time. Can anyone ever say enough about Alice Munro? I know I can’t. I love her so much, and I am sad she is gone. 

Capote’s Women. I have been fascinated by the story of Truman Capote and how he betrayed the high-society, uber-wealthy women who took him into their confidence for years. Side note: there is a TV show about this, the second season of Feud, which I haven’t watched but believe me, I will! Someday. I am not a good TV watcher. Anyway, I was excited about this book because it’s a pretty wild and fascinating story; there are some very juicy details about Babe Paley and Lee Radziwill, who I have been interested in since becoming obsessed with the book What Remains. Imagine being Capote, social climbing and being a bit of a wunderkind, and then writing a book that essentially is a lightly-veiled tell-all of these women’s lives, and then wondering why he became a pariah with them? Imagine being these women, whose whole job is just to keep marrying rich men? How could this book be anything but great? Well, I am sorry to tell you that I really disliked the matter-of-fact writing style and much of it was somehow dull and boring. Oh well.

In garden news this week, not only have we had many salads, but all my smoothies have been made with spinach from the garden and it is a life-changing event. I cannot even tell you how amazing they are. More amazing is that we have already had four ripe strawberries! The first one I photographed like one of my French girls, in several luscious positions. It was delicious.

I hope you all have a delicious week! With all my harvesting, I have been thinking a lot about food, and meal planning, and, most of all, desserts, so I’ll be sure to share all my Yummy Related Thoughts soon. xo

More Weeding, More Reading

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This is probably a strange thing to admit, because I know that generally it is a task that is dreaded and disliked, but I actually kind of love weeding. Like the laundry, or cleaning the kitchen, or really cleaning anything at all in my house (I’m currently looking with a side-eye at my fuzzy companion, due to whom we never have clean floors for more than thirty minutes), the weeding is never done. It reminds me so much of Newman’s meltdown about the mail, how it never stops. That’s how it is with weeding, the weeds just keep coming and coming.

But maybe that’s what I like about it, that there is always something that needs tending. I also find weeding to be very meditative; typically when I’m performing dull, repetitive tasks I listen to podcasts or music, but when I weed I leave my phone and earbuds in the house, and it’s just me and the weeds, with the sounds of the outdoors around me. There’s something so calming about feeling the warmth of the sun with my hands in the dirt. It’s absolutely a meditation.

This week I found myself meditating a lot on friendship, and the role of social media in our lives. I have been reminding myself of the platitude that friends come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. What is interesting to me is how social media has changed that in some ways; people who we lose touch with decades ago can come back into our life via the miracle that is social media.

I think of one of the closing lines of Desiderata nearly every day: With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. This sentiment could easily be manipulated to be applied to social media: With all its sham, fakery, and advertisements, it is still a beautiful thing. So many incredible people have come back into my life and I have met so many people on social media channels who make my life richer and more interesting.

In a way, it’s changed the for a lifetime part of the platitude, because although I might not be intimate with my childhood best friends or my group from junior high, I still feel like I know them. I know their children’s names and what they look like, and sometimes I even know what they are eating for dinner or where they are travelling to. I love that. It’s an incredible way to stay connected, and I don’t think that I would be connected with these people were it not for social media.

I fully understand the pitfalls of social media, of course, but as a woman my age I’m pretty much over comparing my life to anyone else’s. I like to celebrate when others are celebrating, I want to commiserate when others are sad or in mourning, and I really do like to see what other people are eating for dinner. I know that mindless scrolling can be not only a waste of time, but also detrimental to my attention span and general wellness, and so I apply boundaries to my Instagramming and Facebooking and I stick to them.

There is one part of social media that I fall prey to, though, and that is the advertising. Wow, am I a soft touch. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I have purchased – and, I hasten to add, absolutely loved – at least three products that were marketed to me on Instagram, and although I don’t buy a lot of things, I definitely look at the advertising reels and think about them intensely. You should see my algorithm, you guys. It’s almost entirely makeup and skincare for “the older woman,” plus shapewear. The other evening I was glancing at my feed and I accidentally mused out loud Miracle Balm, hmm, do I need Miracle Balm? The responses from the men in the house was immediate and emphatic.

My younger son: NO.

My husband: What? How many products do you already use every day? Forty? You don’t need forty-one.

My older son: You can’t stop the forward march of time, Mom.

Well, they are probably right, other than my husband’s conjecture about the number of products I use. I don’t know exactly how many I use, it depends on the day, but surely it’s less than forty. Surely. In any case, it’s true, you can’t stop the forward march of time. No matter how miraculous the balm.

Weekly Reading

There are two things I wanted to tell you before I get to the two very excellent and entertaining books that I read this week. The first is that I guest-posted over on Engie’s blog (HI ENGIE), and I talked about twenty favourite books that I have each read at least three times. Technically there are twenty-two, since I slipped Heidi and Deenie in at the end. Anyway, I wrote it a few weeks ago but since I was travelling, I wasn’t able to link up. Here it is, I hope you enjoy!

The second thing I wanted to say – and this is notable since I rarely do it – is that I DNFed a book this week. I have been trying to do this more, as I have a tendency to push through with books I am not enjoying, which is a waste of time, really. A woman in my writing group had strongly recommended a Japanese series, the first of which was Before The Coffee Gets Cold. She was so enthusiastic that I just put it on hold without looking up what it was about. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered it was all about time-travel; longtime readers will remember how I loathe time-travel as a literary device. I started it all the same, slogging through the first forty pages, and then I remembered my resolution to DNF if I am not enjoying a book. Freedom!

After I Do. Friends, I could not put down this book about a young married couple who fall out of love. It was one of the most intensely readable books I have had in a while! It was all about the little quirks that we have that are endearing, but maybe on a day to day basis become really irritating to our partners, and vice versa. It’s also about how small resentments (think: arguments about where the car is parked) can become fury-inducing, and how a lack of communication can tank a relationship. I mean, who among us hasn’t felt Hulk-level rage at something ridiculous like a toilet paper roll not being put in the recycle but instead left on the bathroom counter for all eternity? Anyway, this couple takes a year separation to see if their marriage can be saved, it’s a circuitous route that struck me as odd, but such a satisfying and engrossing read. I was so invested in these characters. Interesting note: this was written in 2014, and the author has gone on to have massive success. I have read a few of her very popular books and I didn’t enjoy them half as much as I did this. 

Happiness Falls. I don’t know what I thought this book would be like, but it wasn’t this – and I LOVED IT. What an incredibly written book with such a unique and original voice. A father goes missing and the only one who has clues to this is his autistic, non-speaking fourteen year old son. The rest of the family, along with the police, try to piece together what happened and if the son is at all to blame. As a side note, the father has been researching the notion of happiness, trying to quantify it in terms of baselines – if you come in from a cold, rainy day and warm up, you’re happier than if you never left the house, for example. It’s given me lots of fascinating things to think about. If you read this, be sure to read the author’s note on how she came up with the idea, because it’s very interesting.

Don’t worry, I won’t be exclusively writing about weeding for the next five months. OR WILL I? Will weeding become my new grocery shopping, in terms of blog topics? Stay tuned! xo

Weeding, Flowers, and Semi-Mindful Consumption

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I discovered another, only slightly-distressing but still inconvenient victim of the Big Move this past week, with all the weeding I have been doing – hours and hours of weeding, people – and that is my trusty old nail brush. I had the cutest little nail brush in the shape of a foot – and the foot shape itself was a little pumice – that dates back to the early 2000s, and, if memory serves me correctly, was in a gift box of Body Shop items related to foot care, including what I thought was discontinued, but is only rebranded, peppermint foot lotion.

Slight digression: has anyone else noticed the rebranding and repackaging of Cover Girl items? Cover Girl has really upped its game; the packaging is so sleek and pretty now, and they have a whole new “clean” line as well. I kind of dislike the “clean” labelling because it implies anything else I put on my face is mud collected from the off-leash dog park, but my beloved Aunty C swears by their new line of clean mascaras, and I feel that is a notable recommendation, albeit not one I have personally tried. I’m a Maybelline Surreal Falsies girl, as we all know.

Anyway, back to the nail brush. I have no idea if, in my stressful packing of last year, I threw it out, or if it is just another lost item, not as soul-destroying as the bookmarks, but annoying nonetheless. I think it must be the former, because nothing else bathroom-related is missing – THAT I KNOW OF – and who is to say what my mental state was at the time? I was probably singing along to Miley Cyrus’ The Climb and crying while I packed the bathroom, so it’s perfectly possible that it hit the trash. It was somewhat stained from the time my younger son had to stain his woodworking project at home and hence used it to scrub off the chocolate-brown wood stain all over his hands, so maybe I just tossed it.

Well, when you need a nail brush, you need a nail brush, and although I generally wear gloves while gardening, I somehow still get dirt underneath my nails, which is not a look I am going for. I am trying to Consume Mindfully these days and avoid unnecessary purchases, keeping in mind that my husband will leave me and my mother will disown me if I ever do a No-Shopping Year again. I chalked this up as a Highly Necessary Item and immediately ordered one, along with some new protein powder.

Late last year, both Engie and Elisabeth (HI ENGIE HI ELISABETH) recorded their beauty expenditures, in relation to what is known as the Beauty Tax, whereas the average (American) woman spends $877 on her appearance annually, whereas her male counterpart spends $592. I was completely shocked by those numbers because I blow them out of the water. My health and beauty expenditures vary wildly from month-to-month, depending on what runs out or if my pricey hair supplements have shipped, but let me tell you, as of this moment in time I am way, way, WAY over the annual average, and it’s only mid-May. The reason I even bring this up is that protein powder expenditures are “supposed” to be included in the total, which I think is stupid, as to me this is an important way to bump up my protein for my overall health, not a beauty product. Although, now that I’ve typed that out, I guess health does affect beauty, particularly hair and skin, so FINE I WILL INCLUDE THE PROTEIN POWDER. Be right back, I have to go update my spreadsheet.

In terms of Mindful Consumption, I have been really trying to use up what I have before I purchase more of any particular item, whether it be a beauty product or anything for the household like, say, chickpeas. Of course, that makes me a little anxious because as of Friday I was down to the last can of chickpeas and I used it up to make hummus, which means no more chickpeas until grocery day. This is a stressful situation to be in. What if I want to put roasted chickpeas on something? What then? I guess I would have to suffer through until Wednesday. Other than that, this is working fairly well, except that I somehow currently have seventeen bottles of Bath and Body Works lotion. Am I inadvertently hoarding? Well, I won’t buy ANY more, at least until I’m down to three or four.

I did decide to Mindfully Purge my underwear and sock drawer. It’s a strange cognitive dissonance that I can happily add one more black top to my many, many drawers full of black tops, but I have a total block when it comes to buying new socks, panties, or – and especially – bras. After a ten-minute interval in which I a) could see the state of my pedicure through my worn-out socks, b) put my (clean) fingernail through the lace in a pair of panties and ripped it nearly in half, and c) examined myself in the mirror to see that my bra cups gaped so much that I could literally stuff my worn-out socks in there, like I was a character in a Judy Blume book, I decided enough was enough. ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. I ruthlessly went through everything and then REPLACED all the worn and ill-fitting items, including three new bras. We all know my weird laziness when it comes to buying new bras, and here I am! I’m a new woman! One who isn’t wearing socks with holes in them or bras that are in need of stuffing.

On the topic of clothing, I love looking at what other people are wearing, not just for events, but for regular day-to-day living. I think you can tell a lot about a person and what kind of day they are having by what they are wearing at the grocery store, an outing to which is a huge part of my day-to-day life (only two days until more chickpeas). I love seeing elderly ladies all dressed up in slacks and blouses, with their hair done and lipstick on, and I also love seeing young moms with their messy buns, frazzled faces, washable outfits, and carts full of small people and Goldfish crackers. I love seeing people in their pajama pants, with a I Don’t Give A Fuck About Your Societal Rules look on their faces. There’s something invigorating about a person who will NOT conform to the Pajamas Are For Home canon.

The other day I passed a young man in the cereal aisle; he was wearing a ribbed white tank top, low riding jeans, and a pukka shell necklace. He also had a moustache and a mullet, and I reminded myself that I had not travelled back in time, young men are often in mullets and moustaches these days. I was marvelling about this to myself, wondering if I lived to 100 how many returns of the mullet I would see in my lifetime, when I found myself next to an older man, who was notable only for a scowl on his face and a t-shirt that read “I Tested Positive For Freedom,” which was embellished with a maple leaf.

Well. Fashion is there to make a statement, and that man certainly was, but what I couldn’t help but think was you’re still wearing that in 2024? Aren’t we done this by now? He was older, but there’s no reason to think he wouldn’t live another 15 or 20 years, and I wondered if he would still be wearing it then, and what, if any, the public reaction would be. Perhaps I’m overthinking this, perhaps it was just the first shirt he grabbed when he got dressed that morning. Perhaps he, like me, is trying to Consume Mindfully and did not see any reason not to wear a perfectly serviceable t-shirt, one with no visible rents or stains. Or perhaps he really wants everyone to know his particular outlook on life. I typically smile at or chat with everyone I encounter at the grocery store, but you know what, I just picked up the oatmeal from the shelf we were both looking at, and swerved around him silently.

Weekly Reading

I Was Told There Would Be Cake. I heard this woman speak on a podcast a few months ago, and immediately put her new memoir on hold. I mentioned this to Bijoux (HI BIJOUX) who told me that the author also had a book of essays, from around 2008. It was so enjoyable and fun, and gave me good nostalgia for life in my twenties.

The Interestings. My favourite kind of book is a character-driven book, and this is definitely that. I became very invested in the lives of the six – plus a husband – people who become friends at summer camp, and whose lives diverge fairly widely after they become adults. I love thinking about the roads that we take in our lives, how things change as we age, and this book is all about that. This is a very real book about the ordinariness of life, and how secrets and lies and bad decisions can haunt people for years. There is a lot in this book about envy, and how it can be poisonous, but also how we all have our burdens to bear, no matter what our lives look like from the outside.

Just in case you all were wondering, I did get almost caught up on weeding yesterday morning, when it suddenly and dramatically started to pour rain. By the time it stopped I was all showered and made up and did not feel like getting grubby all over again, so hopefully I will get caught up this morning. Although in the afternoon I had a cup of tea and the teabag said “The difference between a flower and a weed is a judgement,” and I will say, I felt judged myself. Judged by my own teabag.

Mostly, though, I am excited about the garden and about all the irises that are currently blooming.

Rex is excited about the grass.

May we all have such joy and excitement on a daily basis! xo

She’s Here! She’s There!

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She’s every-fucking-where! I was channeling my inner Roy Kent over the past three weeks, metaphorically speaking, of course. I did not somehow obtain massive celebrity due to my sudden ability to play football at a premier level. I was, however, on a three-province tour, and I really hope you are humming the words three province tour to the tune of the theme from Gilligan’s Island.

My husband and I have long toyed with the idea of driving across Canada, but after we moved here, reality set in. People, I do not have the bandwidth for a weeks-, or maybe months-long road trip. I don’t think my husband does either. I don’t want to be away from home that long, for one thing, and for another, I do not want to be in a vehicle for an extended period of time.

But I do want to see more of our beautiful country; I feel like I have experienced so little. Other than Western Canada, which I have definitely seen a lot of, I have been to Toronto, and that’s pretty much it. My husband and I talked at length about how to see Canada, and we decided we would fly to parts unexplored, and then drive to where we wanted to go. As we all know, I am not the trip planner in this relationship, and so my husband got busy figuring out the logistics of it all.

One of the drawbacks to moving to Kelowna is that the airport is pretty small, and direct flights are not always available, and so it was the case for our flights to Ottawa. However, we are let’s make the best of it kind of people, and so we took advantage of our flight through Calgary, turning it into an overnight to spend with friends before embarking to our capital city. The first leg of our trip we were hosted by friends, spending three nights with them and doing some light touring. The absolute highlight for me was the afternoon I got to spend with Allison (HI ALLISON)!

Allison and I have been friends for probably fourteen years, but we haven’t seen each other in person for a decade. She’s the kind of warm, wonderful person with whom it is easy to just pick up where we left off – of course, we chat at least three or four times a week, so “where we left off” is pretty recent. I arrived at her house starving, having toured the Diefenbunker for two hours – apparently memories of the Cold War from a tour guide who actually was stationed at the Diefenbunker in the 60s really works up an appetite – and she had freshly-made guacamole, freshly-baked biscuits, apples, and, of course, snack mix.

After Ottawa, we drove to the Niagara region, and by “we,” I mean “my husband,” while I navigated. Some of you may remember that my favourite wine in the world is Vineland Estates Cabernet Franc; well, the head winemaker at Vineland is my husband’s lifelong friend Brian (HI BRIAN), and, in fact, the friendship goes back three generations as their dads and grandpas were also friends and grape-growers in the Okanagan. Brian put us up in his gorgeous guest house and toured us around the vineyard and winery, showing us the special wine cellar and also the block of Pinot Meunier, the cuttings of which plants came from my late father-in-law decades ago. Isn’t that a special thing?

You can’t go to Niagara without going to Niagara-on-the-Lake, and I was so excited to see all the beautiful tulips in bloom. I had hoped to see tulips in bloom in Ottawa, which had come from the Netherlands as a gift to Canada for our country’s service in World War II, but it was slightly too early for them. But Niagara-on-the-Lake did not disappoint!

And of course, you can’t go to Niagara without going to Niagara Falls. What a wild ride that was, literally.

Niagara Falls is so funny. I did not expect to see giant dinosaurs at a mini-golf course, many fun houses, carnival rides, and wax museums alongside one of the natural wonders of the world, but here we were. We took the boat into the falls area, and then went on a guided walking tour, which ended up behind and underneath the falls.

After Niagara we headed back to Ottawa for a night; my husband thought we would take the TransCanada back just for a different driving experience, and whoa, we were not expecting an undivided two lane highway with an 80 km/hr speed limit. Well, it was pretty, if slow.

This leg of our trip was the start of our CP Hotel experience – I am a big fan of the fancy CP Hotels, and the Chateau Laurier was incredible. I mean, if it’s good enough for my birthday twin, QEII, as well as Princess Di and the Queen Mum, I guess it’s good enough for me.

We wandered around the Parliament buildings and the Rideau Canal all evening.

The next day we headed to Quebec City, and friends, I was not prepared at all for how much I was going to love Old Quebec.

Once you enter the old fortification walls to Old Quebec, it’s like being transported to a little cobblestoned town in Europe. We stayed at the Frontenac, which is right in the middle of everything, and we spent all our time walking around those beautiful streets, to the Citadel and the Plains of Abraham, taking breaks for amazing food and to warm up on the Gold Floor of the hotel, which we had splurged on.

After Quebec City we headed to Montreal, where we stayed at the Reine Elizabeth, took in the light show at Notre Dame and had the most amazing dinner.

Not to brag, but I won the medal for Top Student in French in 1988; I have not, however, used those skills since about 1990 so I had to brush up a little before we ventured into Quebec. I can generally understand French if it is written or spoken very slowly, but my conversational skills are, shall we say, poor. Having grown up in Alberta, I had this outdated idea that Quebecers would be very dismissive of English-speakers’ attempts at French, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Everyone we met was SO kind and lovely, and seemed to appreciate my non-skills. Desolee, je parle francais tres mal.

We were able to visit with my husband’s cousins, who live in Montreal, and, despite pouring rain, gave us a little walking tour. The next day we drove back to Ottawa – a total of 2390 km driven – and then flew through Calgary back home. It was a super long day and, honestly, I was pretty exhausted.

If that wasn’t enough driving, though, we were home two days before we were on the road again. This time we took Rex with us and drove nine and a half hours to visit my parents. It was my mom’s birthday, and my beloved Aunty C was visiting as well, so we all had a great time together.

We drove the Icefields Parkway, rather than through Calgary, and we ran into some traffic.


After flying across the country and driving 4000 kilometres, I am ready to be home for a while! I have so much more to say, stories to tell, and books to talk about – and the garden, you guys, there is so much happening in the garden, I cannot EVEN – but this week is going to be all about catching up on life! And also on my blog reading; I currently have 194 unread posts, which I will be getting to hopefully in the next few days! In the meantime, I missed you all. Tell me what’s going on! Give me all the details. xo

Miner Miner Forty Niner

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Yesterday was my birthday, and I turned 49. My last birthday in my forties! I have really loved my forties, and I hope this last year before I can say that I’m nifty and fifty will be just as great.

I love birthdays. This isn’t news to anyone who has known me even tangentially – I love my birthday, of course, but I love everyone else’s too. I mean, it was the day you arrived on the planet (and blinking, stepped into the sun). I hope we all have THAT song running through our heads now. Mind songs aside, birthdays are a wonderful time to celebrate people for just existing; you don’t need to do anything, you just need to be here.

I get more ponderous about life than I typically do around my birthday, which is to say very ponderous indeed. Years ago, in one of my senior yoga classes, a student said something about how this aging thing is for the birds, and another countered with at least we’re on this side of the grass. I would say that not being dead is a pretty excellent part of aging; that sounds sarcastic, but just last week I heard that a very beloved and popular yoga teacher in Calgary passed away at age 52. This is just one more example in a long line of examples of people I know whose lives have been cut too short, and I for one will never not be grateful for just being here.

I was listening to a podcast the other day, and the interviewer said something that really stuck with me: When we say “I don’t feel old,” what we are saying in essence is “I don’t feel irrelevant,” or “I don’t feel invisible.” The language that we use around aging is absolutely fascinating to me, and I thought about this all week. Our culture uses very positive language around youth, and negative language around aging – “antiaging” products to obtain a “youthful” glow, for example – and I don’t want to subscribe to that. Let’s put a little pin in that for now.

Something that is very interesting to me is how we ascribe a certain look to a certain age; for example, one will frequently hear the refrain “She doesn’t look X years old” or “She doesn’t look a day over X.” But how do we know what X looks like? There are just so many variables. Let us never forget that Rue McClanahan was 51 when she played Blanche on The Golden Girls. So who is to say how old someone looks? There are no rules anymore.

A key characteristic of being young is being unaware of the beauty that is present in ourselves, merely by being young. It is a fact of life that one does not realize just how beautiful they are simply by possessing that special glow of youth; instead, we realize it much later, at some point in the future. We are just so socialized to be constantly unhappy with our physical appearance: our weight, skin, hair, clothes, and features are all subject to criticism and are a source of deep unhappiness. How many of us were satisfied with our looks at 16, 18, 22? I would say probably none. And yet, and YET we were all beautiful, in the way that the young are always beautiful, and in twenty years we will be looking at photos of ourselves as we are right now, thinking how young and beautiful we look. I mean, why wait the 20 years? Why not appreciate ourselves right this minute?

I have been having a bit of an epiphany over the past several months; I have tried to condition myself to really lean in to the physical signs of aging. After all, I’m in a different life stage, no different from when I was pregnant and was constantly fascinated by and in admiration of my own body. Now I’m just on the other side of the fecundity spectrum, and why should that not be a time of fascination and admiration? Have I started developing jowls, and do I have loose skin under my chin that can only be described as a wattle? Yes. But short of surgery, there is nothing to be done about it, so why not appreciate my kind of melting face? Sure, I’m discovering why ladies of a certain age prefer elastic-waisted pants due to my figure becoming rectangular, and sure, my neck is rivaling Nora Ephron’s, but this is my stage of life, and I am just going to lean all the way in. Look at my beautiful grey roots!

Okay, maybe I’m not leaning THAT far in. I’m still going to colour my hair. I’m still going to use my retinol creams, my products to prevent hair thinning, all my makeup. But the point is I’m on the right side of the grass, and I’m not going to waste one more moment of my wild and precious life being unhappy with my looks.

A few months ago, someone – with, I’m sure, the best of intentions – told me, very helpfully, that every Thursday at Shopper’s Drug Mart is Seniors’ Day, and I could therefore receive a 20% discount on all purchases. I am not exactly sure what my facial expression looked like, but the person quickly said not to worry, the definition of senior is someone over 55, not 65. Now listen, there is nothing stigmatizing about being over 55, but a person wants to actually BE over 55 to be assumed that they are over 55, even for those of us working on our positive language around aging. It took me a moment, but I managed to say that I was not actually eligible for this discount, and then the conversation took what can only be described as a weird and awkward turn: they started to guess my age, going backward from 54. I stopped them when they got to 51 and said I was 48, at which point they said “Oh wow, really?”

So.

Maybe that’s when my epiphany started. Because believe you me, this conversation was not at all pleasant to me at the time, but looking back on it, it’s pretty funny. It’s also interesting, circling back to stigmatizing language, and how we assign an age a person looks versus the age that they are. This is what 49 looks like!

It looks different for everybody, of course – one woman’s 49 is another woman’s 55, evidently – but I for one am celebrating another turn around the sun.

Weekly Reading

The Whispers. I could NOT put this book down. Wow, what an incredibly told, compelling story about a child who suffers an accident and his mother who feels intense guilt about that accident. There are so many twists and surprises, and an intense, gloriously satisfying ending. This book is a real statement on the incredible complexities of motherhood, about neighbourhoods and relationships. I read and enjoyed this author’s first book, The Push, but let me tell you, this book leaves that one in the dust. It is SO well done and I am obsessed with it. What a ride!

Saving Time: Discovering a Life Beyond the Clock. I’m very mixed. On the one hand, the author’s research and intelligent points about time – how it’s measured, what is a clock and where did it come from, how do we utilize our time – are impressive. On the other hand, the writing style is very thick and tedious to me. It was a drag to read, honestly, and I don’t feel like what I got out of it was worth the time it took to read this. It was a slog.

Pete and Alice In Maine. When I heard this premise, I thought “Lucy By The Sea!” But friends, this is definitely not Lucy By The Sea, even if it is a story of a couple whose marriage is in trouble who flee New York with their two young children to their summer house in Maine, in early 2020. Now. A couple of things. It is a very real portrayal of the actual things people went through – children suddenly isolated from their friends, the inability to get toilet paper, the massive fear and sudden loathing of other people who are not behaving in the same way we are. So it is very realistic, except for the dialogue, which is ridiculously unnatural. Ridiculously. Every time a character spoke, it took me out of the story. The characters are all completely unlikeable – maybe a commentary on how people were at that time, I don’t know. The social commentary is pretty heavy-handed too. The ending is ambiguous which I usually like, but in this case it just seemed abrupt and strange. All in all, not an enjoyable reading experience for me, but who knows, maybe it will work for you.

I had a really wonderful birthday; we planted the garden, with the exception of tomatoes and peppers, I had a nice morning hike with Rex, and then the guys and I went out for dinner, coming back home for an epically delicious cake afterwards. I am so lucky.

In other news, I am taking a bloggy break for a couple of weeks, and when I’m back I will have lots of adventures to share with you! I look forward to catching up with all of you then, and so for now, take care of yourselves, my beautiful friends. xo