Category Archives: Luckiness

Eating a Rainbow: Stir Fry Night!

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Thank you EVERYONE who reached out to me after my disastrous week. Friday at 4:45 I was pouring myself a very generous glass of red, and after three (large) glasses I ended up going to sleep at 8:30 pm. My husband looked at me nodding off on the couch as we watched a documentary on travel in Ireland, and gently suggested that maybe I would be more comfortable in bed. Maybe! Maybe I would be. Zzzzz.

After a nice solid ten hours of sleep, I felt like a new woman. After all, everything was okay. The new orthodontist fixed my son’s broken bracket, and mentioned that of all the patients he has seen from the scandalous fallout of having a criminally unethical bankrupt orthodontist, we are the luckiest ones, the ones who are the least-worst-off. I am breathing a sigh of relief that I had rescheduled my son’s appointment due to his snowboard day at school; if I hadn’t done that, we would have been much worse off. As it was, I called the office manager of the interim orthodontist, the woman who had been so helpful to me during all this, and told her that she had behaved ethically and with integrity, and I was very appreciative of her. She said I was the only person who had said that, and that mostly she was dealing with, well, a mess and some very angry and distraught parents. As well you might imagine, but it wasn’t her fault.

You never know when a little kindness will help lift a person up. In the midst of all this, I baked my usual heart-shaped cookies on Wednesday; no matter what else, I felt that Valentine’s Day must not go unmarked by the baking of thematic cookies. I took some in to the new orthodontist office for the staff, and I’m not saying that THAT is the reason I was able to get my son in get his bracket fixed on the Teacher’s Convention Friday before a long weekend, but I’m not NOT saying that either. I’m just saying, being kind helps.

It’s been a short week – I can’t believe it’s already Thursday! – and it has been a good one. We had some Very Good News from a medical standpoint, which decimated my Very Big Stressor. We had two days of not-terrible temperatures, and although we are back in the thick of it, cold-wise, just having a two day respite was enough to buoy me up. Then, yesterday I was pushing my very heavy grocery cart through the not-yet-plowed parking lot at Superstore. The snow was thick and very soft, and my torso was literally horizontal as I pushed through. Effort-wise, this is the CrossFit of grocery shopping. Finally the cart got stuck and I could not budge it, not at all. It was only three cars away from my car so I abandoned it and started to take my bags and bins, one by one, to the car. A man who was in the midst of plowing the parking lot, but was in another row, noticed. He stopped his plow and RAN over to help me, dragging the cart backwards to my car. It was such an unexpected act of kindness; there are many good people in the world, let’s remember that.

Speaking of groceries, it’s time once again for Eating a Rainbow! As I mentioned in my meal plan, I make some kind of stir-fry once a week. There are three types I cycle through: Pad Thai, Thai Coconut Curry, and what is known in this house as Noodly Stir-Fry. There are two common threads in these meals: a) I use about 10 cups of vegetables for each – if you want to eat more veggies, you need to cook more veggies, is my motto, and b) the guys get sauteed chicken breast that is splashed with soy sauce after cooking. As for vegetables, I use a combination of carrots, mushrooms, peppers, and, with the exception of Noodly, broccoli.

Pad Thai

I wrote about this long ago at YMC, but it has evolved quite a bit from then. Start with the veggies, as above, and chicken, if you’ve got meat-eaters. Or “carnies” as I will forever call them.

Make the sauce: mix together 1/4 cup each seasoned rice vinegar and soy sauce. Whisk in 1 teaspoon of cornstarch. Add 3 tablespoons each sesame oil and lime juice. I also use a tablespoon of brown sugar, but I realized that I forgot the sugar this past Tuesday and no one, including me, noticed. So possibly omit. Then stir in a heaping teaspoon or maybe two of chili garlic sauce. In a large wok, pour 2/3 of the sauce over the vegetables and cook until tender-crisp – this usually takes me 10 minutes, no more. Don’t overcook unless you like soft veggies. Then add cooked rice stick noodles – I use a 250 gram package, but I think I need to up that with growing kids who love this meal and leave almost no noodles for my husband and I. I drizzle sriracha sauce over mine, and add 1/4 cup cashews and some fresh cilantro from my little downstairs grow-op. I’m using the old YMC photo because hey, I never stage my food anymore and it looks really pretty.

Don’t forget to artistically drop cashews around.

Thai Coconut Curry

To make the sauce for this, I copied from my friend Melody (HI MELODY) years ago, and have made it my own. Take a veggie stock cube – I use one of those squishy ones from Knorr – and add about 1/4 cup of water. Then I put a few squirts of Bragg’s Soy Seasoning in; how much is a mystery. Maybe a tablespoon or two? I don’t know. Then I add a tablespoon of brown sugar, a couple of pressed garlic cloves, and a whole bunch of grated ginger. I essentially grate ginger until it looks like an insane amount of ginger, then I grate some more. You might want to dial that back, if you’re not a fan of ginger. Mix in a heaping teaspoon or more of Thai red curry paste, and about 1/2 cup (full fat!) coconut milk. After that’s done, I throw in the mushrooms and about a cup of frozen edamame, and cook for a couple of minutes. Then I add the rest of the veggies and cook for 8-10 minutes, being sure nothing is getting gross or mushy. I serve this over rice, again with 1/4 cup cashews for me and some fresh cilantro.

See, I really don’t stage things anymore. There IS rice underneath there, you just can’t really see it.

Noodly Stir-Fry

This one is probably my favourite, and it is not so much a recipe as a “recipe.” I pour some sesame oil – maybe a tablespoon – into the wok and add 2-3 cloves of pressed garlic and, once again, a ton of grated ginger. Like, a ton. Like a six-inch piece of ginger root. Again, this may or may not be appropriate for you, but it works in the ginger-loving Boyhouse. Then I put all the veggies in and douse generously with seasoned rice vinegar and soy sauce. How much? I have no idea. Maybe a 1/4 cup each, but I really don’t know. I never measure this recipe, I just pour. As I said before, measure with your heart, people, measure with your heart. Cook for ten minutes or so and then add in cooked noodles. I use the ones that are labelled “Chinese Style Steam Fried Noodles” and they take about 1 minute in boiling water to cook. I do a quick taste test and sometimes add a bit more sesame oil, rice vinegar, or soy sauce, and then I sprinkle my plate with cilantro and cashews, because I cannot get enough of either. Peanuts would be nice here too but I rarely use them. My older son uses a lot of sriracha on this dish, but no one else does. I guess he’s living the spicy life.

So there you have it! Stir-fry night, a very popular night in this house. Lot of veggies, lots of flavour, and very easy to put together. There is quite a bit of vegetable chopping involved, but I time this so it’s early in the week, when I have more dinner-making energy.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cozy Edition

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Friday evening, a mere 28 hours after the installation of my son’s braces, two of the brackets came off his teeth. Despite 26 months of Braces Experience with my older son – who, by the way, broke every single rule in the Braces Handbook – this was the first time such a thing happened. I can tell you that it did nothing to assuage my fears about all the changes in the orthodontist office. Even though it was 6:30 pm, I phoned the office and was connected with the After Hours Line, which redirected me to the previous, no-longer-practicing-and-possibly-disgraced orthodontist. I left a message with very little hope, and then set to google “emergency orthodontia.”

Did you know that a lot of emergency orthodontia can be done at home, with everyday household objects? Alarmingly, there were many tips on DIY orthodontia using nail clippers, needle-nose pliers, and pencil erasers. None of those solutions seemed relevant; instead I helped my son put orthodontia wax in between the two flopping brackets to hold them steady, hoping that the rest would stay adhered to his teeth, so we didn’t end up with a wire held together by two brackets, or something.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I received a phone call from the new orthodontist on Sunday afternoon, apologizing for the delay. He had just received a message from the previous no-longer-practicing-and-possibly-disgraced orthodontist, and wanted to assure me that he could fit my son in at 8:00 Monday morning to fix the issue.

I don’t know if it is just because I finished reading The Alchemist, but I have been seeing signs and omens everywhere. My morning classes were cancelled this week due to some work on the studio, and when I found out about this I was slightly put out. Why my classes? Why those times? Why why why? But now it feels like a divine plan, because I was able to deal with the orthodontist with no stress or rush; if I had class I would not have been able to do so. I also was able to go to Costco, a rare treat to be able to do that first thing in the morning, not only because there are almost no carts left helter-skelter pell-mell in the parking lot that early in the day, saving my mental health, but also because it was nice to have it over and done with before my afternoon class.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should, a line from my very favourite Desiderata, has been going through my head lately, along with trying to notice signs and omens from the universe. I have, officially, reached Peak Yoga Teacher Mode. There have been many things going on around the Boyhouse, and I am trying to keep that perspective.

A few weeks ago my husband was saying that January was just DRAGGING, to which I perkily replied that no, it was flying by, and it was nearly over in any case. It was January 19 when I announced this and things have been moving slowly since then. I can tell you that with all the craziness, outdoor-education events, snowboarding, orthodontia, a minor bout of sickness for one kid, and other things it does feel like a long month, which is silly: it is exactly the same amount of days as most months.

And here we are at the very end of January, and I haven’t yet posted my monthly Favourite Things, so let’s rectify that, shall we? We have had an extremely mild month, although that is set to change dramatically on the weekend. And even a mild January is still chilly, so welcome to…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cozy Edition

Before we get to all the coziness, I have a few great things to say about January. I know we all like to loathe this month but I’ll tell you, there are some really wonderful things that happen in January. First of all, THE SALES. I actually went to the mall early in the month to pick up my favourite body lotion from Bath and Body Works, and they were blowing out so much stock at 75% off. SEVENTY FIVE. I asked, with some trepidation, if they were discontinuing the scents that I love – notably Sea Island Cotton – but no, they were just changing the packaging. I ended up with ten bottles of lotion with various gorgeous scents for $42. Then I went to The Body Shop and I ended up getting three of my new favourite face mask – this amazing face mask deserves its own post, so stay tuned – for $48, when ONE is priced at $28. I now have enough to last me the whole year, I think.

Another wonderful thing about January is the sunrises. Even in the middle of summer, I am up before the sunrise, so I can say with some authority that January sunrises are the prettiest. I don’t know what it is about winter skies, but everything is gorgeously pinkish-purple. I’ve tried to take photos but they never do it justice; you will just have to imagine. Many days are gloomy and grey here but when the sun comes out and the sky is blue, it’s absolutely beautiful against the snow. A few weeks ago we had a day of thick hoar frost covering everything; I would have taken a photo but my hands were too cold. Again, just imagine it; thick hoar frost on all the trees, white snow, and a perfectly blue sky. I am not generally a Winter Person but I have to give it to the season: it can be very pretty.

Long Thick Sweaters

The very best thing about the dead of winter is wearing thick, cozy sweaters. Here are a few of my favourite looks:

As you can see, I like long, drapey sweaters – especially cardigans. It’s like wrapping myself up in a big hug.

Hand-Knit Things From My Mother-in-Law

My mother-in-law is a knitter, and her knitting knows no moderation. I am the very grateful and happy recipient of many items – you should see the enormous cupboard full of knitted dishcloths I have, in a rainbow of colours. For Christmas about nineteen or twenty years ago, she knitted me this grey sweater. It is my “home sweater” that I wear when chilled and need of comfort. I am much smaller now than I was then, so it’s lovely and large on me, and I can wrap it around myself even when I have a few other sweaters on, not unlike Joey Tribbiani when he is wearing All The Clothes.

The sweater matches the roots, and no weird euphemism implied.

She also has knitted me many pairs of legwarmers, that I slip over my yoga pants or skinny jeans to keep warm while dog-walking.

Bonus downward dog shot!

Her latest gift to me was a pair of booties. She has knitted me slippers – I am wearing them right now – but she decided to make long booties for when I’m cold inside the house.

You know that meme that says “we all have that friend who is always cold” that is accompanied by a photo of a person in what looks like a giant thick sweater from head to toe? I think that may be next. What can I say, my MIL is generous and talented with the knitting needles!

Fancy Tea

When it comes to hot liquids, I am generally a Black Coffee Girl.

Hashtag: TeamNerd

Last Mother’s Day, the boys bought me this adorable turtle mug – the turtle changes colour with temperature – and some fancy tea from David’s Tea and I tell you, I cannot go back to regular grocery store tea. I will not go back. I have been forever ruined. My husband actually said I can’t believe we found a way to make you more expensive which was a tiny bit uncalled for. But also maybe a little true. In any case, I only have tea one or two times a week, and only when it is really chilly and I am home in the afternoon. Cinnamon Rooibus Chai is my absolute favourite, but I’m also a big fan of Just Peachy and Forever Nuts.

So you see, there are many wonderful things about this – and every – time of the year. And even if I haven’t convinced you to love all things cozy, well, January’s OVER now, for another eleven months. xo

Age is just a number: FALSE. Age is a word.

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“I finally figured out who you remind me of!” a man, who I have known these past two years, said to me the other day. I waited, smiling, and was not at all prepared for the big reveal. “Charlene Prickett! You are so much like Charlene Prickett.”

There were a few other people around us at the time, and they all chimed in that yes, they could really see that, and yes, that’s exactly it. Charlene Prickett, local celebrity and the star of the television fitness program It Figures, whose popularity soared in the 1980s.

I take this in the spirit in which it was intended; our personal styles might indeed be very different, but Charlene Prickett was a BOSS when it came to accessible home fitness routines. And I might not be one for brightly-coloured bodysuits and tights, but I think we can all agree that legwarmers make for an amazing wardrobe.

The last time anyone told me that I reminded them of a celebrity, it was in the mid-nineties. A very inebriated man told me I looked exactly like Shania Twain; our hair colour and cut were fairly similar in that era, and also I was wearing a denim vest over a white tank top. As I said, though, the man was not a particularly accurate judge, given his level of intoxication and probable intent of obtaining some sort of sexual favours from me, a woman who should have been thrilled to be compared so favourably to a country music sensation but was, instead, nonplussed.

Thanks to the recent Facebook “aging challenge,” the last few weeks have seen an influx of photos comparing a person’s current appearance to that of many years ago, a comparison that I find very interesting. I truly think that the people I know have all improved with age, not just in appearance, but also in spirit and personality. Society likes to disparage aging but really, it’s a wonderful gift. I may have massive Bitchy Resting Face and hair that requires colouring every five weeks due to grey roots that I am unable to embrace just yet, I may have Crypt-Keeper-level forehead wrinkles and marionette lines, but I am very happy with my life and, by extension, my appearance. Happiness makes you shine, or some such inspirational quote.

Sure, I might not have the youthful look and perky bust that I did in the mid-nineties, but at least I’m not wearing ill-advised denim vests. With age comes wisdom, I suppose, and hopefully better fashion decisions.

If you look closely, you can see where the belt buckle is situated on my torso – approximately two inches from the bra line – and also that I am wearing a knotted crop top. With denim shorts. This was in 1997, in my defense, and is likely in style right this minute. Well, it’s January, so perhaps not, but let’s wait to see what happens when the snow melts.

I’ll tell you what has not aged well: my kitchen sink. This is perhaps an overstatement; the sink itself is just fine. However, on Saturday I was washing dishes and suddenly the sink became detached from underneath the countertop and started to slowly tip forward. I did what any strong, invincible woman would do: I started screaming. My husband – after draining the sink – jerry-rigged a support beam from an extension rod used for paint rollers before whipping out his circular saw and building a more solid one out of wood. Where did he get the wood? I have no idea. It’s a good thing he didn’t Kondo his workshop, I guess.

The plumber came to fix the sink more permanently on Monday, and praised the solidity of the support beam. Even though it’s fixed now, I’m planning to leave the beam in probably forever, just in case. We don’t see undermount sinks come apart very often! the plumber said cheerfully, which made me wonder about the workmanship of everything in my house. Can ALL the sinks come detached now? Is this just something that’s waiting to happen?

I am not, obviously, very good with house-related issues, but I’ll tell you what I AM good with: quoting the entire screenplay of When Harry Met Sally. I discovered that the greatest movie of all time was released THIRTY YEARS AGO last weekend, and since I saw it in the theatre, well. Thirty years! It’s been three decades since I discovered my fictional twin; even back in 1989 I was too structured, completely closed off…but in a good way, and I am always cold when it’s 72 degrees out. I do not have days of the week underpants, but there’s still time! As far as I’m concerned I haven’t even hit middle age yet – I’m hoping to live past 86 – and so maybe that will be a thing for me when I’m in the Home. But there definitely won’t be a Sunday. Because of God.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “We Need A Little Christmas, Right This Very Minute” Edition

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In the last week, I have seen the following outfits on young girls: a one-shouldered bodysuit paired with jogging pants, the type that are tightly elasticized around the ankles, super high-rise lululemon tights with a hoodie, the bottom hem of which ended two inches below the bra line, Cougar boots, and a very high ponytail, and a white mock-turtleneck tucked into very high-rise navy blue flared cropped pants, the shorter hemline emphasizing the old-school Adidas runners and ruffled white ankle socks. The last outfit was accessorized by a red purse with a gold-chain strap. If there was such a thing as a blog back in 1985-1993, all of those things would have made Nicole’s Favourite Things. As it is, I find it very interesting, like I am a fashion anthropologist analyzing current trends and how they related to my own youth.

But I did not come here to talk about the return of acid-wash jeans or bodysuits. I came here to talk about Christmas! It’s time for Nicole’s Favourite Things – and I have lots of favourite things at this time of year, so hold on to your hats! Your SANTA hats, that is!

Nicole’s Favourite Things – The “We Need A Little Christmas, Right This Very Minute” Edition

THE DRESS

I alluded to the dress I bought – from Le Chateau, no less – for my husband’s Christmas party. It has sprinted past my other favourite dresses to become, I believe, my all-time favourite. It has surpassed my wedding dress, my perfect black wrap dress, and the black-and-white Sixties-style swing dress I had when I was sixteen. It’s a bit hard to tell from the photo – my older son took the pictures and we switched the tree lighting to try to capture it – but it’s a black sheath with a piece of drapey fabric that makes for a swoopy, uneven hemline. Black and drapey, as we know from all my sweaters, is my jam.

I paired the dress with my three-inch wedge heels, which looked nice, but for someone who spends most of the day working in bare feet, it was kind of painful. I paid for it the next day with the tightest hip flexors you ever did see. I used to wear heels all the time, and they never bothered me. But hoo boy, I’m glad I don’t wear them much anymore.

 

Holidays on Ice

I bought this book in 2015 and I have read it every December since then. I love David Sedaris, and his “Santaland Diaries” and “Dinah, the Christmas Whore” still make me laugh until I cry, gasping for air, even after that many readings.

My Yard

It seems that my husband has a very competitive streak. We’ve always had a lot of Christmas decorations in the yard, but as our neighbourhood demographics start to change – read: the old people are, um, leaving and new young families are coming in – we have gone from Appropriately Festive to Griswold-Worthy Light Show. My husband’s goal is to show those young upstarts up and let them know how it’s done, I guess. We have the following: icicle lights paired with red ones, colourful signs in each of my three large planters, an entire candy cane lane along our sidewalk and stairs, two light-up trees and two light-up gift boxes, two light-up deer, one moose, one polar bear, two penguins, one hippo, and two snowmen, including a six-foot tall one that has flashing lights and stars. The Mayday tree is filled with sparkling colourful Christmas balls as well:

People stop to take photos of our yard, and at least three elderly men have stopped me, while walking Barkley, to tell me that they admire my husband’s work. How did they know it was him, and not me?

These Ornaments

My mom dropped off this little cutie-pie for me:

I put it near this one that I bought four years ago. They are little friends!

I buy an ornament every year, and this was the one I bought the first year we were married:

This year’s ornament, in honour of the pandas being in Calgary:

This was last year’s ornament, in honour of the cute little chickadees that hang out in the shrub by my garage and become immensely startled each and every time I come out of the house.

Musical Decorations

I love this little cookie-making machine; it plays music and is, frankly adorable. Note the box set of Seinfeld in the background. Santa brought that for the boys last year and it was some of the best money I have ever spent. Other than my new dress, that is.

This is another musical cutie, the snowman and reindeer bop around with the music. The creche in the background is one I brought back from Mexico back in 1997.

Old Timey Ornaments

This little Santa was one I bought from a craft fair, probably circa 1998. Behind him is a bowl where I keep beautiful smooth stones, seashells, and driftwood I collected from the West Coast, back when my husband and I were first married. My mother-in-law had given me the glass bowl; it was her mother’s, and she thought I might like it. I think it was filled with chocolates at the time. She also gave me those ornaments, they were hers from the Sixties. They are extremely fragile, which makes me appreciate modern unbreakable ornaments.

Soapie and Ed

Last year my husband took the boys to Canadian Tire for various Christmassy-yard things, and came home with this adorably fluffy sheep for me. I laughed with delight and christened her Soapie, as she looked like a big foamy soap bubble. This year the trio went to Canadian Tire – AGAIN for yard items – and presented me with the snowman. “He looks like an Ed” my older son said sarcastically, but it was exactly right. Soapie and Ed sit on the hearth above Barkley’s bed, and Barkley tends to be a bit jealous of Soapie. He usually nudges her over once or twice before resigning to his fate.

Dressing Up The Dog

Speaking of Barkley, I went to buy him some food and treats and lo, there was an entire aisle of things for which to dress up your dog. I chose this scarf, which is really meant for a much smaller dog, as it is fairly fitted on his fluffy neck. I’ve been putting it on him to take our walks, and the pure joy I get from seeing him jauntily walking around like a man about town in his festive scarf is much greater than the $5.99 price tag would indicate.

Those are my favourite things this year. I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that you can enjoy all your favourite things too. Merry Christmas. xo

Festively Limping To The Finish Line

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I won’t ask if you are all ready for Christmas, because I know you already are! a friend (HI GLENN) said to me last week, and it’s true, my gifts were all purchased over a month ago, cards have been sent out weeks ago, everything is wrapped, and yet. This last week, these last few days before a break, may just be my undoing. We are all so exhausted and completely burnt out that it is taking every ounce of energy to rouse myself and the kids out of bed in the morning and just get through the day. We are all counting down the days until vacation, even though it specifically goes against my Enjoy The Moment mantra. If we are always looking ahead to the next thing, we can forget about what’s happening right now. Or, as Ferris Bueller said, Life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.

Deep thoughts from teen movies of the Eighties.

What is it about this week? This morning I felt like my sanity was holding on by a thread, and not a sturdy thread either, but one that is completely frayed and shoddy. Yesterday my younger son said that he thought there was no school on Friday. Weeks ago I had checked the school website; since Thursday is “activity day” I thought that might be the case. But on the website, Friday was listed as Last Day of Classes. So, by that logic, I concluded that Friday was indeed the Last Day of Classes and there would be school.

Strangely, the kids kept telling me that over the morning announcements, there were x-1 days of school left, when I felt there should be x days left, based on Friday being the Last Day of Classes. After my son’s claim yesterday though, I looked again at the website. Friday: Last Day of Classes. But oh! When I started to scroll down to confirm the date of my older son’s Environmental and Outdoor Education trip to the mountains, I noticed something. Underneath Friday: Last Day of Classes was Friday: PD Day NO CLASSES.

WHAT.

It seems to me like there could have been a much better way of communicating that information. I looked through all the paper forms in my possession and not one mentioned this fairly salient fact. To be sure, it is not a big deal; if anything, it’s an unexpected bonus since that will allow me to have a much more relaxed morning, but yet it was unsettling.

More unsettling was the realization that the Grade Eight Ski Trip – for which no forms or information has been distributed to parents as of yet – was on the exact same day that my eighth grader was due to go in to get molds made for his upcoming orthodontic work. Under normal circumstances, this would be No Big Deal. I would Figure Things Out. But with everything else going on right now, and a January packed full of one-off appointments, and the fact that I had already rescheduled this particular appointment twice, and this appointment needed to occur 7-10 days before the actual braces are put on actual teeth, and finding an appointment time that both works for my crazy schedule and minimizes the missing of Important, Difficult To Make Up classes is incredibly trying, well, this was the thing that took the thread from Sturdy to Completely Frayed.

I’ll just call before I head into the studio, I thought, with deep ujjayi breaths. I had a few minutes between the time the office opened – 8:00 – and the time I had to leave. No problem! Except that I kept getting the If you are calling to reschedule or book an appointment, please contact us during our regular office hours message. But I AM calling you during regular office hours! This IS your regular office hours, why is no one answering the PHONE?

Well. I got it done, not without the requisite mental anguish. The finish line is indeed in sight. Soon, I will be able to pour giant glugs of Almond Baileys into my coffee and drink it in my pajamas, with nowhere to go and no place to be. Soon.

I don’t want to complain, I really don’t. I do love this time of year; I love the parties and gatherings and getting cards in the mailbox. Speaking of which, last year someone sullenly tweeted that they had received only one Christmas card, and it was a standard-issue from a local business. It turned out that she had sent ZERO cards but was expecting many. Well. That might not be how it works. Perhaps expectations need to be adjusted. And perhaps I need to adjust my own expectations about my own limits and go to bed every night this week at 8:00. That sounds like a very good plan.

Speaking of expectations, I had very low ones yesterday when I drove into the Costco parking lot. Costco, one week before Christmas. I was, to be honest, expecting a complete nightmare and I spent a few minutes in my car just deep breathing. I had just taught a yoga class and I discussed the stressful time of year with my students, using words like “self-care” and “meditative breathing” and I felt like the teacher could be the student, so to speak. The parking lot was strewn with carts, which, as we all know, causes me much grief, and the man in the car across from mine literally shoved his cart into the VERY SAME SNOWBANK from which I had retrieved a cart only two weeks prior, and drove off. DEEP BREATHING, SERENITY NOW.

So I was expecting the literal worst as I went into the store, wondering, not for the first time, if the items on my list really were worth the angst involved. And then…nothing. The produce section was a bit crazy, due to very poor aisle engineering, but the shopping trip was really…fine. All my items were available, some were discounted, all the produce looked great, and then when I went to check out there was NO LINE. I wheeled my giant heavy cart up to the till and immediately unloaded. WHEN HAS THAT EVER HAPPENED, I ASK? Certainly it was not what I was expecting the week before Christmas. Maybe it was all that cart karma during the year. It all paid off.

And speaking of karma, my lovely friend and yoga student Sara (HI SARA) brought me these cookies, along with – get this – chocolate pretzel bark and honestly, this kind and beautiful gesture absolutely turned my whole day around. I went from Being Ready To Cry to having my sanity reinstated. It is no longer hanging by a thread. It is now securely double-stitched together. Never underestimate what kindness will do for someone, especially this time of year. xo

One Thousand

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Can I Get A Witness

I can hardly believe this, but this is – get ready for it – my ONE THOUSANDTH POST. One thousand posts. Can I get a medal or something for this? Very few people old-school blog anymore, but I am glad to have this diary of my life over the past – get ready for it – DECADE. Of course, I could have just kept a regular diary, but what would have been the fun in that? It’s nice to have a witness to this everyday life. Can I get a witness?

The Winner, In A Landslide

As I’ve mentioned before, I often think of the Soundtrack of My Life; it occurred to me the other day that there are songs that are inextricably associated with other people, in my mind. For example, my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) is linked forever and always with Some Kind of Wonderful, and so now that I have asked if I could get a witness, I will be a) singing that all day, and b) thinking of her. For fun I asked Facebook friends what song reminded them of ME and it was a very interesting experiment. A friend who knew me way back in elementary school mentioned Corey Hart (HI MELISSA), a friend from high school reminded me that we always sang Hello City when we were together in chemistry class (HI TRACY), a friend from university mentioned Total Eclipse of the Heart, the Old School version (HI ALICE), and there was a nice mix of interesting music from friends made in the past decade (HI EVERYBODY). The most common song, however, was Landslide, which is both unsurprising and apt, given this time of year.

This Is Me In Grade Nine

My BFF, who I met in grade nine, (HI TARA) said what reminded her of me was Light My Fire, stemming from that period in which I was obsessed – OBSESSED – with The Doors, and also wearing all-black-all-the-time. Well, my interest in listening to The Doors has certainly diminished to zero, but my all-black fashion statement largely remains.

This is me in grade nine, baby. Yes, my love of black and also excessive jewelry has remained, nearly thirty years after the fact.

Speaking of which, I have had This Is Me In Grade Nine stuck in my head for days – DAYS – because the start of school has ushered in a new era: my oldest is, indeed, in grade nine. I am assuming the same will be true next year at this time as my youngest will be there as well. Usually I have Back To School, Back To School, To Prove To My Dad That I’m No Fool from Billy Madison stuck in my head for days; this is preferable. I got a red leather tie and a pair of rugger pants, I put them on and I went to the high school dance.

This is further proof that my brain is needlessly filled with song lyrics and if I could just channel that brain power I could probably work for NASA.

Dogpression

Barkley knows what packed backpacks in the kitchen means, and he does not like it. Now that we are four days in, he has come to weary acceptance, so long as he can come along for school drop-off.

Winter Games

I have been using the silent house and also the free time before my new registered classes start next week to get a few menial, tedious, and annoying jobs done. These include but are not limited to calling the cable company to order a new remote, necessitating me looking up serial numbers and account numbers and clearing up last name confusion, registering myself and my husband to vote in the upcoming provincial election so as to not have to wait for an enumerator, and calling a certain government agency to ensure an issue that was not caused by anyone in this household but instead someone who we actually paid for their services and still makes me irritated to think about it has been cleared up. (Spoiler: it hasn’t!). Yesterday I was on hold for what seemed like an eternity, only to be redirected a few times before getting the correct person for the job, who ended up completely unable to help anyway. The interesting part of this story, at least to me, was that while I was on hold, the theme from the Calgary 88 Olympics was played. Two things: a) that really took me back in time, and b) is it just me or does that seem like a strange choice of music? The rest of the music was pretty neutral elevator-Kenny G-type music, and then wham! Bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah BAH BAH!

It’s Just Like New Year

September feels like a much milder form of January, doesn’t it? Everyone with their fresh starts and getting back to the gym and making crazy school lunches with bento boxes? I personally have a couple of resolutions for September and on, and one of them is to not use my phone when the boys get home after school. I instituted a “no screens” rule for myself and the boys, although it has since been amended to “no screens until homework, physical exercise, and something creative has been done.” For me, though, it’s no phone at all, unless someone texts or emails me. It’s really helping me be more present, which is an ongoing goal of mine, and also allows me more time to read and play the piano. In fact, it’s given me so much more time that I feel a twinge of shame about my (former) phone habits.

Only 1255 Pages To Go

I have had A Suitable Boy on hold from the library for some time, thanks to a recommendation from my friend Mary-Lynn (HI MARY-LYNN). Imagine my surprise when I went to the library to pick it up and discovered that it is almost 1500 pages long. Hoo boy. I have been keeping a spreadsheet of all my books read, in an attempt to be more like my bibliophile friend Allison (HI ALLISON), and so far this year I have averaged one book every 3.5 days. This is going to mess me up big-time. To add fuel to the reading fire, two more of my holds came in yesterday, so if anyone needs me, I’ll be over there, reading. I know, I know, it’s the journey, not the destination, but I like my current book-to-day average.

I Love Your Pictures

A few months ago, someone had posted on Facebook about how sick they were of seeing photos of other people’s kids, and no one cared, and just keep those photos to yourselves, you terrible attention whores. I’m paraphrasing, but only slightly. Then a friend told me that someone told HER that seeing back-to-school photos was the worst, and if your kids weren’t in kindergarten, then nobody cares. You terrible attention whores.

I am taking this opportunity – this One Thousandth Post opportunity – to say that I CARE. I love seeing all your photos, of your kids, of your pets, of your fancy drinks, of your houses, of your vacations. I love your selfies, your outfits-of-the-day, your bikini shots, your workout shots, your nature shots, I LOVE IT ALL. I want to see MORE updates about your lives, not less. What else are we on social media for? Outraged political updates? I think we have enough of those. After all, look how well all those political posts pre-US-election turned out.

I mean, I even love seeing photos of what you had for dinner, so long as it’s not already digested. Which brings me to this travesty:

You Know How I Feel About This Emoticon

People, this is a bridge too far. TOO FAR.

Stepping into madness.

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I work very hard to be a calm and zen-like person, but those who know me well know that I am, deep down, a controlling and Type A person. It’s not even that deep down, one only needs to load the dishwasher differently from me, or fold the tea towels in halves instead of thirds, to know this. I like to think that being controlling and Type A is not actually in opposition to being calm and zen-like, really; I embrace the adage that you cannot control external forces but you can control how you react to them.

With that in mind, it doesn’t take a psychology degree to make the connection between the end of summer, and the new school year as a demarcation of the rapid passing of time, and my embarking on a Project. Normally these Projects are of the Cleaning and Organizing Type, which is, to me, only a benefit. One year, you may recall, I completely Kondo-d my entire house, donating twenty-five garbage bags of clothing and household objects. Another year I embraced the Kitchn Cure, right down to my multiple fridges and freezers. No one is harmed in these Projects; they fulfill my need for order, and the house is better off for it.

The only exception was the year my youngest started kindergarten; the day before school started I decided to make birthday invitations for his entire class, which ended with an inexplicably broken printer and me, sobbing on the phone to the printer help desk. I cried so hard that the very kind gentleman on the other end told me everything would be all right, he would take care of everything, and maybe I would like to get a glass of water? He ended up sending me a brand-new printer at no charge, so I guess the house was better off for it, even if it was at the expense of my own nervous breakdown.

It started off innocently enough yesterday; I decided to make granola. The house filled with a delicious, maple coconut aroma, and I noticed that a couple of the kitchen cupboards were a little smudged. I decided to wash them, which is not an unusual occurrence. The cupboards are white and I do wash them down once a month or so. But yesterday, after washing the cupboards, I started washing down and polishing all the appliances, big and small. Then I took everything out from under the sink and began scrubbing. Then I noticed some smudges on the wall in the back entry, which resulted in my scrubbing down the entire entry and the stair railings. I couldn’t stop there; the stairs leading downstairs also seemed smudgy, and so did the back door.

This way leads madness.

I could actually feel myself spiraling out of control; I recalled that there were some toothpaste spatters in the bathroom which meant I was soon washing the walls there too. As I scrubbed out under the bathroom sink, I realized that if I didn’t stop soon, I would be tearing all the pictures off the walls and moving furniture to wash the walls behind it, which would probably lead to hours of cleaning that no one, save me, would ever notice. I vowed to just wipe down the hall cupboards and stop; it took every ounce of willpower to empty my bucket and put it down in the basement. As it was, my kids and their friends came in from the back yard to get snacks, and were tiptoeing around me as I washed the hardwood. Don’t worry Nicole, we can minimize the amount of feet on the floor, one of them said as he took enormous steps on his tiptoes. In an attempt to model normal healthy behaviour, I stopped cleaning after finishing the floors.

Many years ago, my mother-in-law told me that when she was first married, her mother-in-law washed all the walls in the house once a month. Once a month! she said to me. Really, that’s too much. Once a season is plenty. I remember staring at her, thinking once a SEASON? The walls in my house get washed a) when they are going to be painted, and b) piecemeal, when I notice smudges. And c) when I become obsessive at the end of summer, I guess.

This cleaning binge put me in mind of a book I just read and loved, David Sedaris’ Calypso. Are you a Sedaris fan? If so, this book is a must-read. It is, in my opinion, his best writing ever. Oh, to write like David Sedaris! Every sentence is gold. One essay in, and I was telling my husband that it was on my Christmas list – I knew I would want to read it over and over again, and I had only gotten it from the library. My husband’s response was It’s August but no matter. Gold. Several times my family asked what I was laughing at, and more than once I was doubled over, with that silent laughter that comes from the inability to breathe and make any sound, tears running down my face.

Calypso includes the essay Stepping Out, which is my favourite thing he has ever written, and also perfectly articulates why I cannot have a fitness tracker. Some of us cannot be trusted. My husband has a fitness tracker and he uses it like a normal person. He looks at his steps, calories burned, and whatever else a fitness tracker records, and then he goes on with his life. If it were me, all semblance of a normal life would go out the window and I would be welcoming Fitbit, My New Overlord.

In the words of David Sedaris, “…there’d be no end to it until my feet snapped off at the ankles. Then it’d just be my jagged bones stabbing into the soft ground. Why is it some people can manage a thing like a Fitbit, while others go off the rails and allow it to rule, and perhaps even ruin, their lives?”

See, this is the thing. Self-awareness is where it’s at, and given my propensity to spin off the rails, I can say with confidence that a Fitbit is not for me. Occasionally I will mention to my husband that it would be “interesting to have one,” at which he stares at me silently, probably imagining a life with a lunatic who is “just getting her steps in” to the detriment of everything else. I mean, I’m already at the point in my life where I scope out parking spots that are the farthest from the door, and I refuse to take an elevator for anything less than seven floors. And imagine what would happen during the last week of summer vacation? I would probably end up in a different province, pumping my arms enthusiastically. And with my terrible sense of direction, I may never make it back.