Category Archives: Luckiness

The Boyhouse Takes An Epic Road Trip

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The clock in the kitchen has been two minutes slow for weeks now, and although there are two other clocks – on the stove and microwave – I always find myself glancing at that one. Yesterday I decided to seize the day and after changing the time, I hung it back on the wall. I did not, however, hang it properly, as evidenced by the smash and shatter that came a minute later. I knew that I would be constantly glancing at the bare spot in the wall, trying to ascertain the time of day, and so after dropping the kids at their swim lessons, I found myself at Bed Bath and Beyond.

What is it about that store? I have been very conscious about what kinds of things I purchase, and the quantities thereof – I don’t want to add to the landfill any more than I have to, and also I don’t want a whole lot of clutter in my house. However, walking into Bed Bath and Beyond, I find myself completely and immediately overwhelmed. Do I need a spiralizer? Do I need a floating cooler? How about Jelly Belly flavoured syrup? What about these throw pillows? What about a shower caddy that has a separate waterproof pocket for my phone? Does Barkley need a cooling bandanna? In the end I walked out with only a clock, thanks only to iron willpower. I was sorely tested though, even when I made it through the store. Near the checkout I was very tempted by a deal on streak-free stainless steel and granite cleaner, scented hand soap, and special pens for writing on glass.

Iron willpower, and maybe I am also a little shopped out since I crossed a new line this week: I bought so much at Costco that I could – and this is not an exaggeration – barely move the cart. I normally am at Costco every 2-3 weeks, but due to vacation it had been almost five, and I was into my backups of almost all my staples. The cart was so heavy that it was taking every ounce of strength I had to move it, and I briefly wondered if the slight incline in the parking lot would be the actual death of me. I pushed with all my might, inching through the lot, while cars zoomed past me, probably raging about the renovations at the gas station. The next day my back and shoulders were a bit sore and I wondered if that counted as the World’s Lamest Injury.

Speaking of vacation, I meant to write about it before now, but clearly I have been too busy breaking clocks and buying groceries to do so. It was, the kids said, our Best Canadian Trip Ever. Emphasis is on Canadian, I guess, because hey, Disney World. But we did have a wonderful trip, starting with a drive up the Icefields Parkway to Jasper.

Hoo boy, that was a cold hike! My husband and I went to the Athabasca Glacier on our very first trip together, way back in 1998, so it was very fun to see it with our kids, twenty years later.

We did lots of great hiking, and also went white water rafting for the first time. In the evenings we played board games and cards, and it was, all in all, fabulous.

Circling back to my shopping challenge, I purchased these boots in 1998. They have seen a lot of kilometers in the past twenty years. I was going to boast about them, how they are still going strong, but sadly the soles are coming off! I don’t even know if I can get them repaired, sad trombone. Anyway, twenty years is pretty decent for a pair of hiking boots, and they saw me through all the hikes we did in Jasper.

After Jasper we headed for the coast. I hadn’t been to Vancouver since I was pregnant with my oldest, which was fifteen years ago. I was Quietly Pregnant, and we stayed with the same friends we stayed with on this trip. We had a lovely time with our very generous hosts (HI CHRIS) and spent time at Kitsilano Beach, Granville Island, and the Seawall.

The original Lululemon! I did not even go inside because I was still on my shopping challenge, and a person can only take so much temptation.

After Vancouver we went to visit my mother-in-law, and a number of friends, in Kelowna. The four hour drive ended up taking seven and a half hours, due to – dramatically – a truck and trailer on fire a few kilometers in front of us. Other than that little blip, we had a great time enjoying the heat and the water.

Just as we were getting back into routine last week, I decided to take advantage of the hot weather and took the kids up to my parents’ place mid-week for a mini-vacation. We paddleboarded and boated, and the kids were getting a little hot so I encouraged them to jump out of the boat and swim to shore. It turned out to be a lot farther than I initially thought but hey, they did it!

So now we are home and back in the swing of things, with slightly tighter pants – sigh – and lots of great memories. A friend of my husband’s is very sick and it’s on my mind a lot, how time can be fleeting and at the end of the day, this is what matters most. I don’t ever wish to go back in time but I do wish I could slow it down just a little – the boys are back to school in less than three weeks, it’s mid-August! – but failing that, I guess we just need to enjoy the time we have together. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: July Is The Best Edition

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It has been another glorious summer week; summers are so short in this city that I feel like I need to soak up every moment outside. Hence, the writing of this at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning. I realized that I started this blog in 2008 which is a decade of having a whole lot to say about not a whole lot. My friend Lynn (HI LYNN) thought that maybe us “old-school mom bloggers” should now morph into “perimenopause bloggers” which, maybe we should. Speaking of EMOTIONS, the other morning I was practicing yoga and a girl rolled out her mat beside me. She had a shirt that said “When It’s Dark Look For Stars” and I got teary-eyed. Getting emotional over a tank top is probably one of those Change of Life things that no one talks about, UNTIL NOW.

And speaking of tank tops, only ten more days until my goddamn shopping challenge is done. Then I shall buy all the emotional tank tops I want. August 1st, lululemon sees a spike in sales like never before, analysts cannot explain it. It all seemed to come out of the Calgary area.

Truthfully though, I was in the mall yesterday to choose a hostess gift, and the tea store is just down from lululemon, and I am not made of stone. I thought I would browse the store and just make a mental shopping list for The Big Day. Reader, there was nothing I wanted to buy. Either the shopping challenge has fundamentally changed me or all the current styles and colours are unappealing, or both. I was gravely disappointed. I felt like Rip van Winkle but with clothes, like the whole world has moved on to crop tops and tucking things in and I just am not prepared for that right now.

Also, why so many things with an exposed back? As I said summer is brief here, and I will enjoy this six weeks of feeling warm but come August, I will be layering up again. I do not want my back exposed; in a similar vein, I also never embraced the cold shoulder look. I am already cold enough, thank you.

This post has taken a turn for the negative; let’s get back to the point which was…

Nicole’s Favourite Things: July Is The Best Edition

Sirius XM Radio

There is a pattern in my marriage, and it goes like this: my husband has an idea of something he wants to buy for me/ our family/ our house, and I resist it with all my might. We do not NEED that, I will say. This conversation, such as it is, will go on for any length of time; weeks to years of back-and-forth. Finally my husband will break down and buy it/ install it and I will end up loving it so much so that I cannot imagine life without it. Repeat, ad infinitum. The single time that I myself had to convince my husband that we needed to buy something was when we purchased the trampoline.

I am a dream to be married to, believe me.

A small list of the items that have been purchased in this way are: Roomba, my stand mixer, my super-fancy dehydrator, the juicer, the Vitamix, my Yamaha piano, the elliptical machine, and Sonos. We have had Sonos, with Sirius XM Radio in the house for years, and my husband also has it in his car for his commute to work. I have steadfastly refused the installation of Sirius in my minivan, although mine is the vehicle that we take on long road trips, meaning that once we lose local radio stations, we end up listening to the same mix CD’s over and over. Some of those mix CD’s were made years ago and there is only so much of Gangnam Style one can listen to on one road trip. Finally my husband put Sirius in my car and people, I cannot ever go back to regular radio. I can listen to 70s soft rock without hearing commercials for Grey Power Insurance or Nurse Next Door or even My Pillow Dot Com. I already bought the damn pillow.

There’s also a Yacht Rock station, and the 80s on 8 frequently plays “on this day in 198x” countdowns. When I was driving to pick up the kids from my parents’ place, I was delayed by a big accident, and listening to the top songs of July 1986 made everything better. I had my own little karaoke party with The Greatest Love of All.

Breville Food Processor

I don’t know how long I’ve had my old Cuisinart food processor – since 2011 maybe? Or 2010? I don’t know. All I know is one day I was going to pulse some tomatoes into my guacamole and instead of pulsing the processor just kept going. It wouldn’t turn off until I unplugged it. I still used it like that for a while, plugging it in when I needed to process something, but it felt weird and dangerous. I thought I would just get another Cuisinart but my husband – who used to get Consumer Reports back in the day – had been researching it and thought I might like to try a Breville.

Oh, baby.

It was like all those years I was driving a Ford Focus, and now I have a Maserati.

It processes much better – the Cuisinart always left little chunks where the blade didn’t touch the bottom – and it is also so easy to clean! The Cuisinart had a rubber seal and lots of little crevices that were impossible to keep clean, which felt a little gross. This is my new bae. I’d make out with it if it wouldn’t slice my face to a pulp.

These Old Jeans

Thanks to Facebook memories, this photo popped up in my feed the other day.

It was from exactly ten years ago, and you might be thinking awww, what cute little guys. I am thinking that too, but I’m also thinking, hey, I’m wearing those jeans right now. Yes, these old jeans are at least a decade old – I don’t know when I bought them – and I’m still wearing them. Now that I’m looking at that photo, I realize that I still have and wear those shoes.

My god, August 1 cannot come soon enough. Although, it is a testament to how I buy things that last. No one could say that I’m a “disposable fashion” kind of girl, that’s for sure.

Dog Calendar

My mom gave me a Labradoodle calendar for Christmas, and every month features an absolutely adorable dog. Not as adorable as this one, mind you:

Look at that FACE. WHO’S A GOOD DOGGY. WHO’S THE BEST DOGGY.

But the month of July features this dog:

It puts me in mind of a 1980s glamour shot. It makes me smile every time I see it, which is good because…

Neutrogena Rapid Repair

This photo of me was taken exactly forty years ago:

I love it so much, not just because of my great fashion, but because I so clearly am thinking I will pet this sheep but I will not enjoy it and you cannot make me. My friend Janet (HI JANET) mentioned that I still make this face, which explains a lot regarding my perpetual Bitchy Resting Face. No wonder I have such an epic case of BRF, I have been working on it my whole life.

Several months ago I posted about my favourite Growing Old Gracefully things, and one of those things was Neutrogena Rapid Repair Night Cream. My friend Liv (HI LIV) mentioned that she uses the one that is SPF 30 and meant for day use. Liv has perfect skin so I thought I would try it as well, and people, my skin has never looked better. It is truly amazing. I still, of course, have BRF – no amount of retinol is going to reverse 43 years worth of that face. Nothing, short of massive plastic surgery, is going to do that. But it’s a fantastic cream and I highly recommend it. I also recommend looking at glamour dog shots frequently to keep smiling, keep shining.

That’s also my favourite sunscreen, for the six weeks of high UV index that we get per summer.

So that’s that. What are you loving this July, tell me everything. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things – June Edition

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Happy Summer Solstice! Can you even believe it? I only just got used to it being May, and now here we are, the longest day of the year. I know I’ve mentioned this, but it is June, JUNE PEOPLE, and I am not at all feeling overwhelmed or stressed out. I have no end-of-the-year commitments to attend, I am not doing anything at a frantic pace, and even the last two weeks of school, which are mostly half days or no school at all, are giving me a feeling of relaxation, rather than stress. It is a miracle. Yesterday was one of those half days and I had a house full of starving boys all afternoon, and I am going to tell you that I love, love, love this age. I love my kids’ friends who all feel at home here, and who are thrilled every minute with homemade waffles and muffins, and who roam our basement and jump on our trampoline and talk about ridiculous video games I don’t understand, with gratitude for food. These are the best waffles ever! So easy to please. I think of what *I* was like at that age and I shudder. Thank god for these happy boys and their fantastic friends.

Every day I look at my garden and marvel at everything – there are buds on the roses! – and every morning I get into the car at 4:50 and I notice how bright the sky is. When I finish my yoga practice, I have to put on sunglasses to drive home, and every night I fall asleep way before the sun even thinks of setting. June! It’s a really great month! Funny how when we get so wrapped up in the craziness of life, we can forget that.

So two weeks (or “weeks”) left of school, six weeks left of my no-shopping challenge (whomp whomp). SIX MORE WEEKS YOU GUYS. I kind of cannot believe I’ve made it this far and I think I might just make it after all, not unlike Mary Tyler Moore, if Mary Tyler Moore decided to do something as stupid as a one-year no-shopping challenge. Yes, right now it feels like the most ridiculous thing but I can’t give up now, even though I want a new bikini and summer pajamas in the most desperate way. Six more weeks.

Anyway, back to the Joys of June. It is time for…

Nicole’s Favourite Things – The June Edition

Siberian Irises

Look at these babies! This is one of the few things in my garden that I didn’t plant. The original owner was apparently quite the gardener, and this beautiful plant just thrives in its sunny spot by the downspout. It spreads in a funny way – little clumps of Siberian iris come up in unexpected places, like behind the garage. They bloom every June. I also have a lovely memory of my boys, when little, playing with the seed pods, which dry out and become rattly, late in the fall.

Strawberries

Strawberry season is upon us! I admit I buy out-of-season strawberries frequently, but this time of year they are truly Nature’s Candy. Fruit is Nature’s Candy! I’ll say to my kids in a Marge Simpson voice, which I’m sure they love. We eat a lot of fruit in this house, but it really ramps up during strawberry season. We can easily eat six pounds of strawberries in less than a week, in addition to all the other fruit we eat, and did I mention I’m practically living at the grocery store now? I am. But oh, they are so good just by themselves, or on waffles, or dipped in chocolate for Sunday night desserts.

Did you know that if you wash strawberries in a sinkful of cold water with lemon juice, they will last longer and be even more delicious? It’s true. I usually squirt a bit of lemon on the berries and then spray them down with cold water; sliced, they keep in an airtight container for up to five days. Of course, they don’t really last five days in this house, but I’ve been doing this for years; I also think the lemon also helps clean off some of the farming ickiness.

My Pillow Dot Com

I wanted to mention this in my last post but a) technically it was something I heard about on the radio, not through the internet, and b) I forgot. Last summer I found my neck and shoulder would be in pain every single morning; I’d be fine throughout the day but sleeping was causing me agony. SLEEPING should not cause a person physical agony, but here I was, getting up in the morning to rub A535 on my neck like an old man. I would wake up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep because of the pain. Well. I had been hearing about My Pillow on the radio for the longest time, and I guess their method of long, repetitive advertising worked (“Betty Jo Kaiser here, and I just had ANOTHER great sleep all because of MY PILLOW.”). I went online and ordered the two-for-one deal, and…I waited. And waited. And waited. And finally the pillows showed up, after calling to complain and receiving a very big discount, and I have to tell you, it was worth the wait.

The pillows themselves are filled with, apparently, pieces of foam, and they arrived all bundled up in a tiny roll. What is this. I’m not kidding, the pillow was the size of one of those giant ballpark hotdogs. I was a little bemused when they arrived, until I, as per directions, put them in the dryer. They fluffed out and LET ME TELL YOU THEY ARE AMAZING. No more neck or shoulder pain, and I feel like I could be on one of those commercials. Nicole MacPherson here, and I woke up refreshed and ready to start my day because I had another great sleep on MY PILLOW. I can never go back to a regular pillow again. It’s even fun to order them, the company sends you a pillow based on your size and sleeping preference (I am a side-sleeper).

What does this have to do with June? Well, technically nothing, except that I’ve had the pillow for exactly six months now, so I can report with accuracy that yes, it really has improved my life. Let me tell you, if you are working as a yoga teacher, you really do not want a non-functional shoulder.

Solo

I was so upset to hear that Solo bombed at the box office. It is, in my humble opinion, the best Star Wars movie ever made. I really loved the character development, I loved the story, and I loved the intimacy of the plot – one of the things I don’t love about Star Wars is the pinging around the galaxy, from one planet to another. I find that confusing and uninteresting, and I’m constantly whispering to my kids where are they, who’s that guy, which I’m sure they enjoy greatly. I loved all the characters, and the richness of the development. Han Solo has always been one of my favourite characters, and I loved the peek into his early years. Now, to find a Han Solo costume for my husband to wear for my personal benefit next year’s Halloween festivities.

Wild Crocus

My friend Amy has an Etsy shop, called Wild Crocus. I think I’ve mentioned this before – she makes malas and bracelets, and I purchased one for my sister-in-law last Christmas. She is so talented and makes many beautiful, one-of-a-kind items. Well, she has a Goddess Collection of malas, and when I saw the “Star” one I knew. I knew the way you know about a good melon*. I kept looking at it and admiring it and reading the description…and one thing led to another and now it’s mine, all mine.

“Fire Agate lights the fire within, energizing and encouraging one to blossom and shine into their brightest self.” I mean, come ON. This was made for me!

There are even rose-shaped silver beads involved. Roses! I love it so much, and I encourage you all to check out her beautiful Etsy shop. Who knows, you may just find a piece that speaks to you as this did for me.

Shine on, people, blossom into your best selves. Enjoy this, the longest day of the year; look around you at all the beauty still to be had in this world. xo

 

* random reference from my favourite movie ever, big prize to whoever guesses it**

** the prize is not physical, it is the glory of guessing correctly

I remember waiting for the school bus…

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Two days ago I decided to take an enormous leap of faith and wash my calf-length, super-warm parka. I put it in the downstairs closet, along with my Sorels, and I hope that I haven’t cursed us all. I did leave out my other giant, but shorter, parka just in case. It’s my birthday in a couple of days and I keep forgetting, because there is still so much snow and ice on the ground that it doesn’t feel like it’s as late in the year as it is. Don’t get me wrong; snow in April is nothing new, and neither is snow in May. The difference this year is that we still have snow on the ground that was there in October; winter snow, as opposed to spring snow, as my dad helpfully differentiated for me the other day.

Well, I finished Prairie Fires and I am gratified anew to a) not be a pioneer, b) not be the mother of a crazed Libertarian who destroys all relationships, and c) to live in the modern age. I am also gratified that my plumbing and running water issues have – knock on wood a thousand times – been resolved. As I mentioned, the very good-looking young plumber had fixed a lot of things but the water filter was leaking, which required a visit from the very specific Water Filter Guy. The last time the Water Filter Guy was here, said Guy was an older, kindly gentleman who has since retired and left his clients to a new, Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy. Seriously, people, I opened the door and wondered if I was on hidden camera.

I always find it interesting, the career trajectories of other people. Was Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy always such? No, he was once a high school basketball coach. My own career has changed so much over the years; I find it fascinating how people find themselves in different lines of work. Of course, often the trajectory is more pragmatic, more about paying the bills and flexible schedules and so forth, but still.

School bus drivers, for example. It’s a flexible schedule and probably not badly paid – I have no idea, really – but you would have to be a special kind of person to be able to be in a large motorized vehicle with dozens of insanely loud children every day. Every morning when I drop the kids off at school I see the line of empty buses at the end of the street, and beside one of them is a driver, having a smoke. He wears shorts every single day, no matter what the weather is, with a ball cap and a hoodie, hood up. As I watch him smoke, I think of Otto the bus driver on The Simpsons. The guy just dropped off a bus full of junior high students, he NEEDS that cigarette, people. Obviously it cannot wait, his nerves depend on it. And who can blame him? Not me.

Last week I volunteered on a field trip for the Grade Eight Environmental and Outdoor Education class. Often their field trips are – obviously – outdoor based, but this one was to the climbing wall, and so it seemed to be more up my alley. I am a fair weather volunteer, and the weather has not, as I MAY have mentioned, been fair. I stepped on the bus and did a double take: the bus driver looked EXACTLY like Kid Rock.

Hat, hair, facial hair, clothing, everything. It was really uncanny. I started to wonder if it WAS Kid Rock, and if I should ask him to turn the stereo up and roll the windows down but sadly, I did not. He was pretty calm with the mass chaos on the bus, the hooligan grade eights, and so I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t driving the return bus. Rather, it was an older lady who was the female version of this:

 

Which, frankly, is completely understandable. It is the exact feeling I get when I’m driving a minivan-full of boys around. Flexible schedule or not, it would be – in my opinion – a terrible job, navigating traffic, the noise level, driving a huge uncomfortable bus.

Volunteering for junior high field trips is very different from elementary ones. For one thing, the bus situation – despite all this – is much better. The elementary school used to have kids three to a seat, even in the later grades, which meant that the bus would be hot, crowded, and extremely smelly, grade five and six students not being known for their excellent personal hygiene. Junior high kids, thank god, wear deodorant and brush their teeth, for the most part, anyway. Secondly, the volunteer gig itself mostly involves just existing, since the kids don’t need help with anything at all. I think the extra parents are just there for insurance purposes, because there is literally nothing to do but stare at the kids for several hours.

I took a few pictures though:

That’s my boy! I don’t tend to be a worrier, but there was a moment when I saw him at the top of the wall, knowing that he was being belayed by another fourteen-year-old who had just learned how to belay twenty minutes prior…well. All was fine. It was like the moment I had in Huatulco, when we took a local boat tour and snorkeling trip. We spotted two whales and some dolphins, and the boat driver – the captain, I guess? – sped out towards them. I thought, here we are, off the coast of Mexico, in a nine-person boat, heading off into the Pacific Ocean with a giant sea mammal nearby that could theoretically capsize this tiny boat, and no one outside our group knows where we are right now…

Anyway, as we all say it doesn’t pay to worry about what MIGHT happen. All’s well that ends well, and least said, soonest mended as Ma Ingalls was known to say, although this is a blog. Least said, soonest mended does not seem to be my mantra.

Three Dozen Reds

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I often get pitches in my inbox to feature Tips/ Products That Would Interest My Readers, and I could have the Pleasure of Writing About Them Free Of Charge, and, of course, these are not things that I do. However, on occasion something pops in my mailbox that I find myself enjoying so much that I HAVE to share.

In the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, I received a few pitches to write about romantic things like dealing with late-winter plumbing issues or the differences between water softeners and water filters, and are these people actually spying on me? Am I on camera right now?

But the email that really stood out was the one with the subject title “Eating Pizza In Bed Is Top Relationship Deal-Breaker!” I stared at that subject title for some time; I didn’t want to click on the email because I desperately wanted that to be true. The TOP relationship deal-breaker. Not incompatibility, not infidelity, not differences in managing personal finances. EATING PIZZA IN BED.

Sadly, I did click on the link and further, this was a relationship deal-breaker in terms of pizza eating, not the intricacies of human partnerships, and although it’s been some time since I was in the dating world, I can’t remember having any issues with how people eat pizza and how pizza consumption would affect my feelings towards them. Unless, I guess, that person shoved an entire piece in their mouth and proceeded to have a conversation while chewing, but that applies to any kind of food, not just pizza.

The other deal-breakers were listed as picking the cheese off the pizza, not eating the crust, asking for anchovies and/ or pineapple on the pizza, and eating pizza with a knife and fork. I plead guilty to the last one, because I am one step away from becoming Mr. Pitt, but we order pizza about once every two years, so it’s a pretty moot point. We have homemade make-your-own-pita-pizzas weekly, though, and I always use utensils; my husband still likes me so I think I’m okay.

But really, who eats pizza in bed? Who eats anything in bed? This might be my own personal thing but I like my bed free of food particles. Those duvet covers are a pain to wash and I don’t want to be dabbing remnants of pizza or anything else off of my pillows. I swear, even if I was a married lady on Downton Abbey, I would prefer to come down for breakfast rather than be served a tray, although if that was the case, someone else would be dealing with toast crumbs or Kashi cereal in the blankets. Still, it’s the principle of the thing.

I would kick ANYONE out of bed for eating crackers, make no mistake.

Years ago I read one of those click-bait articles that was titled something along the lines of “The One Thing Successful People Do Every Day” and that one thing was making their bed. I am a huge proponent of this and my kids have been making their own beds for many years, which apparently bodes well for their future successes. I literally don’t understand why people don’t make their beds – no judgments here, I just don’t understand. It takes less than two minutes, it looks neat and tidy, and at the end of the day, I want to get into a nice neat bed, not a jumble of sheets and blankets.

To me, THAT would be a deal-breaker, since I don’t think a non-bed-maker and a bed-maker could really live together in harmony. Although, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe they could make it work, not unlike a gardener-and-flower relationship. I mean, my husband deals with the fact that I cannot handle the TV turned up past a certain quiet volume, and I deal with him folding the tea towels in halves instead of in thirds, so who knows? We all have our relationship crosses to bear, I guess.

Well, this post certainly went a different direction than I had intended. I had intended to write about Valentine’s Day, and how some people place a lot of importance on it and others scorn it, and what happens when the twain meet? My friend and I were talking yesterday of Valentine’s Days Past; she worked in a grocery store and remembers hordes of men rushing in at 5:30 pm on The Day to buy crappy grocery flowers. I remembered one year visiting my parents in Palm Desert and my mom and I went shopping. I wanted to buy some bras at Victoria’s Secret – this was before the chain came to Canada – and the store was flooded with men, with crazed, desperate looks in their eyes. I didn’t make the connection until I realized it was February 14, and noticed the salesgirls had their hands full choosing probably inappropriate items and ringing up gift cards.

For me, Valentine’s Day is a nice excuse to make heart shaped baked goods – this year, a raspberry cake and sugar cookies – and to relentlessly tell my husband I choo-choo-choose him.

This year, though, he ordered me three cases of red wine, which is probably the greatest gift ever given in the history of mankind. Unless, I guess, it was four cases, but that seems excessive. I sent him texts with the bee emoticon so I am just going to say that I got the better end of the deal.

Happy belated Valentine’s Day, my friends. May your wine be rich and plentiful, and your pizza be delicious and eaten with a knife and fork at a table, just like god intended.

Bonus Barkley-on-a-snowy-day picture, just because I love you. In the spirit of Valentine’s Day (a day late!).

What’s In A Name; Perspectives; Book Reviews

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The other night, our dinnertime conversation centered on names, and whether the names we give our children are self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve always been fascinated by names and how they change with trends and generations. The book Freakonomics has a very interesting chapter on names and demographics, and of course I’m watching with interest as names start to come back into style that would have been considered ridiculous when I was a kid. The boys have become big Seinfeld fans – “Santa” gave them the complete series on DVD at Christmas – and there is one bit where Jerry reflects that calling a child “Jeeves” pretty much guarantees a career as a butler. The conversation turned interesting when one of the boys said that it was no wonder Scar from The Lion King was evil; just look at the other names the lions were given. Mufasa. Simba. Sarabi. Nala. All beautiful, majestic names, and then there’s Scar. The other boy said he hoped it was just a nickname given later in life, because if someone was born with a deformity, it seemed cruel to name them after that deformity. “I mean, if you were born with a gigantic head, it seems mean to name a baby Big Head.”

In any case, we all decided that poor Scar was a bit misunderstood and maybe even bullied a little, which is why he turned out the way he did. It’s interesting, always, to look at things from another perspective. I stumbled on this tweet stream the other day and people, it always pays to look at things from someone else’s point of view. There are always at least two sides to every story.

There are two sides to this story as well, but here is my side: my good scissors are missing. Someone who shall remain nameless but who is under fifty and is not me misplaced them; bless his heart, he was helping his father take down the outdoor Christmas decorations, a thankless task, and somehow the scissors have disappeared. Now, I have a very tidy and well-organized house, and believe me when I say THEY ARE NOT IN THE HOUSE. Possibly they were accidentally dropped in a snowbank somewhere, but I think it’s more likely they are in one of the many boxes housing the decorations that are now in the rafters in the garage.

It doesn’t matter what happened to them. What matters is that for the last few weeks I have been forced to use our secondary pair of scissors, a much cheaper and far inferior product.

The good scissors were a wedding gift from my then-boss (HI GARY, WHEREVER YOU ARE) and they were Henkels. When he gave them to me, he jokingly said “You can think of me every time you cut something” and I swear to you, I actually did. But now, upon being forced to use the inferior scissors, I found I was only thinking of my grave disappointment with each use.

Enough is enough and today I headed out in the freezing cold to purchase a new pair of Henkels from The Bay. My motto is to never buy anything at The Bay that isn’t on sale, but needs must sometimes you guys, needs must. It took a lot of internal conflict for me to buy them, with my half-Scottish side reprimanding myself for even THINKING of spending a ridiculous sum of money on scissors when a) the others might turn up next Christmas or when the snow melts, and b) they weren’t even on sale. But you know, I thought it was a small price to pay to have nice scissors again, and not think sadly of the son who misplaced the scissors – WHILE DOING SOMETHING HELPFUL, HE DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS THING.

Anyway, they are now in my possession and look:

“Just perfect” – they are, really.

It’s all about perspective! And on that note, I’d like to share my perspective on a few books sent to me by Simon and Schuster. I was not compensated for these reviews, but I was sent advance reader copies of each.

Walk It Off

Whenever I get a headache – which is rare, I am not headache-prone – I think, in the voice of Arnold Schwartzegger from Kindergarten Cop, it’s not a tum-ah. But what if it is a tumour? Ruth Marshall – an actress noted for her role in Degrassi, among other things – dismissed her tingling legs and clumsiness, only to find out that she had a giant tumour on her spine. Walk It Off is her memoir (what is the difference between memoir and autobiography?) about her diagnosis and recovery, and although it sounds quite grim, it’s actually really hilarious and heart-warming. You can’t help but put yourself in her (flat) shoes and wonder what it would be like to be in recovery and rehab, with two children, learning to walk and use the bathroom. You also can’t help but get slightly alarmed when you wake up with pins and needles in your hand, ostensibly because you slept in a weird position, but WHAT IF. It’s a really great, quick read with the kind of “a door closes and another opens” ending that I absolutely love.

Dangerous Crossing

As soon as I finished this fabulous mystery I immediately lent it to my mother, who loves mysteries and historical fiction. Dangerous Crossing is the story of a British domestic servant who took advantage of an offer from the Australian government to sail Down Under; apparently domestic servants were in short supply, and the Aussies would pay the passage of young women to go into service. This was in 1939 and really did happen. Now, with any historical fiction, there will be some parts that are NOT strictly historical; behaviours and attitudes tend to be modernized so as to not offend the reader, and this book is no exception. Also, I found myself wondering how on earth a domestic servant would afford a cream silk evening gown, and why cream? It would be hard to clean on a ship. But ignoring that, this book is delicious and fun and I really did not see the ending coming, at all. I like those kinds of twists. This would be an amazing travel read or a book to take to the beach.

Things To Do When It’s Raining

This lovely gem of a book is all about secrets and how they can tear you apart, and the healing power of forgiveness and love. Things To Do When It’s Raining has a lovely message and interesting characters, and this paragraph, I think, says it all.

Asymmetry

I saved the best for last. Of all the books I read in 2017, this might be my favourite. Asymmetry is an incredibly written, beautiful story in three parts; the first two seem like they are completely unrelated, from the perspective of two completely unrelated people, but in the third part, we see how they overlap. It’s a debut novel and it’s amazing – a must read. From a May-December romance to an Iraqi-American detained at London Heathrow, the intertwined stories are fascinating. I loved this so much that I have already decided to re-read it on my next plane trip – it’s such dense, gorgeous writing that I feel that I will get even more out of it on a second read.

On that note, I have laundry to fold and banana bread to make (I still have SO MANY frozen bananas) and a class to teach so I’m signing off. xo

It’s December; what’s your Tree Decorating Personality?

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The other day my husband said that the month of November dragged and dragged and seemed to go on forever, and honestly, I felt like I couldn’t relate at all. November FLEW by for me, in that I keep thinking that it was just Halloween the other day, and now it’s December. I mean, I’ve been feeling festive for the past couple of weeks, as is my wont at this time of year, but I keep feeling like my life is a speeded-up cartoon of pages flying off a daily calendar.

On Wednesday I went to the post office to mail the Christmas parcel to my mother-and-sister-in-law, and as I walked through the parking lot I saw a man standing outside of the Tim Horton’s, having a cigarette. This would not be notable in the least, except that the man in question looked exactly like Santa Claus: he had a long, well-kept white beard, rosy cheeks, a generally round shape, and – this might be speculation on my part – a jolly demeanor. I wondered if he WAS the mall Santa Claus; although he wasn’t wearing a red suit, he was wearing a red t-shirt, and anyway it would be more than likely that he would change for his smoke break, so as to not disturb the young children who had just sat on his lap in the pretend North Pole in the mall. Nevertheless, I did wonder if he WAS the mall Santa, would children recognize him even without the suit, and if so, how would their parents explain this? Even Santa deserves a break, maybe, or Santa has a stressful job at this time of year. I thought about this all through the lineup at the post office, imagining this stranger, who had done nothing whatever to deserve this thought process, other than having a Santa-like appearance, was actually the real Santa, picturing his smoke breaks during toy-making supervision, and the elves smoking with him with their tiny elf-sized mugs of super-strong coffee, talking with a “HEY! I’m WALKING here!” New York accent. I thought about this until I got back to my car and then realized that I was letting my imagination run away with me, and speculation is just that, speculation, and most likely the fellow in question was not Santa in any shape or form, only a kind-looking, if hirsute, older gentleman.

Not that I’d begrudge Santa his smoke break – it would be tiring sitting there with screaming infants and parents trying to coax a smile out of their terrified toddlers, who intuitively know not to sit on a stranger’s lap and tell that stranger secrets for any amount of candy canes. Have you been a good girl this year? But a smoking Santa might be a little stinky for the kids.

Long story short, now is the time to visit the post office. The lineup was negligible and the clerks are not as downtrodden and exhausted as they will be three weeks from now.

What’s the gift-and-card-for-the-in-laws situation in your house? For what it’s worth, I take this task on myself. I know many people have a “your family, you do the gift” policy, but a) I find I’m probably more suited to shop for a seventy-five-year-old woman than my husband is, b) I have a much more flexible schedule, and c) broadly speaking, once two people are joined in holy matrimony those two people should – IDEALLY – consider the spouse’s family to be their own. Ideally. In any case, it’s all done and mailed now.

I am also the person in charge of holiday cards, for the very good reason that I am the only person who cares about holiday cards. I am the person who chooses the photo, the layout, and the inside message. I make sure to include “from Barkley too, woof!” as I do every year, and I write out and address each one. I do not let anyone near them – which, as I said, no one is really clamouring to help – because to say I’m particular about them is an understatement.

I mention this so you know that I am not judging the people involved in my next topic. I know we all have our things. Lately I have seen a lot of posts about women, exclusively women, who either a) redecorate their Christmas tree after their children decorate it, or b) do not let their children decorate the tree at all. No judgement here, but I cannot relate in the least. Decorating the tree is a full-on family affair in the Boyhouse and hoo boy, can you tell. I love it. I love our extremely eclectic collection of ornaments and I love to see the perfect arrangement of ornaments through my kids’ eyes. Every year I add one or two ornaments to our collection, something to remind me of the year that has passed, and so we have a lot of interesting trinkets; a tractor from when the boys were obsessed with John Deere, a beautiful ball with an Inukshut on it from 2010, a fat moose from the year I was pregnant with the oldest and was enormous.

Did you know that there is much spirited debate in the world about white versus coloured lights? I did not but never fear: our tree has a setting for both, and the lights oscillate between the two. See?

I love when the kids jam several ornaments on one branch; they do that because they think the ornaments want to be together, which melts my heart.

Clue – a gift from my parents – plus two homemade candy canes and, surprisingly, Superman.

A stormtrooper with Ben 10 and a few assorted Cars movie ornaments.

I bought this admittedly tacky Disney castle with Mickey Mouse last year, at Disney World. It reminds me of watching the fireworks show, and how wonderful and special that was. A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you’re fast asleep.

This came from Disneyland, back in 2011. The kids LOVED the Buzz Lightyear ride.

My mom had given the boys these ornaments when they were – as you may guess – four and five, and I love that they are together. Also: Scooby Doo and my marshmallow “Kiss the Cook.”

My mother-in-law gave me this bowl years ago. I keep it filled with driftwood, shells, and smooth rocks from trips my husband and I made to the West Coast, before kids. The vintage ornaments get added at Christmas, and they were also a gift from her. I love the 1960s feel of them.

My husband, bless his heart, spends at least eight hours putting up outdoor Christmas decorations. Not only do we have lights – white icicles and red bulbs – along with lighted deer, trees, gift boxes, a hippo, penguins, snowmen, a moose, and an entire candy cane lane – which he bought for me because I always wanted one – he also decorates our large Mayday tree with glittery ornaments.

Sadly, two of them detached from their hooks. I went to Walmart to buy Gorilla Glue, feeling like an I am Woman Hear Me Roar type. I went to the DIY section, giggling because DIY always reminds me of that line in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, “Do you like to Do It Yourself?” Anyway, there were many different kinds of Gorilla Glue but I chose wisely, I think. When I told my husband, expecting praise for doing what I would strongly consider a Blue Job, he nervously texted me to ask me to please wait until he got home before fixing the ornaments. I think he thought I would glue myself to the table, or perhaps glue my hands together or one hand to my face or something. Given my track record for fixing things, this was probably warranted.

My husband also strung lights on the garage so when I’m making dinner, I don’t have to stare out the window into the pitch-black abyss. It really brightens my mood. He also set the timer so that the lights come on just as I’m driving home from yoga in the wee hours of the morning, and it always makes me happy.

Happy December, my friends. I wish you a month of joy and festivity, and no fingers glued together. xo

Why do we have two Agent P? I don’t know, but I’m glad they’re together.