Category Archives: Luckiness

Not THE most boring post ever, but close.

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All week, I’ve wanted to write more about my Las Vegas trip. I wanted to write about the rowdy plane ride down there and the near-silent plane ride home. I wanted to write about the guy next to me on the plane who took off his shoes and passed out, leaving me to stare at his purple socks with pink toes, heels, and colourful polka-dots, that I thought my five year old niece would appreciate. I wanted to write about going to see O, and how amazing and beautiful it was, and how one of the acrobats missed their mark and dived gracefully into the water below, crawling out quietly. I wanted to write about the pianist who paused, looked at me, and smiled because I was so appreciative of his rendition of Let It Be. I wanted to write about the weather, how I finally, for the first time in my life, got to say “It was 100 degrees today!” It was actually 108, but who’s counting? I wanted to write about the topless pool that I was so curious about, and that I kept seeing a pretty lady in a white bikini handing people cards with the pool’s name on it, Bare. Were these people especially selected for their topless-ability? It turned out that the pool was more of a nightclub, but in the day, and pretty much anyone was allowed to go, although the crowd tended to be self-selecting. In case you’re curious, I did not, but it kept my imagination busy for a while. I wanted to write about meeting new friends and how I always think Americans are the friendliest, most hospitable people in the world.

But then, I got sick. Remember the little non-debilitating sniffles? It morphed into a full body exhaustion and sinus ache, which I’m sure was due entirely to my attitude of “mind over matter” and “just push through.” This only works for so long.

Wednesday was a bad day; I had to drag myself out of bed at 6:30, after a full TEN hours of sleep. After dropping the kids at school, I took the dog for a walk, feeling like I was actually running a marathon. Then I went to Costco. People, Costco is not the place you want to be when you’re under the weather. At one point, I stopped in the frozen fruit aisle, listening to the whooshing noise in my head and wondering what would happen if I passed out. I was pretty sure that would be an awkward scenario. I managed to finish my shopping and even put away all the groceries, though going up and down the stairs made my heart feel like it was going to explode. I picked the kids up for lunch, and Mark said in a concerned way, “Maybe you should lie down, Mom. Maybe a nap would help you.”

A nap! Brilliant! Except…in what can only be described as a very bad decision, that morning in a “everything’s normal and I’m fine” fit, I stripped all the beds and laundered the sheets. My couch is very uncomfortable for napping, and so I needed to put the sheets back ON the beds prior to napping. It felt like a K2 expedition at that point but somehow I did it, and slept the afternoon away.

Things are better today, or they were, until I started to feel terrible about an hour ago. Oh no! Relapse! Until I realized that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. FEED A COLD, NICOLE. I thought guacamole would be medicinal, so I chopped up some tomatoes, and then grabbed my lone avocado. It wasn’t until I sliced it open and then couldn’t get the pit out, and tried to cut around it and mash the rock solid flesh, that I realized that it wasn’t ripe. Sadness.

I then – dear reader, you must realize my desperation by now – made some sort of makeshift “nachos” using Mary’s Gluten Free Seed Crackers, non-dairy cheddar slices, and the chopped up tomatoes. It was seasoned by my tears. Just kidding. It wasn’t terrible with salsa. I mean, there are probably a thousand things much better than eating a plate of gluten-free crackers topped with a product whose first two ingredients are water and tapioca starch, but it wasn’t actively awful.

Well, it can only go up from here, right? It’s Friday, and there is only one week left of school, so that’s something. Happy weekend everyone. xo

Do you feel lucky, punk?

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Yesterday I got an email saying that I was the possible recipient of $6.5 million dollars, due to the passing of someone who MAY be related to me. All the money was in a Tongan bank just waiting to be transferred. Then, this morning I got TWO emails from “China Shenhua” saying that “company picked your email as a lucky person for $1,000,000 and a new car.” All I could think of was Bob Barker’s voice: A NEW CAR.

By the way, have you seen Jesse Paul on a 2008 episode of The Price Is Right? I love The Price Is Right (PLINKO!) and I absolutely adore the super-excited audience members. Jesse Paul, however, takes the cake. Watch the clip and tell me if you don’t think he’s the single greatest contestant to be on the show. I still get to spin the wheel, right, Bob?

Anyway, I’m feeling pretty lucky, with my super-exciting inbox of winning today. Plus, you guys, it’s almost my birthday! I love birthdays. I love that I’m turning forty. It feels like this exciting new era, and also that I’ve joined a super-special club of the over-forties.

So I’m having a few people over on the weekend, and last week I went to Costco to stock up on snacky things and other necessities. Since we had the painters at the house, I went to Costco after lunch and OH MY GOD YOU GUYS what was I thinking? I guess I was thinking nothing at all, since I never go to Costco in the afternoon. In fact, the only time I’ve been there not first thing in the morning was the one time I zoomed over there when the kids were in karate and I had 45 minutes to get there and back. On that occasion, I didn’t even take a cart, I just loaded up four items in my arms and popped in and out. I did not realize what afternoon Costco was like.

I expected it to be busier, but it wasn’t significantly so. The issue wasn’t with the number of people, it was with the samples.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not hating on people getting samples. It’s cool. I’m sure they have lots of tasty treats, and for free, and fill your boots, but for the love of god, people, please move your carts. Those giant Costco carts are bad enough, but when there are six or seven of them lined up to get a free spoonful of Greek yogurt, it is impossible for the non-sampling population to get by and get on with their lives. I was literally trapped in the aisles, trying to edge past the lines of people sampling the wares. It was like a weird nightmare; I’d get to the end of the aisle and would not be able to get out. I’d turn my cart around, but by the time I did that more people were lined up on the other side for more samples. I even got a side-eye and under-the-breath muttering from some man who was under the impression that I was trying to budge in front of him, rather than get around him to get to the frozen berry section. Buddy, I’m not interested in your portion of ham on a cracker. You can have my share.

I’ve been on a kick lately where I am trying not to stock up on things; I’m trying to just use up what I have in the house, and only buy things I need. My canned goods cupboard was getting out of control. So, I’ve put myself on a buying moratorium; I make a list and I stick strictly to the list. Too many times I’ve thought maybe we need soap, bought a 12-pack of Dove, and come home to three unopened Costco-sized packages. In any case, while I was wheeling around the sampling population of Costco, I saw the giant Dove shampoo and conditioner bottles that I buy for the boys and my husband. I briefly wondered if I should buy some, but then I said to myself Nicole, it is not on the list, do not buy it, you do not need it. I stood in a giant lineup to check out and then I drove home, making several trips up and down the stairs to put things away. THIS is why Costco shopping is so exhausting – it’s the stair climbing that finishes me off.

Later that night, after his shower, Jake said to me, “By the way, Mom, the shampoo is empty.” I went downstairs to fetch another bottle and LO. There was no shampoo. There was no conditioner.

At this point, I fairly exploded. “I WAS JUST AT COSTCO!” I said. “YOU NEED TO TELL ME WHEN YOUR SHAMPOO IS ALMOST EMPTY!” I said this angrily to everyone in the house, including my husband, who said that the shampoo had a pump – he never picks it up – he didn’t know it was empty. People, I had to leave the room. I was disproportionately upset about this shampoo debacle. We did have other shampoo in the house. We just didn’t have that kind, and that was a tipping point for me. I was at Costco and I had to veer around herds of carts and people acted like I was going to take the popcorn sample right out of their mouths, and goddammit, we were out of shampoo. Kind of. I had to actually do some deep breathing, this was how upset I was. I kept trying to rationalize to myself that it wasn’t a big deal, but dammit, it was a big deal.

The very next day I got my period, which kind of cleared things up for me. It was, as Oprah says, an AHA moment. AHA! Do not shop at Costco right before ladies’ holidays, especially not in the afternoon.

Boots and songbooks: where have you been all my life?

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It’s cold here, but not unusually so, by which I mean today was -22 without windchill and that is the coldest it has been all week. The rest of the week sat around -15 without windchill, which is certainly par for the course for January in Calgary.

My usual morning routine is to drop the kids at school and then meet friends at the off-leash with our dogs. (Who’s a good doggie? Who’s a GOOD DOGGIE? Barkley’s a good doggie!). After our dog walk, I couldn’t feel my feet, which is something that’s been occurring more and more often lately. Lest you think I was underdressed for the weather, this was my outfit: turtleneck sweater underneath a thick wool sweater, jeans, thick woollen legwarmers, two pairs of socks, ankle length parka with hood, earmuffs, gloves underneath thick mittens, and my Joan of Arctic Sorel boots.

Remember when I bought those Sorel boots, years ago, and how it was a revelation to me? They no longer are the godsend they once were. I don’t know if it’s a factor of lots of wear or if my Reynaud’s and circulation issues are just getting worse, but in any case, I’ve been really suffering lately. After spending most of the day in foot agony post-walk, I decided that it was high time for new boots. And I went to MARK’S WORK WEARHOUSE.

End times are nigh.

I went into the store and spoke to the very young male associate. I informed him that I wanted the warmest pair of boots available. These are pretty warm, he said, to which I responded, No. I want your WARMEST pair. Whatever your warmest pair is, I will take them.

I came home with marginally ugly but OMG MAGICAL boots.

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They are called Snow Queens, which makes me feel regal.

I feel like my life has changed, with one trip to Mark’s Work Wearhouse. Previously my trips there have been only to purchase Christmas gifts for my father-in-law.

In other where have you been all my life news, I had ordered a piano song book and yesterday it arrived. It may be the single greatest song book of all time.

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Look at that lineup! And it doesn’t even tell the whole story.

I’ve been playing the piano for almost thirty years – I was quite serious about it for many years, but now I just play for fun.

Digression: how many of us were into something like a sport or an instrument in a very serious way, but now as adults we say “now I just do it for fun”? I have friends who were competitive figure skaters, gymnasts, divers, hockey players, and swimmers, as well as those of us who spent hours daily at an instrument. Question for another day: was it worth it? Are the intangible lessons from that kind of discipline enough to outweigh the time, money, and energy spent? I like to think so, but honestly I am not sure. Thoughts? In any case, I was very happy to be able to spend hours a day at the piano, back in the day, and I’m very happy now to be able to play. I wish my kids had some interest in playing, but they can barely summon up the wherewithal to play their recorders.

Anyway, for the past few years I’ve been feeling a little stale at the piano. Other than Christmas music, my general repertoire was Fur Elise, followed by New York State of Mind or Piano Man, ending with Solfeggio in C Minor. Occasionally I’d plunk away at something new but would be mostly bored.

I tell you this: my new songbook has revitalized every feeling I’ve ever had about piano. Because look!

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OMG

I had initially ordered the songbook for Don’t Stop Believing, but THIS was the first song I chose. I played it for my husband last night, who was nonplussed.

Mr: I don’t even know what you’re playing.

Me: It’s Islands in the Stream!

Mr: *goes back to reading about the NFL*

So that was disappointing. However, as I flipped through I saw the music for Stairway to Heaven and started to play.

Mr: Now THAT’S a good song.

Other gems: Wish You Were Here, Open Arms, Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong, and EYE OF THE TIGER. I’m not sure how that will translate to piano, but ever since I heard that guy play Sweet Child of Mine on the accordion, I’ve been inspired to think outside the music box. Heh. Music box.

According to Buzzfeed, Elvis is my boyfriend from a past life.

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Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I had full intentions of writing an emotionally-charged gratitude/ thankfulness post, but then my post-Blissdom cold morphed into a Super Cold which left me unable to sleep or function in a semi-coherent way. I was also at my in-laws’ for five days and now I’m catching up – again – on the mountain of laundry that somehow appeared although I actually did laundry twice whilst at my in-laws’. I also cannot comprehend the date: how is it halfway through October? Jake was looking at his calendar last night and said “Hey, it won’t be too long until Christmas, and then I get a new calendar. The year is just flying by!” Tell me about it.

I’m thankful for many things, not the least of which is the approximately one hundred pounds of apples I currently have in my house, and the fifty pounds of grapes. Fruit leather, coming up. Now that I think about it, I really am not sure why I thought this was an appropriate amount of fruit to take home, but there it is. My husband suggested last night that I make some grape juice, but the thought of the juicer and the insane cleanup afterwards just seemed overwhelming, especially after we spent the majority of the day in the car. Fortunately there was not much traffic, and so my husband had very few people to swear at; another thing to be thankful for.

I was so sick last week that I actually missed a School Council/ Parent Association meeting. Such a thing has never happened before. I made it to the meeting, but my friend looked at me and said “Um, I think you should go home. NOW.” Meanwhile, I blinked at her uncomprehendingly. What? Nicole doesn’t understand. By all accounts it was quite the dramatic meeting so I guess it was for the best, since I probably would have passed out, drooling on my notes, while the activity took place. Staring blankly into space and drooling is probably not the best way to chair a meeting, although it might be an interesting experiment.

There was a music tag game going around last night, in which one puts their music on shuffle and notes down the songs that come up. It’s quite an interesting portrait, this peek into people’s playlists. Here’s mine, and I must note that I thought I had written down ten songs, but it was pointed out to me that I actually wrote down nine. I was a queen in calculus but apparently I can’t count to ten. I blame the road trip!

Nicole’s Shuffle Playlist: My Personality, as represented by music

Dreadlock Holiday (I don’t like reggae. I love it.)

Islands in the Stream (Sail away with me. To another world.)

Fast Car (Take your fast car and keep on driving.)

Me and Mrs Jones (We got a thiiiiiiing going onnnnnnn)

Nights on Broadway (Blaming it all on the nights on Broadway. Blaming them love songs. Blaming them straight to the heart songs)

Linda Put The Coffee On (I got sunshine and red wine, a friend of mine taking it easy)

Thrift Shop (Is that your grampa’s coat?)

Over My Head (And it sure feels nice)

BUST A MOVE (Okay smarty, go to a party.)

When I did this exercise, I actually fretted for a moment, as to whether or not I should post these songs. I mean, Islands in the Stream? Really? There are two ways to face it: with total confidence that this is a fabulously eclectic collection of music, or with shame. I’m going for the former.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Cash Cab, Here I Come.

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I’m so glad there are so many of you on the same page as me, in the “ladies’ holidays” way. It makes me feel much less insane, although the word “peri-menopause” is coming up a wee bit more than I would like it to. As an aside, my grandma had some very helpful advice regarding alleviating those menopausal symptoms: a late-in-life pregnancy. Apparently, getting pregnant in your mid-to-late 40s is a guarantee that your menopausal symptoms will be minimal.

I feel like this advice isn’t really going to work for me.

In any case, I am having a much better week and I’m in the throes of excitement since bright and early tomorrow, I leave for The Big Smoke, for the Blissdom Canada conference. All indications point to this being a very enjoyable time, except maybe from the point of view of my husband and children. The children in particular have said several times how SAD they are going to be and how much they are going to MISS ME, and while I appreciate the sentiment, it’s not like I’m throwing them to the wolves. Jake offered me the remaining quarter of his strawberry Tic-Tacs, and Mark gave me a partially consumed package of Ice Breaker Sours, so I would have something to eat on the plane; this, along with my husband offering me his fancy noise-cancelling headphones, makes me feel like I’m travelling in style.

Although the boys are going to MISS ME SO MUCH, they are pretty excited about one aspect of me visiting Toronto: Cash Cab. The Cash Cab is in Toronto and I will need a taxi, therefore I could be on Cash Cab. I don’t have the heart to tell them that the likelihood of a taxi at the airport being the actual Cash Cab is very small, since exhausted travellers would probably not take well to being dropped off in the middle of the highway with all their luggage, in the event that they give three incorrect answers. Secretly (or not so secretly) I wish I could be on Cash Cab. I think I would totally rock it.

The boys seem to have inherited my love of game shows. During the Christmas holidays I love to watch The Price is Right with them, and not just because Christmastime seems to be the time for Firefighter’s Day. Much to the irritation of my husband, we like to watch Wheel of Fortune and, less often, Jeopardy. I have never told them that I once was on a game show: Spelling Bee. Anyone who grew up in Calgary in the 1980s might remember our beloved Ed Whalen hosting the game show for kids. Our team made it three rounds before we were cut, and I’ve always been a little disappointed we didn’t go all the way. I’m not sure, exactly, what we would have won had we become Spelling Bee champions, but I’m sure it would have been amazing.

Snow-pocalypse

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It has been such a strange week. It started out like this:

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Which morphed into this:

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We put on a happy face, after all, the kids were all building snow forts and having a blast. The snow was going to melt, so no big deal, right?

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Yesterday morning I drove to yoga at my usual early time. The snow was falling heavily and the streets were slushy. I felt a bit anxious about it, so I had an abbreviated practice and headed home a bit early, thinking I could get my husband to have a head start and beat the traffic. Soon, I realized that his car’s summer tires would never do for the conditions, so when I got home at 6:45 I told him that he should probably consider taking the train to work. He gave me the following information: giant branches were breaking off our Manitoba maple in the front yard, and there was a stabbing at the train station, so it was closed for investigation.

I turned on the news just in time to see that the stabbing investigation was over and the station was now open for the morning commute, and just as I was relaying that happy piece of news, the power went off. And stayed off. We had no power, no phone, and the route to school was full of giant trees, all of which were losing branches. My cell phone was only partially charged, and so I trudged off early with the boys, still dressed in my sweaty yoga clothes, with no makeup and dirty hair, hoping the power was on at the school so I could charge my phone, and avoiding any and all large trees on the way. We made it without being hit by falling branches, and the teachers immediately took pity on me, plugging in my phone, making me coffee, and offering to toast me a bagel. I was reminded how lucky I am to live in a neighbourhood where the kids can walk to school, and to be part of a school community that is truly kind.

I tried to be helpful in the school office for a while, and then decided I would walk back home and…read a book? I wasn’t sure what to do, exactly, when my phone rang. My two dear friends asked me to meet them at the neighbourhood Starbucks. Why not? My to-do list wasn’t exactly to-do-able. As I left the school I saw a tree fall down in the middle of the busy road, blocking traffic, and several large branches fall on the stopped cars up and down the boulevard. Once I got to Starbucks, my friends had bought me a giant vanilla soy latte, and informed me that I was NOT going home to my cold, dark house, but instead I was going to my friend’s, that had power and an extra computer in case I needed to do some work. She also insisted that the boys come to her place for a hot lunch. I was reminded how lucky I am to have friends who get me, who knew I would never ask.

After lunch my other dear friend drove me back to my house so I could let the dog out for a while. We pulled up to see devastation – giant branches littering the front yard, the sidewalk, and the walkway. My tree! My friend went to the back yard, picked up a hoe, and started knocking as much snow as she could off of the other trees and shrubs. We did this for a while and it really helped; the other front tree, the Mayday, suffered minimal damage. I was reminded how lucky I am to have friends who just pitch in and help.

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All in all it was pretty depressing, although by the time the kids and I came home after school, the power was back on. The power was back on! Never have I been so thrilled to be able to switch on a light. I was reminded how lucky I am to be in a cozy, warm house, with hot water and a fridge full of food.

After dinner, my neighbours came by with a chainsaw and bandsaw, and they helped move the branches onto the lawn and off the walkways. I was reminded how lucky I am to be in a neighbourhood with heart.

This morning the sun came out. Everything looks better in the morning, don’t you think?

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The thing is, there are so many great people in my life. I’m just surrounded by them. I have very little patience for people who are selfish, people who are unkind, people who thrive on making other people feel bad. We need to spend our time celebrating the good people, and to spend zero time thinking about the toxic ones. I’m so lucky to have all of you in my life, and you know who you are. xoxoxo

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Happy fall with the Manitoba maple, 2008.

IMG_1707 IMG_1711 IMG_1714 (2) Jakeleaves

The 2010 Olympic Mascots, Four Years Later

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Approximately fifty-two months ago, something magical happened; that magical thing was the 2010 Olympics. The kids at the time were in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten, and they were extremely interested in the Olympics: the events, the location, and the mascots. Especially the mascots. At one of my myriad book fairs, there was a book about the mascots called “Miga, Quatchi, and Sumi: The Story of the Vancouver 2010 Mascots”, and since the purchase of that book it has been perused approximately one million times. But back in early 2010, the boys expressed interest in purchasing one of those mascots. A miserable afternoon trip to The Bay yielded absolutely no results save a few gigantic versions of Miga, but my husband looked online and bought a four-pack of the stuffed animals, which included Muk-Muk, the mascot sidekick. Those mascots went with us on our first plane trip to Palm Desert, and have gone with us on every single trip since then.

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Mascots enjoying the warm air of Palm Desert. So far from their homes of Whistler, Vancouver Island, and “The Mysterious Forests of the North.”

Then my husband actually went to Vancouver while the Olympics were on; he lived there in his long-ago youth and went to stay with some friends for a few days to take in the Olympic vibe. He found two kids’ t-shirts that were unavailable at home, that featured the mascots in all their glory. Mark put his on and basically wore it every week for the next forty-three months.

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He wore it while blowing up balloons.

 

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He wore it at the duck pond.

 

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He wore it while learning to scooter.

 

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He wore it while hanging out under a shady tree when it was 35 degrees.

 

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He wore it while laughing about the meat market.

Jake wore his too, sometimes, but without the same zeal or passion.

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Seaside Quatchi.

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Note that Mark is still wearing his.

 

But alas. All good things must eventually come to an end. For one thing, what was an oversized t-shirt for a kindergartener was now practically a crop top for a 10 year old, and I am not one of those mothers who will stand by while her sons wear a half-shirt. By god, if they want to wear mesh half-shirts and cutoff shorts, they can do it under their own roof. Plus, the shirt was really showing its age due to nearly four years of washings.

He still loved the shirt, as worn out and faded as it was, and I knew I would never donate it or give it away. I read somewhere about making a favourite shirt into a pillow, and so I asked my mom – who is pretty handy with the needle and thread – if she would do this.

Small digression: my children would never, ever ask me to do anything that required basic sewing skills. They know this is not an area in which I excel. In fact, I almost failed Grade Nine Home Ec because of the sewing component. I would sit next to my best friend, humming away at the sewing machine, making her outfit that she was actually planning to wear, while I ripped out stitches over and over until my “project” was cheesecloth-like in appearance and I had to borrow someone else’s different-coloured ribbed material to try to patch things back together. I cannot sew a button on clothing without disastrous results, and the one time I made a yarn-based craft it turned out like this:

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Those are supposed to be octopuses, or octopii? I don’t really know.

In any case, my mother agreed to this project, so on the weekend we took the beloved green shirt over to her house where she whipped it into a pillow in approximately three minutes. On the way home Jake mentioned how soft Mark’s new pillow was. How cool it was. How amazing it was and OMG JEALOUS. A quick text to my mother, who pretty much would do anything for her grandkids, and the wheels were in motion.

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Proud pillow owners.

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Action shot!

 

The idea did not originate with me, so thank you to whoever came up with this fun parenting idea of the day: turn a favourite shirt into a pillow. If only I had saved all my concert t-shirts from the eighties! I could have a whole bed full of Depeche Mode, Midnight Oil, Grapes of Wrath, and INXS t-shirt pillows! It would add a certain je ne sais pas to my home decor, that’s certain.