Category Archives: My failing sanity

Living La Vida Hygge; Eighty-Six Weeks In

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This was the most perfect book to read during the first week of November with colder temperatures and shorter, darker days:

Wait, wait. I know what you’re going to say. I am about five years late to the hygge party – actually, closer to six, given that we are almost done 2021 (WHAT). In my defense, I have had The Little Book of Hygge on hold at the library for many months, and it just came in last week, and so really I’m more like four and a half years late. Or five and a half, depending.

Many of you will remember that last year I started to embrace the Norwegian part of my heritage, adopting the concept of friluftsliv, getting outside and enjoying the fresh air, no matter the weather. And believe me, in Calgary that can be a challenge, but it is a challenge I have accepted. Then, in the spring, I decided to Embrace The Season, in every way possible. Now, I am adding to the roster the concept of hygge, which, to be honest, I have probably always embraced.

Hygge, for those of you also late to this party, is pronounced HOO-ga, which is super fun to say, like an old-timey air horn, and it is roughly translated as a feeling of coziness, intimacy, warmth, home, and safety. It’s the feeling I hope my kids get when they come home after school and activities, and it’s cold outside and I’ve baked muffins for their arrival. It’s the feeling I get when I’m having a hot drink and it’s cold outside and everyone is home and happy. It’s the feeling I get when I switch the bed to flannel sheets and start wearing legwarmers over my yoga pants on the daily (it’s a look).

Maybe I am spiritually Danish, because this book resonated with me a lot, except for the part about how much meat the Danes eat and how many candles they burn, as I don’t eat meat and I am terrified of candles with their possibility of setting the house on fire. Candles are fire hazards, people. I even get a little nervous with birthday candles. Anyway, there is a description of Danish fashion: all black with the exception of summer, when Danes get crazy about colour and break out the grey, with scarves and layers and hair in buns. IT’S ME, YOU GUYS. They are describing ME! Also, Danes lead the world in cake consumption, which is a fun fact that I am here for; cake is the queen of all the desserts, I will die on this hill.

One thing about living in a cold climate, when you are a person who does not like the cold, is that you really have no control over your environment. I guess that is true in any climate, none of us can control the weather – can we? – and so there are two ways we can react: we can complain endlessly, or we can accept it as it is and embrace the things that make it beautiful. I have chosen the latter, mostly, as I think complaining about the weather is the most useless thing we can do, and wishing the weather was different is futile. We get what we get, and we don’t get upset, as we say to preschoolers. I mean, sometimes I am going to be upset, but I’m trying.

So I’m embracing the concept of hygge, although as I said I think I have ALWAYS embraced it, I just didn’t know there was a name for it. It’s going to be ALL COZINESS ALL THE TIME around here, now that we are back to standard time and soon the sun will set just after four o’clock and temperatures dip low. As an aside, in the recent municipal election there was a question about getting rid of time change altogether and adopting Daylight Savings Time year-round, and I have feelings about this. It got voted down because people realized that the sun wouldn’t rise until 9:30-10:30 in December, but here’s my question: why Daylight Savings Time? Why not have Standard Time year-round? This was our chance to get rid of time change altogether, and it has been ruined. Why was Standard Time not an option? WHY? Do we really need the sun to be setting between 10:00-11:00 pm in June? STANDARD TIME MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE, WHO MADE UP THESE POLLS.

Anyway, that’s one more thing I can’t control, so I’m not going to rail about it – much – so let’s get back to hygge. The festive season is the perfect time to consciously be hygge. It’s pretty easy to Embrace the Season when you love the season, and it’s not yet so cold that my face hurts to be outside. Actually, we had a couple of unusually warm days last week – it was warm enough to run outside! – and we have had the most gorgeous sunrises lately. Yay for November!

Oh, one other great thing about November: kalettes are back at Costco!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. I was so excited to see them on my trip there this week and I kind of think that I should be getting some kind of kickback from The Kalette People, as I convince at least one person to buy them every time I see them, giving them a rave review and also my favourite way to prepare them – roasted, with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I’ll see a person – almost always a woman – at the display looking at them and then I will strike up a conversation about how much I love them, and the person inevitably puts a package in her cart, possibly to put an end to my enthusiastic raving, who can say. Well. Roasting vegetables is very hygge, in my humble opinion, as is baking:

Upon the kalette discovery I immediately texted my friend Janet (HI JANET) about their reappearance, and she said that she was also just at Costco and was going to text ME about kalettes, and don’t you love having friends like that? That kind of friendship is so hygge.

Pandemic Reading

Other than The Little Book of Hygge, I read a few books this week:

Things To Make and Break. I liked a couple of the short stories in this collection, but mostly this was not for me.

Broken (in the best possible way). It has been many years since I’ve read Lawson’s blog, but this series of essays reads just like I remember it: funny in a silly, over-the-top kind of way, and also dark, raw, and sad. This was very hit-and-miss for me, but fans of the blog will really love it, I’m sure. There were two essays in this book that I found quite beautiful, but mostly this wasn’t for me.

Yoga Pant Nation. I read and enjoyed the first two books in this series – Class Mom and You’ve Been Volunteered – and so I was happy when my friend Anna (HI ANNA) mentioned there was a third. It’s very light and fun and fluffy, and if you, like me, have ever clocked tons of hours volunteering at an elementary school, you will find this very relatable.

The Rules Do Not Apply. Have you ever gotten through a good chunk of a book only to realize you’ve read it before? There was a chapter about the man with whom the author’s mother was having an affair that seemed vaguely familiar and upon looking at my book record, I saw that I read this in 2018. I couldn’t remember any of it, so it was almost like a fresh read! For the first 2/3 of this book, I found all the people – particularly the author – to be extremely unlikeable. But there’s a heartbreakingly tragic event – which I had no memory of – and a redemption arc.

Wow, that’s a lot of books this week. Well, once winter starts to settle in, reading is very hygge for me! Have a great week everyone, remember our bodies are an hour ahead of what the clock says, in case you start feeling starving for lunch at 10:30 am. xo

Never Eat Shredded Wheat; Eighty-Three Weeks In

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In my mind, one of the greatest technological advancements is the advent of the map function on my phone. I am a person who has very little sense of direction, and before this incredible feat of technological engineering, I would write down or print out directions to a place, and panic every time I thought I might have to turn, trying to keep one eye on the road and the other on the piece of paper. Is this the turn? I can’t read that sign. Oh goddammit, that’s a crescent, not a drive. WHERE AM I. The kids have known from a young age that I am a stressy driver in certain parts of the city, and my husband is constantly amazed that someone who has lived in one city her entire life still doesn’t know how the main thoroughfares work.

My husband, by the way, is a person who could be dropped anywhere at all, in any city, and would figure out exactly how to get to his destination within minutes, often without a map. How he does this I do not know, but it feels like not being on the Amazing Race was a missed opportunity.

When I was young, my dad would helpfully give me directions or draw a map on a piece of notepaper, and those directions would include things like “turn east” and he then would sternly say that “the sun rises in the east” when I asked if it was a right or a left hand turn. Thanks, Dad, I am aware the sun rises in the east, but my old car didn’t have directional indicators on it. Now, of course, if someone gives me such a direction, I look at the direction I am going as indicated on my rearview mirror and mentally say Never Eat Shredded Wheat as I figure it out.

All of which is to say I have a lot of gratitude for modern technology, wherein I can tap an address into my phone and it directs me there, taking into consideration current traffic and everything. I think we should all take a moment to sit silently in awe, thinking about how people like me are no longer a menace on the road, driving in circles and crying, tears smudging our handwritten directions that are uselessly crumpled on our laps, wondering how to get back home. Now we just have to think about the other menaces on the road: people who are using their phones while driving because god forbid a comment on Instagram goes unanswered, people who illegally drop their kids off in the bus zone at the high school and then block off the intersection as other cars try to turn down the street, which reminds me so much of when I visited Cairo in 2001, cars going everywhere but with no acknowledgement of the rules of the road, people who have road rage and aggressively tailgate and pass in residential streets because they are in a hurry and more important than everyone else. But at least I – and others like me – are relatively calmly driving in new areas, listening to our phones tell us what to do.

I don’t really go many new places these days, but I had the opportunity to use my Map Overlord twice this week: once to drive to my niece’s Brownie group where I was guest-teaching outdoor yoga, and once to meet a friend for a walk in a beautiful part of the city that I had never been to.

As a sidebar: I had never taught kids’ yoga OR outdoor yoga before, and it was quite different from my usual demographic, albeit very fun to teach “unicorn pose” and “rainbow breathing” and make up stories about Brownies with magical wands who could transform frogs into unicorns into dolphins.

Other things that happened this week, other than being grateful to live in the modern age, is that we had a brief snowfall that melted away soon after, it officially became legwarmer season, and my neighbours had a plumber to their house.

I watched intermittently out the window for a long time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hot Rod, but I had to go to the aforementioned Brownie meeting, and I missed him.

Pandemic Reading

Back in August, I put all my library holds on pause, as I wanted to work my way through a few books on my shelf that I wanted to read and reread. The pauses have all ended now, and this was the result:

After taking this photo, two more books came in, and when I went to pick them up, I saw this book, which was recommended by Swistle, (HI SWISTLE) just staring me in the face on the New and Notable shelf and honestly, I am not made of stone. In other words, I have a problem. Oh well. Game on, challenge accepted.

Little Fires Everywhere. This was one of the books I was wanting to reread, and I was blown away anew. IT IS SO GOOD. Celeste Ng is an incredible talent, a brilliant writer. She shows that people contain multitudes, and that there are many sides to a story. This book is about motherhood in all forms, but so much more – identity, secrets, appearances. Before you ask – no! I have not seen the show. It is highly unlikely that I will, mostly because I love the book so much and I find that I am inevitably disappointed by movies or shows based on books that I love. The sole exception to this rule is Little Women, both the recent film and the 1990s one, and I will also accept Sense and Sensibility as an excellent film.

Of Women and Salt. Oof. This is a very heavy, but ultimately hopeful, book. It’s a short, quick read but it contains so many layers and so much difficult material. Intergenerational trauma, the cycle of abuse, sacrifices made for a chance at a better life – all making the usual complexities of the mother-daughter relationship more fraught. The main characters are Cuban women, but there is an intertwined story about Salvadoran refugees that is heartbreaking and breathtaking.

People We Meet On Vacation. This was a very sweet best-friends-who-fall-in-love, opposites-attract book, just totally fun and fluffy. I mean, you know how this is going to turn out. It’s a perfect weekend/ beach/ vacation/ comfort read but there was a scene that got me thinking. The protagonist meets an old middle school nemesis who apologizes for being a jackass, and it reminded me of similar occasions in my own life. Specifically, I remember the advent of Facebook, and being “friended” by an old frenemy who treated me with the kind of emotional manipulation that certain girls wield in a terrible way. Do you hold onto grudges or let them go? People change, we are all in this journey together, I think. Shit happens and it’s rarely about US, you know? Mean kids had their own shit going on, that’s what made them mean. I remember accepting that woman’s Facebook friendship, and then thinking we are all just moms now, just going about our business and it was so freeing. Let go of that shit, is what I’m saying. The past is past. Anyhoo, this is a sweet little book about finding your home and happiness.

Have a beautiful week, friends! We have a birthday coming up in the house, so there will be cake in my future – how can that not be a great week! xo

Dreams, Jeans, Go(u)rds, Thanksgiving; Eighty-Two Weeks In

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Thanks and Giving

Thank you to everyone who reached out with kind words last week. It does make things lighter to know that we aren’t alone.

Today is Thanksgiving, for those of you not in Canada, and it is the first Thanksgiving in many years that we are not visiting my mother-in-law, which feels strange. It’s not even Covid-related – or, that’s not the main reason – we didn’t go because our vacation home, in which we stay when we visit, is currently a complete construction zone and is currently uninhabitable. We have added a second floor and after six weeks with no roof, the roof has just been put back on, and while there is no power or heat currently in the house, there are many workmen. When I say “construction zone” I really mean it. Staying with my mother-in-law is out of the question for logistical reasons, and the only other option would be to stay in a hotel and eat out and you know what, that part is Covid-related because I cannot fathom such a thing right now. Also, after the glory of last year’s Thanksgiving wherein I had my own kitchen and was able to contribute a number of vegetarian dishes to the meal, I cannot go back to eating a plate of peas and carrots for the festive dinner and later sneaking into the kitchen to scarf down peanut butter toast while everyone else digests their meal. Well, next year will be different.

We did have dinner at my parents’ place, and my mom made a number of vegetarian dishes along with a turkey, so everyone was happy. When it comes to cooking turkey, I will do anything for love but I won’t do that.

Dreams Last For So Long, Even After You’re Gone

I am not a person who puts much stock into dreams. I don’t tend to remember them, and if I do, they are usually incredibly boring and include dull day-to-day things like folding laundry endlessly or walking through the aisles in the grocery store. Back in my working days I used to dream about spreadsheets regularly, like the actual spreadsheets would just be scrolling through my dream-eyes. I don’t think I need to see a dream interpreter, is what I’m saying. Basically whatever is currently the most boring thing in my life, that is what I dream about.

But the other night, I had the most vivid dream that I was on a romantic vacation in Hawaii with Kevin from The Office. Before you ask, there was no sex involved, but Kevin was wearing a giant straw sunhat and flowered muumuu the whole time. The paparazzi was snapping photos that were captioned “Kevin From The Office and His New Girlfriend” so apparently, no one else knows his real name either.

What does it portend? Should my husband be worried? Am I going to leave him for Kevin? Or for another man who wears a straw hat and muumuu? I told my sons about the dream and they were most interested if Dream Kevin made me his World Famous Chili, and were disappointed when I said no. I mean, it’s probably not vegetarian.

It’s Fall, Fuckfaces

I have been eagerly preparing for Decorative Gourd Season in my usual way:

Even Barkley has gotten in on the action. He must have heard about throwing some multicoloured leaves in the mix, all haphazard, as you can see:

Of course, up here in Canada it is also Decorative Gord Season:

Now It’s A Whole Thing With Jean

You guys, Gigi was right (HI GIGI) (you were right!). Remember how excited I was for my new jeans, the first jean purchase I had made for years? Remember how excited I was at their comfort? Well. Gigi mentioned that some jeans have TOO much stretch and can become saggy and unattractive by midday and this is certainly the case with my not-so-exciting new jeans. They look so cute first thing in the morning, and then by 1:00 the waistband has started to slide down my body, leaving the crotch and bum sagging down. I tend to wear longer sweaters so it isn’t too obvious in that area, but the calves start to slide down to the ankles, and it’s all very disappointing. I don’t know what the answer is. Do I buy another pair of jeans that are less stretchy and comfortable? Do I go down a size so the jeans are uncomfortably snug until 1:00 in the afternoon? Do I just say fuck it all and wear my saggy jeans because where am I going and who am I seeing anyway? It’s a conundrum.

Pandemic Reading

I am still beta reading, and it’s so good that I schedule myself a certain amount of time each day to read make notes, and I’m constantly going over my allotted time with the thought just one more chapter, okay, just one more. The point is, I read just one other book this week and it’s a biggie:

Mansfield Park. It’s probably been 25 years since I read this, so it was almost like an entirely fresh read! I think this is the most complex and intricate of all the Austen novels. There is a LOT going on in this book, including such things as moral dilemmas, infidelity, divorce, and a whole lot of karma. One of the big themes in this book is that if you are a woman, and a man of independent means proposes to you, you should accept. NO QUESTIONS ASKED. Our incredibly beaten-down, put-upon heroine does NOT accept a proposal, for very solid reasons, and literally no one can believe it. They all keep trying to pressure her into this marriage, because WHY would she say no? There is a lot in here about class divides, and unlike any other Austen novel, there contains a non-wealthy or privileged setting. Of course there is a “happy ending,” depending on how you feel about “keeping romance in the family,” and all the same, I really love this book.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends! I hope you have a beautiful week. Our trees are mostly naked now, but it’s fun to crunch around in the leaves. xo

Summer’s Almost Gone; Seventy-Five Weeks In

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I don’t think I can adequately describe the relief I felt when I received an email from the Calgary Board of Education, stating that not only would masks be mandatory for students K-12, but all other health protocols would remain in place. With the Delta variant of Covid cases skyrocketing, again, and the general mask mandate dropped in the province, I was somewhat concerned about in-person school. I just want my kids to go to school for the year, and maybe even see my oldest have a graduation ceremony, is that too much to wish for. But I was so happy to get the email about masking; masks kept us all so healthy last year – we’ve never had such an illness-free year – and with all of us fully vaccinated, I feel even better.

I was feeling less happy to see that school starts not on September 7, like I thought it did, but September 1, which means this is the last week of summer, I’m not ready. I am just not in the headspace yet, but I’ll get there, and meanwhile, our hot summer weather ended abruptly and now it’s cool and rainy and it feels like fall. The universe is trying to prepare me, is what I’m saying.

August is a month where I always feel a little glum and melancholy and Landslide-y, and the grey, chilly, rainy days are exacerbating those feelings. Well, these days are good for getting things done in the house – when it’s warm and sunny I spend most of my day outdoors, and there were a few things I really did want to get done before school starts (NEXT WEEK OMG) and I get back to teaching yoga and we are all busy with our fall schedules. Like making jam.

My husband reminds me that we have air conditioning, if I want to make jam on a warm day I can, but I never do want to do that. Jam making is for chilly days, I will die on this hill and also we have many months of chilly days, but few warm ones.

So Many Empty Boxes

One of the things I have wanted to accomplish practically since the pandemic hit was to clean out our storage/ furnace room. My husband, god bless him, likes to keep the original boxes of any electronic equipment while said equipment is under warranty, just in case there’s an issue. The problem is that he never gets rid of the boxes after the warranty expires, and therefore we have perfectly good storage shelves that are jammed full of empty boxes. We still had the PS4 box from Christmas 2014, for example, along with boxes for stereo equipment we no longer own.

Summer is coming to an end, the pandemic has been going on for seventy-five weeks, I go back to teaching in two weeks, IT IS TIME TO CLEAN OUT THE FURNACE ROOM. I took out every single box, rearranged everything, and was able to put all the bins full of childhood art and school projects, bicycle gear, and assorted sports things ACTUALLY IN THE STORAGE ROOM instead of behind my son’s drum set. He’s thrilled that he no longer hits his elbow on the bins when he’s practicing.

This is the van full of cardboard my older son and I took to the recycle depot, and doesn’t include the three garbage bags full of packing materials, RIP our earth, that came out of the boxes.

Not one day after The Big Cleanup, my husband – in a typical act of service to make my life easier – had ordered some new windshield wiper blades for my car. As he grabbed his keys for the garage, he said “Don’t throw out these boxes, just in case these blades don’t fit.” Dear reader. I answered him with a look only and, fortunately for our marriage and everyone involved, they DID fit and my husband subsequently recycled the boxes.

No YouTube Videos On How To Break In To Your House

Speaking of the garage, a couple of weeks ago older son went to get out the lawn mower, and couldn’t unlock the garage door. We typically lock the person door with just the knob, rather than the deadbolt, and while the key fit in the knob, it wouldn’t open. Obviously the automatic openers for the big car door were in the cars that were locked in the garage, and the keypad has not worked for years. My husband searched up YouTube videos but to no avail: all videos instructed what to do if you were locked INSIDE a house, rather than outside, because I guess YouTube doesn’t want to advertise how to break into someone’s home.

Anyway, it was either call a locksmith or actually break down the door, and we took the former option. We now have a garage door that locks by deadbolt only, in case such a thing should happen again. Unfortunately, we are all in the muscle memory mode of just twisting and locking the knob, and the number of times I’ve thought oh yeah, I need the key to lock the door over the past couple of weeks is extensive.

Burn Baby Burn

Remember how my son, after his braces removal, wanted to burn all his orthodontic elastics, and, failing that, his masks? This is what happened on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip:

Pyromaniac dreams do come true, I guess. You are still going to need masks! I admonished him after seeing these photos, but he countered with a) it was just one mask, and b) that mask was unravelling anyway. Was it? Was it really? Well, he does have at least eight other masks, and it’s not hard to get masks now anyway, and what happens on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip stays on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip.

I Have Found My People

You all know how I feel about Thoreau and, also, many of the widely celebrated male authors/ fictional characters (Jay Gatsby, I’m looking at you). So I was so excited to discover this podcast:

The Fuckbois of Literature! If you, like me, think that maybe a person can’t claim to be self-sustaining while living intentionally in the woods when his mother is bringing him sandwiches and doing his laundry, then this is the podcast for you.

I’ll Take The Rapists For $500, Alex

On Peloton, people have the option to add a hashtag to their user profile, and those hashtags are used to connect with other people. Sometimes the hashtag has to do with a favourite instructor – I, for example, am part of the #yestoyoucrew and my son is a #denismenace – sometimes it concerns career choices, interests, or life in general, like #teachersofpeloton, #pelotonmoms, #peloforwine, #pelotonsingles.

I was riding the other day and the person on the leaderboard ahead of me had the hashtag #therapistsofpeloton and friends, it took me a really long time to realize that it was therapists of Peloton and not the rapists of Peloton. I spent some time being shocked that a) someone would cop to being a rapist, and b) there was a whole group of rapists, connecting through exercise.

In my defense, it was pretty early in the morning and I hadn’t yet drank my whole pot of coffee.

Outfit of the Week

I’m really glad I posted all those summery outfits, because SUMMER IS OVER and it’s time to pull out my jeans, socks, and long-sleeve shirts. This top dates from 2016, and I bought it in the small town where my parents live. Isn’t it cute? It’s great for this kind of weather as it’s too thin for winter, but great for a typical Calgary summer day!

The whole reason I have started the Outfit of the Week was to appreciate and express gratitude for my wardrobe; I am thinking about taking it off the blog and onto Instagram only, where outfits of the week belong. You all know I love clothes; I love reading fashion blogs and I love seeing Outfit of the Day posts. If you, like me, also enjoy seeing what people are wearing, you can check it out on Instagram. If you’ve hated my OOTW, lucky you! No more scrolling by to get to my weekly reading list.

Pandemic Reading List

The Soulmate Equation. I have read and enjoyed a few books from Christina Lauren, and this one did not disappoint. It’s just a very sweet and fun romance with very loveable characters. The main character is a single mom and freelance statistician (how often does that happen in a romance book, the statisticians are highly underrepresented in fiction) who is matched up with the founder of a DNA-based matchmaking company. Throw in her energetic seven-year-old and her romance-writer best friend, and you have got yourself a feel-good read.

Think Like A Monk. This book was so inspiring! As you know, I love the idea of living a peaceful and purposeful life, and this book deals with the kind of mindsets that work towards such an ideal. From feeding your brain positive material to finding your life’s calling, this book is full of wisdom and inspiration.

I discovered that I have a LOT of internal work to do. I enjoyed this book so much I started listening to the author’s podcast, and the first one I listened to had an interview with an absolutely lovely young woman, who spoke intelligently and with great enthusiasm about overcoming trials in life, the biggest being the death of her mother when she was a teenager. She was witty and smart and spoke about her work to empower young girls and women, and after the podcast I looked up the show notes to see who this remarkable young woman was. The link took me to her Instagram account, and people: if I had seen her Instagram first, I would have never listened to the podcast. I would have completely dismissed her as having nothing to say, and I would have been very wrong. It was a wake-up call that I need to examine my own biases as a person. Well, it’s a journey. We all have work to do.

And on that note, it’s Monday of the LAST WEEK OF SUMMER and although it doesn’t feel summery, I am going to embrace it. I hope you do too. xo

Who Moved My…Clothes; Seventy-Four Weeks In

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Every evening I choose a yoga/ workout outfit, complete with hairband and scrunchie, and I set those things in the bathroom; that way, when I wake up early I just slip into my clothes and I’m ready for my yoga practice and workout, without having to disturb anyone. I have been doing this essentially every day since 2008; it’s just part of my day.

I had plans for a big hike with my friends Janet and Susan (HI JANET HI SUSAN) on Tuesday, so Monday night I had packed up my backpack with clothing layers and water bottles, I had set out my hiking boots and poles, I had a lunch in the fridge and my hiking clothes set out on the table, AND I had my yoga clothes in the bathroom, so I could do a nice stretchy practice before a 15 km hike.

Tuesday morning, around 4:15 am, I started the coffee maker and headed to the bathroom to get dressed, and there were no yoga clothes. Confused, I stumbled back out to look at the table where my hiking gear was: no yoga clothes. I looked all over, including pawing through the kids’ laundry baskets – in the dark – and no yoga clothes. I finally tiptoed back into the bedroom, quietly grabbed a couple of pieces, and got dressed.

Have you ever became completely obsessed and crazy about something that is really very small? It doesn’t seem like a big thing, but it was. Usually I am able to focus on my breathing during my practice, but I was completely frazzled. Where were my clothes? I clearly remembered choosing the outfit – grey pants and a striped tank – and my hair accoutrements were in the bathroom, where were my clothes? Did I put them in the fridge? Did I put them in the hall cupboard with the towels? Did I throw them in the garbage? Did I lose my mind? DID SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE STEAL MY CLOTHES AND IF SO, WHY.

I’m generally fairly chill about a lot of things but apparently, losing my clothes in my own small house is not one of them. I cannot even describe the weird agitation I was feeling, or the feeling of complete relief and befuddlement when I went into my son’s room a second time to look through his laundry basket and – since the sun was up by this time – discovered the clothes lying on his floor beside the laundry basket. Long, incredibly boring story short, he had showered, gathered up his clothes along with, unwittingly, mine, and went to bed in the dark, dropping his clothes in his basket and my clothes, somehow, on the floor.

I don’t know either.

I kept thinking about the guy I worked with, twenty years ago, who read Who Moved My Cheese and told me it was the worst and stupidest book he had ever read in his life; on that kind of recommendation I have never read it, but whenever something is misplaced I think of him.

Anyway, the hike was fabulous and I had some really good Girl Time with my friends. Janet and Susan are the kind of women who are uplifting, inspiring, and so much fun to be around that I was just buzzing for the rest of the day. The guys had gone camping and when I got home to my empty house, my neighbour shared some vegetarian Greek food he had picked up at the Greek market, which was the cherry on top of a sundae of a day.

Speaking of Girl Time, I have been thinking a lot about female friendship and the various forms it takes. This was instigated from my reading of the Anne books, and particularly this week’s reading of Anne’s House of Dreams (more below). One of the characters, Leslie, is consumed by jealousy over Anne’s seemingly perfect life – Leslie’s life is just terrible and tragic, and their friendship, such as it is, is very much darkened by her feelings of jealousy and unfairness. It made me think a lot about the cultural narrative we have that we should hate women who have something that we do not. Why is this a thing? From Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful to She thinks she’s ALL THAT to my least-favourite line from my favourite movie, What does she look like? Thin, pretty, big tits…your basic nightmare. I mean, Janet has the most beautiful hair you have ever seen in your life – I’m not kidding, it’s long and thick and wavy, and she literally just washes it and goes, IT IS EFFORTLESSLY BEAUTIFUL. If I could somehow transplant her hair onto my head, I would, but instead I just admire it. But this is the point: although I covet her hair I don’t HATE her, quite the opposite, I love her to death. It’s my goal in life to be happy for people who have things that I never will, not just hair, but anything, and to not let jealousy get in the way of friendship or admiration.

In a horrible twist, Anne and Leslie become very good friends, but only after Anne suffers a terrible tragedy: her very much wanted first baby dies one day after birth. At that point, Leslie can see that we are all human and we all suffer, and, incidentally, things end up turning out really well for her in the end.

It’s a good lesson, really, we are all in this life together; jealousy gets us nowhere. The older I get, and the further away from the hectic intensity of parenting younger children, the more I appreciate and value the women in my life. We all have our wonderful gifts, and, to quote L.M. Montgomery, “If you can’t shine like a star, shine like a candlestick.”

Outfit of the Week

Almost every week this summer, I have thought I’d better post a really summery outfit, who knows how long this weather will last! We have had just the loveliest weather, and NO MOSQUITOES, which is unheard of. UNHEARD OF. Therefore, another summery outfit it is!

Yes, another skort from lulu and yes, another tank top from Old Navy, and I will go to my grave saying that Old Navy has the very best fitting tank tops at the very best prices.

Pandemic Reading

The Anne Series – Part Two. As I mentioned last week, I have been rereading the Anne series and I’m going to just put a “spoiler alert” here for anyone who does not want to know what happened in a book written a century ago.

Anne of Windy Poplars. After I finished Anne of the Island, I thought “Yay, House of Dreams is next!” and excitedly ran downstairs to retrieve it, only to discover that the next book was Anne of Windy Poplars. I HAVE read this book before but it made very little impression on me, the only thing I really remembered from it was sad sack Katherine-with-a-K. The book itself is a strange format, and very different from the preceding books: it is almost exclusively made up of letters from Anne, working as a school principal, to Gilbert, who is in medical school. The strangeness of it can be explained by the fact that it was written in 1936, when Island and House of Dreams were written in 1915 and 1917, respectively. Montgomery had a sad life and was battling depression, and was keeping her family financially afloat with her writing, particularly at this time of life.

Anne’s House of Dreams. I love this book; it is the most interesting of the Anne books. It has some very dark storylines and it also introduces three really great characters: Miss Cornelia, Susan, and Leslie. Miss Cornelia is the ultimate “lift up other women” woman, whose catchphrase “Isn’t that just like a man?” I want to adopt for my own. “I’m not hankering after the vote, believe me. I know what it is to clean up after the men.” What a line! Susan is the devoted housekeeper – “Do not worry about the pantry, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Susan is at the helm,” and Leslie is the afore-mentioned beautiful woman who has the most tragic life: married off at 16 to save her mother from losing her home, to a man who is an alcoholic and has probably impregnated and left a “girl from the harbour,” although this is alluded to very circuitously.

The darkest of the storylines, as I mentioned, is that Anne has a baby, and that baby dies. It’s terribly sad and dark, and as an adult it reads so differently: when she has “dreams” (read: is pregnant) again, a “grim shadow” follows her throughout the pregnancy. Ah, my heart wrenched reading that part. Montgomery had three sons, one of whom was stillborn, which makes the story even sadder.

Anne of Ingleside. This is kind of a strange book. I think it is because this was written in 1939, so far after the original series, and even after Rilla of Ingleside, which chronologically comes after Anne of Ingleside. It deals mostly with Anne’s children and their adventures, but it also has some very adult themes as well, like marital issues and problems with in-laws. Gilbert’s aunt, for example, comes to stay for a week and ends up staying almost a year, wreaking havoc on the household, but Gilbert will not tell her to leave. Finally she leaves on her own volition when Anne throws a surprise birthday party for her – she is appalled that everyone knows her advanced age, WHICH IS 55. Welp. There is also a storyline about Anne thinking Gilbert is falling in love with his old flame, but it’s all a miscommunication. Anne thinks the spark is gone, and laments how they take each other for granted and her own aging looks and exhaustion from looking after many small children and DO WE ALL FEEL SEEN BY A CHILDREN’S BOOK FROM THE 1930S OR IS IT JUST ME. “Well, that was life…always change! You had to let the old go and take the new to your heart…learn to love it and then let it go in turn.” Wise words, Anne. She gets the Landslide.

Invincible Summer. Someone recommended this book – who was it? I liked it – didn’t LOVE it, but liked it a lot. It follows four friends after university graduation through the ups and downs of adult life, going from that starry idealism and invincibility of youth to the times where the shit hits the fan. I found this particularly interesting to read as the characters graduate the same year I finished my undergrad, so all of the events were relevant to my own life. A satisfying read, to be sure.

THANK YOU to everyone who asked me questions last week – the answers are coming up soon! In the meantime, let’s enjoy the rest of the summer, and I hope the sun is shining where you are. If it’s not, shine like a candlestick, my friends. xo

Downward Spiral, Uphill Climb; Sixty Weeks In

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There are a pair of woodpeckers in our neighbourhood, wreaking havoc and inflicting damage everywhere. One of my neighbours has a giant hole in his house stucco, at any time of the day you might hear the loud rat-tat-tat of a woodpecker on a chimney, and, this week, the pair decided to put our Manitoba maple on its path of destruction.

We tried all sorts of humane, non-violent deterrents, to no avail. Every time we tried something, I would look out the window, and there would be a woodpecker hammering away at the giant hole it had made in the trunk of the tree, the rocks and cement pieces we had lodged in there scattered on the lawn. I watched it scare off squirrels in the tree and wondered what it would take to attract the neighbourhood crows to nest there. It says something that I would rather have a murder of crows nesting in my front yard than a pair of woodpeckers. At first I would run out and try to scare it away, but after the twentieth time I just stood at my window, staring despondently. Well, I guess the tree is going to die, I thought sadly.

It felt like a weird metaphor for life right now. We are now in another lockdown – I have lost count of what number this one is – because Alberta has the highest Covid cases per capita in the entire continent. This whole time, this WHOLE TIME, I have been following the rules and so has my family. My teenage boys have been nothing but great about rule following for the past SIXTY WEEKS. We have been careful and have adhered to the rules, and I have been thinking the best of people: we are all in this together, everyone is doing their best. It turns out that is not true, if it was, we wouldn’t be the worst in North America. If we were all doing our best and following rules, we wouldn’t be in Lockdown Number Who Even Knows. It is extremely disheartening. I try to think compassionately and with empathy, and yet deep down I know that there are clearly enough people who do not care enough about other people to change their behaviours, and that is a hard thing for me to face.

The one thing I was looking forward to, the one thing I wanted to do for Mother’s Day, was to visit my parents, along with my sister-in-law and family, and we had to take that off the table because even outdoor gatherings are restricted to less than five people. That was a pretty modest thing to look forward to, given that my kids have been at-home schooling, her kids have been at-home schooling, and I am the only person going anywhere, and that is to the grocery store or pharmacy. All the adults have had their first vaccine shot, and STILL we had to cancel.

Isn’t it interesting that shitty things tend to happen in clusters? In a space of 24 hours, not only did we have a lockdown announced, plans cancelled, and a tree that was being damaged extensively, but I also found out that the company that hosts my blog – this blog – is not going to do that anymore, and I had 90 days to migrate it to another server or let 13 years of memories disappear into the ether. This all happened after I went to the community centre where I teach zoom yoga on Monday afternoon, and the heating system was broken. Teaching yoga to a screen is one thing, but teaching a 90 minute class to a screen in a completely empty community centre – literally, I am the only person in the entire building – when the cavernous room is eleven degrees Celcius is quite another. I am an intelligent woman but the technological side of blogging is not my strength, and the thought that I had one more thing to deal with was my breaking point, particularly \when my actual bones hurt from spending nearly two hours in yoga clothes in an 11 degree room. I discovered all this, put on two sweaters and my warmest legwarmers, and sat on the bed with my knees tucked under my chin, staring at the wall for a long time.

I find that once I start spiralling, if I can solve one thing, just ONE THING, then the other things tend to follow. I googled best blog hosting platforms and then I PHONED a person at Bluehost, who was so kind and patient and reassuring that I felt that after our 30 minute conversation we could be best friends, but more importantly, I got my issue resolved. This site has been migrated successfully, and no one (read: me) had a nervous breakdown while it happened. I found out that my kids will be eligible to be vaccinated as of this week, omgomgomg, let’s fucking gooooooo, and the guys told me that for Mother’s Day they would be making dinner Saturday AND Sunday night, with no help or input from me. People, there was even a CAKE baked. My husband went into the office one day this week and came home with a box of Purdy’s that a client had sent at Christmas, and two of the pieces in it were mint fudge and raspberry creme, my favourites. It took hours of trying but I finally got through on the phone to a local company that would deliver an orchid to my mom to tide her over until we can actually visit. Remember the crappy company that charged me for flower delivery but made my parents pick up their arrangement instead? That company never responded to me. GO SUCK IT, BLOOMEX. There’s a new kid in town, and that kid delivered on their promise of a beautiful orchid.

Oh, and the woodpeckers? My husband strapped a flat rock to the hole the woodpeckers had made in the tree and although at first I just assumed that the woodpeckers would peck through the strap, the rock would tumble down and it would all be for naught, it seems to have worked; we have had five days with no woodpeckers. It’s been an emotional roller coaster of a week, but it feels like things are turning around and coming up Milhouse/ Nicole.

Outfit of the Week

This week’s outfit is workout wear. I find it very motivating to have cute clothes to wear while working out, even though literally no one sees me. I mean NO ONE. On weekdays I finish my workout before my husband starts work, as the desk is beside the cardio equipment and it’s better on all counts if his colleagues are not subject to background noise of my heavy breathing, countdowns, and singing along to Girls Just Want To Have Fun. On weekends my workout is finished before anyone even wakes up, which goes to show that these outfits are just for me. As it should be! Dress for your own pleasure, not anyone else’s.

I’ve had this top for probably five years, and I think it’s so cute, even when I wear it for non-yoga activities. You cannot tell from the photo but these leggings are padded, which is good for spin bikes, and I have a scrunchie in my hair, proving that you can go back again.

Pandemic Reading

This was my library reading pile last Sunday:

I was feeling great about my pace of reading, until six more books came in before Friday.

Eeep! Well, we should get started.

Caste. This incredibly important book should be read by all. It explores the caste systems in three countries: India, Nazi Germany, and America. Back in the early 1930s, during the rise of the Third Reich, legislators took notes from America as to how to legislate discrimination. Let’s sit with that for a moment. Nazi Germany took a page from the US as to how to oppress a group of people, how to make it legal to discriminate and, ultimately, actually end people’s lives, based on Jim Crow laws. I cannot even describe how important this book is, you have to read it yourself; from Confederate statues to everyday micro-aggressions, from redlining to lynching for imaginary crimes, the dominant caste’s inhumanity – in all three countries – is breathtaking. Wilkerson is a brilliant writer. By the way, we Canadians tend to get smug but we have a long dark history as well, concerning our treatment of Indigenous people. A friend pointed out that South Africa took a page from Canada’s book as to the treatment of Indigenous people, so let’s keep that in mind. It is absolutely a challenge to keep our minds and hearts open when it comes to ingrained feelings about people, based on the way they look, but we can rise to the challenge. More understanding breeds a better world. I cannot recommend this book enough.

Just As Long As We’re Together and Here’s To You, Rachel Robinson. On a completely different note, my rereading of Judy Blume continues. These two books are great. No one understands youth like Judy Blume, and these two books perfectly capture being thirteen, with friend and family issues. They follow a trio of friends, and I think if you are female, you know what it is to be part of a trio. With a trio of friends, there is always one left out. Even as an adult woman I have experienced this feeling. One interesting thing I found about these books is that there is a character who I completely identify with. I could see my young teenage self in Rachel Robinson, and if I had read these when I was 13, I would have felt very seen. I think that’s the key with Blume, is that she really sees young people for who they are, flaws and all.

Such A Fun Age. It’s really exciting when a book that you have had on hold for months and months finally comes in. For MONTHS I have had people ask me “Have you read Such A Fun Age?” many, many times. I really did enjoy this book about a young Black woman who babysits for a wealthy white woman, and who is dating a man who, unknowingly to all, has a connection to her employer. I will say, though, that I liked this book better as a social commentary than as a novel, if you know what I mean. I found a couple of the plot points to be puzzling, but in a good way, in a way that made me think harder. I think that’s why it was more of a social commentary to me. Two out of three of the main characters I found quite gross and despicable, which is a sign of good writing.

I hope you all have a beautiful week; keep shining. To my friends who are going through lockdowns and are losing hope, we really are all in this together. xo

Magic; Fifty-Five Weeks In

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I have discovered an enormous upside to the physical aging process, other than the “not dying” part of the aging process. Not dying is a pretty big upside, but this new discovery is also huge.

First, some background. Every morning, because I am vain and also a bit masochistic, I examine my face in my Daylight 10x Magnification mirror, tweezers in hand. I pluck my eyebrows and also stray hairs from other parts of my face, notably the chin and upper lip. Hormones, am I right, ladies? If you know, you know. I feel like this daily ritual keeps me from becoming the Bearded Lady, not that there is anything wrong with that, but it’s not generally the look I am striving for. In addition to random stray hairs, I am also on the lookout for something I affectionately call my Magic Chin Hair.

The Magic Chin Hair is a tenacious, wiry black hair that appears intermittently on the underside of my chin, and it is magic because of its ability to grow a centimetre in a 24-hour period. One day I will peer under my chin and there will be nothing, and the next day, the literal next day, there it will be, waving at me in all its glory. If I put a time-lapse camera under my chin, I could maybe watch it bloom like one of those videos showing a rose going from bud to full blossom. Is it silly to ascribe an actual personality to a chin hair? Because for a long while I thought it was just an extrovert, as it always seemed to make its appearance when I had a social event, back when I had social events and didn’t have a mask on every time I was around other people. Fancy Christmas party? Dinner with friends? Social event with my husband’s colleagues? It was inevitable, the Magic Chin Hair would show up, excited to get its mack on, and I, the cruel mistress I am, would unceremoniously pluck it.

I hadn’t seen Magic Chin Hair for a long time, and you may think it’s crazy, but I wondered if it was pandemic-related. No need to get up when there’s no getting down, if you know what I’m saying. But then I was looking closely at my face, as I do, and I noticed something: Magic Chin Hair was there, but is now white.

Is this a thing that is going to happen to ALL my stray facial hairs? Are they all going to turn white? This is LIFE-CHANGING. White chin hairs are far superior to black chin hairs, and I will die on this hill. Don’t get me wrong, I still plucked Magic Chin Hair, white or not I didn’t really want a long hair protruding from my face. It feels like that could be a very slippery slope on the way to looking like Santa or Kenny Rogers.

Sometimes a person I haven’t seen in 25-30 years will post a photo of their child, and that child will look exactly like the person in question, when I last saw them. It’s both heartwarming and unsettling, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I do love social media for that kind of connection; for me it’s all about the updates and photos of kids and pets and food and – when it was appropriate – vacations.

It’s because of social media that I made kind of an error the other day. I was outside the library with Barkley, dropping books into the chute, and a man smiled at me, a man who looked very familiar. It occurred to me that he looked just like the Facebook photos of a man I went to high school with. “Hi!” I said, “Scott, right?” He shook his head and said his name was Dave. “Oh, sorry, you look just like a guy I went to high school with,” I said, and JUST as the words were coming out of my mouth I realized that he was a good many years my junior, and could justifiably be offended by the implication that he and I were teenagers together, when in reality I am probably closer to his mom’s age than to his.

That wasn’t the only awkward interaction I had at the library. The library is about a kilometre from my house, so the 2k loop is a perfect length of walk for Barkley. I generally have a book to pick up or drop off a few times a week, and so we take that route, and I fasten his leash to the bench outside the door while I dash in to pick up a hold. This is a process that takes about ninety seconds, maybe 180 if I stop to pile a few extra books from the “New and Notable” display in my arms. A few weeks ago I was doing just that and as I was leaving, I heard a woman speaking to the librarian at the door, whose job it is to count the patrons coming in and out and ensuring that everyone is sanitizing their hands upon entry and is appropriately masked. The woman in question was talking about a dog, and I heard her say “I sure hope the owner is in here!”

Uh oh. Was this about leaving my dog unattended for less than two minutes? Did Barkley somehow morph into an aggressive barking dog, rather than the sweet, waggy guy he is? I smiled at the lady nervously and said that I thought that was my dog she was talking about, and was he bothering her? “Oh no!” the woman said. “I just…you know how dogs sometimes look like their owners? I was going to look for someone with really long bangs and wild shaggy hair! I would have never guessed it was YOU.”

For the record, my hair that day was in a bun, like it often is. Also for the record, Barkley has since had his spring haircut and I think he lost about ten percent of his body weight.

See? Magic.

Outfit of the Week

Recording the outfit of the week makes me consciously appreciate the clothes that I already own, as I shop my closet. I truly believe we should all feel good in our clothes, and I do love my wardrobe. As well as my chin hair, I anthropomorphize my clothing, thinking that each piece gets excited to be chosen for the day. Putting together a cute outfit gives me a lift every single day, even when I have nowhere to go and nothing to do, I still like feeling cute and put-together.

This week’s outfit features a sweater that I love but don’t wear often as it is very impractical. For one thing: cream. You can be guaranteed that something will be spilled on this by the end of the day. For another thing: those sleeves. I love the way they look but unless I fold them over and roll them up, like we used to do to our jeans back in the eighties, they fall into the dish water or drift dangerously close to the oven element when cooking. It’s so cute though. I know for a fact that the long-sleeve tee was purchased in 2010, and my old jeans and boots complete this outfit.

Pandemic Reading

This book of essays was so original and charming! I didn’t realize until I read the author bio that she is an actress/ comedian/ the lamb in Zootopia. One of the essays has to do with planning a garden, and how she wanted that garden to reflect what is inside her, and also she wanted flowers that her dog would sniff and the flowers were sticky and ended up on her dog’s face, and it was just absolutely sweet and charming, and I felt it in my soul. I loved the way she speaks about herself – “I washed my dear little face” – and I vow to speak that way about myself. Thanks to Swistle for the recommendation (HI SWISTLE).


What an incredible, troubling, hopeful book with so many layers and nuanced characters. This deals with a Barbadian woman, and the generations of women before her, who are living with systemic abuse. If you have ever had the luxury of lying on a tropical beach, and have wondered about the lives of the people who are working to make a living from you lying on a tropical beach, well. This is a debut novel and I look forward to seeing more from this author.

A woman’s marriage is in shambles, they’re too broke to get a divorce, her son is a teen who doesn’t need or want to be around her…so she starts wearing her dog in a baby sling. Seems like a funny concept but was kind of grim and depressing. There were funny parts but mostly it fell quite flat for me.

I hope you all had a lovely long weekend; however you celebrate, I hope there were lovely treats involved! I personally am now about 10% Mini-Eggs. xo