Category Archives: My failing sanity

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

This Is Not An April Fool, I Really Am Cross As Two Sticks

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I have been Quite Cross this week; not Constantly Cross, but Intermittently So. Some of my You’re On My Last Nerve feeling could probably be attributed to hormones and upcoming ladies’ holidays, the looming “third-wave” of Covid cases, the super-slow vaccine rollout that is seeing people get their second shot FOUR MONTHS after their first, and the fact that it was spring break and the most excitement I had to look forward to was cracking open the extra-large bag of Mini-Eggs, but much of it was just General Ridiculousness and Can People Even Do Their Jobs.

On Monday morning I got a call from the orthodontist’s office; I assumed before picking up that it was simply a reminder call for our appointment for my son to pick up his retainer, for which the orthodontist took impressions of his teeth the week previous. Instead of an automated message, it was an actual person, who began explaining to me in great detail that the orthodontist took impressions of my son’s teeth in order to make the retainer that we were to pick up. Yes, yes, do go on. After a few minutes of this, the woman relayed the real reason for the call: the lab had somehow broken the impression and instead of picking up the retainer, my son would have to get impressions all over again. Then, we could pick the retainer up the day after that.

Accidents occur and these things happen, but honestly, can anything be easy and straightforward with this son’s orthodontia? Can it? The answer, of course, is no. From the initial criminal orthodontist to the one that put on brackets that had to be replaced, to finding a new orthodontist, who only happens to work in Calgary every other week, to my son actually breaking brackets, to a global pandemic that slowed his treatment by at least six months, to a twisted tooth from the bracket being on the wrong tooth that was attached to his elastics, to a process that took a solid eight months longer than anticipated. I mean, of course the lab broke his impressions. Of course we have to go to the orthodontic office three times in the space of one week, of course I am running out of ink in my printer printing off Covid consent forms because there is no online option. WHY is there no online option? Why am I printing things out like it’s 2010?

Anyway, we have the retainer, and I celebrated to myself prematurely about being free from the orthodontist office, as my son informed me that we needed another appointment in a month and then one every two months after that. “Every two months…for how long?” I asked, picturing me sitting in the parking lot until he’s an actual adult. He didn’t know. No one knows. Forever, I guess.

My second grumble was with the veterinary office. Barkley has a recurring medication that I refill about once every two months, and the vet has a really great system wherein I call and leave a message, asking for a text when it’s ready. I always get a text within a day or two, and then I wait in the parking lot for them to bring it out to my car (pre-Covid I would just pop in and pick it up). Anyway, eight days had passed since I called and I hadn’t heard a word, so I called the office to speak to someone directly, and after being put on hold, hung up on, and calling back, I finally spoke with a woman who told me that the medication had been sitting there FOR EIGHT DAYS. She told me a text had been sent, I said I hadn’t received it, and in my mind, a Deadlock Had Been Reached. I didn’t really care what happened, I was just going to come and pick up the medication, and I said as much to the woman in a pleasant voice. “No!” she said. “We NEED to find out what happened so it doesn’t happen again! Maybe we can call you!” I said, it’s fine, a text is fine, this has never happened before, it’s a glitch. Then, the woman suggested that the fault was MINE, that I must have deleted the text, because the text had been sent, therefore it must have been delivered to me.

Hold up there, lady. I am not a time-traveller from another era, unfamiliar with this little glowing machine in my hand that pings every once in a while to let me know that there is communication that went from another person to space and back. I don’t even receive that many texts, let alone texts that I would just randomly delete. Also, I could see the text chain from the vet office, with the last text being from January, exactly two months before. The text has not been deleted, I cannot say what happened but it is NOT THAT.

The final Source of My Crossness has to do with a company that has efficiently and reliably delivered floral arrangements and gift baskets for me on many, many occasions over the past decade, including – and this is important – to my parents. I have been always happy with this company, up until a couple of weeks ago, when I ordered flowers for the occasion of my parents’ wedding anniversary. I waited to hear from my mother, and waited, and waited. Finally I asked if she had received anything – no – and then checked my confirmation emails over and over to see if I had erred on the date or address. It would be unbelievably out of character for this to happen, but you never know. I had not erred.

Finally, my mother texted me to say that my parents had gone out to pick up the flowers from the Purolator depot, and thank you, they were lovely. Wait, what? My PARENTS, who are senior citizens, had to go out IN A GLOBAL PANDEMIC to pick up their own flowers for which I had PAID A DELIVERY FEE OF FIFTEEN DOLLARS, to be delivered TO THEIR HOME. Let me tell you, I was pretty unhappy with this turn of events. I sent a strongly-worded email to the company TWO WEEKS AGO, and not a word have I had in response.

What if my parents were infirm? What if they had no access to a car? What if they had Covid or any other illness for which people often send flowers? What did I pay a delivery fee for if the flowers were not to be delivered? I am LIVID about this, not just about their shoddy customer service and radio silence, but also, now I have to find a new floral/ gift basket delivery company. SUGGESTIONS WELCOME.

Other, smaller grievances include our customary Spring Gusting Winds, which have been blowing all the needles off of my neighbour’s evergreen tree into our yard, which means that our mudroom is constantly covered with dead evergreen needles which seem to get everywhere: into my boots – discovered only when walking and one dislodges and stabs me in the toe – on Barkley’s fur, and into everyone’s feet any time we walk downstairs, for a painful reminder of Spring. Also, for mysterious reasons, frozen petit peas have been completely unavailable at Superstore, which everyone knows are far superior to those tough, bigger peas and there are rumblings again of a toilet paper shortage – although, apparently in Canada we have our OWN toilet paper manufacturers. We are, apparently, Toilet Paper Self-Sufficient, even if we don’t have enough vaccines, so I guess that’s something. At least we will not have to resort to wet washcloths, which is a plus.

My final grievance is that I painstakingly chopped up Mini-Eggs to stir into homemade vanilla ice cream as a Special Holiday Treat, and after I complained about how chopping Mini-Eggs is a bitch of a job, someone mentioned that I could have used a food processor. WHY WAS I NOT SMART ENOUGH TO THINK OF THAT? Oh, and also, I had a coupon for $6 off a $60 purchase at Co-Op, and when I got to the till I was at $57, and I panicked and bought caramel eggs that were 2 for $3, and later saw that same exact item at Superstore for $0.88, and this has bothered me ENORMOUSLY. Like, that extra $1.24 I spent to get $6 off feels disproportionately wasteful.

Well. That’s enough grievances to last a while. My Sith name today is, apparently, General Grievance. Time to move on with life, and maybe grab a handful of the leftover Mini-Eggs. xo

Trying New Things; Fifty-One Weeks In

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March is, to me, a Winter Month, and so any week like the one we have just had, with above-freezing temperatures and sunny days, is a gift. As god is my witness, one day I will live where March is a Spring Month and Spring means Actual Spring, not a wildly unpredictable mix of mild days, violent snowstorms, gale force winds, and hard frosts into June, but that day is not today. Bloom where you’re planted, etcetera.

I’ve been thinking a lot about something Allison (HI ALLISON) mentioned to me, that this past week was, one year ago, the last “normal” week before the pandemic hit. This time last year, I was one hundred percent certain we would be going on our spring break trip to Mexico; I was busily preparing for that and for my son going on his Westcoast sailing trip immediately on our return. We were joking with my son about the climate fluctuations he was going to be enduring as I tried to figure out how many warm clothes we could pack in one small duffle bag.

It’s so strange to think about it; the STRESS I was feeling about packing for not one but TWO trips. I was at the parent information night for the sailing trip around this time last year, and I saw my friend Cindy (HI CINDY). As always, I dove in for a big hug and then pulled away from her, saying “Wait, are we not supposed to hug these days?” She laughed and told me not to be silly and we hugged again.

Well. Things change, roll with the punches.

A few years ago, a little day spa opened up right up the street from me, about half a kilometer away; I like to support small neighbourhood businesses, especially ones that are within a five minute walk. The prices for waxing were great and the esthetician on staff was around my age and very bossy, which is a trait I genuinely admire in an esthetician. I want someone who is not afraid to make judgements about my bikini line and who will get right in there with tweezers and a frown, if need be.

One thing you may already know about me is that, as a consumer, I am extremely loyal. I will patronize the same shops and services for years; I will purchase the same brands and am devastated time and again when things get discontinued. If I like something I will stay with it until the bitter end.

When I was, back in March 2020, preparing for my Mexico trip, I had a bikini wax booked for the day before departure. That wax, of course, was cancelled when everything was shut down, and of course I had many more important concerns than a fuzzy bikini line. But as time went by that yeti-like feeling started to get to me and I, riding high on the success of colouring my own hair, decided to give myself a bikini wax, which led to the conclusion that some things really are best left to the professionals.

So, I trundled back to the little day spa just as soon as it reopened, and my lovely bossy older esthetician was gone, replaced by a very lovely young girl. To be clear, I have been waxing my bikini line for longer than she has been alive, but I am not a reverse ageist: I love the enthusiasm and energy of youth, and I strongly believe that we are all beginners at one time and experience helps us grow. However. Three substandard waxes later along with a story about how the young esthetician had once “accidentally ripped a woman’s butthole,” and I had to concede defeat. This little day spa was no longer for me. I just couldn’t pay good money anymore to have a patchy wax, extremely irritated skin, and a day in which my clothes would stick to the unremoved wax on my inner thighs and bikini line. The last straw was when I went to use the bathroom at home and the toilet seat stuck to the leftover wax. Sorry for the indelicate imagery, but I think we all can agree I left delicacy behind years ago.

Back in the fall my friend M, who shall remain M for privacy (HI M), recommended body sugaring to me. At the time I wasn’t open to the idea as I was still committed to SUPPORTING LOCAL AND WALKING TO THE DAY SPA, but after the Toilet Seat Incident and Ripped Butthole Story, as well as shelling out for waxes I was unhappy with, I decided to give it a try.

You guys, it is life changing. Life Changing. I will never go back to waxing again. It is a little more intimate than waxing – there is no underwear involved, for example – but it is nearly painless and with almost no redness or irritation. By the end of the day, I had no redness at all, as opposed to waxing where I seem to need a full 24 hours to recover. The esthetician uses what appears to be a giant ball of slime to remove the hair, and the whole thing was over in about fifteen minutes. Plus, no traumatizing stories told while in an extremely compromising position! The sugaring location was also conveniently located down the street from one of my very dear friends, so while I wasn’t able to walk there, I got to have a ten-minute standing-on-the-front-step chat with my friend, who I haven’t seen in many many months. I call that a win all-round.

Outfit of the Week

This puffy coat is adorable, but it’s pretty much useless for the winter months here; it’s way too light for below-zero temperatures. I feel like Vancouver-based Lululemon has a very different idea about Cold Temperatures than I do. However! We have had a lovely week and so the coat came back into the rotation this week, for a nice long solo walk to the nearby nature park.

Yoga tights WITHOUT legwarmers AND hiking boots, not winter boots! Don’t get too excited, the winter boots are still very much in use, just not for a 7 kilometer walk.

I was feeling kind of lonely and then I was joined by this sweet little lady!

Pandemic Reading

Rainn Wilson has led this incredibly interesting life, and he has fascinating spiritual beliefs, and yet this book is so dull and boring. I don’t know how such an interesting life journey could result in such an uninteresting memoir, but here we are.

Another disappointment. This fell really flat for me. I found the characters to be one-dimensional and the storyline was just a bit too contrived and cliched for me.

Have a beautiful week, everyone, and as we come into the anniversary of the lockdown, take care of yourselves. Be kind. xo

The End Is Near; Fifty Weeks In

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The End Is Near

Oh, did you think I meant the end of the pandemic? I mean, sure, maybe we are nearer the end than the beginning, but what I meant was we are nearly done with orthodontia in this house.

It was exactly five years ago last week that my older son had braces put on, and many months before that when we started the whole process, and shortly after he had his removed – twenty-six months later – we started all over again with my younger son. Although my younger son was supposed to be on an eighteen-month program by the time he gets them off at the end of the month (it’s MARCH, OMG), it will have also been twenty-six months.

Some of you may remember that my younger son’s original orthodontist ended up being an actual criminal, and we were lucky to get into his current, non-criminal orthodontist, but also he broke two brackets in the first month of having braces, and between all that and then a global pandemic slowing his progress, well. It’s been a long haul, is what I’m saying.

For those of you with more than two children receiving orthodontic treatment, I salute you.

What is it with orthodontist offices? Orthodontia is a practice in which the patients are largely teenagers, and yet their offices do not cater in any way to actual teenagers. Trying to get an appointment is an exercise in extreme frustration. My older son had an orthodontist who was older and very distinguished in his career – he retired and sold his practice (hopefully unknowingly) to the criminal orthodontist – and that man was constantly in demand as a conference lecturer, so getting an appointment was difficult at best. Come back in six weeks! the office would say cheerfully, and then I would find out at the appointment desk that the orthodontist would be out of town giving a lecture series at that time.

I thought it would be better with the new orthodontist, but no. No. This young and vibrant orthodontist has TWO offices, and so he is only at the Calgary office three days a week every other week, which makes appointments tricky.

I try to make appointments so that my son doesn’t miss school, but that’s nearly impossible. Any school breaks, the office is inevitably closed, and if I ask for an appointment late in the day, the response is I can fit you in at 1:15, as if 1:15 is actually considered late in the day by anyone other than an orthodontist’s office. I get up at 4:30 every morning and even I do not consider 1:15 to be late in the day.

Well, as of the end of the month this will be all behind me. To be honest, until last week’s appointment I didn’t truly believe that the treatment is almost completed. I expected to be disappointed once again, so when my son came into the waiting room and said they made molds for his lower teeth, I was actually pleasantly surprised.

Keep the expectation bar low, I guess is the lesson here.

Mother Of The Year

A local liquor store still sends out paper flyers and I was excited to see a wine that I really like on sale for $10 off per bottle. After last week’s orthodontic appointment, I looked at the strapping young man in the passenger seat and decided to seize the day. At $10 off per bottle, I wanted a case and I figured he could be my beast of burden, as it were.

Now, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to take your fifteen-year-old to the liquor store on a Thursday afternoon while you stock up on wine, but that’s exactly what I did. I waffled between it’s okay if a minor is in the store as long as he is accompanied by his mother and I am the literal worst. My son is tall, and anyone with eyes could tell that he isn’t eighteen, but with a MASK, well, who could say. I waited for someone to say something to me but no one did. I guess they aren’t too worried about kids walking around with a case of red wine, with their mothers directing them around.

Particularly when their mothers find a SNOOP DOGG wine and lose their minds.

It’s actually really good, you guys. Very delicious. Snoop Dogg always puts me in mind of my time on the trade floor, joking around with the guys I worked with. Snoop! Snoop-a-looooop! Bring your green hat, let’s go! A prize to the person who can identify that quote*.

*there is no actual prize, knowing the quote is the prize in itself

Outfit of the Week

I know what you’re going to say: two weeks in a row the OOTW features jeans and an actual bra? Okay, maybe you’re not going to say that. Maybe you’re wondering who cares what I’m wearing. I CARE, PEOPLE. I care.

This was my outfit for seeing the orthodontist, although I spent the entire appointment with my coat on, in the waiting room, far away from other people. I still felt good about myself in it. It was a mild (winter) day so tall, warmish boots, jeans, a long-sleeved tee with some exposed skin (I mentioned it was mild) and the cardi my mom gave me for Christmas. Accessorized, of course, with my sparkly heart mask.

Pandemic Reading

This was probably the most interesting, well-written, and well-researched book I have read EVER IN MY LIFE. That is really saying something. As I read it, I kept thinking how long did this take to write? How long did this take to research? How is this man so witty? There is just so much information here, but it is all presented in a most accessible and witty way. I love the dry British humour and it is sprinkled everywhere. Every single body part and function is described with entertaining anecdotes and facts. If you are even slightly interested in anatomy, human biology, and medical sciences, I highly recommend this book.

What came to me as I read this was that all of our modern medical knowledge and advances originated with incredibly bizarre and possibly dangerous experiments. I lost count of the number of times the author would write without having any idea of the possible consequences and then describe something totally bonkers, like a researcher injecting half a pint of sheep’s blood into a volunteer, or the guy who put a thermometer up his rectum and a tube into his stomach and poured ice water down the tube to see how low his temperature could go. The latter, by the way, was instrumental in determining how cold we can take the body for open-heart surgery.

In an attempt to learn how, exactly, the circulatory system works, a German doctor inserted a catheter into an artery in his arm, threaded it through his body until he reached the heart, at which point he was excited to find out that he did not die. Then he walked over to the x-ray department to prove what he had done. This was an incredible discovery but sadly, that doctor was also an early supporter of the Nazis and, well.

It was incredibly upsetting and unsettling to discover that much of our medical knowledge today came from horrific experiments done by the Germans and the Japanese during World War II.

Let me tell you, after reading about women’s health and the treatments for breast cancer, I am thrilled to be living in the modern age.

Hmm.

Someone recommended this to me – who was it? – and I duly put it on my hold list at the library without actually looking at what it was about. When it came in I felt disheartened for two reasons: a) it is huge, and b) the synopsis seemed incredibly dull. I took a deep breath and opened it – and it grabbed me right from the first sentence. This is not a particularly original story – an Irish child born out of wedlock is given up for adoption, struggles all his life with his homosexuality, eventually finds identity, family, and love – but it is so well-written, with heart and humour. It is also incredibly distressing to read about the absolutely brutal treatment of the homosexual community, particularly with regards to the AIDS crisis, over the last eighty years or so. Again, so glad to be living in the modern age. Yes, there is still room for improvement but we have come so far, thank god.

Continuing my Judy Blume rereads! Forever is such a great portrayal of a first love/ sexual experience, it’s so real. It’s Not The End Of The World – a good book about divorce that Blume wrote when her own marriage was in trouble.

Happy March, everyone! So far it’s come in like a lamb – may it stay that way! xo

Changing Mindsets; Forty-Seven Weeks In

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I was at Costco a couple of weeks ago and something happened that hasn’t happened since February 2020. As I tried to decide if I needed two or three bags of a particular staple, I went with two, thinking I will be back here in a few weeks, I can get more next time. Did you hear me? I said I can get more next time! Rather than frantically fill up my cart with every staple I could possibly need, I went with a still-substantial, but not crazy amount.

A similar thing happened with olive oil and coffee, COFFEE, as I live and breathe. I went to pick up one of each and thought, no. No. I have two in backup at home and if, for some reason I go through all of that in the three weeks between Costco trips, I can pick it up at the local Co-Op. There is no shortage of coffee nor of olive oil. It will be okay.

I hope I didn’t just jinx things. If there happens to be a shortage of coffee now that I’ve said that, my god, I am sorry. Coffee is not merely a staple item in this house, it’s more like a if-we-run-out-someone-is-going-to-get-stabbed item.

It’s really hard, Really Hard, to change the Pandemic Shopping Mindset. There aren’t – and haven’t been – any shortages of things lately, not that I have noticed, and so there is really NO NEED to have triples and quadruples of staple items in backup. I am trying Very Hard to get to the point where I was, pre-pandemic, comfortable with just one backup of each staple item. Do I need 25 cans of chickpeas in my pantry? No, I do not.

I only need 24.

Well, I SAY there has been no shortage of things but for the last two weeks whole-wheat linguine has been mysteriously absent from Superstore shelves. Every other kind of whole-wheat pasta has been there, filling the shelves and on sale, even, but not linguine. Why? Is there an actual linguine shortage, are people desperately making linguine dishes while eschewing fusilli and penne? I was able, while peeking behind the massive spaghettini display, where the linguine was supposed to be, find one box. It felt like a Real Accomplishment. I mean, I certainly could have done with a different pasta – pasta is pasta – but the moment I discovered I couldn’t have linguine was the exact moment that I NEEDED linguine, so the effects of the pandemic shopping experience are still in my brain.

Speaking of changing mindsets and accomplishing things, when I was reading The Heroine’s Journey, I came across a passage about the way a traditional Native American tribe views menstruation. Very similar to that detailed in The Red Tent, the idea is that menstruation is a time of cleansing, intuition, creativity, and rest. When a woman is pregnant, that energy goes into creating life, and when a woman achieves menopause, it goes into creating wisdom.

Contrast that with our western ideas of The Curse.

I started to wonder if, maybe, we changed our mindset about our periods, would things be different? If, instead of thinking about our periods as a painful and emotional curse, we thought about it as a celebration of womanhood and a time to reflect and care for ourselves? Maybe, just maybe, when we feel exhausted or starving or like we could push our own grandmas out of the way to eat something salty, maybe we could honour that? Maybe instead of pushing through like a machine and crossing things off the to-do list left and right, maybe we could say, hey, I’m really tired, I am going to REST and then I will eat this jar of pickled asparagus because that is what my body wants. Maybe when we feel like stabbing our loved ones for breathing too loud or making chewing noises, we could take that as a sign that it is our magical, special time and we could focus inwards. Maybe instead of constantly doing things for other people while on the emotional pre-menstrual roller coaster, we should take that time to do things for ourselves, self-care and rest.

It’s worth a try, anyway.

I feel like I will be able to report back shortly, as I burst into tears in the car while singing along to Carly Simon’s Anticipation – These are the good old days – and also when I saw a photo of my husband’s cousin’s brand new granddaughter being held by her two-year-old sister. May they grow up to be the best of friends I typed and then cried.

So it might indeed be time for me to practice self-care and rest, and also maybe sample some of the Limited Edition Dark Chocolate Strawberry Lindors that I picked up in anticipation of Galentine’s Day.

Outfit of the Week

It was just a matter of time! A massive cold front hit and, as I write this it is minus 28. That’s WITHOUT windchill! Brr. But before the cold front hit we had a beautiful, mild-for-us winter day, and I spent as much time as I could outside.

I know I’ve talked a lot about bum warmers, but damn, they work a charm. Plus, upcycled, buy local, etc. I’m wearing my OG set with mittens, plus long lulu savasana socks and sweater, yoga tights, a few layers underneath, cozy faux-fur boots and my long Eddie Bauer coat that feels new but I think I bought it at least six years ago. Funny how that happens.

Also, update from the quinzhee, pictured behind me! It will probably be there until next winter, who knows. We got some fresh snow, which gave it a nice new layer and also covered up the dog-mess and scattered spruce needles in our backyard.

Pandemic Reading

Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) recommended this book, and I’m glad she did because I likely would never have picked it up otherwise. I knew next to nothing about Jessica Simpson; I vaguely remembered that she was in that Dukes of Hazzard reboot, but that was pretty much it. Not only is she an accomplished musical artist, with several movies under her belt, she was on one of the first reality TV shows ever, and she has a billion-dollar clothing line, that is affordable and accessible for all women. She has a really great story, and reading this book made me like and admire her a lot, for overcoming many obstacles and being true to herself.

Stay warm, everyone! Have a great week – perhaps with some extra chocolates involved! xo

Johnny, You’re A Cream Puff; Forty-Four Weeks In

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Last week, after a month – or was it six weeks? There was the winter break in there somewhere – of at-home learning, the boys were back to actual, honest-to-god, in-person school. Only for four days though; Thursday – THURSDAY – was a day off for “virtual grade nine tours.” My neighbour, whose three daughters went to the same high school years ago, quite reasonably asked why, if the tours were virtual, did it matter if the kids were in school or not. An excellent question and one that I myself had wondered about. My sons told me that it was because the teachers were busy with this virtual tour, and if you want a weird feeling week, give the kids a Thursday off and then full classes on Friday.

This week they have finals, and their finals are on alternating days, and only in the mornings, and then for a couple of days last week we were told that they have to go to class in the afternoons, but now those afternoon classes are optional tutorials only but not all classes and not all days, and I have honestly no idea what’s going on. I am actually looking forward to the last week of January, when the diploma exams take place and neither of them need to be anywhere. I never thought I would look forward to having a week of the kids uselessly at home in January, but here we are. At least they will be available to bring in the groceries.

Also this week personal services – hair salons, etc. – are reopening for one-on-one appointments, and after the backlog clears a bit I am hoping the boys go in to get their hair cut. Neither of them have been since late September, and things are getting a bit desperate around here. We have full-on mullets happening. My younger son, whose hair is quite wavy, is faring better than his brother, whose hair is perfectly straight and falls right into his face. He has taken to wearing a bandana on his forehead to keep the hair out of his eyes and he looks exactly like Johnny from The Karate Kid, but brunette and with glasses.

Speaking of glasses, my younger son came home from school on Wednesday without his, explaining that he caught a dodge ball in the face and the glasses broke. One thing I’ve learned about parenting teenage boys is that sometimes questions are best to remain unasked.

Anyway, he cannot be without his glasses, particularly going into finals, and although my son suggested that he could just tape the frame back together, or maybe use Gorilla Glue, I phoned our optometrist and spoke with the loveliest woman who found the exact same frames, and then told me to come by and she would pop the lenses into the new frames. We close at five, but are open tomorrow at nine, she said, as I looked at the clock. 4:21. I barely let her finish her sentence before hanging up the phone, zipping out of the house, almost getting stuck in the huge piles of rutted snow in the back alley, making it to the office at 4:36 LIKE A BOSS.

It felt a bit like some kind of illicit drug deal, as the door was locked, and the very lovely assistant opened it a crack. “Nicole?” she asked, and then quickly re-locked the door once I was inside. We were both masked but I handed her the glasses with my arm stretched out as far as possible to put enough distance between ourselves to be, as they say, safe. The whole thing took about five minutes but I was riding on adrenaline for a while, and ended up going to bed even earlier than normal.

I’m generally exhausted on Wednesdays anyway since that is Designated Grocery Day. Since the most recent lockdown, grocery stores are only allowed 15% of fire code capacity, and while last spring I was perfectly willing to line up outside, January – even this lovely mild January – is a different story. My new Wednesday Routine is to get up even earlier than normal to do my yoga practice and cardio workout, shower, clean the bathroom and breakfast, all before leaving the house at 7:45 to get to Superstore just as it opens. My husband has suggested that some, if not all, of those things could be easily done AFTER shopping but no. NO. I need to feel like I have some kind of control over my day and so I’d rather sleep 20 minutes less than move any part of my usual morning to a different part of the day. Plus, after grocery shopping I like to have some Recovery Time, where I drink a relaxing cup of herbal tea and stare into space for a while.

Outfit of the Week

This week’s OOTW is a Tuesday Outfit; on Tuesdays I teach zoom seniors’ yoga, and for that demographic I like to have a tee over my usual yoga tank and pants. This is one of my favourite combinations: the tee is loose and flowy but short enough to show the grey tank, and the cardigan I wear for the t-1 hour that I am not teaching is made of the softest wool you can even imagine. IT IS SO SOFT, YOU GUYS.

Pandemic Reading

I had a couple of days after finishing my library stack before others started coming in, so I grabbed a couple of books from my own shelves.

“Are you reading something by that guy again?” my husband asked me as I shook with laughter in my reading chair. Oh, marriage. He was referring, of course, to David Sedaris, who is probably the funniest and wittiest writer of all time. His essays make me cry with laughter and then, break my heart, as when he discusses his mother’s inoperable cancer or his own sexuality. As I was reading this, it occurred to me how far we have come as a society, as he wrote about teachers – TEACHERS – relentlessly mocking homosexuals in the classroom, and his own self-loathing.

Even in my youth in the 80s I can remember those attitudes, and I am happy that my children’s generation is so much more open and accepting. Obviously there is always room for improvement and change, but we have come a long way.

Speaking of the 80s! Judy Blume for adults is exactly what you’d expect – very readable, quite smutty, and really fun. I liked this book about friendship and first loves, although I suspect I would have liked it more had I read it 25 years ago when I was closer in age and experience to the protagonists, rather than the parents.

This really fell flat with me. A satirical book about the so-called wellness industry, it attempts an underlying theme of body positivity and acceptance, but really, it just feels sort of “off.” Meh, a semi-decent weekend read I guess.

We completed the puzzle yesterday so now we can get on with our lives. I hope you all have a good week; I’m sending positive thoughts out to all of you in the States for a peaceful one. xo

Shiny Happy Oven; Forty-Three Weeks In

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I know that it has been a crazy week but I have a very important update:

Let us all admire my gleaming, shiny oven!

Cleaning the oven led to one of those If You Give A Mouse A Cookie cleaning scenarios: I soaked the racks in the downstairs bathtub, which led to the scrubbing of said bathtub, which somehow led to the mopping of the downstairs tile, and then, since I had the mop and bucket out anyway, washing the floor of the back entry. Then, for no reason at all, I decided to move all the living room furniture to sweep under it, and, in conclusion, I am very happy my teaching schedule is picking up this week.

Every time I clean my oven I think, that wasn’t so bad, if I did it more often it would be so easy and then I make a resolution to clean it quarterly or at least every four months. Inevitably, years pass, and this same scenario repeats itself. I do have a self-clean function, but I do not use it. I used it once, naively, during the winter and I a) spent the entire time terrified that the oven would catch on fire and burn the house down, and b) the house smelled terrible for days. Never again! I vowed to use only elbow grease and some kind of crazy fume-free spray from that time forward.

Note: my mother-in-law got a new oven and it has a steam-clean function; the oven itself heats up to about 250 degrees with a pan of water inside, and it somehow cleans perfectly. I want that for my next oven, which, hopefully, is years away. My mom told me yesterday that the average age of appliances before they die is seven years, and we bought this oven in 2012, so hopefully I didn’t just jinx myself.

Another note about my mother-in-law: she still has the chest freezer from when she got married in 1962 AND IT STILL WORKS. I mean, it probably sucks up vast amounts of energy resources but IT STILL WORKS. I find that remarkable.

One more note about my mother-in-law: as all of us canners know, it is impossible to buy lids right now. They are…just not available. Who knows when they will be? The last time I saw my mother-in-law, who is an avid canner, she told me that she had recently learned that lids can be reused. As long as they are not damaged in any way, they will still seal. When I expressed extreme skepticism about this, she took me to her pantry and showed me rows of preserves and tomatoes, all with perfectly sealed lids. “Wow,” I said, “I’ve thrown out a lot of lids.” She looked at me and said “I’ve been canning for sixty years, imagine how much money I’ve spent on lids that I’ve thrown in the garbage.” We both silently stared at her jars, contemplating this.

After that visit, I made jam with old lids and voila:

Perfectly sealed! I admit I was a bit worried but I thought that a) jam is a pretty low-risk item, and if they didn’t seal I would just refrigerate them, and b) I like to live dangerously.

As my friend Tora (HI TORA) said back in April, if we can take away one positive from this pandemic, it’s that we are learning new things and saving money.

Part of my New Year’s Mindfulness Resolution is to shop more mindfully, something that absolutely went out the window in 2020 as we all lost our minds in the grocery stores. I think my husband will leave me and my mother will disown me if I attempt another one year shopping challenge but this year, I am going to really try to be mindful about my clothes. I mean, you guys. I have so many clothes. I really do. My closet is literally bursting, but particularly with yoga clothes, sweaters, and boots. Those three items are ALWAYS the items I am attracted to when shopping and I really (probably) (maybe) don’t need more. This year I am going to really try to be mindful when shopping and, when tempted, before hitting “purchase” (because who is actually shopping in person these days, or ever?) I am going to “shop my closet.”

This is not to say that I won’t buy new things, because let’s face it, we all need some source of joy. But maybe, just MAYBE, I don’t need another pair of knee-high black boots. Maybe.

On that note, I introduce…

Outfit of the Week

I will not bore you all with an Outfit of the DAY, who has time for that, but I am going to choose my favourite outfit each week. I love clothes, and I think it’s important – even in a pandemic – to find joy in getting dressed every day, even if that day only involves working on that 1000-piece puzzle my mom gave me for Christmas. That puzzle, incidentally, has taken over our lives. It is our new master. We sit down to look for Just One Piece and then, hours later, look up from The Puzzle, bleary-eyed and completely disoriented.

This is a Friday outfit; underneath that super-cozy sweater is a yoga tank and long-sleeved tee, as I teach on Fridays. Yoga leggings are so comfortable but not quite warm enough on their own for January, so I have also added legwarmers, like the 80s girl I am.

Barkley approves.

Pandemic Reading

Do you want to read about a 54 year old unemployed copy editor who goes to Cuba and instantly falls in love with a 31 year old Cuban woman? Do you want to read about a 54 year old man getting drunk on rum and having sex with his 20 something colleague in the ladies room at a bar? Do you want to hear this self-described unattractive man speak disparagingly about those women’s appearances, including the term “puppy fat” and details about moles and moustaches? Then this is the book for you. There was a small interesting twist but not much of one. I eye rolled through much of this book. Pass.

Oh, this was good! A complex and wonderful book about women and choices, consequences and fresh starts. A woman in Jaipur, who left an abusive marriage at 17, is enjoying a life of renown as a henna artist and herbal healer. Things get complicated when her husband shows up with a sister she didn’t know she had! Includes a few recipes, a history of the caste system, and even a glossary of terms. Highly recommend, unless you’re a person who doesn’t believe that women have autonomy over their own bodies and should have the ability to make choices for themselves.

My friend Julie (HI JULIE) told me about this book; it’s a really incredible book about finding meaning in life, written by a man who survived four different concentration camps and all manner of horrible tortures. Choosing our own response and attitude to the situation we find ourselves in is the last of the freedoms, it is something that can never be taken away. Amazing book.

I ran my library stack right down to zero because my husband has been urging me to read this book for quite some time. It is a very incredible story of survival, but I am not an adventure story type of person, so I cannot say I enjoyed it. The whole time I was reading it, my Mom Voice kept popping up in my head: What are you DOING? GET DOWN FROM THERE RIGHT NOW. Which is, of course, the point of the book.

The boys are back to in-class school this week; fingers crossed all goes well. Have a beautiful week, everyone! xo