Category Archives: Okanagan Life

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Holiday Miracles Edition

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It snowed!

Let me tell you, there is NOTHING to make a person appreciate snow like moving to a place in which it snows very little from a place where it can snow literally any month of the year, and does constantly between October through May. Here, if it snows at the end of February the inhabitants are bemoaning the Winter That Will Never End, whereas for me, a nice snowfall and temperatures above zero feels like a Normal Spring Day. I am assuming that at some point my internal blueprint will modify and it won’t feel strange to have rain in November, but for now, this is where I am at.

Having the first REAL snowfall – one that sticks around for more than an hour – in mid-December feels like a Holiday Miracle of the first degree. It also makes me feel like sharing all the other Holiday Miracles and Favourites that I’m enjoying.

Nicole’s Favourite Things

O Tannenbaum

My tree esthetic – well, actually my entire Festive Decorating Esthetic – is, without a doubt, Chaotic Nostalgia. What it lacks in elegance and understatement it more than makes up for in visual interest. Putting the tree up is an Entire Family Affair, and I hope that continues, well, forever. Intellectually I know this may or may not be the case, but let’s not worry about things that have yet to happen. In any event, every year a pattern emerges: my older son likes to take his childhood crafts and place them in clear view of everyone, where all can perceive that he really had no idea how to draw a face when he was three, and my younger son puts all of his at the back of the tree, unseen by all.

We have been amassing our ornaments for decades now, and this year I brought home a couple from Rome. One was this cute little Santa:

The other was a pair of lovebirds, which I think very much signifies my semi-empty nest and a new era for my marriage. Is that a narwhal, the unicorn of the ocean beside it? Yes. That was our 2020 ornament. When everyone was buying mask-related Christmas decor, we were leaning hard into the narwhal. (Bye Buddy! Hope you find your dad!)

Last year my dear friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) sent me a gnome of her own making, and it has a well-deserved place of honour on the tree, beside the little house I bought the year we got married, and Bob Ross. By the way, if you haven’t seen Michelle’s dollhouse decorated for the holidays, I suggest you drop everything and go over there. Right now! I’ll wait.

Michelle’s dollhouse, and her entire blog, are one of my Favourite Things, during the holidays and ALWAYS. She is a bright light in this dark world. Speaking of dark, the sunrise is currently at 7:50 am and the sunset is at THREE FIFTY SIX IN THE AFTERNOON. The daylight (“daylight”) hours are very grey and cloudy at least 80% of the time, and so I’m basically mainlining Vitamin D at this point. But Saturday is the Solstice, as well as our annual Holiday Hoopla Open House, and after that we will be enjoying that extra daylight, two minutes at a time.

Also on the topic of lights, we have a tree that allows us to toggle between coloured and white lights, and also has options for twinkling and wave-like changing. The little lights are not twinkling. They really aren’t because twinkling lights make me feel like I’m going to have a mild stroke, but I do switch the colours and whites daily.

It’s Puzzle Season, Motherfuckers

I love a good jigsaw puzzle, but I am oddly specific about the things I like. Mostly, I don’t like a puzzle that is too hard, but I do like one with a lot of different vignettes involved. My husband and son brought this back for me on their trip up north; how or why they were shopping for Jane Austen jigsaw puzzles in Dawson City, I don’t know. But it is probably my favourite puzzle I have ever put together in my entire life.

I was drying my hair and my husband came upstairs and casually mentioned that there was “writing on the back” of the interior puzzle picture, and did I know that? I practically shoved him out of the way to run downstairs to look, and lo, there it was, a guide to all of the characters and houses in the puzzle. I felt vindicated as I had guessed which was Pemberley, Donwell Abbey, etcetera, and I talked excitedly about it as my husband’s eyes glazed over. My son made the mistake of asking me about it and then had to back away like Homer in the hedge.

It’s Also Peppermint Chocolate Season, Motherfuckers

For the first time in my entire adult life I have a chocolate Advent calendar, and while it’s fun to be included in the guys’ daily December ritual, I have to say, it’s not the glory I thought it would be. It’s fun, yes. I like my After Eight calendar just fine, but I almost think it would have been better to just buy a box of After Eights and eat one a day. The chocolate to peppermint ratio is way off in my calendar but, as my son says, it’s more about the event than the actual chocolate.

But this sounds more like a Festivus grievance than a Favourite Things, doesn’t it? Poor Nicole and her slightly-strange After Eight calendar, which involves a lot of bus-shaped chocolates. Why buses? I don’t know. Anyway, it is a fun little ritual, AND my parents sent a Christmas parcel that features a whole tin of After Eights, so I am happy and festively minty.

I am also happy because I made the executive decision to add mint chocolate chips to dark chocolate chips while making my annual batch of peppermint bark and people, this is what we all need right now. Or, really, it’s what I need right now.

Do you want the recipe? Here it is: melt some chocolate, add crushed candy canes, spread it on parchment paper and chill until you’re able to break it into chaotically artistic pieces.

It’s Brussels With An S

I did not grow up in a family that ate Brussels sprouts, and so I was in my twenties when I was at a Christmas dinner that featured a bowlful. I was filling my plate with vegetables so as to disguise that I wasn’t taking much turkey; this was back in the day before I was completely vegetarian, but I didn’t eat much meat, and I didn’t think my hostess would appreciate that. I scooped out a generous helping of Brussels sprouts, and with the clarity of hindsight I realize that of the nine or ten people at the table, no one else was doing this. I perceived the reason immediately upon biting into the mushy, boiled sprout. Oh, I thought, trying not to gag, THIS is why people hate Brussels sprouts.

Fast forward many years and we were at my friend Sammi’s for dinner (HI SAMMI). She had roasted Brussels sprouts and I gamely gave them a try. Wow. It was an entirely different experience and one that made me low-key obsessed with this cute little cruciferous. If she knows I’m coming over, she air fries some with olive oil and balsamic. My air fryer is only good for small batches, so I do them in the oven if I want volume which, let’s face it, I usually do.

Tis The Season For Boozy Coffee

Not every day, of course, but it’s nice to have a warming cup of coffee and booze around the holidays. I used to love a Bailey’s, but that cream wreaks absolute havoc on my stomach, and the almond milk version that came out several years ago is no longer being made, probably because it wasn’t very good. My husband went to the liquor store for the components of an Aperol spritz and came back with this:

It’s DELICIOUS. It’s coconut based and so creamy and tasty; I envision myself sipping it in my pajamas over the holidays.

Extremely Specific Kelowna Favourite

The postal strike is, while not settled, over. Sort of. It’s a long convoluted story that is best explained by the BBC, but essentially it has been a month-long shitshow in which absolutely no one won, everyone’s unhappy, the whole country is worse off, our remote and northern communities were completely cut off as Canada Post was the only organization that delivered up there, Canadians are still awaiting important government documents like passports, and small businesses have been, for lack of a better word, fucked. If the aim of this whole shmozzle was to line the pockets of giants like Amazon while small businesses suffered in the one season they can count on to actually earn a living, well, level completed and achievement unlocked.

In order to combat this in my own tiny way, I’ve been trying to shop more locally. Mosaic Books is a gem of a store that takes orders and pre-orders – although it could not deliver anything during the strike, of course – and I was thrilled to see that it was busy and bustling when I went to pick up my own order. I ended up buying way, way more than I had ordered, but hey. I’m helping out a small business!

Bookstores are second only to drugstore skincare and makeup aisles as places that can transfix me for indefinite amounts of time.

Outfit of the Month

I bought this sweater in Italy, and I will likely tell you I bought this sweater in Italy until it falls apart. As well as being Bought In Italy, it’s also so incredibly soft and cozy. I have my usual mildly-cold-weather boots, my Infinite Fit Silver jeans, a bag I bought in Italy (I bought this bag in Italy) and a tote bag featuring tiny Babar the Elephant in yoga poses, gifted to me many years ago by my friend Monique (HI MONIQUE). A perfect outfit for holiday shopping at Mosaic Books, which is where I wore it.

I love the month of December, so dark and yet so full of light, too. I hope your December is full of twinkling (or not) lights, yummy things, and coziness. xo

One Day In Your Life…

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Aficionados of obscure Canadian bands from 1988 will certainly be singing along to that title: …shouldn’t be a problem. One day in your life, shouldn’t cause you pain. Because it’s one day that you might never be around here, and I’ll never ever see you again.

Well. That got a little dark for a minute.

My favourite day of the week is Friday, or, as I like to say to my sons’ extreme consternation, Fri-YAY. My older son says Mom in that certain way that our offspring have to say that we are unbelievably lame creatures, us mothers, whereas my younger son merely closes his eyes to indicate the psychic pain I cause him for using a term like Fri-YAY.

But it is a Fri-YAY to me, I save special treats for that day and I minimize jobs and chores, and here’s how last Friday, the final Friday of November 2024, went down.

3:56 am. I wake up and think about things until the clock strikes four, and then I get out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, where I start that pot of ambition. I drink two glasses of water, perform my morning ablutions, and get dressed in the clothes I have set out in the main floor bathroom the night before. I turn on the Christmas tree and get Rex out of his crate, which is a true highlight of my day, since he behaves as if it’s been years since we’ve seen each other. He’s like the Mary Oliver poem about starting the day in happiness come to life.

Friday is a great day in Rex’s life, because it’s Garbage Day. I grab my flashlight and coat and we go to the shed where the bin is locked up away from bears. As I drag it up to the road, he runs back and forth excitedly. After that, we go inside where I fill his food and water bowls, fill my own coffee cup, and start my laptop. This is my designated blog reading time, so if you’ve ever had an incoherent comment from me, probably the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.

5:21 am. Yoga time! I read a poem first and then meditate on it while I practice.

This is followed by a Peloton ride.

7:15 am. The sun will be coming up in 15 minutes, which is perfect timing as I don’t like walking in the dark. I rehydrate and change my clothes, put on mascara and tinted lip balm, and we are ready to go! For a change I decide to hike up Knox Mountain. There’s no snow at our house but there is a bit on the mountain, and that adds many, many minutes to our walk, as Rex eats, rolls in, and frolics through the scant snow.

9:31 am. We finally get home and I am ready for breakfast. I make a smoothie, tidy up the kitchen, and decide that I cannot abide the state of the floors – side eyeing Rex – and so I give the main floor a quick vacuum and wash.

10:20 am. I shower and scrub out my shower – I do this while my hair mask is absorbing, hot housekeeping tip – and then moisturize, apply makeup, and get dressed. I practice my Spanish to let my hair dry a little before taking the blow dryer to it. I’m on a 1006 day streak!

11:43 am. I don’t usually write on Fridays, but I’m on a self-imposed deadline to finish my second draft before January, which is when my Revise and Edit course begins. I set my mental timer for twenty minutes, and after that I treat myself to reading a couple more blogs.

As Laura and Suzanne know, once the glasses are on, it’s Business Time. (HI LAURA HI SUZANNE). Does anyone remember the Flight of the Conchordes? When you get down to just your socks, it’s Business Time. Anyway, it’s not THAT kind of business.

12:21 pm. Lunchtime! Yesterday I had made a vanilla ice cream mixture and so I put that in the ice cream maker to churn while I eat lunch. I add chopped up Oreos and consider myself a contender for Mom of the Year. I read a chapter of my current book, which is Real Americans.

1:30 pm. I have a pedicure appointment at 2, but I need to stop at the library first. I do this and later discover after I left another of my holds came in. I had put all my holds on pause when we went to Italy, and I currently have eight library books at home, plus three at the library, plus TWO MORE in transit. Oops. I have a lovely pedicure, and come home to see my husband and son in the yard putting up the outdoor Christmas decorations. Rex is out with them too and he’s pretty excited to see me. He comes inside with me where I brush my teeth, call my mother, and then come back out to be a consultant for the decorations. Should the walrus and the penguin be together? Where does the llama go? Should the snowman go under the overhead vines as a welcoming committee?

3:59 pm. This is it. This is the day where the sun sets before 4:00. I’m mainlining Vitamin D at this point. We go back inside and have Cocktail Hour: first, a chilled shot of Limoncello to sip, reminding us of Italy, and then a glass of Chianti.

5:00 pm. A knock on the door, and it’s a delivery from UPS. My dear, sweet friend Elise has sent me a package and it’s absolutely incredible. Does she know me or what?

5:30 pm. It’s time to make dinner, and it’s my favourite, the one I could eat on repeat indefinitely: Greek salad with hummus and pita. What better day to have my favourite dinner? Since I (always) make dinner, the guys clean up the kitchen.

7:00 pm. While they are cleaning up, I change into my pajamas and do my dental and skincare routines. Then the three of us watch an episode of NYPD Blue. It is a ROUGH one. If you know, you know. After that we are all kind of silent, and I read a few more chapters of my book while my husband watches hockey and my son disappears.

8:47 pm. Bedtime! I’m calling it a day. A Fri-YAY.

Weekly Reading

To The Women. I have been reading these poems in the morning before yoga and let me tell you, this uplifting collection could not be better timed! has words of wisdom about body image, aging, and loving yourself more and more as time goes on. For those of us side-eyeing our wardrobe as it relates to our newfound perimenopausal tummy, this is a really inspirational look at aging.

The God of the Woods. About halfway through this mystery-thriller about a young girl who goes missing from summer camp is this quote: “She read Walden out of sheer boredome and found herself annoyed by Thoreau: his self-regard, his tone of superiority, the way he doled out advice so obvious as to be insulting. Here was a rich person playing, thought Louise. There were poor people far more resourceful and self-sufficient than he was; they just had the grace and self-awareness not to brag about it.” HELLO. Seldom have I felt so seen. I don’t think I’ve ever had my feelings about Thoreau encapsulated so well, so that boosted the book for me right there. But more interestingly, that paragraph basically sums up the whole book. It’s a foreshadowing and a thematic statement all in one and I AM HERE FOR IT. I love when authors leave little hints like that. Anyway, this is not my usual genre, but I picked it up because it’s so buzzy right now. And even though I don’t love mystery-thrillers, I really liked this, I found it a nice twisty entertaining read that kept me guessing until the end. Damn if I don’t feel bonded with Liz Moore right now, too. Living deliberately my ass.

Real Americans. This was an interesting reading experience, a book about three generations of Chinese-Americans that deals with wealth, class, assimilation, fitting into society, and, wildly, the ethics of genetic modification. It’s also about family and making the best choices given the circumstances. I really loved the first third of the book and then I liked it a bit less as it went on. As literature, it’s quite a remarkable accomplishment, spanning decades and generations and weaving historical events into everyday life. There are some interesting questions raised: what role does fate play in our lives, what does it mean to be part of a family, is wealth incompatible with living an ethical life? It’s a thought-provoking and very well written book.

Congrats to all my friends who participated in NaBloPoMo! I saw quite a few “day in the life” posts and was inspired to do my own – waiting until December, of course! I’m always a bit reticent to do these posts – is anyone really interested in the minutia of my life? – and then I realize that I myself am fascinated by them, so why not. Next up: an AMA! Happy December, friends. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Trick or Treat Edition

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I never really understood Anne Shirley’s feelings on October until I moved here. It is so beautiful right now, I can barely stand it. The colours are gorgeous, and every day is a little bit different. I’m becoming slightly unhinged, talking about leaves to my family every day.

I mean, I am stopping perfect strangers on the street to talk to them about fall colours, which isn’t TOTALLY out of line for me, but I am starting to become a tiny bit concerned about my sanity. Also I’m starting to worry that people are going to recognize and avoid me from here on in.

For the first time ever, I will not be celebrating Halloween in the traditional sense, and so I’m a little early this month, talking about my Favourite Things! Some of these things are tricks, some are treats, and some are both.

Gourds, Decorative and Otherwise, Motherfuckers

You guys, I grew my own pumpkins!

Cute, right? Have you ever seen a more perfect pumpkin? There’s more where that came from, in addition to my massive haul of butternut squash.

And, of course, more zucchini.

I could not resist the siren call of the motherfucking decorative gourds. It’s the season, motherfuckers!

Fruit Is Nature’s Candy

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, grape harvesting is done, and so I have thoroughly enjoyed my own backyard Concords.

There is so much incredible fresh fruit right now, and my favourites are pears and apples. A neighbourhood girl was selling plums from her own backyard trees to raise money for the Terry Fox Foundation, so of course I had to buy some.

But the apples, my god, the apples. I cannot get enough of those delicious, tree-ripened McIntosh apples. I’m eating two or three a day right now. I may turn into an apple. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES.

These apples are delicious! As a matter of fact they are, she said.

The Other Kind of Grape

We live at the bottom of a vineyard; we own, along with my mother-in-law, two acres of it, but the rest is owned by the founder of Tantalus Vineyards. What you may not know is that those vineyards were owned by my husband’s family until my late father-in-law sold them to Tantalus twenty years ago. They still have a block named after him, and they still have the Old Vines, planted by him – and my then-teenaged husband – in 1978. The winery is, therefore, a place I like to visit, particularly when we have out-of-town guests, and so I took my parents there for a wine tasting.

I love their homegrown Riesling, but I REALLY love their Syrah. The Syrah grapes are not grown on the adjacent property; instead they come from just south of here, and sadly they, along with 95% of Okanagan grapes, were decimated by the cold snap we had here in January. Yes, you read that right: 95% of ALL wine grape crops in the Okanagan were destroyed, which means that there will be little to no 2024 vintage. People, if you love Okanagan wines, get them now while you can.

I was disheartened to hear that of 110 Syrah grape plants, from which this wine is made, 108 are gone. You can bet I’m going to savour these wines that my dad bought for me, because it will be many years before they are available again.

Just An Ordinary Girl In An Ordinary World

On a less-apocalyptic note, let’s talk about Ordinary products. I have been using this line for a few years, ever since my wrinkle-less friend Denise (HI DENISE) told me about them. I have loved their caffeine undereye serum, but I branched out and bought the multi-peptide one, and I really think it’s made a difference.

I also bought Matrixyl for my forehead wrinkles, and while I don’t think these are miraculous, dermatologist office substitutes, I think they work pretty well. Things don’t seem to be getting worse, and sometimes the status quo is the best we can hope for.

Ghosting the Blessed Life

Whenever someone visits my house for the first time, there is a guarantee that they will comment on the volume of bananas on my countertop. I don’t blame them; as a family we go through a vast amount. I personally go through fourteen bananas a week, entirely in smoothie form.

My breakfast smoothie is made up of cashew milk, nut butter, a frozen banana, and a ton of spinach. I always feel great after consuming it; it’s a nutrition bomb full of vitamins, fibre, calcium, and iron.

The one thing it’s not super high in is protein. I mean, yes, there is protein involved, but I don’t feel it’s enough to adequately fuel my very active, plant-based lifestyle. This means that every lunch I make myself a smoothie with protein powder, cashew milk, and yet another frozen banana. It feels like a milkshakey treat, and I look forward to it. I used to buy the Protein Works vegan line, but it was a) expensive, and b) only available in the US or UK, and so I was always paying exchange rates and shipping. I decided to branch out and I’m so glad I did.

Ghost vegan protein powder tastes exactly like a delicious chocolate milkshake, not too sweet or cloying, and it has a perfect, non-gritty texture.

I’ve tried a few of the Blessed flavours, to much disappointment. The chocolate, usually a safe flavour for me, is frankly disgusting, and the strawberry isn’t much better. The chocolate coconut is okay, but this! This vanilla chai, which sounds like a risky choice, is really, really good. Once in a while I’ll even use it instead of nut butter in my spinach smoothie and it works great.

Outfit of the Month

It’s my Fall Uniform!

Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) recently was talking about buying multiples of the same clothing item, which is a very relatable topic. I have bought three pair of the Infinite Fit Silver jeans that I spoke about last month – they are stretchy and comfortable and, amazingly, don’t lose their shape. They fit like a more-structured yoga pant. These ones are the straight cut, which I like to wear cuffed with booties. The sweater is just a light old one from the Gap, and the tank top underneath is from Lululemon, both about six years old. I wear some combination of jeans, boots, and a black – or, if I’m feeling saucy, grey – sweater, often with a tank underneath, basically every day. Why mess with the uniform?

As previously mentioned, I won’t be celebrating Halloween in the traditional sense, and that is because I’m going on a big adventure! To that end, I will be taking a blog break. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, sometime in November, but until then, take care of yourselves, friends. Treat yourselves tenderly, and maybe treat yourself to a few treats as well. Or tricks! I don’t judge. xo

Bear-ly An Update

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After the neighbourhood started locking up their garbage in the spring, we hadn’t seen any signs of our resident bears until about a month ago. All of the ripening fruit around here was beckoning the bears with their fruity siren songs. Three weeks ago, my mother-in-law was sending me text after text, updating me on the sightings on our road; first the mama bear and her THREE cubs were in her friend’s fruit trees, then they were in another neighbour’s raspberry bushes, and then, finally, she spotted them herself, hanging out by our machinery shed. Later that night the bears pawed through our recycling bin, which was probably as disappointing to them as it was upsetting to me. The claw marks that they left on our bins were, to say the least, alarming.

I am relaying this very calmly, but I was not feeling very calm. I was very, very worried on behalf of Rex and all the myriad neighbourhood dogs, should they have a Close Encounter of the Bear Kind. In fact, a few weeks back Rex and I were headed to the garden and he took off at full speed. Typically this means he’s chasing off a deer or a squirrel or even a flock of birds, but as I saw a fuzzy brown bum disappear through the grape vines and down towards the hay fields below, I knew. My mother-in-law told me no, it surely must have been a deer, but I knew. I knew. And I was worried because although he’s proven he won’t go near a full-grown bear, the cubs are very small, and hence chaseable, for this time of year. I don’t think they are any bigger than Rex himself.

I was anxious and worried every time I let Rex out of the house or left the house myself. I’d scan the yard from every angle, I’d arm myself with the flashlight if it was dark, and my husband kept our bear-scaring noise-making gun loaded and our bear spray nearby.

I was writing in the office when my husband asked me to come look out our bedroom window.

There they were, snacking away at the grapes.

Something happened at that moment. I realized the bears are not here to terrorize me. This isn’t the 1976 film Grizzly. They are just trying to prepare for winter, they are trying to survive; which, by looking at those skinny tiny cubs, feels unlikely right now. They are eating the fruit and when the fruit is gone, they’ll move on, I thought, and that is exactly what happened. The fruit has been picked and/ or eaten, and the bears are no longer en evidence.

But in that moment, looking at those cubs, I felt an immense peace settle over me. It was a perfect example of changing my attitude when the circumstances were not in my control. Honestly, I felt at that moment like I could be a motivational speaker.

Literally nothing changed, except my feelings about the bears. I still scan the yard, I still take out the flashlight, I still watch and listen carefully, but I no longer feel anxious or even upset about it. They are just doing what they naturally need to do, and we can coexist.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not stupidly thinking that these bears are my friends or my pets or – if we go back to 1976 and the Governor General award-winning book Bear – my lovers. But I probably won’t see them until next spring, and I have a feeling that I won’t see those cubs again at all.

Weekly Reading

The unofficial theme this week is Unstable and Chaotic Women.

All Fours. Listen, there’s the usual chaos that surrounds perimenopause, and then there’s completely going bananas. When I put this on hold a few months ago, I saw a five-star review that simply said “middle-aged women going insane is my favourite genre” and I think “middle-aged woman going insane” pretty much describes this book. Wow, is it wild. IS IT WILD. A podcast was discussing it; one of the hosts had not finished, and the other said “have you got to the weird part yet?” and after reading this, I can say “what weird part?” THE WHOLE THING IS THE WEIRD PART. It is absolutely bonkers and I really enjoyed it BUT here is a warning for anyone who is sensitive in a totally normal way – this is very graphic, and very crazy, and it totally made me think of that woman who wrote a book about her open marriage and who recommended a waterproof dog blanket for a “sex blanket” as it was wipeable, for all the fluids. There are a lot of fluids in this book. So it’s about a woman’s journey into her own sexuality, gender, marriage, and kind of everything else? But it’s also really symbolic and pretty in-depth about women’s lives, expectations, and roles in society. The insights about being a woman in midlife, with all the power and all the invisibility and all the expectations, are spot on. It is also really, really funny. As an example: she is filming herself doing what can only be described as a mating dance, and she carefully buttons up a blouse and tucks it into giant beige panties, pulling the shirt hem through the leg holes. She looks at herself and thinks “this is a new outfit he’s never seen before.” I MEAN. I would not recommend this to anyone who has any kind of squeamishness about…kind of anything sexual, but also about open marriages and infidelity, and also, weirdly, dog poop? But I have to say I could not stop reading it and while I am generally a squeamish person, particularly about fecal matter – who isn’t, really – I did really enjoy this. But then, I like the kinds of books that have a lot of metaphors and symbolism.

Same As It Ever Was. It takes massive talent to create a such an incredible character arc and redemption story; it takes so much talent to write such a compelling book with such an unlikeable protagonist. I spent the first half of this 500 page book strongly disliking and being frustrated by the main character; it took until the halfway point when I could see a complex backstory that was breathtaking. When I say “frustrated,” I mean that I passionately wanted to shake this woman by the shoulders and tell her to pull herself together, for the love of god. Her behaviour was absurd to me, and incredibly unrelatable. But then! Then we are introduced to her mother and wow, this mother makes all other mothers look like Mother Mary. This woman is one of the meanest women in literature – and yet, the backstory is woven in so cleverly that you can’t help but feel a bit of pity for her. This is such a complex family story about mothers and daughters, about marriage and aging, and about friendship. It’s beautifully written and so satisfying.

We are heading out on a road trip this week! Not an All Fours type of road trip – I hope, dear god, I hope – but a fun time nonetheless. I will catch up with you all when I’m back, and in the meantime, please enjoy these lovely photos from our beautiful, currently bear-free, home base. Don’t be deceived by appearances: the creek is gorgeous right now, but incredibly stinky. It’s Salmon Spawning and Subsequent Death season, and the creek is full of dead salmon. Alarmingly, every once in a while there will be a decaying salmon on the walking path and I’m just not sure of the logistics. I’m surprised I haven’t seen the bears down there, snacking, but I guess they don’t like already-dead fish. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cheap Trick Edition

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It’s sunset season!

I know what you’re going to say: sunsets occur on the daily. This is true – sunrise, sunset – but since I retire so early I don’t generally see sunsets from May to August. Sunrises, I see those every day. But sunsets? No.

I really do believe that The Best Things In Life Are Free, like sunsets, but also, I believe that You Get What You Pay For. This is a fun dichotomy, which involves me feeling very Mary Oliver about my surroundings, and also being a complete snob about yoga wear.

One thing I genuinely, desperately miss is the Sears catalogue, particularly around the holidays. Remember the Wish Book? The first few pages would be dedicated to gifts under a certain dollar amount and I absolutely loved looking at those pages. Did anyone I know need a pair of Maple Leaf themed mittens or a cubic zirconia brooch in the shape of a snowman? Probably not, but I loved looking at them. I was thinking of that recently, realizing that so many of my Favourite Things tend to be on the pricier side. But there are many things I love that are not so expensive, and so I decided that this month, every Favourite Thing would be under ten dollars. Cheap, cheerful, and immensely helpful to my life, all of these things give a lot of bang for the buck.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Cheap Trick Edition

Fly Away, Bye Bye

It’s fruit fly season! I do not remember ever having fruit flies in Calgary – perhaps the nights were just too cold for them? I have no idea – so wow, was I in for a shock last fall when my fruit-full kitchen was descended upon. Of course I made all those homemade traps with coffee filters and red wine and jars covered with perforated cling wrap, and they all worked fine, but I kind of hated the look of them. I found these cute little traps that I fill up with apple cider vinegar and a drop of dish soap, and voila. It’s a watery graveyard filled with those tiny little bastards.

Bzzzzz

Did you love Lip Smackers back in the 80s? I sure did, and I remember clearly graduating from those fruit-flavoured lip balms to Kissing Potion, a truly grotesque lip gloss that came in a little bottle with a roller ball, like those old-school roll-on deodorants. Younger readers, I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, but girls of a certain age, you know what I mean.

My point is that I have had a lifelong love of flavoured, tinted lip balms and glosses, and I expect this love affair to continue until I become human compost at the base of a tree. I have graduated from Lip Smackers and Kissing Potion to Burts’ Bees. I love their entire line of balms, tinted balms, shimmers, and glosses. Typically if I’m going out I wear lipstick, but tinted balms, shimmers, and glosses are good for when I’m just hanging around the house or walking the dog. Life is too short to go without lip colour, I say.

I’ll tell you what I don’t love: plain lip balm. Variety is the spice of life and I like to be spicy. I cannot be confined to plain. I’m not going to walk into an ice cream shop with 100 flavours and order vanilla, you know?

Colour Me Happy

Speaking of colour, I spent two decades of my life paying for professional hair colour, and when the pandemic hit and I started doing it myself, I knew there was no going back. To say I regret the time and money spent on professional hair colour would be a vast understatement. Well. There is no going back, only going forward, and as god is my witness I shall never pay exorbitant prices for hair colour again, not when I can buy a box of Garnier for under ten dollars and be done and on my way in 30 minutes.

I feel so strongly about this that I actually broke up with a hair stylist who gave me the best haircuts of my life, because she just would not stop hassling me about colouring my own hair, even after I asked her not to. I did have a worrisome moment recently though; I had applied my colour and was practicing my DuoLingo while it set, and then when I went to rinse I noticed that I had dripped colour on my beautiful white bathroom cabinet. It had been soaking in for thirty minutes and was not budging. I felt actually sick.

I turned to the internet for advice, and discovered, as in everything else in life, that I was not alone. The internet suggested a Mr Clean Magic Eraser with hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol; I had both items in the house, and lo, it worked. It worked! It didn’t take the finish off the cabinet, but just…magically erased the hair colour. TRULY MAGIC. ERASER.

It’s Good But Not That Good, If You Know What I Mean

Since I seem to be revisiting my youth, remember back in the 90s when Herbal Essences first came out, and the entire marketing campaign centred around a woman using the shampoo and having an orgasm in the shower because it smelled so good? Oh, to have been a (fruit) fly on the wall at that executive meeting.

I don’t use that shampoo, but I do use Herbal Essences Touchable Hold hairspray (touchable hold, is this also a sexual euphemism? I need to get IN TOUCH with the marketing team.) Anyway, it is honestly the best hairspray I have ever tried; it doesn’t make my hair sticky or crunchy. IT MAKES IT TOUCHABLE.

This is not to say that hair that is crunchy or sticky is not touchable. I mean, anything is touchable. WE CAN TOUCH THINGS. I really need to talk to the Herbal Essences people. Anyway, the long and the short (heh) of it is that this is really good, long lasting (double heh) hairspray and it’s about six dollars a bottle. I’ve never had an orgasm using it, but it does smell pretty good.

Happy Snoopy Dance

Circling back to the Sears catalogue, the one thing I wanted and never got was a Snoopy Sno Cone Machine. Friends who did receive this item have since told me it was an absolute disappointment of a fake appliance that broke immediately; this does not stop me from coveting it, somehow. I suppose it’s because Snoopy is my spirit animal; I feel like my whole personality can be summed up by that beagle.

So it’s no wonder that I immediately snapped up this little cutie:

I know most people in the modern age now keep grocery lists on shared apps or digital notes or what have you, but I am old-fashioned, and I like a piece of paper with a pen. I don’t want just any piece of paper, though. I want a cute piece of paper. This little notepad is absolutely perfect, and I smile every time I note down yet another thing to buy at the grocery store, why do we eat so much food.

Outfit of the Month

In keeping with the theme of the month, I bought that tee on Maui in 2016 for FIVE AMERICAN DOLLARS. The rest of the outfit was definitely over my ten dollar limit, unless I think of each piece in terms of cost per wear, in which case I’m in the clear. The grey yoga tank and the shoes I bought in 2017, and I have worn them many, many times. The jeans, as you know from my ongoing saga, are new, but let me tell you a little about them. They are Silver brand, and are called “Infinity Fit.” It’s a strange thing because they are JEANS, but they come in sizes S, M, L, etc., rather than regular numbered sizes. I was pretty skeptical but they were on a major clearout from – wait for it – Mark’s, as in Work Wearhouse, and so I thought I’d take a chance. PEOPLE. It is like wearing slightly stiffer yoga pants. Yes, they are jeans, with a button and a zipper, but they are so incredibly stretchy. And yet they keep their shape all day long! Needless to say I ordered more than one pair in different washes and styles. It’s the dawning of a new era, the era of my stretchy jeans.

Oh, September! It’s such a beautiful month, especially here in Kelowna. It’s absolutely gorgeous, friends – cool, crisp mornings followed by warm, sunny afternoons, the leaves juuuust starting to change colour, the garden and neighbouring farm stands absolutely filled with produce. Right now I can step outside and cut a bunch of perfectly sweet, ripe Concord grapes for a little snack, and it’s the most joyfully delicious thing. I hope wherever you are, September is just as sweet. xo

Nature, Nurture, Nerd

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I am very accustomed to drawing a lot of attention on my daily walk, because I am accompanied by a living embodiment of a gigantic cartoon dog whose facial expression is exactly this for the duration:

Every day people pass me and actually laugh at him, in a good-natured, look at that silly dog kind of way. He’s a happy guy is something I hear many times a week. I am constantly being stopped and asked what breed he is, how much he weighs, what is his name, can they pet him.

So I’m used to attention and being stopped and spoken to, and therefore I thought nothing of it as a gentleman jogger approached me and started talking. He wanted to let me know that there was a vole on the path that didn’t seem to be moving. I was happy for this information so that I could be on guard. Last week on a walk Rex pounced into a garden full of daylilies and, startlingly, half-killed a small bird, leaving it flapping and bleeding on the sidewalk. It was, needless to say, very upsetting.

It reminded me of how Barkley, who looked exactly like a Gund stuffed animal, was actually a blood-thirsty killer. He once cornered and caught a squirrel and then tried to break its neck, he mangled a bird in our backyard that I THINK was already knocked out by hitting a window, but who knows, maybe Barkley was faster than I thought, and, unspeakably, ate an entire mouse, which I found out the hard way. Do not ask me what that hard way was, let us never speak of this again.

What I am saying is that I am no stranger to horror masked in furry adorableness.

I appreciated the public service announcement about the vole, not wanting another to deal with another harrowing Rex-versus-small-wildlife incident. Less appreciated was the way the man kept looking at my chest as if I was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I thanked him and went on my way.

It was so strange, every man who passed me kept glancing at my chest and then smiling at me. This would have been par for the course back in my youth; in those days, men had no compunction about ogling a young woman’s chest in a not-secret way, and also I was a lot more, shall we say, gifted back then. However, in the year of our lord 2024, I like to think that ogling isn’t the socially-sanctioned pastime it used to be, and also, the girls are not the glorious globes that they once were. Not to be too descriptive, but let’s think of semi-deflated water balloons, and you’ll probably have a good idea why I never go braless. Well, that and I can’t stand the feeling of being free and floppy.

On the way to the family reunion in August, we had stopped at my aunt’s house and I ended up visiting with one of my older cousins who I don’t see often at all. He told me that he had stopped using social media as his wife was worried about internet safety and stalking, to which I replied that I had reached a stage in life where I would be a little flattered to have a stalker. I was, of course, joking – NO ONE STALK ME PLEASE – but I thought of that as I walked with Rex, being the recipient of many chest-glances. I had this strange mix of what is with all these creepy perverts at 7:30 am and still got it, baby. As I have said many times before: life is a tapestry.

It wasn’t until I got back to my car and caught a glimpse at my reflection in the window when I remembered what tee I had pulled on that morning.

Well. That explained that.

It is widely believed that dogs react to the energy of the household and take on personality aspects of the owners, and I think that has been very true in my case with both Rex and Barkley. Those aspects do not, however, overpower their inherent nature, as evidenced by the fact that when opportunity strikes, they become killing machines disguised as fuzzy cutesters.

And for me, there is no overcoming my natural nerdy tendencies, particularly when it comes to announcing such tendencies to the world, and completely forgetting such announcements.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of (book) nerdy tendencies, I had a couple of interesting and thought-provoking reads this week. I have a lot to say, so buckle up!

Splinters: Another Kind of Love Story. About her best friend, the author of this memoir wrote: “It was that she felt, in certain ways, fatigued by our friendship. I was always in the midst of some dramatic transformation…I was always poised at the threshold of some major change, or reeling in its aftermath. She said ‘It gets exhausting.’” I feel like that summarizes my experience reading this book – which, I will hasten to add, is absolutely gorgeously written and completely compelling. But it is kind of exhausting and I feel like if I was this woman’s friend, I would feel similarly fatigued. The author is a sober alcoholic who essentially transfers her neediness and addictive behaviour to the care of her infant daughter. I mean, I feel for this child. I cannot imagine what her life is going to be like in the future. Anyway, the author separates from her husband, who, by the way, is a widower and still grieving his first wife and really, THIS IS A BAD IDEA. They were in couples therapy when they decided I know, let’s have a baby to fix this marriage, which, no no no no no. Surprise surprise, the marriage is in shambles, and the author rails against custody for him, not because he isn’t a caring father – he has a child from his first marriage who is mentioned only as a passing fact once – but because she doesn’t want her baby to be away from her. She doesn’t want her baby to have two homes. The description of her marriage reminds me of my theory that relationships between two creatives are usually doomed. I’m sure the blame goes both ways, there are two sides to every story and her ex does sound like a dreadful, angry man. But also? His first wife just died of cancer and he was writing a book about the experience while he was married to this author. SO MUCH TO UNPACK. Anyway, post-separation she very quickly becomes involved with a man who doesn’t believe in monogamy, but she can CHANGE HIM. Well, until he gives her chlamydia. Here is the PSA I will put into the world: girls, you will never change him. People are who they are, do not go into a relationship thinking well, I can fix that. It’s not fair to either party. This is such a chaotic memoir but who wants to read about a dull life? I couldn’t put this down, honestly, so well done, I guess? I applaud the author for her vulnerability and also her self-awareness. It takes a lot of bravery to paint such an unflattering portrait of oneself.

A History of Burning. CANADIAN AUTHOR ALERT! Wow, this is an absolutely incredible epic story of a family, spanning 1898 in India to 1992 in Canada. The family starts with a teenage boy living in poverty in India; he is promised a job and a better life, and ends up, unknowingly, getting on a rickety boat heading to what is now Kenya to build the railroad. He realizes the terrible things he needs to do just to survive and to find that better life, and he does them. He ends up in Uganda, where his family lives for seven decades before being ousted by Idi Amin’s rule. There they go to Canada, which ends up not to be the promised land for “their kind,” but they work to build that better life and community. It is devastatingly sad, heart-pumpingly terrifying, and incredibly touching story. It is so well done, so thoughtful, so perceptive, so eye-opening. There is a very interesting literary device: each chapter is told from the point of view of a different character, in the third person close, until about 2/3 of the way through the book, in which it switches to first person for one character only. This line near the end summarizes everything: “They left to keep their family whole, something their ancestors had understood. But this time, it was their choice…How sometimes, holding on required letting go.” Chills!

Speaking of letting go and nature versus nurture, this weekend I listened to a podcast about, of all things, Finding Nemo. It has been many, many years since I have seen that movie, but it was interesting to hear the discourse about parenting styles and anxious overparenting. I listened to this podcast just after I had been subjected to a very tiresome conversation about being a parent of adult children, and as I listened I couldn’t stop considering it. I think I have completely morphed, parenting-wise, into Crush the turtle. There was a Dory quote discussed a lot in the podcast: If nothing ever happens to him, then nothing will ever happen to him and here I am, quoting words of wisdom from a cartoon fish.

On that note, I hope you all have a wonderful week in which lovely things happen to all of you. xo

Long and Winding Road

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I was walking with a friend downtown toward my favourite bookstore when I recognized a woman passing us. Isn’t it funny that when you see a person out of context, it can take a moment to place them? Usually for me it’s someone I see from the dog park or the walking path; the person and I will recognize each other, take a brief moment of silence to figure out from where, and then comment on how strange it is to see each other without our respective fuzzy companions.

But this lovely woman that I saw sauntering down the street with her son was not from the dog walking circuit; rather, she was the woman who does my body sugaring. Again, it took me a moment to realize where do I know her from but as soon as I did I smiled, waved, and said hi. She returned my salutation in a friendly way, but didn’t stop. I thought no more about it until this past week, when I had an appointment.

It was so nice to see you the other day, she said to me before explaining that if she recognizes a client on the street, she never, ever greets them unless they greet her first. Especially if they are with someone, she said, because you never know, maybe they don’t want their companion to KNOW.

I appreciated her discretion, but I also thought Know what? That they remove body hair?

A few months ago one of my sons told me that it wasn’t until junior high that he realized that girls also had hair on their legs. Until he saw a unshaven female classmate in shorts, which he observed in surprised silence, he never realized that girls had body hair. I typically think that I am a good mother and that I have been a strong female role model for my boys, and then I learn something like this.

Well. In my defense, it never once occurred to me to subject my young sons to the details of my shower and hair removal routine. Life, as we always say, is a journey, and the roads to enlightenment are long and winding.

Also long and winding are the random chin hairs I find myself plucking on the daily. One of the upsides of aging is that my chin hairs are almost exclusively white now. I say this is an upside, but honestly it is a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand they are much less visible than the exuberant black hairs that would come out to play while I was in my thirties, but on the other hand, even with my Daylight Magnifying Mirror they are harder to spot due to that same invisibility, which means that I only see them when they are nearly a centimeter long. I worry I’m going to start to resemble ZZ Top one day, and I won’t have noticed. On that note, recently I was surprised to discover, via my friend Stephany (HI STEPHANY) that many of my blog friends do not have or use tweezers. Without my tweezers, the aforementioned situation would be out of control, not to mention that I would look like a cross between Bert from Sesame Street, Martin Scorsese, and Magnum PI.

We are all different, of course, and some of us are a bit more hirsute than others, it seems. And as much as I’d like the liberation that would come with being one of those low-maintenance, free-to-be-you-and-me women who eschews hair removal, well, I’ll never be that woman. If ever I am in a coma, I am going to need one of you to come and do some plucking for me.

Weekly Reading

The inadvertent theme this week is learning about history through novels!

Brooklyn. This book, about a young Irish woman who immigrates to Brooklyn and then meets and falls in love with an Italian man has so many elements that I love: 1950s New York, descriptions of Irish rooming houses and tenements, an interesting female protagonist. It should be a home run for me but wow, it is a SLOW moving, quiet book. And I love slow-moving, quiet books. I don’t even need a plot to be happy. But even for me, this is a slow book. I tend to love a slow book if the writing is very beautiful, but the writing is extremely matter-of-fact and prosaic. I didn’t dislike this book; it gave me some interesting scenarios to ponder, and it’s also nice and short, so that kind of makes up for the incredibly slow pace. It’s been made into a movie and I kind of wondered…how? My friends Elise and Ariana (HI ELISE HI ARIANA) assured me that it is a beautiful movie with a simple love story, and I see that the star is an actress who I deeply admire, so maybe I’ll watch it. I am going to read the second one – Long Island – even though almost nothing happened in the first, because now I’m invested.

Kairos. This book won the International Booker Prize, and I can see why. It’s really powerful and moving, and it is written in a very unique style. That unique style, I admit, took me a few chapters to get into it. It’s a bit tricky at first – whole paragraphs that are one long sentence, no punctuation indicating dialogue, and dialogue of both characters crammed together in one sentence with no indication on how they are separated. So it’s a bit hard to follow at first but then I found the flow! It deals with a 19 year old woman entering into an affair with – wait for it – a 53 year old married man. To add to the ick factor, the married man is also a writer, and I’m going to ask you to please imagine me saying this in George Costanza’s voice: “Oh, we can’t disturb the DELICATE GEN-I-US.” Clearly the relationship is toxic but it becomes even more so as the story goes on, at one point becoming actually insane. What makes this story really interesting, though, is that it takes place in East Berlin in 1986, and continues on until German Reunification. The relationship and the political landscape are filled with parallels and there are a lot of metaphors and symbolism going on here, so if you like that – I love it! – you’ll love this book. It’s pretty fascinating; it is a time in history I remember, but vaguely, so I read this along with looking up a lot of places, maps, and timelines.

I hope you are all having a wonderful Labour Day weekend! I was living my best life on Friday when my husband and I, along with friends, went to an outdoor concert at a winery. Wine, friends, music, dancing? Sign me up! You know it’s been a good night when you wake up the next morning with a sore throat from singing and sore feet from dancing barefoot in the grass. Saturday, my son moved himself to university; I have worked hard to instill a sense of independence and competence in my children, and so while it was a bit strange not to see his room or help him move, it was also kind of nice to expend zero effort and know that he is also living his best life. Sunday morning my husband and I went for a bike ride. Typically my riding partner is my son, but he has been otherwise engaged, and so my husband has accompanied me for the past two weeks. Here’s a little peek into our marriage: he has an e-bike, I do not, I take six cardio workouts a week, he does not. So I feel that we are more or less equally matched, woman versus machine. However! Here is a word of warning: if you let the guy with the e-bike choose the route, there might be a LOT of uphill. His preference is to go up, up, up into the orchards, and my preference is to go flatter, by the creek. We are taking turns choosing the route, is what I’m saying. Anyway, it’s been a fun weekend, and now here we are, in September. Happy September, friends! xo