Category Archives: OOTW2021

A Year of Wonders; Fifty-Two Weeks In

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I am absolutely a person who thrives on routine and ritual, and exactly one year ago my daily routines and rituals, like everyone else’s, were disrupted and destroyed. After a few weeks of muddling about, I created new routines and rituals that I have kept to this day. I wake very early in the morning, the only time the house is quiet and mine alone, I drink some coffee and read and write for half an hour, and then I select a poem to read. I read my poem and do my yoga practice, and that is how I start my day.

The very first poem I read when I began this ritual was this one, by Mary Oliver.

I read that poem and then, as I practiced, I watched the sky change from pitch black to inky blue, lightening into morning. This past week, pre-time change*, seeing that same change of darkness opening into morning as I do my yoga practice, reminds me more than anything else of last March. It is as if watching the sky change at that exact time is now imprinted on my soul and forever will be, and will always remind me of the time when the world changed.

When I think about March 2020, I remember it as a time of cold and darkness. I remember the feeling of disbelief, fear, panic, and, above all, despair. I remember lining up in the cold grey parking lot to get groceries, I remember the apocalyptically-empty shelves at the grocery store, I remember trying to manage the household with suddenly everyone at home all the time. If anyone had told me then that the pandemic would last as long as it has lasted, with time yet to go, I would have simply curled into a ball and cried, I would have not been able to go on.

But here we are! Look at what we have done! We have made it a year, and we can keep going! We have been running our houses and caring for our families and working and supervising our children’s education all under the strangest and most stressful of circumstances, and WE ARE HERE. Things may be far from ideal, mistakes have been made, sometimes we feel like we are failing, but WE ARE HERE. I know so many people who have been knocked down, over and over, and have dusted themselves off and gotten back up; I know people who have switched careers, who have adapted to and thrived in new circumstances, who are homeschooling their children, who are all doing and learning new things, and WE ARE HERE. I am so proud of all of us and everything we have accomplished.

After our second lockdown, in December, I fretted to my friend Nicole (HI NICOLE) about all the new measures, and what if all these measures didn’t work? She said, soothingly, that we can just do what we can do, the rest is out of our control. So true. If this pandemic has taught me anything, it is that life is like the Serenity Prayer: we need to accept the things we cannot change, have courage to change the things we can, and have wisdom to know the difference. I am not a front-line worker, I do not provide an essential service, I am not a scientist working on vaccines. All I can do is wear my mask, distance from people, and avoid travel and gatherings. I am a teeny tiny cog in the giant wheel of life, and yet collectively, collectively we are all actually making a difference. My efforts are small in the singular, but put together with all of YOUR efforts, they are significant.

We have all just tried to figure things out. Last spring, I had many well-meaning friends share what probably helped them get through the days, but were soul-crushing to me: friends who gave suggestions about disinfecting my groceries, for example, or friends who suggested digging out my flower gardens to plant vegetables for anticipated food shortages. Those suggestions, well-meant as they were, were not good for my mental state. At the time, thinking ahead more than one day at a time, or one week at a time, propelled me into a sadness spiral. Even now, if I think about the economic and financial ruin, whole industries devastated – restaurants, travel – not to mention the loss of so many lives, well. I cannot think about it. I have to keep myself going and so I keep my focus on the day to day. I don’t read the news anymore, I have scaled back hard on social media, and I remind myself that there is nothing wrong with being in the now. In fact, the pandemic has made me more mindful about living in the present; I think to the week ahead and no more, not really.

I do imagine that at some point in the future, I will be able to travel again, and I hope I will never take that for granted. In the future, I hope that I will be always grateful to share a meal with friends or hug someone. Right now I am grateful every single day for the schools, every day that the kids are at school is a boon. I hope that I never take any of those things for granted, for the rest of my life.

My initial reaction to March 2020 is, as I say, the feeling of cold and dark, but as I think of it more, I remember some really wonderful things. I remember the massive amounts of sidewalk chalk art as I walked through the neighbourhood. I remember people putting signs in their windows for children to look at. I remember how it felt when the sun came out, and the snow started to melt, and how we were all pulling together to support each other. It felt like spring, it felt like hope.

*Time change, can you believe we are still doing this? I mean, have we not been through enough?

Outfit of the Week

I have walked every single day of this pandemic, regardless of weather, and so it seems fitting that this week’s outfit is a walking one.

It’s continued to be mild and so last week’s light puffy coat is making an appearance, along with boots, and my very favourite bum warmer from My Cozy Buns.

Here’s what’s under all the outerwear (bonus Barkley photo): a decade-old sweater from Jacob that I still love, yoga tights, and the longest warm socks you have ever seen. Comfortable and warm, and perfect for walking and also lounging.

Pandemic Reading

No one can accuse me of not reading a wide variety of genres this week.

First of all, a shout-out to my librarian cousin Karen (HI KAREN), who sent me this book with the request that I drop it off in a little free library after I finished; she had put a bookmark with a sweet note in it as well, which made me want to put little notes in every LFL book.

Isn’t that sweet? Anyway, about the book: it is a compelling, uncomfortable, well-written, unsettling book that is about a fictional dystopian world of injustice and inequality, that does not actually feel very fictional. It leaves the reader with a tiny glimmer of hope.

I really love Malcolm Gladwell and this is probably my favourite of his books. It was a reread for me but well worth it. It’s all about success and the myth of meritocracies, and how we all – whether we know or acknowledge it – are products of our environment, legacies, and lucky breaks.

I don’t always read historical fiction…but when I do I like it to be juicy and scandalous. HOO BOY. This was juicy. The woman in question was, like Wallis, an American; in fact, she was the twin sister of Gloria Vanderbilt the senior. She was also married to a British peer who knew and kind of sanctioned the whole affair. It’s QUITE the story.

I decided to read this on the exact anniversary of the lockdown, which for us was Saturday. I had read this book when it first came out, probably twenty years ago, for a book club. Reader alert: it’s a little gross. I mean, it deals with the bubonic plague, and there are descriptions about the bubonic plague, so be warned. Anyway, it’s a fictional account of a true story about a village in England that quarantined itself during the Great Plague of London in 1665-66. It’s an interesting read about how people respond in a crisis not that we would know anything about that, would we??? The ending is great, some of the book drags for me, but overall decent.


I’m planning to restart my running routine after a winter hiatus in the next week or two, so I picked up this book that I received as a Christmas gift. It reads like a blog, probably because it was based on a blog. The author is the head instructor at Peloton, and her positive energy and inspiring words shine through. I don’t think there are any great or new revelations here, but it’s a good manual for runners or people interested in becoming runners.

And Sunday was Pi Day! Did you celebrate? I personally loathe pie, but I love my guys, and so she’s my cherry pie.

Have a great week, friends, stay strong. 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

Blue, Baby, Blue; Forty-Nine Weeks In

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Last week I had one of those days wherein you wake up and everything seems absolutely unbearable. I felt absolutely despondent; everything seemed terrible, from the dishes in the drying rack to the never-ending laundry to the every day drudgery that never ends until I die. I went through my regular happy-cheerful-healthy morning routine and I still felt blue; I realized the last time that I was this far in the depths of despair, my period arrived some hours later.

Well! I decided that this despondent mood was a SIGN from my body, and that I would walk the walk and embrace that magical time with some self-care. I took a solo walk and made myself a chocolate protein smoothie with a big bowl of sliced strawberries, I spent two hours just curled in a chair reading, I played the piano.

And then…nothing.

This is the thing about perimenopause, at least this is the thing for me: the Garmin period tracker on my phone is ready to uninstall itself from frustration. My cycle has never been super-regular, other than the many years I was on the Pill, but since hitting my forties it has gone from That Friend Who Is Sometimes On Time But Not Usually to That Wild Friend Who Does A Bunch Of Tequila Shots And Who Might End Up In Vegas Later Tonight, Who Really Knows What’s Up. Three weeks? Three months? We’ll see!

This kind of wild irregularity makes some things tricky, like booking a bikini wax or a Pap test, or blaming one’s cycle for one’s moods.

It’s silly though, why should I blame hormones for having a despondent day? I mean, really. It’s February, cold and snowy, I’m not running right now and I miss it terribly, I spend many hours every week just doing drudge-like household chores that literally never end, the laundry will never end, there will always be food to acquire and prepare and clean up after, people using the shower and bathroom mean that those things will need cleaning, and yes, yes, yes, I am not the only person in the house who does these things, I am not living with entitled Neanderthals BUT I do the lion’s share, there is no travel to look forward to nor dinner and drinks with friends, I cannot even host the girls for a coffee date and even if it was warm enough to be in my backyard, the lawn furniture is frozen and covered with snow, and also, due to the snow and cold, we have been unable to clean up after the dog since before Christmas.

It’s OKAY to feel sad, is what I’m saying.

The whole thing reminded me of a story told to me years ago by my friend Eryn (HI ERYN). Eryn’s friend mentioned that her Aunt Flo was coming for a visit, and Eryn responded with “Fuck that bitch,” but it turned out that her friend had an ACTUAL aunt named Flo who was actually coming for a visit. I laugh every time, EVERY TIME, I think of that story, which is every time I think I’m going to start my period and then nothing happens. FUCK THAT BITCH.

Ah well, the sun has come back out, both literally and figuratively. Eventually my period did start, with no fanfare, mood swings, or other warning. I no longer feel like a Donkey On The Edge, even though I have no more dark chocolate strawberry Lindt truffles. My new raised garden beds are slated to arrive soon, I’ve ordered a ton of plants from my very favourite plant fundraiser (HI ALANA), and the vaccinations are starting around here. It will be months before I can actually garden and many more months after that before I get a vaccine, but those things are going to happen and they are a glimmer of hope, a sunbeam in a blue sky.

Outfit of the Week

The polar vortex has ended! The polar vortex has ended! It’s still winter, it’s still cold, but it’s not The Air Hurts My Face cold! This week’s OOTW features not only a cozy sweater and a lighter long-sleeve tee, but also JEANS and and actual BRA, not just yoga pants and a tank. A bra, you guys! Jeans! It happens a couple of times a week around here, but still notable.

This sweater is like being wrapped up in a giant hug. Remember hugs? No? Well, this sweater is like that.

It’s certainly long enough to wear with yoga leggings, or anything at all. When I bought it the reviews said to “size down” but DO NOT SIZE DOWN. It’s so cozy this way.

Pandemic Reading

It is well documented how I love Nora Ephron, so I really expected to like this book more than I did. It was…okay. I liked reading about the making of the greatest movie of all time – When Harry Met Sally – but otherwise, meh.

This is the companion book to Life After Life, although it does stand up very well by itself. It’s really excellent, about a RAF bomber in WW2 who vows to lead a life of kindness if he makes it out. It’s about his time in the war but also his life before and after that time. There are some absolutely vile and loathsome characters in the book, but the great thing about Kate Atkinson is that she can make you think about how they became so vile and loathsome, and treats the characters with compassion. I liked Life After Life a bit better, but both are really good.

After Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) mentioned reading Judy Blume to her daughter, I had an enormous craving to revisit my old favourites. I put many of them on hold at the library and these two were the first to come in. They really stand up, and it’s interesting to think they were written in the early 70s, when there was a movement from NYC to the suburbs. As a kid I really thought of Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret as being a book about getting your period, which it is, in a way, but it’s more about religion and finding belonging. Her father is Jewish and her mother is Christian, and so they don’t practice either religion, which is a curiosity in the suburbs of New Jersey in 1970. There is a whole storyline about how her mother’s parents disowned her after the marriage, which reminded me of how far we have come in this world. My religious, strongly Lutheran grandma, for example, was absolutely shocked to discover that my husband was brought up Catholic. Catholic! She had some reservations. Back in HER day in rural Saskatchewan, that was considered a mixed marriage.

I remember reading Then Again Maybe I Won’t when I was a kid, and it was the first time I had even HEARD of wet dreams. Or of guys getting boners in math class. Talk about disturbing! I had no idea! But, as in Margaret, the underlying theme is so much more than puberty and changing bodies. How do people change when there is money involved? Tony’s family strikes it rich and EVERYTHING changes, and Tony suffers massive stomach pains due to anxiety, and ends up in hospital.

God, Judy Blume was a master at writing books that really covered the bases. I will update you on the next few that come in from the library!

Meanwhile, I hope you have a wonderful week – this last week of February, my goodness – and may you have sunshine and blue skies. xo

Baby, It’s Cold Outside; Forty-Eight Weeks In

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I don’t know if it was the polar vortex that settled itself on us, or the two days off of school because of Teacher’s Convention, or the fact that all four of us had dental appointments, but last week felt like it was six weeks long. I thought it was Thursday on Tuesday, and then Wednesday I was just completely confused all day.

Today is also a holiday; it’s Family Day, the designated day in the midst of winter to spend quality time with one’s family, which is great, because I have HARDLY SPENT ANY TIME with mine in the past eleven months. Clearly this holiday was not created with a pandemic in mind, but still, it’s kind of nice to have an extended long weekend, even with nowhere to go and nothing in particular to do. You know, except for Family Togetherness.

I am happy to say that, even with the polar vortex and temperatures dipping into the MINUS FORTIES with windchill, my step streak is still unbroken. My “looking nice while obtaining said steps” streak has been destroyed, however.

Who am I kidding, that was destroyed weeks ago. There’s nothing quite like iced-over eyelashes, which my friend Barret (HI BARRET) calls Manitoba Mascara.

Well, some places have brutally long, cold winters, some places have oppressively hot summers, some have both (I’m looking at you, Southern Ontario), some places rain a lot, some places have hurricanes and tornadoes and ice storms. Unless we all move to Maui, there is bound to be some weather-related unpleasantness. I have even heard that people who do live in places like Maui “miss the seasonal changes” which, well, I can’t really picture thinking ANYTHING at all would be less than perfect in Maui but who knows. Maybe I too would miss the seasonal changes. I don’t THINK I would miss the Reynaud’s and the aching hands and the never-getting-warm-again feeling of minus 30 but I will reserve judgement.

Back to reality, there is nothing to be done except wait it out and look for my invincible inner summer while reading, working on a Golden Girls puzzle, and drinking a lot of coffee. (Oh, I see you’re a coffee drinker the dental hygienist said conversationally.) I actually watched TWO episodes of the Crown over the weekend, which I count as binge-watching, and is more than I’ve watched over the past four weeks. At this rate I might actually finish Season Four before Season Five comes out. (IS there a Season Five coming out? I have no idea. I am the worst binge-watcher that ever there was.) Happily, things are looking up this week weather-wise, and also, heart-shaped chocolates are now cut-price at the grocery store, so we all win.

Outfit of the Week

So here’s the thing: twice a week I teach zoom yoga from my basement, but on Mondays I actually leave the house – an outing! I’m going somewhere! – to teach zoom yoga from a community centre. As bizarre as it is to be all by myself (cue music) in a giant room, it’s also really nice to, as I said, leave the house.

The only time it’s not great is when there is a polar vortex and the community centre is even colder than normal. Hence this week’s outfit, the warmest one I have!

That sweater is literally like a bathrobe. It is so cozy and warm, and it actually weighs a ton. Underneath is yoga pants, tank, and fairly thick tee for teaching. My friend Amy (HI AMY) made that mala, and it is so meaningful to me. I love it so much.

Quick! Put the sweater back on! Barkley is voicing his concern for my well-being.

Legwarmers, of course! My warmest “teaching” ones, on the cold, cold community centre floor.

All by myselllllfffff, don’t wanna be all by myself, anymore.

Pandemic Reading

Thanks to Allison for recommending this! This biography was the actual inspiration for the musical, and I like to think of Lin-Manuel reading this and thinking, hey, that would make a great song. I mean. How incredible is that. This is full of interesting details – there are SOME dry spots, like the writing of the Federalist papers – and really paints a picture of what life was like in the Caribbean and in America at that time. I was pretty fascinated by the description of the Caribbean and the sugar industry in the late 1700s; it was pretty wild and disturbing. The politics of the time really foreshadow the American Civil War, and it’s really interesting to see it all laid out.

I really wish there was more information available about Eliza Hamilton, and Lin-Manuel probably took some poetic license there about her burning all her letters after the Reynolds pamphlet, but it could be true. I mean, her husband described in detail his extramarital affair; I would probably burn everything too. Maybe even the house. Maybe even my husband IN the house.

Did you know that Hamilton was instrumental in starting up the textile manufacturing industry in America? I did not! It is also another piece of the set-up to the Civil War, seeing the North industrializing while the South stayed more agricultural, and, of course, relying on slavery to do so. Lots of information to digest in this one, and it’s a long book, so take it from me: pause all your other library holds if you take this on.

I am not normally a ghost story/ murder mystery kind of girl, but this was a really fun diversion after reading Alexander Hamilton. It’s the type of book that has plucky Nancy Drew-like characters and two different time periods, that are connected. The description of the 80s outfits and pop culture were PRETTY fun.

This poor puppers hasn’t been for a walk in ten days! Good thing he’s super lazy. The cold is a bit much for his arthritic old hips, so I think he’ll be happy about a milder forecast. You know, if he knew what a forecast was.

Have a beautiful, hopefully half-priced chocolate-filled week! 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

Friluftsliv Fashion; Forty-Six Weeks In

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Last Monday was Robbie Burns’ Day, and the entire day passed unnoticed by me. It wasn’t until Tuesday that I realized I had missed the day entirely; I usually take a few minutes to watch this video and listen to some Rod Stewart, but this year, alas. Nothing. What kind of partial Scotswoman am I? What’s next, am I going to stop saving tiny useless pieces of soap by attempting to mold them onto the larger bar of soap where they will fall off constantly until my husband, frustrated, throws them out, much to my consternation? Am I going to stop banging the shampoo bottle to get out that last ounce, probably wasting water in the process? Will I stop squeezing out every last millilitre of toothpaste and face primer? Am I going to stop cursing the designers of nail polish for their useless little brushes that preclude using the last quarter of a bottle?

Never.

Some of this could be pandemic-, “what day is it-” related, some could be exam break related, but I am putting some of the blame on my father – not for the nail polish, as far as I know he had nothing to do with that – but for my blowing past Robbie Burns Day. He usually sends me a text, sometimes even with a cryptic “some hae meat and cannae eat” line, but he did not this year. What the heck, Dad? In a pandemic I need all the reminders as to what day it is that I can get.

Saving tiny pieces of soap and other fairly useless frugalities aside, I have been focusing lately not so much on my Scottish heritage, but on the Norwegian part. Specifically, as I have mentioned before, Friluftsliv. As of today I’m on a 302-day movement streak, and I am spending, on average, 90 minutes a day outside. It has not been hard, really, because this January has been, by Calgary standards, mild. We usually have at least a few days, if not weeks, of temperatures in the minus 20s and below, and here we are in FEBRUARY ALREADY and that has not happened. Most days have been around the freezing mark, plus or minus five degrees, but the last week has seen a small blast of winter, and by “small,” I mean in the minus teens. Minus 16 isn’t “my face has actually frozen with exposure to the air” temperatures, but it’s pretty cold nonetheless.

I channeled my Norwegian side, not with a sudden craving for lefse or lutefisck, god, no, never, but with Friluftsliv.

Yes, those are snow pants. Yes, my coat requires its own postal code. Yes, I have a toque underneath my hood, and this entire outfit is meant to obliviate any idea of outdoor fashion. Dress for the weather you have, not the weather you want, people. I am happy to tell you that ninety minutes in this very saucy outfit, and I was as snug and as warm as can be. It made me think of all those hours I spent freezing at the playground, when I could have been wearing snow pants. No wonder kids can spend hours outside in the cold while adults freeze, it is because they are dressed for the weather. Why did I dress my children so well and me…not? Well, no time to spend on regrets, let’s look forward, not back, and meanwhile I will be wearing my snow pants until this cold front has passed.

Hilariously, I’ve been following some new blogs by women who are in their fifties, and they write about fashion and beauty for women of a certain age. For a while I found it aspirational. Now, though, I think I’ve passed right out of “aspirational” and into “we are on different planets.” As I was donning my giant outfit, I thought of their latest “California girl” post wherein they were dressed for the weather in a long sweater, scarf, and cropped pants. What must that be like. At the moment I can’t remember what grass looks like.

Outfit of the Week

Ooh, I love this week’s outfit! It’s a teaching outfit with added layers for the hours I’m NOT teaching. It’s a Monday outfit; Mondays I teach zoom yoga at the community centre – by myself – and that community centre is COLD.

Black tank with grey polka dots, grey long sleeved tee, and, best of all, LEGWARMERS. The legwarmers are essential for that freezing cold space.

Cute, soft black sweater for warmth when not teaching.

Pandemic Reading

The title is a bit misleading but this is a very interesting read on how our society vilifies certain foods and how “professionals” make tons of money on “studies” about our diet. The key takeaway is “There’s a colossal problem with focusing on one macronutrient, and with ‘everything you’ve heard up to now is wrong’ message.” Interesting if you’re into that sort of thing.

The author does talk about how celiac disease was first discovered, and the treatment for it was a diet of bananas and milk. Celiac children immediately thrived from this diet – because it obviously contains no gluten – which sparked a whole movement for bananas. The first of the “superfoods” I suppose. The author believes that people who cut out gluten, without having a medical diagnosis to do so, delegitimize the enormous health issue for people who are actually celiac. I don’t know what I think about that. It’s a very valid point but I think there is also a benefit to more widespread information. I remember when a friend’s mom was diagnosed – she’d suffered her whole life – back in the nineties, when essentially no one had ever really heard of celiac disease. For her, eating out was extremely difficult at that time because no one understood the severity of celiac or how to manage it. Now, we are so much more aware and there are so many different products, so I’m not sure if the gluten-free craze was all bad, as it would ultimately give celiac people options. When I first went plant-based, many years ago, eating out wasn’t always easy. I’ll have a club sandwich but without the cheese and meat, hold the mayo. I’ll have the chicken pasta without the chicken. But now there are vegetarian and vegan options everywhere, thanks to a brief period when such diets were in vogue. The takeaway from the book is to eat how you like, and not to buy into “studies” as the “studies” are not science.

In my lifetime I can remember the following: low-calorie, low-cholesterol, low-fat, high-protein, low-carb, no-carb, gluten-free, low-sugar, no-sugar, high fat. What’s next? I agree with the author, eat for joy and pleasure and personal health, whatever diet brings you those things.

This was the most creative and original book I’ve read! I loved it! If you had infinite chances to live your life, would you get it all perfect? How can decisions change your destiny? It’s like a choose your own adventure book on steroids. A must-read, especially if you have interest in World War Two.

This empowering and enlightening book resonated so strongly with me; at times I literally gasped and had to stare off into the distance for a while. I wish I’d read this when I was a younger woman. I think this is an important read, for all women but especially those of my generation who were brought up to have it all, but without thoughts to the cost.

Barkley and I wish you a wonderful first week of February, friends! xo