Category Archives: Pop Cult-ure

1998 was twenty years ago

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Yesterday I heard Total Eclipse of the Heart twice: once on the way home from yoga, and once during dinnertime. It reminded me of one of the greatest movie scenes ever; the wedding dance from Old School. I cannot hear that song without mentally substituting the lyrics. I also heard 1999 twice yesterday, but that did not fill me with the same level of joy. Here’s my controversial confession: I do not really enjoy the music of Prince. I don’t NOT enjoy it; I certainly would sing along if When Doves Cry came on the radio, but I do not seek it out.

Another controversial confession: I really, really dislike the music of Tom Petty. And for my money, Beast of Burden is not only the best Rolling Stones song ever written, but I don’t even think there is a close second.

Well, I did not set out today to write about the music of late performers and defunct bands; moving on.

The main music – and I use that word very loosely – I have been treated to lately is that of screaming magpies. Magpies have, evidently, made a nest nearby and every single time I leave my house they are swooping around me, screaming loudly. Barkley seems to be equally targeted, never mind that in a million years he could not reach a nest that is ostensibly thirty feet off the ground. A part of me thinks aw, they are just trying to protect their babies, but after several days of low-flying aggressive magpie action, my thoughts turn to goddammit, no one WANTS your horrible babies, go away. I saw a pair of magpies aggressively chasing away squirrels, though, so there is an upside to this. At least the magpies, as irritating as they may be, are not in the market to eat my bulbs or dig up my flowers.

By the way, my tulips never did bloom, not a single one. They all just lay there in their weirdly flattened foliage, sadly sinking back into the earth from whence they came.

This morning I learned that Sex and the City debuted twenty years ago this year, TWENTY YEARS, PEOPLE. Remember when women would identify with the main characters, as in “You’re such a Charlotte.” Well. Time passages and and all that. A Sex and the City episode was the catalyst for the worst fight my husband and I ever had in our entire relationship, to this day I cannot think about “Your girl is lovely, Hubble,” without thinking of my fury in our tiny apartment on the 30th floor, without being able to even slam a door. At the time it was intense, but now, nearly twenty years later, it seems very lame, that we had a fight about Carrie and Mr. Big.

Nowadays, the only source of marital tension is my One Year Shopping Challenge, which my husband hates with a passion. Just go buy yourself some damn clothes! he has said on numerous occasions. A few weeks ago I was having coffee with a friend (HI TWYLA) and she complimented me on my raincoat, a plaid Lululemon that I bought when the kids were in preschool. Thanks, it’s really old, I said and she shook her head. Are we still doing that, then? The no-buying thing? she asked with sympathy. Yes we are. Less than eight weeks to go and my god, I simultaneously cannot believe I have done it and also I cannot wait for it to be done.

One thing about this challenge is that I have been able to identify some true needs in my wardrobe. Well, “needs” might be a strong word; as my mom always says, I’m not sure the word NEED comes into play here. Wants, then. For starters, on my trip to Mexico I noted that several of my trusty old bikinis no longer fit properly, as in, if I dive too quickly into the water there is going to be an accidental skinny dipping situation. I do still have a couple that can get me through until August 1, so things aren’t really desperate. Still. A new bikini or two would be nice.

I’m also noting that a few of my yoga clothes, while still in good shape, are beginning to look pretty faded and worn, which isn’t too surprising since most of my pieces are over five years old and have withstood a lot of wear and laundering. Some of my tanks and pants are a decade old, some even older. So really, I think I can probably treat myself to a few new pieces. I do find myself in yoga clothes daily, often two different outfits a day, one for practicing in and one for teaching.

Other than that, I’m not too tempted to shop these days, since I do not enjoy the current styles. I already wore them, back in the 90s. Overalls, high waisted pants, crop tops, bodysuits, and ONE PIECE JUMPSUITS. Think about using a public washroom while wearing a jumpsuit, just think about it for a moment. I’ve done all of those styles, and I’m not interested in doing them again, particularly the jumpsuits. Well, and the rest of them. I shall leave the youth styles to the youth and continue to live in my yoga clothes topped with flowy sweaters, like the future Golden Girl that I am. All I need are brightly coloured necklace-and-earring sets and some florals and I’ll be ready to go.

Speaking of colours, I seem to be so desperate to end this shopping challenge that when my husband pointed out some bright orange Lululemon crops to me, I actually thought those look nice. I have never worn such a colour in my entire life and I most likely never will, due to my fear that it would match my hair too closely, but it is illustrative of my desperation.

Also? Speaking of Golden Girls…remember slips? Do women still wear slips? I remember being made to wear slips, particularly to church, back in my childhood. Slips, as I remember, were a guard against a) clinging dresses, b) anything even marginally transparent, and c) immodesty in general. It seems to me that they would be very outmoded now, but I’m curious – does anyone still wear them, or did they go the way of the housedress? When I think of slips, I think of my beloved late grandma, who would also encourage wearing a pin or brooch at one’s neckline to ensure that one was not showing too much of the chest region. I wonder what she would think of my work wear.

I remember waiting for the school bus…

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Two days ago I decided to take an enormous leap of faith and wash my calf-length, super-warm parka. I put it in the downstairs closet, along with my Sorels, and I hope that I haven’t cursed us all. I did leave out my other giant, but shorter, parka just in case. It’s my birthday in a couple of days and I keep forgetting, because there is still so much snow and ice on the ground that it doesn’t feel like it’s as late in the year as it is. Don’t get me wrong; snow in April is nothing new, and neither is snow in May. The difference this year is that we still have snow on the ground that was there in October; winter snow, as opposed to spring snow, as my dad helpfully differentiated for me the other day.

Well, I finished Prairie Fires and I am gratified anew to a) not be a pioneer, b) not be the mother of a crazed Libertarian who destroys all relationships, and c) to live in the modern age. I am also gratified that my plumbing and running water issues have – knock on wood a thousand times – been resolved. As I mentioned, the very good-looking young plumber had fixed a lot of things but the water filter was leaking, which required a visit from the very specific Water Filter Guy. The last time the Water Filter Guy was here, said Guy was an older, kindly gentleman who has since retired and left his clients to a new, Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy. Seriously, people, I opened the door and wondered if I was on hidden camera.

I always find it interesting, the career trajectories of other people. Was Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy always such? No, he was once a high school basketball coach. My own career has changed so much over the years; I find it fascinating how people find themselves in different lines of work. Of course, often the trajectory is more pragmatic, more about paying the bills and flexible schedules and so forth, but still.

School bus drivers, for example. It’s a flexible schedule and probably not badly paid – I have no idea, really – but you would have to be a special kind of person to be able to be in a large motorized vehicle with dozens of insanely loud children every day. Every morning when I drop the kids off at school I see the line of empty buses at the end of the street, and beside one of them is a driver, having a smoke. He wears shorts every single day, no matter what the weather is, with a ball cap and a hoodie, hood up. As I watch him smoke, I think of Otto the bus driver on The Simpsons. The guy just dropped off a bus full of junior high students, he NEEDS that cigarette, people. Obviously it cannot wait, his nerves depend on it. And who can blame him? Not me.

Last week I volunteered on a field trip for the Grade Eight Environmental and Outdoor Education class. Often their field trips are – obviously – outdoor based, but this one was to the climbing wall, and so it seemed to be more up my alley. I am a fair weather volunteer, and the weather has not, as I MAY have mentioned, been fair. I stepped on the bus and did a double take: the bus driver looked EXACTLY like Kid Rock.

Hat, hair, facial hair, clothing, everything. It was really uncanny. I started to wonder if it WAS Kid Rock, and if I should ask him to turn the stereo up and roll the windows down but sadly, I did not. He was pretty calm with the mass chaos on the bus, the hooligan grade eights, and so I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t driving the return bus. Rather, it was an older lady who was the female version of this:

 

Which, frankly, is completely understandable. It is the exact feeling I get when I’m driving a minivan-full of boys around. Flexible schedule or not, it would be – in my opinion – a terrible job, navigating traffic, the noise level, driving a huge uncomfortable bus.

Volunteering for junior high field trips is very different from elementary ones. For one thing, the bus situation – despite all this – is much better. The elementary school used to have kids three to a seat, even in the later grades, which meant that the bus would be hot, crowded, and extremely smelly, grade five and six students not being known for their excellent personal hygiene. Junior high kids, thank god, wear deodorant and brush their teeth, for the most part, anyway. Secondly, the volunteer gig itself mostly involves just existing, since the kids don’t need help with anything at all. I think the extra parents are just there for insurance purposes, because there is literally nothing to do but stare at the kids for several hours.

I took a few pictures though:

That’s my boy! I don’t tend to be a worrier, but there was a moment when I saw him at the top of the wall, knowing that he was being belayed by another fourteen-year-old who had just learned how to belay twenty minutes prior…well. All was fine. It was like the moment I had in Huatulco, when we took a local boat tour and snorkeling trip. We spotted two whales and some dolphins, and the boat driver – the captain, I guess? – sped out towards them. I thought, here we are, off the coast of Mexico, in a nine-person boat, heading off into the Pacific Ocean with a giant sea mammal nearby that could theoretically capsize this tiny boat, and no one outside our group knows where we are right now…

Anyway, as we all say it doesn’t pay to worry about what MIGHT happen. All’s well that ends well, and least said, soonest mended as Ma Ingalls was known to say, although this is a blog. Least said, soonest mended does not seem to be my mantra.

God bless mathematical algorithms

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“We are gearing up for the saddest week of the year!” the radio DJ said this morning, which startled me: is it Blue Monday already? I guess that’s what happens when January 1 is a Monday; god bless mathematical algorithms.

For all that, I am not blue today. Last week, a combination of the frigid temperatures and impending ladies’ holiday put me at Low Level Crabbiness, With A Tendency To Spike To Full-Blown Crabbiness. Today, though, feels fine, even though HOO BOY are there a lot of reasons to be blue these days. I mean…I will not go into them all so as to not depress us all but there are people out there who are not toddlers who are voluntarily eating Tide pods. I saw a small video clip, from Tide, of Rob Gronkowski telling people not to eat Tide pods and I laughed, people, I laughed. Then I found out that people are actually eating Tide pods and my laughter turned into a blank stare of confusion and disbelief.

Let’s not dwell on this, though, because I am assuming this is a very small portion of the population who looks at laundry detergent as a delicious, delicious snack. I’m trying not to see this as a reaction to the Crazytown Bananapants presidency and the appalling news that changes every five minutes. Probably it’s a weird way to get high. Don’t tell me, I don’t really want to know. Or do I? No, I don’t.

I don’t know why or how this happened, but I have had the old 1980s ParticipAction theme song going through my head ALL DAY LONG. This is even worse than the time I had the old Channel 2&7 Hello Calgary theme song stuck in my head. Hello Calgary, hello Calgaaaarrrryyyy…channels 2&7 love you! Well, if you’re feeling nostalgic and would like to see some very fit people clad in nothing but shorts and roller skates, or leotards and tights, click here for the old commercial. If you let it keep going you will be treated to some Body Breaks with Hal Johnson and Joanne Macleod, but I don’t recommend going down that particular rabbit hole unless you have some time on your hands.

Okay, I admit that I did watch the one on Airplane Exercise. Hey, what can I say, I have varicose veins and they become painful with air travel (yes, again) (I know) (apparently it’s rare) (I’m a unique snowflake/ unicorn). I do wear my super-sexy, full length beige support stockings while travelling, in case you’re wondering about how glamourous it is to be me.

Speaking of high fashion, do you people have any idea what is going on in this world? The fanny pack is back, I repeat, the fanny pack is back. It is now called a Belt Bag which, a rose by any other name, etc. As well: scrunchies. Scrunchies are back in style, so I guess my high school self should have saved all those little puffy bands that I colour-coordinated with all my outfits. I could be the hippest mom around! All I need are my old high school jeans with big belts and giant t-shirts all tucked in and I’ll be set!

Well, they always say you can never go back again, and so I shall leave the scrunchies to the next generation. Or will I? I’m due for a Nicole’s Favourite Things so…no. No, I just can’t go back there.

Happy Monday, lovely readers, if you’re feeling blue know that I’m sending you virtual hugs and cookies. xo

Three Things I Learned Yesterday

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Happy New Year everyone! I am going to admit right now that I love the New Year; I love the idea of fresh starts and new pages and YES, we can start a fresh page of our lives every single day and YES, we can (and I do) make changes and goals any time during the year, but still, there is something about New Year’s. Last year I resolved to focus more, and uni-task rather than multi-task more, and I think that I did improve on that front. I also resolved to read more and – inspired by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) – I kept a record of all the books I read in 2017. I ended up reading 82 books, which I thought was pretty good. Simon and Schuster sent me a bunch of books to read and review and those reviews will be coming in the next little while. Suffice it to say they sent me some excellent titles, and some titles that I would say would be nice, light reads for the beach or holiday.

So what’s up for 2018? Are you making any resolutions, or goals, or words of intention? I have a hard time NOT resolving to do everything – in addition to multiple health, fitness, parenting, reading, and piano playing goals, I’ve also found myself resolving to be more like the mindfulness guru Dr. Saamdu Chetri who starts every day being thankful for the gift of twenty-four hours. Every day! Thank you for these twenty-four hours I have been given! I told my husband about that and he thought it seemed maybe a bit unbalanced. Maybe that’s true, but the principle is still a good one.

It’s a fine line, I think, between self-love and acceptance, celebrating the fabulous people that we are and the wonderful, blessed lives that we have, and also wanting to remake everything entirely on New Year’s. There is always room for improvement, though, and meanwhile, I’ll be over here practicing gratitude and patience and getting extra cardio.

The kids have been off school this week and my husband has been off work, which has been lovely and strange. I still have a modified class schedule, but yesterday I had nothing at all – so I decided I would get all my groceries in one go. That meant a trip to Costco in the morning and a trip to Superstore in the afternoon and suffice it to say that wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. Actually, now that I think of it, it WAS the best idea in terms of a cardio workout – I checked my “steps” on my phone and it turned out I walked 4.2 kilometres – although that did include a 2 kilometre dog walk. There’s a fitness hack for you – go grocery shopping! Especially when it comes to pushing heavy carts through snowy parking lots! Although I did take someone with me for each trip and made them push the cart but next time, it will be just me. I should patent this idea: get fit by grocery shopping, plus buy your veggies! It’s a win-win!

I often resolve to spend less time on the internet and social media, because sometimes it feels that no good can come of it. But then I am proven wrong, for if I wasn’t on the internet I would not have learned these three amazing things:

Pumping Gas

I had no idea that all this time that I have been choosing the “self-serve” lane at the gas station that I was doing something NOT ALLOWED in Oregon. At least, until recently, when Oregon mandated that people can pump their own gas in rural areas which has caused a bit of a kerfluffle in that state. Who knew? I mean really, WHO KNEW. Not me. Opponents to this ruling have many objections: transient people can steal their children while they are waiting in the car as the gas is being pumped, everyone’s hands will smell like gasoline, and – this is my favourite – people don’t KNOW how to pump their own gas. I am the first to admit I am a total idiot when it comes to my car – I don’t even know how to open the hood – but even I can pump my own gas. It’s really not hard. Suffice it to say that if I can do something, vehicle-wise, than it’s pretty much a guarantee even the village idiot can. Just don’t go all Zoolander at the gas station and you’ll be fine, people of Oregon.

Plinko Record SMASHED

Anyone who has watched The Price Is Right is well aware of two things: the commercials during the breaks are awesome, and Plinko is the very best game there is. This fellow from Cleveland SMASHED the previous Plinko record and went home with $39,200!

That’s enough to buy a NEW CAR.

Raw Water is a Thing Now

Years ago I remember talking to someone about iodine tablets to put in drinking water, while on a trip to Nepal. Iodine, she said, might not be the best thing but it’s better than explosive diarrhea on the hiking trail. Truer words were never spoken. But now, apparently, drinking unfiltered, untreated water is a Thing. Tap water – or even filtered bottled water – is for suckers. I live in close proximity to the Rocky Mountains, and while spring water may SEEM pristine and fresh, there’s a little thing called Beaver Fever. Or cholera. Although…if your New Year’s Resolution is to lose weight, there would be nothing more effective than contracting dysentery, so maybe this Raw Water Thing is really going to catch on!

The World Is A Rich Tapestry

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You guys, it is happening. IT IS HAPPENING. Remember back in 2012, when I predicted we would see a resurgence in the popularity of the names of our mothers’ generation? I have now made the acquaintance of two young women named Barbara and Brenda; these lovely ladies are, I believe, the lead-offs in the trend that we will certainly see unfold over the next fifteen years. Mark my words, Barbara and Brenda will soon be joined by a whole host of Beverlys, Donnas, Corrines, Carols, Lindas, and Susans. IT IS HAPPENING. There is a very good chance that our granddaughters will be Bev and Barb.

Then, thirty years down the road, Bev and Barb will have their own granddaughters, and we will suddenly be swarmed by a sea of Jennifers, Julies, Michelles, Melissas, and, yes, NICOLES.

It is mind-blowing, people. Mind-blowing. Just as mind-blowing as seeing girls wearing pleated, high-waisted, belted shorts with little crop-tops. None of us learn from previous generations, we do not, not one bit*.

* Since the writing of that post, I have fully embraced skinny jeans and their beautiful ability to pair with tall boots. I know that the tide is starting to change, however. I know this because I saw a young woman, named neither Barbara nor Brenda, wearing straight-cut jeans with a belt, loafers, and a cropped top, taking me back to the days of “going dancing” and drinking vodka “slimes” out of a pitcher. Young women are the Indicator Species of fashion, as we know. Bodysuits will not be far off, MARK MY WORDS.

But I digress. One thing that we also do not seem to learn is that some things recur on an annual basis, and every year we see individuals become extremely combative with regards to the desirability or otherwise of these recurring events. For example, for every individual who lives for summer there is another who loathes the heat, for every skiier and snow-lover there is a Reynaud’s syndrome sufferer who dreads the long, cold winter (i.e., me). At this time of year, we see people firmly divided into two camps: those who love all things Pumpkin Spice, and those who do not. And of those who do not, there is a subsection of people who feel the need to disparage and shout from the rooftops how much they hate Pumpkin Spice, and how Pumpkin Spice things need to die in a fire and that Pumpkin Spice is the worst of everything and a harbinger for death by White Walkers. Or something. These are the same people who proclaim loudly that they Hate All Sports while everyone else is enjoying the Super Bowl, or that The Olympics Are A Giant Waste Of Money And Everyone Who Watches Them Are Contributing To The Decline Of Society.

We all know these people. We know, we know, such pleasures in life are just too bourgeois or pedestrian for you, special snowflake that you are. It’s not enough for you to NOT partake, you must mock all those who do. I am not a Pumpkin Spice fan myself, but far be it for me to ruin it for any of you who do love it (Rebecca, enjoy your PSL!) (HI REBECCA). While you’re enjoying your Pumpkin Spice lattes and Oreos and breakfast cereal, I will be over here waiting for MY favourite flavour season – Mint Chocolate. It’s coming.

As Swistle says, Do Not Yuck Another Person’s Yum. (HI SWISTLE). Some of us have the Cilantro Is Delicious gene, and some of us do not, and our differences make the world go ’round. The world is a rich tapestry, people.

Speaking of rich tapestries, I have been on a roll with reading excellent books lately (go read A Man Called Ove! It’s excellent.). One of the things I started doing this year, in a bid to be more like Allison (HI ALLISON), is recording the books that I have read so I can look back on the year, and recommend ones I loved. It’s also a good way to see how much I read in a year – so far I am on book number 59. I have the Calgary Public Library app on my phone, so as soon as I hear of a book recommendation I immediately put it on hold. I love the library. I love how I can read things I wouldn’t want to necessarily buy, and I love exposing myself to different genres. Once in a while, though, I pick up a book that has rave reviews and it turns out to be…how shall I say this…not for me.

I just finished a book that sounded so promising – two estranged sisters, coming together under the mysterious circumstances of their missing sister and the murder of one of their husbands – it was touted as a thriller and a mystery and I guess it was. If you really like books about the abduction, torture, rape, and eventual murder of young girls, then this is the book for you! If not, well, maybe learn from my mistake and don’t read Pretty Girls. I was somewhat traumatized after finishing it – I kept reading in the hopes that it would get better and be less violent, and IT DID NOT – and so I was happy to pick up the book I had put on hold a while ago, Difficult Women by Roxane Gay. It is a collection of short stories, and the very first one featured the abduction, rape, and sex slavery of two preteen sisters. So that wasn’t the best for my state of mind.

However, I would still very much recommend Difficult Women as it is a very compelling series of short stories; even the first one is not graphic, not really. I have had four books on hold suddenly all come in, and the next one I am reading is a “light British novel about life around a bookshop” so I am really hoping for no details about abduction, torture, rape, or murder.

September is the real New Year

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How is everyone doing, on this first week of back-to-school? So far, so good in the Boyhouse; maybe not from Barkley’s point of view, though.

Yesterday after drop-off, Barkley and I stared at each other for a while, in our silent house. But one cannot stare at the dog all day, humming Landslide or Time After Time. No, one must embrace new eras and new situations, and to that end, I taught a class, prepared for another, baked cinnamon loaf, made from-scratch cookies-and-cream ice cream, did laundry, and tidied the house. After taking Barkley for a walk I did indulge myself by staring blankly out the window for a while, but only for a little while.

We had the Best Summer Ever; it was full of fun and activity and relaxing and family time. Truly, a wonderful summer. But as all things come to an end, here we are in September. This month to me always feels like the time to make a Fresh New Start, even more so than New Year’s. I had an epiphany of sorts, and that – along with a dear friend in health crisis, who is reminding me every day of her strength and also that we need to embrace every day and live our lives with joy and intention – has had me making a few changes in my life.

For one thing, I quit my part-time-work-from-home job, mostly to focus on yoga teaching, but also because I felt that it was weighing on me; having to always be attached to my computer or phone, always checking updates and never really being off the clock, in a haphazard and unpredictable way. Yes, I realize that quitting a job to lighten my heart is a very privileged thing to be able to do, but the truth is I am a very privileged person, I am extremely fortunate, and I would like to use that in a way that best helps other people. To that end, I am focusing on yoga teaching, being more available for friends and family, and taking the time to be a better person in general. As the saying goes, you can’t pour from an empty cup, and I plan on having a very full cup to pour from.

The other thing I have been doing is moving away – yet again – from negativity and toxicity in my life. There is no room in my life for toxic people, both on-and offline, and so I’m making a concerted effort to move away from them. There’s “being compassionate to people who are obviously hurting” and then there’s “these people are killing me softly.” It’s a fine line.

So more time outside, more time cooking and baking – and good thing, because my children are bottomless pits – and more time doing things I love like reading or learning a new song on the piano. More time with my family, and to that end, what is everyone doing now on Sunday nights, now that Game of Thrones is over?

I won’t post any spoilers here but I can see nothing for it but to gradually make my way through the entire series in time for the next half of the seventh season in 2018 or 2019. Also, if I may be so bold to recommend The Verge and their recaps, they will bring you great joy. Spoilers, obviously.

Side note and slight digression: do you know how often a yoga teacher will say “bend your knee” in an average week? I don’t know either, but it’s a lot. Every single time I said it, for the past six weeks, I’ve thought of Game of Thrones, and I’ve had to literally pull my thoughts back to the present moment, and not think of – NO SPOILERS, BUT I’M DYING HERE – you know what.

This is not a spoiler at all, but what is UP with Cersei’s hair? She had her hair cut off literally seasons ago, and even in the odd GoT time spectrum, it has been a long time. It should really not look so ridiculous. Is she CUTTING it to look like that? Is she trying to look like the late Joffrey? Is this some kind of weird foreshadowing? I don’t know but if I were that actress, I think I’d be requesting a new wig.

Seriously, it’s grown out maybe an inch since her Ultimate Walk of Shame, and within that time – NO SPOILERS, IT’S KILLING ME – a lot has happened. Enough to get a new hairstyle.

Well, the original question was What Do We Do Now Until 2019, and my answer has been to binge-watch the final season of House of Cards with my husband. I’m not quite done yet – NO SPOILERS, AGAIN – but my gracious, you guys. My gracious.

In any case, I hope September is starting off smoothly for you, and until next time, xo.

In my opinion, the squirrels are evil.

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It appears that spring has sprung, although in Calgary, that means that there will be snow flurries and freezing temperatures interspersed with beautiful, sunny days, so take advantage and carpe diem, people. Carpe diem.

Everything in my garden, except for the notoriously late hostas and the slow-moving clematis are popping their little green heads above ground. Heads? Maybe not heads. They are popping their little green SPROUTS above ground, there we go. It is immensely cheering and satisfying to see a small sea of green, and even a few purple primulas popping up. Less cheering and satisfying is the sad state of affairs that are my tulips. Between the squirrels digging up and eating the bulbs, leaving holes in the garden and broken greenery in their wake, and the rabbits chewing down the foliage, I am reminded why I once tearfully got my husband to dig out every last one of my tulips.

Many years ago, when I was a starry-eyed newlywed, I bought tons of tulip bulbs and planted them in the fall. All sorts of colours; Queen of the Night purple, creamsicle orange and white variegated, apricot, you name it, I planted it. And the lone tulips that survived squirrel digging and rabbit chewing were eventually squashed by heavy late-May snowfalls. This went on for a few years until I couldn’t take the disappointment anymore and my husband headed out with a spade, for a mass tulip opposite-of-burial.

I seemed to have forgotten all about that when I cheerfully planted more bulbs, and then was reminded last spring when the squirrels dug out and ate every single one of my crocus bulbs. Practice non-attachment, love all earth’s creatures, but goddammit, seeing yet another hole where once there was a tulip has me this close to being the kind of person who sits in a rocking chair on the deck and throws rocks and/ or shoes at the squirrels. Well, my aim is pretty poor so that may or may not be a deterrent. Perhaps I shouldn’t stop Barkley the next time he catches a squirrel and leave the body as a cautionary tale to all the squirrels, but then I would probably have a yard full of crows and magpies and hence would be too terrified to leave the house.

Living in peace with all our fellow creatures can be CHALLENGING sometimes.

Speaking of living in peace with fellow creatures, I saw the new Guardians of the Galaxy on the weekend, and it was excellent. Better than the first, in my opinion.

Side note: any time anyone in my house says “In my opinion,” someone else will immediately say “The Jedi are evil!” This, of course, comes from the worst line of dialogue ever in a movie: Revenge of the Sith, one of the scenes just before – spoiler alert, in case you have been living in a galaxy far, far away – Anakin Skywalker becomes Bob, the legless, armless, burned up man.

I just went to find that clip, and I have found, to my extreme distress, that the line is actually, “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil.” People, I am crushed. I feel like I should keep this information to myself. CAN I keep such important information to myself? CAN I just keep on keeping on?

Anyway. The movie was great; usually I fall asleep or daydream during movies that I go to with the boys, and end up missing major plot points or just becoming overwhelmingly bored, but this was not the case. It was very funny but as a warning, there is a lot of what I would call “teen boy humour” along with some bad language, so keep that in mind. For example, there is some talk of impregnation, and also “my nether regions are becoming engorged” type of commentary. You’ve been warned!

Along with the movie, my mother and I had our annual Mother’s Day pedicures, which was lovely, and then we visited with my parents this weekend. It was warm enough to take out the bikes for the first time this season, and in fact, I was wearing a t-shirt. Later my husband and I were walking the dog and I said to him, “It’s so beautiful, there’s not even any wind!” and I bet you can guess what happened after that. It was kind of educational though, as we watched the wind blow the ice down the lake. The next day was freezing and windy but as I said, it’s spring! At least it didn’t snow!

I know, I know, now I’m bracing for snow.