Category Archives: Pop Cult-ure

Friendship Friday

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Gonna put the world away for a minute. Pretend I don’t live in it. Sunshine gonna wash my blues away. – Zac Brown Band

There is a distinct lack of sunshine right now, both literally and figuratively. This was the view from my back yard at 11:00 this morning.

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And this is what my living room looked like at noon.

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It’s hard to feel upbeat when everything seems like it is going to hell.

Last night my husband and I went to see the Zac Brown Band in concert, and while it’s been about twenty years since I was at a concert, it did seem to me like it was the greatest performance I had ever seen. Incredible talent, and so entertaining, the band mixed their own fantastic music with very interesting covers of other artists’ songs, such as Into The Mystic, Enter Sandman, Jack and Diane, and Teenage Wasteland, of all things. They also covered The Devil Went Down To Georgia and it was, in my humble opinion, the best showcase of musical talent possible. I felt so incredibly happy and exceedingly lucky, and at one point I closed my eyes and just willed myself to remember it forever. I looked around at all the people dancing, singing, and cheering – the whole Saddledome full – and then I thought of crowds just like this being attacked.

It was not a good thought.

But there is nothing I can do, not really. I cannot do anything about a monster who murders a five-year-old girl and her mother, I cannot do anything about a sick fuck who walks into a party not three blocks from my house and murders five young people just starting out in life. I cannot do anything about terrorist attacks, mass shootings, or racially-motivated killings.

What I can do is make my own little world a little better, I can make my own circle happier, and in the absence of actual sunshine, I can make my own. That is all I can do.

My mother-in-law called me the other night to tell me that she was out and was waited on by someone, she said, who was Just beautiful, just like you, and she had this big beautiful smile, and I said to her, you remind me so much of our Nicole. I thanked her very much for saying something so kind, and she said Well, dear, with this world the way it is, I think if you THINK something nice, then you should SAY it.

She’s absolutely right. Sometimes people need to be celebrated, and sometimes people don’t even know that they’ve affected your life in a positive way. You have to tell them.

Friends Who I Want To Thank

About ten years ago, my friend Eera (HI EERA) brought me a whole bunch of beautiful columbines from her garden. They bloom beautifully every year, and every year I think of Eera and her love of gardening. I want to tell Eera that even though we haven’t seen each other for years, I think of her every time the columbines blossom, and reseed themselves. Thank you, Eera.

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My friend Karen (HI KAREN) who is the hardest-working person I know, just became a registered nurse. Congratulations on all your hard work, Karen! You’re a living, breathing example of how motivation and hard work can pay off.

My friend Sharyl (HI SHARYL) is a yoga therapist who works with stroke survivors. Her work is an absolute inspiration to me, and I only wish I could be half the teacher she is.

Blogs That I Am So Happy To Read

Gwen (HI GWEN) and I work together at YMC, and we bonded right away over our mutual love of avocado and coconut. Gwen has a beautiful food blog as well, and whenever a new post pops up it makes me so happy. Thank you, Gwen.

Dawn (HI DAWN) and I are new friends; we both contribute at Life in Pleasantville, and I have just discovered her lovely blog. I love the name as much as I love her delicious-looking photos: Cupcakes and Tiaras. Two of my favourite things! Thank you, Dawn.

I don’t know the ladies behind Finding Isvara, but this is a fabulous blog for us yogis, especially Ashtangis. Check it out, yoga friends!

It’s been a quiet day at home; the kids and dog are at Camp Grandma, but it won’t be quiet for long, so I will close for now. Thank the people in your life who maybe don’t have any idea how much they affect your life. Thank YOU, all of you, for being kind and reading this blog. xoxo

Who cares about eyebrows?

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Remember that old Seinfeld episode wherein Jerry and Elaine are trying to set George up with Elaine’s friend Cynthia? Elaine is talking about all of Cynthia’s good points, and adds that she has great eyebrows.

Jerry: Who cares about eyebrows?

Elaine: Women KILL for eyebrows like that. Do you know that? I mean, women pluck their real eyebrows out of their head, one by ONE, until they’re BALD, Jerry, bald above the eyes, and then they paint in these eyebrows to look like that.

Later, Jerry broaches the subject of a setup to George, who is reticent because, as he puts it, being set up on a date is one step away from an escort service, or possibly a prostitute. Oh, George. To sweeten the deal, Jerry begins to list all of Cynthia’s physical attributes, adding that she has great eyebrows. Women, he says, kill for eyebrows like that.

George: Who cares about eyebrows?

 

Who indeed? Well, I do, but more on that in a moment.

Are you on Instagram? I am, but inconsistently. Days can go by and I will forget all about it. My posts aren’t terribly compelling, either, they are mainly photos of a) food, b) my dog, c) something blooming in my garden, and d) the occasional selfie thrown in on a good hair day. I particularly post selfies when I am fresh from the salon, since my beloved hair therapist always blows my hair straight, which I never do in my regular life. I suppose I like to have photographic proof of the one day every five weeks when I have shiny, perfectly straight hair.

While I was at my in-laws’ house on the May long weekend, I received notification that someone had commented on one of my Instagram posts. Hooray, comment! Since my posts are so sporadic I always get excited when someone comments. I was a little confused, though, because the comment was from someone I didn’t know and the post in question was from mid-April.

But wait! Before I get to that, I want to note something. I am a person who can take constructive criticism. I try to stay reasonable and non-defensive – it’s a work in progress, yes, but I really try to look at criticism in an objective way. This is especially true if the constructive criticism/ helpful hint comes from a person I know well and love. If a friend has a comment about makeup, or a suggestion about a wrinkle cream, or anything at all, I will look at it objectively, see if it has any merit and, if so, incorporate it into my life.

As an example, someone mentioned a miracle wrinkle reducer to me, upon looking at my forehead wrinkle. I sadly did not write it down and cannot remember for the life of me a) who mentioned it to me or b) what was the product. If it was you, please tell me, because the forehead situation is dire.

Another example: I mentioned to my hair therapist that I was thinking of going to my natural dark brown, to which she said Not on my watch, Nicole. Her reasoning was sound: every five weeks I go insane, loathing the roots that I have, and if my hair was darker my loathing would be that much greater. Well, I like being a feisty redhead anyway, so I took her advice and here I am, in mid-April, with fresh colour and straightened hair.

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And so when I opened my Instagram to read the comment left to me by someone I do not know, I was a bit surprised. I enjoyed the part about having beautiful hair and a wonderful complexion, particularly since I did not use a filter on that photo, as you can probably tell by the forehead wrinkles and undereye circles. And yet.

Let your brows grow in. They look as abused as my poor dying plants I’m constantly forgetting to water. You’ll be amazed.

I immediately went into the bathroom and peered at my eyebrows. It’s true, I have a few eyebrow hairs that are going grey to match my startling roots, but I didn’t think that they were particularly ABUSED looking. I didn’t think they were analogous to dead, unwatered plants. In fact, I thought in that photo they were looking particularly healthy, but I found myself second-guessing everything. Are my eyebrows all wrong?

Here’s the thing, if I let my eyebrows grow in, I feel it would be disastrous. My natural eyebrows are a cross between Martin Scorcese and Bert from Sesame Street, which is not a look I want to cultivate. If someone is comparing me to Bert from Sesame Street, I would like it to be because I’m boring and I like grey, not because of my unibrow.

Don’t worry; I didn’t let that comment destroy my self-esteem or anything. I’m not fishing for eyebrow-related compliments, but I did think it was a pretty strange thing to comment on. I never comment on stranger’s photos, and I would certainly never post a negative comment about something as strange as eyebrows. I was more puzzled than anything.

Then it hit me: maybe eyebrows are the new eyelashes. A while back there were a bunch of eyelash parties – analogous to Tupperware parties, but with eyelashes, I guess, I’ve never been to one myself – and now I’m wondering if the same is true for eyebrows. Are eyebrow regrowth products the newest Multi Level Marketing thing?

If my hypothesis is correct, then I have a gentle suggestion for eyebrow representatives everywhere: don’t go on Instagram and randomly tell people their eyebrows are terrible. Because really, who cares about eyebrows?

(I do. But still.)

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Book and Movie Edition

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Now that I’ve gotten my Spring Rage About Time Change out of the way, I’m feeling much better. Coffee helps. My body feeling like it’s 3:30 in the morning when it’s really 4:30 in the morning is making it very easy to get to sleep at my usual hour. I’m slowly adjusting, so in eight months I will be prepared for my Fall Rage About Time Change.

As an aside, there is a huge psychological difference between 4:30 am and 3:30 am. The former feels like “dawn,” the latter feels like “middle of the night.”

Anyway. I had meant for today’s post to be a praise for a few movies and books I’ve seen and read lately, but things got away from me. Let’s keep going on a positive note, shall we? I am sure, dear reader, that you do not want to hear any more about time change until at least November, if ever again.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Book and Movie Edition

Zootopia: We saw this on the weekend, and it is just excellent. Lots of fun cameos, and a really engaging story. We were in one of those theatres with reclining La-Z-Boy-type chairs, and I didn’t fall asleep, which means the movie must have been pretty good. The animation is very cute and all through the movie I kept wondering whose voice is this, I know this voice. It’s Jason Bateman!

The Skeleton Twins: My husband sold me on this because it stars Bill Hader and Kristin Wiig. Hilarious, right? Well, it’s funny but in a dark way, and is one of the most interesting and compelling movies I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, given that I usually watch movies with three guys, I’m normally forced to view things with lots of explosions and shooting. This was a very refreshing change. Luke Wilson’s turn as the loving, kind husband is absolutely heart-wrenching. The acting is great, the story is great, and there’s a lip sync scene which is to die for.

Fishbowl by Bradley Somer: I picked this up on a whim at the library while Mark cleaned out the children’s section on Greek mythology. It’s a lovely book, written – sort of – from the point of view of a fish who jumps out of his bowl and falls down a 27-floor building. It’s also about the lives that go on within that building, and it’s absolutely delightful with many turns and twists along the way. A very happy, enjoyable read – and it doesn’t even end with a dead fish, improbably enough, so points for that.

Mean Streak by Sandra Brown: Another grab from the library’s New and Notable section, this book is not the type I usually gravitate toward. I’m not much of one for a suspense novel or a mystery, but this one is a fascinating page-turner about a woman who goes missing, her captor, her husband, and a larger background than it first appears. Plus, there’s some good sexy scenes, if you’re into that.

The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant: I read The Red Tent years ago and enjoyed it; I have always thought it would be kind of nice to have my very own red tent during my Ladies’ Holidays, if only to save my husband and children from my pre-menstrual pretending-I’m-not-crabby-when-I-really-feel-murderous-rage-over-this-unrecyled-envelope demeanor. So I was interested to read this book by the same author, about a Jewish girl born in 1900, living in a Boston tenement. It’s a really engaging story that shows the change in women’s attitudes and attitudes towards women over the twentieth century; it has kind of an “Oprah’s Book Club” feel to it, but I like that sort of thing.

Come Away With Me by Karma Brown: Karma and I have mutual friends and we are Facebook friends, which is my way of bragging/ living vicariously through someone else. This book is incredible, and I can’t say too much without spoiling it, but suffice it to say that you need to read it for yourself. I really loved it; there are some great travel descriptions as well. Part of the book is set in Maui, which is my favourite place on this planet, making it even more enjoyable.

Sweetness In The Belly by Camilla Gibbs: I recently read This Is Happy, and to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I didn’t see what all the hoopla was about, but I did enjoy the parts where Gibbs discusses her travels to Africa, specifically Ethiopia. This reminded me that I had Sweetness In The Belly – inspired by her experiences – on my bookshelf. It was a book club read from long ago when I actually belonged to a book club, but I couldn’t remember anything about it at all. I started reading it and I remembered why: there is an extremely graphic female circumcision scene in the book. Back in 2006, I closed the book at that scene – which is near the beginning of the book – and I never re-opened it after that. In my defence, I had a one year old and a newborn at the time, and hormonal mood swings meant that reading about female circumcision was not in the cards for me. This time reading it, I made it past the scene, and I’m glad I did. An excellent book that spans the 1960s-1980s and describes the Ethiopian crisis we all remember, it is both a love story and a wonderful peek at a culture and country rich in history.

On the blog front, Cara-Lynne is an incredibly sweet woman who years ago wrote me a kind note telling me how much she enjoyed my Boyhouse adventures. She now has her own blog; it’s all about yoga and inspiration! I really enjoy reading it and I hope you do too. You can find it here.

What are you reading these days? Have you seen any good movies lately? That sounds like a pickup line, I know, but I’d love to hear about it if you have. xo

I see your Elf on a Shelf, and I raise you a group of snowmen on the bathroom counter

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After a fairly warm fall/ early winter, the world is suddenly covered with a thick blanket of snow and very, very cold. It looks very pretty and of course the children are delighted with the festivity of fluffy snow a week before Christmas, but on Wednesday I had an early-morning spot on the news and I woke up to 10 cm of snow and traffic in a snarly mess. This happened the last time I was on the news, which filled me with slight foreboding. Fortunately, I got there safely and the spot went off without a hitch. However, I have been incorporating all the appetizers I made for the show into dinners since then, so as not to waste them. It’s filling my entire family with puzzlement. You know that you’re a rigid person when your husband is completely SHOCKED to discover tortilla wraps for dinner on a Wednesday, and tacos on a Thursday. “What next?” he asked last night as he warily filled a taco shell, “Are we not having pitas for dinner tomorrow?” He almost fell over when I told him no, we weren’t.

Today is the last day of school, and all pretence of academia is long gone. Speaking of which, I forgot to mention the added-insult-to-injury of Jake’s week-long field trip: each child was required to pay an extra $50 for the honour. $50 so that the kids could be bored out of their minds and learn nothing, with the only highlight being the indoor garden. OUTRAGE.

Anyway, it’s pajama day at school, and after many years of shunning pajama day, my children trudged through the snow with their flannel bottoms tucked into their boots. I’m not the biggest fan of it myself – but at least the kids will be comfortable as they watch movies and eat party treats. Mark is watching the Polar Express with his Grade 1/2 buddy class, which he says is lame, but okay for the buddies I GUESS.

It’s a tradition of mine to send festively-shaped sugar cookies to class for every special occasion: birthdays, Halloween, Valentine’s Day, and Christmas. I’ve been doing it so long that now the boys’ longtime classmates ask if I’m going to send cookies. Frankly, it makes me feel a bit like a rock star when I see them in the halls and they tell me that my cookies are superior to every other cookie they’ve ever had. I mean, you cannot hear that kind of compliment without it going to your head a little bit.

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Between appetizers, cookies, and making peppermint bark and truffles for teacher gifts, it’s been a busy week in the kitchen. Main teachers also get gift cards, but I like to send chocolates to the office staff and the teachers who supervise the crossing guards. My kids are both crossing guards and the supervisory role is a stressful one, given the asshole way people drive through the crosswalks.

So the boys went loaded down with cookies, teacher gifts, and snowpants, since they are going to be sledding with friends after early dismissal this afternoon. And just to make my life even more awesome, they are at the age that I don’t have to stand in the snow and wait for them. I’m dropping off the sleds and then going back to my cozy house; they will sled and then WALK HOME, IT IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. I mention this to give hope to all you mamas out there who are working up a sweat wrangling your children into winter gear, freezing to death watching them narrowly miss the brick walls of the school, and then managing both the tears when faceplants in the snow occur and sudden meltdowns because snow is in the mittens. One day soon your children will walk home when they are done, carrying their own sleds, with no supervision. IT IS GLORIOUS.

Another glorious thing: we got a Roomba. Someone was mentioning the other day how hard it is to really “wow” teens and tweens at Christmas. I mean, at a certain age they are just not going to be as excited getting a video game/ books/ shirts/ new gloves (all things my own children are receiving this year) as they were when a Thomas the Tank Engine table magically appeared in the basement. That’s part of the growing-up process UNLESS you decide to do something incredible like BUY A ROOMBA. We ran it in our carpeted basement this morning and two things occurred to me: a) our vacuum is clearly too old to be effective anymore because the filter needed cleaning twice, grosssssss, and b) watching a Roomba maneuver around furniture and exercise equipment was more fun than anyone could have imagined. We were all cheering the Roomba, giving it positive reinforcement (GREAT JOB, ROOMBA!), and projecting human feelings onto it (YOU’RE SO SMART, ROOMBA, WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU!). No need for a late-in-life baby, we are all embracing the Roomba like the Christmas miracle that he is. Who knew we had an empty space in our hearts, filled only by a robotic vacuum cleaner?

Also filling empty spaces in our hearts is our tiny snowman collection. When I had a tiny light-less tree in my first apartment, I bought a set of tiny snowmen to decorate it. They were cheap, from Wal-mart, but very cute. Almost twenty years later, all their hooks have fallen off, but I put a handful of them on the bathroom counter to make showering and other bathroom activities super-festive.

Santa

One morning I finished my breakfast to see that my husband had rearranged all the snowmen, so that instead of the dull little groups of two or three I had them in the bathroom was transformed into a snowman hide-and-seek game.

hide and seek hiding snowman

And, like Donkey Kong, it was on. We have all been switching the snowmen to different vignettes and then seeing if anyone else can guess what they are doing. I admit, my ideas run towards the dull – a yoga class, a conga line, everyone in a circle singing Christmas carols – but the testosterone in the house has led to slightly non-Christmassy themes.

Younglings

Such as, Anakin brutally slaying the younglings so that his power, Herod-like, would be unchallenged.

The other day Jake said “I call the snowmen today!” and busily rearranged them. It was a bit later when I went in to see the initially startling result:

lightsaber

Before you express concerns that I have a Rosemary’s Baby kind of situation around here, it is a LIGHT SABER. Just a light saber. We are going to see The Force Awakens tomorrow, and excitement is through the roof and coming through extensively in our snowman-vignette game. Light saber. Not work of the devil.

My Orlando break from reality

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Here’s a fun way to lose weight and tone up those legs: walk 72 kilometers in 5 days. That’s what I did this past week, on my trip to Disney World and Universal Studios.

Selma

This was me a few times on the trip, but with less awesome hair.

I’m going to just come out and say it: we have taken the kids on lots of trips, and this was by far the best one for everyone. We had so much fun, and to be honest, I didn’t really expect to. I mean, I thought I would just sort of enjoy the trip by osmosis, since my husband and kids were so over-the-moon excited, but I honestly loved the whole experience so much.

I have a lot to say about it, and plane travel in general, and tips like “Never take the Magic Express Bus at 12:30 pm because that is when all the small children are going back to their hotel for a nap. If you do, prepare for much crying.” But for now, I will leave you with the highlights.

Christmas Everywhere

Since we were there after the US Thanksgiving, everything was decorated for Christmas. This included the Blues Brothers’ vehicle. At Universal, my husband and I watched them perform Christmas-themed versions of their songs – “I’m a SNOWMAN” – while the kids rode on the Transformers ride for the twelfth time.

BluesBrothers

Elwood

Bluesbrotherssing

I wish we’d gotten a photo of them decorating a small Christmas tree with packages of Marlboroughs and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans.

AnimalTree

There are Christmas trees everywhere!

 

Grinch

“And they’re hanging their stockings!” he snarled with a sneer.

Macy

Universal has a “Macy’s Parade” every night at 5 pm, and it’s very fun to watch. Those are random people in the photo.

The famous Sleeping Beauty castle was all lit up with Christmas lights, and it was pretty special. The one downside? I actually got a bit tired of Christmas music. I know! But when you hear “It’s the MOST wonderful TIME of the YEARRRRRRRRRR” over and over, you weary of it. A bit.

Nostalgia for Cars

For many years, my house was vehicle-crazy. The boys had pretty much every Cars movie character in miniature form, we had books about Cars characters, and a large percentage of every day was devoted to “playing Cars.” We stayed in the Art of Animation resort, which was separated into four different themes: Little Mermaid, Finding Nemo, Lion King, and Cars. This is where we stayed:

Wheel Well

There were life-sized climbable Cars characters all along the pathway (Route 66) to the different buildings.

Doc Hudson

Guido

If we had gone when the kids were small, we would have never made it out of the resort. They would have just wanted to play around Doc Hudson and the rest of the gang all day long.

The Art of Animation was a great hotel, with lots of vegetarian choices at the cafeteria, so I was happy. We had a suite, which meant TWO bathrooms. This really made the trip go from great to amazing. They also have some fun looking pools – the kids only swam one night, since we were so busy at the parks – and there is even a pool bar, which made me even more happy.

Roller Coasters

I don’t love all rides – anything that spins makes me feel ill – but I love roller coasters. Disney has some really fun ones, like Everest and the Rock and Roller Coaster, but Universal had the ultimate crazy ride: the Rip Ride Rockit. I didn’t get a photo but the description is here. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever been on, truly. My heart was pounding when I boarded it, and I asked the guy beside me if he’d ever been on it. He replied that he didn’t speak English, but he screamed “HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT” through the whole ride. Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit indeed.

Universal

My hair in a neat bun pre-Rip Ride Rockit.

Krustyland

Universal has a whole section devoted to The Simpsons, and it has piqued my children’s interest in watching the show. I haven’t watched it for probably fifteen years, but I’m hoping to find some reruns of the classics, like Duff Gardens – if only to explain this to the kids:

Surly

Me and Surly.

Duff

The Duff Man. Note my hair, straining to be released from its bun. That was after Rip Ride Rockit.

Harry Potter

I have not seen the movies, nor read the books, but we have Harry Potter fans in the house. The train alone that goes between parks is worthwhile, even if you don’t know Harry Potter from a hole in the ground.

HP

Snow in Orlando!

Bank

The dragon actually roars.

The Muppets

My love for the Muppets is well known. At Disney’s Hollywood Studios, there is a Muppet 3D attraction, and it’s fabulous.

Muppet Theatre

A little excited, I guess.

MuppetVision

Squee!

Star Wars

I have saved the best for last. Unless you are disconnected from any kind of media – in which case, you are probably not reading this – the new Star Wars movie is coming out in EIGHT DAYS. The countdown has been on at my house for a while, and we were all pretty excited to hear that Disney was opening its new Star Wars Launch Bay on December 1. We were there December 4! It was pretty much impossible not to get caught up in it. We all enjoyed Star Tours SEVERAL times, went to see a “Path of the Jedi” short film, and we looked at the many artifacts at the Launch Bay. We even stood in line to meet a celebrity. Now, my kids couldn’t care less about meeting Mickey, or a princess, or any other character at Disney. But we did want to meet this guy:

Chewie

He loves me!

Now it’s back to reality – tomorrow I’m chaperoning a field trip! Although it was a short vacation, it felt like longer, like a real break from reality. Which, I guess, it really is.

One of these days these feet are going to walk all over you.

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I found out that Billy Idol just turned sixty this week, and when I mentioned my surprise to my husband, he was nonplussed. “Why wouldn’t you think he’d be sixty?” he asked. “His big hits all came out in the early 80s.”

That wasn’t what I meant, though. It wasn’t that I couldn’t believe his age, per se, it’s just I cannot believe he’s actually lived this long. I believe he was the epitome of “live fast die young” given his penchant for overdosing and also having sex with multiple prostitutes and/or groupies at a time. You’d think something would have done him in by now, but no. I call that amazing.

Also of note: the boys graded at karate this weekend and are now green belts. It’s not as incredible as Billy Idol living three decades longer than anyone might have guessed, but I still think it’s pretty great.

Greenbelts

They look a little like black belts in that photo, but really, they are green.

greenbelts2

I should have maybe photoshopped out the dirty foot. Those dojo floors are never as clean as you might hope. Once Jake came home with glitter on the soles of his feet, and wondered what exactly happened in the dojo when they weren’t there.

Speaking of feet, I was at the hair salon the other day, and there was a woman speaking about her recent experience at a newly-opened day spa. The experience was not, shall we say, ideal. I shamelessly eavesdropped as she discussed the plumbing issues, the jackhammering noise, and the massage therapists that walked around all wearing gladiator-style sandals. What’s the big deal with gladiator-style sandals, you might wonder, other than being not as flattering as some footwear. Well.

The woman was lying on the massage table, and all seemed normal at first. Then, she said, something changed. The massage felt very different somehow. It didn’t feel like hands, and it didn’t feel like elbows. The woman turned her head – no mean feat on a massage table – and the massage therapist was USING HER FEET TO MASSAGE HER BACK.

This is where the gladiator sandals detail becomes pertinent. If someone is putting their feet on my body, I would like those feet to be as clean as possible. Also, I would not like anyone’s feet on my body. Unless, I suppose, my husband is playing a game of footsie, but THAT IS IT. No other feet, please.

The woman’s hair stylist stopped with the foils and looked at her. “What do you…mean, exactly? Was she…walking on you?”

This was also my question, but I didn’t feel like I could ask, since I was, after all, eavesdropping.

No, it turns out, the massage therapist was kneeling on the bed with one foot rubbing the woman’s back. Her upper back, near her hair. Her hair. Feet. Near her hair. I don’t think I’m a germaphobe – well, maybe just a little – but this seems to me to be especially gross.

I don’t get massages anyway, since I am not someone who enjoys other people rubbing my back with more than feather-strength. Yet, I felt it was valuable information to have. Usually the only information I gain from the salon is from reading People magazine. For example, the reason David Beckham was named is because he vacuums, and that Carly Simon is still in love with James Taylor, who hasn’t spoken to her for many years. Now, I love James Taylor’s music but his shoddy treatment of the adoring Carly Simon is enough to make me not sing along to Fire and Rain. Oh, who am I kidding. I’m still going to sing along but it’s not the same.

Rod Stewart performs Sound of Music favourites, and other reasons to live.

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This weekend I got so much done; in addition to all my usual things, I also made sugar cookie dough, gingerbread dough, gingersnaps, banana muffins, and squares. I cleaned the house and we put up the Christmas tree and decorations – no, it’s not too early! – and I was about to finish up addressing my cards when I suddenly started feeling very unwell. I was feeling so unwell that my husband commented on it. Are you okay? Because you don’t look okay. You look terrible.

I’d be insulted if I wasn’t so grateful that he noticed my plight. It turns out that I had suddenly come down with the virus that had the rest of the family down a week earlier: sore throat, tight chest, and fatigue.

Fatigue! Yesterday I felt like I was in a fog; I wandered around the house for five minutes trying to figure out what I needed to do. It turns out, I needed to put a load of laundry in, but the thought process to get there was so taxing I wasn’t sure I could make it. I actually napped, which I never do. Ninety minutes of napping, and then it took me several minutes to figure out how to use my vegetable peeler while I prepped dinner. I was, alarmingly, reminded of Still Alice. It’s just a cold, I’m not coming down with early onset Alzheimer’s…or am I? I thought this over and over until I forgot about it and stared blankly at the sink for a while.

Happily, I feel much better today. I shovelled the snow from the sidewalk and only felt a little bit like dying.

This whole weekend, while I was in festive production mode, I was listening to the Sirius Holly channel, that I mentioned previously. For the most part, it is delightful. I can easily hear multiple renditions of the same song in a three-hour time period, and I will sing along with all of them. I even enjoyed ROD STEWART singing My Favourite Things, which is one of the more bizarre sentences I have written. Me, rolling gingersnap dough in sugar: Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are…hey, this sounds like Rod Stewart. It IS Rod Stewart! That’s weird.

Until this weekend, I would have said that I enjoy all Christmas music immensely, with only one exception: Paul McCartney’s Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime. That song, to me, is the festive equivalent of Might As Well Go For A Soda. I start to twitch like someone is scratching their nails down a chalkboard. Does anyone actually have chalkboards anymore? You know what I mean.

Anyway, I had always thought that was the worst ever Christmas song. I have a very high tolerance – nay, adoration – of cheesy Christmas songs such as Barry Manilow’s White Christmas or Neil Diamond’s Little Drummer Boy. But once that “Simply having…OH GOD MAKE IT STOP” gets in my head, I feel like I need some kind of medication/ alcohol to remedy the situation. However, from listening to Sirius Holly, I have discovered something even worse.

It’s called Christmas Wrapping.

It is the most tuneless song ever with the most insipid lyrics – and this is coming from someone who goes NUTS to hear Last Christmas by Wham! so I know a little something about insipid holiday lyrics – and it is six and a half minutes long. It also is played on Sirius Holly FREQUENTLY.

My weekend with Christmas Wrapping:

Me, the first time I hear it: Is this song still playing? Wow, it’s really long.

Me, the second time I hear it: Oh god, it’s that song again. What the hell is this song?

Me, the third time I hear it: What the hell? Why are they playing this again?

Me, the fourth time I hear it: THAT IS IT. I AM WRITING AN ANGRY LETTER TO SIRIUS. RIGHT AFTER I FINISH THIS GINGERBREAD.

Me, the fifth time I hear it: I’m losing the will to live.

Me, the sixth time I hear it: *changes channel*

So I’m a little slow. Clearly, I should have gone with step six in the first place. But then I might have missed Bruce Springsteen’s Baby Please Come Home, and that would have been tragic.