Category Archives: Pop Cult-ure

According to Buzzfeed, Elvis is my boyfriend from a past life.

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Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I had full intentions of writing an emotionally-charged gratitude/ thankfulness post, but then my post-Blissdom cold morphed into a Super Cold which left me unable to sleep or function in a semi-coherent way. I was also at my in-laws’ for five days and now I’m catching up – again – on the mountain of laundry that somehow appeared although I actually did laundry twice whilst at my in-laws’. I also cannot comprehend the date: how is it halfway through October? Jake was looking at his calendar last night and said “Hey, it won’t be too long until Christmas, and then I get a new calendar. The year is just flying by!” Tell me about it.

I’m thankful for many things, not the least of which is the approximately one hundred pounds of apples I currently have in my house, and the fifty pounds of grapes. Fruit leather, coming up. Now that I think about it, I really am not sure why I thought this was an appropriate amount of fruit to take home, but there it is. My husband suggested last night that I make some grape juice, but the thought of the juicer and the insane cleanup afterwards just seemed overwhelming, especially after we spent the majority of the day in the car. Fortunately there was not much traffic, and so my husband had very few people to swear at; another thing to be thankful for.

I was so sick last week that I actually missed a School Council/ Parent Association meeting. Such a thing has never happened before. I made it to the meeting, but my friend looked at me and said “Um, I think you should go home. NOW.” Meanwhile, I blinked at her uncomprehendingly. What? Nicole doesn’t understand. By all accounts it was quite the dramatic meeting so I guess it was for the best, since I probably would have passed out, drooling on my notes, while the activity took place. Staring blankly into space and drooling is probably not the best way to chair a meeting, although it might be an interesting experiment.

There was a music tag game going around last night, in which one puts their music on shuffle and notes down the songs that come up. It’s quite an interesting portrait, this peek into people’s playlists. Here’s mine, and I must note that I thought I had written down ten songs, but it was pointed out to me that I actually wrote down nine. I was a queen in calculus but apparently I can’t count to ten. I blame the road trip!

Nicole’s Shuffle Playlist: My Personality, as represented by music

Dreadlock Holiday (I don’t like reggae. I love it.)

Islands in the Stream (Sail away with me. To another world.)

Fast Car (Take your fast car and keep on driving.)

Me and Mrs Jones (We got a thiiiiiiing going onnnnnnn)

Nights on Broadway (Blaming it all on the nights on Broadway. Blaming them love songs. Blaming them straight to the heart songs)

Linda Put The Coffee On (I got sunshine and red wine, a friend of mine taking it easy)

Thrift Shop (Is that your grampa’s coat?)

Over My Head (And it sure feels nice)

BUST A MOVE (Okay smarty, go to a party.)

When I did this exercise, I actually fretted for a moment, as to whether or not I should post these songs. I mean, Islands in the Stream? Really? There are two ways to face it: with total confidence that this is a fabulously eclectic collection of music, or with shame. I’m going for the former.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

A 1970s Summer, But With Helmets and Seatbelts and Sunscreen

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It’s hard to believe that one week ago today was the last day of school. It feels like much, much longer, but not in a bad way. We just got back from three nights at my parents’ lake house and it was wonderful. But of course! How could it help being anything but when everyone – including me and the dog – gets insanely spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa? If anyone needs me I’ll be detoxing from my wine and chip consumption.

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There’s a lot of buzz around a certain theme this summer – a give your kids a 1970s style summer theme. I read the original article, smiled nostalgically, and was only a little surprised to find out a few days later that this idea, the idea of a free-range, lots-of-TV, drink-from-the-garden hose kind of summer had been taken very seriously. I didn’t realize that it was meant to be taken any way but as a heart warming nostalgia piece, but evidently, I misjudged the internet.

I don’t remember too much about the seventies – I was still pretty young – but I do remember watching The Dukes of Hazzard as a child. Age-appropriate shows weren’t exactly a thing back then, but fortunately, the law-breaking, moonshine-running plots went over my little bowlcut-sporting head. I was twenty-three before I realized that the underlying theme for Three’s Company was that Jack was pretending to be gay so he could live with two girls. I literally had no idea. I just remember feeling mild resentment that I, as a brunette, was forced to be on Team Janet. Add that to the Little House on the Prairie books – Beautiful Golden-Haired Mary versus Very Bad Brunette Laura – as well as the fact my best friend had thick, wavy, white-blonde hair, and it’s no wonder I have hair issues.

But back to the Dukes of Hazzard: while at my parents’ place, we went into town for the Canada Day festivities. A few blocks off the main street is this amazing place:

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I did not go in, despite the exciting claims of “Daily Food” and “Patio Pool Table”. But oh, how I wanted to.

Sunday had pretty much the worst possible weather imaginable for late June – high winds, pouring rain, and a high temperature of thirteen degrees Celsius. And here’s where the 1970s summer comes in: in the absence of video games and other technological distractions, Mark and I played approximately one million games of Go Fish, only one of which I won. Jake and I played a 40 minute game of War, and the only reason it ended at 40 minutes is because I eventually put a time limit on it. It was like playing a low-rent version of Risk. Mark made up his own games by drawing Pokemon and making little cards, and Jake played a game racing various Hot Wheels against each other.

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Eventually the rain stopped and we sent the boys OUTSIDE.

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Clothing wise, it does seem like we are having a 1970s summer. Last week I took the boys to the local amusement park, and I felt like some kind of fashion anthropologist, pinning the year onto the styles all the kids were wearing. We arrived at the park and there were busloads of teens from surrounding rural areas, clearly on an end of school celebratory trip. The temperature was about eighteen degrees, but the girls were almost exclusively dressed in Daisy Duke short-shorts and tank tops. A few had sweaters around their waists that their mothers probably forced on them. The only thing that was confusing to this fashion anthropologist was that I counted four pairs of overall shorts and one pair of acid-washed short shorts, which seemed more eighties than seventies.

Since there were so many people arriving at the park, the boys and I made a beeline for one of their favourite rides, the Dream Weaver, which is basically a bunch of swings that go around in circles high in the air. The boys jumped into the very short line, and I snapped a picture of their angelically happy faces. Look at those angels!

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They must be so excited and happy to get on the ride, one might think from looking at this photo. In reality, they are looking in an amused way at the swings that were stuck high up in the air. “EVERYBODY STAY CALM!” screamed the operator. “STAY IN YOUR SEATS WITH THE SEATBELT SECURELY FASTENED!” I’m not sure if anyone was about to quickly unbuckle and jump thirty feet down just to be free of the Dream Weaver, but in any case, we steered clear of the ride for the remainder of the day, even after the maintenance people deemed it ride-worthy.

With the Dream Weaver off our radar for the day, the boys chose to participate in a water gun activity in which they were paired against a couple of teen boys, and let me tell you, nothing gets my kids’ spirits up like the idea of a battle challenge. They didn’t win.

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They were happy with their efforts, and didn’t complain at all about spending the day in soaking wet clothes. Later we had peanut butter sandwiches and bought cotton candy, which seemed ridiculously expensive. What is the markup on a $5.50 bag of cotton candy? I’m guessing $5?

Cotton candy, card games, and broken carnival rides – maybe it’s going to be more of a 1970s summer than I thought! In any case, a great first week. xo

What do Count Almasy and Elaine Benes have in common?

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You know how some pop-culture moments stay with you for many years after their relevance has dissipated? Nothing dates a person faster than saying something like “Where’s the beef?” or “How YOU doin’?” and yet, I find myself unable to stop. If I’m making lasagne, I constantly say “VEGETABLE LASAGNE” like Elaine Benes, if I’m making hummus I say “This hummus is amazing. God bless the chickpea.” Probably right now you’re thinking how awesome it must be to live with me. I’m a barrel of fun! Just ask my husband and kids.

*note: my husband and kids would not say I am a barrel of fun.*

On this vein, when something occurs more than a few days in a row, I am reminded of Count Almasy in the English Patient, when he leaves Katharine in the desert to go get help. “I have been walking…I have been WALKING…for THREE DAYS…I do not want to spell my name.” Today I looked out the window at the pouring rain and said to myself in a fake Hungarian accent, It has been raining…FOR THREE DAYS…I do not want to walk the dog.

It’s been pouring rain here; the house is completely dark and no matter how well I wipe Barkley’s feet there are paw prints all over the floor. There’s only one week left of school and as always during the last week of school, it feels like a lot of effort, just putting one foot in front of the other. Just keep going! One more week! On the upside, the hostas are looking great and the grass is really green! I had optimistically written “weeding!” on my list of things to do today, but it looks like that is going to be a tomorrow job. Hopefully.

The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow, and so today I’m going to focus on Things That Make Me Smile.

Search Terms For This Blog

Nothing cheers me up faster than seeing how people come to read this blog *waves at all of you*. Here are popular search terms for this blog from the past 30 days:

jaminals – well, I can see that. I did write a post featuring jaminals.

why is a man’s forearm sexy – I’m not sure where this came from.

naked woman gardening in house – ditto. I don’t garden naked in the house. I don’t even have plants in the house.

huge boners – um

play in soccer in the freezing point of rain with pneumonia – sadly, this was an actual topic of a post back in 2011 when Mark had pneumonia and still wanted to go to soccer practice.

fat whore – huh

I drink green smoothie my tongue swell – CALL THE DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY!

and my personal favourite:

I watch my neighbor’s boyfriend wear panties outside.

Godspeed, internet searcher. Godspeed.

This Video With Little Hamsters Eating Little Burritos

I dare you to watch this and not be instantly happy.

This Amazing Internet Commentary

My friend Annabel posted this about a rainbow cake recipe that inspired an apocalypse of commentary, and it is pretty much my favourite thing I’ve ever read. I laughed until I cried and had stomach pains. As an economist, I appreciate how Keynesian economic theory gets mentioned, along with some uncivil discourse on the etymology of the word “liberal”. As one commenter so aptly says, “Shit’s getting real up on the recipe comments.”

Ah, I can only dream of the day when one of my recipes inspires a fascist versus communist, helicopter versus free-range parent comment war. You just never know what will set people off. I’m a member of several vegan discussion boards and often one member will casually mention “honey” or “owning cats” and ninety comments later you wonder what just happened. Whoa nelly. I remember several years back when a friend casually mentioned Esperanto on her personal blog, saying it was a silly, made-up language. She was instantly inundated with comments from the Esperanto Society. There are people who will argue anything, and that includes, apparently, a rainbow cake with numbers in it. As one of the commenters said, “Lmaooooooooooo”.

The 2010 Olympic Mascots, Four Years Later

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Approximately fifty-two months ago, something magical happened; that magical thing was the 2010 Olympics. The kids at the time were in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten, and they were extremely interested in the Olympics: the events, the location, and the mascots. Especially the mascots. At one of my myriad book fairs, there was a book about the mascots called “Miga, Quatchi, and Sumi: The Story of the Vancouver 2010 Mascots”, and since the purchase of that book it has been perused approximately one million times. But back in early 2010, the boys expressed interest in purchasing one of those mascots. A miserable afternoon trip to The Bay yielded absolutely no results save a few gigantic versions of Miga, but my husband looked online and bought a four-pack of the stuffed animals, which included Muk-Muk, the mascot sidekick. Those mascots went with us on our first plane trip to Palm Desert, and have gone with us on every single trip since then.

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Mascots enjoying the warm air of Palm Desert. So far from their homes of Whistler, Vancouver Island, and “The Mysterious Forests of the North.”

Then my husband actually went to Vancouver while the Olympics were on; he lived there in his long-ago youth and went to stay with some friends for a few days to take in the Olympic vibe. He found two kids’ t-shirts that were unavailable at home, that featured the mascots in all their glory. Mark put his on and basically wore it every week for the next forty-three months.

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He wore it while blowing up balloons.

 

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He wore it at the duck pond.

 

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He wore it while learning to scooter.

 

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He wore it while hanging out under a shady tree when it was 35 degrees.

 

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He wore it while laughing about the meat market.

Jake wore his too, sometimes, but without the same zeal or passion.

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Seaside Quatchi.

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Note that Mark is still wearing his.

 

But alas. All good things must eventually come to an end. For one thing, what was an oversized t-shirt for a kindergartener was now practically a crop top for a 10 year old, and I am not one of those mothers who will stand by while her sons wear a half-shirt. By god, if they want to wear mesh half-shirts and cutoff shorts, they can do it under their own roof. Plus, the shirt was really showing its age due to nearly four years of washings.

He still loved the shirt, as worn out and faded as it was, and I knew I would never donate it or give it away. I read somewhere about making a favourite shirt into a pillow, and so I asked my mom – who is pretty handy with the needle and thread – if she would do this.

Small digression: my children would never, ever ask me to do anything that required basic sewing skills. They know this is not an area in which I excel. In fact, I almost failed Grade Nine Home Ec because of the sewing component. I would sit next to my best friend, humming away at the sewing machine, making her outfit that she was actually planning to wear, while I ripped out stitches over and over until my “project” was cheesecloth-like in appearance and I had to borrow someone else’s different-coloured ribbed material to try to patch things back together. I cannot sew a button on clothing without disastrous results, and the one time I made a yarn-based craft it turned out like this:

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Those are supposed to be octopuses, or octopii? I don’t really know.

In any case, my mother agreed to this project, so on the weekend we took the beloved green shirt over to her house where she whipped it into a pillow in approximately three minutes. On the way home Jake mentioned how soft Mark’s new pillow was. How cool it was. How amazing it was and OMG JEALOUS. A quick text to my mother, who pretty much would do anything for her grandkids, and the wheels were in motion.

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Proud pillow owners.

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Action shot!

 

The idea did not originate with me, so thank you to whoever came up with this fun parenting idea of the day: turn a favourite shirt into a pillow. If only I had saved all my concert t-shirts from the eighties! I could have a whole bed full of Depeche Mode, Midnight Oil, Grapes of Wrath, and INXS t-shirt pillows! It would add a certain je ne sais pas to my home decor, that’s certain.

Get Off My Lawn

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Ever since I complained about my too-tight-post-vacation pants, my Facebook feed has been full of advertisements regarding the most efficient way to get rid of belly fat, the one simple exercise to rid myself of belly fat, the one surprising food to avoid to eliminate belly fat, and ways to become bikini ready in just ten days. Well, thanks, Facebook, but I think I’m good now. My pants fit again so you can go back to advertising whatever it was you advertised before (Yoga studios? Clothing stores? Makeup? I don’t really know.).

How was your weekend? Mine started off by the delivery of a new freezer and fridge for the basement; their chilliness warms my food-hoarding little heart. I am beyond excited to be able to buy tons of produce and not have to play Tetris to get it all to fit in my fridge, and now I have an actual honest-to-God freezer to freeze things instead of jamming things into the beer-fridge-sized freezer and the compartment on my fridge, breaking my nails, and crying. The receipt of these items meant that my husband and I had a lot of reorganizing/ purging/ moving things/ swearing to do in order to make everything fit. It turns out that we have differing opinions on what sort of things are appropriate to keep – old golf how-to manuals versus a box of old fridge magnets – and that if a dumpster were in the neighbourhood, I should not leave the house lest my husband gets hold of my boxes of old Christmas cards and the kids’ old art projects. Not that I’m really a hoarder – I happily packed up many boxes and bags of things to be donated/ recycled/ garbaged – but it turns out my husband is much more brutal in his spring cleaning efforts than I am. I AM NOT GETTING RID OF THE FRIDGE MAGNETS AND ART PROJECTS.

Anyway, after the excitement of the new appliances, then there was the excitement of Mad Men! I sternly told the boys to shower and read their books in silence, because I had been waiting for ten months to watch this show and sssshhhhhhh. I will say this: it did not disappoint. I was struck, watching the scenes on the plane, by how much air travel has changed in the past 40-50 years. It used to seem so glamourous; now it’s all about watching your seatmate grossly eat Cheezies and drunkenly pass out beside you.

So that brings us to Monday morning. Apparently it is Bermuda Shorts Day today, which, if you did not go to the University of Calgary and are therefore in the dark why a) anyone would wear Bermuda shorts and b) why that would occur in April in Calgary, here is a little background information for you. Basically, it boils down to the last day of classes being celebrated by much drunken debauchery. The reason I know that it is Bermuda Shorts Day today is that I live in walking distance to the university, and while I was peacefully folding clothes I looked out the window and saw hordes of students in various ridiculous shorts-based outfits, walking down the street, beers and red Solo cups in hand. I smiled to myself, thinking of my youth and many fun Bermuda Shorts Days of my own…when I saw a girl chug a beer and throw the can on my lawn. I ran – not walked – to the front door and by the time I got there I noticed people putting their empty cans underneath the tires of the cars parked on my street. Whipping the door open, I screamed “HEY! DON’T THROW BEER CANS ON MY LAWN!!!” while the students looked on, startled. One young man in cutoff denim shorts with the pockets hanging down started collecting the cans while the rest stared at the crazy red-haired hausfrau reaming them out. At least I wasn’t wearing an apron and/or hair curlers. “Have a good time, but have some fucking respect for my neighbourhood. I don’t want to see this shit ANYMORE!” and mid-sentence a cop car patrolling the neighbourhood for drunken debauchery pulled up. Good timing, sir! I left him to it while watching out the window with a furrowed brow at the state of the young people today. GET OFF MY LAWN AND TURN OFF THAT INFERNAL RACKET.

Happy Monday to everyone! On that note, it’s a good day to get to know each other better – did you know littering makes me lose my mind? – and so I bring you Meme Monday. If you want to play, either blog these questions or answer in the comments. Getting to know you…getting to know all aboooouuut you…

Is it spring where you are?

Well, yes, in that it’s “spring in Calgary” spring, and not “things are actually growing and blossoming” spring. Things are brown, mostly, but there are some tiny buds on the trees and the glacier in my back yard is starting to retreat so, yes. Also, two magpies got into a fight with a squirrel yesterday in the trees in our front yard; I’m not sure why. Maybe the magpies had a nest nearby, or maybe they were just being assholes. Either way I was rooting for the squirrel.

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Kind of depressing glimpse at my back yard. At least it’s melting!

 

What was the last book you read, and would you recommend it?

I read so many books on vacation that I was considering a “Monday on the Margins” type post in the style of my erudite friend Allison, but actually the last book I read was Bossypants. And yes! I’d recommend it. That was about the sixth time I’ve read it – it is a hilarious and entertaining read, and since I read The Bear on vacation and I cannot read anything remotely heavy for a while.

Reality TV – yes or no?

I feel like I’m the star of my own show – Real Housewives Near The U of C With Food Hoarding Issues. But no. I think reality TV is a wretched chapter in the history of television, and I will not watch any of it.

Who is your favourite cartoon character of all time?

Well, that’s easy. Ralph Wiggum.

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Do you have a song stuck in your head right now? If so, what?

I always have a song stuck in my head and it can vary from “Summer Breeze” to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” to “Linda Put The Coffee On” to “Empire State of Mind” – you should hear me hit the high notes. Today I have “Monster” by Eminem and Rihanna stuck in my head, over and over, I wanna be the Bruce Lee of looseleaf. But that is a post in itself.

Go ahead, play along! And Happy Monday/ Bermuda Shorts Day to all. xoxo

I AM Lady Mary!

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Did you know that Bill Clinton is vegan? Probably you did, but it was news to me. Between him and Justin Timberlake I feel like I can make a case to my husband that not all vegans are crazy hobos. Now, how to get them to start reading my Yummy Mummy blog…although chances are neither of them are actually in the kitchen preparing their own quinoa.

Yesterday I was walking the dog and I met up with an older woman who I often see at the offleash. We chatted for a while and I mentioned something about the boys. She looked a bit taken aback and asked me how old my children are; when I answered she told me that she was shocked because she thought I was a 21 year old university student. That was both startling and flattering, although I did wonder a teensy bit if she is in need of cataract removal. In any event I shall take a compliment however it comes.

It is ridiculous, but I’m really into those Buzzfeed quizzes right now. Apparently the actress most suited to play me in the movie version of my life is Emma Stone. Emma Stone! I wonder who the other options are and also how boring a movie about my life would be. Hoo boy! I can’t imagine that being a box office smash. According to Buzzfeed I am also a saucy combination of Lady Mary, Brigette Bardot, and R2D2. I actually think I’m more of a C-3P0 than R2 but let’s not split hairs here.

The other day I was at the hair salon, reading In Style and thinking such intellectual thoughts such as I thought Sarah Jessica Parker already HAD a shoe line, and Eva Longoria looks better without bangs. I came across this advertisement for Guess jeans and I was completely disoriented as to the date of publication.

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Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not out to judge anyone, mostly because I probably did have a (less-cleavage-revealing) outfit like this in the early nineties. Admit it, you did too. But in this day and age! Have we learned nothing? Are we doomed to repeat the same fashion mistakes over and over? Denim.Overall.Shorts. What is next for humanity? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.

Not to mention the return of the high waisted pants. They are everywhere. Witness this evidence from my local mall:

highwaist jumper YOgapants

 

We are mere moments away from tapestry vests and pleated jeans, mark my words. ONE DAY SOON we will be going out for girls’ night out and it’s going to look like this:

 

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Speaking of nine-inch zippers, it’s almost my wedding anniversary! We will have been married for twelve years, which – thank you, Lynn, for pointing this out – is our silk/ linen anniversary. I wonder if my husband would like a silk shirt, circa 1991. I’m going to go ahead and guess NO on that one. The modern gift for the twelfth anniversary is pearl. Heh. Feels like it has all the makings of a good dirty joke but I shall refrain. However, notice the jewelry I’m wearing here:

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Rising up, back on the street.

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This morning I finally could breathe through my nose, and so I went to yoga for the first time since Sunday. When I was driving home, Eye of the Tiger was playing on the radio. It felt appropriate. I feel like I should play it on a continuous loop over the next few days as I prepare for Book Fair and all that entails. Rising up to the challenge of our rival and all that.

Not only am I running the Book Fair next week, but my children’s classes are hosting an assembly, in which they are going to play recorders. I cannot imagine just how badly this is going to go. The kazoo performance was one thing, but both boys have mentioned that they – and their classmates – are not very good at the recorder, which seems like an understatement of the largest order. I’m starting to be concerned for the music teacher’s mental health. The very few times that the boys have actually practiced the recorder at home have ended with the dog whimpering in his crate and me reaching for the wine bottle. Of course, the other day I was singing a spirited rendition of The Greatest Love of All and the dog ran and hid in his crate, which I am going to assume was just a coincidence. I went the distance, and I’m not going to stop.

The recorder, though. I know of only one person who has actually enjoyed her child playing the recorder, and I’m fairly certain that child has much, much more musical talent than the vast majority of children. In general it is truly a wretched instrument, which is not to say that I do not understand why the recorder is so widely used by elementary music teachers everywhere. It’s light, inexpensive, and appropriate for small hands and YET. One year I was running the Book Fair in the room beside the music room, and I heard recorder music for the entire day, to the detriment of my sanity. I hope that doesn’t happen next week. I’m just a girl with a will to survive.

The other day I came across an article that declared high waisted jeans are the biggest trend for this spring and I died a little on the inside. There has to be a happy medium between showing the world that you really do need a bikini wax and waistbands that end just below your ribcage. Why, world, why? We ladies of a certain age remember donning our high waisted jeans with our bodysuits underneath to head out to the bar to go what is now called “clubbing”, shaking our amply-denim-covered booties to I Saw The Sign and I Like To Move It Move It. We don’t need to relive those days, at least not with such unflattering clothes. Don’t lose your grip on your dreams from the past, but there’s no need to fight just to keep them alive.

Speaking of unflattering fashions, the other day I was in the mall and I saw this:

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I wonder if it’s a hot seller. It might be nice for wearing while jogging and singing Eye of the Tiger, which is something I should keep in mind in the unlikely event that I take up jogging. Although maybe it’s meant for evening loungewear? I don’t really know. Stalking prey in the night.