I’ve been noticing this little tree on my morning walks, and it reminds me of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I feel like it would tip over with the addition of a little red ball, and although I dislike 90% of the actual television program, I really resonate with the symbolism of the tree. I wrote back in December 2020 that sometimes we are the tree, sinking under the weight of the season and all the various performative pressures that are placed mainly on women in our society to create a certain jollity and magic. Sometimes, though, we are Linus’ blanket, seeing that our friends are bending under the symbolic red ornament and are ready to snap, and we wrap those friends in our metaphorical blankets, propping them up so that they are suddenly and somewhat improbably able to not only face the season, but they grow all new branches and stop dropping needles and are able to withstand the weight of not only that one red ornament but an entire treeful, including a star on top and many layers of tinsel. I aim to be a Linus’ blanket but I have definitely been the tree at times.
I cannot watch that show anymore. I find it so incredibly mean-spirited generally. However, I really do like the railing against the commercialization of the holiday, despite the fact that I definitely purchase many gifts at this time of year and I always will. Who knew that 45 years after Charlie Brown Christmas and the complaint that Christmas had become too commercial, Tim Minchin would release what has become one of my favourite and most resonant Christmas songs, White Wine In The Sun, which includes one of my favourite song lyrics ever: I really like Christmas…And yes, I have all of the usual objections to consumerism, to the commercialization of an ancient religion, to the Westernization of a dead Palestinian, press-ganged into selling PlayStations and beer. But I still really like it. If that line does not resonate with you, please do us all a favour and simply skip it because you certainly will not like the rest of the song, and I really cannot face any more public loathing of my favourite holiday songs. I will not have it, people! I will not have my go-to-holiday-stress-cry-therapy song besmirched by anyone. So just don’t listen.
Speaking of music, the Charlie Brown Christmas has, hands-down the best Christmas album in the history of time, in my humble opinion. Second to that is Michael Buble’s, and a distant third is Harry Connick Junior’s When My Heart Finds Christmas. I dare you to find three more uplifting and Holiday Spirit Consciousness Raising albums.
I also really like Snoopy, and I strongly identify with the little dancing girl with the straight dark hair and the pink dress. That is my dancing style and also was my aesthetic back in the day.
On the topic of Media I Consumed In My Childhood That Seemed Normal But Was Really Weird As Fuck, there was an animated movie I recall, entitled The Small One. It had to do with a donkey who was too old and frail to be of any use, and so the owner’s son had to take it to town and sell it. There was no question keeping it, as it would do nothing but eat without contributing at all to the household income. The man who offered to buy it – this is a bit fuzzy in my mind, but bear with me – was abusive and was going to essentially work the donkey until it died, and then use it for glue, like poor old Boxer from Animal Farm (RIP Boxer). Somehow either the donkey escaped or he didn’t, but he ended up in the hands of Joseph, to carry Mary to Bethlehem, showing that a seemingly-worthless animal can actually be a vital part of a most-worthy task. How a crippled old donkey could possibly carry an enormously pregnant woman on a long journey is a question no one asked, but also there is a lot to unpack here. This children’s program about animal abuse, the lack of choices for those experiencing extreme poverty, and the role of those deemed unworthy in our society was probably shown to me at Sunday School, although it could have been in regular school, the public school system not being so inclusive of other religions at the time. Another animated holiday movie I do remember clearly seeing at school had to do with aliens landing on earth and everyone being mean to them for being different, because symbolism needed to be heavy-handed back then. The movie climaxed with one of the neighbourhood children falling through ice on some kind of body of water, and the aliens helped to form a human/ alien chain to pull that child to safety. We are all one. I will not try to look up anything more about this, as I have had a lifelong phobia of aliens in media, the blame of which can be placed directly on E.T., but I clearly recall the grasping of hands and one of the local anti-alien bigots hesitating a moment before allowing his hand to be taken by an alien. Then everyone got anal probes. Just kidding! I believe it ended with the aliens leaving, which would seem to be going against the probable theme of welcoming people from other cultures, but again, it was the 80s. Things were different.
As we are speeding through the last month of 2023, I wanted to talk about some of the five-star things that have been absolute gifts this year, for body, mind, and soul.
I do not consider myself a book snob at all, although my husband thinks that I am one. What I have noticed, though, is that what I consider a five-star book and what Goodreads patrons consider a five-star book are two very different things. It’s gotten so that I will not read any review on Goodreads, because I will inevitably be irritated or incensed, depending on my own feelings. How could anyone rate that five stars? I’ll think crabbily, and then I’ll be enraged that someone gave a book I loved two stars. I keep a spreadsheet on which I record my books and my own rating out of five; I am pretty loosey-goosey with my ratings. I have a friend who will never rate a book five stars unless it was in the same caliber of writing as Maya Angelou and James Baldwin, and she thinks that a three-star read would be one she liked and would reread, whereas in my mind a three-star is a meh, it was okay read. For me, a five-star is something I loved, with gorgeous writing and characters, and something I would reread more than once. It’s a feeling, is what I’m saying, it is more of a qualitative rating. In any case, I read a lot of good books this year – and it’s not over yet, maybe there will be more! Here they all are, and I did not link anything because I thought, hey, if you want to you can look them up. Five Star Books In 2023: In A New York Minute, Nora Goes Off Script, Girls They Write Songs About, The Marriage Portrait, The Glass Hotel, All Along You Were Blooming, Fleishmann Is In Trouble, Yellowface, Foreverland: On The Divine Tedium of Marriage, The Paper Palace, Swipe Up For More!, Romantic Comedy, You Think It I’ll Say It, Bel Canto, The Dutch House.
As I said, if I love a book, I will reread it, sometimes many times. This year, I revisited old favourites, most of which reside on my forever bookshelf. Some of these rereads were because of the move, and my inability to access the library for so long, but some of them were just because I wanted to reread them, or I needed a comfort read as a palate cleaner. Five Star Rereads: Dear Life, Carnival of Snackery, Hateship Friendship Courtship Loveship, My Name Is Lucy Barton, Anything Is Possible, Oh William!, Calypso, I Feel Bad About My Neck, Emma, These Precious Days.
Five Star Clothing and Beauty Products: I have mentioned this many times, but I cannot get enough of my Mott and Bow jeans. Listen, the perimenopausal body goes through a lot of changes, some of which cause clothing to fit differently than before. Life is an incredible journey and one that sees a great deal of change in the physical body, as well as in the mental, emotional, and spiritual ones. These jeans have been good for all four. Speaking of changes, well, everyone knows how strongly I feel about Nutrafol, which has helped in my hair loss, but I also have to give huge shoutouts to Neutrogena’s Retinol Plus, and Maybelline’s new product The Falsies Surreal. This seems like the next big step in my mascara evolution. I always feel amazed that there are people who just…don’t wear makeup. Makeup and hair are such a huge part of my life, even if I don’t leave the house, even if I am alone in the house. This could indicate a vanity problem. I embrace my vanity problem. I feel like my vanity problem is actual self-care.
Five Star Podcasts: Podcasts are as subjective as books, and there are so many that I feel like there is something for everyone. I am a person who likes to listen to lighthearted, chatty podcasts mixed in with the occasional science or health one. This year I started listening to The Deep Dive, and never have I felt so seen. As mentioned above, I am a vain person, but the ladies on the Deep Dive like to talk about “working from the outside in,” saying that sometimes, if you work on your physical appearance, it can make your inner self feel better. It’s very tongue-in-cheek and I am here for it. I love how they start with a topic like nail polish, and suddenly it becomes a deep and soulful discussion about caring for yourself. Another podcast I love is Were You Raised By Wolves, which is just delightful and tackles problems of modern etiquette in the most entertaining way. I know what you’re thinking: a podcast about modern etiquette? Yes. A limited-run podcast that I loved was Wilder, about Laura Ingalls Wilder – there was nothing new or surprising to us true, hardcore fans, but it was so great to listen to.
Five Star Friends: Sometimes I cannot believe how incredibly fortunate I am to have so many wonderful friends in my life. This year was a very stressful one, full of change and worry, and my beautiful friends have helped me so much. The Calgary friends who sent me off with much love, the friend who offered to be the point person there during the chaos of the move, our friends who hosted my husband for weeks when he had to go back to finish work, the friends who all called to check in on me when I was at a breaking point, my Kelowna friends who welcomed me with open arms and helped ease the transition on so many levels, everyone who sent cards and gifts and bookmarks, friends who wrote to me and supported me through this blog. I honestly do not know how I would have gotten through all this change and turmoil without you, and I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. You’re the best. xo
Last Friday I woke up to the lightest dusting of SNOW, and people, I do not think I have ever been so excited by such a meteorological event. The first snow, IN DECEMBER! This is incredible to me, and also it felt so special and festive, even if it didn’t even cover the grass and disappeared by mid-morning. It snowed lightly throughout the weekend, though, so I may be able to use my new skis very soon!
I spent many hours last week grocery shopping and wrapping gifts and packing parcels to be mailed. So many hours, people. Any week that I visit Costco AND Superstore is going to feel exhausting, in the grocery shopping department, but whoa nelly. I think I’ve mentioned before that the Kelowna Costco is the busiest in Canada and second-busiest in North America, right behind the one in Maui. How they measure this I do not know, but having visited both many times I believe it. In any case, this past week it seemed worse than usual, in that it was almost impossible to move the cart as there were people literally everywhere, and then the lineup went two-thirds of the length of the store. She died the way she lived, standing in line at Costco. On the plus side, I had a nice conversation with two ladies, one with regards to the giant stuffed bear in her cart. Have you seen those? One bear fills an entire cart and costs $150; she was telling me that it was for her grandchildren but that she kind of wanted to keep it for herself. This was extremely understandable. “Touch it!” she said to me a little intensely, but I did as she said.
The other lady was also very intense, about the role of ingredient substitutes such as artificial sweeteners or keto-friendly bread in our society. I didn’t disagree with her opinions – after all, I myself am not a fan of those or meat substitutes – but her level of disapproval was, shall we say, heightened. Costco shopping can be a fraught time, emotions run high.
I generally like all manner of holiday-related jobs, such as baking or treat-making or decorating or what have you, but there is one festive job that is at the very bottom of my list, and that is gift-wrapping. I strongly dislike gift-wrapping, possibly because I am so abjectly terrible at it. I might be the worst gift-wrapper over the age of five. I don’t know why I am so bad, but I am: I’m always cutting the paper too big or too small, and then I am trying to either repair the gaping strip where the ends don’t meet or, alternately, folding up huge wads of paper on the sides. There is no in-between. I use far too much tape and somehow I always manage to tape strands of my own hair onto the gift itself; perhaps the stress of wrapping makes my hair fall out, I don’t know. And this is if the gift is in a box, which is the best-case scenario. If it’s irregularly shaped, forget about it. You might be thinking to yourself gift bags exist, which, indeed they do, but we are tear-open-the-gift-wrap people around here, and I also have four rolls of Costco wrapping paper purchased years ago and I still haven’t used them up. I might take them to my grave at this rate, the grave I’m working myself into by standing in line buying such things as giant rolls of Costco wrapping paper.
Anyway, one of the best things about having a newly-retired husband is that I can delegate such jobs to him, and he is happy to do them. I can’t outsource all my wrapping to him, though, which means all the gifts directed to him will be a jumble of wrapping paper and tape.
I don’t know how you get through the various drudgeries of your day, like gift-wrapping, but I mostly listen to music or podcasts. Spotify Wrapped came out this week and it turns out that I, as my friend Nicole said (HI NICOLE), am an actual teenager.
You guys. I am in the TOP ONE PERCENT OF SPOTIFY LISTENERS. Now, in my defense I did spend many hours this year packing and cleaning and moving and unpacking, but still. 93,784 minutes is a lot of minutes. My peak day was July 18, which checks out. That was moving day and I drove eight hours listening to podcasts, then spent another couple of hours unpacking the car and organizing things, so 643 minutes sounded about right.
I’m always a bit surprised when Spotify Wrapped comes out, to see what my top song was. For several years running it was, inexplicably, Midnight Train to Georgia, but this year it was Dog and Butterfly by Heart. Who could have guessed? Certainly not me.
The interesting thing about my top artists is that Wilson Phillips made it in there. There is only one song that I listen to of theirs, and that is Hold On. I feel like that says a lot about my mental state for the first half of the year. I had no idea I listened to that much TLC, but otherwise, I’m not terribly surprised.
I seem to be missing something in my brain – probably because it’s filled up with song lyrics – that allows me to create any kind of visual art. If, for example, you asked me to draw a car or a dog, I would be completely unable to. It would almost seem as if I had never in my life seen a car or a dog, but had only received a verbal description. Here’s a…tire? A dog has…a tail? It’s really bad and probably somewhat related to my inability to wrap gifts with any kind of normalcy. This past weekend we went to a party and I was asked to bring a veggie plate. My beautiful friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) sent me a few photos of Christmassy veggie plates, to see if I wanted to try to recreate one. I was a little nervous – as I said, this is not my forte – but after looking at the photos, and with strong encouragement from my husband, who suggested I try the absolute easiest one, I did it!
My husband, thankfully, made the star. I know I’ve seen a star shape but…?
Weekly Reading
I had a DNF this week; it was I Have Some Questions For You. I had started reading the e-book in September, and it just wasn’t captivating me, and I ended up not finishing it by the time it was due back at the library; I put it back on hold and thought I would finish it later. Well, it came in this past week and after another chapter or two I thought life is too short and I cannot waste any more time on this. This could be because I had just finished the below book.
The Invitation. By the time I got to this book, I was on a four-book meh streak. I thought this might break the streak; it’s a story about a woman in a loveless marriage having a one-night stand, and then the two lovers being inadvertently thrown together on a yacht in 1950s. Friends, it did not break the streak. Five meh books in a row.
You Could Make This Place Beautiful. Finally! The streak of meh books was broken! Thank god. I don’t think I could have taken another one (my DNF was right before this one). Anyway, I loved this author’s earlier book, Keep Moving. I read it in the thick of the pandemic and whoa nelly, did it ever resonate. What I didn’t know (or maybe I forgot?) is that she wrote Keep Moving while going through an absolutely terrible divorce, and this book, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, is about that divorce. Her prose is absolutely gorgeous and can I just say that a toxic marriage and dreadful divorce make for very good writing material – as one of her friends said, at least you’re a writer so all this material isn’t wasted. Isn’t that a silver lining? I love dark humour and I loved this book.
Shelley: Also Known As Shirley. I first read this book in 1987; I was at my grandparents’ house, bored, and helped myself to my grandma’s paperback collection in the basement. I had never seen or heard of any movie Shelley Winters had been in, and in fact I didn’t even know who Shelley Winters WAS. But I have always been interested in women’s and girls’ stories only, and this was one of the few books about a woman. Well! You can see how many times I read this book over the years, because it completely fell apart. I haven’t read it for a long time though, and so I thought I’d revisit it to see how it holds up. IT HOLDS UP! This is one juicy autobiography, and wow, did she ever live an interesting life! As a child she lived in tenements in Brooklyn; when she was about nine her father’s haberdashery shop burned down and he went to prison in Sing Sing for arson. It was a wrongful conviction, so he got out after about a year but sunk into a deep depression. By the time Shelley (then Shirley) was 14 she dropped out of school, got her working papers, and organized a strike at the Woolworth’s she worked at, which led to all the Woolworth’s in the five boroughs being unionized! She became a model, acted in Broadway and off-Broadway plays, was discovered by Harry Cohn and ended up in Hollywood. Oh, and she got married to a man who was in the air force. He came home from the war and they got divorced, and this all happened by the time she was NINETEEN. If that wasn’t enough, she had so many interesting friendships and affairs, going on a publicity tour to Europe while engaged to a costar, and ended up meeting and marrying Italy’s biggest star, Vittorio Gassman while she was there. Later they had an absolutely explosive divorce while starring in an Italian film. This book HAS IT ALL. Wow, what a fun, star-studded read!
I know I talk about Costco with exasperation a lot, but here’s where it pays off: it’s kalette season again! I consider myself to be an unpaid Kalette Influencer; if you see them, just know that they are a life-changing vegetable that is here for a good time, not a long time. So have a good time, the kalettes won’t shine every day! xo
With all the myriad changes going on in my life right now, I told a friend that I feel like I am having a Brazilian bikini wax, but the entire procedure is just one giant strip instead of many tiny, gentler strips. With everything happening all at once, I am doing my best to cope and to stay in the moment, while still soothing myself by thinking there will be a time after this.
HELP
My friend Allison (HI ALLISON) used that term many, many years ago to refer to chaperoning a field trip, and I have thought of it hundreds of thousands of times since then. This week was so busy and stressful, but ultimately very productive. The moving company is packing the majority of our house; for the extra amount of money added on to the expense of a long-haul move, it seemed very worth it. However, being in a house for twenty-three years means that we have accumulated things we really do not need or want anymore, and although I have been steadily clearing things out for the last few months, this week I really got into the weeds, so to speak. I tackled the crawl space.
Several years ago I really got into the crawl space and got rid of many things we no longer needed, but there was a stack of boxes in there that had not been touched since we had moved in twenty-three years ago. I refuse to just move boxes to put them in storage, so I ruthlessly went through each one, and although I am not wishing such a task on anyone, it was actually pretty fun. I found so many treasures! I also found a lot of junk and questionable items – did I really need to keep a giant box full of RSVP’s from our wedding? – but I was able to recycle most of it, donate some of it, and the rest was, sadly, relegated to the trash. It made me feel a little sad, especially after reading Unraveling last week, but there wasn’t another option for some of the completely unusable items. I mean, I guess there was the option of putting them back into boxes and then putting them into storage in the new house, since that seems to have been our line of thinking twenty-three years ago, but that felt like a slippery slope that would get me right back where I started from. Also, upon the event of my own demise, may that be many decades in the future, I do not want to leave my children with boxes full of useless junk, any more than I already will be.
The bane of my recent existence has been old text books. Between my husband and I, we have four degrees and probably thousands of dollars’ worth of old, now worthless textbooks. A few months ago I looked with horror at my shelves and shelves of textbooks that were not eligible for donation; no one wants outdated economics, econometrics, or statistics textbooks, despite the fact that not much really changes in those areas from year to year. The only thing to do was to recycle them by ripping out all the pages and throwing the bindings and covers into the trash. It was a big undertaking, so imagine my despair when I discovered in the crawl space an entire box full of my husband’s old textbooks that somehow did not make it onto our bookshelves. I set my younger son on the job of recycling them, along with myriad term papers and, strangely enough, a pile of papers from our wedding that included every single song the DJ had in his possession and every menu item the venue had to offer.
These, along with piles of cassette tapes – including mix tapes! – were a drag to deal with, but then I found some wonderful treasures, some of which I am keeping forever, and some of which just made me laugh. As a small backstory, I was six years old when Diana and Charles got married, and their engagement set off my lifelong obsession with the Queen of Hearts. I was not a child for whom it was difficult for relatives to think of Christmas gifts; anything and everything Princess Di was received with great enthusiasm. Soon my obsession included all women in the British Royal Family, including the Queen, with whom I share a birthday. My grandma had saved a lot of clippings and memorabilia from the Queen’s coronation and passed it along to me.
What fabulous treasures! Also, this candy box!
This is less awesome but it made me laugh and shudder at the same time.
I am keeping this forever:
In addition to “things I will keep forever” I found some postcards from friends circa 1989, including one that said “I hate it here and I hate everyone here and I want to come home” which, if that’s not teen angst I do not know what is. Much less angsty was a postcard from my sweet friend Elise (HI ELISE) from the bustling metropolis of Lethbridge:
I don’t know what is funnier, that I have kept this all these years or that I had it at all.
Should I have kept this? Perhaps to hang over my bed in the new bedroom?
The big day, for me and Rex at least, is one week TOMORROW. I can hardly believe it! I am actually looking forward to the unpacking-and-finding-homes-for-everything part, as opposed to the depressing why do we have so much stuff and are we actually swamp people part that I seem to be going through now. I am, as you all know, a person who thrives on neatness and organization and whoa, does my life feel like the opposite of that right now. Well, again, let’s repeat the mantra: there will be a time after this. And in the meantime, I am going to try to enjoy my last few days in the city that has been my heart and home for so many years.
Weekly Reading
Property. The best thing about this book, which concerns a woman married to an unsuccessful sugar plantation owner in the antebellum south, is that it’s short. The story is dull and every character is unlikeable at best, deplorable at worst.
Swipe Up For More! Oh wow, this book was absolutely fascinating to me! I think the entire influencer industry is so interesting: how it developed, how important it is to brands, and how many women have made so much money in it. This book mainly follows three big influencers, two of whom I have never heard of before: a momfluencer, a fashion influencer, and a unique and important fitfluencer. I’ve been thinking about this subject a lot lately since the Food Heaven women posted their Burnout and Pivot series; being an influencer might just look like taking photos and videos, but it is a lot of work to be successful. Some of these women work upwards of 80 hours a week, and the work is just never done. Their whole life is on display for work, which is a really odd concept. Even odder – and ickier – is the world of the momfluencer, because it is her life as a mom and her own kids who are being used by brands for money. It brings up all sorts of ethical dilemmas: can your children be used in campaigns? What if you put the money away for them for their education, then is it okay? At what point do children have agency over their own lives and decisions? Is a sponsored trip to Disney a vacation or just more grind? The momfluencer in question has since – given that her older children have rebelled against posing for yet another photo or acting in yet another reel – slowed down her own work and campaigns, and wonders if her life as an influencer has deep and negative effects on her children (probably, the answer is yes). It’s an interesting thing to consider. I thought about this a lot when I was writing for YMC: a lot of my colleagues wrote about things like potty training and discipline, complete with photos, and even at the time it felt wrong for me to write about the kids in that way. For me personally, my kids are blog-adjacent but I don’t divulge much of their lives here because it’s their lives. I should note though that my kids actually enjoy when, say, a former yoga student of mine recognizes them “in the wild” from my Facebook posts, but I can imagine if I had a far-reaching platform in which they played a significant role, they might feel a lot different. Anyway, this was such a good read and really thought-provoking.
The Long Goodbye. This was an absolutely gorgeous memoir about a woman losing her mother, and the grieving process that followed. And I will say that I was 100% NOT in the right headspace to read about her mother dying at age 55 of metastatic colorectal cancer, so I cannot say I enjoyed it, but I appreciated the beauty and tenderness of the writing.
All right, friends, I am in the home stretch now. Back in the aforementioned grad school, another woman and I had the Rosie the Riveter poster in our office as a reminder that We Can Do It, and I have that Rosie the Riveter photo in my mind constantly these days. I feel like her, mascara, lipgloss and all. xo
I did not realize how mysterious and secretive I have been with regards to my new city, and it certainly isn’t a mystery or a secret: this Calgary Girl is going to morph into an Okanagan Girl. We are moving to Kelowna, BC, which is in the heart of Western Canada’s fruit and wine country, and is also home to the world famous Ogopogo!
My husband grew up in Kelowna, and hilariously recalls a friends’ family who claimed to have seen the Ogopogo themselves, while boating on the lake. This made them briefly locally famous, as they were on the six o’clock news talking about seeing the creature in the wake of the boat. It is probable that this exposure on the news gave their family business a much-wanted boost, which seems very quaint now. Remember the days when one would wait until the six o’clock news to find out something that happened in the world, and if you missed it, you had to wait another five hours or even until the paper was delivered the next day to catch up? And if you knew someone who was on the news, or maybe you yourself were interviewed for a human interest segment or breaking story, it was an incredibly exciting and special thing? Now we just all have social media and, perhaps, blogs or newsletters, and anyone across the globe can know minutia of our lives at any given time, but then, well, then an alleged Ogopogo sighting meant the six o’clock news and could be discussed lo these forty years later.
Whether or not the Ogopogo exists in reality – it exists in all our hearts, I’m sure – this is where I will be hanging my hat, so to speak. Or, stacking my boxes. Ernie (HI ERNIE) guessed correctly that our vacation home will now be our home; it is a beautiful house in a beautiful place, and you can all expect many stories as I get settled into my new life.
This Might Make You Grimace
Speaking of quaint things like the days with a non-24-hour-news-cycle, I heard something incredibly disturbing recently that will resonate with all of us who grew up in North America in the 80s. It has to do with the McDonaldland characters. Now, growing up, we were not a family who really ate McDonalds food – we were more Dairy Queen people, or, for extremely fancy occasions, Swiss Chalet patrons – but I did not live under a rock, and I did attend many a birthday party at McDonalds, so I was well aware of all the characters in the McDonaldland universe. Most of these characters made sense to my childhood brain: a clown, a mayor whose head was an actual cheeseburger, giant sentient French fries, a crazed criminal who craved hamburgers. And then there was Grimace, a giant purple puff who, I guess, liked milkshakes a lot. His existence didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but he was cute, and that counts for pretty much everything for a young girl in 1982 who loved everything Muppets, Smurfs, and anything else that was cute but didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
This week, this very week, I learned that Grimace – that amiable purple puffball – was modeled after a taste bud.
Words cannot describe my revulsion at this discovery. Imagine the actual board meeting of creative executives coming up with this idea. I know what will bring the kids in! Listen, kids love a cuddly creature. You know those bumps on your tongue that allow you to differentiate multiple flavours? Hear me out. A cuddly lovable creature that IS one of those bumps. Upon seeing the expressions on the faces after this idea was on the giant piece of paper on the easel, used for brainstorming: YES. And we shall name it Grimace.
I mean, I have so many questions. First of all, how was such an idea conceived? I can only imagine that the McDonalds advertising creative dropped LSD one night and spent the subsequent twelve hours staring into the mirror at his own tongue, waking up the next day with the feeling of mind expansion and the idea that yes, a giant sentient taste bud could be a beloved character in the McDonaldland universe. Not only was this idea conceived, but it was also approved. It was approved! By, I am assuming, high level creative marketing executives. Going back to the board meeting where the executives were all grimacing from the grossness of making a mascot based on a gustatory cell, which would, appropriately, be named Grimace, someone in that meeting, someone very high up on the McDonalds marketing ladder championed this and approved it for mass consumption.
What a world we lived in, back in the 80s.
Wool of Fortune
I loved Wheel of Fortune back in the 80s, and I am sure I would love it now if I ever remembered that it still exists and that I can indeed watch it. Or, more accurately, that I wasn’t halfway to coma-land after dinner, which is Reading Time for me and Watching Shows about Gold Mining in the North Time for my husband. Something that I learned recently is that Vanna White, glorious co-host of our beloved game show for the past forty years, is an avid knitter. Ms. White loves her fibre art and in fact, has an entire Vanna White-branded yarn.
This amazes me. If I were asked what Vanna White’s most-loved hobby was, I am not sure I would come up with knitting if I had one hundred guesses. I told my husband and he thought it would take a thousand guesses. In any case, I am charmed by this and mentioned it to my yoga ladies a few weeks ago, and one of them said she was not surprised as it is well known that Ms. White makes her own clothes. What. I am pretty sure she doesn’t make the clothing that she wears on Wheel of Fortune, as there always seems to be a clothing sponsor mentioned at the end of each show, or so I remember, but I like to think about her knitting herself a sweater to slip on with a cute little skirt she whipped up on her Singer. Or maybe just popping over to Fabricland to see what’s new.
Someone once asked me why I read so many memoirs, including celebrity memoirs, and it is because of things like this. I am endlessly curious about other people’s lives, particularly the minutia of other people’s lives, and knowing that Vanna White is a knitter and sewer makes me love her even more. Also, you never hear anything bad about Vanna White so I am assuming she is an angel on this earth, doing good and lighting up letters.
We’re Going To Have A Problem Here
I usually listen to 70s on 7 in the car, shoutout to Suz (HI SUZ), my fellow 70s on 7 aficionado, but sometimes I’ll flip channels to 80s on 8, 90s on 9, and Pop 2K. And what I am going to say probably circles back to my dislike for books with f*ck in the title – JUST SAY FUCK OR DON’T – but a minor pet peeve of mine is when songs are radio edited. I know. I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me, I already know that there is a reason for this, that we are protecting the ears of the youth of North America, if I want to hear unedited hard core hip hop I can listen to the Rock the Bells channel, I KNOW. But it still bothers me to hear a little bleep or a whoosh or what have you. This is mostly a problem with Pop 2K – it certainly isn’t on 70s on 7 – and some songs are so edited that there are barely any lyrics at all. I’m looking at you, Eminem.
I was in the car and The Real Slim Shady came on and I realized that the word “clitoris” was edited out, but the line about being cannibals who cut other people open like cantaloupes was not. As I said, I don’t like radio edits at all, but why would a mention of a body part be edited, but not a grossly violent act? Well, I guess because it’s a woman’s body part, living in the patriarchy, etcetera.
Omg you guys, what if someone created a mascot based on a clitoris? If it could happen for a taste bud it could happen for a clitoris! Maybe this has already happened, how much do we know really about the California Raisins?
Weekly Reading
Beauty Sick. I picked this up because Val Monroe mentioned it in her excellent newsletter, How Not To Fuck Up Your Face. It’s a well-researched, well-written book about the toxicity of the beauty industry and media; it was published in 2017 so I would say none of the ideas in here are new or astounding, but it’s a good read nonetheless. It got me thinking about the messages we were all bombarded with, growing up, and how we can change that for the next generation of girls.
We Are Not From Here.Stephany (HI STEPHANY) recommended this and I’m glad she did! It’s a moving account of three teens fleeing gang violence in Guatemala for the US. They travel on La Bestia, the dangerous train across Mexico, then on foot towards the border. It’s fiction but is based on the horrific real-life stories of children travelling on their own, hoping for compassion and safety. It’s a YA novel, which I didn’t know going in, and I find lately, at 48, I really empathize with the parents in YA novels. After all, the children are younger than my youngest, which is a sad and despairing thought. How lucky I feel to be born where I was and to not face such deadly decisions.
The Summer Place. This author is hit or miss with me, but this was definitely a hit! What a romp this was, with multiple viewpoints and characters, massive family drama, scandalous secrets, and a heartwarming ending. This takes place during the pandemic and shows the fissures that developed in families through being disconnected or being TOO connected – i.e., what happened during lockdown when everyone was together ALL THE TIME. I was nodding along constantly. Anyway, this was a very fun read with interconnected characters and stories, and I loved it. A couple of interesting notes about the matriarch of the story: she made a ton of money in the 80s because she had written and sold the movie rights to a couple of books. The matriarch wanted to be a “serious” writer, but she ended up being a “commercial” one, and I wondered if that was the author’s actual lived experience. Another note, and this was fun to read after The Paper Palace, which also took place in Cape Cod, is that the matriarch, who is Jewish, discusses the original WASPy owners of summer homes. She describes the homes as falling apart cottages with owners who throw parties with “oceans of booze and only Ritz crackers and supermarket cheddar to eat” AND THIS IS EXACTLY THE DESCRIPTION IN THE PAPER PALACE. The supermarket cheddar stood out as a detail. I am not a part of the Cape Cod summer community so I wondered – is this a thing? Anyway, I loved this book, it was such a fun summery read.
Here we are, in the last week of June, ALREADY! The first of my daylilies is in bloom, the weather has moderated itself, there are boxes everywhere, and I have been busily trying to see as many people as possible before the big move. I’m heading to my parents’ for a few days for the Canada Day holiday, so it’s going to be a busy and social week for me. I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo
It has been very Empty Nest-ish around here lately; my older son has been working a lot, happily, and in his spare time he’s either at the gym or cultivating a social life. My younger son spent the weekend out of town with his wrestling team, and so my husband and I found ourselves together, just the two of us, for several dinners.
Why not a Date Night, I thought? I had gone to Jameson’s, a local pub for lunch with a group of girlfriends, known collectively among ourselves as The Brentwood Babes, the week prior and we had such a good experience; excellent service, but more than that, I had the Santorini salad. This salad has everything I have ever wanted in bowl form. I had never thought of putting hummus in a salad before, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. It looked like Friday night it would be just the two of us, which seemed perfect for a date.
Thursday morning it occurred to me that it might be difficult to get a table: Friday night, Irish pub, SAINT PATRICK’S DAY. Hmm. I stopped by after my class to naively see if there was any way to reserve a table, explaining to the bartender that my husband and I wanted to come for dinner. As I was speaking, the bartender was shaking his head, and when I finished he said, “No. You really don’t want to come here. It is going to be a complete shitshow.” Okay! We came the following night instead, with our older son – who is of age – in tow. I asked the sweet young girl who was serving us if she worked the previous night, and she said she had, and that it wasn’t that bad, with only one big fight right at the end of the night. She also mentioned that she worked until 4 in the morning, which did not sound great to me, but hopefully she made a lot of money in tips.
The Santorini salad was still delicious on the second time around, but they had run out of kale – was there a run on KALE on St. Patrick’s Day? – and substituted Romaine, which was not QUITE as good. Perhaps I should not have chased that dream.
While I’m on the topic of Things I Did Last Week, I had a pedicure at my local salon. If you are in the Calgary area, and specifically in the Northwest, Anna Nails is the place to go. Her prices are insanely good, and the pedicures are unlike anything I have ever had before. She uses orange peels for exfoliation, and included in a pedicure is a calf massage AND a hot stone massage. It is a bit of an obscure little place, and she doesn’t even have a website, but it will be the best pedicure you have ever had.
Peas in a Podcast
I listen to a lot of podcasts, and there are some episodes that I have particularly loved lately. I am a person who really likes a chatty, lighthearted podcast. I have spoken at length about Forever 35 – I love this podcast about “the things we do to take care of ourselves” and I think I may be in a parasocial relationship with Kate and Doree. They have recently started a “Product Recall” series that airs on Fridays, which discusses products from our past such as Sun-In, Biore Pore Strips, and St. Ives Apricot Scrub. If you are Gen X like me, all the products they talk about will have likely been a part of your youth.
Every Wednesday the women interview a different guest, and there have been two guests recently that have been absolutely fascinating. First: Chrissy King, who wrote a book called The Body Liberation Project, which I immediately put on my TBR list after this mind-blowing episode. Second: Bozoma St. John, who is a high-level executive at Netflix, and who is also a widow, a single mother, and a person who prioritizes sleep over everything. It was a really refreshing discussion about caring for oneself from a woman who is really remarkable.
Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend is a fun podcast that comes out twice weekly; I prefer the Monday episodes, which have one guest and interview, to the Thursday episodes, which feature multiple people and are a bit of a free-for-all. Recently I heard an interview with Tiffany Gabrus, who is an entertainment executive-turned-florist, and it was such a lovely episode. The way this woman talks about flowers is so uplifting and fun. She calls flowers her “ladies” and I am Here For It. Another recent interview that I enjoyed was Elizabeth Laime; the interview was just a fun conversation between friends. Also Here For It!
Speaking of Alison Rosen, she was on Celebrity Book Club talking about Priscilla Presley’s Elvis and Me several months ago. If you, like me, spent your entire seventh grade completely obsessed with Elvis in general and that book in particular, if you, like me, thought that the Elvis and Priscilla relationship was the most romantic story of all time and then looked back on it as an adult and thought “Wait, what the fuck? This is a horror show!” then this podcast episode is for you! It is not only my favourite Celebrity Book Club episode, it is one of my favourite podcast episodes EVER.
Oooohhhhh Listen To The Music
Speaking of listening to things, after last week’s Women’s History Month Peloton ride, I created a new Spotify playlist called Nicole’s Layyyyydeeeees. There is some overlap with my playlist of all-time favourites, Nicole’s Karaoke, and even a little bit with Nicole’s Workout, if anyone’s looking for some fun and upbeat sing-a-long songs. Those are some pretty eclectic mixes.
He’s Here, He’s There, He’s Every-Fucking-Where
You guys, Ted Lasso is back! One big upside to my phone not working as a phone and needing to be replaced is that I received three free months of Apple TV, which is PERFECT timing as the new season of Ted Lasso has dropped. We watched the first episode last weekend, but I ended up falling asleep on the couch so I missed the ending. And, possibly, the middle. I guess I should rewatch it.
Also on Apple TV is Eugene Levy’s new show, The Reluctant Traveler. It is a delight! Who knew that watching a man in his 70s – who never wanted to travel – explore new locales would be so much fun?
All Along The Internet Watchtower
You guys, I am so excited to tell you that Laura Bray (HI LAURA) has a Story Club; if you sign up for it, a short story will pop into your inbox every so often. You may remember her from The Sugar Thief, which I have mentioned before and is an absolute delight.
Erin Etheridge (HI ERIN) is always contributing smart and thought-provoking pieces to the internet world, and her latest, We Turn Away From Our Future Selves is a comparison of Erin Brockovich and a book called Hags, about aging women. It is brilliant, as always. The wonderful thing about Erin’s writing is that there is just too much to take in all at once; I usually have to go back and reread her pieces a few times.
Another interesting thing I read recently was this piece; I was fascinated to know that this family of three spent $668 TOTAL for all food in February, in New York City. I mean. How. How is that possible? My grocery bills are much, much higher than that; granted, I have two garbage disposal-like teen boys, but still. It was an interesting piece, with an ode to the joy of food, which I like.
I loved this post on Cup of Jo about a family relocating to England, and discovering that their life followed them there. Wherever you go, there you are. Although, I have questions. Just what are they doing with all those garbanzo beans? That’s a lot of hummus.
Circling back to my parasocial relationship, and also the garbage-disposals, Doree Shafrir wrote a piece about teens, and if they “hang out” in the same way we did. My answer is not really, but that’s not a bad thing. First of all, I think that teens in general – particularly teen boys – get a bit of a bad rap sometimes. Don’t get me wrong; they can be really stupid, as evidenced by the “drive through the snowy school field at midnight” event. However. I do think that teens still hang out a lot together, and although the nature of the hangouts might be different from what we Gen Xers did back in the 80s and 90s, they still are social beings who like hanging out at each others’ homes. There aren’t a whole lot of teen-friendly places – there weren’t when we were teens, and there aren’t many now – but I sometimes will see a pack of teens at the mall or roaming around the neighbourhood, and it makes me smile. I do think Doree makes a good point about kids having much more scheduled lives than we did, which does change teen friendships. I have also heard a lot about teens being on their phone too much, which is true, but also, have you been around adults? It’s not just teens having deep relationships with their phones.
So many interesting people creating so many interesting things, and yes, I include Anna The Esthetician and The Salad Station People In Jamesons’ Kitchen as Creators. And on that note, and also speaking of phones and the internet, THIS Creator is taking a bit of a digital detox. I’m going dark, if you will, but not in a hello darkness my old friend kind of way. Maybe I’m going more charcoal grey? In any case, I will catch you all on the flip side.
In many parts of the world, March marks the arrival of spring, but in Calgary, March is firmly a Winter Month. My birthday is in the last third of April, and I feel like that is the tentative start to spring, although it can certainly snow in any month of the year. Yes, you read that correctly. I have experienced snow – in the air, not on the ground – in both July and August. March is typically the snowiest month of the year, which has brought great joy to Rex, and a lot of lower back stretches to my classes, to alleviate any pain from shovelling. Most of my ladies outsource that job, but I think lower back stretches are always appreciated.
Calgarians have a strange tendency to disparage climates in other locations, probably to make ourselves feel better about our six, seven, eight months of winter. Any mention of typically beautiful cities with short winters – particularly cities in BC – will conjure up a “well, it’s horrible and cloudy there in the winter,” and while that may be true, and Calgary does have lovely blue skies often, it feels very much like sour grapes to me. Also, while we do enjoy a lot of sunshine, our winters are very long and very cold, and we also have a lot of this:
It’s cloudy here too, people.
All of which is to say that while I am embracing the season, friluftsliv, hygge, et cetera, I am also enjoying photos of spring in other parts of the world. It will be a while before my garden boxes are green, and in the meantime, I need to break Rex of this very bad habit:
All By Myself
It has been a bit of a strange weekend, here in the Boyhouse. My husband was out of town for the first time in months, my older son was working closing shifts Friday and Sunday, and my younger son was at the high school wrestling City Championships. Friday night, it was just me and Rex at home for dinner, which felt very odd. I think the last time I was home alone for dinner was when the guys took a trip through Yukon and Alaska in 2019. I had my usual favourite dinner of Greek salad with pita and hummus, plus some red wine and tortilla chips and salsa, because I am a girl who knows how to enjoy herself. I topped it all of by watching the first two episodes of Season One NYPD Blue. I used to love that show, and I still do, but I wanted to see what it would look like thirty years after its release. It turns out, it is a great timepiece of New York in the early 90s, and the camera work is just as interesting as I remembered.
Now, these days I do not watch much television (do we still call it television? I mean shows in general) so let’s just take this observation with a grain of salt, but there really aren’t many non-beautiful people cast in TV or movies anymore. It seems like everyone on-screen now is gorgeous, and has perfect teeth, and boy, that was not the case back in the early 90s and prior. I think 90% of the cast of NYPD Blue is pretty average looking, if not downright unattractive, which is kind of remarkable by today’s standards. All these regular-looking people, living full – if dramatic – lives, having romances, friendships, successes and failures.
I feel like it was the advent of Friends that kicked off the whole We All Look Fantastic And We Have This Amazing New York Apartment; but before Friends, we had this:
Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon
Speaking of popular culture from the 90s, I watched Pulp Fiction with the boys on Saturday night. My older son had seen it recently and, hearing a story about how the first time I saw it I was on a date and I fainted during the scene where Mia gets an adrenaline shot in the heart (spoiler alert for an almost thirty year old movie), asked if I wanted to rewatch it with him. My younger son, exhausted from a full two days of wrestling, decided to join, asking first what the movie is about. We looked at each other for a moment and I said I don’t know. It’s kind of plotless? I still don’t know how to describe the plot but it really holds up. I am not a Tarantino fan, but this movie is the exception. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a hitman who has a spiritual awakening. Also, the soundtrack, as the kids say, slaps.
Memories of Barkley
I was at the library this week, and a young, lovely librarian lit up when she saw me. Hi! she said excitedly. How is your sweet dog? I must have looked a little blank for a moment, and she continued to chatter about the days of curbside pickup, and how she loved bringing my books out and seeing that cute brown labradoodle, I have a brown labradoodle, right, and he is just like a stuffed animal, so cute?
Oh.
You know that moment when you’re going to say something that will cause awkward feelings, but you have to do it anyway? Her face fell as I explained that he died, but I loved that she remembered him so well.
The very next day I was walking Rex, and to mix up his route I walked down a street that was part of Barkley’s loop to the library. A woman was shovelling snow and she stopped to ask if she could say hi to Rex. I didn’t recognize her but clearly she recognized me as she asked how long ago Barkley died, and how sorry she was, and how she always liked seeing the two of us on our walks.
It was really nice to hear these two women – both kind of strangers – talk about Barkley in such a sweet way. The last couple years of his life were so fraught; I walked him every single day to keep him ambulatory, and every single day a stranger would comment on his appearance, generally in a “what’s wrong with your dog” kind of way. Every single day. I had people stop their cars on the street, roll down their windows, and ask about him. I had people ask if I was aware he had a lump on his side, as if it could have possibly been missed. I had one man ask when I was going to put him down. It was all very hard, but these two women were so kind, and so sweet, that it really helped erase all the sad feelings I had about that time.
Library Thievery
The reason I was talking to the librarian in the first place was because I had gone in to pick up a book I had put on hold, and it wasn’t on the Holds shelf. I wondered if it was still on the cart, although I had received notification that the book was in the day before. It wasn’t, and this led to a lot of searching and typing on the computer, and the librarian sighed deeply. “It’s a popular book,” she said, “and sometimes people see these popular books on the cart, and they TAKE THEM.” I honestly was startled at the thought of looking at the holds cart, seeing a book with a name receipt to indicate the person who had put it on hold, and then, shrugging at the rules, taking the book out. Of all the places for breaking the rules, I never think of the library as one of them, but the librarian told me gravely that this happens all the time. It’s one of the issues with the self-checkout. WHO KNEW. Certainly not me! I am a rule follower generally, and so it would never occur to me to sneak a popular book off of the Holds cart that wasn’t for me. Consider me shocked.
Weekly Reading
This feels like a good time to segue into weekly reading. I had a couple of real winners this week!
Girls They Write Songs About. Oh wow, this book! I was mesmerized. I read this very slowly because I needed to absorb every single word, and I reread many pages a few times. But how to describe this? There’s not really a plot. But it’s a story about women, about choices and relationships and work and becoming. The narrator is around my age and the story begins in NYC in 1997, and I could see myself in this story, the multiverse version of me, that is. It’s just an incredibly written, beautiful, raw, dark book that is also affirming and uplifting, but very real. I was on a real high after finishing this book; I could not stop thinking about it, so I logged into Goodreads to see if there were others who felt this way. This was a big mistake. There were so many negative reviews that I immediately logged back out, because I did not want to be brought down. What I am saying, then, is that while I absolutely loved this book, it seems like many people do not, so, you know. Your mileage may vary.
The Marriage Portrait. I had put this on hold, but unsurely; historical fiction is a tricky genre for me as I feel it is so hard to do it well. Often I find that modern values will be placed in historical fiction, to the detriment of the plot, and the dialogue can feel very off. Also, there was a lot of buzz about this book and that doesn’t always translate to me to be an enjoyable read. I mean, sometimes it does, but often I am disappointed. I read the jacket before starting the book and two things stood out: I had read and enjoyed this author’s memoir about her multiple brushes with death, and The Marriage Portrait was an imagining of the life of the subject of the portrait in Robert Browning’s My Last Duchess. I, along with everyone else, probably, read and dissected this poem in university; I really liked it and at that moment, I was in. I did enjoy this book about a young Florentine woman married off to the Duke of Ferrara; and some of it was a little heavy-handed with the imagery, and I quibble with the ending, but for the most part it was a sweeping story that really hooked me in. I was in the perfect mental space to be transported by this novel.
Happy first week of March, everyone! I wish you all an abundance of blue skies, good books, fun shows, and maybe something growing in your garden besides a 95 pound dog. xo
