Category Archives: Pop Cult-ure

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!; 106 Weeks In

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Let’s celebrate! It’s all right! Baby!

I would like to tell you that I have that song in my head, but no, no. I have had 24K Magic in my head for four days now, but not the whole song. Just ONE line, over and over. Every so often I will burst forth with it: Put your! Pinky! Fingers! To the! MOON!, which elicits one of two reactions: my older son will dutifully put up his pinky fingers, my younger son will close his eyes briefly, with the silent agony that comes with having Not A Regular Mom, A Cool Mom.

Speaking of music, thanks to my dad we have discovered a music channel on TV that is called Greatest Hits, and it’s true, every song that plays was a hit at one point. The screen shows the song that’s playing, and the one that will follow, and it is bananas. We have been watching this to guess what could possibly come next, but no one could actually guess what does come next. It’s like someone took all the Top Ten every year for the last sixty years, put them in a giant hat, and randomly drew them out. Whitney Houston will be followed by Bo Diddley, and after that, it’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Justin Timberlake is followed by Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree, and then it’s Heat of the Moment. Hit Me Baby One More Time will be followed by a Shania Twain song, and just when you think you’re in the 90s, the station plays Super Freak.

A small digression about Shania Twain: she is the one and only celebrity I have ever been compared to in my life. This was in the mid-nineties, and I was wearing a denim vest with a tank top underneath, and I would be flattered by the comparison, but the gentleman in question who was comparing me to the lovely songstress was near-passing-out-drunk.

Last night during dinner I asked my husband if he’d put on some kind of Disney music channel: it was Beauty and the Beast, followed by The Rainbow Connection, and he answered with a look only. Immediately after Kermit and Miss Piggy’s duet was Frank Sinatra followed, strangely, by Faith Hill. What is happening at the Greatest Hits station. Who is in charge of the playlist?

But back to Celebrating! We have had a lot to celebrate this week – it was our 20th anniversary, and my son’s 18th birthday, both on the same day. It was also spring break, we were able to come out of isolation, and the snow has all melted!

It’s still March, though, so we have snow ahead of us, but it’s nice to get the base layer off the ground. In fact, I was walking to the little salon in our neighbourhood to get a pedicure, and suddenly I thought “what just blew into my face?” I literally thought small particles of a building material just blew off a roof or something; it’s hard to describe, but it was like being hit in the face with confetti in a wind machine. It was a sudden, out-of-nowhere snowstorm – there were no warning flakes, nothing except sudden total snow and wind. It’s melted now but it was bizarre, even for a lifelong Calgary girl.

To celebrate our 20th anniversary, my husband and I went back to the scene of the crime – Banff. We spent a night at the lovely Banff Springs, and it was wonderful.

So, that was perfectly lovely, and I was grateful that we were out of isolation in time to go.

We celebrated my son’s birthday with cake and a nice dinner, and an afternoon of bowling – he also celebrated with his friends, once THEY were all out of isolation. Covid has made its way through almost all of my sons’ friends, after two years of nothing.

Pandemic Reading

Apples Never Fall. WOW!!! I loved this book! I have enjoyed all of Moriarty’s books, and this one is EXCELLENT! A woman goes missing; her husband is the main suspect. Did he do it? Full of twists and turns, secrets and astonishing, unexpected wisdom, this book was fantastic. Surprise: there is a small pandemic-related storyline. I cannot tell you anything else – you know how Moriarty is, just when you think you’ve figured it out, there’s another twist.

The Mother-in-Law. This was a pretty decent – mystery? Maybe? I’m not sure what to call it. – about a woman who appears to have ended her life, due to terminal cancer. The problem is, after death no cancer is found, nor the poison she apparently took to end her life. So what happened? It wasn’t hard to guess, but a decent read nonetheless. It had me thinking a lot about the mother-in-law/ daughter-in-law relationship. Is there any relationship with such potential to be fraught? This is an interesting “from-both-sides” perspective.

Once when the boys were babies, someone at playgroup said that you never really appreciate your own mother until you become one, and that really resonated for me. Certainly I appreciated my own mother more, once I was in the Mother Shoes myself. But I realized something, and that was that with two boys – two heterosexual, cis boys, as I have – I will be, if I am very lucky, a mother-in-law, and that is a very different relationship, as we all know. It’s something that seems far away right now, but it is something I think about. It’s something I will want to get right, but it is so delicate, and it so much depends on personality and patience, it seems.

Anyway, that was NOT the point of the book, but something I have been thinking about nonetheless.

Enjoy these last few days of March, my friends! I hope it’s going out like a lamb for you. xo

Thirst Traps and Letting Go; Eighty-Eight Weeks In

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These Pretzels Are Making Me Thirsty

I love listening to podcasts while doing menial household drudgery or slowly walking Barkley around the neighbourhood; it makes me actually look forward to doing dull things like folding the laundry or other mind-numbing tasks. I feel like I learn new things every day; I discovered the “We Didn’t Start The Fire” podcast, which goes through every single lyric in the Billy Joel song, with different expert guests for each topic. I am only at Sugar Ray, so I have many more episodes to go, but I’m learning so much.

Small note for anyone who wants to look up that podcast: they have the absolute WORST theme song, it is We Didn’t Start The Fire played on the kazoo. The kazoo! I will never understand some artistic choices. If you can get past the kazoo, the podcast itself is very enlightening.

On Stephany’s recommendation (HI STEPHANY), I started listening to You Can Sit With Us, which is not at all enlightening, but is just some younger women chatting about their lives in a mindlessly soothing way. Well, it’s not totally un-enlightening, because this week I learned about Thirst Traps.

I have a number of younger women on my Instagram feed, and so I had seen Thirst Traps without knowing there was an actual name for it. I just thought they were Sexy Photos That People Post On Instagram To Get Attention, Not That I’m Judging, but Thirst Traps is much more succinct.

At the dinner table, I told the boys that I learned what a Thirst Trap is, and their reaction was pure horror. “Oh, GOD.” my older son said. “How did you learn about that? Did one of your friends tell you? ARE YOUR FRIENDS POSTING THIRST TRAPS.” My younger son, apparently too anguished to speak, merely bowed his head, with his forehead in his hand, pained at the thought. I assured him that neither myself nor my friends were posting Thirst Traps, but that I heard it on a podcast, to which they responded with “WHAT PODCAST, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FUCKBOIS OF LITERATURE?”

To be honest, I haven’t been listening to the Fuckbois; it is such a great concept but the execution is…not.

Anyway, there will be no Thirst Traps from me – for one thing, just no, but for another, my sons and a number of their friends inexplicably follow me on Instagram. My feed is almost entirely books, with some baked goods, a landscape, and an occasional selfie thrown in for good measure, so I’m not sure why any teenager would be interested in it, but in any case, No Thirst Traps For Nicole. The mental anguish of my children would be too much.

Let It Go, Let It Go

It has been a very productive week; I was completely inspired and motivated by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) to tackle some shelves in our storage room/ pantry and purge items no longer needed. I did this years ago, when Kondo-ing everything in the house, but you know, I think as the children grow up I need to revisit my storage areas more regularly. No one has used Lego in years, not to mention the adorable Playmobil pet clinic. I gave those things to the little girls across the street, and put a number of things on my local Buy Nothing page.

What is it about purging our stuff that feels so great? I feel a Mary Oliver poem coming on:

It’s not like I want to burn or trash all my things – so wasteful, Mary! – or keep NOTHING, I do love my stuff, even as I let things go. One thing I haven’t been able to get rid of yet is a set of alphabet and farm animal fridge magnets. I know! It’s time. Just…not yet. I was silently judging my husband for not letting me get rid of his underwater camera that he took travelling when he was in his twenties, thirty years ago. I mean, it takes film. Film! We aren’t going to use it. But he’s sentimentally attached to it, just like I’m sentimentally attached to a box of fridge magnets, and I have a stainless steel fridge.

I Am Santa, Baby

My holiday cards and the photo calendars that I order for the grandparents every year arrived this week, which meant that I was able to package up and mail the parcel I send to my mother-and-sister-in-law. This is one of those jobs that feels like it should take, at the most, half an hour, but always ends up taking up an entire afternoon.

I have at times felt resentful that somehow the job of purchasing, wrapping, and mailing gifts to my husband’s family has fallen to me, but I remind myself that a) there are many, many jobs around the house that my husband does automatically, that don’t even occur to me to TRY to do, and b) our parcel makes up over half of their Christmas gifts, and so I would feel terrible if I didn’t send them. It’s unacceptable to me to think of my mother-in-law, all by herself on Christmas morning, with nothing to open. Also, choosing a gift for my nearly-eighty-year-old mother-in-law is not really in my husband’s wheelhouse, but it is in mine, so here we are.

Anyway, I had a few parcels to mail, and since it was November 16, I felt that the post office would be a quick in-and-out, and was I ever wrong. In fact, I am not sure I could have been MORE wrong. There were at least fifteen people in the lineup that snaked down the aisle, and only one person working at Canada Post. Forty minutes later, I collapsed into my car, exhausted. Note to everyone reading this: if you need to mail anything, go now, or just assume you’re going to need to schedule an hour for this errand and maybe take a book. Actually, even if you do go now, take a book.

Pandemic Reading

Speaking of books!

The Thursday Murder Club. I don’t often read mysteries, but I enjoyed this book about a quartet of septuagenarians who meet on Thursdays to discuss unsolved murders. The developer for their retirement community is found dead under mysterious circumstances, and so they are on the case! It’s nice to read a book about older people who are thriving and enjoying life; this isn’t a thing that happens much in literature. There was a line about how they used to get up early because there was so much to do – work, family, etc. – and now they still get up early because who knows how much time they have left, and they want to make the most of it. I liked that a lot.

Even So. Hmm. Okay. So. The first two-thirds of this book was really great; in fact, I thought “this is the story I’ve always wanted to write.” It read like a thriller; very fast-paced and action-packed, about a very well-off woman who has a seemingly beautiful life but blows it up by having an affair. It’s REALLY good. But then, it takes a turn and becomes a religious allegory. The last third of the book is all about redemption and forgiveness and is very heavy on Catholic imagery and beliefs. Essentially, it IS an allegory, with themes of sin, lust, greed, followed by guilt, redemption, and forgiveness. I wish I had known that going in. It felt like a book I might have read when I was in confirmation class at age 14. It’s almost like the author wanted to hammer her faith into the reader’s head; it’s pretty over-the-top. Unless you want a lesson in Catholicism or God’s plan for your life, I would pass on this book.

Consent. I have read many, many books in my life, but none so abjectly horrifying, shocking, and disturbing as this. This is a memoir written by a woman who entered into a relationship with Gabriel Matzneff, who was an acclaimed writer who wrote about pedophilia, RAPING CHILDREN and having sex with young girls and boys. Did you hear that? He won awards for his work. The author entered into this relationship when she was 13 and he was 49, and all the adults in her life, including her own mother, were complicit. It is absolutely unbelievably shocking. A fourteen year old girl, who essentially is living in a hotel with a fifty year old man, skips school constantly and no one does anything at all. When she leaves him at age 15, because he had taken up with a younger girl, her own mother says “are you sure? He loves you so much” which, what. This woman is only three years older than I am, and this took place in the 1980s. The 1980s! So many adults saw this relationship, knew about this relationship, and shrugged it off because Matzneff was, apparently, a literary giant. This man wrote about sex tourism in the Philippines, where he would buy 11 and 12 year-old boys for his own sexual pleasure. He wrote about all his young conquests, including the author of this book, and people bought those books and applauded him, awarding him literary honours. How did this happen? This is just such a disturbing book and if you have daughters, maybe take a pass.

On that note…time to sign off. Have a beautiful week, everyone! xo

Summer’s Almost Gone; Seventy-Five Weeks In

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I don’t think I can adequately describe the relief I felt when I received an email from the Calgary Board of Education, stating that not only would masks be mandatory for students K-12, but all other health protocols would remain in place. With the Delta variant of Covid cases skyrocketing, again, and the general mask mandate dropped in the province, I was somewhat concerned about in-person school. I just want my kids to go to school for the year, and maybe even see my oldest have a graduation ceremony, is that too much to wish for. But I was so happy to get the email about masking; masks kept us all so healthy last year – we’ve never had such an illness-free year – and with all of us fully vaccinated, I feel even better.

I was feeling less happy to see that school starts not on September 7, like I thought it did, but September 1, which means this is the last week of summer, I’m not ready. I am just not in the headspace yet, but I’ll get there, and meanwhile, our hot summer weather ended abruptly and now it’s cool and rainy and it feels like fall. The universe is trying to prepare me, is what I’m saying.

August is a month where I always feel a little glum and melancholy and Landslide-y, and the grey, chilly, rainy days are exacerbating those feelings. Well, these days are good for getting things done in the house – when it’s warm and sunny I spend most of my day outdoors, and there were a few things I really did want to get done before school starts (NEXT WEEK OMG) and I get back to teaching yoga and we are all busy with our fall schedules. Like making jam.

My husband reminds me that we have air conditioning, if I want to make jam on a warm day I can, but I never do want to do that. Jam making is for chilly days, I will die on this hill and also we have many months of chilly days, but few warm ones.

So Many Empty Boxes

One of the things I have wanted to accomplish practically since the pandemic hit was to clean out our storage/ furnace room. My husband, god bless him, likes to keep the original boxes of any electronic equipment while said equipment is under warranty, just in case there’s an issue. The problem is that he never gets rid of the boxes after the warranty expires, and therefore we have perfectly good storage shelves that are jammed full of empty boxes. We still had the PS4 box from Christmas 2014, for example, along with boxes for stereo equipment we no longer own.

Summer is coming to an end, the pandemic has been going on for seventy-five weeks, I go back to teaching in two weeks, IT IS TIME TO CLEAN OUT THE FURNACE ROOM. I took out every single box, rearranged everything, and was able to put all the bins full of childhood art and school projects, bicycle gear, and assorted sports things ACTUALLY IN THE STORAGE ROOM instead of behind my son’s drum set. He’s thrilled that he no longer hits his elbow on the bins when he’s practicing.

This is the van full of cardboard my older son and I took to the recycle depot, and doesn’t include the three garbage bags full of packing materials, RIP our earth, that came out of the boxes.

Not one day after The Big Cleanup, my husband – in a typical act of service to make my life easier – had ordered some new windshield wiper blades for my car. As he grabbed his keys for the garage, he said “Don’t throw out these boxes, just in case these blades don’t fit.” Dear reader. I answered him with a look only and, fortunately for our marriage and everyone involved, they DID fit and my husband subsequently recycled the boxes.

No YouTube Videos On How To Break In To Your House

Speaking of the garage, a couple of weeks ago older son went to get out the lawn mower, and couldn’t unlock the garage door. We typically lock the person door with just the knob, rather than the deadbolt, and while the key fit in the knob, it wouldn’t open. Obviously the automatic openers for the big car door were in the cars that were locked in the garage, and the keypad has not worked for years. My husband searched up YouTube videos but to no avail: all videos instructed what to do if you were locked INSIDE a house, rather than outside, because I guess YouTube doesn’t want to advertise how to break into someone’s home.

Anyway, it was either call a locksmith or actually break down the door, and we took the former option. We now have a garage door that locks by deadbolt only, in case such a thing should happen again. Unfortunately, we are all in the muscle memory mode of just twisting and locking the knob, and the number of times I’ve thought oh yeah, I need the key to lock the door over the past couple of weeks is extensive.

Burn Baby Burn

Remember how my son, after his braces removal, wanted to burn all his orthodontic elastics, and, failing that, his masks? This is what happened on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip:

Pyromaniac dreams do come true, I guess. You are still going to need masks! I admonished him after seeing these photos, but he countered with a) it was just one mask, and b) that mask was unravelling anyway. Was it? Was it really? Well, he does have at least eight other masks, and it’s not hard to get masks now anyway, and what happens on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip stays on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip.

I Have Found My People

You all know how I feel about Thoreau and, also, many of the widely celebrated male authors/ fictional characters (Jay Gatsby, I’m looking at you). So I was so excited to discover this podcast:

The Fuckbois of Literature! If you, like me, think that maybe a person can’t claim to be self-sustaining while living intentionally in the woods when his mother is bringing him sandwiches and doing his laundry, then this is the podcast for you.

I’ll Take The Rapists For $500, Alex

On Peloton, people have the option to add a hashtag to their user profile, and those hashtags are used to connect with other people. Sometimes the hashtag has to do with a favourite instructor – I, for example, am part of the #yestoyoucrew and my son is a #denismenace – sometimes it concerns career choices, interests, or life in general, like #teachersofpeloton, #pelotonmoms, #peloforwine, #pelotonsingles.

I was riding the other day and the person on the leaderboard ahead of me had the hashtag #therapistsofpeloton and friends, it took me a really long time to realize that it was therapists of Peloton and not the rapists of Peloton. I spent some time being shocked that a) someone would cop to being a rapist, and b) there was a whole group of rapists, connecting through exercise.

In my defense, it was pretty early in the morning and I hadn’t yet drank my whole pot of coffee.

Outfit of the Week

I’m really glad I posted all those summery outfits, because SUMMER IS OVER and it’s time to pull out my jeans, socks, and long-sleeve shirts. This top dates from 2016, and I bought it in the small town where my parents live. Isn’t it cute? It’s great for this kind of weather as it’s too thin for winter, but great for a typical Calgary summer day!

The whole reason I have started the Outfit of the Week was to appreciate and express gratitude for my wardrobe; I am thinking about taking it off the blog and onto Instagram only, where outfits of the week belong. You all know I love clothes; I love reading fashion blogs and I love seeing Outfit of the Day posts. If you, like me, also enjoy seeing what people are wearing, you can check it out on Instagram. If you’ve hated my OOTW, lucky you! No more scrolling by to get to my weekly reading list.

Pandemic Reading List

The Soulmate Equation. I have read and enjoyed a few books from Christina Lauren, and this one did not disappoint. It’s just a very sweet and fun romance with very loveable characters. The main character is a single mom and freelance statistician (how often does that happen in a romance book, the statisticians are highly underrepresented in fiction) who is matched up with the founder of a DNA-based matchmaking company. Throw in her energetic seven-year-old and her romance-writer best friend, and you have got yourself a feel-good read.

Think Like A Monk. This book was so inspiring! As you know, I love the idea of living a peaceful and purposeful life, and this book deals with the kind of mindsets that work towards such an ideal. From feeding your brain positive material to finding your life’s calling, this book is full of wisdom and inspiration.

I discovered that I have a LOT of internal work to do. I enjoyed this book so much I started listening to the author’s podcast, and the first one I listened to had an interview with an absolutely lovely young woman, who spoke intelligently and with great enthusiasm about overcoming trials in life, the biggest being the death of her mother when she was a teenager. She was witty and smart and spoke about her work to empower young girls and women, and after the podcast I looked up the show notes to see who this remarkable young woman was. The link took me to her Instagram account, and people: if I had seen her Instagram first, I would have never listened to the podcast. I would have completely dismissed her as having nothing to say, and I would have been very wrong. It was a wake-up call that I need to examine my own biases as a person. Well, it’s a journey. We all have work to do.

And on that note, it’s Monday of the LAST WEEK OF SUMMER and although it doesn’t feel summery, I am going to embrace it. I hope you do too. xo

Bits and Bobs; Seventy Three Weeks In

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Bo Duke Channels Elvis

On the long drive home from vacation, I learned that John Schneider – of Dukes of Hazzard fame – had a hit song in the 70s, covering Elvis’ It’s Now or Never. Not only that, but he had a fairly successful career as a country singer AND co-founded the Children’s Miracle Network in 1983. WHO KNEW.

Does anyone else remember, in the late 80s, when Bruce Willis had a hit song under the alias Bruno, and it was a cover of Respect Yourself? I actually didn’t even know it was a cover until I recently heard the original, to be honest. And, of course, Eddie Murphy rocked the charts with his Party All The Time, and Patrick Swayze dominated our junior high slow dances with She’s Like The Wind.

The 80s were a magical time.

Put Your Records On

Not a day goes by that I don’t feel immense gratitude for Spotify. What an age we live in. Back in those magical 80s, we either had to buy whole albums, or create our own mix tapes from songs on the radio, and inevitably those radio-recorded songs had the jingle for the station or chatter from the DJ at the beginning or end. There were, of course, hit mixes available for purchase – remember those old informercials on TV that would offer six or eight albums worth of hits from different eras and genres, all for a weirdly prohibitive price? Ultimately, if you loved a song, you had to pay for it in some way: either through purchase of an album or with your time, finger poised on the “record” button of your tape recorder during the Top Ten at Ten.

Now, of course, any song is available to me at any time. Yes, I still pay for it – Spotify isn’t free, or not the version we have – but our family gets more than its money’s worth.

However, and I find this interesting, my older son is very into listening to WHOLE ALBUMS on Spotify. He listens from beginning to end and appreciates the artistic flow of the songs, and album themes. It’s very fun to discuss albums with him, like Dark Side of the Moon or The White Album.

When the boys were very small, I would listen to Kanye West’s Late Registration in the car almost constantly, so much so that one day my two-year-old said to my mom, “Grandma, I ain’t got no money so I ain’t got no ho’s,” and my one-year-old said to that same long-suffering mother of mine, “We want prenup.” After that I didn’t listen to it quite as much, at least when the kids were in the car, but the CD has been in my glove box all this time, the discovery of which by my son and his music-loving friend reinforced my status as The Cool Mom. Apparently, it is One of the Greatest Albums of All Time, and we listened to it on the long drive home from vacation.

You guys, it’s really good! Say what you will about ‘Ye, but that album is truly a creative masterpiece, with so much social commentary. You know the best medicine goes to people who paid, if Magic Johnson got a cure for AIDS, and all the broke motherfuckers pass away.

Speaking of Which

My sister-in-law discovered that her and my husband’s late grandma was a huge fan of Jackie Kennedy, as being the first Catholic First Lady. This discovery was made when my sister-in-law found stacks and stacks of magazines and newspapers featuring the style icon, and let me tell you, going through them was an experience.

This one was probably my favourite, not because of Jackie but because of this:

Rock Hudson! Crazy games he plays with women! Perhaps those crazy games include not having sex with them. God, how sad. Once again I am thankful to live in the modern age where, not only can we call up John Schneider’s Greatest Hits at will, but people can be free to be themselves.

Also, you don’t tend to see matches like this anymore:

She was 19 and he was 50! Hoo boy. Although I just found out that Cary Grant retired from acting at age 62 to spend time with his first and only child. At age 62. You know, biology is cruel. Here we women are, hot flashing all over the place in our forties, considered by society to be well past our prime, and then men are fathering children literally any time in their adult lives. Not that I would want a baby at 62 – I certainly don’t want one NOW, in my forties – but still.

Calendar Girl

“Hey, the girl on the calendar looks just like you!” my husband said, looking at an Investor’s Group promotional calendar. The boys gathered around and expressed their amazement at my doppelgänger.

I mean. IS that me? Did someone from Investor’s Group photograph me in secret? In any case, this means I could have a whole career of calendar modelling ahead of me! I could be a pinup girl! Perhaps this will be my future.

Outfit of the Week

We are still having A Summer; the weather continues hot and dry. I am getting so much wear out of my skorts this year. This is just a nice, cool, comfy outfit: black skort and yoga tank, both from lululemon, plus Skechers sandals.

Also, I got my hair cut this week! Possibly I should have taken a “before” photo, but I got an inch and a half of frayed, dry, rough ends cut off.

Pandemic Reading

When You Are Engulfed In Flames. My love for David Sedaris is well documented, but what is up with the cover photo? I don’t know. Anyway, this book of essays is a great mix of laugh-out-loud anecdotes mixed with thought-provoking stories. About a third of this book is one long essay about quitting smoking and moving to, of all places, Tokyo for three months.

Songs At The River’s Edge. About twenty years ago, I read an excerpt from this book in a women’s travel anthology; the excerpt dealt with a village woman’s marriage and subsequent move to her husband’s family’s bari, or homestead. After reading that, I wanted to read the whole book but alas, it was out of print. Something made me think of it again and through the magic of the internet, I found a used copy on Amazon. It was so worth the wait! In 1987, the author, doing post-graduate work in social anthropology, lives with a family in rural Bangladesh for sixteen months. I found this incredibly fascinating. I love reading about the lives of women in other cultures, even when some of the stories are heartbreakingly sad. The main theme for women is shame; to be a woman is to be naturally mired in shame. They are essentially powerless; the marriage that first intrigued me is arranged, but the woman doesn’t find out that she is to be married until it’s almost her wedding day. Women get married and then must live with their in-laws, only returning to their own families when they are about to have babies. So the women are powerless, but in some ways they are powerful, the women truly look after each other and have strong bonds which we don’t really see in our culture. The family life is so rich and intertwined, and the people live truly based on the seasons. I just loved this book and, if you are interested in Bengali culture and traditional Islamic beliefs, I recommend it to you.

The Anne Series – Part One.

Since I was pausing my library holds for vacation, I extended that pause until the 10th in order to read a few of the books on my shelves, like the ones above. I decided I was going to reread the Anne series, a childhood favourite of mine. Will I finish before my holds come in? Spoiler alert: no. I accidentally ended one of my pauses on the 3rd and a book has already come in, however, I shall press on and do my best. So far, this is what I’ve read:

Anne of Green Gables. The OG! This book details Anne’s accidental arrival at Green Gables – Marilla and Matthew wanted a boy to help with the farm work, but famously ended up with Anne. Just like my adult reread of Heidi, a few pretty grim things struck me: the families who took Anne in prior to the Cuthberts were using her just as childcare, even though she was only 11 by the time she went to Green Gables, and one of those families included an abusive alcoholic husband, the idea that you could go to an orphanage and just pick yourself out a child based on nothing, and then treating them poorly is pretty gross, and Matthew dies because of heart trouble, yes, but heart trouble brought on by the failure of the bank at which all his money is kept. Still a very lovely book with lots of gorgeous nature descriptions and life lessons, and I found that I really empathized with Marilla, which was unexpected.

Anne of Avonlea. I remember this as being my least-favourite in the series, and I can see why. Anne becomes a teacher at the Avonlea school and is quite involved with a very precocious young boy; she is instrumental in getting his widowed father back together with his first love, who never married after they quarreled 25 years prior. Lover’s quarrel, man gets married, woman pines for him forever, man becomes widowed, man comes back to Avonlea and marries woman who has been pining for him forever. Huh. Also, there is a storyline with twins that come to live at Green Gables, and it feels just like old 80s sitcoms when the cute child actors would grow up and be replaced by new cute child actors.

Anne of the Island. Oh, this is probably my favourite of all the Anne books! Anne goes to college in Nova Scotia and lives in a sweet house called Patty’s Place with three other girls and one of the girl’s aunts. It’s just such a lovely book about “coed” life, friendship, and romance. After she turns down Gilbert, she starts dating this very romantic, very handsome, very rich, very eligible bachelor, Royal Gardner. Spoiler alert: she does not love him! Spoiler alert: after Gilbert, who finishes his own BA and starts med school, gets really sick and almost dies. ANNE LOVES GILBERT AND IN THIS BOOK SHE FINALLY CAPITULATES TO HER FATE.

It’s going to be a fun week, I can feel it. Here we are heading into mid-August already; I am going to continue to Embrace the Season and soak up every minute. Have a great week! xo

Johnny, You’re A Cream Puff; Forty-Four Weeks In

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Last week, after a month – or was it six weeks? There was the winter break in there somewhere – of at-home learning, the boys were back to actual, honest-to-god, in-person school. Only for four days though; Thursday – THURSDAY – was a day off for “virtual grade nine tours.” My neighbour, whose three daughters went to the same high school years ago, quite reasonably asked why, if the tours were virtual, did it matter if the kids were in school or not. An excellent question and one that I myself had wondered about. My sons told me that it was because the teachers were busy with this virtual tour, and if you want a weird feeling week, give the kids a Thursday off and then full classes on Friday.

This week they have finals, and their finals are on alternating days, and only in the mornings, and then for a couple of days last week we were told that they have to go to class in the afternoons, but now those afternoon classes are optional tutorials only but not all classes and not all days, and I have honestly no idea what’s going on. I am actually looking forward to the last week of January, when the diploma exams take place and neither of them need to be anywhere. I never thought I would look forward to having a week of the kids uselessly at home in January, but here we are. At least they will be available to bring in the groceries.

Also this week personal services – hair salons, etc. – are reopening for one-on-one appointments, and after the backlog clears a bit I am hoping the boys go in to get their hair cut. Neither of them have been since late September, and things are getting a bit desperate around here. We have full-on mullets happening. My younger son, whose hair is quite wavy, is faring better than his brother, whose hair is perfectly straight and falls right into his face. He has taken to wearing a bandana on his forehead to keep the hair out of his eyes and he looks exactly like Johnny from The Karate Kid, but brunette and with glasses.

Speaking of glasses, my younger son came home from school on Wednesday without his, explaining that he caught a dodge ball in the face and the glasses broke. One thing I’ve learned about parenting teenage boys is that sometimes questions are best to remain unasked.

Anyway, he cannot be without his glasses, particularly going into finals, and although my son suggested that he could just tape the frame back together, or maybe use Gorilla Glue, I phoned our optometrist and spoke with the loveliest woman who found the exact same frames, and then told me to come by and she would pop the lenses into the new frames. We close at five, but are open tomorrow at nine, she said, as I looked at the clock. 4:21. I barely let her finish her sentence before hanging up the phone, zipping out of the house, almost getting stuck in the huge piles of rutted snow in the back alley, making it to the office at 4:36 LIKE A BOSS.

It felt a bit like some kind of illicit drug deal, as the door was locked, and the very lovely assistant opened it a crack. “Nicole?” she asked, and then quickly re-locked the door once I was inside. We were both masked but I handed her the glasses with my arm stretched out as far as possible to put enough distance between ourselves to be, as they say, safe. The whole thing took about five minutes but I was riding on adrenaline for a while, and ended up going to bed even earlier than normal.

I’m generally exhausted on Wednesdays anyway since that is Designated Grocery Day. Since the most recent lockdown, grocery stores are only allowed 15% of fire code capacity, and while last spring I was perfectly willing to line up outside, January – even this lovely mild January – is a different story. My new Wednesday Routine is to get up even earlier than normal to do my yoga practice and cardio workout, shower, clean the bathroom and breakfast, all before leaving the house at 7:45 to get to Superstore just as it opens. My husband has suggested that some, if not all, of those things could be easily done AFTER shopping but no. NO. I need to feel like I have some kind of control over my day and so I’d rather sleep 20 minutes less than move any part of my usual morning to a different part of the day. Plus, after grocery shopping I like to have some Recovery Time, where I drink a relaxing cup of herbal tea and stare into space for a while.

Outfit of the Week

This week’s OOTW is a Tuesday Outfit; on Tuesdays I teach zoom seniors’ yoga, and for that demographic I like to have a tee over my usual yoga tank and pants. This is one of my favourite combinations: the tee is loose and flowy but short enough to show the grey tank, and the cardigan I wear for the t-1 hour that I am not teaching is made of the softest wool you can even imagine. IT IS SO SOFT, YOU GUYS.

Pandemic Reading

I had a couple of days after finishing my library stack before others started coming in, so I grabbed a couple of books from my own shelves.

“Are you reading something by that guy again?” my husband asked me as I shook with laughter in my reading chair. Oh, marriage. He was referring, of course, to David Sedaris, who is probably the funniest and wittiest writer of all time. His essays make me cry with laughter and then, break my heart, as when he discusses his mother’s inoperable cancer or his own sexuality. As I was reading this, it occurred to me how far we have come as a society, as he wrote about teachers – TEACHERS – relentlessly mocking homosexuals in the classroom, and his own self-loathing.

Even in my youth in the 80s I can remember those attitudes, and I am happy that my children’s generation is so much more open and accepting. Obviously there is always room for improvement and change, but we have come a long way.

Speaking of the 80s! Judy Blume for adults is exactly what you’d expect – very readable, quite smutty, and really fun. I liked this book about friendship and first loves, although I suspect I would have liked it more had I read it 25 years ago when I was closer in age and experience to the protagonists, rather than the parents.

This really fell flat with me. A satirical book about the so-called wellness industry, it attempts an underlying theme of body positivity and acceptance, but really, it just feels sort of “off.” Meh, a semi-decent weekend read I guess.

We completed the puzzle yesterday so now we can get on with our lives. I hope you all have a good week; I’m sending positive thoughts out to all of you in the States for a peaceful one. xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

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WELL! I don’t think any of us could have possibly predicted the year that we just had, in any capacity. I would like to think that we will never take things for granted again: our health, our ability to travel, our friendships and family, but human nature being what it is, there will come a day when we probably will.

2020 was disastrous in so many ways, but I think that looking back on it, we can see massive change and growth, and, looking forward, glimmers of hope. I know that going through this year has made me re-evaluate many things, and I have realized that many things I felt I could never live without, I have.

So let us look back on the year that was absolutely unlike any year we have experienced, but that will surely be talked about and written about for decades to come.

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

January

I was stressed out about juggling doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments for the boys – remember juggling things? – it was insanely cold and I went for a mall walk like an elderly person, and I got weirdly stressed out about getting a gel pedicure. I also – sob – complained about exam break and my son being home from school IMAGINE YOUR KIDS BEING HOME FROM SCHOOL FOR THREE WEEKS JUST IMAGINE LOLOLOLOLSOB.

January 2020 Nicole was such an innocent, and also I did not go for that gel pedicure.

February

I overheard a man at Walmart asking for extra-small condoms, I went to Math Night at the high school and was comparatively a hippie, I went to Costco on a Sunday afternoon for the first and last time and also baked a heart-shaped cake for dinner with friends, and I wore a different outfit every day in February.

All the outfits were pretty similar though.

March

I talked about how insidious jealousy is, although I freely admitted to being insanely jealous of my friends’ hair, I noticed people buying a LOT of toilet paper at Costco (cue ominous music), I really did try to fulfil my New Year’s Resolution of buying a bra but failed, we cancelled our trip to Mexico and I bought a lot of groceries, my son turned 16 and we had our first Pandemic Birthday, and I accidentally hoarded taco shells.

Everything shut down, including the yoga studio, and so I also started my home yoga practice. This was a huge change because nearly every day for thirteen years I went to the studio to practice in the early morning hours. School was also cancelled “indefinitely.”

April

In what can only be described as the Worst Timing Ever, my coffee maker started leaking, grocery shopping became a harrowing, soul-sucking quest and I started wearing a mask, my sons stopped shaving, I got my very first cloth mask and declared it to be the New Lipstick, I coloured my own hair for the first time in decades, and I cleaned and reorganized the hideous laundry area.

I also had a pandemic birthday and my friends brought me a gift while wearing dinosaur costumes and playing Danger Zone.

May

Some things started to open up, notably the orthodontist, which meant that I did NOT have to use toenail clippers to cut my son’s brace wires, we had a Pandemic Mother’s Day and I stressed out about baking powder, we visited my parents for the first time in months, I aired my grievances, big and small, and I was really on edge about grocery carts.

I also talked about pandemic beauty products.

June

Amid lots of worries, we celebrated Barkley’s birthday, we started to catch up on appointments as medical and dental offices opened, I gave myself a bikini wax and I learned some things are best left to the professionals, the renos were finished on our vacation home and so we went there for a little break and I thoroughly enjoyed the newly-flushing toilet, and I reminisced about Hammerman.

I also shared my hair styling tips, follow me for more great beauty advice.

July

I talked about the role of luck in life, I had lots of adventures, including one in which I learned how outhouses in the backcountry get emptied, I GOT A PELOTON AND IT HAS BEEN LIFE-CHANGING (and also practiced gratitude), and I talked about leaning in and out, yin and yang.

I also talked about sweat! Again, follow me for more fascinating and glamourous topics.

August

I finally watched Hamilton and also bleached my hands accidentally, someone called the cops on my son and his band, I realized after months of wearing shorts that the boys had vastly outgrown all their pants, we were on a vacation of sorts and I prepared for the boys to actually go back to actual physical school.

I also talked about my beloved herb garden.

September

The boys went back to school (!!!!!!), my son turned 15 and had a socially distanced birthday party, I marked six months since I had my hair cut and professionally coloured, I had the Lido Shuffle stuck in my head and I actually did get my hair cut and coloured.

Also, Barkley shared my passion for fall fruits.

October

My son finally (FINALLY OMG FINALLY) shaved off his pandemic moustache and I got excused from jury duty, we enjoyed incredible fall colours and for the first time ever I got to eat something at Thanksgiving dinner (that I made myself, but still), I had an adventure at Costco, and I talked about Mom Jeans and Dressy Sweatpants.

November

My husband declared himself the winner in the Halloween decoration war, it was the return of the Tiny Secret Festive Season and I finished my Christmas shopping, I had a small breakdown in the grocery store, I talked about Friluftsliv, and we got put on a mini-lockdown.

I also had fun – and THANK YOU ALL FOR WEIGHING IN – discussing Divisive Issues! That was probably my favourite post to write, and my favourite comment section of 2020.

December

Everything was fine, I got festively crazy, the mini-lockdown turned into a major lockdown which we are still in today, and we got a whole lot of snow.

I also talked about being a Linus’ blanket to someone else’s Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

As we wrap up 2020, I’m looking back at my goals for the year (I still didn’t buy a new bra) and looking forward to setting goals for a fresh new year. I learned a lot about myself this year, I grew as a person, so many things changed, there was much sadness and despair but also much happiness, beauty, gratitude, and time with my little family. (SO MUCH TIME WITH MY LITTLE FAMILY).

Thank you so much for coming along with me on my adventures during this strange year; I wish you so much joy and love for the New Year. Here’s to 2021! xoxoxo

Sometimes You’re The Charlie Brown Christmas Tree, Sometimes You’re Linus’ Blanket; Forty Weeks In

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I’ll Take Le Tits Now For $200, Alex

I love this time of year, for many reasons, but also because it’s Decorative Tin Season, Motherfuckers. I have a lovely assortment of festively decorative tins, and I love to fill them with once-a-year treats. Why don’t I have decorative tins for other times of year, when they clearly bring me joy? I don’t know.

Every time I open the fridge, I’m faced with this tin that is filled with peanut butter truffles:

And every time I open the fridge and see this tin, I get Sean Connery’s voice in my head. I’ll take Le Tits Now for $200, Alex. I get that voice in my head whenever I receive a Let It Snow-themed Christmas card, see a festive pajama set or decoration, or, god forbid, hear the song. Le Tits Now, Le Tits Now, Le Tits Now.

Hilariously, I have had several people tell me lately that when they try to access this blog from certain locations – work, mostly – that they get firewalled, and in some cases, the site is flagged as pornography. Let’s give them something to talk about.

Side note: imagine how disappointed a porn-seeker would be on being directed to this blog. Oooh, a GIRL in a BOY house. Let’s see…huh. There’s a lot about grocery shopping – ooh! Maybe it’s a produce stockboy storyline…no. No. She’s just literally buying groceries. And getting upset about people who don’t return their carts. Maybe on this next page…no. More groceries. Oooh, double up the D! No. No. She means Vitamin D.

I’m Not A Regular Mom, I’m A Cool Mom

At least a few times a week, I sassily tell the boys that, despite all appearances to the contrary, I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom. I also text them gifs to that effect, which they accept with weary resignation.

My older son was assigned the movie Mean Girls to watch for his Career and Life Management class – side note, why? When I was in grade 11 CALM I certainly was never assigned to watch movies. – and he burst out of his room with a startled look on his face.

“I didn’t know that was actually from something!” he said to me. “I thought you were just saying you were a cool mom.”

Me:

Is It Better To Burn Out Than To Fade Away, Asking For A Friend

Mean Girls notwithstanding, school-wise the last two weeks have been very intense for the boys. I found myself longing for the pre-high school days when December was an absolute shit-show and no academic work was attempted. Sure, they were hyped-up messes by the time they got home, but at least they weren’t completely burned out shells of their former selves. My younger son had a math test during the last period of the Friday before the break. My older son had a major Social Studies unit test the day before; both of them were basically the walking dead last week. I never was a fan of Pajama Day at school but now I’m remembering those days fondly.

I woke them up Friday morning by blasting One Day More; I can’t tell if they were happy about that or not.

We celebrated the end of school – after my younger son spent TWO HOURS after classes finished working on a project due THAT DAY THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL – as we usually do, with a viewing of Christmas vacation, snacks, and, in my case, boozy coffee.

Pandemic Feelings, Summarized

I did not click on any of these stories; I’d rather live with them in my imagination.

All It Needed Was A Little Love

One of my favourite Christmas TV moments is when Charlie Brown places a single ornament on his frail little tree, and, after he freaks out because he thinks he’s killed it, Linus wraps his blanket around the trunk. “It just needed a little love.” Then, magically, it grows branches and becomes a visually-perfect little tree.

I was talking about this to one of my yoga classes the other day, because it occurred to me that sometimes we are all Charlie Brown’s tree; just hanging in there, dropping needles like crazy, but still standing until someone hangs a metaphorical ornament on us, when we droop alarmingly. Do you feel like this too? Like, we’re fine, we’re fine, but then something happens that SHOULD feel festive but really feels like an anvil dropped on us, and that is IT. We are DONE.

In years past, I would have said that the ornament was a metaphor for all the obligations of the season; this year I think it is the feeling that we have to make the best of everything, making this the Best Home Christmas Ever in the face of much loss and sadness, in the season where we usually are frantically Seeing Everyone but this year we are Seeing No One.

And when we feel that droop, when we feel weighted down, we need a metaphorical Linus’ blanket to prop us up. What I want to tell you is that we are all each other’s Linus’ blanket. You, friends, have propped me up, and I hope to return the favour. Sometimes we are the tree, and sometimes we are the blanket. We are all in this together.

If you feel you can be a blanket this week, and you are heading out into a grocery store or pharmacy, consider gifting something to your cashier. I’ve been packaging up Lindt truffles and leaving them at the very end of my groceries, so when the bag comes through and the cashier looks askance, I thank her for all her hard work.

Pandemic Reading

This was just so excellent and so important for someone like me – white, privileged, Canadian. It is narrative nonfiction and explores the Great Migration of Black people from the American South to the North. From Jim Crow laws in the South to discriminatory housing, education, and employment practices in the North, this book really was insightful and a good resource for understanding the incredible obstacles faced by the migrants and the people who stayed in the South. It is a book of resilience, strength, tragedy, and hope.

The title says it all! By turns hilariously entertaining and heart-wrenchingly sad, this was enlightening and educational about mental illness and its effects.

Do you like reading about financial markets? Do you like reading about Monte Carlo simulations, random walks, and other nerdy econometric applications and theories? I do too!

Oh, I laughed so much through this book. It is VERY wittily written and really brought me back to my quantitative analyst days. The author’s general attitude reminded me so much of a former colleague, Warren. Oh, Warren. Warren worked in our Houston office but was originally from Chicago; once we were all at a conference in Chicago and, over dinner and every single opportunity he had, Warren regaled me with every detail you can ever imagine about the city’s history. And then, the first mayor Daley… I don’t remember the details because for some reason, I got really drunk on sangria. This page made me think so much of him:

I have to confess that my optimal strategy…was to speak as much as I could, while totally avoiding listening to other people’s replies by trying to solve equations in my head.

Fun fact, Warren also had married a woman, and I believe this marriage was one that used to be referred to as “mail order” and that is all you need to know. Ah, I have fond memories of him. Good times.

Oh! Remember when I spoke about the guy who broke his phone on the trade floor? I wasn’t alone!

Ah, good times.

I’m keeping that in mind this week, that the holidays are often a difficult time for many people, and this year even more so. Practicing compassion and empathy, coming into this very dark time of year. As we approach the darkest day of the year, we need to shine our lights to light the way for others, and to reflect others’ light.

So shine your light, wrap your blankets, and if you’re losing needles and drooping under the ornament, know that I’m holding you in my heart. Merry Christmas to you all, I hope you can find some joy and peace this holiday season. xoxo