Category Archives: Rexing Ball

November Bits and Bobs

Posted on by

My son was telling me about a throwback party he attended at the university bar; the throwback era, he said was mostly between 2012 and 2014. I was momentarily stunned into silence, and then had him list off a few of the songs that they had played: a lot of Pitbull and the Black-Eyed Peas, the notable era exception being the 2005 hit Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira. Shakira Shakira! All the songs he mentioned are on my Nicole’s Workout Spotify playlist, and they are all songs that I consider to be “modern.”

This reminded me of an 80s Retro party I myself went to at the bar at my university, and the year was probably 1995, so I guess the years go by and yet nothing changes. Still. At the time, I remember dancing to My Sharona and thinking how fun it was to dance to such retro music, and here is my son, grooving to Mr Worldwide. Sunrise, sunset.

We have a houseguest this week! My younger son’s best friend is visiting from Calgary, and he scheduled his visit to coordinate with the ending of my son’s seasonal golf course job as well as my older son’s reading week, so the house is full and so, if you will forgive the sentimentality, is my heart. My older son’s roommate just happens to be a good friend of both boys, so he has been over here as well and I am in my element, feeding everyone in a “Eat, Eat!” kind of way.

Speaking of my younger son, once again he has decided to grow a moustache for the month of November. Typically he only shaves every four or five days, meaning that he usually has a stubbly scruff most of the time, but now he is clean-shaven except for his old-timey Clark Gable-style moustache. As always I am a strong proponent of body autonomy, even in the facial hair department, but also, Clark Gable-style moustache. Remember that Jimmy Buffett song Pencil Thin Moustache? It’s not unlike that.

Rest in peace, Jimmy Buffett. He sure brought a lot of joy to this world, and particularly to me. He also brought us the song Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw which I secretly wanted to play at my wedding, but did not. Imagine how funny that would have been, though. I just got a water bed, it’s filled up for me and you. What a glorious time piece of a song. The 70s is my favourite era, music-wise: soft rock, yacht rock, cock rock, Motown, and, my top genre, disco. It would be very, very difficult for me to find a song I do not bop around to happily that was created in the 70s. Even the ones with terrible lyrics and misogyny I will happily sing and kitchen disco to, notably When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman and If You Want To Be Happy. I joked about having the latter played at our wedding and my husband was horrified at the very thought. It would be a fun ironic song if it wasn’t blatantly mean-spirited. Still, I will groove to it.

I was grooving down the pathway the other day and I stopped to talk to a gentleman I frequently talk to, who just so happens to look exactly like Kenny G. He and I are probably going to one day spin off this planet with our excessive morning positivity; he’s a kindred spirit, Kenny G is, is what I’m saying. He gestured to the path in front of me saying “Are you enjoying our Golden Mile?” and I was so charmed by this turn of phrase.

The path has been carpeted with leaves, and somehow Rex managed to walk an entire 90 minutes with a leaf on his head. I guess he was feeling Fall Festive.

Less festive is the fact that the dog park has been very, very muddy of late. I stopped to speak with yet another gentleman on the path, while our black and white dogs sniffed each other. The gentleman laughed at Rex’s paws, which were completely covered with mud. “Rex! Your boots!” he said, and I replied with a “This is the problem: no white shoes after Labour Day!” The man looked at me in the most puzzled way, with a completely furrowed brow, and then smiled and nodded as he said his goodbyes. Later, I asked my husband if men do not know about the Labour Day White Shoe rule and he replied with what are you talking about, so I guess that answers that, at least in the Boyhouse.

Weekly Reading

Pineapple Street. Have you ever picked up a book based solely on hearing other people mention the title, without looking at the synopsis or anything about it at all, and then, on starting it, realize that it’s completely different from what you might imagine? This was exactly my experience with Pineapple Street. In my mind it was something exotic, maybe something tropical, maybe women in a different country and their lives? Well. I did not realize Pineapple Street is in Brooklyn Heights and that this book would be about an ultrarich, old money family. I guess that is exotic in its own way, there’s no rich like NYC rich, am I right? But I have to say, while it’s a readable and easy book to digest, the writing is pretty lazy. All the characters are completely one dimensional and then most of them do a 180 near the end of the book with no nuance whatsoever. The theme is millenial heirs of old money, and it’s like the author thought “okay, three kids, we will make one of them represent the millenials who want to give away all their fortune because they disagree with inheriting large sums of money, one of them will just enjoy the money and work in the family business, and the last one, let’s make her someone who gave up her career to have kids and wants more, more, more money. Great, we covered it all.” Like I said, this is readable and for those of us who like to read about fashion and tablescapes, it’s kind of fun, but it’s not profound or nuanced or going to set the world on fire. I later learned that the author is actually a publishing executive so, you know, that answers that.

Please Don’t Sit On My Bed In Your Outside Clothes. This hilarious, smart, and thoughtful book of essays was written in 2020, so it definitely has a Quarantine Flavour to it. This woman has had a very, very different life experience from me, which makes this all the more eye-opening and thought-provoking. She has a way of starting with a hilariously shallow topic, that suddenly delves deeper, having me think of things in a totally different way, i.e., the concept of self-care. The essay that I think will stay with me the longest is the one about performative allyship, which is something that I have been thinking about since the summer of 2020. Actually, I’ve probably been thinking about the concept of people using social media to “raise awareness” without doing anything meaningful since the days of women posting their bra colours on Facebook to “raise awareness” about breast cancer. Friends, we are all aware. But what are we going to do about it? One takeaway from this is, in terms of allyship, that it can be actively harmful to repost violent viral videos. Marginalized people do not need to be inundated with that in the name of “raising awareness.” Anyway, this was a very enlightening – and did I mention, very funny? – read.

Some of you will remember a while back that I was interviewed as a guest post on my good friend Elisabeth’s blog (HI ELISABETH); sadly, that blog was deleted and my interview, including the story about topless sunbathing, was lost forever. Well, the happy news is that Elisabeth RE-interviewed me and it’s up there today, so please go check it out. Another piece of happy news is that my friend and writing support Laura Bray has a substack and this month she is offering 20% off paid subscriptions, in honour of her birthday month (HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAURA!). Do go check her out as she is a gifted writer and an all-round lovely person.

On that note, have a beautiful week, friends! xo

Gratitude and Grievance

Posted on by

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Yesterday my husband and I took a ten hour road trip to visit my parents. It was a gorgeous drive but I am a tiny bit tired; not, however, as tired as I was Saturday morning when I was woken up several times by a pack of howling coyotes in the vineyard. They even woke my very hard-of-hearing mother-in-law up, so you can imagine how loud that must have been.

What I’m saying is I’m not feeling particularly rested this holiday weekend, but it was such a beautiful drive and, of course, it was lovely to drive into my parents’ very welcoming home. This is what I’m looking at right this minute:

I meditate every day, as part of my self-care REM Y REM; most days the meditation is part of my yoga practice and savasana, but once or twice a week I listen to a guided meditation. A few weeks ago I listened to one that had a gratitude theme, and one of the lines in that meditation was What you focus on is what you see more of. I mean, yes, obviously. But also YES!

Let’s say, for example, that you wake up one morning and perceive, on looking in the mirror, that for the first time in a very long time, possibly years, a pimple has inexplicably developed underneath your left eye. Perhaps, instead of feeling gratitude for the exuberance of youth that has suddenly revisited your face in such a way, you unhappily focus all your vision on this little red protuberance. In fact, you focus on it so much that, upon viewing your reflection, you cannot see anything else. You might as well have no other facial features; your face has become Only The Pimple.

At the same time, you might notice that it has been three weeks since you last coloured your hair, and so the hair framing your Only The Pimple visage is white with grey accents, contrasting sharply with the rest of your kind-of-orange-fading-red hair. Instead of feeling deep gratitude for this interesting confluence of Youth and Old Age that is your current reflection, you feel simultaneously grieved for your loss of youth and also for this strange resurgence of youth. Instead of thinking that your body, indeed, is a Wonderland, you are laser focused on what you perceive as flaws, which are really not flaws at all but just glorious markers of the human experience.

What you focus on is what you see more of, and if you step back and soften the focus on the things that you are unhappy with, and maybe take a selfie with the knowledge that car lighting is the very best kind of lighting, maybe you can focus a bit more on gratitude than on grievances.

I’m sure that’s what the guided meditation meant.

So many of my friends have Gratitude Journals, and I deeply admire that, although I do not have one myself. My friend Ally (HI ALLY) recently brought my attention to something called a Grievance Journal. I had never heard of such a thing before but indeed, there are many such items for sale; the price of such things might surprise you, for example, this grievance journal is $208. Ally correctly pointed out that one could simply purchase a simple spiral notebook that would serve the purpose, but we are often more inspired by thematic stationary, aren’t we?

My thought on this is that anyone who had a diary with a lock and key in their youth was most likely keeping a Grievance Journal. I shudder to think of my own teen angst committed to the pages of my locked diaries, but on the other hand, maybe I was a trend-setter without even knowing it! I was Grievance Journaling before Grievance Journaling was cool.

Then again, what is a blog but a repository for grievances – and gratitude, of course. And because it is Thanksgiving, I will share with you, my dear readers, something that I am very grateful for. One year ago tomorrow Rex came to live with us!

I like to call this our Rexaversary, although I’m sure my husband would like me to note that he hates that term, and no one really knows why. Perhaps it reminds him of Brexit? Or the ridiculously stupid Wexit? As a side note, a couple of years ago we were at the dinner table and my older son said, out of absolutely nowhere, “Remember that thing, Wexit?” and for no reason at all we all became hysterical with laughter. WEXIT.

Anyway, it is one year tomorrow that we received such an incredible gift. He was much loved by his former family, and I still can’t believe my luck that we were the ones chosen to care for our Big Silly, our Notorious D.O.G., our Doughnut, our Puppy Pup, our Rexie. He’s brought so much joy to us every single day; it’s ironic that I was the person who, after Barkley died, was so devastated that I refused to even consider bringing another dog into our family, and now I have a shadow, every waking minute.

My view upon getting out of the shower.

I did feel, a year ago, like Clifford the Big Red Dog was coming to live with us, but after a year of Rex, he just seems like a normal-sized dog, and all other dogs are miniature. Anyway, it’s appropriate that this celebration day coincides (ISH) with Thanksgiving as we are all so thankful to have his Big Silly Energy in our home.

Weekly Reading

The Magician’s Assistant. I really enjoyed this book about Sabine, a magician’s assistant who was married to the magician. When he dies, she discovers everything about his past that he had kept hidden. What’s not to like? Complicated families, interesting female protagonist, beautiful prose. It checks all my boxes! The thing about Ann Patchett is while many of her books follow a similar theme of brokenness and family secrets, they are all so different and unique. Content warning for mentions of domestic and child abuse.

The Perfect Marriage. Did you ever read the Sweet Valley High books? Remember how the physical descriptions were “All American good looks, with blond hair and blue eyes, size six?” That was what this book was like, a grown up SVH, but a “thriller.” The physical descriptions of the characters were so over-the-top: he is a hunky six-foot-two man with broad shoulders, she is a tiny blonde with never a hair out of place, wearing her Louboutin heels and pencil skirts. Basically, a man is accused of murdering his mistress and his wife is his lawyer for the trial. Is this well-written? No. Are the characters interesting and nuanced? No. Is the dialogue natural and believable? No. Is the plot in any way realistic? Absolutely not. Is this book hilariously entertaining in its ridiculousness? Kind of! It’s pretty ridiculous but hey, it’s a fast read and won’t require any heavy thinking or reflection.

I hope you are all enjoying this holiday weekend, or, for my non-Canadian friends, this Monday in October! I am grateful for all of you. xo

A New Chapter

Posted on by

I was thinking a lot about the last chapter in A Tree Grows In Brooklyn this week, when Francie goes back and looks at her neighbourhood, wanting to remember it just as it was. This week I was in Calgary again, for forty hours, and it was so interesting to see it from new, non-resident eyes.

Even for a short trip, there is just so much to do to prepare, isn’t there? My parents drove back through to spend the night in Kelowna on Monday, and then Tuesday was a flurry of laundry and groceries for my younger son for the week, and taking Rex in to the boarder’s. Before I move on, let’s just acknowledge that everyone with pets knows the particular and unique stress of leaving their beloved fuzzball behind. I will say that Rex has done great with boarding in the past, but this is a new place, and I follow this place on Facebook, and was a little bit stressed and anxious when there were photos of the various dogs posted but not one was Rex. He’s THERE, right? I said to my friend Jen (HI JEN) who graciously hosted me and my husband in her home. Like, if he was dead or gone or sick they would have told me, right? Like I’m not going to get there Saturday and they are going to say “Oh sorry, Rex isn’t here, he died.” She assured me that IN ALL LIKELIHOOD I would have received at least a text if something dire had happened. My husband suggested I call to check in, but my thinking is that one should not ask a question if one is not prepared for all the answers. If he wasn’t well, what was I going to do? Be stressed and tearful for the remainder of the trip? This felt like the recent time that a woman was at my house for a social event, and I casually threw out a you’re okay with dogs, right? as my big buffoon wagged wildly. No, not really, she said, at which point I was completely at an impasse. What to do? Don’t ask questions if you don’t want the answers. Anyway, with regards to the pet resort, I took some ujjayi breaths and assumed no news was good news, and in the end, that was absolutely the case.

But back to the trip. My sister-in-law drove me to the airport so that I arrived two and a half hours before my fifty minute, domestic flight was due to leave, on my request, because I am secretly this guy:

My husband, let the record show, thought this was an insane move on my part, particularly since my flight got delayed, but let me tell you, it was incredible. I was travelling by myself, with no one else’s schedule to accommodate, the dog was safely being cared for by someone else, and I had nothing to do but read for hours and eat at Subway. What could be better, I ask you? I think I was the least-stressed person in the entire airport, as I was completely untethered and without any obligations or commitments. The people seated next to me on the plane were nearly hysterical as they missed or were probably going to miss their connections, due to the delay, but I was as zen as could be. What is time, anyway?

My husband picked me up at the airport, and the city was gloomy and cold and drizzly, and it turns out that after two months in small-city, slow-paced Kelowna I was unused to the massive traffic snarls in Calgary, but still in my zen state I was completely unbothered. The next day, though, YYC pulled out all the stops. September in Calgary can be really beautiful; the leaves were as yet still on the trees and were beautifully golden, and the sky was so blue.

I had an entire day at my own disposal while my husband and friend were at work and her kids were at school; I went for a long walk, alternating between looking at the cute little shops in Kensington and the cute little old houses in Hillhurst Sunnyside. I would never want to live in a pre-war house, what with the newspaper insulation, wonky electricity, lead pipes, and complete lack of closet space, but I love looking at those houses and imagining the lives of the people in them. I especially enjoyed looking at all the lovely tiny yards with gardens, particularly one that was filled with gnomes.

My people!

It was just so incredible to have a day in which I had absolutely no responsibilities, no one to take care of, and nothing to do. I was able to write, and read, and walk, and I still had many hours of the day left. I don’t know if I can adequately describe how therapeutic this was for me, after months and maybe even years of just frantic doing-ness, but I was filled with pure joy and contentment. It was fun to see Calgary through non-resident eyes, but I will say that I found it a little emotional – I used to take the kids to that park! Remember the wading pool! They loved this playground! – and I think it’s easier, now that they are adults, to NOT be where they grew up. I felt very Landslide-y, which I do not feel much in my new home. Maybe it’s the bandaid-ripped-off concept of changing every single thing all at once.

Speaking of changing every single thing all at once, there was a very special reason that I was in Calgary, and that is that I was attending my husband’s retirement party! My husband officially retired last Thursday, and I nearly bought him a t-shirt reading “I tried to retire but now I just work for my wife.” NEARLY. Anyway, there was an amazing dinner for him, surrounded by his colleagues who I have gotten to know quite well over the years, and it was a really wonderful experience.

The next day we drove our hostess-with-the-mostess out to Banff, to meet up with her husband and spend the night before heading home. We had just the best time with our friends, having drinks and dinner and then more drinks, walking through Banff and browsing through little shops. These are our friends who are more like family, who I love so very much, and it was so great to spend time with them. It was also great being in Banff; the larches were changing, the temperature was crisp but not terribly cold, the mountains were show-off gorgeous, and we were staying in the beautiful Rimrock hotel, which in itself a treat.

The following morning we drove back to Kelowna, and I pretty much wanted to just collapse from exhaustion, but we had tickets with friends (HI SAMMI) to see a performance of The Piano Man and The Rocket Man that evening. I am SO glad we went, it was so much fun to see a tribute to two of my favourite performers, and Sammi had booked us tickets very close to the stage, which was just great. The two of us girls bonded by crying through Candle In The Wind, which I would have been much more stoic about had they not flashed images of Princess Diana on the screen. My girl! The people’s princess!

The rest of the weekend was mostly just spent getting my life organized and put back together, and also spending time with Rex, who was not dead and who also seemed to really enjoy his new pet resort, even if they didn’t flood their Facebook page with his photos. What a missed opportunity for them! His smiley face could have been the best free advertising ever.

Weekly Reading

The Dutch House. First of all, Ann Patchett. What can you say about Ann Patchett except that she’s an absolute gift to this world. What an incredible writer she is. This book is one of the most satisfying and wonderful reads I have ever experienced and you guys, that is saying something. It’s an absolutely perfect book. It’s about family and home, the complexity of relationships and the responsibilities we take on. It’s about forgiveness, and rage, and how people change and yet somehow stay the same. I am absolutely uplifted by this book and also astonished at the sheer genius and quality of the writing. This was a work of art, and is everything I love about books.

It has, obviously, been a very action-packed, busy, fun-filled week, and I am looking forward to a calmer and probably more productive week. I hope you all are enjoying this beautiful month of September. xo

Dog and (Social) Butterfly

Posted on by

Although I have seen all of the Feuding Dog Park Men separately a few times, I have not seen them all together since The Incident, and I’m able to give them a nod and closed-lip Mona Lisa smile without being drawn into conversation with any of them. I did, however, get knocked off my feet by a large hound who, inexplicably, came running full speed into the back of my knees. I actually had some air time before landing on my left hip and right elbow and I am going to be grateful for my sons for nagging me about strength training, because I broke nothing. My hip still hurts, a few weeks later, but my doctor’s warning about osteoporosis was not for nothing; I guess my bones aren’t crumbling, thanks to my loathed-but-practiced strength routine and, probably, calcium-rich smoothies. The owner of the hound, a slow-moving elderly man, was horrified and apologetic, and Rex will not let the hound get within ten feet of me. When that dog is at the park, Rex is by my side, barking and growling if the dog gets too close.

Other than that, Rex is very friendly and playful with all the dogs we meet, particularly a three-legged doodle delightfully named Trio, and an actual trio of Bernese mountain dogs. His people! He’s halfway to being part of the group! Also, imagine what that owner’s house, back yard, and monthly dog food bill looks like. God bless, is all I can say.

Speaking of his people, we saw Rex’s doppleganger, Willie the other day, and it was just as cute as the first time. Rex’s social life has been very good of late.

A loose goal that I had created for myself on moving here and starting a new life with very few constraints or commitments was that I would say yes to everything I could, in terms of social engagements and new experiences. So far, this has really paid off in meeting new people, reconnecting and deepening my existing friendships, and generally making my life a lot fuller and more fun.

The past ten days have been a whirlwind of social activity, including a Girl’s Night at my house, a party at which I went in knowing zero people but ended up having a great time, and a mid-week visit from my parents. Having houseguests, sandwiched by parties, has been very fun and feels like a holiday, with big meals and lots of wine and dessert. Now, am I tired today and possibly in need of a cleanse and a liver detox? Yes I am. Do I desperately need to catch up on regular life, including massive amounts of laundry? Yes I do.

After these years of pandemic living followed by several months of packing and moving stress, I feel like my social life, along with everyone else’s on this planet, has taken a massive hit. I recently stumbled across an article about how having kids ruins your social life, and it felt like reading about a whole different world, one I could barely remember, with small children and playgrounds and simmering resentment between parents and non-parents. Clearly I am not the demographic for the original piece, which was written by, I believe, a woman in her thirties living the New York child-free lifestyle, ruing the changes in her friendships, but I read the entire article nonetheless, with interest similar to that of a social anthropologist examining an exotic group of people.

I do think that having children does vastly change one’s social life, for the simple reason that it is very difficult to go anywhere or do anything with small children, but in a way it actually improves one’s social life, as it is so easy to meet people when you have similar-aged children. If I was a woman, like the article’s author, going out five days a week in New York City, clubbing and eating at new restaurants, having leisurely boozy brunches on Sunday mornings, then I would absolutely agree that children wreck everything. Imagine paying for a babysitter for all those parties and taking small children to a fancy brunch; that would be nightmarish and expensive. However, even in my twenties I wasn’t a person who went out clubbing five days a week and now, close to fifty, the idea of going clubbing at all sounds dreadfully exhausting. Maybe if the club started at 2pm and ended at 7 I would be interested, but I’m fairly sure no such thing exists outside of nursing homes.

All of which is to say it isn’t my children that have suffocated my social life; if anything, the vast majority of my Calgary friends were ones who I met simply by having kids in the public school system; there was always a committee or school trip that needed volunteers, and of course, I was friends with the moms of my kids’ friends. So I did wonder what would happen, moving here, when I didn’t have school aged kids or a yoga studio or any of my other Meeting People Situations to rely on, that I have had my whole life. I wondered if I would have a hard time meeting people but so far this has not been the case; I have already met so many fun and interesting people who have been open and welcoming. Perhaps they too are tired of Lame Pandemic Social Lives and are willing to embrace new people; it sure feels that way.

Weekly Reading

Hello Beautiful. I do not have sisters, so I have always been fascinated by sisterly relationships and dynamics. I also love a book that has complicated families and strong female characters, and I did like this book. However – and this is a Me Problem, not necessarily a This Book Problem – it is a modern retelling of Little Women, and I am NOT a fan of the modern retelling of anything, particularly when it comes to a beloved-by-me classic. I have read Little Women a few dozen times; it was a very formative book for me as a child, and I have reread it many times as an adult. And so I will say that this coloured the book for me, and not in a positive way. I felt like it tried to draw too many parallels to Little Women in too many obvious ways, although I did like the portrayal of the parents. Louisa Alcott’s father was much loved by her but famously useless; he was a friend of Thoreau (do NOT get me started on that guy, I cannot EVEN with Thoreau), and he burned through their money, necessitating Louisa’s very hard and constant work so he could basically Find Himself, and I felt that the fictional portrayal in Hello Beautiful was spot on. I also liked that the author took Marmee’s hidden anger and unhid it, in the portrayal of the girls’ mother. Overall I liked this book but didn’t love it, however, your mileage may vary.

My parents’ visit was timed to coincide with my younger son’s 18th birthday. I am officially a Mother of Adults, which makes me feel very Adultish myself. Landslide, etcetera. I read somewhere, years ago, that adolescence exists to help kids make the break into adulthood, but I think it must also exist to serve mothers too. I really loved – and still love, both boys are still in their teens – the teen years, and it’s an extremely satisfying feeling to know that I’ve shepherded them all this way and now I can step back. I mean, I guess I have been gradually stepping back throughout their adolescence, but it feels different now. Your children are not your children is something I think about a lot, especially these days.

So it truly feels like a whole new chapter, and there is more news to come after this week, which is going to be so hectic and busy. More about that later, and in the meantime, I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo

The Bear Necessities

Posted on by

There are so many ways in which Younger Nicole would not recognize Current Nicole, and one of those ways has to do with animal care; specifically, I am now a person who brushes her dog’s teeth. Fourteen years with Barkley and it would have never occurred to me to have a tiny toothbrush and a tube of beef-flavoured paste; I just gave him a Greenie and called it a day. About six months ago, the vet told me that Rex had a fairly significant case of gingivitis and plaque buildup, particularly for a dog who was only TWO, and it seemed my Greenie routine was just not cutting it anymore. And so, every day in the late afternoon I brush his teeth using encouraging words like look at you, you’re so good, yay, and then I send him outside with a special dental treat to chew on. It’s pretty much the only time during the day he’s not within six feet of me for more than five minutes. He’s known as Mom’s Bodyguard for a reason, people, and that reason is that he doesn’t want me out of his sight for a moment, whether that be to shower or to refill a glass.

Last week he was out with his dental treat and I suddenly heard barking, which was very unusual, and the bark itself was very strange. I went on the deck to see what was up and lo and behold, not a hundred feet from me and just beside my mother-in-law’s yard was a huge black bear.

Well! That will get the heart pumping. I got Rex inside the house, and phoned my mother-in-law, who didn’t answer her cell or her landline. Finally when I saw the bear was gone I sent my son over to tell her the news. It turns out that she had been moving the sprinkler on her lawn, not fifty feet from the bear, but out of my sightline, completely unaware of the furry existence. I found the whole thing a bit stressful but after some REM Y REM, I came to the following conclusions: a) bear sightings are commonplace in this area, and will only be more so due to the fires, b) with all these sightings there have been exactly zero bear attacks on people or dogs over the years, and c) at this time of year bears are really only interested in maintaining and increasing their zaftig figures, so the likelihood of a bear turning away from the grapes to maul my dog is near zero, if not actually zero. We may have to revise c) in the spring, but let’s live in the present. Also, Rex was smart enough to stay near the house, rather than bounding over to see if there was a new friend who came to visit, which has been my worry since last fall, when my mother-in-law continuously sent a slew of texts with bear photos from the neighbourhood. Am I going to be living in the actual wilderness? I would think to myself, looking out the window to see Rex wandering through the fenced yard in my suburban oasis.

I have two very vivid, fearful memories from my early childhood, and the first is looking at a motion lamp my grandparents had that depicted a forest fire, like this one. I oscillated between fascination and fear, looking at that lamp, which I think we can all agree is a little bit weird. Home decor that showcases the devastation of a forest fire? I mean, it’s yet another reason I won’t watch Bambi. When I was in the first grade, there was a visit from firefighters who told us all about fire safety, and one, probably well-meaning but misguided firefighter casually mentioned that we all needed to have a exit plan in case of fire, since every single person will be involved in a fire in their lifetime. EVERY ONE OF US. Pro-tip: never tell a child something like this, particularly one with a vivid imagination. I spent many nights lying awake, planning the fire escape route from our bungalow, wondering when, exactly, I would need to put this plan in place. In my six-year-old mind, this fire safety visit meant that we were all going to die in a fiery inferno, perhaps soon, and thus began my lifelong fear of fire. With the exception of birthday candles, I will not light a candle in my house, so help me god. A few of the yoga studios I taught at had little tea lights burning all the time, and I would immediately extinguish them before starting class, so worried was I that someone would catch fire during a vinyasa. This fear wasn’t completely unfounded as once a woman came in to the lobby and the fringes of her scarf grazed a candle as she nonchalantly removed her boots, eliciting a very non-zen shriek from me, behind the desk, as I pummeled her scarf on the table.

The second fearful memory is very fuzzy, literally and figuratively, and has to do with a movie that must have been on television playing in the background while I dressed up my paper dolls, wondering if I could pair those heels with this skirt, or if flats would be better. This movie, which I have since deduced must have been the 1976 film Grizzly, featured a rampaging, human-eating grizzly bear. I would never have watched an entire non-Muppet-or-animated film as a child, but I clearly recall viewing a scene in which a woman and child were hiding in a cabin, ostensibly believing themselves safe from becoming dinner, when a bear claw slid underneath the cabin door. I’m sure it ended in their deaths, but at that point I stopped watching and just started screaming hysterically, probably to my long-suffering mother’s exhausted chagrin. Wasn’t she just playing with her paper dolls a second ago? That scene is so indelible in my mind that when I saw it again while babysitting years later, again on a background television, I gasped out loud and went to check on my tiny sleeping charge, just in case a grizzly slid its claw under the door to break it down, without my knowledge.

The rational, lived-the-vast-majority-of-my-life-outside-the-Rockies me knows there is a big difference between black bears and grizzlies, particularly Jaws, But Make It Bears, fictional kind of grizzlies. Chances are that our visitor is more Baloo than Murder Bear or Governor General Award-Winning Soft Porn Bear, but still.

As an aside: once again, what was happening in the Canadian literature world in 1976?

Anyway. Isn’t it funny that within only six weeks in my new environment, I have faced not one but two of my greatest childhood fears? If, as the lululemon shopping bag says, we should do one thing every day that scares us, I guess I am living my best life just existing here. What’s next? Is someone going to force feed me celery with peanut butter and raisins? I hope not. If anyone is going to eat Ants on a Log, it had better be our Baloo, and involve actual ants on an actual log.

Weekly Reading

An Unquiet Mind. This is a memoir of a woman who has her PhD in psychiatry…and suffers deeply from psychiatric illness. She is what is now known as bipolar disorder but she refers to as manic depressive illness (this was written in 1995). In fact, there is a whole section where she argues against the term bipolar. Anyway, she describes her psychotic breaks, her experience with lithium, and the ethics of treating psychiatric patients when one has a very serious, potentially debilitating mental illness. Some parts are fascinating, others really dragged for me, but mostly I thought it was an educational look into a first-person account of such an illness.

Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. I posed this question on Instagram to my fellow Sedaris fans: after reading Happy Go Lucky, do you find your rereading of his old essays to be…disturbing? What I mean is, any essay that mentions his father, I see it through a completely different lens, and believe me, even before Happy Go Lucky I found it weird that his father would walk around pants-less constantly, and comment on his daughter’s appearances. Anyway, I thought I’d reread this collection and I enjoyed it significantly less than before, and not just because it contains a few fictional essays, which I tend to dislike due to their over-the-top mean-spiritedness. A friend who had gone to one of his readings responded to my question, and said that you could see his mean-spiritedness come out in his interactions with his fans and with book signings, mental note, never go to a Sedaris book signing. Don’t get me wrong, the essays that hit really hit, and I did find myself laughing out loud at times. It was just less than before and had me wondering if I would feel this way about all his essays.

Calypso. I had to try it. I had to see if I would have the same reaction and I did not. I still love this collection, and the parts about his family – specifically his father and his sister Tiffany, who died by suicide – are moving and nuanced and thoughtful. This has always been my favourite collection and I’m glad it held up for me.

Same Time Next Summer. I really loved this author’s first book, so I was really disappointed with this one. I guess it’s the premise that I really disliked: woman goes back to her childhood summer home with her fiance, runs into “the one that got away,” The One being the guy she dated in high school. Maybe it’s because I just cannot relate; all of the relationships of my youth blew up so spectacularly that I could never fathom ever speaking to any of them again, let alone rekindling lost love. So I didn’t love the storyline and I didn’t love the weird little twists, and I especially didn’t like the fiance painted as the Stiff Wrong Guy who had Serious Opinions on things like wedding invitations and what kind of cake to serve. Show me a guy who has a real vision of what colour of napkins should be used at a wedding reception and I’ll show you a wedding planner. Anyway, your mileage may vary but I thought this was a very silly and trite romance, albeit a quick and easy read.

It’s been a very exciting week at the Boyhouse: my younger son started a full-time job last Monday, my husband came home from two weeks away, and my older son moved into residence at university. All wonderful things, and I’m looking forward to a busy week ahead. But first: enjoying a beautiful Labour Day! I hope you all are having a lovely long weekend. xo

How Come No One Else’s Chair Is Doing This

Posted on by

In addition to thousands and thousands of song lyrics, my head is filled with quotes from various movies and television shows. Rarely these days do I watch a movie or television, or if I do, the plots or lines don’t stick with me, so most of these quotes are from popular culture dating back to the 80s and 90s. These quotes will pop into my head randomly, depending on the circumstances.

Whenever I feel like my internal emotional state does not match what is happening with the rest of the world, I instantly think of Groundskeeper Willie on a mechanical bull, saying “Ach! How come no one else’s chair is doing this?”

This is how I felt this past week, like everyone else has been sedately enjoying their beverages on regular chairs, and I am flailing around on a mechanical bull. And I want to point out that in no way am I a catastrophic thinker; I tend to be optimistic and feel that Everything Will Work Out, with, apparently, one exception, and that exception is possible interruptions to my children’s education.

I think perhaps I have some kind of low-level PTSD from school cancellations during the pandemic. I know many people did not mind online, at-home schooling, and some people even enjoyed it and saw their children thrive, but for our family, it was terribly detrimental and I still cannot think about that time without feeling fluttery panic in my chest. Just remembering the initial closing of the schools, which was something that I never before considered even a remote possibility, has me in full Riding The Mechanical Bull Mode.

Last Sunday my husband drove to Calgary, where he needed to be for two weeks for work. This is the longest we have been apart for the entirety of our marriage, but originally that was not going to be the case. The initial plan was that he would drive out, and then fly home to help my older son move to the university dorms this past weekend, and then fly back to Calgary for this coming week. This did not happen for two reasons, and the first was that due to the fires, most flights were grounded or cancelled, and we weren’t sure if he would be able to make it either here or back, and we didn’t want him stranded one way or the other. The second reason is that my son’s move-in date was postponed, again, due to the fires.

We had paid extra for our son to move in a week early, and then to participate in a special orientation week for first-year students. It looked like a lot of fun, and we really wanted him to have that experience, so it was very disappointing to discover that the week was cancelled and his move-in date postponed to this coming weekend. Do not get me wrong: I am happy to have him at home for an extra week and I realize that there are many worse things in the world than missing out on what is essentially a fun and fairly frivolous experience, but on hearing about the cancellation I immediately found myself on the mechanical bull. Everyone in the house, including my son, took this disappointment in stride, but I started thinking what if the university never opens back up, what if the fires just keep going and going, what if the whole university burns to the ground, what if he has to do online learning, what if after this whole gap year and his hard work to get into this program it is all for nothing, all for nothing, all for nothing, how come no one else’s chair is doing this.

Well. It’s fine. IT IS FINE. All signs point to a university start date eight days from now, and a single day of orientation, and it’s going to be FINE. Of all the disasters in the world this doesn’t even register on the disaster scale, it’s like trying to weigh a half cup of flour on a bathroom scale, it is miniscule. And yet.

My friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) sent me information on how wildfire smoke can affect not just a person’s physical, but also their mental health, and that really explained a lot, not just with me and my university panic, but with people I observed around me this past week. Mostly that consisted of people I see daily on the walking path and at the dog park, and let me stress that the vast majority of those people are absolutely lovely. However, there are some people who are, for lack of a better word, total weirdos.

These men – and they are all men – are constantly bad-mouthing other people and dogs to me and, I assume, other innocent bystanders. The feeling I get is a very unpleasant one of being recruited to take their respective sides, the likes of which I haven’t felt since my days as chair of the School Council/ Parent Association, when I would be pulled into multiple directions for such controversial and impassioned topics as Fun Lunch: Who Is In Charge, and Fresh Fruit Fridays: Yes or No. I do not like hearing from strange men that the black French bulldog is aggressive or that the brown mutt named Rigsby is out of control, even if those things do appear to be true.

I try to keep to myself, which, as we all know, really goes against my natural instincts. I can only assume that this weird five-way feud has been taking place since the beginning of time. I have definitely noticed that the dogs in question are sometimes poorly behaved and show aggressive tendencies, but because Rex has taken on the role of Big Friendly Buffoon in the dog park, no one bothers him, and I keep a smiley, but cool, distance from these men.

Last week in the height of the smoke, I entered the dog park and one of the usual men came right up to me and said, loudly, “Watch out for that German shepherd, he’s attacking ALL THE DOGS.” I looked at the German shepherd, who was calmly sniffing a tree, and his owner nearby who clearly overheard this, and I just nodded and said “Okay, thanks,” putting my earbuds in and walking the loop while Rex bounded around like the clown he is. While I was admiring Rex’s run-and-barrel-roll routine, I heard shouting and swearing, culminating in threats to get the fuck out of here before I make you wish you had. What. I watched this out of the corner of my eye, thinking that I was actually going to witness a physical brawl. The upshot of all of this was that the German shepherd owner allegedly did not scoop after his dog, and that person in question retorted that his dog had not defecated so there was no need to scoop, and a third person announced that he filmed the entire thing on his phone, including the allegedly defecating dog, and that he was going to send the video in to the local news station. Gross. I leashed up Rex and left the dog park.

I have not seen the Feuding Fellows since, and I did mention this upsetting altercation to a very nice woman at the park later in the week. “Ugh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know who you’re talking about. THOSE GUYS.” I had thought perhaps tempers were frayed and that could be blamed on the smoke and the negative impact it has on everyone’s mental and emotional well-being, but it appears they are just regular assholes.

Weekly Reading

This week’s reading is brought to you by Elizabeth Strout!

Anything Is Possible. The follow up to My Name Is Lucy Barton is a dive into all the people’s lives in the stories from the first book. It’s an incredible peek into family life, secrets, classism, and connections. I love it. It’s a reread for me and another book that I get more out of each time I read it.

Oh William! The third of the Lucy books, and this one deals with her relationship with her former husband. These books are so compelling to me, and so compassionate. This is another reread for me, but so worthwhile. I love how Strout writes about secrets and reveals character traits in such subtle ways. Gorgeous.

Lucy By The Sea. Finally! The reason for the rereads! I received this for Christmas and wanted to reread all the previous books before starting on it – I really recommend doing this, it is an excellent reading experience. This book delves into the pandemic and all the political and social things that happened during that time. Like all the books, it is about love and family, class and divides in society, and crossing those lines. This book did a great job of illustrating how we all felt during those early days of the pandemic: the feeling of things not being real, the inability to take in the news, the boredom and tedium of life when we couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. This was moving and emotional, and included characters from her other books, as Lucy and William experience lockdown in Maine. 

It’s the last week of August! I can hardly believe it. What a blur this summer has been. I am crossing my fingers and sitting in lotus for a smooth week ahead, and I hope you all have a good one as well. xo

Acclimatizing

Posted on by

Are You Feeling Hot! Hot! Hot!

Since I got here, it has been one beautiful day after another; summer here is absolutely gorgeous. If I had even one day like this in Calgary – warm and sunny, windless and without storms – I would be frantically spending every possible second outside, carpe diem, not wanting to waste a beautiful day. Weather there is always so volatile – one of my girlfriends texted me last week to say it was 13 degrees and pouring rain – so I’m ever so grateful to be living in a place where I can predict what the day will bring. Summer weather in the summer, what a novel concept!

I was a bit concerned, moving here, how Rex would do in the heat. He’s definitely a cold-weather dog, and I was worried that the temperatures would be too hot for him, but so far it has not been a problem. I walk him at 8:00 at the latest, and our walking route is a beautiful trail that is almost entirely shaded. It winds along a creek, which he enjoys drinking from and also is the reason his white paws are completely grubby all the time now. Attached to this path is an offleash park, which is also shaded and has water taps, bowls, and kiddie pools. It also had, one day, Rex’s doppelgänger.

As an aside, one of the first days I was at the offleash a very attractive young man was chatting with me and told me not to worry about the water in the bowls, he had just filled them, adding, ominously, You know, I don’t trust the old water, because of that woman. Wait, what woman? I told him I just moved here and he explained that there was a woman who would came to dog parks, with no dog, and poisoned the water in the bowls. Several dogs got sick and one actually DIED. I listened to this story with wide, horrified eyes, and was reminded of my days at the playground, how the young mothers would warily eye men without children, sitting on the benches. In any case, now that Rex has discovered the giant water bowl that is in the creek, he is completely uninterested in the water at the offleash.

I do love our morning walk route, but I have had to adjust to driving to get to the trail, rather than just strolling out the door, as I was used to doing. The first morning I was here I decided I WOULD walk to the trail; it was only about two kilometres, and I had used it as a running route before, so I was sure it would be just fine. Well. I had grossly misjudged how stressful it would be to walk down a busy road with no sidewalks, only a bike lane, with an enormous and excited dog bounding around, while cars zipped past. It took all my strength to keep the leash short and Rex on the inside, which backfired completely when he excitedly discovered not only a dead raccoon, but several squashed birds, at which point my soul briefly left my body. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like driving five minutes was such a hardship to be avoided.

International Costco Woman of Mystery

I have been slowly getting used to the grocery stores here. Sure, Superstore is Superstore, and Costco is Costco, but there are differences from what I’m used to. I think the biggest difference is that because Kelowna is just over a tenth of the size of Calgary, there is only one of each of those stores, and hence they are very busy. I made the mistake of going to Costco on a day that was a bit cooler and overcast – but still, temperature-wise, would have been considered a hot day in Calgary – and it was INSANE. It reminded me of the Costco in Maui, and just writing that makes me feel like I am a fancy world-Costco-traveller. Nicole: The International Costco Woman of Mystery could be the name of my memoir. Anyway, the layout was the same as the one in Maui and opposite of that in Calgary, which made it tricky to find everything on my list, and also it was so busy as to be almost impossible to maneuver through the aisles. It was literal bumper-to-bumper cart traffic. Perhaps it will be easier when tourist season is over.

The biggest difference for me, grocery-wise, is Superstore. It’s not just the layout, it’s the actual products that are available. Calgary in general and the part of the city in which I lived in particular is much more multicultural than here, and so the international foods aisle was always a cornucopia of fun and interesting items. Here, this is not the case. A quarter of the international aisle is filled with British products, like spotted dick, which I am not in the market for, culinary or otherwise, and the selection of Asian, Indian, and African items is pretty limited. I’m finding it hard to find noodles I like, is what I’m saying.

Hi Neighbourino

Probably the largest adjustment I have had to make has to do with my next-door neighbour. Before I get into that, a little context: my husband grew up on his family-owned vineyard, and about twenty years ago his family sold it and the attached winery, keeping two acres of it. The house in which we are living was originally his grandparents’; we added a second floor to it and took the existing house down to the studs, renovating it completely. It is such an incredibly fortunate thing to be able to live in a beautiful new house on a vineyard, overlooking the lake and the city. Every morning I wake up and look out the windows and feel so very lucky.

There is one thing that I feel you should know, and I’m mentioning it in a very casual, value-neutral way, and that is that there is another house on this two acre property, and that house belongs to my mother-in-law. While you absorb that information, I will hasten to assure you that my mother-in-law and I have a good relationship, albeit one that has been cultivated long-distance over the past twenty-five years. She is not one of those women who think that No One Is Good Enough For Her Precious Son; in fact, she thinks everything I do and every decision I make is Just Wonderful, Dear, which is lovely and, I think, rare. She is not a person who insists on having every meal together; in fact, I can’t even remember the last time we had a dinner together, it might have been Thanksgiving 2020.

But still, living next door is a lot different from twice-or-thrice annual visits, and so this is an adjustment to be sure, mostly a mental one. My main concern is maintaining boundaries and protecting personal privacy, for both of us, and mostly it’s been fine. We had an open and honest conversation about this prior to the move, which was INCREDIBLY difficult for me, because I don’t know how you grew up in the 80s and 90s, but open and honest conversation was not part of the story for me. In any case, there have been a few gentle bumps, but mostly it’s been fairly smooth sailing.

Bye Bye Birdie

In eighteen days, my older son is moving on campus for his first year at university. He’s so excited, and I’m so excited for him, and also, landslide. The university is close to us, so this feels like a very soft landing, but it’s still going to be a big change. In the meantime, I’m really cherishing having four faces at the dinner table. When he was working shift work this past year, I found myself thinking that the nights he was home for dinner was a real treat; this past month I feel spoiled having both the boys here all the time. What I am going to say is nothing new or original or earth-shattering, but I just love my boys so much; I am so proud of them both and I think they are incredible people, and I can hardly believe my luck that the universe gave them to me. It’s been so wonderful having them both here this summer, and of course it’s going to change very soon, and, like everything else, I will adjust to the changes. All you who have been through this know what it is.

I’m going to miss my son’s bartending skills; check out this mango margarita!

Weekly Reading

First of all, thank you all for your very kind comments of understanding and stories of hope, with regards to Bookmarkgate. So far they have not been recovered, but there are some boxes with garage items and gardening implements that I have not yet gone through, and although I’m not very hopeful, I’m not COMPLETELY hopeless. It’s more like 90% hopeless, as opposed to 100% before your lovely comments. We hosted our first dinner party this weekend and my sweet friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) brought me bookmarks as a housewarming, to “tide me over until the others were found.” I have such lovely friends!

Prep. When I was a kid I was obsessed with the idea of boarding school. It just seemed so fun and cool. Is it just me or does everyone think this? Anyway, this book is a very realistic portrait of a girl from Indiana who goes to a New England boarding school on scholarship; it shows her evolution from freshman to senior, and I really liked it. It showed an insular and privileged world, with all the angst of a teen in the 90s. I thought it was such a true picture of what it was to be a teen at that time, albeit in a very different life than the one I had.

Here we are at the end of a long weekend, and I hope yours was great. Have a lovely week, everyone! xo