Category Archives: SEX

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

You’ve Got Questions, I’ve Got Answers

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Last week, I asked you to ask me questions, and ask you did! Thank you so much – this was really fun! Here we go!

Books and Reading

Ally asked: My question is: given your druthers, which book genre is your favorite? And why? I will put this question together with one of Suzanne’s, which is What are, in your opinion, the best books of all time?

I’ve been thinking about Ally’s question all week, because I’m not sure if there is a specific name for my favourite genre. For my entire life, I have strongly preferred books that feature a female protagonist, and that follow that protagonist’s life. I like books that delve into the details of people’s lives; I think people are endlessly fascinating, and that everyone has a story. I am also a “Can Lit” girl, and to that end, two of my favourite authors are Margaret Atwood and Alice Munro; I love a good solid short story and I love books about women. I vastly prefer women’s writing over men’s, and I prefer a deep dive into an individual’s life, rather than a grand epic. In terms of genre, it’s almost easier to say what I DON’T like: I don’t like dystopian, fantasy, horror, or sci-fi, and I don’t tend to like mysteries much, although I’ve read a few lately and I do like to keep my mind open. In terms of best books of all time, the ones that I have loved the most are: Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood, Lives of Girls and Women by Alice Munro, Diary of a Provincial Lady by EM Delafield, and Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Any of those would be my “desert island” books, along with this really great meditation book I’ve been reading called Wake Up To The Joy In You, although if I was on a desert island, I am not sure the life advice in it would be necessary. Still, an excellent book about becoming your best self and embracing life.

Anna asked: My questions are when do you read and how do you read so fast!! I’ve always been a fast reader, and I generally block off time to read every day. A few years ago I discovered the “screen time report” on my phone and I was appalled to see how much time I wasted mindlessly scrolling, and so I’ve tried to take that time back to concentrate on books. I generally read a solid hour in the evenings, sometimes more, and then I read in little chunks throughout the day – when I’m having lunch, or if I’m waiting for an appointment, or if I’m stirring pasta sauce. I think it probably all adds up to about two hours a day of reading, sometimes more, sometimes less. This summer, with my yoga teaching on hold, I have been reading more than that.

These Are A Few Of My Least Favourite Things

Suzanne asked: What are some of your top pet peeves? OMG PEOPLE WHO DO NOT RETURN THEIR GROCERY CARTS TO THE CART CARREL THOSE PEOPLE ARE MONSTERS. Grocery carts are, of course, my trigger, but I also include actions that would make someone else’s life easier but are left undone, and that would require only a tiny amount of effort: not holding a door or elevator for someone, not allowing a car to merge into a lane, not gesturing to the mom with a baby and only a few groceries to go first in line. I also hate when a job is 99% done but LEFT UNDONE: as an example, the people I live with are excellent at changing the toilet paper roll or putting another bar of soap in the shower, but then they LEAVE THE EMPTY ROLL AND SOAP BOX ON THE COUNTER INSTEAD OF PUTTING IT IN THE RECYCLE BIN, THAT SAME RECYCLE BIN THEY ALL WALK PAST DOZENS OF TIMES A DAY. The same goes for the juice container that sits, rinsed out and empty, on the kitchen island.

I also hate when the grocery store changes their product layout and I find myself walking down each aisle, looking for my everyday items and wondering why the cereal is now with the aluminum foil, and why the peppermint extract is now with spices and not with baking needs.

Love and Marriage

Ernie asked: I’m wondering how you met your husband and maybe what your first date was, or if you knew right away he was THE ONE? Oh, ho, this is funny. So, I met my husband when he was a grad student and I was a fourth-year honour student preparing to be a grad student, and we were both studying economics. My first thought was “He’s pretty hot to be in economics,” which I still stand by. At the time, I had an on-again-off-again boyfriend, but we became friends and went out frequently for coffee and to movies. This went on for almost TWO YEARS, and I had broken up with my boyfriend and gone out on several dates with other guys during that time, and he dated some girls as well.

At some point, when you’ve been friends with a guy for almost two years, you just figure that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you, even if there’s all sorts of sexy tension and you find yourself looking into each other’s eyes a lot and finding excuses to sit close to each other and accidentally touch each other on the knee and whatnot. God, I can’t stand it, I said to a girlfriend, It’s just never going to happen and I have to accept it.

Three weeks after that statement, we started dating, and by “dating” I mean basically going out like we always did, but also, um, having sex. Hilariously, the night we started “dating” we were supposed to go see the movie The Full Monty, and I guess I did actually see A Full Monty, but not The Full Monty.

Suzanne asked: What are your secrets to a happy marriage? Lots of Full Monty! Ha! I kid. Well, I’m not totally kidding – I do think intimacy is very important, and during a pandemic with teens at home all day every day things get…challenging to schedule, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Honestly, I think one of the keys to a harmonious marriage is to really calmly communicate and to think before speaking, which can be challenging when people leave empty toilet paper rolls on the bathroom countertop. I also think it’s really important to accept the person your spouse is – empty toilet paper roll notwithstanding – and to realize that people express their love in different ways. My husband, for example, is a person who carefully and thoroughly researches everything, and makes purchases based on things he thinks will make my life better or easier, and those things always DO make my life better or easier. I, on the other hand, am not great at choosing gifts but I am good at doing things that make our life smooth and harmonious. My husband would never buy me flowers – he’s allergic – but when I mentioned, years ago, I was thinking about getting a dehydrator to make kale chips, he carefully looked into it, read every review, and then the Excalibur ended up on my doorstep one day.

You never really know what goes on in someone else’s marriage, and what makes it tick, but I think that putting yourself in your spouse’s shoes and being empathetic is important, as is not taking each other for granted, which, as we know, is easier said than done. Sometimes I get all up in arms thinking no one is appreciating my efforts, but then I think did I appreciate HIS efforts lately? and when I do, I find that he also does.

Family, Etc

Suz asked: Do you have any siblings? If you don’t have siblings, do you have cousins that are like siblings? I have two brothers, and between them I have a wonderful sister-in-law, eight nieces and nephews, and one great-niece! To paraphrase my friend Trudy (HI TRUDY) I knew I was good, but now I’m GREAT! I also have thirty-one first cousins! So, it’s a large family.

My husband has been watching Ted Lasso, and at the end of the season there’s a line about the family you’re born with, and the family you create along the way. I am so lucky to have friends who are like sisters to me – you girls know who you are!

Food, Etc.

Gigi asked: As for my question – what is your most decadent indulgence – the one that no matter the cost (or calories) it will always be in your home? I always, always have red wine in the house, usually a case worth at least. I always have baking on hand, and chocolate, but those are more for the guys than for me – wine is my indulgence. I hesitate to write this, because it sounds absolutely obnoxious, but in terms of cost, I never skimp in the produce aisle. I like to make dinners the way I like them and while I loosely stick to a grocery budget, when it comes to vegetables I am willing to pay whatever the cost. I have paid $10 for a tiny head of cauliflower, and if peppers are $6.99 a pound, I will still buy ten of them. I know what that sounds like – vegetables are my indulgence – but I guess I’m not willing at this point in my life to go without the things I like.

Suzanne asked: Desert island foods, films, books, music? Do you ever get weirdly obsessed with something? Like, I kept thinking what kind of desert island, would it be like Lord of the Flies or Blue Lagoon? Or Gilligan’s Island? Are these things I would take on a three-hour tour or what? Anyway, weird thoughts notwithstanding, I answered the books piece above, and as for films, I’m going to go with When Harry Met Sally, the single greatest movie of all time. I would take my “Nicole Karaoke” Spotify playlist, and as for foods, my number one favourite, I-could-eat-this-every-day meal is Greek salad with hummus and pita. Also coffee. If there’s no coffee, I would be 100% alone on the desert island due to murder.

Putting The Om in OMG

Suzanne asked: Do you have any life mottos you return to often? Or maybe the best/most useful advice you’ve ever gotten? My favourite motto, and one I try to live by, is “Bloom where you are planted.” Throughout my life, through different stages, jobs, and positions, I try to bloom. Two recent mottos that I have adopted are “Embrace the season” and, from my recent Anne reading, “If you can’t shine like a star, shine like a candlestick.” One of my favourite pieces of advice is from my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON), for when I’m in a difficult or uncomfortable situation: “There will be a time after this.” It has helped me get through many awkward times.

Anna asked: When you do your AM yoga do you follow a plan or do it on your own? Namaste! I have been a long-time Ashtanga practitioner, which follows a set sequence of asana. Up until the pandemic, I practiced Mysore-style Ashtanga, which is essentially a “practice at your own pace, and a teacher helps you when you need it” kind of practice. It set me up perfectly for a pandemic home practice; after years of practice I just automatically flow through the postures, so it is truly a moving meditation. Until 2019, I practiced into the second series, but after injuring my hip while running I focused on healing and gentleness with myself, and now I mainly practice a modified primary series, omitting six postures which are hard on my hip, with extra planks and backbends thrown in. Some days I only do the standing sequence followed by a long meditation, some days I do a restorative practice, but I always get on my mat, whether it be for five minutes or an hour. It sets me up for my day.

Well, this was very fun! Thanks everyone for your questions, and, blog friends, I encourage you to put the “ask me anything” question out to your readers, it is a fun way to connect. Until next time! xo

Fear of Flying, and turning into a flower

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Ninety minutes ago, I considered sitting down to write, but instead sat on the comfortable couch for a few minutes. I promptly fell asleep to the tune of Roomba noisily vacuuming my floors for me – welcome to the future, Mrs. Jetson – and the kids playing the loudest game possible downstairs. I could hear them, through my dozing, excitedly yelling about whatever it was they were doing. I did not investigate.

I feel incredibly refreshed from this unusual and unexpected nap. Maybe it’s some kind of Friday the 13th voodoo going on. The bitter weather has suddenly broken, as it was apparently expected to, according to my mail carrier. I was chatting with him on Wednesday and he, positive and happy soul that he is, informed me that this was the END of the cold weather FOR THE WHOLE WINTER. I confess I looked at him with the kind of smiling face that you give a child who tells you that she is going to be a pony when she grows up.

Have I ever mentioned that there was a period in my childhood where I believed I would grow up to be a flower? Like, an actual plant. I clearly remember reading a story about plant cycles and becoming devastated on the discovery that I would die in the winter. This seems like it might be an allegory for my life but it isn’t, really. I guess I just really liked flowers and aimed to be one. I still like flowers, although it’s not my life goal to be a daisy or a rose anymore.

Speaking of blooming, I just finished reading Fear of Flying. I first read it in my twenties, and even then I did not find it to be the sexually liberating book that it is celebrated as. I didn’t remember it in its entirety, although I did remember grim details like I worried that I got the clap from having sex with all those uncircumcised Florentines. Ew. I found it much more interesting on a historical basis, as much of it takes place in Heidelberg, Germany in the 1960s, which would be a very strange place, post-war. There is much description about Europe in general at that time, and I am just going to come out and say it: I realize that the pendulum swings, and revolutions serve a purpose, but the Sexual Revolution and the concept of Free Love were both pretty gross. I mean, really. Not to mention the descriptions of the lack of hygiene WHILE having all this unprotected sex. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the 80s, when we were all indoctrinated about the importance of safe sex, but IMAGINE all the STDs. Or don’t imagine it.

There is a description about when the narrator has been camping on roadsides in Europe with the man she’s having an affair with. It has been QUITE SOME TIME since she’s showered, they have sex daily, and when she finally gets to an actual (seedy) hotel that has a bathroom, the dirt comes off her arms in streaks. But she can’t take an actual bath because she has her period and somehow does not have any tampons, so no bath for her. What? Why? Ew.

I have really talked about this enough and must change the subject, however gracelessly. Here, take a look at what I found at Superstore!

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This takes me back to the early 90s, when I, along with many of my teenaged peers, wore vanilla perfume. We were like a horde of cookie-scented darlings.

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This brought back memories too! I think I got some of these for Christmas, back in the day. Who knew they still made them?

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I remember everyone who was anyone wore Exclamation back in junior high school, along with their Salon Selectives hairspray holding up their teased bangs. It went well with Levi’s 501 jeans and gargantuan sweatshirts from Beaver Canoe and Roots. Canadiana nostalgia!

In line with my New Year’s Goals/ Resolutions/ Whatever We Are Calling Them These Days, I am reading a lot more and am currently devouring Tamarind Mem. I had read it years ago and it is still wonderful. Bonus for local people: there is a big Calgary connection in the book, even though the mother refers to it as “Calgary North Pole place.” Anyway, it’s a gorgeous read – maybe not as groundbreaking and earth-shattering as Fear of Flying, but it contains no hygienic descriptions that make the reader shudder in horror.

Have a lovely weekend everyone! xo

Hashtag: Boner Killer

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In lo, these many years since my children have been in the public school system – and even before that, when they were in a privately-run preschool – I have seen my share of Spirit Days. From Twin Day to Olympic Day to my much-loathed Dress As Your Favourite Story Book Character Day and it’s equally-loathed Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up Day, I’ve seen them all. I am a veteran of Spirit Days.

Having said that, my children have never once participated in Crazy Hair Day.

Do not get me wrong; Crazy Hair Day is greatly preferred to Crazy Hat Day. Crazy Hat Day was almost always followed by Lice Notice Day, which is no one’s favourite day. We have been very lucky; the boys have less than an inch of hair at any given time, and have – so far, knock on wood and throw salt around – never been afflicted by lice. I’d like to keep it that way.

Yes, the boys have haircuts you could set a watch to, by their own choosing. Once, Jake thought he’d grow his hair out a bit; by the time he had 3/4 of an inch of hair on his forehead he was begging to get it cut. They go into the barbershop like they’re ordering Chinese takeout: I’d like the number 2 on the sides and number 4 on top, please.

But today they decided they would participate in Crazy Hair Day, so they went into the bathroom with a bottle of gel and after a solid twelve minutes of effort, came out looking like this:

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 SETTLE DOWN THERE, BOYS. No need to get so wild.

Speaking of wild, a set of Golden Girls panties came out on the market, and I was notified by no fewer than six people. God, I love my friends: people see “Golden Girls panties” and they immediately think “Nicole would like those.”

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NOTE: The Blanche ones are crotchless.

I ALMOST want to shell out the $160 for the set and then get some boudoir photos taken to give to my husband at Christmas. Sssshhh…don’t tell him. I’m sure he would be thrilled.

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Seriously, what is with the moustaches?

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Mad Men, you guys, Mad Men. Did you watch it last night? Don’t worry, there will be no spoilers here, except to observe that 1970 was evidently the beginning of the Great Moustache Era. So many moustaches! And I confess, from my 2015 viewpoint, I immediately assumed that the first glimpse of Roger Sterling was some kind of circus-like dream sequence, entirely due to his ridiculous moustache and puffy shirt. Then I realized no, that was merely the style.

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He reminds me of a ringmaster in a circus, although those ladies look kind of fabulous.

COME ON. And yet as we all know, styles often look ridiculous, looking back. I’ve worn my fair share of stupid-looking styles, most notably the vertically-teased bangs of the Eighties, the puffy pirate shirts of the Nineties, and the flowy clown pants paired with fitted blazers of Y2K. We’ve all worn styles that we’ve regretted, so I’m not sure why I find thick moustaches and ruffled tuxedo shirts to be quite so hideous, but I do.

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Everything about this look is regrettable.

 

Even as I write this, I look like I’m about to audition for a Flashdance reboot, so I feel hypocritical criticizing menswear circa 1970, and yet.

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All I’m missing is a sweatband and leg warmers.

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Hoo boy, those are some roots. I need a colour job, stat!

The other thing that last night’s Mad Men made me think about (I promise, no spoilers) is how promiscuous the Seventies were. I remember excitedly watching Saturday Night Fever for the first time – and I was an adult – and I was completely shocked by the amount of rampant sex in it: back seat of a car sex, bathroom sex, anywhere sex. Then I read Fear of Flying and was completely grossed out by the promiscuity and corresponding venereal diseases – and I was in my early twenties at the time. YOU GUYS, USE A CONDOM, EW. But that was the Seventies, I guess. As Mona Sterling said in last season’s Mad Men:

Margaret, darling, these people are lost, and on drugs, and have venereal diseases.

Ladies and gentlemen: the Sexual Revolution, summarized nicely.

How was your long weekend? The kids decorated eggs twice – once at my parents’ place, and once at home. There was also a LOT of chocolate. The chocolate combined with two weeks of vacation and vacation-related imbibing has had a negative impact on the fit of my clothes. My skinny jeans are feeling a bit too skinny, if you know what I mean. But that is what vacation is for, and so today I grocery shopped and came home with a plethora of spinach for green smoothies; I’m also congratulating myself on not buying any more Mini-Eggs – it’s a lot harder to sneak the kids’ chocolate when that chocolate is in the form of individually-wrapped chocolate chicks and bunnies.

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Aren’t they pretty?

It’s the Ultimate Pi Day! And other fun topics.

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I’m so excited for tomorrow; it’s the Ultimate Pi Day! 3/14/15!!! ππππππππππ all day long. Maybe I should write this entire post in Greek letters for celebratory reasons.

We are having a celebration of another sort tomorrow; it’s Mark’s birthday party. This afternoon is dedicated to party preparation: Jake is tasked with cleaning up the Lego pile in the basement, Mark is tasked with putting together candy-filled loot bags, and I am taking the boys to the nearest Dairy Queen to buy a Treatzza Pizza. This Treatzza Pizza has been the subject of many a conversation and much excitement and anticipation. I can’t wait to try the Treatzza Pizza! one of the boys has said at least twice a day for the past month. I’m not sure where Mark even got the idea for one; to my knowledge he has never tried such a thing. Marketing! It works, apparently.

Anyone else ecstatic that it’s Friday? Friday the 13th notwithstanding, I am pretty relieved that this week is behind me. The week we switch to Daylight Savings Time is the most exhausting week of the year. I love that several people separately sent me this article, “Alberta Senior Hits Pancake Circuit To Petition Against Daylight Savings Time.” I love this on so many levels. I love that people see someone petitioning against DST, and THINK OF ME. I love that I have something in common with this Alberta senior. I love the term “Pancake Circuit” and want to insert it into every conversation from now on. “I ate a lot of pancakes last year because I went to every pancake breakfast I could.” That, my friends, is dedication. I especially love the opening paragraph:

An 81-year-old senior whose body gets thrown “out of whack” by the annual switch to daylight savings time hit the pancake breakfast circuit to gather signatures to petition the province to end her misery.

She goes on to talk about how difficult it is for staff in seniors’ residences to rouse residents in the morning to ensure they don’t miss their breakfast. YOU DO NOT WANT THE OLD PEOPLE MISSING THEIR BREAKFASTS. No one wants light-headed, grumpy seniors. It’s the same way with the kids – I’ve had to coax my own early-birds out of bed every day this week, and they are usually the bounce-out-of-bed type. Will no one think of the children or seniors?

I’m telling you, this woman is my people.

Also this week was my second-to-last School Council/ Parent Association meeting that I chaired, and that I was almost late for. My husband had a painter in to do a quote for us, and it required so many decisions and colour swatches that I ended up running out the door to make it on time. When I got home later that night I had a list of possible colours, but no actual paint chips, so I had to run to the paint store to figure out what, exactly, the painter had recommended. Right now I’m waffling between a very deep avocado green or a deep blue for the kitchen and a bluish grey or darker bluish grey for the upstairs bathroom. We have settled on a dark rust colour for the downstairs bathroom, which will be quite a change from the current baby blue. On the one hand I’m very excited for the change. Changing paint colours makes the house feel brand new! On the other hand, I’m tired just thinking about having painters in the house, with all the mess and disruption, and possible “dog-brushing-against-wall-and-getting-all-painty” issues. Princess problems, I know.

Here’s some fun news: I buy all my various vitamins and supplements online, and so I get a lot of “20% off! Free shipping!” emails from the company I patronize. Yesterday, I got an email from them with the subject line, “Nicole, slim down for spring! Save 20% on all fat burners!” Then, today I received an email with the subject line, “Nicole, crank up your libido with help from Supplements Canada – 20% off plus free shipping!” WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME? This wouldn’t be so bad except for the newsletter I received in my in-box with the subject line “Why Your Husband Doesn’t Want Sex.” I swear, opening my email is becoming very damaging to my self-esteem.

Childhood Books, and Who Moved My Cheese?

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On Friday, my husband was home from work early – there was an office move going on, and so the work day was cut short. He mentioned that he was thinking of going out to his favourite hamburger place with a work buddy, but decided to come home instead. I was charmed by this and referenced Paul Newman’s famous quote regarding marital fidelity – why go out for a hamburger when you can have steak at home – but my husband was puzzled by this. “So, why would I go out for a hamburger when I can have beans and some weird quinoa thing at home? Maybe some kale? The hamburger sounds better.”

Sigh.

But things did get a little romantic around here on Valentine’s Day, although we don’t exchange gifts or go out for dinner or even buy each other cards.

beefriends

We spent Saturday morning running errands with the kids, and somehow we ended up at the garden centre, where my husband bought grow lights for my brand new indoor herb garden! And before you get too excited, it’s an actual herb garden, not an “herb” garden; cilantro and basil and even some arugula! I may even start some bedding plants inside! It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of, in a seed-starting sort of way. My husband built a shelf and set up My Little Grow-Op and as someone who is not at all handy, I appreciate all over again how nice it is to be married to someone who is, someone who knows all the different kinds of screwdrivers and wrenches and tool-shed what-have-you.

Speaking of which, a friend posted a “50 Shades of Home Depot” photo on Facebook, and I can’t stop laughing at it. Aisle 15: Lubricants, Rope and Chain, Screws, Tie Downs. Hooray for Aisle 15! I wonder if someone has a crazy sense of humour over at Home Depot, or if that particular arrangement of items is company standard.

There has been much buzz about the 50 Shades of Grey movie, and I have to say, I really don’t care. I have not read the books nor will I, and I am not going to watch it either. I’m not interested in reading poorly written books; if I was, I’d have finished Who Moved My Cheese twelve years ago. I think 50 Shades of Grey sounds a lot like the BDSM equivalent of Who Moved My Cheese, actually; there seems to be a lot of common themes – change, denial, mice thriving in maze environments.

My cousin tagged me months – MONTHS – ago, regarding a meme of “10 Memorable Books You Read As A Child” – the definition of “child” being under age 12 and the definition of “memorable” as being books that stuck with you through the years. Without further ado, here are my 10 Memorable Childhood Books:

1) A Little Princess. I’ve written about this before, but A Little Princess was the book I read when I was seven and my younger brother was born. He was a sick baby, and I spent much time at my aunt’s house. I read this book to get out of playing with my younger cousin, deemed “annoying” by me. Of course, being seven, I didn’t really grasp the nuances of British Colonialism, nor did I understand why someone’s parents would be in India while the children were in school in England, and in fact I remember being confused by the words sahib and ayah. It’s such a wonderful book, though, full of hope in the saddest of circumstances. Riches to rags to riches.

2) Little Women. Oh, how I loved – and still love – this book. I read a biography of L. M. Alcott, and it turns out her life was very hard and sad; her own father was a terrible flake who was constantly leaving the family in dire economic circumstances, and it was her writing that pulled the family out of ruin. This is why, in Little Women, Mr. March is mostly absent – off at war – or portrayed in a very glossed-over light; she wanted to honour the good parts of her father, while also leaving him mainly out of the story. It’s a little bit like how Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote the wildly-descriptive food scenes in Farmer Boy – apparently it was her dream to recreate a childhood without hunger.

3) The Long Winter. Speaking of childhood hunger, this most dire of the Little House books was given to me as a birthday gift when I was about eight. If you ever want to feel appreciative of your life, read this book.

4) The Bobbsey Twins. There are two books in this series that I clearly remember – one was about a visit to the farm, and the other was about a visit to Africa. I cannot find any evidence of these books on the internet, or what they may be called. Anyone?

5) Deenie. I read this book when I was in fifth grade or so. I’m in the midst of recapping it over at Throwing It Back, if you too were obsessed with what exactly a Milwaukee brace looked like.

6) Every other Judy Blume book, but especially Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. Didn’t we all learn about our periods that way? Didn’t we all wonder what exactly was a belt for a sanitary napkin? There were a few other books that dealt more with male issues, and to this day I remember being absolutely horrified to learn that boys got erections, and sometimes it was during math class. Looking back, my horror level was such that it is evident I was too young to be reading those books.

7) Sweet Valley High. Remember Sweet Valley High? Oh, those Wakefield twins! Always up to something, in their flashy red Fiat Spider, with their perfect blonde hair. I remember reading those in fifth grade and thinking that high school was going to be just like that. HA HA HA.

8) Emily’s Quest. I loved the Emily books but I especially loved Emily’s Quest – it’s quite dark and adult in theme, in some ways. Unrequited love, preparing to settle with the boring old guy, falling down the stairs and facing leg amputation. Good stuff for a dramatic young girl to read, to be sure.

9) Elsie’s Holidays At Roseland. Good lord, have you read any Elsie books? The copy I have was my grandmother’s childhood book, and WOW is that some messed up shit. Literally, you couldn’t make up something weirder for a children’s book. Premise: two teenagers elope, have a baby, the girl dies, the father leaves the baby – Elsie – with his father’s family. Elsie is around 10 when we meet her. The family itself is so complicated you pretty much need a family tree or a graph to figure out who’s who. There’s a grandfather and a step-grandmother, they have teenage children and children Elsie’s age and younger, and they all live together. Elsie’s father comes back from a sojourn in Europe, and makes up for his absence by being completely domineering and pretty much awful, but Elsie loves him, so there you go. Then the father decides she isn’t submissive enough because she is too set in her Christian ways so he essentially estranges himself from her, and forces the family to treat her like a leper, until she can renounce her strict Christian principles and say that her father is the all-knowing being in her universe. He forces her to separate from her nursemaid, who has raised her, essentially, and Elsie has a nervous breakdown. Like, an almost-dying nervous breakdown. They have to cut off all her hair because of fever, and Elsie worries her father will be “vexed” at her new ‘do. It all ends happily, Elsie’s father decides God has saved her, becomes a good Christian, and all is well. He has a friend who has designs on Elsie, and in later books – it’s a series, my god – this friend of her father’s MARRIES ELSIE WTF IS THIS ACTUALLY A CHILDREN’S BOOK.

10) Heidi. On a much less disturbing, but still kind of disturbing note, Heidi is an orphan who is made to go live with her grandpa somewhere in the Swiss Alps because her aunt – who has been her guardian up to this point – has a job and doesn’t want to be hindered by a child anymore. Well then. Later, of course, she forces Heidi to go live in a city in Germany – Frankfurt,  maybe – to be a companion to a crippled little girl. I’m guessing the aunt was making money on this, I’m not sure. Anyway, ignoring those themes which are pretty gross by today’s standard, Heidi is a charming book. Who didn’t want to eat toasted goat cheese and bread, and sleep in a little hay-loft alcove? I sure did!

Play along, if you like! What childhood books stayed with you? Amazon accidentally sent me two copies of Margaret Atwood’s Stone Mattress, and so I have one to give away. To enter, leave a comment about your favourite childhood books. I think I’ll keep the contest to Canadian residents – shipping, you know – but I’d love to hear from all of you. xoxo