Category Archives: Testosterone-y

November Bits and Bobs

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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

Crying In Superstore

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I am not at all a stress or emotional eater – in fact, in trying times I tend to lose my appetite and forget to eat – but I am a Taurus, and I love to treat myself, particularly when I have had a lot of onerous or tiring tasks. Not always is that treat food-related, although I do love a good Lindor or a bowl of chips with guacamole. More often that treat is a book I’ve been looking forward to after I have washed the floors or an interesting podcast to listen to while doing something boring like folding the laundry. Friday nights that treat is a nice glass or three of wine, to celebrate the start of the weekend. Sometimes I treat myself with a nice bottle of scented lotion or a new beauty product. And then sometimes, I feel the need to bake myself a cake.

Hoo boy, it has been a week, and also, there is more to come. In a nine-day span, every male in this house will have had a medical thing to deal with: my older son had LASIK surgery last week, which turned out to be a real success, my husband has a colonoscopy today, and if you have ever had one yourself, you know that the prep is much, much worse than the actual procedure, and my younger son has not only another podiatrist appointment this week, but his dental surgery got bumped up to this coming Wednesday. That latter is actually a blessing, since I received information that the Grade 12 BBQ and yearbook signing party is on the day that he WOULD have had the surgery, had the surgery not been moved. As it is, he won’t miss the festivities, and he will be hopefully all healed up by that time.

By saying yes to everything and being encouraging of all activities, I have been really committed to ensuring my son has a really great senior year, and I think that he has. In the past, the school has put on a banquet for graduation – except, of course, for the 2020-21 grad classes – but this year, the school decided to have a big dance instead, with grads only, no family members allowed. The school did, however, ask for parent volunteers.

Me: Oh hey, honey, the school needs parent volunteers for the…

My son: No.

Me: But…

My son: NO.

I mean, it’s probably for the best. Who wants their mom hanging around their grad party, even if she is considered to be the Cool Mom? The theme was “A Night In Hollywood” and my son went with a group of his buddies, and it was the best time ever, the end.

Careful readers may have noticed that I said every male in this house, and as such, Rex is included. Oh, Rex. The day of my son’s graduation I took him to doggy day care, as I didn’t want to leave him alone in the house all day. It’s like I have a giant furry toddler. The very next day he whimpered at 5:30 am to be let out and then had, how shall I say this delicately, explosive stomach upset. ONE day at doggy day care! IT IS JUST LIKE HAVING A GIANT FURRY TODDLER. It seemed to be a fairly isolated incident, with a couple of less-dramatic incidents, and he had his usual enormous level of energy, eating and drinking normally. I didn’t worry and I moved on with my life.

That is, until Tuesday when he again whimpered to be let out, this time at 5:00 am, and then he was outside a LOT. One thing no one really tells you when you have a baby is how much time and energy you spend examining their diapers and noting things like colour and “seediness.” The same goes for pets. I found myself examining the back yard and when I discovered blood in one of the very loose stools, I went from Perfectly Calm to Panic at the Doggy Disco. I called the vet who said that they could not get him in until the next day, but if I wanted to come by to grab some probiotics, that would probably help. The next day was when my son was having eye surgery, and then he had checkups the day after that, and it was all the way across the city, during rush hour, and no, I could not bring Rex in the next day, all was ashes.

Panic Level High, I headed to the vet to pick up probiotics and then found myself bursting into tears at the front desk, being completely unable to speak, and unfortunately, the woman I was sobbing in front of was not the same woman who I spoke with on the phone, so she was completely puzzled and alarmed. Who is this crying woman? Did her dog die? Finally the woman I had spoken to did come by, looking at near-hysterical me, and then asked me to wait a moment. She came back to say that if I was willing to just drop Rex off for the afternoon, the vet would squeeze him in between appointments and then call me when she had examined him.

I zoomed home and then zoomed back to the vet, then zoomed over to pick up groceries, but I could not calm down. I could NOT calm down. Rationally I couldn’t understand it: I was doing everything I needed to do, Rex, by all measures other than his BMs, was obviously fine, everything was okay. Still, I couldn’t settle. I would take deep breaths and then my eyes would well up, looking at the bananas and spinach. Then I had a notification on my phone, which is when I realized the date: it would have been Barkley’s birthday. At that point I started crying in the produce section. It was just too much. Everything in my life felt like Too Much. I managed to settle myself down enough to finish shopping – buying all sorts of weird “low fibre” foods for my husband’s upcoming colonoscopy prep – and to drive home. I had just finished putting everything away when the vet called me with the good news that Rex just needed to be dewormed, he was fine, and I could come and pick him up.

Because of Rex’s size, he was in an exam room all by himself, as opposed to in a kennel. The vet started to lead me to the room he was in…and it was the room in which Barkley died.

So it’s been kind of an emotional week, I have to say, and I’ve got a lot to get through this coming week. One foot in front of the other, the only way out is through, etcetera, but hopefully there will be less crying at Superstore.

Weekly Reading

Yellowface. I really love when a book has a lot of nuance, a lot of questions, and nothing that is black or white. This satirical novel about a woman stealing her dead friend’s manuscript, editing it, and passing it off as her own is absolutely incredible and full of so many unanswered questions. The biggest question it poses is who gets to tell what story? This is a very interesting question to me and I think about it a lot. For example, years ago I read American Dirt and really enjoyed it; it was only afterward that I found out about all the controversy surrounding the author. But does that take away from the story? For me it didn’t, for you it might. It’s important to note that women have been telling men’s stories, and vice versa, and I don’t tend to think that’s wrong. Of course, there is the added layer of the publishing industry and the biases and exclusions involved. To add to the irony, the author tells a story about a white woman, which she is not. In addition to the big question, there are many small ones. What about the creative process? Where do stories come from? If an idea comes from a conversation, and a book is written about it, was that a stolen idea? Another theme in this book is the role of social media in our society and the “pile ons” that can happen. There were just so many things that brought to mind the last fifteen years of social media, trolls, etc., and how they affect real people. This book shows the competitive nature of publishing and how everyone is scrambling to get a piece. At the heart of it, this book shows how a lie can turn into a giant web of lies, and how keeping secrets can kill a person from the inside out. I almost never say this, but wow, this book lived up to the hype!

When The Apricots Bloom. I thought I would love this book about 2002 Iraq. It has, theoretically, everything I love in a book: description of a different culture, an alternate look at an international political situation, three women protagonists and how they are connected. But yet, I did not like this book AT ALL. The plot, which should have been interesting – the secret police, espionage! – dragged and the dialogue was terribly stilted. What a disappointment.

On this emotional roller coaster of a week, I had my first kale harvest of the year! The gnomes must be helping. I had planted a few different varieties and they were delicious. I hope you all have a beautiful, non-roller-coaster style week, with lots of fresh produce and minimal produce aisle crying. xo

Living La Vida Loca

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Well, it finally happened: one of my sons came home AFTER I had gotten up for the day. It was only a matter of time before we became ships passing in the night, but the reason for the lateness was so ridiculous that it could have only happened to a teenage boy.

The boys went to a movie with friends on Thursday night; my younger son and his buddies did not have school on Friday because why would they have a full week of school after a three-week exam break and, before that, winter break? My older son didn’t have a shift the next day, so they headed to the movies after I went to bed, i.e., 8:30.

I got up to use the bathroom at 3:00 and noticed that while my younger son’s door was closed, indicating he was home and sleeping, my older son’s was not. Weird, I thought, Is he up playing VIDEO GAMES? He hasn’t done that in a very long time. I peeked outside and his car wasn’t there. I noticed a note in the kitchen, left by my younger son. The note indicated that my older son was waiting with his friend for a tow truck to come for his friend’s car. “EVERYONE IS SAFE” my son had written on the note, circling it several times, god bless.

A few things to note: I know of at least three of my sons’ friends who have crashed their cars on snowy and icy roads, and this particular friend was one of them. I also know of their friends with unreliable vehicles; my younger son regaled me with a story about one friend’s car that stalled out on an extremely busy six-lane thoroughfare, and the three passengers – my son included – had to push it off to the side and do some emergency work to get it moving again. Since my son had indicated that everyone was safe, I assumed hopefully that the situation was more like the latter than the former. In any case, I went back to bed, where I dozed fitfully.

By the time I had gotten up for the day, 75 minutes later, my son still hadn’t arrived, at which point I called him. They were still waiting for a tow, the vehicle was stuck in the snow, everything was fine. Okay.

I did some writing, drank some coffee, and started my yoga practice. Still no son. He finally came home at 5:45, exhausted, to me on the yoga mat and my husband losing his mind over the irresponsibility of youth, when it was revealed that the vehicle stuck in the snow was stuck in the snow in a school field (HOW DID YOU GET INTO A FIELD IS YOUR CAR OKAY WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOUR FRIENDS). I was pretty calm though; the driver is a strict non-drinker, my son’s car was not involved, no one was hurt, there was no damage at all, even to the vehicle in question. It turns out that after the movie and McDonalds, the group got the brilliant idea to drive through the junior high school field in his friend’s MOM’S SUV. To top things off, while on the field the driver thought it would be fun to drive on to the outdoor skating rink, which is surrounded by mounds of snow from where the rink had been shovelled clear. This is where the brilliant plan fell apart, the front wheels on the ice, the SUV bottomed out on the snow, the back tires wedged into the field snow.

Why this seemed like a good idea to anyone, no one can say, but hours of shovelling and wedging boards underneath the tires and even having a couple of passing-by twentysomethings helping, while they (probably drunkenly) laughed hysterically proved futile, and they phoned for a tow. The reason my son stayed was because it was his phone they used – the driver’s phone had died. By the time the tow truck arrived it was discovered that a) the emergency plan did not cover a vehicle not on a legal roadway, and b) they didn’t have a winch to pull it out, so nothing could be done.

In my recent Ask Me Anything, Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked: If one of your sons was about to get married/ enter a long term relationship, what would be your number one piece of advice? Other than stay on legal roadways, I would say that a couple should be in sync for the Big Things. My husband and I differ in many ways and those ways do not bother me much: he eats meat and I do not, he prefers puzzles that are super-difficult and I like the kinds that have lots of individual pictures to work on, he likes TV shows about gold mining in Alaska and people training for the Special Forces whereas I would rather read a book. But on the Big Things – money and raising kids being the top two – we agree. Sometimes, though, our end result is the same but our journey is different, and that is exactly the case for this late night school field caper. My feeling was Alls-Well-That-Ends-Well-What-Have-We-Learned, whereas my husband was WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING YOU IDIOTS DO NOT EVER DO SOMETHING THIS STUPID AGAIN. We get to the same place, but we take a different road to get there.

Part of my calmness stems from the fact that I remember very well what it was like to be young. I very much recall, when I was about sixteen or so, visiting my cousins in the summer and, after we got bored of driving up and down the main drag of their small town for what seemed like hours, we drove through farmer’s fields. Why? Who knows. I also remember being in the car with two girlfriends, and one of them said “Oh, turn right here,” at which point the driver turned right there, as in, into a grassy park, as opposed to turning right at the next possible right-hand turn. Imagine, if you will, three screaming sixteen-year-old girls, in a car stuck in the grass. I don’t remember exactly how we got the car out but it felt harrowing at the time.

Lisa (HI LISA) asked: Is there a stage of parenting you especially loved or loathed? What advice would you give to someone in the earlier stages of parenting like me? I actually have not loathed any stages of parenting; I have enjoyed them all but I will say that my enjoyment has increased as they have gotten older. There are times when I think with affection back to their cute, chubby baby and toddler selves, but I do remember how much physical work it was just to leave the house. I loved their school years and their preteen years, despite the angst and the social and scholastic navigating that had to happen. I think I love the teen years best of all, even when they stay up all night doing stupid things, and even though in the first few months of driving I was on the edge of my seat whenever they were out.

Since I was asked, I will offer two pieces of parenting advice. The first is start now with open communication. I always wanted my kids to be able to talk to me without sneaking around, lying, or deception. It’s easier said than done when the kids admit to something you’re not happy with, like, for example, driving in a friend’s mom’s vehicle through a snowy field. Anyway. Around four years ago, my son was dating a girl who was, according to her parents, not allowed to date until she was 18. The solution to this problem is that she was telling her parents that she was out with girlfriends when she was out with my son. I mentioned this to a friend of mine who said “What? That’s unacceptable! You have to call those parents or tell your son she can’t see her until they are in the know!” Well. That is exactly what I DID NOT do. I wanted at least one adult to be informed, and that adult was going to be me. Forbidding or restricting teens will only blow up in your face, and it will ruin the parent-child relationship. I didn’t want my son to start lying to me about this relationship, so I just listened a lot until the relationship ran its course.

My second piece of advice is something that my friend Allison (HI ALLISON) said many years ago, in the context of chaperoning a field trip, but what I think is a valid process for any occasion: there will be a time after this. It’s a mantra that has gotten me through many times: from my own times of field trip chaperoning to parenting teens through a pandemic and online schooling. One day, I would think, I’ll remember this time as a time that has passed, and now we are in a different time. When things are tough, remember that; there will be a time after this.

Weekly Reading

Carnival of Snackery. I wanted to reread this, David Sedaris’ diaries from 2003-2020, after reading Happy Go Lucky, in which he revealed the disturbing nature of his father’s abuse. Having this information changed the reading experience for sure. There are many anecdotes about his father, and they really hit differently; instead of seeming like a mean-spirited buffoon, his father takes on a whole different persona. I love this book because I can see how some of his essays came about – Carol the fox makes an appearance, and so does his FitBit. It’s endlessly entertaining and often startling, against a changing social and political backdrop.

Bad Vibes Only. For the most part I really enjoyed this book of essays. A few of them didn’t resonate, but for the most part I found these thoughtful and thought-provoking, balanced, and smart. I particularly liked the essays about body image, and I found myself gasping out loud about an essay about a child left in the backseat of a car, and parental judgement.

Convenience Store Woman. This was such an interesting little book about a woman who has always struggled to fit into normal society – until she finds a job at a convenience store, and is able to live with purpose and within defined parameters. But her single status is distressing to those around her, so she takes up with a man who is a grifter and who encourages her to quit to find a better paying job, with which to support him. It’s an unsettling commentary on societal expectations for women, but also a cheer for those who are not neurotypical, and a celebration of differences.

In other, non-human-teen news, Rex went to the groomer’s this week! Here’s the Before and After:

Look at this saucy pose.

We’re just driving on legal roadways, right?

Have a beautiful week, friends! xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2022

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Happy Almost New Year! I hope you have all been having a restful and restorative week! I have been enjoying myself immensely; lots of sleep, puzzles, books, food, and wine. We spent a few days at my parents, which is always fun, and involves games and food and more wine.

As is usual at this time of year, I’ve been reflecting a lot on the year that’s passed and the year that is to come. One of the biggest benefits to having a blog is the ability to look back, and wow, have we come a long way since this time last year. Late December/ early January were an absolute low point; things were dismal. Happily, on our Roller Coaster of Life, things have been more up than down; so let’s take a look at what happened in the Boyhouse in 2022.

January

The New Year started off pretty bleak and grim, with winter break extended and all diploma exams cancelled, and to distract myself from complete despair I talked about my concepts and mantras I try to live by every day, the kids did go back to school and I decided to stop reading the news, I talked about actual quantifiable goals that I work towards every day, I talked about how much I hate filtered photos, how I actually thought about Botox, and how I was unfriended by a high school acquaintance not once but twice, and I had a roller-coaster of a week that included new neighbours, a cancelled trip, a mouse in the house, and a possible hoarding issue with macadamia nut milk. This month’s Favourite Things were of the Hygge variety, appropriately enough.

February

I talked about all the fun physical changes that come in one’s forties, including but not limited to moustaches and chin hair, I had massive gratitude for all the Galentines in my life, I showed you a Week of Winter Outfits (spoiler: lots of sweaters and legwarmers), and I talked about automatic car starters and marital mismatches. I also told you all about the daily choices I make to show myself some love.

March

All Covid restrictions were dropped, and I went to Costco and lost my mind, it was exactly two years since the pandemic started, and we celebrated my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, two years and one week in, we got Covid, and we eventually recovered enough to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary with a Banff getaway, and my son turned 18. While we were isolated, I talked about the things that made my recovery happier.

April

I talked about the juxtaposition of my desire to wave at every neighbour and my reluctance to talk to them and hear insensitive comments about Barkley (god, that was hard for me to read), there were many signs of spring in my life, Salvadore came into my life and brought so much gnome-related happiness, we had a massive snowstorm and I scheduled appointments like a boss. It was my birthday and I talked about 47 things I love.

May

I was absolutely exhausted from the neighbour’s construction, our internet went out for seven hours and somehow we all survived, we had a lot of snow and I went to the garden centre, I shared my Week of Spring Outfits, and my son had his high school graduation ceremony, dance, and banquet, none of which I thought would happen, and I am eternally grateful. At that point I stopped my Weekly Covid Count. I also shared with you my makeup routine, and included my 4:00 am bare face.

June

I lived on the edge and planted my tomatoes slightly early while the construction guys listened to Dick in a Box, I had a weird medical mystery, my midlife crisis manifested in me giving Salvadore an actual bubble bath, and I confessed to having Low Level Shame about ghosting my long-time hair stylist. I also joined my husband in Banff for a Fancy Conference. Well, I was there for the Fancy part, he was there for the Conference part.

July

On June 30, we said goodbye to Barkley, and we were all brokenhearted. We started off the summer with some visiting relatives from California – including my teenage pen pal – and our usual trip to the lake for Canada Day, I found solace in hiking, my garden, and cooking, and I also snapped at door-to-door solicitors, I talked about Cart Karma, I started a Big Project and Curated my Closet, and in the face of a Calgary Heat Wave, I shared my Week of Summer Outfits. It was also the Ten Year Anniversary of Nicole’s Favourite Things!

August

We went on vacation, I read a lot, I vowed to have Just One Backup of everything in the house and kind of failed, I got all nostalgic, my husband and I went to Mexico where I spoke broken Spanish and sang karaoke, and I read a lot more. Notably and for the first time ever, I travelled with ONLY carryon, and I can never go back, proving that YOU SHOULD NEVER JUDGE.

September

Life has its ups and downs, and to that end there were mice in the house and the boys drank our expensive Patron mixed with Dr Pepper, on the same day I cleaned my kitchen with a toothbrush, the Queen died, my son turned 17 and when I went grocery shopping I realized I had some kind of Psychological Long Covid, and I thought about house staging and photo filtering, and showed photos of my unstaged, unfiltered home. My son went backcountry camping and to distract myself from thoughts of giardiasis I talked about a variety of Favourite September-Related Things.

October

My son did not get giardiasis, but we had a number of run-ins with local wildlife, one of my students introduced me to the concept that Gratitude Is The First Step To Joy, and I listed off some of the things I am grateful for, Rex came into our lives and has brought us so much happiness, I shared my Week of Fall Outfits, I talked about body changes and the concept of “flattering” when it comes to clothes, and I prepared for Halloween like a crazy person. I also celebrated all things fall-related!

November

I rapidly shifted into Winter and Tiny Secret Festive Season, we celebrated our one-month Rex-aversary, I finished my Christmas shopping, I joined all the cool kids in doing a Day in the Life post, I revealed my longtime desire to join a flash mob, and my son decided to join the throngs of men who observe Movember. I talked about Christmassy favourites and just regular favourites.

December

We all started Advent calendars, and mine was a puzzle one, I went to an actual holiday party with actual people and actual fancy clothes, I answered your questions about the holidays, I took the car in for servicing and it was a huge ordeal, I revealed my favourite childhood gifts, and I celebrated my girlfriends. On Festivus I talked about my favourite holiday things and also how I jerry-rigged the furnace.

It has been quite a year! 2023 will be a year of change for me; I’m not great with change, and I love my life as it is, but change is part of life, so here we go! Time to jump in. Happy New Year to all of you. Thanks for being here on this journey with me. xo

I Moustache You A Question

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I had my hair cut this week – and, as a complete sidebar, it was the best cut I have ever had in my life and I have never before been so happy with my hair, in all of my 47 years of life – and the salon owner was there, as he usually is. I don’t normally chat with him much but I noticed he was sporting a thick moustache. It was then that I realized that, apart from the inhabitants of the Boyhouse, I do not see many men on a daily basis.

Pre-pandemic I would have men in my yoga classes, I worked with men, I would see men in various events and meetings, and every November a large number of them would suddenly have moustaches, and I would wonder to myself did he always have that moustache, or is this a Movember thing?

Many years ago, my sons were in a karate school, and one day when I was waiting for them to be dismissed I recognized a man waiting for his son; we had been friends in university but I hadn’t seen him since. I said hi and introduced myself, and we chatted for not ten seconds before he pointed to his face and said “Excuse the moustache, I’m doing this Movember thing.”

Before we get too far into things, I want you to know, dear reader, that I am not anti-moustache. In fact, if I let things go in the hair removal department, I would certainly be sporting a handlebar myself. I think many men suit a moustache, particularly men of a certain generation: I’m thinking specifically of Tom Selleck and Sam Elliott. But moustaches in general are not my favourite, and I am working hard to keep this opinion to myself.

My younger son, for reasons known only to him, has decided to grow a moustache for the month of November. Possibly beyond November. We don’t know. Only time will tell. The last time such a shaving-mutiny happened in my house was at the very beginning of the pandemic when the boys, at that time aged 16 and 14 1/2, decided they would not shave until the pandemic was over. Well. At the time they probably thought it would be a month or maybe six weeks, and in fact, my younger son thankfully did shave around May 2020. My older son held on until the fall, when he saw a photo of himself and was horrified.

This time is different. There are many guys at the high school who have full beards, and while my son is not one of them, he does have quite a dark, relatively thick moustache, for a 17-year-old. I don’t love it but it’s his face, it’s just facial hair, and our children are their own people with their own body autonomy and ability to make their own choices. Right? I think of when I was 17; if someone had told me they didn’t like my army boots with babydoll dresses, or that some day I might regret the long, spiral permed hair with giant bangs, or that Revlon’s Love That Red lipstick was a bit much for math class at 9 in the morning, I would have wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves. So I support my son’s facial hair choice, even if I prefer his face clean-shaven.

Many, many years ago, I remember a woman on Twitter who went by the moniker PhD In Parenting, which is a pretty bold statement, in my mind. Personally, I think of myself more as a High School Graduate But In The Remedial Stream In Parenting, so this is not expert advice, but I think the key to parenting at any age, but especially teens, is to treat our kids in a way that we would also want to be treated. I often think of that poem “Your children are not your children,” because they need to make choices and decisions and live their lives in a way that might not always jive with my way.

So far it’s worked for me. I acknowledge that I am very, very fortunate in that all our personalities get along in this house, and that we have not had any major issues. This is, I think, more luck of the draw than parenting, but sometimes I get praised in a way that I don’t think I deserve.

My younger son and his moustache have been seeing a podiatrist for about six weeks now, and every time we go there it’s like a Celebration Of The Wonder Who Is My Son. It’s quite over the top and I love it. This reaction from the staff is possibly because he appears to be the only patient under 65 in the office, and hence is a bit of a novelty, but he is truly a very kind and polite person. The receptionist and nurse fawn all over him, and when he does something simple like ask them how they are doing, they gush about his manners and congratulate me on raising such an incredible young man.

I accept this praise and congratulations wholeheartedly, but I honestly think parenting is only part of the story. It’s an important part, to be sure, but so much of the way a person presents themselves to the world is on them. So much of a person is just the way they ARE, and that leads to a philosophy I strongly adhere to in both parenting and in life: we need to meet people where they are and accept them for who they are. We need to accept them even when they are different from us, even when they have our own traits that we don’t like, and even when they decide that moustaches are the way to go.

Weekly Reading

The Beauty of Living Twice. Two things: 1) Sharon Stone has led an incredibly interesting and meaningful life, 2) she is a very intelligent woman but intelligence doesn’t always translate to “good writer.” I think this book could have benefitted from a ghostwriter. Her journey is fascinating but I was very put off by the choppy writing style. I didn’t realize she had suffered a major stroke – and, apparently, massive medical incompetence to the point of malpractice – and nearly died. A lot of this book is about her healing journey, her activism, and her embrace of Buddhism. The writing kind of wrecked the story for me, sadly, because I think it’s a good one. She overcame poverty and childhood sexual and physical abuse, as well as her health issues and “being too old” to get work in Hollywood, post-stroke.

How To Keep House While Drowning. I heard an interview with this author, and I knew I wanted to read her book. She was due to have her second baby and, given that she suffered postpartum depression with her first, she set up a whole support network to help in the weeks after giving birth. She arranged for meal delivery, help with housework, for her older child to go to preschool four days a week, the works. She had the baby in February 2020. I don’t need to tell you how that affected her postpartum support.

Remember in the early days of the pandemic when we were all scrubbing our baseboards and purging our closets and using powdered Tide to “strip” the laundry? Remember all those cleaning hacks? This book is not that. This book is a very gentle, very kind guide to creating a functional living space and caring for that space, and yourself, when you feel like you are literally drowning. This is a support book for people who might feel like they just can’t get the energy to brush their hair, let alone polish their sinks. This book is written for the neurodivergent – the author herself has ADHD – and for people who are really, really struggling with executive functioning and day-to-day life, but I think that anyone can benefit from reading it. At the very least, you will come away with the idea of “moral neutrality,” which means that housework or lack thereof does not dictate what kind of a person you are. You are not a superior person if you fold your laundry and you are not inferior if you cannot wash the dishes more than once every three days. Those things are morally neutral. This book creates a feeling of kindness and compassion for ourselves and for others, and uses the words “care tasks” in place of “chores,” which has a much nicer connotation. There is also a very important discussion about environmental choices, and how most environmentalism serves able-bodied people of privilege, but doesn’t consider those who are disabled in any way. Most of all, this book gives permission to take care of yourself and your living space – in whatever form that takes – without moral judgement. It’s a quick and easy read and I highly recommend it.

Catastrophic Happiness. How did I miss this when it came out SIX YEARS AGO! I was devouring Newman’s We All Want Impossible Things when I saw that this book of essays about parenting children in the pre-teen, post-baby era existed and I never read it! Colour me embarrassed. Well, this gave me a lovely nostalgic feeling and fans will just love it. I did! It also made me breathe a sigh of relief that tantrums, childhood illnesses, and stress about am I doing this right are in the rearview mirror for me.

My husband finished all the outdoor decorations just in time before another harsh cold front descended, and the four of us put up the tree and indoor decorations, all while wearing our WWE Christmas sweaters, speaking of meeting people where they are and showing interest in teens’ own niche interests. Longtime readers may recall that at the time of our sweater acquisition the only female wrestler-themed sweater available was six sizes larger than the one I typically wear, which makes it pretty cozy. Could I have purchased a MALE wrestler-themed sweater that would have been closer to my size? I could have. But I am a firm Supporter Of Women, even for something this ridiculous. In other news, I have two new gnome decorations for the tree – one from my mom – and the house feels very hygge and festive as Old Man Winter descends once again with frigid temperatures and snow. I hope you are cozy and hygge, wherever you are. xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2021

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Is it just me or was this year actually a decade?

Well! I think at this time last year we thought the Pandemic At The Disco would be in the rearview mirror, and yet it is not. Currently we are going through our FIFTH wave, which is extremely disheartening and, at this point, makes me feel like this is forever. Intellectually I know that’s not the case; everything passes with time and this will too. (WHEN?)

We are ending the year on a low; yesterday it was announced that the winter break would be “extended” and the January diploma exams, of which my older son was due to write three, have been cancelled. It is very discouraging. Going through this post I realized that there were many low moments, but I do feel like there was a lot of joy and laughter this year as well. I think living through a global pandemic has forced me to re-examine my life and to make new kinds of choices about it. There have been ups and downs and in-betweens, and, on that note, let’s examine the year in the Boyhouse.

Boyhouse Year In Review 2021

January

I set some goals and expressed my gratitude, I cleaned my oven and reused canning lids, after six weeks of at-home learning the kids went back to school and my son immediately broke his glasses in gym class, and I talked about being judgmental and how I don’t want to be that way, but we are only human. I also shared my hot tip on how to grow your hair out – just stop cutting it.

I kind of forgot how grim things were last January, with everything closed down for the second wave. Wait, was it the second? Yes, second. Still, look at that photo! Lots of beauty still to be found.

February

I continued to embrace the concept of friluftsliv with my fabulous wardrobe choices, I decided to change my mindset towards overstocking the pantry and also my period, it was really, really cold and it was also Family Day, which was great since I hadn’t spent every SINGLE waking hour with my family for eleven months, and I was really sad and couldn’t figure out if it was hormones or, you know, life in a pandemic. I also expressed my love for hearts and chocolate.

I must have cleaned my fridge right before that photo – it’s so shiny!

March

My son was almost done with his braces and to celebrate, I made him be my pack horse at the liquor store, in the spirit of Trying New Things I had body sugaring done and it was life-changing, I reflected on one year of Pandemic Living, I compared Costco 2021 to Costco 2020, and we had A Very Eventful Week which started with me thinking I had a blood clot to my son threatening to burn his orthodontic elastics, and, failing that, his masks. To add to the excitement, I talked about my favourite cleaning items, please don’t everyone click on that at once, you might break the internet.

April

Wow, a lot of things went wrong and so I was as cross as two sticks, my tenacious chin hair turned white and I had lots of awkward interactions at the library, we were in another mini-lockdown and so I talked about my Coping Mechanisms, I talked about being Pro-Aging, as opposed to Anti-Aging, which is a ridiculous concept, and I got vaccinated the day after my birthday! I also talked about my favourite skin-care products FOR PRO-AGING.

Gosh, remember how hopeful we all felt back then? Like the Pandemic was no longer going to be At The Disco. Good times.

May

After talking about Pro-Aging, I was asked if I wanted the senior’s discount at Shoppers, and then the lady didn’t even give me the discount, I had a really big downward spiral and then started to climb back up, then I had lots of ups and downs, including lineups at Costco (down) and flower purchases (up), it snowed and the kids were slated to go back to in-person school, Barkley turned 13, and I discussed all my favourite little helpers!

June

I was inspired to Embrace the Season – inspired by a woman who, sadly, has just recently passed after a long and difficult illness. Her words will remain with me forever, and she will be much missed. Rest in peace, Melanie.

Less sadly, I talked about clothing trends and how depressing the mall is these days, after a couple of weeks being in school the boys were on exam break, our provincial government continued to be stupid and dropped every single Covid protocol which, spoiler alert, was not a good idea, and I did a lot of gardening.

July

We visited my parents and I swam in the lake, the province may have dropped their mask mandate, but I kept my own, I talked about aging and my aging face, and I bought new bras and shared my favourite life-changing items.

August

We went on vacation and unsurprisingly given the complete lack of Covid restrictions, there were tons of outbreaks, I read a lot, I was grateful to Spotify, my aunt sent me Royal Family memorabilia, I almost lost my mind not being able to find my clothes, I did an “Ask Me Anything” post, I recycled all the old boxes my husband had hoarded out of the storage room, I got very Landslide-y, and recalled all the stupid things I used to worry about, and I loved my garden.

September

Thank you, Universe, the kids went back to school, we got our ducts cleaned and found a sheep, and my husband and I went to Lake Louise, I recapped eighteen months of Pandemic Life, my son turned 16 and I did a deep dive into Jane Eyre, I talked about clothing trends and bought new jeans, and I shared all my handbags with you.

October

I was feeling very low, I talked about gourds and Gords, I was – as always – grateful for modern technology as I have zero sense of direction, my cute little mini-gourds were being eaten by something in the neighbourhood, and I shared my favourite things about Spooky Season and discovered a gruesome scene.

November

I shifted my festivities focus from Spooky Season to Tiny Secret Festive Season, I was living la vida hygge, I had one-on-one time with my younger son and WE ATE TAKEOUT FOOD, I learned about thirst traps, I got full-on festive, and I talked about the reasons I love November.

Usually by this time in the annual recap, I think well, this just happened! but it feels like November was a year ago already. Time has no meaning.

December

I received the most thoughtful Secret Santa gift and my son came down with a cold, I completely lost track of the days, I had not one, but two Christmas miracles, I went to Banff with my husband, and I shared my favourite things about December.

As we wrap up the (very strange and weirdly long) year, I wish you all the best in 2022. WHO KNOWS WHAT 2022 WILL BRING. I think we can all agree that no one can predict anything anymore, but I hope you are all safe and healthy, and am wishing you much joy, peace, and happiness. Thank you, always, for reading my little blog. xo

Full-On Festive; Eighty-Nine Weeks In

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It’s up! It’s up! The tree is up!

I was visiting with a friend (HI MARION) last Thursday and I mentioned how excited I was to put up the tree that evening. “It is so LATE to be putting the tree up,” I said, as she cocked her head and looked at me. I mean, it was November 25. It FELT late.

We don’t normally put up the tree on a weeknight – I’m generally nearly comatose in the evenings – but my husband has been busy, busy, busy at work, in a “working all weekend” kind of way, and the boys inexplicably had Friday off, and so we put on our new Christmas sweaters and carped the diem.

During the summer, WWE Christmas sweaters were on clearance, and the three guys each got one, along with a snowman Roman Reigns – if you know, you know, and also I SEE YOU – and I initially rejected the idea of getting a Christmas sweater for myself. Then, I started to feel left out, but by that time the only women’s sweater left on clearance was not in my size, but no matter. I am now the Legit Boss. Again, if you know, you know.

Welcome to our tree, Roman Reigns in snowman form.

Bye, Buddy! Hope you find your dad!

I feel like we could make a Bob Ross/ Iceman comparison here. Both make no mistakes.

Our tree and decorations are – clearly – not of designer quality, but everything has a story associated with it and I love them all so much. Decorating for Christmas is one of my favourite things about the entire year; it’s definitely a family affair filled with excitement, discussion about ornaments, and general chaos.

I had a few people express surprise that my kids still enjoy this activity, and then I wondered if maybe they participated out of a feeling of obligation to their mother. I asked them separately, and they both said that it was one of their favourite Whole Family Activities of the year, which was extremely gratifying to hear.

Over a period of weeks, my husband has been working on the outdoor decorations, and they too are finished!

He also has set up the lights over the garage – which I view from the kitchen – to go on at 5:00 am, which is right when I start my yoga practice and it makes me so happy to see them.

What I’m saying is that Tiny Secret Festive Season has morphed into Full-On Festive Season.

I needed this Festive Feeling because it’s been a week, my goodness you guys. A WEEK. We’ve had some globally bad news, some personally bad news, some really sad extended-family related news, and, on a much lighter note, some personal stress from having a teenage driver.

Parents of teen drivers: do you ever get to a point where you don’t feel at least low-level anxiety when they take the car out? My friend Jen (HI JEN) said she still does even though her teen has his own car and has driven to school daily for over a year. My son does not have his own car; he drives my minivan, which is its own source of stress. On Friday, their day off of school, he drove six (SIX) of his friends to what was supposed to be an afternoon of laser tag, but because of a booking mixup that fell through. He put EIGHTY KILOMETRES on my car, driving around, until they finally ended up at Denny’s. Denny’s! It reminded me of that old comedy routine from the 80s: No one ever GOES to Denny’s. You will probably END UP at Denny’s, but no one ever says “Let’s go to Denny’s.” Truth. Well, he’s a good driver, very calm and competent, but I was feeling low-level stressed-out until he was home. The low-level stress continued when he told me one of the destinations was downtown, and the parking situation was difficult, and a right-hand turn onto a one-way street was hard with all the traffic, and you know what, my palms are getting sweaty just thinking about it.

I have to remind myself that when I was 17, I was driving all around all the time, and my parents had no idea where I was at any given time, and no way to get a hold of me. Imagine, you guys! Imagine the stress! Hoo boy. I cannot. At least these days, we can stalk our teens with various phone apps, but of course, that can lead to confusion too. Like when you think that the kids are going to laser tag over by the airport and then you see that they are actually downtown and then, weirdly, at Denny’s.

Pandemic Reading

Who Is Maud Dixon. First of all, many thanks to Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) for this recommendation. I don’t think I would have picked it up without her rave review, and that would have been awful – I enjoyed this so very much! Florence thinks she’s landed a dream job, assisting the woman who writes under the pseudonym Maud Dixon. They travel to Morocco for research, and a terrible accident ensues. Florence wonders if she can just…take over as Maud and realize her dream of becoming a famous writer. There were so many twists and turns in this book, what a great read!

Intuitive Eating. This was another recommendation, this time by my friend Anna (HI ANNA). Anna and I are book twins and she spoke so highly of this book. I felt kind of weary and reluctant to read yet another book about diet culture, but, book twins! So I picked it up and I was glad I did. This is absolutely NOT a weight-loss book or a book about how to change your body shape or size. This is a book about respecting your body, loving yourself EXACTLY AS YOU ARE, treating yourself with kindness and compassion, and rejecting the diet culture that is so pervasive in our world.

An interesting note, and one I have seen in a few books lately, is that all the latest research indicates that diets, in 95% of cases, lead to weight GAIN, not loss, and that weight cycling from dieting is associated with far worse health outcomes than wearing extra pounds. That, to me, is kind of mind-blowing. Also, when diets fail – which, again, due to research about what our bodies need and how they cope, is almost always – we tend to put the blame on ourselves, rather than the diets. The analogy used in this book is that if there was a new medication for asthma that gave us excellent results for two weeks, and then much worse breathing and also other health issues for the rest of our lives, we would not blame ourselves. We would say it’s the fault of the medication.

Anyway, it’s very interesting, and also references the famous Minnesota Starvation Experiment, which I know that I’ve referenced before as having parallels to early pandemic empty shelves and our subsequent obsession with having enough flour, toilet paper, and every other thing that was hard to get early in the pandemic. One of the most interesting things from the Minnesota Starvation Experiment is that some of the men were obsessed with food and getting enough to eat well after the experiment was over, some for their entire lives.

All of which is to say this book provided a lot of food for thought, and I didn’t even want to read it! I’m glad I did.

Such A Quiet Place. When a quiet neighbourhood is rocked by a double murder, the residents band together to incarcerate the main suspect. But when the suspect is exonerated and returns to the neighbourhood, things go off the rails. Who can you trust? This was an exciting read.

I hope you all have a great week! We are going into December already, what even! xo