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Five For Friday: The Good, Bad, and Unspeakable Edition

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ONE. One of the greatest pleasures in the world is good food, and Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked what was the single best meal you had in 2024? I mean, I went to Italy for three weeks. I had so many good meals! Plus, my garden was so prolific this year that I was able to eat so well, and so fresh, for months. But if I had to choose one meal, just one, it would be the pappa di pomodoro in Sienna.

A close runner-up would be this bruschetta in Rome, complete with Aperol spritz:

Not pictured but always remembered are the myriad bowls of delectable pasta with tomato-based sauces and with pesto, the baskets of bread with balsamic vinegar and oil, and one particular cup of orange non-dairy gelato from a place in Rome, just down from our hotel. The gelato had tiny pieces of candied orange scattered through it and I may be thinking about it until I shuffle off this mortal coil.

TWO. It was during our trip to Italy that my husband and I decided we needed more intentional connection. Do not worry, this is not going to be a discussion about intercoursing, although of course that is a good thing to keep the home fires burning, as it were. I think that marriages, and relationships more generally, go through many iterations over time, particularly if there are children involved. When the kids were very small it felt like my husband and I were amiable zookeepers, just trying to figure things out to keep the zoo inhabitants thriving. Then those inhabitants got older and busier and my husband’s work ramped up and life just became demanding. Now, of course, all those things have changed; one might think that because my husband is retired, we are together all the time, but that’s not the case. The two of us often have parallel days, with the exception of dinner, which we eat together every night with whichever of our children is around, and at which we have never allowed screens or devices. Unless, of course, if there is an “important” football game during the dinner hour, and then it’s screened quietly in the background in the room adjacent to the dining room.

In Italy we decided it would be good for us to have a devoted time together, just the two of us, no phones or books or television, and so we decided to have a weekly cocktail hour. Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked how did you come up with the idea, and how do you implement it? As with everything in my life, it’s scheduled – usually on Fridays, late in the afternoon. My husband makes us cocktails or pours wine, and we turn everything off, and talk. It’s a fun treat that I look forward to, and I think it’s good for the old marriage vows.

THREE. It’s not all sunshine and cocktails around here, though. We disagree on a few things and probably always will. Elisabeth (HI AGAIN ELISABETH) asked what topic are you most likely to disagree about? We disagree about cilantro, the definition of the patriarchy, cake frosting, and whether or not Rex should have a treat just for coming inside after a romp around the yard. I’ll leave you to decipher who is on which side here. But the topic that we disagree on the most, and that I have waved the white flag about because one can only fight so long, is how to hang up towels.

My husband hangs up all manner of towels – bath, hand, tea – folded neatly down the middle. I think that folding in thirds, with the outside edges hidden, is far superior from an esthetic standpoint, and also from a use-of-space standpoint, particularly with regards to bath towels. Friends, you cannot change a leopard’s spots, and I know when to fold them, literally, in this case. I listened to a podcast in which a man said that he gave up fighting his husband about leaving his dirty underwear on the floor, and just picks it up, and now it’s marital bliss, and I thought oh god, at least I’m not living with a grown man who is incapable of using a goddamn laundry hamper. If this long-suffering dirty underwear-retrieving fellow could survive such atrocities, I could survive incompatible towel folding methodology! Do you want to have towels folded in thirds, or do you want to be married? I asked myself, and so now I spend upwards of forty-five seconds a day refolding his neatly folded towels.

FOUR. This is not, however, the silliest thing we’ve ever argued about, which was another question from Suzanne (HI AGAIN SUZANNE). That distinction goes to a fight we had in 1999 regarding a Sex and the City episode, and although the particulars have been lost to the annals of time, I still remember the episode, and the key line “Your girl is lovely, Hubble,” said to Mr Big by Carrie. She talked about being a wild horse, running free, and it was this that sparked the argument that led to door slamming in our tiny apartment. Again, I don’t recall the specifics of this incendiary topic, but I remember the emotion behind it.

FIVE. I opened up the Ask Me Anything form to see that there was a new question! And it was from Kyria! (HI KYRIA) I excitedly scrolled down to see the following: Tell us a poop story.

Me:

Kyria! No! Everyone knows how I feel about the worst emoji ever invented! No no no!

But I don’t like to disappoint, and I did say ask me anything, not ask me anything that is unrelated to bowel movements. So I will say that I am thrilled that dietary fibre is finally having a moment. I feel like I have long been a Fibre Evangelist; I don’t like to track my food consumption – that way lies madness – but I am sure that I far exceed the recommended intake, mostly via fruits and vegetables, but also with beans and legumes. I mean, when I was a kid my favourite cereal was Raisin Bran, which requires no further comment on my part.

Years ago in my yoga teacher training, the woman who was leading the sessions about chakras spoke passionately about the muladhara, which is the root chakra. Her words have been burned on my brain lo these many years: she said, on the topic of having a bowel movement, that it was the happiest time of the day. At the time I thought that was an unhinged response to using the toilet, but on further reflection I cannot say that she’s wrong. Anyone who has ever suffered in that department knows what a literal bummer it is.

But in addition to improving that happiest time of the day, fibre is so important for our health. It’s vitally helpful for aging generally but for women in perimenopause and menopause specifically. There have been numerous empirical studies that show the multiple benefits of fibre for women in controlling perimenopause symptoms, which is wildly exciting to me. Bring it on, I say as I spread the word, stepping onto my bran-shaped soap box, raising my fist in the air, my fist full of chickpeas and kale.

Do you have a question for me? Let me know and I’ll do my best to answer it. Please, though, no more questions on poop. I think I’ve exhausted the subject. xo

A New Kind of Yoga Challenge

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It’s that time of year where people are making all sorts of goals; specifically, it seems, health and wellness goals. I miss teaching yoga, a little, at this time of year because my classes always had some enthusiastic and curious new students. I really loved it, introducing people to yoga and specifically introducing them to my view of the practice.

Recently Stephany (HI STEPHANY) asked do you plan to teach yoga again and I don’t really, not right now. The thought of building up a clientele from scratch, looking for a class to teach, and finding substitutes for the classes that I will inevitably need when we travel just seems too overwhelming.

But I miss encouraging my beloved students on their yoga journeys. Many years ago – I think it was 2008 – a teacher said to me that there is a difference between going to yoga classes and having a yoga practice, and it is this latter that I wish I could impart on everyone.

I taught many different people with many different body types and abilities, and I feel like every one of them benefited from a practice. I taught seniors and I taught young people, I taught people who were able-bodied and people who were injured and people with chronic pain, I taught people who had suffered strokes and people who couldn’t get down to sit on a yoga mat and people in scooters. Over the years I taught hundreds of classes and I learned a lot about people and their bodies.

I remember one day looking around at my Yoga for Stroke Survivors class; there were probably fifteen people there, and everyone had wildly different physical abilities. I remember thinking how will I teach this? and then a lightbulb went off. I realized that there were so many different ways that a single asana could be experienced. Cat-cow, for example, is typically experienced on hands and knees, but the same spinal flexion and extension could happen if a person was seated on a chair, or standing with hands on a wall or another support.

Sometimes friends will tell me I wish I could do yoga, but I don’t have time. Or, I can’t do downward dog, I can’t touch my toes, I’m BAD AT YOGA. Friends, I am here to say that no one is bad at yoga. And you can have a yoga practice, if you want to, even if you feel you don’t have time.

Listen. I’m not your mom, unless one of my kids is reading this, in which extremely unlikely case I say hi lovies, I love you! I’m not here to be the boss of you or tell you what to do, but I do wish that I could spread the word that a yoga practice can be whatever you want it to be. Yoga videos and those thirty-day challenges are all great, if that’s your thing. I would never say a word against them.

But here’s the thing: for every person who benefits greatly from a yoga challenge and for whom that is the beginning of a lifelong practice, there are many others who find them discouraging or injury-inducing or otherwise detrimental. It doesn’t have to be that way, it really doesn’t. There are no yoga police. No one is going to kick you out of the Yoga Club if you aren’t able to hold a plank or if you can’t go into child’s pose without discomfort.

One doesn’t need lululemon pants or a video or even a yoga mat to have a daily yoga practice. I had a lovely older lady who came to my class once a week, and the rest of the week incorporated a small daily practice into her life. She would do a tree pose while she brushed her teeth, using her bathroom counter for support. She would do a standing cat-cow while she waited for her coffee to brew. A few times a week she would roll out her mat and do a few sun salutations, or she’d lie in savasana. I found her inspirational.

Here’s my challenge, should you choose to accept it. Pick five favourite postures, and then every day do ONE of them. If time allows, do two or more. There’s no need to do them together or at any particular time during the day, just whenever you find yourself with an extra minute. Maybe twist on the chair that currently houses your body, maybe stand up and reach your hands toward the ceiling. Take a forward fold when the shower is heating up. When stopped at a red light, turn off the radio and listen to the sound of your breathing. Bam! Meditation. Hell, if you have time, roll out a mat and do all five postures, maybe more, maybe do a whole practice or a video or go to a class, but just know that even one minute a day adds up over time.

One of the key tenets of a yoga practice is the concept of maitri, or loving-kindness, and this is not limited to how a person interacts with other people. The first person one should extend loving-kindness to is oneself. Giving yourself a little stretch during the day, permitting yourself to sit in quiet meditation for one minute, allowing yourself some grace to come as you are when life is chaotic and the pressure is on to set goals, goals, goals, these are gifts we can bestow on ourselves every single day.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of gifts, what could be better than a few good books?

Save the Cat! Writes a Novel. I have started my revising and editing course this week, and I have found this book on beats and scenes so helpful in terms of organizing my manuscript. I have work to do in the editing process but it all feels manageable, and I’m happy with my progress so far.

Worry. This was a wild, darkly funny satire about two sisters who end up living together in New York city. The older sister suffers from anxiety, hypochondria, and massive phone and Instagram addiction; the younger sister, who suffers depression and debilitating hives, moved in with her sister after a suicide attempt. Meanwhile, their mother, down in Florida, has become a Messianic Jew, doomsday prepper, and pyramid-seller of essential oils. There is almost no plot, but instead a statement about life in 2019, about codependency and sisterhood, about the numbness of internet connections. I loved it but it is satire; it’s like David Sedaris meets Hello Beautiful meets Prozac Nation meets Momfluenced in the weirdest way possible. It’s bonkers and I loved it. 

Alphabetical Diaries. This is such a wild idea: the author took a decade’s worth of journals, put each line in a spreadsheet, and then sorted alphabetically. Each line. From every journal entry for a decade. The result was half a million words, which she edited down to a much more readable 60000. The result reads like a really long free-form prose poem. I couldn’t help but wonder if the amount of work that went into this project paid off, monetarily, but I guess one doesn’t go into writing for the money. Thanks to my friend Engie (HI ENGIE) for bringing this one to my attention!

I started writing this post just wanting to talk about my views about yoga, and now I’m thinking – let’s make it a real challenge! Who wants in to my Yoga Club? To join, you have to a) commit to at least sixty seconds of a stretch or sitting in silent meditation once a day, and b) practice loving-kindness towards yourself if you miss a day. It’s a practice, not perfection! And since I do miss that aspect of teaching, if anyone ever has questions about postures and their variations, please send me a message. I’d be more than happy to share what I’ve learned through the years. xo

Twelve Drillers Drilling

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Today is the twelfth day of Christmas, and I am celebrating with dental work! Apparently two fillings I have in my mouth, dating from 1982, are cracking and causing fissures in my molars. According to the dentist, four decades exceeds the maximum life expectancy for those metal fillings we got in the 80s, which was a surprise to me, as I thought those would follow me to my grave. I was wrong, though, and so I’m saying goodbye to the holiday season in a truly festive way.

I’m kidding, of course – not about the dental work, that is definitely happening – about saying goodbye to the festive season because as we all know, my switch flips from Festive Feelings to Fresh Start Energy on January 1st. Other than missing my friend Denise (HI DENISE), who always hosted an incredible Ukrainian Christmas party before she moved out of the country, leaving me with only my memories and Noelle, I don’t really consider anything past the seven swans a-swimming to be part of the holiday season.

If, however, you are still enjoying the festivities, may I suggest two holiday movies that were new to me this year? The first was Klaus – not to be confused with Claus – which was suggested by my younger son. It’s an animated movie – it was actually Norm MacDonald’s last movie – but I would not recommend it for young or sensitive children, as it’s quite dark and scary in parts. It’s an absolutely wonderful, very unique telling of the origins of Santa Claus lore; actual, traditional Santa Claus from an isolated island in northern Norway, not the Coca Cola Santa Claus that was popularized in early twentieth-century America. It is a beautiful movie of friendship, love, grief, and the conflicting motivations behind generosity.

The second movie was Hot Frosty, which also sounds like it could get a little jiggy-between-the-sheets, but it is actually a sweet holiday romance about a sexy snowman who comes to life and who brings a lot of happiness to the small, upstate New York town in which he finds himself. Fun fact: the sexy snowman is Ted from Schitt’s Creek. It’s very cute, and I think a person could easily watch this with tweens without any of the scarring that came from my Santa porn book review. Both movies are less than two hours, which I think is perfect. Do not come at me with those three hour movies, people, I am NOT interested. Those are just TOO long.

Speaking of too long, that is my main grievance about dental appointments. They seem to swallow up entire afternoons. I am not a person who has fear or anxiety about the dentist, as I have been very fortunate in that aspect, having not had dental work since these fillings found their metallic home in my molars. But what I lack in fear and anxiety, I make up with General Irritation at how long things take in the dental world. Every other unpleasant medical procedure is generally over pretty quickly – mammograms, Pap smears, the scale at the doctor’s office – but even a routine dental cleaning takes upwards of an hour.

And the scaling. Oh, the sound of that scraping on the teeth. At my last appointment in November, where the cracking was discovered, I asked if I could have ear buds in while my teeth were being scaled and cleaned. Why I didn’t figure this out before, I cannot say, but the second-best time to plant a tree is right now. Here’s the weird part: I put in a podcast to listen to and then, when the appointment was finished, a different podcast was playing. I have no recollection of the first podcast nor of the podcasts changing. People, I think that I somehow, against all odds, fell asleep. Either that or my soul actually left my body once the scaling began.

When I was relaying this information to my family, they stared at me in disbelief. My son asked how anyone could possibly sleep while someone was working on their mouth, and my answer is that I have no idea. I do remember, vaguely, moving the suction thing around my mouth as required, but other than that I am blank. The hygienist told me that she measured my gums with a pokey instrument, and then said I’m not sure if you noticed, while looking at me in a very odd way that indicated I was truly out of it. I sure didn’t notice, and I will tell you that I was slightly alarmed to see some tissues with bloody spots on them, presumably from my mouth. What happened to me? At least the suction instrument prevented me from drooling on myself.

Of course my son also asked if my shirt was tucked or untucked, but that is a useless question for a perimenopausal woman. Of course I was untucked! I haven’t tucked a shirt in for years. Also, since it was a cleaning, I didn’t have any kind of anesthetic, so HOW DID I FALL ASLEEP?

In my recent Ask Me Anything – which is still open, until the end of the month – Stephany asked (HI STEPHANY) what are some of your best life hacks, and I would say, based on recent events, to listen to earbuds while at the dentist. It might not make you fall asleep, but you may just hypnotize yourself into a strange fugue state and the time will fly by!

Elisabeth asked (HI ELISABETH) if I have always been an early riser, and the answer to that is yes. I think it’s imprinted in my soul, honestly. I love early mornings and always have; they feel magical to me. But even for a morning person like myself, I think that there are a few little hacks that make starting the day a bit easier and more pleasant. I like to set myself up for a good start by getting the coffee pot ready the night before, and also by laying my clothes out, including socks, underwear, and hair scrunchies. This way I can start the coffee immediately and without fumbling around; by the time I have put on the already-laid-out athletic wear the coffee is ready, and I’m all set up for my morning yoga and workout.

More generally, I think my best life hack is to make things easier in any way that I can. May we be safe, may we be happy, may we be healthy, may we live with ease, as the maitri mantra says. Life is hard! Why not take the option that makes things easier? For me, that means minimizing boring and tedious daily decisions by making them ahead of time; this includes but is not limited to daily outfit choices, weekly meal plans and the associated necessary groceries, which Peloton ride to take and when, daily schedule including workouts and writing time, and which book to read next. The latter is almost entirely dependent on library due dates, which segues nicely into this week’s books, which was a mixed bag.

Weekly Reading

Moon Road. This was rough. I think the only thing worse than losing a child would be to have a child go missing, and that is the premise of this book. Nineteen years after a young woman goes missing, her estranged parents get together for a road trip across Canada to see the bones that have turned up; the mother is to give a DNA test to see if it’s a match, and the father wants to see the site of the bones. They drive from an unnamed small Northern Ontario town east of Sudbury all the way to Tofino, and if you’ve ever driven in any of those areas in between, you will be struck by how perfectly the author captures the small town stopping points. This is a devastating book on grieving and loss, and it might be one of the saddest books I have ever read. It’s incredibly compellingly written, the characters coming to life in a way that is rare. One of the characters is so dislikable, but you can really understand WHY she is so dislikable. The subject matter is so grim, though, be warned. I had to put the book down and stare into the distance at one part, when the mother goes to Prince George with missing posters, and a woman at the Husky station shows her where she can put them up. There are many posters already there. As any Canadian will know, this is along the Yellowhead, known as the Highway of Tears. Worth the read but prepare yourself for some hard truths. An absolute work of heart-wrenching art.

Dear Fahrenheit 451: Love and Heartbreak in the Stacks. After Moon Road I needed something really light, and this fit the bill. It’s a book about books! How meta. It’s written by a librarian, and is made up of love letters and breakup letters to a variety of books, as well as lists of books to read for different moods. I will admit I gave it the side eye early on, when the author proudly stated that she’d named her first son Waldon after reading Thoreau, but after I got over that hurdle I enjoyed the cute little letters. She covers a very wide range of books, from The Giving Tree to The Virgin Suicides, from Colour Me Beautiful to To Kill A Mockingbird. If you’re a real book lover, you may just enjoy this. It’s a little repetitive, but hey, who among us, am I right? I feel fairly certain I myself am guilty of repeating myself on any number of topics, including my feelings on Thoreau and also shopping cart carrels.

Husbands and Lovers. Friends, I know better. I KNOW BETTER. I should never have picked this up. Here’s the thing: historical fiction almost never works for me. Dual timelines in which family secrets are revealed and incredible coincidences occur never work for me. This book was no exception. I found I just could not care about any of the characters nor could I connect with the story. I should have known and, when it comes to my evergreen goal of DNFing books I am not enjoying, well, GOAL INCOMPLETE. If you are a historical fiction person, you might like this: the premise is interesting enough about a woman who goes searching for her family history so her son can have a kidney transplant, but it turns out that history is complicated, etcetera etcetera I don’t even KNOW because the execution just didn’t do it for me. I’m sure this is a Me Problem, not a This Book Problem, but all the little twists and turns that all tied up in a neat little bow at the end just felt trite and irritating.

Well, wish me luck, friends. I’m hoping I can recapture that fugue state for my dental work this afternoon, or at the very least, that the freezing will wear off so I’m not drooling and slurring through my weekly writing group meeting. Take care, everyone. xo

Holiday 2024 Roundup and Reading

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I am a person who derives a lot of energy from the idea of a Fresh Start, and it doesn’t even have to be anything as significant as a new year. It could be a new month, a new week, a new day; even a new lipstick or pair of panties will signify a Fresh New Start, and I will be energized at the thought. A new era is upon us, I’ll think on a random Tuesday, Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten, I’ll think while applying a new shade of Maybelline Ultimatte.

And so it was that I found myself de-Christmassing and deep cleaning the house for many hours yesterday. I don’t know when exactly I started this routine on New Year’s Day, but it does feel like the Festive Season is officially over for me, and so all signs of it are now packed away until November.

Half of the holiday season was marked by a completely empty nest, as the boys went on a road trip last Saturday to visit some friends; they are returning tonight and I can hardly wait. Recently Kamryn (HI KAMRYN) asked How are you managing adult children, how do you set boundaries, how often do you communicate? Well! It’s a New Era indeed. We were all having dinner the night before they left for their trip, and Landslide came on the playlist. My husband looked at me for a moment, and then said “Maybe we should put on a different playlist when they’re gone.”

When they were younger, any time we reached a new era I would think I’ve been afraid of changing because I’ve built my life around you and then my eyes would well up and threaten to spill over; one would think that I would be a complete mess these days, particularly over the holidays when they are not here. In a completely unexpected turn of events, I am not a mess at all. Or much of one.

No one is more surprised than me, honestly, but I really love having adult children, and I only get happy nostalgic feelings when something like this reminds me of what the holidays used to be. Also, a huge upside of an empty nest means that I can really put that Jimmy Buffett song into action: why don’t we get drunk and screw?

I mean, not every day, but it’s nice that the option is there.

Back to the topic at hand, for me the key to a good relationship with my sons is the ability to step back and trust that they will make good decisions, and if they make mistakes, to trust that they will fix them and learn from them, or live with them. This isn’t always easy, of course. The other key is to keep open communication and to keep my judgements to myself. I never want to put guilt trips on my kids or to make them feel badly about themselves, and so unless I am specifically asked, I don’t offer unsolicited opinions. This is also not always easy! Particularly when they are going on an eight hour road trip through the mountains, and it’s snowing and raining the entire way, just as a small example.

In terms of boundaries and communication, one of my sons does still live with us, so I talk to him every day. I text with the other one a few times a week, and I generally see him weekly when he comes home to do his laundry and to share in our big Sunday dinner. I am not an overbearing type, so I step back and let the communication flow in a way that makes sense. The exception to this is when they are, you know, driving in winter conditions for eight hours, then I not only ask for updates but I also check where they are via location tracking, which is something I do NOT do normally.

When my kids were very small, I came across Kahlil Gibran’s poem On Children, which starts Your children are not your children and continues You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. I have kept that in my mind ever since, and I try to remember that they are their own people, they are not me, they are not my chance to live a different life.

Moving on! I had a lot of downtime this holiday season, and so was able to read some good books.

The Knockout Queen. I was about halfway through the first chapter and I thought “hmm, something seems familiar.” And indeed, I had not only already read this in April 2021, but I also apparently liked it a lot since I gave it a 4.5 star rating. Yet I couldn’t remember what happened! Can I blame the pandemic? I think this was exactly after my first vax, maybe I was foggy. Even though I have a huge stack of books that I have actually not read, I decided to keep going with The Knockout Queen and I’m so glad I did. What an excellent book this was, what a statement about the nature of violence and the way we view it differently depending on if it involves a man or a woman. Rufi Thorpe is such a talented writer, and I just sank into this book and resented everything that took me away from it. It is not at all a forgettable book, so I am going to just go ahead and hope that my complete memory lapse was indeed vaccine and pandemic related.

Tell Me Everything. This book felt exactly like a love letter from Elizabeth Strout to her devoted readers. The moment I heard that she had a new book, and that book involved both Lucy Barton AND Olive Kitteridge, I put it on my Christmas wish list and mentioned it approximately ten times a week. Well, Santa did bring it for me and it did not disappoint! Not only are Lucy and Olive central to the story, but there are characters from every single one of her books, even the more obscure Abide With Me, even her debut Amy and Isabelle. I can imagine a scenario in which someone who HASN’T read Elizabeth Strout’s works obsessively might be looking askance at this book, like “who are these people and why are they all together” but OH, for us fans, oh, it is wonderful. I loved every single vignette, every single moment, every single slice of little lives. The book addresses all the unrecorded lives of everyone surrounding us, and you KNOW that is my favourite thing. I love thinking about how extraordinary all of our ordinary lives are, and this book just hit perfectly. 

Love Your Life. And now for something different! Listen. If you pick up a Sophie Kinsella book, you should expect a Sophie Kinsella book. What can I say, the woman sticks with what works, and in this case it’s an Opposites Attract-type rom-com. It’s fluffy and silly but also fun, let’s not overthink things here. Two people meet on what sounds like the weirdest writing retreat ever, where everyone has fake names and are not allowed to divulge any personal information to each other. Wouldn’t you know it, these two people immediately start boning and fall instantly – INSTANTLY – in love. When they get back to regular life in London, reality hits. Ava is wildly unfocused and chaotic, whereas Matt is dutifully but unhappily working for the family firm. These two characters cannot sustain the magic that they had at the weird writing resort, but a satisfying twist that has each of them adopting a little of the other’s personality makes for a happy ending. Is this realistic? Of course not, we don’t read Sophie Kinsella for realism. It’s a fun bit of escapism and was a pretty cozy holiday diversion. 

My book total for 2024 was 130, and of those 118 were women writers, 99 were fiction, 12 memoir, 18 other non-fiction, and only one book of poetry. That felt off to me but then I remembered that I spent at least nine months re-reading selections from Mary Oliver’s Devotions, but I didn’t “finish,” as it were. I don’t have any particular reading goals this year, except an evergreen one of not being afraid to DNF a book if I’m not enjoying it. Life is too short to read unsatisfying books! We will see if I keep to this goal, because I have a tendency to push to the end, just to see.

Happy New Year, friends! I hope you had a beautiful holiday season or – if you’re an Orthodox kind of person – are still having a beautiful holiday season! xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2024

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Happy New Year’s Eve, friends! I hope you have been having a lovely holiday season.

It’s time again for the Year in Review! These annual reviews are so much fun for me to do, mostly because I can hardly remember what I wore yesterday, let alone what happened last February. It’s a great exercise to see how things have changed over the year.

As I mentioned recently, 2024 was a really good year for me: lots of travel and gardening, time with friends and family, reading and writing. I didn’t have any illnesses or major losses, and so I am grateful every day. I know not every year can be like that, but for now I am just feeling thankful for right now.

So what happened this year?

January

I decompressed after a very busy holiday season, I talked about living life with arms wide open and changing my life, it snowed and Rex got his teeth cleaned, I listed the Five W’s of Rest, and included a photo of how I organize my pajama drawer, and I went to a Very Fancy resort in Mexico.

February

I listed all the books I read whilst on Fancy Vacation, I discussed people watching, and how the watcher became the watched, I shared my meal plan and how I make dinner every damn day, I answered questions about hobbies and the hardest jigsaw puzzle I’ve ever done, I talked about spending money and what I resent paying for, I thought about marriage and long-term partnered sex and had some thoughts about James Taylor’s penis, and it was a Leap Year!

March

I answered questions about envy and making mental shifts, I discussed travel, yoga, retirement, celery, and aliens all in one post, I mused about the concept of gardeners and flowers in relationships, I listed my favourite things about Las Vegas, as well as some weird and funny things I experienced in that crazy town, and I read some terrible books and some good ones.

April

My husband built me a giant veggie garden, and I actually got to plant it in April, I divulged all the details about a Tuesday in my life, I reminisced about the 90s, specifically Sassy, Sea Breeze, stationary, and smoking, I talked about theme songs and living a musical life, I raved about the wonders of nature, and I turned forty-nine!

May

I came back from a blog break to tell you about my trip to Ontario and Quebec, and also Alberta, I read books on that trip and told you about them, I weeded the garden a lot after my return home and distressingly realized that I had no nail brush for my filthy nails, I meditated while weeding, this time about the nature of friendship, and I wrote all about my favourite things on my four-province tour.

June

Our resident bear returned and almost gave me heart failure at four in the morning, I got everything done on my to-do list and was told I was Too Shiny for my passport photo, I talked about 1988 and had a tiny bit of a spiral, unrelated to my actual spiral perm, I tried to renew our passports and had the usual runaround one should expect from a government agency, I talked about things that give me joy and also pain, and I shared photos of my newly landscaped yard, which is not a euphemism.

July

In a completely surprising move, I went camping and also announced that I had finished writing the first draft of my book, two completely unrelated things but both significant. In other wild news, my husband accidentally (I THINK) poisoned me, it was really hot and I had a sign from the universe, I celebrated my one-year anniversary of living in this house, I wrote down a week’s worth of summer recipes (or, “recipes,”) and I talked about six wildly, semi-related things, from sex blankets to stealing gnomes to my favourite Disney character, and MORE.

August

I took a total of three flights and rode a total of fifteen hours in the car with my dad driving to attend a family reunion, when I came home it was a pretty bumpy re-entry, I overanalyzed the word “fun,” but then my friend came to visit and We Had Fun, my waist disappeared, and the garden was zucapocalyptic.

September

I detailed my various body hair removal methodologies, I had a strange encounter walking the dog, I talked about the very few book series that I have read and loved, I detailed my favourite cheap-but-life-changing things, I bragged a little about my Name That Tune skills, and I updated everyone on the bear situation.

October

I went on a road trip and celebrated being boring, I made dinner with the last of the garden vegetables and also had a minor breakdown in Costco, I realized that everyone is beloved to someone, even my extremely smelly former professor, and I shared my favourite tricks and treats.

November

I went to Italy! While in Italy, of course I met a lot of interesting people and I read a lot of books. What can I say, I was on a lot of trains and planes. I briefly paused talking about Italy to tell you about the subscriptions I pay for, the many times I change clothes during the day, and exciting things about the festive season, before picking up the Italian baton once again to discuss my favourite things about my trip.

December

It was high time for another Day in the Life post, this time about a Friday, I introduced Noelle, my non-blooming Christmas cactus, I shared my five star books, music, and podcasts, I discussed my love for Last Christmas, it snowed, and other holiday miracles were shared, and I celebrated a grievance-free Festivus.

Happy New Year, my friends. May 2025 be kind and gentle to you, and may you experience joy, beauty, and delight. xo

Festivus, But Without Grievances

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So, an anti-Festivus?

One week ago today I finished the second draft of my novel. It was my goal in 2024 to write one draft, and now I have finished two, right in time to enjoy the holidays and a break before my revising and editing course starts in January. To say I’m pleased with myself would be an understatement. It’s something I’ve wanted to do my entire life, write a book, and I did it! My goal in 2025 will be to have a manuscript that I feel comfortable sharing with beta readers, so stay tuned.

In my recent Ask Me Anything, which is still open should you have any burning questions, Pearl (HI PEARL) asked What is the book you’re working on about? In its current evolution, it’s a story about a single mother in her fifties who becomes involved with a widower. Her ex-husband delivers some surprising news that affects their daughter, and our protagonist finds herself navigating a new kind of life.

Years ago when I was in yoga teacher training, I was talking to my friend Jo (HI JO), who was a very established teacher at the time. We were talking about teaching yin and she said something that stayed with me: If you want to teach yin, you really need to have a yin practice. Jo and I were and are both Ashtanga practitioners, and I took that to heart, teaching what I knew.

When I first set out to write this book, I had in mind a romance, but for middle-aged people. The thing is, though, romance comprises only about a tenth of what I read. To paraphrase Jo, If you want to write romance, you really need to read romance, and in that vein I would say my novel veers toward a character-driven literary fiction. I wanted to write the book I would want to read, and I am doing that.

Engie (HI ENGIE) asked What is the best year of your life? As you know, I suffer from recency bias, but I really do think that 2024 was one of the best years in my life, particularly coming on the heels of 2023, which was an absolutely crazy year of wild change and upheaval. I have had many wonderful years in my life, absolutely, but this past year was filled with travel and gardening, friends and family. My sons are both doing well and are establishing themselves, my husband is so relaxed and settled into retirement, everyone is in good health, I have a beautiful home and garden, and I wrote a book! Life is uncertain and things can change on a dime at this stage of the game, so I am living in the present and feeling gratitude for all these incredible gifts.

Another incredible gift in my life is, of course, Rex. When our beloved Barkley died in June 2022, I was extremely vocal about Never Again Having A Dog. Never! My older son gently said to me But Mom, we are a dog family, but no, I said. No no no. Well, we all know how that turned out, when Rex arrived to our home in October of that same year. Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) asked Did Rex come to you named Rex? and the answer is yes. His full name is Tyrannosaurus Rex Stegosaurus, which should tell you a little bit about his original family. I would like to go on the record to reiterate that Rex was NOT a rescue dog. We were chosen by his original family – speaking of gifts, that one was massive – who were incredibly loving and caring but who could no longer keep him. He was a year and a half, and perfectly trained and already full-grown, and some days I cannot even believe my luck that we were chosen to be his family.

Engie (HI ENGIE AGAIN) also asked What’s the best thing about having a dog? I read in a book recently that getting a puppy is a one-way ticket to eventual heartbreak, and while that is technically true, the absolute joy of having a dog far outweighs that. There are so many wonderful things about having a dog, but the best is probably the feeling of love and joy that emanates from them. Dogs are so in the moment, they miss you the second that you are gone and are so happy the second you come back, even if you were just in the shower. They are just happy to go somewhere, as long as they go with you. We are just not worthy of dogs, honestly, they are such incredible creatures and I for one feel so lucky to have not one but two fuzzy balls of love in my life.

Of course one of the best things about having a dog is walking them, although I will say that while I adored and loved my sweet fuzzy Barkley to the moon and back, walking with him wasn’t exactly a joy, even when he was young. He had a terrible tendency to eat tissues that had been dropped on the sidewalk, and as an aside, do you have any idea how many tissues are dropped on a sidewalk in a semi-inner-city neighbourhood? It’s a lot. He knew that tissues were the only thing I wouldn’t remove from his mouth because god, how gross. From the time he was a puppy until the day before he died, I would have to be on the lookout for tissues and redirect him before he snapped them up and ate them, and I was only successful maybe half the time.

While I’m on the topic, once I was walking with him as a puppy – and the boys were little enough to be in the Chariot stroller, this is how long ago it was – and he snarfed up a CONDOM that was on the sidewalk. A condom. I had terrors as to what would happen if he actually swallowed it, because certainly it would be injurious to his little digestive system, and imagine having to tell people that your dog died because he ate a condom. So there I was prying a condom out of my puppy’s mouth while the little boys asked mama whatcha doin wif Barkley’s mouf and I was praying, friends, I was PRAYING that the condom was just used in a silly way by neighbourhood kids, like blowing it up as a balloon, and not for its intended use. I am pretty sure I used up an entire bottle of hand sanitizer after I fished it out of his mouth, as well as a year or two off my lifespan.

I was thinking about this when Michelle (HI MICHELLE) asked her question: I know you go out walking a lot, and I wonder if you’ve ever found anything interesting or strange that was dropped on the side of the road? Well, Michelle, how’s that for an answer? A condom on a busy sidewalk near the elementary school. Oh wait, I just horrified myself anew on a number of levels.

We did come across a dead coyote a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not sure if that counts as “interesting” or “strange” or even “dropped.”

One thing that I always find interesting is when there is a single shoe, which reminds me of a story of long ago. When I was in university, my friends and I were at an on-campus bar listening to live music, and one of my friends had brought her boyfriend, an incredibly nice but dull-witted fellow. The dance floor soon turned morphed into a mosh pit, and shortly after that the extremely inebriated boyfriend stumbled over to us, missing a shoe. Eventually we had to leave, with our one-shoed fellow, but before that I needed to stop in the Economics Society office to pick something up. I was the Economics Society president, hashtag bragging, and while I was in the office our Shoeless Joe drew all over the white board: a number of single shoes, with the caption “Have You Seen Me?”

Since that day, anytime I see a single shoe abandoned on the sidewalk, I think of him, walking home with one shoe on that snowy winter night.

Weekly Reading

The Wedding People. From start to finish, this book was an absolute delight. It was just perfect! It was so smart, and so funny, and so uplifting and life-affirming and heart-warming. The premise sounds a bit off: a woman heads to a hotel to kill herself, and finds that there is a six-day wedding going on at said hotel, and she is the only one there who is not part of the festivities. Themes of friendship, support, and happiness are interspersed with true humour and excellent Mrs Dalloway references. The backdrop is post-Covid, and there are some really interesting thoughts about the pandemic and what it did to all of us, and our relationships. A quote that really hit me: ‘”But life is strange, always thinking this one thing is going to make you happy, because then you get it, and then maybe you’re not as happy as you imagined you would be, because every day is still just every day. Like the happiness becomes so big, you have no choice but to live inside of it, until you can no longer see it or feel it. and so you start to fixate on something else – you want a child, and then the child is here, and that happiness is so big it begins to feel like nothing. Like just the air around you.” Until it is gone, of course.’

The Plot. There is an Alice Munro story called “Family Furnishings,” in which a writer takes details from a relative’s life and creates a story from it. It addresses the question about who can tell a person’s story. I think that most fiction writers take details and experiences from their own lives and the lives around them, and create from them new stories. I was thinking about that Munro story when I was reading The Plot. To whom does a plot belong? This book follows a washed-up writer who is a teacher at a writing residency; one of his students tells him the plot of a book he’s writing, and the plot has an incredible twist. A few years later, he finds out that the student had died without writing the book. So what’s a writer to do? He uses the plot to create a book that becomes a bestseller, optioned for a movie, etc. But, like the narrator in The Tell-Tale Heart, he starts to unravel when the heartbeat he hears is a troll on twitter, accusing him of plagiarism. It’s an interesting premise for sure but after a slow start I guessed the twists and could see the “surprise” ending coming, and I found the last couple of chapters terribly explain-y. Still, a solidly diverting read. 

Piglet. This book is brilliant from a literary point of view, but whoa, is it ever uncomfortable to read. I think it needs to be interpreted symbolically, as in a woman wanting more, more, more, and never being really satisfied. Of course this is shown as excessive eating, and I will say the food descriptions are Off The Hook. If you, like me, enjoy a good food description, hold onto your hats. Or forks. It’s a very moving story about a woman from humble beginnings whose wealthy fiance tells her about a terrible betrayal by him, only two weeks before their wedding. In case you, like me, find yourself reading this and thinking that you missed something, no, you didn’t. The betrayal is never revealed to the reader, which is a Real Literary Choice. You know that couples therapy scene in Old School, where Frank is talking about fantasizing about a waitress’ panties? “Probably they’re just plain white cotton. But then I thought, what if it’s lace? What if it’s a thong? What if it’s something really cool I don’t even know about?” The Betrayal is like that. Probably it’s just adultery. But what if it’s something really cool we don’t even know about?

Santa Claus Is Going To Town On Me. Well, you knew this was coming. Heh. Of course I couldn’t let the holiday season pass me by without reading this, after it was mentioned by Bad on Paper. I mean, it’s basically porn, but with Santa. If you have ever wondered what Santa’s dick looks like, this is the book for you! You may be saying to yourself, omg Nicole, of course I haven’t wondered that, NO ONE NORMAL has wondered that, and that is probably true as I myself never thought about Santa in any kind of sexual way before reading this. But what has been seen cannot be unseen, friends. I can never think of Santa in the same way again (tinsel-like pubic hair). To paraphrase Jessica from Drinks With Broads, STOP MAKING SEXY SANTA A THING, HE SHOULD BE COZY. Anyway, the whole thing took me maybe 45 minutes to read and I discovered that a) Mrs Claus is dead, b) Sexy Santa prefers to be called Claus and is maybe Finnish, c) he doesn’t live on the North Pole but instead in some other planet, and d) he has no elves, Sexy Santa is a Lone Wolf. It’s a lot more plot than you might expect from Santa porn, honestly. Quote that sums up the entire book: “I’ve always hated Christmas, but this year will be different, because this year, I’m going to fuck Santa Claus.”

On that very unsettling note, I should end this very long post, which will be my last one until the annual Year in Review. Wishing you all a very happy holiday season! Your readership is a gift to me, and one that I cherish. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Holiday Miracles Edition

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It snowed!

Let me tell you, there is NOTHING to make a person appreciate snow like moving to a place in which it snows very little from a place where it can snow literally any month of the year, and does constantly between October through May. Here, if it snows at the end of February the inhabitants are bemoaning the Winter That Will Never End, whereas for me, a nice snowfall and temperatures above zero feels like a Normal Spring Day. I am assuming that at some point my internal blueprint will modify and it won’t feel strange to have rain in November, but for now, this is where I am at.

Having the first REAL snowfall – one that sticks around for more than an hour – in mid-December feels like a Holiday Miracle of the first degree. It also makes me feel like sharing all the other Holiday Miracles and Favourites that I’m enjoying.

Nicole’s Favourite Things

O Tannenbaum

My tree esthetic – well, actually my entire Festive Decorating Esthetic – is, without a doubt, Chaotic Nostalgia. What it lacks in elegance and understatement it more than makes up for in visual interest. Putting the tree up is an Entire Family Affair, and I hope that continues, well, forever. Intellectually I know this may or may not be the case, but let’s not worry about things that have yet to happen. In any event, every year a pattern emerges: my older son likes to take his childhood crafts and place them in clear view of everyone, where all can perceive that he really had no idea how to draw a face when he was three, and my younger son puts all of his at the back of the tree, unseen by all.

We have been amassing our ornaments for decades now, and this year I brought home a couple from Rome. One was this cute little Santa:

The other was a pair of lovebirds, which I think very much signifies my semi-empty nest and a new era for my marriage. Is that a narwhal, the unicorn of the ocean beside it? Yes. That was our 2020 ornament. When everyone was buying mask-related Christmas decor, we were leaning hard into the narwhal. (Bye Buddy! Hope you find your dad!)

Last year my dear friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) sent me a gnome of her own making, and it has a well-deserved place of honour on the tree, beside the little house I bought the year we got married, and Bob Ross. By the way, if you haven’t seen Michelle’s dollhouse decorated for the holidays, I suggest you drop everything and go over there. Right now! I’ll wait.

Michelle’s dollhouse, and her entire blog, are one of my Favourite Things, during the holidays and ALWAYS. She is a bright light in this dark world. Speaking of dark, the sunrise is currently at 7:50 am and the sunset is at THREE FIFTY SIX IN THE AFTERNOON. The daylight (“daylight”) hours are very grey and cloudy at least 80% of the time, and so I’m basically mainlining Vitamin D at this point. But Saturday is the Solstice, as well as our annual Holiday Hoopla Open House, and after that we will be enjoying that extra daylight, two minutes at a time.

Also on the topic of lights, we have a tree that allows us to toggle between coloured and white lights, and also has options for twinkling and wave-like changing. The little lights are not twinkling. They really aren’t because twinkling lights make me feel like I’m going to have a mild stroke, but I do switch the colours and whites daily.

It’s Puzzle Season, Motherfuckers

I love a good jigsaw puzzle, but I am oddly specific about the things I like. Mostly, I don’t like a puzzle that is too hard, but I do like one with a lot of different vignettes involved. My husband and son brought this back for me on their trip up north; how or why they were shopping for Jane Austen jigsaw puzzles in Dawson City, I don’t know. But it is probably my favourite puzzle I have ever put together in my entire life.

I was drying my hair and my husband came upstairs and casually mentioned that there was “writing on the back” of the interior puzzle picture, and did I know that? I practically shoved him out of the way to run downstairs to look, and lo, there it was, a guide to all of the characters and houses in the puzzle. I felt vindicated as I had guessed which was Pemberley, Donwell Abbey, etcetera, and I talked excitedly about it as my husband’s eyes glazed over. My son made the mistake of asking me about it and then had to back away like Homer in the hedge.

It’s Also Peppermint Chocolate Season, Motherfuckers

For the first time in my entire adult life I have a chocolate Advent calendar, and while it’s fun to be included in the guys’ daily December ritual, I have to say, it’s not the glory I thought it would be. It’s fun, yes. I like my After Eight calendar just fine, but I almost think it would have been better to just buy a box of After Eights and eat one a day. The chocolate to peppermint ratio is way off in my calendar but, as my son says, it’s more about the event than the actual chocolate.

But this sounds more like a Festivus grievance than a Favourite Things, doesn’t it? Poor Nicole and her slightly-strange After Eight calendar, which involves a lot of bus-shaped chocolates. Why buses? I don’t know. Anyway, it is a fun little ritual, AND my parents sent a Christmas parcel that features a whole tin of After Eights, so I am happy and festively minty.

I am also happy because I made the executive decision to add mint chocolate chips to dark chocolate chips while making my annual batch of peppermint bark and people, this is what we all need right now. Or, really, it’s what I need right now.

Do you want the recipe? Here it is: melt some chocolate, add crushed candy canes, spread it on parchment paper and chill until you’re able to break it into chaotically artistic pieces.

It’s Brussels With An S

I did not grow up in a family that ate Brussels sprouts, and so I was in my twenties when I was at a Christmas dinner that featured a bowlful. I was filling my plate with vegetables so as to disguise that I wasn’t taking much turkey; this was back in the day before I was completely vegetarian, but I didn’t eat much meat, and I didn’t think my hostess would appreciate that. I scooped out a generous helping of Brussels sprouts, and with the clarity of hindsight I realize that of the nine or ten people at the table, no one else was doing this. I perceived the reason immediately upon biting into the mushy, boiled sprout. Oh, I thought, trying not to gag, THIS is why people hate Brussels sprouts.

Fast forward many years and we were at my friend Sammi’s for dinner (HI SAMMI). She had roasted Brussels sprouts and I gamely gave them a try. Wow. It was an entirely different experience and one that made me low-key obsessed with this cute little cruciferous. If she knows I’m coming over, she air fries some with olive oil and balsamic. My air fryer is only good for small batches, so I do them in the oven if I want volume which, let’s face it, I usually do.

Tis The Season For Boozy Coffee

Not every day, of course, but it’s nice to have a warming cup of coffee and booze around the holidays. I used to love a Bailey’s, but that cream wreaks absolute havoc on my stomach, and the almond milk version that came out several years ago is no longer being made, probably because it wasn’t very good. My husband went to the liquor store for the components of an Aperol spritz and came back with this:

It’s DELICIOUS. It’s coconut based and so creamy and tasty; I envision myself sipping it in my pajamas over the holidays.

Extremely Specific Kelowna Favourite

The postal strike is, while not settled, over. Sort of. It’s a long convoluted story that is best explained by the BBC, but essentially it has been a month-long shitshow in which absolutely no one won, everyone’s unhappy, the whole country is worse off, our remote and northern communities were completely cut off as Canada Post was the only organization that delivered up there, Canadians are still awaiting important government documents like passports, and small businesses have been, for lack of a better word, fucked. If the aim of this whole shmozzle was to line the pockets of giants like Amazon while small businesses suffered in the one season they can count on to actually earn a living, well, level completed and achievement unlocked.

In order to combat this in my own tiny way, I’ve been trying to shop more locally. Mosaic Books is a gem of a store that takes orders and pre-orders – although it could not deliver anything during the strike, of course – and I was thrilled to see that it was busy and bustling when I went to pick up my own order. I ended up buying way, way more than I had ordered, but hey. I’m helping out a small business!

Bookstores are second only to drugstore skincare and makeup aisles as places that can transfix me for indefinite amounts of time.

Outfit of the Month

I bought this sweater in Italy, and I will likely tell you I bought this sweater in Italy until it falls apart. As well as being Bought In Italy, it’s also so incredibly soft and cozy. I have my usual mildly-cold-weather boots, my Infinite Fit Silver jeans, a bag I bought in Italy (I bought this bag in Italy) and a tote bag featuring tiny Babar the Elephant in yoga poses, gifted to me many years ago by my friend Monique (HI MONIQUE). A perfect outfit for holiday shopping at Mosaic Books, which is where I wore it.

I love the month of December, so dark and yet so full of light, too. I hope your December is full of twinkling (or not) lights, yummy things, and coziness. xo