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Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 47th Birthday Edition

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I have been learning Spanish via the Duolingo app, thanks to the encouragement of my younger son, who is using that app to learn Japanese. My goal is to become semi-conversational, and I was practicing phrases the other morning when everyone was in and out of the kitchen, making their breakfasts and getting ready for the day ahead. Imagine, if you will, a perky, I’ve-Been-Awake-For-Hours Nicole, trying out Spanish phrases on her Just-Woke-Up-Don’t-Talk-To-Me family. “Tu quiero un jugo de naranja?” I said to my older son as he, bleary-eyed, poured himself some orange juice. “Yo bebo cafe!” I said happily. “Tu quiero el pan?” I asked my husband as he opened the fridge to grab the rye bread. He looked at me blankly and then said “Si, senorita.”

Oooh, senorita! Is he trying to court me? My son asked what was the difference anyway, between senorita and senora, which led me into a long diatribe about the world in which we live in, where men go their whole lives being senors or sirs, and women get demarcated into ma’ams or senoras at a certain age to indicate their mature status, at which point he said, “Well, you’re always talking about how GREAT aging is and how AMAZING it is to get old, and how you’re so LUCKY to be able to be old, so you should be really be excited to be a senora.” Then he raised his eyebrows, with a half-smile, in the way someone would while laying down a royal flush, just before scooping a huge pile of chips towards them.

Well, he’s right. And today is my birthday! If you know me at all you know a) I love birthdays, b) I think everyone should be treated like a queen or similar on their birthday, and c) I especially love MY birthday. Although I’ve been married to one for over twenty years, I don’t really understand people who go about their birthday like it’s just another day, and are completely quiet on the subject. If it were socially acceptable to walk around with a tiara and a sandwich board proclaiming It’s My Birthday, I would. Alas, it isn’t.

But it’s my blog and I Do What I Want. It’s a Thursday, which may not be the Prime Day for a birthday, but means I can really spread out the celebration over two weekends. It also means that I can give you a Nicole’s Favourite Things!

I don’t know about you, but the number 47 is one that I use conversationally in a hyperbolic way to indicate something that is scrambled or chaotic: I feel like I’m being pulled in 47 different directions, I have 47 different things on my plate right now, all I wanted was a coffee and there were 47 things on the menu and none of them were coffee. Do I feel, on my 47th birthday, like I’m scrambled or chaotic? Not really, but I thought it would be fun to list out 47 things I love on my 47th birthday.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The 47th Birthday Edition

  • Coffee coffee coffee.
  • Early morning yoga in a silent, sleeping house.
  • Watching the night sky lighten into dawn.
  • Sunrises.
  • Holding my breath as I put away my thick, heavy, cute sweaters and take out my lighter, spring-weight cute sweaters.
  • At-home hair colour.
  • Books books books.
  • The library! I love you, library. You are so good at sharing.
  • Having teenage boys and all the great conversations that we have, including but not limited to: The Girl From Ipanema is a stalker song, how Shakespeare lacked originality in naming characters in Macbeth, and Brezhnev’s eyebrows.
  • CAKE! All kinds, but especially BIRTHDAY cake!
  • Red red wine, you make me feel so fine, even if you give me hot flashes. It’s worth it!
  • Dr. Jen Gunter and The Menopause Manifesto, for normalizing things like hot flashes.
  • Sunday morning walks with my Shmoopy.
  • My Garmin watch, which praises me for moving. Thanks, Garmin, I DO deserve a “mic drop” for getting my steps in.
  • Friends I get to see in real life, even if it’s not often, and friends I never get to see in real life, but connect with often.
  • My chosen sisters – you know who you are!
  • Visiting my parents at the lake.
  • Wrinkle cream and serums! God bless.
  • Mascara!
  • Lipstick and lip gloss for those times I don’t need a mask. Is there anything more transformative and life-affirming than a good lip colour?
  • Yoga pants.
  • Yoga pants that look like regular pants – it’s sorcery!
  • Greek salad and hummus on Friday nights.
  • My piano.
  • Spotify, what an age we live in that I can just listen to whatever I want whenever I want ALL THE DAMN TIME, even when it’s something completely random.
  • Podcasts! Especially Gen X This Is Why, By The Book, Jiffy Pop Culture, and We Didn’t Start The Fire – my current favourites.
  • Modern medicine: thank you, modern medicine, for being awesome and saving lives.
  • Little green shoots in my garden, that are currently under a thick blanket of snow, but I know they are there!
  • Barkley! My puppers.
  • My home gym, specifically my Peloton, and, even more specifically, Leanne Hainsby’s classes. I was saving her latest Disco Ride for this morning, and – this has never happened before – it disappeared. DISAPPEARED. I wanted disco, so I did an old Disco Ride, which was great, and I was number one on the leaderboard (out of one, that’s how old the ride was). Still, I will be singing Ring My Bell all day today.
  • Popcorn. It was back at Superstore, and I may or may not have completely stocked up and I may or may not look like I’m hoarding popcorn.
  • Berry season! Bring on the berries!
  • Salvadore, my garden gnome, who is not yet in the garden but has been moved every night after I go to bed. It’s like my own, non-holiday version of Elf in the Shelf.
  • Puzzles, but not ones that are too challenging.
  • Desiderata, which belonged to my grandma and has meant something special to me since I was a kid, and now hangs, reframed, beside my piano. I read it every day.
  • My yoga students; past and current. I love them all. One of them brought me peppermint bars today!
  • Mint chocolate; whoever first put that combination together deserves accolades.
  • Nuts; every day I am grateful there are no nut allergies in our house.
  • Speaking of nuts, peanut butter and chocolate. Now there’s a delicious combination.
  • Memories of long-ago spring break beach vacations, and dreams of future ones. There are going to be future ones, right?
  • Cutting into the perfect avocado.
  • Sunshine and mild spring temperatures, hopefully they are coming.
  • Running in the fresh air.
  • Our proximity to the Rocky Mountains and my ability to hike in those mountains.
  • Cute pajamas.
  • Green smoothies, every day.
  • All of my wonderful blog friends. Some of you have been with me since 2008, some of you are more recent friends, and I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for being here, thank you for taking this journey with me. We are better together. xo

Rituals; 109 Weeks In

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I was listening to this fantastic, new-to-me-but-well-established podcast the other day, about the importance of ritual and soulful practices in our everyday life. It got me thinking about all the little rituals I incorporate into my day, from my coffee-and-early-morning reading and writing to putting on my five different moisturizers before bedtime. Some of the little rituals came about because of the pandemic: daily inspirational reading and poetry before my morning yoga practice and my long daily walks are the two most notable ones. However, some rituals predate the pandemic by a long shot, and one of those is Sunday Dinner.

We eat dinner as a family every night, with the exception of the evenings when my younger son is at wrestling practice; those nights, it is just the three of us, and I save him a plate for when he’s home at 8:30 pm. Sunday Dinner is a different thing, though. It’s a big, semi-elaborate meal that always ends in dessert.

I cook a lot; it feels like half my life is devoted to food acquisition, preparation, and the cleanup afterwards. It can be very boring and tedious; this is why I listen to so many podcasts. But there is one thing I am never bored of, and that is making Sunday dessert. Throughout the week I bake a lot of things and I make a lot of ice cream, but I don’t partake in any of those; Sunday dessert, however, is my jam. I think about different recipes and I always get excited, choosing and then making the Dessert of the Week.

This past weekend was really fun for me, though, because we went up to my parents’ house for two nights. Not only did I not cook for two days, I also had my favourite dessert:

My birthday is coming up this week, so we had a combined birthday/ Easter celebration.

Not only did we have a wonderful dinner made by my mother with my favourite strawberry angel food cake, but we went out to dinner in an actual restaurant, we played a lot of games, drank a lot of wine, and my mom and I went shopping.

I have been searching for the perfect garden gnome for my entire life, and this fellow was the first thing I saw at Merry’s Mercantile, and I love him so much. His name is Salvadore.

Side note: longtime Calgary bloggers may remember Merry as Merry About Town or Merry With Children! She has the cutest little store in Bentley, and if you are ever in Central Alberta, you must go. You must! I saw this and I did not buy it, which I regret deeply.

Regrets about mug non-purchases aside, it was a nice finish to what was a really cold, grey, snowy week. On Wednesday I was getting groceries and the parking lot was so cold and windy that I checked my weather app.

Feels like minus 18! No wonder I was cold. Luckily the weather is supposed to turn warm and more “seasonal” this week; I feel like the whole city was starting to slip into depression, what with the return of winter.

Back to the topic of groceries, there are supply chain issues that are AFFECTING MY POPCORN PURCHASES. Boom Chicka Pop has gone from just my favourite light kettle corn being unavailable to being all flavours being completely unavailable. And – AND – there was also no Skinny Pop popcorn, my second choice, which feels like a Punishment From The Universe for buying something with such a stupid name. What’s next, am I going to be forced (“forced”) to buy Lesser Evil popcorn, just because I publicly announced I would not support a company that assigns moral values to food? Or will that start a chain reaction of more popcorn emergencies? I’m in a vicious circle of my own making. The snake is eating its own tail!

Sure, I could make my own popcorn. I do own all the appropriate accoutrements. But I don’t want to. I look forward to opening a bag of popcorn on Friday night and not doing anything else; I don’t WANT to pop my own popcorn, like a Luddite. Is a bag of popcorn too much to ask for?

Pandemic Reading

Girls Lost. I really appreciated the quality of the writing and the creativity of this book. This author is renowned and award-winning, and I loved the Swedish setting. It’s a really unique concept and English classes everywhere could have a field day with the symbolism of a meat-eating flower whose nectar turns girls into boys; the theme of toxic masculinity and violence is strong. However, I didn’t really love the book as a whole, as magic and fantasy are not to my taste. If they are to your taste, though, I think you might love this.

The Space Between Us. Wow, just wow. This is one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, perhaps ever. There’s just so much in here, I hardly even know where to begin. This is a story of two women; one is the house servant to the other. It’s a story about intertwined lives, about class differences, about the incredible burden of being a woman, about how pain is universal, about poverty and literacy and education and the lack thereof. It’s set in Bombay but honestly, the lessons are for everyone, all over the world. It’s an incredibly written book, with so much beauty and sadness. I was distraught and uplifted and so sad to finish this. It is the first book I have read by this author; I have had one of her books on hold for a few months now, and I just put everything she’s ever written on hold. I cannot say enough about this book and how it touched me.

How To Be A Grown-Up. I picked this up on a whim since the authors wrote The Nanny Diaries, which I really enjoyed back in the day. This book is okay; it deals with a woman going through a separation from literally one of the worst non-physically abusive character you can imagine. I mean, this guy is a complete loser of a child-man. So I found it hard to get into the story as I was so constantly incensed by what a jerk this guy was, and how he reminded me of someone I know who is also involved in a divorce from someone I know, and I am not going to put any more details than that but THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW ME WELL KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. I guess I found it triggering? Anyway, it’s fine, this book is fine, I liked it fine, everything is fine. Parts of it are really, really funny and parts of it are astonishingly distressing.

I am very much looking forward to this week, and not just because it’s my birthday; I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of milder weather so I can find a spot for Salvadore to live. I hope you have a beautiful week, my friends. xo

Signs of Spring; 108 Weeks In

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There are a really surprising number of houses with Christmas decorations in my neighbourhood. Depending on the snow and cold, it is not unusual to see lights up throughout January, and perhaps even to February, but now it’s April 11, we haven’t had significant snow or really frigid temperatures for a long while, and some people are still feeling merry. It’s not just lights on houses; there are a few candy cane lanes still up, and even the occasional snowman. It makes me smile, seeing the juxtaposition of Santa with the emergence of spring bulbs.

One of my favourite houses on my walk route, has, after a winter hiatus, reinstated its extensive gnome collection and garden tchotchkes in its front yard. Those happy little gnomes, bumblebees, and animals are a Sign of Spring, to be sure.

It’s been Calgary Spring Weather around here: chilly and windy days, mixed in with the occasional gorgeous warm day and sporadic snowfalls. Last week I saw my first shirtless runner of the year; another Sign of Spring! One can spot runners in shorts any month of the year in Calgary; as long as it’s sunny there will be a runner with purple legs and probably painful knees dashing down the paths, even in temperatures well below zero. But a shirtless runner! It’s like spotting the first robin of the year.

Speaking of running, I have restarted my running routine. I am very much a fair-weather outdoor runner; I will not run when the paths are icy, and I will not run in below zero temperatures. I will walk in any weather, in any and all terrible conditions, but running? NO SIR. Typically, in the winter, I use the treadmill at the gym, but over the last two years for some reason, I just don’t know why, I have not. I actually was using the treadmill up until early December 2021 – my club required all adult members to be vaccinated to use the facilities – but at that point I just did not feel comfortable taking off my mask and breathing heavily in the presence of other people taking of their masks and breathing heavily. Or breathing at all. In any case, I took a little hiatus, using the cardio equipment in the comfort of my own home, and I am happy to report my reentry into the running world has been completely smooth and painless.

It’s not like I was concerned that my Olympic dreams would be crushed or anything, taking off a few months, but I did wonder how it would feel, getting back into it. I am not getting any younger, people. I practiced non-attachment by not looking at my Garmin until the end of the run – pretty easy to do when it’s 1 degree Celsius and I had my thumbholes and gloves on – I wanted to just run by feel. Do numbers matter? No, they do not. Still, I was pleasantly surprised to see that my time was only one minute slower, total, on six kilometres, as compared to when I started my hiatus. By my third run, I was basically back to my old pace, but this week looks like my run days will be below zero for the daily high temperature, so perhaps I am back to cross-training for a few days. I suppose I could go to the fitness centre and use the treadmill, but honestly, I don’t want to, and joyful movement is all about doing what I want to do when I want to do it. Right?

Barkley went in for his spring grooming; every April I feel like we could enter him into some kind of Extreme Makeover contest, because he looks like a completely different dog. For one thing, after a winter of Extreme Fuzziness, he seems to lose about ten percent of his body weight JUST with a haircut. For at least a week after his grooming, we all marvel at how small he is, relatively speaking, underneath all that fur. He’s still over 50 pounds, so it’s not like he turns into a teacup poodle, but he’s small relative to his winter self.

My beloved groomer might generally hate people, but I think she likes me, because when I took him in she petted him and then looked at me with extreme kindness and compassion, and said “He’s pretty matted, we’re going to have to go short, are you going to be okay?” I said of course, and that she should do what she needs to do, and I have to tell you that Barkley now has a renewed lease on life. It’s like he shed the weight of the world with the weight of his fur, and has a spring in his step like I haven’t seen for a while. Spring! He’s Springing into Spring! His lump is, honestly, pretty hard to look at, but he’s so happy right now.

As a bonus, not one person has mentioned it, while passing us on walks. Are the people in my neighbourhood reading my blog? Am I giving off A Vibe? Is the lump so horrible looking that people are actually shying away from asking about it? I think it’s the latter.

No matter. It’s a part of Barkley and will be for the rest of his life, and I’m just happy he’s here, he’s moving and grooving, and that spring is starting to show itself, in all sorts of ways, big and small.

Pandemic Reading

Good Citizens Need Not Fear. I love when an author is inspired to write a book based on family experiences, and that was this collection of stories, set in Ukraine in the years leading up to and immediately following the fall of the Soviet Union. It follows people living in a building that “does not exist,” according to municipal records, and how those people make a life for themselves. Those lives are pretty bleak and grim, but the strength of community is apparent. Very interesting and cleverly written.

Everything Happens For A Reason. If you believe in the prosperity gospel, which states that good things will come to you, material things, if you believe and surrender to God, then what does it say about your faith if you become suddenly diagnosed with Stage IV cancer? This divinity scholar writes about her experiences and her grapple with faith throughout the process. I found it a fascinating, fast read.

The Secret Keeper of Jaipur. This is the sequel to The Henna Artist, which I read a while ago and could not remember much about. However, it all came back to me as I read this book; happily, The Secret Keeper of Jaipur catches the reader up on the preceding book and all the characters. I didn’t love this book about gold smuggling and an engineering crisis but I liked it just fine.

I hope you all have a wonderful week, filled with signs of spring! xo

Doing The Wave; 107 Weeks In

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“You and your waving.” My husband said to me on our walk one day, as I waved enthusiastically at a person across the street, only to realize that I had no idea who that person was. This happens more often than you might think; then again, if you know me at all, you would probably not be surprised at the frequency at which it happens.

I am a waver, and I like to greet or acknowledge people, even when I don’t know them. If I pass someone on the sidewalk, at the very least I will nod and smile. More likely, I will give a nod, smile, and a subdued Hand Up Half Wave:

Sometimes I will add the Finger Wiggle, which, if I’m wearing mittens, looks the same as the Hand Up Half Wave, but the feeling is there:

However, if I see someone I know – or I think it’s someone I know – I give a much more active and enthusiastic wave:

This is subdued considering that internally, when I see a friend, I feel like this:

I may or may not have the reputation of being the Crazy Friendly Lady in the neighbourhood, but I embrace my role as Neighbourhood Greeter.

Last week, Barkley and I had just gotten back from our walk, and I was taking advantage of the thaw to clean up the backyard of Barkley-related detritus, when I heard a cheerful “Hello there!” I looked up and saw my new next-door neighbour over the fence. “Oh, hi!” I said and waved happily, realizing at the last minute what was in my hand.

I have waved a dog waste bag at people on the street more times than I can count, while on Barkley walks, but always the bag is CLOSED. When my new neighbour greeted me, I was mid-pickup, my hand was ensconced in the bag and it was full, FULL, people, of dog waste and that is what I waved at him. As I realized what I was doing, I slowly dropped my hand and smiled, asking him how his reno was going.

If he was offended by the view inside a dog waste bag, he didn’t show it; instead he invited me to come and see what was happening. I had never been inside that house before; it was like being inside my own house, but taken down to the studs. I like to think of the neighbourhood, which was established in the early 1960s, and all the original owners choosing the little bungalow layout that suited them best.

There are still a few original owners on our street; Mrs G, next door, is one of them, and Mr. and Mrs. C, down the street. I like to think about all the changes they have seen in sixty years; I have seen a lot in 22 years. I’ve seen a lot in two years, with all my extensive neighbourhood walks, with and without Barkley.

Barkley is going in to get his spring haircut this week (fur cut?) and I am dreading it, not because of the actual grooming – he loves our local groomer – but because of the inevitable comments from strangers that ensue. When he’s really fluffy – as he is now – his lump is hardly discernable, but that will certainly change this week.

I like to think the best of people, and I like to think that people mean well, and they are just concerned for his well-being, but reactions from strangers about his very large lump are hurtful reminders to me that my dog is at the end of his life, and I don’t feel like I need any more reminders. “What IS that?” people will ask, or “Is that a lump on his side?” which is, in my opinion, lacking in intelligence as we all have eyes and we can see that there is, indeed, a large lump on his side. Sometimes I will get a “Can’t you do anything about that?” which also strikes me as unkind, as well as stupid, because if the benefits of removing it exceeded the costs to his well-being, well, I would.

Honestly, it’s enough to make me want to give up my Friendly Neighbour persona.

It’s gotten to the point that I got teary-eyed with gratitude when I saw a lady on our street, who looked at Barkley’s lump, and merely said “He’s still getting around, isn’t he!” I almost cried. He IS still getting around, thank you, thank you.

I was speaking to the groomer about this, as I was arranging his upcoming appointment. The groomer is a person who I would describe as being exactly suited to her job, in every way. She is not, however, a People Person. She is a tall, sturdy, strong woman with a lot of tattoos and who gives off a vibe of Tolerating Dog Owners But Barely. I like her a lot.

Anyway, she is great with Barkley, and I mentioned my dread at having his lump exposed to the world, and the inevitable slew of comments that will follow in the weeks to come. She paused for a moment and said to me “Tell you what I would do. Do you want my advice?” I said of course I did, to which she responded “You tell those people to mind their own fucking business, that’s what.” I started laughing and she said, “I’m serious! Tell them to fuck right off and mind their own business.” After that she said, in a world-weary way, “GOD, I hate people.”

I laughed and laughed, imagining myself responding in this way. That would destroy my Friendly Neighbourhood Lady persona entirely. I would NEVER, but I am happy to have such commiseration, and in the meantime, I will tell them to fuck right off and mind their own business in spirit.

Pandemic Reading

Wish You Were Here. Ugh, this is on me. It is my own damn fault. I do not like this author at all – god knows, I have tried. I find her writing to be contrived, cliched, gimmicky, and heavy-handed. So WHY did I think it was a good idea to pick up this book that IS ABOUT THE EARLY DAYS OF THE PANDEMIC? I will never know. “You did this to yourself,” I said to myself throughout the book. Anyway. I very much disliked it.

The Souvenir Museum. This was a well-written and clever collection of short stories. The settings were all different, but some of the characters intersected or appeared in multiple stories, which I like. All in all enjoyable.

The Reading List. This is a very sweet and moving story about an unlikely friendship, based on a found list of books to read, all of which are books I personally have read and loved. It works with the theme of family, born and chosen, friendship, the importance of community, and the role of books and libraries in our lives. If you are a library and book lover, then you might love this as much as I did. But I’m going to give a huge caveat here: TRIGGER WARNING. There is a sad subplot that I know for a fact will be very upsetting and triggering to a couple of my readers in particular, and if you think that might be you, please please please message me before you read this book. I am not going to tell you what the trigger is because it is a spoiler; instead, message me.

Happy April everyone! I hope spring is springing where you are. xo

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!; 106 Weeks In

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pandemic Reading

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

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

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

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

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

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Isolation Chamber Edition

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Full disclosure: I had a very different Favourite Things planned for this month, but I decided to write a little about my experience with The Plague instead. You’ll just have to wait for Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Daily Glow-Up Edition! I’m sure you are all dying to know about my new favourite CC Cream; soon, my pretties.

Okay, that’s cruel. It’s by IT Cosmetics and it’s called “Your Skin But Better.”

As I mentioned in my last post, all four of us came down with The Covid, and our experience was that it was very, very mild. I have been pretty sanguine about the whole thing for several months now, but I do not want to tell you how to feel or to negate your experience in any way. I am just sharing my experience.

To be honest, if this was pre-2020, we would have just gone about our normal day-to-day lives with the kind of symptoms we had. Obviously we followed all the protocols as soon as my son tested positive, but remember back in the Before Times, when we would have just Pushed Through? Remember taking Advil Cold and Sinus and just going to work or to school, never thinking of calling in sick unless we had literally one foot in the grave, merrily spreading our germs to all and sundry? Thankfully, those days are gone, and I have to say it was kind of nice to be forced into isolation without being very sick at all. Forced rest is quite lovely, and we were lucky to have such mild cases.

Well, I say “lucky,” but a big part of that was due to the efficacy of vaccines. My husband has a couple of health issues that are largely controlled but that have been linked to severe outcomes, so I credit science and his vaccination status for his bout: he merely had a sore throat for about twelve hours, and an on-again-off-again headache for a couple of days. Had this happened a year or more ago, things could have ended up very differently, and I will always be breathtakingly grateful that this was our experience.

I think it goes without saying that one of my favourite things is VACCINES. I will get boosted for the rest of my life, if needed.

Again, this is my lived experience. Yours might be very different. I have many friends who are very wary and anxious about contracting Covid for a variety of reasons, so I am definitely not minimizing those feelings. I am saying that we all got off very easy – my younger son, for example, NEVER developed any symptoms at all. Many people have reported that they had symptoms like a “mild cold,” but I wouldn’t even say that. The only symptom I had was being tired and low energy for a couple of days. I know many people who got quite sick with fevers and pain, and others who have suffered Long Covid, and I feel very, very fortunate. I am generally a very healthy person, but similarly healthy people have had very bad experiences with Covid, so general health isn’t always an indicator.

This is a very long preamble to say that I wanted to share with you the things that helped me through my bout, and resulting isolation.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Isolation Chamber Edition

My Beauty Has Always Been A Curse; Ew, David

My love of the Golden Girls is well known. I have loved that show since the 80s and I was excited to see that it’s on Disney Plus, which is one of the many streaming services we seem to have that I never use. I have been watching one episode week, just like it’s 1985, and at this rate I’ll finish the series in 2029, give or take a few months. My kids like to say I’m binge-watching something if I watch more than three episodes a month, so I guess I’m binging?

The writing is just so good in that show, and I love the costumes and set design. I read that Rue McClanahan had it in her contract that she could keep all of the clothes she wore on the show, so I like to imagine her closet overflowing with super-colourful separates. Also, she was only four years older than I am now, when the show started.

I know I’m about seven years late to the party, but my husband and I have started watching Schitt’s Creek, and WOW, do I love it. So far we’ve finished the first season, and I have heard – from all my friends who have been telling me to watch it all these years – that it only gets better.

She Puzzled Until Her Puzzler Was Sore

I love puzzles, but I never start one unless I know I have time to become obsessed with it and have it completely take over my life. Well, hello there, Covid Isolation!

Isn’t this cute? One of my students gave it to me a few weeks ago, and I felt like this was the absolute perfect time to put it together. It was not a difficult puzzle at all, which was good, as I was kind of fuzzy and exhausted, and it was a really cute and fun one to do. I quibble with the “world’s cutest dog” label though; in my mind, that title belongs to Barkley.

I Heart My Library

I’m always a little surprised when a person tells me that they don’t like to use libraries; when the libraries closed in 2020, I felt like a little part of me died. Don’t get me wrong, I love OWNING books and I HAVE many books:

But I read well over a hundred books a year, and if I were to buy that many books I would be a) broke, and b) drowning in books. I only have so much space, people! I always have a nice big stack of library books on my side table, usually because I put a ton on hold and then they all come in at once, even the ones for which I am way down in the queue. Isn’t that funny when that happens? Luckily I had just picked up several holds before the plague hit us, so I was able to work my way through the stack.

This is my current stack, and oooohhhh you guys, I’m excited about all of these titles. Reviews to come!

Relax and Restore

I love restorative yoga and I do one such practice per week. For those of you not familiar, restorative yoga is made up of very slow-moving, long-held asana, usually with bolsters and blankets. The goal is very gentle opening of the body, while being completely comfortable and supported. To give you an idea, when I used to teach restorative classes, there would be about four or five relaxed, supported asana in a one-hour class. There are a ton of books on the subject, and I’m sure many examples on the internet, but here are two of my favourite postures, that do not require any blankets or bolsters – although you could use them, if you wanted.

Child’s resting pose is so great for the back and shoulders, and if it is painful for the knees to be in this position, you could add a rolled-up blanket between your knees and hamstrings, or support your chest and head with a bolster or pillow.

Viparita Karani, or legs up the wall, is probably my number-one favourite restorative pose. It’s so great for the back and for circulation, as well as allowing a very gentle stretch for hamstrings. If your hamstrings are a bit tight, then simply move your body farther away from the wall to allow for a more gentle experience. I will sometimes lie like this for twenty minutes; if you like guided meditations, this is a good posture in which to listen to one.

I wanted to include these photos to show you that lack of space need not be a deterrent in yoga. You can see how tight we are for space, but it works. Would I rather have a devoted home studio? Obviously yes but I take what I can get, and what I can get is the space between the kitchen and the dining room.

Food, Glorious Food

I couldn’t believe how hungry I was when I had Covid. I certainly did not experience any loss of appetite, taste, or smell. If anything, it was the opposite: even though my activity level was about 1/20 of normal, I was ravenous constantly, and everything tasted great. I am, as you all know, a big proponent of Listening To My Body, and my body was telling me that it Needed Food To Heal. Is this what it feels like to be a teen boy? I was So Hungry, even after a full meal, and so between meals I grazed constantly, for three straight days.

This is a good time to tell you about one of my favourite things: dried fruit. Now hear me out! I am constantly mocked in my family for my love of dried fruit, but if Fruit is Nature’s Candy, then Dried Fruit is Nature’s Gummy Bears: delicious, sweet, and chewy.

These are my favourite dried fruits, which I buy at Costco, but they aren’t always available. Each type is only available a few months out of the year, so I tend to buy a few bags at a time. Am I hoarding? Maybe. I regret nothing!

My sister-in-law (and my brother, too, but let’s be real: it was my sister-in-law who arranged this) sent me this incredible Edible Arrangement and a box of cookies for our anniversary and my son’s birthday – both yesterday! – and I feel that this is the time to mention them because a) Fruit Is Nature’s Candy, b) chocolate-dipped fruit is the greatest thing ever invented, and c) cookies.

Several cookies somehow went missing BEFORE the photo was taken! There are thieves among us.

Those were my Favourite Things this month; this wasn’t what I thought I was going to talk about, but it sure was fun. What were your favourites this month? xo

Grumbles, Groceries, Good Things; One Hundred and Five Weeks In

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WHY DO WE STILL CHANGE THE CLOCKS TWICE A YEAR

I have been tracking my sleep on my Garmin watch since the New Year, and although I have no idea HOW my watch knows how much I sleep and how much of that sleep is deep or light or REM, it seems pretty accurate. I generally average between seven and seven and a half hours each night during the week, with more on Friday and Saturday.

This year, Springing Forward coincided with the celebration of my parents’ golden anniversary. That means, in addition to staying up late visiting and drinking wine, the clocks moved forward AND I ended up having massive wine-fueled hot flashes. Here is my Saturday Night Sleep Report:

So I was pretty fuzzy going into the week, and the time change always makes me feel just slightly off for at least four or five days. I would rage about it for a while but a) it looks like there is a US bill to get rid of the time change, and b) if this happens in the States I am hopeful it will happen in Canada. PLEASE GOD LET THIS HAPPEN IN MY LIFETIME.

I Am Not An Anti-Dentite

I had a dental cleaning scheduled for this week, and the dental office sent me the following reminders: five emails, eight texts, and three phone calls, two to my cell and one to my landline. I felt like this was an excessive number of reminders, particularly since I responded to and confirmed at least one of the very many reminders.

It brought to mind the days when my older son was going through orthodontic treatment, and the office would send a text, an email, and a phone call, and that never stopped even though at every single appointment – for twenty-six months – I would ask them to please just give me ONE reminder. ONE. They would make a note, and then nothing would change. After this barrage of reminders from the dentist, I longed for the orthodontic days.

Well, not really, but I was feeling pretty irritated by the time my appointment came around; that morning, I had a text and an email saying “see you soon!” and honestly, I felt like cancelling the whole thing, or maybe burning down the entire office. I was so grumpy about it that my husband commented on said grumpiness. “Why are you so mad about this? Things like this don’t usually bother you.” True.

I couldn’t stop complaining about going to the DENTIST and how I HATE the dentist and argh, I’m going to the DENTIST. I didn’t really understand my own crabbiness, except that it was maybe a Bridge Too Far, what with time change and all. I mean, I do not have a fear of the dentist, as many people do. I have never had a difficult dental procedure. Tooth scaling, while unpleasant, isn’t even painful for me. So why was I so worked up?

The answer came when I got to the office and the receptionist informed me that my “usual” hygienist was unable to see me, so would it be okay if I saw a different hygienist? I shrugged agreeably and said I didn’t even know who my usual was, and I was sure that whoever they put me with would be just fine.

People, the woman who cleaned my teeth was a literal angel of a hygienist. Never have I had such a pleasant dental experience. It was then that I realized that I never learned or retained the names of my past hygienists, which is highly out of character for me. I am a person who gets very attached to people in my life. I mean, I have favourite cashiers at the grocery store and I know all their names. The fact that I seem to block out the names of my dental hygienists speaks volumes, and then I remembered that at my last appointment, the hygienist talked incessantly about her unvaccinated family members, and any time she asked me a question, she would unpleasantly laugh and tell a follow up story about her kids and their superior athletic abilities. She told me I drank way too much coffee, which, while true, isn’t a nice thing to hear.

On the other hand, my new hygienist talked to me about fuzzy dog breeds, told me a lovely story about her own dog and her dog’s best friend, and that her daughter left her job as a legal assistant to become an ultrasound technician. She was incredibly gentle with my teeth and told me that I was doing an excellent job maintaining my oral health. I felt like hugging her at the end of our appointment.

When I told my husband about it, he realized that she is the hygienist that he sees, and that he has been trying to get me to go to for two years, but I kept saying that it doesn’t matter who the hygienist is. He didn’t actually say I told you so but point taken.

Walking Down The Aisles

I am back to my regular, first-thing-in-the-morning grocery shopping, and my faith in humanity has somewhat been restored, as it is too early in the day for Costco shoppers to leave their carts wherever they may be. I’m sure it’s still happening, but I’m not there to see it, and a tree falls in the forest.

My goodness, there are a lot of empty shelves right now. I am not in a panic; there is plenty of food, plenty. Everything is fine.

But also, there seems to be an oatmeal shortage? Regular rolled oats are very sparse on the shelves, and there seems to be only one variety of instant oatmeal. One of my sons likes to have instant oatmeal once or twice a week, and his favourite flavour has been unavailable for many weeks. There is a ton of sugary cereals like Froot Loops and that strange Timbits cereal, but very little of the hippie, high-fibre brands I like. Although, I did find Kashi Cinnamon Wheat Squares, which have been unavailable for well over a year. Mini-Wheats are also scarce, which, again, is not a big deal but something I noticed.

I walked down the frozen aisle to get some fruit, and I noticed that there were whole sections, usually devoted to pizza, that were completely empty. In the produce department, I have noticed that grapes are either completely unavailable or are really gross and wrinkly looking, although that could certainly be a seasonal thing.

My favourite Boom Chicka Pop Light Kettle Corn has been unavailable for over a month, but a few weeks ago I picked up a bag of Skinny Pop Kettle Corn, because god forbid I go without kettle corn. This is where the story twists: IT IS AMAZING. It BLOWS Boom Chicka Pop right out of the water, RIGHT OUT. As Ma Ingalls always said, There Is No Great Loss Without Some Small Gain, but let me tell you, if it hadn’t been for the Boom Chicka Pop shortage, I would have never tried something with such a ridiculous name as Skinny Pop, and now I cannot go back. I have since bought several bags and I may be hoarding, just a little.

Speaking of ridiculous names, I came across this at Superstore:

I didn’t buy it out of principle. I didn’t want to buy into the culture that food is somehow evil if you are enjoying it but this is less evil than other foods. NO. No sir, I will not do it. This may sound rich coming from a person who just admitted to hoarding something called Skinny Pop, but even I have my limits. I marched righteously past the display, thinking angry thoughts about society and putting value judgements on the food that we eat.

Except, strawberry white chocolate popcorn. STRAWBERRY WHITE CHOCOLATE POPCORN. I can’t stop thinking about it! I wonder if it’s delicious. Regrets, I have them.

One Slipped Past The Goalie

The biggest grumble is that, after two years, we succumbed to the plague. My younger son’s best friend texted to say he’d tested positive for Covid; my son – who had zero symptoms and never did develop any – took a test and it was positive. The rest of us were negative at that time, but the next day it was pretty clear the negatives had become positives. My husband had a headache, sore throat, and fatigue, my other son had a sore throat, and I was so tired I could barely pull myself out of bed, even having slept an extra two hours. I continued to be exhausted all day, even taking an afternoon nap. My energy level, normally approaching that of Jack Russell terrier, was downgraded to Barkley:

By about day three we all felt “approaching normal,” and more bored than anything. That’s the grumble – the good thing is that none of us were very sick at all – no one even had a cough or sneeeze, I had JUST gotten groceries so we had plenty of food in the house, and we were all able to just take it easy. I attribute our extremely “nothing” cases to the efficacy of vaccines; if this had happened a year ago, I think things would have been very different. As it is, meh. One slipped past the goalie and we are all just fine.

Pandemic Reading

Five Tuesdays In Winter. Wow, did I love this collection of short stories! They were wrenching, heartwarming, and beautiful, and also incredibly varied in terms of character and setting. I want to read all her work now, and have put myself in the queue for her other books.

We Are Not Like Them. This book is written from two points of view, by two different authors, which is interesting. It deals with a white woman married to a police officer who is involved in the shooting of an unarmed, innocent, 14 year old Black kid, and a Black newscaster who is covering the story. The complication is that the two women are lifelong friends. This is a very important story with very important information. I’m glad I read it. But, the book itself? Meh. The characters are cliched and one-dimensional, and the writing itself is pretty flat. It is, in every way, a Book Club Book. It’s very readable, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re looking for a beautifully written book with complex, nuanced characters, this isn’t it.

With Love From London. My goodness, what a sweet, cozy, charming little book about a woman who inherits a bookshop in London, from her estranged mother. Everything ends exactly as you’d want it to, it’s a Hallmark movie in book firm, but better. So satisfying and lovely!

Mitzi Bytes. This book deals with a woman who has an anonymous blog, that gets found out – and the people she has been writing about are NOT HAPPY. It was fun to read about the early days of blogging – remember the Mommy Wars, and how there was actual debate about no-nut policies in schools – and there is also quite a bit of “why do we blog” discussion. If you were a part of those early days, and remember the stardom of some bloggers, you’ll really enjoy this trip down memory lane. It’s a fun read! I obviously do not have an anonymous blog, but this book is also a bit of a cautionary tale about what we write about: my personal view is that I assume everyone I know could possibly read this blog, so I never write anything I would be ashamed to say in person. YES, THAT INCLUDES DISCUSSION ABOUT MY BRAS, TAMPONS, AND CHIN HAIR. But mostly, that means that I don’t say anything about other people that I wouldn’t say to their faces.

Everything is back to semi-normal around here; we are out of isolation today, everyone is feeling well. And it’s Spring Break! Which means…absolutely nothing, although we did have a trip to Mexico planned that we cancelled back in January when all our travelling friends were getting stranded here, there, and everywhere. Two weeks ago I was bitterly regretting cancelling, but now I’m rejoicing, because at least we didn’t have to do a last-minute-scramble-to-cancel! Isn’t it nice when things work out for the best? Take care of yourselves. xo