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Post-Christmas Haze; Ninety-Three Weeks In

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Hello there! I’m currently in that lovely post-Christmas, pre-New Year’s haze, still sipping coffee from my Christmas mugs, still surrounded by Christmas decorations and cards but with added Christmas CHOCOLATES everywhere, but without the busyness that comes pre-Christmas. It’s nice. There’s not much on my to-do list this week, other than the regular and never-ending household things, like the two giant loads of laundry I did yesterday after returning home from two nights at my parents’, not that I’m complaining, I will never complain again about the laundry, I have learned my lesson.

As a side note, I am currently reading an incredibly well-researched book about day-to-day life in the Victorian age, and there is a note about how the invention of the washing machine is considered to be up there with contraception and the vote in improvement of the lives of women. Reading about what was entailed in Washing Day certainly shows that. He worked really hard, Grandpa. So do washing machines.

Anyway! The big news around here, apart from the constant, never-ending, increasingly grim and worrisome Pandemic Updates, is the Weather. This was the ambient temperature at my parents’ house yesterday morning:

FEELS LIKE MINUS 42 YOU GUYS. There is cold, there is Cold, and then there is COLD.

One of my Christmas gifts from my husband – and this was a really lovely surprise – was a pair of battery-operated heated mittens. I feel this will be a life-changing item for this Reynaud-y girl.

Friluftsliv! Could I BE wearing any more clothes? There’s no bad weather, only bad clothes, I’m half Norwegian, etc.

I have never posted a photo of my husband on the blog before, and I probably never will again, but get ready because here he is:

If you recognize him on the street, be sure to say hi.

Despite our frosted heads, I was actually really warm, which goes to show that layers do work, and heated mittens are an incredible invention; maybe not quite as incredible as the automatic washing machine, but they are up there, Steve.

We spent Christmas Eve at home, watching Elf and wearing our WWE Christmas sweaters; the guys did their annual gingerbread house and you know what, there are no obscene markings with frosting or dead Santas, things have really changed in the Boyhouse:

We opened our gifts and stockings at home, and then drove up to my parents’ place to eat, drink, and be merry. I think I am now actually about fifty percent snack mix, and the other fifty percent is wine and Christmas sweets. We also played some heated rounds of Rummoli and rediscovered the sadistic joys of Sorry. Remember that game? It was really fun.

Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, because it happened six days ago and, you know what that’s like in Pandemic World, it feels like six months. My husband booked a night away for the two of us in Banff, and it was just so wonderful. Two things of note: this was the first time that we have left the boys alone for a night, and this was the first night away for the two of us since 2017. Per the first part, the boys are very responsible and all was just fine, of course, and per the second: 2017! I am going to go out on a limb and say that five years between having a night away is probably too many years. We hadn’t been to the Banff Springs since the boys were very small; I think perhaps my oldest was in kindergarten the last time, and the experience was even more magical than I remembered.

We walked downtown for dinner, and on the way back we walked through the town’s special light show, The Spirit of Christmas, which was gorgeous.

Our timing could not have been better; we were there the one day that temperatures were relatively mild – just below freezing – and when we got home the snow and wind started, and the temperatures plummeted, and I focused on hygge feelings and friluftsliv, as per my Northern European heritage.

So that was a wonderful way to kick off the holidays! The next day was Festivus and I did not even feel like I had any grievances to air, so floaty and relaxed was I. We did, however, play this game with the boys:

If you see this in the store and feel tempted to buy it, I am going to warn you that it’s actually not very fun. It was surprisingly dull and I think that Sorry would have been much better.

Pandemic Reading

Between Two Kingdoms. I’ll be thinking about this book for a long time to come; what an incredible memoir. Imagine being 22 and diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukaemia. The author goes through years of debilitating treatment, and comes through to wonder what’s next. She realized her whole life was centred on survival, but not living, and went on a road trip across the States. This book got me really thinking about the nature of illness, but also the role of the caregiver in such a relationship. The author’s boyfriend of only a few months essentially took on this role, and honestly, I don’t think I could have done a tenth of what he did. Anyway, it’s an incredible story, the author is a brilliant writer, and what she survived is actually breathtakingly horrific.

Where The Grass Is Green And The Girls Are Pretty. This was a good read about college admission scandals, which is something I don’t actually know much about. It’s just so different in Canada, I guess. The thing about this book is the characters are very complex – all at once sympathetic and also unlikeable. I have read a few books by this author and I think her writing has really gotten better with time, although the title? It’s not great. But, it’s just a title.

I hope you are all getting some well-deserved rest and relaxation! How have your holidays been so far? Tell me everything. xo

Two Christmas Miracles; Ninety-Two Weeks In

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Here we are, in the homestretch to the Festive Finish Line, and I have not one, but TWO Christmas miracles to tell you about. Cue the hype-up music – are you ready for this?

Christmas Miracle Number One: Costco

Last week I was due for a Costco trip, and during this Pandemic At The Disco, I have gotten into the habit of combining that with my weekly Superstore trip, so that I hit Superstore at or around opening at eight, and then Costco at or around opening at nine. To say I was not looking forward to this would be an understatement: it’s always a physically exhausting activity, but it was also minus 20 and there was snow on the ground, which makes parking lot cart maneuvering extremely difficult.

I dropped the kids at school and zipped over to Superstore; there were numerous weirdly empty shelves, and those empty shelves seemed extremely random and unrelated to each other or any Weird World Events. With Superstore, it’s a tossup whether or not there is a Pandemic Shortage or just Superstore Weirdness. For example, there were some imported rice and noodles, but no eggs. There were tons of fresh greens, but only two kinds of apples. Other than that, the trip was without incident, unless you count the side-eyes I got from humming and grooving to the store’s Christmas music. What? The best way to spread Christmas cheer is by singing loud for all to hear, not that I was actually singing – no one needs to hear that – but still, I was doing my part for society. If you don’t want me to cart-dance to Last Christmas, then don’t PLAY Last Christmas, Superstore.

One of the side-eyes I got was from the cashier, and I smiled and told her that I love that song. She replied, somewhat grumpily, that she had been listening to it since November 15. So have I, but by choice I didn’t say, because there really is a difference between listening to songs on repeat by one’s own volition or not, as evidenced by the many, many times I heard Werewolves of London back in my university waitressing days. I get it, is what I’m saying.

As a side note, Last Christmas will always have my heart (I gave you my heart), but this year I’ve also been auditorily addicted to N’Sync’s Merry Christmas Happy Holidays, Chris Rea’s Driving Home for Christmas, and Kelly Clarkson’s Underneath The Tree. It’s an interesting mashup, what goes on in my head.

In any case, I got what I needed at Superstore, loaded up the car, and headed over to Costco.

Costco, ten days before Christmas. I blasted the 70s on 7 channel, singing loudly, like a football player listening to In The Air Tonight before a big game. I was literally hyping myself up, thinking I’ve shopped here in spring 2020, I’ve made it through the Great Toilet Paper and Flour Shortage of 2020, DO YOUR WORST, COSTCO, COME AT ME, BITCH.

Costco:

I will tell you this: I haven’t seen Costco like that since 2019. It was so quiet, the shelves were full of everything that I needed (and more, it is Costco after all). I was in and out in half an hour, and, I don’t know if it was just because it was so early in the day, but there were no stray carts in the parking lot. IT WAS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.

Christmas Miracle Number Two: The Dryer

I got home from my epic grocery trip, still in disbelief over the ease at which I procured said groceries, and started unloading and unpacking the car. While doing so, I thought I would pop the clothes from the washer into the dryer; I took the time to hang the delicates to dry – mostly a few sweaters and some yoga clothes and sports bras – and then pressed the start button.

Nothing happened.

I stood there motionless for a moment, and then started pressing the button with increasing force and rapidity, like I was in a hurry waiting for an elevator; I knew that it was useless to do so and yet I was powerless to stop myself. Needless to say, nothing continued to happen.

My immediate thought was this is karma. I was JUST complaining about how much time I spend doing laundry, this is the universe’s way of reminding me of the incredibly blessed life I lead. NEVER COMPLAIN. My second thought was thank god it was the dryer. I mean, of all appliances to go, the dryer is the easiest one to live without. Clothes can be hung to dry. I have many friends in the neighbourhood who would certainly let me use their dryer if needed. Laundromats exist. Also, the day before I had laundered all the flannel sheets, so it was very lucky that it didn’t break down at that time; that would have been tricky to deal with. As it was, I used everything I could think of in the basement to hang the wet clothes on: I filled our drying rack, then moved on to my son’s music stand, the barbell weight stand, and the small step ladder. I would have gone to Walmart and cleaned out their supply of drying racks, but my husband stopped me. He thought he could solve the problem.

Here’s the thing about the Pandemic and The Way The Pandemic Has Affected My Brain: I just assumed that I would be living without a dryer indefinitely. Well, I guess I don’t have a dryer now, better go buy some drying racks. Can you blame me? There’s so much buzz about the supply chain, I just assumed there was no supply. My husband phoned and left a message with a local repairman; I put on my snow pants and went for a walk, secretly vowing to go buy many drying racks on my return. While I was out, my husband texted me to say that the repairman was on his way.

What?

I had no idea that a repairman coming that same day was even an option, but John the Repairman was there when I got back. After calling around, he said there were parts locally available and he would return on Friday to fix the problem. “The only problem is I can’t test the motor,” he said, “But that’s a rare problem. If the motor’s gone, it’s a thousand-dollar fix.”

Cue ominous music.

Friday morning John the Repairman came back, and within fifteen minutes came to report that the worst indeed came to the worst: the motor was dead. We decided not to fix our ten-year-old dryer, I gave John the Repairman a bag of Christmas treats, and he left. I started another small load of laundry, hanging the clothes to dry, while my husband looked at the Lowes’ website.

THERE WERE MANY DRYERS IN STOCK AND AVAILABLE.

Still, I didn’t quite believe it. The next day my husband and son went out and returned with a brand-new dryer in the truck. They recruited my older son in helping to maneuver it down our narrow basement stairs, unhooked the old dryer, loaded it on the truck, and within the hour I had a working dryer. Am I living in an actual Christmas movie? IT IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.

It is also a reminder of how lucky I am. I feel like I should never complain about anything ever again. Especially about anything food related: I don’t want karma to come back and take my fridge or freezer or stove. I briefly had a I’m so tired of making dinner feeling and then snapped out of it. DON’T THINK SUCH THOUGHTS, NICOLE, THE UNIVERSE IS LISTENING.

For the last several years, we use this cute wooden Advent calendar as a Gratitude Calendar: every day we each write one good thing about our day on a slip of paper, and then on New Year’s Eve, we read all of them. I feel like all of my remaining days I should write I have working appliances, thank you, Universe, I have working appliances.

Pandemic Reading

This week I finished the Giller Prize shortlist, and just in time for all my library holds to un-pause and start streaming in.

On the right is the completed pile of Giller Prize shortlisted books, loaned to me by my friend Marion (HI MARION), the left is the pile of library books, and in the middle is the book that I have been reading by bits and pieces for months.

On to this week’s reading!

The Listeners. Based on the description, I would have NEVER picked up this book, but I’m glad I did as I think it’s important to expand my mind and read different things once in a while. That said, I did not love this book, but I did appreciate it for the excellent writing and interesting storyline. A woman hears a strange humming noise; it keeps her up at night, causes migraines and nosebleeds, and no one else can hear it – until one of her students mentions it. She finds a group, all of whom can hear the noise, and things start to fall apart. This is a book that draws parallels to conspiracy theories and cults, and is really incredibly interesting. There are a few parts that jump from one place to another, which makes it a bit tricky to follow, but on the whole this is really well written.

What Strange Paradise. This was the winner of the Giller Prize, and I can see why: it’s exquisitely written and quite timely in terms of subject matter. A migrant boat full of refugees is washed up on the shore of a Greek island, and there is only one survivor: a young Syrian boy. This is very moving, and obviously, given the subject matter, tragically sad.

The Holiday Swap. This is a Hallmark holiday movie in book form, and I am 100% here for it. It has everything: identical twins – one a glamourous TV host, one a homebody running the family bakery – who switch places for a week, an idyllic, snowy, mountain-town setting, romantic interests in the local firefighter and a physician’s assistant, delicious baked goods, a rescue dog, and a cat named Gateau. There are some twists and turns but, naturally, everything works out in the end. This was just a lovely, light, fun read, especially after my string of Very Heavy Books.

I wish you all a very happy holiday season! I hope you can find light, love, and laughter. And maybe some puzzles, games, and delicious treats as well. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things; The I Love December Edition

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I love the month of December. It just feels so magical; objectively it’s a cold and dark month, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I mean, it IS dark, it IS cold – it is minus 21 this morning! – but I don’t mind. I mean, yes, I would rather not spend ten minutes layering my clothes to go outside, but at least I can put on Barkley’s festive scarf when we go out.

Every year at this time someone decorates the trees lining the walking path, and I am one hundred percent here for it.

It’s been kind of an exhausting week in the Boyhouse, this last week of school. My younger son had two wrestling tournaments in a five-day span and has been going in early every day to catch up on the electro-tech projects he missed due to his cold, and both boys have had numerous big exams and essays due this week. We are all looking forward to the break, reminiscing about the elementary school days when nothing at all was accomplished during the entire month of December except maybe some crafts and caroling.

The break! Today is my last class until January. As I mentioned in my last post, it feels like December is just flying by, and so I am taking time to just stop and appreciate the things I love about it. Without further ado, it’s time for…

Nicole’s Favourite Things; The I Love December Edition

Winter Sky

The sun rises after 8:30 am and sets before 4:30; during the day the sun is so low in the sky as to be always a little bit in my eyes, even at noon. I watch the sky from a dark, dusky navy to completely black, and back again, sometimes with a little colour thrown in.

What December doesn’t have in terms of long hours of sunlight, it makes up for with a special kind of beauty.

It’s Puzzling

My darling friend Allison (HI ALLISON) sent me a Christmas Vacation puzzle, and I felt so seen!

I love puzzles and I love Christmas Vacation. What is it about puzzles? They completely take over my life. I am OBSESSED. All I want to do is work on the puzzle, and I have to be quite disciplined because I find that I’ll sit down to find just one piece and then an hour will disappear. I want everyone to just fend for themselves so that I can just puzzle. MY LIFE IS THE PUZZLE NOW, EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. When I’m in the midst of a puzzle – especially a challenging one like this – I almost forget what life was like, pre-puzzle. What did I do? What did I think about? I found a piece that I’d been looking for for DAYS, and I screamed with joy. My husband came in from snow-blowing and was a little startled, and could hardly understand excited babbling. The piece! That was in the trailer window! I found it!

All of which is to say, this puzzle is one of my Favourite Things, thank you Allison.

Carve It Up

My friend Sharyl and I go way back; we were friends first, and then when I became a yoga teacher she really took me under her wing and mentored me. We used to teach yoga for stroke survivors together, and I learned so much from her and that class. We used to laugh about ourselves at Christmastime, as we were the living embodiment of this meme.

I think you can tell who is who here.

Once in December, we were preparing to teach and Sharyl asked me to put on some music; I suggested a Christmas playlist and Sharyl looked at me like this:

The reason I give you this background on Sharyl is that her husband has been carving and selling Christmas ornaments, the proceeds of which all go to charity. These ornaments are adorable, and beautifully made, and Sharyl’s house must have been, at one point, completely full of them. I love thinking of Sharyl surrounded by ornaments. Now to get her to listen to Christmas music in November. Love you, Sharyl, and love my new ornaments:

Florence’s Art, Again

Remember last month when I told you about my friend Florence (HI FLORENCE) and how she was involved in the Under 100 Art Show? That was last weekend and there were so many beautiful pieces there, and all so very affordable. It was the first art show I had ever been to, and I loved looking at everything; of course, my favourite was Florence’s display.

It was hard to choose but this was my favourite:

Isn’t it lovely? I am looking forward to next year’s show!

Boom! This Stuff Is Amazing

After trying the white chocolate peppermint, I told you last month that I would purchase the dark chocolate, limited edition Boom Chicka Pop and report back, and people, I do not go back on my word. Purchase it I did, and then purchase it again I did, and then purchase it a third time I did because holy moly, you guys. This stuff is incredible. And maybe a teensy bit addicting, so be warned:

You may ask which one I prefer, the dark chocolate or the white chocolate peppermint, and I cannot answer that question. That would be like naming a favourite child. I love them equally, but differently.

I hope you’re finding some beautiful things to enjoy this month! Tell me about them. xo

What Day Is It Again; Ninety-One Weeks In

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I do not know what’s going on with my neighbours and their drainage, but this guy has returned several times since I first sighted him in October:

I did finally catch a glimpse of him, after an embarrassing amount of peeking out the window whilst folding laundry, and it was, to be honest, a bit of a let down. I mean, I’m sure he’s Hot Rod for someone, but not for me.

Speaking of folding laundry, I have been really wanting to do one of those “snapshot of my day” posts, but I spend so much time doing boring things like folding laundry and cleaning the kitchen that I find it somewhat depressing. I love reading other people’s “snapshot of my day” posts and “my day in pictures” post, and meanwhile, here’s me:

3:00 pm: Nicole folds a massive load of laundry while listening to a podcast about the development of the polio vaccine, hashtag living my best life.

I did consider it last week though, and even took a photo of my Morning Practice Space, the festive prettiness of which really makes up for the squishiness of which, and the “bumping into the wall and/ or table” of which.

Maybe one day! Maybe one day I will treat you to A Day In The Life of Nicole, and you can all be wowed by the incredible amount of things I get done before 10:00 am, and simultaneously, but differently, wowed by the complete lack of things that I do after 7:00 pm. One of my yoga students asked if I still go to bed at nine o’clock, to which I replied that nine is a LATE night for me these days. I’m essentially comatose by that time.

I keep thinking it is much later in the month than it actually is. For the last week I’ve had these panicky Christmas is next week feelings, and then I have to remind myself of the actual date. I blame the fact that this is the last week of school and of my classes of 2022; usually these things go into the 20s of the month, but not this year. It feels like December is flying by, but I am going to reiterate: it is the thirteenth. Christmas is NOT this weekend, no matter what my brain keeps saying.

I’m not complaining, just, apparently, confused. Oh god, remember last year? Last year at this time, things were in a pretty dismal state; school had gone online, which was absolutely dreadful, and there was a “no gatherings at all” rule. I’m sure lots of weirdness lies ahead, but I’m going to just take things as they come. Basically, as long as the kids are in physical school, I don’t really care what else happens. That is my bar, and it is low.

Because of last year, I think I have developed a Come At Me attitude when it comes to almost everything, but particularly grocery shopping. I am planning to visit Costco after my usual Superstore grocery run this week, and in years past I would never have gone to Costco so close to Christmas (IT’S NOT THAT CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS, NICOLE, IT’S ONLY THE THIRTEENTH). Anyway. This year, I don’t care. I mean, what can happen – will I have to line up to get in the store? Been there. Will I have to line up in the store? I did that two weeks ago. Will there be shortages? WHO CARES, I JUST WANT MY CASE OF MACADAMIA NUT MILK AND SOME KALETTES. IF THEY AREN’T THERE I’LL GET SOMETHING ELSE, HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT, COSTCO.

A few updates from last week: there are limited supplies of both rice AND noodles at Superstore, as well as other imported items – I was able to snag a bottle of sesame oil, which was one thing I was actually running low on. My pantry is pretty full right now, as I have that It’s A Pandemic And We Are Going Into Shortage Season feeling.

Also – and I am wary just writing this – no one else has succumbed to The Cold. May our good health continue!

Pandemic Reading

I have been wondering if I should even tell you about this, but it’s a tiny nag at the back of my brain. About six months ago, I received a message from a woman I know who told me that she purchased a couple of books I had enjoyed, and she wanted to let me know that they were completely boring and she hated them. She went so far to say that one of the books that I had loved was the worst book she had ever read. With that in mind, I wanted to clarify a few things.

Reading is very subjective, and, with the exception of a few books that I think are IMPORTANT, such as Caste or My Grandmother’s Hands, I do not necessarily recommend any of the books in my weekly reading recap. I might love a book – which I really, really do this week – but that doesn’t mean I think YOU will love it. Maybe you will! But we all have such different tastes, and my love of a book does not translate into an across-the-board recommendation for all. I have read many books that people have raved about it, that left me feeling meh, but that’s on me, I think. There are also whole genres that other people love, such as sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, that I am extremely averse to. That doesn’t mean those books are inherently bad or boring in any way, they just aren’t for me.

With that in mind, I was pretty taken aback by that message; I knew it wasn’t a personal affront, but it kind of felt like one. All of which is to say that when I absolutely love a book, I don’t expect you to, but maybe you will (if you are Anna (HI ANNA), my book twin, I DO expect you to!). Shared enjoyment of a book has nothing to do with friendship, either. One of my best friends, Allison (HI ALLISON) loves sci-fi and horror, Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) loves a good mystery, and many of my friends love fantasy and time travel, which I do not.

This week I have continued my reading of the Giller Prize shortlist, which was loaned to me by my friend Marion (HI MARION), and I am about to rave about a book.

Son of the House. I am going to come right out and say it: this might be the best book I have read all year. After looking at the Giller Prize shortlist, this was the one I was most excited to read, and it did not disappoint. It checks every box for me: the minutia of women’s lives in a society that oppresses them, and how they overcome the various oppressions, a description of a country and culture that is not my own – in this case, Nigeria – and multiple eras and points of view with intersectional, but seemingly unrelated, characters. Two women – one, a formerly impoverished housemaid and one a wealthy, educated principal of a school – are kidnapped in Nigeria and they tell their stories, and it is a fascinating, incredible, beautifully written book. I loved it so much.

Fight Night. In contrast, this was the book I was LEAST excited to read on the shortlist, having not been a big fan of Toews. However, I was pleasantly surprised! This was a really good read; it is written from the viewpoint of a child, so the narration is unreliable and interesting. As with most of Toews’ works, the subject material is quite dark and disturbing, but the book itself is quite lovely and touching. It has a very strong theme of family and struggle, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this.

Have a great week, everyone, and if you are like me and continuously confused by the calendar, Christmas is in twelve days! It’s not this coming weekend, it’s NEXT weekend. xo

Secret Santa, Bits and Bobs; Ninety Weeks In

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This year I started following the lovely San over at The In Between Is Mine; she is so smart and articulate, and I am forever fascinated by people who are fully fluent in more than one language, as she is; English is not her first language and yet her English is perfect. I mean, I took YEARS of French – I was even the winner of the French Award in Grade 9 – and although if I read a page of French I would be able to get the general gist of it, I cannot have a conversation beyond Salut! Comment ca va?, let alone WRITE anything in French. In any case, I love San’s blog and I also love that she put together a Secret Santa Mug Swap, which I happily signed up for, knowing that it would be well-organized and smooth.

I came home from a walk this week to find a package on the doorstep; I didn’t recognize the name or return address, and was briefly confused before remembering SECRET SANTA MUG SWAP!!!

Just imagine my delight to open this lovely box from Leanne (HI LEANNE!) that was decorated by her daughter:

Not only did she include the sweetest, coziest mug, mint chocolates (MY FAVOURITE!!! TEAM MINT CHOCOLATE FOREVER!), an adorable mug ornament for my tree, and a BRACELET HANDMADE BY HER DAUGHTER, but she also added a lottery scratch ticket, and I won $5!

I feel like I won the lottery in more ways than one. Thank you, Leanne, for such a kind and thoughtful package. It certainly brightened my entire month! I cannot get over your wonderful generosity and thoughtfulness! And again, thank you, San, for organizing #secretsantamugswap2021; it has been a great way to meet and connect with new people. There are so many incredible people in the world, I am honoured to know so many – and welcome, Leanne, to the Boyhouse!

Much, much less exciting than opening up a lovely package full of wonderful surprises was that my younger son developed a terrible head cold. This is the first cold in our house in over two years. Sneezing, it’s so 2019! He missed three and a half days of school, which, in Grade 11 requires MUCH catch-up work, and an entire week of wrestling practice, which was most devastating to him. I mean, he probably picked up the cold during wrestling practice, as it is the only time he is unmasked when not at home. I have been waiting for the rest of us to succumb; so far, no one has, let us all knock on wood.

Over the past few weeks, I have received numerous texts from friends about the grocery situation; we have been all updating each other regularly. Due to the devastating flooding in BC, and the resulting completely washed-out highways, things have been wildly hit and miss in the grocery store. One afternoon two weeks ago a friend texted me to say that the produce shelves were empty – literally, empty – but then the next day as I anxiously wheeled my cart into Superstore, I was pleasantly surprised to see business as usual in the produce section. I had spent the day before mentally planning to use frozen produce and figure out a whole new menu plan, which turned out to be unnecessary.

We are so lucky to live in this day and age. I was reminded of The Long Winter, wherein the Ingalls family and the entire town of DeSmet nearly starved to death as the trains carrying supplies were unable to make it through due to blizzards; I thought well, if I have to use frozen spinach in my smoothies, it will not be a tragedy. It’s not like I’m grinding wheat in my coffee grinder to make a single loaf of bread for six people, or going slowly mad sitting in the dark all day listening to the wind, or twisting hay to burn so as to not freeze to death prior to starving to death.

Although there have been produce shortages here and there, that has not been my experience as of yet. However, I found that anything coming in from the port of Vancouver is…still at the port of Vancouver? I don’t really know how it works. In any case, things coming from China and its neighbours, like rice, noodles, and things like sesame oil, are completely unavailable.

Fortunately I had the foresight to buy a 25-pound bag of rice and several bags of noodles when the flooding started, which should last us a while. Stir-fry night, like my heart, shall go on.

This week was also the much-anticipated unveiling of the annual Spotify Unwrapped, and as always, I was somewhat surprised. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that Aretha Franklin was my number-one artist – LOVE Aretha; I will never get enough of watching this video, that FUR COAT DROP, QUEEN – but I was a little surprised that none of her songs were on my top five. Yes, I know how math and algorithms work, but still. Did I really listen that much to Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch? I guess I must have. The algorithm does not lie. I also apparently listened to the Evita soundtrack quite a bit, as Andrew Lloyd Webber made my top five artists. You must love meeee….

My younger son, being home, compared his list to mine and it was quite funny. He’s the drummer and is very into 90s grunge, and his “Audio Aura” was Bold and Angst, whereas mine was Mellow and Happy, both of which check out. His fourth most popular genre was “Pirate” which I did not even know was a thing. Pirate? Apparently, in addition to his bold and angsty music, he listens to a number of sea shanties, so Pirate Mystery solved.

Pandemic Reading

Persephone’s Children. Wow, this book is like nothing I’ve read before. It is so original and creative, and incredibly moving. It’s a memoir of a woman’s journey to leave an abusive relationship, told in essay form BUT each of the essays is structurally very different. Think: script for a play, a multiple choice quiz, a crossword. There is a lot of mythology, horticulture, and magic woven into the story. It’s mostly about a biracial woman finding the strength to leave her emotionally abusive, gaslighting husband, but also about motherhood, her family of origins, and her experience growing up as “other” on the Canadian prairies. It’s an absolutely fascinating debut!

Christmas Shopaholic. I’m not sure I could put two more different books side by side! Anyway, this was very silly and sweet and ultimately satisfying. I have only read one other Shopaholic book – the OG one, many years ago – and when I first started reading this I thought maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead. I was NOT enjoying the first bit, but then I kind of got into it. It’s light, you know? Very Christmas spirit-y.

Glorious Frazzled Beings. My friend Marion (HI MARION) loaned me all five of the 2021 Giller Prize Shortlist! I don’t think I’ve ever read a whole shortlist for a literary prize before, so this is pretty fun. I decided to start with this gem of a collection of short stories, and I feel like an entire university Can Lit course could be created just around this one book. The writing is gorgeous, with lots of magic, otherworldliness, and more-than-humanness, which is not generally something I enjoy, but I did in this book.

Happy December, everyone, I hope you have a wonderful week. xo

Full-On Festive; Eighty-Nine Weeks In

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It’s up! It’s up! The tree is up!

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

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

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

Welcome to our tree, Roman Reigns in snowman form.

Bye, Buddy! Hope you find your dad!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pandemic Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thirst Traps and Letting Go; Eighty-Eight Weeks In

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These Pretzels Are Making Me Thirsty

I love listening to podcasts while doing menial household drudgery or slowly walking Barkley around the neighbourhood; it makes me actually look forward to doing dull things like folding the laundry or other mind-numbing tasks. I feel like I learn new things every day; I discovered the “We Didn’t Start The Fire” podcast, which goes through every single lyric in the Billy Joel song, with different expert guests for each topic. I am only at Sugar Ray, so I have many more episodes to go, but I’m learning so much.

Small note for anyone who wants to look up that podcast: they have the absolute WORST theme song, it is We Didn’t Start The Fire played on the kazoo. The kazoo! I will never understand some artistic choices. If you can get past the kazoo, the podcast itself is very enlightening.

On Stephany’s recommendation (HI STEPHANY), I started listening to You Can Sit With Us, which is not at all enlightening, but is just some younger women chatting about their lives in a mindlessly soothing way. Well, it’s not totally un-enlightening, because this week I learned about Thirst Traps.

I have a number of younger women on my Instagram feed, and so I had seen Thirst Traps without knowing there was an actual name for it. I just thought they were Sexy Photos That People Post On Instagram To Get Attention, Not That I’m Judging, but Thirst Traps is much more succinct.

At the dinner table, I told the boys that I learned what a Thirst Trap is, and their reaction was pure horror. “Oh, GOD.” my older son said. “How did you learn about that? Did one of your friends tell you? ARE YOUR FRIENDS POSTING THIRST TRAPS.” My younger son, apparently too anguished to speak, merely bowed his head, with his forehead in his hand, pained at the thought. I assured him that neither myself nor my friends were posting Thirst Traps, but that I heard it on a podcast, to which they responded with “WHAT PODCAST, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FUCKBOIS OF LITERATURE?”

To be honest, I haven’t been listening to the Fuckbois; it is such a great concept but the execution is…not.

Anyway, there will be no Thirst Traps from me – for one thing, just no, but for another, my sons and a number of their friends inexplicably follow me on Instagram. My feed is almost entirely books, with some baked goods, a landscape, and an occasional selfie thrown in for good measure, so I’m not sure why any teenager would be interested in it, but in any case, No Thirst Traps For Nicole. The mental anguish of my children would be too much.

Let It Go, Let It Go

It has been a very productive week; I was completely inspired and motivated by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) to tackle some shelves in our storage room/ pantry and purge items no longer needed. I did this years ago, when Kondo-ing everything in the house, but you know, I think as the children grow up I need to revisit my storage areas more regularly. No one has used Lego in years, not to mention the adorable Playmobil pet clinic. I gave those things to the little girls across the street, and put a number of things on my local Buy Nothing page.

What is it about purging our stuff that feels so great? I feel a Mary Oliver poem coming on:

It’s not like I want to burn or trash all my things – so wasteful, Mary! – or keep NOTHING, I do love my stuff, even as I let things go. One thing I haven’t been able to get rid of yet is a set of alphabet and farm animal fridge magnets. I know! It’s time. Just…not yet. I was silently judging my husband for not letting me get rid of his underwater camera that he took travelling when he was in his twenties, thirty years ago. I mean, it takes film. Film! We aren’t going to use it. But he’s sentimentally attached to it, just like I’m sentimentally attached to a box of fridge magnets, and I have a stainless steel fridge.

I Am Santa, Baby

My holiday cards and the photo calendars that I order for the grandparents every year arrived this week, which meant that I was able to package up and mail the parcel I send to my mother-and-sister-in-law. This is one of those jobs that feels like it should take, at the most, half an hour, but always ends up taking up an entire afternoon.

I have at times felt resentful that somehow the job of purchasing, wrapping, and mailing gifts to my husband’s family has fallen to me, but I remind myself that a) there are many, many jobs around the house that my husband does automatically, that don’t even occur to me to TRY to do, and b) our parcel makes up over half of their Christmas gifts, and so I would feel terrible if I didn’t send them. It’s unacceptable to me to think of my mother-in-law, all by herself on Christmas morning, with nothing to open. Also, choosing a gift for my nearly-eighty-year-old mother-in-law is not really in my husband’s wheelhouse, but it is in mine, so here we are.

Anyway, I had a few parcels to mail, and since it was November 16, I felt that the post office would be a quick in-and-out, and was I ever wrong. In fact, I am not sure I could have been MORE wrong. There were at least fifteen people in the lineup that snaked down the aisle, and only one person working at Canada Post. Forty minutes later, I collapsed into my car, exhausted. Note to everyone reading this: if you need to mail anything, go now, or just assume you’re going to need to schedule an hour for this errand and maybe take a book. Actually, even if you do go now, take a book.

Pandemic Reading

Speaking of books!

The Thursday Murder Club. I don’t often read mysteries, but I enjoyed this book about a quartet of septuagenarians who meet on Thursdays to discuss unsolved murders. The developer for their retirement community is found dead under mysterious circumstances, and so they are on the case! It’s nice to read a book about older people who are thriving and enjoying life; this isn’t a thing that happens much in literature. There was a line about how they used to get up early because there was so much to do – work, family, etc. – and now they still get up early because who knows how much time they have left, and they want to make the most of it. I liked that a lot.

Even So. Hmm. Okay. So. The first two-thirds of this book was really great; in fact, I thought “this is the story I’ve always wanted to write.” It read like a thriller; very fast-paced and action-packed, about a very well-off woman who has a seemingly beautiful life but blows it up by having an affair. It’s REALLY good. But then, it takes a turn and becomes a religious allegory. The last third of the book is all about redemption and forgiveness and is very heavy on Catholic imagery and beliefs. Essentially, it IS an allegory, with themes of sin, lust, greed, followed by guilt, redemption, and forgiveness. I wish I had known that going in. It felt like a book I might have read when I was in confirmation class at age 14. It’s almost like the author wanted to hammer her faith into the reader’s head; it’s pretty over-the-top. Unless you want a lesson in Catholicism or God’s plan for your life, I would pass on this book.

Consent. I have read many, many books in my life, but none so abjectly horrifying, shocking, and disturbing as this. This is a memoir written by a woman who entered into a relationship with Gabriel Matzneff, who was an acclaimed writer who wrote about pedophilia, RAPING CHILDREN and having sex with young girls and boys. Did you hear that? He won awards for his work. The author entered into this relationship when she was 13 and he was 49, and all the adults in her life, including her own mother, were complicit. It is absolutely unbelievably shocking. A fourteen year old girl, who essentially is living in a hotel with a fifty year old man, skips school constantly and no one does anything at all. When she leaves him at age 15, because he had taken up with a younger girl, her own mother says “are you sure? He loves you so much” which, what. This woman is only three years older than I am, and this took place in the 1980s. The 1980s! So many adults saw this relationship, knew about this relationship, and shrugged it off because Matzneff was, apparently, a literary giant. This man wrote about sex tourism in the Philippines, where he would buy 11 and 12 year-old boys for his own sexual pleasure. He wrote about all his young conquests, including the author of this book, and people bought those books and applauded him, awarding him literary honours. How did this happen? This is just such a disturbing book and if you have daughters, maybe take a pass.

On that note…time to sign off. Have a beautiful week, everyone! xo