Category Archives: Uncategorized

To grow out my hair or not grow out my hair, that is the question.

Posted on by

I love being a woman, make no mistake about it, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a man. I know, objectively, that men do feel concern about their appearances, just like the rest of us. I’m sure men harbour feelings of dissatisfaction with their looks; perhaps they look ruefully in the mirror, noticing thickening waists or thinning hair. But one thing I know for sure is that they do not spend a week every four to ten weeks wondering if they are getting their period or if they are as hideous as they think they are.

It’s just not fair, is it? As if it is not enough that we spend that week bloated and exhausted, irritable and emotional, but we also apparently develop vision issues that cause us to look in the mirror with self-loathing, or, at the very least, Extreme Dissatisfaction. If you polled ten million women on the week before their periods, and asked them to rate on a scale of one to ten their satisfaction with their appearance, only one woman would say Very Satisfied, and that woman would be Giselle Bundchen. The rest of us would oscillate between Somewhat Dissatisfied and I Hate Everything Especially My Stupid Hair.

As a note, I do NOT Hate My Hair. In fact, as my layers have grown out over the past ten months, I have felt Very Satisfied with my hair, for the first time ever. My hair therapist is a brilliant woman who has made this Life Journey with me not only painless, but very pleasant. However. HOWEVER. This past week – pre-ladies’-holidays – I have going back and forth in my mind about – get ready – possibly growing my hair long. Or longer. You would not believe the amount of brain power and energy I have put into trying to answer the question Should I grow my hair longer or should I keep it this length? I feel like I could put this to a team of debaters at the high school. Resolved: Nicole’s Hair Should Grow Another Three Inches.

It’s not like the consequences are particularly dire either way. Intellectually I know that a) I like it this length, and so if I left it like this I would be happy, b) if I grew it longer I might like it like that too and as an added benefit, would require fewer bobby pins to put it in a bun, and c) if I grew it out longer and I DIDN’T like it, I could have it cut back to this length. In all cases, the end result is Happiness and Being Very Satisfied. And yet it feels like a Major Life Decision That Will Affect Everything And Possibly Have Disastrous Results. For the amount of thought I’ve been putting into this, oscillating back and forth between Grow Longer and Status Quo, I could have penned the Great Canadian Novel, written a mathematical proof for game theory from first principles, and finished an entire book of Sudoko puzzles.

I probably would even have energy left over to figure out how to change traffic behaviour around school zones, which would be the most complicated thing of all. I breathed a sigh of relief when I no longer had children at the elementary school; people would pop out from between parked cars or buses, kids in tow, to jaywalk right through traffic to get to school, rather than use the clearly marked, patrolled crosswalk less than twenty metres away. Cars would stop in bus zones or do u-turns in the middle of traffic, to much honking and distress. Harried drivers would speed through said marked, patrolled crosswalks nearly missing pedestrians and my children, who were school patrols. At least, I thought, when I got to junior high things would improve. Reader, they did not. The junior high is on a hill and there are still people parking in bus zones and doing u-turns, but on the hill it is so much worse. A friend witnessed one woman taking a u-turn in the middle of winter and then losing traction, she slid sideways down the hill, narrowly missing several parked cars before hitting a snowbank, which was thankfully high enough to protect the people on the sidewalk. Not to mention that school starts at 7:50, and so it is dark much of the year. There’s nothing like wondering if a kid dressed all in black is going to pop out in front of you as you careen down an icy hill.

Now that my older son is in high school, the only real hazard appears to be the teens themselves, travelling in herds across the street, heads down, looking at their phones. I seem to have more patience for them than I do the weirdly illegal driving maneuvers.

Speaking of sons, the birthday party on the weekend was a huge success. All of his friends are really great kids and they all seemed to have a good time. I find it much easier to have a houseful of teen boys than younger kids, that’s for sure. At one point they all headed to 7-11 for Slurpees and I could have really done without the information that there were more shopping cart races, and I could have REALLY done without one of my sons showing me a VIDEO they had taken of said races. I had to do some deep breathing, thoughts of concussions and broken teeth and everything else in between going through my head. Om shanti. There are only so many times you can bring up CONCUSSIONS and BRAIN INJURY and WE SPENT MANY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ON THOSE TEETH AND IF YOU BREAK THEM I AM GOING TO BE VERY UPSET.

That reminds me of when I was just a sweet young thing at the bar, and a friend of my then-boyfriend was dancing with a very attractive girl. This friend ended up being punched in the mouth by that girl’s boyfriend, and as a result, he lost one of his front teeth. Being twenty-one and toothless was bad enough, but this guy had braces in his teens, so imagine how his poor mother, a single mom who would have scrimped to pay for braces, must have felt. In a small-world coincidence, I ran into this guy only a few years ago, at junior high orientation night. He had a full smile so I guess the tooth implant worked out in the long run.

My main activity this weekend – other than post-party stress about shopping cart races and extreme relief that no kids were concussed and/ or left toothless – was baking. I baked cupcakes for the party and then a fancy layer cake with strawberry filling and chocolate ganache for his actual birthday dinner. They turned out well!

Hope your week is just as sweet as birthday cake, friends. xo

Reality Bites

Posted on by

My husband got home from work and turned on the television. I heard familiar music and turned to look at the screen.

Me: That’s weird. What kind of football is on Tuesday nights?

My husband: Um, Monday Night Football. It’s Monday.

Who among us has not woken up Thursday morning, thinking it was Friday? It is rare, for me at least, to be that confused about the day of the week so early in the week. It felt like an ominous sign.

I think we are all there this week; it’s the week that we go from the frying pan to the fire, so to speak, and for me things have been hectic. Full school schedules! Lunches! Being An Involved Parent And Listening To All The Stories! I have picked up two new classes for the fall and while I love them so much, it has required an even higher level of organization to just keep things running smoothly. I was thinking about writing a whole series of posts on getting organized, and I may still do that, but the main takeaway is WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN. It’s all about the list, baby.

Did you ever read Still Alice? I maintain that it is the most beautiful and terrifying book I have ever read. For weeks, maybe even months after I read it, I would have low-level anxiety every time I went to the pantry and forgot what I was looking for. I no longer have this panic, but I can’t help but compare my endless lists to Alice’s sticky notes and Blackberry reminders. It is just a good coping mechanism, it does not mean I have early-onset Alzheimer’s. 

As an aside, I had told my mother about this book when I had first read it, and not too long ago she said that she had taken it out at the library and “wondered why I recommended it to her, it was so sad.” Mom, I said NOT to read it!

Wednesday is now my designated Get Everything Done Day and last weekend I realized, with a start, that I was running dangerously low on wine so today I went to the liquor store after buying ALL THE GROCERIES at Superstore. They had one of their crazy specials in which a very tasty Shiraz was on sale for – get this – $8.98 a bottle. I immediately stocked up with two cases, justifying my purchase with the thought of the eleven teenage boys who will be at my house on the weekend for my son’s birthday party. This is what I looked like fourteen years ago:

I was clearly not drinking any wine at the time.

Fourteen years, and this is what I look like today:

I kid, I kid, except not about the lipstick and there is a strong possibility that I will get reading glasses soon. Back in 2000, I had laser eye surgery and it worked perfectly, but at the time they mentioned that I would likely need reading glasses sometime in my forties. Reader, at age 25 I had no concept of what it would be like to be in my forties, except “old.” Now in my forties, I consider “old” to be anything north of 80, and I’m sure when I hit 80 that line in the sand will move again.

Speaking of awkward, let’s file this one under Things You Couldn’t Do Even If You Tried. I always wear silver sleeper hoop earrings; I never take them out except for fancy occasions when I replace them with larger and slightly more ornate silver hoop earrings. The other morning I was taking off my yoga top in preparation to shower and somehow got the spaghetti strap caught in my earring, which apparently opened and closed just to accomplish this, like a Venus flytrap. It wasn’t until I went to drop the top on the bathroom floor that I noticed that, instead of dropping, it was heavily hanging off my ear. It is not easy to open a sleeper hoop with one hand while supporting the weight of a yoga top so as to not rip the aforementioned earring right out of ones earlobe with the other. However, I did it, and I felt like I could easily take on the world, which is why I ended up taking my car for an oil change. I am woman, hear me roar. People, for those of you with flexible schedules, apparently 12:30 midweek is a perfect time to get your oil changed. There were literally no other cars and the entire process took less than twenty minutes.

I know everyone the world over is in love with fall and yes, I do like cozy sweaters and boots and all that, but honestly, mostly I just feel cold. I know that in a few months 8 degrees will be considered an amazingly happy turn of events, but right now it just feels cold. Even in the sun the air is sharp, not that we’ve seen the sun much lately, it’s been so cold and grey and damp, which is a bit depressing, particularly if you find yourself thinking of the fleeting nature of time and how there are not that many back-to-school days left in your future. OR MAYBE THAT’S JUST ME. Perhaps that’s why I’m eating my apple-flavoured feelings; possibly the best thing about fall, in my mind, are McIntosh apples. There were some “orchard run” Macs last week at Superstore, but they have since disappeared, so I’m waiting in eager anticipation. My mother-in-law always talks to me about apples and how she makes them into pie filling and applesauce, which is always sort of horrifying to me – it’s a waste of an apple! I would never put an apple I liked in pie. Of course, she lives in the land of orchards, whereas I am in the middle of the Prairies, and so I view things differently. Fall is also the season where everyone in the city who has crabapples or ornamental apples are now trying to give away the excess, which is always kind of funny. No one wants them. No one. I’m sorry for your luck of having a crabapple tree, but for the love of god please don’t try to give them to me. That isn’t real fruit, I am sorry, people. It’s like a much kinder and fruitier version of multi-level-marketing; everyone avoids eye contact and makes excuses about not having time to go to the party. xo

Happy could have totally made that shot.

Posted on by

I’m in that First-Week-Of-September-What-Is-With-This-Schedule mode right now, and it’s only Thursday. It’s only Thursday and I’ve had a light week, class-wise, which means that next week, with a full roster of classes should be very interesting. With everyone gone last week, I feel like I didn’t get enough closure on summer. The long weekend was dreadful, weather-wise, with actual thick fog and drizzle and cool temperatures, and so I would like an end-of-summer do-over, please. Is that too much to ask?

As an aside, the guys had The Greatest Time camping in the Yukon and Alaska, and my husband has gone so far as to describe to me “how much better campgrounds are now” which feels like he’s preparing to pop the question: will I go on a northern camping trip with him? There are showers and everything! You get to meet so many people! he said in a coaxing way and well. This is a thing that currently feels undesirable but life, as we say, is unpredictable. Who knows what the future may hold? Maybe in our golden years I will happily acquiesce to RV living, although this seems unlikely at this juncture.

The first couple days of school have gone really well; the boys are enjoying their classes so far, which bodes well for the semester. I was reminiscing with a friend about dropping the kids off on their first day of kindergarten. I remember the teacher reading The Kissing Hand to my older son’s class, and then all the children gave their parents (well, it was exclusively moms, as I recall) little pink construction paper hearts to keep for the day. I think I still have that little heart somewhere. My younger son’s kindergarten teacher was almost a parody of a kindergarten teacher, she was so wonderful and lovely with a crinoline-lined dress, long blonde hair, and a speaking voice that could only be described as “soprano.” She gave all the parents (moms) a little paper bag that had some cute things in it to symbolize the kindergarten year, but what those things were has disappeared from my memory. Ah, the kindergarten drop-off. So emotional.

Back then I was involved as involved could be, volunteering for every committee and to help cut pieces of milk cartons for bird houses and baking snacks for class celebrations. Comparatively, my younger son informed me that Meet the Teacher night is next Thursday, but “we don’t have to go.” Oh, thank GOD, I said, because honestly? I’ve done my time, listening to the principal talk about the importance of parental involvement in education and how to check your child’s progress online. I’m fine, thanks, I’ll talk to you at report card time. If then. How the mighty have fallen. And I only have two kids, one grade apart! Imagine how jaded I would be if I was my friend who is now entering her eleventh year at the elementary school with her youngest, with seven years still in front of her. I’m not sure I’d even slow the car down before allowing the kid to jump out.

Perhaps this is nature’s way of preparing me for their eventual flight from the nest?

Every year at Back to School time I get the song from Billy Madison stuck in my head for literally DAYS: Back to school, back to school, to prove to my dad that I’m no fool. It probably speaks volumes that my household got into a tense argument about which movie is more realistic: Billy Madison or Happy Gilmore. Usually we argue about which movie is BETTER, but for both questions my answer is Happy Gilmore. It’s just silly to think someone could go through a grade every two weeks, no matter what the stakes! Also that woman would never go out with such a loser, I said, to which my husband replied that no one could ever take a running leap and make that golf shot to win the tournament. Deadlock has been reached and as with any debate, no one’s mind has been opened or changed.

The thing I notice most about Back to School is that we go through much more food. School is hungry work, apparently, and adding that to the Growing Teen Boys thing that I have going on, my grocery needs have skyrocketed. Yesterday I spent hours going to both Costco and Superstore, and I can tell you that doing that is a very good way to get your steps in. Feel the burn, I thought to myself as I went up and down the stairs myriad times to put everything away. Maybe I should market this as a fitness program; it could be the next CrossFit or Legree! And lift! And turn! And push! And now return the cart, you lazy bastard!

That last one just slipped out. I swear. xo

Some of us are really, really sad about Back to School.

Princess Problems

Posted on by

Those of you who know me – not even particularly well, because this is something I have talked about at length – know that I don’t have many fears or phobias, but I do have one that stands – or shall I say flutters – above the rest. I am absolutely terrified of moths. This time of the year until the first hard frost, they are everywhere. Everywhere. However, last Saturday morning I was completely unprepared to find one in my water glass.

It started off like any other Saturday, really, with me starting the coffee pot and then blearily picking up my water glass; I like to start the day with two big glasses of water to get the hydration going before I drink my pot of coffee. Imagine my panic when I saw a moth – still alive – fluttering around in the water. I did what anyone would do: I backed away quickly and started screaming for my husband, who immediately dealt with it by throwing the water and moth outside, and offering to throw out the glass itself. I suppose I should be grateful that this didn’t happen on a weekday, when I get up at 4:30 and drink my two glasses of water in the dark. Imagine drinking water with a moth in it. 

I had to take some deep breaths just typing that.

If that wasn’t traumatizing enough, this morning after yoga a moth must have followed me into the house. There is currently a moth in the house and I don’t know where it is. I am alone in the house and there is a moth and I’m in low-level panic. The moth was last spotted in the kitchen, but who knows where it is now. It could be anywhere.

Deep breaths.

In other less-traumatic-but-extremely-annoying news, Friday night my food processor suddenly died, with all the hummus ingredients piled in it, unprocessed. While it’s true that my food processor gets a lot of use, I purchased it in May 2018, and I feel that we should be able to expect more than a fifteen-month lifespan for our expensive small appliances. After all, my old Cuisinart lasted eight years of heavy use before developing a weird thing wherein it wouldn’t stop processing until being unplugged, which struck me as a pretty hazardous feature. I went through the five stages of grief fairly rapidly, stalling on “anger” for a while as I thought of how much I loved this expensive new Breville food processor. Fifteen months is not an acceptable lifespan! My mother-in-law still has her chest freezer from 1962 and it still works.

The upshot of all of this is that I ended up a) using my Vitamix to make hummus on Friday, thus stoking my rage even more, as anyone who has ever tried to get the last bit of hummus out of a Vitamix can understand, and b) buying a new food processor. Princess Problems, I know. Princess-Who-Uses-A-Food-Processor-Several-Times-A-Week Problems. Let’s hope this Cuisinart will outlast its predecessors.

If moths and dead food processors weren’t enough to make me a donkey on the edge, I had a dentist appointment on Monday. What is it about the dentist that makes us dread it so? I said to my husband that it was because it “takes so long” but that isn’t factually correct. After my “scaling” I thought to check my watch; it had been only about forty minutes, as opposed to the three hours I thought it had been, what with the scraping and water scaling and the weirdness of someone else’s gloved fingers in my mouth. I mean, a bikini wax takes only about ten or fifteen minutes less than that, and I’d rather have a hundred bikini waxes. At least with a wax I can converse with my esthetician about her upcoming trip to Nova Scotia and how her boyfriend is a jerk. At the dentist’s, I’m forced to sit back and listen to Tom Petty. I’d rather have a Pap smear, and my doctor can never, ever find my cervix on the first try, but instead is constantly apologizing for the “discomfort.” I’d still rather do that than have dental scaling, but I guess since I want healthy gums and teeth, I will persist. I will complain about it, but I will persist.

In happier news, today my friend (HI TARYN) and I hiked up Ha Ling Peak; I hadn’t done that since 1998, when it was called something else that I will not repeat here. It was just recently reopened after a lot of trail renovations, and it was just a beautiful day. See?

It definitely made for a great day – now, if only someone would come over and find and kill this moth for me, everything would be coming up Nicole! xo

Blasts from the past

Posted on by

Today I learned that there is a place called Babyland General Hospital, and it is a destination for those who really, really love Cabbage Patch Kids; there are tours available and Cabbage Patch Kids up for adoption. Admission, says the website, is free and you can see Mother Cabbage on display beneath the branches of the Magical Crystal Tree. Did you know that each Cabbage Patch Kid is the result of Mother Cabbage being pollinated by “fanciful Bunnybees” and if you happen to visit Babyland General Hospital, you can “witness the birth of a hand-sculpted Cabbage Patch Kid.” Who knew?

Frankly, I am a bit curious about the birthing process as it was my understanding that each Kid was just plucked from the garden, like an actual cabbage. How very wrong I was, apparently. And who knew there was one massive Mother of all Cabbage Patch Kids?

The world is a marvelous place, full of interesting twists and turns. You never know what the day is going to bring and what you might learn.

For example, this week I learned that people still use film in cameras. I know! I was surprised too. I was picking up prints at London Drugs and there was a sweet, friendly girl beside me who had several canisters of film to be developed. She and I started chatting when I expressed my amazement at her old-school method of photography; she told me how excited she was to get the film developed as she had no idea what photos were actually taken. Remember back in the day when you’d take film in to be developed? Half the roll would be no good as the photos would be bad quality, or someone would have their eyes closed or head turned. The other half would be photos you didn’t remember even taking, particularly if it took you a long time to actually take the film in to the developer. “Get the camera!” would be the chorus whenever something noteworthy would happen, but often it came too late and the photo opportunity was gone.

Now we have carefully curated selfies and dramatically filtered photos of our dinner to fill our creative needs, and no one ever says “I wish I had brought a camera!” as our cameras are ever-present in our hands and back pockets.

I don’t miss those days of the film camera, I love being able to capture important moments in an instant, like when my mom and I were sitting on her deck this week and the resident eagle flew overhead and perched in his favourite spot in the yard:

Or, just as interestingly, when I was making myself some lunch and came across this cherry tomato:

Without my phone, important moments like this would be missed, and eventually forgotten. The memory of that sexy tomato would just fade into oblivion.

I was having coffee with a good friend this week (HI NICOLE) and she was impressed that I actually print out photos and put them into albums. I try to do this every few months, but generally it becomes a thrice-yearly labour of not-exactly-love. What a tedious job it is to upload, crop, and adjust the lighting on hundreds of photos, and then arrange them by approximate date and put them into albums. Yet I persist, mostly because one of the things I love to do when I visit my parents is to peek at our old albums; group photos where half the people are unflattered by the camera or the lighting is bad or my dad took the photo and no one at all is even aware he’s taking a picture and so every person is turned the wrong way. Oh, the memories! Each photo that features myself is a fantastic timepiece; take, for example, this photo of me on my thirteenth birthday:

Everything about this is great, but my hair in particular is tremendous. Also of note is my mother’s spoon collection on the wall – remember when people would collect spoons? – along with the serenity prayer in cross-stitch and a “God Bless My Kitchen” plaque. The brown fridge! The decorative fake fruit and flowers in the background! Tacos for dinner! The next photo is photographic proof that I have always enjoyed a pink birthday cake:

And so I print out photos so that my own kids can, in the future, take a trip down memory lane by paging through the photo albums, to remember the chilly day we biked around the lake and discovered that the town has followed in the lead of many places by adding comically large novelty Adirondack chairs for fantastic photo ops. Tiny people in huge chairs! What fun.

Don’t you love when you meet people who are just so in love with their lives that they glow? In talking to the girl with the film, it was revealed that she works for the Alberta parks division, and lives in a little hut in the mountains, far from wifi or cell reception or people or anything at all, in Peter Lougheed Park. “It’s so amazing!” she said to me. “When I come into the city it feels crazy, and I’m so happy to get back to my job! It’s just the greatest!” Shine on, you crazy diamond. It was a brilliant reminder that we are all so very different, and also that I love meeting people so wonderfully happy. I mean, to me it sounds nightmarish, and if I was in a similar situation I would either end up like Jack in The Shining or I would just wither away to nothing. A furry, grey-rooted nothing. There’s a place for everyone in this jigsaw puzzle that is life.

Speaking of The Shining, the boys rented it from the library to watch with their friends one afternoon at our place. As they were planning the viewing, my husband and I talked about how terrifying we found it, to their bemusement. “We’ve seen clips on YouTube and it seems really lame,” was their response. Well! I have to say that they are actually correct; the movie does NOT hold up well. “That wasn’t scary, it was just weird,” their friend said after the credits rolled and the lights were turned back on, adding that it should have really been a psychological thriller instead of a horror film. Was it not?

Well, I’m not going to re-watch it to find out; the few scenes that I did see did seem pretty dated and silly. I put the book on hold at the library though, as I’ve never read it. I will report back! Meanwhile, have a lovely weekend, everyone. xo

My body is a temple

Posted on by

Let’s Talk About The Weather

Here we are in the last full week of July, and we are actually having a summer! A whole week of summer weather, which, as we all know, is all relative considering other places in the world. For example, on Wednesday it was 31 degrees, which would be considered just a run-of-the-mill summer day in many, many places, but in Calgary it was the hottest day of the year. A couple of days in a row like that and it would be all over the news, HEAT WAVE AND HEAT WARNINGS IN EFFECT. Sadly for the reporters who were probably eager to encourage people to hydrate and stay cool, it was only a one-day event; yesterday was cool and windy, with some rain to boot.

Am I really talking this much about the weather? Yes. I wonder what it would be like to live in a place in which summer was just summer, and not some crazy, who-knows-what-will-happen-it-could-snow-tomorrow season. Would I just stop appreciating the beauty and warmth of summer days? As it was, every spare minute I had I was out in the garden or reading on my outdoor glider, looking up to smile at my flowers and at the tiny little birds who seemed to be playing a game on my yarrow. These tiny birds would alight on top of my yarrow, which is not sturdy enough even for their weight, and so it would slowly sink to the ground. Then the birds would flap around and do it again. Over and over, they appeared to just enjoy riding my yarrow, which was the most adorable thing I think I have ever seen.

Okay, maybe not as adorable as Barkley, but pretty close.

The Circle of Life

Speaking of birds, this morning I looked out the window to see a number of magpies on my garage roof. This is not an unusual sight, but what was different is that one of them had something in its beak. Something that once was alive that now, presumably, was dead. I think it was probably a baby robin, since I could spy what looked like bird feet sticking out. I recognize that there’s a food chain thing going on here, and no one is lamenting the robins eating worms or what have you, but still. Poor baby.

It reminded me of watching the new Lion King last weekend; I guess the magpie excrement will somehow feed the worms that will feed the robins, or something. It also made me think of a local radio personality who is always proclaiming that she is an animal lover, but also is a meat lover, and well. Circle of life, I guess. No judgement over here; I became nearly hysterical when I realized we have mice in the garage. Or, a mouse. I assume that there are many mice but only one has been spied. My husband assures me they won’t get in the house but what if they doooo. 

The Weather Changes Everything

I was so excited by the warm summer weather that I changed my weekly meal plan! I know! I couldn’t believe it either. I have a piece of advice for anyone who is tired of their families not enjoying the meals put on the table: deconstruct everything. It works really well in my household. For example, I made a big batch of pasta salad with sauteed chicken on the side for the guys. Only the pasta is dressed, and then I set out all the vegetables and edamame and everyone can add what they like to the pasta. I make sure to have a little extra dressing to drizzle on top of the extra vegetables.

On that note, I made something totally different on Monday; I am sure I got the original recipe from Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) but I can’t find it now. In any case, as is my wont, I changed the recipe quite a bit to accommodate my family and the things I had in the house. It’s a Thai quinoa salad, and it was a huge hit. I, of course, completely deconstructed it (NO ONIONS FOR ME THANKS) and it turned out well. Here’s what I did:

Cook up 1 1/4 cups quinoa, and 1 1/2 cups edamame, and let both cool.

Pulse a huge amount of broccoli (that’s as exact as I can get) in the food processor until finely diced.

Chop up some red onion and a pepper, grate a few carrots.

Make a dressing: the original one seemed small so I just extrapolated by using 1/4 cup each rice vinegar and Bragg’s soy sauce, 3 tablespoons each lime juice and sesame oil. It seemed tart so I added a tablespoon of brown sugar, and a big clove of minced garlic, along with some grated ginger. It still seemed a bit tart so I splashed a little extra sesame oil in it.

Set everything out, with some peanuts, and let everyone go to town.

Things That Are Happening

A Welcome-to-High-School newsletter popped in my inbox a couple of days ago; HIGH SCHOOL. I remember how very exciting it was to be in high school, landslide, sunrise, sunset. It’s hit me that really, there aren’t many summers left before the kids are grown and will not have leisure to hang out with me or travel with us as a family and HOO BOY.

Deep breaths.

I Have Never Felt More Seen

A while ago the boys and I were card shopping for one of their myriad friends’ birthdays. As an aside: I used to dread birthday parties for the simple reason of trying to choose a gift for children I didn’t know well, but what the boys and their friends do is just give each other money. It’s brilliant in my opinion, but it does seem like a zero-sum game as they all seem to pass along the same exact amount for every party. However! I like it.

Anyway, we were in the card store and I happened to come across this, which is an illustration of ME and why I do not even WALK DOWN the chip aisle at the grocery store:

It’s like the card people looked inside my very soul.

Carpe the hell out of the diem

Posted on by

Summer in Alberta: if there is a decent day, weather-wise, you had better carpe diem because you have no idea what will happen next. This is an important lesson I’ve learned in my lifetime. I took the boys up to my parents’ place on the lake because there was a single nice day – Wednesday – in the forecast this week and I wanted to get lots of outdoor activities done. And indeed, we did; we biked, paddleboarded, and boated all before three o’clock in the afternoon, when the kids collapsed for some downtime after all the forced fun, and I had margaritas on the deck with my parents. Sure enough, the storm rolled in shortly after that. Carpe diem.

The boys fake-posing for a thoughtful, instagram worthy-photo.

So much fun is exhausting.

Speaking of bikes, I was feeling very I-am-woman-hear-me-roar because prior to heading up to the lake I put the bike rack on the car all by myself. Now that I’ve written it down it doesn’t seem like much of an accomplishment but believe me, it was. I am not at all mechanically-minded so it took me some time to figure out how a ratchet worked – I kept accidentally loosening the bolts – but I did eventually figure it out. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR AND WATCH ME LIFT THIS GIANT HEAVY BIKE RACK AND ATTACH IT TO MY VEHICLE.

We returned home yesterday and I took my older son with me to get groceries at Superstore. No sooner had we pulled into the garage when an enormous hailstorm started. I’m thankful we didn’t get home ten seconds later or the van might have been damaged; as it was my gardens were pretty much flattened:

WAH. Even this morning, there is still hail on the trampoline and it is quite chilly outside. The first person to complain about any heat in this city – if, indeed, any heat shows up this summer – is going to get a serious side-eye from me.

So it has been an eventful week in the Boyhouse; last Friday my husband and I went to see Zac Brown perform, which is always a good show. We had gone three years ago and although our seats were amazing this time around, I didn’t enjoy the show QUITE as much as I did back in 2016. Still, an absolutely fantastic performance and as an added bonus, I got to dress up in my Stampede wear:

A note about that bandanna: it dates back from my working days, back in 2000 or so. I was in Houston on business and some colleagues had taken me to The Taste of Texas, a restaurant that – among other things – allows you to go to a deli-like counter to choose your own meat to be cooked, and if you broke the record for eating a certain number of ounces of meat, you got your steak for free and had your photo put up on the wall. Obviously, those benefits did not apply to me, but I did get a bandanna tied around my neck for my inaugural visit to the restaurant. I don’t remember what I ate but it was probably a salad or some other dish that would have been disappointing to all the people around me.

Zac Brown played for a solid two hours and it was nearly midnight before I got home, exhausted and with swollen, cowboy-booted feet. I didn’t make it to my usual Saturday morning spin class and so I had a plethora of energy. My husband took the boys to the gym for their usual workout, and I started to clean the kitchen. I thought I would wash all the cupboard doors, which then had a snowball effect: by the time they got home I had cleaned the fridge and scrubbed down the shelves, polished all the granite and wood furniture in the house, cleaned the oven, wiped down every appliance, scrubbed the baseboards, and washed the floors. Fueled by coffee and without spin to contain me, I headed outside and gardened for a few hours, pruning shrubs and weeding, before taking the dog for a walk. I guess when I need to get things done around the house I should skip spin class.