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My body is a temple

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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

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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.

I still don’t know who Li’l Pump is

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Stampede week is always full of strange things; it is the nature of living in a city with a ten-day party going on. Usually there are at least a few people passed out in the green space behind our house or in the alley, which incites my personal grim game: Dead or Drunk? I usually try to note how long someone is lying there and in what position, hoping to determine from a distance which one it is. Happily it’s always been Drunk, although I once called the police as a fellow was passed out in his parked car behind our house for several hours. It was a bit too long for my comfort, but it turns out he was just sleeping one off before driving home, which is the responsible thing to do, I guess.

But this week – perhaps due to the cool weather – there have only been one or two such episodes, although the week itself has not been without incident. For example, I was walking Barkley and a fellow asked me for a light. Then, perhaps to clarify, he said a cigarette lighter? No sir, I do not. I didn’t think I fit the profile of a smoker, but my husband thought perhaps the gentleman was trying to strike up a conversation with me, nifty number that I am. Forty-something suburban mom, walking her labradoodle, wearing a t-shirt with Namaste written on. Then shortly after that I noticed a fellow riding what appeared to be a ten-speed bike locked into the most difficult gear possible, pumping his legs with serious effort on our perfectly flat street. Maybe he was getting exercise as I saw him five minutes later on the street going in the other direction. Of note: he was wearing a down jacket and a toque, and although, like I said, it has been cool, it is not THAT cool.

Speaking of labradoodles, I had dropped Barkley off at doggy day-care on Wednesday; when I came to pick him up the girl told me that there was a chocolate doodle gang that day. Apparently there were three nearly-identical brown labradoodles at the day-care. Two things: a) it definitely WAS Barkley I picked up, and b) I really enjoyed her usage of the term “gang.” That must have been the cutest, most non-threatening gang ever: immensely fuzzy gang members who are constantly pressing up against peoples’ legs in order to get extra pats and snuggles, all of them obsessed with food.

I used the doggy day-care because I had decided that the boys and I needed a day in the mountains, and what a fun day it was. We hiked up Sulphur Mountain, a 5.5 kilometer hike with 744 meters of elevation gain; Barkley is too old and arthritic to even consider such a thing. Frankly, I was concerned that I was too old and arthritic for such a thing, but it turned out great; my hip held up perfectly with no pain whatsoever. The boys impressed me with their cardio strength and enthusiasm, even if they did talk constantly about YouTubers, lame video games, and how much Li’l Pump sucks. Who’s Li’l Pump was my question; I said I was too old to know these things, to which the boys answered that I was LUCKY and they wish they were too old to hear of Li’l Pump. I still have no idea, but I do know that when we are hiking we need not worry about bears as the boys make enough noise talking constantly to keep all wildlife away.

Sulphur Mountain – for those of you who are not local – is a very popular tourist destination as there is a gondola, which makes it a strange experience for hiking. While we were hiking, we saw other hikers maybe every 10-15 minutes, it was – other than the Li’l Pump discussion – quite peaceful. Then, at the top of the mountain, there are literally hundreds of people milling around, all of whom rode the gondola up. The views are among the best in the valley, and so it’s obvious why. We rode the gondola down the mountain – I wanted to make sure I didn’t overdo it on my hip, and I also thought the boys would enjoy it – with a very nice gentleman visiting from Barrie. He couldn’t BELIEVE anyone would hike up when there was a perfectly good gondola. He was going on a helicopter tour the next day, then to Calgary, and then – bizarrely enough – to Grande Prairie. I hope he had friends to visit up there or something, as it seems like not the greatest tourist destination.

We had a quick soak in the hot springs after our hike; it was quick because the boys had imagined something like the original Cave and Basin, a natural spring in a dark cave, not thinking about the impact millions of nearly-naked tourists would have on such a place. They were disappointed that it was just a pool, but hotter, and one they couldn’t really swim in. Well, I enjoyed it anyway.

Other important things of note: my roses FINALLY started to bloom. This is very late, even by Calgary standards, so I’m enjoying every second of these beauties. Hashtag: stop and smell the roses.

Also of note: remember the passport renewal saga? I have been in low-level anxiety that the one passport would be rejected due to the printer ink, and that I’d have to go through all this bureaucracy a second time, but happily, David the government agent is still error-free. The passports arrived this week, much to my great relief and also amusement, because as I mentioned in my other post, my children look like teenage thugs. Both were in great need of a haircut at the time, and that alongside their psychotic resting faces, well. If you saw them in their photos, you would cross the street, is all I’m saying.

Speaking of haircuts, I took this out from the library and we watched it last night.

I was surprised how well it held up, considering it’s not any kind of award-winning film. Plus, it’s only about ninety minutes long which is perfect for me.

Tonight my husband and I are going to see Zac Brown at the Stampede grounds, so party on, me. Party on, everyone. xo

Empty Nest

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The week following the last day of school has been certainly mixed, weather-wise. We have had the occasional cool-but-sunny day interspersed with many cold-and-rainy days; the weather is never predictable in this city but so far summer has been completely missing. As is our tradition, we went up to my parents’ house for the Canada Day long weekend. We luckily had some time on the paddle boards, and I had a beautiful long bike ride, before the storm rolled in. Today I finally broke down and turned the heat on; it’s so cold and rainy, I’ve been wearing my winter-weight thick sweaters and fuzzy slippers for the past few days, and have had to remind myself that yes, indeed, it is July. It certainly brings new meaning to carpe diem, as who knows when another nice day might come around.

My hostas are happy but all my other plants are literally drowning, especially the ones in planter pots. They are all leggy and droopy; hopefully the sun will come out sometime. July in Calgary is often a disappointment. The sole upside is that I do not have to listen to people complain about “the heat” when it gets above 25 degrees. At this point I would be excited if the temperature exceeded ten degrees.

The boys stayed up at my parents’ place for the week, so I’ve had an empty nest. Any time that the boys are not here I am amazed anew at how much more time I have on my hands. I’ve been afraid of changing because I’ve built my life on you. On Wednesday, I went for an 8 kilometer walk before going to Superstore AND Costco, with a yoga class in between, all things I would never do with the kids at home. Even though they are teens – actually, BECAUSE they are teens – I find it very important to spend as much time at home with them as possible, despite the fact that they really only “spend time” with me while they are eating. I remember many years ago, before kids, a coworker had told me that she went part time when her children became teenagers. People think their kids need them less at this age but actually, they need them MORE. I think that’s a very true statement.

Back to a small detail: I went to Costco and Superstore ON THE SAME DAY. It felt like one of those CrossFit workouts, between the actual shopping and then up and down the stairs to put all the things away. At both stores, I had a person in line behind me with much fewer items than I had in my giant cart. As is my wont, I offered to let them go ahead of me and both refused – the teen boy at Superstore told me he didn’t mind waiting, as he stood there with only a container of two-bite brownies. The older gentleman behind me at Costco looked aghast and said, “Oh, no! Ladies first. I insist. Ladies first!”

I guess we all have extra time on our hands this week, the better to spend in line buying groceries; we certainly aren’t spending a lot of it in the gardens or doing yard work.

Enough about the weather, a topic which is boring and depressing to us all. After a bit of a dry spell in terms of really engaging books, I’ve been reading My Name Is Venus Black, and is it ever excellent. I started it yesterday and am almost done, since I am finding it hard to put down. I highly recommend it. I also read Small Fry by Lisa Brennan-Jobs, who is Steve Jobs’ illegitimate daughter and I honestly had no idea how much of an asshole Steve Jobs was. I didn’t really know anything about him; I told my husband a bit about the book and he was surprised that I didn’t already realize what a wretched human being he was. I asked the kids if they knew anything about him, and they replied that of COURSE they knew he was awful, everyone knows that. When I pressed them – how did they know – my younger son just stared at me and said, “Um, this thing called the INTERNET?” I’m not sure if I would recommend it to you or not; it depends whether you would like a reminder about how some people are the absolute worst. I mean, most people are doing their best to be good people, I’d like to think. However.

Today marks the beginning of Stampede week – I shall refer you to my older posts about dressing for the Stampede without looking ridiculous and my subsequent purchase of cowboy boots. While I’d like to be one of those women who pairs cowboy boots with sundresses, I decidedly am not. I did pull them out this morning to take a few photos with which to promote my yoga classes during Stampede week, and I couldn’t figure out why the left boot felt so awkward. It’s not like I wear these boots often – or ever, really – and so it seemed strange that the lining would be rumpled up, which is what it felt like. I reached in and discovered a Nerf dart lodged in the toe.

Even with an empty nest, the boys manage to stay in my day-to-day life. They are home tomorrow, so I’m going to enjoy this day of relative leisure before they return and I get back in the laundry/ baking/ cooking groove. Have a lovely weekend! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The June/ “Why Is This Week So Weird” Edition

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What is it about the last week of school? The month of June – well, and April and May – flew by, but now this last week is taking an age to get through. It doesn’t help that I feel like I’m in a constant time warp, what with today being a PD day, and tomorrow being a “pick up report cards and generally do nothing for three hours” day, and the past two weeks being half days. Who am I? Where am I? What are we doing again? These are the questions I am constantly asking myself. I have to remind myself several times a day what day it is and what is happening.

A huge highlight having half days of school is that there are no lunches to pack. My kids are semi-famous in their group of friends for having The Best Lunches; clearly they are old enough and competent enough in the kitchen to make their own lunches, but I still do it as a semi-love letter to them. On weekends and holidays they are, for the most part, completely responsible for cobbling together their own lunches, but on school days they get a lunch prepared by me, the secret ingredient being Love.

About a year ago I was at a neighbourhood barbeque and one of the dads told me his son was constantly complaining about the quality of his lunches, saying that the ones my boys eat are far superior. This dad asked me to dial things back a bit, can’t I just slap a piece of bologna between two slices of bread? Has he met me? Of course I can’t. I still have zest for lunch making as a) the boys came home for lunch for all those elementary years and so I never really had to make any, b) I only pack three lunches a week, as Fridays are half days and Tuesdays are Chicken Caesar Salad day at the cafeteria. Here’s my secret: on pita pizza night, I make extra pizzas to have cold in their lunches, one day a week I put deli turkey with ranch dressing and lettuce in tortillas, then wrap, secure with toothpicks, and slice up, and on Mondays, they get whatever leftover roasted meat happened on Sunday, plus a couple of leftover waffles. Every lunch has veggies, fruit, and something I’ve baked in it as well. I AM THE LUNCH QUEEN.

So no lunches for the last two weeks; Monday I was mixing up cookie dough when my younger son came home, alone. Usually they come home together but he cagily said that his brother was just “a few minutes behind him.” When his brother came home he mentioned that he had parked an abandoned Walmart shopping cart behind our house.

Me: What.

Son: I just parked it out back. Don’t worry, it’s not behind the garage or anything.

Me: I don’t want an abandoned CART behind our HOUSE. Why did you PUT it there?

Son: Okay, I’ll go move it.

So many questions. So much to process. In the end the story went like this: the boys and their gang found three – THREE – abandoned shopping carts in one of the back alleys that they use to cut off thirty seconds from their commute. What’s a group of teenage boys to do when they find three – THREE – abandoned shopping carts? Climb in and race, of course.

When this was relayed to me, I had to turn to the sink full of dishes, close my eyes, and employ my ujjayi breath for a few moments. My initial reaction was to completely flip out but I didn’t because a) they actually related this to me, b) there are no real inclines or declines from that alley to our house, and so chances are no one was careening out of control, and c) teenage boys, honest to god, have no brains.

I did, however, ask them to please, in future, if they encounter abandoned shopping carts, to just leave them alone. I’m sure this is not the last of it, however. When my husband got home, he wondered what kind of idiot would leave an upside down shopping cart in the green space behind our house, to which my son responded “I am that idiot!” We cultivate self-awareness in this house, let me tell you. My husband then grabbed his truck keys and the two of them returned the cart to the Walmart parking lot, a somewhat happy ending to a story that I never, ever thought would be part of my life.

So IDIOCY is not my favourite thing but I do have a number of things I love about this month, time warp and all.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The June/ “Why Is This Week So Weird” Edition

Hunter Boots

I have wanted Hunter boots for YEARS but couldn’t justify them in my mind; I had a perfectly good pair of rain boots that, up to about seven weeks ago, served my purposes. After years of service they finally cracked; Browns had a 30% off sale on tall black Hunters, and there was ONE left in my size. What’s a girl to do? I bought them and immediately the weather turned dry and sunny. You’re welcome, Calgary! But the last few weeks have seen a huge amount of rain – summer solstice was the darkest, rainiest, longest day of the year – and so I’ve been enjoying my fashionable, dry feet.

Flowers

My Siberian irises have made the best showing ever this year, and they are popping up in places far from their original domain.

All my outdoor plants are making strides, but just look at this:

One of my dear students gave me that bouquet, and I am just in love with it. Bonus: it’s not triggering anyone’s allergies in the house!

Barkley

I know, he is just constantly one of my favourite things, but will you look at this:

I mean, come on.

My husband has been doing a lot of business travelling lately, and it’s all sadness when the suitcase comes out:

Poor puppers!

All That Food Is Paying Off

I’ve been the shortest in the house for a little while now, but today my fifteen-year-old took the title of Tallest in the House. The boys have both grown 1 1/2 – 2 inches since April 2, which really explains my grocery bills. Now I’m just looking forward to their brains catching up with all that growth.

Well, June is hectic, this week is even more so, and with that fun piece of news I will close. Happy end of school, friends! xo

Gaslighting, literally

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Around Christmastime last year, I parked my car and peered into my rearview mirror in order to check my makeup before going to teach a yoga class. I do this habitually to make sure I don’t have lipstick on my teeth or raccoon-ish mascara circles under my eyes. It was, as I said, late December and so the sun was low in the sky even though it was nearly noon. The bright sunlight shone on my face and it was then that I noticed three black hairs, of significant length and coarseness, sprouting from various parts of my face. Distressing as this was on its own, it was exacerbated by the fact that I was about to teach a class full of people and I had no tweezer on my person, and also, I regularly check and tweeze various parts of my face. Chin hairs and those on the upper lip are no rarity on a woman of my age, and so I hunt them on the regular. Or so I thought.

I was faced with the conclusion that, due to insufficient lighting in the bathroom, regular mirrors no longer serve me, so I ordered a Daylight 10x Magnifying Mirror during the Boxing Day sales on Amazon. I waited with excited anticipation for the delivery of the item that would, surely, transform my life.

Jesus take the wheel.

The first time I peered into that mirror, I felt despair and despondency. If you ever feel the need to be humbled – perhaps you have way too MUCH self-esteem – then definitely consider this purchase. It is not, as my aunt wisely told me, for the faint of heart. But I eventually discovered the secret to use it without plunging into a spiral of shame and sadness: look at your face dispassionately and in sections – eyebrows, upper lip, chin – and always remember that while others may view you in the full light of day, they are not doing so in a way that is magnifying your every flaw by a power of ten. Or, at least, we hope they are not.

The months ticked by and my self-esteem recovered. I continued to use my mirror several times a week, and was not dissatisfied by the effects. What I didn’t realize, what should have been obvious but wasn’t, to me, is that as time goes by batteries begin to lose their charge. And as that happens, the “daylight” setting begins to fade away, until what I thought was “daylight” was, in reality, “dusk.”

In other words, I was gaslighted. I literally gaslighted myself.

Not knowing what horrors awaited me, I placidly changed out the batteries, and then gasped when I looked in the mirror. I should have KNOWN that chin hairs do not magically disappear with regular plucking. We all know that, if anything, those long black hairs become more tenacious with time, like goutweed or mint. I should have KNOWN that total transformation doesn’t just happen with the purchase and use of a magnifying mirror. I should have KNOWN that Bridget Jones was right, being a woman is like being a farmer with all the harvesting and crop spraying, and we all know how farmers cannot just let things go without major consequence.

I think the takeaway lesson here is that none are so blind as those who will not see, and also that changing the batteries more than twice annually is a smart idea for those of us wishing to utilize modern technology to its fullest benefit.

Lemon, it’s Wednesday

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There is no need to remind me that today is actually Thursday; however, this is how I have felt over the past couple of weeks:

On Monday I cheerfully mentioned to my older son that if he was having issues with his F chord, he could ask his guitar teacher at his lesson the next day. His guitar lessons are on Thursdays. By Wednesday, over the last two weeks, I’ve been ready to collapse on the couch with a bottle of wine and a funnel only to realize that no, it isn’t Friday, and not only did I have to Just Keep Swimming, I also had to take my younger son to drum lessons.

Remember the young girl who teaches voice lessons, who changes her look dramatically week to week? A few weeks ago I anxiously awaited her to come out and talk with one of the parents, and I was rewarded by her new look: a shaved head, army boots, and what appeared to be a karate gi. Maybe her head is always shaved and she wears different wigs every week? That would explain a lot of things. Last night she had on one of those golf-style hats that are favoured by old men on her shaved head, a gigantic Club Monaco sweatshirt over top a turtleneck, hugely wide-legged high waisted cropped jeans, and white faux fur open-toed mules.

I don’t mind at all waiting for the kids at their different music lessons; I bring a book and use the time to read, or contemplate how one person can have so many different styles from week to week when my own style has been virtually unchanged for many years. Either way, I amuse myself. There is one dad there who has two young children that have lessons not concurrently; he’s there at least an hour and he never, ever has so much as a book or a phone. He merely stares into the distance, mostly ignoring the child who is not currently taking a lesson, and who is constantly whining about how bored he is. Now, I get the concept of allowing your child to sit and be bored for a few moments, there is no need to be constantly amused by screens or the like, but would it not be possible for the sake of everyone around him to at least bring a book for the child? How much LONGER do we have to waaaaaaait, the child usually says about two minutes after his brother has started lessons. A book! Markers and colouring pages! What a novel concept. Then last night, a woman who I assumed was their mother brought the children to lessons. I didn’t even realize they were there until I noticed the child, who was completely engrossed in a Roald Dahl book, rather than complaining loudly for thirty minutes. It was a nice reprieve. I am not drawing specific parallels to the rest of the world, but way to go Mom.

Small digression about books: I was reading Feel Free by Zadie Smith, and my husband commented on it. Why was I reading that? What is it about? I replied that it was a book of essays, and it was okay, not great, but sort of interesting. I started to mention I had read her first book many years ago, back before kids when I was in a book club. She’s a WRITER? he asked incredulously. Other than the time I read The Dead Husband Project, my husband has shown no interest at all in any book I have read, and so I was pretty surprised by his line of questioning. It turns out he was thinking JADA, not ZADIE, which was quite amusing to me. There are no anecdotes about the Fresh Prince in Feel Free, although there are many long essays about paintings I am not familiar with and books I have not and probably never will read.

These last few weeks of school are a strange combination of busy and not busy. The boys have only half days of school every day for two weeks, with the exception of last Tuesday, which was Field Trip Day and found them at the zoo and the science centre. The half days are ostensibly designed to allow for studying for finals. The grade nines are all taking their provincial achievement tests, and the grade eights have a couple of finals as well, but the majority of the time appears to be consumed by movie watching and, in general, nothing at all. Everyone seems to be mailing it in right now. Today as the grade nines write their math PAT, the grade eights are having a barbeque.

Strange as it might seem to have a barbeque for the entire eighth grade at ten in the morning, that’s nothing compared to the request to “bring your own meat.” Just think of the logistics of this: one hundred and fifty thirteen-year-olds all bringing in a single hamburger, or hot dog, or chicken breast, with no refrigeration facilities. Last year I thought this couldn’t be the case, the school couldn’t possibly be endorsing such a potentially food-poisoning-infused activity, but the morning of the barbeque my son begged to take something, anything to school. Everyone’s taking something, Mom! He ended up taking a single sausage, which was the only barbeque-able piece of meat in the house, which subsequently got eaten by someone else. This year I gave my younger son a whole pack of hot dogs, buns, and a couple of nearly-empty condiments; at least this way he and his friends are provided for, hopefully without salmonella.

Today is the teacher luncheon at the school, and as I have been pretty much a lame duck in terms of volunteering for these junior high years, I offered to bring dessert. Specifically, mini cupcakes. More specifically, the fussiest, most time-consuming labour-intensive dessert that I could possibly make for a large crowd. Why do I do these things to myself? I could have made a pan of brownies and called it a day but no. The cupcakes turned out great, but I will just say this: yesterday was a pretty frantically busy day without making five dozen tiny cupcakes frosted with roses and stars, so adding that on top of things was perhaps not that bright. I’m pleased with the final result, though, and even more pleased that tomorrow is Friday and my friend is coming over in the afternoon for a much-needed wine break.

I excitedly texted a photo to my husband, who expressed extreme doubt that I actually made these myself, given my very poor track record for decorating baked goods. But I did! I did make them! You could too; all you need is the right decorating tips and a YouTube video. I told this to my husband, owner of a whole workshop filled with every tool you can imagine, and he nodded with great understanding. The right tools are EVERYTHING, he agreed. Indeed.