Category Archives: Uncategorized

Lube, Oil, and Filter

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Something happened on vacation that was both eye-opening and a little unsettling: I was universally referred to as “senora.” Now, I don’t truly believe that an almost-43-year-old-woman SHOULD be referred to as “senorita” but it would be nice, is all I’m saying.

As a side note, the hostess for breakfast said brightly to me, “Hola, Senora Nicole!” and I was very taken aback since a) I did not tell her my name, b) the reservation for the resort was under my husband’s name and c) there were hundreds of people staying there, how did she know I was me? In fact, I asked her how she knew my name, and she said “It is your beautiful smile, Senora.” Which is lovely but still didn’t explain anything. The only thing I could think of was that she was at the karaoke party the night before and, well, I had a few numbers. If that is true, then a) my performances were memorable, and b) holy crap she must have worked a very long day as karaoke started at nine pm, and breakfast started at seven am.

Anyway, karaoke as an entertainment medium deserves its own post.

As I get older, I’m struck by how much more maintenance our bodies need; things that would have horrified me twenty years ago are now just part of my life and routine. I’m not even talking about things like facial depilation or constant root touch-ups, I’m talking about how, even after having had varicose veins stripped I have all new ones developing and have to wear medical-grade stockings on the plane so as to not die from a rogue blood clot, or, less dramatically, to not have sore and swollen legs after every flight.

People, you do not know glamour until you try to don or remove medical grade support hose in a public washroom. On the way to Mexico I wisely wore my sexy beige thigh-high stockings (pictured above) so when we landed in the 34 degree heat, I could remove them fairly easily while waiting for our luggage, “easily” being a relative term. On the way home, I had my full-length, pantyhose-style stockings to wear, but I did not want to die of heatstroke on the way to the airport. How hard could it be, I reasoned, to put them on in the airport washroom? The answer is: very hard. I’m sure the other passengers were wondering what exactly was happening in that stall on the left as I accidentally kicked the door, tipped over into wall, and inadvertently pushed my skirt – which I had removed to stand on to protect my feet from bathroom germs – out of the stall and into the middle of the bathroom. I emerged semi-victorious, with my pantyhose ending just a few inches from my bra line, wearing yoga pants to retrieve my skirt, noting that the other women were looking away rather quickly.

In the two weeks before our trip, I had three appointments set up, and all of them reminded me that while I feel very much like I am of the “Perennials,” I am indeed middle-aged. Although, I’m hoping to live a lot longer than 86, so maybe not quite middle-aged. In any case, these appointments were important and necessary, and please consider this your reminder to get them booked. For your reading pleasure, I have ranked them in order of agony, with 1 being the least and 3 being the greatest.

Mammogram

I know many women find mammograms painful and scary, and I would say that having the worst case scenario running through your head is the worst part. The first time I had one done, I was getting a lump investigated and not only did I have the mammogram but I also had an ultrasound on the lump, and I bit my lip the entire time to keep from crying. Now I get them done annually, and I find them to be not a big deal at all. There’s always the emotional “what if” factor, but in terms of physical comfort, I don’t have a problem with it at all. Perhaps it is my sad, deflated breasts, I don’t know. I do know that my doctor informed me that my breasts are dense. Dense! Let’s not belittle them. They’re just a little slow but otherwise fine. 

I have had great luck with mammogram technicians, who all seem young and perky and like they are choreographing the weirdest dance sequence ever. Okay now let’s lift! Lift here, yes, now turn away, your head too, okay, okay, now stay stay stay, oops, let’s lift again, and turn. Perfect! Stay! Yes! I have also – and here’s a hot tip for you – realized that if you have long hair, wear it up when you are getting a mammogram. Otherwise it can get in the way and things get even weirder in terms of choreography.

Another benefit is that you get to wear these saucy medical gowns!

Speaking as someone who has on more than one occasion – including very recently – put a medical gown on the wrong way, I appreciated the photos. But I did think it was a little odd; would people really not tie their gowns closed if they knew it was a single-sex change room? Is it only because it’s co-ed that we are supposed to not walk around with our breasts/ junk exposed? I mean, isn’t not flashing someone just a condition of living in a society? Well. If there is a sign – which was not there during my last appointment – there must be a reason.

However, I had some serious wardrobe malfunctions anyway. The gowns are in two sizes, depending on the colour, and the pink one they gave me is the larger size, which meant that even when I tied it as tightly as I could, the walk to the exam room led to a flapping open of the too-big gown, and some inadvertent exposure of the girls. At least it was just me and the technician, and so I was not called out for flouting the “close your gown” rules in front of elderly men or the like.

Pelvic Exam

I have had a history of doctors who couldn’t find my cervix and believe me when I say that is a very uncomfortable position to be in. I’m sure it’s there! I would joke, wincing with pain. After a very painful pelvic exam and pap that had to be REPEATED because the lab didn’t have enough “material to work with,” as it were, my doctor wrote a few notes down on my file and told me what to remind him of for the future.

I followed those directions and this past test was not terribly unpleasant, although I did feel awkward, while on the examining table, blurting out Don’t forget I need the LARGE speculum! The green one! Green for go!

The large speculum. My feminine mystique takes a bit of a beating.

Dental Scaling

By far my least favourite, I have to steel myself just to make the appointment for dental cleanings and checkups. For one thing, it takes so LONG. I suppose I could cut down on coffee consumption, but life needs to be worth living, and my god, think of the children. I have excellent dental hygiene – I brush several times a day and floss daily, I use a water pik, I buy extra whitening toothpaste – and yet, the sixty minutes of scaling feels like it says otherwise. In fact, the hygienist told me that my favourite floss, the one that I use daily and love, is “fairly ineffective but better than nothing.” For the record, it is that easy-glide dental tape, because I cannot stand the feeling of strands of floss between my teeth. To me it is akin to chewing tin foil. Shudder shudder forever.

You’ll pry my easy-glide dental tape out of my cold dead hands, I tell you. Remember that study that said that flossing was ineffective anyway? I thought about it but obviously did not refer to it to my lovely and skilled hygienist because a) I didn’t want her to think I was lying about flossing daily as it is important to me, apparently, to be well-regarded by the health care professionals in my life, b) I don’t want to walk around with food in my teeth so I won’t stop flossing, studies be damned, and c) I don’t want to seem like THAT person who quotes random and possibly inaccurate things they read on the internet. So, I took the regular non-easy-glide floss samples without comment, not wanting to flout the hygienist’s advice. At the very least, they can be donated to a shelter, and hopefully the recipient will not also view it as akin to a mouthful of foil.

This winter has frozen my brain

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Do You Want To Build A Snowman

No, not really. It’s been the snowiest – or one of the snowiest? I don’t really know – winters on record, and frankly, I am at the point where I cannot even conceptualize a time where I won’t be wearing numerous layers and a coat that requires its own postal code. I cannot remember what the yard looked like without giant drifts of snow, and I am starting to forget what it was like to drive down the street. I refuse to drive down the our street due to the enormous snow banks and ruts – if a car comes in the other direction, one of the cars must somehow get somehow onto a snow bank in order for the other to pass. It feels like a recipe for disaster, and as we all know, automobile-related disasters can only end in dramatic tears and frantic phone calls to my husband who, inevitably, will be at work and unable to help. I shall not drive down my street until such time as I do not need a four wheel drive and/ or nerves of steel. I was looking at my closet yesterday and noticed all the footwear that is lying dormant. I know there was a time when I wore light shoes and even light boots, but I cannot really remember it. I’ve lost all perspective – haven’t I just always worn heavy boots every single day? The local meteorologists insist that the melt is coming, but frankly, I can’t imagine it. I feel like I’m in a much less-gory and not-at-all-incestuous Game of Thrones winter, which is destined to last until we all die from lack of food/ murder/ being killed by White Walkers.

I’d Rage Against The Machine But I’m Too Tired

I realized with a start that time change is THIS WEEKEND. Goddamn Daylight Savings and all the lies associated with it. The Alberta government – not for the first time, and certainly not for the last – was the cause of grave disappointment when they announced that they would not do away with the time change, because “everyone else is doing it.” I feel like my own mother, if everyone was jumping off a bridge, would you do it too? Are we all lemmings here? If EVERYONE thinks that time change is an antiquated concept, and that it really does nothing for energy savings, and that it is inconvenient and the cause of many car accidents and issues due to pure exhaustion, then why doesn’t EVERYONE band together and just agree to do away with it? Every single year I think this and I am sure that given that this ridiculousness has lasted this long, I will be in the Home saying the same exact thing.

Awkward Is As Awkward Does

This week I had my annual physical, and my doctor’s office was very accommodating when I mentioned I was a little tight on time. I got there a few minutes early and the nurse promptly weighed and measured me, and took my heart rate and blood pressure. I was quickly escorted to the room where I was asked to change into the robe. I glanced at the enormous robe, momentarily forgetting which way to put it on. Does it tie in the back or the front? At that exact moment, while I was standing in the freezing room, completely nude, the doctor knocked and started to open the door – thinking, probably, that he was helping me out by not making me sit idly in the freezing room, but instead starting the checkup right away. I appreciated his promptness but, as I said, I was standing there naked, so I asked for just a moment, please. Does it tie in the front or the back? I remembered from my mammogram a few years back – when I made the wrong choice – that that gown tied in the front. Were we doing a breast exam today? Maybe? Front or back, front or back, just make a decision. I quickly pulled it on and tied it in the front just as the doctor knocked again and walked in. It was immediately apparent that I had, gravely, made the wrong decision. The doctor looked at me quizzically as I awkwardly said I couldn’t remember which way to put the gown on. “Well,” he said tactfully, “Usually it’s the other way.” USUALLY. Like there are other women out there desperately holding the gown together at the front, showcasing their complete lack of medical gown intuition. There were a few awkward moments when the doctor was testing my reflexes and listening with his stethoscope. Wardrobe malfunction! I am not generally a shy person and the doctor has seen it all before, but still, there is something unsettling about unexpectedly flashing the doctor while just sitting on the examining table as he asks questions about general energy levels and if I’m still getting my periods.

That’s One Way To Get More Business

With all the snow, and the usual thawing and refreezing cycle, sidewalks and parking lots have been absolutely treacherous. A few months ago I came across an elderly woman who had just fallen and, subsequently, broken her arm while walking on the sidewalk. She was just sitting there on the sidewalk, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. If you can make it down the sidewalks without such calamity, you need the agility of a mountain goat to climb over the huge snowbanks surrounding them. Walking the dog is becoming an adventure, is what I’m saying. The other day I saw a man slip and nearly bail right in front of a chiropractic/ physio clinic. Sheer ice…right in front of the clinic.

All The Ladies In The House Say HEY

Happy International Women’s Day! I may not still have my posters of the Feminist Manifesto and the fish on a bicycle, but the principles are still there (automobile-related incidents notwithstanding.) Keep on keeping on, you beautiful women. Let’s continue to lift each other up and support one another. xoxo

How To Be A Better Person

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Did you realize that TODAY is March 1? How did that happen? Well, time keeps on ticking and meanwhile it keeps snowing…but I’m not going to go there today.

What I was thinking about is that today – MARCH 1 OMG – marks two months from traditional New Year’s Resolution beginnings. Did you make any resolutions this year, and, if so, how are they going? My own resolutions ran the gamut from the somewhat vague – focusing more on single tasks, practicing more patience and mindfulness, being grateful every single day for the amazing gift of LIFE – and the concrete – squeeze in more movement every day, read more, play the piano once a week – and I’m happy to report that I am doing all those things. Well, the piano doesn’t always get played weekly but I did learn how to play the theme song from Cheers, which has been a goal for a long time and, frankly, is not very difficult. I could have done that years ago!

My resolutions, such as they are, are a work in progress. This isn’t like the time I resolved to learn how to bake bread or use my decorator tips or how to play Where Everybody Knows Your Name – it’s not a One and Done thing. I think that one of the great benefits – and part of the appeal – of New Years Resolutions is that they make us BETTER. Whether our resolutions have us paying better attention to our physical health and wellness, or to attaining or honing a skill, or to becoming better equipped emotionally to make the world a happier place, there is generally a common theme: we want to be better people. We want to be better, we want to do better.

This is the premise of my friend Kate Hanley’s latest book: How To Be A Better Person. You may remember that Kate is the author of Stress Less, which I reviewed last April with an anecdote about becoming curious instead of furious when a delivery man became incredibly angry with me. How To Be A Better Person is similar in format to Stress Less, and reads like a combination self-help book and checklist for life. There are over 400 simple ways to make a difference in yourself and the world, each with a little box beside it so you could, presumably, check one off each time you achieve them. I did not do that, but I did dog-ear each page when I thought hey, that’s what I can write about. Don’t judge me! It’s my book, I’ll dog-ear if I want to. But there were so many good little nuggets in there that my book is now one big dog-ear. I could write a whole blog series on this book! I’ll try to be succinct.

The book is broken up into eight sections: See the Positive, Connect With Your Feelings, Be Healthy, Show Love, Give Back, Stay Committed, Work Well, and Let Go of Your Stuff. I will admit that I liked the Be Healthy section the best, because I was already doing literally everything in that chapter: eating lots of fruits and vegetables, drinking lots of water, doing yoga, moving more, getting outside no matter what the weather (thank you Barkley for the motivation on that one). But I think the other chapters, that felt more difficult when it came to self-awareness, are more helpful.

For example:

If there ever was an Important Parenting Reminder, it would be this. We are all walking our own paths, and no one can do it for us. This is HARD though, when it comes to parenting, but so very important. This reminds me, a bit, of that famous “Your children are not your children” poem from Kahlil Gibran, which you can read in its entirety here. “And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.” How often do we think of our children as extensions of ourselves? Their failures become our failures, their successes are our successes. Sometimes we may even find ourselves living vicariously through them, through our own dreams and visions, and those dreams and visions may not have any import to them. Of course we must show we care and give them tools to make good choices, but those choices are theirs and theirs alone. This is so difficult, particularly when our children are different from us. Actually, it’s difficult when our children are similar to us too, as we can really take to heart their experiences and way of thinking. Their lives are their lives, and they must live them. I mean, think back when you were a teenager – you had choices to make and consequences to live with, and those decisions were yours and yours alone. We must let our kids do the same – even if it kills us!

Which brings me to this:

Sometimes my kids will be telling me something about their day, and I will become panicked about a small detail, whereas they are calm and cool. Clearly, this is my own issue and I’ve made it about me, and not them. Triggers – we have to learn what sets them off and how to deal with them. Just like I know that I cannot eat even one potato chip or else I will be scarfing down the entire Costco sized bag in minutes, a trigger can lead to regrettable outcomes.

But, it can also lead to good outcomes if managed properly. I was at Costco on Monday and as usual, the parking lot was a disaster; not only are there giant snow piles taking up parking spaces, but the usual “corral, what corral?” mentality was rampant. My friend Janet (HI JANET) always says that weekdays at 2:00 are the Magical Costco Times in terms of lineups and general busyness, but unfortunately 2:00 means that there are four hours for people to leave their carts willy-nilly all over the place, and on Monday there were many carts scattered throughout the lot, taking up parking spaces and generally destroying my sense of Parking Lot Feng Shui. Do I talk about shopping carts too much? Probably. But clearly this is a trigger for me; I can stand in long lineups with patience, I can let people go ahead of me, I will take a spot farther from the door to free up others for people less mobile, I will smile and chat happily with the staff.

But when it comes to seeing people walk their carts over to where ten other carts are scattered in the parking spaces and leave them, when the CORRAL IS RIGHT THERE, OMG, IT’S TEN STEPS AWAY, well.

I weep for humanity.

But as Kate says in the book, use it as a reminder to do something nice for yourself. For the amount of time I spend grocery shopping, I will be able to do many nice things for myself when I see disasters like this. Maybe I should book a pedicure. As it was, I put my bins in a cart – when you can’t do a lot, do a little, says Kate – and I practiced my ujjayi breathing as I went into the store. I bought two packs of my favourite cherry tomatoes, I smiled at a cute baby and his mama, I practiced gratitude for the ability to buy healthy and delicious food for my family.

And then I glared at a perfectly-able person shoving his cart in the direction of a bunch of other errant carts, causing a pool-table ripple effect of carts, some coming close to hitting parked cars. I glared and glared, and then, like a crazy person, gave a giant smile to another person who was actually returning his cart to the corral. GOD BLESS YOU, SIR. I hope he felt my positive vibes and I hope he had the best Costco Karma ever.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Growing Old Gracefully Edition

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This morning I went downstairs to switch the laundry, and by the time I came back upstairs – three minutes, maximum – it was snowing again. Clearly, it has been a long, cold, snowy winter when the dusting of snow feels like a complete personal betrayal by the local meteorologists. This wasn’t in the forecast! I thought indignantly. What are they DOING to us? Oh, it’s been consistently so cold for so long – mornings in the windchill-factor-in-the-minus-twenties and afternoons in the minus-teens – that I cannot even envision a time in the future that will not be cold and snowy. And there are months left to go before winter can be, definitively, over. Meanwhile I have friends in the States who are discussing their crocuses and having to put on the air-conditioning, and I feel like saying something mean about their government before bursting into tears, which is a very lame and unproductive reaction because if there is one thing no one can control, it’s the weather, and complaining about it is futile. Also, it’s boring and depressing. So let’s move on!

What I really wanted to talk about today is the idea of Growing Old Gracefully. My friend Jeannette (HI JEANNETTE) put the thought into my head. There is a fine line, I think, between Growing Old Gracefully and Giving Up The Ghost. There is also a line, maybe a thicker one, between Growing Old Gracefully and Pulling Out All The Stops. I hope I am growing old(er) gracefully; I recognize there are some things that will never change, unless I Pull Out All The Stops and get botox or some kind of surgery, my face is on a One-Way Street To Wrinkletown. And that’s okay, but I would like to look a little bit less Crypt Keeper, and so I think a good moisturizer and eye cream are key.

I am also – as you know – not ready to embrace my Old Grey Mare Hair, yes, I know it’s in vogue and yes, I realize I could save a lot of time and money if I just let things go au naturel. I am not ready and frankly, I may never be. I have girlfriends who have gone the highlights-to-gradually-go-grey route, and while I think they look amazing – seriously, you should see my gorgeous friend Amy (HI AMY) – it’s just not for me. I spent almost four decades being a brunette, and now I am embracing my feisty redhead years. This era may last until I am in my grave. Or urn.

I really love beauty products and makeup, and I think it’s very important to be putting my best face forward. I don’t leave the house without makeup or without doing my hair, albeit sometimes the makeup is minimal and the hair is in a simple bun. I want to be clear that I do this for ME first and foremost. I feel my best when I look my best, and even when I’m just hanging out at home doing housework, I still like to ensure that my scrubby yoga pants are coordinated with my sweatshirt. I know not everyone will agree with me here, but I don’t feel like myself without making some effort to look nice.

I know that this is controversial as well, but I also – this is secondary but important – like to look good for my husband. It’s definitely not in vogue to say, as a woman, that you enjoy looking good to a man, but it is the truth for me. I like that my husband finds me attractive, but there is something else here too: he puts in an effort to look attractive for me as well. This is not to say that my husband has a specific SAY in the way I look – I wouldn’t, for example, cut my hair into a funky style if he thought it was a good idea. I also discount his opinion about clothes that I like and he doesn’t, as in this top:

I think this top is very cute and flowy, but he hates – HATES – it. He’s not alone; my friend Jen (HI JEN) thought it looked a little Halloween-ish, and my friend Liv (HI LIV) sweetly said that she doesn’t love it. But I do and will continue to wear it, husband’s preference aside.

This is a long, roundabout way of saying that I realized today that I haven’t written a Nicole’s Favourite Things in a long time, and I have many favourite things I would like to share with you, particularly since many of these things are inexpensive drugstore purchases that are, frankly, amazing. Just a little reminder that this is not sponsored, I have not been paid to review these products, and I bought them all myself at full (or store sale) price. Without further ado!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Growing Old Gracefully Edition

My Hair Therapist

June will mark my sixteenth anniversary with my beloved Hair Therapist, and since I will have been married sixteen years next month, I think this is significant. She is a magician. As an example, please witness my latest “before:”

And the “after.” God, I love that woman. I also love car lighting.

She has me hooked on this Loma Fortifying Repairative Tonic that I massage into my hair before blow-drying. It only takes a drop, and it makes a huge difference in the health and texture of my hair.

Even Tone Moisturizers

One of the greatest marketing moves ever, in my humble opinion, was that of the Neutrogena shampoo. Remember how they would say that your hair gets used to shampoo and if you switch it up every once in a while by using Neutrogena shampoo your regular product will work better than ever. How brilliant is that? You don’t have to switch from the stuff you love, just use ours every two weeks and your experience will be better. Well, you have to admire that kind of marketing. I ran across this Neutrogena Rapid Tone Repair at the drugstore (okay, it was in the beauty section of Superstore) and I thought I would give it a try. I will tell you this: it’s amazing. For anyone who has an uneven skin tone, blotchiness, old scars, this is like a miracle cream. It’s also supposed to work on wrinkles which may be the case, but I’ve really mostly noticed it on my skin tone. This is a night cream; they have a day version but I’m waiting until I use up the Garnier Clearly Brighter before making the switch. I’ve been using the Garnier product for a while and it’s okay, but it sure hasn’t given results like the Neutrogena one has.

Eye Cream

If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you will know that I have been searching for a good eye cream FOREVER. I have used Kiehl’s, Clinique, Dr. Brandt, and even, yes, Rodan and Field’s. I have not been overly happy with any of them; the difference is minor in my eye bags, and often by mid-day the creams have made my eye makeup run so I look even worse. I picked up Garnier Ultra-Lift Miracle Sleeping Cream on a whim; it wasn’t very expensive in comparison to the other things I’ve tried, and also it’s meant as a night cream. I was a little skeptical BECAUSE it was a night cream, but I tell you, people, this actually works. I look significantly less exhausted, even though I get the exact same amount of sleep every night. This is me this morning, in my harsh bathroom lighting. When I took this I would have been up almost six hours, after getting approximately six-and-a-half hours sleep.

Do I still have eye bags and wrinkles? Yes! But they are so much better than they used to be.

Side note: do you love that necklace? My sweet thirteen-year-old bought it for me when he was on his Quebec trip. He really couldn’t have chosen better, I don’t think. Bonus favourite thing!

BB Cream

I love BB cream and my go-to is either Smashbox Photo Ready or Garnier, which I’ve discussed in detail. However, when I go to the gym, I get really sweaty and my makeup runs, which I hate. Enter this new BB cream – it’s expensive, relatively speaking, so I only wear it on gym days – Garnier BB Light, which somehow, through magic and/or science, matches your skin tone. It doesn’t run even when I (brag alert) run 6.405 km in 40 minutes and get so sweaty the treadmill has drips on it.

Sweaty, yes, but the makeup is still there!

I had much more to talk about today – food that makes you glow and age well, nail products, the very best thing I’ve ever done for my hair health – but it will have to wait for another day! Until then, let me know if you have any products you swear by and what your feelings are about Growing Old Gracefully. I’d love to hear from you! xo

Once, Twice, Three Times An (Old) Lady

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It is Groundhog Day, so is it okay to say that this week has been Crazytown Bananapants, even though I started out my last post in that exact way? Yes? Okay.

Something happened yesterday that got me thinking; what I wanted to write about today is not the topic that I am about to embark on, so my Theory of Behavioural Economics As It Applies To Shopping Carts will have to wait until next time. There’s a teaser for you! I just like to keep things fresh, and my readers on the edge. Next time, I promise.

What I want to talk about today is Aging.

I’m going to come out and say it: aging does not bother me. For one thing, I would rather age than be dead, which is the only other option. Also, I think life becomes more interesting, colourful, and nuanced with experience and age. Sure, my roots may be grey for two out of five weeks, sure, I might feel like the Crypt Keeper some mornings, but in general, I think with age comes not only wisdom, but interesting experiences.

Side note: my friend (HI DENISE) told me that I’m actually very lucky to be so grey, because “granny grey” is the hottest new colour trend. I looked at her with extreme skepticism, but it turns out that she’s right. I should have known, she’s actually one of the most fashionable people I know, you should see her shoes, for the love of god. My hair therapist informed me that many, many girls and women are opting for granny grey, and honestly, who knew I was so in vogue? Certainly not me. But I am not ready for that step. It’s one thing to be a sweet young thing with stylish granny grey hair, it’s quite another for me. This is not unlike wearing knee-length, round collared, floral-print dresses; if you are of a certain age it might look cute and hip, but if I tried that, I would look like my own grandma wearing a housedress and would only require a pair of sensible shoes to complete the ensemble. Maybe a strategically-placed pin so as to ensure no possibility of cleavage would be revealed. And a slip.

Do women still wear slips? I remember it being a little risque, at least in my family circle, to not wear a slip. Does anyone wear a slip anymore? Do they even sell slips anymore, now that Sears is no longer in business? I have so many questions.

Another side note: I had brunch with a group of women that I hadn’t seen in eight years. Eight years! (HI LADIES) The years have been exceptionally kind to them; not one of them looked any different from what they looked like eight years ago. All of them retained their youthful, unlined faces. In particular, one of the women who shall remain nameless for the purposes of privacy but who knows who she is (HI) is turning fifty this year and she does not look a day – NOT ONE DAY – over thirty-five, with her dewy, glowing complexion. This is in comparison to me, one step away from becoming an apple doll. Jealousy is an ugly thing and yet, I cannot help but be envious, and to stock up on retinol.

Ah, vanity.

But something happened yesterday that made me feel older; older than not really knowing who anyone is who is featured in People magazine or on awards shows, older than having a discussion about arthritis with some of my students, older than realizing I am now dependent on my daily dose of special vegetarian glucosamine, older even than when I realized my friends looked the same as they did eight years ago and I, most assuredly, do not.

I got called “young lady.”

Now, it’s not like I don’t get called “young lady” often – after all, I spend a lot of time at the Co-Op, and older gentlemen often refer to me as such. But there is something very different about being called “young lady” by an octogenarian who is thanking me for moving my cart so he can reach the high-fibre bran cereal, and a fellow who is much, much younger than me.

Frankly, it made me feel like I was in the nursing home and a nice intern referred to me in that jokey way that people do when it comes to the elderly, as a “sweet young lady.” Or maybe in a would you like to be wheeled over to the arts and crafts room, young lady? We’re making macrame owls! kind of way.

Don’t get me wrong, I was not in any way offended by the greeting. I would never be offended by a kind and heartfelt greeting, which is what it was. And anyway, what’s the difference between that and being called “miss” when you’re clearly a “ma’am?” Or being called Senorita when you are obviously a Senora? Technically, there is no difference, and YET THERE IS. I cannot put my finger on it but the difference is as gaping as a plunging neckline in need of a pin, or maybe a nice brooch.

Making the days count

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This week, you guys, this week has been full-on Crazy Town Banana Pants, in terms of my schedule. I am trying so very hard to, as they say on inspirational posters, not count the days but instead make the days count, but my goodness, I’m looking forward to my Neighbour Wine Date tomorrow afternoon (HI TARYN). Don’t wish away time, I say to myself several times a day, Live in the moment; wherever you go, there you are, and I’m even driving myself crazy with these platitudes. I am trying, though. Every morning I wake up and run through my schedule in my head, thinking of the interesting opportunities in the day to come, and endeavouring not to think “How am I going to get all this stuff done?”

Yesterday I was on a full-day field trip with the Grade Sevens, and I learned something very important: junior high field trips are much, much better to chaperone than elementary school ones. By “better” I mean “easier” since I think it’s just an insurance thing to have a certain adult-student ratio, but the adults literally do nothing at all. It was relaxing, if not particularly stimulating. However, I did learn something about sustainable agriculture and the future of farming, and I also learned that Kenya’s currency is the Kenyan shilling, should that ever come up in a Trivial Pursuit question.

The bus wasn’t even too bad; certainly it was better than the myriad elementary trips I went on. For one thing, either the group is smaller or the bus is bigger, but children were not expected to sit three to a seat, and I could sit by myself without having a random child breathing their hot breath all over me while showing me something neat in their backpack, as I work hard not to throw up. The bus driver only screamed once, which feels like a win.

And today is Robbie Burns’ Day! Every single year someone asks me if I’m going to have haggis, and this year was no exception. Well-meaning people will tell me, in the kindest and most helpful way, that there is such a thing as vegetarian haggis, but really, that only makes the idea marginally better for me. So no, I am not going to have haggis. To paraphrase Mike Myers in So I Married An Ax Murderer: In fact, I think all of Scottish cooking is based on a dare.

I also think that Scotch tastes like burning. But then, I’m only half-Scottish. A British friend was quite shocked when he found out that I drink tea without milk, and then shrugged and chalked it up to my barbaric Scottish ancestry.

So things have been busier than normal this week; I never like to complain about being busy because a) I like to be busy, and b) we’re all busy. At least, I SAY that we are all busy, but are we? This morning I was listening to the news talk radio (don’t judge) on my way back from dropping the boys at school. The station is giving away tickets to see Michelle Obama. She will be speaking to an audience of about 5000, but today, when tickets go on sale to the general public, there will be only 1000 up for grabs. Therefore, these tickets are hot. I mean, not hot as in STOLEN, but hot as in much desired.

So the station is giving away tickets, and listeners could call in for a chance to win. The first caller was a self-described huge fan of Mrs. Obama, and she was a big admirer of her role and accomplishments during her time in the White House, but in order to win a pair of tickets the caller had to be able to give the name and description of one of the four initiatives strongly backed by the former First Lady. She was clearly caught off guard and stumbled about healthy eating, but unfortunately that wasn’t specific enough to win the tickets. The second caller immediately named the Let’s Move initiative, described how it targeted childhood obesity, and won the tickets. The radio host asked if she was excited to see Michelle Obama speak, and the woman said, “Well, let’s just say I’m not a fan of Michelle Obama. I don’t really like her at all. But I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

Me, in the car:

This is when my “well, we’re all busy” theory goes up in flames. Clearly, we are not all busy. Clearly, some of us have way too much time on our hands. We all like different things. We all enjoy different people. We all have different perspectives. I don’t care one way or another what you think of Michelle Obama or any other person in the world, except perhaps if that person is the current president, and then maybe I do care what you think. The point is, why? Why, why would you spend time – an entire evening of your life – seeing someone who you do not admire in the least? Why would you spend the time, the drive in the car, the parking costs, the energy, on seeing someone you actively dislike? Not to mention why would you spend time calling into a radio station to win tickets when people who really would like those tickets are also trying to win?

“I’d like to hear what she has to say” – I have one word for you: YouTube. Or, you know, read a review in the paper.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life – Mary Oliver

We have a limited time on this earth, I think about this all the time; we really do – platitudes aside – need to make it count. What will you do with your wild and precious life? Sometimes, frankly, it feels like what I am doing with my one wild and precious life is grocery shopping, but I will tell you this: I am not spending my precious time and resources to be in the same room as someone I do not like. That happens frequently enough, involuntarily. Frankly, it’s hard enough to find time to be with people who I actively enjoy and want to spend time with.

Well, it takes all kinds, as my grandma used to say, and does it ever. Does it ever.

God bless mathematical algorithms

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“We are gearing up for the saddest week of the year!” the radio DJ said this morning, which startled me: is it Blue Monday already? I guess that’s what happens when January 1 is a Monday; god bless mathematical algorithms.

For all that, I am not blue today. Last week, a combination of the frigid temperatures and impending ladies’ holiday put me at Low Level Crabbiness, With A Tendency To Spike To Full-Blown Crabbiness. Today, though, feels fine, even though HOO BOY are there a lot of reasons to be blue these days. I mean…I will not go into them all so as to not depress us all but there are people out there who are not toddlers who are voluntarily eating Tide pods. I saw a small video clip, from Tide, of Rob Gronkowski telling people not to eat Tide pods and I laughed, people, I laughed. Then I found out that people are actually eating Tide pods and my laughter turned into a blank stare of confusion and disbelief.

Let’s not dwell on this, though, because I am assuming this is a very small portion of the population who looks at laundry detergent as a delicious, delicious snack. I’m trying not to see this as a reaction to the Crazytown Bananapants presidency and the appalling news that changes every five minutes. Probably it’s a weird way to get high. Don’t tell me, I don’t really want to know. Or do I? No, I don’t.

I don’t know why or how this happened, but I have had the old 1980s ParticipAction theme song going through my head ALL DAY LONG. This is even worse than the time I had the old Channel 2&7 Hello Calgary theme song stuck in my head. Hello Calgary, hello Calgaaaarrrryyyy…channels 2&7 love you! Well, if you’re feeling nostalgic and would like to see some very fit people clad in nothing but shorts and roller skates, or leotards and tights, click here for the old commercial. If you let it keep going you will be treated to some Body Breaks with Hal Johnson and Joanne Macleod, but I don’t recommend going down that particular rabbit hole unless you have some time on your hands.

Okay, I admit that I did watch the one on Airplane Exercise. Hey, what can I say, I have varicose veins and they become painful with air travel (yes, again) (I know) (apparently it’s rare) (I’m a unique snowflake/ unicorn). I do wear my super-sexy, full length beige support stockings while travelling, in case you’re wondering about how glamourous it is to be me.

Speaking of high fashion, do you people have any idea what is going on in this world? The fanny pack is back, I repeat, the fanny pack is back. It is now called a Belt Bag which, a rose by any other name, etc. As well: scrunchies. Scrunchies are back in style, so I guess my high school self should have saved all those little puffy bands that I colour-coordinated with all my outfits. I could be the hippest mom around! All I need are my old high school jeans with big belts and giant t-shirts all tucked in and I’ll be set!

Well, they always say you can never go back again, and so I shall leave the scrunchies to the next generation. Or will I? I’m due for a Nicole’s Favourite Things so…no. No, I just can’t go back there.

Happy Monday, lovely readers, if you’re feeling blue know that I’m sending you virtual hugs and cookies. xo