Category Archives: Weather or not

Groundhogs, The Bachelor and male pattern baldness.

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Certain special days do not translate well for everyone.  For example, Robbie Burns Day – does anyone who is not of Scottish heritage really want to eat haggis and listen to bagpipes?  I’m half Scottish and I certainly don’t want to – or President’s Day, which does not carry over very well to countries that are not the United States.  Groundhog Day does not really apply to this part of the country.  I understand that there are pagan, weather-lore, and even Catholic and Protestant Epiphany-based roots that contribute to Groundhog Day, but we all know that it simply does not apply if one is living in Calgary, as I am.
It’s amusing, though, because Calgarians WANT to participate in Groundhog Day, despite the fact that no groundhogs would ever live here and anyway it would be supreme animal cruelty to make one come out of its den in this climate to observe its shadow, and so there is someone whose job it is to dress up like a groundhog:
Photo from balzacbilly.com

Occasionally I will succumb to a severe lack of judgment, which is what happened the other night when I watched five minutes of the Bachelor.  The Bachelor is one of those cultural phenomena that seems to indicate society’s downfall.  It is, arguably, one of the worst anti-feminist piece of entertainment around.  Just the concept is terrible: women desperately competing to win the attention of a man and/or kickstart a modeling and/or reality television career.  It is one of the saddest things ever, and the fact that I watched a piece of it is sadder still, although I still believe that from a lemons-to-lemonade standpoint, a drinking game wherein viewers have a shot every time the phrase “I feel we have a real connection” is uttered would be the best possible scenario.  Of course, this would probably lead to death or, at the very least, severe alcohol poisoning, so perhaps not. 
But anyway I tuned in for a couple of minutes and discovered two things: a) a woman whose Nascar-racing fiancé – and father of her child – DIED was actually going to drive a Nascar, um, car because it was “something she needed to do”, and b) the bachelor who is currently on the show seems to be one of the stupidest people in the world, and I do not say that lightly. 
Yesterday I heard, and shared, a quote which I thought was funny: “The best way to hide male pattern baldness is to make a shit load of money.”  I thought it was an ironic commentary on the misguided importance placed on material wealth, but I fear I may have inadvertently caused hurt feelings.  NOTE TO MY BALDING MALE FRIENDS: smooches, guys, you all look great.  As a rule, hair is of minimal importance to women, unless of course you are wearing your hair in a mullet, in which case I have nothing further to say.  But if you still think that hair is important in physical attractiveness, then I invite you to observe this man:

Image from reelmovienews.com

So to summarize: hair is not important, but being stupid – as in the current “bachelor – IS.  Groundhog Day is today and Alberta is leading the world in humanely treating groundhogs, by wearing ridiculous costumes.  Happy Groundhog Day!

These boots were made for walking in the winter.

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I am perpetually cold.  I wear a minimum of two layers at any given time for ninety percent of the year.  The other ten percent belongs to the days that are spent vacationing in warmer climes and the two to three weeks a year in Calgary that temperatures actually warrant the removal of a sweater. 

It’s worse in the winter, of course, and my daily schedule of drop-offs and pick-ups does not help matters.  Jake’s kindergarten class lets out at 11:35, but the rest of the school does not break for lunch until 12:00, which means I spend 25 minutes standing in the freezing, windy playground waiting to pick up Mark, only to rush back to the school 55 minutes later.  The chill settles into my body for the remainder of the day.

It’s not like I don’t dress for the weather.  When it comes to winter outerwear, I essentially bypass anything that doesn’t appear to hold up in arctic conditions.  Here’s an example: my coat.  Look at the size of my coat! 


It’s so huge it requires its own area code.  And what’s that on my feet?
Meet my new Sorel boots.  When I think of Sorel boots I think of those gargantuan white moon boots, but someone told me about these and I think they are pretty cute.  The name is especially precious, “Joan of Arctic Boots”.  I was so excited when these arrived – I had ordered online, as is my wont – and when I put them on it was hard to know who enjoyed them more, me or my dog.  That’s Barkley standing fuzzily behind me.  He appeared to think my giant boots were alive, and got busy sniffing and licking them frantically.  
I appear to be using Jedi mind tricks to get him to settle and stop harrassing the boots.
I love these boots and my feet are warmer than they have ever been, but I have one minor complaint: they are heavy.  Last week it was so cold, minus thirty and windy, that I did not walk the dog for four days in a row.  Fortunately he is extraordinarily lazy, so he didn’t seem to mind much, but eventually I had to brave the weather, don my boots, and walk.
Remember back in the day when people would walk briskly and/or jog with those ridiculous ankle and wrist weights, pumping their arms so as to maximize their calorie burn?  It felt like I was wearing ankle weights.  Actually, it felt like I was wearing cement shoes.  Should I ever receive the kiss of death (“You broke my heart, Fredo”) I should avoid wearing these boots.  Now, it has been many, many years since I set foot in a gym, but after a half hour walk with the dog I felt like I had spent that time doing leg presses, or maybe squats.
So if you’re looking to get some shakily tired leg muscles, and you live in the frozen north, perhaps this is the solution?  Plus they are very cute.  Even if my dog thinks they are his new best friends. 

Nicole’s 300th Episode!

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It’s my 300th blog post!  If this were a sitcom, I would totally make this a clip show.  As it is, I looked back through some of my archives and discovered the following things: a) I write a lot about being insane and germ-phobic, b) I talk about the weather as much as someone who is in their eighties, and c) my children have not changed much in the past three years. That’s weird.  I came across this post, which made me realize that my children’s speaking styles have really not altered since August 2008, which means that this is not a phase.

I wanted to make my 300th post profound and erudite, perhaps talking about the superiority or otherwise of Tiger Mothers (which I am not, sadly, being Scottish-Norwegian, a mixed heritage that combines the world’s worst cuisines. What could possibly be worse than haggis and lutefisk? Absolutely nothing.)  My friend Nan beat me to it with her post on Trekkie Mother Superiority, and although I have never watched an episode of Star Trek in my life, I still found this entertaining enough not to compete with.  I mean, what am I going to counter with?  Why Scottish-Norwegian vegetarian crazy germ phobic overly emotional flakey math geek yogi mothers are superior?  Because we carry around a lot of hand sanitizer, tissues, and fruit leather?  Because our kids say to each other “Uh oh, it’s a moon day! Be extra nice to Mom.”?  Because we tear up when our kids count by twos or say things like “Problem solving and arithmetic are the best parts of school!”?


Sigh.


As a side note, I recently said to a male friend of mine “I think you’re average.  No, I’m just being mean,” and then I started laughing at my own hysterical joke while he stared at me like I just had grown another head, one with much nicer hair.  After an awkward moment of silence, he said, absurdly, “Oh. I guess I was thinking of medians.” I felt like I had made a dirty joke at my grandma’s Bible study group. Actually, my grandma would totally laugh at dirty jokes. She’s pretty fun.

But speaking of flakiness, rather than awkward math jokes, my whole world is coming crashing down as we speak.  Of course I’m talking about the possible alteration of zodiac signs.  This is distressing news to say the least, as not only will I be an Aries – which I decidedly am NOT – I’m not even sure if my husband and I will be astrologically compatible anymore!  DOOM.  Fortunately a friend (whose birthday is today!  Happy birthday my friend!  Sorry you are cleaning up toddler barf instead of celebrating.) sent me a link regarding this very important issue and I have discovered that I can, happily, disregard any alterations due to star alignments, orbits of the earth, blah blah blah.  Whatever, I’m still a Taurus.  My marriage is still intact.  Thank you, birthday friend, for talking me down from my ledge.

So, it appears that my 300th post is not profound and erudite, but what can I say?  It’s Friday, I’m going to have a glass of wine and some chocolates, and toast myself!  Cheers!

Where the hell is my invincible summer?

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“Mom!  It’s going to be hot outside!” Jake shrieked from the living room this morning, where the seven-day weather forecast was being shown on the “news”.  “Look!  It says it’s going to be sunny!”  I had to explain the difference between sunny and actual heat, but the conversation didn’t really take and I have to admit that my children are dyed-in-the-wool Calgarians and will one day be possibly jogging in shorts in sub-zero temperatures.  But it’s sunny!  So what if my legs are purple and my knees are shot?  The SUN IS SHINING!
I will admit the blue sky does look pretty.
This week is a typical one for January in Calgary, frigidly cold and windy.  I seem to be spiraling into the true definition of insanity as I keep checking the online weather forecast, only to find that it is exactly the same as when I last checked it thirty minutes ago.  Evidently I think that if I just refresh that forecast enough times, eventually it will be different.  Meanwhile I’m constantly wearing a coat that looks like a comforter with a belt and a hood, and I actually ordered – get this – SOREL BOOTS.  They’re cute Sorel boots, but still.  I can’t wait for their arrival as my current winter boots are just not getting the job done.  It’s fricking freezing , Mr. Bigglesworth. 
In other news, Mark asked me last night what the word “sperm” meant.  I’m glad I took a moment to reflect and ask him why he was asking, since the word was being used in conjunction with “whale”.  That was close.  Can you imagine the trauma?  One minute he’s talking about his new favourite animal, and the next minute his mother is talking about reproductive systems?  “And then when a mommy and daddy love each other very much…” “Gross!  What does that have to do with whales?”   
I’m not sure what’s going on, but since school started last week Mark has been permanently stuck on “chatter”.  The child will not stop talking.  Every single sentence starts with “Hey Mom!” and unfortunately that is repeated until I respond.  “Hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom”.  Finally I will respond, remembering to be very kind in my voice and not at all show irritation because he is trying to communicate with me and I want to be a very good mother, even though he will not stop talking, and he will spew out a fact about whales, eagles, his toy tiger named Tigie and his imaginary trip around the globe, or Bakugan.  Alternately he will completely forget what he was going to say, only to start over again in sixty seconds or less.  It’s a bit tiring. 
But it’s nice too.  It’s nice that there is so much he wants to share with me, and I’m trying to remember to be present in the moment, even if the moment is filled with “Fun Facts” and pulling on layer after layer of winter clothing, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Sorel boots.
Fun Fact: Did you know that killer whales are part of the dolphin family?  I did.

All the cool kids are doing it!

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And so will I – a Year in Review.  Yes, I know it is the sixth of January and most year in reviews have already been posted, but I was far too busy writing about people who eat toilet paper and watching When Harry Met Sally.

So what happened in 2010 over at the Boy House?

January

I made a resolution to learn how to bake bread, and did so immediately, learning two important things: a) baking bread is not as hard as I thought it would be, and b) the key to New Year Resolution Success is to aim low.

I also ranted about the weird things people say to pregnant women and posted a picture of me with an extra seventy pounds to love.

Yowza.  I still had seven weeks to go at that point.  SEVEN WEEKS.
February
We got really, really excited about the Olympics.  We also went on our first ever winter vacation and became a parody of Canadians as the kids got off the plane wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Team Canada logos, and instantly started running around shrieking in amazement, “Mom, look!  There are FLOWERS!  And they’re REAL!  And the grass is GREEN!  And there’s no SNOW!”
March
Mark turned six!  I had my usual crises with regards to birthday party planning and Daylight Savings Time.  I cleaned out the office and found a whole box of mix tapes, some labeled “Party Mix” and one that was made for my husband from one of his old girlfriends that included songs from Richard Marx.  Hee.

April

I turned 35!  I celebrated by chaperoning on a field trip to the firehall, and cemented my cougar-like status by volunteering to try on the firefighter outfit, discovering just how heavy said outfit is, and actually saying to the young and attractive firefighter “Wow, you guys must be in great shape.”  Coo-coo-coo-choo, Mrs. Robinson.  It also snowed a lot and I wrote about attractive movie characters who would be terrible to be married to, i.e., Ralph Fiennes in the English Patient.


My friend lent me a tiara for my birthday, fulfilling my lifelong dream of birthday crown-wearing.

May
Jake’s pre-Kindergarten class had a Mother’s Day tea in which they sang a song that went “May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies, may there always be mama, may there always be me”, and I still tear up thinking about it.  I also cried a lot thinking about this Tim Horton’s commercial and I got way too excited about the woman with the MBA with a concentration in economics winning Miss USA.  Clearly May is an emotional roller-coaster of a month for me.
It was still snowing in May.
June
It was really cold.  On Father’s Day weekend – and Super Soccer Saturday weekend – I attended a yoga weekend workshop.  Happy Father’s Day!  Now take care of the kids all weekend.  The kids finished school and my husband came up with a plan in case my kids ever decide to be protesters at a G-20 Summit. 
My two favourite pictures of Mark ever taken.  He’s getting his groove on at the end-of-school-Stampede-breakfast.  Note that it is June and Jake is wearing his fleece jacket.
July
It was raining and cold and I decided to make yarn octopuses, which turned out as well as any craft I make does.  Terribly.  We went to the Okanagan for some sunshine.  The cold and rain made me become Miss Carpe Diem, and so any day with slightly above average temperatures had me running the kids to the pool.
The yarn octopuses, Moppy and Bum, doing a duet of Heart and Soul.
August
It was still cold and rainy.  I wrote a lot about fashion, especially the jeans with zippered ankles that came out that made me feel like I was wearing turquoise slacks and a coordinating blouse, hobbling around with my walker and my Scotch mints, with a tissue in my sleeve.  Also – and my friend just reminded me of this yesterday – I saw a guy wearing a t-shirt that said “Vagitarian”.  I still laugh evilly thinking about it.  Vagitarian.  Says the guy who lives in his mom’s basement.
September
Mark started Grade One and Jake started Kindergarten.  We got hardwood installed by two attractive young whipper-snappers which led to many “hardwood” jokes.  Also I came home to find that they had taken out my drawers to move my dresser with ease, and my panty drawer was proudly on display for all to see.  So I had to show my panties to get hardwood.  Hee.  Also, Jake turned five!
Too cool for school!  Note the boxes of hardwood at right.
October
In typical October fashion we seemed to have a lot of viruses, dead squirrels, and excitement about Halloween.  Also I went on a two-night vacation with my husband and no kids!  And we all survived!  Actually the boys had the time of their lives and still talk about how awesome it was that Grandma picked them up at school.
Boo, I’m a scary witch!  For real.
November
It snowed a lot, I got ready for Christmas, I ran the Scholastic Book Fair, Mark barfed.  That pretty much sums up November.
A foam finger!  It says “We’re #1 – bp”.
December
I blogged almost exclusively about Christmas, Christmas songs, Christmas baking, and my new awesome sexy bitch boots.

Whew!  If you’re still reading this, thank you!!!  So 2010 was a great year, and here’s to a wondeful 2011 for all of us.

I just want to eat my COOKIE!

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How was your weekend?  It has been painfully cold around here – so cold that I gave the boys the warm fleece pajamas that I was saving for Christmas – and so I spent a large part of the weekend pleasantly bustling around the house, baking things and making batch after batch of cookie dough in preparation for holiday baking.
Speaking of cookies, have you seen this video of the CEO of Alberta Health Services, refusing to answer media questions on the grounds that he was too busy eating a cookie?  You can’t make this stuff up.  I think the funniest part is how shrill his voice is when he says “I am interested in eating my COOKIE.”  Good times.  I think I’m going to start responding like that whenever anyone asks me anything.  “I am STILL eating my COOKIE.”  Maybe I’ll shove the cookie in the questioner’s face, just for fun.  Actually, since most people who ask me for things are my children, they probably would appreciate that.  To a kid, eating cookies is serious business.
While I was baking things and running errands and discovering that Lindor now makes PEPPERMINT CHOCOLATES – Mother of God, it is the most amazing discovery since frozen After-Eights – my husband continued his painting rampage that has been going on for the past few months.  This weekend he started painting Mark’s room a deep blue, a nice change from the dull brown colour it has been since before we had kids and that room was an office.  Anyway, he took everything out of Mark’s closet, which is apparently a catch-all for all kinds of things that we forgot we had.  Like a 1980’s version of Trivial Pursuit.
And this is where I say I don’t know why I bought the children any toys for Christmas, because if you give them an extremely outdated version of Trivial Pursuit, they will be occupied for hours.  And no, I am not boasting about my precocious children and their intimate knowledge of Arts and Literature and Geography and how they somehow knew who Phyllis Diller was in the Entertainment category.  No.  I just mean that Jake opened up his very own bakery and made pies all day long.



He made pies like a samurai!  While using the Chutes and Ladders board.

 While Jake was busy force-feeding the rest of the family pie, Mark set up the actual game board and started a complex game using wooly mammoths, sabre-tooth tigers, and pirates.

If that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, they also found a giant foam finger from my days as a working girl, as opposed to my days as a household drudge/ bon-bon eating housewife.

This picture is absolutely hilarious to me.  Worth a thousand words, I tell you.

And for those of you in more moderate climes, here is a view out my back door:

It looks pretty, anyway.  Check out one of my gardens!

There are leaves still on the shrubs!  Poor things.

So tell me, how was your weekend?  And do cookies trump serious conversation?  Discuss.

Back to the germ factory.

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Does anyone else have the typical back-to-school cold? School germs work fast. No one in our house has been sick for at least five months, but a couple weeks into September sees us down with a cold. Although it is a pretty minor cold – the boys have had it and recovered quickly – it’s still annoying. I came down with a headache on Tuesday morning, and I was treating it all naturally and homeopathically, with various salt-water remedies, until I woke up this morning and said, fuck it, I’m going for the big guns. A Sudafed with my third cup of coffee and I feel marginally better, and significantly more jittery.

I don’t like to complain about things like colds, because truly, if no one is barfing, I’m happy. But really, the thing I hate most about a head cold is the whole “me brain no work good”. Like I was completely puzzled as to why the sink wasn’t draining when I rinsed out the teapot, only to find the offending teabag plugging the drain. Or how I became internally belligerent today at the grocery store because I couldn’t find the raisins, which were located exactly where they always are.

But MY WORD, the children. The children are so irritating. My husband says it’s not them, it’s me, which is true I’m sure but “Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? MOM? Guess what? Mom? Guess what? Mom? Can I tell you something?” is getting to me. Are they honestly always like that and do I just not notice? Answer: probably. They seem to expect a response for every “Mom?” and even when I do respond, they continue to repeat it. “Mom? Mom?” It’s all I can do not to scream “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT? WHAT?” Generally by the time they finish their litany of “Mom?”’s, they have forgotten what they were saying in the first place. KILL ME.

The happy news is that the sun is out. After a summer which was, reportedly, one of the coldest on record, and ahead of what is supposed to be one of the coldest winters on record, the sun is actually shining and it is warm enough that I am not wrapped in the gigantic grey sweater my mother-in-law knitted for me ten years ago, as I have been for days. The kids have been happily playing at the school playground and I have been happily soaking up the sun, wearing three layers of sweaters. I am going to be well tomorrow, I just know it. It’s not just the Sudafed talking.