Category Archives: When I grow up

Never Eat Shredded Wheat; Eighty-Three Weeks In

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In my mind, one of the greatest technological advancements is the advent of the map function on my phone. I am a person who has very little sense of direction, and before this incredible feat of technological engineering, I would write down or print out directions to a place, and panic every time I thought I might have to turn, trying to keep one eye on the road and the other on the piece of paper. Is this the turn? I can’t read that sign. Oh goddammit, that’s a crescent, not a drive. WHERE AM I. The kids have known from a young age that I am a stressy driver in certain parts of the city, and my husband is constantly amazed that someone who has lived in one city her entire life still doesn’t know how the main thoroughfares work.

My husband, by the way, is a person who could be dropped anywhere at all, in any city, and would figure out exactly how to get to his destination within minutes, often without a map. How he does this I do not know, but it feels like not being on the Amazing Race was a missed opportunity.

When I was young, my dad would helpfully give me directions or draw a map on a piece of notepaper, and those directions would include things like “turn east” and he then would sternly say that “the sun rises in the east” when I asked if it was a right or a left hand turn. Thanks, Dad, I am aware the sun rises in the east, but my old car didn’t have directional indicators on it. Now, of course, if someone gives me such a direction, I look at the direction I am going as indicated on my rearview mirror and mentally say Never Eat Shredded Wheat as I figure it out.

All of which is to say I have a lot of gratitude for modern technology, wherein I can tap an address into my phone and it directs me there, taking into consideration current traffic and everything. I think we should all take a moment to sit silently in awe, thinking about how people like me are no longer a menace on the road, driving in circles and crying, tears smudging our handwritten directions that are uselessly crumpled on our laps, wondering how to get back home. Now we just have to think about the other menaces on the road: people who are using their phones while driving because god forbid a comment on Instagram goes unanswered, people who illegally drop their kids off in the bus zone at the high school and then block off the intersection as other cars try to turn down the street, which reminds me so much of when I visited Cairo in 2001, cars going everywhere but with no acknowledgement of the rules of the road, people who have road rage and aggressively tailgate and pass in residential streets because they are in a hurry and more important than everyone else. But at least I – and others like me – are relatively calmly driving in new areas, listening to our phones tell us what to do.

I don’t really go many new places these days, but I had the opportunity to use my Map Overlord twice this week: once to drive to my niece’s Brownie group where I was guest-teaching outdoor yoga, and once to meet a friend for a walk in a beautiful part of the city that I had never been to.

As a sidebar: I had never taught kids’ yoga OR outdoor yoga before, and it was quite different from my usual demographic, albeit very fun to teach “unicorn pose” and “rainbow breathing” and make up stories about Brownies with magical wands who could transform frogs into unicorns into dolphins.

Other things that happened this week, other than being grateful to live in the modern age, is that we had a brief snowfall that melted away soon after, it officially became legwarmer season, and my neighbours had a plumber to their house.

I watched intermittently out the window for a long time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hot Rod, but I had to go to the aforementioned Brownie meeting, and I missed him.

Pandemic Reading

Back in August, I put all my library holds on pause, as I wanted to work my way through a few books on my shelf that I wanted to read and reread. The pauses have all ended now, and this was the result:

After taking this photo, two more books came in, and when I went to pick them up, I saw this book, which was recommended by Swistle, (HI SWISTLE) just staring me in the face on the New and Notable shelf and honestly, I am not made of stone. In other words, I have a problem. Oh well. Game on, challenge accepted.

Little Fires Everywhere. This was one of the books I was wanting to reread, and I was blown away anew. IT IS SO GOOD. Celeste Ng is an incredible talent, a brilliant writer. She shows that people contain multitudes, and that there are many sides to a story. This book is about motherhood in all forms, but so much more – identity, secrets, appearances. Before you ask – no! I have not seen the show. It is highly unlikely that I will, mostly because I love the book so much and I find that I am inevitably disappointed by movies or shows based on books that I love. The sole exception to this rule is Little Women, both the recent film and the 1990s one, and I will also accept Sense and Sensibility as an excellent film.

Of Women and Salt. Oof. This is a very heavy, but ultimately hopeful, book. It’s a short, quick read but it contains so many layers and so much difficult material. Intergenerational trauma, the cycle of abuse, sacrifices made for a chance at a better life – all making the usual complexities of the mother-daughter relationship more fraught. The main characters are Cuban women, but there is an intertwined story about Salvadoran refugees that is heartbreaking and breathtaking.

People We Meet On Vacation. This was a very sweet best-friends-who-fall-in-love, opposites-attract book, just totally fun and fluffy. I mean, you know how this is going to turn out. It’s a perfect weekend/ beach/ vacation/ comfort read but there was a scene that got me thinking. The protagonist meets an old middle school nemesis who apologizes for being a jackass, and it reminded me of similar occasions in my own life. Specifically, I remember the advent of Facebook, and being “friended” by an old frenemy who treated me with the kind of emotional manipulation that certain girls wield in a terrible way. Do you hold onto grudges or let them go? People change, we are all in this journey together, I think. Shit happens and it’s rarely about US, you know? Mean kids had their own shit going on, that’s what made them mean. I remember accepting that woman’s Facebook friendship, and then thinking we are all just moms now, just going about our business and it was so freeing. Let go of that shit, is what I’m saying. The past is past. Anyhoo, this is a sweet little book about finding your home and happiness.

Have a beautiful week, friends! We have a birthday coming up in the house, so there will be cake in my future – how can that not be a great week! xo

Summer’s Almost Gone; Seventy-Five Weeks In

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I don’t think I can adequately describe the relief I felt when I received an email from the Calgary Board of Education, stating that not only would masks be mandatory for students K-12, but all other health protocols would remain in place. With the Delta variant of Covid cases skyrocketing, again, and the general mask mandate dropped in the province, I was somewhat concerned about in-person school. I just want my kids to go to school for the year, and maybe even see my oldest have a graduation ceremony, is that too much to wish for. But I was so happy to get the email about masking; masks kept us all so healthy last year – we’ve never had such an illness-free year – and with all of us fully vaccinated, I feel even better.

I was feeling less happy to see that school starts not on September 7, like I thought it did, but September 1, which means this is the last week of summer, I’m not ready. I am just not in the headspace yet, but I’ll get there, and meanwhile, our hot summer weather ended abruptly and now it’s cool and rainy and it feels like fall. The universe is trying to prepare me, is what I’m saying.

August is a month where I always feel a little glum and melancholy and Landslide-y, and the grey, chilly, rainy days are exacerbating those feelings. Well, these days are good for getting things done in the house – when it’s warm and sunny I spend most of my day outdoors, and there were a few things I really did want to get done before school starts (NEXT WEEK OMG) and I get back to teaching yoga and we are all busy with our fall schedules. Like making jam.

My husband reminds me that we have air conditioning, if I want to make jam on a warm day I can, but I never do want to do that. Jam making is for chilly days, I will die on this hill and also we have many months of chilly days, but few warm ones.

So Many Empty Boxes

One of the things I have wanted to accomplish practically since the pandemic hit was to clean out our storage/ furnace room. My husband, god bless him, likes to keep the original boxes of any electronic equipment while said equipment is under warranty, just in case there’s an issue. The problem is that he never gets rid of the boxes after the warranty expires, and therefore we have perfectly good storage shelves that are jammed full of empty boxes. We still had the PS4 box from Christmas 2014, for example, along with boxes for stereo equipment we no longer own.

Summer is coming to an end, the pandemic has been going on for seventy-five weeks, I go back to teaching in two weeks, IT IS TIME TO CLEAN OUT THE FURNACE ROOM. I took out every single box, rearranged everything, and was able to put all the bins full of childhood art and school projects, bicycle gear, and assorted sports things ACTUALLY IN THE STORAGE ROOM instead of behind my son’s drum set. He’s thrilled that he no longer hits his elbow on the bins when he’s practicing.

This is the van full of cardboard my older son and I took to the recycle depot, and doesn’t include the three garbage bags full of packing materials, RIP our earth, that came out of the boxes.

Not one day after The Big Cleanup, my husband – in a typical act of service to make my life easier – had ordered some new windshield wiper blades for my car. As he grabbed his keys for the garage, he said “Don’t throw out these boxes, just in case these blades don’t fit.” Dear reader. I answered him with a look only and, fortunately for our marriage and everyone involved, they DID fit and my husband subsequently recycled the boxes.

No YouTube Videos On How To Break In To Your House

Speaking of the garage, a couple of weeks ago older son went to get out the lawn mower, and couldn’t unlock the garage door. We typically lock the person door with just the knob, rather than the deadbolt, and while the key fit in the knob, it wouldn’t open. Obviously the automatic openers for the big car door were in the cars that were locked in the garage, and the keypad has not worked for years. My husband searched up YouTube videos but to no avail: all videos instructed what to do if you were locked INSIDE a house, rather than outside, because I guess YouTube doesn’t want to advertise how to break into someone’s home.

Anyway, it was either call a locksmith or actually break down the door, and we took the former option. We now have a garage door that locks by deadbolt only, in case such a thing should happen again. Unfortunately, we are all in the muscle memory mode of just twisting and locking the knob, and the number of times I’ve thought oh yeah, I need the key to lock the door over the past couple of weeks is extensive.

Burn Baby Burn

Remember how my son, after his braces removal, wanted to burn all his orthodontic elastics, and, failing that, his masks? This is what happened on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip:

Pyromaniac dreams do come true, I guess. You are still going to need masks! I admonished him after seeing these photos, but he countered with a) it was just one mask, and b) that mask was unravelling anyway. Was it? Was it really? Well, he does have at least eight other masks, and it’s not hard to get masks now anyway, and what happens on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip stays on the Annual Boys’ Camping Trip.

I Have Found My People

You all know how I feel about Thoreau and, also, many of the widely celebrated male authors/ fictional characters (Jay Gatsby, I’m looking at you). So I was so excited to discover this podcast:

The Fuckbois of Literature! If you, like me, think that maybe a person can’t claim to be self-sustaining while living intentionally in the woods when his mother is bringing him sandwiches and doing his laundry, then this is the podcast for you.

I’ll Take The Rapists For $500, Alex

On Peloton, people have the option to add a hashtag to their user profile, and those hashtags are used to connect with other people. Sometimes the hashtag has to do with a favourite instructor – I, for example, am part of the #yestoyoucrew and my son is a #denismenace – sometimes it concerns career choices, interests, or life in general, like #teachersofpeloton, #pelotonmoms, #peloforwine, #pelotonsingles.

I was riding the other day and the person on the leaderboard ahead of me had the hashtag #therapistsofpeloton and friends, it took me a really long time to realize that it was therapists of Peloton and not the rapists of Peloton. I spent some time being shocked that a) someone would cop to being a rapist, and b) there was a whole group of rapists, connecting through exercise.

In my defense, it was pretty early in the morning and I hadn’t yet drank my whole pot of coffee.

Outfit of the Week

I’m really glad I posted all those summery outfits, because SUMMER IS OVER and it’s time to pull out my jeans, socks, and long-sleeve shirts. This top dates from 2016, and I bought it in the small town where my parents live. Isn’t it cute? It’s great for this kind of weather as it’s too thin for winter, but great for a typical Calgary summer day!

The whole reason I have started the Outfit of the Week was to appreciate and express gratitude for my wardrobe; I am thinking about taking it off the blog and onto Instagram only, where outfits of the week belong. You all know I love clothes; I love reading fashion blogs and I love seeing Outfit of the Day posts. If you, like me, also enjoy seeing what people are wearing, you can check it out on Instagram. If you’ve hated my OOTW, lucky you! No more scrolling by to get to my weekly reading list.

Pandemic Reading List

The Soulmate Equation. I have read and enjoyed a few books from Christina Lauren, and this one did not disappoint. It’s just a very sweet and fun romance with very loveable characters. The main character is a single mom and freelance statistician (how often does that happen in a romance book, the statisticians are highly underrepresented in fiction) who is matched up with the founder of a DNA-based matchmaking company. Throw in her energetic seven-year-old and her romance-writer best friend, and you have got yourself a feel-good read.

Think Like A Monk. This book was so inspiring! As you know, I love the idea of living a peaceful and purposeful life, and this book deals with the kind of mindsets that work towards such an ideal. From feeding your brain positive material to finding your life’s calling, this book is full of wisdom and inspiration.

I discovered that I have a LOT of internal work to do. I enjoyed this book so much I started listening to the author’s podcast, and the first one I listened to had an interview with an absolutely lovely young woman, who spoke intelligently and with great enthusiasm about overcoming trials in life, the biggest being the death of her mother when she was a teenager. She was witty and smart and spoke about her work to empower young girls and women, and after the podcast I looked up the show notes to see who this remarkable young woman was. The link took me to her Instagram account, and people: if I had seen her Instagram first, I would have never listened to the podcast. I would have completely dismissed her as having nothing to say, and I would have been very wrong. It was a wake-up call that I need to examine my own biases as a person. Well, it’s a journey. We all have work to do.

And on that note, it’s Monday of the LAST WEEK OF SUMMER and although it doesn’t feel summery, I am going to embrace it. I hope you do too. xo

Face Facts; Seventy Weeks In

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I was hiking with the boys and, as I always do, I greeted a pair of women we passed on the path. We exchanged some pleasantries about the day and the steepness of the hike – we hiked Prairie Mountain, it is straight up and straight down, with zero gentle switchbacks – and then we carried on our way. I heard the women speaking rapidly in French behind us, like they were discussing something, and, later when we were taking a break, they went to pass us. They paused for a moment, and then one of the women approached me and said, “This is a very strange question, maybe, but are you an economist?”

I said yes, and then we looked at each other for a moment. It took a beat but then I recognized her from my time at the Economics Society, back in the Nineties; she was a prominent member at that time, and I was still a grad student. It had been twenty-five years since we had seen each other, and I expressed my astonishment not only that we should run into each other on a hiking trail on a random Monday morning in July, but also that she recognized me after all this time. She said, “Well, of course I did, you look exactly the same!”

I used to think this kind of statement, while very kind, generous, and well-meaning, is an objectively wrong one, but I think I am at a point in my life where I understand it. Objectively, I do not look exactly the same as I did in 1996, nor does anyone else. Twenty-five years of living changes a person physically, obviously. However, the essence of a person can be unchanged over that time period; after all, I recognized this woman immediately as well, and she would have been younger than I am now when I last saw her. It’s not unlike when you see a childhood group photo and you can instantly recognize your friends; no one looks the same as they did when they were a child, but their essence is still there.

My mother-in-law once said to me that she never really sees me as aging; to her, I just look like the same Nicole she’s always known, and I understand what that means. I see my friends and loved ones in the same way; maybe there are a few more lines or changes, but essentially, I just see the same people I know and love. It’s more than just physical, even if the last time I saw a person was in high school, I can still immediately see the person I knew then, shining through now. I never think Jesus, maybe some eye cream? I just think Yay, there’s my beautiful friend. All of which goes to show that we never really see ourselves as others see us, we are our own worst critics, and if we could treat ourselves the way we treat our friends, the world would be an infinitely better place.

Speaking of which. Lately I have had a disproportionately large number of friends and acquaintances on social media show their before and after photos, the before and after referring to Botox and dermal fillers. I am going to tell you this: they all, without exception, look fantastic. It’s quite incredible; they look like the same people, but smoother and fresher. They don’t look weird or fake in any way, they look like they have applied an Instagram filter, but in real life.

I try not to compare myself to others, but I found myself comparing my own face – which is, in repose, bitchy-looking at best, haggard and Crypt Keeper-like at worst – to their smooth and fresh faces. I am generally a confident person with healthy self-esteem, but I was kind of feeling bad about myself. This feeling was not unlike the one I get when I look at Instagram photos of women my age, but don’t realize that they are filtered, and I end up wondering how I got to looking like the Crypt Keeper when everyone else looks young and lovely.

It’s hard to explain the opposing forces in my brain. I am, as you all know, Pro-Aging, but I am also not made of stone, people. I took some time to do a little research and I discovered that my old dermatologist – who I went to for acne issues, hello Circle of Life – performs these sorts of procedures. I kept reading and realized that one of the contraindications to getting Botox and dermal fillers is skin that scars easily and, since I still have tiny little scars all over my legs from varicose vein stripping over a decade ago – complete with dots from where the stitches went in – I closed my browser and closed my mind to it.

It’s for the best, really. Isn’t it funny how these things work? Some of the most beautiful women I have ever met are the septuagenarian and octogenarian ladies in my seniors’ yoga class; they truly have the faces they deserve, as the saying goes, with their inner beauty shining through. And although I’d love to look more rested – my eyebags are sometimes steamer trunks – and less crinkly, well, this is the face I have and, ultimately, the face I deserve. I raise my eyebrows a lot, I smile a lot, I make that “Kermit the Frog scrunch face” a lot, and my face reflects that. I’m going to be at peace with it and also, keep up with the retinol creams. Jesus, maybe some eye cream?

Outfit of the Week

This is probably my very favourite summer outfit of all time. I feel so cute in it, it makes me want to twirl around like a ballerina, or like my seven-year-old niece. I COULD do that without fear of traumatizing anyone, as it is a skort, albeit kind of a short one. I paired it with a yoga tank because even though I now have comfortable bras, I still like a shelf-bra tank on hot days. Sandals are Skechers, naturally.

It’s not every day my accessories match my outfit this perfectly! That bracelet was made by my friend Amy (HI AMY)!

Pandemic Reading

A Thousand Ships. In my very first semester at university, I took an introduction to classical studies, and our required reading was The Iliad, The Odyssey, and a few other Greek plays. It is very telling that I have never read them since, and, in fact, I couldn’t remember anything about them. I think I blocked them out. I have extremely low interest in men’s stories: I could not care less about mighty warriors and their conquests, and I definitely don’t want to read about all the capturing, enslaving, and raping said conquests. However, I was intrigued by this book which explores the Trojan war through the eyes of the women. I did not love this book, but I did like the different point of view, and I did like to see women portrayed as something other than crazy, long-suffering, and vain.

When No One Is Watching. This book is marketed as a psychological thriller, but it doesn’t really read as one – at least for the first two-thirds of the book. It is more of an educational exploration of the practice of redlining and the dark, sad side of gentrification, with thrilling dramatic license. I liked this a lot as it is very mind-opening, and the end is thrilling and satisfying, but it’s not what I consider to be a typical thriller. Still, very much worth the read.

A Burning. Oh, this was so so good. I picked this up on the advice of Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) and it did not disappoint. It follows the story of a woman who is accused of aiding and abetting a terrorist act in India, through the points of view of three very different people, all of whom are trying to rise up in the world. It is an absolutely chilling portrait of what people will do to make their way up the ladder, so to speak. I love books that have a realistic description of different places and cultures, and this book describes India – its economics, culture, cities and villages – so well.

I hope you are all enjoying the summer; we are doing our best to make it A Summer, after the disappointments of last year. Have fun, be kind – especially to yourself. xo

The Opposite of Trendy; Sixty-Five Weeks In

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This will be obvious for anyone who knows me or has read this blog for any amount of time, but I really love clothes and fashion. When I was a kid, I loved paper dolls so much; I loved all the different outfits slated for different activities, I loved dressing up their flat little bodies, folding the tabs over their shoulders carefully as I took my paper dolls to a fancy gala or the tennis courts.

Fun fact: I had not one but TWO Princess Diana paper doll books, one for cutting out and one for saving, and I still have them. As I recall, it was a bitch cutting out the wedding dress, all those tiny little frills.

Anyway, I love clothes but I do not consider myself to be a trendy person; when I was younger I would incorporate trends into my outfits but one of the great things about being middle-aged is that a) I don’t really care about trends anymore, I just want to wear what flatters my own 46-year-old body, and b) current trends are not aimed at me anyway.

Back in 2012, I railed against the movement from dark-wash boot-cut jeans to skinny jeans, but I eventually capitulated to the trend and I never went back. I love the esthetic of skinny jeans with a long, drapey sweater and tall boots. It is perfect for my perimenopausal body, perfect for living in a climate in which tall boots and long sweaters are appropriate at least nine months out of the year, and I cannot see trading in my skinnies anytime soon. The great news is no one expects me to because hey, you completely disappear to the public eye when you turn forty! Yay for the invisibility of aging women! No one cares what we wear because we might as well not exist after our fertility declines!

Just kidding.

Anyway, I don’t follow the trends but I do like to know what’s in style, because I am a style anthropologist – “This is so 1992!” – and so I have not YET unsubscribed from a certain Young People’s Clothing Store emails; the mystery about how I was suddenly on that email list has yet to be solved, but here we are. The other day I got an email about these hot new jeans for summer, and, friends, what do we think of them:

To me, they scream My Mom Wore Those In The Late Eighties. Do NOT get me wrong, people. If you are wearing these jeans, I am sure you look adorable. There is no judgement here. I save my judgmental thoughts for people who don’t return their shopping carts or who wear their mask under their nose. I think pants with tie waists can look really cute, but they are not for me, particularly the denim variety. Last summer I optimistically purchased a pair of very-casual yoga-style pants that have a high tie-waist and they flatter me not at all; regrets, I have them. I think I need to add them to the donation pile. The biggest problem, for me, is that such styles – along with wide-leg pants – require either a crop top or the tucking in of shirts, neither of which I am interested in wearing or doing. See also: perimenopausal body. My interest in personally wearing trendy clothing began fading a few years ago with the reappearance of crop tops, waned further with wide-leg pants, and now has thudded to a halt with these jeans.

I was thinking about how far removed I am from being trendy the other day, when I was in the mall. You read that right: I was in the mall. I initially thought the last time I was in the mall was November, when Christmas shopping, but then I realized that no, I had briefly been there in April to buy my mom a birthday present. At that time, though, we were heading into our third (fourth?) lockdown, and my “shopping” consisted of me parking to the closest exit and speed walking to and from the one store I wanted to visit.

The mall, though. It’s pretty depressing. So many stores are shuttered and so many more seem to be struggling. The children’s play park is covered with tarps and encircled by “do not cross” tape. I haven’t been shopping in so long I probably would have “helped” all the struggling stores if I had more time, but alas. I was there for Father’s Day gifts – that is NEXT weekend! Already! – and I had to stay focused on the task. Still, I noticed Skechers has some pretty cute sandals and Mary Janes; do I need another pair of sandals and Mary Janes? No, I do not. And yet the heart wants what it wants, perhaps I will gather the strength to go again soon.

Other than the depressing-ness, I noticed all the window displays of the trendy stores: so many booty shorts, so much tie-dye. I feel like the Kathy Bates character in Fried Green Tomatoes: I’m too young to be old and too old to be young. Ah, youth. I see girls wearing these things and I think they are adorable; I also imagine they think they look terrible in many ways, because our society teaches us to loathe ourselves practically from birth. I want to grab them all by the shoulders and tell them that they are so very beautiful, and that one day, they will be in their middle age and see the tie-dyed shirts and booty shorts of their youth return, and they will wish they knew just how beautiful they were.

Outfit of the Week

Speaking of clothing! I mentioned during last week’s heat wave that this week would feature cool-weather rainwear, and people, I do not disappoint.

This was my Going To The Mall outfit! I coveted Hunter boots for years and years, but I could never justify a pair since I HAD a solid pair of rain boots. Well, a couple years ago those rain boots – that I bought when the boys were in the double stroller – developed a big crack and no longer served as waterproof footwear, and at the same time these boots were on sale, and kismet. That tweedish coat is lined and only semi-waterproof, so good for Going To The Mall, but not great for Walking In The Rain, and it dates from 2014. Fun fact: I have coordinated the detailing of my mask with my lavender yoga pants. I won’t be sad to see the end of the pandemic, but mask-outfit coordinating is still really fun.

Pandemic Reading

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle. Ernie (HI ERNIE) mentioned that she was reading this for book club, so I put it on hold; it came in quickly and then I…put off reading it, renewing it until I could renew no more. Fun fact: for a while it was in the same pile with The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. I was reticent to read it because a) it’s a murder mystery, a genre I do not generally like, b) it’s also kind of sci-fi, c) it’s written by a man, and d) Allison, (HI ALLISON) who DID like it, thought I wouldn’t, and she’s generally right. Well, I didn’t really like it but I didn’t hate it, it’s very cleverly written, although it felt too long and drawn out for me. I kept thinking this book has GOT to be over soon, why are there still 150 pages left to read, wait, ANOTHER new character, what is happening. Also it felt like it was written in the hopes someone would pick up the film rights which, did they? Is this a movie? I could see this being a successful movie. Not for me but if you like murder mysteries and sci-fi, you’d probably like it.

Murder On My Mind: A Memoir of Menopause. The title ALONE made me want to read this. Reading this is like having a conversation with a very good friend or a sister who is not afraid to talk about the gritty and somewhat gory details of menopause. I am all for normalizing these conversations, despite what society in general and clothing manufacturers in particular think, we do not disappear with age and declining fertility. I think we should have a Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret-style revival, but with menopause instead of first periods and bras. Fun fact: the author lives in Calgary!

Lucky. If you’re looking for a light and satisfying summer read, look no further! A grifter pulls off a heist, and also has a winning lottery ticket in her pocket. But she can’t cash it without turning herself in. What to do? 

Have a beautiful week, everyone! Here, the kids are going into final exams and everything feels very June-ish, which is not unexpected, as it is the middle of June. xo

Dented Self-Esteem; Fifty-Nine Weeks In

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That’s A Dent To The Self-Esteem

I was asked if I wanted the seniors’ discount last week at Shoppers, so perhaps my skin-care routine isn’t working the way I had hoped.

The worst part is that I didn’t even get the discount. After the woman said “Are we doing the seniors’ discount today?” in the pleasantest voice, unaware of my dented self-esteem, I hesitated and said “Um, sure,” at which point she looked at me suspiciously and told me, sternly that I needed to be 55 plus. The only thing that would have been more awkward about this exchange is if she asked for proof of ID, and I would have been exposed as a liar for a discount that I never asked for in the first place, while a lineup of people idled behind me. I mean, it’s only ten percent, what price my dignity here? How badly do I want that extra $4.50?

Why did you ASK then? I did NOT say, but thought, because kindness is important even when a person is implying that you are nine years older than you actually are, and working in customer service is difficult at the best of times, and we have been in a global pandemic for fifty-nine weeks. I admitted that no, I was not 55, and then the woman proceeded to ask three times if I wanted a bag, which I did not, and I took my Advil and my nail polish remover and left the premises, only a little bit shattered.

Two things: I worked as a waitress for years while in university, and I never ONCE asked if a person required the seniors’ discount. I applied it only when asked, or if someone was obviously an octogenarian, or if they were regular customers who always asked for the discount. Believe me, with a last name like MacPherson, I will ASK for my ten percent off at Shopper’s the second I am eligible. The other thing is that I was at the garden centre a few weeks ago and I overheard the cashier asking the couple buying fertilizer for proof of age in order to get the discount. These people were 80 if they were a day. Apparently the garden centre has problems with people claiming the seniors’ discount who aren’t actually seniors, which, well. I love a good discount so I am not going to criticize, but it was odd to see this elderly couple dig for their driver’s licenses, and my paranoia about being asked for proof of age is based on real-life experiences.

Not In Our Lifetime, Clifford

My husband has a new toy:

He’s wanted an espresso machine for years, and after working from home for so long, and the Starbucks down the street closing, AND a highly-rated model going on sale at Costco online, he finally purchased one. He’s really missed his afternoon Americano and his latte and what have you, and meanwhile I am happy because I can drink my morning pot of coffee in peace, without someone trying to pour a cup at 8:00 am and finding there are only two ounces left in the pot, leading to the question did you drink all the coffee? Of course I drank all the coffee, by 8:00 am I’ve been up for hours, I am a quantity-over-quality girl when it comes to my pot of not-strong black Kirkland Signature. Anyway, he loves his new toy, I love my copious amounts of weak coffee, we have marital harmony, all is good.

Sometimes when we get an item like this in our house, I think of a conversation between my grandparents, years ago. My grandma had bought a bread machine, and my grandpa wondered if the machine would pay for itself in cost savings, by making bread at home instead of buying it. My grandma replied Not in our lifetime, Clifford, which should be embroidered on a pillow somewhere. Not in our lifetime, Clifford pops into my head when I think of the vegetables I am hopefully going to harvest from my new, not-cheap raised beds. Will they pay for themselves? Not in our lifetime, Clifford. Will the espresso machine pay for itself in homemade Americanos instead of Starbucks runs? Well, Starbucks is pretty expensive, so MAYBE in our lifetime, Clifford. But probably not.

Bananas for Bananas

The only complaint I have about the espresso machine is that it takes up space on the countertop that used to be where I kept the bananas. This might seem insignificant to most of you, and from Sunday through Tuesday it’s not a huge problem, but on grocery day and beyond things get a little crowded.

What can I say, we go through a lot of bananas in this house. I’d say we average 25 a week, depending on the season and what other kind of fruit is in the house. Twenty would be the absolute minimum, although we have gone as high as 35. Anyway, after reading Suzanne’s blog about bananas (HI SUZANNE) I had a craving for banana “nice cream.” Usually I blend together frozen bananas with cocoa powder and almond milk, and top it all off with homemade magic shell, but I was jonesing for a little chocolate-peanut butter action.

People. I blended together frozen bananas with peanut butter and almond milk, then stirred in mini Reece Pieces, and swirled the whole thing with homemade chocolate sauce and it was like a choir of angels burst into my kitchen and started singing.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back Into The Water

I got my period for the first time in a very long time; it had been so long since I’ve had a Ladies’ Holiday that I was actually wondering if that was it, if I was entering the Change of Life. My period tracker on my Garmin app kept cheerfully reminding me that it was almost that time, and to make sure I log my symptoms, and I kept having to adjust the calendar, until I wondered if the app was going to blow up and uninstall itself.

The weird thing is that I had absolutely zero warning; I was as taken aback by its sudden appearance as a young teenager who wears white pants to school and doesn’t carry supplies in her backpack. In the days prior I didn’t feel like stabbing anyone for not putting the empty toilet paper roll in the recycling, even though it’s RIGHT THERE, I didn’t have breasts swelling out past my tank tops and bras, I didn’t have to surreptitiously use my sons’ acne medication, I wasn’t even a little bit emotional. I mean, I heard Landslide on the radio and I did NOT burst into tears. Am I a robot now? You might think the moderate craving for peanut butter and chocolate could be correlated with the upcoming Ladies’ Holidays, but I make a big Sunday dinner with dessert every week, and every week that dessert is just what I feel like having, and so I think any correlation would be coincidental. Anyway, I was startled to wake up to Aunt Flo knocking at my door with her suitcase in tow.

The excitement I felt at the possibility of entering my Next Stage of Womanhood probably goes against my feelings about being asked about the seniors’ discount, but emotions are complex, and here we are.

Outfit of the Week

The snow has melted – for now – and I was able to get a bit of gardening and yard work in this week. This week’s outfit features a t-shirt I bought in Maui for FIVE AMERICAN DOLLARS back in 2016, or possibly 2015.

You cannot expect a lot for five dollars, but this top has served me well. The only thing is that it’s quite short, and so I always wear a tank top underneath as this is not 1993 and I am no longer a person who wears crop tops, no matter how fashionable they may be right now. The tank top and jeans have made appearances on OOTW before; and those shoes are my designated garden shoes because they have a flower design on them. Dress for the job you want, people, and the job I want is to work in my back yard.

Pandemic Reading

Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club. This was highly recommended to me by a friend (HI TARYN) and the writing really is excellent; the characters are complex and intertwined. It is also literally the saddest book I have ever read in my entire life, and I’ve read some doozies. Like, this blows Of Mice and Men completely out of the water, in terms of sadness, and that is my measuring stick. HOO BOY. It is as bleak, dismal, depressing, dark, and gritty as February in Newfoundland, which is where this book takes place.

Brave New World. Ugh. My older son is studying this in English and so I pulled out my own copy to reread and discuss with him. I last read it when I was a teen and now remember why I haven’t read it since. I know, I know, it’s an important book, but to me it’s a total snore. Me: I don’t like this book. My husband: why, was it written by a man? Why yes. I remember when I first read this, back in the 90s, I was puzzled as to why they refer to women as being “pneumatic.” I looked it up in the dictionary and it didn’t make sense. People, I was 46 years old before I discovered, as my son says, that they are referring to her breasts. And ass. Of course they are. Male writers, am I right? I know, I know, it was incredible for its time, satire, the dangers of population control and consumerism, etcetera, but ugh all the same. Oh! The only other thing I remembered from this book – other than the puzzling pneumatic statements – is the saying “Spending instead of mending” which isn’t even correct. It’s “ENDING instead of spending,” which, my way makes more sense.

The Mothers. Now THIS is a book! This was an excellent read about friends, secrets, and the different definitions of mothering. It was so good; I liked Bennett’s The Vanishing Half but I think this was even better. I highly recommend it.

Happy May, everyone! May your week be filled with sunshine. xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

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WELL! I don’t think any of us could have possibly predicted the year that we just had, in any capacity. I would like to think that we will never take things for granted again: our health, our ability to travel, our friendships and family, but human nature being what it is, there will come a day when we probably will.

2020 was disastrous in so many ways, but I think that looking back on it, we can see massive change and growth, and, looking forward, glimmers of hope. I know that going through this year has made me re-evaluate many things, and I have realized that many things I felt I could never live without, I have.

So let us look back on the year that was absolutely unlike any year we have experienced, but that will surely be talked about and written about for decades to come.

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

January

I was stressed out about juggling doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments for the boys – remember juggling things? – it was insanely cold and I went for a mall walk like an elderly person, and I got weirdly stressed out about getting a gel pedicure. I also – sob – complained about exam break and my son being home from school IMAGINE YOUR KIDS BEING HOME FROM SCHOOL FOR THREE WEEKS JUST IMAGINE LOLOLOLOLSOB.

January 2020 Nicole was such an innocent, and also I did not go for that gel pedicure.

February

I overheard a man at Walmart asking for extra-small condoms, I went to Math Night at the high school and was comparatively a hippie, I went to Costco on a Sunday afternoon for the first and last time and also baked a heart-shaped cake for dinner with friends, and I wore a different outfit every day in February.

All the outfits were pretty similar though.

March

I talked about how insidious jealousy is, although I freely admitted to being insanely jealous of my friends’ hair, I noticed people buying a LOT of toilet paper at Costco (cue ominous music), I really did try to fulfil my New Year’s Resolution of buying a bra but failed, we cancelled our trip to Mexico and I bought a lot of groceries, my son turned 16 and we had our first Pandemic Birthday, and I accidentally hoarded taco shells.

Everything shut down, including the yoga studio, and so I also started my home yoga practice. This was a huge change because nearly every day for thirteen years I went to the studio to practice in the early morning hours. School was also cancelled “indefinitely.”

April

In what can only be described as the Worst Timing Ever, my coffee maker started leaking, grocery shopping became a harrowing, soul-sucking quest and I started wearing a mask, my sons stopped shaving, I got my very first cloth mask and declared it to be the New Lipstick, I coloured my own hair for the first time in decades, and I cleaned and reorganized the hideous laundry area.

I also had a pandemic birthday and my friends brought me a gift while wearing dinosaur costumes and playing Danger Zone.

May

Some things started to open up, notably the orthodontist, which meant that I did NOT have to use toenail clippers to cut my son’s brace wires, we had a Pandemic Mother’s Day and I stressed out about baking powder, we visited my parents for the first time in months, I aired my grievances, big and small, and I was really on edge about grocery carts.

I also talked about pandemic beauty products.

June

Amid lots of worries, we celebrated Barkley’s birthday, we started to catch up on appointments as medical and dental offices opened, I gave myself a bikini wax and I learned some things are best left to the professionals, the renos were finished on our vacation home and so we went there for a little break and I thoroughly enjoyed the newly-flushing toilet, and I reminisced about Hammerman.

I also shared my hair styling tips, follow me for more great beauty advice.

July

I talked about the role of luck in life, I had lots of adventures, including one in which I learned how outhouses in the backcountry get emptied, I GOT A PELOTON AND IT HAS BEEN LIFE-CHANGING (and also practiced gratitude), and I talked about leaning in and out, yin and yang.

I also talked about sweat! Again, follow me for more fascinating and glamourous topics.

August

I finally watched Hamilton and also bleached my hands accidentally, someone called the cops on my son and his band, I realized after months of wearing shorts that the boys had vastly outgrown all their pants, we were on a vacation of sorts and I prepared for the boys to actually go back to actual physical school.

I also talked about my beloved herb garden.

September

The boys went back to school (!!!!!!), my son turned 15 and had a socially distanced birthday party, I marked six months since I had my hair cut and professionally coloured, I had the Lido Shuffle stuck in my head and I actually did get my hair cut and coloured.

Also, Barkley shared my passion for fall fruits.

October

My son finally (FINALLY OMG FINALLY) shaved off his pandemic moustache and I got excused from jury duty, we enjoyed incredible fall colours and for the first time ever I got to eat something at Thanksgiving dinner (that I made myself, but still), I had an adventure at Costco, and I talked about Mom Jeans and Dressy Sweatpants.

November

My husband declared himself the winner in the Halloween decoration war, it was the return of the Tiny Secret Festive Season and I finished my Christmas shopping, I had a small breakdown in the grocery store, I talked about Friluftsliv, and we got put on a mini-lockdown.

I also had fun – and THANK YOU ALL FOR WEIGHING IN – discussing Divisive Issues! That was probably my favourite post to write, and my favourite comment section of 2020.

December

Everything was fine, I got festively crazy, the mini-lockdown turned into a major lockdown which we are still in today, and we got a whole lot of snow.

I also talked about being a Linus’ blanket to someone else’s Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

As we wrap up 2020, I’m looking back at my goals for the year (I still didn’t buy a new bra) and looking forward to setting goals for a fresh new year. I learned a lot about myself this year, I grew as a person, so many things changed, there was much sadness and despair but also much happiness, beauty, gratitude, and time with my little family. (SO MUCH TIME WITH MY LITTLE FAMILY).

Thank you so much for coming along with me on my adventures during this strange year; I wish you so much joy and love for the New Year. Here’s to 2021! xoxoxo

Grievances, Big and Small; Ten Weeks In

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Big Grievance: Masks

Despite my diatribes about shopping carts, I like to think that I am a very open-minded person. Unless a person is blatantly racist, misogynistic, homophobic, or similar, I am usually able to see things from their point of view, even if I disagree, be it about politics, parenting, books and movies, or moustaches.

Small grievance digression: the boys are STILL sporting moustaches, and have no intentions of shaving “until this is all over” which, really, is so vague as to make me believe that I am going to be looking at Ned Flanders/ Errol Flynn facial hair until the end of time.

Anyway, back to the big grievance. I have a policy not to get into arguments online; such arguments are futile and pointless and only lead to bad feelings. Generally speaking, no online argument has ever changed anyone’s mind and it only serves to fuel feelings of frustration about ignorance and the state of the world. However, a woman who I know vaguely through the yoga community posted a link about Costco requiring masks to shop at its warehouses, with the caption “Not a chance! I will stop shopping there if they push me to wear a mask. How ridiculous!” The comments – don’t read the comments, people – were supportive of this anti-mask stance, in that “we have to stand up for our rights!” Our rights to shop at Costco maskless? I guess.

At this point I wasn’t trying to start an argument, I was curious. Why though? Why no mask? Was there an actual physical issue that precludes mask-wearing? What is the big deal? I equate stores requiring masks with the ubiquitous No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service policy; I really wanted to know her reasoning.

The answer, such as it was, that it was she did not think that masks are useful and that she believes in her right to choose.

Her right to choose, as if this was an abortion issue, not a let’s-wear-masks-during-a-global-pandemic-for-an-hour-to-buy-groceries issue.

Also, you know who DOES think mask-wearing is useful? The entire medical community.

I pressed on a little, and kept getting comments that “people’s rights are being taken away” and “this was oppression,” which, really. Oppression. Rights being taken away. If wearing a mask indicates one’s level of oppression and lack of human rights, then one is living a very charmed and lucky life. Imagine equating a mask with oppression. Imagine talking to a woman from, say, Iran about your rights being taken away.

All this from a yoga teacher, who should, by all definitions, be concerned about the more vulnerable in our society and who also would require people visiting her studio to remove their shoes upon entering. Even in my old stroke survivor yoga class, students removed their shoes upon entering the studio, the only exception being a person who was in a scooter and whose feet never touched the floor. If we yoga teachers can require shoe removal as a sign of respect and cleanliness, then I think we could also put something over our noses and mouths in a time where an extremely contagious respiratory virus is rampant.

Well, I don’t unfriend people easily – it took me twelve years to unfriend my cousin who constantly spewed anti-vaccination information and promoted his diet as precluding the need for vaccinations and modern medicine – but this was a no-brainer. I have no time for this. However, there is always a bright side. Based on the people who are going to boycott Costco for mask requirements, there should be fewer people in the queue to get in; fewer STUPID and SELFISH people in the queue. Oppression of human rights indeed.

(I don’t know who to credit for this image but I like it)

Small Grievance: Child Benefit

I do not ever apply for the Canada Child Benefit while filling out my tax return. As far as I can see, I do not qualify for anything, which is perfectly fine, of course. So when I received an envelope from Revenue Canada, I stared at it before opening. Did I file something wrong? Nothing strikes fear in the heart quite like an unexpected envelope from Revenue Canada. What I found inside was startling: my Child Benefit had been calculated, and my annual entitlement was to be deposited into my account shortly. My annual entitlement of $3.28.

$3.28! I’m sure the costs of calculation, mailing, and depositing far exceeded that amount, but okay. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a very small latte, or a block of tofu and a pack of gum.

Very Small Grievance: Rogue Spinach Leaves

Every day I make myself a green smoothie and every day, every single day, there is one spinach leaf that gets stuck on the side of the blender and refuses to be a part of it. That is, when I’m lucky it’s stuck on the side of the blender; sometimes it drops into the smoothie, unperceived by me until I drink it and get a soft, weird-tasting leaf in my mouth.

I’ve tried everything, and still, one leaf.

Not Really A Grievance: Goutweed

My very lovely elderly neighbour, many years ago, transplanted and watered a particularly invasive and ugly non-variegated variety of goutweed in the space between our houses. She is unable to do yardwork now, and the goutweed had spread and grown and started to choke out our shrubs and the variegated, snow-on-the-mountain goutweed that was also growing in that space. It had also started to creep into one of my gardens, and something had to be done. The boys and I spent two and a half hours yesterday digging it out. Have you ever tried to dig out goutweed? There is a reason it is used as an aggressive groundcover. As I said, this is not really a grievance, as I really enjoy this type of work, and it was a Project that was Very Satisfying to complete. My muscles are a TINY bit sore though; apparently goutweed can be used medicinally for inflammation. This seems like the ultimate irony.

Pandemic Reading

If we want to talk about oppression…this book deals with an “honour killing.” It’s quite fascinating and explores a community in which rules are rigid and women’s rights are non-existent.

A woman deals with her nasty husband’s sudden and extreme spiritual awakening; this book is very witty and also ended much differently than I thought it would, which I genuinely like.

This was okay, a light weekend-style read.

Yummy Things

Other than yesterday, the week was cold and rainy, which I usually find Oppressive Like Masks, but for some reason I instead found the rain to be energizing and invigorating. I went for walks in the rain – what have I become – and I leaned in hard to Cozy Rainy Day activities. I made three different kinds of ice cream – mint, strawberry, and vanilla caramel swirl – baked a lot, and made jam.

Also, three perfect avocados! At the same time!

Our Sunday dessert was chocolate-dipped strawberries, a very nice treat after all that digging.

Pandemic Fitness

My Sunday walk took me to the university; I hadn’t been on campus since 1998, and I was surprised to see so many changes, so many new and beautiful buildings. It was good to see my old stomping grounds to be basically unchanged – except for the absence of the Prairie Chicken! – and just as ugly as it used to be. Ah, I can feel the dinginess of those windowless offices just by looking at this.

Never did I think I would become a woman who would wear her son’s outgrown windbreaker to run in the drizzle, but here we are.

I hope you are all having a fabulous, unoppressed week. Fight the power! xo