Getting Controversial In The Boyhouse

Posted on February 27, 2023 by Nicole Boyhouse

It was so cold here last week, with an enormous dump of fresh snow; it looked really pretty, in contrast to my Walking Outfit, which was not so pretty. Snow pants! Toque! Giant fake-fur hood! Frosted-over eyelashes! Teenage me, who wore tiny skirts with tights that were Just as warm as pants, Mom, would have been horrified.

Speaking of horrified, I have a complaint. It may be more of a personal pet peeve, but it is something that bothers me greatly, and that is when people state subjective opinions as objective facts. Or, more accurately, when people state negative subjective opinions as objective facts. There is a big difference between saying I hate chickpeas, and chickpeas are gross. When a person states an opinion as a well-known fact, such as Alice Munro’s writing is boring, I get my back up: no, YOU THINK it’s boring. There is a big difference between a person’s perception and the actual quality of the item in question. You can think whatever you want to about whatever you want, but opinions aren’t facts.

And I love hearing other people’s opinions, even negative ones! But words matter to me, and hearing Top Gun is a terrible movie is not the same as I hate Top Gun. Hate away! Opine that it’s terrible! But that is not an objective fact. There are many things that I don’t like, but that doesn’t make them objectively terrible; for example, I dislike action movies and books by Jody Picoult, but objectively, those are not bad things. They are just things that I dislike. I might THINK they are bad, but they are not, objectively.

Interestingly enough, my impassioned opinion about opinions-as-facts does not encompass positive opinions. If someone said to me ketchup chips are the finest chip ever invented or dogs are god’s greatest creatures, I would not be offended, particularly since those are two opinions I share, but even if I did not share them, I would be happy that someone else found joy in weird Canadian salty snacks and puppers. Therefore, all you Cat People reading this might be thinking How dare! Cats are god’s greatest creatures! and although I won’t agree I will just be happy for you and your purring companions. Enjoy your kitties! I’ll be over here with my fuzzy favourite, who may be wondering if I am indeed somewhere inside all those layers.

Anyway, I was thinking of this – my opinion pet peeve – because in my not-so-recent Ask Me Anything, Stephany (HI STEPHANY) asked what controversial opinion do you hold? I thought about this for a long time, because I didn’t think I hold any controversial opinions. I believe that people are all equal and deserve to be treated as such, regardless of gender, skin colour, sexuality, religious beliefs, or abilities, and that all people should have autonomy over their own bodies and be able to make choices that best suit their own life journeys; these seem to be topics that generate controversy for reasons I cannot fathom, but to me, equality and autonomy are not a matter of opinion.

This weekend I realized that I do indeed have a very controversial opinion, and that is that I hate pie. Yes, all kinds. To me, pie is a grievous waste of fruit at best, and a flaky monstrosity at worst. Cake all the way, baby. Cake all the way. With the same passion that I hate pie, I love cake; yes, all kinds. I even love grocery store sheet cakes that are universally considered to be subpar, with frosting that is universally considered to be too sweet. If one of them was in my house right now, I would cut myself a giant corner piece just to get the extra frosting, and arrange it so I could get an extra frosting flower on my piece as well.

Usually when I voice this extremely controversial Anti-Pie opinion, someone will ask what about pumpkin, what about rhubarb, what about apple? No, no, no. And I am not yucking anyone’s yum, here, but the thought of biting into a soft piece of cooked apple makes me physically shudder. Listen, I love apples. There’s nothing like a fresh, tart Macintosh to make my heart sing. However. I do not love COOKED apples. I don’t like pastry in general, but the thought of eating a piece of pie with soft, mushy apple in it…I can’t. I have always been this way and probably always will be this way.

So I hate pie, but I love my guys, and they love pie, so I make one for them every so often, and one of those occasions was this weekend.

Many perfectly good apples were sacrificed in the making of this dessert.

Speaking of desserts and Ask Me Anything, my lovely friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked what are your top recommendations for baked goods? This was fun to think about because I bake something at least twice a week, often more. Usually that baking is a snack loaf or muffins for the boys, but sometimes I throw together a batch of cookies or a cake. I am absolutely loving Julie van Rosendaal’s cake cookbook, and her pumpkin snack loaf is in regular rotation around here. The Lutheran Ladies have an amazing banana muffin recipe that I use frequently, as well as an oatmeal chocolate chip muffin that I based this recipe off of.

I wrote a weekly food blog at YMC from 2013-2017, and I have all of the recipes, plus some that I wrote on this blog, listed here. It is split into sections and one of those sections is Baked Goodies; I think my favourites from that list are the Pot of Gold Cupcakes, the Chocolate Chunk Coconut Cookies, Old Fashioned Oatmeal Cookies, and, of course, my Grandma’s Gingersnaps. My mom’s Sugar Cookies never fail, and are a holiday staple around here.

I do love baking, but I should note that all of the above recipes are my own variations of the original. I never follow a recipe to the letter, because I am a wild rebel when it comes to baked goods. I mean, why limit ourselves to a teaspoon of vanilla when two teaspoons would be more delicious? Why use a whole cup of sugar when you can cut it to three-quarters and no one notices? Why not try coconut oil or add some extra chocolate chips? It’s a fun way to play with baking, and when the weather is dipping into the minus-a-lot, it feels like a nice, cozy activity.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of cozy activities, it was a good week for getting some reading and puzzling done.

Mary Jane. I was born in the year in which this book was set – 1975 – so I can’t say from experience, but it seems to me that people in the 70s were really separated into Establishment and Counterculture. This book – a sweet, cute coming of age story – deals with a young girl who is hired to be a summer nanny at a house that is definitely Counterculture. They smoke pot! The doctor is a psychiatrist, not a medical doctor! The wife doesn’t cook or clean and the house is a disaster! The girl is from a strict Presbyterian home that, inexplicably, has a framed picture of President Ford in its dining room. Anyway. The girl – Mary Jane – brings her mother’s housewifery skills into the chaotic household, and she learns what it is to be accepted, and becomes part of the family. It’s a sweet little book, although I found the dialogue to be stilted and contrived, but light and enjoyable nonetheless. One thing I really liked, which is quite unusual, is that at one point Mary Jane thanks her mother for teaching her all her skills, and says how much she values them. In my own life, I spend a great deal of time creating a calm household with lots of delicious food in it – see above! – and sometimes I wonder if this is time well spent. It was nice to see it valued in a book that was very tongue-in-cheek in name.

Navigating The Messy Middle. Many many years ago I read Ann Douglas’ Mother of All Pregnancy/ Baby/ Toddler Books, and I loved them. Canadian content! I feel like I’ve come full circle, reading her book about being a woman in midlife. Well, maybe not full circle; perhaps in 20 years I’ll read about being a woman in the golden years. Anyhoo. This is a book that is almost entirely made up of interviews with other women, and it is incredibly inclusive and diverse. Because of the interviews, it reads like a series of long-form old-school magazine articles, if that makes sense. It makes for a nice fast read. I don’t know if there’s anything particularly new or earth-shattering here, but it is such an affirming book. Because of the diverse viewpoints, it really made me feel both seem and like we are all on a journey, with different paths, but together. Very uplifting and encouraging: from being a sandwich generation to body changes! I really liked the sections in friendship, relationships, and “raising” young adult children.

BFF. When I started reading this, I thought this seems familiar, and that is because the author also wrote the memoir Group, and there are a few overlaps between the characters and stories in that memoir and this one, about the author and another women who lived their whole lives with a lot of difficulties maintaining female friendships, but who become very close friends. Here’s the thing: I didn’t love Group, and I didn’t love this book, which is probably on me – note to self: read the synopsis BEFORE blindly putting a book on my library list. I didn’t love BFF for the same reason that I didn’t love Group, and that was that I found the author to be incredibly frustrating. Yes, I realize that flaws and foibles are what makes for a good memoir, however, get it together, author. I guess her particular flaws and foibles were just especially upsetting to me. However, this wasn’t wasted time; there were some thought-provoking parts, particularly about female friendship triangles, and the end of the book had some really insightful thoughts about the pandemic and how it helped the author reconnect with long-lost friends.

You guys, Wednesday is MARCH! March! What a whirlwind life is, even when not much is going on. I hope you all have a cozy week, doing things you love, and maybe even eating some cake – or pie, I won’t judge! My aversion means more pie for all of you! xo

Friday Fun

Posted on November 20, 2015 by Nicole Boyhouse

It’s a PD day. It’s 9:09. I have had approximately nine cups of coffee. In related news, this post will be in point form.

COPA Cabana

As many (most?) of you know, I work at Yummy Mummy Club, or YMC, both as a writer and a twitter-er. Imagine my excitement when, at the Canadian Online Publishing Awards, YMC won GOLD for Best Use of Social Media! Look:

So that was pretty happy news. YMC also won gold and silver for two online campaigns: Dove Beautiful You, and Elmer’s Freestyle, along with gold for Independent Publisher of the Year. I think I will crack a bottle of amarone tonight, to celebrate!

Holiday Music

Sirius radio has a fabulous holiday channel, called Holly, and I haven’t stopped listening to it since I discovered it. It has everything from Harry Connick, Jr. to Barry Manilow; in other words, it is my dream holiday channel. In the past twenty-four hours, I have heard no fewer than five different renditions of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” which is my favourite Christmas song EVER. Except, maybe, the terribly politically-incorrect Baby It’s Cold Outside.

Spectre

Until very recently, I had never seen a James Bond movie in my life. When one is completely outnumbered, one watches the movies that everyone else wants to watch, and so we’ve been watching the most recent James Bond movies for our Friday Family Movie Nights. I normally fall asleep at some point in the movie, because explosions and whatnot bore me. What doesn’t bore me, however, is a shirtless Daniel Craig.

After we’d watched three Daniel Craig movies, we were ready for the newest: Spectre. My husband was very excited and he booked seats for the opening weekend. We all went and were kind of underwhelmed. For one thing, it was at least thirty minutes too long. For another, he was completely clothed for the whole movie. THE WHOLE MOVIE. Why am I here? I kept thinking to myself. This isn’t interesting at all.

It reminded me of when the boys made me go see Avengers: Age of Ultron. Not only was it a terrible, terrible movie, but it was tragically low on the shirtless men factor. All that talent, and the only guy who takes his shirt off is Bruce Banner? WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS?

Action movie makers, take note: if you want the “mom vote,” maybe throw us a little bone, here? Does Chris Evans need to chop wood with a t-shirt on? No, he does not. He is Captain Freaking America, and he can chop wood with no shirt on, thank you very much.

Greek Mythology

Mark has been obsessed with Greek mythology for the past while, and I used to be PRETTY knowledgeable in that area myself. However, the student has far surpassed the teacher, and now every single day he asks me questions that are unanswerable. For example, who is my favourite demigod? Do I know which animal/ plant symbolizes which Greek god? If I could have any power bestowed upon me by any god, which would it be and why? It makes for interesting dinner table conversation, sort of. Jake mentioned that he would like to never die, to which Mark responded, “Immortality is not always a great thing, Jake.” Then he went into this depressing spiel about it, and how sometimes it’s just better to die, which reminded me of this terrible biography my husband watched about Kurt Cobain. Good lord, what a mess. I felt like this conversation warranted a drink if it were to continue, but thankfully the subject veered into the following debate: Was Persephone happy to be in the Underworld? Discuss.

I am the Walrus

Jake has been walking around saying “I am the Eggman” and laughing. “Eggman! Who would want to be an eggman?” Mark asked if it was true that The Beatles had a song called I am the Walrus, and that, my friends, I could answer. This spurred a long discussion about a) why anyone would want to be a walrus, b) what exactly is an eggman, c) why were The Beatles so popular when they are obviously so lame?

I told the boys that their music was the first of its kind, and very innovative. I explained how, way back in the 1950s, Elvis Presley was considered scandalous because he danced too sexily. The boys looked at me in silent disbelief and dropped the subject.

“What?” I asked. “Elvis was considered VERY sexy, back then.”

“Mom, please stop saying Elvis and sexy in the same sentence.”

Everything’s Coming Up Milhouse

The term “growing boys” has taken on new meaning, as they have both grown almost an INCH since September. I looked at Mark in his nearly brand-new karate gi yesterday and thought he looked like he was ready for The Flood.

Happy Friday, everyone! Have a great weekend. xo

Just keep swimming…

Posted on October 16, 2015 by Nicole Boyhouse

YOU GUYS. It’s been a whirlwind of activity around here. We took a four day weekend to see my in-laws’ over the Thanksgiving holidays, which was great, except that I had one day after returning home to get my bearings, and then leave for Toronto. I flew out of Calgary Wednesday morning, and then flew back home Thursday morning. I got home in time to make dinner and take the kids to karate, and now today I’m trying to catch up on laundry and prepare for a party I’m hosting at my house tomorrow night for forty people. I’m completely swampled, as a friend I used to work with and I would say. (HI CARMEN).

Ten days or so ago, I mentioned my travel plans and party plans and my day-to-day work to a friend, saying I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and exhausted by it all. She said that when she feels overwhelmed by life, she thinks of Dory: Just Keep Swimming. So until everything is cleaned up Sunday afternoon, that is my motto: just keep swimming. Yesterday when I got home I was so tired that it seemed too much to fill out Mark’s swim forms for school; holding a pen seemed like an effort that I didn’t want to make, but I just kept swimming. Like a shark, if I stop, I will die. Or, to be less dramatic, not want to get up off the couch ever again.

Oh, but the trips were very very good. My in-laws are well, and I ended up taking home about forty pounds of apples, in addition to the ones my dear mother-in-law had sent to me via Greyhound bus a few weeks ago. We are apple-licious around here. I mostly have McIntosh apples because they are my favourite, and I just smiled and nodded when my mother-in-law sang praises of my beloved Macs: they are perfect for pie and applesauce, she said. Ha! Pie and applesauce my foot. I’ll be eating every one of these apples, just the way nature intended, and I won’t even have to share because no one else really likes McIntosh apples. Not to mention that apple pie is an abomination, in my humble opinion.

Apple bottom!

The trip to Toronto was great too. It just so happened that the annual Yummy Mummy Club meeting was the same day as the deciding game for the Blue Jays, and the meeting room was right beside this:

The CN Tower!

Very exciting! When the Blue Jays won, you could hear the “woo-ing” from the streets, and when our meeting/ party was finished near midnight, there were still many fans wobbling around. On my flight to Toronto, I was sitting next to a young man who was heading out for the game. He was very nice and as we chatted I mentioned how exciting it was when the Blue Jays won the World Series. It turned out that during that exciting time in baseball, he wasn’t yet born.

All that celebrating must have been something, because the next day our flight was delayed since our co-pilot had called in sick. I BET YOU’RE REALLY SICK, BUDDY. We were sitting on the plane for quite a while, waiting for the replacement to make his way through the gigantic Toronto airport.

As an aside, Calgary is a city of over 1.1 million people, and yet I felt like a complete country bumpkin as I made my way through the terminal. My sweet friend and YMC colleague Katja (HI KATJA) had very kindly offered to pick me up at the airport and drive me to the meeting with Jeni (HI JENI) the Editor-in-Chief, who is also a wonderful friend. I stopped off after deplaning, to wash up and fix my makeup and brush my teeth, assuming that I would be able to just pop outside to meet her. I ended up walking twenty minutes through the terminal, weaving in and out of the throng of people, up and down stairs. Fortunately I was not late to meet her, but I did feel silly that I didn’t realize how big the airport (that I’ve been to twice before) is. I was just happy I was wearing low heels, and counted it as my steps for the day.

Anyway, as we waited for the replacement co-pilot, I wondered how the flight was going to go. The flight was completely full and there were quite a lot of the “under two” set. The couple beside me had with them little Arlo, who was a twenty-three-month-old butterball. He was just adorable, but the wait was going on and on and I hoped – for the parents’ sake, not mine, I couldn’t care less about crying babies so long as they’re not my own – that he would be okay. Things weren’t looking promising at first, because he was HOT but he did NOT want to take his sweater off. In fact, taking his sweater off was the WORST THING EVER. But being HOT was also THE WORST THING EVER. Arlo had a snack and then slept on his mother’s chest for a while, and after that he was just fine.

Toddlers, am I right? So cute and yet so exhausting. He showed me his trains, and his Thomas lift-the-flap book, and he told me about feeding ducks and that they quacked at him, and I almost died of the cuteness. He even sat on my lap for a few minutes to look out the window. He also spent a lot of time running down the aisle with one of his parents in tow, which reminded me of how physically draining it is to have a toddler, not to mention how physically draining it is to TRAVEL with one. I’m drained enough this week!

All of which is to say I’ve got to go keep swimming, at least for another 48 hours. Wish me luck!

NO COFFEE NO PRANA

Posted on September 29, 2015 by Nicole Boyhouse

That’s something that Ashtanga yogis like to say a lot – no coffee, no prana – because it was said by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, who was apparently a coffee lover. I say it to myself every day when I’m waiting for the coffee maker – no coffee, no prana. I also sing Linda Put The Coffee On, but with “Nicole” substituted for “Linda” which pretty much sums me up nicely.

All of which is to say that today is, apparently, National Coffee Day. One fun little perk about my job at Yummy Mummy Club is that I’m always in the know about what kind of special day it is. Did you know that every day is a special day, and not just in a Romper Room, Mr. Rogers, carpe diem kind of way? Every day celebrates something, which is fun, even if it’s totally random. It’s always National Drink Beer Day or National Love Your Dog Day or National Guacamole Day or National Weiner Schnitzel Day. September 4th is National Hug Your Boss Day, which seems kind of unprofessional, but it’s also National Newspaper Carrier Day. Every second Tuesday in September is National Ants on a Log Day, and tomorrow is both National Chewing Gum Day and National Mud Pack Day.

So today is National Coffee Day, although in my house, every day is National Coffee Day. If it wasn’t, it would be National Oh-My-God-I’m-So-Bitchy Day, so let’s just let me enjoy my coffee. Mmmkay?

As an aside, yesterday I was told that the term “Bitchy Resting Face” is an anti-feminist thing to say. Sure, we probably don’t say that old men with furrowed brows have Bitchy Resting Face, but we might think they look like jerky assholes, so I think we are probably even on that front. BRF just rolls off the tongue more than “wow, that guy looks like a jerky asshole who wants to burn the whole city down, maybe he should smile more.” Meh. I am not anti-feminist – obviously – but I have to tell you, there are reasons I smile in photos. Here’s the biggest reason:

You might say, no, that’s just your face, it’s not bitchy, to which I would respond that the above photo illustrates why I smile a lot. I look like I’m going to murder someone if they say ONE MORE WORD and the truth is, I was probably just looking at a tree. I don’t like looking like this on the outside when I feel like this on the inside:

Photo from my very talented friend Lucas http://lucasramage.com/

You know who doesn’t have Bitchy Resting Face? Barkley. We went away for the weekend and when I picked him up from the “spa” he just couldn’t stop smiling.

Just like me, smiling is his favourite. But I guess he wouldn’t have Bitchy Resting Face anyway, because he’s a male dog and as such is literally not a bitch.

But I digress. I meant to write about our weekend away and got caught up in drinking a pot of coffee and writing about National Coffee Day. Our trip was fantastic. We were on the very west coast of Vancouver Island, in Tofino. The weather was perfect. The travel was perfect. We had a hot tub on our deck and were right beside the beach. Even the flights were serendipitous – we had boarded our flight to the Island, and were informed we were going to be early when the pilot announced that there was an issue with the cargo door and we wouldn’t be able to take off. But! There was an EMPTY PLANE RIGHT BESIDE US, so we flew in that. That never happens, so I felt like it was a good omen for the weekend.

It’s great to go away and great to be home, and yesterday I caught up on all the laundry, and groceries, and work that had piled up, but it all feels good. The leaves have all changed colour, suddenly, and the city is a gorgeous mix of blue skies with yellow, red, and orange leaves. The cosmos I planted two years ago have self seeded and are in full bloom, amazingly, and all is well in the world. Many, many reasons to smile.

Zucchini Fest 2015

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Nicole Boyhouse

Remember in Gone With The Wind, when Scarlett has a recurring dream in which she is running and running through mist and fog, looking for something, something that will make her happy? And then she finds herself actually running through mist and fog and she realizes – finally – that the key to her happiness has been right in front of her this whole time, that Rhett has always loved her and now in a Saint-Paul-On-The-Way-To-Damascus burst of understanding, she loves him too. And then she tells him, that the dream has come true and she knows what she’s looking for, and he’s moved on and is all “I don’t give a damn?”

Ah, to have such dramatic and interpretive dreams. My dreams are so dull that they make Bert from Sesame Street looks like a wild adventurer. About half the time, I dream that I’m folding laundry. Last night I dreamt that I was going through a giant stack of mail, sorting it into piles: recycle, shred, and file. Even in my dreams I’m bored. What this says about me, I don’t know, because I don’t find my life to be particularly dull, but my dream life would make anyone long for pigeons and paperclips, just to vary things a little.

Today is a moon day, so I didn’t practice yoga. Instead, I decided to make today Zucchini Fest 2015 in the Boyhouse. My mother-in-law had given me her usual Excessive Number of Zucchinis, and so I made a quadruple batch of dill pickle zucchini chips (recipe here) and two loaves of double chocolate zucchini loaf (recipe here) and grated and froze 3 cups for later use. I also set aside two more zucchinis for roasting/ grilling on the weekend and that, my friends, will be the end of the Excessive Number of Zucchinis.

After Zucchini Fest 2015, I took Barkley for a very long walk, as part of my Increased Cardiovascular Exercise To Combat My Shrunken Pants regime. While we were walking I noticed a sign in a bus shelter for one of those insurance companies that deals with older people. Usually those signs are kind of cute and deal with things like “were you at Woodstock” or “did you have a beehive hairdo” and state that if so, you qualify for lower insurance rates.

This sign read, IF YOUR “OTHER CAR” HAS A SIREN ON TOP, YOU ARE PAYING TOO MUCH FOR AUTO INSURANCE.

What? At first I wondered if they were catering to first responders or the police, but it was a “grey power” type of company, which leads me to believe, alarmingly, that they are catering to people who RIDE in ambulances on the regular.

Who came up with that advertising campaign? If you keep having heart attacks, call us for your insurance needs. If you are near death, you shouldn’t be paying full price for insurance. I am going to go out on a limb here, and say that if you are nearing the end of a long, full life, maybe you shouldn’t be driving at all. If you have had a lot of ambulance rides because of your advanced age, possibly you should not be behind the wheel. Hey, look on the bright side – that way, your auto insurance will be zero!

I live in a senior heavy neighbourhood, and while I love my elderly neighbours, walking in the Co-Op parking lot is terrifying. I do not even attempt to walk NEAR the giant Cadillacs and Lincolns that MIGHT be backing up, because the drivers seem to be fairly indifferent to things like “shoulder checking” and “looking behind while in reverse.” Eh, those things are just not for me. In my day, we just backed up, and we liked it that way.

Speaking of shopping, yesterday the boys and I went to Costco, and while I was not at all surprised to see the plethora of Halloween costumes and decorations, there were CHRISTMAS TREES AND DECORATIONS ON DISPLAY. I’m all for early shopping and being prepared, but that seems excessive even for me. It’s AUGUST. Sadly, there were no Back to School displays, but I guess I must be a few months late on that. Maybe they do Back to School when school is still in session. All I’m saying is that I’ll be looking forward to Valentines’ chocolates coming out next month.

Late to the party!

Posted on January 6, 2015 by Nicole Boyhouse

It seems like most of the world was busy ferrying their children back to school yesterday, but mine spent most of the day in their pajamas; it was, strangely enough, a PD day. I was glad it was a PD day though, because I was a little busy yesterday morning – I was on the local news!

That was a pretty fun and interesting start to the week; after that I came home to my life of glamour and made breakfast for the kids, washed the floors, and did the laundry. Today they are back at school and so we are mostly back to routine; I say mostly because the poor dog is desperate for a good walk but the snow and cold seems prohibitive to me. Tomorrow, Barkley, is only a day away.

It’s funny, because I was not at all nervous to go on live television in front of I don’t know how many viewers. A lot? We are a city of 1.1 million, and I’m assuming a decent percentage of them watch the morning news. Anyway, I wasn’t nervous at all about that but I was extremely nervous about driving to the studio.

A week or so ago, I received details about my segment and the address of the studio, which is located in an area of the city of which I am totally unfamiliar. My husband, being familiar with my driving anxiety, looked up the address and casually mapped out a few different routes, telling me which route he preferred and why. And this – this is one of the reasons I adore him, for his innate ability to zone in on the best possible route to anywhere. He factors in the approximate number of lights. He factors in the time of day of driving and possible traffic issues. He factors in my propensity to freeze up and panic in unfamiliar driving situations.

So, armed with detailed written directions, including how to get back home, which no, is not an obvious thing for me, I set out for a practice drive last Friday afternoon. My husband suggested that, if all else failed, I could pull over and type the address into the GPS, which is an insane suggestion. I will never, ever be fooled again into thinking that the GPS will actually get me to where I want to be, not after last year’s fiasco where I tried to drive to my brother’s house and ended up on a gravel road outside the city.

Here’s the thing I really hate about the GPS: if I somewhat know what route I want to take, and it’s not the route that the GPS thinks I should take, then I have to listen to the robotic voice suggesting that I make a U-turn somewhere in order to get onto the route the GPS is suggesting. Then, when U-turning on the highway is deemed impossible, it spends a significant amount of time saying “Recalculating. Recalculating. Recalculating.” until I feel like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. The GPS is an evil, evil device.

When I woke up yesterday morning, it had snowed, and it was blowing snow, and the road reports were all talking about the delays that commuters would face and how poor the conditions were. Slightly panicked, I hauled my giant box of food to the car and left early. The conditions were bad; I had to resort to listening to talk radio, which I find soothing in bad driving conditions for some reason. The lanes on the road were not visible, so there was that thing where people make up their own lanes to drive in and it feels very willy-nilly, like at any moment someone is going to sideswipe your car. I remained calm, listening to the “Report on Business”, and ended up at the studio a full forty minutes early. Better early than late!

Speaking of television, about a month ago my husband started watching Game of Thrones. After viewing about thirty seconds of it, during which there was a beheading and two impalements, I decided this was not the show for me. Generally he would watch it after the boys and I went to bed, but during the holidays he watched a few episodes during the day, when the boys were busy with other things and I was reading or cooking. I ended up seeing a few minutes here and there and became a bit interested, to my husband’s chagrin since he had to pause the show every time I asked a question, which was often. Who’s that guy? Where did she get dragons from? Oooh that guy is creepy. He’s the king? Ugh, he’s creepy. Ew, she had sex with her brother? Wait, the king is a product of incest? Why isn’t his father the king? Ew. Why isn’t his grandfather the king, then? This doesn’t make sense. Who’s that guy? Wait, who’s she? Oh hey, it’s the guy from Downton Abbey.

Eventually I got semi-caught up on the major plot points, although I couldn’t remember any names and had to keep referring to characters by a ridiculously long description such as “the red haired woman who is married to the Peter Dinklage character” or “the guy who was Sir Richard on Downton Abbey but he’s way better looking in this show”. I found it so intriguing, actually, that I’m considering reading the books. Has anyone read them and would you recommend them? Given that I just finished the delightful “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?”, I feel like I could tackle something a bit heavier.

No Cash Cab, But Heart-Pumping Cab Rides Anyway.

Posted on October 7, 2014 by Nicole Boyhouse

So I didn’t get to ride in the Cash Cab, but I did have a fabulous time in Toronto (well, Mississauga, really) this weekend. I had been fretting a little that I was leaving the kids for too long but they were absolutely fine. Everyone had a great time and as my husband said, It’s GOOD if they miss you. It’s good for them. It’s true, of course.

And I had a great time – I was busy enough not to miss the children desperately, and I met so many wonderful people (*waves at everyone*). All the late nights, the constant hugging and handshaking, and the less-than-perfect nutrition (read: snack mix and Bellinis for dinner) has caught up with me, since I’m nursing a cold. Post-conference illness, it’s a real thing. Not to mention flying; airplanes are just one giant petri dish of recycled air that I don’t want to think about too much. Someone told me once that airplane seatbelts have very high levels of fecal matter on them, apparently from people not washing their hands after using the teensy little lavatory. Ew! I have always had slight misgivings about headrests as possibly housing lice of epidemic proportions, but happily my headrest was vinyl.

Despite the germ-factory that is an airplane, I really do love flying. It’s so exciting, the thought that in a few short hours I’ll be somewhere totally different! Adventure awaits; it’s the miracle of flight. I remember the first time we took the kids on a winter vacation, how amazed they were that we could leave a snow-and-ice filled city, and just a few hours later land somewhere warm and full of flowers and green grass. It’s truly wonderful, and I still get a little thrill about it. Also, there’s something really nice about being forced to be inactive for a while. It’s kind of nice to just stay in your seat, watch a movie, and eat cute little snacks from the cute little flight attendant.

And yet, there is a big downside to flying, and that is other people. Most people, I think, are kind and decent, but it’s a one bad apple kind of situation. On the flight home, there was a dog on the plane. It was a little dog, like a “purse dog” and the poor puppy whimpered and/or barked the WHOLE TIME. Now, I’m a dog lover, and I’m sure that dog’s ears were in pain with take-off and landing, but OMG. People, a high-pitched whimper for four hours. My husband had given me his fancy noise-cancelling headphones, so I was able to tune out for most of the time, but take-off and landing were agonizingly noisy. I would far rather be next to a screaming baby than be anywhere near a whimpering dog.

Further to that, I would rather be on a flight with a whimpering purse dog than with the crazy woman behind me on the flight to Toronto. According to my friend who was seated behind her, this crazy lady put her headphones down on the seat behind her, where they evidently fell off. The woman then looked around her to find the headphones, and noticed an older lady in the row behind her who was wearing a pair that were the exact same colour and style. What are the chances? The older lady must have stolen them, or so said Headphone Lady. “My headphones were here, and now they’re not. It’s funny that you have a pair exactly like the ones I JUST lost.” The older lady explained they were her own headphones, to which Headphone Lady replied, sharply, “If you wanted to BORROW my headphones, you could have asked!”

Slight digression: who on earth would ask to borrow a stranger’s headphones, and for that matter, who on earth would loan out their earbud style headphones to a complete stranger in the row behind them? That’s pretty gross, and also very weird considering that Air Canada just hands out headphones, free of charge.

All through the huffy exchange, to which several witnesses said that the older lady had been wearing the headphones for a while, and had not picked them up off the floor but taken them from her purse, I fretted that this would turn into some sort of strange headphone brawl and the plane would have to turn around. Remember the Bubble Guppies lady (who was not a robot) of just a few weeks ago, who got into some trouble over headphone-related anguish? I was a bit worried this would happen and we’d be forced to land in Winnipeg or somewhere and I’d be late for the Yummy Mummy Club meeting. Everyone just stay calm, I wanted to yell, there are enough headphones for everyone on board this aircraft. After landing, when we were all deplaning, my friend noticed the headphones lying on the floor, thus proving that the headphone-wearing older lady did not, in fact, steal the other woman’s headphones.

Headphones aside, it was a great weekend. Here are some of my favourite photos:

PJ’s and Bellinis

The Lentil Carnival, on the red carpet with the creepiest carny ever, with the possible exception of the guys who would grope teen girls while buckling them into roller coaster rides at the Calgary Stampede during the 80s and 90s.

The strong man at the Lentil Carnival. I asked him if he felt objectified, and he said he was paid to be objectified. Which doesn’t make it BETTER, muscular guy in little shorts.