I’ve been noticing this little tree on my morning walks, and it reminds me of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I feel like it would tip over with the addition of a little red ball, and although I dislike 90% of the actual television program, I really resonate with the symbolism of the tree. I wrote back in December 2020 that sometimes we are the tree, sinking under the weight of the season and all the various performative pressures that are placed mainly on women in our society to create a certain jollity and magic. Sometimes, though, we are Linus’ blanket, seeing that our friends are bending under the symbolic red ornament and are ready to snap, and we wrap those friends in our metaphorical blankets, propping them up so that they are suddenly and somewhat improbably able to not only face the season, but they grow all new branches and stop dropping needles and are able to withstand the weight of not only that one red ornament but an entire treeful, including a star on top and many layers of tinsel. I aim to be a Linus’ blanket but I have definitely been the tree at times.
I cannot watch that show anymore. I find it so incredibly mean-spirited generally. However, I really do like the railing against the commercialization of the holiday, despite the fact that I definitely purchase many gifts at this time of year and I always will. Who knew that 45 years after Charlie Brown Christmas and the complaint that Christmas had become too commercial, Tim Minchin would release what has become one of my favourite and most resonant Christmas songs, White Wine In The Sun, which includes one of my favourite song lyrics ever: I really like Christmas…And yes, I have all of the usual objections to consumerism, to the commercialization of an ancient religion, to the Westernization of a dead Palestinian, press-ganged into selling PlayStations and beer. But I still really like it. If that line does not resonate with you, please do us all a favour and simply skip it because you certainly will not like the rest of the song, and I really cannot face any more public loathing of my favourite holiday songs. I will not have it, people! I will not have my go-to-holiday-stress-cry-therapy song besmirched by anyone. So just don’t listen.
Speaking of music, the Charlie Brown Christmas has, hands-down the best Christmas album in the history of time, in my humble opinion. Second to that is Michael Buble’s, and a distant third is Harry Connick Junior’s When My Heart Finds Christmas. I dare you to find three more uplifting and Holiday Spirit Consciousness Raising albums.
I also really like Snoopy, and I strongly identify with the little dancing girl with the straight dark hair and the pink dress. That is my dancing style and also was my aesthetic back in the day.
On the topic of Media I Consumed In My Childhood That Seemed Normal But Was Really Weird As Fuck, there was an animated movie I recall, entitled The Small One. It had to do with a donkey who was too old and frail to be of any use, and so the owner’s son had to take it to town and sell it. There was no question keeping it, as it would do nothing but eat without contributing at all to the household income. The man who offered to buy it – this is a bit fuzzy in my mind, but bear with me – was abusive and was going to essentially work the donkey until it died, and then use it for glue, like poor old Boxer from Animal Farm (RIP Boxer). Somehow either the donkey escaped or he didn’t, but he ended up in the hands of Joseph, to carry Mary to Bethlehem, showing that a seemingly-worthless animal can actually be a vital part of a most-worthy task. How a crippled old donkey could possibly carry an enormously pregnant woman on a long journey is a question no one asked, but also there is a lot to unpack here. This children’s program about animal abuse, the lack of choices for those experiencing extreme poverty, and the role of those deemed unworthy in our society was probably shown to me at Sunday School, although it could have been in regular school, the public school system not being so inclusive of other religions at the time. Another animated holiday movie I do remember clearly seeing at school had to do with aliens landing on earth and everyone being mean to them for being different, because symbolism needed to be heavy-handed back then. The movie climaxed with one of the neighbourhood children falling through ice on some kind of body of water, and the aliens helped to form a human/ alien chain to pull that child to safety. We are all one. I will not try to look up anything more about this, as I have had a lifelong phobia of aliens in media, the blame of which can be placed directly on E.T., but I clearly recall the grasping of hands and one of the local anti-alien bigots hesitating a moment before allowing his hand to be taken by an alien. Then everyone got anal probes. Just kidding! I believe it ended with the aliens leaving, which would seem to be going against the probable theme of welcoming people from other cultures, but again, it was the 80s. Things were different.
Out of respect for accuracy and to the scientific community in general, and to my friend Chris (HI CHRIS) in particular, I will not say the days are so short right now. A day is always twenty-four hours, whether we are in December or June; however, I will say whoa, there is really not much daylight right now. I mean, of course! Next week is Winter Solstice, which is NOT THE SHORTEST DAY OF THE YEAR, but it is the day with the least amount of daylight.
It is DARK, friends. Hello, darkness, my old friend, one might say. One also might say that it’s time to turn on all of the lights, maybe not the cop lights and definitely not the strobe lights, but absolutely the Christmas lights.
As you all know, when it comes to outdoor seasonal decor, my husband likes to really embrace the season in question. He gifted many of our Halloween decorations, but you can bet we brought every single Christmas item with us across the provincial line.
Yes, that IS a gnome on the top of the deck steps.
Candy Cane Lane has become Candy Cane Line, below the overhead grape rows.
My husband wanted to take out this shrub, can you imagine? It is the perfect receptacle for the sparkly balls, and as a bonus, not one has blown off the branches, causing me to find it in a neighbour’s yard or down the street, like in previous years.
He plugs them in around 3:30 in the afternoon, because the sunset is now at 3:55 pm. I, however, turn on the Christmas tree when I get up at 4:30 in the morning, and leave it on all day, because CHRISTMAS.
It has recently come to my attention, via Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) that some people have strong feelings about white lights versus coloured lights, and I am glad I do not have to make such a serious and life altering decision, as our tree has the ability to have both. I mean, it’s like having to choose a favourite child; Sophie’s Choice, vis a vis Christmas lights.
My husband has allergies to pollen and to evergreen needles, and so we have always had an artificial tree; to me, this is a huge bonus because it can be up for extended periods of time without worry about drying out or spontaneously bursting into flames due to drying out, or, less dramatically, dropping needles. I have enough to do with regards to my floor cleanliness due to my giant dog who constantly brings in the outdoors, without worrying about my Christmas decor adding to my workload.
Speaking of Elisabeth, it’s that time for the annual Secret Santa Mug Swap – thanks to San (HI SAN) for organizing the swap! – and this year I received a lovely package from her on December first! Talk about being incredibly organized, and also, does she know me or what:
IT HAS SPROUTS ON IT. The chocolates were delicious, of course, and the sweet little bear is hanging out on my tree next to the weird paper angel my older son made when he was in preschool, that appears to have three eyes and no discernable mouth. In other words, a place of honour! Just to illustrate my sons’ different personalities, my older son insists on having that angel in the most visible spot on the tree, but my younger son will place his youthful self’s handicrafts in obscure corners facing the wall, so they are technically on the tree, but no one can see them.
I have much to say about books this week, so without further ado:
Weekly Reading
Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle. My friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) told me about this book, and wow, is it ever good. If you’ve been feeling emotionally, mentally, or physically exhausted, this is the book for you. It walks through stress cycles and how to deal with stress in a healthy way, body image and our society, and how to rest in a way that is restorative to YOU, as an individual. Interestingly, it talks about the importance of physical touch and human connection for combatting health issues from stress; this came out before the pandemic but it sure explains a lot about the individual experiences from that time. My only complaint is that I didn’t read this a year ago when I really needed it. Particularly if you are a person who likes to please others or if you are a person who takes on the emotional weight of the household and feels that you are responsible for other people’s moods and happiness, this book would be incredibly resonant and helpful.
Shelley II: The Middle of My Century. Well. In 1989, after I had been obsessively rereading Shelley, Also Known As Shirley for two years, Shelley Winters published a second autobiography. At that time, I saw it in the bookstore (probably Coles) and for some reason I didn’t buy it then. I was only 14 and on a limited babysitting budget, so I probably spent my money on something really good like Thin Thighs In Thirty Days (the upshot of that book, in case you’re interested, is to do a lot of leg lifts and develop an eating disorder). Anyway, I didn’t buy Shelley II, considered buying it for a while, and then I kind of forgot about it. It has been out of print for a long time, and recently I became re-obsessed with the life and times of Shelley Winters. I actually saw a copy of this book on Thrift Books, bought it, waited with much excitement, reread the first one in preparation, and…was extremely disappointed. In the foreword she says that talk show hosts only ever wanted to talk about her many love affairs after the publication of her first book, so THIS book would be different. Womp womp. Girl, that is what I am here for! Spill the tea! There is a lot here about the Actor’s Studio and the Method – interesting, yes, but my god, so much detail and none of it sexy – and also about her explosive second marriage and subsequent divorce, AGAIN to an Italian actor. Lots of toxic detail, almost zero sex. I have to tell you, with all the discussion about every play she was in during the 50s and 60s, and her travels from New York to California to Europe and back, it was pretty repetitive and boring. Who knew that it could be so boring after such an incredible first book! Well, maybe that’s why it’s out of print. I found myself liking her a lot less after reading this and I kind of wish I hadn’t. I wish I had just left this book to my imagination.
Fairest of All. I have had a monthly date with my dear friend Nicole (HI NICOLE) since January 2018. We have not missed a month in SIX YEARS. It used to be coffee dates, and then during the pandemic it was phone calls and, later, dog walks. Now it’s phone calls again. Nicole Is the Mary Bennett to my Charlotte Lucas, and she knows my book taste better than anyone in the world. In fact, if I need advice on whether to pick up a buzzy book I ask her and she gives me a straight answer (yes to Happiness Falls, no to Station Eleven). Anyway, I was lamenting a run of bad books and she told me about this YA series that she had gotten for her kids but read herself; they are Disney fairy tales from the villain’s point of view. HELLO! This one centres around the Queen in Snow White and IT IS FUN. It takes less than two hours to read, it’s a fun and unusual retelling, and I am going to read the whole damn series.
I hope you all have a wonderful week, filled with light in this time of dark. xo
As we are speeding through the last month of 2023, I wanted to talk about some of the five-star things that have been absolute gifts this year, for body, mind, and soul.
I do not consider myself a book snob at all, although my husband thinks that I am one. What I have noticed, though, is that what I consider a five-star book and what Goodreads patrons consider a five-star book are two very different things. It’s gotten so that I will not read any review on Goodreads, because I will inevitably be irritated or incensed, depending on my own feelings. How could anyone rate that five stars? I’ll think crabbily, and then I’ll be enraged that someone gave a book I loved two stars. I keep a spreadsheet on which I record my books and my own rating out of five; I am pretty loosey-goosey with my ratings. I have a friend who will never rate a book five stars unless it was in the same caliber of writing as Maya Angelou and James Baldwin, and she thinks that a three-star read would be one she liked and would reread, whereas in my mind a three-star is a meh, it was okay read. For me, a five-star is something I loved, with gorgeous writing and characters, and something I would reread more than once. It’s a feeling, is what I’m saying, it is more of a qualitative rating. In any case, I read a lot of good books this year – and it’s not over yet, maybe there will be more! Here they all are, and I did not link anything because I thought, hey, if you want to you can look them up. Five Star Books In 2023: In A New York Minute, Nora Goes Off Script, Girls They Write Songs About, The Marriage Portrait, The Glass Hotel, All Along You Were Blooming, Fleishmann Is In Trouble, Yellowface, Foreverland: On The Divine Tedium of Marriage, The Paper Palace, Swipe Up For More!, Romantic Comedy, You Think It I’ll Say It, Bel Canto, The Dutch House.
As I said, if I love a book, I will reread it, sometimes many times. This year, I revisited old favourites, most of which reside on my forever bookshelf. Some of these rereads were because of the move, and my inability to access the library for so long, but some of them were just because I wanted to reread them, or I needed a comfort read as a palate cleaner. Five Star Rereads: Dear Life, Carnival of Snackery, Hateship Friendship Courtship Loveship, My Name Is Lucy Barton, Anything Is Possible, Oh William!, Calypso, I Feel Bad About My Neck, Emma, These Precious Days.
Five Star Clothing and Beauty Products: I have mentioned this many times, but I cannot get enough of my Mott and Bow jeans. Listen, the perimenopausal body goes through a lot of changes, some of which cause clothing to fit differently than before. Life is an incredible journey and one that sees a great deal of change in the physical body, as well as in the mental, emotional, and spiritual ones. These jeans have been good for all four. Speaking of changes, well, everyone knows how strongly I feel about Nutrafol, which has helped in my hair loss, but I also have to give huge shoutouts to Neutrogena’s Retinol Plus, and Maybelline’s new product The Falsies Surreal. This seems like the next big step in my mascara evolution. I always feel amazed that there are people who just…don’t wear makeup. Makeup and hair are such a huge part of my life, even if I don’t leave the house, even if I am alone in the house. This could indicate a vanity problem. I embrace my vanity problem. I feel like my vanity problem is actual self-care.
Five Star Podcasts: Podcasts are as subjective as books, and there are so many that I feel like there is something for everyone. I am a person who likes to listen to lighthearted, chatty podcasts mixed in with the occasional science or health one. This year I started listening to The Deep Dive, and never have I felt so seen. As mentioned above, I am a vain person, but the ladies on the Deep Dive like to talk about “working from the outside in,” saying that sometimes, if you work on your physical appearance, it can make your inner self feel better. It’s very tongue-in-cheek and I am here for it. I love how they start with a topic like nail polish, and suddenly it becomes a deep and soulful discussion about caring for yourself. Another podcast I love is Were You Raised By Wolves, which is just delightful and tackles problems of modern etiquette in the most entertaining way. I know what you’re thinking: a podcast about modern etiquette? Yes. A limited-run podcast that I loved was Wilder, about Laura Ingalls Wilder – there was nothing new or surprising to us true, hardcore fans, but it was so great to listen to.
Five Star Friends: Sometimes I cannot believe how incredibly fortunate I am to have so many wonderful friends in my life. This year was a very stressful one, full of change and worry, and my beautiful friends have helped me so much. The Calgary friends who sent me off with much love, the friend who offered to be the point person there during the chaos of the move, our friends who hosted my husband for weeks when he had to go back to finish work, the friends who all called to check in on me when I was at a breaking point, my Kelowna friends who welcomed me with open arms and helped ease the transition on so many levels, everyone who sent cards and gifts and bookmarks, friends who wrote to me and supported me through this blog. I honestly do not know how I would have gotten through all this change and turmoil without you, and I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. You’re the best. xo
Last Friday I woke up to the lightest dusting of SNOW, and people, I do not think I have ever been so excited by such a meteorological event. The first snow, IN DECEMBER! This is incredible to me, and also it felt so special and festive, even if it didn’t even cover the grass and disappeared by mid-morning. It snowed lightly throughout the weekend, though, so I may be able to use my new skis very soon!
I spent many hours last week grocery shopping and wrapping gifts and packing parcels to be mailed. So many hours, people. Any week that I visit Costco AND Superstore is going to feel exhausting, in the grocery shopping department, but whoa nelly. I think I’ve mentioned before that the Kelowna Costco is the busiest in Canada and second-busiest in North America, right behind the one in Maui. How they measure this I do not know, but having visited both many times I believe it. In any case, this past week it seemed worse than usual, in that it was almost impossible to move the cart as there were people literally everywhere, and then the lineup went two-thirds of the length of the store. She died the way she lived, standing in line at Costco. On the plus side, I had a nice conversation with two ladies, one with regards to the giant stuffed bear in her cart. Have you seen those? One bear fills an entire cart and costs $150; she was telling me that it was for her grandchildren but that she kind of wanted to keep it for herself. This was extremely understandable. “Touch it!” she said to me a little intensely, but I did as she said.
The other lady was also very intense, about the role of ingredient substitutes such as artificial sweeteners or keto-friendly bread in our society. I didn’t disagree with her opinions – after all, I myself am not a fan of those or meat substitutes – but her level of disapproval was, shall we say, heightened. Costco shopping can be a fraught time, emotions run high.
I generally like all manner of holiday-related jobs, such as baking or treat-making or decorating or what have you, but there is one festive job that is at the very bottom of my list, and that is gift-wrapping. I strongly dislike gift-wrapping, possibly because I am so abjectly terrible at it. I might be the worst gift-wrapper over the age of five. I don’t know why I am so bad, but I am: I’m always cutting the paper too big or too small, and then I am trying to either repair the gaping strip where the ends don’t meet or, alternately, folding up huge wads of paper on the sides. There is no in-between. I use far too much tape and somehow I always manage to tape strands of my own hair onto the gift itself; perhaps the stress of wrapping makes my hair fall out, I don’t know. And this is if the gift is in a box, which is the best-case scenario. If it’s irregularly shaped, forget about it. You might be thinking to yourself gift bags exist, which, indeed they do, but we are tear-open-the-gift-wrap people around here, and I also have four rolls of Costco wrapping paper purchased years ago and I still haven’t used them up. I might take them to my grave at this rate, the grave I’m working myself into by standing in line buying such things as giant rolls of Costco wrapping paper.
Anyway, one of the best things about having a newly-retired husband is that I can delegate such jobs to him, and he is happy to do them. I can’t outsource all my wrapping to him, though, which means all the gifts directed to him will be a jumble of wrapping paper and tape.
I don’t know how you get through the various drudgeries of your day, like gift-wrapping, but I mostly listen to music or podcasts. Spotify Wrapped came out this week and it turns out that I, as my friend Nicole said (HI NICOLE), am an actual teenager.
You guys. I am in the TOP ONE PERCENT OF SPOTIFY LISTENERS. Now, in my defense I did spend many hours this year packing and cleaning and moving and unpacking, but still. 93,784 minutes is a lot of minutes. My peak day was July 18, which checks out. That was moving day and I drove eight hours listening to podcasts, then spent another couple of hours unpacking the car and organizing things, so 643 minutes sounded about right.
I’m always a bit surprised when Spotify Wrapped comes out, to see what my top song was. For several years running it was, inexplicably, Midnight Train to Georgia, but this year it was Dog and Butterfly by Heart. Who could have guessed? Certainly not me.
The interesting thing about my top artists is that Wilson Phillips made it in there. There is only one song that I listen to of theirs, and that is Hold On. I feel like that says a lot about my mental state for the first half of the year. I had no idea I listened to that much TLC, but otherwise, I’m not terribly surprised.
I seem to be missing something in my brain – probably because it’s filled up with song lyrics – that allows me to create any kind of visual art. If, for example, you asked me to draw a car or a dog, I would be completely unable to. It would almost seem as if I had never in my life seen a car or a dog, but had only received a verbal description. Here’s a…tire? A dog has…a tail? It’s really bad and probably somewhat related to my inability to wrap gifts with any kind of normalcy. This past weekend we went to a party and I was asked to bring a veggie plate. My beautiful friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) sent me a few photos of Christmassy veggie plates, to see if I wanted to try to recreate one. I was a little nervous – as I said, this is not my forte – but after looking at the photos, and with strong encouragement from my husband, who suggested I try the absolute easiest one, I did it!
My husband, thankfully, made the star. I know I’ve seen a star shape but…?
Weekly Reading
I had a DNF this week; it was I Have Some Questions For You. I had started reading the e-book in September, and it just wasn’t captivating me, and I ended up not finishing it by the time it was due back at the library; I put it back on hold and thought I would finish it later. Well, it came in this past week and after another chapter or two I thought life is too short and I cannot waste any more time on this. This could be because I had just finished the below book.
The Invitation. By the time I got to this book, I was on a four-book meh streak. I thought this might break the streak; it’s a story about a woman in a loveless marriage having a one-night stand, and then the two lovers being inadvertently thrown together on a yacht in 1950s. Friends, it did not break the streak. Five meh books in a row.
You Could Make This Place Beautiful. Finally! The streak of meh books was broken! Thank god. I don’t think I could have taken another one (my DNF was right before this one). Anyway, I loved this author’s earlier book, Keep Moving. I read it in the thick of the pandemic and whoa nelly, did it ever resonate. What I didn’t know (or maybe I forgot?) is that she wrote Keep Moving while going through an absolutely terrible divorce, and this book, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, is about that divorce. Her prose is absolutely gorgeous and can I just say that a toxic marriage and dreadful divorce make for very good writing material – as one of her friends said, at least you’re a writer so all this material isn’t wasted. Isn’t that a silver lining? I love dark humour and I loved this book.
Shelley: Also Known As Shirley. I first read this book in 1987; I was at my grandparents’ house, bored, and helped myself to my grandma’s paperback collection in the basement. I had never seen or heard of any movie Shelley Winters had been in, and in fact I didn’t even know who Shelley Winters WAS. But I have always been interested in women’s and girls’ stories only, and this was one of the few books about a woman. Well! You can see how many times I read this book over the years, because it completely fell apart. I haven’t read it for a long time though, and so I thought I’d revisit it to see how it holds up. IT HOLDS UP! This is one juicy autobiography, and wow, did she ever live an interesting life! As a child she lived in tenements in Brooklyn; when she was about nine her father’s haberdashery shop burned down and he went to prison in Sing Sing for arson. It was a wrongful conviction, so he got out after about a year but sunk into a deep depression. By the time Shelley (then Shirley) was 14 she dropped out of school, got her working papers, and organized a strike at the Woolworth’s she worked at, which led to all the Woolworth’s in the five boroughs being unionized! She became a model, acted in Broadway and off-Broadway plays, was discovered by Harry Cohn and ended up in Hollywood. Oh, and she got married to a man who was in the air force. He came home from the war and they got divorced, and this all happened by the time she was NINETEEN. If that wasn’t enough, she had so many interesting friendships and affairs, going on a publicity tour to Europe while engaged to a costar, and ended up meeting and marrying Italy’s biggest star, Vittorio Gassman while she was there. Later they had an absolutely explosive divorce while starring in an Italian film. This book HAS IT ALL. Wow, what a fun, star-studded read!
I know I talk about Costco with exasperation a lot, but here’s where it pays off: it’s kalette season again! I consider myself to be an unpaid Kalette Influencer; if you see them, just know that they are a life-changing vegetable that is here for a good time, not a long time. So have a good time, the kalettes won’t shine every day! xo
I don’t usually leave my Favourite Things until the last day of the month, but here we are! November is an underrated month, in my mind. It’s the month of Tiny Secret Festive Season and Christmas shopping, it’s preparing holiday cards and baking gingery things. It’s Mint Chocolate season, which is my favourite of all the flavours, and it’s the month to start playing holiday music with abandon. There are so many happy things, that without further ado I bring you:
Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Gnomevember Edition
Gnomevember
One could argue that any month in the Boyhouse is Gnomevember, really, but if every month is a specific celebration of gnomes then perhaps no month is a specific celebration of gnomes, if you know what I mean. So when Michelle (HI MICHELLE) started talking about Gnomevember, I was clearly going to be all in. One of my favourite things this month is that Michelle’s dollhouse has now been overtaken by gnomes, and it is the most charming thing I have ever seen.
A few weeks ago I was getting the mail and there was a little package in there labelled Tiny Secret Festive Season, from my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON). She had sent me this little guy, who lights up, which is a desperately needed thing as the sunset is now at 3:59 pm. 3:59 pm!!! What will happen by Winter Solstice? I’ll be lighting this guy a lot, that’s what.
He was in a plastic bag, with a note “Help, help, I can’t breathe,” which was the most delightful little surprise. Obviously I saved him.
The very next day my sweet friend Sammi (HI SAMMI) came by for a visit, and with her came this guy:
If I wasn’t overwhelmed enough with the kindness and love of my dear friends, this arrived in the mail from the beautiful and talented Suzanne (HI SUZANNE).
And, of course, my old Christmas gnomes have set themselves up on the kitchen windowsill.
Am I actually living in a full-sized version of Michelle’s dollhouse? MAYBE! Dreams do come true, people, and my home is happily gnome-tastic.
Brace Yourselves
I had received a number of questions about my bracelets, and so I wanted to show you my Christmas one. I wear it from November 1 to January 1, and it just brings me so much joy.
The bangle itself is engraved The Best Is Yet To Come which is a really lovely sentiment. A few of the charms are also engraved: the gingerbread man says Life Is Sweet, the mistletoe says Meet Me Under The Mistletoe, and the snowflake scene says, appropriately enough, Merry Christmas. Each charm was a gift from either my husband, the boys, or my parents.
A few years ago, I had trouble with the clasp spontaneously opening up, and sometimes I’d find that a charm had slipped off it, usually, and kind of depressingly, into my dish glove. But December of 2021 I was out shopping; there was a ton of snow, I was wearing my warmest coat and gloves, I was in and out of the car with my mask on, and everything felt just uncomfortable. I don’t wear a mask anymore, but I clearly remember the awkwardness of it, especially in winter with all the clothing layers and going in and out of the minus 20 weather. Anyway, I got home from groceries and errands, and noticed that my bracelet had unclasped and my cute little snowman charm, a gift from the boys, was missing.
It was December 2021, people. I think we all remember what that time was like. Everything felt challenging and depressing, it was the second pandemic Christmas, we were heading into yet another lockdown, my kids’ schooling was weird and constantly interrupted, and my missing snowman was the last straw. I sat on the floor and sobbed. I sobbed like a small child forced to sit on Santa’s lap against her will. I sobbed like a small child forced to interact with a clown at a birthday party, and then later losing the balloon that said clown had foisted upon her to reduce the sobbing.
I retraced my steps, including those to the snow-covered London Drugs parking lot, to no avail. And you might think there is a happy, snowman-charm-related ending to this story, but you will notice that there is no snowman on the bracelet. This is not about the snowman. My favourite thing is that my younger son, aged 16, went to the Pandora store in the mall on December 23 of that year to see if he could replace it. The thought of him, with his friend who was just our houseguest two weeks ago, being at the Pandora store looking for a snowman charm for his mom brings me more happiness than even that charm could. He was unable to replace it as the snowman charm had been, as they say in Pandora-speak, retired. Over the past two years the guys have looked for a snowman multiple times, only to be told either no longer exists, or that they could buy the snowman from the movie Frozen, which, I am sorry to say, is a subpar snowman and one which I do not wish to have.
Anyway, I love this bracelet for the two months of the year that I wear it, it brings me so much joy and happiness, and I will just hold the snowman memory in my heart.
Drink And Be Merry
With the exception of 2020, we have seen my husband’s cousin and her husband (HI DARCY AND DEREK) around Christmas every year, and they share my great love for Christmas Vacation. Last year they gave me these fabulous stemless wine glasses:
Years ago, knowing also my great love for Buddy the Elf, they gave the boys each a mug with hot chocolate mix and marshmallows; I have coopted these for my morning coffee:
Play That Christmas Music, White Girl
Almost universally, I love Christmas music. I love the classical and instrumental, I love churchy hymns, I love modern pop songs, midcentury ones, and everything in between. The only song I really strongly dislike is Wonderful Christmastime, which puts me on edge like you would not believe. My son would also like to tell you, dear reader, that in the Boyhouse we also loathe songs that feature out-of-tune children, such as Two Front Teeth, but I am pretending that such songs don’t even exist.
One song that I love so much that I have an entire playlist devoted to the original and all of its covers is Last Christmas. I play it on the piano. I sing it to myself in the shower. I can never, ever get enough of it.
Other favourites include Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, Santa Baby, Baby, It’s Cold Outside (I KNOW BUT I LOVE IT), and Driving Home For Christmas. I always, always cry when I hear White Wine In The Sun, so may I recommend it to anyone who would enjoy a nice cathartic holiday cry? Ditto with River.
On the more modern side, I absolutely LOVE N’Sync’s Merry Christmas Happy Holidays. Although, now that I have said “modern,” I should probably check when it was released…okay, well, it looks like it came out in 1998. Huh. I also love Underneath the Tree by Kelly Clarkson, and that was released in 2013, so I’m within a decade. THAT IS MODERN ENOUGH.
Here Baby, There Mama, Everywhere Daddy Daddy
I have an important hair update for you! This past weekend marked exactly one year since I started taking Nutrafol for hair loss, and I can tell you it has made a huge difference. My hair no longer falls out in big clumps. I am no longer cleaning handfuls of hair out of my hairbrush or unclogging the drain. I wish I could say this was a sponsored post because that shit is EXPENSIVE, but alas, I am paying for it myself. The expense is worth circumventing my eventual nervous breakdown due to balding, and so I will keep it up.
I do have one teeny tiny grievance about this Favourite Thing, and that is my roots. The first week after I colour my hair, I am in love with myself and my reflection. The second week, as my white roots come in and I have a halo around my face, I toy with the idea of just letting it go, colour-wise. I think about my many friends who have embraced the grey and who look absolutely fabulous, and I think, hey, that could be me! The third week, I begin a descent into despair, becoming increasingly unhappy with not only the colour, but also the texture of my roots. Before four weeks have passed, I have a headful of hair colour and a timer set.
The problem, as I see it, is that my perimenopausal menstrual cycle is now, and has been for a while, three and a half weeks at best, and somehow this has synced up with my hair colour cycle. My extreme dissatisfaction with my hair and general appearance perfectly correlates with the days leading up to my period, and although I would like to break this cycle, I cannot. I am trapped in a problem of my own making. I am a snake eating my own tail.
That said, as with all the privilege in my life, I feel I cannot complain. Can a person take an incredibly expensive supplement for hair growth, and then complain about the hair growth? No. That is ridiculous. So I embrace my boxed hair colour. In any case, if you are curious, Nutrafol really has worked for me, and I had a grandmother who actually wore a wig, so let me tell you, genetics are not on my side, people.
Outfit of the Month
Some families have matching pajama sets on Christmas Eve, but in the Boyhouse, we have WWE Christmas sweaters for Decorating Day.
If you haven’t been around for the past two Christmases, I will fill you in: the guys bought WWE sweaters post-Christmas 2020 for 80% off, and I resisted strongly getting one of my own, for reasons which I feel are obvious. However, as the year went on, I started to feel a little left out about it, and so my husband looked into buying me a sweater. By that time, there was only one woman’s sweater at 80% off; the rest were at regular price, and regular price was far too high for me to want to spend. The one discounted sweater was cute enough, but it was only available in a size that was six sizes larger than the one I normally wear. My choices were a comically large but inexpensive sweater, or one that fit properly but was ridiculously costly. I suppose I could have gotten a men’s sweater, but I believe in lifting up other women, even if the women in question are lifting each other up only to body slam them in the ring.
You can clearly see my Scottish heritage, in my extremely oversized sweater. Anyway, the point is that Decorating Day is a Big Deal, and so we all wear them for the festive occasion.
It’s been a really great November – STILL NO SNOW, YOU GUYS – and now it’s time to bring on December! Do you have anything you’ve loved this month? Tell me everything. xo
I have been having such a strange cognitive dissonance for this entire month. My brain knows it is November. The short amount of daylight indicates it is November. And yet my body seems to think that it is the end of September; perhaps, at best, the beginning of October.
I blame the weather. There is no snow, it is very mild, and there are still leaves on some of the trees. After a lifetime in Calgary, in which November is firmly a Winter Month, I’m finding it strange to still be in fall. I have to keep reminding myself of the date, and that December is THIS WEEK.
I did kick it into high gear last week, finishing my cards and making a few festive treats:
And of course, this happened:
I love our style of tree decorating, which is crazy and maximalist. Putting up the tree is a Whole Family Affair around here, and it’s always so fun to see all the ornaments that we have amassed over the years. It was especially fun this year, with finding places for decorations in the new house.
We add at least one new ornament to our tree each year and it usually says something about our lives. When the boys were little my parents would also give them ornaments that complemented their then-current obsessions, which means our tree features everything from tractors to Star Wars characters. It’s a fun trip down memory lane, is what I’m saying, and although it wouldn’t win any decor awards, I love it so much. When it comes to Christmas decorations, more is more, in my humble, festive opinion.
I was delighted to discover a Christmas store in Maui – sadly, I have no idea if it is still there, as it was on the main street in Lahaina. Anyway, I purchased an ornament for the whole family and one specifically for Rex.
Speaking of Big Silly, he was temporarily sporting a new look this week.
Poor puppy! I’ll spare you the details but he had a bit of an infection on the top of his paw, and although he was clearly in no pain and has his usual level of Big Energy, wearing a giant cone was an adjustment. He could not fit into his crate with his cone on, he constantly bumped into everything, and we are all realizing how often he affectionately smushes his face into our legs, as we now had a cone enthusiastically nudging our bodies dozens of times a day. Usually his frantically wagging tail is what accidentally knocks things over, now we have been constantly on guard for both ends.
It’s like living with the big guy at the party wearing a lampshade on his head, all the time. We took him for his one-week follow-up, and he bounded out of the car and enthusiastically jammed his cone against the window of the hair salon next to the vet, to the immense merriment of everyone inside. Then, he pulled enthusiastically to get in the actual vet, and if you’ve never had to corral an excited 97 pound dog in a small waiting room space who has noticed friends, there are dogs here, ahhhhh, never mind that those dogs are sick and scared and not at all interested in being greeted by him, well, you don’t know excitement. “Rex has arrived!” the cheerful receptionist said, speaking volumes. He jumped onto the scale, over and over, remembering how he got treats to be weighed, and we should all be so enthusiastic when faced with such an opportunity.
In an only somewhat futile attempt to keep his paws clean, I have been avoiding the dog park and the adjacent Golden Mile this week, instead walking him along Lakeshore Road and up through the urban landscape that is beside one of the main thoroughfares in the city.
Am I even living in a city? I don’t know anymore. There are cows down the street from the library, people. Do not get me wrong, I love that there are orchards and vineyards and livestock in the city limits, I do love it. It’s so pretty and peaceful, even if Rex does think that the myriad fields with cows and horses are full of friends to play with and bark at, which makes it quite a bit less peaceful.
Weekly Reading
Sure I’ll Join Your Cult. I had heard about this book on a podcast and it sounded quite funny. Well. Sometimes a person is a great oral storyteller but it does not translate to the written page. This is ostensibly a comedy memoir about the author’s mental health struggles, but it was so damn depressing I barely could read it.
The Dead Romantics. This book is a creative mix of love story, ghost story, and family story: a girl who grows up in a funeral home and who can see ghosts goes home for her father’s funeral, where she falls in love with…a ghost. It’s not my taste at all, and honestly, I thought it was too long, and it dragged for me, but I give it points for originality.
Thankfully Rex’s paw healed by the time we put the tree up, and so the cone has been removed. Not that he seemed to mind it; whenever we’d say “You need to be a flower now!” he would sit at our feet and wait for us to put his cone on. However, a cone and a Christmas tree seemed like a recipe for Festive Disaster, thankfully averted. I did briefly get him into his Santa outfit, before he pawed the hat off his head and tried to eat it. I hope your week felt equally festive and included delicious, non-hat things to eat. xo
A woman was stocking the organic bananas in Superstore, and so I waited patiently as she unloaded. She gestured to me to go ahead, choose your bananas and then looked a bit shocked as I piled thirty or so into my cart. “Do you run a group home or something?” she said, puzzled. “Is that why you have so many bananas?”
I’m not sure why her mind immediately went to “group home” but it was more interesting than the joke the cashier made about keeping my pet monkey happy. This was, coincidentally, the same cashier whose nonagenarian father was in the hospital, and so I asked about him. It was his appendix, apparently, not his gall bladder, which surprised me as I never think of the ninety-something set having appendix issues; neither did my cashier, who casually informed me that her appendix was removed without her consent, back when she had her hysterectomy thirty years ago.
Not everyone loves bananas or conversations about uterine health and questionable medical ethics with their grocery cashier, but I do.
There have been a number of blog postslately in which theauthor discusses things that she wished she liked, but does not, (HI SUZANNE, HI ELISABETH, HI STEPHANY) and it occurred to me that nothing falls into that category for me. There are many things in the world I dislike, or don’t want, or outwardly loathe, but I don’t wish that to be different. I consider these things to be part of my The World Is A Tapestry mindset, and also, secretly, that life is a zero-sum game and if I loathe pie, for example, it frees up the worldwide supply of pie for others to enjoy.
Before I get too involved, let’s recall my number one pet peeve, which is right up there with not returning shopping carts: the stating of a negative subjective opinion as objective fact. In other words, the statement that something is bad when that is objectively untrue; rather, that something is disliked, or not wanted, or outwardly loathed by an individual person, and for the purposes of this discussion, that individual person is me. Just because bangs do not suit my face or hair type does not mean that they are bad; they may be unsuitable for me, but I have many friends for whom they not only work, they look fabulous. I’m looking at you, Allison (HI ALLISON).
Often I find myself interested in things that others have but that I do not want in my own life; I will never get a tattoo, for example, nor will I have a cat in my home. Many people find facials and massages to be indulgent and relaxing, but the mere thought of either of those things make me instantly tense and anxious. I have a strong aversion to onions and the thought of biting into a soft, cooked apple revolts me almost as much as the mere mention of celery. I dislike true crime books and podcasts, speculative and dystopian fiction, and if anyone so much as gives me one Thoreau quote, my blood pressure spikes. I have never seen a single episode of Star Trek, Cheers, or any daytime soap opera. I haven’t smoked pot or cigarettes for over thirty years and I have no interest in either thing, no matter how trendy marijuana products are now.
Speaking of trends, the word on the street is that skinny jeans are dead. Dead! No one is wearing them anymore, by which I mean the youth of the world. The trend right now is to wear enormous, wide-leg, baggy jeans with tiny crop tops and people, I have seen this trend before. I have worn this trend before. I was a young woman in the 90s and I spent a great deal of time in that decade wearing such jeans, with a wide belt on my teeny-tiny waist, paired with a very small crop top. I will tell you this right now: I am 5’7″, with fairly long legs, and at the time of which I am speaking, I had a cute little hourglass figure. Even so, I look back on those photos and a yeeeeee sound emits from my mouth. It did not look good. This is a trend I will never revisit, because it didn’t look good then and it sure as hell will not look good now, the least reason for which is that I do not feel that I am in a place in my life to wear a wide belt and a crop top.
But Nicole, you might be saying to yourself, there are other modern cuts of jeans that do not include the enormous legs. You might be referencing straight leg jeans, and let me tell you, I tried to hop on that bandwagon, and never has a pair of jeans made me feel so frumpy. I purchased not one but two different styles of straight legs, and the only way I can wear them without feeling like my own grandmother, if my own grandmother actually wore jeans, which she did NOT, is to cuff them up above the ankle and then pair them with ankle booties. I feel like I did in 1991, when I was wearing floral babydoll dresses with army boots while many of my peers embraced the grunge look with abandon. I am as likely to wear straight leg jeans uncuffed as I am to wear outsized plaid flannel shirts with corduroys, which is to say, not likely.
They look cute with ankle boots, I swear. I’m not just embracing my inner Milhouse.
Here’s the thing about skinny jeans: I like the way I look in them. I like the way I feel in them. I recently spent a lot of money on Mott and Bow jeans, and they were worth every penny for their comfort and stretch without bagging.
They look painted on, but they are so comfortable.So comfy I can sit in lotus! Find me another pair of jeans that can manage that.
Also, I love a tall boot and there is nothing so good on my body as a skinny jean with tall boots.
The only other jean type that I think suits my body type is a flare, but I really only think they look good with a nice stacked heel; I rarely wear heels anymore, and so I embrace the skinny jean. You might think I’m making too much of footwear, but we all know that footwear can make or break an outfit. Let’s just consider the powersuit of the 80s, paired with white running shoes for commuting. I rest my case.
I embrace the skinny jean, and here’s the thing about them being off-trend: I do not give a fuck. This is a supreme privilege of aging: I do not have to give any more fucks about any clothing trend. I am almost fifty and the amazing thing about being almost fifty is I could not care less about being on-trend. I can be out of style and no one cares, least of all me. I want to wear what I want to wear, and I don’t care if it makes me look dated or out of style. This obsession with keeping on trend with what young people are wearing seems to be a new idea. I do not think women of earlier generations thought that they should be wearing the same thing as their daughters, or granddaughters. Did my mother look at twenty-year-old me and think wow, I have to get a baby tee and wear it underneath a floral sundress? No! She did not! Our mothers were wearing their slacks and crisp blouses and blazers and they looked absolutely wonderful. I am thrilled to leave youthful fashion to the youth. I mean, am I going to look at my niece and think you know what would look great on me, ruffles and ruching a la granny chic. No! Because when you’re almost fifty, granny chic just makes you look like a granny, and honestly, I can wait a few years before I tackle that era.
Here’s the other thing about the idea that we should all throw out our skinny jeans and replace them with straight-or-wide-leg-or-whatever-is-on-point jeans: WHAT THE FUCK. With everything we know about fast fashion and the incredible landfill waste that is old clothing, why would anyone just toss out all their perfectly serviceable clothes just to get new ones? And of course I’m not talking about getting rid of clothes that no longer serve you because they are the wrong size or fit or, in my case, you have worn them for so many years that they are falling apart. You should always feel beautiful in your clothes. What I am talking about is this consumeristic view that just because something is not in vogue, we need to replace it.
And so I will step onto my denim-covered-soap box with a raised fist, saying WEAR WHATEVER JEANS YOU WANT. Or wear no jeans at all! Wear what makes you happy! As a middle aged woman I say fuck the trends, dress for yourself, live your clothing truth.
Weekly Reading
These Precious Days. This is a reread for me; when I first read it, I thought it was the best book of essays I had ever read. On the reread, it is STILL the best book of essays I have ever read! Every essay has a common thread, and that is that life is so precious. Friendship, marriage, family, and shopping are all written about, and I loved every single essay. I also found it fascinating when she wrote about her writing process. She writes each chapter until it’s perfect, then moves on to the next one. It sure works for her.
Prom Mom. Have you ever wondered what happens to people who achieve notoriety at a young age? Have you ever wondered about girls who don’t realize they are pregnant until they go into labour? Then this novel is for you! The year is 1997 and a 16 year old girl has a baby on prom night, alone in a bathroom. When she is discovered, passed out from blood loss, the baby is dead. (I have logistical questions about this, specifically regarding the cord cutting, but let’s just move along for the sake of the story). Her date never checked on her, in fact he kind of ditched her at prom. They reconnect 22 years later, and he is on top of the world: wealthy and successful, with a beautiful, wealthy and successful life. Lots of twists and drama in this book, and the latter part takes place in the pandemic (it was written in 2021, and wow, it shows). The pandemic part really encapsulates how we were all feeling at that time, thinking about vaccinations and how everything would be just fine once we all got them. Ha! Anyway, it’s an pretty twisted and fast-paced read.
Late Bloomers. This was a very heartwarming read, although I spent a large chunk of the book strongly disliking 3/4 of the main characters. I don’t think I ever totally warmed to two of them, but it was a very sweet book about a family in which the parents split up after 36 years of marriage. All of the family members have their own secrets that they are hiding; even picture perfect situations and people have their issues, often hidden. It is a nice quick read with some very funny parts.
*****
Circling back to jeans, those of you who have been with me a very long time, meaning over a decade, might remember my 2012 diatribe about skinny jeans and how reluctant I was to give up my low-rise, boot cuts. What can I say, once I was in, I was all in on the skinny jean. And perhaps in 2034 I will be railing against another style of pants which I will later adopt, perhaps some kind of slacks? Who can say what the future will bring, all I can say is that I have a fun and festive week ahead of me, and I hope you do too. xo
