Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Wake Me Up When September…Wait, September Is Ending Edition

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What a month September has been; oddly enough, it simultaneously feels like it flew by, and that it was three months long. We packed so much in, and now my already tenuous sense of time is completely warped. Everything already feels like it happened so long ago. Was it only three and a half weeks ago that my older son moved out? Were my parents really here only last Monday? Was my husband’s retirement party only one week ago today? Was my younger son’s 18th birthday less than two weeks ago? Did I get Rex groomed two and a half weeks ago and his clean fur lasted only two hours? Yes to all of those things.

I have been in Kelowna for two and a half months now, and I have to tell you, I really love it here. I am a person who really loves being outside and who enjoys the beauty of nature, and Kelowna is really gorgeous, with pretty much perfect weather. Even when it rains, it’s beautiful. I mean, look at this double rainbow I spotted from my window this week!

My husband, who grew up here, always said that September was his favourite month. For me, growing up in Calgary, September was a bit of a gamble; the leaves could be still beautifully coloured, on the trees, or they could be blown off in a massive windstorm, resulting in naked trees until the following May. The days could be sunny and warm, or they could be cold, windy, and possibly snowing. There was no telling what the week could bring; too long, didn’t read, wear layers, make sure the winter coats are at the ready. But here, September means cool, crisp mornings with sunny, warm afternoons. We’ve had some rainy days, but the temperature is still so mild that an unlined rain jacket is all that is needed. Some of the trees are changing but many are still green. It’s just full of beauty, and I am really happy here.

You never know, right? You never know what a new place is going to be like until you’re in it, and certainly there have been some adjustments to be made – I spent a lot of time on my yoga mat, meditating in a what lens am I viewing this through, we can control our own responses but not other people kind of way – but I’m happy with our move, and I wanted to share some of my favourite things about this month.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Wake Me Up When…Wait, September Is Ending Edition

To Market, To Market

Kelowna is a hotbed of fruit and vegetable production, and this time of year is just rife with so much fresh produce. There are what are called Farm Markets on every corner, it seems, which sell all manner of local goods. I have discovered my favourite one and I visit there weekly to get the freshest local fruit you can imagine.

McIntosh apples have been in abundance this month, my favourite apple. Tree ripened fruit, sign me up! Also, my favourite Farm Market is selling kale at $5 for two bunches, and those bunches are absolutely enormous. Like, Fill Up All Available Lidded Bowls enormous.

It’s Gourd Season, motherfuckers! Decorative and otherwise.

Pumpkins for DAYS, people, and all locally grown. Listen, for a Calgary girl who has never successfully grown a gourd, this is pretty incredible.

My older son was over for dinner, and upon seeing my bowl he said “It’s Decorative Gourd Season already?” Usually I wait until October, but these little cuties were too good to pass up, and only $0.75 each!

Looking Out My Back Door

One of the most incredible things about living on a vineyard is actually living on a vineyard. Most of the grapes are used by the winery above us, but there are a few rows of Concords and Sheridans, and I do not think I will ever get tired of stepping out the back door to snip myself a snack.

There is a short window of Concord Grape Eating, Before They Get Too Soft, and I am doing my best to keep up.

I Didn’t Want To Love You

One strange, possibly surprising little quirk about me is that when it comes to beauty products, I absolutely hate free samples. I think they are wasteful and environmentally unfriendly, in their tiny little packages, as well as useless. How can one tell if a product is going to work for them from one use? In my mind, most products need to be used consistently to see results, one dab of cream or hair mask is just not going to cut it. I am a product monogamist and I’m not interested in trying things willy-nilly. Why would I engage in a one-night stand when I’m happily married? Does the one-night stand understand how important Top Gun is to me and will possibly don a flight suit? No? Then I am NOT INTERESTED.

So when I got a notification from the Nutrafol people that I was receiving a sample of shampoo and conditioner in my spring shipment, I was annoyed, and resigned myself to either donating or angrily throwing out the sample. What I didn’t realize until the shipment arrived was that they sent me full-size bottles to try. Well! That’s different.

Here’s the thing: Nutrafol alone is already expensive, although I can tell you right now it really does work for hair loss. This is not sponsored, obviously, nothing is for sale on this blog although, if Nutrafol DID sponsor me, I would totally take it, we all have our price, but what I’m saying is that it works. I have been taking it for ten months now and my hair is significantly thicker.

But it’s expensive, especially for Canadians who are not only swimming against the exchange rate, but also have to pay international shipping. The last thing I wanted to do was add ridiculously pricey shampoo and conditioner to my already burgeoning hair budget. Listen, Nutrafol is not dumb. They are a 1970s cocaine dealer, giving me a couple of bumps before I take my platform shoes and sparkly jumpsuit to the dance floor, only to have me coming back to them, wrecked and desperate, with mascara smudges and missing a shoe, weeks later. The first one is free, and then all goes to hell.

What I’m saying is that this shampoo and conditioner is really, really good. In combing out my wet hair, perhaps one or two strands are left in my comb. The scent is gloriously citrusy, and my hair is bouncy and healthy-looking. I am still using my free bottles, and I haven’t decided if I will purchase more when they are gone; I keep hoping that they’ll send me more for free. I will keep you posted, and in the meantime, I’ll toss my hair around while grooving to Get Down Tonight.

The Eyes Have It

Speaking of product monogamy, long-time readers will know that I have exclusively used Maybelline’s The Falsies Lash Lift mascara for years, and before that, The Falsies. If it isn’t broke, let’s not fix it. It works great, it washes off easily, and although I don’t think anyone would mistake my eyelashes for actual falsies, I am happy with them.

Since I love this line so much, I was tempted when I saw that The Falsies has a new product, called The Surreal. I decided to give it a try.

I don’t think the end result is very different from the Lash Lift – and both are superior to The Falsies, in my mind – but the Surreal seems much less prone to smudging. It seems to last a lot longer without giving raccoon eyes, which is an important consideration, particularly for those of us who just naturally seem to have raccoon eyes and bags underneath that should be really checked in at the airport, rather than carried on.

The downside to less smudging is that it is a little bit more involved to remove – it requires a bit of extra effort, but nothing that I would consider a hurdle for purchase.

Outfit of the Month

As I mentioned in my last post, last Thursday was my husband’s retirement party, and I figured I would just wear one of my many little black dresses. When this was communicated to my husband, well, I won’t say he begged me to buy something new, that would be an exaggeration, but he strongly encouraged me to buy something new. I think his exact words were “For god’s sake, Nicole, stop being so fucking cheap! You can’t wear the same dress to every event for a decade!” WELL I NEVER. For one thing, I have NOT worn the same dress to every event for a decade, but I have reworn several of my dresses several times, and while I think that is great, and that I am not being fucking cheap but merely being in keeping with my own personal mindful consumption goals that were renewed after reading Unraveling, I do see his point. The dress I was planning to wear I purchased in 2014.

So I took a reconnaissance trip to the one mall in Kelowna, and found the perfect dress at the first store I went to, which is how I like to shop. Get in, get out.

Isn’t it cute? It’s a little lower-cut than I generally prefer, but it felt simultaneously sexy and classy. The heels I have had since probably 2014, and wow, am I unused to wearing heels. Our Uber driver let us off a block and a half from our destination to avoid us sitting in traffic for 20 minutes, and normally I would welcome the extra steps. NOT SO IN THESE SHOES. My feet felt like they were going to snap off at the ankles and I would have to tap tap tap my way into the event on my sheared-off ankle bones. Still, they went nicely with the dress.

That wrap dress wraps up all my favourite things from this busy, busy month! What are you loving in September? Tell me everything. xo

A New Chapter

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I was thinking a lot about the last chapter in A Tree Grows In Brooklyn this week, when Francie goes back and looks at her neighbourhood, wanting to remember it just as it was. This week I was in Calgary again, for forty hours, and it was so interesting to see it from new, non-resident eyes.

Even for a short trip, there is just so much to do to prepare, isn’t there? My parents drove back through to spend the night in Kelowna on Monday, and then Tuesday was a flurry of laundry and groceries for my younger son for the week, and taking Rex in to the boarder’s. Before I move on, let’s just acknowledge that everyone with pets knows the particular and unique stress of leaving their beloved fuzzball behind. I will say that Rex has done great with boarding in the past, but this is a new place, and I follow this place on Facebook, and was a little bit stressed and anxious when there were photos of the various dogs posted but not one was Rex. He’s THERE, right? I said to my friend Jen (HI JEN) who graciously hosted me and my husband in her home. Like, if he was dead or gone or sick they would have told me, right? Like I’m not going to get there Saturday and they are going to say “Oh sorry, Rex isn’t here, he died.” She assured me that IN ALL LIKELIHOOD I would have received at least a text if something dire had happened. My husband suggested I call to check in, but my thinking is that one should not ask a question if one is not prepared for all the answers. If he wasn’t well, what was I going to do? Be stressed and tearful for the remainder of the trip? This felt like the recent time that a woman was at my house for a social event, and I casually threw out a you’re okay with dogs, right? as my big buffoon wagged wildly. No, not really, she said, at which point I was completely at an impasse. What to do? Don’t ask questions if you don’t want the answers. Anyway, with regards to the pet resort, I took some ujjayi breaths and assumed no news was good news, and in the end, that was absolutely the case.

But back to the trip. My sister-in-law drove me to the airport so that I arrived two and a half hours before my fifty minute, domestic flight was due to leave, on my request, because I am secretly this guy:

My husband, let the record show, thought this was an insane move on my part, particularly since my flight got delayed, but let me tell you, it was incredible. I was travelling by myself, with no one else’s schedule to accommodate, the dog was safely being cared for by someone else, and I had nothing to do but read for hours and eat at Subway. What could be better, I ask you? I think I was the least-stressed person in the entire airport, as I was completely untethered and without any obligations or commitments. The people seated next to me on the plane were nearly hysterical as they missed or were probably going to miss their connections, due to the delay, but I was as zen as could be. What is time, anyway?

My husband picked me up at the airport, and the city was gloomy and cold and drizzly, and it turns out that after two months in small-city, slow-paced Kelowna I was unused to the massive traffic snarls in Calgary, but still in my zen state I was completely unbothered. The next day, though, YYC pulled out all the stops. September in Calgary can be really beautiful; the leaves were as yet still on the trees and were beautifully golden, and the sky was so blue.

I had an entire day at my own disposal while my husband and friend were at work and her kids were at school; I went for a long walk, alternating between looking at the cute little shops in Kensington and the cute little old houses in Hillhurst Sunnyside. I would never want to live in a pre-war house, what with the newspaper insulation, wonky electricity, lead pipes, and complete lack of closet space, but I love looking at those houses and imagining the lives of the people in them. I especially enjoyed looking at all the lovely tiny yards with gardens, particularly one that was filled with gnomes.

My people!

It was just so incredible to have a day in which I had absolutely no responsibilities, no one to take care of, and nothing to do. I was able to write, and read, and walk, and I still had many hours of the day left. I don’t know if I can adequately describe how therapeutic this was for me, after months and maybe even years of just frantic doing-ness, but I was filled with pure joy and contentment. It was fun to see Calgary through non-resident eyes, but I will say that I found it a little emotional – I used to take the kids to that park! Remember the wading pool! They loved this playground! – and I think it’s easier, now that they are adults, to NOT be where they grew up. I felt very Landslide-y, which I do not feel much in my new home. Maybe it’s the bandaid-ripped-off concept of changing every single thing all at once.

Speaking of changing every single thing all at once, there was a very special reason that I was in Calgary, and that is that I was attending my husband’s retirement party! My husband officially retired last Thursday, and I nearly bought him a t-shirt reading “I tried to retire but now I just work for my wife.” NEARLY. Anyway, there was an amazing dinner for him, surrounded by his colleagues who I have gotten to know quite well over the years, and it was a really wonderful experience.

The next day we drove our hostess-with-the-mostess out to Banff, to meet up with her husband and spend the night before heading home. We had just the best time with our friends, having drinks and dinner and then more drinks, walking through Banff and browsing through little shops. These are our friends who are more like family, who I love so very much, and it was so great to spend time with them. It was also great being in Banff; the larches were changing, the temperature was crisp but not terribly cold, the mountains were show-off gorgeous, and we were staying in the beautiful Rimrock hotel, which in itself a treat.

The following morning we drove back to Kelowna, and I pretty much wanted to just collapse from exhaustion, but we had tickets with friends (HI SAMMI) to see a performance of The Piano Man and The Rocket Man that evening. I am SO glad we went, it was so much fun to see a tribute to two of my favourite performers, and Sammi had booked us tickets very close to the stage, which was just great. The two of us girls bonded by crying through Candle In The Wind, which I would have been much more stoic about had they not flashed images of Princess Diana on the screen. My girl! The people’s princess!

The rest of the weekend was mostly just spent getting my life organized and put back together, and also spending time with Rex, who was not dead and who also seemed to really enjoy his new pet resort, even if they didn’t flood their Facebook page with his photos. What a missed opportunity for them! His smiley face could have been the best free advertising ever.

Weekly Reading

The Dutch House. First of all, Ann Patchett. What can you say about Ann Patchett except that she’s an absolute gift to this world. What an incredible writer she is. This book is one of the most satisfying and wonderful reads I have ever experienced and you guys, that is saying something. It’s an absolutely perfect book. It’s about family and home, the complexity of relationships and the responsibilities we take on. It’s about forgiveness, and rage, and how people change and yet somehow stay the same. I am absolutely uplifted by this book and also astonished at the sheer genius and quality of the writing. This was a work of art, and is everything I love about books.

It has, obviously, been a very action-packed, busy, fun-filled week, and I am looking forward to a calmer and probably more productive week. I hope you all are enjoying this beautiful month of September. xo

Dog and (Social) Butterfly

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Although I have seen all of the Feuding Dog Park Men separately a few times, I have not seen them all together since The Incident, and I’m able to give them a nod and closed-lip Mona Lisa smile without being drawn into conversation with any of them. I did, however, get knocked off my feet by a large hound who, inexplicably, came running full speed into the back of my knees. I actually had some air time before landing on my left hip and right elbow and I am going to be grateful for my sons for nagging me about strength training, because I broke nothing. My hip still hurts, a few weeks later, but my doctor’s warning about osteoporosis was not for nothing; I guess my bones aren’t crumbling, thanks to my loathed-but-practiced strength routine and, probably, calcium-rich smoothies. The owner of the hound, a slow-moving elderly man, was horrified and apologetic, and Rex will not let the hound get within ten feet of me. When that dog is at the park, Rex is by my side, barking and growling if the dog gets too close.

Other than that, Rex is very friendly and playful with all the dogs we meet, particularly a three-legged doodle delightfully named Trio, and an actual trio of Bernese mountain dogs. His people! He’s halfway to being part of the group! Also, imagine what that owner’s house, back yard, and monthly dog food bill looks like. God bless, is all I can say.

Speaking of his people, we saw Rex’s doppleganger, Willie the other day, and it was just as cute as the first time. Rex’s social life has been very good of late.

A loose goal that I had created for myself on moving here and starting a new life with very few constraints or commitments was that I would say yes to everything I could, in terms of social engagements and new experiences. So far, this has really paid off in meeting new people, reconnecting and deepening my existing friendships, and generally making my life a lot fuller and more fun.

The past ten days have been a whirlwind of social activity, including a Girl’s Night at my house, a party at which I went in knowing zero people but ended up having a great time, and a mid-week visit from my parents. Having houseguests, sandwiched by parties, has been very fun and feels like a holiday, with big meals and lots of wine and dessert. Now, am I tired today and possibly in need of a cleanse and a liver detox? Yes I am. Do I desperately need to catch up on regular life, including massive amounts of laundry? Yes I do.

After these years of pandemic living followed by several months of packing and moving stress, I feel like my social life, along with everyone else’s on this planet, has taken a massive hit. I recently stumbled across an article about how having kids ruins your social life, and it felt like reading about a whole different world, one I could barely remember, with small children and playgrounds and simmering resentment between parents and non-parents. Clearly I am not the demographic for the original piece, which was written by, I believe, a woman in her thirties living the New York child-free lifestyle, ruing the changes in her friendships, but I read the entire article nonetheless, with interest similar to that of a social anthropologist examining an exotic group of people.

I do think that having children does vastly change one’s social life, for the simple reason that it is very difficult to go anywhere or do anything with small children, but in a way it actually improves one’s social life, as it is so easy to meet people when you have similar-aged children. If I was a woman, like the article’s author, going out five days a week in New York City, clubbing and eating at new restaurants, having leisurely boozy brunches on Sunday mornings, then I would absolutely agree that children wreck everything. Imagine paying for a babysitter for all those parties and taking small children to a fancy brunch; that would be nightmarish and expensive. However, even in my twenties I wasn’t a person who went out clubbing five days a week and now, close to fifty, the idea of going clubbing at all sounds dreadfully exhausting. Maybe if the club started at 2pm and ended at 7 I would be interested, but I’m fairly sure no such thing exists outside of nursing homes.

All of which is to say it isn’t my children that have suffocated my social life; if anything, the vast majority of my Calgary friends were ones who I met simply by having kids in the public school system; there was always a committee or school trip that needed volunteers, and of course, I was friends with the moms of my kids’ friends. So I did wonder what would happen, moving here, when I didn’t have school aged kids or a yoga studio or any of my other Meeting People Situations to rely on, that I have had my whole life. I wondered if I would have a hard time meeting people but so far this has not been the case; I have already met so many fun and interesting people who have been open and welcoming. Perhaps they too are tired of Lame Pandemic Social Lives and are willing to embrace new people; it sure feels that way.

Weekly Reading

Hello Beautiful. I do not have sisters, so I have always been fascinated by sisterly relationships and dynamics. I also love a book that has complicated families and strong female characters, and I did like this book. However – and this is a Me Problem, not necessarily a This Book Problem – it is a modern retelling of Little Women, and I am NOT a fan of the modern retelling of anything, particularly when it comes to a beloved-by-me classic. I have read Little Women a few dozen times; it was a very formative book for me as a child, and I have reread it many times as an adult. And so I will say that this coloured the book for me, and not in a positive way. I felt like it tried to draw too many parallels to Little Women in too many obvious ways, although I did like the portrayal of the parents. Louisa Alcott’s father was much loved by her but famously useless; he was a friend of Thoreau (do NOT get me started on that guy, I cannot EVEN with Thoreau), and he burned through their money, necessitating Louisa’s very hard and constant work so he could basically Find Himself, and I felt that the fictional portrayal in Hello Beautiful was spot on. I also liked that the author took Marmee’s hidden anger and unhid it, in the portrayal of the girls’ mother. Overall I liked this book but didn’t love it, however, your mileage may vary.

My parents’ visit was timed to coincide with my younger son’s 18th birthday. I am officially a Mother of Adults, which makes me feel very Adultish myself. Landslide, etcetera. I read somewhere, years ago, that adolescence exists to help kids make the break into adulthood, but I think it must also exist to serve mothers too. I really loved – and still love, both boys are still in their teens – the teen years, and it’s an extremely satisfying feeling to know that I’ve shepherded them all this way and now I can step back. I mean, I guess I have been gradually stepping back throughout their adolescence, but it feels different now. Your children are not your children is something I think about a lot, especially these days.

So it truly feels like a whole new chapter, and there is more news to come after this week, which is going to be so hectic and busy. More about that later, and in the meantime, I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo

A Grave Mistake

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There are few graver mistakes in the acquisition of comestibles than visiting Costco on the Tuesday after a holiday Monday. It is a mistake I made this past week. How I could have possibly made such an error in judgement is beyond my comprehension entirely. Did I have a brain lapse? Did I forget how calendars work? Am I new to this planet? Who can say, but in any case last Tuesday I found myself questioning all of my life choices.

It didn’t even occur to me, what I had done, until I found myself in a lineup just to get into the parking lot, which was, itself, completely full. When I recounted this later to my husband, he said, Why didn’t you just turn around and come home? which actually did occur to me, at that point, but we all know how it goes. Sometimes, we just want to push through. Sometimes, we throw good money after bad. Sometimes, we think, this is going to be a mistake, but what the hell. Sometimes, we feel like we didn’t come this far just to get this far, and so I proceeded to the very far corner of the parking lot where there was one single spot left.

It will be great to get extra steps in! I thought optimistically, grabbing a cart from the carrel and heading in to what can only be described as incredible chaos. I have never seen anything like this, not even when, in a moment of demented confidence, I went to Costco on a Sunday afternoon. It was bumper-to-bumper traffic, but with carts. There were lineups to get to the cashiers that spanned the entire length of the store, blocking off entire aisles and making it impossible to move forward, and yet, it was equally impossible to move backward, so aborting the mission was not an option.

I inched forward to my destined aisles, one side of which were blocked off by the cash lineups, but it got so much worse when I discovered that the aisles themselves were filled with lines of people waiting to get free samples. I wondered if I would die there, surrounded by large-scale baking supplies.

Was it worth it, I asked myself. Was the Kirkland brand coffee and trail mix really worth it?

Well, we make decisions in our lives and then we live with the consequences of those decisions. And eventually I did make it out back out into the parking lot, I did make it back to the far corner where I was parked, and a spot was opened up directly beside me. A man in a truck pulled into the spot; his windows were opened so I could hear him exclaim There IS a god!

I laughed as he got out of the truck, and mentioned that his belief in the divine might be challenged once he got into the store, at which point he offered to take my now-empty shopping cart for his own use. I gratefully accepted the offer, which brings me to my main point.

Although I strive to live my life without casting aspersions or judgement on others, in one area I am as rigid as a steel pole, and that is with regards to people who do not return their shopping carts to the designated parking lot carrels. This is certainly not new information to anyone who has known me for even the smallest length of time; although I do think there are very occasionally extenuating circumstances that would excuse this behaviour, the vast majority of non-cart-returners are, I think we can all agree, atrocious people. Not returning a cart indicates either pure laziness or complete disregard for other people’s well-being, or a mix of the two.

One very interesting thing I that have noticed since arriving in Kelowna is that there are no errant carts in the parking lot. None! All of the carts are happily ensconced in their familial carrels, snuggled neatly up with one another, just like nature intended. Juxtapose this utopia with the Calgary Costco parking lots, where there would be at least a dozen carts scattered throughout the parking lot, parking stalls, and on top of the parking medians. I have always been a strong believer in the Invisible Hand Theory of Shopping Carts, in that people will behave in everyone’s best interest if there is an economic incentive involved which, in this case, is a coin-operated cart. To blend Smith with Hobbes, I would say without that incentive, parking lot life is nasty and brutish, although not particularly short.

I wonder now if I have been wrong all these years, and if my theory was location-specific, and not a global phenomenon. Are people less atrocious here? Is it the beautiful weather and scenery that makes people cheerfully return their carts? Is it all the local fruit and wine? Time will tell but at the moment, things seem paradisical, at least from a shopping cart perspective. They were less paradisical from an actual shopping perspective, but despite what messaging we Gen X women have been subjected to through our youth, we cannot have it all. I guess right now what I gain in shopping cart happiness I lose in shopping experience happiness.

Weekly Reading

The Stand-In. This was a cute and light romance with a big side of family and friendship. It concerns a Toronto woman who is a lookalike to a Chinese film star, and she becomes her stand in for public appearances when the film star has issues with anxiety and depression. Of course the appearances take place with her male costar, who is a dreamboat, and you can probably guess the rest. This book was fun but I thought it was about a third too long; some parts really dragged for me – and it’s a light romance, it shouldn’t drag! Anyway, the ending was well worth it, as feel-good endings go, so overall it was enjoyable.

I Feel Bad About My Neck. Recently Engie (HI ENGIE) asked if there was a book that made you feel seen, and this is one of them for me. This resonated even more so than it did when I first read it, five or so years ago. I love Nora Ephron and I love this collection of essays about aging as a woman. It contains one of my favourite lines ever: “Not having to worry about your hair anymore must be the secret upside to being dead.” Word. Something to look forward to, the next time I find myself contemplating my own demise whilst in Costco.

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. Speaking of Engie, I took part in a very fun blogger’s book club, hosted by her this summer, and this was the book we read. I had read it before, but many years ago, so there were many parts that I did not remember. It’s much sadder and a bit more scandalous than I remember, about a girl growing up in the tenements of Brooklyn in the 1910s. What I really loved about this book was its realism: in an autobiographical turn, Francie writes stories about her life for a school assignment and the teacher berates her for writing about ugliness in life. Francie is astonished, because she found beauty in all of life’s hardships. This is a beautiful coming-of-age book but it does have a lot of internalised misogyny, racism, and antisemitism; the language is typical of that place and time but it can be upsetting to modern readers. I first read this before I had children, and this time around I found myself simultaneously relating to and also judging harshly the decisions and feelings of Francie’s mother, Katie. It is well worth a read or a revisit. The final chapter is one of the most moving and wonderful feel-good chapters in any book. Francie looks around her neighbourhood before she moves away to go to college and thinks “…she knew she would never see it again. Eyes changed after they looked at new things. If in the years to be, she were to come back, her new eyes might make everything seem different from the way she saw it now. The way it was no was the way she wanted to remember it.” If you’ve ever visited your childhood home or places you loved as a child, you know this to be so true.

Speaking of old neighbourhoods, my Calgary neighbourhood friend Lyndsey (HI LYNDSEY) sent me this photo of my old house:

Do you see what that is in the front yard, beside the door? It is a shopping cart. According to Lyndsey, that cart has been there for weeks. I feel this is some kind of sign from the universe, but what it means I am not yet sure. If you have any theories, I would be happy to hear them, and in the meantime, I’ll leave you with a photo of my current neighbourhood Baloo, who I spotted on my way home from grocery shopping, heading down our neighbour’s driveway. xo

The Bear Necessities

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There are so many ways in which Younger Nicole would not recognize Current Nicole, and one of those ways has to do with animal care; specifically, I am now a person who brushes her dog’s teeth. Fourteen years with Barkley and it would have never occurred to me to have a tiny toothbrush and a tube of beef-flavoured paste; I just gave him a Greenie and called it a day. About six months ago, the vet told me that Rex had a fairly significant case of gingivitis and plaque buildup, particularly for a dog who was only TWO, and it seemed my Greenie routine was just not cutting it anymore. And so, every day in the late afternoon I brush his teeth using encouraging words like look at you, you’re so good, yay, and then I send him outside with a special dental treat to chew on. It’s pretty much the only time during the day he’s not within six feet of me for more than five minutes. He’s known as Mom’s Bodyguard for a reason, people, and that reason is that he doesn’t want me out of his sight for a moment, whether that be to shower or to refill a glass.

Last week he was out with his dental treat and I suddenly heard barking, which was very unusual, and the bark itself was very strange. I went on the deck to see what was up and lo and behold, not a hundred feet from me and just beside my mother-in-law’s yard was a huge black bear.

Well! That will get the heart pumping. I got Rex inside the house, and phoned my mother-in-law, who didn’t answer her cell or her landline. Finally when I saw the bear was gone I sent my son over to tell her the news. It turns out that she had been moving the sprinkler on her lawn, not fifty feet from the bear, but out of my sightline, completely unaware of the furry existence. I found the whole thing a bit stressful but after some REM Y REM, I came to the following conclusions: a) bear sightings are commonplace in this area, and will only be more so due to the fires, b) with all these sightings there have been exactly zero bear attacks on people or dogs over the years, and c) at this time of year bears are really only interested in maintaining and increasing their zaftig figures, so the likelihood of a bear turning away from the grapes to maul my dog is near zero, if not actually zero. We may have to revise c) in the spring, but let’s live in the present. Also, Rex was smart enough to stay near the house, rather than bounding over to see if there was a new friend who came to visit, which has been my worry since last fall, when my mother-in-law continuously sent a slew of texts with bear photos from the neighbourhood. Am I going to be living in the actual wilderness? I would think to myself, looking out the window to see Rex wandering through the fenced yard in my suburban oasis.

I have two very vivid, fearful memories from my early childhood, and the first is looking at a motion lamp my grandparents had that depicted a forest fire, like this one. I oscillated between fascination and fear, looking at that lamp, which I think we can all agree is a little bit weird. Home decor that showcases the devastation of a forest fire? I mean, it’s yet another reason I won’t watch Bambi. When I was in the first grade, there was a visit from firefighters who told us all about fire safety, and one, probably well-meaning but misguided firefighter casually mentioned that we all needed to have a exit plan in case of fire, since every single person will be involved in a fire in their lifetime. EVERY ONE OF US. Pro-tip: never tell a child something like this, particularly one with a vivid imagination. I spent many nights lying awake, planning the fire escape route from our bungalow, wondering when, exactly, I would need to put this plan in place. In my six-year-old mind, this fire safety visit meant that we were all going to die in a fiery inferno, perhaps soon, and thus began my lifelong fear of fire. With the exception of birthday candles, I will not light a candle in my house, so help me god. A few of the yoga studios I taught at had little tea lights burning all the time, and I would immediately extinguish them before starting class, so worried was I that someone would catch fire during a vinyasa. This fear wasn’t completely unfounded as once a woman came in to the lobby and the fringes of her scarf grazed a candle as she nonchalantly removed her boots, eliciting a very non-zen shriek from me, behind the desk, as I pummeled her scarf on the table.

The second fearful memory is very fuzzy, literally and figuratively, and has to do with a movie that must have been on television playing in the background while I dressed up my paper dolls, wondering if I could pair those heels with this skirt, or if flats would be better. This movie, which I have since deduced must have been the 1976 film Grizzly, featured a rampaging, human-eating grizzly bear. I would never have watched an entire non-Muppet-or-animated film as a child, but I clearly recall viewing a scene in which a woman and child were hiding in a cabin, ostensibly believing themselves safe from becoming dinner, when a bear claw slid underneath the cabin door. I’m sure it ended in their deaths, but at that point I stopped watching and just started screaming hysterically, probably to my long-suffering mother’s exhausted chagrin. Wasn’t she just playing with her paper dolls a second ago? That scene is so indelible in my mind that when I saw it again while babysitting years later, again on a background television, I gasped out loud and went to check on my tiny sleeping charge, just in case a grizzly slid its claw under the door to break it down, without my knowledge.

The rational, lived-the-vast-majority-of-my-life-outside-the-Rockies me knows there is a big difference between black bears and grizzlies, particularly Jaws, But Make It Bears, fictional kind of grizzlies. Chances are that our visitor is more Baloo than Murder Bear or Governor General Award-Winning Soft Porn Bear, but still.

As an aside: once again, what was happening in the Canadian literature world in 1976?

Anyway. Isn’t it funny that within only six weeks in my new environment, I have faced not one but two of my greatest childhood fears? If, as the lululemon shopping bag says, we should do one thing every day that scares us, I guess I am living my best life just existing here. What’s next? Is someone going to force feed me celery with peanut butter and raisins? I hope not. If anyone is going to eat Ants on a Log, it had better be our Baloo, and involve actual ants on an actual log.

Weekly Reading

An Unquiet Mind. This is a memoir of a woman who has her PhD in psychiatry…and suffers deeply from psychiatric illness. She is what is now known as bipolar disorder but she refers to as manic depressive illness (this was written in 1995). In fact, there is a whole section where she argues against the term bipolar. Anyway, she describes her psychotic breaks, her experience with lithium, and the ethics of treating psychiatric patients when one has a very serious, potentially debilitating mental illness. Some parts are fascinating, others really dragged for me, but mostly I thought it was an educational look into a first-person account of such an illness.

Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. I posed this question on Instagram to my fellow Sedaris fans: after reading Happy Go Lucky, do you find your rereading of his old essays to be…disturbing? What I mean is, any essay that mentions his father, I see it through a completely different lens, and believe me, even before Happy Go Lucky I found it weird that his father would walk around pants-less constantly, and comment on his daughter’s appearances. Anyway, I thought I’d reread this collection and I enjoyed it significantly less than before, and not just because it contains a few fictional essays, which I tend to dislike due to their over-the-top mean-spiritedness. A friend who had gone to one of his readings responded to my question, and said that you could see his mean-spiritedness come out in his interactions with his fans and with book signings, mental note, never go to a Sedaris book signing. Don’t get me wrong, the essays that hit really hit, and I did find myself laughing out loud at times. It was just less than before and had me wondering if I would feel this way about all his essays.

Calypso. I had to try it. I had to see if I would have the same reaction and I did not. I still love this collection, and the parts about his family – specifically his father and his sister Tiffany, who died by suicide – are moving and nuanced and thoughtful. This has always been my favourite collection and I’m glad it held up for me.

Same Time Next Summer. I really loved this author’s first book, so I was really disappointed with this one. I guess it’s the premise that I really disliked: woman goes back to her childhood summer home with her fiance, runs into “the one that got away,” The One being the guy she dated in high school. Maybe it’s because I just cannot relate; all of the relationships of my youth blew up so spectacularly that I could never fathom ever speaking to any of them again, let alone rekindling lost love. So I didn’t love the storyline and I didn’t love the weird little twists, and I especially didn’t like the fiance painted as the Stiff Wrong Guy who had Serious Opinions on things like wedding invitations and what kind of cake to serve. Show me a guy who has a real vision of what colour of napkins should be used at a wedding reception and I’ll show you a wedding planner. Anyway, your mileage may vary but I thought this was a very silly and trite romance, albeit a quick and easy read.

It’s been a very exciting week at the Boyhouse: my younger son started a full-time job last Monday, my husband came home from two weeks away, and my older son moved into residence at university. All wonderful things, and I’m looking forward to a busy week ahead. But first: enjoying a beautiful Labour Day! I hope you all are having a lovely long weekend. xo

How Come No One Else’s Chair Is Doing This

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In addition to thousands and thousands of song lyrics, my head is filled with quotes from various movies and television shows. Rarely these days do I watch a movie or television, or if I do, the plots or lines don’t stick with me, so most of these quotes are from popular culture dating back to the 80s and 90s. These quotes will pop into my head randomly, depending on the circumstances.

Whenever I feel like my internal emotional state does not match what is happening with the rest of the world, I instantly think of Groundskeeper Willie on a mechanical bull, saying “Ach! How come no one else’s chair is doing this?”

This is how I felt this past week, like everyone else has been sedately enjoying their beverages on regular chairs, and I am flailing around on a mechanical bull. And I want to point out that in no way am I a catastrophic thinker; I tend to be optimistic and feel that Everything Will Work Out, with, apparently, one exception, and that exception is possible interruptions to my children’s education.

I think perhaps I have some kind of low-level PTSD from school cancellations during the pandemic. I know many people did not mind online, at-home schooling, and some people even enjoyed it and saw their children thrive, but for our family, it was terribly detrimental and I still cannot think about that time without feeling fluttery panic in my chest. Just remembering the initial closing of the schools, which was something that I never before considered even a remote possibility, has me in full Riding The Mechanical Bull Mode.

Last Sunday my husband drove to Calgary, where he needed to be for two weeks for work. This is the longest we have been apart for the entirety of our marriage, but originally that was not going to be the case. The initial plan was that he would drive out, and then fly home to help my older son move to the university dorms this past weekend, and then fly back to Calgary for this coming week. This did not happen for two reasons, and the first was that due to the fires, most flights were grounded or cancelled, and we weren’t sure if he would be able to make it either here or back, and we didn’t want him stranded one way or the other. The second reason is that my son’s move-in date was postponed, again, due to the fires.

We had paid extra for our son to move in a week early, and then to participate in a special orientation week for first-year students. It looked like a lot of fun, and we really wanted him to have that experience, so it was very disappointing to discover that the week was cancelled and his move-in date postponed to this coming weekend. Do not get me wrong: I am happy to have him at home for an extra week and I realize that there are many worse things in the world than missing out on what is essentially a fun and fairly frivolous experience, but on hearing about the cancellation I immediately found myself on the mechanical bull. Everyone in the house, including my son, took this disappointment in stride, but I started thinking what if the university never opens back up, what if the fires just keep going and going, what if the whole university burns to the ground, what if he has to do online learning, what if after this whole gap year and his hard work to get into this program it is all for nothing, all for nothing, all for nothing, how come no one else’s chair is doing this.

Well. It’s fine. IT IS FINE. All signs point to a university start date eight days from now, and a single day of orientation, and it’s going to be FINE. Of all the disasters in the world this doesn’t even register on the disaster scale, it’s like trying to weigh a half cup of flour on a bathroom scale, it is miniscule. And yet.

My friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) sent me information on how wildfire smoke can affect not just a person’s physical, but also their mental health, and that really explained a lot, not just with me and my university panic, but with people I observed around me this past week. Mostly that consisted of people I see daily on the walking path and at the dog park, and let me stress that the vast majority of those people are absolutely lovely. However, there are some people who are, for lack of a better word, total weirdos.

These men – and they are all men – are constantly bad-mouthing other people and dogs to me and, I assume, other innocent bystanders. The feeling I get is a very unpleasant one of being recruited to take their respective sides, the likes of which I haven’t felt since my days as chair of the School Council/ Parent Association, when I would be pulled into multiple directions for such controversial and impassioned topics as Fun Lunch: Who Is In Charge, and Fresh Fruit Fridays: Yes or No. I do not like hearing from strange men that the black French bulldog is aggressive or that the brown mutt named Rigsby is out of control, even if those things do appear to be true.

I try to keep to myself, which, as we all know, really goes against my natural instincts. I can only assume that this weird five-way feud has been taking place since the beginning of time. I have definitely noticed that the dogs in question are sometimes poorly behaved and show aggressive tendencies, but because Rex has taken on the role of Big Friendly Buffoon in the dog park, no one bothers him, and I keep a smiley, but cool, distance from these men.

Last week in the height of the smoke, I entered the dog park and one of the usual men came right up to me and said, loudly, “Watch out for that German shepherd, he’s attacking ALL THE DOGS.” I looked at the German shepherd, who was calmly sniffing a tree, and his owner nearby who clearly overheard this, and I just nodded and said “Okay, thanks,” putting my earbuds in and walking the loop while Rex bounded around like the clown he is. While I was admiring Rex’s run-and-barrel-roll routine, I heard shouting and swearing, culminating in threats to get the fuck out of here before I make you wish you had. What. I watched this out of the corner of my eye, thinking that I was actually going to witness a physical brawl. The upshot of all of this was that the German shepherd owner allegedly did not scoop after his dog, and that person in question retorted that his dog had not defecated so there was no need to scoop, and a third person announced that he filmed the entire thing on his phone, including the allegedly defecating dog, and that he was going to send the video in to the local news station. Gross. I leashed up Rex and left the dog park.

I have not seen the Feuding Fellows since, and I did mention this upsetting altercation to a very nice woman at the park later in the week. “Ugh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know who you’re talking about. THOSE GUYS.” I had thought perhaps tempers were frayed and that could be blamed on the smoke and the negative impact it has on everyone’s mental and emotional well-being, but it appears they are just regular assholes.

Weekly Reading

This week’s reading is brought to you by Elizabeth Strout!

Anything Is Possible. The follow up to My Name Is Lucy Barton is a dive into all the people’s lives in the stories from the first book. It’s an incredible peek into family life, secrets, classism, and connections. I love it. It’s a reread for me and another book that I get more out of each time I read it.

Oh William! The third of the Lucy books, and this one deals with her relationship with her former husband. These books are so compelling to me, and so compassionate. This is another reread for me, but so worthwhile. I love how Strout writes about secrets and reveals character traits in such subtle ways. Gorgeous.

Lucy By The Sea. Finally! The reason for the rereads! I received this for Christmas and wanted to reread all the previous books before starting on it – I really recommend doing this, it is an excellent reading experience. This book delves into the pandemic and all the political and social things that happened during that time. Like all the books, it is about love and family, class and divides in society, and crossing those lines. This book did a great job of illustrating how we all felt during those early days of the pandemic: the feeling of things not being real, the inability to take in the news, the boredom and tedium of life when we couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. This was moving and emotional, and included characters from her other books, as Lucy and William experience lockdown in Maine. 

It’s the last week of August! I can hardly believe it. What a blur this summer has been. I am crossing my fingers and sitting in lotus for a smooth week ahead, and I hope you all have a good one as well. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The New House Edition

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First of all, thank you to everyone who has reached out to me about the fires. It means so much to have so many people thinking of me and my family. We are all safe and the situation has improved vastly. Tuesday morning I was walking Rex and I realized that I could smell air, not smoke, and I could see little faint patches of sky, and then Tuesday night it rained. Wednesday morning was beautiful and clear, and I was just so grateful.

It reminded me of when I injured my hip in 2019; after months of limping I swore I would never again take for granted the ability to move without pain, and I haven’t, and I feel like I will never take for granted the ability to step outside my house and take a deep, non-smoky breath. I am no stranger to smoky skies, but this was beyond anything I had experienced. When I washed my hair, the rinse water was a brownish tobacco colour, which was pretty gross. So I am ever grateful to all my friends, sending good thoughts my way and to the people in Kelowna.

Speaking of friends, one of my perennially favourite things is our blogging community. It’s such a supportive group of women who uplift other women, and on that note, Elisabeth (HI ELISABETH) had me guest post over on her blog. It was so fun answering all her questions, so please do go check it out.

And speaking of favourite things, it’s that time again! I thought it only appropriate to talk about our new house. You guys, it’s beautiful. It’s such a beautiful house. It was designed to our specifications; my husband worked really hard on all the details, and he got it all very right. I don’t think there is one thing that I would change, and there are so many things I love about it.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The New House Edition

Welcome To My Kitchen

Were you ever – or maybe are you now – obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder? I sure was, and as an aside, for those of you who love podcasts, may I suggest Wilder? Hard core Laura enthusiasts who have read Prairie Fires and Pioneer Girl won’t find much new, exactly, but it is a fascinating look at the real life of Laura, and it my reassures me that I’m not alone in my longtime feelings about Pa and his apparent mental instability, constantly putting his family at risk, illegally squatting in land that did not belong to him, and making bad decision after bad decision. Anyway, if you were also a Little House fan – the books, not the TV show – you might remember when Laura got married, Almanzo built her a kitchen with lots of drawers and shelves, saying that a fellow is a fool if he can’t keep his wife happy with ample storage space. Old timey sexism aside, I can appreciate this thought and I had it many times during the house build. My kitchen is a dream with So Many Drawers. It was modelled after my mother’s kitchen, with a narrow drawer for spices, a drawer for cookie sheets, and a hidden garbage and recycle drawer. I love it so much.

In addition to this gorgeous kitchen, I have a pantry! I have a pantry!

Across from the pantry are even more built-in storage cupboards, which hold liquor, kitchen linens, cleaning supplies, brooms and mops, and our many, many shoes and boots.

I am 100% sure my husband never read These Happy Golden Years, but he really Almanzo-ed it up with the storage situation.

Let There Be Light

Every room in the house has enormous windows, and I love all the natural light. We have a gorgeous view of the city, lake, and mountains beyond, and each window feels like it showcases a work of art. I especially love my early morning yoga practice, being able to see the sky lighten as I move through my asana.

I Want To Dress You Up In My Love

There is even a window in our walk-in closet, and YES! I have a walk-in closet!

I also have MORE built-in shelves for my clothes; after twenty-three years of cramming all my clothes into half a closet and a dresser, I am really enjoying having so much room, especially since I found my non-mouse-eaten bag of favourite sweaters.

Hello Mudder

While we are on the topic of clothes and shoes, I also have a mudroom that more than one person can be in at a time! There is space for shoes and coats and accessories, and I am here for it.

There is also a cozy reading chair that I like to curl up in, looking out the big windows at the world going by, such as it is, or at least at our neighbour’s barn.

The Laundry Never Ends, So Let’s Make It Nice

My friend Janet (HI JANET) was touring our house and said “You know you’ve arrived when you have a whole room for the laundry.” WORD. I have arrived! I love my new laundry room so much, and there are more built-in cupboards for all the linens, extra blankets, towels, and so forth.

Let’s Kiss and Makeup

One of the most exciting things about this house is that we have three bathrooms, and one of them is an ensuite, which I have never had before. It’s gorgeous with a big shower and, again, lots of space and light.

Best of all, I have my very own MAKEUP TABLE!

So you can see why I am in love with this house! Storage! Bathrooms! A dream kitchen! Light! NO ONE’S SHOES JUMBLED UP IN PILES ON THE FLOOR IN THE ENTRY WAY!

Outfit of the Month

The majority of August has been very hot, which makes getting dressed a breeze. Mostly I’m a skort-and-tank top girl, but we’ve had a few occasions where I wanted to be dressier, like on our first dinner party. But barefoot dressy, if you know what I mean. This is another Old Navy dress that I bought in 2017, so I do not feel guilty for fast fashion because I’ve had it for six years, and I will probably keep it for at least that long, to my husband’s great dismay. He thinks I should update more frequently, but I do, which is why I needed all that storage space. It’s not a “one in, one out” situation in the Boyhouse, let me tell you. Anyway, I tend to prefer shorter dresses but I love the length for entertaining; I can bend over to grab things or sit with my feet tucked up without traumatizing my guests.

Lots of things to love this month, and of course, many more Favourite Things to come about my New Life! What did you love this August? Tell me everything. xo