Five For Friday: Nature, New Things, and No Soliciting

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  • New Dishes. I have a very loose, “let’s see how this goes” goal of making one new thing for dinner each week, or, trying one new recipe. These are two different things as I am notoriously poor at following recipes when it comes to dinners. I am essentially one of those people who I loathed when I worked at YMC, a person who changes pretty much every element in a recipe, and then comments on that recipe, but without the commenting part. So, I guess not at all like a person I loathed. In any case, this week’s new recipe was cold quinoa salad with lots of veggies and edamame, a Thai-inspired dressing, and crispy chickpeas and lentils. If you’ve never had crispy lentils, I recommend it: I tossed some drained and rinsed canned lentils in olive oil, salt, and pepper and roasted them at 400 convection for about 20 minutes; they are small little things so I wasn’t sure how long to do it, and I checked on them every five minutes. My whole family loved it, I repeat, my family of meat-lovers LOVED THE LENTILS. I normally dislike leftovers and never eat them, but I put aside a small container for myself, as it was a perfect lunch to take on our hike the next day.
  • The Path Sometimes Taken. I also have a loose goal to go to the mountains More Often, which is about as loose a goal as one can get. Yesterday the boys and I hiked around Stewart Canyon which is about seven kilometres and not as much elevation as I typically like in a hike, but it was a lovely day. Once we reached the end of the trail, there was a small path with a sign that said “Warning: Path Ahead Not Maintained,” so of course, we took it to see what would happen. What happened is that we had to climb over many fallen trees until we got to the point where the path was completely blocked, at which point we turned back and ate the afore-mentioned lunch.
  • There’s A Sign, Read It. Speaking of signs, we have a No Soliciting one on our mailbox. At least ten years ago, but probably more, our doorbell stopped working. I asked my husband, who is very handy and who has repaired many, many things in our house over the past 22 years, to please NOT fix it. At the time, I was home alone most days, and the only people ringing the doorbell were door-to-door solicitors, and I am never going to want to save money on my heating bills or purchase a paper copy of the Calgary Herald. If I was having company, I’d watch for people at the door, and all my friends know to knock, anyway. This was great for a time – it’s pretty easy to not answer the door when there’s no doorbell – but then solicitors started knocking. Can I just say the best thing about 2020 was that door-to-door soliciting stopped? Anyway, sometime in 2021 it restarted, which is when we put the sign on our mailbox, which is directly beside our door. Yesterday I was relaxing after our hike, reading, and I heard a very loud knock at the door. I looked up, thinking it was a delivery and wondering what we had delivered, when I saw a man looking in the window at me reading in my chair. I could see he had a lanyard and a Telus uniform, and I just knew, the way you know about a good melon, that he was here to talk to me about changing internet service providers. I opened the door, and as soon as he greeted me, I said “I have a No Soliciting sign, and I ask that you please respect it.” I said it pleasantly and politely, with my face arranged in a pleasant and polite way, and then I shut the door. I could see him lift up his hands and shake his head in a what’s with this woman kind of way and I will tell you, I was VERY annoyed. This is the second such interaction in as many weeks. The first was a fellow with no lanyard and no uniform who told me he was selling “organic meat and seafood,” which a) ew, b) I eat neither meat nor seafood, not that he would know that, c) who sells MEAT door-to-door, d) we are in land-locked Alberta, SEAFOOD, really, e) this sounds like a scam, and f) I HAVE A NO SOLICITING SIGN ON MY DOOR. I could have pointed out any of those things but I went with f. Anyway, after yesterday’s interaction I found myself unaccountably enraged. I mean, over-the-top, screaming-into-the-void enraged. I immediately texted my very good friend and neighbour Taryn (HI TARYN) and asked her if I was overreacting. She very gently said that I had every right to feel that way but also, perhaps, my emotions were near the surface as I didn’t have a fuzzy companion by my side when I opened the door. She was 100% right, of course. I went into the garden to calm down a little.
  • Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz. I have been spending a lot of time in my garden this week; Tuesday was a particularly low and sad day, but I found it healing to watch the giant fat bumblebees buzzing around. They seem to love the flowers just below the kitchen window, and I could watch them forever, collecting their pollen, as busy and purposeful as can be. The first of my daylilies are blooming, my roses are just about to, and my columbines are putting on a glorious show. This weekend I will have my THIRD cutting of kale, which is the upside to this very cool and rainy start to the summer. It’s maybe not great for the rest of the garden, but I have a tiny little pepper on one of my plants, so there’s hope.

  • Reliable? Or “Reliable?” This sign is on my running route and it cracks me up every time I pass it.

Happy Friday, friends! xo

Summer: It Begins

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Thank you everyone for your kind words and love on Barkley’s passing. I miss him dreadfully and the house feels so strange, like something’s missing. Probably because something is missing. Because I did a lot of the Dog Care and Maintenance, I am finding myself automatically going to do things – check the water dish, mop up around the water dish, let the dog out, take him for a walk – and then stopping, realizing. It’s a very strange and sad feeling.

This past week was the first week of summer, as the boys had finished exams on the 20th and 22nd of June. We had some beautiful warm days interspersed with cold, incredibly wet and rainy days, which isn’t atypical but it does increase appreciation for sunshine. One of the warm days was Monday, and that was a very lucky thing as I had some very special company that day: relatives from California were road-tripping through Calgary and they were stopping by for lunch.

My cousin Nikki (HI NIKKI) and I are the same age, and we were pen pals back in the late 80s and 90s. Did you ever have pen pals? I had a number of them and several years ago I found a box full of correspondence. What a treasure. It seems like such a strange notion now: we would write letters, asking each other questions and telling anecdotes about our lives, and then a month or six weeks later, we would get a response. Now, of course, we can get instantaneous responses and feedback on photos, we can ask a question and feel piqued if someone leaves us on “read.” But there is something so special about written correspondence. I wrote to so many people that I would get stationary every Christmas and birthday, and at one point I even had monogrammed stationary, courtesy of my grandma, who was a recipient of many letters and who had a vested interest in my stationary supplies.

Nikki and I hadn’t seen each other for nearly thirty years, which seems crazy. I was thrilled that the day was warm and beautiful as there were sixteen people, and my house is small but my backyard is big. Two days after this, I was driving to the grocery store and the heavens opened. Just getting from my car to the store, my jeans were soaked and my shoes squelched for the entire trip. I was very thankful, despite my gross discomfort, that the rain didn’t decide to come on Monday.

We went up to the lake for the long weekend to visit my parents, as per our Canada Day tradition. It wasn’t warm, by a long shot, but it was Warm Enough, and it was sunny, so we spent the day on the boat, and the boys went paddleboarding a few times.

I am trying to do more Fun and Interesting Things, YOLO and all that, and so I told the boys that if they jumped into the water – which, I will tell you, is not warm by any stretch of the imagination at any time, but especially this year with the long winter and cold spring – I would too. Here’s my face when they both jumped:

Well, a promise is a promise, Lieutenant Dan.

It was, I will say, refreshing.

We bustled to make hay/ get all our fun outdoor activities done while the sun shone, and then later that night as we played dice, the heavens opened, again, and almost four inches of rain fell throughout the evening and night. A good lesson to seize the moment, I guess, and also a good reason to pour another glass of wine.

Weekly Reading

Girl Gone Viral. This is second in the Modern Love series, and it’s a cute bit of fluff; a romance between a wealthy woman and her bodyguard. I have now read all three – and you do not have to read them in order, I certainly didn’t – and I think the series gets better as it goes on, which is a bit rare, I think. Don’t get me wrong, it’s mind candy, but it’s cute mind candy.

The Maid. I am by no means a book snob – see above! – but it is very rare that I feel that a “buzzy” book lives up to the hype. This one sure did! I loved this story about a non-neurotypical woman working as a maid in a hotel. She finds a dead body, and becomes central to the investigation. Part whodunnit, part treatise on friendship, family, and the differences that make up the world, it’s a really great read. I didn’t want to put it down, and I was incredibly charmed by the smart writing and the complex character development.

Euphoria. This was such a fascinating and complex novel, inspired by real events in the life of Margaret Mead. It follows three anthropologists in New Guinea in the 1930s, and there are so many layers to the plot and characters, but in such subtle ways. I love that, I don’t like being “hit over the head” with details; I love when authors explore plot points in a way that makes you think. In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and thought “ohhhhh, that’s what happened.” I will be thinking about this for a while.

Our first week of summer was certainly marked with deep sadness, and today is supposed to be another cold and rainy day, but we are grabbing every moment of sunshine we get. I hope you have sunshine, wherever you are. xo

Goodbye, Barkley

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As many of you know, on Thursday we said goodbye to Barkley. Thank you to all of you who have already reached out to me with kind words and love; I read every single word and I appreciate each and every one of you.

Barkley died exactly one month after his fourteenth birthday, and because of his age I was prepared for him to go. What I was not prepared for was the rapidity at which things progressed. Thursday morning at 6:30 am I woke him up as usual and fed him breakfast; I noticed that he went up and down the stairs to go outside with relative ease. He ate with gusto, as he always did. Around 8:00 I was having a cup of coffee in the kitchen when I heard a thump. He had collapsed. By 10:30 he was gone and I will tell you that that was the longest two and a half hours of my life.

That was a terrible morning and I don’t want to go through anything like that ever again, not even in my mind to relive on the blog. Instead, I am going to show you photos of Barkley through the years. He brought so much joy to our lives, and there is and always will be a huge fuzzy hole in our hearts.

We love you, Barkley. I hope you’re eating unlimited treats and chasing squirrels.

A Hair Affair

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I had a haircut last week, which is an infrequent enough occurrence that it merits a mention. It’s hard for me to believe that, pre-2020, I had a professional cut and colour every five to six weeks. Looking back, it feels like that was a grievous waste of time and money. I remember asking long-haired friends, mid-2020, how frequently they cut their hair and the average answer was, at best, two to three times a YEAR. This was eye-opening for me, to say the least.

It sounds silly, but the realization, back in April 2020, that I could easily and effectively colour my own hair was incredibly empowering and life-changing. I know, I know. But I had been going to a salon for colour for over two decades at that point, so I really didn’t know how great home hair colour is, how easy it is to apply, not to mention the massive savings of time and money. I mean, a box of Garnier is about 5% the cost of a salon visit, and I don’t need to book off an entire afternoon to refresh my colour; I can do it whenever my roots start to irritate me, which is every four weeks at the very most.

This brings me to what I have been wanting to say for the past eighteen months or so, and that is that I have been going to a new hair salon. This is the fourth time I have had my hair cut by this very lovely young woman, and I have never been happier with my hair. She is incredibly patient and doesn’t say a word about the state of my ends, which, with 5-6 months between cuts, are quite scraggly and dry. She shows me exactly how much she is going to cut off, and then she does it, without any surprises. She doesn’t lecture me on colouring my own hair, even if I have roots showing. She DOES tell me I should wear my hair down more, to cut down on breakage, but I accept her professional opinion while not generally adhering to it.

I am very happy with this new salon, but I feel low-level embarrassment and shame about leaving my old salon, which brings me to the question: how do you break up with your hair stylist?

Typically, if you are unhappy with or outgrow a service or a consumer good, you simply just stop patronizing or purchasing it. If you have a poor experience with a restaurant, you just stop going to that restaurant. If you outgrow or change so that the goods you consume no longer suit you, it’s easy to just stop purchasing them. This is just part of life, if it wasn’t, we would all still be using Aussie Scrunch Spray in our spiral permed hair and wearing Lip Smackers and using Wet & Wild nail polish, we’d be reading Sassy magazine and shopping at Mariposa, and yes I know that some of these things are no longer in existence. Nonetheless! Change is part of life, and we have power as consumers to vote with our dollars and feet.

But I think we can all agree that changing hair stylists is Another Thing Altogether. The relationship between a woman and her hair stylist is an intimate one and is based on trust that is built up over the years. No other service is quite so intimate, except perhaps estheticians that work on the bikini line. I mean, the woman who does my euphemistically-named Bikini Plus body sugaring sees me completely naked from the waist down, and has me put my legs in positions that would make me blush if I wasn’t basically dead inside when it comes to Intimate Esthetics. Other than the long-suffering Body Sugar Woman, the hair stylist holds the title for Most Intimate.

I was with my previous hair stylist for nineteen years, which, at the time that I last saw her, was almost as long as I had been married. I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but when I last saw her in September 2020, my visit left so much to be desired, and was so disappointing on a number of levels, that I felt I needed to start the search for a new stylist. My hair, which I had been growing out, was shorter than I wanted, my layers, which I had been growing out with the help from that same stylist since December 2018, were more pronounced, and the colour was way darker than anything I had ever had before. This wasn’t the first time I had been disappointed by my cut and colour, but it was the first time I had been disappointed after I realized that I could easily colour my own hair for a fraction of the cost, and that long hair just doesn’t need to be trimmed that often.

It has taken me this long to actually write about it, which really says something about my feelings. This brings me back to the original question: what would you do? I will tell you what I did do, and I feel Low Level Shame about it, and that is that I just stopped going to her. I didn’t make another appointment. When I received a text from her, I didn’t respond.

Did I ghost her?

I feel like I DID, but yet, what was to be done? As I said, if I was disappointed in the service of a restaurant, or even a nail salon, I would just patronize another establishment. But after nineteen years, I disappeared without a trace, and I feel weird about it to this day.

I try to think about it in terms of my yoga classes. If someone stopped coming to class, would I want them to tell me why? I would if the answer was that the time was no longer convenient, or they moved and the drive was too far, or anything else that was beyond my control. But if the answer was that they hated my teaching style or my voice or my personality, well, then, I probably would not want to know. I think I’d rather just be ghosted.

Weekly Reading

After my run of cancer memoirs and death memoirs and serious non-fiction, I decided to migrate some available titles that were on my For Later list to my Hold List, and they came in mid-week, which turned out to be perfect timing.

How To Pronounce Knife. Oh wow, I absolutely LOVED this collection of short stories! Each story is about a Lao refugee and the immigrant experience, and each is from a completely unique point of view. Every story is captivating, compelling, and incredibly moving. I didn’t want to put it down and I didn’t want it to end. It’s been a while since that happened. Thanks to Allison (HI ALLISON) for the recommendation.

The Inner Life of Animals. This was a wonderfully interesting read about animals and their lives. Ravens mate for life, there have been documented inter species adoptions, and goats are quite the disciplinarians. It was a delight to read, animal lovers will adore it. There is a small section on moths, which are, as we know from last week, not my favourite creatures, but I am trying to look at them in a different light now. I’M GROWING AS A PERSON. Relatedly, there is an anthill in my backyard and I discovered it when I went to weed one of the garden beds, and when I say “discovered,” I mean I stepped on it and I had ants swarming sockless feet and bare legs. I tried to brush them off and they swarmed my arms and got inside my gardening gloves. It was, shall we say, unpleasant. Instinctively, I am sad to say, I thought about going into the house and boiling a kettle of water to pour on the hill, but then I stopped: that seemed like an unnecessarily cruel action given that they were just doing what they are supposed to do. I mean, if they were in my house it would be a different story, but they were as far away from the house as could possibly be, and so I thought live and let live and just went on with my weeding, from another, far-away-from-the-ant-hill angle.

The Right Swipe. This was a cute and kind of smutty piece of brain candy. The creator of a dating app meets an ex-football player who is the nephew of a dating website owner…there are twists and turns but of course it ends the way it should, for a light romance. Fun fact: I never remember if it’s swipe right or swipe left if you like someone – dating apps were way before my time, but now I’ll remember (right is the right one). This is part of the Modern Love series, and I read the third one last summer (First Comes Like). Each book is a separate entity, so there is no need to read them in order, which is good, because I didn’t.

Yours Cheerfully. This was a delightful and charming sequel to the delightful and charming Dear Mrs Bird; a plucky young magazine correspondent befriends women working at a munitions factory during WWII. The problem is many women are mothers…and childcare is hard to find. How can they support the war effort and care for the children? It’s a wonderful read with a real women-supporting-women theme. Imagine everyone pulling together for a common goal? IMAGINE. I read the first half of this on Friday, a dark, cold, rainy day on which Roe v Wade was overturned, meaning our nearest neighbours lost fundamental rights and agency over their own bodies, and I kept thinking of these themes. There was a line in the book that said “some women want to support women, and some women don’t,” and boy, isn’t that the truth. Anyway, it was a wonderfully uplifting book for a very sad weekend.

The news seems to get worse every day, so I will leave you these images of Barkley, apparently playing hide and seek with me. Stay strong, my friends. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Operation Fancy Lady Edition

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About a month ago, I was able to watch my son perform at his school in a student-run short production. This production was the first on-stage production since before the pandemic, so I was pretty excited. As I waited for fifteen minutes after the production for my son to finish the stage cleanup, I chatted with others who were waiting for the same reason. I talked to my son afterward: I met L’s parents and R’s mom, oh, and I met S’s dad and stepmom and introduced them to G’s mom…He looked at me curiously. “How did you meet all those people? Did you just go up to them and ask them if they had a kid in the play?” Yes! That’s exactly what I did.

A few years back I heard the term Extroverted Introvert, and I felt seen. I am technically an introvert; I need my alone time to recharge, but I love being around other people, and I love meeting new people. If you are having a party, and you need Mixer People, give me a call. There’s nothing I love more at a party than circulating through the room and talking to everyone: I love new people and I love seeing familiar faces, and I would probably talk to a chair if it had a picture of a smiley face on it. This is why I was very excited to join my husband for a night in Banff at a conference his company was hosting; there was a reception, and a dinner, and I was ALL IN. This was my first Real Social Event since before the pandemic; I have really missed having these kinds of events to meet people.

I discovered, after meeting other spouses, that most of them were there for both nights of the conference, whereas I only drove out for one, and so I felt a little regretful. But no matter! It was held at the Banff Springs, which is a very special place. This was my THIRD time to the Springs in the past six months, so I think that makes me a Very Fancy Lady.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Operation Fancy Lady Edition

Three Outfits

I wanted to make sure I was comfortable for the 75 minute drive to the Springs; Banff can be very unpredictable in terms of weather so I needed layers, and I wanted those layers to look cute since I assumed I would meet people upon arrival.

I want to talk about these pants. These pants are officially a Favourite Thing, and I have them in a few colours. They are from lululemon and they are structured, with a button and zipper, but they feel like yoga pants. They are literally the most comfortable pants I own, and I love them. I added cute Skecher flats, a plain tee, a super-long swoopy sweater, and a scarf. It was a perfect driving outfit, but also perfect for wandering around the hotel, meeting my husband’s colleagues and customers, and having a glass of wine at the bar, where I ended up talking to many people who were not involved in my husband’s conference, but who were from as far away as Ohio, Georgia, and Virginia. When I meet people like that I feel like I need to be an Ambassador For Canada, and I end up saying things like Welcome To Our Beautiful Country, and giving tourism advice.

After being a self-appointed Canadian Ambassador, I went to get dressed for the fancy dinner. I bought this dress for a Christmas party in 2018, and have worn it maybe once since. It is from the now-defunct Le Chateau, and is a stretchy sheath dress underneath a big drapey part, which makes it comfortable AND flattering. The heels are decidedly NOT my comfy Skechers, and by the end of the night my feet were very sore, but needs must sometimes.

The next morning my husband went golfing with customers, and I decided to go for a walk to Bow Falls and downtown Banff before I had to check out. I put my great-for-walking Skechers on my very sore feet and layered up.

The weather was pretty unsettled, with really low-lying cloud and a few sprinkles of rain, so I was happy to have packed this jacket, also from lululemon. It’s lined and waterproof, and the hood zips up really nicely in case of gusty wind.

Here is a photo of Bow Falls, which is crazier than normal because of all the rain that we have had of late, as well as the usual seasonal snowmelt:

I guess in terms of Favourite Things, being in the mountains is one of them. This is maybe the very best thing about living in Calgary, the proximity to the Rockies.

Sheertex

Unless it’s the middle of summer, or I am on a hot and sunny vacation, I do not like being bare-legged while wearing dresses. There are three reasons for this: a) I get cold, b) I have Reynaud’s Syndrome which means my legs are generally an unattractive shade of purplish-blue, and c) I have very unsightly varicose veins. Longtime readers may recall I had my varicose veins stripped back in 2011, and that painful procedure was supposed to be the end of it, but alas, I have since developed new ones and my doctor says there is nothing to be done, as I am obviously prone to it and if they strip any more veins, I am going to have Massive Circulation Issues.

Our local Pharmasave advertised that they were carrying Sheertex hosiery; I have had a few occasions in the past month where I would be wearing a dress and wanted to wear pantyhose, and so I looked into Sheertex. I will tell you now, I almost fainted when I saw the price tag. However, in the long run I think it will pay off, as these are supposed to be indestructible.

How many pairs of pantyhose have I thrown out in my lifetime after only one wear, sometimes even less than that, because I put a fingernail through them while putting them on, or snagged them on a bracelet, or got a run from bumping into a table? I shudder to think of the money down the drain. Anyway, the cost of these is insane, but supposedly they should last me a very long time. So far I’ve worn them four times, and they still look perfect, and that’s AFTER I took off my shoes and walked around in my stocking feet at the Banff Springs, after having several drinks and standing around in heels for hours.

Cover Girl Outlast

I have to thank Gigi (HI GIGI) for the recommendation of Cover Girl Outlast lipstick. Gigi said that she used it and it lasted all day, even with mask wearing and eating. I was skeptical, so I took photos of myself for a day wearing it, applying it only in the morning and not reapplying during the day.

8:00 am. In the Superstore parking lot with freshly applied Outlast.

12:30 pm. After a morning of grocery shopping and mask wearing, drinking several glasses of water and a smoothie, eating a fruit salad, and brushing my teeth, the lipstick still looks perfect without a reapplication!

3:00 pm. This is after taking the boys to their optometry appointment. Lip colour is still there – after masking too – but it’s starting to fade.

7:00 pm. This is after dinner, water, and flossing and brushing my teeth. Eleven hours of wear, no reapplication; I am not going to throw out all my other lipsticks but I feel like I could. Other lipsticks, you can JUST GO HOME. This stuff is amazing, thanks Gigi for the recommendation!

Favourite Link of the Month: The Sugar Thief

This has nothing to do with being a Fancy Lady, but I read The Sugar Thief by Laura Bray (HI LAURA) and have thought about it intermittently ever since. It’s just an absolute delight. Laura is not a new blogger, but she is new to me, and her writing is wonderful. Go check it out!

Happy Pride Month! Those are my Favourite Things this month: what are yours? Tell me everything. xo

Look At Me, I’m Growing

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All Is Well, I Hope

First of all, thank you so much for all your lovely comments about my mysterious, asymptomatic ailment, but a special thanks to Erin (HI ERIN) for sharing her story and reminding us that yes, we should be vigilant on following doctor’s orders when it comes to infections. I hasten to assure you that I did indeed finish my round of antibiotics and have been instructed to go for follow-up lab work, as apparently “lack of symptoms” is not a reliable indicator for being infection-free in my case.

A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall

We have had a lot of rain, and a few really crazy rainy days in the past few weeks, to the point of the declaration of a State Of Local Emergency, which is fairly alarming. Much less alarming, but still of personal concern, is Salvadore’s cleanliness, or lack thereof.

He became very muddy during the downpours. I brought him inside not once, but twice to give him a bath.

As I toweled him off, my older son looked at me with some concern. “Are you okay, Mom? I think you might be having a midlife crisis.” I am having a midlife crisis! And it is entirely manifesting in gnome-related care. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go sing a lullaby to my gnome.

Hurry! Or Your Memories Will Be Lost Forever And It Will Be All Your Fault.

Speaking of midlife crises, the ongoing saga between me and the graduation photography company continues. I am still getting emails about my son’s graduation photos, but they have taken on a whole new ominous level: if I don’t order soon, they will be deleted and lost forever. Deleted! Lost forever! Okay, photography company. That’s a bridge too far. I am almost at the point of unsubscribing but I haven’t got the photos from the grad ceremony yet, and by the time that happens my younger son will be posing for grad photos. I’m caught in a trap, I can’t walk out.

Fly High, Free Moth

If you know me at all, you know I have a mild phobia of moths. What you don’t know is that I have been working very hard to overcome this phobia, and I have had ample opportunity to do it because at least once a day I notice a small fluttering somewhere in the house, often first thing in the morning when I’m on my yoga mat. I try to breathe through it, thinking calmly, the moth is just living its life, just like I am, it is not going to bother me, it’s fine, ommmm. Generally this works but the other day there was a tiny moth on the cupboard where the coffee mugs are kept. I calmly took out my mug, poured some coffee, repeating my mantra, when the moth leapt (leapt?) off the cupboard door and fluttered right in my face. Luckily I didn’t scald myself by dropping the coffee. I congratulated myself on not freaking out and just stepped back away from the fluttering, at which point the moth fluttered down and flew INTO THE TOASTER.

What to do, what to do. I waited for a moment, thinking that surely the moth would fly out the way it flew in but no, no, this did not happen. I thought about what would happen if I just left everything as-is. Would the moth get toasted the next time someone wanted a bagel? Would I be the person to inadvertently eat a toasted moth with toasted bread? But how to get a moth out of a toaster? I turned it upside down and shook it. I took out the crumb tray and still, no moth exited that I could see. I tapped the toaster frantically thinking that maybe the moth would fly out. I sat down and drank a cup of coffee and stared off into space for a while. Eventually I used a flashlight to peek into the toaster and I could not see a moth so I figured it either somehow escaped without me noticing or it immediately died and disintegrated. I cleaned out the crumb tray an extra time to be sure.

It’s Lilac Season, Motherfuckers

The lilac bushes are in bloom all over the city, including, of course, my yard, and it’s absolutely glorious. I love lilacs so much; when I was a kid I wished so hard that we had our own lilac bush, because my long-suffering mother would not let me pull blooms off of neighbouring bushes FOR SOME REASON (HI MOM). Instead I would have to be satisfied with just sticking my face into the blooms on my way to and from school, and I still stick my face into blooms on my walks around the neighbourhood. Barkley stops to sniff, I stop to sniff, our walks are even slower than normal. Every day I walk around the yard to check out the gardens and I spend some time smelling the lilacs.

Other exciting garden news: I have rows of tiny lettuce and carrots, and rows of larger peas; one of my zucchinis has blooms already – IT BEGINS – and on Sunday I harvested some kale and Romaine for a salad. My Siberian iris started with one bloom and then exploded, and the columbines are all budding.

The yard is pretty soggy with all the rain which is making weeding difficult, but I’m in that happy place of having Vigorous Perennials in every bed, which cuts down on the weeds significantly. Consider this your helpful gardening tip of the day: plant perennials that want to take over the world, and the weeds will not stand a chance. I feel like there’s a Life Metaphor in there somewhere.

Weekly Reading

No one asked, but I am going to tell you how I decide what book to read next: in addition to a select few books that I own and haven’t read yet, I have a “For Later” list of 233 books on my library app. Every once in a while I will migrate some books from “For Later” onto my “Hold” list, depending on their availability, trying to time things so that I don’t get 12 non-renewable books all at once, which is what happened to me earlier this month. When this happens, I read the ones that are due first, which has meant that, coincidentally, I have read a LOT of memoirs and non-fiction books lately.

Left on Tenth. I wanted to like this. I did not like this. It sounded like something I would like: two widowed people finding love again in their seventies, but there was so much medical detail about a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment that I just felt exhausted and sad reading it. Also, the writing style was so choppy and disjointed that I found it difficult to focus. It could be that my reaction was because it was Another Cancer Memoir, in a long line of Memoirs, so perhaps take my review with a grain of salt.

Butter Honey Pig Bread. This was an interesting and beautifully-written novel about a woman who is an Ogbanje – a spirit who dies repeatedly in childhood and is reborn – and her twin daughters, who are somewhat estranged after one experiences a childhood trauma. Thanks to Allison (HI ALLISON) for the recommendation.

They Left Us Everything. OH GREAT, ANOTHER MEMOIR ABOUT DEATH, AND BONUS, THERE IS A WHOLE CHAPTER ON PUTTING DOWN THE DEAD MOTHER’S ELDERLY DOG. So clearly I was not in the greatest headspace to read this memoir of a woman going through her deceased parents’ home and possessions after their passing. To be fair, I did enjoy parts of it; there were some interesting stories and I liked thinking about the things I inherited from my own grandmas that are important to me and would not be at all important to anyone else – one example would be all the old magazines with Princess Diana that my Grandma Fern kept. Grandma and I watched the Royal Wedding live at 2am back in 1981, and it is one of my best memories. But the rest of the book I found to be sad and upsetting, particularly the stories about her childhood memories of her parents and her parents’ marriage. Those were distressing at best. Still, some thought-provoking parts about the nature of stuff and our attachment to things, and the memories they hold. The author believes that you should NOT go through your stuff before you die but leave everything for your kids to deal with, which I do not agree with. The author lived in this house for 16 months, going through what sounds like hoarder-level possessions, and who among us has the time to do that?

On that note, I will leave you with a teaser for my upcoming Nicole’s Favourite Things, coming this week. In the meantime, take care and keep growing and shining, you crazy diamonds. xo

A Medical Mystery

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What’s the opposite of a hypochondriac? Whatever it is, I think I am one.

I had my annual physical this week, and my doctor has started giving me the lab requisition prior to my appointments, so we can discuss the results together. I have never had any issue with my lab work with one exception: I have a weirdly low white blood cell count, which is something that sounds pretty alarming. If you look up “low white blood cell count” the first dozen or so results will be cancer in various forms, followed by autoimmune things like lupus and AIDS. Another possible reason for low white blood cells is low Vitamin B12 levels, but my Vitamin B12 levels are absurdly high, along with my iron levels, which is fairly unusual considering my plant-based diet. In any case, I’ve had low white blood cells for many years, and I’m not dead yet, or incapacitated in any way, so I guess that’s just the way it is for me. My doctor agrees, saying some people just have lower than normal levels; it’s one of those weird unexplained things, and I’m fine with being weird and unexplained.

Anyway, other than that small and strange issue, my lab work is always just fine, so I was very surprised to get a phone call from the doctor’s office a few weeks ago. I was in Superstore, because where else would I be if not grocery shopping, and the nurse informed me that my lab results were back and I have a bladder infection, and so she would call in an antibiotic prescription to the pharmacist near me. Imagine, if you will, feeling perfectly normal and healthy, standing beside the red peppers with a mesh produce bag in one hand, talking through a mask to a nurse who is telling you that you have a bladder infection, while other shoppers dart around you and your giant cart, trying to grab a pepper, with soft mellow music playing in the background. “A bladder infection?” I said, “I don’t think I have one.” She said that I sure did, and listed off the symptoms of such an infection, familiar to all of us, but not applicable to me at that moment.

While still shopping, my husband texted me to say that the pharmacy had called, and I had a prescription ready? The pharmacist was confused since I haven’t had a prescription in a decade or so, and my husband was confused because he “didn’t know I was sick,” and I was confused by the whole thing. By that time I had only made it to the bakery section, and they didn’t have the pitas I like. On my way home I picked up the prescription and then I put it in the cupboard and forgot about it.

I figured that if I developed symptoms, I would certainly take the antibiotics; we were going into the long weekend and what is worse than getting a bladder infection or UTI and having to wait to see the doctor, but if I’m being honest, I thought the lab maybe made a mistake. I mean, wouldn’t I KNOW if I had a bladder infection? If you know, you know, I thought.

Fast-forward to my doctor’s appointment and after all the usual things, he brought up my “recent bladder infection” and asked if the antibiotics cleared it up, at which point I told him that I never took the antibiotics because I didn’t think I had an infection. This led to a careful examination of my results, an assurance that my name and health care number was right there, and a gentle admonition that Some People Can Have Infections With No Symptoms.

Me: But wouldn’t I KNOW?

Doctor: Usually, but not always.

Me: Can it clear up on its own? I feel fine.

Doctor: On some occasions your immune system might fight it off for a while, but untreated infections can go into the bloodstream and cause sepsis.

Me: I am pretty sure I would know if I had sepsis.

Doctor: Well, yes. You’d be delirious and probably hospitalized. That’s why we don’t let it get to that point. That’s why I prescribed the antibiotics.

Huh. Solid point. He went on to say that perhaps my symptoms present differently, and was I feeling a bit more tired lately? That could be it.

Come to think of it, I was feeling a bit more tired than usual, but I chalked it up to nightly hot flashes, my son’s graduation, the frenzy of gardening that comes when Calgary gets decent weather, finishing up my yoga classes until September, and an existential crisis about it being June and my sons growing up. But I guess there could be a medical component in there.

This whole thing is WILD to me. I mean, what are the chances that I just happen to have an infection right when I go for lab work? What if this had happened a few months ago? If my only symptom is tiredness, I would never seek medical attention, never. Theoretically, could I be a little bit tired and then go into sepsis? God, I hope not. This is just like when Covid hit our house, and the first person who tested positive was completely asymptomatic the whole way through, and my only symptom was being tired. Should I be suspicious every time I feel a little tired? I’m going through perimenopause here, what is Normal Tired and what is Halfway To Sepsis Tired? What is It’s Been A Long Week And I Need More Sleep Tired and what is Pack Your Bag For The Hospital Tired?

Well. I went home and started the antibiotics, to my husband’s horror – “You mean you DIDN’T take them already? You got those three weeks ago! Why wouldn’t you take what the doctor told you to take?” – and I feel…fine. Less tired? Who can say? If I listen to my body, it’s going to say I’m fine when in reality, who knows? Hopefully by the time you read this I will not have dropped dead from some mysterious ailment with no symptoms.

Is that bad luck to write? I hope not. I feel a little superstitious, but not enough to delete. I’m fine! I’m sure I’m fine.

Weekly Reading

This Is The Story of a Happy Marriage. About halfway through this book of essays is a 40-page essay entitled The Wall, which is about the author’s experience going to the LA Police Academy as research. I felt sure I had read the essay before – most in the book had been previously published – but on examination I didn’t think I read a 40-page essay in the Washington Post in 2007, when my kids were 2 and 3. The next essay – and please keep in mind, people, that by this time I was well over halfway through the book – seemed very familiar too. I looked at my spreadsheet where I record all my books read and discovered that I had already read this, in 2018. Oops. Some of the essays were very much worth a reread, some were not.

Atlas of the Heart. There was so much food for thought in this intelligent, yet easy to read book about connections and emotions. Some chapters really resonated with me. The section on “Bittersweet” summed up exactly how I’m feeling these days and the existential crisis I am having.

“Sadness about letting go of something, mixed with happiness and/ or gratitude about what’s been experienced and/ or what’s next.”

No Cure For Being Human. We all know that life is short and miraculous, and technically we all know we could be living our last day today, but what if you REALLY knew today could be your last day? What if you were living with an incurable and terminal disease and you’d already outlasted expectations? How would you live your life? This is a truly beautiful book about finitude and living within our limitations as people. I read her first book, but in my opinion this one is much better and more uplifting.

And now, my dear friends, I shall pass the microphone on to you. Where do you land on the hypochondriac scale? Have you ever had a medical issue without knowing you had a medical issue? Are you having an existential crisis of any kind? Have you ever read more than half a book before realizing you had already read it? Tell me everything. xo