Thirst Traps and Letting Go; Eighty-Eight Weeks In

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These Pretzels Are Making Me Thirsty

I love listening to podcasts while doing menial household drudgery or slowly walking Barkley around the neighbourhood; it makes me actually look forward to doing dull things like folding the laundry or other mind-numbing tasks. I feel like I learn new things every day; I discovered the “We Didn’t Start The Fire” podcast, which goes through every single lyric in the Billy Joel song, with different expert guests for each topic. I am only at Sugar Ray, so I have many more episodes to go, but I’m learning so much.

Small note for anyone who wants to look up that podcast: they have the absolute WORST theme song, it is We Didn’t Start The Fire played on the kazoo. The kazoo! I will never understand some artistic choices. If you can get past the kazoo, the podcast itself is very enlightening.

On Stephany’s recommendation (HI STEPHANY), I started listening to You Can Sit With Us, which is not at all enlightening, but is just some younger women chatting about their lives in a mindlessly soothing way. Well, it’s not totally un-enlightening, because this week I learned about Thirst Traps.

I have a number of younger women on my Instagram feed, and so I had seen Thirst Traps without knowing there was an actual name for it. I just thought they were Sexy Photos That People Post On Instagram To Get Attention, Not That I’m Judging, but Thirst Traps is much more succinct.

At the dinner table, I told the boys that I learned what a Thirst Trap is, and their reaction was pure horror. “Oh, GOD.” my older son said. “How did you learn about that? Did one of your friends tell you? ARE YOUR FRIENDS POSTING THIRST TRAPS.” My younger son, apparently too anguished to speak, merely bowed his head, with his forehead in his hand, pained at the thought. I assured him that neither myself nor my friends were posting Thirst Traps, but that I heard it on a podcast, to which they responded with “WHAT PODCAST, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FUCKBOIS OF LITERATURE?”

To be honest, I haven’t been listening to the Fuckbois; it is such a great concept but the execution is…not.

Anyway, there will be no Thirst Traps from me – for one thing, just no, but for another, my sons and a number of their friends inexplicably follow me on Instagram. My feed is almost entirely books, with some baked goods, a landscape, and an occasional selfie thrown in for good measure, so I’m not sure why any teenager would be interested in it, but in any case, No Thirst Traps For Nicole. The mental anguish of my children would be too much.

Let It Go, Let It Go

It has been a very productive week; I was completely inspired and motivated by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) to tackle some shelves in our storage room/ pantry and purge items no longer needed. I did this years ago, when Kondo-ing everything in the house, but you know, I think as the children grow up I need to revisit my storage areas more regularly. No one has used Lego in years, not to mention the adorable Playmobil pet clinic. I gave those things to the little girls across the street, and put a number of things on my local Buy Nothing page.

What is it about purging our stuff that feels so great? I feel a Mary Oliver poem coming on:

It’s not like I want to burn or trash all my things – so wasteful, Mary! – or keep NOTHING, I do love my stuff, even as I let things go. One thing I haven’t been able to get rid of yet is a set of alphabet and farm animal fridge magnets. I know! It’s time. Just…not yet. I was silently judging my husband for not letting me get rid of his underwater camera that he took travelling when he was in his twenties, thirty years ago. I mean, it takes film. Film! We aren’t going to use it. But he’s sentimentally attached to it, just like I’m sentimentally attached to a box of fridge magnets, and I have a stainless steel fridge.

I Am Santa, Baby

My holiday cards and the photo calendars that I order for the grandparents every year arrived this week, which meant that I was able to package up and mail the parcel I send to my mother-and-sister-in-law. This is one of those jobs that feels like it should take, at the most, half an hour, but always ends up taking up an entire afternoon.

I have at times felt resentful that somehow the job of purchasing, wrapping, and mailing gifts to my husband’s family has fallen to me, but I remind myself that a) there are many, many jobs around the house that my husband does automatically, that don’t even occur to me to TRY to do, and b) our parcel makes up over half of their Christmas gifts, and so I would feel terrible if I didn’t send them. It’s unacceptable to me to think of my mother-in-law, all by herself on Christmas morning, with nothing to open. Also, choosing a gift for my nearly-eighty-year-old mother-in-law is not really in my husband’s wheelhouse, but it is in mine, so here we are.

Anyway, I had a few parcels to mail, and since it was November 16, I felt that the post office would be a quick in-and-out, and was I ever wrong. In fact, I am not sure I could have been MORE wrong. There were at least fifteen people in the lineup that snaked down the aisle, and only one person working at Canada Post. Forty minutes later, I collapsed into my car, exhausted. Note to everyone reading this: if you need to mail anything, go now, or just assume you’re going to need to schedule an hour for this errand and maybe take a book. Actually, even if you do go now, take a book.

Pandemic Reading

Speaking of books!

The Thursday Murder Club. I don’t often read mysteries, but I enjoyed this book about a quartet of septuagenarians who meet on Thursdays to discuss unsolved murders. The developer for their retirement community is found dead under mysterious circumstances, and so they are on the case! It’s nice to read a book about older people who are thriving and enjoying life; this isn’t a thing that happens much in literature. There was a line about how they used to get up early because there was so much to do – work, family, etc. – and now they still get up early because who knows how much time they have left, and they want to make the most of it. I liked that a lot.

Even So. Hmm. Okay. So. The first two-thirds of this book was really great; in fact, I thought “this is the story I’ve always wanted to write.” It read like a thriller; very fast-paced and action-packed, about a very well-off woman who has a seemingly beautiful life but blows it up by having an affair. It’s REALLY good. But then, it takes a turn and becomes a religious allegory. The last third of the book is all about redemption and forgiveness and is very heavy on Catholic imagery and beliefs. Essentially, it IS an allegory, with themes of sin, lust, greed, followed by guilt, redemption, and forgiveness. I wish I had known that going in. It felt like a book I might have read when I was in confirmation class at age 14. It’s almost like the author wanted to hammer her faith into the reader’s head; it’s pretty over-the-top. Unless you want a lesson in Catholicism or God’s plan for your life, I would pass on this book.

Consent. I have read many, many books in my life, but none so abjectly horrifying, shocking, and disturbing as this. This is a memoir written by a woman who entered into a relationship with Gabriel Matzneff, who was an acclaimed writer who wrote about pedophilia, RAPING CHILDREN and having sex with young girls and boys. Did you hear that? He won awards for his work. The author entered into this relationship when she was 13 and he was 49, and all the adults in her life, including her own mother, were complicit. It is absolutely unbelievably shocking. A fourteen year old girl, who essentially is living in a hotel with a fifty year old man, skips school constantly and no one does anything at all. When she leaves him at age 15, because he had taken up with a younger girl, her own mother says “are you sure? He loves you so much” which, what. This woman is only three years older than I am, and this took place in the 1980s. The 1980s! So many adults saw this relationship, knew about this relationship, and shrugged it off because Matzneff was, apparently, a literary giant. This man wrote about sex tourism in the Philippines, where he would buy 11 and 12 year-old boys for his own sexual pleasure. He wrote about all his young conquests, including the author of this book, and people bought those books and applauded him, awarding him literary honours. How did this happen? This is just such a disturbing book and if you have daughters, maybe take a pass.

On that note…time to sign off. Have a beautiful week, everyone! xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The November Beauties Edition

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I know many people loathe the month of November, but I do not. It’s generally a grey/ brown, chilly, windy month, true, but it has its own kind of beauty:

We don’t all have to be flashy to be beautiful.

November is also a good month for me because the first three weeks are the Exciting Lead Up To The Festive Season, followed by Fully Festive Season. We are IN IT.

But it’s not just about festivities around here, some of my favourite things this month have nothing at all to do with the festive season, I am a woman of many layers and facets. Some things I just love because I love them, and who knows, maybe you’ll love them too.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The November Beauties Edition

Mary Oliver and Rupi Kaur

Bear with me for a moment, as I know that this will sound Incredibly Pretentious. Every day since the pandemic began, I read a poem prior to my yoga practice (I know, I’m sorry) and then as I practice, I contemplate what I’ve read. All through 2020 I read my very favourite poet, Mary Oliver, and then on the advice of a friend, I decided to add the poetry of Rumi into the mix. I obtained a copy of A Year With Rumi, which, as you may guess from the title, has a poem for every day of the year.

People, I am going to say something controversial: A Year With Rumi is just too much Rumi. I feel like I could have happily had A Week With Rumi. Maybe Ten Days With Rumi. I have been reading the daily selection of this collection every single day, every single DAY, PEOPLE, and really only a handful of poems have resonated with me. I know. I’m sorry!

I am the kind of person who Sticks With Something, and the thought of not finishing the book when it’s November, and I’ve been doing this since New Year’s Day, well. But then I saw this poem by Rupi Kaur on Instagram, of all places:

And, oh, my, did that resonate. I then remembered that I have a Rupi Kaur collection, entitled Home Body, that contains THAT EXACT POEM, but I was saving it until after I finished the Rumi collection. This, I thought to myself, is stupid. If I died tomorrow, would I be happy that I spent eleven and a half months reading Rumi poetry on the daily, while NOT reading Rupi Kaur poetry, just because there is a Rumi poem ascribed to each day of the year? Would I? NO, I WOULD NOT. So while I will continue reading my Rumi-poem-a-day (must finish, must finish), I will do it later in the day, and instead will alternate Mary Oliver and Rupi Kaur for my pre-practice poetry. Life is too short to spend reading poetry that I am not enjoying.

It will be interesting, co-reading these two poets: both brilliant women, one young and one who has, like Elvis, left the building. One writes largely about the world within herself, the other writes largely about the world without, the big, beautiful, natural world. I came across this poem from my Mary Oliver collection, Devotions:

It took my breath away, and is also a good reminder that we don’t know what’s going on in other people’s lives, and to live as kindly and open heartedly as possible.

White Chocolate Peppermint Popcorn

Now for something completely different! My love for Boom Chicka Pop is well-documented, so imagine my excitement when I saw this at Superstore:

White Chocolate Peppermint Popcorn! I immediately grabbed a bag, and my son and I snacked on it during our recent Top Gun viewing. We both agreed that the first bite was weird; the texture is kind of strange and unexpected, but by the second bite we were completely addicted.

Yesterday I was at Superstore and not only did I grab the very last bag of this, but I also picked up a dark chocolate drizzle with sea salt and I shall report back.

This Silly Crop Top

I have had this Flashdance-style cropped sweatshirt for probably ten years, and I love it as a cute layer to wear to the gym. I have never once worn it without something longer underneath, because my midriff-baring ship has sailed, long ago.

There’s a lot of buzz around sustainable clothing lately, and what could be more sustainable than a decade-old top? I was chatting with a friend about this, that I have had flak for buying fairly pricey yoga/ workout clothes from lululemon, but those items have served me so well. I have pants dating back to 2009 that still look great, and numerous tops and tanks that are about to celebrate their tenth birthday, this crop top being among them.

My favourite thing about wearing this sweatshirt is saying to my kids, “Hey guys, look, I’m wearing a crop top! I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom! How do you do, fellow kids?” at which point they give me that polite, yet weary, chuckle of the type you might have when asked if you are working hard or hardly working, or why didn’t you get them all cut, when you mention that you got a haircut.

The Charlie Brown Christmas Sheet Music

I love, love, LOVE the soundtrack to The Charlie Brown Christmas, even though I cannot and will not watch the show anymore. Honestly, that show is really terrible. Everyone is so mean, Charlie Brown is literally bullied and excluded constantly, and the cruelty of children and how it was completely normalized makes me want to set something on fire. I do, however, love Linus’ line “I never thought it was such a bad little tree, it just needs a little love.” Preach, Linus.

But the music, you guys, the music is so wonderful. And also, really difficult to play on the piano. I trained in the Royal Conservatory tradition, and so I consider myself to be a “classical” rather than a “jazzy” pianist. I have been struggling with this songbook for the better part of three years, but one of my yoga students is an actual piano teacher, and she gave me some really great tips on how to play “swing” style. It helped so much and now I feel like I’m actually making music, rather than randomly hitting notes like a chicken pecking at a keyboard.

The key to playing swing-style, according to my student, who is in her sixties, is to behave as if I’ve smoked a big doobie, and just relax, man, and go with it. She also told me to envision the bassline as “one of those guys plucking the strings on a giant bass, wearing a beret and nodding along” and honestly, that kind of visualization was really helpful.

Florence’s Art

I have been friends with Florence (HI FLORENCE) since 2009, when we were both Kindergarten Moms. I always knew she was artistically gifted – she can sew, and craft, and has a great eye for colour and style – and this year she started painting. She painted this for me and it’s one of my very favourite things:

I love it for so many reasons: she painted it especially for me, for one, but she also based it off of a photograph I had taken on a Sunday morning walk with my husband. I snapped a photo of a train going by, nostalgically thinking of the days that the boys would be excited by trains. To my surprise, Florence copied that photo and gifted it to me, and it hangs on my kitchen wall so I can look at it daily and feel the love.

Florence, along with many other artists, will be at the Under 100 Art Show in December, and I am so excited. I mean, how often do you go to an art show that features your friend? This has never happened for me before, and I can’t wait. Tickets are still available, so if you’re in the YYC area, go and get some! They are very affordable and every piece is priced under $100, so perhaps a good time to go Christmas shopping?

Poetry, art, and music, popcorn and crop tops, I am indeed a multifaceted woman with many different loves and favourites. What are you loving, in this month of November? Tell me everything. xo

And You, Asshole, You’re Lucky To Be Here; Eighty-Seven Weeks In

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Every few weeks for the past couple of months, my husband has been travelling to check on the progress of the enormous renovation of our vacation home, and to meet with all the various contractors and so forth. Last week the boys had two days off of school, and so my older son accompanied him on his latest trip, leaving me and my younger son at home with Barkley.

This might seem like an ordinary thing in your house, but believe me, such a thing has never happened before. Other than one or two school-related trips, the boys have never been apart, and I have to say that it was really lovely to spend some one-on-one time with my younger son. Other than an hour or so here and there, I have never actually had true, extended, one-on-one time with either child since my youngest was born, and he just turned sixteen. We had such a fun couple of days together, both doing our own things and also doing things together. In total we had two nights where it was just the two of us, so we each chose a special meal for dinner, and we both ended up choosing Middle Eastern-style food. He chose homemade shawarma and falafel, and I chose TAKEOUT. This may also seem like an ordinary thing in your house, but believe me, it is not in mine.

I think the last time we got takeout was for my birthday in April, unless you count the time in early August, when we had just returned home late in the evening from our road trip, and my husband dashed out to A&W because we had no food in the house. I like a Beyond Meat burger just fine, but it doesn’t feel like a treat or a joyful gustatory pleasure, which is my goal for most dinners, truly. My son and I talked for WEEKS about what we would order and I had been thinking about the takeout place for MONTHS and you might think, from that statement, that maybe I should get out more and actually order takeout more frequently, and you might be right. If I did that, though, it would be less of an event.

God, this was so good. I got “The Mouh,” an eggplant/ zucchini sandwich, along with the dip sampler which included eggplant-based dips, and it wasn’t until after I had talked to my son about how much I love eggplant and I wish I had eggplant more often, that I realized what I was saying in terms of teen speak, and that he was just silently nodding and probably dying inside. That felt a bit awkward.

Eggplant aside, we also watched Top Gun together, which, as many of you know, is one of my favourite movies of all time. It reminded me of the collaborative blog my friends Hannah and Allison and I wrote, so long ago (HI ALLISON HI HANNAH). My favourite post from that blog was Life Lessons From Top Gun, and I just realized that I wrote that OVER SIX YEARS AGO, where does the time go. God, I love that movie. My son and I spent a lot of time making the hand gestures utilized by the ground crew (three, two, one, salute), and randomly quoting dialogue. Negative, Ghostrider, the pattern is full. He’s cold as ice, no mistakes. Talk to me, Goose. Bullshit, you can be mine. And you, asshole, you’re lucky to be here. Good times, and, as always, a good reminder that we are all lucky to be here.

I know it seems off-brand for me to really love Top Gun, but I do. I smile through the whole thing, from the first “bong, bong” sounds to the final Danger Zone credits. Several months ago I ponied up $1.99 to change the ringtone on my phone to the Top Gun Anthem, but somehow I cannot change the volume, which is Extremely High At All Times. Well, it means I never miss a call when my phone is in my bag, although I have had some odd looks from people around me when it starts blasting. Doo doo doo dodododododo.

Now it’s past Remembrance Day, which means that I started breaking out the Christmas mugs for my morning coffee, and putting out the Christmas-themed tea towels. I have been using my Christmas notepad for groceries, wearing my Christmas bracelet, using Vanilla Candy Cane-scented foot cream, and everyone has been washing with festive-themed soap since the beginning of the month. The weather forecast is fairly decent so I am hoping that my husband will start the outdoor decorations, and if you thought our Halloween display was fun, just you wait. All I’m going to say is that we have a few new additions this year that I’m dying to show you.

I always buy the kids nice Lindor Advent calendars, and I always think it would be nice to have my own, non-chocolate one. There are so many lovely calendars out there – the Body Shop has a gorgeous one – but I really cannot bring myself to a) spend upwards of $75 and b) spend upwards of $75 for a bunch of STUFF when I am trying to have less STUFF. I like the idea of consumable daily things, but I didn’t want a candy-related one, and then I saw Swistle (HI SWISTLE) link to a tea advent calendar that was, unlike many tea advent calendars, extremely reasonably priced. This calendar featured Pukka tea, which is my very favourite, and upon investigation, I discovered it was all sold out in Canada. Womp womp. I ordered another tea calendar that was reasonably priced – $20 – and it has arrived and I am disappointed. Over half the teas are green and black teas, which I do not, as a rule, enjoy, as I’m strictly an herbal tea kind of girl.

Well, I shall try to be open minded. Maybe they will be the most delicious thing ever. Maybe I will start drinking black and green tea instead of my usual ten cups of coffee in the morning. I cannot see it happening, but as I say to the kids, it’s good to try new things, you just never know.

Pandemic Reading

Malibu Rising. Have you ever read a book and thought, this would be a blockbuster movie? That was my feeling as I read it, that this would make a really good movie. Wait – is it optioned for a movie? I am always the last to find out about it. Anyway, this is a highly entertaining, don’t-overthink-this kind of book that was fun to read: four siblings who have gained fame and fortune through surfing throw an annual party. There are secrets! And Old Hollywood-style themes! It’s set in the early 80s, and the clothing and hair details are very fun, for those of us who really remember that era.

One, Two, Three. This was a really interesting read: an environmental disaster precipitated by a chemical manufacturer has devastating effects on a town and its citizens. This is a story about the search for justice, but also a coming-of-age story featuring teen triplets, told from each girl’s point of view. Very well-written and more complex than meets the eye.

I hope you all have a wonderful week; happy halfway-through-November! xo

Living La Vida Hygge; Eighty-Six Weeks In

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This was the most perfect book to read during the first week of November with colder temperatures and shorter, darker days:

Wait, wait. I know what you’re going to say. I am about five years late to the hygge party – actually, closer to six, given that we are almost done 2021 (WHAT). In my defense, I have had The Little Book of Hygge on hold at the library for many months, and it just came in last week, and so really I’m more like four and a half years late. Or five and a half, depending.

Many of you will remember that last year I started to embrace the Norwegian part of my heritage, adopting the concept of friluftsliv, getting outside and enjoying the fresh air, no matter the weather. And believe me, in Calgary that can be a challenge, but it is a challenge I have accepted. Then, in the spring, I decided to Embrace The Season, in every way possible. Now, I am adding to the roster the concept of hygge, which, to be honest, I have probably always embraced.

Hygge, for those of you also late to this party, is pronounced HOO-ga, which is super fun to say, like an old-timey air horn, and it is roughly translated as a feeling of coziness, intimacy, warmth, home, and safety. It’s the feeling I hope my kids get when they come home after school and activities, and it’s cold outside and I’ve baked muffins for their arrival. It’s the feeling I get when I’m having a hot drink and it’s cold outside and everyone is home and happy. It’s the feeling I get when I switch the bed to flannel sheets and start wearing legwarmers over my yoga pants on the daily (it’s a look).

Maybe I am spiritually Danish, because this book resonated with me a lot, except for the part about how much meat the Danes eat and how many candles they burn, as I don’t eat meat and I am terrified of candles with their possibility of setting the house on fire. Candles are fire hazards, people. I even get a little nervous with birthday candles. Anyway, there is a description of Danish fashion: all black with the exception of summer, when Danes get crazy about colour and break out the grey, with scarves and layers and hair in buns. IT’S ME, YOU GUYS. They are describing ME! Also, Danes lead the world in cake consumption, which is a fun fact that I am here for; cake is the queen of all the desserts, I will die on this hill.

One thing about living in a cold climate, when you are a person who does not like the cold, is that you really have no control over your environment. I guess that is true in any climate, none of us can control the weather – can we? – and so there are two ways we can react: we can complain endlessly, or we can accept it as it is and embrace the things that make it beautiful. I have chosen the latter, mostly, as I think complaining about the weather is the most useless thing we can do, and wishing the weather was different is futile. We get what we get, and we don’t get upset, as we say to preschoolers. I mean, sometimes I am going to be upset, but I’m trying.

So I’m embracing the concept of hygge, although as I said I think I have ALWAYS embraced it, I just didn’t know there was a name for it. It’s going to be ALL COZINESS ALL THE TIME around here, now that we are back to standard time and soon the sun will set just after four o’clock and temperatures dip low. As an aside, in the recent municipal election there was a question about getting rid of time change altogether and adopting Daylight Savings Time year-round, and I have feelings about this. It got voted down because people realized that the sun wouldn’t rise until 9:30-10:30 in December, but here’s my question: why Daylight Savings Time? Why not have Standard Time year-round? This was our chance to get rid of time change altogether, and it has been ruined. Why was Standard Time not an option? WHY? Do we really need the sun to be setting between 10:00-11:00 pm in June? STANDARD TIME MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE, WHO MADE UP THESE POLLS.

Anyway, that’s one more thing I can’t control, so I’m not going to rail about it – much – so let’s get back to hygge. The festive season is the perfect time to consciously be hygge. It’s pretty easy to Embrace the Season when you love the season, and it’s not yet so cold that my face hurts to be outside. Actually, we had a couple of unusually warm days last week – it was warm enough to run outside! – and we have had the most gorgeous sunrises lately. Yay for November!

Oh, one other great thing about November: kalettes are back at Costco!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. I was so excited to see them on my trip there this week and I kind of think that I should be getting some kind of kickback from The Kalette People, as I convince at least one person to buy them every time I see them, giving them a rave review and also my favourite way to prepare them – roasted, with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I’ll see a person – almost always a woman – at the display looking at them and then I will strike up a conversation about how much I love them, and the person inevitably puts a package in her cart, possibly to put an end to my enthusiastic raving, who can say. Well. Roasting vegetables is very hygge, in my humble opinion, as is baking:

Upon the kalette discovery I immediately texted my friend Janet (HI JANET) about their reappearance, and she said that she was also just at Costco and was going to text ME about kalettes, and don’t you love having friends like that? That kind of friendship is so hygge.

Pandemic Reading

Other than The Little Book of Hygge, I read a few books this week:

Things To Make and Break. I liked a couple of the short stories in this collection, but mostly this was not for me.

Broken (in the best possible way). It has been many years since I’ve read Lawson’s blog, but this series of essays reads just like I remember it: funny in a silly, over-the-top kind of way, and also dark, raw, and sad. This was very hit-and-miss for me, but fans of the blog will really love it, I’m sure. There were two essays in this book that I found quite beautiful, but mostly this wasn’t for me.

Yoga Pant Nation. I read and enjoyed the first two books in this series – Class Mom and You’ve Been Volunteered – and so I was happy when my friend Anna (HI ANNA) mentioned there was a third. It’s very light and fun and fluffy, and if you, like me, have ever clocked tons of hours volunteering at an elementary school, you will find this very relatable.

The Rules Do Not Apply. Have you ever gotten through a good chunk of a book only to realize you’ve read it before? There was a chapter about the man with whom the author’s mother was having an affair that seemed vaguely familiar and upon looking at my book record, I saw that I read this in 2018. I couldn’t remember any of it, so it was almost like a fresh read! For the first 2/3 of this book, I found all the people – particularly the author – to be extremely unlikeable. But there’s a heartbreakingly tragic event – which I had no memory of – and a redemption arc.

Wow, that’s a lot of books this week. Well, once winter starts to settle in, reading is very hygge for me! Have a great week everyone, remember our bodies are an hour ahead of what the clock says, in case you start feeling starving for lunch at 10:30 am. xo

Festivities Shift; Eighty-Five Weeks In

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Hello November!!

It was a brisk, wintry start to the weekend, so I wasn’t sure if we would even get any Trick-or-Treaters, but we ended up with an all-time high of 43, smashing our earlier record of 25. Maybe it was the decorations!

We do have some candy left over, which some of us are happier about than others.

Speaking of sugar, all occasions must be marked by sugar cookies, it is a law, while you’re living under my roof, you will obey my rules!

The first of November is, as you know, the beginning of Tiny Secret Festive Season! Today I’ll wear my Christmas bracelet, which will be with me until the New Year, and I will swap out the hand soaps for festive-themed ones. Tonight will be the night for red-plaid festive pajamas, my nightly foot cream will be swapped out for the Vanilla Candy Cane scent, I’ll start using my Christmas bookmarks, and my grocery lists will all be written on gingerbread-themed notepads. In a couple of weeks, I’ll start using the Christmas tea towels and Buddy the Elf mugs, and by then it will be soon time to decorate totally, so that by the end of the month we will be fully into the festive swing of things.

And on that note, I am ALMOST done my Christmas shopping, you guys! I know! Even for me, it’s early. Last week I carved out an afternoon just for going to the mall. I remembered what shopping felt like last year, and what it felt like was not fun. I recalled just trying to get every gift necessary in my one trip to the mall, and ending up completely exhausted and sour. You know what, I don’t want to live my life like that anymore. I don’t want to think of shopping for gifts for my loved ones, for my favourite holiday, as a huge dreaded chore. BE THE CHANGE, I thought, and so I changed my attitude about it.

One thing about me is that Gift Giving is not really my predominant Love Language (it’s Acts of Service). I have a tendency to get stressed and nervous when buying gifts – what if they don’t like it, what if it’s the wrong thing – and I think that is not the right way to think about Christmas gifts. Gifts are GIFTS. I don’t really remember being super-specific with wish lists when I was a kid. I remember being excited and happy opening gifts, and even when they weren’t things I would have specifically chosen, I would be delighted. I am still that way now. So why, I wondered, was I becoming stressed about getting the exact right thing for the exact right person? It’s a GIFT.

So that was the mindset I was trying to cultivate, and anyone with teen boys or other people who are difficult to buy for, people who have everything and want for nothing, will know what I mean.

The second part of my mindset was that I don’t need to get every single thing in one fell swoop. Last year, I kind of did; everything was new in terms of masks and customer limits in the store and sanitization stations everywhere. We still have our indoor mask mandate here, and almost no one walks around with a mask under their noses anymore. There are still limits to customers and hand sanitizers when one enters a store, but it feels pretty normal and much less dystopian now.

Old habits die hard, and I was tempted to buy the first thing I saw and to speed walk through the mall, but I told myself to slow down. It’s October 26, I said to myself, You can come back next week. Or later! I really tried to just enjoy the shopping experience, and as they say, fake it until you make it. And it worked! I really enjoyed myself. I browsed through a few stores, making mental notes about some items I thought would suit some of my giftees, I spent a LOT of time in Indigo choosing a paper agenda for 2022 for MYSELF, while looking at their displays of silly and delightful little things suitable for stockings, and, after lapping the mall once, I went back to the stores and bought the items that had initially caught my eye. I had a few ideas for my husband but at that point I was pretty laden down with bags. I think I’ll go back tomorrow and buy them, and maybe spend another enjoyable afternoon browsing around.

Pandemic Reading

Seven Days In June. This was an interesting mix of light, fun, sexy romance, and a commentary on the devastating personal toll of social issues. The plot follows two writers who had a (kind of) romantic week together fifteen years prior, and who have been writing the character of the other person into their books ever since. Sounds lovely and light, but that romantic week included massive drug use, self-mutilation, and eventual overdose. So…not as light as one might think.

What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat. I listen to and enjoy Aubrey Gordon’s podcast Maintenance Phase, which is about the toxicity of the “wellness” industry. The theme of this book is that anti-fat bias is the last “socially acceptable” mode of discrimination; it details the kind of discrimination faced, interspersed with truly horrifying stories about the way people treat other people. It also discusses the value we as a society place on certain body types, and how we assign morality to bodies and foods. It is something I had been thinking about for a while: a few summers ago, a friend was sharing with me her struggle to lose weight, and several times she used the words “good” and “bad” to describe herself and the food that she ate. I haven’t been bad at all! It bothered me then and it bothers me now, and I am still having a hard time articulating why. Anyway, this book is well-written, well-researched, informative and thought-provoking.

Happy November to you all! Have a great week! Is anyone else starting to gear up for the holiday season, or is it just me? xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Spooky Season Edition

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OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. LOOK AT THE GRUESOME SCENE THAT WE DISCOVERED ON OUR FRONT STEP LAST NIGHT.

I guess the mystery of the missing gourds is solved – it’s a case of cannibalism!

I don’t know WHO is responsible for this carnage, but a) I love it and b) I have my suspicions! I shall keep you posted.

Halloween is in THREE DAYS. I know. I know. We are all in a place where we wonder where the time went; where did October go, where did 2021 go, where is my life going. But here we are, the last week of October, it’s almost Halloween, we are all starting to talk about Christmas shopping, and wasn’t it just April five minutes ago? I’m having an existential crisis, is what I’m saying.

Three days until Halloween! It’s the month of all things spooky, and apparently pumpkin murder, and that’s good and fun, and someone posted a photo of their baby’s Halloween costume that is an AVOCADO and I wondered, is it too late for me? Can I squeeze one of my six-foot tall boys into a tiny avocado costume? No, of course not. That’s just weird and disturbing. But still. An avocado.

Mother, that sailor suit doesn’t fit anymore.

Enough of my crisis, although why didn’t I dress up my babies as peas-in-a-pod or similar when I had the chance? Opportunities wasted, I guess. Also – and this is just occurring to me now – why do we as a society dress up our babies as food? Peas, pumpkins, avocados. When we are pregnant, we chart the baby’s growth by other foodstuffs – grapes, melons, beans – which makes me wonder, is our society trying to make us think of EATING our babies?

Well.

Apparently cannibalism is on my mind, grossly enough. There is no good way to segue now into Nicole’s Favourite Things, but it’s that time again! Actually, cannibalism IS a spooky thing, so maybe that’s my segue.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Spooky Season Edition

Spooky Yard

Every year my husband and older son go a little overboard on our front yard, and this year is no exception.

There are also lights and animatronic movements and sounds, and in conclusion I’m glad Halloween is a weekend so that some of the smaller trick-or-treaters can come in the later afternoon, before it gets dark, so they aren’t scarred for life.

Remember last year, when my husband declared himself the winner in the Halloween decoration department? This year he simply attached a CLOWN to his truck. Maybe the clown is giving us the same message. I don’t know, I think it’s scarring ME for life. My husband thought he might buy MANY clowns and hang them all in our trees, or maybe even a six-foot animatronic clown, and I had to draw the line. I don’t think I can live in a house that is clown infested. I would have to go move in with my friend Janet in her No Clowns Allowed house (HI JANET).

This skeleton seems to be manspreading.

Reassuring Myself With Snuggly and Soft Decorative Gourds

My outdoor decorative gourds may be falling victim to predators, but my indoor ones are thriving!

Aren’t they cute? Many thanks to my dear friend Taryn (HI TARYN) who sees soft, snuggly pumpkins and immediately thinks “Nicole!” After looking at the screamfest in my front yard, it’s nice to know that I could cuddle a pumpkin to sooth myself to sleep, if need be.

Oh, who am I kidding. I’m essentially comatose and dreaming of folding laundry by 9:05 pm every night.

Spooky Season Is A Chilly Season

At least, it is where I live. There is a bite in the air, the mornings are frosty, and I would describe my daily walks as “crisp.” Time to layer up, buttercup! This hat was made by my friend Jeni at Chickadee Crochet – she’s got the cutest hats and headbands (HI JENI).

She also has adorable slipper socks that I’m coveting.

Dry, Cracked Lips Are Also Spooky

Are beauty products on theme with Spooky Season? Well, this is orange, so on point? I have been dying to tell you about O’Keeffe’s Lip Repair. I live in a very dry climate, and when the weather starts to turn it gets even drier. Let’s throw some mask-wearing in there, and we have ourselves some very dry, cracked lips. This product is amazing.

For years I have raved about O’Keeffe’s Healthy Feet, which works miracles on dry, cracked feet. I don’t know why it took me so long to buy the lip product, I should have known it would be great. I use the little pot at night and the stick first thing in the morning and voila! Lips are repaired.

Happy Halloween, everyone! What are you doing for it? I have been stockpiling full-size chocolate bars over the past little while – I want to be a Fancy Lady with full-size chocolate bars and also I think kids deserve a big treat after going through our yard – and I am going to be handing them out with mask and tongs, like last year. Because nothing says spookily festive like The Plague! xo

The Case of the Missing Gourds; Eighty-Four Weeks In

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I don’t want to alarm anybody, but something is eating my decorative gourds.

I started out with eight white mini-pumpkins, and I am down to two. My husband suggested someone was STEALING them, but I think that is unnecessarily suspicious of people in my neighbourhood, and also, if our home is going to be the the victim of theft, I don’t think it is the mini-pumpkins that are going to be targeted.

No, something is eating them, and the proof was staring us into the face when we noticed two large bites taken out of the decorative red gourd. At first I was willing to believe that a murder of crows was carrying off the mini-pumpkins, but the nature of the bite marks on the red gourd do not suggest a bird. Perhaps it is one of the many wild rabbits in the neighbourhood. I was prepared to cast the blame on my usual nemeses, the squirrels, but people, this is no squirrel.

I sprinkled cayenne on the gourds to deter predators, but on the upside, if this carnage continues, I will not have to worry about composting anything come November 1.

It has been an interesting week, and not just because of the disappearing gourds. We had a municipal election, which I voted for in the advance polls and as such kept forgetting that the election was not over. Why are there still signs around? Oh yeah. I knew the platforms of the frontrunners – enough to make an informed choice – but I have not been paying attention to the news at all as a self-care measure, and so I was very surprised to see 27 mayoral candidates. TWENTY-SEVEN. Who are these people and where did they all come from?

I was driving to the Superstore, which is ten minutes from my house, and noticed a big sign for one of the mayoral candidates that I never had heard of before. This gentleman’s tagline was “Calgary’s Cheapest Mayor” which, what. Who is doing your PR, sir?

Actually, whoever is doing the PR must have known that someone like me would immediately look up this gentleman’s platform because CHEAPEST MAYOR WHAT. I spent far too much time thinking that maybe he’s a guy who gives holiday cards saying that in lieu of gifts, a donation has been made to the Human Fund, or when splitting the cheque at dinner he pays exactly the amount for his entree, without tax or tip, or doesn’t offer to pay for part of the appetizer even though he ate half of it. Maybe all of those things are true, but they were not on his platform. It should be obvious but he was running on a platform of low expenditures and taxes, but what I did not know was that this person refused to door knock or go to any in-person interviews or meetings at all due to the pandemic. Maybe he didn’t want to spend money on gas? He did not win, nor did he even come into the top 20, but I shall give a little nod to his determination.

Speaking of Superstore, this week I earned an unprecedented 40,400 PC Points, and for those of you who are not in Canada or who do not shop at Superstore (who hurt you?) there is an app that tracks all your purchases, Big Brother-like, and then offers you points for things you regularly buy, which can be exchanged for store credit. For example, this week my offers include 200 points for every $1 spent on grapes and 1000 points for every $5 spent on the brand of yogurt I buy, among others. You get the idea. Anyone who spends a few months examining the patterns of the offers can figure out the basic algorithm, which is what I have done, and I shop accordingly to maximize my points and why are you looking at me like that. Anyway, I have been holding out on buying a few cosmetic items – Neutrogena products, mostly, but also hair colour – because I knew the points offers would be soon and THIS WAS THE WEEK.

My husband is of the belief that if I ever won the lottery, I would be more excited to receive the funds in PC Points than in actual cash, which is untrue, but also not totally untrue, if you know what I mean.

Speaking of my husband, it was his birthday this week, and you know what that means! Cake!

Since the rule in this house is that birthdays are celebrated for at least a week in some way, I also baked a pie on the weekend, and that, along with cooking some giant meals, meant a lot of time in the kitchen. Yesterday alone I washed dishes SEVEN TIMES. I am thinking that next weekend, I might heat up some frozen pizzas, set out some pre-made salads and Halloween candy, and call it a day.

Pandemic Reading

In The Country of Others. I have always been interested in Morocco, and this book gives incredible depth and detail to that country post-World War II, leading up to the revolt against French colonialism. It follows a war bride Frenchwoman who marries a Moroccan man and goes to live in a desolate farm in that country. It was well done and contained many layers, but I found the writing to be somewhat…disjointed, maybe? I can’t think of the right description. It almost felt like a series of vignettes linked together, and it did feel like it was a translation and that English is not the first language of the author, which it is not. The themes are very dark and disturbing – triggers include domestic abuse – and it is very nuanced as well. So much symbolism, for those of you who like that. I liked it, but did not love it, and I’ll be thinking about it for a while.

What Fresh Hell Is This? Oh, you guys. This book is really incredible: so empowering and liberating. From managing perimenopause in a patriarchal society that diminishes aging women to examining your own life and lighting a match to what doesn’t serve you, to realizing that menopause is not a disease or a defect, but a normal part of life – albeit one with effects that can be mildly bothersome to downright dreadful – this book is enlightening. It also is inclusive of people who experience menopause and do not identify as women or were not female at birth, which I am sorry to say, is a point of view I had not considered. It gives great advice about managing effects of menopause in a way that is in no way patronizing, and includes topics that can be very sensitive, like the feeling of becoming invisible or losing our looks or femininity. I especially liked how the author talked about the importance of social support and referenced the Golden Girls episode when Blanche realized she was going through The Change. There were a few things that did not feel relevant for my life, like the idea of opening up my monogamous relationship to explore my sexuality, for example, but the entire attitude shift that is celebrated in this book was really great. Thanks to my friend Cherie (HI CHERIE) for the recommendation!

On that note, I hope you have an empowered and liberated week, this last week of October! May the Halloween candy last until Sunday. xo