Never Eat Shredded Wheat; Eighty-Three Weeks In

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In my mind, one of the greatest technological advancements is the advent of the map function on my phone. I am a person who has very little sense of direction, and before this incredible feat of technological engineering, I would write down or print out directions to a place, and panic every time I thought I might have to turn, trying to keep one eye on the road and the other on the piece of paper. Is this the turn? I can’t read that sign. Oh goddammit, that’s a crescent, not a drive. WHERE AM I. The kids have known from a young age that I am a stressy driver in certain parts of the city, and my husband is constantly amazed that someone who has lived in one city her entire life still doesn’t know how the main thoroughfares work.

My husband, by the way, is a person who could be dropped anywhere at all, in any city, and would figure out exactly how to get to his destination within minutes, often without a map. How he does this I do not know, but it feels like not being on the Amazing Race was a missed opportunity.

When I was young, my dad would helpfully give me directions or draw a map on a piece of notepaper, and those directions would include things like “turn east” and he then would sternly say that “the sun rises in the east” when I asked if it was a right or a left hand turn. Thanks, Dad, I am aware the sun rises in the east, but my old car didn’t have directional indicators on it. Now, of course, if someone gives me such a direction, I look at the direction I am going as indicated on my rearview mirror and mentally say Never Eat Shredded Wheat as I figure it out.

All of which is to say I have a lot of gratitude for modern technology, wherein I can tap an address into my phone and it directs me there, taking into consideration current traffic and everything. I think we should all take a moment to sit silently in awe, thinking about how people like me are no longer a menace on the road, driving in circles and crying, tears smudging our handwritten directions that are uselessly crumpled on our laps, wondering how to get back home. Now we just have to think about the other menaces on the road: people who are using their phones while driving because god forbid a comment on Instagram goes unanswered, people who illegally drop their kids off in the bus zone at the high school and then block off the intersection as other cars try to turn down the street, which reminds me so much of when I visited Cairo in 2001, cars going everywhere but with no acknowledgement of the rules of the road, people who have road rage and aggressively tailgate and pass in residential streets because they are in a hurry and more important than everyone else. But at least I – and others like me – are relatively calmly driving in new areas, listening to our phones tell us what to do.

I don’t really go many new places these days, but I had the opportunity to use my Map Overlord twice this week: once to drive to my niece’s Brownie group where I was guest-teaching outdoor yoga, and once to meet a friend for a walk in a beautiful part of the city that I had never been to.

As a sidebar: I had never taught kids’ yoga OR outdoor yoga before, and it was quite different from my usual demographic, albeit very fun to teach “unicorn pose” and “rainbow breathing” and make up stories about Brownies with magical wands who could transform frogs into unicorns into dolphins.

Other things that happened this week, other than being grateful to live in the modern age, is that we had a brief snowfall that melted away soon after, it officially became legwarmer season, and my neighbours had a plumber to their house.

I watched intermittently out the window for a long time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hot Rod, but I had to go to the aforementioned Brownie meeting, and I missed him.

Pandemic Reading

Back in August, I put all my library holds on pause, as I wanted to work my way through a few books on my shelf that I wanted to read and reread. The pauses have all ended now, and this was the result:

After taking this photo, two more books came in, and when I went to pick them up, I saw this book, which was recommended by Swistle, (HI SWISTLE) just staring me in the face on the New and Notable shelf and honestly, I am not made of stone. In other words, I have a problem. Oh well. Game on, challenge accepted.

Little Fires Everywhere. This was one of the books I was wanting to reread, and I was blown away anew. IT IS SO GOOD. Celeste Ng is an incredible talent, a brilliant writer. She shows that people contain multitudes, and that there are many sides to a story. This book is about motherhood in all forms, but so much more – identity, secrets, appearances. Before you ask – no! I have not seen the show. It is highly unlikely that I will, mostly because I love the book so much and I find that I am inevitably disappointed by movies or shows based on books that I love. The sole exception to this rule is Little Women, both the recent film and the 1990s one, and I will also accept Sense and Sensibility as an excellent film.

Of Women and Salt. Oof. This is a very heavy, but ultimately hopeful, book. It’s a short, quick read but it contains so many layers and so much difficult material. Intergenerational trauma, the cycle of abuse, sacrifices made for a chance at a better life – all making the usual complexities of the mother-daughter relationship more fraught. The main characters are Cuban women, but there is an intertwined story about Salvadoran refugees that is heartbreaking and breathtaking.

People We Meet On Vacation. This was a very sweet best-friends-who-fall-in-love, opposites-attract book, just totally fun and fluffy. I mean, you know how this is going to turn out. It’s a perfect weekend/ beach/ vacation/ comfort read but there was a scene that got me thinking. The protagonist meets an old middle school nemesis who apologizes for being a jackass, and it reminded me of similar occasions in my own life. Specifically, I remember the advent of Facebook, and being “friended” by an old frenemy who treated me with the kind of emotional manipulation that certain girls wield in a terrible way. Do you hold onto grudges or let them go? People change, we are all in this journey together, I think. Shit happens and it’s rarely about US, you know? Mean kids had their own shit going on, that’s what made them mean. I remember accepting that woman’s Facebook friendship, and then thinking we are all just moms now, just going about our business and it was so freeing. Let go of that shit, is what I’m saying. The past is past. Anyhoo, this is a sweet little book about finding your home and happiness.

Have a beautiful week, friends! We have a birthday coming up in the house, so there will be cake in my future – how can that not be a great week! xo

Dreams, Jeans, Go(u)rds, Thanksgiving; Eighty-Two Weeks In

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Thanks and Giving

Thank you to everyone who reached out with kind words last week. It does make things lighter to know that we aren’t alone.

Today is Thanksgiving, for those of you not in Canada, and it is the first Thanksgiving in many years that we are not visiting my mother-in-law, which feels strange. It’s not even Covid-related – or, that’s not the main reason – we didn’t go because our vacation home, in which we stay when we visit, is currently a complete construction zone and is currently uninhabitable. We have added a second floor and after six weeks with no roof, the roof has just been put back on, and while there is no power or heat currently in the house, there are many workmen. When I say “construction zone” I really mean it. Staying with my mother-in-law is out of the question for logistical reasons, and the only other option would be to stay in a hotel and eat out and you know what, that part is Covid-related because I cannot fathom such a thing right now. Also, after the glory of last year’s Thanksgiving wherein I had my own kitchen and was able to contribute a number of vegetarian dishes to the meal, I cannot go back to eating a plate of peas and carrots for the festive dinner and later sneaking into the kitchen to scarf down peanut butter toast while everyone else digests their meal. Well, next year will be different.

We did have dinner at my parents’ place, and my mom made a number of vegetarian dishes along with a turkey, so everyone was happy. When it comes to cooking turkey, I will do anything for love but I won’t do that.

Dreams Last For So Long, Even After You’re Gone

I am not a person who puts much stock into dreams. I don’t tend to remember them, and if I do, they are usually incredibly boring and include dull day-to-day things like folding laundry endlessly or walking through the aisles in the grocery store. Back in my working days I used to dream about spreadsheets regularly, like the actual spreadsheets would just be scrolling through my dream-eyes. I don’t think I need to see a dream interpreter, is what I’m saying. Basically whatever is currently the most boring thing in my life, that is what I dream about.

But the other night, I had the most vivid dream that I was on a romantic vacation in Hawaii with Kevin from The Office. Before you ask, there was no sex involved, but Kevin was wearing a giant straw sunhat and flowered muumuu the whole time. The paparazzi was snapping photos that were captioned “Kevin From The Office and His New Girlfriend” so apparently, no one else knows his real name either.

What does it portend? Should my husband be worried? Am I going to leave him for Kevin? Or for another man who wears a straw hat and muumuu? I told my sons about the dream and they were most interested if Dream Kevin made me his World Famous Chili, and were disappointed when I said no. I mean, it’s probably not vegetarian.

It’s Fall, Fuckfaces

I have been eagerly preparing for Decorative Gourd Season in my usual way:

Even Barkley has gotten in on the action. He must have heard about throwing some multicoloured leaves in the mix, all haphazard, as you can see:

Of course, up here in Canada it is also Decorative Gord Season:

Now It’s A Whole Thing With Jean

You guys, Gigi was right (HI GIGI) (you were right!). Remember how excited I was for my new jeans, the first jean purchase I had made for years? Remember how excited I was at their comfort? Well. Gigi mentioned that some jeans have TOO much stretch and can become saggy and unattractive by midday and this is certainly the case with my not-so-exciting new jeans. They look so cute first thing in the morning, and then by 1:00 the waistband has started to slide down my body, leaving the crotch and bum sagging down. I tend to wear longer sweaters so it isn’t too obvious in that area, but the calves start to slide down to the ankles, and it’s all very disappointing. I don’t know what the answer is. Do I buy another pair of jeans that are less stretchy and comfortable? Do I go down a size so the jeans are uncomfortably snug until 1:00 in the afternoon? Do I just say fuck it all and wear my saggy jeans because where am I going and who am I seeing anyway? It’s a conundrum.

Pandemic Reading

I am still beta reading, and it’s so good that I schedule myself a certain amount of time each day to read make notes, and I’m constantly going over my allotted time with the thought just one more chapter, okay, just one more. The point is, I read just one other book this week and it’s a biggie:

Mansfield Park. It’s probably been 25 years since I read this, so it was almost like an entirely fresh read! I think this is the most complex and intricate of all the Austen novels. There is a LOT going on in this book, including such things as moral dilemmas, infidelity, divorce, and a whole lot of karma. One of the big themes in this book is that if you are a woman, and a man of independent means proposes to you, you should accept. NO QUESTIONS ASKED. Our incredibly beaten-down, put-upon heroine does NOT accept a proposal, for very solid reasons, and literally no one can believe it. They all keep trying to pressure her into this marriage, because WHY would she say no? There is a lot in here about class divides, and unlike any other Austen novel, there contains a non-wealthy or privileged setting. Of course there is a “happy ending,” depending on how you feel about “keeping romance in the family,” and all the same, I really love this book.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends! I hope you have a beautiful week. Our trees are mostly naked now, but it’s fun to crunch around in the leaves. xo

Not Okay, But Okay; Eighty-One Weeks In

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I’m okay. Everything in my life is fundamentally okay – good, even – and my little boat in this tsunami of a storm is strong and well-equipped. EVERYTHING IS FINE except everything isn’t fine? I know I’m not alone here. The other day Swistle (HI SWISTLE) mentioned the strong desire to lie down on the industrial carpet at her place of work and just…stay there and I felt like, girl, same. I was kneeling down to put away some of the hundreds of dollars worth of groceries from Costco and Superstore, and I just stayed there. For a long time I found myself kneeling in front of the low shelf in the pantry, motionless.

Everything is fine! But it isn’t, you know. I am SO SICK of writing about it but Covid cases are, again, through the roof. Every single day, every SINGLE DAY the new case count is enormous, the death count is shocking and saddening, and the strain on the health care system is unbelievable. My personal risk and that of my immediate family is low, it’s true, we are vaxxed and masked and we follow health protocols, but my nieces are too young to be vaccinated, and I have low-level anxiety about someone in my family needing urgent, non-Covid-related health care and not being able to receive it. NO ONE GET SICK, OKAY? NO ONE GET IN AN ACCIDENT OR ANYTHING. I mean, that’s how I feel in general, no one wants a medical emergency or an accident, but these things happen, and I feel like the universal health care safety net I have relied on my whole life is unravelling. Meanwhile, this week I have a routine mammogram.

My children are on the cusp of adulthood and although they still require support and guidance, they are on their own journeys and their own paths and I just have to let that go. The intensive part of motherhood is over, that chapter of my life is gone, and did I do okay? Who knows? I think I did, but who really can tell. Also, and this is probably a gender-construct, but I am finding that as the boys get older, my role in their life becomes more and more on the sidelines – which is great, we want our little birds to fly, we want them to embark on their own journeys in life and seek their fortunes as they do in fairy tales, but without the fairy tale death and despair – but their father’s role becomes more like that of a good buddy. Has anyone else felt that way? The three of them love doing things together that don’t include me – boys’ camping trips! Weight lifting! Watching wrestling! – and that’s okay, it really is, because I don’t really want my sons to be the kind of adult men whose “best friend is their mom” but still. It’s like I now have a minor role in the ensemble where I used to be the star. Also? I am an intelligent and highly-educated woman and the vast majority of my week is spent in food preparation, grocery shopping, and other household drudgery.

Barkley is in a decline. He is not yet in any pain that I can see, he is still eating and wagging and happy to go for our slow-boat-to-nowhere walks. But he’s also lived longer than I thought he would when he was diagnosed with cancer, he’s pretty much deaf now, and sometimes he has trouble getting up the three steps into the house. Every single day a well-meaning person stops me to ask about his lump, which then often devolves into a long story about “dogs they have known that have died of cancer” and, you know what, I don’t need those stories.

I had a lovely visit with some friends a couple of weeks ago, and I said that one of the hardest things for me has been giving up my idealism about the world. Back in the spring of 2020, I felt like THIS would be the event that brings us all together in humanity, we would all join metaphorical hands and overcome. I would walk down the street and see the window art that people had made to keep spirits up. And the world came together as the people stayed apart said one sign, decorated with children’s art. And now look at what we’ve become. My friend agreed and said if a global pandemic didn’t do it, I guess we have to wait for aliens to land and take over the world which only reminds me of Kent Brockman and the ants, which means humanity will be divided forever and ever, amen.

Anyway. It’s just life right now, and in the meantime these are the things that have been helping cheer and soothe me:

  1. Girly-girl self care: I had a pedicure last week and tomorrow I go for body sugaring, and although the audience for these things is limited, it’s like wearing pretty underwear: it’s not about the audience, it’s about ME, and I like these things.
  2. Kondo-ing social media: I deleted the twitter app off my phone months ago but I still sometimes would look at twitter on my desktop, and I would end up feeling sad and angry. I deleted my account altogether as it felt like time to Marie Kondo my social media: if it’s not sparking joy, it’s out. The moment I deleted it I felt relief.
  3. Eating: It’s Macintosh Apple Season, which is the greatest of all Apple Seasons, and so I have been mowing through pounds of them. It’s also Pear Season, which is second only to Macintosh Apple Season. Lest you think I’m being an obnoxious, Fruit-is-Nature’s-Candy person (although, let’s face it, I kind of am), yesterday I made peanut butter banana “nice cream,” heavy on the Reece’s Pieces and chocolate swirl.
  4. Kettle corn and Ted Lasso: Weekend evenings my husband and I have been watching Ted Lasso and eating popcorn, both of which are very cheering. Well, except for the “Coach Beard On The Town” episode we watched a few weeks ago, wherein I spent the whole time thinking how much longer is left of this stupid episode instead of my usual omg I love this show. If you know, you know. Anyway, kettle corn.
  5. Loud piano playing: I unearthed my old photocopied sheet music of Introduction and Fugato and if ever there was a song that gets the feelings out, this is it. SO CRASHY. I played this constantly as an angsty teen and the fingers have memory because it’s all come back to me.Listen
  6. Listen while you work: I have found that listening to podcasts while doing mind-numbing household drudge chores, or slowly walking Barkley, has been immensely fun. I never thought I’d be a podcast person, but here I am. If you’re interested, my number one favourite is You’re Wrong About.
  7. God bless Mother Nature, she’s a middle-aged woman too: The sunrises lately have been incredibly beautiful, and although many trees are now naked, there have been some absolutely beautiful days with blue skies and fall colours.

Pandemic Reading

Of course, nothing helps me so much as diving into a good book. I am currently doing a very special and excellent beta read, but I had time for a couple of classic rereads this week.

Northanger Abbey. It had been at least twenty years since I read this, and I forgot what an absolute delight it is! It is so witty and lovely, following sweet, guileless Catherine and her adventures in Bath, with the people she meets – both lovely and terrible, as is de riguer in Austen – complete with some some delightful misunderstandings. There’s something so soothing about a book that ends happily ever after.

Frankenstein. I decided to kick off spooky season with something I haven’t read since…English 231, circa 1994? Um. I don’t remember my 1994 impressions but this time around? I did not like it. I’m always so incredulous when it comes to sci-fi-ish books (how can the creature possibly have learned so much in such a short amount of time, how did he actually create a sentient being, do you even know how complex the brain is, if Frankenstein was worried about making a female because they would reproduce, couldn’t he have figured out the reproductive system and made them sterile, yes I know this was written in 1818 and medical information then was not medical information now) which makes reading them a real problem for me – I cannot suspend my disbelief. That’s on me. But also? The real monster is Frankenstein, not his creation. I mean, he makes a creature out of old corpses that he steals, and then is shocked by his ugly it is? Come on, buddy. Did you not think this through?? Take responsibility for your actions, Frankenstein. The poor creature just wants to be loved and instead, you just LEAVE. Because he’s ugly. I mean. What an asshole. You created something that is doomed to always be alone and shunned by the world due to his appearance, and then you’re surprised it went wrong? Yeesh.

Take care of yourselves, friends. It’s been a long haul, but we really are in it together. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “It’s My Bag, Baby” Edition

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Once in a while I’ll meet a person who casually mentions that they never carry a purse, and I am completely struck speechless. If a person doesn’t carry a purse, how do they carry all the things? Or do they carry no things? Or do they rely on pockets? Just…how? And am I carrying too many things?

The above is the stash of things I take to teach; I’m like a pack mule.

I have been wanting to write about handbags forever, and was doubly inspired after reading this post by Stephany (HI STEPHANY). I am not a “handbag person” in that I don’t have myriad bags that I switch out seasonally, but I do have a few that I switch out for different functions on the daily.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The “It’s My Bag, Baby” Edition

The Big Mama

This is my number one, catch-all, if-I-had-to-run-out-of-the-house-in-an-emergency-I-would-have-everything bag. I love it so much. It’s sturdy, it’s huge, it’s cute, it’s waterproof, it’s wipeable. I take it with me for appointments and to travel (well, inasmuch as I travel these days), I grab it when I am just popping out for a quick errand, it goes with me to teach, and it also acts as a storage container for everything in my life, as you will see.

It has a cross-body strap, which is more convenient to me if I need to be hands-free.

Barkley photobomb! Also, how do people take mirror selfies? It’s hard. Anyway, this bag has tons of room, zippered compartments, a separate compartment for books/ laptop (if ever I carried one, which I do not), and a little mesh pouch to hold a water bottle, which I do take to every class. After ninety minutes of talking, not to mention mask-wearing and talking, I am pretty dry.

The bag is from lululemon, but it doesn’t look like they sell it anymore. I have always been impressed by the quality and size, and the fact that the straps have never suffered from me cramming so many things in it. It’s expandable as well, which is a feature I haven’t yet had to use, but it’s nice to know it’s there.

The “Going Out” Bag

This is the bag I use for all my super-exciting expeditions. In other words, the grocery store. I love my giant bag but it’s not particularly practical for going to Costco and Superstore, even with the cross-body strap. Grocery trips are a workout in themselves – Costco in winter is like CrossFit – and I don’t need a big bag to get in the way.

Enter this cutie! It’s from Matt and Nat and it’s juuuuuuust big enough to hold my wallet and a few other key items, like my actual keys, as well as my phone, grocery list, small sunglasses case, a mask, and a tiny hand sanitizer. There is a lipstick in there too but it goes unused because masks. You know what I mean. Well, masks are the new lipstick, I always say.

It also has the all-important cross-body strap, because until I grow an extra arm I cannot waste the use of one holding a bag while I haul around hundreds of dollars worth of groceries.

The “Walking Barkley” Bag, a.k.a. If It’s Not Scottish It’s Crap

My parents brought this back to me from their trip to Scotland, and I love it. It’s too small to hold a wallet or sunglasses, but it’s perfect for holding keys, phone, a mask, and the all-important stash of dog poop bags. Have you ever been caught without one? I have, and I felt so badly that I went home and came back to clean up.

It has a small zippered compartment that I can stash my library card in, when I need to pick up a book.

Let’s Call This What It Is

Okay. So. I really like this bag for longer walks, it’s waterproof and a good size in case I need to take a wallet with me somewhere. I keep dog poop bags in it as well, along with keys, phone, and mask. It’s big enough to put in my smaller sunglasses case as well. It is from lululemon and it is euphemistically called a “belt bag” but let’s call it what it is: a fanny pack.

Now, let me just hasten to assure you all that I do not wear it as such. Bless you all who love the belt bag but there are a few reasons I do not wear it as intended: first, I feel like I might turn into an older lady in my life who shall remain nameless, and who loved her fanny pack back in the day, and while I love this lady I do not want to emulate her personal style. Second, I actually don’t know how to adjust the straps, and frankly, I don’t want to learn. Third, for the majority of the year I wear large coats on my walks and having something on my waist is impractical. I wear it cross-body, as I do with all of my bags, and is my hand really that big?

WHAT’S IN THE BAG

In my head, I just said that like Brad Pitt in Seven. Not to worry, there is no one’s severed head in my bag. But there are a lot of things!

This is what I keep in my big bag, on the regular. Could I get rid of some of the things? Sure! But why would I? It’s a bit of a storage area for me. Not everything goes with me all the time, it should be noted, like the book and water bottle, and the sunglasses I’m not using. Let’s go left to right, sort of:

Masks: although I always match my mask to my outfit, it’s a good idea to have a couple of extra in my bag, just in case, and yes, that is a Golden Girls mask. Extra dog poop bag, because you never know. Water bottle, for teaching. Book and reading glasses, for appointments. Nail files – I probably don’t need three but you know how it goes. They multiply. Emergency wide-tooth comb for the rare day I have my hair down. Pens, Advil, dental floss, mints. Earplugs – I sleep with earplugs and those are my spares for when we are travelling. Cosmetic bag, wallet, three different sunglasses for different sun strengths, small first aid kit, hand sanitizer, lip products, keys, tissues. Not pictured: phone, because it’s taking the photo.

My friend Sara (HI SARA) gave me this cosmetic bag, and it’s a perfect size to stash all those little things that don’t fit in the zippered compartment.

At last count there were ten lip products in this bag; like I said, my purse is a bit of a storage area. Also in this little bag: a phone charger, travel size toothpaste and toothbrush. You can never be too prepared. You may think that fourteen lip products in one bag is overkill, but what can I say, I like choices. I find it soothing to know that I could have anything from a clear balm to a bold red lip, without having to search cupboards.

All important question of the week: are you a handbag carrier, or are you one of those unicorns who can go without? Are you a bit of a turtle – carrying everything with you – like me, or are you more of a “travel light” kind of person? Tell me everything. xo

Giving Up The (Trend) Ghost; Eighty Weeks In

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I have always loved clothes and fashion. When you were a teen, did you “reinvent” your look every summer to have a bold new style in September? I sure did; some elements I would keep – to this day, I wear silver hoop earrings just like the ones I adopted back in 1989 – and some would change from year to year. I think fondly of the clothes I wore back in my high school years, particularly the babydoll dresses with army boots and the cute little kilts with turtlenecks. Some styles were less cute:

That’s me in grade eight, and it tells you everything you need to know about my style at the time. What can I say, it was the Eighties.

Anyway, I love clothes and September feels like a good time to talk fashion, what with the changing leaves and the crispness in the air. Although, who are we kidding, I live in Calgary, it’s been crisp for a month now. I’m almost fully transitioned to sweaters and scarves, and my fuzzy slippers have made their reappearance after their summer hiatus.

I follow a number of fashion blogs; one of the women is in her thirties, but the rest are over forty, and I do find these blogs both inspirational and aspirational. I love the styling and accessories, I love seeing women express themselves through clothing, but I also find that, with some limited exceptions, these outfits are completely irrelevant to my life. Where are the blogs that have twenty-five different ways to style yoga pants, or what to wear when your only outing is to the grocery store, or what are we doing about jeans these days.

JEANS. I have never been what you might call a particularly trendy person, but over the years I have generally incorporated some current trends into my wardrobe. Until now. I always wondered at what point women just give up on “what’s in style” and go their own way, and I feel like for me, that point is age 46. You see, I am realizing that current trends are completely not appropriate for my body, in particular, JEANS.

On the one hand, nothing dates a person faster than out-of-date jeans; just think about how “Mom jeans” got their name back in the early 2000s, when we were all wearing super-low-rise boot-cut jeans. Women of my generation made fun of those generously-fitting jeans with the nine-inch zippers as our thong panties poked out of our dangerously low-rise, dark-wash boot-cuts, but what we tend not to remember is that we wore those very things ten or fifteen years prior. We wore them with pride, with our cropped tees or tucked-in blousy tops or, possibly least-flatteringly, our gigantically outsized sweaters.

The above photo is from my grade eleven yearbook, taken when I was in rehearsal for the play Buried Child by Sam Shepard. Do you know Buried Child? If so, you may be staring into space wondering how a high school could possibly put on such a play. Looking back I wonder the same thing, and yet it seemed fine to me at the time. Dead babies and incest, themes that are incorporated into every high school production. That seems perfectly reasonable for a bunch of teens. Anyway, I played Shelly.

Remember puffy shirts?

Now, of course, those jeans are stylish, as are boot-cut – but not low-rise, no, waistbands must end just below the ribcage now – and the skinny jeans I have been wearing and loving for the past nine years are emphatically out. Well, maybe not emphatically, but they are on the way.

Empirically, boot-cut jeans are THE most flattering jeans, but I am of the opinion that they look best worn with heels, which is not something that interests me at all anymore. Give me flats or give me death, with very few exceptions. The thing I love about skinny jeans is the ability to wear them with tall boots, tall FLAT boots, which is a look I adore. I don’t want to get rid of my skinny jeans, but are they dating me? Maybe. Do I care? Maybe a little.

Current styles are highlighting the following: high-waisted, looser fit jeans, crop tops, and PADDED SHOULDERS. No, they don’t call them Shoulder Pads, they are Padded Shoulders, as if this is a different thing, as if this is a flattering direction we are going in. I say a big old no to Padded Shoulders, but also to the high-waisted, loose fit jeans and crop tops. As a woman going through perimenopause, my waist is not something I want to draw attention to. I want to smooth things over in that area, not highlight them. This is why I love skinny jeans or leggings with long, drapey sweaters. Crop tops and – as seen above – blazers with Padded Shoulders are not a direction I to which am willing to turn.

I recently purchased, for the first time in at least seven years, a pair of jeans. I was on a mission but when I walked into Bootlegger I just stood there, overwhelmed. It occurred to me, once I set foot in the store, that I was absolutely not the correct demographic for that store and maybe I should just forget the idea altogether. Too late, I was approached by a very lovely young woman by the name of Alexis who asked if she could help me. Honey, you have no idea. I told her I was looking for jeans, and that I usually wore skinnies, but I knew they were out of style, and she immediately interrupted me. “Oh, god. I mean, yes. TikTok says that skinnies are over, but who cares? You should wear what you want! We have tons of skinny jeans.”

Was Alexis some kind of wise oracle? Maybe. You meet the people you need in life. I stared at her as she led me over to the massive piles of jeans, answering her questions as to size and colour. She handed me a few pair with some commentary on their stretchiness or otherwise, the fits she herself preferred, and then I followed her to the change room.

People. There have been a LOT of changes in the past seven (or more?) years when it comes to jeans. The material! It’s stretchy! It’s forgiving! It was a complete revelation to me. The waistline, while not ending near my ribcage, was higher than that of my old jeans and it was so comfortable! They are so comfortable. I love them so much and, as Alexis said, looking at my ballet flats, they go perfectly with your shoes!

I’m happy. I have decided I shall swan into my dotage with no regards to what’s trendy or in-style, I am going to WEAR WHAT I WANT. Thank you, Alexis.

All the styles right now remind me so much of my teen years, and I do have that old adage in my head, that if a person wore it the first time around, they should not wear it the second time. I don’t entirely agree with that – we should ALL wear what we want, there are enough societal rules around women’s bodies and lives, clothes are for fun, not for a grim reminder of the flight of time and the invisibility that accompanies women of a certain age – but also, I kind of do. Maybe I do because I hate the current styles; maybe I’d feel differently if a style returned that I really love, although I am having trouble thinking of any such styles right now. I guess I’ll just stick with twenty-five ways to style yoga pants and leave it at that.

Pandemic Reading

It was a really good week for reading – I went through some incredible titles!

The Hundred Secret Senses. I really liked this book about sisters, fate, and past lives. I do not know much about Chinese history, but the secondary story line deals with the Taiping Revolution, which I have since learned was the bloodiest civil war in history. The main story follows a woman in 1990s San Francisco, and her relationships with her husband and half-sister, but also delves into past lives. It’s a really interesting and well-written book, and it has caused me to research some historical events, which I love. It ended much differently than I thought it would, but it was one of those books that caused me to really think about the people in my life and how people come into your life for a reason. Like Alexis. Ha! Just kidding, kind of.

Secret Daughter. I absolutely loved this book. It was incredible on so many levels, and delicately delved into so many topics: motherhood, family, poverty, fortune, careers, illiteracy, hope. It really focuses on the sacrifices mothers make for their children, but on different levels. A baby girl is left at an orphanage; her mother cannot keep her as she “needs to have a boy” in her culture. As a side note, due to sex-selective abortion, India has 93 females to every 100 males. The baby ends up being adopted by an American couple, both of whom are doctors. The story moves between the two families, and is very heartwrenching. There are so many emotional moments; one, in which the American woman looks at herself in the mirror at age 52, having given up a promising career in pediatrics for one that allowed more scheduling flexibility, but was dismal and dull and poorly paid, and being estranged from her husband and her daughter being far away, well. It’s poignant, is what I’m saying. If ever I have a moment where I think “I need a bigger kitchen” or “We have so much stuff; I need more storage space,” I will endeavor to remember the description of the human desperation in the slums of Mumbai. It’s worthwhile to remember my own privilege when there are fellow humans who are doing everything in their power every day to just have food and shelter, no matter how poor that food and shelter is. Anyway, I want to read everything by this author now.

Anxious People. Backman is hit and miss for me and I am often wary of books that are surrounded by a lot of “buzz” but this? This was incredible. Such a witty, intricate, wise book about compassion, empathy, and how we are all connected. It’s a lesson that we never know the whole of anyone’s story. “…that was why you should always be nice to other people, even idiots, because you never know how heavy their burden is.” It seems to start funny and light and just grows deeper and more complex as it goes. This was exactly the book I needed to read right now. It’s just wonderful on every level.

Have a great week, everyone! Enjoy your own foray into fall! xo

A Dive Into Jane Eyre; Seventy-Nine Weeks In

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This past week I was a beta reader for a book concerning parenting young children; it’s hard to remember what those early years were like when my youngest just turned sixteen!

Also, I was so sleep-deprived back then that I barely remember 2005-07.

My son had, by all accounts, a great birthday. His brother, who knows him better than anyone, made him a “loot box,” which is apparently a thing. Everything in the loot box was labelled “rare” and “ordinary” and something else that I don’t remember. He found cans of spray paint in the garage and was up late the night before, spray painting in the backyard.

I didn’t even know we HAD spray paint.

This week has been a roller-coaster, emotionally. Our province has declared a state of emergency as our health-care system is collapsing, Covid cases are out of control, and the government finally implemented what is essentially a vaccine passport system, but no one is calling it that, instead it is a “vaccine exemption program.” Businesses, other than places like grocery stores, can either shut down or operate with extreme restrictions, or they can run fairly normally, as long as patrons can show proof of vaccination. The community centre I teach at has implemented the program, and I taught my first in-person class since – as an older student pointed out – November 12, 2020. But who’s counting!

I realized just how much I missed teaching in-person, with the ability to adapt and modify postures based on individual bodies. I think Zoom killed my zest for teaching, a little, and I feel like I’m getting my mojo back.

All of which is to say it’s been a busy and somewhat emotional week, and my Pandemic Reading consisted of the beta read and Jane Eyre. Have you ever read Jane Eyre? My grandma gave it to me when I was probably 14 or 15.

It was very unusual for Grandma to not write the date in the flyleaf, so I’m guessing about my age, and in any case, I didn’t love it when I read it over three decades ago. I found it quite dark and grim, and I didn’t remember much about it except that everyone was mean to Jane as a child and that there was a crazy wife living in the attic.

Jane Eyre is often lauded as a romance, and Reader, it is not. It is a Crazy Town Banana Pants book that I just have to talk about or I will explode. If you are uninterested in Jane Eyre, or you don’t want spoilers for a 174-year-old book, then please skip the rest of this post, and I’ll see you next week.

Pandemic Reading: Jane Eyre

The Victorian Age Was Rough For Orphans

I mean, obviously. But Jane is orphaned as a baby and is taken in by her mother’s brother and his wife; the uncle dies and on his deathbed twists a promise from his wife that she will always care for Jane “like one of her own.” SPOILER: she does no such thing. Jane is emotionally isolated and neglected, and suffers physical abuse from her male cousin, and when she fights back, she is locked up alone in the “red room” where her uncle died, until she has a total breakdown. Then she’s sent to boarding school for her insolence.

Charity Schools Were Uncharitable

Also, obviously. This is the Victorian age. But the school Jane is sent to essentially starves the students, forces them to walk miles to church in the winter in inadequate clothing, and is basically wretched. Typhus hits the school and kills over half the girls, and the good news is that the survivors get more food, as dead students don’t eat much.

Jane gets an education, though, and becomes a teacher. Eventually she applies for, and receives, a private governess position at Thornfield Hall. Her new master is Mr Rochester, who has taken on a ward, Adele. Sweet little Adele. She is the saddest character in this whole book, and that is saying something. Adele’s late mother was a French dancing girl who claimed Rochester was the father of her baby; Rochester, of course, denies it, and as he says in nineteenth century language, the woman was slutting around so who knows who the father is? But certainly not him! However, he feels guilty enough to take in the little waif and to secure the services of a governess.

Mr Rochester Is Terrible

I have seen Rochester referred to as a romantic hero, and that makes me concerned and worried for the people who think that. He puts down Jane in every way imaginable – her looks, her ability to play the piano, her personality – and yet she falls in love with him. Jane, no. You can do better. Is it Stockholm Syndrome?

The English caste system is pretty awful, and Rochester gives a house party for his similarly wealthy friends which includes one Miss Ingram, to whom he implies he will be married, as she is big and busty and beautiful, as well as rich, unlike tiny plain Jane. Miss Ingram and the other ladies show a lot of disdain towards the help, but particularly towards the governess. People who work for their money are considered pretty low. Anyway, during this house party, a Roma fortune teller comes to Thornfield, and all the ladies go into the room in which she is sequestered to hear their fortunes. All are dissatisfied with said fortunes, and are especially so when the housekeeper informs Jane that she must go hear her fortune as well. Why the governess, she’s not really a person. Jane goes to get her fortune read, the fortune teller ascertains that she has feelings for Rochester, and then it is revealed that the fortune teller is Rochester himself all dressed up, what even is happening here.

After all that, Rochester tells Jane that he’s going to marry Miss Ingram, and talks about her incredible beauty and accomplishments. Just as Jane is beaten down by this revelation, he says just kidding, I totally want to marry you, I just wanted to make you jealous. WHAT THE WHAT DID THAT JUST HAPPEN. People. If someone treats you in this weird way, they are not romantic heroes, they are crazy town gaslighters.

It Gets Worse

They quickly go to get married, because Jane is improbably in love, and Rochester keeps talking about how they will immediately leave the country and start travelling. Like, immediately. Foreshadowing? As soon as the clergyman asks if there is any reason why this marriage shouldn’t go on, someone steps up to say, yes, he has a reason, and the reason is that Rochester already has a wife, who is still living. In fact, that wife is living in his attic.

The long and the short of it is that Rochester, being a second son and so not entitled to his family fortune or Thornfield Hall, in his youth went to Jamaica where a marriage was arranged for him with a very wealthy woman. A very wealthy mixed race woman. After they were married and her fortune secured into Rochester’s hands, he realized that they were an unsuitable match – possibly due to her race, possibly due to mental illness that ran in her family. It seems like Bertha, the wife, doesn’t enjoy his brand of repartee, which Rochester interprets as her also being mentally ill. In any case, Rochester’s father and brother die, leaving him with the family fortune AND Thornfield Hall, to which he repairs with his wife. But, he considers her a lunatic, so he locks her up in the attic with no companion except a gin-addled woman who also does some sewing for the household. As you do.

Oooookayyyy.

Well, if she wasn’t mentally ill to start with, she certainly is after a decade or so of living in the attic. In any case, after this reveal, Jane, who is uninterested in bigamy, leaves Thornfield Hall in the dead of the night and ends up wandering around the moors, cold and starving, until a nice family takes her in.

There’s Nothing That Says Loving Like Marrying Your Cousin

Serendipitously, that nice family ends up being related to her, and for Jane, who thought she had zero relations other than her abusive aunt and cousins, this is a truly great thing. She also inherits some money, so she is now an independent woman, and, sidebar, it was really shitty to be a woman back then. If you did not have means for independence, you would have to hope to be married to someone who could provide for you, or possibly live out a life eking out a living as a governess or doing some kind of housework or service.

Anyway, the family consists of two sisters and a brother, who are Jane’s cousins on her father’s side. The male cousin is a missionary going to India to convert all those heathens, and he wants Jane to go with him as his wife. When she turns him down, saying no, dude, that’s gross, we’re cousins, but I’ll still go to India to help with the conversions, he gets really mad and doesn’t want to talk to her. The men in this book are really terrible and seem to feel that women should just be happy to be married and stop asking questions, which was the reality back then, but god.

Okay, Now It Gets Weird

Jane takes her independent means and, for reasons unknown, goes back to Thornfield Hall. Again, Stockholm Syndrome? It turns out that the place has burned down; Bertha the Attic Wife was responsible for the fire and also is now dead, so Rochester is a free man. Yay? Ugh. Rochester is also now blind and has lost a hand, due to the fire, but Jane is undeterred and we are treated to that famous line “Reader, I married him.”

What Happened To Adele?

WELL MAY YOU ASK. Poor Adele. When Jane first leaves Thornfield, she’s sent to a boarding school, where she is miserable. When Jane returns, she fetches Adele, who is so happy to see her it is heartbreaking. However, Jane is now the wife and caretaker to the decrepit Rochester, and has no time for poor Adele, so she’s sent to ANOTHER school, and Jane has a baby, and I’m not sure how she’s taking care of said baby because Rochester literally demands all her time and energy.

Rochester Is A Perv

When Rochester proposes to Jane, he is forty and she is eighteen, which is one thing, but the fact that Jane is constantly described in terms of her size and appearance as “tiny” and “child-like,” well. It’s really gross. An age difference is one thing, but a forty-year-old man going after a teen who appears much younger is quite another. By the time the dust settles, Jane is maybe twenty and is now saddled for life with a man who a) has a lot of physical needs b) screwed his way around Europe in his youth, fathering god knows how many children WHILE Bertha was living in his attic, and c) HAD A WOMAN LIVING IN HIS ATTIC.

Well. It was worth the reread just to experience the crazy nature of the book, with its racist undertones and really bad relationships. The single best thing about the book is that Jane is pretty upright and refuses to bend her morals: she won’t take jewels or wealth, she won’t marry anyone just for the sake of marrying them. It’s really interesting to reread books at different stages in life – have you done that for any old favourites lately? Tell me all about it. xo

Eighteen Months of Pandemic Life, An Update; Seventy-Eight Weeks In

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This week my younger son turns sixteen – SIXTEEN! – and so, officially, 75% of the Boyhouse will have had two pandemic birthdays. Well, if we include Barkley, 80%, but I don’t as his birthdays have been pretty much the same, pandemic or no. My son had a big celebratory dinner with his favourites, ribs and pie, last night, a cake and his favourite “weeknight” dinner will be served up this week, Friday will see his horde of friends having pizza and cupcakes and hanging out in our backyard, weather permitting, and Saturday will be celebrated with my parents, and will also include cake. It will be a week of celebrations, worthy of our newly minted sixteen-year-old, but it also reminded me that we are just ticking along, living our lives in a pandemic way.

It’s interesting how we have all adapted, in ways we never thought we would, and certainly not for this long. Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) had written about where her family is, at this point in the pandemic and I thought that I should record in my Dear Diary what is happening, pandemic-wise, in the Boyhouse these days. After all, it is exactly eighteen months to the day since our first shutdown. I recognize we are all in the same storm, but different boats, so to speak, and this is just a description of our boat, and how we are floating it and paddling and, I don’t know, putting up sails? I don’t know boats that much.

The General Situation

Our province currently leads the country in total Covid cases. That is not per-capita, that is not population-adjusted, that is TOTAL. We also lag behind the country in total vaccination rates; I think about 70% of the eligible population are vaccinated. Basically all Covid restrictions were dropped at the beginning of July, and cases spiralled out of control. The government announced at the end of July that they were going to end all contact tracing and “just treat Covid like any other virus” and what, why, no one knows. As anyone could foresee, this ended up being a complete disaster and now the hospitals are moving acute-care patients out to make room for Covid patients, the health-care system is near collapse, elective surgeries are cancelled, AGAIN, and we are fully in the fourth wave, the “wave” being more like a tsunami. But at least we had Stampede. Allow me to just take a moment to do some ujjayi breathing.

Just recently the indoor mask mandate was reinstated, and the government “strongly suggested” that unvaccinated individuals limit indoor social gatherings to a maximum of ten people or two cohorts, which, if I know anything about unvaccinated individuals at this point in the pandemic, this “strong suggestion” will go unheeded.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

My family, including my extended family and my husband’s mother and sister, are all vaccinated, with the exception of the children too young to be, as are my friends and my kids’ friends and their families. I do know a couple of people who are not, but only a couple and they aren’t in my day-to-day life. In any case, at this point I am completely uninterested in sharing physical space with unvaccinated people, indoors or out. If a person is unvaccinated at this point in the pandemic, it is a statement, and I am in extreme disagreement with that statement. I am a person who really does try to look at different perspectives, and to be “curious, not furious,” but I feel that eighteen months in, our decisions and behaviours are pretty much entrenched and unchanging. In any case, according to the school, our area of the city is 85% vaccinated; I do not know how they got that statistic, but I find it calming.

The Kids Are All Right

The kids are so much better off than they were at this time last year, when there was just so much strangeness and uncertainty. Things are still strange and uncertain, but these times are no longer unprecedented. I am not always happy with the Board of Education, but I currently am their biggest fan as they implemented a mask mandate for everyone in schools, and a self-reporting Covid notification process when the provincial government would not. The boys are at a school of about 2300 kids and last year there were Covid cases, but no in-school transmissions, which is a remarkable commentary on the efficacy of masks. Distancing, as we know in a big school, was largely impossible, although it was attempted, and there was increased sanitation across the board.

I feel good about them being in school, with masks and vaccines. Perhaps online school works for some people, but it certainly does not for my kids. They are so happy to be back at school; masks do not faze them much, and I just want them to have a semi-normal experience for the remainder of their time at high school. They eat lunch in a friend’s backyard, who lives very near the school; they hang out with their friends a lot – there is a big group of them, and they travel together like a gang – and they have spent a lot of time together this summer, but it has been almost exclusively outdoors. There have been a few times when one or two friends have been in our house, but it’s a far cry from the days when eight or ten of them would be lounging around in my basement eating waffles and playing video games. Last year they all wore masks outdoors as well, but I don’t think they are doing that anymore.

My So-Called Social Life

In general over the last eighteen months, I have seen friends outdoors only, with very few exceptions. We have been slowly reintroducing people to our home; we’ve hosted a couple of dinners with close friends that we feel comfortable with. We have visited my parents several times, and spent two weeks out-of-province visiting my mother-and-sister-in-law, although for that visit, as we always do, we stayed at our own house and spent a lot of time outdoors. I also visited with both of my brothers, and my beloved sister-in-law, and some of my nieces and nephews, which is notable as I had not seen them for the entire pandemic prior to this summer.

This, I think, was the most important thing to me, to be able to reconnect with friends and family, particularly my parents and mother-in-law, who are not getting any younger. I think we can all agree that being away from loved ones has been one of the hardest things about the pandemic. I am so fortunate in that my friends and family are similar in thinking, that no one is anti-vaccine or anti-mask or anti-science, because I cannot imagine the stress of dealing with that. I mean, it’s bad enough on social media.

Everybody’s Working For The Weekend

My husband is in the office three days a week now, but of all things this causes me the least stress. I know his colleagues are all stringent with health protocols, and anyway, everyone in the office wears a mask at all times, unless they are alone in their own individual offices.

As of this week I am going back to teaching. I will be teaching twice a week at a community centre, which is a very large space with limited class sizes; there will be three metres between mats. I will also wear a mask to teach, which is exactly where we were at this time last year, except now I believe all my students are vaccinated. The community centre sent a message to the members that they are following provincial health guidelines – such as they are – and that anyone unvaccinated should not consider the class to be part of their “cohort.”

I am not currently teaching online classes; I hit my mental limit with it, and also it is very difficult to teach on the days my husband is working from home. I feel okay about this, but also strange, like I’m on a holiday, but without the fun that comes with a holiday.

Masks Are The New Lipstick

As I said, the indoor mask mandate has been re-imposed in our province now, but I never stopped wearing mine in public. There were only a couple of times that I felt awkward about it – one in particular, when I went for a sugaring appointment and I was wearing one but the esthetician was not – but in general, the places that I visit seem to have an overwhelming majority of people also masked, like the grocery stores.

Of all the measures in this pandemic, I think that masks have been the most effective at keeping transmissions low, and I really don’t understand why there is any controversy at all about them, particularly now. As I said, I really do try to understand other people’s point of view, but this is one I cannot. It is truly the simplest, least invasive and most effective measure to take, plus it’s fun to coordinate mask to outfit.

Gym Rats

The guys have been going to our fitness club a couple of times a week. At this point – I’ve kind of lost track – I believe that masks are required at all times except when doing actual physical activity. Knowing the demographics of our club, I would assume that the vast majority of members would be vaccinated. I have only been to the gym once since last November, and when it’s too cold and snowy to run outside I may start going again, but then again, I may not. I managed all last winter without a treadmill – thank god for my Peloton and elliptical trainer – and depending on how things are I may do that again. The guys lift weights primarily, but I run and breathe heavily, which feels more risky.

Pre-pandemic, I really enjoyed spin classes, but I cannot see myself ever going to one again. The thought of all those people in a small room with a FAN GOING just makes me shudder. Also, I find my Peloton to be much more efficient and effective in terms of a cardio workout, and I can choose classes based on the playlist, music being very motivating to me. The sixty-second commute from my bedroom to my bike is a big plus.

It’s All About The Lessons Learned

The last eighteen months have really forced me to reassess my priorities and figure out what is important to me. There were things I never thought I could live without, and things I never thought I could do, but I did and I can. I feel like I could just sail along at this pace indefinitely; as long as the kids are in school and I can still see friends and family in a safe and limited way, I am happy. When it comes down to it, those are the most important things to me, and the pandemic has highlighted that. I miss travelling very much; I always loved going to new places and seeing new things, and I look forward to the day I can travel again, but that’s really the only thing I miss. Ultimately, I feel fortunate that we are all well and healthy and I hope we can stay that way. I hope you can too.

Pandemic Reading

Crying in H Mart. This is a very popular book, but I found it unbearably sad. You may say to yourself of course it’s sad, it’s a memoir of a woman who lost her mother to cancer but it’s more than that. This book addresses her very tumultuous relationship with her mother, who was completely obsessed with appearances and perfection, her father and his gross secret life, and the author’s many regrets. There were a few chapters that had me putting down the book and staring into space for a while. Should you read it? I don’t know. It was well-written, and if you are interested in Korean food and culture, there are some good tidbits, but it left me feeling very low. It was, to me, very unsettling and upsetting.

Not A Happy Family. I don’t read many thrillers, but when I do, I wonder why I don’t because I always enjoy them. This was a good one, it kept me guessing until the big reveal. A wealthy couple is brutally murdered, and their adult children stand to inherit millions…which makes the three of them suspects. It was a fast-paced read with lots of twists and turns.

Walking the Himalayas. My husband and younger son have been both recommending I read this for a while now. I am not generally a “real-life adventure” girl and also not a “books written by men” girl, and so I was pleasantly surprised by this book about a man who walks the length of the Himalayas, starting in Afghanistan and ending in Bhutan. The Himalayas are an area of the world I am very interested in but unsure if I’ll ever be able to visit, so it was enjoyable from that perspective. There’s a great message about it being the journey, not the destination, that is key to happiness, and to be in the moment, which I liked a lot.

Eighteen months, you guys, EIGHTEEN MONTHS. I can hardly believe it. We can do this. We are doing it. Stay safe, stay healthy, be kind to yourselves. xo