Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Brain Health Edition

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After reading a few books that featured dementia last week, it occurred me to talk about my Favourite Things to improve brain health. I mean, who can’t use tips on cognitive function these days? My friend Allison (HI ALLISON) and I were talking about perimenopausal brain fog, but Allison called it brain frog. You know when someone slips up a word, but that word ends up feeling exactly right? That was this. It will be brain frog for me now and forever.

Somewhat related: at least twenty-five years ago, I messaged one of my colleagues to see if she wanted to go for a walk at lunch. She replied “I can’t, I’m swampled” and to this day that typo is part of my daily lexicon. I’m swampled when I’m feeling overbusy. And also when I have brain frog!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Brain Health Edition

Work That Brain Muscle

I know. I know. Everyone has been doing the Wordle for years now, and for years I have had zero interest in it or in any of the other NYT games. Then my older son was over for dinner, and he was telling me about Connections. I said that it sounded interesting, but I didn’t need another thing to be obsessed with. But Mom! he said. That’s the great thing! You can only do one a day, and then you move on with your life.

Well.

That was speaking my language and now I have joined People Who Do Connections. Once I finish Connections, I do the Wordle, and then I quickly play another game that same son introduced me to: a world geography map quiz. If you had asked me one month ago to point out, say, Uzbekistan or Kosovo on a map, I would be able to give you the general area, but now I can accurately zone in on those and every other country in Asia and Europe. Next up: I’m working on Africa.

Along with the Little Women puzzle, my son had also given me a Pride and Prejudice puzzle for Christmas. It contains one of my favourite lines, which I have mentioned before: I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! It makes me laugh every time I think of it, as it is ascribed to Caroline Bingley, one of literature’s most vapid characters and absolutely NOT a reader.

It’s cut off in the photograph, but the line It’s been many years since I’ve had such an exemplary vegetable is also there.

Exemplary Vegetables

The Mayo Clinic advises a vitamin-rich diet, one with lots of fruits, vegetables, and leafy greens, as a way to prevent dementia. Exemplary vegetables! Done and done! Our meals are all very vegetable-heavy around here, and a couple of the best examples are Big Fun Salad and Stir-Fry Night, both of which occur weekly.

In only a couple of months, Big Fun Salad will be Homegrown Big Fun Salad, but for now, I’m buying mixed greens.

Historically, Stir-Fry Night coincides with Night Before Groceries, to clean out the crisper in a delicious way. I typically wing it when it comes to sauces, but I very roughly follow Vegan Richa’s Teriyaki Sauce recipe on occasion.

I say very roughly because never do I follow a recipe exactly: for this one I double all the ingredients but halve the sugar, and I measure ginger and garlic with my heart. The pages are all stuck and messy, which reminds me of when I was a kid, Grandma Fern told my mother that if anything ever happened to her, Grandma would be able to cook all of our favourites, just based on the shape of my mother’s very stuck-together cookbook pages. This was a bit of a joke, since Grandma Fern was an incredible cook and we would have happily eaten anything she made. But my mom and I both have the same messy habit of cookbook-splattering.

In terms of leafy greens, every single day I have a green smoothie for breakfast, except while travelling. I use a cup of cashew milk, a couple of tablespoons of almond butter, a sprinkle of cinnamon, a frozen banana, and about six to eight cups of spinach. I feel like it’s a power move to start the day like that; it is chock-full of vitamins, fibre, iron, calcium, and protein.

Something that low-key bothers me is the demonization of carbohydrates these days. It reminds me of the Snackwell-obsessed low-fat 90s, and I think we all learned a lesson from that. Carbohydrates are very important for our brains and their processes, as well as for good sleep, so let’s not lose our minds over basmati rice. Or even carrot cake! There’s space for everything.

Working On Our Night Moves

I am a bit of a Sleep Evangelist, for good reason: sleep is good for every part of our lives, including our brains. Also, if I don’t get enough sleep, I am an emotional, bitchy zombie. I make it a priority by going to bed early and performing my nighttime routine at least an hour before bed, so I can wind down. I wash my face and apply serums, I brush and floss my teeth, I put on a cute pajama set and foot cream, and then I curl up on the couch to read calmly for a while, with my phone turned off. The result is that I average about 7 1/2 hours of sleep a night, which feels right for me.

But we are not robots, and no matter how good our intentions and sleep hygiene, there is always the possibility of a hot flash, there are upsetting news stories, there are things to be anxious about and, for reasons that no one can articulate, these things usually visit us in the middle of the night, where we lie awake staring at the blinking illuminated numbers on our 40-year-old clock radios. Sometimes these thoughts will be accompanied by a nearly-lyricless song, going on a loop through our heads. Cuz you RIDE on time, RIDE ON TIME. Etcetera.

As I said, I am a sleep evangelist, and so I will stop at nothing to get those 7 1/2 hours, including these:

Not all at once, of course, and not every day, but I have no compunction about using a little “helper” to get me to get a good night’s rest. I am not recommending this to you! I am not a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination! All I am saying that these work for me, depending on the day and the need.

Get The Funk Out

It’s officially the start of garden season, and so I have been busy weeding. This might sound like a chore, but I actually find it kind of soothing and meditative. It’s also instant gratification, even if the weeds do grow back in a matter of days. Maybe it’s like one of those sand mandalas made by Buddhist monks to show the transitory nature of life on this earth. I feel like this kind of practice has to be good for cognitive health, if only for the meditative aspect.

Walking is a moving meditation for me; often I do listen to a podcast (Double Love or The Rest Is History, NOTHING IN BETWEEN), but sometimes I just walk in silence and look around me.

Physical activity and vitamin D are linked to dementia prevention; walking checks both those boxes.

People Who Need People Are The Luckiest People

One of the most important – and most fun – keys to preventing cognitive decline and dementia is to stay socially active and to nourish relationships. This past week alone I have had ample opportunity to do this: there was a book club meeting, a night out with The Squad to a murder mystery at a local winery, and a visit from one of my dearest, longest-term friends (HI TARA) and her family. Old friends and new, life is good. Although, it must be said that as bad as I am about figuring out murder mysteries in books, I am much, much worse at figuring out murder mysteries in musical revue form. None of us guessed the killer, and I kept losing the thread of the plot and forgetting which character was who. Wait, who’s that guy? What happened to the girl with the sparkly skirt? Who’s THAT guy?

When Tara and family were over, her husband asked if we had any favourite places to go out for dinner. My husband and I just looked at each other. Nicole goes out with her girlfriends, sometimes, my husband responded, and we had to admit that Date Night Out is not a thing with us. Instead, we have weekly cocktail hour, which gives us time to just reconnect and chat without any distractions.

This past week we were able to have rose on our deck, which felt like a little burst of spring. Alcohol is NOT good for preventing cognitive decline, but we cannot be perfect, can we?

Outfit of the Month

Spring must have sprung, because look how COLOURFUL I am!

Navy! I’m wearing NAVY, just like a fancy peacock of a woman. I believe this sweater has been a part of an Outfit of the Month before, but a) I think it’s cute, and b) I am trying not to buy new clothes these days for environmental reasons. I cannot be too smug though, because I HAVE bought new clothes recently. I needed to replace some extremely worn-out and hole-riddled tees as well as my ripped medical-grade compression stockings, but those felt a bit more urgent and necessary, and less I’m bored of my clothes. I also have recently purchased a pair of slip-on house sandals, because I seem to have accidentally given myself a case of plantar fasciitis, due to some extremely ill-considered shoeless farmer’s carries. HOWEVER. This cute, very lightweight sweater deserves another place of OOTM honour, along with Silver jeans and little ankle boots. It’s a perfect spring outfit, in my mind.

I hope this last week of March is treating you well, friends! Do you have any Favourites this month? Do share. xo

A Big Celebratory Day

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I was at the library the other day, and the woman at the checkout very warmly thanked me for “bringing in my library card today.” My “you’re welcome?” must have sounded exactly the way I felt, and so she started to explain that not everyone brings their cards in, and pointed me to a little sign, heretofore unperceived by me. The sign gave numerous helpful hints as to how to remember to bring your library card to the library, such as putting your card with other important items, like a credit card or house keys. I tried to imagine a scenario in which I strong-arm the librarians into lending me books without a card. It’s one of those problems that I never would have guessed was a problem.

I met a former sex worker while in line at Superstore. I have many interesting conversations while grocery shopping, but this was the most fascinating. The woman was about my age, with shortish light brown hair, large glasses, a stoutish figure, and a fairly plain face. She was wearing a long down vest overtop a hoodie. In other words, she looked just like anyone you might see shopping at Superstore, and the only difference was she had a very fancy-looking bag made out of fur. She informed me it was from a fur coat given to her by a client when she was eighteen, but it didn’t fit her anymore, so she had part of it turned into a purse. It was a reminder to her to be grateful that she could pay for groceries without turning tricks anymore. Actually, her exact words were It used to be $125 for a suck and a fuck, but things are more expensive now. I’d have to do a lot more to pay for this! Grocery costs, am I right? Honestly, it was kind of inspiring. She wasn’t ashamed of her past, she did what she had to do to support her children, and now she had moved on in life.

Speaking of gratitude, today is a very special day! It is not only our 24th wedding anniversary, but it is also our older son’s 22nd birthday. It’s also Rex’s fifth birthday, and honestly, that is a lot of things in one day. Since Mondays are our son’s busiest day, we celebrated yesterday with a dinner out and, of course, cake.

What a joy to have this spiky-haired fellow in my life, what a gift he gave me when he made me a mom.

My husband and I have never really celebrated our anniversary on the actual day – this is a result of spending one’s second anniversary on the labour and delivery floor. That said, we have many exciting plans for this, our twenty-fifth year of marriage. My friend Laura (HI LAURA) recently discussed the unique features of long marriages, saying growing old with the love of your life is both an honor and marathon of patience, and there is a beauty in it that you never expected, and I agree.

I read The Five People You Meet In Heaven in 2003, and even though we had been married only a year at that time, a paragraph stood out and stayed with me. Marguerite said something about the bikini bathing suits the young girls were wearing and how she would never have the nerve to wear such a thing. Eddie said the girls were lucky, because if she did the men would not look at anyone else. And even though by this point Marguerite was in her mid-40s and her hips and thickened and a web of small lines had formed around her eyes, she thanked Eddie gratefully and looked at his crooked nose and wide jaw. The waters of their love fell again from above and soaked them as surely as the sea that gathered at their feet.

It’s one of the simplest, but most touchingly beautiful paragraphs about marriage I have come across.

Of course, I know many of you will wonder how we celebrated Rex, and I will merely reiterate what I say at Christmas: every day is Christmas for Rex, except actual Christmas. He is a creature who revels in sameness and predictability, and is much less happy when his daily schedule is disrupted. For such a big galoompa, he has an incredibly delicate digestive system, and he is also a fussy eater with a long memory. In other words, should we give him a very special treat, even if he can eat it without resulting in my grimly cleaning up after him and regretting all my choices, he will expect it every single day from here on out, and is likely to hunger strike when given his regular food. So we celebrate Rex by giving him the love and regular treats he gets every day. Every day is his birthday! Except his birthday.

Weekly Reading

If last week’s reading theme was Straight White Men, then this week’s is Grief. I am grieving that I actually read the entirety of one of the books, let me tell you. I should have DNF’d it.

The Unexpected Journey. In the interest of full disclosure, I must say that I picked this up thinking it was a memoir. It is NOT. It is a prescriptive manual on caretaking for individuals with various forms of dementia, and I believe that there would be good takeaways for anyone caring for terminally or chronically ill people. There are some very sobering statistics regarding the toll this takes on caregivers’ health, and some very encouraging words about accepting help and caring for oneself while caring for others. It’s an easy-to-read book, very simply and clearly laid out, and I can see this being a very good resource for anyone who is a caregiver, particularly of a person with cognitive decline. It wasn’t right for me, but it could be very useful for someone else.

How To Lose Your Mother. I read Fear of Flying years ago and I remember exactly two things from it: a lot of chlamydia, and the “zipless fuck.” The author of this book asks us to imagine being the only child of Erica Jong, the woman who brought us the concept of the zipless fuck, where two strangers just come together and fuck, no strings, and almost no words. The author also says that she has no compunction – none! – in writing about her mother, since her mother wrote about her for her entire life. And this is where I have a problem, not with the tit-for-tatness of this book, but because the author states that she loves her mother MORE than a daughter has EVER loved a mother, and that the two of them are closer than ANYONE could EVER be. Those statements are followed by what is quite honestly a grim and disturbing account of life with a dementia-addled narcissist. I don’t blame her for her resentment and bitterness; by all accounts Jong-Fast had a very unhappy childhood with a neglectful and distant mother, one more interested in exploiting all her relationships than having loving ones. But the details of her mother now – SHE IS STILL ALIVE – are awful. Jong-Fast writes about her mother losing control of her bowels in bed, never showering, and drinking all day long. The best-case scenario that I can think of is that Jong-Fast needed money to keep her mother in what she calls The Most Expensive Nursing Home In The World, and so she wrote this gross and mean memoir to get some cold hard cash. The worst part about this book is the writing. It is very poorly written. It reads like a collection of unedited Morning Pages. The sentences are jerky and abrupt, the story, such as it is, is disjointed, and it is SO repetitive and full of name-drops. If we had a drink every time she wrote “since I got sober” or dropped a big name, we would all be hospitalized for alcohol poisoning before the second chapter. The is an affront to every aspiring author out there who is struggling to get published. This is the problem! Nepotism is the problem! AND I CONTRIBUTED TO THIS PROBLEM BY READING THIS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE. Well, I did it, so you don’t have to.

Promise Me Sunshine. I needed a palate cleanser after the last book, and this delivered! This was such a sweet and heartwarming read; a romance between two people who are learning to live again after the loss of loved ones. It is a truly lovely musing on the nature of grief, and how we can lose someone beloved but also keep their memory in our hearts. The characters were charming and well-written, and the whole book was – despite, or maybe because of the sadness – delightful and warm.

I have a exciting and social week ahead of me, friends, including a visit tonight from one of my dearest friends! I hope you have a beautiful week, and I hope spring is springing for you. xo

Dissociation

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History, Repeating

I seem to be dissociating from current events and the world at large, and this dissociation is manifesting in strange ways. I have entirely eschewed my old self-care and beauty podcasts in favour of either Sweet Valley High recaps OR extremely detailed historical analysis of terrible world events. My downloads are unhinged. An episode of Elizabeth’s desire to go to boarding school in Switzerland is followed by a graphic explanation on the mechanics of crucifixion, both of which are topics I have thought about since I was a child. A four-part series on the causes, effects, and economic impacts of the American Civil War is followed by deep dive into the book Secret Admirer, when a prank personal ad in the Sweet Valley Oracle, which leads to some awkward encounters and hurt feelings. I honestly don’t know if I’m losing my mind or saving my sanity.

If you’re wondering, the exact cause of death from crucifixion is a combination of dehydration, exhaustion, and suffocation. Also, birds had a field day with the eyes and genitals of the crucified. On that gruesome note, which may or may not be appropriate for Lent, I will move on.

Let Us Be Elegant Or Die

Speaking of the American Civil War, my son gave me this puzzle for Christmas.

The border is made up of quotes from the book, and it has one of my all-time favourite quote, one that I have thought of lo these forty plus years since I first read Little Women.

The full quote is dear me, let us be elegant or die and I think about that at least once a week while getting dressed.

Another quote that has been burned on my brain since childhood comes from Anne of Ingleside, which is one of my least-favourite Anne books but contains one of the funniest scenes of all time. Here’s the setup: Gilbert’s aunt, Mary Maria, comes for a visit, and ends up staying for months. Seasons pass, and this houseguest – who is passive-aggressive, rearranges the furniture, and dramatically takes to her bed with the slightest provocation – is STILL THERE. Anne, with her usual determinedly joyful outlook, decides to throw Aunt Mary Maria a surprise party for her birthday, which is NOT well received by the birthday girl, who is incensed that now everyone knows her advanced age, which is fifty-five. Fifty-five! Anyway, she leaves in a huff, to the relief of everyone. But the quote I have thought of all these years comes when Susan, the housekeeper, has made four cakes. She says “When we give a party, we give a party.” I think of this literally any time we have people over. We give a party. If only I had four cakes!

In that book and the previous one, Anne’s House of Dreams, we are introduced to one of the greatest character in all of children’s fiction. Her signature quote, “Isn’t that just like a man?” is something I think of every day of my life.

Long Island Compromise?

My friend Birchie (HI BIRCHIE) was writing about workouts and the feeling that it is a constant cycle of hard work and exhaustion with no clear end game. I have mentioned before my downward trajectory, where fitness is concerned; it can be very disheartening. But on the other hand, practicing non-attachment and having zero goals when it comes to fitness can be very freeing. I suppose that’s an inaccurate statement; I don’t have ZERO goals. My goal is to continue to be mobile, ambulatory, and to heft my own carryon into the overhead compartment on a plane. If I ask one of the guys to empty Rex’s 35 pound bag of dog food into the lidded container, it’s because I’m lazy, not because I can’t do it. All of these things are a bit nebulous, and they lack the urgency of a specific outcome by a specific time.

The nebulous goals and non-attachment are working well for me, so that I can just enjoy the time I spend walking, practicing yoga, or on the Peloton. A few weeks ago there was a woman on the leaderboard with the name McKinzieWithAnI, and I read that as McKinzie With Anal. Wow, I thought, That’s really advertising your preferences until I realized that it was a spelling thing.

It must be fairly common these days to go through life with that particular verbal tic of spelling one’s name immediately after divulging it. Back in the Sweet Valley High days, it would be mostly confined to Sara(h)s and C(K)atherines, with the occasional C(S)heryl, although I have had to specify the no H spelling in my own name a few times in my fifty years. I also automatically say “That’s M-A-C” immediately after divulging my last name. I would assume that automatic spellings would be the norm now: is it Jaxon or Jackson? Cailen or Kaelin or Kaylyn or Kaelynn? Ciaran or Kieran? Ashley or Ashlee or Ashleigh? Madeleine or Madelyn or Madilynn? McKenzie or MacKenzie or McKinzie? With an I!

Weekly Reading

The world is upside down. Let the record show that this week I read – and enjoyed – not one, not two, but THREE books penned by male authors. And not just male authors: heterosexual white male authors. I know what you’re thinking. Finally, FINALLY, someone is giving straight white men a moment in the sun! Let’s hear it for the boys!

Grace and Henry’s Holiday Movie Marathon. A holiday romance in March? The heart wants what it wants, or, more accurately, the library holds come in when they come in. Let me tell you, this book is an absolute delight. It was just pure happiness, this story about two widowed people who, dreading the first holiday seasons without their respective spouses, strike up a friendship by watching holiday movies together. OBVIOUSLY the friendship becomes more than that, but this book is more than that too – it’s about love and loss and grief and how no marriage is perfect. Plus there is a dog named Harry Styles. How can you resist? Yes, I know it’s March, but this holiday romance is perfect any time of the year. It’s delightful, no notes.

Abundance. Did I follow a holiday romance with a non-fiction book about unaffordability and the climate crisis? Yes. This is an excellent, well-researched read about some big issues facing the US, namely the housing crisis, climate change, and shortages of all kinds. It delves into the economics of progress and the failures of institutions to focus on forward movement. It’s well-written and accessible. Also I learned that cement production is responsible for 8% of the world’s CO2 emissions. 8%!!! I had no idea.

Brideshead Revisited. I confess I would have never picked up this book about a disillusioned army man who comes across the estate of a large country house during World War II, and finds himself reminiscing about his complicated and extensive relationships with the former inhabitants of that same estate, had I not heard it mentioned on The Rest is History. Evelyn Waugh (ROUGH name for a man, I am sorry to say) wrote this while on medical leave from the army, and so it feels rather like auto-fiction. Which perhaps shows that Waugh was not quite as straight as one might imagine, given the storylines. Also, he had married a woman named Evelyn, which would lead to some awkwardness, I would think. Anyway, the book itself is quite entertaining, if you’re interested in English country life in the 1920s and 30s, which I am.

Wow, I do not know if I could have gotten three more different books this week!

How are you coping with things, friends? I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. xo

PC LOAD LETTER?

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Last week my phone lit up with a notification from my friend Glenn (HI GLENN), from whom I hadn’t heard from in a while. We used to practice early morning Mysore yoga together, many years ago, and he kindly followed along with my family’s adventures, specifically the time when my younger son was the drummer for a band called Ded Brik, whose practice session was cut short one day when the guitarist’s neighbours called the police for a noise complaint, at two o’clock in the afternoon. Ah, pandemic days. It’s great how we were all collectively insane. In any case, I hadn’t heard from Glenn in a long while, and so I quickly opened his message.

I cannot take ALL the credit for BC’s decision to adopt Daylight Saving Time year-round, but I have been publicly raging against that particular pointless machine for 17 years. I’ll take a little credit, although I will believe it when it happens. My fragile heart cannot handle being shattered again. I am still scarred from the Alberta referendum which ended NOT in favour of stopping the ridiculous practice of changing clocks twice a year, merely because people could not agree if Standard or Daylight Saving was superior. I am Team Pick A Time And Stick With It, For Fuck’s Sake, I Don’t Care. There are pros and cons on both sides, LET’S JUST STOP THE MADNESS. I for one will be happy when the sun doesn’t set at 3:56 pm in December, and YES, the flip side is that it won’t rise until 8:45 am but it’s Canada. We don’t get much daylight in December, accept it and MOVE ON.

Anyway, the news we will not be going through this spring-forward-fall-back construct and that parents throughout this province will no longer be emotionally destroyed twice a year was a bright spot in an otherwise terrifying, bleak, and spiral-into-despair dystopian news cycle.

I texted the above gif to my older son, who immediately responded with I’m a fake? How’d you like to be dead, which reminded me of one of my favourite things: the call and response of pop culture. I know that if I texted my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) with only the words Maybe it’s the beer talking that she would immediately respond with You got a butt that won’t quit. My friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) and I share an affinity for 1990s Adam Sandler; I know that I could tell her that she is a nice piece of ace and she would know exactly what I mean.

After Hannah responded to my It WAS a good name, until that no-talent ass clown started winning Grammies with Why should I change my name? He’s the one that sucks, we talked about this phenomenon, how the call and response makes a person feel seen and known. Hannah said that it was all about pattern recognition and identifying your people, and that rewatching media is about comfort and predictability. I think she is exactly right; I never before or since felt such a strong feeling of connection with my sister-in-law’s boyfriend than when he once said genially IT’S ALL PIPES.

Hannah said I actually think the increasingly fragmented media landscape has contributed to loss of social cohesion and she’s right. Obviously, not everything that is happening these days can be attributed to a lack of a must-see TV night, but it doesn’t help that we are all over the place, all the time when it comes to pop culture.

I tried to join the modern world last week by watching A Love Story, which is the story of JFK Jr and Caroline Bessette. I will go to my grave saying that Carole Radziwill’s What Remains is the best celebrity memoir of all time, and I have been low-key obsessed with it since I first read it in 2006. I thought she would be a key character in A Love Story so I tuned in, only to be constantly enraged by the idiocy and entitlement that comes with being a Kennedy man. After a quick search, I learned that Carole Radziwill isn’t even a character in this show, as she is not deemed to be important enough to be in the story. She was Carolyn Bessette’s best friend, and married to JFK Jr’s cousin and best friend Anthony Radziwill, who IS in the show, which feels PRETTY IMPORTANT. I immediately abandoned ship, as I’m Team I’m Here For Carole And No One Else, and also, I don’t need to be constantly enraged by JFK Jr and his stupid hats.

Before you ask, I have not and I will not watch the Real Housewives franchise that features Carole Radziwill, not because I’m a snob – given the chance, I’d watch Family Feud until the cows come home – but because there are just too many seasons. It’s overwhelming. Also I really don’t want to watch women screaming at each other, which I assume is a large part of the “storyline,” if indeed there is a storyline on a reality television show.

I did, however, recently watch a movie that I cannot stop thinking about, and that is The Best You Can starring Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgewick. First of all, how is Kevin Bacon still so hot? He might even be hotter than he ever was, or my tastes have just skewed older. I was on the plane from Vancouver to Hong Kong, and the premise intrigued me, but the headphones provided with the system did not work. I watched it silently, with closed captioning, and then on the next leg of the flight – mere hours later – I watched it again, this time with working headphones. It’s only available for purchase right now, or I would be watching it every single day. Alas. To fill the void, I have been watching Vladimir with my husband, which is also excellent – sexy but not porny, so I don’t feel weird if one of my sons is at home – and features John Slattery, who you may remember from Mad Men.

I cannot speak for all women, but what I wanted was to stop changing clocks and now – hopefully, please, let this happen – I am going to get it.

Weekly Reading

I had another DNF this week, it was So Old So Young. I abandoned it at 53 pages, and those 53 pages were a draggy slog for me, with SO many characters, none of which I cared about. My resolution to DNF more is resolution-ing! But maybe I should have done that more this week.

Wild Hope. Would you like some uplifting poetry? Of course you would! This is the collection for you. I have been reading a poem a day (or thereabouts) before my morning yoga practice, and they have been so uplifting and inspiring. The theme is – obviously, from the title – how to find hope in the world when things seem broken. THIS RESONATES. It’s a really beautiful collection about finding happiness and hope within ourselves and with our relationships with people and the natural world.

The Latecomer. Wow, wow, WOW. This book! I loved every word of this dense, nuanced, character-driven novel about a family with triplets who – despite their mother’s desperate best efforts – cannot wait to leave home, and each other. As the triplets prepare to leave for college, their mother has what seems like a Landslide moment and promptly adds another baby to the family. But things are not what they seem – secrets abound, and things are unravelling. Every character in this book is layered and rich and interesting. There was a plot twist I did not see coming, and the ending was eminently satisfying. I loved this so much.

Finding Grace. I…do not know what to say. I really don’t know how to review this book without spoilers, but I’m going to try. There is a wildly unexpected occurrence in the first chapter that sets everything in motion, namely a very weird series of coincidences which lead to a very weird relationship. I would go so far as to say a creepy and inappropriate relationship. And the ending was weirdly unexpected and tied everything up in a weirdly neat bow. So. I guess this book is about grief and also about a marriage that sounds kind of shitty, and about how keeping secrets can be toxic and how people aren’t always what they seem? I guess? Other than the children, the characters are across the board pretty unlikeable, and the story itself goes in a lot of directions. 

The Stationery Shop. It’s not you, it’s me. I know – I KNOW – that historical fiction rarely works for me, and this didn’t. I was optimistic that I would enjoy this, after listening to The Rest Is History’s fascinating series on the 1953 ousting of the Iranian Prime Minister and the subsequent Revolution of 1979, which is the backdrop for this love story. I should have known better. It did not work for me; these sorts of books are just too contrived and stilted for my taste.

My husband asked me if I have become more critical in my reading, from my own writing experience, and I would say that I have become more analytical. My mind, like our society, has become polarized: on the one hand, being transported by a book like The Latecomers fills me with awe and admiration. It’s really hard to write a book, and to write a book like The Latecomers is an incredible feat indeed. On the other hand, I find it kind of disheartening when I read a book that has a lot of buzz and love, and it leaves me cold. Well, there’s something for everyone, I suppose, and tastes differ. On a literary note, the lovely Jacqui (HI JACQUI) mentioned a zero-cost way to support me, should you be so inclined, which is to request a copy of Inhale Exhale at your local library. That would be a huge help – there are literally millions of books coming out every year, and mine is but a tiny drop in the ocean. I’d love it to be as accessible as possible. Thank you, friends, for reading along. Have a beautiful week! xo

Reason, Season, Lifetime

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In yoga, we try to cultivate what is known as “beginner’s mind,” which means that we want to approach our practices with openness and a sense of curiosity, letting go of expectations of what we “should” be doing, and focusing on what we are doing. In this way we can experience growth and mindfulness, without preconceived notions, judgement, or ego getting in the way. For example, just because I could do this in 2012 doesn’t mean I should be able to do it now:

My yoga practice looks much different these days, but it is still nourishing and joyful.

My friend Tara (HI TARA) sent me this Facebook memory from 2009:

No context needed, really, given that on that date I had two preschoolers and a puppy in the house, the days are long but the years are short, etcetera. This little gem explains a lot of what was going on in my house at the time, and it also made me think how incredible children’s minds are, and how their view of the world is so full of wonder and curiosity. My friend Pearl (HI PEARL) wrote about how, instead of “living every day as if it’s your last,” we should live every day as if it’s your FIRST. It reminded me of how I spent hours, literally hours every week just walking around the neighbourhood with the boys and standing there staring at different cars or trees, because they were fascinated with them. The whole world is fresh and new from a child’s point of view. There was a mechanic who lived at the end of our block; he had many cars in his yard that were in various states of disrepair, and the boys would spend HOURS peeking through the fence to look at the cars. HOURS. Occasionally there would be construction or demolition in our neighbourhood, and we could eat up an entire afternoon just watching it. There were always rocks to pick up and house decorations to notice, there were puddles to splash in and sticks to brandish, making me concerned that someone was going to lose an eye. We spent so much time doing what would appear to be nothing from the outside observer.

This was a time of my life where I was very in the moment, even if my mind occasionally wandered while the kids splashed in snowmelt. I was very present, in large part because smartphones weren’t around then, and there was nothing to do but watch the kids at play. I would like to remember it as a time of great mindfulness and presence, and I do, but truthfully I remember it as being often very lonely.

Every time my life has changed and I’ve entered a new era, I’ve been a bit nervous, worried about making new friends. The years before my children were in elementary school were lonely ones, particularly when they were babies. I did have friends, but scheduling playdates with everyone’s naptimes and preschool and the inevitable viruses that all the children had in perpetuity was difficult, and even when we did get together, conversation was constantly interrupted by said children. I went to a weekly playgroup but friendships never got past the surface level. Some of it, I think, was the inability to converse uninterrupted, but some of it was weird parenting time that we were in. Gen X women, it seemed, reacted to their own free range childhoods by becoming total weirdos when it came to parenting, especially in those early years. One had only to bring cupcakes with pink frosting to a soccer game to garner judgement and disdain. A certain kind of conversation about breast or bottle feeding could drive a wedge between two women, and bad feelings could fester forever.

Friends truly do come into your life for a reason, season, or lifetime. I have been so lucky to have found a circle of women here who are the epitome of encouraging, of lifting up other women. This weekend, they gave me a party, and I am still so warm and fuzzy from it. I mean, would you look at this cake?

My friend Sandi (HI SANDI), who was the beta reader that gave me the title Inhale Exhale, had this VEGAN cake made! Isn’t it incredible?

Can you even? Can you even believe this? It was beautiful.

In my Ask Me Anything, Anna asked how I met my wonderful new friend group, and the truth is that I was very, very fortunate (HI ANNA). I had been friends with Sam, hostess with the mostess (HI SAMMI) since 2014, and when I moved here, she threw a girls’ night to introduce me to some of her friends. Then some of those friends introduced me to their friends, and now we have a circle. We are all in a similar stage of life and we are all open to meeting and getting together and doing fun things. It’s a real gift; I was very worried that I would be lonely here, but it’s been the opposite, as you can see. (HI SQUAD).

Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked what is an absolute deal breaker in a friendship and I’ve been thinking about that since she asked it, months ago. I would be much more likely to reseat the theatre than to dramatically end a friendship, to be honest. I mean, if someone was a toxic mean bigot, that would be a deal-breaker, but I probably wouldn’t be friends with such a person in the first place. I have had friendships fade away, and I have been ghosted, but if someone has time for me, generally speaking I’m going to have time for them.

It’s interesting that the word “friend” is such a wide umbrella term for me. In the same way that I use “love” to describe both my feelings for my children and for Aperol spritzes, I use “friend” very liberally. Former schoolmates who I haven’t seen for decades but keep up with on Facebook, a random woman I met at a blog conference in 2013, the people I talk to briefly every morning on the walking path, all of these people I consider my friends. But on the other end of the spectrum are the lifelong friends who have seen me through every iteration, and loved me all the same, even during my Jim Morrison poetry phase. There are also the local friends, my squad, who I see regularly and miss desperately when I don’t talk to them for three days. And then there are the long distance friends who make an effort to keep in touch and who I might not see for years at a time, but when we do it’s like no time at all has passed.

Of course, there are all of you, my long-distance blog friends and readers, my pen pals. Without all of you, these words would just be floating off into the abyss, and so I’m grateful for all of you.

Weekly Reading

Just one book this week but it was a big one, clocking in at almost 500 pages.

Homeseeking. This is an epic story that follows two people over a six-decade span, from their childhood home in Shanghai to Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the US. This is the kind of book that you want to read with references – I learned so much about Chinese history, the Chinese diaspora, relations with Taiwan, and multiple languages. The author makes a very interesting stylistic choice, telling the story from both points of view but in different timelines. She also changes the names subtly to reflect the different languages being spoken (Shanghainese, Taiwainese, Mandarin, Cantonese, English). It’s a love story but it’s also a story of devastating choices and occurrences. I’m not going to spoil anything, but I did wonder what would have happened to the male character had he stayed in Shanghai; I think he would have been killed in the Cultural Revolution. I learned a lot reading this, and I’m really glad I read it.

Happy March, everyone! One of my dear new friends just turned 50 yesterday, and I’m so excited for her to enter this new decade. Thirty years ago I kind of thought 50 was the end of the line, so to speak, and even fifteen years ago I thought it would be a wrenching time of Landslide feelings. Now I realize it is a decade for reinvention and revival, and the empty – or semi-empty – nest has allowed me space to really cultivate and bring richness to my relationships, with friends and with my marriage, and also with my adult children. Spring is springing here in the Okanagan Valley, and I am feeling the renewal. I plan to spend this month, and hopefully all to come, with the goal of viewing the world with a beginner’s mind, with curiosity and awareness. The buds on the trees are swelling, the perennials are greening, the grey and clouds of winter have lifted, and I spent time yesterday weeding. It’s happening! I hope you all have a beautiful, lamb-like first week of March. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Southeast Asia Adventure Edition

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I’ve been home for two and a half weeks, and it already feels like my trip to Southeast Asia was some kind of dream that happened ages ago. This month has just flown by, what with travel and then recovering from travel, with catching up on all the one million things that I was behind on because of travel, and with running errands and going to appointments and all the little things that add up to make a life.

February is a short month, that’s true, but still I can hardly believe it’s time for Favourite Things already!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Southeast Asia Adventure Edition

ELEPHANTS

Right out of the gate, I’m going to talk about elephants. Being around those magnificent creatures was the highlight of the trip – maybe even of my life – to the point that I can barely remember the rest of the tour. I have to go back and look at photos to remind myself that yes, there were MANY other incredible experiences. But elephants!

Such intelligent, beautiful animals. I love them, and it was such an incredible gift to be able to be so close to them and to see their personalities. The young male was particularly funny; he kept shoving greenery and bunches of bananas underneath his tusks, stealthily removing them to eat later. While we were in the pond bathing them, the male’s caretaker said something to him, at which point the elephant lowered his trunk into the water, raised it slowly, and sprayed us. I got sprayed! By an elephant! I did not even know that was on my list of things I wanted to happen in my life, but it was.

Silk and Silver

Cambodia is renowned for silver and for silk, and I love both of those things. We visited a silk farm and watched women weave; it was fascinating and intricate work, and the amount of labour that goes into a single scarf is astounding. I felt a strong sense of duty to support the local economy!

In Hong Kong: red wine and silk, two Favourite Things.

I have loved silver jewelry since I was a young teen, and when we visited a women-run family silversmith business, I had a hard time not buying everything I saw. After all, there’s always room in the carryon for necklaces.

I also fell in love with this little Buddha, who serenely sits on a windowsill.

Watch Out!

On our last day in Cambodia, my beloved Garmin watch died. It just completely and suddenly died, and I was bereft. And then I was bereft that I was bereft, because what kind of spoiled and terrible person is upset about a watch in a country where people are worried about things like land mines and poverty and lack of education.

And yet.

When it died, I realized that I check my watch many, many times an hour. Every time I reflexively looked at my naked wrist I felt sad anew, and then I felt sad for being sad, the snake is eating its tail. The day after the premature Garmin death, we flew to Bangkok, and as it turns out you can buy literally anything in Bangkok. If you can’t, it’s because it doesn’t exist. This is particularly true for technology, and so my husband and I headed for Siam Square mall on our free evening, where I found a Garmin and my husband found a sun hat and mango sticky rice.

This new updated watch is very fun as it gives me all sorts of cheerful encouragement throughout the day. Also I like to say, casually, I bought it in Bangkok. Just going to the mall in Bangkok felt like an adventure; we took tuk-tuks there and back and I did have a thought, as we zipped in and out of relentless traffic, breathing in fumes with the wind in our faces, what if we get in an accident? Well, if we did, I would not be here to tell the tale. Fortunately we did not, and we were able to witness the absolute chaos of one of the biggest malls in Bangkok on a Saturday night. So many teenagers! So many insanely loud people with microphones doing demonstrations of things I didn’t understand! So many interesting outfits! So many girls dressed like anime characters!

Not, obviously, the mall in Bangkok, but a photo of my new watch in the wild.

Mangoes and Pineapples

Speaking of mango sticky rice! I have never liked mangoes, but I now realize that is because I have always had Canadian imported mangoes, not fresh ripe ones. I could not get enough of fresh Thai mangoes, or of pineapple.

We visited a pineapple farm where I learned how they are grown. When I expressed astonishment, one of my new tour group friends said What, did you think they grew on a tree? and I guess I DID think that. More accurately, I have never once thought about it, which seems strange but is true. Anyway, a single pineapple takes one and a half years to grow, and each plant can grow up to three pineapples in its life. One and a half years! I am in awe of this spiky, crowned crop.

Shine On

Months ago my friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) recommended Neutrogena’s Invisible Daily Face Serum with SPF 50 and since I am a huge fan both of Suzanne and of Neutrogena products, I snapped one up later that same day. I will go on record to say that it is the best face sunscreen I have ever found. It’s light and not greasy, and is perfect for the kind of heat and humidity that I experienced in Asia.

I wanted to take a light foundation or BB cream as well, but all my containers felt a little big for the amount of makeup that I wanted. I want to be efficient with the amount of liquids I take in carryon luggage, and so I was intrigued by the tiny tube of Fenty Matte makeup that I saw on sale at Sephora. I think this tiny tube may see me into my grave, or, more accurately, it’s going to go bad before I use it up. It is a VERY high coverage item, so only the tiniest dab, mixed with the Neutrogena serum, is needed for a perfect, matte finish that – and I am not exaggerating here – lasts all day. Now, would I use this matte makeup at home in a dry Kelowna winter? I certainly would not. But it was perfect for the extreme humidity and heat. Even when my eye makeup melted, giving me the look of heavy eyeshadow without ever wearing eyeshadow, my skin stayed perfectly matte. THAT, my friends, is a product.

Outfit of the Month

It was handy that we went to the mall in Bangkok, because as it turned out, I had a pressing clothing need. The next day we were going to the Grand Palace, and my clothes were all, apparently, inappropriate. I had researched clothing requirements going in and I knew that my knees and shoulders needed to be covered much of the time, but what I didn’t know was that at the Grand Palace, “knees covered” only referred to skirts. Our guide told me that my capri-length pants were forbidden, and to just wear long pants. Friends, I did not have any long pants, and when I said this, three women in our group said, incredulously and almost in chorus, Nicole, you don’t have PANTS? followed by three offers to loan me some. I would have taken them up on had I not seen this skirt at an outdoor kiosk at the mall:

I think I’m entering my long floaty skirt era. Once I got used to not stepping on it while going up the stairs, I really loved wearing it. So light! So cool! So princess-like! I wore it to the Grand Palace, with a sleeved tee from the Gap that I bought ages ago, and Skecher sandals, and then I wore it again later that night after my second shower of the day. It was extremely hot at the Grand Palace, and so my clothing was less fresh than I would have liked, but sacrifices must be made in the name of travel. An old friend of my husband’s happened to be in Bangkok for only a few days at the exact time we were there, and so we met up with him for dinner, where I nosily dug into his entire backstory. He is what I would call a free spirit, and has been travelling the world for the past forty years. He regaled me with tales from the first time he was in Thailand, thirty years ago. Malaria and amoebic dysentery featured heavily in some of the stories, and I was here for it. Amoebic dysentery! I guess I ate something I shouldn’t have he said when I asked multiple questions, which feels like an understatement of all time. None of this has anything to do with my new skirt and my new era of long floaty skirt wearing, but it was an interesting night out.

It’s a privilege to travel and a privilege to come home. I hope your month was full of Favourite Things too. Tell me everything. xo

Deep Breath: The Journey To Inhale Exhale

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“Move about after dinner, and meet acquaintance whose name I have forgotten, but connect with literature. I ask if he has published anything lately. He says that his work is not, and never can be, for publication. Thought passes through my mind to the effect that this attitude might with advantage be adopted by many others.” EM Delafield, Diary of a Provincial Lady, one of my favourite books

Last Tuesday, I had an epiphany while on the elliptical trainer. I realized that my new work in progress is all wrong. I was 21000 words in, and I had been going about it all wrong. All wrong! I decided I was going to just start over, from the very beginning, rather than pivoting and making changes in the next draft. Two days later, I got my period.

Many of you will remember that 2023 was a year of change and transition for me, not to mention a year of numerous non-hormonal emotional breakdowns. We moved here in July of 2023, and by late August I was a bit at loose ends, having unpacked and settled in. I missed my yoga students and I missed teaching, but I could not handle even the thought of starting all over again in that world.

My husband encouraged me to take some creative writing courses and write that book I’d always talked about, and in the fall of that year I registered in a series of online courses at UBC to do just that. With my yoga students in mind, and with great nostalgia for the Calgary Yoga Shala, I planned my story. I took the first two UBC courses – How To Write a Novel: Structure and Outline, and Writing the Draft – that fall, and I took the third and final course, Edit and Revise, in January 2025, at which point I was starting my third draft of what would become Inhale Exhale. It took me just shy of six months to write the first draft, and then a year after that to revise it to something I was satisfied with.

I spent a lot of time soul-searching and meditating about what to do with my project. It was written with joy; it was such a happy and fun process, taking an idea and creating characters. I was very happy with the end result, and I wanted to share it with the world. But how?

Last week, in my Monday night writing group – created while taking the UBC courses – my friend Jen said something that really resonated with me (HI JEN). She said that turning 50 made a switch go off for her, a sense of urgency. There’s no time to fuck around anymore. It’s really true. I have found, since turning 50, that I have a desperate urge to do all the things that I thought I would do someday. I might live another 50 years, it’s true, but I also might not. When it comes to friends, family, and former classmates, there have been an astonishing number of deaths, death scares, and diagnoses in the past couple of years. No one knows how much time we have left. What if I die before I do the things I want to do?

I don’t know how much you know about the publishing industry, but the path to traditional publication is complicated and full of blockades. The typical path is that after many, many months of querying, an author gets an agent, who may or may not be able to sell a book to a publisher, and that book may or may not see the light of day. It’s a very long process at the very best of times, and unless an author is of Elin Hildebrand or Stephen King stature, there is almost no money to be made. Very few authors earn out their advances, and when asked the question about how authors pay their bills, my creative writing instructor said they get a second or third job, like teaching creative writing. Something that may surprise you is that book tours are funded at least partially, if not totally, by the author, not the publisher. Authors are expected to do a lot of the legwork in terms of promotion, and on top of that, the royalty percentage through traditional publication is very small.

So one does not write a book for the money, but that’s okay, because I wasn’t. I was writing a book because I wanted to write a book; I love writing, and I hoped that people would read and enjoy my writing. I did not want my book to sit in a drawer, unread, while I desperately queried agents for years, getting rejection letter after rejection letter. Do you know how often rejection happens? It’s a real thing, and I guarantee that all of your favourite authors went through many rejections before being published. As an example, Lisa Genova’s Still Alice was rejected over one hundred times, at which point she self-published. It was picked up later and reissued by Simon and Schuster, but still. OVER ONE HUNDRED REJECTIONS. Kathryn’s Stockett went through sixty rejections over three and a half years before someone picked up The Help. New authors can be rejected dozens of times AT MINIMUM, and I just didn’t have it in me. Also, as mentioned before, I didn’t feel I had time.

So I decided that I was going to go the hybrid publishing route, which means that as an author, I would pay for editing services, cover design, and promotional and positioning assistance. I had done a cost-benefit analysis, being an economist, and decided this was the way to go. I had received a monetary gift from my parents for my fiftieth birthday, and I felt that there was no better way to spend it than to invest in something that had been a lifelong dream for me. My thinking was that even if I failed, even if I did not sell one single book, even if everyone who read it hated it, at least I would have tried. At least I would have accomplished something I always wanted to accomplish.

And I’m so glad I did, friends. I’m just so glad. Live your life with arms wide open! Do the thing, take the chance, dip your toe into the water. We don’t know how much time we’ve got, so let’s take advantage of life while we can.

Weekly Reading

As I alluded to last week, I had some great reads this week. Oh, I am excited to talk about them!

Heart the Lover. I have been waiting so long to read this and wow, it did not disappoint! I loved it so much. Lily King is such a talented writer; she conveys so much emotion in such a spare and economical way. This book is filled with emotion and absolutely heart-wrenching scenes. It shows us how choices affect our lives, and what it is like to take a turn at the fork in the road. It’s about past loves and current lives, and how mistakes, pride, regrets and lapses in judgement colour our world. She perfectly conveys what it is like to be in love at a young age, she perfectly conveys what it is like to build a life with a long-standing love. One thing I really loved is what it was like to have a long-distance relationship in the late 80s/ early 90s. It was HARD to get in touch with each other. Letters took a long time and phone calls were expensive. She smoothly moves between timelines in a deft and perfect way. I LOVED THIS BOOK.

Why We Can’t Sleep. My friend and book twin Anna (HI ANNA) had mentioned this book, and she said that it was both interesting and depressing. She was right on both counts! This is all about Gen X girls such as myself entering midlife, and all of the challenges we as a generation face. I found a lot of it relatable, although not all – some pieces seem to me to be uniquely American, such as crippling debt from student loans and medical bills, along with short or nonexistent unpaid maternity leaves. Still, there’s lots for us Canadian girlies to relate to. To me the most interesting part was the chapter entitled “The Very Filtered Profile Picture” for the discussion of body image and aging. I laughed – out loud! – at the quote “I’m not looking for inner peace,” a friend quipped when I asked her about why she skipped the resting stage of Savasana at the end of a yoga class. “I’m looking for outer hotness.” I also liked the discussion about seeing the task of living well in a negative, self-punishing way, such as “I should be exercising more/ eating better/ being the most mindful ever.” This was published in 2020, and I wondered what the author would say these days, post-pandemic, insane-news-cycle. Then I remembered she authored the WILD novel Crush, about polyamory, in 2025. Was that what was happening for her during the pandemic? I mean, I can only speculate.

Surfacing. CANLIT FOREVER! I don’t know how I got to this age, as a lifelong Margaret Atwood fan, without reading this book! This is the type of book that requires careful line reading and analysis; it contains a lot of symbolism, with themes of gender and national identity. This was published in 1972, which was a time of great importance for Canadian identity, as well as for feminism, and these parallel themes weave together in a story about a woman searching for her missing father in an island in northern Quebec. I really loved it.

Thank you to everyone who entered into the giveaway for a signed copy of Inhale Exhale; the winner of the random draw is Lorraine Anderson! Congratulations, Lorraine! I will contact you for your details. A huge thank you to everyone who has purchased a copy! If I may impose, it would be SO helpful if you left a (five star?) rating and review at Goodreads, Storygraph, or Amazon? Reviews are incredibly important, especially for new authors. And thank you all for being here. I hope you all have a beautiful week. xo