Last night we had so much fun watching Oliver's hockey game. It was a clean, fast game and every kid left it all out there on the ice. It all ended in a tie and that felt absolutely right. Anyway, my dad wrote this and sent it over to us this morning in an email. Sometimes life is pretty beautiful.
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When you think of perfect evenings, do you think of elegant dinners? A magical performance at the theatre? That night you stayed up late to watch meteor showers dance in the heavens?
All good, all good.
But there’s nothing there to match hockey pucks and cheeseburgers, smothered in a little girl’s hugs.
It happened last night, a gift for a near 78-year-old who doesn’t care all that much for driving at night, even ever so carefully, even wearing cozy warm underwear to fight off the frigid benches at the west end hockey rink.
What greeted me there was the enthusiasm of my favourite daughter, combined with an endless flurry of hugs from my ten-year-old granddaughter, combined with the whirling on-ice performance of my 13-year-old grandson, topped off with the finest cheeseburger in town, all dressed by the lovely lady who lives in the snack bar: Mrs. Burger.
When you get all these people performing at their peak it is well worth the inconvenience of a frozen bum and a drive in the dark.
So last night I hit the jackpot. My daughter led the cheering, even when the other team scored a goal. Well, one of their goals. She deemed the goal worthy, and it was.
Myriad hugs from my other fellow spectator, little Cookie, who is an athlete in her own right but more than that, an endlessly wriggling FORCE.
And Oliver! Number 11! The player with one white sock and one black sock. Impeccable defensive play.
And the goal! Oh my, the goal. Some foolish player on the red team left the Big O uncovered half way in from the blue line for maybe three or four seconds. Never leave Oliver unprotected for more than half a second. The windup! The shot that threaded the needle at a difficult angle and wham! I mean WHAM!!! Into the lower left hand corner. A thing of beauty.
Oh, the red team managed to make it a tie, but never mind. Bring on the mustard, ketchup, relish and onions. How I love you, Mrs. Burger.
And the crowing glory: while sitting in my car, munching my burger, who should come tapping on my window? The goal-scorer! Thanking me for coming. Thanking ME for coming. The goal scorer was thanking ME!
It didn't work! I didn't adhere to it 100%, more like 80%, and basically I felt deprived and also somewhat pregnant most of the time (hello increased fibre!). I gained weight and resented smoothies. I loathed every bite of nut butter. BUT. It wasn't for nought. I for sure got more nutrients and broke my addiction to Mr. Noodles. I didn't eat sugar and I liked not craving it after a few days. These are actually big things and I intend to keep going with those elements - less white, less beer, more water, less sugar, and lots more green. What I am looking forward to is returning to a way of eating that has worked for me in the past and that feels good: intuitive eating.
Below are a couple of things I enjoyed on the cleanse. The first is just a super-easy breakfast or lunch: brown rice, spinach, peas, veggie broth. The second is a tofu creation Georgia and I collaborated on one night. She thought up this idea of a "community" (i.e., an environment) in a meal: broccoli were trees, carrot rounds were stepping stones, etc. We ended up including about a dozen different veggies because it was so exciting to keep adding to the metaphor.
However, here's the thing: I generally always make such things! I needed the cleanse to get me back on track and now that it's over I plan to continue eating in the same vein: just with a lot more butter and cheese! :-)
This tiny little slice – is it called a meme? – made me laugh when I first saw it on a friend's FB post and it keeps making me giggle. If you have a dog you can't help but love this one. I am racing today on many deadlines so this is it for now. It's enough, right?!
A few days ago in my first November post I mentioned my plan to do something every day that makes someone feel great. I think I try to do that as a matter of course but it's still good to think about it more intentionally. Anyway, last night I found a nice opportunity. I was at Superstore, which means muzak, harsh lighting, and long lineups for the most part. The atmosphere doesn't do much to promote random acts of kindness. However, when I finally got to the cash I was greeted by the loveliest clerk. She was excited that I had my Optimum card to receive rewards. She was delighted that I reached a bill amount that allowed me to get a big wooden cutting board for free. And every time she looked up at me she was smiling – I could tell she was even though we were both wearing masks. So of course I was smiling back. It felt wonderful. Before I left, I told her what beautiful eyes she had – twinkling eyes. "THANK YOU! she exclaimed, then said that her regular customers said they missed seeing her face because of course it's partially hidden by the mask. "You can still tell what a kind and wonderful face you have, just from your eyes," I said, and we bid each other the fondest of goodbyes.
Speaking of things that make me happy, I was just looking though my photos and came across pics of my friend Jenn's birthday party for her son (which was epic and wonderful). As you can imagine, Cheeto Head was a highlight.
What's Cheeto Head, you ask? Well thanks to another of our friends, I know and have witnessed it on several occasions now. All it takes is Cheetos, shaving cream, shower caps, and competitive people.
"One of the pair puts on the protective garb and gets shaving cream piled on their head. The second of the pair steps back 4 feet and throws Cheetos at the shaving cream for 2 minutes. The pair that has the most Cheetos on the shaving creamed head wins."
Risks:
Players eating the Cheetos because along with Mr. Noodles they are one of the world's best foods.
Attending dogs eating the Cheetos that fall and having Cheeto barfs later in the evening.
Cheating of course because it is not always the easiest to get a Cheeto to stick to a head, even if the head is covered in shaving cream!
All who have played Cheeto Head agree, however, that the risks are outweighed by the rewards.
This picture does not do it justice. Think about it: Cheetos, heads, shaving cream. Best party game ever!
(And yes, that is our dog Blue scavenging in the bottom unperturbed by the potential for regurgitation. Dogs are unmoved by such prospects and truly live in the moment.)
Today in retail therapy, I received my online order of two pairs of Zara socks. I am verrrry happy about them (especially the ones you can admire at the bottom of this post). Thinnish, warmish, and colourful but not crazy.
I am not a crazy sock person though I am interested in those who are. Lifehack says such folk may be more likely to be brilliant than the rest of us. Mic.com says socks can be a way for men to express their creativity in a world where sometimes men's fashion can be conformist (though thanks to dreamy Harry Styles and his like this seems to be changing! Not to mention the glory that was the Black Panther movie and the red carpets that followed).
But back to socks. There is, of course, the sock fetish, as defined by Urban Dictionary as:
"...when the visual inheritance of socks adds to the sexual desire of another person. The attraction can range from plain white ankle socks to rainbow striped thigh highs. On the foot or taking them off the leg and vise versa. There is many possible variations to this fetish but as long as a sock is thought of as sexy then it constitutes a sock fetish. A sock fetish is thought to be a branch of the foot fetish fantasy tree."
I am not sure what they mean by a "visual inheritance of socks" but the rest of it makes sense – Britney Spears' Baby One More Time video is 'all the proof we need (you are welcome!).
Socks can also be divisive. We have division in our family about Oliver's preference of socks with slides. It's so hard to look at, but apparently he's on trend. If Rhianna's doing it, I guess we all should.
Do you also have many feelings about socks? If not, maybe now you do? Whatever the case, I leave you with my own socks. These (a) make me happy and (b) prompted me to explore the wild and woolly world of socks in a way I perhaps might now have done otherwise. Who knew socks could open so many excellent rabbit holes to pop into!?
Hey November 10, where the heck was I on you? Well, busy, and honestly, struggling a bit. Well, a lot. I hate writing that but I was emboldened by a friend's post on FB where she shared that her marriage had ended and how sad her whole family is. It was an honest, raw post and the supportive responses she got were just incredible: hundreds of them. Everyone appreciated her dropping the happy-shiny-thing on social media and everyone felt compassionate and empathetic. Not empathetic because their marriages had fallen apart (though maybe some of them had) but empathetic because EVERYONE struggles at times. No one gets off scot-free in life, and the only thing we can all aspire to is to have compassionate people around us to help break our falls when they happen. I have those people, though it takes me ages and ages to reach out to them. But they are there and I love them for it.
Today's post is about Mr. Noodles primarily. They are my favourite food in the world – but usually, especially when I'm not feeling great. Mr. Noodles are a delicacy best savoured incredibly intermittently. It is time for me to abandon my daily intake and turn again to all things green. White foods are the yummiest, but they are a bit addictive.
So I'm doing a little 10-day cleansy thing, and before you roll your eyes, I am not saying that such cleanses are the cure-all. I am saying that I need a reset and I'm interested in comparing how I feel right now to how I will feel in 10 days. Maybe it will be the same. Maybe not. Certainly worth a try!
I am taking my cues from a Daily Om course about how to eat when in menopause. I am not in menopause, but I do think my hormones are right out of control (am finally going to see a holistic doctor for that, Nicole!). I like Daily Om's courses by the way, and they are incredibly affordable. They have a 10-minute no-sit-up abs course that is really wonderful and not the kind of 10 minutes you dread. It actually works - and who likes sit-ups, really? Anyway, my first smoothie is going to be this one .. an "anti-inflammatory, antioxidant-rich, belly-loving, and bloat-reducing smoothie." I think that sounds like an excellent idea even if it is going to pale in comparison to Mr. Noodles. I'll post a pic once I get the ingredients later today and make it (UPDATE: I didn't have all the ingredients but I had some – it's still very green as you can see!). Bye for now, November 11!
Hello, November 9. You, this morning, are not as sparkly as I intended you to be! You were supposed to be Fresh, Clean, Exciting, and Inspiring. What happened?
I guess yesterday happened: I didn't do all the things I said I would commit to in my last post. Exercise especially. And I got frustrated last night because I was trying hard to make my family happy and they were too tired and so grumpy. I very much wanted them not to be grumpy and I think I was was looking for some gratification from being a "good" mom.
But luckily, November 9, I am writing to you and so I get to think about that need last night. No one was actually asking me to be a good mom. No one was questioning whether I was a good mom. But I needed validation because I've been feeling shitty about myself. What could I have done instead of washing floors, doing laundry, ordering everyone's favourite pizza, and obeying Georgia who wanted to watch The Aristocats (which I love but have seen about 40 times)? I could have done 15 minutes of gentle exercise (it has to be gentle at the moment because I am dreading it and I know slow is the way to go when I'm feeling like that). I could have progressed in my reading of The Strangers – or not, because I am not loving it yet after 100 pages or so. I could have instead picked up the copy of State of Terror my mom lent me. I have read a couple of pages and it seems almost shockingly obvious but also maybe fun and easy – I could use a read like that.
Interesting, just there: I felt an urge to offset my non-love of The Strangers with the fact that I loved Vermette's last book, The Break. I did not like saying that I was having trouble getting into her latest. But that is not an awful thing to say, actually. And I can assure you that Katherena Vermette is not reading this blog and so there is 0% chance I will offend anyone. The very chance, however, was rattling. Good to know. Something to think about.
The need to be liked: such a trap and I'm sure it's not only me who falls into it. A couple of days ago I read this fascinating profile by Eve Wiseman in The Guardian of comedian Kathryn Ryan, who does not give the tiniest fuck about what anyone thinks. Wiseman writes,
"There are moments during our conversation, while [Ryan's] tiny dogs snore gently on my lap and her large cat (she’s called Sara Pascoe) prowls across the kitchen, that I find myself speechless. Not at what Ryan says so much, but with a sweet and awe-filled shock at how little she cares about what people think of her. Trolls, hecklers, critics, people who reel at the way she paints a picture of single motherhood in pastels and glitter rather than concentrating on exhaustion or shame. We keep coming back to this, the 'audacity' of it, and she shrugs. 'If I’m entertaining people then I don’t mind what Linda from Leeds wants to write about me in her blog.' I wait. 'I think it’s unrealistic to hope that everyone’s going to like you or even that everyone is kind. Many people are unkind, lots of people love to take offence. Lots of people are wrong, and that’s fine with me.'”
As much as November 8 sort of confused me (I wanted it to be about breaking perfection but then I realized just writing about it made me even more goal-oriented and crushed when I didn't achieve what I wanted to), there were many moments I loved. First of all it turns out that it's helpful to write here and realize what I'm thinking. I don't really know what I'm thinking a lot of the time unless I write it, and I can get muddled and uncertain as a result. Second, I sent my post yesterday to my parents, who are so supportive of me when I go through a crappy mental health period. This is what my dad wrote back to me. The context is that I dropped off some yummy Nicastro meatballs at their house on Sunday. His nickname for me is Kinks. This is not weird. It comes from "Kiley Kinks." It's cute I tell you! Anyway:
"Kinks,
I don't know how to comment without joining Facebook or one of the others, but I do know three little things that made my day today:
1. Meatballs 2. Meatballs 3. Meatballs"
That email says a lot about how good a writer my dad is. One word, repeated three times, to express gratitude for me being thoughtful and him appreciating it, and subliminally, just a nod to where we are in our relationship (very good). "Meatballs." Anything else would have been too much. I'll post some of my dad's other writing here soon.
Speaking of writing, here is the very neat thing I discovered today and learned from (one of my daily goals). It's Angie Abdou interviewing one of my favourite writers, Michael Winter. He has excellent advice, and Angie is a great interviewer.
(PS: If your kids are in hockey, which in Canada is a highly weird sport for kids to be in because it can be so fraught and fun and frankly dangerous, Angie's Home Ice is a must-read.)
Ok that's going to do it. Except for my intention I was supposed to think about for 10 minutes this morning. I intended to write and I did.
Every so often I get sick – my mental health goes down the tubes. When it does, everything is a fight. Waking up, interacting with my family, going out, seeing friends, eating, working ... well, everything. I may eventually write about what kind of mental health issues I sometimes face, but not now, I'm not ready for that. What I will say is that the plunge into darkness always begins with perfectionism and a sense that my whole life is wrong and must be immediately corrected with massive changes. The last time I wrote here, back in the spring, I mentioned this battle with perfectionism – I feel upset that it keeps coming back and sinking me, a couple of times a year usually, but for weeks.
Even as I write this post, I feel annoyed with myself that I am using commas where some other structure would be better, that I am using general words instead of specific ones. But I am going to plow on, because that's actually the healthy thing to do. I once took a brilliant creative writing class focused on how to write a novel, and holy smokes did I ever write a great three pages. Then I spent hours and hours revising those three pages. The writing got worse – forced and tortured into a state of stilted awfulness. Nothing sprang from the pages anymore and I gave up. I just gave up. Sad but true, and emblematic of the reason I am dedicating this blog for the rest of November 2021 to making things less sad.
It's November 8, not November 1 as I would like it to be. I would like my fresh start to begin crisply on the first of the month. But too bad! There is nothing to do but begin now, and maybe it is a sign from the universe that beginning late is in fact the point here.
What am I beginning? The caution here is that it can't be big. I can't change everything in one month (less than one month). But I can change some habits. I can explore how doing a few things differently might alter how I feel about myself and make life feel more fulfilling and exciting.
Here are some commitments I hope to follow through on:
No more sleeping in unless it's for a nurturing rather than avoiding-the-day kind of reason.
10 minutes in the morning of composing an intention for the day and what I want from it.
As much herbal tea as coffee and beer. And water. I need to drink a ton more water than I usually do.
One decision/gesture/conversation/moment a day that makes someone else feel great.
15 minutes a day of exercise and 5,000 steps.
20 minutes a day of writing here or elsewhere.
Some special hours with my parents every week.
An exploration of something I find interesting every day, whether it's a word, concept, book, or whatever.
Not worrying about my writing wherever it happens. Let it just be okay rather than perfect.
Asking my husband to play Scrabble with me, go for a walk, or watch a show every day.
Handwriting a letter every week to a friend.
Playing the lottery at least twice a week because I would be very good at being a millionaire.
Okay so it's 1:12 pm on Monday, November 8. So far today I have:
Not worked. That's okay because this post, and the thinking leading up to it, is important.
Sent a surprise package of two books to special people. I think they will love them!
Talked to an amazing friend I haven't spoken with for far too long. She's pregnant! Such wonderful news.
Received the Coal and Canary candle I have been so excited about. It smells just as good as I hoped it would.
Written this post. And not edited it.
If I hadn't written about these small accomplishments/enjoyments here, I would have forgotten them. I would not have grasped how much better they made my day. And I would not have been as thankful for being alive on November 8, 2021. Thank you for this day, universe (and whoever/whatever is in charge up there!).
See you tomorrow, Blogthecat.ca. I look forward to it!
