Give Yourself an Ugly Day (Or Two)

We've all had them: those dreaded ugly days. Those days where you look in the mirror and just go: ugh! And there's no amount of fiddling with hair, layering on makeup and sucking in your belly that can fix it. Clothes are strewn all over the floor, evidence of the fact that nothing, no, nothing, looks good. Your hairbrush lies on the bed, exhausted after fighting (and losing) a battle that left you looking like fluffy here. 

Some people's reaction is to throw on a pair of their most horrible (and loosest) pants, a t-shirt, make a face at the mirror and go on with their day, vowing to buy themselves a bag of potato chips at the earliest opportunity. 

But there is another way to look at this. I've come to realize lately that, far from ruining your life (or so it might seem at the moment), ugly days can be quite liberating.

Some people don't even allow themselves an ugly day. I feel sorry for them. You know who I'm talking about: those guys whose hair is gelled to perfection, and who look at everyone around them with an expression on their face that clearly screams: "I'm better than you." Or those girls who go jogging with makeup on. Seriously - they do exist. I've seen them. And trust me, it's pretty creepy watching someone jogging towards you with not a single drop of sweat making it past their thick layers of foundation, wearing so much mascara you wonder if she can see past her lashes. 

Now, I'm not crazy enough to spend an hour putting on makeup just before I head to the gym, but I do like to feel pretty. I'm the kind of girl who likes to wear a pencil skirt and high-heeled ankle boots, with a "cat eye" that takes me 20 minutes and a 30$ eye-liner to perfect. But I can also feel perfectly happy with a pair of jeans, a t-shirt that's a little too big and a bare face. 

Last week, however, I experienced a couple of ugly days that were worse than any I've had before. I caught a virus from my daughter, called "Feet Hands Mouth," which consists basically of red spots appearing in those very places. My hands were absolutely covered in sore, itchy red bumps. I even got one on my chin, and a few around my nose. There was one just on top of my right nostril that stuck out so much, it was a pity that it wasn't Halloween yet, because I would have been very convincing as a witch. 

Once the torture of the itchy bumps subsided, and I was left to deal with their disgusting appearance, I said to myself, "screw it!" I'll just be ugly for a couple of days. 

It just so happened that we were planning on going camping that weekend (a happy coincidence.) I packed nothing but a pair of black sweat pants and a couple of t-shirts. I didn't care what I looked like. And that led me to also not care about the things around me that usually make me feel uncomfortable (if you read my past post on camping, you'll know that being out in the woods definitely counts as taking me out of my comfort zone). 

I will illustrate: a wasp buzzed past me and I hardly flinched (!!) My daughter dropped all sorts of food on my clothes and I couldn't care less. I even had to dry myself with a tea towel (having forgotten to bring bath towels) after my shower and I saw the whole thing as an amusing adventure. I let my hair air-dry into whatever position it wanted and ended up looking like a cross between Mel Gibson in the movie Bird on a Wire and Farrah Fawcett (on a really shit day). 

But the most amazing thing is, that I felt so free, I actually enjoyed camping more than my husband did! Which is in itself nothing less than a miracle. (I won't even count the fact that he had also caught the virus and was going on endlessly about how crappy he felt.) 

What do you do when you have an ugly day? Please leave a comment.

Find Someone Whose Flaws You Can Live With

There it is: my number one relationship advice. It's not very romantic, I know. But it really says it all.

Allow me to explain.

In all my past relationships, there would be a time when I would call my best friend on the phone, crying about something my boyfriend at the time did. We've all been there: complaining that our significant other is a certain way, or does certain things, with which we are not happy.

For example: "He doesn't want to move in with me and we've been going out for two years!" Also, "He cheated on me and conveniently forgot to tell me!" Or, "He threw an "Ah Caramel!" cake at me because I'm not thin enough for him!" (That actually  happened).

Now, these are things no one in their right mind should tolerate. People do these sorts of things to the person they're with because they find fault with them, and instead of ending the relationship in a decent and respectful way, they treat them like crap.

Every time I called my friend after one of my crises, she would say the same thing: "Why do you stay with him then?" The answer was simple: because I was afraid of being alone. And that's why we all stay with someone who is not right for us, isn't it? We don't know what it will be like to go back to dating, when's the next time we're going to find someone, and so we continue with the relationship.

(Which actually explains the incredibly high divorce rate. People stay with someone they in all honesty can't stand, and they sometimes only realize it after they're married and have three kids. Then they're in a hurry to find someone else, form a reconstituted family, in which there are now six kids, and after one or two years they lose their minds and separate again. It's a real mess).

I had an epiphany on the day my best friend told me the following about my relationship with the man who is now my husband: "I know he's right for you because you haven't once called me on the phone, crying."

That's when I realized that it's not just about loving someone for their flaws; it's about being able to live with those flaws. And it's also about finding someone who will be able to live with yours.

I'm going to end with a quote from the fabulous Marylin Monroe, who, as her three divorces attest, unfortunately was never able to find someone who could live with her (ahem) imperfections.

What's the most important thing you've learned about relationships? Please leave a comment.

Take a Zumba Class This Winter

When we are hit by a sudden a startling cold wind in early September, and even a snowstorm in Calgary (when it is still, technically, summer) we cannot help but reflect on the long winter months that lie ahead.

If you're like me, this change in weather might be making you look forward to the great new fall clothes you bought in August (those ankle boots are just screaming to be let out of your closet), the beautiful mix of yellow, orange and red adorning the forest, and of course pumpkin spice lattes.

But once winter arrives, there's no getting rid of it until spring, and you're faced with the prospect of months and months of snow layered over ice so thick, you wonder how on earth it's ever going to melt. The snowbanks are as high as your house, and you practically need a chainsaw to make it out of your driveway. You snicker at the guy on the radio urging you to take advantage of the season by engaging in winter sports, because you a) hate skiing, b) can't see the point of ice-skating because it's nothing more than going round in circles, and c) the kids are too little for snowshoeing anyway.

Therefore, there's nothing left but to allow yourself to sink into a crippling depression as you look out your window at the grey, misty sky thick with the promise of ice and snow, again. Which will promptly be pushed onto your front lawn, adding height to that snowbank you've been cursing inside your mind over the past weeks.

Or, you could take a Zumba class.

Seriously, if you haven't discovered Zumba yet, sign up for a class now. Before you give in to the urge to spend your evenings sitting on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and watching the entire series of The Game of Thrones for the third time, repeating in your head over and over the phrase "Winter is coming."

Zumba is so effective in driving away the winter doldrums, it's a wonder psychiatrists don't write up prescriptions for it. The combination of upbeat, fast-paced music (much of it Latin), the dancing and the pure energy emanating from everyone in the room is enough to make your feel like you're at a midsummer party in the Caribbean.

Plus, if you're trying to lose those few pounds incurred by ingesting bags of Halloween chocolates and pumpkin lattes (and who isn't?), it's the best way to do it.

An iPad Is Not a Camera

Am I the only one who stands dumbfounded and stares openmouthed whenever someone pulls out a huge tablet and starts taking pictures with it?

I see them from far away, holding it up at arm's length in front of their faces, so huge it blocks their entire heads, taking photos of a building, their friends, whatever, and all I can think is: "You're gonna drop it!!"

Personally, if I had such an expensive toy in my possession, I wouldn't hold it up in the air like that. It's just too risky.

Unless, of course, someone gets the bright idea to attach straps to it - but no, even then, I think I'd just feel silly having a tablet hanging from my neck.

But wait … what the hell? It does exist!

How nice. Like a little handbag.

Seriously though. Something like that would just eventually get smashed to bits (at least if I was wearing it).

So why not invest in a nice camera? You know, that tool that was invented to (ahem) take pictures?

Or at least, let's limit ourselves to snapping photos with our smartphones. They don't make us look quite as ridiculous.

What do you think of the ever growing and alarming trend of using a tablet to take pictures? Please leave a comment.

Go Camping

I don't mean in a 27' trailer, complete with king size bed, high definition TV, two bathrooms and a fireplace. That's not camping.

I mean in something where you sleep under canvas and the pattering of raindrops lull you to sleep.

This may surprise you (after reading the above sentence), but I'm really not a fan of camping. Not at all.

Yet, that's actually why I'm giving you this piece of advice: because it's good to step out of one's comfort zone.

I went camping for a total of three weeks this summer. And it's done me much good. For example: I'm much more calm around bugs now. I don't scream nearly as loud as I once did whenever I find a spider in my clothes.

I've also embraced the air-dried hair (adorned with little twigs fallen off trees), wearing the same cotton dress from Target for three days straight look. I cast my cute sandals aside for walking shoes and Crocs. And I even stopped caring that my legs were pock-marked with nasty mosquito bites (though the itching drove me nuts).

Seriously, though. Camping has real advantages, especially for most people who can't afford those week-long, five-star hotel stays in the Caribbean (you know, the ones your friends post infuriating pictures of on Facebook). It's your ticket to getting to see lots of great places, without maxing out the credit cards.

Case in point: during my three weeks sleeping in a tent-trailer, I saw:
Downtown Boston
Harvard
Cape Cod
Virginia Beach
Bottlenose dolphins swimming close to shore
Williamsburg (outlets!!!)
Jamestown

And of course I had access to all these wonderful things we don't have in Québec city, like Ben&Jerry's ice cream shops and affordable shoes and handbags.

I also got so much fresh air, warm weather and sunshine, I'm just about ready for another winter now (no, I'm not insane).

It's true I had to duck into Starbucks just to escape, from time to time, but it was worth it (hint: if you're like me, choose a campground that's near a city, or at least in close proximity to a place with a decent café). I'm even (almost) looking forward to my camping trip next year.

Have any interesting camping stories? Please leave a comment. 

Sit on the Toilet!

A public toilet.

Yes, I said it.

I don't know when or how this odd insistence by people in general to hover over a toilet started. I'm guessing it's inherent in our Lysol-everything, wash-your-hands-for-no-less-than-five-minutes and do-everything-you-can-to-avoid-touching-the-sink north-american culture. Because, of course, the last thing we want in our extremely clean, anti-bacterial sprayed environment is to catch some horrible disease.

Here's a fact: it's been proven that toilet seats in public washrooms have a lot less germs than we think. The floor is much dirtier (better use the hook behind the stall door for your purse, ladies) and even the hand dryer spreads more germs. That's right. The idea that public toilets are riddled with bacteria, leading so many people (women especially) to hover, or to waste paper in an effort to create a butt shield, is a myth, according to an article on ABC news.

I'm a member of the do-not-hover club (I just made that up). Simply because I just can't pee like that. I don't know how other people do it. What I do know is that every time I use a public toilet, I'm obliged to wipe the seat first, because some weird germ-phobic made a disgusting mess on it. It's ironic that, while I can walk into a nice public washroom with pristine sinks, shiny mirrors and fancy blow-dryers, I can't find a toilet seat that hasn't been peed on (or sometimes even pooped on. Revolting.)

Now, I know that if you belong to the "hover camp," I can't convince you to sit on a toilet seat no matter how hard I try.

So why did I bother writing this post? To introduce my proposal for a simply brilliant idea:

Squat toilets.

If we can't as a society use toilets the way they were designed to be used, why don't we have them all torn out of public washrooms and replaced by squat toilets, like they have in Asia?

I mean, think about it. They're much easier to squat over since they're at floor level. Your butt will never have to touch the surface of a toilet seat again (except in your home, if you choose to keep your regular toilet, which you can sit on or hover over as you please). There will still be a bit of a mess, of course (no one has perfect aim), but at least no one will have to sit on it. You may get a few drops on your pants, but I'm sure that's already happening with people who hover.

Gross, you say? Think about it next time you step into a public washroom.

Watch an Approaching Storm

I'm the kind of girl who likes to stand out on my front porch when there's a thunderstorm coming.

(Some people don't like to do that and would think I'm a little nuts, I know. Like my grandmother who used to light candles in every window to ward off lightning. My dad as a kid, however, would run out into the storm, most likely sending her into a panic, poor woman.)

Watching an approaching storm is like watching a movie - like one of those blockbusters featuring tornadoes bent on crushing the main characters under a barn - only it's better, because it's real.

The other night I was reading on my sofa when I noticed the sky rapidly getting darker. I put my book down, opened the front door and stood on the top step. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a cold new wind on my warm skin. As the storm approached I watched the black, low-lying clouds move swiftly overhead and marvelled at the utter blackness coming towards me.

Suddenly the whole sky lit up, and a bolt of lightning descended over the hills. The wind blew harder and became chillier. The trees swayed and the leaves rustled as they performed a mad dance. Lightning struck again, throwing a white light over the rooftops. After that the rain came, cold heavy drops falling at a slant onto the porch where I stood. Reluctantly, I went back inside.

A thunderstorm is one of those things that illustrates just how powerful nature is, like volcanoes erupting, ocean waves crashing on a rocky cliff, or blizzards raging across prairie lands.

For me, that beats super-high resolution images any day.

Are you the kind of person who likes to stand outside and watch an approaching storm? Please leave a comment.

"The Model Isn't Real": Repeat 3 Times

Of course we've all been there: glancing at a magazine cover featuring a model with a perfect body, then sighing inwardly, wishing we could look like that. I'm sure even men experience this (I mean, have you seen men's fitness magazine covers? Are those six-packs made of concrete?)

It seems like whatever we do, wherever we look, we are bombarded with images of perfect human bodies that make ours feel inadequate.

For years, I've bemoaned a cruel fate that would have me look like a one-ton truck compared to these models who showed off their perfect, extremely toned arms, flat bellies and long, lean legs almost everywhere I turned.

Until finally, I realized that these perfect human beings seemed to exist only on paper, billboards and TV.

Now, at the age of 35, I'm (at last!) happy with the way I look, because I know that to look like one of those models is impossible. Because they're not real.

Oh, sure, there are real people behind those pictures, but they don't look like that on their own.

Here's a video you may have seen on YouTube:

Ok, so here's the deal. Next time you're waiting in line to pay for groceries, and you happen to have a glance at the latest Cosmopolitan, instead of excusing yourself and making a dash for the Ben&Jerry's in the frozen food section, repeat three time: "The model isn't real."

I'm healthy (which is what really counts, isn't it?) I exercise and I eat well. I won't ever look like Gwyneth Paltrow. Because I can't afford personal trainers, I don't have time to work out ten hours a day, and I'd quickly get sick of eating nothing but salad. And also because I'm just not born that way.

Besides, there are few things better in life than being married to a guy who tells me I'm beautiful just as I am.

Take that, cover girls.

What goes through your mind when you look at a magazine cover? Please leave a comment.

Go Outlet Shopping

I know most of you are probably thinking I'm preaching to the choir, but I just had to add this bit of advice. And it should not be taken lightly. I mean, consider what I've found lately at outlets:

- A Michael Kors bag at 135$ (and a really nice shoulder bag too; not just a tiny clutch!)
- A pair of black suede heels and fabulous leather stilleto ankle boots at Nine West for 122$ (total!)
- A pair of suede platform Prada heels at 150$! (ok, these were in Tuscany, but if ever you're there, right?)

I guess if you live in Europe or the US, you're probably thinking, "yeah, so?" Please understand that I'm from Canada, where there are no outlets - just power centers where everything costs the same as everywhere else. It's literally impossible to get a good deal in Canada - I mean, I have to cross the border to pay 50% less for something that was actually packaged in Mississauga, Ontario! And that lovely Michael Kors bag would have cost me at least 400$ (plus mind-numbing taxes.)

So, especially if you're from Canada like me, take advantage of your camping trip to the US, or whatever, and seek out the biggest outlet mall within driving distance.

Though you might want to focus on stocking up on stuff you actually need, as opposed to doing what I did: heading right for the accessories stores and splurging on shoes and a handbag.

Oh well.

Take a walk in a field

Think about it: when do we ever see someone walking in a field? Wheat fields, corn fields, we drive by them all the time, and they seem to be just a long stretch of gold or green rippling waves in a late summer wind that is completely inaccessible except through a window.

People used to cut through fields, or walk alongside their borders, and children used to play in them, long ago. At least, that's what we read in books and see in period movies.

Try this: next time you're taking a walk on a country road, during a camping trip or a stay at a cottage, step off the path and walk into a field. When you get far from the road, crouch down and watch the tall stalks sway gently around you.

"But isn't the farmer going to come after me, yelling curses and brandishing his scythe, for daring to trespass on his property?" you may ask.

Probably not. Because he's most likely busy with things like running his farm and won't even notice you there. Anyway, it's not like you're going to ruin a field full of sturdy corn stalks. The worst thing that will probably happen is you'll get your shoes extremely wet and muddy.

Of course, if there's a sign that says "no trespassing," please respect it.

I was in Tuscany not long ago, and I loved to walk along the empty roads leading to the small, isolated hamlet where I was staying. These roads were bordered by miles of vineyards that were just too beautiful to resist. One evening, as the sun was setting and the clouds turned pink, I walked off the road and down a hill covered in rows of vines. When I got to the bottom, I closed my eyes, fought the unreasonable fear that someone would come and yell at me that I did not belong there, suburbanite that I am, and just listened to the sounds of nature around me. Tree branches of a nearby wood creaked in the wind, small animals scurried in the thicket, and night birds began to sing. I felt like I had traveled centuries back in time.

It didn't even matter to me that my shoes were caked in mud.  

When is the last time you strayed off a paved road? Please leave a comment.

Do Nothing.

I mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But what is this crazy person talking about? you may ask.

Have you ever tried sitting down, maybe on your couch, leaning against a comfy cushion, or outside on your front step, or even alone at a terrace, with a glass of wine in front of you, and doing nothing? Not watching TV, or reading a book, or tap-tap-tapping on your smartphone. Just sitting and thinking.

We see it all the time: people standing in line, bent over their phones because they can't possibly imagine standing there and looking at the world around them. People reading on the bus instead of admiring the view from the window. Even people texting as they wait impatiently for the red light to turn green, instead of actually being aware of their surroundings (inarguably very important when driving).

It's like we can't fathom not filling every second of our lives with some sort of activity, busy and stressed out as we are with work, studies, kids, projects, or whatever. Imagine what it must be like to take some of that time, and actually do nothing with it (yes, I said it.)

Here are some ways of doing nothing you might want to try:

1. Sit alone at a restaurant and resist the temptation to take out a book or your phone. Enjoy watching what other people around you are doing.

2. Go outside, sit on your front step and just look at the world going by.

3. The next time you take a bus, or a train, look out the window. Imagine what you could be missing if you don't:

(View of the Tuscan countryside. Now that's worth looking at)

When you sit and do nothing, that's when inspiration comes. A solution to a problem may magically present itself. You might remember something you've forgotten. A pleasant memory might surface, and make you happy just thinking about it. And you may even get an idea. Just sitting there in my living room, doing nothing, is how I got the idea for this blog. (And no, it didn't just pop into my head as a solution to boredom. Not at all.)

Have any ideas suddenly come to you while you were doing nothing? Please leave a comment.

Read a Book - A Real One

I don't understand why books, that have existed in printed format since the 15th century, have suddenly become the subject of a mass debate surrounding their very existence.

Many people believe that e-readers will simply replace printed books, just as hand-copying of religious texts by monks centuries ago was superseded by the printing press.

Still, with the advent of the printing machine, handwriting wasn't exactly annihilated, was it?

Books aren't just words organized into sentences, paragraphs and chapters. They're objects. I love having the feel of a book between my hands; I even love the smell of it, and the memories it evokes. Try to smell your Kobo, and I guarantee you'll get strange looks.

Most of all, I can't imagine reading without turning the pages. That's just not a book, in my opinion. And is there anything better than sitting with a great book and a glass of wine on a chilly winter's night?

I have a friend who reads e-books almost exclusively. One time we decided to read A Game of Thrones and share our reactions as we progressed through the story. About halfway through the book, she said, "I have a hard time keeping up with the characters - there are so many of them, I get mixed up!"
"I know," I said. "Why don't you check the Appendix? They're all listed there."
There was a pause.
"What appendix?" she asked.
"Well, just flip to the back of the book …" I broke off. "Oh. You're reading the electronic version, aren't you?" I will confess I chortled; I couldn't help it.
After a bit of tip-tap-tapping, she found it.

I asked her later why she preferred the e-book option. "It's more practical," she said. "I can take it anywhere."

I would argue that I have no problem carrying the latest 1000+ pages-long George R.R. Martin novel in my bag, but I usually get the one-eyebrow-lift reaction when I say that.

I can't deny that e-books are practical and easy to carry. But I will always stick with a paper book. And if you're a Kobo fan, I suggest you read a paper book too, at least from time to time, just to remember what it was like.

With that in mind, I also suggest we keep both options open. Why should one mean the death of the other?

But for now, why don't we let these two fight it out?

Which do you prefer: e-book or paper book? Please leave a comment.

Make strawberry freezer jam

There's nothing that says old-fashioned and traditional like making your own strawberry jam. And since we're in the middle of strawberry season, I figured it would be the best time for this bit of advice.

I make my jam as my mother taught me: I simply follow the recipe and instructions in the Certo package. I use light Certo because it asks for a little bit less sugar. And less sugar, of course, means more strawberries.

I also choose to make the no-cook, freezer jam, because the strawberries, unlike with cooked jams, keep their nutrients. Plus, you don't need to sterilize the jars.

You will need:

- 4 cups fresh strawberries
- 3 1/4 cups sugar
- 1 package Certo light

Clean and hull strawberries. Crush them using a potato masher. 

Measure 4 cups of strawberries into a bowl. Mix the Certo with 1/4 cup of the sugar. Add to strawberries. Let rest, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes. 

Add the remaining 3 cups of sugar, and stir for 3 minutes. Put in jars, and seal with lid. Let stand at room temperature for 24 hours, or until set.  

Here's why I love making my own:

- At about 2$ a jar for great quality jam, with no preservatives and no artificial colouring, why not? (Oh, and here's a little note: can you believe that manufactured jam actually has food colouring added in it? I mean, why? It's berries!)

- It's one of the few things I can make in the kitchen without using any electricity. When I made jam last summer, the power actually went out, and I remember feeling really excited, thinking, "This is great! It'll be just like when my grandmother was young, and people were actually making things with their own hands, being completely self-sufficient!" Then I realized I didn't have enough sugar, and as the grocery store nearby was closed (obviously unable to function without electricity), I had to get in the car and drive to another one.

- I get a whole day to myself to just putter around the kitchen. My husband takes the kids to his parents' house, as I cannot imagine being able to work the three stations of cleaning, crushing, and mixing strawberries with an eighteen-month-old running around. "Just picture her pulling one of the bowls off the table and getting five cups of crushed strawberries with pectin on her head!" I told him. This morning he packed the kids up and left just as soon as they were dressed.

- Finally, I just love the end result:

Happy strawberry season!

Oh, and p.s. For all my Québec city friends, I went and picked the strawberries myself, at La Ferme Genest . It's a wonderful place for families. Also, they make the best loaves of whole wheat bread I have ever eaten. The flavour reminds me of old-fashioned flour grinding mills. If you ever go, do try one.

Do you have a special recipe you make with strawberries this time of year? Please leave a comment below.

Put Down the Smartphone!

This is my first bit of advice: put down the smartphone.

I once saw a young woman, her arm interlaced with her boyfriend's as they were waiting in line somewhere, looking up lovingly into his face, while he stared at his phone. He didn't even see her looking at him.

Then there are the couples sitting facing each-other at a restaurant, each bent over their phones, furiously typing away. Honestly. Save your money. Stay at home and text each-other while watching TV with a bowl of chips.

There was also that time that a woman was texting while she was in labour, up to twenty minutes before the baby came. I'm not making this up.

Here's a story I love: my mother's best friend very nearly got into a car accident when this guy missed his light, swerved violently and came within inches of hitting her. Shaken up, she stepped out of her car just as he came out of his. He was holding his phone to his ear. "I'll have to call you back," he said to the person on the other end, "I have to deal with something here." My mother's friend couldn't believe it. "You were on your phone?!?" she yelled, incredulous. Then she tore the phone out of his hands and threw it in the middle of the street, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

So like I said. Put down the smartphone. Put it down especially when you're driving. In fact, hide it in a place where you won't be tempted to grab for it. Like at the very bottom of your extra-large tote bag. Or, you could do what my husband does, and accidentally drop it between the driver's seat and the door.

Seriously though. Have we really collectively come to the conclusion that it's a good idea to drive and text? There is currently an epidemic of drivers idling at green lights, infuriating those lining up behind them, because they're studiously bent over their smartphones. And that's the least of our problems.

The SAAQ published the following video. If that doesn't make people feel ridiculous about texting and driving, nothing will:

The translation is: "In the past, we didn't write messages while driving. There was probably a good reason for that." I especially love the guy writing with a pen and ink while driving his horse and buggy.

Do you have any interesting or funny smartphone related stories? Please leave a comment below.