In praise of my BFF

Dear reader,

My best friend Annie and I met over 20 years ago, at the age of 14 or 15. We were introduced by a mutual friend who found it odd that we had a shared admiration for the band Fleetwood Mac, a love of all things hippie and a knack for vintage clothes, despite the fact that we lived about two hours by bus and metro from one another. We eventually lost touch with that friend, but the sisterly bond between Annie and I stayed strong throughout the years.

1. We speak the same language.
Neither of us can remember how or when our mutual nickname, Naya (and its derivatives, the Yiddish-inspired Nayaleh and the French-chic Néyette), was born, but it has stuck to the point of completely obliterating our actual first names. And from that, a whole dictionary of Naya Language followed suit. If anyone were to eavesdrop on a conversation or sneak a peek at our thousands of lengthy e-mails, they’d think we were speaking in tongues.

2. She doesn’t judge me.
Oh Lord, I’ve done some wacky shit in my lifetime. From converting to Judaism to buying a shack in the country to seriously considering having a baby on my own, from ill-suited boyfriends to multiple family dramas to roller-coaster mood swings, she’s been there to say “Right on, girl.” Secretly, she might have thought I was off my bloody rocker, and I wouldn’t blame her. But she never told me so. It’s not that she doesn’t have her own opinions on the way people run, or rather, mess up, their lives; she just usually keeps those for our private gossip-fuelled correspondence. Her silent disapproval seems to target many, many people, but never me.

3. She’s hilarious.
Ever since our first letters on yellow pads and girly stationary, and from the very first chatty mix tape sent in colourful envelopes that were, I’m sure, the stuff of postmen’s nightmares, I’ve been in stitches. I’ve shed countless tears of laughter, suffered hysterics-induced stomach cramps and thrown myself on many a floor. Together, we’re a veritable comedy show; we could have a major comical production here.

4. We’re both musical.
She is better than me in that field, I’ll admit. She’s a hit in karaoke bars with her renditions of Heart tunes and disco classics, and her accompanying theatrics and fearless disposition make her the envy of all wannabes (i.e. me). She is also a walking encyclopaedia of songs and albums and videos and trivia, and she’s attended plenty of cool concerts. She’s, like, best buds with Lindsay Buckingham! (Ok, she only has his guitar pick, but he DID throw it specifically at her from the stage.) At age 17, her and I were just like the Indigo Girls, minus the lesbianism and the record contract. Strumming our guitars and singing in harmony in her suburban basement, the one with the old band posters, multiple shelves of hi-fi equipment and occasional bottle of pink Creme de Menthe. Good times, man. And thankfully, a few of our jam sessions were recorded for posterity. I just hope we’re still able to listen to tapes 20 years from now.

5. She’s an original.
When I’m busy with work and baby, I don’t have a lot of time to e-mail and catch up with her glamorous, young-child-free life, and I feel the void. I need my daily fix! Fortunately, she understands my wacky schedule, so she patiently waits for a quick note from me to let her know that I am, in fact, still alive, and anxiously awaiting her accounts of sunny weekends with work friends, barbecues in the backyard and bargain-filled shopping expeditions. My best friend is a social butterfly, a charmer who livens up any party and regales one and all with humorous anecdotes. Not to mention that her fashion sense is unmatched; you can always count on her to show up at a function and turn heads with her creative, lovely outfits. I’ve tried to emulate her in this department as well, in vain. She can’t be copied; she’s simply one of a kind.

InStyle, take me away!

Dear reader,

Here’s a little-known fact about me: I have a subscription to InStyle magazine. It’s been my traditional birthday gift from my fashion-conscious mother-in-law for several years, ever since I started dating her son. Now, I myself am not much of a trend follower, rather opting for basic black, navy and white capris, conventional jeans, neutral t-shirts, no-nonsense sweaters (I luv argyle), a few plain skirts and one dress (black and now waaaaaay too small), as well as a couple of cute jackets I don’t wear very often (the pink velvet velour was my favourite until my brother-in-law spilled red wine on it and someone thought it would be smart to add club soda and salt and white wine to erase the stain. Shockingly, that only added to the mess).
I wear next to no jewellery, except for my engagement and wedding rings, and, if I’m going out or feeling particularly dainty, I’ll throw around my neck an amber heart pendant that was an early gift from Shawn or my sparkly little ladybug (a trinket, really, but it reminds me of my daughter, whose first birthday cake was shaped like the polka-doted creature). I do have very cool pieces from India, which were brought back from my husband’s business trip to Bangalore. He had a shitty time, but it was worth it: I look fantastic with all those bangles and intricate necklaces.
I do love to look at beautiful things, and InStyle never fails: classy, colourful clothing like works of art on glossy paper; gorgeous gems, pristine pearls and dazzling diamonds; fabulous furnishings and eclectic accessories. Granted, most of these baubles cost the better part of a year’s salary, but here are a few things I found in this month’s issue that could, possibly, be enjoyed by a regular person.

1. Chifundo Bracelet
I don’t actually know who Camilla Belle is, but on page 24 she’s seen wearing one of these really cool beaded bracelets. They’re handmade, so each one is original, and the best part, or second-best part, is that they’re only 40 bucks each. Not exactly pennies, but here’s the real best part: all profits provide education and resources for children in Malawi. Madonna can adopt them; we can help them a tiny bit and look funky at the same time. Me likey. (helpmalawichildren.org)
2. Bally Ballet Flats
Two pages later, Freida Pinto (the cutie from Slumdog Millionaire) wears black Bally ballet flats (say that three times in a row) that also come in two tones. Oh. My. God. Two-tone shoes have been my fashion Holy Grail ever since I saw Elaine wearing them on Seinfeld, back in the early 90s. I eventually got a pair, but they weren’t very high quality so they made my feet hurt, and I didn’t wear them much. And then they went out of style, and my quest for the perfect, Forties-inspired footwear pretty much ended. But now, here it is: the shoe of my dream! For 300 dollars, who could deny me that?
3. Havaianas
Still in the shoe department, Havaianas are killer. I’ve heard about these great flip-flops many times, and now I’ve seen the ad, but I’ve never spotted them in a store. According to their Web site, they sell them at Simons in Montreal, but I doubt they have as many styles as you can find online. The patterns are so lovely (the Peacock, the Garden and the Elephant, with embellishment, are just a few examples) that I might have to get 100 different pairs and wear them year-round! Are socks and sandals still a fashion faux-pas?
4. ZenBunni Organic Chocolate
Ummm... did I just read “non-dairy chocolate bars”? I’m drooling already. ZenBunni is a Los Angeles company that miraculously ships to Canada, so you can create your own box of nine bars (the flavours are limited, but the “grey sea salt” sounds delectable). They claim to make healthy chocolate, the buzz words being “raw”, “minerals”, “nutrients”, “antioxidants”... you get the drift. They had me at “chocolate.”

Fun New Things

Dear reader,

For today’s instalment, I have decided to list the Top Five fun new things I’m all about these days.

1. OPI’s “Mermaid to Order” nail polish
I recently stopped breastfeeding my daughter, and with that came the return of long, polish-worthy nails (goodbye, middle-of-the-night nail biting!). So on a recent trip to Toronto, we stopped by Yorkdale Mall – a temple of shopping decadence if there ever was one – and I treated myself to this cool, sparkly turquoise shade at Sephora. Now, there’s been a Sephora store at my local mall for about a year, maybe longer, I don’t know; I’ve never set foot there. For me, Sephora belongs to that long list of American shops that, despite our clamouring, should stay in the U.S. and thus remain slightly foreign and mysterious to those who only visit once in a while, a list that includes such indulgences as Krispy Kreme, Target, Bath & Body Works, Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma. Indeed, the fact that I bought my funky, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking polish elsewhere than the regular old shopping centre down the street makes it so much more exotic and cherished.

2. Kettle Brand Baked Chips
Shawn and I went back on the Weight Watchers Points system a couple weeks ago after the free-for-all that was our Niagara-on-the-Lake trip (although if I’m honest, I would say that the last 18 months have been pretty crazy food-wise; having a baby is a fantastic excuse for having two tubs of frozen yogurt in the freezer at all times). So we’ve been scavenging the supermarket shelves for diet-friendly snacks, and we found these beauties in Hawkesbury last weekend. We like to go to Independent and look for nifty new offerings by President’s Choice before they hit the Québec market. A cheap thrill. Anyhoo, these chips are delicious! Hardly any different than the original kettle chips, but less W.W. points. Shawn’s been doling them out in 100-calorie portions for lunches, disciplined eater that he is, and we’ve all enjoyed a tasty snack without the crazy guilt and extra-oily fingers.

3. Cuisinart Ice Cream/Frozen Yogurt/Sorbet Maker
At 80 bucks, a splurge, for sure, but what the hell, it’s Father’s Day and the boy deserves a shiny new gourmet toy (the Cuisinart food processor with extra sausage-making attachments will have to wait). So last night we broke her in by making a simple strawberry frozen yogurt with soy milk. Delish, and full of potential for sweet, somewhat low-cal desserts. I’m particularly intrigued by the lemon sorbet my husband has promised to make – it will no doubt be delightful and perhaps the new staple of dinner parties on Dawson Street.

4. “Man Vs. Wild”
Bear Grylls is insane. Sure, he served in the British Special Forces and climbed Everest, but still: to be dropped off in the Costa Rican jungle or on top of an Alaskan glacier, among others, is plain wacky! Each episode of this show, which we recently discovered on the aptly named Discovery Channel, is more fascinating than the next, as Bear teaches his viewers how to survive in extreme situations with nothing more than a water bottle (great for drinking one’s own pee), a knife (for eating raw zebra) and shoelaces (to tie one’s legs and climb a naked tree).

5. Celebrity Baby Blog (http://celebrity-babies.com/)
I may or may not be obsessed with celebrity babies, crazy names and all. This Web site caters to my every craving for gossip, pictures and “breaking news” – Trista and Ryan have baby girl named Blakesley! Heidi Klum is pregnant for the 12th time! But the site also features very interesting mama-friendly products, such as the Sun Smarties Family Beach Cabana Tent. This super-cool shading device sounds great for my possible trip to Israel this summer since we would be about one minute away from beach heaven, and I was just thinking that I’d have to get a little parasol for Louisa. Thanks CBB! Another fun aspect of the site: links to other blogs, such as LilSugar, which features mommy-related articles and must-take quizzes like “Name that Diaper Bag,” which I failed miserably. Hmph. Looks like I’ll have to go back to Yorkdale Mall and brush up on my baby-designer skills!

June 17, 2009

Dear reader,

I guess it all started when, at age 19, I read J.D. Salinger’s novel Franny and Zooey, a kooky portrait of a neurotic brother and sister raised in a brainy, vaudeville-loving Irish-Jewish family. When I got to page 75, i.e. the Lengthy Enumeration of Things in the Medicine Cabinet, well, I just about hollered, and I knew this would be a personal classic. An avid list-maker myself since my first year of high school, when I had been given a shiny new agenda of crisp, blank pages to fill with my daily thoughts and activities, I was enthralled by Salinger’s seemingly banal, yet delicious inventory. As a starter of sorts, I’ll begin this blog with said list (I might be violating copyright laws here, but I highly doubt that Jerome David will be coming round collecting royalties so I’ll take my chances).

Let me preface by saying that I’m just nuts about this passage. In this scene, Zooey, a young man and budding actor, is sitting in the family tub reading a manuscript. In walks his mother, a “fat Irish rose” named Bessie Glass, carrying a parcel.

Zooey’s voice suddenly and suspiciously spoke up: “Mother? What in Christ’s name are you doing out there?”

Mrs. Glass had undressed the package and now stood reading the fine print on the back of a carton of toothpaste. “Just kindly button that lip of yours,” she said, rather absently. She went over to the medicine cabinet. It was stationed above the washbowl, against the wall. She opened its mirror-faced door and surveyed the congested shelves with the eye—or, rather, the masterly squint—of a dedicated medicine-cabinet gardener. Before her, in overly luxuriant rows, was a host, so to speak, of golden pharmaceuticals, plus a few technically less indigenous whatnots. The shelves bore iodine, Mercurochrome, vitamin capsules, dental floss, aspirin, Anacin, Bufferin, Argyrol, Musterole, Ex-Lax, Milk of Magnesia, Sal Hepatica, Aspergum, two Gillette razors, one Schick Injector razor, two tubes of shaving cream, a bent and somewhat torn snapshot of a fat black-and-white cat asleep on a porch railing, three combs, two hairbrushes, a bottle of Wildroot hair ointment, a bottle of Fitch Dandruff Remover, a small, unlabelled box of glycerine suppositories, Vicks Nose Drops, Vicks VapoRub, six bars of castile soap, the stubs of three tickets to a 1946 musical comedy (“Call Me Mister”), a tube of depilatory cream, a box of Kleenex, two seashells, an assortment of used-looking emery boards, two jars of cleansing cream, three pairs of scissors, a nail file, an unclouded blue marble (known to marble shooters, at least in the twenties, as a “purey”), a cream for contracting enlarged pores, a pair of tweezers, the strapless chassis of a girl’s or woman’s gold wristwatch, a box of bicarbonate of soda, a girl’s boarding-school class ring with a chipped onyx stone, a bottle of Stopette—and, inconceivably or no, quite a good deal more.

And thus began my love for all things enumerated. Although my father is a meticulous list-keeper himself, going as far as jotting down his daily wakeup time, I had never before experienced the kind of poetic bliss that came over me when I first read this gem. I promptly read it again and again. I mean, how could J.D. have gotten away with that? And more importantly, how could all that stuff fit into one medicine cabinet?

Sigh. Of course I’ll never attain the level of perfection of a Salinger or a Helen Fielding, whose Bridget Jones remains to this day a personal heroine; her diary is a veritable feast for someone like me (see below for an example: the “diet” menu that threw me into a hysterical fit). My lists will vary in degrees of seriousness from day to day, going from existential, anguish-filled wonderings to my top Seinfeld episodes (that one’s coming sooner than later).

Breakfast: hot-cross bun (Scarsdale Diet – slight variation on specified piece of wholemeal toast); Mars Bar (Scarsdale Diet – slight variation on specified half grapefruit)

Snack: two bananas, two pears (switched to F-plan as starving and cannot face Scarsdale carrot snacks). Carton orange juice (Anti-Cellulite Raw-Food Diet)

Lunch: jacket potato (Scarsdale Vegetarian Diet) and hummus (Hay Diet – fine with jacket spuds as all starch, and breakfast and snack were all alkaline-forming with exception of hot-cross bun and Mars: minor aberration)

Dinner: four glasses of wine, fish and chips (Scarsdale Diet and also Hay Diet – protein forming); portion tiramisu; peppermint Aero (pissed)