The Summer of Cycling!

It was a regular Thursday in June, and I woke up feeling suddenly compelled.

Compelled to do something. To do something spontaneous. To do something that would feel summery and empowering. Something that would make me feel happy and free. I needed to move, I needed to be in motion. But I didn’t have the means for motion readily available. And then I knew. I knew what it was that I needed. I needed wheels, man. Sweet wheels. A bike!

But this feeling I was having, this compulsion, was a feeling of ACTION. It was not a feeling of research and reviews, and second-guessing or doubting. It was a feeling that needed INSTANT GRATIFICATION. So, to market to market I go. To the treacherous digital halls of the Facebook Marketplace!

Unsurprisingly, there were, and still are, quite a lot of people looking to unload practically new, barely ridden, bikes near me. I found a listing for a women’s Supercycle (estimated retail value $159.99 at the local Canadian Tire) for a hundred bucks just a 6 minute car ride away. I messaged the seller, heard back almost immediately, and setup a meeting to test ride that very day. All before 9:00am! Blindly following your compulsions is peak productivity. Next, I told D that I was heading out to the bank to get some cash in preparation for my purchase that evening. He was startled by that, because he is not the type to be led by compulsion. He is the type to undertake significant researching and reviewing before even considering a purchase of this magnitude. “You’re just going to buy a random bike, one you know nothing about from some random ass person on the internet?” Yes, yes I am. And I’ve never felt more ALIVE, darling!

After work, after daycare pickup, after a quick dinner, my dudes and I drove out to meet the seller. And the transaction was completed with nary a bump. Seller passed me the bike, and while I hadn’t ridden one in over 20 years, I confidently swung my right leg up and over it, planted my foot on the pedal and puuushed myself forward. It was easy. Like riding a… well, you get it. And I was happy. Happy to pay $100 for a used bike that I felt fated to acquire that day.

So I paid the man, loaded up the Supercycle, and drove it home. Yayy! Now I can have the exquisite thrill of riding a bike any time I want. The freedom to cruise. The freedom to fly! Oh shit, hang on a second. I can’t just go riding a bike through my mean suburban streets. I don’t have a helmet! Shoot. Plans temporarily delayed… To Walmart!

I bought a helmet, a water-bottle holder, and a bitchin’ bell. Once Woody was tucked in for the night, I set off on my first real bike ride in over 2 decades. And it was GLORIOUS!

45 minutes of pure joy. Well, not pure. There were some struggles uphill. Some burning in my sorely under-utilized, middle-aged, desk-worker quads. But there was a feeling of rightness about it all. This is what I needed, this is the action, the movement, the motion my soul was seeking. A new hobby to throw my whole self into. A new obsession to set my heart aflame. A small thing, for me, that helps me shed the stresses of the day and clear my cobwebbed mind while reconnecting with a long dormant athletic part of my spirit.

I stopped for a hydration break at a park close to home and sat with my endorphin high a moment. I looked out across the park, and watched the people whose lives were also put into motion on this cheerful summer evening. My people, my comrades in motion. People playing tennis, joggers, kids on the jungle gym, dog-walkers and casual strollers. So cool to be part of this. As I geared up for the trek homeward, I dubbed this summer My Summer of Cycling! Then I rode home, the happiest I’ve been in recent years.

And I’m happy to report that this hobby, this new found obsession, not only blossomed this summer, but took root. I fell deep into the world of cycling. It didn’t take long before I was hitting up Walmart and Amazon on a routine basis to get myself more cycling essentials… phone holder, padded shorts, bike lock, bike lights, many many water bottles and different water bottle holders until I found the perfect one. After that first ride, I’m not gunna lie, my ass was really hurting! Thus began the search for the perfect pair of cycling shorts. And the inevitable detour into butt butter buying. Yes, butt butter. Look it up if you’re not familiar with this, as I myself was not, but you can butter your ass before a long riding session to save yourself some painful chafing downstairs.

And then, after a few arduous rides on my shitty Supercycle, as it had been affectionately nicknamed, I got curious. About other bikes. Maybe now that I liked cycling so much and was getting out on the roads four times a week, there would be a better bike out there for me? Something more suitable for my increasing quad power and accelerating abilities. A girl can look.

So I circled back to D, and his incredible powers of research. I implored him to use his skills, to look into this a bit for me and help me figure out what kind of bike I should buy, you know, IF I was feeling inclined to make such a purchase. D said he’d give it a try, but quickly came back saying he felt ill-equipped to help with such a task. There are fucking billions of bikes and options, an overwhelming plethora of choices. And D is not a cyclist, he has no knowledge to draw from in this sphere. So, back to square one, doing my own research. Blah. I’d rather lay down and die than do thorough research. I remembered that our realtor, a cool dude we liked and stayed in touch with, had maybe mentioned mountain biking before. I texted him, and he loves a good gab so he called me up right away and we had a lengthy chat about cycling and all things bike. He gave me some very helpful information to use as a starting point and some key talking points I could use with bike shop people to get what I needed.

I spent a lot of time looking at cycle shop inventory online, drooling over the possibilities. I found a few local shops with good reputations near me and scoped them out. Had a great conversation with a cycle nerd at one shop, and test rode some different types/makes to see what felt good. I had narrowed my search down to some very promising prospects, and mid-summer seemed a good time to buy with lots of sales.

Then finally, I decided. Once decided, I pulled the trigger. I bought ANOTHER BIKE this summer!!! A gorgeous Norco XFR 2 Step-Thru in turquoise! Take a look at this beauty:

Oh, be still my beating heart! How I love this bike! The difference in ride between this beautiful piece of engineering and the shitty little Supercycle is insane. My first ride on Norco Neddy was 20km of bliss. At one point, it felt like I was gliding across the pavement as if it were ice, practically skating; the precision and ease I felt beneath me as I pedalled was incomparable to any other bike I’d ever ridden before. I came home practically insane with joy, revelling in a biker’s high beyond my wildest dreams. This bike and I, we became something out there on the road. We fused together, as kindred spirits in sport. I for you, and you for me, and never shall another tear us apart.

I used to be annoyed by the people I’d see cycling up the backroads, clogging the lane with their ambitions and livestrong wills. I’d be driving impatiently behind them, swerving into the other lane to pass when no oncoming cars obstructed the way. “Lance Armstrong dickheads”, I’d say to D as I passed them in a huff. But now, I admire them. I aspire to BE them! Every time I see someone on a bike I’m checking out their rig, wanting to see what they’ve got. Curious about their configuration.

I’ve learned quite a bit about bikes and cycling these past few months. I got an app called Strava too, so I can track my stats. I love making maps with it and seeing the paths I’ve woven through the surrounding neighbourhoods. I’ve been pushing myself harder, going for longer and longer rides. Sometimes I’m so in the zone out there on my bike, I think I’ll never stop. I’ll just go until I can go no mo. But then the sunlight fades, the bats come out, the streets become dark and perilous, and I just have to head home. To tuck my bike away safely in the garage and chug a big quenching glass of chocolate milk.

I’d put a collective 474km on both of my bikes from mid-June to Aug. 30th. I’d been improving in both pace and distance. I started out doing casual 30-40 minute pleasure tours around town. That quickly shifted into 90-minute sessions putting pedal to the metal; exertions of body and mind that made me feel like a mighty road warrior! I was working my way up to a 30km ride, when my riding abruptly came to an end because I fell. A rite of passage for any rookie cyclist, I suppose, but a shitty thing regardless. I was in the zone, going too fast and feeling too fierce, and then in the blink of an eye I was toppled in a heap on the side of the road. I misjudged the path and turned too quickly onto a broken stretch of unforgiving asphalt. Had I been a fraction of a second quicker, I might have steered myself to a safer stop in the soft grassy ditch. But alas, skin met pavement in an unfortunate and painful scraping fashion.

The result being my first experience with the dread pirate Road Rash!

One leg took the brunt of it all. My elbow was bonked too, but luckily I was wearing long sleeves that morning, so minimal damage there. And by the way, I ALWAYS wear a helmet. Helmets are cool, helmets are the thing to do. Any impressionable readers ought to know that. Always wear a helmet my darlings!

And so, yet another research project darkened my door. How do I deal with road rash? Do I go to the hospital? Surely, not. ‘Tis only a flesh wound! Thankfully I wasn’t too far from home when I fell, so it was a quick toot home and I limped in with my new project. This was a rare Saturday morning ride, so Woody was up when I came home. He saw my leg and his eyes widened in horror. He said “are you going to die, mum?” with worry in his words. I laughed and said “No, buddy. Don’t you worry. Mum mum had a fall, but I’ll be fine.” He watched in wonder as D helped me wash the debris from my leg and patched me up. We didn’t have very good first aid supplies on hand, so it was kind of a ridiculous looking combination of gauze and 8 different sized band-aids holding back the mess. I took to the cycling forums yet again and learned about wet wound healing and a magical product called Tegaderm. I ordered a roll online and got by on more random ass band-aids for a day or two until it was delivered.

And what a game-changer Tegaderm is! I was able to slather a healthy glob of Vaseline across my abrasions and cover with Tegaderm and a bit of medical tape on the edges to seal in the moisture. In about two weeks time my leg was looking really good.

And now almost one month later, it’s just about completely healed. There are just a couple of faint scratch lines left. The time it took healing from my wound was an unexpected setback in my cycling journey, but I couldn’t risk another fall on that leg. September has been a maddeningly beautiful month too! But it’s okay, now that my road rash is fully healed, I’ll make time for a couple of peaceful jaunts in October before Norco Neddy has to get tucked in for his winter hibernation. I’ll do it for the pleasure, not for the glory. Next season will be about setting goals and smashing them. Conquering the road yet again.

Looking back on it, My Summer of Cycling feels like a stroke of brilliance, an essential need for the soul summoned by a repressed subconscious desire for a break from my mundane suburban routine. I’m so grateful for that strange and sudden compulsion that struck me upon waking, one otherwise unremarkable June day.

I can’t overstate how good it feels to get out there on my bike and explore. To pump my legs and push myself a little harder each ride. To make playlists that motivate me and elevate the ride. To spend some quality time with me, in motion.

What a summer it’s been! And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go ask D to research something called “peloton”?

Books I Read: 2024

Hey gang! I am back with another reporting of all the books I read this past calendar year. Which is the one thing that you can count on consistently from this blog that I’ve otherwise left to shrivel on the vine. I should change that. I really do want to write more, I need the outlet. But do people even read blogs anymore? If a blog falls in the TikTok forest, can anybody hear it? I guess that doesn’t matter, I write this for me. And my one blogger friend Brian, hi Brian! And any other unwitting fool who stumbles upon it. I’d like to write more, so I’m gunna just jot that down and hopefully find the gumption to follow through this year. Anyways!

2024 was a record breaking year in terms of my reading because I read the most books I’ve ever read in one year! (That I know of, because I’ve only been keeping track officially since 2017. Maybe I read more books one year, like, when I was 8 and I just don’t know it. That was a big year for Goosebumps and I was fucking 8, so what else did I have to do?) But in terms of quantifiable stats, I read 66 books in 2024. Yeah, SIXTY-FUCKING-SIX! That feels like an immensely significant number to me, mainly because I decided it is. Keeping in mind, I know some people who read no books and I know someone who read over 100 books last year. That person is a lovely, inspiring reading machine. They’re the LeBron James of reading, and I recognize that they are the true outlier here. Lots of people read none, that’s very common. But 100 is rarified air, and I kinda feel like 66 is too. If the goal is a book a week, 52 is easily achieved, depending on what you read. But I really put the pedal to the metal last year and I feel like my 66 is an impressive showing.

What was so different from years prior? Not much, but I guess I was motivated. There’s a lot of books that exist, and I want to read as many of the good ones as I can. Because it just feels good, you know? To be completely engrossed in a gripping adventure outside of my boring suburban shell. Slip into a world of murder and mayhem and leave unscathed, an unassuming voyeur of slickly contrived drama. And while life with Woody is still demanding and very hands on, somehow more opportunities to read during his waking hours have cropped up. When I take him to swim or gymnastics class, I whip out a book while I sit in the stands. Yeah, I’m that parent. Or, sometimes on the weekends we tell him it’s quiet hour and he has to play independently because he just needs to calm the fuck down and chill out for a bit and we’re tapped out on playing hot wheels and dinosaurs for the moment. Which is conveniently a great reading hour for me. I’m hoping that my love of reading will extend to him via osmosis or whatever science term thingy it is that transmits shit to others. I figure he’ll see how cool I look doing it and obviously he’s gunna want to be hella cool like that too, right? Sometimes he does a great job at quiet hour, playing entirely by himself, quite happily. Other times he’ll play a bit during quiet hour, but it’s obvious he’s still jonesing for parental attention, so he’ll curl up beside me and ask me to read my book aloud to him. If I’m reading something that isn’t appropriate for his ears I’ll tell him no, but if I’m reading something fairly tame I’ll oblige. The first time I did it was to humour him, thinking he’d get bored of it in 30 seconds because there weren’t any pictures, but to my surprise he actually liked it! I was reading from a book called “How to Talk to Little Kids So They’ll Listen”, exposing some great parenting manipulations to make life with him easier, while he sat there an enraptured listener. (I haven’t finished that book btw, so it is not on the list this year. I’ve just been reading choice chapters from it as needed.) He also sat and listened me reading over 15 pages of Val Kilmer’s memoir aloud. No clue why that resonated with him so deeply. But thanks, Val! My plan is working after all.

Now, let’s get down to brass tacks! What you came here for, what you’re all dying to see, the list. I still write a tangible, touchable, lickable version of the list in my list-making journal. It took up three pages this year! (Not pictured, the third page…) Here it is, in all its Skittles toned glory:

A new habit this year though is that I’ve also started digitizing my list. I’ve done that using the GoodReads app AND with google sheets. Double your pleasure, double your fun, I always say. Now you can see a new and improved list of all the books I read showing the author, genre, date finished, and my own personal rating. It’s a simple 3-point scale from Total Crap to Excellent. With an It Okay middle tier. Data Analytics nerds rejoice!

Some noteworthy conclusions drawn from my google sheet:

  • 26/66 books were rated Excellent, a 39% excellency rating!
  • 3/66 books were rated Total Crap, only a mere 4.5% of the books I read sucked ass, which I guess means I’m doing a good job choosing entertaining books
  • All 3 of those Total Crap books were from the Horror genre
  • December was my most prolific month with 9 total books read
  • On average, I read 5 books per month
  • Horror is my most read genre, (22/66 = 33%, a full third of all my reading). No surprise there! The thrillers are all very horror-adjacent though, I’m just splitting hairs here, so we could mush those genres together and conclude that 35/66 (53%) of the books I read were scratching a serious itch for danger
  • I read 2 Pulitzer winning works of fiction and they were both Excellent, as expected. Ronan Farrow’s work on Catch and Kill contributed to a Pulitzer win for the New Yorker as well, but in a different category.
    • To note: I am on a casually meandering side quest to read all of the books that have won a Pulitzer prize for Fiction. I’m keeping a separate list for that and I’ve already read 10/76 books awarded that prize so far!
    • This is the list that I’m working from for that, if you’re curious: The Pulitzer Prizes – Fiction
  • The highest rated category is a three way tie of 100% Excellence between Pulitzer Winners, Non-Fiction, and Kid’s Lit. Every single book I read in those categories was Excellent (but, those stats are admittedly skewed given the raw data I’m working with.)
  • The most read author was Dean Koontz with 6 books
  • Many authors made multiple appearances though: Riley Sager (5), Stephen King (3), Thomas Harris (3), Richard Chizmar (3), Josh Malerman (3), Grady Hendrix (2), Kiersten White (2), Madeline Miller (2), and Robert McCammon (2) respectively
    • Which just goes to show that I am nothing if not loyal!
  • There were some other familiar favourites making singular appearances as well: C.J. Tudor, Neil Gaiman, and Joe Hill

A really fabulous stat that I get from using the GoodReads app is the total number of pages I’ve devoured across all the books read in a singular year:

24,077 Pages! That is truly incredible. I was shocked when I saw it, but also quite proud. This is the sole reason I’m using GoodReads to be honest. I don’t rate books or write reviews or engage content from other readers in any way. I just like that big juicy Pages stat.

Also of note, I had an eye exam this year and have learned that in my advancing years, I am now far-sighted. I had to get glasses for reading. There I am, getting all old and shit. Kinda looking like Dave Grohl maybe. But at least I don’t cheat on my spouse and keep a stash of secret babies squirrelled away. (Shots fired! Dave, you let us all down last year with that shit, you dirtbag! And I’m still mad at you.)

With so many pages turned, and so many lessons learned, I have to say that the absolute cream of the crop this year, the best of the best books, the ones I would recommend to any one, are these (in no specific ranked order):

  1. Black River Orchard by Chuck Wendig
    • A bonkers nutso tale of horror and murder revolving around artisanal apples. It made me a Chuck Wendig fan and I’m looking forward to reading more of his stuff.
  2. Brothers by Alex Van Halen
    • Is this a perfect rock ‘n’ roll memoir? No. Is it entertaining and deeply endearing? Hell yes! I loved learning more about the Van Halen brothers and how they grew up. I loved hearing crazy stories about Diamond Dave! And I loved spending time in a loyal and loving sibling relationship. Alex is right, the connection they had is one that most siblings will sadly never achieve.
  3. Circe by Madeline Miller
    • I don’t often read Historical fiction, but this book was on Paste Magazine’s list of The 40 Best Novels of the 2010’s (another side quest I’m on), and I kept seeing it highly recommended in the book forums I follow. I immediately got why it’s been lauded as a remarkable and fantastic read after the first chapter. It is so freaking good! I loved the reimagining of the witch Circe from Homer’s The Odyssey, which I had lots of experience with in my academic days. She was a complex and compelling heroine who I loved spending time with. I applauded her tenacity and I ached with her during her loneliest moments. It made me read Miller’s The Song of Achilles as well and it is also a phenomenal read. But of the two, I liked Circe best.
  4. Gone South by Robert R. McCammon
    • The summer of 2024 was my summer of the dusty old paperback page-turner, and this was the best of them all. The story was good, a wild and outlandish adventure with multiple subsets of characters overlapping and intertwining. You’ve got a fugitive on the run, bounty hunters, deformed freaks, swamp people, and a deluded Elvis impersonator/wannabe! This book had it all and moved at a breakneck pace. It was weird and funny and exciting. Boat chases! Car chases! Foot chases! Swamp chases! All the kinds of chases were present. It was fun. Way more fun than McCammon’s Boy’s Life which holds an exalted place in 80’s fiction, but I’m not really sure why. It just meanders. Gone South is a better bang for your buck.
  5. Rebel Girl: My Life as a Feminist Punk by Kathleen Hanna
    • Incredible. This is the perfect example of everything I want a memoir to be! Kathleen Hanna is candid and raw to a degree that nobody else ever is when they write their memoir. When I read a memoir I want the person to really show me who they are behind the veneer of fame. I want to feel like I’m having a one on one conversation with someone about their life where they’re willing to share with me everything, to answer any question I might have. Kathleen gives that and oh so much more. She’s a real person, a real artist, who has struggled and made mistakes, who has persevered and figured out who she is outside of the musical scene and point in time that seemingly defines her for the purposes of a Wikipedia page. I’ve always loved her and her music, but now I somehow love her even more. Everyone should read this book.
  6. Total Recall by Arnold Schwarzenegger
    • Arnold is similar to Kathleen Hanna in that he is very honest in telling the story of his tremendous life. And this is just such an amusing and inspiring read. This is a person who was born with buckets of determination and drive, who made everything they ever wanted to happen in life, happen. Through unrelenting force of will alone. This is a great portrait of a man who loves living and has never stopped pushing himself. It’s an ode to optimism and grit. I respect and admire him, simple as that. He’s got unique views on life and he’s a very intelligent person. He’s made some monumental mistakes, and parts of the book read like an effusive apology to Maria, but I get it. Even though he fucked up, he was trying to be accountable for his shit as he reflected on those mistakes. Unlike Val Kilmer’s slippery and seemingly revisionist retellings of all his failed romances… that dude is pathologically exempt from all his faults, so I especially respect the hell out of Arnold for owning his shit. They say never meet your heroes, but he seems like the exception to that rule, the kind of hero you would never regret meeting.

One little bit of snark before I wrap this up, and it’s directed at Thomas Harris. Red Dragon is a phenomenal book. I couldn’t put it down and it kept me guessing at every turn. It was visceral and haunting at times, and it made me feel deeply uncomfortable in the exact way I want a horror novel to make me feel. Bravo! It spurred me on to reading a few more Harris novels. I’d already read The Silence of the Lambs years ago, and not needing to re-tread old ground, I jumped ahead from Red Dragon into Hannibal next. Here’s the snark: It FUCKING SUCKS! What a total pile of shit that novel is. It took me over 2 weeks to read it because it was such a tedious slog. I burned through Read Dragon in four days and was expecting to do the same with Hannibal, but it was sooooo slow in the beginning that I just kind of stalled and dreaded picking it up. I had to force myself through it. The novel starts with Clarice and her fall from grace, which is just so stupid, but you expect Harris is setting the stage for major redemption later on so you deal with it. And then the story goes to some random ass character in Italy that we give no shits about, and a whole clusterfuck happens over there. Which makes Hannibal decide it’s safe to come back to the U.S.?? Like, no dawg. He’s an evil supervillain genius that the whole world is looking for, this makes no sense! Then the last half of the novel does start to pick up, and I’m thinking “okay, maybe he’ll salvage this and stick the landing after all.” NO. It was a total shit the pants, miss the mats completely, zeroes across the board from all judges ending! I’m still infuriated thinking about it months later as I write this. Why??? Why did you do this to your fans, Mr. Harris? WHAT.THE.FUCK my dude? It was a completely unnecessary character assassination of Clarice Starling and an overall abomination of a story. I hate it. Hopping mad over here.

For whatever reason, I gave Harris another chance later in the year when I read Cari Mora because that book had killer potential. The description on the book jacket led me to believe there’d be a semi-recreation of the Starling/Lecter dynamic, but with new characters in a new iteration. Another plucky female lead facing off with an unthinkable monster. They had a moment, those two, at the end. But they didn’t come together and square off in quite the way I expected. It was anticlimactic at best. There’s some nervy scenes, but mostly this is a heist story. A heist story told in the most vague, ambivalent way possible. The book was by no means about the falsely advertised cat-and-mouse between hunter and prey. But I guess that was the best the publishers could come up with to get people to read it? I mean, it worked on me. The problem is after you’ve read the book, you just feel like you were duped. So I won’t be reading any more Harris, I’ll tell you that. Fool me once, fuck you. Fool me twice, goddamn, fuck me! I shoulda known better.

So that’s that, everything I read in 2024. This year of reading should be good too. I’ve read 5 books so far and I’ve got a few early contenders for best of the year. I’ve got Lonesome Dove on the shelf, just waiting for the right moment to leap into my hands. I think maybe the summer will be a good time to tackle this critically acclaimed, epic western. And I’ve got some more 70’s Koontz lined up. I haven’t read as much Koontz as I have King, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say from what I’ve read so far, the 70’s might be my favourite era of his. His villains are so deranged, but in a very direct and earnest way. I dig that. We’ll see how that opinion shifts though as I dive deeper into his stuff.

I’m not going to force myself to crush a specific number of books this year, it’d be nice to meet the 50 book quota again, but I’ll see how I feel. Usually a year of crushing books gives way to a year of lightly crunching them instead; the natural ebb and flow of obsession and restraint at work. I do want to read something that challenges me this year though. I don’t know what that is, but I know it’s out there. Maybe something that will inspire focus and improvement in my own writing. Or, maybe I should finally tackle Hemingway! (I’ve read absolutely zero Hemingway, can you believe that?)

If you came this far, thanks for reading dude, I appreciate it. Drop me a line if you’ve got thoughts on my reading list or want to chat about any book, ever! I never tire of talking about books and I welcome your company, always 🙂

Books I Read: 2023

Hey pals! I’m here posting my belated reporting and reflection on the books I read in the last calendar year. I don’t have it in me to be overly fun and creative about how I share my list with you. I think this will just be a dutiful reporting, for posterity’s sake. That’s because 2023 was the worst year of my life, to date, and walking back through it sucks.

My dad died last year. He was only 66 years old. It was traumatic for my sisters and I who planned on having him in our lives a whole lot longer than we did. He was an incredible dad, and my earliest memories of loving reading all start with him. So there are quite a few raw and exposed nerves I have to be mindful of.

I want to write about what happened and my grief experience, and I think I will eventually, but I’m not ready to just yet. There’s still too much pain, and frankly bullshit, from bullshit people who have arrested my grief and made it impossible to freely express any sorrow or give an authentic retelling of what happened without feeling the sting of reprisal and further oppression.

Somehow, I was able to read 26 books this past year. That’s actually 3 more than in 2022 surprisingly, a year when I was a normal, non-profoundly sad person who could do life. Maybe I should start tracking page numbers per book too, so I can compare number of books against number of pages read? But would that just be taking data analytics too far? Should I be thinking about what doing that might mean for future generations of anal-retentive readers? Hmm, I see the quandary Pandora found herself in starring down that box.

Here’s the visual of my list and the re-listing of my visual list that’s more fit for human eyes:

  1. Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin (Jan. 10)
  2. A Sliver of Darkness by C.J. Tudor (Jan. 16)
  3. Based on a True Story by Norm MacDonald (Jan. 22)
  4. The Pallbearers Club by Paul Tremblay (Jan. 30)
  5. Fleishman is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Akner (Feb. 5)
  6. Vengeful by V.E. Schwab (Feb. 20)
  7. I Might Regret This by Abbi Jacobson (March 1)
  8. Brat: An 80’s Story by Andrew McCarthy (March 3)
  9. The Twin by Natasha Preston (March 12)
  10. The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han (March 13)
  11. The Philosophy of Modern Song by Bob Dylan (March 19)
  12. It’s Not Summer Without You by Jenny Han (March 21)
  13. We’ll Always Have Summer by Jenny Han (March 23)
  14. The Drift by C.J. Tudor (May 6)
  15. An Anonymous Girl by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen (May 17)
  16. Fairy Tale by Stephen King (July 15)
  17. House of Cotton by Monica Brashears (July 26)
  18. We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix (Sept. 3)
  19. Birdman by Mo Hayder (Oct. 15)
  20. My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff (Nov. 13)
  21. The Clementine Complex by Bob Mortimer (Nov. 20)
  22. For You and Only You by Caroline Kepnes (Nov. 25)
  23. Chasing the Boogeyman by Richard Chizmar (Nov. 28)
  24. Home Body by Rupi Kaur (Nov. 29)
  25. Goblin by Josh Malerman (Dec. 27)
  26. Milk Fed by Melissa Broder (Dec. 29)

Lots of the usual suspects here: Stephen King, C.J. Tudor, Josh Malerman, Caroline Kepnes, and Grady Hendrix. I started the year hungry, reading voraciously. March was a stellar month for me, with 7 books read. I got sucked into a sappy and saccharine sweet teen romance trilogy by Jenny Han, of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before renown, which made me feel vicariously carefree and stupid for a short time. The main character is all “Oh, whichever cute boy will I choose? Who will I spend summer getting groped by in the ocean?” The sort of youthful escapism I really needed.

Then my dad was hospitalized in April. I spent all of April and May in turmoil, run ragged, trying to juggle work, home, my dad, and life in general. I was going to visit with him evenings after work a few days a week, and every weekend. I was working modified hours, 7:30am – 3:30pm every day so I could have time to do the hourlong drive to the hospital, grab some food, and have at least 2 hours of visiting time with him on weekday evenings. I was spending as much of the day on Saturday and Sunday as I could visiting with him as well, which meant way less time at home with Woody, who could feel the strangeness of the arrangement but couldn’t understand it. So, I wasn’t reading much of anything. Here and there, but my heart wasn’t in it. The books I read in May were distractions at best. Although I love C.J. Tudor and The Drift was a good read, I didn’t give it the attention it deserved.

And then my dad passed away on June 4th. The world collapsed and nothing made sense. Crappy, selfish asshole people made things unnecessarily difficult for my sisters and I in the grieving process. It was a black summer. It continues to be black days some of the time, but after a long contemplative summer, I did start feeling less like I was pantomiming life and more like I was beginning to actively engage it again.

Reading continued to meander all through the summer and didn’t really pick up again until late into autumn. I finished Fairy Tale by Stephen King on my dad’s birth date, July 15th.

I need to stop for a moment to talk about Fairy Tale. I was looking forward to reading it, and given the bleak phase of life I found myself in, I thought it would be the perfect escape from reality. But oh.my.god it was a real chore to pick this book up during the whole first half of it! Steve spent so much fucking time, hundreds of pages, just taking the reader through slow, grinding repetitious nothingness. Like oh my fucking god, I get it! The kid likes the dog, the kid spends time with the old man, yes, they have a special bond, GET ON WITH IT! Nobody in the editing process could relay to him how very dull and tedious the whole front half of the book is? It could have been so much better had they just tightened up the initial story. Also, I’m sorry, but Steve cannot convincingly write in the voice of a teenager anymore. This kid is supposed to be 17 years old but he curses and uses the common expressions of a 65-year old man. Eventually, the story did get good though and this book wound up being something I could throw myself into as a welcome distraction on what should have been my dad’s 67th birthday.

You know what was a really good book? Fleishman is in Trouble. That book was so engaging, right from the very first sentence through to the last. I loved it! I fucked up though because I had no idea there was such a book before I started watching the FX Series based on it. And I would always prefer to read the book before watching the thing that was made based on the book. I found that show while idly scrolling one night, then binged it hard and was obsessed with it. After that, I had to read the book immediately. I needed to compare to the source material, and sink deeper into the story. It was a deeply affecting read because it was so relatable and the characters were all so real to me. I’m at a very similar stage of life, I get the existential mid-life confusion, dread, and disillusionment that Toby, Rachel, and Libby are all having. So it reeled me in and touched a special place in my heart. I recommend this book, please read it. Then watch the show. Learn from my mistakes!

I bounced back in November, and managed to read 5 books that month. Maybe it helped that it was an especially grey and miserable fall up here in Canada, so it just felt nice to be cozied up at home with a book. Or maybe I was just making really good picks, because I loved My Salinger Year, The Clementine Complex, and Chasing the Boogeyman. Plus, I got my hands on the newest instalment in the You series by Caroline Kepnes, For You and Only You, which I gobbled up compulsively. I love that creepy stalker weirdo Joe. He is such an interesting character because he is a legit psycho, but he’s convinced himself that he’s just a sweet romantic idealist with so much love to give. I’m always excited to find out what he’s up to and who he’s tormenting.

Chasing the Boogeyman was insane. I could not put that book down, but I was also so creeped out by it. It got under my skin in the best possible way. I don’t want to spoil even a little bit of it for you, but if you’re interested in a story about a small tight-knit town being rocked by a series of heinous unexpected murders in the 80’s, then you should read this book.

Speaking of creepy things, I need to talk about Birdman for a moment. This is a novel that was written in the 90’s, and it’s the first in a series about a homicide detective who solves grisly crimes. At first I was quite enjoying it, because I do like to read about murder and psycho killers and all kinds of wicked stuff like that. I like solving a mystery as we go and trying to guess the twist. But as the story started to unfold it got more and more sick and gratuitously violent. About midway through the book I thought to myself this could be a good new series to get into, but as we got closer and closer to the fucked up ending I knew I didn’t want to come here again. And a quick google summary of the second book’s plot told me the subject matter was exponentially more dark and twisted. Going to places too gritty and vile for me. So I noped myself out after book one and I won’t be looking back.

We Sold Our Souls wins a special nod for having one incredibly intense scene that actually made me physically uncomfortable. A really spectacular moment of psychological and physical horror that overlapped and put me mentally right into the shoes of the protagonist as she was making a desperate bid for escape. I wanted her to get away so bad! But the walls were closing in, literally! And I didn’t think she’d make it. Even though we all know the hero can’t die mid-book, I actually squirmed in discomfort and got a bit panicked. The tension was just too much! I love Grady Hendrix for that exact reason, he is such a masterful builder of suspense. He is getting better and better with every publication. I’ve become a lifelong fan and devotee of his work.

And a tip of my cap to the one and only, the funniest person I wish I had the chance to know in real life, Norm MacDonald for writing the most batshit ridiculous memoir I’ve ever read. He was such a special treasure. Don’t expect to learn anything at all about Norm, don’t expect anything to make sense or be coherent or literary. Just laugh. It’s what Norm would have wanted. I miss him, and I didn’t even know him. I hope he’s resting in hilarity, I miss what he brought to the world.

Overall, I’d say it was a good year of reading, very few duds in the mix, if any at all. This year I’m working towards reading way more regularly, and I’m pursuing a bigger goal. I want to read a minimum of 50 books in 2024, and I’m very well underway attacking that goal. I’ve already read 27 books so far this year, one more than in all of 2023, so I think I’m off to a great start. I should be able to crush this goal with ease as long as there’s lots of reading material close at hand.

And while I’ve got my nose buried in a book, I feel like I’m subconsciously working through my grief and healing. This is my safe happy place right now, lovingly enveloped in the fictions and stories of the intrepid heroes, legendary iconoclasts, quirky characters, and kindred spirits who I root for and admire. I never feel alone in the embrace of good storytelling. So that’s where I’ll be.

Until next time, crack a book and keep your noses clean! And, please, for me, if you have an incredible dad or father figure in your life that you’re still lucky to have with you, tell him you love him. Just because. Life is precious and a damn good dad is a rare precious thing.

Books I Read: 2022

Hey pals. What up?

2022 is over, bringing almost 3 complete years of pandemic life to an end. I’m happy to say that my family and I have embraced a lot more “normalcy” this past year than in the years prior. We’ve started being more open socially, meaning we’re not living in hermetically sealed isolation any more. Woody Man is in daycare and actually experiencing day-to-day life and learning with other children. He’s taken to it like a duck to water! He loves going every day and he’s learning a lot. It’s been so good for him, and us. I’ve even eaten pizza at an actual pizza joint again! It was glorious, double cheese and pepperoni, freshly baked with a crisp and fluffy crust. The stuff my dreams are made of, pizza perfection.

I’m also very excited to report that I am still a functioning/working adult who is able to read a book from time to time. When there’s time. And very rarely is there time for anything other than sitting on my couch drooling mindlessly in front of the T.V. at the end of the day. But that’s okay. I have a kid, he’s two and a half, it’s exhausting. You work full-time, busting your butt every day, and then you immediately have to shift into parent mode to be present and caring for your child while navigating a billion screaming toddler tantrums about a billion seemingly nonsensical things. I’m talking about the outright bawling of wildly unregulated emotions because the blue plate is in the dishwasher right now and he has to eat dinner off of the green plate instead. It leaves you utterly exhausted in ways you can’t comprehend unless you’re in the parenting trenches too. Lots of you know exactly what I’m talking about, how it is at this stage. There’s cuteness, and fun, and laughter, and hugs, and hijinks galore. But there’s the real gritty and gruelling work of parenting day in and day out, and those tantrums have made even the best of us seriously consider going out for a pack of smokes and never coming back. All that to say that when I feel like I have remaining brain power leftover at the end of the day, sometimes I put it towards reading.

And this is what I read this past year, officially:

  1. Beastie Boys Book by Mike D & ADROCK (January 2nd)
  2. Dietland by Sarai Walker (January 13th)
  3. Billy Summers by Stephen King (February 3rd)
  4. The Hollow Ones by Guillermo Del Toro & Chuck Hogan (April 26th)
  5. Horror Stories by Liz Phair (May 7th)
  6. Yearbook by Seth Rogen (May 12th)
  7. Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl by Carrie Brownstein (June 1st)
  8. Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid (July 1)
  9. The Island by Adrian McKinty (July 14th)
  10. Where’d You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple (August 1st)
  11. Red At The Bone by Jacqueline Woodson (August 8th)
  12. The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix (August 23rd)
  13. NSFW by Isabel Kaplan (September 1st)
  14. They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera (September 12th)
  15. A House at the Bottom of a Lake by Josh Malerman (September 17th)
  16. Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz (September 27th)
  17. Potty Training in 3 Days by Brandi Brucks (September 28th)
  18. Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix (October 6th)
  19. Survive The Night by Riley Sager (November 7th)
  20. The Burning Girls by C.J. Tudor (November 27th)
  21. This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno (December 21st)
  22. The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix (December 25th)
  23. I Exaggerate: My Brushes With Fame by Kevin Nealon (December 27th)

I think it was a respectable output this year overall. I’m not trying to crush a high volume reading goal like I have in previous years, I’m just reading when I feel like it and when I’ve got something good I can’t put down.

There were some gems this year, but there were some real stinkers that led me into major slumps too. I got stuck on The Hollow Ones for a long time. I went for weeks in February and the whole month of March not reading because it just wasn’t appealing enough for me to pick up. It got off to such a weird and confusing start, the opening scene didn’t instantly grab my attention in the way that it was trying to. I hunkered down and eventually got it done in April so I could move on to something better.

I switched gears after that and started reading memoirs instead. Liz Phair, Seth Rogen, and Carrie Brownstein all had insightful and interesting stories to share. I liked leaning into reality a bit more throughout spring reading season. But I also got diverted by a different hobby. I bought a paint-by-numbers kit and got really into doing that at night while listening to a podcast. I found an addictive one called History of the 90’s, it’s excellent! I binged it so hard and I look forward to every new episode. If you love podcasts, if you love the 90’s, or even just interesting and well-researched coverage of past events, you should check it out.

I went back to fiction in the summer, reading Daisy Jones and The Six, a book that had been hyped up by a lot of people, both sellers of books and readers of books alike. I was able to finish it, but I didn’t get the hype. The characters were all dicks and it was so annoying hearing about how special and “not like the other girls” Daisy was on a repetitive loop. She was an immature and stupid pill-popper. I hated reading about her “tortured” life fronting what sounded like a pretty shitty rock band. Please, there are real problems in the world you frigging brat. And really, if what you’re after is a dramatic and fucked up rock ‘n’ roll story about a band with members who are incessantly bed-hopping with one another, abusing certain recreational substances in the extreme, and scraping through every kind of petty internal conflict you can imagine, just google Fleetwood Mac. They actually did the damn thing that this book so lamely tries to co-opt.

Obviously, Mr. Stephen King is here. I can’t go a year without reading something from him. And I read 3 books by Grady Hendrix, a new favourite. He’s a great modern horror writer, I really like him. I also read a book about potty training because I had to… You can disregard that one, unless of course you need a recommendation for potty training a toddler. This book and it’s program WORK! We committed to a full three day long weekend at home with Woody, no interruptions or surprises to the cadence of our days, just drinking liquids and running to the potty constantly. It wasn’t as bad as we anticipated and he really took to it. He went to daycare the following Monday and had a perfect day, no accidents! The daycare staff were all impressed and amazed. And it continued well throughout that week. He still has the odd slip up here and there, but we consider him fully potty trained at two and a half years old, so that’s a significant WIN for us. Again, if you need a potty training program, this is the one to do.

Looking back, I’d say these ones are my top 5 picks of the year:

  1. Beastie Boys Book by Mike D & ADROCK
    Amazing. Just incredible to hear all about the guys and their lives in early 80’s NYC and to get to live vicariously through them to some extent. What a remarkable experience this book gives the reader. They really let you into their lives in such an intimate way. This is a well-crafted and heartfelt reminiscence of spectacular youth and freedom. I loved every second of it. I started over the Christmas holidays and just couldn’t put it down. It was so good, but it left me reeling in profound sadness when it was over. I remember the day I heard that MCA passed away. I was at work on a Friday afternoon in May, and it just broke all of our hearts. My heart was broken all over again hearing about it in Mike D’s and ADROCK’s own words almost 10 years later. The special these guys filmed in accompaniment of the book was streaming on Apple+, and it’s really good too! Everyone should watch it, it’s the perfect companion piece.
  2. Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz
    Okay, so this is my first ever reading of Koontz. Can you believe that? I love reading horror, thriller, and mystery fiction so it seems like a no-brainer that I would have picked up a Koontz long before now. But I’m a die-hard King fan, and I just avoided Koontz for years because of that bias. I assumed he was the lesser version of the all-time great, the budget version of King, the Pepsi instead of Coke. And also, I have to admit, part of me avoided him because in some way it felt a bit like I’d be cheating on Steve. I’m very loyal, so that shit does not fly with me. But then it happened, unexpectedly, as it always does. I was at the library one afternoon and Koontz caught my eye. I saw this roguishly good-looking blue book with some serious heft, picked it up, and was immediately charmed by the synopsis on the jacket. So maybe it was finally time to cave and give old Koontz a chance, just this once, to see what it’s like. It’s just one book, right? What could it hurt? Cue my utter delight and surprise upon reading, because it was fantastic! Whole world view rocked, no going back. I couldn’t put it down. Non-stop excitement and thrills. Loved the premise, loved the characters, loved the villains, I loved it all! Please, give Koontz a chance.
  3. The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix
    Of the three Hendrix books I read this year, this one was my favourite. It’s like some campy Saturday b-movie mashup where the Desperate Housewives of South Carolina Meet Count Dracula at the Bake Sale. In the best way. Total page-turner, I was sucked into the story from the start and couldn’t tear myself away. It’s also a nice long novel, a big old hunk of book. A big book is absolute torture when it sucks, but a precious non-renewable resource you try in vain not to squander when it’s good. And this one was GOOD! There was a lot of intense psychological horror here, a few nasty and visceral creepy-crawly scenes, and some truly stomach churning gross-out gore too. It definitely takes many unexpected detours before the big climactic showdown, and there are some infuriating characters like the dipshit husband of the main character, but it’s a solid read. Hendrix is so skillful at creating stark visuals in the reader’s mind, and that’s why he’s quickly become one of my new faves. That, and the fact that his horror comes dripping in unapologetic campiness, makes him someone to keep my eyes on. I love his style and imagination. He’s got a real talent.
  4. The Island by Adrian McKinty
    Oooo this one! It was scary. McKinty is another writer I’ve started to pay attention to recently who does not hold back, and is incredible at tapping into scenarios that cause the reader deep psychological discomfort. I read The Chain by him in early 2021 and it left an indelible mark on my psyche afterwards, so I was excited to see what else this guy’s got up his sleeve. There was a moment early on in this book where I didn’t know if I could keep going, it was making me feel so upset and frightened. But once I got past that part it became more exciting and less worrisome. A nerve-wracking story that creates fear through an isolated setting with impossible odds of escape from terrifyingly cruel and psychotic captors. You’ll think twice about who you trust and the kinds of excursions you’ll be willing to do in all your future travels, I know I will.
  5. A House at the Bottom of a Lake by Josh Malerman
    A ghost story wrapped in a charming coming of age teenage love story. It was so atmospheric, harkening back to a time of restless summer days, when you could fill your time exploring a connection with someone equally young and naive. Malerman is one of these guys I’ve been keeping my eye on too, ever since Bird Box. He creates fear using an isolated setting, but blends it with a mysterious and paranormal element. Ghost stories are typically my least favourite kind of horror, but this one works for me because it’s more about the kids and their relationship being both propelled by and suspended in an unbelievable and impossible shared experience. It’s a quick read, but it’s a worthy one.

If any of my tastes are aligned with yours, go ahead and give some of these a try. I recommend my top 5 in good faith, because of how much I liked them. And if you do, come on back and let me know what you thought. I love sharing ideas and opinions about books, but D hates reading and Woody is still in his Hop on Pop years, so we can’t have much literary discourse together just yet. He does have voracious appetite for reading that we’ve been cultivating since birth, so I’m certain we’ll get there someday, it’ll just be a long wait yet.

I’m starting 2023’s reading with a bold and disturbing dystopian novel that I’ll report back on next year. Until then keep it real, keep it spooky, keep it funky, whatever your bag is. Just be keeping it.

Books I Read: 2021

Well this is bizarre. Looking back at my post from 2020 not a hell of a lot has changed. Practically nothing is different. We had another full year of staying at home on a locked down, minimized life. The only substantial difference is that I went back to work in June after one full year of bullshit maternity leave that was ruined by covid. But, as I mentioned last year, at least I still have books. What was it that ol’ Willy Wallace said? You can take my ability to comfortably navigate society and see the people I love without severe pandemic paranoia but you can’t take my books? Sounds right. It went something like that, I’m fairly certain.

Reading has always been my ultimate escape and I have needed it these past two years more than ever before. From January – May 2021 I was still on maternity leave so I did a lot of reading. When I went back to work in June, reading took a small hit, understandably. But overall I still managed to read a respectable 45 books this past year.

Here is the official visual of my list:

Followed of course by the official “easier on your eyes” typed list:

  1. The Deer Park by Norman Mailer (January 4th)
  2. Pizza Girl by Jean Kyoung Frazier (January 7th)
  3. We Were Liars by E. Lockhart (January 8th)
  4. City on Fire by Garth Risk Hallberg (January 21st)
  5. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (January 29th)
  6. My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell (February 2nd)
  7. Afterland by Lauren Beukes (February 12th)
  8. Vicious by V.E. Schwab (February 19th)
  9. The Chain by Adrian McKinty (February 23rd)
  10. If It Bleeds by Stephen King (March 1st)
  11. Elevator Pitch by Linwood Barclay (March 4th)
  12. Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah (March 9th)
  13. The Other People by C.J. Tudor (March 14th)
  14. Whisper Network by Chandler Baker (March 18th)
  15. Behind Her Eyes by Sarah Pinborough (March 26th)
  16. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby (April 6th)
  17. Oona Out of Order by Margarita Montimore (April 11th)
  18. Thinner by Stephen King (April 18th)
  19. The Only Child by Andrew Pyper (April 28th)
  20. You Love Me by Caroline Kepnes (May 2nd)
  21. When No One is Watching by Alyssa Cole (May 15th)
  22. Daring Greatly by Brené Brown (May 25th)
  23. A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby (June 13th)
  24. The Dirt by Mötley Crüe (June 20th)
  25. Accelerate: Building and Scaling High Performing Technology Organizations by Nicole Forsgren, Ph.D, Jez Humble, and Gene Kim (June 27th)
  26. Inspection by Josh Malerman (July 4th)
  27. Bossypants by Tina Fey (July 7th)
  28. The Power by Naomi Alderman (July 24th)
  29. Later by Stephen King (July 26th)
  30. The Girls Are All So Nice Here by L.E. Flynn (August 5th)
  31. I Know You Know by Gilly MacMillan (August 10th)
  32. Made for Love by Alissa Nutting (August 17th)
  33. Sunburn by Laura Lippman August 21st)
  34. The Other Woman by Sandie Jones (August 23rd)
  35. The Arrangement by Robyn Harding (August 26th)
  36. The Store by Bentley Little (September 12th)
  37. Looking for Alaska by John Green (September 17th)
  38. She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb (September 24th)
  39. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (September 26th)
  40. Believe Me by J.P. Delaney (October 14th)
  41. It’s Kind of a Cheesy Love Story by Lauren Morrill (October 29th)
  42. The Death of Bees by Lisa O’Donnell (November 16th)
  43. The Switch by Elmore Leonard (November 27th)
  44. Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty (December 25th)
  45. The Storyteller by Dave Grohl (December 28th)

My reading patterns are very similar to last year, lots of “pop fiction”. You know, the psychological thrillers about murder with dubious heroines that have completely dominated the market since Gone Girl sparked the craze of unreliable narration and “shocking” plot twists. It seems like every book now is marketed as having some shocking twist you won’t see coming that you can actually see coming from a mile away. Although I will say, a few of the books I read this year did wind up genuinely surprising me, so shocking readers isn’t impossible, but it has gotten harder to do well. Behind Her Eyes and The Other Woman did have genuinely shocking plot twists at the end that I did not see coming, so worth a look for anyone who still wants to read those pop fiction shock twist kind of tales.

Stephen King made three appearances on the list again, so good for you, Steve! I really liked Later but Thinner was a total chore. It hasn’t aged well, what with the gypsy vilification and all.

I read two books specifically to get myself back into the right mindset for my return to work after a year off: Daring Greatly and Accelerate. Both excellent books, but not exactly pleasure reading. I finally got around to reading Bossypants by Tina Fey. It was good, but didn’t really live up to all the hype.

I read some classic American authors, Norman Mailer and John Steinbeck. Shoutout to Elmore Leonard too, the O.G. of tongue-in-cheek mystery capers. The Deer Park was horribly misogynistic and lacked any purpose for me. But what else would you expect from someone who stabbed their wife at a party? Re-reading Of Mice and Men highlighted for me the difference between an author and a writer. Steinbeck is a fucking AUTHOR. So much of the trashy pop murder fiction I read is just entertainment, written by writers. Steinbeck is levels and levels above everyone else on this list. He’s in a class all his own, a true craftsman and wordsmith. A prolific, respected author of incredible American fiction. He fucking rules!

I’m going to mix things up this year and award superlatives to the books that need individual callouts for good or bad reasons.

  • Heaviest Book on the List – City on Fire by Garth Risk Hallberg
    This book was physically enormous. Coming in at just over 900 pages, it had some heft. I strained my neck and arms reading it, it was just such a bulky book. And kind of a letdown to be honest. I was excited about spending time with characters who were part of the punk scene in 1970’s New York, but it just got so tiresome as it went on. For all the space Hallberg was given to tell his story, he didn’t do a hell of a lot with it.
  • Most Improved Protagonist – She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb
    Oh Dolores Price, my heart went out to you so many times while reading! This poor woman, what an odyssey her life was. I loved it when she told her doctor to eat shit because of his fat-shaming. This was my first time reading Wally Lamb and it reminded me a lot of John Irving. The characters are just put through the wringer and you should never expect a happy, Hollywood ending for anyone. Just pain and the endurance of pain.
  • Book Most Likely to Get Under Your Skin – The Chain by Adrian McKinty & The Store by Bentley Little
    It’s a tie! The Chain was an intense, thrilling read but not for the feint of heart. It’s about this fucked up ring of blackmailers who make regular every day parents abduct children in a horrible chain letter way. Your child gets taken, you’re told to pay the ransom and then abduct another child or you won’t get yours back. Only when the parents of the child you’ve taken have gone on to abduct the next child on the chain will yours be released. As a parent, the premise alone is unthinkable. But it was unputdownable, so if you think you can hack it, give it a try! The Store was a good creepy read too, it’s a slow build to the end. It’s upsetting just because of the disgusting, stomach-churning ending that I’m not going to spoil.
  • Wildest Ride – The Dirt by Mötley Crüe
    These guys don’t hold back, they share every fucked up intimate detail of their journey as one of the hardest partying bands of the 80’s. I’m honestly amazed that they’re all still alive based on the sheer volume of drugs and booze they’ve pumped through their systems. There were so many memorable stories and outlandish antics. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll is an understatement, you’ll get more than your share of all that and then some! A must-read for anyone who loves Mötley Crüe, or just wants to spend some time living that rock star life.
  • Most Likely to be Thrown in the Trash – The Only Child by Andrew Pyper
    I’ve really had it with this guy. I heard about him for the first time a few years ago when I picked up a copy of The Damned at the used bookstore, which was an awesome read. I was so excited that I’d found a great new person to read, but every other book of his has sucked major balls. And this was the worst one yet! The most laughable moment was when the main character got on a flight to Europe and claimed to have read all of Dracula, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde while on their flight. Fuck right off, there’s no way in hell any one person could do that. Or would even want to! This is a book about an immortal vampire trying to reconnect with his child, but I lost the ability to suspend my disbelief over someone reading three old timey books back to back on a plane. Utter nonsense.
  • Darkest Reality – The Power by Naomi Alderman
    In theory I love the idea of women having a sudden and terrifying power that they can use to subjugate the male population and give them a taste of their own oppression. But there were some truly terrifying moments of societal uproar, terrorism, and war in this book that caused this beautiful utopian reality to lose its lustre real quick.
  • Class Clown – Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
    By far the funniest, silliest book I read this year. A lot of the great wry humour and quirky wit I expect from Gaiman. Never been a Pratchett reader, but safe to assume all the portions of this book that used humorous footnotes can be attributed to him. Though I’ve never read him, I do know that Pratchett liked him some footnotes! Lighthearted apocalyptic fun, if you’re into that, then give this book a try.
  • Life of the Party – The Storyteller by Dave Grohl
    The last book I read this year, and what a way to finish my list! You get a lot of great stories about Dave’s life from the early days right through to the current Foo life. I couldn’t put this one down, I blazed through it in three days. One thing I will say, just as a general observation not a criticism, is that while I found the stories Dave told to be entertaining and amusing sometimes it did feel just a little bit name-drop-y and like it didn’t give me anything deeply personal that I could empathize with. The part where Dave talks about Kurt’s passing is the closest it gets to cracking through Dave’s chill easy-going dude vibe. He never tells you anything meaningful about his relationships, how he met his wife, failed marriages, etc. And the prose does start to feel too formulaic by the end of the book. Here’s how almost every chapter goes: start with a gotcha sentence, something sudden or shocking to hook the reader and then detour by starting the story at the beginning eventually making your way back to initial setup. Every chapter was like that. It’s the book equivalent of that filmmaking technique that uses narration and the whole record scratch/pause video “Hold Up” moment. “You might be wondering how I ended up in this crazy scenario. Well let’s go back to the start and I’ll tell you.” Very that, you know what I mean?
  • Major Oddball / Misfit Energy – Made For Love by Alissa Nutting
    Did not know this was a book until after I’d already watched the show. D and I really liked the show, it was a bonkers watch. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s about a billionaire tech company founder whose newest invention is a chip that can be implanted into your partner’s brain so you can achieve a truly intimate connection based on biological and neurological data. But it’s actually much more nefarious than even that sounds. It’s really about the obsessive level of control you can have over another person and how you can use that data to keep innovating. Sound like anyone you might know? It felt very on the nose having this megalomanic tech mogul trying to push his insane ideas onto society with no regard for their actual desire for it. Considering the headlines we see nowadays about companies like Facebook and Amazon it felt entirely too believable as a premise. We particularly enjoyed Ray Romano’s role as the crass, bereaved father engaged in a new relationship with his “companion”, a sex doll named Diane. The source material though? Way more fucked up than the show ever got at its most unbelievable plot points. I’m really glad the people who adapted the show decided to drop the whole dolphin fucking sub-story. That shit was completely unreadable. I almost gave up on this book several times. I don’t recommend it unless you like to get weird. Reeeeeal weird.
  • Most Likely to Disappoint – My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell
    This is a book I’d seen lots of people recommending online, mostly women. So I thought I’d check it out and see what all the hype was about. It’s just a gross, creepy, sad read. The main character never grows or learns from her experiences being groomed and raped by her english teacher who she fancies herself in love with. The whole thing is just shock value rapist apologist crap. I hated it and I don’t recommend it. It let me down the most out of everything I read this year.
  • Most Likely to Succeed – Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
    Classic. And classic for a reason. It’s a simple, tragic tale of friendship told beautifully and everyone should read it. It’s been challenged and put on banned lists for numerous reasons, but that’s just typical Whiny McWhiners trying to censor art. If you were never made to read it as required school reading, or you just pretended you did to get through English class, you should give it a genuine chance.
  • Most Enjoyable Read of the Year – Oona Out of Order by Margarita Montimore
    A chick lit romp through time, I live for it! This is a new take on the time travel story and I was so into it. Premise: on the night of her 18th birthday, Oona faints and wakes up suddenly thrust years into the future in her 50’s in the year 2015. There’s a letter from herself to read when she gets there that explains from the age 18 onwards she’ll be living every year of her life out of order. So instead of living life in a linear timeframe like the rest of us, 1982, 1983, 1984, etc. her life becomes 1982, 2015, 1991, etc. All the while she’s still the same age spiritually. So even though she just turned 19 she’s 19 in a 51 year old body and life. I thought it was such a cool twist on time-travel stories and I loved it.

Of the 45 books I read those are the ones that stand out the most and are worthy of callouts, for good or bad reasons. Maybe you’ll want to check some out? If I can get someone to read at least one book because of this post I’ll feel just fine about that.

It’s been a slow start to the 2022 reading list. I’ve got some decent things waiting on the shelf for me to pick up, but I’ve been feeling a bit of that “reader’s block” I get sometimes. You know what I’m talking about. That feeling when the crushing amount of work it takes just to exist saps your will to do anything other than lay on the couch with Netflix and Doritos at the end of a long day? That’s the one. Because all the days are so long and exhausting. So very long and exhausting. But it’s wicked to wish the time away so I just focus on getting by instead.

I’m sure I’ll feel a bit more like reading again when the snow melts, when work stops being a total pressure cooker every day, when Woody goes to college. I’m nothing if not hopeful. Until then, take ‘er easy pals! I’ll see you next year when I recap the 2022 list, if not sooner.

Books I Read: 2020

What a year that was, huh? I did not think I’d be hunkered down under stay-at-home orders for pretty much all of 2020. I’ve struggled with accepting this fucked up “new normal” and I’ve grappled a lot of disappointments this year. Lockdown does provide the ideal conditions for doing a shit ton of reading though, so there’s that. But it also means seeing no friends and family in person ever, all socializing relegated to Zoom, and full blown germ paranoia insanity when I do tentatively venture out of my dwelling for “essentials” like Doritos and root beer.

I didn’t mind the first few months. It felt like the gently mandated reset we all needed. I was expanding by the day, my belly swelling with hormones and the aforementioned root beer, and it gave me lots of free quiet time to myself. I savoured that time, I truly did. We did as much baby preparation as we could and I spent lots of time on the couch absorbed in books. Any time feelings of anxiety and impending doom started to surface I just crammed them back down, deep inside my psyche where they couldn’t be noticed, and it was pretty nice. It was alright. It was fine. Fine fine fine.

This year’s reading list would easily be twice as long had I not produced a new human life in May. The first few months of Spring and Summer were a major adjustment. That really cut into my reading. But by the end of Summer I was back in the groove, and by Fall I was unstoppable. We figured out how to get the baby napping regularly and I found little pockets of spare time throughout the day for reading again. And when he started sleeping in his own room, I got reading before bed in my own room back!

In total I managed to read 38 books this year. I’m proud of that output, I think it’s a solid number. Not nearly as high as the number of diapers we’ve gone through, but respectable nonetheless. And it’s a solid list.

Here’s the official visual for anyone who would like to see the actual list of books I read in 2020:

And here’s the official list for those of you whose Operating Systems no longer support cursive writing:

  1. Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chobosky (January 5th)
  2. Full Throttle by Joe Hill (January 12th)
  3. The Cabin at the End of the World by Paul Tremblay (January 18th)
  4. Elevation by Stephen King (January 19th)
  5. Molly’s Game by Molly Bloom (January 21st)
  6. I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid (January 26th)
  7. Gwendy’s Magic Feather by Richard Chizmar (January 29th)
  8. The Dirty Book Club by Lisi Harrison (February 7th)
  9. My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite (February 23rd)
  10. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (March 6th)
  11. Swan Song by Robert McCammon (April 11th)
  12. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (June 27th)
  13. Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle (July 8th)
  14. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (July 13th)
  15. Baby Teeth by Zoje Stage (July 19th)
  16. The One by John Marrs (July 27th)
  17. The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King (July 30th)
  18. Duel by Richard Matheson (August 18th)
  19. Acid for the Children by Flea (August 20th)
  20. The Nice Guys by Charles Ardai (August 27th)
  21. The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn (September 7th)
  22. Black Klansman by Ron Stallworth (September 10th)
  23. The Institute by Stephen King (September 27th)
  24. The Cider House Rules by John Irving (October 7th)
  25. The Turn of the Screw by Henry James (October 15th)
  26. The Dark Half by Stephen King (October 22nd)
  27. Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff (October 27th)
  28. Fortunately, The Milk by Neil Gaiman (October 27th)
  29. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig (October 30th)
  30. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (November 7th)
  31. Lisey’s Story by Stephen King (November 17th)
  32. The Green Mile by Stephen King (November 22nd)
  33. Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick (November 27th)
  34. The Colorado Kid by Stephen King (November 29th)
  35. You by Caroline Kepnes (December 2nd)
  36. Hidden Bodies by Caroline Kepnes (December 6th)
  37. The Best of Roald Dahl by Roald Dahl (December 14th)
  38. The Last Black Unicorn by Tiffany Haddish (December 15th)

Quite a varied list, but you can see some patterns too. I generally stick to fiction, but there were two autobiographies, by Flea and Tiffany Haddish. I’d say Flea’s was the better of the two, by far. Haddish was entertaining and I really felt for her at times, but Flea’s writing was much more literary and compelling. Although not as explicitly autobiographical as the Flea and Tiffany Haddish books, Molly’s Game and Black Klansman were highly enjoyable real-life retellings of an interesting period of their lives from Molly Bloom and Ron Stallworth. It’s not all supernatural, murderous dystopias for me, I do read real things too. Sometimes.

You know I tackled a bunch of S.K.’s stuff this year too, I always do! Lisey’s Story was absolutely abysmal. I don’t know how that even got published. It could have been a great novel, if not for all the nonsensical supernatural elements that just weren’t necessary. I bought into the story of a famous writer’s widow being terrorized by a psychotic fan, I wanted more of that and less of the ridiculous imaginary world and so so so annoying made up “inner marital language” the couple shared. I get it, all couples do develop their own shorthand over time, but the reader didn’t need to be beat over the head with it on every single page. It got to the point where I was literally rolling my eyes every single time I had to read the word “smucking”. Just use the word FUCKING loud and proud like normal people do! I guess maybe he wanted to be certain it wasn’t just Misery again but dressed up in different clothes? The Institute, The Green Mile, The Dark Half, and The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon were wonderful though. I loved every minute of those stories. If you’re not on a quest to read all of King’s works, then save yourself the headache and skip Lisey’s Story.

You’ll also notice I took on some heftier books this year. Imaginary Friend, Swan Song, The Goldfinch, and The Institute all fight in the heavyweight division. I started reading Swan Song at the beginning of lockdown. It’s a 1000+ page epic about a handful of plucky characters (and some despicable villains too!) figuring out how to restart life after a nuclear attack decimates America. You know, very fitting lockdown reading content.

And of course Neil Gaiman makes two appearances as well. I just admire his mind and his creativity so much! I know that if I pick up a book with his name on the cover I will not be disappointed. It’s impossible for him to let me down. I read Fortunately, The Milk and The Graveyard Book because I bought them for Woody. I know it’ll be a long time before he’s able to read chapter books, but I look forward to the days when I can introduce him to one of my all-time favourite authors and maybe read these ones to him, if he’s into it.

There was lots of great short fiction too. You know I love Joe Hill and Richard Matheson, they’re always a good time. But the book that really wowed me this year was The Best of Roald Dahl. I don’t think there’s anyone else on this whole entire planet, past or present, who can craft a short story as masterfully as him. Every single story in that book impressed me. So many delightful surprises, dark unexpected twists, and uncanny happenstances converge in these stories.

Looking back over this list, I’ll say it again, it’s solid. But out of all the great reads I had this year, these ones were the absolute best of the best (in no specific ranked order):

  1. The Best of Roald Dahl by Roald Dahl
    I hope I don’t oversell this book, but if you love good, well-crafted stories and sharp, witty writing you have to read it. If you aspire to be a writer, or if you’re already a writer and you want to up your game, read this book. You cannot go wrong. We all know and love Dahl for his whimsical children’s fictions like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, The Witches, etc. Even if you don’t think it’s possible to love him more than you already do, you will. Your appreciation for his talent will deepen significantly when you read his short stories.
  2. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
    I love stories that take me back to the ’90’s. I love stories that have characters facing coming-of-age dilemmas. I love stories that are rife with interpersonal drama and tension. I enjoyed getting lost in 1997 again with Pearl and Moody and Mia and Izzy. And I had just gotten Amazon Prime and wanted to do my due diligence, reading the book before watching the miniseries. I like knowing the source material first.
  3. Swan Song by Robert McCammon
    This book is a lot like The Stand by Stephen King, so if you liked that book, then you’ll probably like this one too. Disaster annihilates pretty much all of the population and the handful of remaining survivors try to navigate their new post-nuclear strike worlds. Heroes and villains emerge, good clashes with evil, all that great stuff. Now is the time to pick up a giant book and immerse yourself in an epic tale. You’ve got nowhere else to go and no one to see, take a chance on a good long story.
  4. The Institute by Stephen King
    Just a really great Stephen King story where he does what he does best. I’ve read a lot of King, a lot. Not all of it yet, but I’m getting there. I find that modern era King books have been some of his best work. 11/22/63, Under The Dome, The Outsider, Sleeping Beauties, and the Bill Hodges Trilogy are all excellent, in my humble opinion. These stories are more action/adventure and exciting thrillers than they are outright horror stories. And I like that a lot about his writing lately, King gives good action. If you’re in agreement, then you’ll like The Institute too.
  5. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
    I started reading this book before my son was born, but I didn’t get that far into it, maybe 100 pages or so. I didn’t have any time or energy for reading in the very early weeks of Woody’s infancy, but I eventually circled back to it. And oh look at this, it’s a story about a boy whose mom dies when he’s thirteen and his entire life is thrown into complete chaos. Jesus Christ! I felt like an exposed nerve the whole time I was reading it. I’d just had a baby boy and the dynamic duo themselves, postpartum depression and pandemic anxiety, came out in full force, wreaking total havoc on my soul. This book was a gut punch to me, but in such an incredible way. It was serendipity that this would be the first book I finished as a new mother. Having a baby is paradigm shifting in its own right, I know that. But reading this book at this exact time in my life in these exact circumstances made me realize how incredibly important it is for me to raise a good and decent man. I had some profound moments with it. I’m so glad I read this frigging book when I did.
  6. Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff
    Mixing and melding the sci-fi/horror/fantasy genres with the openly racist 1950’s America? How’s that going to work? Can it be done? Oh it can be done, alright. The cunning way all of the individual character’s stories are woven together at the end, marvellous! It’s brilliant. I devoured it, couldn’t get enough. I can’t wait to watch the show based on this book when I finally decide to spring for a streaming service with HBO content.
  7. Fortunately, The Milk by Neil Gaiman
    Did you grow up with a dad who always had a ridiculous response for everything you asked? Who liked to embellish and make up ludicrous stories about the most mundane things? Who wouldn’t ever admit that Santa Claus is make believe? Even after you and your sisters caught him red-handed hauling in gifts from the garage one night? And even now, when you’re in your 30’s and he still insists that he was just picking those gifts up from his annual Parent-Santa conference? Seriously, he still will not give up that ghost! Then this book will remind you of him, and of all the fantastical far-fetched things he told you when you were growing up. Keep that magic alive, read it to your kids, you’ll have so much fun together.

I’m so grateful that even though I’ve gone nowhere and seen nobody, this year wasn’t a complete and total waste. I have all this reading to show for my lockdown life. (And my beautiful son too, of course!) I went on a lot of incredible journeys, and I saw the world in so many wonderful iterations. I escaped lockdown every time I opened a book. I fucking love reading, man. And I’m so glad that it’s one thing this pandemic hasn’t been able to take from me.

Night Moves

I’m writing this for me. If you’re interested in a long read about how I gave birth then by all means, please continue. But if not, that’s cool, because this post isn’t meant for anyone else anyways.

By week 38, my pregnancy was progressing along exactly as expected. So I was quite surprised when I had a weekly checkup on Friday with my OB-GYN and she told me that my cervix was already 4cm dilated. I hadn’t felt a single contraction or slight discomfort up to that point and I was expecting every cm of dilation to be part of the overall going into labour process. My OB-GYN said some people just have favourable cervixes that soften and open up fairly easily. She did a “stretch and sweep” to see if she could continue to encourage my cervix along. I left that appointment 4cm dilated already a little freaked out. The doctor told me that if I wanted to, I could go to the hospital right that moment to be induced, because based on the conditions of my cervix they would keep me there.

D had to wait in the car for me because of current COVID policies at the doctor’s office, so when I got in and told him the status he was pretty freaked out too. We were both feeling like this baby was just going to pop out at any minute!

We decided to go home. We both were expecting to do two more full weeks of work and I didn’t want to try and force the whole process. It’d be better if everything just progressed naturally. We went home and everything was fine, I felt the same as before. No contractions, no discomfort.

I woke up that Saturday morning around 2am feeling some cramping in my stomach. I rode it out for about 15 minutes until it passed, but I shook D awake to alert him that maybe this was it. We were both super wired and not sure what to do with ourselves. The cramping sensation went away and didn’t come back, so we figured it was okay to go back to bed, but neither of us could sleep.

We woke up around 8am and D immediately went into prep mode. He got out and did a bunch of grocery shopping and some errands to try and wrap up last minute things in case I did go into active labour. That whole weekend came and went, us on edge the whole time, but without anything eventful happening.

I went back to my OB-GYN for my 39 week checkup just a few days shy of 39 weeks. She checked my cervix again and confirmed I was 5cm dilated and 70% effaced. She did another stretch and sweep to see if that would kickstart active labour for me and we went home. We finished up the work week again and figured we’d hopefully make it to the 40 week mark without issue. If we made it to 40 weeks, we’d go to the hospital and get induced. I kept waiting for this magical mucus plug everyone talks about to come out, but I never saw it. I did start having some watery-like discharge and thought that was a bit weird, but didn’t think too much of it.

On Saturday May 23rd, D and I went for a walk after lunch because it was such a nice sunny day. As we were nearing the end of our walk I felt this sudden little gush of fluid that I couldn’t control and assumed I’d just pissed myself in the street. When we got home, I noticed again that it was a very watery substance and didn’t seem like pee at all. That was when it clicked that I was probably leaking amniotic fluid. I texted our doula for her advice and she told me I should call the Labour & Delivery line at the hospital to see what they thought. Knowing the state of my cervix, our doula felt that I might have a very fast labour once it did start actively so wanted us to be on the safe side and get to the hospital earlier than planned. D was outside and had started cutting the grass. I called the Labour & Delivery line and they said I should definitely come in.

I started rounding up our bags and packing a few last minute things we needed. D came inside for a quick glass of water, thinking he could get started on the backyard next, but I told him to get his shit together because we’re going to the hospital today and we won’t be leaving without a baby.

We got the car loaded up and drove to the hospital, we were there at 3pm. I had to go in first to be assessed and they told me if I was admitted then I could text D to come in. Another quick check of my cervix and the doctor recommended that we start the induction process. They advised that I was slowly leaking amniotic fluid and likely had a small tear high up on the amniotic sac. I was taken to a birthing room and made a quick call to D around 3:30pm to tell him he could come on in.

The nurses got me into a gown, hooked me up to their machines for monitoring, and started a low dose of oxytocin around 4:30pm to jumpstart some contractions. The doctor also broke my water. I setup my bluetooth speaker and got my carefully curated labouring playlist rocking so we’d have awesome music to help me stay relaxed. When the nurse came back to check on me around 5:30pm she confirmed that we were now 6cm dilated and 95% effaced, and I still had yet to feel a single thing! Except for the occasional gush of amniotic fluid spilling out from my broken water. We joked around that maybe I was one of those lucky “silent labourers” and that this could be a really easy process for me.

That unfortunately, was not the case. Around 6:30pm actual contractions started and I was definitely feeling them! They came on hard and fast with a BANG. My contractions were lasting one minute but with only one minute of rest before the next one would start. One on top of the other, boom boom boom, the contractions were relentless. I was managing the pain by staying on my feet swaying along to my music with some hand holding and encouragement from D, but it was getting pretty tough.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about epidurals overall. I was game for trying to labour without one, but also totally open to the possibility of having one as well if I felt it was needed. I asked the nurse what my point of no return for getting an epidural was and she told me it was at 10cm, fully dilated. With that in mind, I kept labouring and trying to manage the pain as much as I could. The next time the nurse came to check me I was 8.5cm dilated and well on my way to 9cm. To be on the safe side, I decided to ask for the epidural. We were so close to 10cm and the pain was only getting more intense, it didn’t ever seem like it would ebb. The nurse told me that the anesthesiologist was on the floor and already lined up for four other epidurals so I’d have to wait another 30-40 minutes. I just had to hope my overly ambitious cervix wouldn’t go on to 10cm before the epidural could be administered.

Thankfully, when the anesthesiologist got to me I was holding strong at 9cm. They had me sit upright on the hospital bed with my legs over one side. D stood in front of me and needed to keep me still and calm while the doctor did his thing. D said this part was the most stressful for him. Watching a doctor probe my spine while I was suffering absolutely brutal contractions and being told to stay perfectly still or else. The doctor kept feeling around and asking where I felt things and then all of a sudden I cried out in pain because of an immediately stabbing sensation in my left hip. I told him what I felt and he said “okay that’s not the spot then” and kept feeling around. He found the right spot after that and got the epidural going.

Once I could move again the nurse had me lay down and try to relax while the drugs kicked in. That was a very chill hour. I just shut my eyes, felt the pins and needles sensation in my feet slowly spread into numbness all through my legs, and listened to my tunes. I remember looking at the clock and it was about 11pm. We started to wonder now that it was getting close to midnight if this was going to be a May 23rd or May 24th baby. The nurse said some women on the floor only pushed for 10-15 minutes and was encouraging me that I could probably be a quick pusher too. We’d just wait a bit for me to tell them when I felt any sort of pushing sensation.

Nope! Oh man, so much nope on that. The epidural worked too well I guess because I never once felt any kind of pushing sensation down below. I did feel a band of tightness every once in a while under my ribcage. When I mentioned that to the nurse she said those were my contractions now. Holy shit!

The nurse told us how it was going to go down: when I felt that tightness under my ribcage she’d lift and hold one of my legs and D would do the same with the other. I’d take a deep breath then start pushing while D slowly counted to 10. I’d do this three times in a row then take a break before the next contraction started.

D was super calm. Very quiet and serious. Exactly what I expect from him. When shit hits the fan he clamps down hard on any sort of emotion and shoves it out of the way so he can deal with the immediate issues. He was supportive too, but in his own collected way. I felt very calm as well. I was determined to just roll with whatever happened during labour and be cool, man. I did not turn into that stereotypical angry and cursing woman everyone insisted I would become. I never once screamed at D not to touch me or to go away or hate on him for “doing this to me”. That’s fine if it’s what works for other women, but for me I don’t think that’s productive at all. We both wanted this baby, I just drew the short biological straw and had to be the one to offer up my crotch as sacrifice.

Pushing lasted almost 3 hours. Around 2.5 hours it was obvious that all the pushing in the world couldn’t make this baby come out and the nurse called in the doctor. Baby was super low into the birth canal and conditions were all optimal for pushing him out, but for some reason he was really wedged in there. The doctor advised that a vacuum assisted delivery was necessary and we agreed.

Here’s a crazy detail: there was a big overhead light right above my hospital bed and the clear plastic cover over it was highly reflective. When I looked up at that light it was basically a mirror and I could see everything happening to myself on the table. I watched them bring out the vacuum and start fitting it into my vagina. When everything was setup the nurse advised we’d start the pushing process again. I bore down on every part of my body I could still feel and pushed as hard as I fucking could. I looked up at the light that was basically a mirror and started to see a dark round shape emerging from my body. Surreal. It looked so tiny and in my mind this whole time I had a bowling ball inside of me that we were trying to get out instead of a tiny little human.

With one sudden whoosh the baby’s head was out and the rest of the body followed so smoothly. I couldn’t believe the baby was out, I was speechless. D had to tell me three times that it was a boy before I even registered it. The one thing that stood out most for me is that of all the songs on my well crafted playlist, Night Moves by Bob Seger is what was playing when he finally arrived. And now when I hear that song about horny teenagers trying to get laid I cry because I think about my baby boy. Awesome. Although, I guess it is kind of cool because I did have a “black-haired beauty with big dark eyes” so it works in it’s own ridiculous way.

On May 24th at 2:52am our baby boy Elwood Broderick Brown was born.

They took him away to do some quick tests and measurements while I delivered the afterbirth. I wound up with a second degree tear and an episiotomy, fun!

When they put him in my arms for the first time the playlist was rocking Good Times Bad Times by Led Zeppelin. Super cool.

I hugged him and cried.

We stayed in the birthing room for a while longer so they could continue to monitor Elwood. Since they had to use a vacuum on his head during delivery they wanted to make sure there wasn’t any unusual swelling or bruising. I got to give him his first bottle and we had lots of snuggles.

Around 6:30am D took a minute to get changed out of his clothes from the day before and brush his teeth. The nursing team cleared out of the room to let the three of us be alone. When D came out of the restroom it was just me and Woody. In that moment, without a million random people in and out of the room, D was hit by all the waves of emotion he’d been clamping down on all night long. We hugged each other and cried together, in complete awe that the little human we made, who we’d been dying to meet, was here now.

And now here we are, two new parents born, a mom and dad with a little baby boy. Working on an entirely new set of Night Moves. Working on mysteries without any clues.

Workin’ and practicin’,

Workin’ and practicin’ all of the night moves

Bumpdates!

I am 37 weeks pregnant right now. And I am freaking out, man!

40 weeks sounds like such a long time but it goes by in a flash. Everyone told me the last few weeks will feel like they go on forever and that I’ll be dying to get the baby out, but right now I can’t picture myself feeling that way at all. Even under normal societal circumstances I know there’s a lot to process mentally and so much preparation that goes into this momentous life change. But I think expecting my first baby in the midst of a global pandemic has affected my perspective in ways that simply aren’t comparable to everyone else’s non-pandemic pregnancies. At this point I’d prefer if I could just hit a giant pause button and keep the baby in as long as I want until I decide the world is safe again.

I never expected the world would be so difficult to navigate, ravaged by a pandemic, right as we prepare to welcome our baby into it. It’s fucking nuts. Somedays I can accept it, other days I can’t even believe this is really happening. The first two trimesters my pregnancy was lovely, just the usual thoughts and worries about how a baby will change our lives that everyone has. The last stretch though has been marred by this weird new COVID world we’re all living in.

There are so many things I want to remember about these last 37 weeks, this first full-term pregnancy of ours. I’m writing them down so I can reflect back on this journey later.

Things I Like About Being Pregnant

  • My hair has never looked better. For real, I’m having the best hair days of my life! I can go days without washing my hair and it looks incredible
  • I can wear whatever I want and just let my gut be free
  • Crazy weird dreams
  • All of my weight gain has gone directly to my belly and I haven’t had any swelling of my hands, feet, or face. Very thankful for that!
  • Weird hormonal laughing fits. This has happened to me at least six times, something is just so funny that I laugh until I cry and am completely breathless and can’t stop. D has found this part very entertaining
  • Super cute maternity clothes!
  • Feeling the baby move around inside me and sharing that with D
  • Taking pictures of my bump as the weeks go by and comparing how far along we’re getting

    12 weeks – nobody knew yet!

Things I Dislike About Being Pregnant

  • Frigging heartburn ALL THE TIME. Doesn’t even matter what I eat, the burn is constant
  • SO tired in the first trimester! All of a sudden all of my energy was drained. I felt like Brian Wilson lying in bed with zero will to live during the first 3 months
  • Having to sleep on my side; I can’t wait to be a starfish tummy sleeper again
  • Lower back aches, you can fuck right off any time
  • Leaky boobs – like why? There’s no baby yet!
  • Food restrictions – I am DYING for a huge salami sandwich. I need cured meats back in my life. And rare steak.
  • People trying to make you focus on the negatives and saying stupid clichéd shit like “get used to never sleeping again haha”. You’re not funny. Or helpful. Why don’t people say positive things instead?
  • Clipping my toenails and shaving my legs are now deeply uncomfortable and practically impossible activities

    17 weeks – at IL Fornello eating ALL the pasta and free bread!

Pros to Pandemic Pregnancy

  • I’m eating better than ever before because we make all of our meals at home with fresh groceries
  • Social distancing and staying home means I don’t have a bunch of randos out in public trying to touch my belly or giving me unsolicited advice (apparently that is something that happens during non-pandemic pregnancies that people said would happen)
  • D has been working from home for my entire third trimester and isn’t stressed about being downtown in the middle of work or client meetings if I suddenly go into labour
  • We won’t be swarmed by visitors in our first week home when we’re beyond exhausted and can actually settle into our new life with baby
  • We’ll hopefully be discharged from the hospital sooner, provided everything is okay

    23 weeks – jumping on the bed in our hotel with baby!

Cons to Pandemic Pregnancy

  • I want Wendy’s!!! I would love some chicken nuggets, a burger, and a frosty right now. RIGHT NOW. Sadly, it’s just not worth the risk
  • Worrying about hospital policies and protocols that could have D missing out on time with our new baby
  • Not being able to have a proper baby shower with actual guests in person
  • Not being able to show my belly off to family, friends, and coworkers in person
  • Nowhere to wear all my super cute maternity clothes
  • The doula we hired probably won’t be able to come to the hospital with us
  • Having no idea if or when it’ll be safe for family to even meet the new baby, and not being able to trust if people who do want to meet the baby have been properly quarantining
  • Not being able to run out and easily get last minute supplies if needed
  • Every trip to the OB’s office or for an ultrasound feels like a death-defying feat
  • People telling me “everything will be fine” when they have no fucking clue how it feels to be pregnant in a pandemic and they got to have totally normal pregnancy experiences – just don’t. If you want to be comforting or make me feel better then send me some donuts and tell me my hair is amazing because that will work, every time.

    25 weeks – Valentine’s Day!

All the Cravings I Had:

  • Wendy’s doublestack! That was the first official thing I craved hard, that was about 1 month in
  • In the early days I needed all kinds of fried chicken (nuggets, tenders, strips, wings, burgers, etc.)
  • Sandwich: turkey on rye with harvati and tons of yellow mustard that I ate for lunch every day for two weeks straight
  • Unquenchable need for orange juice. I was drinking it by the gallon!
  • Shitty frozen pizzas – I would make one for lunch every day for almost 3 weeks straight. And before that I hadn’t bought a frozen pizza since my university days ended. You guys know how much I love delicious pizza, so it was weird to crave crappy frozen ones so ferociously.
  • Sausage McMuffin if I was up before 7:00am – mostly so I could get more orange juice when the house was all out
  • Cake! I pestered D about needing professional grade cake for a few weeks and then one day he showed up with a slice from the Cake Boss vending machine that opened downtown in the fall
  • Barq’s Root beer, it’s got bite! Also, Barq’s Cream Soda – thank you Jesus for inventing that!
  • Clementines, especially eating them at night in bed

30 weeks – funky little chili pepper on board!

Special Moments I Want to Remember

  • Hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time at the doctor’s office and happy crying because I was finally able to let go of the worry that I might miscarry again
  • Using TheBump app to track my pregnancy and getting excited for the new fruit/veggie that the baby would be “as big as” each week
  • I passed my G2 road test while I was 10 weeks pregnant and was fully ready to cry and blame it on hormones if I failed
  • Finally getting to share the news with everyone, what a relief!
  • Singing in the car to all my favourite songs while I drove to work on Mondays and feeling baby bop along with me. Baby already loves Billy Joel and Van Morrison
  • D eagerly waiting for the moment he’d finally be able to feel the baby move, and him hoping it would happen on our anniversary at the end of January
  • Our “babymoon”/anniversary road trip to Montreal. We stayed in a fancy ass hotel with a huge ass bathtub. I had two baths a day every day and it was glorious. I also found a Ben & Jerry’s store a few blocks from the hotel – game changer!
  • D actually getting to feel the baby move for the first time. It was the very end of Valentine’s Day, around 11:50pm. D was asleep and I was watching TV in bed when I felt movements bigger than any before. I shook him awake and when he touched my belly he finally felt it too
  • Celebrating my birthday Sixteen Candles style by baking my own ’80’s frosted cake and sitting on the dining room table with it and baby, in a bridesmaids dress no less!
  • Nesting and building a beautiful nursery for the baby that makes me so happy every time I go into it
  • Having a drive-by style baby shower due to social distancing and it still being a special day because we have so many lovely people in our life who support us and care about the baby

    34 weeks – baby gets spoiled by loved ones from a distance!

My Hopes for Baby

  • You will be perfectly healthy and you’ll get here safely, when you’re ready and not a moment sooner
  • You will be loved – even if you can’t meet your immediate family right away because we have to keep you safe, you will not be forgotten and you will still be loved from afar
  • Harvey will accept you and be loving instead of jealous (please!)
  • You’re going to be a good sleeper and eater
  • You will be a wonderful new addition to this family and you’ll fit right in with us – you’ll have a huge appetite for life and give zero fucks about what anyone thinks (like me) but you’ll also be grounded and reliable (like your dad). And you’ll have all sorts of your own unique charms that delight us every day
  • Someday you’ll feel thankful that we’re your parents and lucky that you were born into our family

It’s been an interesting journey. We still have no idea what we’re having. I think the whole idea of a gender reveal is so tacky (to each their own, but it’s not for me). I always thought I’d want to find out the gender before the birth, but now I prefer the excitement created by not knowing. As we get closer though I can’t help but wonder about who I’ve got rolling around inside me. What kind of person did we make? What will the baby look like? I feel like I have some intuition about what kind of person this baby will be just based on how they behaved at various ultrasounds, how they’ve moved around inside me, and some dreams I’ve had about them. But there’s really no way of knowing until whoever it is decides to come out and meet us.

37 weeks – the homestretch!

I don’t think I’m freaking out any more now, man. I think I’m back to just feeling excited again. I’m 37 weeks pregnant and I’m going to meet my baby soon.

Books I Read: 2019

The reading adventures continue!

Although, there were fewer adventures this year. I did not cover nearly as much ground as I did in 2018. This past year I read a modest 24 books in total. I had every intention of keeping up the pace of the year prior, but I think I may have been feeling a bit burnt out. I intended to focus my 2019 on reading all of Paste Magazine’s 50 Best Horror Novels of All Time. I’d already read a few of the books from this list in the past, basically all of the Stephen King and Joe Hill stuff, and I read another 15 from this list at the end of 2018 as well. I think going into 2019 I had about 25 books on this list still to tackle. And some of them I just felt like I probably wouldn’t read because they were harder to find through the library and online. Some of them just by cursory review of the subject matter alone I felt might be better left unread, you know, for personal preference and psychological preservation.

I sort of meandered this year, and only wound up reading 7 of the books from the horror list. When I found out I was pregnant the first time, back in the spring, I obviously lost steam because I started reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and spent more of my time researching all kinds of pregnancy shit. So, to be fair, that was a pretty reasonable disconnect from the goal. Then there was a whole flurry of activity around selling our place and moving, so I simply did not have the time to dedicate to reading. There was a brief lull in the summer between the condo sale and the move in June and July when I got to indulge a bit more. At that point I didn’t want to be bound by a required list and instead preferred to read whatever caught my eye at the library.

Anyways, here it is. Here’s the list of all 24 books I read in 2019:

  1. Vox — Christina Dalcher (January 6th)
  2. Ring — Koji Suzuki (January 13th)
  3. Night Things — Michael Talbot (February 13th)
  4. A Head Full of Ghosts — Paul Tremblay (February 19th)
  5. At the Mountains of Madness — H.P. Lovecraft (February 24th)
  6. Educated — Tara Westover (February 27th)
  7. Sleeping Beauties — Stephen King & Owen King (March 17th)
  8. An Object of Beauty — Steve Martin (March 24th)
  9. Food: A Love Story — Jim Gaffigan (March 26th)
  10. Dad is Fat — Jim Gaffigan (March 30th)
  11. Revival — Stephen King (April 8th)
  12. Supermarket — Bobby Hall (June 7th)
  13. Disappearance at Devil’s Rock — Paul Tremblay (June 14th)
  14. The Sisters Brothers — Patrick deWitt (June 20th)
  15. Let the Right One In — John Ajvide Lindqvist
  16. Final Girls — Riley Sager (July 5th)
  17. Alice Isn’t Dead — Joseph Fink (July 9th)
  18. Tell the Machine Goodnight — Katie Williams (July 24th)
  19. The Hiding Place — C.J. Tudor (July 31st)
  20. Rabbit Cake — Annie Hartnett (August 5th)
  21. Where the Crawdads Sing — Delia Owens (August 28th)
  22. The Outsider — Stephen King (September 10th)
  23. Little Star — John Ajvide Lindqvist (September 26th)
  24. The Exorcist — William Peter Blatty (October 4th)

I’m still very much obsessed with fiction, reading anything with the slightest hint of action, adventure, and intrigue. I’ve never been one for non-fiction. I get enough real life in my real life. When I read I want to be transported somewhere I’ve never been, live vicariously through someone else’s exploits. I want things to be outrageous and zany, intense and thrilling! I need strong, complex characters overcoming challenges and triumphing over evil. I think I got a fair amount of that this year. But I did have a few uncharacteristic real life detours, with the Tara Westover memoir and the two Jim Gaffigan books.

I enjoyed everything I read this year too, there weren’t any major disappointments. The Bobby Hall novel Supermarket was bizarre, but I liked it. The Steve Martin book, An Object of Beauty was alright. I don’t think I’d recommend it, but I didn’t hate it. If you’re wondering, yes it was written by that Steve Martin, the one we all know and love from SNL, Father of the Bride, and other comedy favourites. Vox was fantastic, it was hard to put down. Night Things was a read from the horror list that I actually liked way more than I thought I would. It had horribly cheesy cover art that wasn’t encouraging, but it wound up being a fun read. Reminded me of those quirky books I was always drawn to in the 6th grade like “My Teacher’s an Alien!” because they featured such outlandish cover art.

Stephen King naturally makes a few appearances as well. It wouldn’t be a reading list without him. The Outsider was awesome, I liked it a lot. Looking forward to watching the series when it starts airing. I think Jason Bateman is a great casting choice for this story.

My reading came to another long pause towards the end of the year. I started reading a book called Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky which started strong and then just couldn’t hold my interest. I finally picked it up again with the intention of seriously finishing it at the end of December, but that one has slipped on through to the 2020 list.

Of this list, here are my Top 5 Picks for Best Reads of the Year:

    1. Rabbit Cake — Annie Hartnett
      This book caught my eye because it was bright yellow and had an illustration of a cute rabbit on the cover. I immediately sensed that it was going to be unique and quirky. It did not disappoint. The main character is a little girl named Elvis who is very matter-of-fact and scientific in her approach to processing all of the grief and fallout in her family after her mother dies. It showed how people grieve differently, but through a hilarious lens. I needed this book. It was exactly what I needed to read after my miscarriage. Every word went right into my soul and I was so grateful it called out to me from that dusty library shelf. You can judge a book by the cover!
    2. Educated — Tara Westover
      I mentioned I don’t often read non-fiction, right? This book was actually gifted to me by a co-worker in a Secret Santa exchange. It’s not something I would have chosen for myself, but I am so glad I read it. It blew me away! This is a truly amazing story of a real life person who overcame insurmountable odds to get a formal education, something most people take for granted. School is just something we’re all accustomed to as a part of life from a very young age and I don’t know if many of us would have the same wherewithal to pursue an education if it wasn’t something we were forced to do. Tara Westover is an impressive and inspiring person and I’m so thankful she shared her story with the world.
    3. The Sisters Brothers — Patrick deWitt
      All the laughs! I loved this book so much because it was witty and wry. Much like Inherent Vice, there were multiple times I laughed out loud while reading. A good old fashioned cowboy romp with humour. Great characters, great story. The brothers were so real to me, I felt like I was on the trek with them. I could practically smell the cracked leather, dusty trails, and stinky boots as I read. Maybe that was just me though, who knows? I loved this book from the very first sentence through to the last.
    4. Tell The Machine Goodnight — Katie Williams
      Imagine someone ran a simple diagnostic test on you that resulted in clear directives you could follow to be happy. They could be easy enough to do, like go to yoga. Or they could be utterly absurd, like cut off your pinky finger. Would you do it? What wouldn’t you do to be happy? The premise was really intriguing and I enjoyed reading this story. It did feel like it could have unfolded in a more satisfying way, but overall the characters kept me interested.
    5. Alice Isn’t Dead — Joseph Fink
      Right from the start this book wasn’t fucking around. You’re thrust into a bizarre scenario in the first chapter and it just keeps getting weirder and wilder as you read. You feel compelled to uncover the conspiracy alongside Keisha. This book is actually the novelization of a podcast. I think that’s what made it so interesting. You’re reading a book, yes, but it reads differently. There are moments of fast-paced action, but also long stretches of inner turmoil while Keisha is on the road that make you feel like you’re on the same endless road trip. I still don’t even know if I fully understand how everything connected in the end, but it was an entertaining ride no doubt.

Even though my output wasn’t as prolific as last year, I’m amazed I managed this many reads at all, given what an absolutely insane year it’s been. As appealing as it can be to escape reality, sometimes you just have to face it head on instead. I might seek out adventures and epic struggles in my reading, but I realize that my life isn’t entirely devoid of its own adventures and epic struggles. It might not be to quite the same extent, but there are challenges to rise to, little evils to overcome, zany pals to provide amusement and support along the way. I have all the makings of a great story right here in front of me. Wherever my story may take me, I’m ready for it. Armed first and foremost with a good book to help me get by.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!

Turn and face the strange…

We’ve been on a rollercoaster ride of major life changes this year. I look at my life back when 2019 started and don’t even recognize it anymore. We went to a New Year’s Eve bash with friends and had the best time. I burst through the front door of my beautiful condo in the city, with loud post-party rambunctious energy at 4am feeling on top of the world. You know that feeling when the new year is only 4 hours old and stretches ahead with endless possibility? That’s how I felt. I was happy and appreciative for all of the good things in my life: a wonderful marriage, fabulous career, lovely friends and family, and my special little kitten prince to dote on. I loved everything I worked so hard to make happen for myself with boundless ferocity. I knew that this was exactly what I wanted. I was where I wanted to be and everything was perfect. If I could freeze that day in time and live it in perpetuity, like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, that’d be just dandy.

But life doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to freeze it in one spot. You have to keep moving, keep growing and aging and changing as time passes alongside you. So we took a trip.

We went to Chicago at the end of January to celebrate our anniversary. Yes, that’s right. Chicago. The windy city. The windiest city some might say. The coldest, windiest city possible in the middle of winter.

It was so much fun! We explored the city Ferris Bueller style, with carefree abandon and precocious ardour. I’ve always felt that my relationship with D has a very Ferris and Cameron dynamic, so it was the perfect trip for us. The Ferris in me always pushing the Cameron in D to forget about responsibility and just have fun. To go on zany offbeat capers and see where they take us. To consume as many memorable life experiences as possible, sampling everything at the buffet. The Cameron in D fussing and worrying, reminding me to think things through first and plan ahead.

I said “Chicago!”

He said “I’ll take care of it.”

And he did. Booked our flights, found the hotel, did the paperwork, found someone to watch Harv while we were away. I plotted our caper. Teamwork!

We had lots of time together on that trip to talk and plan and think about where our life together was heading. But in the spirit of Ferris Buellering, it was only light, tentative conversation.

A couple months later, in March, we went to dinner. We went to one of my favourite Toronto spots, the Lakeview. There we had a more serious conversation. There we decided next steps. There we decided to start a new journey.

A few weeks later in April, I was pregnant. I told D on April Fools’ Day and I wasn’t fooling. We were so excited, but also in disbelief too. That took hardly any effort at all. I told D that from what I’ve heard it can be a bit of a grind and might not happen right away. But he felt differently. For the first time ever he wasn’t overly concerned with planning and worry because he felt absolutely certain we’d have no trouble at all. It seemed the universe agreed with him because all of a sudden we were expecting.

So now I panic.

We need a bigger place! We can’t have a baby in a one bedroom condo, there’s no space!

We call our realtor, talk about what we’re going to do. Should we list our place? Should we move out of the city? The weight of this decision bearing down heavily on my heart. I love my city, I love my home, I don’t want to leave. But, we need to and ultimately I understand that it’s the best thing for our growing family.

So we get the ball rolling when I’m a bit farther along, to be safe. We make plans to have the condo staged at the end of May and listed at the very start of June.

The day we’re all scheduled to stage the condo, literally five minutes before the stagers are scheduled to show up, I start bleeding. Upset I call a cab to get to the ER. D can’t come with me, the stagers will be here any minute. He kisses me on my way out the door and tells me not to worry, it’ll be okay.

I’m at the ER for 7 hours. Multiple ultrasounds and tests. Crying and worrying and waiting all alone, silently begging my little baby to hang on, stay with me.  I see baby moving on the monitor, I feel a bit better, but still upset. I leave the hospital with a live pregnancy.

I come home to a completely unrecognizable home. All of our furniture gone. New trendy staging furniture in it’s place. I’m not sure where to go or what to do. It doesn’t feel like my home. I break down and cry to D and he comforts me. He orders pizza, that’s the right thing to do any time. Pizza is home. We go to bed physically exhausted, emotionally drained.

1:30am. I wake up in excruciating pain. I’m bleeding again and I know that this is it. This is the inevitable miscarriage, I’m losing my baby. 12 weeks in already, baby the size of a plum according to an app I’d been using. So close to the second trimester. So close to telling our family and friends…

Devastated doesn’t even begin to express what I felt.

And there isn’t even time to really think about it at all. The condo is listed and we have 65 viewings over the next 6 days. We’re constantly getting new requests for viewings, having to get out of the unit, get Harv out of the unit. One day we had 13 straight hours of viewings in a row. There was no time to think, let alone grieve.

Then on Monday night we’re taking offers. I’m freaking the fuck out. I can’t believe we’re selling our place, the beautiful condo I’ve loved living in, my home. And for what? No baby, not any more. What if I can’t have a baby? What if we’re selling this place for no reason? Toronto will always be a valuable market. Let’s pull the plug, accept nothing, stay here forever just us and Harv. We don’t have to move, we don’t have to leave. It can just be us and the city and we’ll be happy, we can be happy. D is upset, we’ve gone to all this trouble. It’ll be okay if he can just calm me down and get this process dealt with. He talks me off the ledge temporarily, we accept an offer. We’ve sold it, we’re moving, the ink is dry.

I’m supposed to be excited about this, but I’m not. I just feel panicked because now we’re homeless. Now we need to find a new place to live IMMEDIATELY because I’m freaking the fuck out again. People say stupid, unhelpful things like “you can just rent a place if you don’t find something else before closing.” NO. That is unacceptable. I will not let my entire life slide into house hunting limbo for who knows how long.

We forge ahead and start looking. I’m very aggressively looking at every new listing our realtor sends. D has to go away for work for a week, that’s precious house hunting time lost and I cannot have that. I spend the week that he’s away being sad by myself but also looking for houses. I get on a train out of the city and go to some open houses on my own. I find something interesting that hasn’t been in our listings.

A free-hold townhouse. We’ve been looking at detached homes, but this could work. I call D that night and tell him I think I found something special. There are actually two townhouses side by side for sale on the same court. We setup an appointment to go see both together with the realtor when he’s back in the city. D doesn’t like the idea of a townhouse, he’s not into it. We go into the first one, the one I already saw and D’s interest is piqued. He admits this is a special place. It’s not perfect, but he can see why I liked it enough to come back. We go next door to see the other one, the one I haven’t seen in person yet. The moment we walk through the door, D’s opinion has changed. He’s seeing through new eyes. He’s seeing something special. Character. Charm. Our home.

We make and offer, a little back and forth negotiation and the deal is done. We bought a house!

The two months before our closing date on the condo, our big move stretches out endlessly before me. These are my last months to enjoy living in Toronto. But I don’t enjoy it. All of the grief and sadness I’ve been putting off dealing with come crashing back down around me. I’m recovering from the miscarriage, letting my body reset, but I’m dying on the inside every single day and putting on a brave face to the outside world. Smiling when I see my friends. Telling them I’m excited about the sale and the move. Acting like I haven’t lost the most important thing I ever had. Acting like idiotic comments from clueless family members about how our niece who arrived earlier this year needs a cousin don’t stab me right in the soul. Suffering internally, but forcing myself to keep shining externally.

I didn’t even try to have a last hurrah in the city before we moved. I just buried myself in prep for the move and kept pushing ahead. We moved, that’s that, no looking back.

And for the first little while that was fine, there was lots to do at the new house, lots to get done. We spent some time figuring out life in the ‘burbs and adjusted.

D didn’t feel the loss the same way I did. He was upset too, but not nearly to the same extent. He didn’t get to see the tiny budding life on the hospital monitor that I did. He didn’t see the heart still beating and feel an impossible surge of hope. A part of his body, of his very being wasn’t suddenly ripped away too soon. He was very supportive though and comforted me as much as he could. He stayed optimistic, he knew loss was part of the process and he wanted to try again. I didn’t know if I could, I didn’t know if I was ready. But I knew it would be okay if we didn’t force it; if we just did that thing people do when the mood is right and let biology decide.

A warm sunny day in September there was a curious feeling in the back of my brain. I went and got the pregnancy test I had stowed away. I didn’t even have to look, I just knew. It was the same feeling as the first time, it would be a positive result.

I was happy, but I didn’t let myself get too happy. Now I knew how easily this could all be taken away and how much it would hurt if it was. As the weeks moved forward without any issues I started to accept it. This one was happening, this one would make it. The closer we got to the second trimester, the more I believed. Finally we got to the point where we could tell people and everyone is so happy for us. My belly gets bigger every day, my appetite gets bigger every day, and my love gets bigger every day too.

It’s been a hell of a year. Looking back to January 2019, I was having the time of my life. Eating deep dish pizza in Chicago, feeling like that was the absolute best life would ever be. I had no idea it would be one of the most challenging and transformative years of my life to date.

Other noteworthy changes:

  1. I did Invisalign this year and am now rocking a wonderful new smile
  2. Hosted a baby shower for the first time ever for my sister – we had a crazy amount of food!
  3. Our beautiful niece Vanessa arrived in March making D and I Aunt and Uncle for the first time
  4. We bought a new car! We call him Lou, he’s super cool
  5. My mom’s dog B passed away in the summer, it’s still sad when we visit and she’s not there to greet us
  6. I took driving lessons, passed my G2 road test and now I’m driving the new car by myself – I’m an excellent driver btw
  7. I DIY’d a bunch of shit like a boss. Repainted some furniture and our fireplace too
  8. BFFs Hoben and Shan got married and we were both in the wedding party. Handcrafted many fine dick decorations for the bachelorette, my finest work to date some have even said
  9. Saw Modest Mouse and The Black Keys in the fall (it was baby’s first concert too!)
  10. Hosted our first ever family Thanksgiving dinner at the new house, D cooked the turkey perfectly

We’ve had a lot going on, and I think that’s okay. I don’t expect 2020 will be any less eventful with a new baby on the way. It’ll be another year of huge life changes, but I’m ready for it.

Turn and face the strange.