A cascade of circumstance and happenstance has brought us collectively here to this weird and wobbly spoke in history’s wheel. How it spins going forward will depend on our individual oomphs and the space-time dust of the universe. Are we up for this? Can we tackle a day whose only notable difference from the days before it and after it are eating cookies? This is our burden and this is our conquest. We embraced all we could yesterday in anticipation of a duo of back-to-back warm and toasty, actual summer days. Perhaps we’re finally catching some of that good space-time dust for a change. Here’s what we did to shake up the casbah yesterday:
National Sugar Cookie Day
Note that this was not a day to celebrate the 1973 soft-core erotic crime drama film Sugar Cookies, produced by Oliver Stone. I wish it was – the film sounds delightfully ridiculous. But no, we took this celebration literally and actually had some damn cookies. No sexy Thursday intrigue for us, I’m afraid.
There’s really not much to say about the sugar cookie. It’s about as simple as a cookie can get: sugar, flour, butter, eggs, vanilla, and baking powder. Roll out the dough, cut it into shapes and bake ‘em. My mom, our team’s illustrious baker, came by to craft these ones in our kitchen on Wednesday, not out of a desire to see us (or even the dogs, though that may have factored into her decision), but because Abbey is still hanging out in town for another week, and she thought they’d have fun baking together. They did. The house was filled with laughter all afternoon on Wednesday, not counting my dreary, albeit sun-filled office.
They used two cookie shapes, both ideal for Chanukah cookies: the Star of David, and the menorah. That said, Abbey felt the menorah looked more like a butt-plug. I was leaning more toward a Devo hat with a pole sticking out of it, but she worked in a marital aid store for several months so I’ll defer to her expertise. She decorated the cookies pictured above (and some that turned out far prettier), and yesterday she completed the work with hefty dollops of icing.
It was really the only ‘celebration’ yesterday, at least the only delicious one. And that’s fine – it was fantastic. But then we had this:
A big ol’ happy 27th birthday to Canada’s youngest territory. It was on this day in 1993 when the Northwest Territories, which had already been sliced and diced at the start of the century, was lopped in two. It was believed then (as it is believed now) that the Iqaluit people, who live primarily in the eastern region, were distinct enough from their western neighbours that they should have their own territory to represent their interests. If there was any negative fallout from this decision, I haven’t heard about it.
And they handled it brilliantly. A plebiscite was held in 1982, the vote was significantly in favour of splitting, and years later it happened. No one protested, no one raged about it. Probably because voting to split a territory into two doesn’t negatively impact anyone. Contrast that with Quebec’s attempts to leave the country, or the idiotic ‘Wexit’ movement to have Alberta separate from Canada. Thankfully the former never happened and the latter likely will never come to a vote.
We have never travelled up to Nunavut, either before or after its creation. It’s the fifth-largest country subdivision on the planet, but with fewer than 40,000 people. That’s somewhat mind-blowing to me – a massive chunk of land like that and their population would be dwarfed by the number of people who attended the same Rolling Stones concert I went to in 1994. I don’t want to lay all the blame on the weather, but…
To clarify, Nunavut came into being on April 1, 1999. But they celebrate this day as Nunavut Day, given that this is the anniversary of the day the plans started rolling toward its creation. It’s not high (or even mid-level) on my list of places to someday visit, but we’re happy to have them as part of this wacky little country.
National Don’t Put All Of Your Eggs In One Omelet Day
This is a play on words. A joke, based on a common expression. We celebrated it both literally and figuratively. Abbey made an omelet for lunch, and did not use all of the eggs we had in the fridge. Right there, that should count as having completed the celebration.
But then there’s the non-literal sense, in which we are advised not to put all of our hopes into one thing. We didn’t do that either. That’s why we had two kids; in case one of them turns out to be some sort of weirdo (you know who you are), we’ve got a backup. It’s why we have three dogs. If you only have one, and that one can’t stop eating butter off the counter or screeching like a fantastical daemon every time someone walks by the house, you’ll want a backup who can provide normal, doggy functions.
It’s a good reminder for many, though, so we won’t mock this celebration too much. Except that I’m not a fan when the names are so long. Nor am I a fan of a celebration that only exists as a pun. Whatever – we celebrated with eggs. I call that a win.
National No Bra Day
“Are you wearing a bra?”
And that, my friends, is how you celebrate National No Bra Day.
It turns out that this is actually rather antiquated. The movement started in 2011 on this day to bring attention to Breast Cancer, but by 2014 it had been moved to October 13 in order for it to land in the middle of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. That makes sense. I was actually surprised that the meaning of this day had anything to do with cancer to begin with.
The movement to burn bras or discard them from common usage dates back to the 1960s and spoke specifically to women’s rights. Women, of course, now have full-on equal rights on paper, if not in practice. But I’m a determined and unrelenting feminist, so I don’t really see the point in letting this meaning go. There is still work to be done, and inequities to be pointed out.
So I’m taking a hard stand on No Bra Day, and redefining it. Yesterday’s celebration had everything to do with women’s rights, with female empowerment, and with setting our society right. The celebration in October, which is probably the day you’ll hear about it more, assuming you follow obscure celebration news, can be about breast cancer. Two celebrations, one name, two different months. That’s… something.
For the record, I didn’t wear a bra either.
I have no source for this day, for how it got started, for how it has ever been celebrated in the past, or for how we came to land on July 9 as the day upon which to celebrate the notion of fashion. Just a bunch of websites that list kooky holidays, a small portion of which say that July 9 is Fashion Day.
So we’re supposed to take a photo of ourselves in our fashioniest styles and post it to social media. Above you’ll see me rocking the classic $8 grey V-neck t-shirt and the pair of shorts that is currently getting me through the COVID lockdown. My slippers, partially chewed-upon by dogs, were designed by somebody. Probably.
This is as fashionable as I get these days. If we go out, I’ll usually put on some grown-up pants, as I don’t want people to think Jodie is married to a complete wretch. But for those days in which our only excursion is a stroll around the block with the dogs, this is as fancy as I get.
And for the record, I didn’t wear a bra either, but this time for Fashion reasons.
Call of the Horizon Day
Does the horizon beckon us forward, into new adventures and a dynamic and unpredictable future?
Well, sort of. On the one hand, no. We see no adventure right now beyond the wild and manic work snarled around this project. But still, every day is a new adventure (sort of): what madness will National Milk Chocolate Day bring us on July 28? Will the horizon launch a bunch of unpredictable mayhem into our household as we embrace National Sponge Cake Day in August? Tomorrow we’re supposed to appreciate cows. Can we somehow manage to do that *and* not step on a bee?
This project is not quite steeped in adventure. Indeed, the most dynamic aspects of it (axe throwing, penguin visiting, driverless car testing) have been sidelined by COVID, and since we don’t plan on repeating this weirdness in 2021 they may be lost for the ages. And what of future adventures?
We have nothing crazy planned at this point. The horizon is calling us on to finishing this project, hopefully with 2,000 celebrations in the bag. The horizon is promising I can relax and breathe a bit when this is all over. And no doubt the horizon will offer some new batshit nuts idea for me to tackle when the time comes. But for now… I push forward.
And today’s forward push will lead us to all this joy and wonder:
- Cow Appreciation Day. I wasn’t joking about this. We may need to take a drive and hug some cows.
- National Kitten Day. A new test for my feline-friendly fans – can I find someone who has a legit kitten we can send virtual love to today?
- National Pina Colada Day. One of my last favourite mixed drinks, but that doesn’t mean I won’t down one for the team.
- Don’t Step On A Bee Day. I wasn’t joking about this either. We will celebrate by doing exactly what the name suggests.
- Dab Day. Apparently 7/10 flipped upside down kind of looks like OIL, so this is a day to dab with some THC oil. I have a concentrate pen; that will work.
- Collector Car Appreciation Day. Unless someone is a collector of 2007 Toyota Rav 4s, we’ll be observing this one from a distance.
- World Kebab Day. We literally just finished our kebabs yesterday. So we celebrated early! And forgot to take a picture!
- National Clarihew Day. A day for some fun wordplay. As in, more fun than the stupid basket/omelet joke from yesterday.