Originally intended to simply focus on book reviews, over time, KaliDesautelsReads has morphed into its own entity.
I write about issues that are near to my heart, be they political, feminist, motherhood, mental health, or, as the title holds, books.
A thirty-something Canadian woman in my mid-thirties, I have been “super married” to my high school sweetheart since 2006, and together we have two crazy, clever, kind, hilarious, wonderful kids.
My first book – How Not To Blog: Finding Myself, One Post at a Time is available on Amazon (in eBook formats for you clever tech readers, and paperback for those of us who love that new book smell!)
I have tried a podcast – it’s still on Apple and Google Podcasts – but writing is where my heart is.
My life changed dramatically when my husband was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer in 2018, and I am now a writer for a leading Canadian Cancer Non-Profit.
I am lucky enough to have a family that loves me and pushes me to be my best, even if it is outside of my cushiony comfort zone. I have a village of friends that nourish me, mentally, and spiritually.
Welcome to my thoughts. Sit down. Stay a while. Enjoy a cup of coffee!
Continuing what I am thankful for, my baby. My son is smart, funny, sarcastic and easy going, but is not afraid to stand his ground if he doesn’t think something is right. He will never wear a piece of clothing he doesn’t like, and will stand quietly firm if he thinks his right are being infringed. He climbs trees just to see if he can jump out of them, remembers the names of every character in every book or show he has ever come across. He challenges me and is also the quickest to come looking for a snuggle.
Claiming that you’re nice in this country and thinking that’s enough is like walking past a burning house and calling the flames pretty.
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#dothework
When I am feeling bad about the state of women, I make a point of going to @rachel.cargle ‘s feed. This brilliant, insightful, strong, amazing, courageous woman has a feed filled with what it is like to be a woman of colour, most particularly a black woman, in this world. She reminds me that yes, women are suffering, and yes, other First Nations women are discriminated against daily, I have the unearned privilege to have white skin and green eyes, and therefore I have the responsibility to do better, to do more, to be a frigging ally to women and femmes of colour, LQBTQ+ people, Aboriginal women who do not “pass” for white, and every other disenfranchised person on this planet. It is by no means Ms. Cargle’s job to do this, it is not her responsibility to teach me, but I am so grateful that she exists and that she is willing to share her thoughts on Instagram, so that I remember that as much as I feel bad, I have no clue what it is to wake up every day and face a world so ingrained with hatred that my very existence is discriminated against all the time. It reminds me to do better, do more, and to not take for granted things that I have not earned. Thank you. I resolve to do better.
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Reposting @lalasbookcage: – via @Crowdfire 👁 Wonder by R.J. Palacio 👁
I won’t describe what I look like. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably worse.
August (Auggie) Pullman was born with a facial deformity that prevented him from going to a mainstream school—until now. He’s about to start 5th grade at Beecher Prep, and if you’ve ever been the new kid then you know how hard that can be. The thing is Auggie’s just an ordinary kid, with an extraordinary face. But can he convince his new classmates that he’s just like them, despite appearances?
Rating: 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🎖
Wonder produced immensely strong emotions in me. I was amazed at the cruelness people could be capable of, but then later on I was constantly being pleased and overjoyed at the goodness that people can actually show. Those last few chapters where Auggie wins the hearts of his classmates and they realise just how amazing he is.
You will feel the connection to every character, from Auggie right through to Daisy, their amazing dog.
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#QOTD Have you read it? What do you thing about it? ••
Going home to this face is my favourite. I love my kids so much, and I love that this little man is still small enough to curl up into a hug with me, to cuddle on my lap, and to not be embarrassed to hold my hand in public. This boy is silly, sarcastic, witty, clever, funny, intelligent, sweet, kind, rough, and cuddly. He is so many things at once that I cannot peg him down as any one thing. He is the happiest boy I have ever seen, with a natural sunshine that I cannot find anywhere, but he is also stubborn and angry when he suddenly gets the urge. He is my boy, my buddy, my baby. I could not love him more if I tried.
You know the time when your excitement, energy and motivation flags on a project? When that adrenaline no longer bounces you out of bed at 5 am, and you begin to question why you started this whole thing anyway. When you think that it won’t make a lick of difference if I just quit on this; if I break this promise to myself; if I just quietly pretend that I wasn’t really that into it, to begin with. When you just don’t have the energy to think of anything insightful to say, and that it doesn’t really matter because the world is going to hell in a handbasket anyway, so what difference is one little voice going to make if I stop shouting into the empty vacuum of the internet?
This is when you rest. This is when you take the advice of the incomparable force that is Hillary Rodham Clinton, and you remember that this is tiring, this is exhausting, this means it’s time to take a rest. But it’s not time to quit, it’s not time to give up the fight, it’s time for a break. It’s time to put down your sabre and to lay down for a moment. Time to unplug for a few hours, and to get the rest that you so clearly need. Plug in your phone, put on your jammies, cover your face in a clay mask, paint your nails, and drink your tea. Just rest. The world will seem a little brighter in the morning, and you will feel ready to head once more into the breach. .
As always, taking a quote out of context means that we are imposing upon it our reading of just those words, without any understanding of what the overlying meaning is.
So, I have decided to include the entire letter by Jonathan Swift, so that you might understand fully what he wrote, in his falsely yours letter.
.
.
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My dear,
If I could wish upon you one thing it would be this:
May you not dwell in the past. Whatever the past was, it’s gone. Whether the past was dastardly awful or outrageously wonderful, it is gone. Leave it behind.
May you not dwell in the future. Thinking of that which you shall do. Because, before you realize it, you shan’t. The problem with dwelling in the future is that it’s perfect. Terribly so! In the future you’re happy, beautiful, in love, famous, rich, and successful… somehow. And it is this somehow that will ruin you. Erase “Tomorrow I’ll” from your vocabulary instantly I say. Because tomorrow will never come. Now is here however, and patiently waiting.
May you actually live! Embrace the day at hand. Live in the now. Because it is eternal and unbound. The now doesn’t recognize yesterday’s failures, or tomorrow’s successes. And thus it is truly unchained. And an unchained mind flies.
It is Crazy Hair Day today and these monkeys are ALL over it! My girl and her Rainbow Dash wig and my guy with ALL THE gold hairspray were a sight to behold today.
Now if I could just convince them to go out like this every day, we would be all set.
What sort of spirit days do your kids dig? Mine love anything that allows them to dress up in something for the day.
Why do women stay silent? Because we are shamed into silence. Because we legitimately have conversations with each other about how my experience wasn’t ”that bad” in comparison to another woman’s. Because this is the only crime that the victim has to PROVE took place. Because we live in a world where the patriarchy is so prevalent that we often believe that it is somehow our fault. Because we have been provided with lists with hundreds of points in them on how to not get raped. Because our very existence makes us a target. Because we are taught to remain small. Because no one will believe us. Because we have been gaslighted. Because we are seen as crazy and hysterical. Because the very word hysterical only exists because of the lack of understanding of women. Because. Because. Because.
It is Thanksgiving weekend in Canada, and I am all set for the traditional celebration in our home. Especially my least favourite tradition – laying in bed with the flu. As sure as there will be turkey, stuffing and cranberries, this weekend means that I will be alternately shivering/overheating today, and celebrating the festivities with a traditional shot of Nyquil. …….
Kali J Desautels 