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When we started this blog for the documentary, I promised myself I would never go more than two weeks without posting. I also promised myself that I would never start a blog post with something lame and apologetic like, Read more
I don't flirt. Ever. Not because I don't know how, but because I just don't like to. Being funny had always been my technique as a server and it was more profitable and less exhausting to maintain than keeping Read more
It's 2012. I hope I don't need to remind anyone (other than Conservatives and misogynists, if you'll pardon the redundancy) that women are so much more than their looks. We are capable of anything we set our minds to Read more
A couple of weeks ago, my brother Dan came up for Mum's 75th birthday celebration with his five kids (Paul, 18, Em, 15, Lauren 14, Jon, 12 and Briana, 6), all of whom reminded me of what is was Read more
I stand before you, a sinner. I have broken my word. I have not practiced what I preached. I have failed!
Contrition was a big thing in the 80's. People were always apologizing for something or other and apparently it Read more
Upcycling is the process of converting materials or useless products into new materials or products of better quality or higher value.
In these days of excess and Say Yes to the Dress, imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon a couple who were planning to get married for free. It’s a consumerism society’s dream event, and they weren’t going to buy a thing.
If you’ve been paying attention you’d know that this challenge has affected me in other areas of my life that I didn’t necessarily expect. As last week’s clip showed, I’m no longer as dependent on cosmetics as I used to be. My overall commitment to my outward appearance has diminished to what I hope is the benefit of my emotional well-being. But life has a way of laughing at our plans, and just as I was relishing my minimalist future the universe threw my family a curveball in the form of an immigration snafu leaving my Mum in a housing lurch. Without getting into details, because we all know how much fun is to be had traversing the labyrinth that is federal bureaucracy, our household has now increased indefinitely by one.
This wasn’t really a surprise as Nick and I bought our house with this eventuality in mind, but it happened a little sooner than we had planned so we all agreed that the third floor would become Mum’s apartment. Until now the 300 square foot third floor was underused as my office, a cobweb collecting second living room, and a shrine to Jeff Bridges. In preparation for Mum’s arrival, Nick and I and a litter of dust-bunnies spent a full Sunday readying the space for her. The previous owners had done a beautiful job renovating the room and using the space to it’s maximum benefit, employing the eaves under the roof as long narrow storage compartments. Plenty of room, right? Read more
Six years ago I was hell-bent on losing ‘that last 10 lbs’ to the point where I had gone completely bat-shit insane. I gave up coffee, sugar and carbs. I was smoking like a demon and working out six days a week, for an hour and a half each day. I was a Super Mega Bitch. More than usual. My poor, patient husband couldn’t do anything right so he just stayed out of my way. Nice life, eh? Everyone was having so much fun over at our place. Totally worth it. But it was working. I was five pounds away from nirvana when…
I fell down the basement stairs and broke my back.
I’ve had back problems since I was twelve so I knew to just stay down. I feebly yelled ‘help’ a few times hoping that a neighbour would hear me. I remember thinking about how my Mum had told me it was important to always wear clean underwear in case you have to go the hospital. Because I was carrying a basket of laundry down to the washer when I fell, I was now quite literally covered in dirty gitch. Glorious. Read more
True story: I got stopped by two bike cops on my way to work yesterday morning. I was walking with my parasol. One cop did all the talking, the other hung back for atmosphere pretending to look official and occasionally chuckling.
If you read this conversation out loud I recommend you use thick French Canadian accents for the cops, not just because they were indeed French Canadian but also because it’s fun, non?
Bike Cop #1: Hey it’s not raining today you can put you’re umbrella away.
Me: It’s for the sun. It has a UVB protection liner.
Bike Cop #1: They have sunscreen for that, eh.
Me: Sunscreen gives only partial protection and I don’t want to get cancer. Maybe you should get one.
Bike Cop #1: Nobody’s gonna take me seriously with a parasol!
Me: You mean people take you seriously on the bike?
And then he doubled me on the handlebars down to the station, but alas, it isn’t against the law to be a smartass. Thank god or my entire family would be in the big house.
The cop was right about one thing; being taken seriously. I have been using my sun-brella for a couple of summers now and not a day goes by that some yukster says; “Hey! It’s not raining.” To which I reply; “You know what you have in common with skin cancer? Neither of you are funny.” One guy actually tried to get under the umbrella with me. He got an elbow to the solar plexus. Read more
Since last fall I’ve been taking stock of my wardrobe to try to figure out what I’ll need to get through the year. New winter boots, parka and Wellies were purchased to wear with the MEC snow-pants I’ve had since high school (for those of you counting, that’s 1990). Sure they’re teal and ride up to my bra-line, but damn if they aren’t the warmest pants I’ve ever owned. They’ll have to rot off my legs before I even think about replacing them.[onethirdcol]
My husband can't wait to get me out of these pants.
[/onethirdcol]Knowing the durability of all things MEC, they’ll probably last until having pants that I can tuck my boobs into isn’t just acceptable, but mandatory in my retirement villa. I apologize if I’ve painted a word picture you can never un-see.
That fickle bitch Spring is beyond fashionably late, and yet shop windows and magazines are full of kicky skirts, floral blouses and pastel espadrilles flirting and teasing me. The horror creeps. Will I have enough tank-tops? Linen walking shorts? Eyelet-trimmed sun-dresses? Don’t even get me started on sandals.
Here’s where I ask myself, and you, how much is enough anyway? Isn’t that the crux of the project? Doesn’t stockpiling clothes and doling them out when I need them defeat the purpose of the challenge? It’s not just about how much room clothes take up in my closet, it’s about how much room they take up in my life. Read more