I apologetically shrug as I point to my head. “Sorry, menopause brain.” Names? Gone. Appointments? Forgotten. Hippocampus? Swiss cheese. I find myself creating routines because it appears that I am now my own toddler in desperate need of a predictable environment. Sans routine, I come into the kitchen and see our cat Steve go full…
Did I watch the same version of The Fantastic Four – First Steps as the 379 reviewers on Rotten Tomatoes? https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/the_fantastic_four_first_steps SPOILERS AHEAD It must be noted that I viewed the flick in 4DXYZ, which may have thrown off my movie-watching mojo. Quick question: 4DX is supposed to be this super-exciting, augmented cinematic experience, right?…
Going to put my weekly pills into my pill cubbies, I realize that I don’t have enough of my anti-falling-down meds on hand to fill the entire week. It’s odd because usually I would have noticed the week before, and left the container on the counter to remind me. No worries, I’ll go onto my…
…a dirty-martini-scented oil slick.
“Can I crawl home from here?”
It’s not just road rage. Although following a driver who doesn’t know how to merge, signal or meet the speed limit will most definitely set me off. “What the FUCK are you DOING?!? There is a whole lane for you to MERGE INTO!!! You don’t have to SLOW down to 10 kph you brainless WASTE…
Labour Day morning. Contentedly lying in bed. I look over and see David reading. He smiles. I yawn, asking him what time it is. He glances over at the clock. “It’s… seven… fifty…. nope. It’s Eight o’clock.” “Boo Yeah!” I’ve managed to sleep in. We just got back from a trip overseas and have been…
Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Fuck. Nope. No, I am not going to look. I don’t need to look, because that problem has been solved. The leaky roof above of our kitchen ceiling has been fixed. IT. HAS. BEEN. FIXED. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. For the love of… I square my shoulders and stand up. I walk over…
WARNING: Colourful language in this post. Fact: My internal thermostat is fucked. I’ve dealt with hot flashes since the age of 36. But the night sweats? The truly disgusting, sleep-annihilating, life-altering, make-you-feel-like-you-have-malaria… Wait. Maybe it’s not night sweats. Maybe it’s malaria. It’s January. In Canada. There are no mosquitos. Maybe it’s COVID… again. Cue rapid…
David, Rissa and I are in a charming French restaurant in Baldwin Village. Red walls. Black baseboards. Brilliant yellow door. Art everywhere. We choose to sit inside. You know, because of the art. Instead of facing the wall displaying the larger artwork, my vista will be the opposite wall; the unexpected opportunity to gaze upon…