“Hey Love…. where’s your passport?” asks David while I’m finishing up on the treadmill. “It’s up in our bedroom. In the thing…” I say patiently. Boys. They don’t know where stuff is… “Ummm… I looked in the thing… Your passport isn’t there.” Sighing, I turn off the treadmill. If I get up those stairs and…
Rissa and I are watching bingeing Gilmore Girls. Cats blanket our already afghaned laps. EMILY: Oh look — Barbara Stanwyck. I just love Barbara Stanwyck. LORELAI: Oh yeah, she’s good. EMILY: She had that wonderful voice — that husky, deep voice. I just love that voice. LORELAI: You know Mom, you have kind of a…
“And in the dream there were waffles in the freezer. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. So I knew exactly what I would have this morning,” says Rissa as she comes down the stairs. “Hmmmm?” I’m on Facebook. The way I used to be able to split my focus – pre-internet? That no longer…
I picked up as many pairs as I could carry in my arms to the cash. Nordic socks from Old Navy. Colourful, Skandihoovian… perfect… until you try to put them on your feet. (movie trailer announcer voice) In a world where quirky fashion puts its foot forward, Heather thought she’d hit pay dirt. Will her…
I fucked it all up last January. That was when I had a sore throat that turned into the flu, that turned into bronchitis which knocked me on my ass for about two months and instead of pushing through as I usually would, I actually rested. Mostly on account of the fact that after walking…
Says David. “But it’s so good. It’s a great bit.” “I am not a great bit,” he says determinedly. I raise my eyebrows at him. “I am serious. I don’t feel comfortable with you leading a post with that.” I pout. “You’re taking away my comedy.” “No, I’m taking away MY comedy. I don’t want…
I’ve got the PF. Plantar Facsiitis. I can no longer run. I mean, sure I could run if something was chasing me – or if a building was on fire – but I’d pay for it later. I’d get up the next day, attempt to stand on both feet and then collapse to the floor…
“It must be tough to be a highway construction worker,” says Rissa. “Hmmmm?” I respond. I glance towards the central median of the 401, taking in the construction zone. “Yeah, especially when you’re working there.” “I mean, when do you pooh?” “Pardon?” “They’ve got Porta-Potties, but really, who could ever be comfortable enough to actually…
In the mid-80s the bus dropped me off on Ness Avenue and I walked two major blocks south to get to high school. I walked down the alley behind Ainsley Street – this was Winnipeg – we had alleys everywhere. I had two goals every morning: get to school early and walk faster than Francine…
… asks Rissa as I pop open my e-reader. “I’m asking, ’cause you mostly have dirty books on there, right?” “Yes, there are mostly dirty books on this e-reader. But this one hasn’t gotten dirty yet.” I’m not a fan of Dickens when I’m winding down with a book. Some good character development, some sex,…