As I’m taking off my coat and boots, Harrison Ford is in my peripherals. He’s wearing a suit. He’s on an airplane. “Are you guys watching Air Force One?” I ask, stashing my wet boots next to the heating vent. “We are!” says David. This proves that if there was ever a Name That Movie…
We’re sitting at the kitchen table. Rissa is watching Sex and the City on her phone while she enjoys her cinnamon raisin toast. It’s the episode where Charlotte and Trey are having a frank discussion about their nonexistent sex life. After all this time, I can’t really remember all the plot points of the series…
This is the week. It’s the week that I bought a high-end bird feeder so that I can watch the birds from my kitchen window and I discovered that, from the side, I have jowls. And then, as I headed to Shoppers Drug Mart to replace my bottle of Women 50+ multi-vitamins, I realized that…
As I’m writing, I know exactly the word I want to use. It means getting up, but in a sexy, Regency romance kind of way. Sort of like unbending, something akin to having a sexy lap. The word itself? Not a fucking clue. Any of you know what the word is? Wordhippo did not immediately…
When we moved into our house 7 years ago, there wasn’t a master bedroom closet. Oh, there had been a closet, but it’d been situated in the room such that it blocked all the light from one of the two existing windows. So we’d ripped out that illumination obliterating monstrosity. In its place…? There was…
I come down this morning – all ready to bite into the meat of the day. Wait. That sounds revolting. All revved up and ready to go?? Bright eyed and bushy tailed? Better? Worse? Or just more like a lemur? While heading into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast, I notice that we did…
As I’m writing at the kitchen table, I intermittently glance out the window – enjoying flashes of flora and fauna in our backyard. The Engleman’s Ivy lushly embraces the pergola, the grass is green, there are birds and squirrels, and… a… fox? As I lean to the side of my computer screen, desperate to catch…
“We’re going to play a game when we get home,” Rissa says, in the midst of our after-dinner walk. “Are we?” I query. “Oh, yeah,” she says. David immediately concurs. “What kind of game?” I ask. “Hide and seek? Sardines?” she jokes. “I could get on board with Hide and Seek,” I admit. I haven’t…
“MOTHERFUCKER!” I exclaim vehemently (and quietly – because I’m in the backyard and our adjacent neighbours have kids and I don’t want them to start randomly yelling MOTHERFUCKER, and then attributing it to the middle-aged, crazy woman whose backyard abuts theirs.) “What?” asks David, looking up from his computer programming on the outdoor sofa “This,”…
I have been married for almost 23 years. Of those almost 23 years, 22.852 of them have been unreservedly, unabashedly, unquestionably happy. Relationships cannot possibly be all sunshine and roses all of the time. Once you’ve said your “I do’s”, you do not forever exist in a state of “Happily Ever After,” no matter how…