“I don’t really have PMS do I?” I ask as we’re driving home. “Hmmmmm?” David queries. “I’m more an MS kinda gal. That’s when I lose it…” I toss him a look. David’s eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but I can still see it. How can he answer this? What WON’T drive me to have a…
“Heather! Heather! Wake up!!!” I startled awake, feeling tears on my cheeks. I was crying? Why was I crying? “It’s okay… It’s okay…” It all came flooding back. “Oh David… David I had the most wonderful dream!” “You did? But if it was wonderful, why are you cyring?” “Our new house had a split-level basement!”…
“Why do you never fold underwear?” I yell. I am staring at a pile of unfolded ladies’ panties in various colours and materials – bunched up on the top of the laundry pile – a secondary, equally-crumpled pile, is on the floor. “They can’t be folded!!” David yells back from the kitchen. “Come here!” He…
If I were a horse, I’d have been taken out back and shot. Or at least, that’s what my parents always threatened to do when I was younger. The limping started about a week and a half ago. I blame ‘Art.’ See, I’m in a show. I needed to get used to my costume before…
“Rissa, come look!!” I yell. “What? What?” She slides in the kitchen in her socked feet. I point out the window. “Look! The snow is falling all in slow motion! Isn’t it beautiful??” “OOOOOOOOH! It’s so pretty!” (Given this year’s snow ridiculous accumulation, I don’t know how we can still be impressed, but there it…
It was one of the worst days of my life. My friend Shannon had died. It was about 2 weeks after she’d had a successful stem cell transplant – her prognosis had been good. Except now she was dead. I almost threw up when her partner John told me, my knees threatened to buckle, white-knuckled…
I used to be a terrible sleeper. Before I gave birth to progeny. My brain wouldn’t shut down. If something woke me at 6:25 a.m. on a Saturday morning, no matter how tired my body was, I was incapable of returning to slumber. Thoughts would careen from synapse to synapse. Bits of songs, lines from…
Boxes… and boxes… and still more boxes. And there I was, on my ass in the Rec Room, sorting through them. Boxes of books and fabric. Boxes of craft supplies and more fabric. Boxes of Tae Kwon Do equipment and MORE fabric. And the mother lode of nostalgia… a box of letters. Decades of correspondence…
I must have a symbiotic worm hole in my house. I swear to God that for every lost sock in the dryer, a Tupperware container also disappears. I could earn a doctorate in this area. I’m going to get a grant for the next phase of my thesis. We have a billion Tupperware lids –…
We are on the hunt for a sofa bed. On account of the fact that our new house does not have a guest room. As Canadians, we need to be able to offer extreme-weather lodgings. It’s in the Canadian Manifesto. Or it would be if Canada had a Manifesto. My Mom took great pride in…