I Don’t Like Shopping (Part Two: The Bra)

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If you follow my blog with any regularity, you have probably discovered that I am not a shopper. In our household, I don’t even do the grocery shopping. Continue reading “I Don’t Like Shopping (Part Two: The Bra)”

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I Don’t Like Shopping (Part One: The Purse)

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I am not your typical woman. I don’t enjoy shopping for things like clothes, and make-up and cushions for my couch. Continue reading “I Don’t Like Shopping (Part One: The Purse)”

What Little Girls Are Made Of…

Little Girls

What Little Girls Are Made Of…

What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And all that’s nice;
That’s what little girls are made of.

Popular Nursery Rhyme

The author of the rhyme is uncertain, but may be English poet Robert Southey (1774–1843). (Source)

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I remember as if it were yesterday having a lively, friendly and animated disagreement with a dear girlfriend about raising children. Specifically, about raising girls. Continue reading “What Little Girls Are Made Of…”

Boys Will Be Boys

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My apologies; I have been unable to write much of anything in a month. In the past two years, Canadians have been pulled into the reality-TV vortex of the drama south of our border like never before. The Blasey-Ford/ Kavanaugh debacle has reduced me to a despondency and a hopelessness I cannot even begin to adequately describe. So many of us have 36-year old stories to tell: and 10-year old stories; and 50-year old stories. We are legion. And like the good, meek voiceless women our abusers wanted us to be, we have kept our collective mouths shut. When women like Dr. Ford come forward, they give hope to the multitudes of hurting, silent victims who have stayed quiet for decades. And when rich, entitled white men viciously beat them back down to their proper ‘place’, they also beat down every one of us who were once victimized. All over again… You never forget what happened to you and you never ‘get over it’. You just figure out a way to live with it.
Continue reading “Boys Will Be Boys”

My Mother Was a Clean Freak

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When I was growing up, my mother was a clean freak. You could quite literally have eaten off any single inch of the flooring in my mother’s house: even the carpets. Continue reading “My Mother Was a Clean Freak”