If someone asked me to write my coming-of-age screenplay, I’d write a movie about a road trip I took, or rather tagged along for, in the summer of 1996. I say “coming-of-age” as it marked the beginning of…

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"I would do anything for cheese, but I won't eat that."

I am currently sitting in a sticky, tangled, Karmic web of my own doing. In my limited experience as a mother, I find that much of…Read more

I write to you from the Prairies this week! This past Sunday I landed in Winnipeg with the cast of Birdland Theatre’s “Assassins” for a three-week engagement with the Manitoba Theatre Centre. I brought with me my 21-month-old son, Coen…Read more

If you’ve been reading your Cosmopolitan rag mags and you are up-to-date on all your talk show blather, then you’ll be familiar with the term “toxic friend.” As I understand it, a “toxic friend” is someone who you find…

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It seems that wherever I turn in the grocery store line-up, every Cosmopolitan or US Weekly magazine is letting us in on the "big secret" of how not to gain weight over the holidays. “Poor suckers,” I think, imagining all…Read more

If you intentionally walk into me at a swift clip and knock my purse off my shoulder, I will often apologize to you. If you shove your way in front of me while I wait to get onto the streetcar,…Read more

What can make a woman lose her keys four times in a row in the same effing place? Sleep deprivation.
What can make a woman want to ring-hand-punch a noisy dump truck driver who looks like he might be…Read more

 

 

Taking the baby into the city for whatever reason or errand can be fairly daunting without a car. Your options, sans auto, are to walk or to take public transit. Sadly, there is only so much within…

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Sitting in one's living room, perfecting one's ass print in the sofa from morning til night can be fantastically uplifting and energizing yes, but some days I have loftier ambitions.
As a new mom, there are days when I…

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0 – number of worries I had for most of my pregnancy (well… I lie. The number was higher at the beginning then lessened with each ice cream-filled evening.)
3 – the number of weeks I dealt with mysterious back…Read more

Pregnancy is not for wussies. From the rapidly-expanding waistline (I look in the mirror and see a Dr. Seussian caricature of my former self; Oh, the places I’ve gone – mostly to the fridge and back), to the super-human smell… Read more

I owe someone something. And it’s not the 20 bucks I owe you for that time you spotted me for drinks. It’s not the kick up the arse I owe Bill O’Reilly for just being a dick. It’s not the…Read more