I broke Facebook and Instagram last Monday. You’re welcome. I shut those social media platforms down with a few key strokes on my personal Facebook page, where I posted my frustration with the company’s new business suite platform to see if my friends had similar issues. That’s all it took.
You can’t knock Thanksgiving as a holiday, mostly because it centres around taking a pause from our busy lives to express gratitude for the things we have in our lives that we often take for granted, being so busy and all. Also, it centres on a meal that includes gravy and stuffing. Hallelujah.
This pandemic has taught me a lot about myself, like how much I miss people – but also, how much I like being alone. Turns out I’m a blast to hang out with. Just ask me.
It needed to be said, so I said it. I texted the Carpenter early Monday morning with these three important words: You were right.
This summer I have only visited four chip trucks. Four. That shows outstanding self-control. There are few things in life I love more than french fries from a chip truck, except long car ride adventures to find them.
Apparently I’m late to the gate on relationship terminology, but I recently heard someone refer to their “love language” as the reason they had to end a budding romantic partnership. Seems they didn’t speak the same love language. It’s a thing. Huh.
I could feel it in the air, that familiar gentle shift of the seasons stirring, as if the breeze…
I put the deposit on the cottage down in February, when we weren’t sure what this summer was…
One of my favourite things to do is go for long drives.
Remember when Paul Simon sang about “50 ways to leave your lover,” but only named five and none of them were actually solid ways to leave your lover? Slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. (If you don’t know this song, your parents have failed you). You’re singing it right now, aren’t you?
I’m not an athlete and I have never been an athlete – and newsflash: I am never going to be an athlete. Shocking, I know, but best I be honest about my non-athletic aspirations as I congratulate our Olympic and Paralympic athletes for what I consider to be super-human feats.
So it turns out I have a type.
I just returned from a week’s vacation, but nobody outside of my colleagues knew I was gone.
All I wanted for Mother’s Day was an orange Muskoka chair made from recycled plastic. Orange,…