When I met my husband, he was doing a Ph.D. in philosophy and firmly on the road to an academic career. This was what my hard-core engineer Dad referred to as an intellectual holiday, not a real job. Certainly there was an insular character to…
Somehow a photocopy of an article from Housekeeping Monthly dated May 13, 1955 has ended up under a magnet on our fridge door. It is titled The Good Wife’s Guide. I don’t know who put it there but I have my suspicions. The illustration at…
I was cleaning my attic last Sunday and came across my textbook from first year Psychology. I flipped it open to the chapter on perception, which included the famous old woman/young woman figure-ground illusion. When my psych prof first projected this picture in the lecture…
I was sitting in the fabulous garden of the Union Street Inn enjoying the last few minutes of our visit to San Francisco before heading to the airport, and back home to Toronto. My husband John walks in with a big smile on his face,…
Here is how the conversation started. My husband John and I were in San Francisco at the Hertz rent-a-car. We were waiting to pick up a Camaro convertible for our drive to Big Sur. The trip was a splurge for our 25th wedding anniversary although…
When you are married to a criminal lawyer, it seems fitting to refer to our quarter-century wedding anniversary as “25 to life”. The minister who performed our marriage ceremony on May 27, 1989 was pronouncing a sentence, of sorts, by the powers vested in him….
My husband John and I are celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary this year. We have never been sentimental about our anniversary. The most we ever do is exchange cards—if we remember (my BFF, Heather, whose nephew was born on our wedding day sometimes reminds me)….
For the past number of years, my husband John and I have celebrated our anniversary apart. Not just emotionally, but also physically. I stay in Toronto. John heads to the east coast. While he is there, he gets hot and sweaty with fast women in…
On the morning of the day my mom died, Moe, a minister from the hospital’s spiritual center dropped by the ICU where I sat alone with my mom. Moe asked me how I was doing, and I started to cry, emotions I had suppressed for…
Being a mom can suck from time to time—schlepping a noisy carload of kids to outer Suburbia for little league; making 11th hour trips to the hardware store to pick up parts for the science project your kid forgot was due the next day; or,…