Conflict Resolution

Sign posted on the garbage can across the street from my apartment.

Eek!  You don’t have to tell me twice to avoid wildlife conflicts!



Say Hello to my New Friend, Bob!

Yet another benefit of moving back to the Island–I can go back to my favorite hair stylist in the world.

She’s a miracle worker, who has never lost a battle with my frizzy, wicked witch-like hair.  She gets bonus points for working in a salon that’s in a grand historical house.  (I feel like the lady of the manor every time I turn up for an appointment.)

This time I was ready for a change.

“I want a bob,” I announced as soon as my bottom hit the chair.

“That’s quite a bit shorter,” she replied,  demonstrating a cut a few inches along a strand of wiry hair.  “It would be a great length on you, but it’s going to be a change.  Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”  I nodded.

*                             *                          *

Post cut and wash, I got a good look at my hair.

“Eek!”  I squealed.  “It’s so short!”

“You said you wanted a bob!” she squealed, a look of panic on her face.  “It’s not really that short.  Look, you still can still put it in a ponytail.”

A few deep breaths later, I was in a better head space (and over the initial shock of losing a few inches.)

“You know, I think I might want to go even shorter,” I announced.

“Why don’t you just get used to this length first,” my wise stylist suggested.

The Bathing Beauty


I recently supported a friend though one of the most harrowing experiences women face…I went bathing suit shopping with her.

Even though she’s slim, trim and attractive (and every suit looked great on her), she had nothing but negative comments to make about her body.

It made me wonder why we’re so self-critical.

I resolved to appreciate my body for all the wonderful things it can do, rather than to focus on my trouble spots.

Newly confident, I got rid of my tired old one-piece (I always feel like a lady wrestler when I wear it), and bought myself a stylish tankini.

Beach and poolside, here I come!

I snapped a photo in the fitting room but there’s no way in hell I’m sharing it!

Wined, Caffeinated and Fully Supported!

I had a rare weekday afternoon off, and spent it wisely.

I walked to Harbour Quay, and enjoyed sunshine, water views and a wee libation.

First stop was natchos and sangria.  (Is there a better start to anything???)

Then I grabbed a Canadiano (northern version of an Americano.)

Finally, I purchased some wispy unmentionables from the swish boutique on the corner.

Wined, caffeinated and fully supported–I’m ready to conquer the world!

To Sir, With Love


Because Tom Jones is way too awesome for just one post…

Five highlights from my up close and personal Tom Jones experience:

5:00 AM–the time I had to get up to drive my Boy to work the morning  after Tom.  (TGFA–Thank God for Advil)

4 glasses of wine on concert night.  While I admit my alcohol consumption may have enhanced my concert experience, I’m adamant it had no bearing on #3 below.

3 cups of coffee I spilled over the weekend–two of them on my long-suffering friend, D.  Oops!

2 new tricks mastered by the dog while I was away–howling outside my bedroom door and dragging my dirty laundry around the apartment.

1 super duper star–Sir Tom Jones.

Mr. Jones

D and I saw Tom Jones at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre on Saturday.

Mr. Jones (Tom to his close fans!) is in his late 70’s, but his smooth Welsh voice is as powerful as ever.

He hasn’t lost his charm, either.

We spent most of the concert on our feet dancing as we sang along to Tom’s old standards, and tried to keep up with some new songs.  (After a couple of glasses of wine, it didn’t seem to matter if we knew the words or not!)


It’s a Sign!


Last week’s question was:  Will I get the house?

The sign says it all–my offer was accepted, and the bank has kindly agreed to help me buy a cozy little home.

I’m lost in a world of paint colours and furniture placement options as I await the completion date–not until August (so there’s plenty of time to choose between vanilla white, milk white or alabaster white.)