So much nicer than an alarm clock …

I enjoy my sleep, always have.  And truthfully, I’m one of those people who really prefers a gentle wakecat nose up call in the morning.  Alas, I’m a heavy sleeper, so I do set an alarm — the louder and more shrill the better.

Not for my psyche, or my nerves, but to ensure I hear it and, more importantly, can’t ignore it.  And I probably have some masochistic tendencies.  However …

As the mother of two four-legged babies, I am usually up before the alarm goes off, because at least one of my fabulous felines gets to me first.

And let me assure you, there is nothing as sweet as being awakened by a cold, wet nose pressed against your own Continue reading

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Whatever happened to love at first sight?

I love reading the Sunday New York Times.  I look forward to it all week.  Sometimes it takes me the better part of the week to tiffany'sget through it all, but I read it from cover to cover.  Every section.  Well that’s not entirely true.  I don’t read the sports section. Occasionally I skim it, but I don’t even do that all the time.

What I never miss, though, are the wedding announcements.  Why, God only knows.  I don’t know any of the brides and grooms.  So why should I give a toss that they’re getting married, where they’re getting married, who their parents are or what any of
them do for a living.

But I do, it seems.

Does this mean I’m a real nosy parker?  A hopeless romantic?  Someone who needs a

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Day 239. The Battle

It’s okay. You can put the history books away. This isn’t going to be a post about Custer’s Last Stand, otherwise known as the Battle of 1876. No, this is a story of differencesmen and women. A story that hasn’t changed in generations. A story I’m not sure will ever change.

I overheard a conversation yesterday. That’s what sent me down this road. But before you accuse me of being nosy, let me just say, I couldn’t help it. The two girls in question were sitting right next to me. And they were not speaking in hushed tones. The only way to avoid listening was to leave. And why should I have left? They chose to talk about a personal matter in a public place. In loud voices.

What more could a writer ask for?

Anyway, I figure they were both in their early twenties. What do you think they were talking about? I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t the economy, or the new Pope. Boys. They were talking about boys. One was being neurotic, as only a female can be.

She’d recently met a new guy. She liked him. They went out twice. She hadn’t heard from him in four days. He said he’d call and he hadn’t. Now before you pass judgement and accuse him of being a dick, he had told her he

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Day 192. Love Story

Stop.  No gagging.  Despite what you may think, this post has NOTHING to do with the movie, of the same name.  And this is the one and only time I will mention romanceRyan O’Neal.  I PROMISE.  It’s Valentines Day.  Which I don’t particularly want to discuss.  So what’s left?  If I’m not going to talk about V-Day, I HAVE to talk about love.  Don’t I?

It’s not that I’m anti romance.  It’s just that really, Valentines Day isn’t about romance.  In fact most men’s credit cards probably get more action than they do.  Because Valentines Day is about spending money.  Buying cards.  Buying flowers.  Buying chocolate.  Buying perfume.  Buying lingerie.  Buying jewelry.  Buying champagne.

So nobody loves Valentines Day more than shop keepers, banks and credit card issuers.  It wouldn’t surprise me to hear they love cupid more than they love their spouses.

There’s more to my lack of enchantment with Valentines Day, though.  For a start, who wants hearts and flowers just one day a year?  Do you really thinks a bunch of posies or a box of bonbons or even a little, blue box from Tiffany’s on February 14, gets you off the hook for the rest of the year?  I don’t think so.

I can’t speak for the menfolk, but I do know what women want.  And it’s NOT a guy who waits all year, for Hallmark to Continue reading

Day 128. Are You?

Writing about perfume the other day has made me think of romance.  It’s not completely out of left field.  Fragrance, of all kinds, is an important part of romance.  veniceromanceYet there’s so much more.  And for everyone, it’s different.  Before we get into it, though, you’ve got to answer my question:

Are you romantic?

Which, by the way, is not just a question for my female readers.  I know a lot of men who are romantic.  Some, even more romantic than women.  So, are you?  And what’s your idea of romance?

Hang on for just one minute.  First let’s see what Wikipedia says:  “Romance or romantic usually refers to romance (love), love emphasizing emotion over libido.”  I agree with that.  Romance and sex are two very Continue reading

Day 126. No Thanks

Quite a while back I wrote about my adventures, and misadventures, with perfume.  I’m on the hunt again, as it turns out.  The store where I found my last, great Sfragrance is now out of business; and it’s not available anywhere else in Toronto.  Woe is me.

This being the season when men buy perfume for women (and vice versa), yesterday’s Toronto Globe & Mail had a special section on fragrance.  Perfect timing for me.  Before I get too far along in this story, I’ll just mention I’ve written about fragrance in my careers as both a copywriter and publicist.  But never, ever, have I written, or read, a description like the one I’m about to share.

The fragrance is “Black Saffron”.  It has been created by Byredo Parfums, a Stockholm-based fragrance house, founded in 2006.  What you’re about to read is verbatim.  It is exactly what was said in the newspaper.  I mean it:

“Always expect the unexpected from this Sweden-based niche label with Canadian DNA (founder Ben Gorham grew up in Oakville, Ont.).  Black Saffron gives off spice and leather and if you inhale deep enough, you might even smell rubber tires.  Finishing with a delicate veil of violet.  It proposes a striking variation on sexy.”

Rubber tires?  A striking variation on sexy?  No kidding.  Yours, by the way, for a mere $235 for 100 ml (3.381 US fluid ounces). For the record, I went and gave it a sniff yesterday.  It smelled exactly like tires.  Insane.  Gross.

Forget the price for a minute.  What woman wants to smell like a BF Goodrich all-season radial?  And what man wants his Continue reading