Posted in 60 Minutes Life, Actors, Advice, Advice for Women, Advice for Writers, Aging, Andshelaughs, andshelaughs writing, Art of LIving, Articles, Beauty, bloggers, Blogging, Blogs, Breathe In Breathe Out, Breathe In Breathe Out Move On, Canadian Writers, Chick Lit, Creative Life, Creativity, Entertainment, Fearlessness, Feminists, Friends, Friendship, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Guy Stuff, Happiness, Happiness Project, Having Fun, Healing, Health, Healthy Living, ideas, insight, Inspiration, Joy, Joyful Living, Life, Life Lessons, Meaning of Life, Men's Health, Men's Issues, Middle Age, Mindful, Mindful Living, Opinion, Philosophy, Rants, Self-Care, Self-Help, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, women, Women's Issues, Words of Wisdom

How to Know When You’re Old

You know you’re getting old when…

You’ve become the person you used to look to for guidance. No where is this more evident than in my career.

I began a second career in my late twenties. Yah, I know that sounds outrageous, but it’s true. I was passionate, interested, engaged and enthusiastic.

If aging has taught me anything about the above qualities, it’s that I miss my enthusiasm the most.

growing older but not up


Don’t get me wrong, I get excited about things, but they’re different than they once were. After all, just this morning I actually uttered the words, ” I almost fell over when I met him. He looks just like a guy I used to date. Turned out he was a murderer.”

How much enthusiasm can you have for anything when you’ve had that kind of experience? I mean really, that kind of over-the-top-outrageousness wears thin after a while. Coming home to a cat, and  reheated take-out becomes heavenly.

And that’s how you know you’re getting old.

Yesterday my shift partner (whom has worked with me through a company change and six years) asked if the noise of our younger colleagues got to me. I had to admit that it did. I asked him, ” You know why it bothers us”?

“No,” he said.

“It’s because we’re old” I said with a little grin. “We’re the old ones now, and we used to be exactly like them.”

He nodded as he laughed and walked away muttering something about it being true.

And that’s how you know you’re getting old.

Last week I had an evening planned with one of my best gal-pals. I bought her tickets to see Jerusalem. The day-of, I received an email which I considered a warning. The gist of it was that running time of the play was three hours, so prepare to sit for a loooooong time. I was pissed. PISSED! Three hours?! What on earth could possibly be so good that I needed three hours to experience it. Goodness knows I didn’t want to be out all night. What I wanted was to go home, put on jeans and a sweater, and have some god-damned peace and quiet.

What I got instead was a very pleasant and unexpected reminder of just how amazing getting out really is for my creative spirit.

I thought I was so over the  restaurant and theatre thing in Toronto. Seen it. Done it. Don’t need to do it again.

When you start thinking like that, well, that’s how you know you’re getting old.  What makes it true is to continue to think that way and to act on it.

So yes my lovelies, we are all aging, but old really cuts to the bone.

As I age, I realize that I have to make an effort not to poo-poo what I assume I already know. That’s what makes us old from the inside out. Pushing back against this resistance of futility will keep me youthful, vibrant and creative, even if my outsides don’t look like it so much any more.


Posted in Advice for Women, Andshelaughs, andshelaughs writing, Dating Advice for Women, Feminism, Feminist Culture, Feminists, Girl Stuff, Guy Stuff Women's, Happy New Year, Health, Healthy Living, Lean In Girl Stuff, Men's Health, Mental Health, New Age, New Feminism, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, Professional Women, Sexual Health, The New Feminism, Uncategorized, Wellness, women, Women's Issues, Women's Rights, Working Women

New Year – New You; When Did You Stop Dancing?

mirror heartThree days ago I danced naked in front of my bathroom mirror.

I watched as every ounce of my forty-three year old body jiggled and bounced. It wasn’t pretty by anyone’s standards, but it was joyful.

Until it wasn’t. As I took in my reflection, I wondered at how different my appearance is to the way I feel on the inside. What happened to my firm body? The one I used to work so hard, make love with, gave birth with, and adorned to glorify it?

It got caught up in all of the should’s, my anxiety, eating away at my piece of mind, padded my tushy, and provided a thicker layer of protection against a demanding world.

But three days ago I used it to dance.

And being the turn of the new year, I couldn’t help but want to love it a bit more. All of it. You know, let my bones rest from carrying so much should-shaming, and shake off the madness by dancing from the inside-out.

Yes, I do need to lose weight and get in shape. I really believe that it comes from the inside though. I never make resolutions, but this year will be an exception. 2017 saw an overhaul of my emotional landscape, and damn it, I’m going to celebrate!

This year I will dance; in the moment, not wishing to be anywhere but where I am. I will do my best to be joyful, and present, letting the discomfort of my patterns make me uncomfortable enough to explore outside of my comfort zone.

One of my gal-pal’s posted her word, “GLOW”, as her word for 2018, I had to nod my head in agreement.

If I have to narrow down one word for this new year, may I suggest, “DANCE”. Not the kind of dancing that will make you an overnight YouTube star, but the kind of dancing that starts in your soul and shines in everything that you do.

2018, I will delight in dancing within the moments you gift me by loving the body that carries me through it all.

Wishing you everything you need to dance.

when did you stop dancing

Posted in Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Argument, Art of LIving, Beauty, Dating Advice for Men, Dating Advice for Women, Entertainment, Fearless Living, Feminism, Feminist Culture, Feminists, Girl Stuff, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Health, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Lean In Girl Stuff, Living, Men's Health, Men's Sexuality, Mens' Issues, Mental Health, New Feminism, Professional Women, Sexual Health, Simple Living, Social Commentary, The Art of Living, The New Feminism, Uncategorized, women, Women's Issues, Women's March on Washington, Women's Rights, Working Women

To Dye or Not to Dye; Is it Really a Question?

hair dyeIs it safe to dye my pubic hair?

Um, excuse me?

Pubic hair-dying has never been something I’ve lost sleep over, let alone even considered. If you’ve never dyed your hair, believe me when I tell you that hair dye is not something you want to sneak into your holiest of holies. Yowsa!

This little gem comes to you from a magazine targeting women .I confess to loving one such magazine. I love it for personal reasons, and that’s a blog post in itself, so let’s try to stay on topic and stick to the shade of your pubes, shall we?

This question was part of a column boasting health advice. This is not health advice, this is beauty advice. The hypocrisy of women’s beauty is often thinly veiled as ‘health’ to make it more palatable to our culture of grumpy-old-pervs.

I was shocked to find out that, ” Nowadays you can find products specifically made for use in this area. Seriously? The article went on to say, “If you’re still worried about dripping, you can shield the labia and lips of your vulva from wayward hair dye by applying a layer of petroleum jelly to the skin you want to protect.

Ok, so fair enough – interesting advice, and a direct answer to the question.

But this was the part that pushed  curiosity into the realm of the absurd; “Finally, consider doing a strand test.

It was the first belly laugh I’ve had in a week. Seriously, what are you growing down there, a mane?

I get it, at a certain age women do become invisible. This was wisdom that my mumster shared with me years ago.

At the time, I wasn’t quite sure what she meant. At thirty years old, I felt my most beautiful. It was lovely feeling pretty, sexy and best of all, confident (if not a little cocky). But that feeling faded into my late thirties.

Now that I’m in my forties, I feel confident, but never stand-out pretty, sexy or attractive. I don’t often think about it any more to be quite honest. I’m pretty damn comfortable in my own skin, so I’m often surprised by the vanity of women who, in the eyes of our conservative-in-the-closet-perv-patriarchy are ‘past their prime‘.

Let’s be honest here, no one wants to see the saggy testicles of anyone over 40, so women should just take back a bit of their natural goddess. Women, unlike men, are shamed for not making significant efforts at concealing their age, experience and power.

If coiffing your pubes puts a smile on your face, go for it. If burning your private bits with hair dye gets you off, hell, who I am to judge?

I just hope that the women out there who are clinging to their youth with invasive procedures find some peace, some way, some how.


Posted in Advice, Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Art of LIving, Creative Life, Fearless Living, Graceful Living, Health, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Life, Life Lessons, Living, Meaning of Life, Men's Health, Men's Issues, Mental Health, Mindful Living, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, Toronto Life, Uncategorized, women, Women's Issues

Dare to Be Donald


Not the infamous, Asshat Donald.

Today I”m talking about Donald who works at my local book store.

A couple of days ago, I picked up the phone to make sure that they had a copy of my book-club-book in stock before I fought Toronto’s ridiculous traffic to pick it up on my way to yoga class.

Yah, I know. First-world-problem-enough for you?

Anyway, when I called, it was early and I expected a worn out part-time employee’s weary voice on the other end, with just a hint of why-don’t-you-just-order-online sarcasm.

Instead I got Donald.

“GOOD MORNING! You’ve reached your local bookstore, and my name is DONALD! How can I make your day better?”

We chatted about what I was looking for, he put me on hold as he verified he could lay hands on it, and then came back and shared words to live by in his farewell address;

“Don’t eat too much cake today at the party because we’re going to celebrate with bubbly after that!”

We need more Donald in our lives. We need to challenge his enthusiasm, joy, and whatever help he gets by with.

Go out into the world today, treat it like a party, and dare to be like Donald.

Posted in Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Andshelaughs, andshelaughs writing, Art of LIving, Fearless Living, Grace, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Health, Healthy Living, Joy, Joyful Living, Kindness, Kindness Project, Living, Meaning of Life, Mental Health, Mindful Living, Professional Women, Psychology, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, women, Women's Issues, Women's Rights

Nice Matters: A Shout-Out of Gratitude

peonyToday I’ve written a bit about mean, so let’s shake that crappy mojo. I’m going to  write about something more important; nice (aka kindness).

Kindness matters. It’s part of that grace thing that I’ve been trying master for a few years.  We get it right sometimes, and we get it wrong sometimes, but what matters is that we strive to get better at it.

It’s good for us. Just as good as a healthy diet, or eight hours of sleep. Nice makes our bodies happy and our spirits calm.

Lately there has been a lot of nice in my life. My ‘crazy’ family and friends have been generous in their support of my son’s flight from the nest. He as been encouraged, supported, and cheered on. As a mother, there is nothing better than knowing your child is thriving and that they have a solid support network or friends, mentors, coaches and family. Thank you for being nice.

I’m taking a little longer to adjust to the transition. I tear up daily, and am struggling with the transition of being totally dedicated to my kiddo to being totally dedicated, but from a distance. My friends have been kind and gentle and supportive. Thank you for being nice.

I have flooded my social media feed with proud mom moments and not once has anyone told me how annoying it is. Thank you for being nice.

This is a challenging transition year for me, once again wondering where I will live, work and mom from in a year. In advance to my friends and family; thank you for being nice.



Posted in Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Andshelaughs, Columns, Columns Relationship Advice, Creative Life, Friendship, Health, Healthy Living, Life, Meaning of Life, Mental Health, Psychology, Sexual Health, Uncategorized, women, Women's Issues, Women's Issues

Mean People Suck: Don’t Let Them Suck the Life Out of You

ugly buzzardNice and mean. Two simple words not often given enough credit for how important they are.

Nice matters. Mean sucks.

Today I’m going to be writing about mean, because recently someone has taken all of the vulnerability I shared with them, and been very mean.

In the past 24 hours I have been told that my friends and family are crazy. That’s pretty damn mean when the person spewing bile knows that mental health struggles that have gone on due to physical, sexual and emotional abuse throughout my family and friends lives.  The security of my home has  been threatened and I’ve been told some nasty, nasty things from a person who was dear to me.

But I’ve done mean. I survived it in my childhood home, in the workplace and even relationships. Which is to say, that my ability to overcome it is great. In other words, when someone is mean, the only thing I know that I can do is to disengage, and enter survival mode.

And how much fun is that? It isn’t. And I’m too old for this shit quite frankly. I’m due for some free-spirited, joyful living, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

When someone shows me how ugly their spirit really is, I choose not to invest my time or energy there. After all, I’ve got more important shit to do, like create a non-fiction masterpiece, and have wine-soaked discussions with kindred spirits. Fuck mean.

If you’re out there with someone who is a nasty little troll, whether it ‘s at home, at work, at school or in the community, try your best to disengage. Try your best to identify the hardest times to control your reaction. Focus on what you love; your art, your job, your pet, your kids, your daily walk around the block….

beautiful birdMean sucks.

Remember, mean belongs to the person spewing hate. It doesn’t belong to you, so don’t carry it. Take a deep breath, envision yourself surrounded by light which protects you from anyone else’s bullshit, and step forward into your own life.



Posted in Art of LIving, Fearless Living, Girl Stuff, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Health, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Lean In Girl Stuff, Living, Meaning of Life, Men's Health, Mental Health, Middle Age, Mindful Living, Sexual Health, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, Women's Issues, Women's Issues, Yoga

The Downward-Dog-In-Heat Down-Low

make time for yourselfI’m going to answer your burning questions about my introduction to hot yoga; yes, I survived.

That in itself is success.

In an attempt to come up with some sort of healthy schedule in light of my new empty nest status, I have signed up for a month of hot yoga, hoping that I love it enough to make it a habit.

Empty-nesting has left a hole in my life where all of  my put-off self care needs to go.

So, I started at my local yoga place. The greeting at the door at Moksha Yoga was not a spiritual-community-greeting.  It was extremely clear that the sinewy, dewy-faced, blonde-haired  twenty something behind the counter was running a business.   After years of meditation practice, temple visits (and spa visits…), I get it.

Although I arrived very early, she was all about the rules. I might suggest that for identified first-time visitors, that business warm up their hellos. I’m pretty outgoing, so it didn’t deter me, but for others who are coming in,  carrying more anxiety and fear, it would certainly make the experience much more attractive.

A few folks that I know helped me choose an outfit that would not be sloppy and inhibit my movements; a sports bra, tank and pair of yoga pants. I took two towels, a water bottle, and rented a mat as I tossed my old one during my recent move. AmazonPrime will save me within 36 hours with a new one.

Hair: the bain of my feminine existence. I clipped my naturally ringlet tight curls up and added a sports band for good measure. After class I looked like I was making a  half-assed attempt at blonde dreadlocks but, whatever.

joy in livingThe class slowly filled in at the last minute, and I eased back into my position on the mat which I hadn’t made time for in at least five years.

It was hot, and I was wise choosing a reduced-heat class. I survived, and felt refreshed at the end of class. Even joyful.

I will be back.