This is Forty-Six, Checkpoint One

keep calmand get a M.PPAIt’s Friday the thirteenth and touch wood, nothing sinister has come to bear on me and mine. My sole complaint, really, is that my half and half lunch – half basmati rice and half garlic potatoes, with a touch of garlic mayo spooned in – from the shawarma place across the street was just too small. Which means it was that good.

I did a thing the other day. It is scary and exciting and will lead to Bigger and Better Things. How about a realistic retirement plan? Or waxing my little grey cells, as to ward off early dementia? And enhanced credibility as a role model, as a grandmother in her work-force prime?

I applied for graduate school.

I chose a Master’s program in Policy and Public Administration. Part-time studies, beginning in September. Twenty-plus years as an office assistant have brought me to this place. Heaven help me, I want to spend the next twenty years of my public sector career writing and updating policy related to human resources and the workplace. The Phoenix pay system might be enough to keep me hyper-venting to retirement and beyond, but we shall see.

Welcome to forty-six, Dear Self. Our mantra? Burn, baby, burn.


Tóg Go Bog É This Paddy’s Day

It is still sunny out at five minutes past seven, local time, but cold. I have some Guinness in bottles in the fridge that have probably been there since last St. Paddy’s Day, but alas, no green. I’ve been waiting on my refund, three weeks after I e-filed my income tax return. *ahem*


D’you suppose this fine fellow knows where my refund is? (Source:

Ah well. I may be poor and a bit pale, but I have most of my health. The day after my forty-sixth birthday, nearly three weeks ago, I succumbed to a bout of shingles. Roughly forty-some years after contracting chickenpox from a schoolmate. The patch, which was confined to my hip, was relatively small and responded to a week of antiviral treatment, but it is still itchy and painful to the touch. And my sleep has been even more erratic than usual. Here’s hoping we can open the windows soon and change the air in the house.

In Ontario, Sex Ed Is A Hot Button Campaign Issue, But Here’s Why It’s So Much More Than That And Should Be Left Alone

It is a truth often painful for parents to acknowledge: our children, lawt help us, will one day reach an age of their choosing and become sexual beings.

The sex-ed curriculum implemented by the Ontario Liberals in 2015 may not be perfect, but for many kids it’s better than not hearing about the mechanics and implications from their parents. Not every parent is like me, who stood up at the kitchen table armed with condoms and bananas, eliciting embarrassed laughter from my older kids.

The if we don’t tell them and hopefully they remain ignorant approach is foolhardy and presupposes a level of immaturity that sells kids short. They will figure it out, purity rings and waltzes with their fathers be damned.

If you want to protect your children from the dangers of sex, here are some suggestions:

1) Teach your sons and daughters not to commit sexual assault. That no means no, regardless of when their partner says it.

2) Teach your sons and daughters that they have the right to say no to any act that makes them uneasy or uncomfortable.

3) Teach that sexual abuse from anyone, priest, parent, relative, or other predator; is wrong. Make sure your children know they can come to you when something happens, without further physical or emotional abuse from you.

4) If you can’t be that person in your child’s life, then someone else will. And it’s going to happen either in the classroom, or on the school yard. As the adult you need to choose wisely and out of fairness for your child that honours his or her autonomy and personhood at every age.

5) And while by no means an afterthought, if your older children don’t know the names Rehtaeh Parsons and Amanda Todd, to mention just two, then they probably should.

Ultimately, however, this post is my plea and call to arms, that little is done to tamper with the current programming in Ontario’s elementary and secondary schools, by whoever forms the next provincial government.

Stumped, And Stumping For Change

Going into Saturday’s rigamarole of a PCPO Leadership Convention, I had just enough respect mustered for my local MPP because she was a woman in politics, if a bit benign as far as change makers go. And, frankly, her party does not represent me.

It honestly confuses me how a female politician – herself a mother – from the suburbs of Ottawa found common ground with the hash-dealing huckster who is now the PCPO leader, so I have to ask, what did he promise you? Do you really think he’ll deliver? Did he …


My adult son asked me once why I never sought political office. Well, I was never chosen as a parent volunteer at any of my kids’ schools, despite dutifully filling out the form at the start of every school year. Except for that one time someone bailed out of her shift at the annual Scholastic Book Fair and I got a call at the last possible minute. That sets a certain tone. And when I get riled enough, I tend towards what the husband calls a scorched earth policy. Look, I can play well with others, but unquestionably on my own terms.

So while I won’t be running for office this spring, or at any other juncture; I think it is time for me to throw my dusty mantel around the shoulders of a candidate who is neither Lib Red nor PC Blue. Help that person get his or her word out. Hammer signs on lawns. Help cuddle babies. Pet dogs on the street while my two floofers tussle on their leashes and try to tug me past.

See, the child in the photo is my granddaughter. She deserves better of her elected officials than what we have on offer. She and her generation are, in this case, totally and unreservedly deserving of their entitlement.

Onward, my fellow soldiers.

200 Words That Rhyme With Political Incompetence

If today’s Leadership Vote “held” (and I use the term loosely) by Ontario’s “Progressive” (again, very loosely) Conservative Party has shown the people anything, it’s that following Trump’s “election” (don’t make me say it again) we tore a page from our neighbours’ playbook and turned the process into a modern sideshow.

Doug Ford.

Even the non-believers among us should be praying to God that the recount does not remit in Ford’s favour. I agree in principle with the PC’s that the provincial curriculum needs an overhaul in several areas, but 15 bucks, little man is not the sort of math that should be taught in elementary schools, anywhere.

The PC Party Executive.

Never mind asking them all to resign. What of their event planners? How do you book a room and find yourselves forced out by a wedding reception? Or was this an inside job as well? Look, I’m all for reduced spending, but it should not have to be said that sometimes there are corners that should not be cut. 

Frankly, I am flat out disgusted.

This is why the people who should vote, don’t.

If anyone is looking for me, I’m over here, scouting out a table to flip.



Dear Winter

It’s not you.

It’s me.

Every other ad on my Facebook timeline is for travel to someplace warm. My boss is in Mexico for the March Break. I need to see something lit by the sun, instead of so much grey.

As a push back I refuse to wear socks. The cat puked on my boots, so slipon shoes it is. My need to wander is kicking in. Not sure how far I’ll go in this muck.

But it’s time we break up. Call it. We never bring out the best in each other. I haven’t laced up a pair of skates since high school. Après-ski is just another word for what I already do at home.

What do you think? Let’s sign here.


Vicki Vee

A #TBT Post

Okay, I admit it. I skipped lunch.

I fell down the online rabbit hole known as my Gmail account.

The good news is, I think I’ve cleared out everything going back to 2016 2014 that no longer matters.

And, I found this:

Speak Up: Robin Thicke – Lover or Creeper?

Highly pertinent given that today is International Women’s Day, yes?

PS: I still think Robin Thicke is a creeper.


Nope. Still don’t want it.