Archive for the ‘Rant’ Category

To distract from the consistent incorrect use of tense in my last post, which I’m hoping you won’t realize took me a full day to get around to fixing, I’m going to talk about coffee and its accessories.


I didn’t drink coffee until I turned 30. With company over one night and me, pregnant with my third and last child, I percolated a pot for our guests just as I’d done a million times before. But this time, as I set out the cream and sugar, the spoons and the mugs, I added one for myself without thinking. I poured the dark and steamy liquid, filling each one, including my own. My friends and my husband looked on, somewhat shocked.


And then, as natural as can be, I drank it.


I imagined it was a one-off, but from then on, my baby begged for beans. By the time she was out of the womb and a walking, talking two year old she was pleading for teaspoons full of my sweet and milky caffeine. (You may want to fault me for this, but I’m British and was raised on tea—let’s face it, we have since discovered that that is just as caffeine-infused as coffee and I turned out fine. No really, I did.)


It’s been a long few years since that first cup and it took me some time to figure out what it is about Starbucks that makes it the apparent all that.


It’s the lid.


I can’t even drink the regular coffee at Starbucks. It’s too stark, too bitter for me, so I tend to go for a milky Cappuccino, but sometimes, you just want a cuppa, you know? And I do love a good Double Double.


But. That. Lid.


I am aware this is the quintessence of first world problems but this is the world in which we live. With the knowledge available and the ‘perfect’ sample ripe for the copying, why oh why, would Tim Hortons manufacture such a horrendous lid?


It’s flimsy. It’s loose. It’s weak. Once you open that hatch it’ll never be on lock-down again—you’re left babysitting your beverage until the last drop. And, could the opening be any bigger? Who thought having to pause mid-walk for every sip would be convenient, or that your car would have to be motionless to take a swig. And your coffee is of course cold by then by the way, due to that gaping hole in the top of your cup.


I thought I’d finally found my genius when I ordered my Double Double and asked for their ‘latte lid’ instead which actually does resemble Starbucks’ style, but I knew I’d made a big mistake when I looked down to find my scarf covered in large fervently fragrant dribbles.


Details matter. People notice. They rely on us to get them right, to make it easy…to feel effortless. The structure, the tense, the flavor, the finishing touch…all of it counts.


It has to be charming. It has to be tight.


Readers will always choose a good fit. After all, the content is subjective.






Read Full Post »

I’m starting late today. It seems my body wants to be sick, but my mind disagrees. Family’s dropping like flies all around me and I grow weary of the self-torture inflicted by my stubborn side. I wake up with sore glands and go to bed feeling nauseas, but in between all that, I run around doing what I do and believing I’m in perfect health.

C’mon already!

Yes, I know what I just did. I challenged it…called it out…jinxed what has merely been a touch of turbulence.

Well, what can I say? Let’s get it over with!

After all, walking around feeling the pokes and punches of perturb and living with the taunting ghost of a fickle fever is surely more exhausting than being able to succumb to a moody malaise. There’s something to be said, for hiding your head, under 350-count thread, and simply staying in bed.

Enough said? Yes, enough said.

All in your head

Read Full Post »

Man, she looks old now.” My husband commented months ago. He was nonchalant about it, mindlessly gazing at the TV, no idea of the cougar he’d just unchained.

No pun intended. Okay, I might’ve intended.

Driving the kids to school this morning, the radio gave me food for  blogging thought. This is what happens when you listen to high quality, #1 Hits/Top 40 radio. When you have teens, you don’t get to choose the station. In fact, you’re not even allowed to be in the car, except they can’t drive, so you’re bestowed a temporary pass.

The radio voices were discussing Demi Moore, their conversation triggered by the fact that she (Demi) is currently at a fitness retreat in Mexico. They were saying she looks amazing for her age but; “get real girl, it’s time to give it up. You’re old.” Is it just me, or do these two statements wipe each other out? Why shouldn’t she look amazing? And, she looks amazing, you barely off the teat whippersnapper, because she doesn’t give it up. I’m confused.

Demi Moore is 51. First of all, 51 is the new 31 (in my books) and why, for the love of God, would she need to, let alone want to stop working out, trying to look fit, healthy and youthful? I almost feel the need to do a Vlog here so you can see the look on my face and hear the incredulous tone in my voice and if you knew how much I loathe being on video, you’d know how serious I am.

So, on the one hand, we have my 44 year old husband taking down Ashley Judd for gracefully easing into her 45th year (a mere 25 in Hazy years) and on the other, we have 25 year old disc jockeys berating Demi for doing everything in her power to maintain whatever kind resemblance she can to her own self.

What is wrong with this picture?

It’s apparent Ashley and Demi both work hard at doing whatever it is that makes them feel good. I know their looks fund their livelihood and that plays a large part, (who could blame them) but it can’t be denied that it feels marvelous to be carded long past being legal, no matter who you are.

Why this gets so deep under my inevitably aging skin is unclear to me. Maybe it’s because I’m 42. Maybe it’s because I’m inevitably aging. Maybe it’s because society can’t make up their minds…work at it, stay youthful or let it go, look old.

Or maybe it’s because, when it comes to aging appearances, men just have it too easy.

Whatever your number...

Whatever your number…

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: