Rose's Cantina

#181126971 / gettyimages.com At the end of August, CD Warehouse closed out its famous St. Laurent Blvd. location. Now, it's closing its other stores in the west end. It will be a sad time for those of us who liked to spend time there browsing for those unique little musical gems, the ones handmade with love by our hometown heroes and beloved legends. I remember spending time there with my friend Dave, now long passed, who liked to buy CDs made by the sidemen, the musicians who added the little amazing touches, a lick here, a beat there, to sweeten an already wonderfully-made concoction. It was like adding just a touch of rhubarb to a perfect strawberry pie. Dave the bass player had the most incredible collection of CDs and vinyl. I used to curl up for hours beside him, over a few beers, maybe a joint, and let the knowledge rain down on my little ears. God, he knew his stuff. Those were the days, my friend, I thought they'd never end. They did, of course. Da

#146276057 / gettyimages.com After three long years standing on the weight loss plateau, I've finally found a machine at the gym that works for me. It's made by Octane Fitness and it's a combination elliptical and strider which requires the athletic supporter to run in a squatting position -- backwards. Whilst everyone else around is blissfully gliding up and down as if they were on a merry-go-round, you are slipping and sliding in a number of delightful poses and positions. While they are glowing with a light mist of perspiration, you are leaving buckets of sweat on the floor. This machine means business. I call it the Punisher because if you don't hit a decent clip, it turns off the audio on the television. So you're standing there waiting to see if Mandy Patinkin gets the perp on Criminal Minds, and all of a sudden -- silence! What criminal mind thought of this punishment? I've been working out on this machine for three weeks, and I've dropped

Today, I took my tired-looking self over to see Sheila Mackay, a registered nurse who works at the Facial Surgery and Cosmetic Centre of Ottawa. Sheila is the angel who sticks needles in my face, and I love her. She gives me Botox and Dermal Filler to fill in my craggy good looks. A lot of people will say: "what a ridiculous thing to do" or "you look just fine the way you are; you should love yourself more" or --- and I really hate this -- "I don't need that stuff. I've earned every wrinkle." I say, good for you. If you want to look like a topographic map, that's your right and I will defend to the death your right to look like the Canadian Shield. It's true, I don't look that bad for 58. With the help of hair dye and makeup, I can pass for 50 even younger because I don't have a face that looks like an unmade bed. I don't smoke. I have a nap nearly every day. I eat my veggies. I exercise. And I get my eight hours

#157310245 / gettyimages.com I'm updating this post which discusses the sale of Wagyu Beef in my local Loblaw store, a move that turned out to be an absolutely disaster. Apparently, the Loblaw superstore sold only five Wagyu steaks last week. And the Loblaw in Vanier had its entire stock of Wagyu stolen right out from under the store staff. Today, I checked out the Wagyu in Elmvale and there were still steaks but they were being sold for ten bucks each instead of nearly sixty bucks. Just thought you'd like to know. :) I walked into our Loblaws this week and there it was, as promised in the flyer, a cartload of Wagyu beef steaks  with a side of  Chiliean sea bass. The steaks were nice enough, meaty, with veins of fat running through them and the fish, well, the fish was beautiful, pristine, white like a Caribbean beach. Wonderful. The price, however, not so much. Each steak was selling for $59. The sea bass, which I only know about because it's featu

#181897456 / gettyimages.com Glass is half full kind of Canadians should thank Mike Duffy for the investigative journalism he's undertaken which is revealing the depth of corruption and depravity within our system of government. For years now, Old Duff has been toiling on your behalf, posing as a political Senator, to unearth how many ways it's possible to screw the Canadian taxpayer. At times, he's even revealed that it's possible to do double duty, fingering the front orifice of Josephine Lunch Pail while putting a digit in the back end of Jimmy Conservative. Indeed, he should win himself a Michener Award, or a Genie at the very least. Do they still give those out for enterprise journalism? Seriously, folks, everyone who lives in Ottawa knows the system stinks -- especially Senate operations. We've had major evidence of this for years. Like the Senator who spent all his time in Mexico instead of warming his seat in the Red Chamber. How long did i

For two years, Scott has been telling me that Finnigan, our Black Lab, would settle down...eventually. At that point, all of my dreams would come true. There would be no more menacing guests and crawling all over them, no more punching me in the face or ripping me a new butt hole when I turned my back on him. No more of that high peeled, incessant barking when he wanted out, or simply demanded attention. No more dropping saliva-coated twigs on my leg while he shook nervously. Sometimes, Finn has been hard to love, especially during the times he's put me in real danger, like that time at the dog park when he nearly knocked out my front teeth when he hit me in the face whilst running full boar. I had two black labs before Finn. Mandy died after eating an entire bowl of oatmeal chocolate chip muffins the babysitter had left out. Maggie was given to my friend Derik after many failed attempts at training and one scary event in the dog park when she pinned me on the grass with

#455439689 / gettyimages.com I was thinking this week that the councilors who run this city should simply go down the road to the Rideau Carleton Slots and pour all our money into the machines. At least they'd have a chance of winning. Anyway, it would be more fun than sinking it into a ridiculous garbage deal. As taxpayers, we pay a lot of money to our city manager. The man makes nearly $350,000 a year to be smart, or at least accountable. That's more than twice as much as the mayor. So how does he have the nerve to sit there and tell Ottawa City Council that it's not his fault that our tax money is being dumped into a sinkhole called Orgaworld, an organic waste collecting service that doesn't take most of the household waste we produce. We pay millions to this company to take away our potato peelings, but not our diapers, lawn trimmings or dog shit (which is a natural composter). It doesn't take that stuff because it's too stinky. We have to put

#imsev115-031 / gettyimages.com Morning update: I can't text anyone because the loaner phone from Fido is too small to see and the keyboard is made for rodents. It's nearly 11 p.m. and I am in a technology conundrum. I can't sleep having spent the better part of the day and night in consultation with Fido and Rogers about my a) crap Android phone and b) my move-over to Rogers from Bell Fibe. Let's recap. About a year ago, I bought a Galaxy phone and it never did work. I took it back to Fido, my carrier, and got it fixed once. But it still was crapping out on me, so I took it back again. Then I got frustrated, figuring I had a lemon phone and bought a new one, at a cost of nearly two hundred bucks, less the crappy discount. Scott told me that the Nexus Five was the bomb, but mine was more like a fizzled firecracker. On Sunday, the damned thing stopped taking and receiving calls. Today, Scott took it back and it's in for repairs for 15 days. That

#93192086 / gettyimages.com My neighbor Georgette walks a country mile twice, sometimes three times a day. At 80, she's an active senior, a busy body, a walking, talking, griping neighborhood watch. She knows and sees everything. Don't mess with her. Last week, she ambled up. "I been in the hospital," she reported. "I got in a car accident. Look." Her chest was swollen to twice its size, and was all black and blue and she'd been bleeding internally. Her airbag had only partially deployed. For the record, it was a 2002 Pontiac Sunfire. Yesterday, we saw her again. She'd just spent another day and night in the hospital, bleeding from her orifices. The insurance, she says, is looking into it. They offered her $2,500 for her car. I come from the land of cars, St. Catharines, Ontario, a place we used to joke where everyone made sure they bought cars assembled never on a Friday. Across from the GM plant, was a spot called the G

#480984715 / gettyimages.com It pains me to hear Canadian journalists who are predicting that tennis will be elevated as a sport in this country now that we've had two Canucks in the Wimbledon Finals. Little girls and boys everywhere, they say, will be donning designer togs and heading for the courts hoping to one day bond with movie stars and recording artists. They totally miss the point of tennis. This is a sport that is a journey not a destination. Rarely do young tennis players make it past being much more than club players. To do so would require a total commitment of physical, human and financial resources. For some players, it's good enough to win bragging rights during the club championships. For most players, it's just the beauty of a summer's day that attracts them on to the court. I came to tennis, to the Rideau Tennis Club, during my darkest days, and the people there brought the light back into my eyes. I had played a little in my 20s,

#90746365 / gettyimages.com Put me in coach/I'm ready to play today Look at me/I can be centerfield We in the country of Canada are grateful that the addiction experts up in Muskoka were able to patch up Mayor Rob Ford and send him back to civilization. As he has admitted, he's still blonde and he's still an addict. Will be for the rest of his life. But hey, he's dropped a little weight. Look he went to Moore's to buy a few smaller suits. And he's recognized, finally, that he has a disease. So, Mayor Ford. Are you a homophobe? No, that was my disease. Are you a criminal, cheat and liar? No, that was my disease. I've seen the light, brother. I've seen the light. We'd like to think that Rob Ford gained insight in that very expensive rehab facility. Nuh, uh. He simply found another scapegoat. Before, he blamed the Toronto Star, or Chief Blair. Now he blames his disease. To quote Geraldine, the debo made him do it. Rob

#125911633 / gettyimages.com The bailing on my Canada Day party began in earnest in the morning, with the first phone call and rumbling of thunder signaling that trouble was coming. Brenda had a stomach bug. No worries, totally understandable, nobody wants to scarf Adam's hot sausages and have to re-examine them on the way up. Then Ray called to say he didn't like the weather reports much, and quoted Environment Canada, that ace predictor of the climes, which warned that we in Southern Ontario were on a tornado watch. What the? Since when is Constance Bay hugging the banks of the Niagara River? Then my daughter called to say her bestie boy was stricken by flu-like symptoms, leaving me wondering if she and Brenda were just trying to get their stories straight. Rapidly, it became clear that we would be eating slaw til my next Canada Day celebration. Imagine Canadians who are afraid of a little rain. It's certainly not the image projected by CanLit or th

We've got lots of people coming over for Canada Day today. No matter. Nothing can beat this. Happy Canada Day to all my peeps.