Rose's Cantina

View image | gettyimages.com At the end of February, my beloved Scott will turn 59. He will tell you that he will be turning just short of 14, as he was born in Leap Year 1956 when his mother's doctor decided to induce her just so the doc could say he birthed a Leap baby. Scott only gets a birthday every four years, which is good for me since I have time to save up, but also bad for me because he keeps reminding me that he is, on the record at least, just past the wet dream stage. Fifty-nine is that magical year, the grey zone between having nothing and getting in on the Canada Pension Plan. You are also eligible for some discounts, not very good discounts, such as ten percent off at First Choice Hair Salons, but you don't get a senior's discount on the bus. The good news is that, after 50, you've already qualified for Grey Power insurance, but are not yet eligible for a reversed mortgage which involves the slow sucking of all your money out of your h...

I have a phobia about business cards. Every time, I get business cards, something terrible happens. I get sacked. Or my business folds. So I started refusing to use them. I also don't go on vacation. Again, whenever I do, something terrible happens. I once worked for a political party and decided to take a much needed vacay to Jamaica (jus cool!). When I came back, I noticed I'd been turned down for a VISA card. The next day, I found out why. There was a new sheriff in town who handed me my walking stick. Another time, I went on vacation with my husband and over dinner, he told me he was cheating on me with an old girlfriend. A few months later, he took me to England and left me in the airport to fly to Bermuda into the waiting arms of the woman I now refer to as the White Witch of Bermuda. My step-son called it Rose's Goodbye Tour. Hah. So I don't travel anymore. Don't get me wrong, I trust this husband. But I'm afraid he might be eaten by sharks or k...