Rose's Cantina

Now that Pearl has decamped our house for a life of fancy treats and pool parties, it's time to read the new room. In just a few days, we went from a household of dogs that seemed to run on energy drinks to one that looks like a cannabis bistro. As I write this, Sophie and Viggo are both lallygagging under the kitchen table, opening an eye now and then when I get up to stir the soup. Occasionally, Viggo, the 90-pound lab, tries to hump Sophie the pint sized pug, who reacts by lunging at him like a disturbed rattlesnake. He takes it all in stride, and lopes over to the table and falls from a great height in sleep mode. The first day after Pearl left for the Logans, I was heartbroken. I hadn't felt that sad in a long time. Rehoming a dog, especially one as special as Pearl, is not a decision one takes lightly. I felt like my heart had been blenderized and  was sinking into my toes. It's been nine months since the fighting between our nine-year-old pug and Pearl, th...

If you're looking for a good deal on a car, don't call my husband. He's finally given up on being that super-successful car guy, the one who brings in $70,000 a year by ripping off consumers. I've never met a car saleman who makes $70k -- most of the really, really successful guys make $40k tops. I've also never met a consumer who knew that. Most people think that car salesmen are lining their pockets with gold, hence they try to get brand new cars for $10,000 taxes in. It's a ridiculous business, a pyramid scheme where the dealers and managers cut the commission down to the bare bones just so they can meet their quota and keep their dealership licence. These same owners and managers make tonnes of money because they take a cut from all the sales guys who sometimes make barely enough money to cover their gas and a Tim Horton's coffee. Like my husband. We had one month recently in which Scott brought home $1,200 for working long days and weekends. ...

Finnigan, or my bladder, woke me up at 4 a.m. and I couldn't get back to sleep. My mind began to race, as I tried to find a solution to our short term cash flow issue. Nick is still looking for work, after being overlooked by Starbucks yet again, and our boarder will not have first and last rent until September 1st. That leaves us with approximately eighty bucks to live on, after the bills have been paid, until Scott gets paid next week. We're not food bank material, not yet. Last week, we stocked the fridge and pantry, bought lots of red and black rice, a pork tenderloin the size of Texas and a slab of salmon. Not going anywhere, but we will eat well. We also have a fairly full tank of gas. So it's just a matter of hunkering down and waiting it out. I don't get paid until mid-September from my magazine job, and Scott's on commission. Car sales are down this summer, and Scott's decision to change jobs last month isn't helping, not one bit. The goo...

There's a story I like about the demise of the newspaper business in Canada and it goes like this. A Montreal Star editor back in the 70s decided to take a vacation. When he returned from his rest week, he discovered the newspaper had folded. So he and a group of editors and reporters got in their cars and drove down the road to Ottawa where they took jobs at the Ottawa Journal . A year or so later, the guy decided to go on vacation again. When he returned, he discovered that The Journal had been closed along with the Winnipeg Tribune . Needless to say, the poor fellow never wanted to go on vacation again. I've been up close and personal with the abrupt endings of several newspapers in Ottawa. The first, in the late 70s, was the closing of Ottawa Today . I had been assigned by my editor at the Ottawa Journal  to verify rumors that the troubled newspaper was on the slow slide; I had a couple of rogues in the newsroom who kept me posted on the paper's rapid ...