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...

#182155848 / gettyimages.com I've always considered myself a bit of a hipster, the sort of woman who will be the cool granny someday, like Betty White who is in her 90s but remains unafraid to talk smack. But recently, I've experienced some blow back from the younger generation especially the ones who work in customer service. They treat me like I'm stupid. I went to Howard's Pawn Shop the other day to see if I could buy a used Apple Shuffle because I lost the one I had at the gym. These little devices cost $60, half of which pays for the incredibly overly expensive headphones. Mostly, the Shuffle is little more than a flash drive which we can get at the Quickie for five bucks. Because flash drives don't have head phone jacks, we have to pay Apple $60. Anyway, the woman behind the counter presented me with something that looked like it came from Walle, a strange little device that might have been made in the 1980s. She wanted $60 for it. ...

For the first time in my long life, I'm not sure I want to live in Canada anymore. The country I love is beginning to be unrecognizable. The values we have shared oh, these many years, are being questioned. Our government says we can't afford our health care system. It can't support our senior citizens. It's tossed off Canada's hard won reputation as a peace-maker. Canadians have a new image abroad. We are war-mongers, buttinskies in the politics of countries not our own. The even more stern daughter of God. Our ministers are standing up and telling Europeans -- my ancestors -- what to do, how to behave. Once proud of the legacy of Lester B. Pearson, I'm now embarrassed to be a Canadian. We're taking our  resources and selling them to the highest bidder. We're flogging seal meat to China so we can lock up precious Panda Bears at the Toronto Zoo. We're letting the Americans kill a Canadian on death row. And we're building prisons...

I was back at the Ottawa Hospital with Doris yesterday getting an assessment from her orthopedic surgeon about her still very damaged foot. Those of you who are following the never-ending saga of Bob and Doris will know that Doris broke her foot in five places going to the bathroom in October. Since then, she's been closeted in her tiny apartment with her husband Bob who is down to 130 pounds from a fighting weight of 165 pounds. Bob has diabetes, lung issues, liver issues, mouth concerns, numb feet and hands that are, more or less, claws. Tomorrow, he goes for an MRI in hopes of discovering why he's lost most of what was left of his spare weight in a matter of a month or so. I saw him yesterday, hobbling down to the parking garage to help Doris into my car. At just 65, Bob looks like he's 90. I sure hope his innards look better than his outside. Spending time with some of my old Press Club friends is kind of like getting a visit from the ghost of Christmas future. I...