At Eighteen.

{A new series here at Mother Sugar, called The Salon: What You Know For Sure, inspired this post.  As I began drafting my contribution to the collection of comments (and commenters vying for some of Bitter en Zoet’s magical chocolate), … Continue reading

A Room of Own’s Own

Confession. I lived at home until I was 34 years old.

Oh alright, I didn’t actually live with my parents until I was 34 years old. I lived in a home they owned, in a town 65 miles from the house I grew up in, save for two conspicuous years living outside of Canada. I didn’t stay home because I was afraid to live on my own, I stayed home because it seemed practical. Why rent in one of the most expensive communities in the country when I could live rent free and put money away? I spent too many years making A’s, even if they weren’t in math, not to see the value in that. Continue reading

Pride and Prejudice

Some years ago I attended a training session in Boston. I’d never been to Boston. Funnily enough, just a few weeks before, I’d met an author at an event I was working – a delightfully eccentric, older (than me) man with a sharp mind, voracious curiosity, and less than average enthusiasm for diplomacy. It wasn’t that kind of encounter but it was really great conversation.

“If you’re ever in Boston…” he’d said. Continue reading