When my daughter was born, I was ready with what I considered to be the perfect name. It could be "massaged" to a shortened version suitable for a young girl (Lexy) and later morph into a mature sounding name indicative of a young adult (Alexa). I was so proud of myself for settling on such a versatile and unique name. In my opinion the Saras, Nicoles and Jennifers of the world couldn't hold a candle to my original, brilliant choice. Little did I know that 30 years later my bubble would burst....no, it would actually explode.

Mom wasn't a "whiz" in the kitchen. She tried hard but her failures outnumbered her successes on a regular basis. In that regard, she was a victim of circumstances. She had a brood of five to feed on a daily basis, a husband whose standards were beyond the pale and no social media to offer a plethora of recipes and ideas to make meals delicious and exciting. Each day of the week had its set menu. Saturday was Hockey Night in Canada and steaks, Sunday was a full roast beef dinner and Monday was left over beef and gravy miraculously morphing into roast beef hash. You get the picture.

Like many of our generation, reading the obituaries is a regular occurrence....a daily ritual of sorts. Doing so, offers inspiration and encourages self contemplation. It perhaps provides a template for writing the inevitable obituary for loved ones and it prompts us to consider the content of our own obituary when the time comes.

I recently celebrated a landmark birthday and I am now feeling “officially old.” Up until now, birthdays have never bothered me much, but this one stopped me cold. I can no longer deny to myself or others that I am “aging” and to say that I was shocked and depressed about the situation is a bit of an understatement! Once I had a glass of wine and thought things over, however, I came to the only possible conclusion: There was of course, nothing I could do about it. You can’t beat Mother Nature, so there was no recourse but to put on my big girl panties and try to make…

We realize this is a gender specific post, having the potential to alienate anyone not at all interested in the topic. That is entirely up to you dear reader, but please be aware that it is a subject near and dear to the hearts of many women who will possibly benefit substantially from reviewing the following. Because we are gifted with what I would refer to as “Boobage”, women are often faced with a dilemma when it comes to working out. Your everyday, ordinary bra simply will not do when one is jumping, running and even walking, in the pursuit of physical fitness. Hence the need for a bra that…

We all do it. Without a second thought we ask acquaintances and even strangers that standard, polite question: "How are you?" Those three words may even escape our lips several times a day. Then we wait for the standard, polite response: "Fine, thanks" or "Good, thanks." And that is pretty much that.