It’s Never Too Late To Have Fun!

It was 1am when the Uber driver dropped me off.

I could have been home for 11 but, as one of my companions at the Shania Twain concert and I walked towards a street a few blocks from the Saddledome where the concert was held thnking it would be easier to find a cab further away, we decided to join the others we’d shared the evening with for a drink.

Given the late hour, or early in the morning time to bed, you might think that was a mistake.

It wasn’t.

It has been a while.

A while since I spent an evening laughing with a group of thoughtful, compassionate, high energy, and fascinating companions exploring life as we sat perched around a hightop in a crowded downtown restaurant. We laughed. shared stories and a couple of plates of nachos (it was a Mexican restaurant) and then jumped into an Uber and got to the Saddledome just before the concert started.

For two glorious hours, we stood and cheered and hooted with the crowd, and sang along, as a diminutive yet mighty woman strutted her stuff and filled the giant space with her mastery of her art. When the singing and hooting and clapping ended, we went for a nightcap to talk about life, love, losses, careers, change, possibilities and on and on and on.

It’s the night cap part that did it. Put the cherry on the top, so to speak. Five of us huddled around a table in the corner of a bar at one of the city’s late night ‘in’ places. Giant windows separated us from the street where concert goers and late night partyiers walked past, gazing in. I wondered if they were checking to see if there was an empty table. There wasn’t.

At one point, I took a metaphorical step back and kind of watched myself sitting at the table, chatting, laughing, sharing stories and being part of the conversation. Except, my table companions weren’t of the grey haired set like me. They were my youngest daughter and three of her friends. Which is what made me sit up and pay attention.

“This is what you always imagined, Louise,” that inner sage voice whispered. “Spending time with your adult daughters.Sharing life’s moments, current and past. Building memories, unpacking old ones. Living life.”

It was wild.



Which explains (kind of) the late hour. Who wants to let a good time go, especially when it’s full of such electric energy? Not to mention, it’s been a long time since the last time I stayed out until the witching hour, drinking, laughing, talking and simply having fun!

My challenge is always, no matter the time my head hits the pillow. Morning still calls early. In this case, 5:45.

Definitely not enough shut-eye

Definitely don’t care.

Along with the concert itself, what made the evening extra-amazing was the company I kept.

They’re all 30 something. Talented. Successful. Building their careers. Building their futures.

I’m… well I’m 60 something. Okay. on the cusp of the magical era of my 70s. Leaning over the edge of leaving this decade for one that feels like an open playing field. Until those moments hit when I feel time leaning over my shoulder reminding me in its hissing slithering voice of doom, You ain’t a young chickie no more, Louise. Wisen-up! Though, it’s possible my hearings going and what it’s really saying is, You gotta lotta life left in ya’ Louise. Party On!

After a night like last night, I’m not sure I’m even close to getting the wisen-up part perfected. Perhaps I’ll just, Party On!

Then again… maybe I am, wisening up. ‘Cause if living my best life yet at any age has any relevance, last night’s frivolities prove – It’s never too late to have fun! (and stay up late!)


It’s all about presentation

I love how holiday dinners create a space where everyone contributes, old classics, new recipes, deviations on an old theme.

There is room for everything and everyone at a holiday dinner and our Easter dinner was no exception. Friends brought their ‘world’ famous turnip puff and gramma’s ham sauce. My daughter and partner their new fav (not to mention incredible) brussel sprouts in miso sauce), my sister the best scalloped potatoes and a dear friend a beautiful Polish themed charcuterie board.

I love to experimenmt in the kitchen.and test my creations on my guests. Which means, other than my roast potatoes, everything was new.

Like Crostini with Feta marinated in olive oil, preserved lemons and herbs (to die for!) and Caprese Salad with burratta, Carrots and Shallots in herbs and… my piece de resistance — a Chocolate Nest Cake with Chocolate Mousse and mini eggs. Even I was surprised how well it turned out!

Of course, for me, it’s more than just the food. I love the excitement of creating name tags for our guests at the table, and a tablescape that says, “You are so welcome here”.

As my mother always taught me, “Presentation is everything.”

We had Easter Dinner on Saturday night this year. I am grateful for the friends and family who gathered with us, and those who called and emailed to check in so that I could say, “I am so grateful you are in my life.”

I hope your holiday dinner was full of love, laughter, good food, great times and conversation! Oh, and some wine too! 🙂

Liberation! (A #ShePersisted Series Post)

No. 30 – #ShePersisted Series

Yesterday, FB Memories brought forward the image above from when I created and posted it six years ago. It leads me to the following ruminations…

Recently, a friend and I were talking about spending some quiet time together to work on a project I’m helping her with. I suggested C.C. (and Beaumont) join us.

She was a little concerned that having C.C. along might interfere with our concentration as we’d have to stop to make him breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I laughed. He can make us meals so we can work on the project whenever, however, we want without worrying about eating.…

She laughed and said, Well aren’t you a liberated woman! (She is in her 80s and spent her life being the one who took care of all the domestic needs of her family, especially her husband so he could build his corporate successes.)

I laughed again and replied, Actually, he’s liberated!

Too often, we think ‘women’s lib’ is about women ‘rising’ to the challenge of finding equality by gaining access to the seats of power men claim as theirs. While I absolutely agree that women are as capable as men in every realm of ‘a man’s world where we deserve to claim our rightful positions at the helm of corporate, political, educational and other institutions, I don’t believe it’s about women rising to the level of men.

For me, it’s about not judging one thing (what men do) as greater than or better than what women traditionally have done and continue to do even as they work hard to claim equal status in society. Ultimately, I believe running a company or running a household, are equally as vital and important to the world today and the future of our children.

I also believe men are as capable as women in all the things that are traditionally seen as ‘women’s roles’.

And that includes liberating themselves enough to claim the home, from kitchen duties to taking out the trash, as a place where they can stand on an equal footing with women.

We, humans, like to judge and put a value on things. We place exalted value on a CEO of a corporation while undervaluing or outright ignoring the value of a woman running a household, bearing children and raising them to be participating members of society.

It doesn’t make sense to me because, in all of it, we continue to pay homage to the belief, “Children are our future”, If that is true, why do we demean and devalue the role of mothering in creating the children of tomorrow?

I find it interesting. Women have fought for the vote, for the right to own property, to hold office, to have their own credit card, to drive, to gain access to education, and the freedom to go where they want to go, alone and unencumbered by a man’s presence.

In all our fighting for our right to breathe and move and dress and live as we desire and where we choose, the future for our children remains a constant beacon of hope calling us to not back down. Because, for the future to be built by our children, we must be assured they are free to live with clean air, water, and earth, without fear of being shot because of the colour of their skin, being jailed because of their beliefs, being forced to be quiet in the face of abuse, discrimination, racism, and a host of social ills and political dictates, being sent underground to unearth gems they cannot afford, or sent off to fight wars they have no say in.

And while we fight for the right to own our bodies, minds, spirits, and voices, men continue to fight for peace by building weapons of destruction so war can continue to be waged in its name. Wars their sons and daughters will be forced to go off to fight.

And that’s what having the FB memory in my feed of the No. 30 creation in my #ShePersistedSeries stirred in me this morning! You can see the whole series HERE.

AWWWE Monday

This photo is from Beau’s blog yesterday — surprise, surprise, the one where he manages to win the argument… AGAIN! As always.

He’s hoping you’ll hop on over and take a read. He loves visitors!

This post and photo is also in response to a blog challenge at Awww Mondays which I learned about today over at Eugi’s place – and because her photo has an amazing photo of a Beagle in a Christmas tree… I had to share Beau’s here too!.

Let us not forget

November 11.

A day of reflection. Of silence. Of remembering. Our shared humanity. Our shared planet. Our shared capacity to be both loving and violent. Full of possibility and death. Ripe with opportunity and tragedy.

It is a day to give thanks for the sacrifices of so many and to remember that their sacrifice was not so we could continue to kill and destroy life and harm one another.

Their sacrifice was so that we may continue to build better lives and live in peace.

Let us not forget.


On Love. Family. Connection.

I am gone for the next week. Taking a hiatus. A break. A Love-fest of family time. Grandchildren. Daughters. Sisters.

We will all be together.

Pure delight. Pure love.

In the meantime. I’ll be thinking. processing. Conviving. Scheming. Planning. Ideaering. All that jazz on how to deepen this conversation on aging. How to deepen my awareness and connect more wholly to being of this age, any age, that I live.


New life. Same beautiful mystery. Magic and Miracle.

I am sitting on our lower patio. Through the thick undergrowth separating our lawn from the river bank, I spy glimpses of the river flowing past. Occasionally, I hear the voices of rafters and kayakers floating past. Their laughter fills the air, as welcome as the birdsong in the trees. Above the sky is blue. I hear the hum of city traffic. It forms part of the melody of life flowing all around me.

In the beam supporting our upper deck, the mother robin has built another nest. She sits quietly above while I sit on the couch about 8 feet away from her. She is nurturing a new brood while I savour the joy of her presence and the miracles upon which she so patiently sits.

It was last Saturday we noticed the possibility of a new nest being built. A few twigs on the supporting beam. Lots of grasses and twigs strewn along the edge of the patio. “I think she’s building her next nest,” my beloved said.

I was a bit perplexed; First we gave up our front door, making guests come through the garage. Now, she wants me to give up the lower patio?

Sunday morning I came downstairs to check if C.C. was right. He was. The nest was completely constructed.

“We are going to have to find a way to cohabit,” I told mama bird when I saw her sitting on the edge of one of my flower pots.

She didn’t answer. But, she didn’t fly away either.

It was mostly a rainy week and as the finches have flown the nest on our upper deck, what time we did spend outdoors, we spent there.

And then this morning, I decided I needed to blow the leaves and such off the patio, put out the cushions and settle in for a day of relaxation in the shade beneath the upper deck.

Mama robin was in situ.

I didn’t notice her at first. I thought she might have abandoned the nest last weekend when she realized we were frequent visitors to the area.

I tell myself she got my message about cohabitation.

I used the blower to clear off the patio. She didn’t move.

I put the pillows out. She stayed put.

A neighbour came over to chat. We stood on the lawn near where she’s roosting. She still didn’t move.

I tell myself it’s because she knows she’s safe here. That I believe in magic and miracles. That I celebrate the mystery of life.

Every moment in life counts, I tell her from my nearby perch. And these moments, I whisper to her still quiet body, these moments spent in your presence make this moment pregnant with the mystery of life.

I am grateful.

A mama robin nests in the rafters above where I sit, reminding me once again that life is always full of mystery, magic and miracles.