Rose's Cantina

Yesterday, here in Ottawa, we experienced a record-breaking snowfall that somehow nobody was prepared for. It's not like we're in Texas where they've never heard of snow tires. Or boot spikes. It's not like there isn't enough money in the city budget to get every bleeding snowplough out, 24/7. And the city had fair warning. Snowmegeddon was imminent. Our smart phones told us so. Environment Canada issued a special weather statement. Meh, we thought. It'll pass us by. That kind of thinking landed Dorothy in Oz . We've only had one big snow fall all year. The Rideau Canal was only open for one week. Canada Goose jackets went on sale! (Now that didn't happen. Canada Goose can't afford to discount; it costs a lot of money to rip the skin off of mother coyotes!) I'm sure the people who work for all the private snow shoveling companies have been counting the dollars in their shoeboxes. Little snow fall means little work, and more money fo...

Conroy Pit, an off-lease dog park in the south end of Ottawa, is one of my favorite places on Earth. It is a mecca for dog lovers who come out to see the myriad breeds of dogs run, hustle and spin. It's also a great place to socialize new canines and keep the old ones tuned up. Unfortunately, things are changing in our beloved park and not for the better. The City of Ottawa has recently re-gigged its budget for the park and fired its private contractors, the ones who used to come and empty the dog poo bins which were placed at the entrance to the park and at a midway point. The one in the middle has disappeared completely and the entrance bin has been replaced by what I like to call The Giant Head, a spaceship-sized dome which could easily consume a ton of doggie doo. I suppose the change was made so that The Giant Head only had to be emptied once a millennium by some company owned by Rod Bryden. I cannot see how it could be emptied at all given the size o...

Most girls ask for wine or flowers or a nice dinner on their birthday. This year, I asked for a bus pass. I live in one of the most beautiful cities in North America, but I haven't really even been downtown since 2006. Oh, sure, occasionally I've met people for dinner. Or I've had to attend an event. But mostly, I have spent the past seven years as a shut-in sitting here in my window looking out at St. Laurent Boulevard, making the daily trek to Loblaws and The Liquor Barn or getting in the car to take the hounds to the dog park. I live six minutes from the Rideau Canal but haven't looked in its murky water in nearly a decade. I am a stone's throw from the Byward Market but I buy produce shipped in from Mexico. I can practically see the Museum of Science -- if even that's what it's called -- but haven't taken my granddaughter there to watch her hair stand on end. Mostly, I am a shut in because I'm poor. The life of a freelance writer can be ...

As the killer storm dumped a pile of snow on the streets of Ottawa, it became clear that this wouldn't be an average day. Senators and Members of Parliament would have to stay in Ottawa instead of getting back to their constituencies. Public servants would have to drop their vital work to clean off their minivans and SUVs for the long trek home to their five bedroom houses in Kanata and Orleans. Residents of the Glebe scrambled to find other arrangements because the City of Ottawa had raised its heavy hand and announced there would be a parking ban. Yoga classes were cancelled. Ditto indoor soccer. The RA was forced to cancel bandminton tonight. Oh my God, what will we do, they cried. There is nothing, but nothing on premium cable this evening. In a panic, members of the Canadian Forces took to their Twitter accounts to decry the cancellation of their flights south to their time shares at Disneyworld ...

There's something depressingly wrong in this city of ours, when the men in my household can't find decent employment. Time was that a high school education was a ticket for training of some sort. Not anymore. Our Nick has applied for every job under the sun. He got his Smart Serve and his G licence. Guess what? He can't even get a job that asks the question: "Do you want fries with that?" So he languishes in the basement, scouring the job boards, looking after his daughter while the rest of us shake our heads. Meanwhile in the upstairs, Scott was just been informed that he did not pass the interview for an OC Transpo bus job he applied for a year and a half ago. It's been six weeks since his interview and he was assured that he would still be in the running if he hadn't heard within two weeks. Finally, today, he tracked down the "human" resource guy who told him, "Meh, our bad. Somebody should have called you." Scott has a clean ...