Rose's Cantina

We've been through a terrible few months with Scott changing jobs three times, and with my work prospects going into the tanker. Things are getting slightly better: we've hopefully resolved a long-standing tax dispute, Scott is back to work at a nicer dealership with some prospects of getting back to his own field working in television, and my employer has finally assured me that my job is safe -- for now. Not only that, but both of us are within striking distance of the Canada Pension Plan, our debts will all be paid off by the fall, there is no prospect of doggie death (cross all Milk Bones) and my friend Jennette has been given good prospects on her cancer recovery. It's not exactly smooth sailing but we're getting there. We should be excited. As the saying goes, "we been down so long it looks like up to us." But there's another side to the story. When a family has been experiencing massive economic uncertainty and upheaval, its members are...

#183580963 / gettyimages.com For the first time in my life, I've actually thought about NOT VOTING in an Ontario election. In my four decades of voting, it's always been pretty easy to separate the squirrels from the actual eggs. There were clear choices. In my youth, I veered to the left-ish, liking the NDP but voting Liberal because I believed there were too many wackjobs in the NDP. I could never stomach the Tories. Even the youngins reminded me of my crazy Uncle Ivan who would rail against the gov-ment while he was chain-smoking roll-your-owns. Like most women, the Liberal party seemed reasonable and progressive. So like a reasonably well-educated fembot, I've put the Liberal tramp stamp on my ballot each and every election. Hell, I voted for Dalton McGuinty three times, even though he looked like a psycho killer. Maybe it's because I'm tumbling into the geezerhood vortex, that awesome time in a person'slife when television tells us...

#182800425 / gettyimages.com I've been secretly hoping the Liberal candidate comes to my door during this provincial election. Truth be told, I've never had a Liberal darken my door here in the Liberal stronghold of Ottawa South. Maybe they don't like dogs. I think they simply don't like people. Still, hope springs eternal. This time, of course, it won't be Premier Dad coming by. It will be a handsome silver haired fellow named John Fraser (what, another one? Do they breed guys with this name just to go into politics?). I want to lay eyes on Fraser, to ask him one simple question. Remember David Peterson? Years back, David Peterson was given the keys to the kingdom of grapes and auto plants. He had the vision of building a dynasty, handing his Crown down through generations of true believers. In short, he saw himself as a modern day, Bay Street version of Pierre Trudeau. Peterson was handsome, confident, and generous. He travelled the world pi...

#108150436 / gettyimages.com For the past six months, I've been sitting in a chair with the ailing pug Gordie. He's blind, incontinent and has separation anxiety, so if I don't sit with him he cries. Sometimes, I feel like I'm in a black-and-white movie, and I'm Baby Jane watching over Blanche. Sometimes, I want to push Gordie's damned wheelchair down the stairs and be done with it. I wouldn't do that, of course. I love the little bugger more than life itself, but I'm starting to resent all the time I have to spend in front of the tellie watching the CTV News Channel. He may be going to Heaven soon, but I'm living in Purgatory, the place between Heaven and Hell, called the Ontario Election. This election sucks the big one. There's not much to choose from. It's kind of like watching TV Land reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies , Beetlejuice and The Facts of Life . Hey Blair, the Eighties are calling; they want their hair...

If you live in Ontario, by now, you will have seen a commercial warning parents to lock up their kids because the government is loosening the monopoly held by The Beer Store on the sale of ales and lagers. Should this go forward, the commercial warns, kids will surely turn into angry mobs, all liquored up. In a dramatization, the commercial shows a shifty-eyed fat fucktard behind the counter chortling as youngsters, obviously too young to purchase hooch, slam down a two-fer and a big bottle of liquor, in anticipation of a night of mayhem, hurling and date rape. The clerk sells to the kids anyway. No I.D. is checked. It's a scene straight out of Superbad. I live next to a convenience store and near a park. I should be afraid for my life and my windows as these hooligans, according to the commercial, will roam the neighborhood, like slobbering zombies, drunk out of their blasted mines. We don't see that now, right? Nope, mostly all we see, to be fair to The ...

One of the greatest lessons a parent can teach a child is how to be poor. The ability to navigate the treacherous waters of poverty is not a skill that is easy to acquire, especially in this day and age. A lot of people our age (late middle age to baby boomer) heard about the Dirty Thirties and how our parents and their parents had to scrape by, with one potato to feed the family. (Insert eye rolls here.) There were no jobs back then, we were told, so people did pretty much anything they could: take in laundry, barter for services or dig ditches. My grandfather was the master of this. He was a mechanic, a barber and a farmer, and a bit of a hoarder, who kept a treasure trove of riches in our attic, curiosities, Needful Things, that were given to him by people who could not afford to get their cars fixed. As a kid, I had a whole room full of weird and useless stuff to keep me entertained, including a Victrola which I loved to windup to play my favorite Patti Page ...

It appears my dreams of a future in journalism have been, once again, dashed. For the past year and half, I have been on a wonderful, almost unbelievable, journey. I was called upon to create a new magazine in Canada, part of a chain of magazines worldwide. The topic is unimportant, suffice to say it involves commiting medical journalism, one of my favorite areas of interest. I absolutely love creating new magazines. I've done it maybe ten times in my career and I'm good at it. Lifelong learning has been a passion for me and I'm always amazed at how small our personal worlds are and how much we do not know. Part of the allure of being a journalist is being able to interview smart people: doctors, scientists, difference-makers. Interviewing them makes me want to be a better person. Anyways, the magazine is now in its eighth edition and the company has now set up a website which means that I can now commit daily journalism. Haven't done that in 20 years. It's...

There has never been a question, among a lot of Canadians, that the Senate should be abolished. It has never really made any sense to give people jobs for life based on their ability to raise money for political parties, or garner other favors for the governing party. The Canadian Senate is a Tony Soprano wet dream. The first time I questioned the Senate was when I was working in Trudeau's office and he appointed a gazillion of his friends to the Senate after taking his walk in the February snow. Two words. Colin Kenny. Colin Kenny has been a Senator now for 30 years and he's only 69. This means he has more than five years left in the Senate, if you can believe that. Now, Kenny has done some fine work over the years, nobody can question that, but at the time, he was just a Trudeau fartcatcher. Even some of the party hacks found it hard to believe that a man shy of 40 could be a Senator. Over the years, there have been some fine individuals appointed to the Senate, pe...

If you're looking for a good deal on a car, don't call my husband. He's finally given up on being that super-successful car guy, the one who brings in $70,000 a year by ripping off consumers. I've never met a car saleman who makes $70k -- most of the really, really successful guys make $40k tops. I've also never met a consumer who knew that. Most people think that car salesmen are lining their pockets with gold, hence they try to get brand new cars for $10,000 taxes in. It's a ridiculous business, a pyramid scheme where the dealers and managers cut the commission down to the bare bones just so they can meet their quota and keep their dealership licence. These same owners and managers make tonnes of money because they take a cut from all the sales guys who sometimes make barely enough money to cover their gas and a Tim Horton's coffee. Like my husband. We had one month recently in which Scott brought home $1,200 for working long days and weekends. ...

Over the past week, we've come to accept that we are living beyond our means. We don't have car payments or massive debt, but the day-to-day has become somewhat precarious. It's scary being in your mid-fifties and not having a retirement package. I used to be a saver but ten years living as a single mom to three kids sucked me dry. Scott is in the same boat, though he has a small pension from CBC; he lost his nut to an expensive divorce. We're still living from paycheque to paycheque, which is hard because the magazine I work for only pays me every two months. Scott is in commission sales so is at the mercy of the Ottawa economy, not to mention the elements. You might have seen the story in the paper today about all the car dealerships in Ottawa that have new cars that look like golf balls thanks to this week's storm. Scott was lucky this time around; his KIA dealership is one of only a handful in Ottawa's east end that dodged the bullets of hail falling...

There is no great magic to surviving these days, unless you count our tickle trunk filled with excuses and unfulfilled promises. But we do have our weapons. Depression warriors did not have the advantage of cardboard-like fast food like Kraft Dinner or transfat laden Ramen Noodles that can be bought for thirty cents a serving, food that could survive a nuclear winter when we could not. The kids who live downstairs have learned to subsist on KD, gelatinous pizza and edible oil products as they circumnavigate an uncertain world where all the good jobs are taken and a career must be cobbled from slinging lattes for entitled public servants. We in the upstairs have to do better in our poverty. We must remain healthy lest the health care system deliver one last humiliating blow, taking our last dimes and quarters for high blood pressure and cholesterol medications. And so we seek to emulate our ancestors, learning that the humble carrots, onions an...

Finally, the province of Ontario is belling the cat. Health Minister Deb Matthews has finally mustered the courage to tell our doctors that they'll have to settle for Subarus instead of Cadillacs this year. Like the rest of our public servants, they won't be getting a raise. Teachers are getting the same message, and worse. Austerity is what all governments -- except the Western provinces -- are selling and our professionals had better get used to it. Many other public servants are having to tighten their belts because of the economic downturn. Why should doctors and teachers be immune? Can you believe how outraged they are? Blustery, even. It's our own fault. We've put them on pedestals, caved to all their demands. Now we've smartened up. We're saying there's no more money in the coffers so they're going to have to take a pay cut. Boo-hoo. Doctors don't like it one bit. They've been coddled for too long. Now it's time for doctor...