Living

Like many people, I rifle through Us magazine and In Touch when I’m in line at the grocery store and when I’m feeling rich I’ll bring those badboys home with me. That’s not all. Before I start working in the morning, I indulge in a little Daily Mail too (nobody writes a headline like the Daily Mail’s crew of wicked step sisters).

I like to sit beside my boyfriend when we go out for dinner. I think I’m only getting more romantic as I get older. Recently, we headed out for dinner and the server directed us to a table of two. So, of course, my boyfriend moved his chair from across the table next to mine. The server said we couldn’t do this, because, well, we just couldn’t. “But we’re in love,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “We like sitting beside each other.” It didn’t work.

The temperature hovered around 90 degrees on a beautiful sunny day this past weekend but that was nothing compared to my internal thermometer about three seconds after I heard this from a passing motorist. “Smile” the man shouted from the window of his rusty old van.

A year has passed since my very first post for Under Fire. It is now time that I move on in my writing career, so I am saying goodbye to Chatelaine.com and Under Fire, but I know it won't be easy.

If personal relationships were perfect they wouldn’t be personal relationships—they’d be something like employee-employer relations. Which is to say they’d be a mix of performance art and sublimation (‘Really looking forward to that corporate retreat over the long weekend!’)