Hi. My name is Sarah Crosbie and I am unemployed ...

OK, after a month and a half, I can finally come out and say it: I have no job. I am unemployed. I am a free agent.
I was laid off.

For more than eight years, I worked at The Kingston Whig-Standard (Canada's oldest continually published daily newspaper) as a weekend reporter, a copy editor, investigative reporter, music columnist, and features editor. I covered the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in New York City with my good friend and Whig photographer Jennifer Pritchett. We were there, in the Big Apple, to tell the story of Kingstonians affected by the attacks. One year later, we both returned to the big city to see how Kingstonians' lives had changed and to see if we could track down how some of the local charitable donations had been spent there.
I spent one weekend in Ottawa hunting down Avril Lavigne at the Juno Awards where her debut Let Go was nominated for a bucket-load of trophies in 2003. I watched Gord Downie pick a piece of fluff out of his star on Canada's Walk of Fame and call it "belly button" fuzz 2002.
I got my butt stuck in a soap box derby car when I was a young reporter. I'd gone down the hill at the charity race and when I reached the bottom, I was stuck. There were volunteers at the race who had walkie talkies at the top and bottom of the hill. The conversation went something like this: "Smoky, this is Bluebird. We've got a problem. The Whig reporter is stuck in the car."
"The Whig reporter is stuck in the car? What's the problem?"
"She's wedged herself in the vehicle. You got tools?"
"We'll look for a saw. She's really stuck, huh? Man."
Yeah, that was fun. I had a big butt, I can not lie.
I was once nominated for a National Newspaper Award, Canada's top newspaper honour for an investigative piece on disgraced choirmaster John Gallienne.
I also followed the rise of Kingston's Ryan Malcolm from unknown bar singer to the first Canadian Idol. Every week for an entire summer in 2003, I went back and forth to the John Bassett Theatre in Toronto where I documented his rise on the pop singing show. The issue where we ran not one, not two, not three but four massive features on him (The News Story, The Colour Reaction Story, The Look Back Column, The Evolution of a Person Story) the day after he won – that paper sold out. It was the best story – documenting a guy achieving his dream, with the support of his city behind him.
My idea, Cool Kids, was published last spring - a special magazine dedicated to the amazing high school students in this area.
Every week, I edited The Whig's entertainment magazine The Ticket.
I worked on that magazine every week. Forty pages, every week. All year. I have a son, but The Ticket was my baby. Now it has new (and capable) parents, but she was mine to make for you, the readers.
I've worked with incredible editors – and I married one of the best.
The highlight of my time there was when the paper was alive and screaming with energy, big (sometimes sensational) headlines (but you do want people to stop at the box, look at the paper and then buy it, right? Of course) and colourful, meaningful, important, well-written stories. It was around 2002-05 and I was a reporter, writing everything and anything and then an editor. Noreen Rasbach (now an editor at The Globe in Toronto) was the editor and Rob Tripp (now the police reporter at The Whig) was the city editor. It was a good time to be a reporter at The Whig. Every year, we went to the National Newspaper Awards and dominated the Ontario Newspaper Awards. We did kooky stories (like my piece on a Big Beaver attraction wanting to move into the area) and investigative pieces on sex offenders and health care.
That was then.
Now, I do kooky things like laundry and investigate where cheese is on sale.
One week, I went nuts buying cases of water at Food Basics for $2 each.
The next week, they were on sale at No Frills for $1.88 each.
"I lost money!" I screamed at my husband. "I should have waited!"
"Baby," he said. "It's 12 cents."
Oh, yeah. Right.
In December, I was one of 600 Sun Media employees who lost their jobs.
And I'm heartbroken to no longer be at The Whig, but what really hurts is worrying about the future of the paper. What role does local news have in an world (and economy) dictated by the Internet? Yes, it's hard for a newspaper to compete with websites on things like celebrity gossip. People magazine can report on an issue the second it happens on its website, but newspapers can't give out the information until the next day in its issue, unless the paper has a sophisticated website going, but most local papers haven't perfected (or figured out, really) how to balance the news in their pages and on their websites at the same time. But websites and national chains and the big dailies can't give local readers important local stories (the ongoing halfway house battle in Kingston, Queen's University's struggle with Homecoming, Kingston General Hospital's restructuring efforts) ... and without a local paper, who will review Kingston's theatre productions? Who will tell you about the new restaurants in town? Who will profile the up-and-coming bands that are dying for attention?
Local news is critical to a city. A local newspaper bands citizens together. It tells us about local boys heading off to the Olympics, Good Samaritans who stopped a thief in our city, how our tax money is being spent and how our OHL team is doing. (Well, I can also tell you that – the Frontenacs aren't doing well, but who am I to judge? Some days, I don't shower.)
It's an interesting time to watch newspapers and see who survives (and thrives even?) and how they do it. It would a great time to be a sociologist working in media studies because mass media is changing every second.
Will I ever be a newspaper girl again? I don't know.
Being laid off gives you a lot of time to think, (which gives you an excuse to not do the dishes), and I've realized that life is short and the career I thought I'd have forever didn't even get me to age 32.
There have been some highs and many, many lows being laid off (I haven't slept through the night in six weeks, however I have ripped arms from going to the gym so often) but that's for another time. Something a journalist would call The Followup Story.

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Help me! I'm stuck in the Urban Outfitters changeroom!

It's not that I have big legs, but I don't have twigs.
Usually, my legs are only a problem when I'm trying on knee-high boots. They're often made for girls who:
a) Weigh 102 pounds;
b) Have no muscle in their calves;
c) Have an hour to try and squish/push/pull your calf fat/muscle into your boots.

I have muscular calves. Taking up running a few years ago didn't help the situation much, but recently I learned a new lesson in why sometimes (not very often, but sometimes) it can suck to be fit.

I loved the years from around 1999 to 2005 because pants and jeans all had a flare at the bottom. I've watched enough of What Not To Wear to know that a longer pant, with a little flare elongates the legs and for someone who's 5'4" like me, that's nice. Now though? For the past couple of years, we've had skinny jeans – and I'm not sure why. Very few people look good in skinny jeans. Even skinny girls don't look good in skinny jeans. Skinny jeans are like sausage casings; they squish everything into a wrapper and then your body tries to escape the torture by squishing over top of the waistband, out the butt and at the inner thighs.

But today, for some reason, I thought I'd try them again. I've lost eight pounds in the last month and evidently, when I lost the fat, I lost my brain and became delusional. I was in Urban Outfitters - the cool store for all the Queen's University girls. It's the place you want to go if you want to have that I-look-like-everyone- else-but-I'm-so-original - swanky meets Salvation Army thrift store.

(I was exchanging a gift. I had to go in.)

I saw a pair of skinny jeans that were on sale from $100 for $39 so I thought I'd try them on. The waist was 30 - my size. And, so, in the changeroom I went. (Do you know that at Urban Outfitters they ask you your name and then write it on a chalkboard so they know who's in what room? Next time, if there is a next time, I'm going to call myself Jonas Brother No. 1 or Mary-Kate and Ashley, or Miley or She-Ra or something.)

I went into the changeroom and pulled off my jeans and slipped my first leg into the skinny jeans. And then the second. And then I pulled them up to my knees. It was here that I realized even if I took one thigh and sliced it into two, half a thigh wasn't going to fit into these pants, so there was no way a whole thigh was going in.

And there was no way my calves were coming out.

I was stuck.

It was like these damn pants had congealed to my legs. What was I going to do? Waddle out of the changeroom with pants around my knees and ask them to cut them off? I could always pull my own jeans over top and just pay for the skinny jeans. (And then waddle out of the store.)

How was it I could get them on, but not off?

I sat on the bench and tried to roll them down. Stuck.
I tried to yank them down. Stuck.
I tried to smooth them down. Stuck.

Finally, I held both ends of the pants and tugged on the left side of one leg, then the right, then the left, then the right. And, I'm telling you it's possible: Instead of thinking about sucking in my stomach, I thought about sucking in my calves. And bit by bit, the jeans started to move.

This is why girls like to buy shoes.

Skinny bitch of a day.

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Michelle Obama's inauguration dress ... sexy mama

Was Michelle Obama attacked by spitballing students?
Or is she a fashion icon in the making?

Looking back at other First Lady inaugural ball gowns, Michelle Obama's gown was a striking and bold statement that she's no fuddy duddy who's going to be staid and static.
I got my first look at Jason Wu white, floor-length, one-shoulder dress, at the televised Neighborhood Inaugural ball, where Michelle and Barack Obama danced to Stevie Wonder and Alicia Keys (and a deer-in-the-headlights Mariah Carey.)
It was the first ball – and the one Barack said most represented the spirit of his campaign – where he said "First of all, how good lookin' is my wife?"
I thought the dress looked a little toilet paper-y. Would I wear a dress covered in little balls? No, but fashion is about taking risks. And every woman's fashion risk is her own. (And on the Huffington Post this morning, readers were divided over the gown. 56% said they loved it. 37% said they weren't fans. That means it's a hit, if people are split on it. Good fashion has to be controversial.)
The colour was a good choice – would it be going too far to say it stood for all the things Barack Obama stands for – hope, peace, optimism, clearing the past, looking to the future? Maybe.
A teaching assistant at Queen's University once returned an essay to me that was covered in criticisms, saying my essay was grasping, looking for too much meaning in the text. So maybe it was just a dress. Maybe Michelle liked the way it made her toned arms look – she is a gym lover and has done sleeveless before. (Barbara and Hillary always wore long-sleeved gowns, though Nancy Reagan did a bare shoulder look). Maybe it made Barack hot to be able to touch his wife's bare shoulder all night. Who knows? It is just a gown. But a risky and bold gown – one that says: If a woman has to stand by her husband's side and be supportive eye candy, at least she can look damn fine/racy doing so. You give mommas a good name, Ms. Michelle. Let's head to the gym and say chicken-wing arms be gone!

"Michelle Obama may be a trained lawyer with an Ivy League education, but on Tuesday night she will be America's Top Model. What she wears to the inaugural balls will set the style agenda for the administration and hold a mirror up to what it means to be a woman in America right now, which still includes being judged by your appearance."
- Booth Moore, fashion critic, The Los Angeles Times

"Michelle Obama once more does something new and fresh [by] working with an emerging fashion star and turning Jason Wu overnight into a household name. This type of dress shape/silhouette is something that's completely unexpected. [It's] vibrant and aspirational, full and gorgeous. No one else in the past would have been this striking, this ravishing or been able to pull this look off. She's bringing sexy back."
– Us Weekly fashion director Sasha Charnin Morrison

"[Michelle Obama] wore a white, one shouldered Grecian-inspired ballgown with a ruched bodice by 26-year-old New York designer Jason Wu, in a brave and inspired statement of her allegiances. Mrs Obama teamed the full-skirted chiffon dress with drop-earrings, a glittering oversize cocktail ring and a diamond bracelet that winkled in synch with the Swarovski crystals that studded her gown. As she danced with Mr Obama to Beyonce's version of the Etta James classic At Last, the words rang true for fashion critics everywhere; finally a president's wife had gotten it right - twice.Earlier in the day, Mrs Obama drew almost universal praise for the buttercup yellow Isabel Toledo dress she wore as her inauguration outfit."
– Georgina Safe, fashion editor, The Australian

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How he proposed and 99 other Sarah secrets

On the right-hand side of this page, there's a little button called 100 Hot Things to Know about Sarah Crosbie. It's pretty old. Item No. 100: "I think the baby is a boy. My husband thinks it's a girl." Well, I now have a two-and-a-half year old – who likes to ask questions, many questions like: "Mommy, what are nipples? Do you have nipples? Does daddy have nipples?" – which shows how outdated that list is. (And, yes, I did have a boy. Ha.) Some of the items still hold very true though:

31. "I love pineapple on pizza."
82. "I love my knee-high black leather boots. I wear them every day in the fall and winter."

For 2009, here is a new 100 list:


1. First thing I read Saturday morning: Corey Mintz's restaurant review in the Toronto Star's Living section. We once had a little chat on his blog. I tried to compliment him. He took it as a criticism, I think. So, we didn't end up pals. I still read it.
2. Ran my first half marathon in Picton in October 2008. Everyone should do a half there. It's beautiful. It took me 2:21.
3. My husband and I have committed to running the half in Ottawa in May. In October I could run 21 kilometres. Now I'm back to the five-k. Need to pick it up starting this week.
4. Love Dexter.
5. Love actor Michael C. Hall who plays Dexter.
6. Love Jennifer Carpenter, who plays Dexter's sister on the show.
7. Find it creepy Hall and Carpenter are married now.
8. It's insane Hall has never won a major acting award (like a Golden Globe) for his Dexter work – and yet Boston Legal and William Shatner have? Houston, we have a problem.
9. Speaking of marriage, I got married in 2007. The BF is now The Husband.
10. No, I didn't change my name. (So on Facebook, I look like I'm still single; I refuse to fill in details like "Married. Looking for friendship." I think that's weird.)
11. Not sure why any woman still changes her name. It's 2009.
12. Speaking of Facebook, I just joined last week. I've been holding out, but now that I have more free time on my hands (keep reading to find out why), I decided to give it a try.
13. Thanks to more free time, I just finished a Canadian novel called A Week of This by Nathan Whitlock. I've been reading it since April. I used to work so much that by the time I crawled into bed at midnight, I'd read one page and then pass out.
14. Watched Oprah for a few minutes a few weeks ago. Will Smith said something I really like and am trying to live by: "I'm tired of wasting my time. I'm tired of other people wasting my time." (I added it to my Facebook profile.)
15. Though I should read more books, I'm about to renew my subscription to Canadian Living. No, it's not the hippest magazine, but damn, they have good recipes. How do you think I learned to make chicken paprikash and spinach strata?
16. Got married at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas. Best idea ever. No planning. One fax to confirm our reservation, one e-mail to confirm what colour I wanted my bouquet to be and it was done. Seriously.
17. Our wedding dinner took place at Spice Market Buffet at Planet Hollywood. I had nachos with guacamole and chocolate covered strawberries for my wedding meal. It's always ranked the No. 1 buffet on The Strip. Best wedding meal ever.
18. Have a worm-like scar on my left knee from having cyst removed when I was five years old at Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto. That scar made me a little bit of who I am since kids used to make fun of it when I was little. It gave me some inner strength. This one was in the first list, but I like it so it's here, too.
19. I always buy a Lotto 649 ticket if the jackpot is over $10 million. Ten million is OK. Nine million? Oh, so not worth my time.
20. Love going out to Kingston's best restaurants: Grecos, Aqua Terra, Curry Original. And don't forget about our city's best-kept secret: Amadeus Cafe.
21. 98% of the time I'll order fish when I'm out. The other 2%? Filet mignon, done medium rare.
22. Appetizer always has to be escargot.
23. I originally wanted Hillary Clinton to be the president of the United States because I wanted a woman to win, but Barack Obama's charisma, love for his family and wife, and strength during crisis won me over.
24. Obama did a really interesting interview in Men's Health a couple of issues ago, where he said he works out five days a week and was sometimes criticized for it on the campaign trail, since people thought that time could be better used – which is insane. I'm tired of people, bosses, coworkers, anyone, really, thinking you're only good at your job if your butt is glued to your desk. People who are healthy, who have a life, who are interesting, who get out and do stuff (anything!) are more interesting and, therefore, better employees.
25. Someday I'm going to be a boss and I'm only going to hire interesting people; Interesting people who go to The Screening Room at least a couple of times a year.
26. The Screening Room, along with Amadeus Cafe, is one of Kingston's best-kept secrets. Instead of going to see Marley & Me (does the world really need more Jennifer Aniston?) go to The Screening Room, pick one of the two movies screening there and sit through an independent, foreign, possibly subtitled film. You may not love it, but it will be better than Marley & Me. Or Mall Cop, which is the No. 1 movie in the country. We're in a recession and people have money to go see Mall Cop? Help us, help us now.
27. I was laid off from The Whig-Standard on Dec. 16, 2008.
28. I still read The Whig-Standard.
29. I exercise with a rockin' local company, Body Now 4 Mums and Kids. (See bikini pic in Flickr photos. A few years ago, I never would have done that.
30. My two-year-old son can skate as well as I can.
31. When I was 12, the big thing to do was to go public skating. There were two songs that looped over and over again all night long: Aerosmith's Janie's Got a Gun and Love in an Elevator. I still can't listen to those songs.
32. Just heard a great old song at the grocery store this morning: Back To Life by Soul II Soul. I was buying my bran buds and dancing.
33. One of my old Whig columns was turned into a cartoon by illustrator Ron Lindsay and published in the Ottawa Citizen. I wrote about my son wanting a bucket load of hockey gear.
34. Because I used to be a little bit chunky (fat) I'm addicted to watching The Biggest Loser, even though I know it's absurd to lose 32 pounds in one week.
35. Last time I was at home visiting my parents, my mother showed my son a picture of me taken about eight years ago, when I was at my heaviest (about 50 pounds more than now). "Who is that?" my mother asked my son. "I don't know," he said. He didn't recognize me! (I carried a lot of it in my face.)
36. That being said, coworkers used to tell me: "But you have such a pretty face, Sarah!" Ah, thanks. So my butt? Nasty? Thighs? Make me wanna barf. Arms? Swinging in the wind. But my face looks nice.
37. I once auditioned for a hair commercial in Toronto.
38. Seeing as I am not in magazines, I obviously didn't get the gig.
39. I once auditioned for a TV show in Montreal, Guy Stuff with John Moore.
40. Seeing as I had to watch myself on reruns on Global the other day while working out at the gym, I obviously got the gig.
41. I also got the gig when I was seven months pregnant, so, no, my breasts do not look like that in real life. Sorry guys.
42. My son calls the two moles I have on my face "meatballs." No idea where that came from.
43. He also calls zits the same thing.
44. I just finished reading a piece in The Globe and Mail about what Barack Obama needs to get done in his first 100 days in office. One of his friends said one problem with Obama is he doesn't necessary succeed instantly. He needs time to get his feet wet, assess the situation and get a groove before he's rockin' it. I'm the same way. I need to get warmed up before I can really dig in. Then I'm OK, but at first, I'm quite shy.
45. I was once Tasered by Kingston Police. True story. (For a Whig story, but still true.)
46. I look back on that story now and am mortified at its cheesiness, but you live and learn and become a better writer.
47. I think I like the new U2 song Get On Your Boots that was released today, though at first I thought Bono's voice sounded thin.
48. I laughed really hard in the SNL skit when Tina Fey (Sarah Palin) says she met Bono, The King of Ireland.
49. I saw U2 in concert in Toronto when I was 16.
50. But even better, I saw Depeche Mode in Toronto.
51. My first CD ever was Depeche Mode.
52. My first cassette tape was Fleetwood Mac.
53. No, I still don't own my own iPod. I borrow my husband's all the time though and make him put pop songs on it for my running music. It Takes Two by Rob Bass and DJ EZ Rock is a fave.
54. Jet is also good, though, I admit.
55. Queen is also good for running.
56. You know what's not good? Trying to run and seeing yourself on TV on Guy Stuff With John Moore with massive pregnancy boobs. It's distracting.
57. My combo for my lock from grades 7 to OAC: 57, 31, 9.
58. Can I remember any of the combos for locks we have now? No. But I can remember one that I haven't used in 13 years.
59. My husband's blog is Cancrime.com. No, it has nothing to do with a sexy daddy living his life under the stars. It's about crime. It's really good. We're like Best Buy and Future Shop. We compete but we're related. *Currently, I have more readers. But he has better legs, so we're equal, I guess.
60. I've been to the K-Rock Centre probably more times than most people. Let's count: The Wiggles, The Hip, Avril Lavigne, Sesame Street, Thomas The Train, two Kingston Frontenacs games.
61. I always get the nachos with the orange glue cheese when I go. It's a treat.
62. OK, I also get a soft pretzel.
63. And a Diet Coke. Don't judge me.
64. I love PerezHilton. Yes, I know it's crap, but I'm a former entertainment reporter and editor. I needed to be up on my crap.
65. I also like TMZ. Don't judge me.
66. I got my start at The Queen's Journal in 1999. Ten years later? Laid off. Hmmm. That's not exactly how I thought the decade would end. Let's check back with me in 2010 - or 2009 1/2. Give me a few months.
67. I recently saw one of my ex-boyfriends at a Starbucks parking lot and, I'm not sure why, I hid by slouching down in my seat until he drove away.
68. Maybe it was because I had bedhead and no makeup on. Just saying.
69. Want a REALLY good Thai meal? Try Pat's Restaurant on Division Street in Kingston, just before the 401 exit in Kingston. He was open, god bless him, on New Year's Day. I didn't want to go out for New Year's Eve, but I didn't want to have to cook on the first day of the New Year. His pork dish with spring rolls was delicious. My son loved it too. No, it's not downtown, but the food is great.
70. My car once broke down on Highway 401 near Toronto. For an hour, no one would stop to help me and I didn't have a cellphone. (This was in 2000, before everyone, including six year olds had them.) Finally, a nice guy who said he was from Port Perry, Ont., stopped and let me use his phone. An hour later, on his way back from wherever he had gone, he brought me muffins and bottled water while I waited for a tow truck. Thank you. Seriously. I lost some faith in humanity that day until that guy showed up. (One tow truck driver would only let me use his phone if I gave him my service, even though I was covered under CAA.)
71. You know who else is from Port Perry? Jayde Nicole, the Playboy Playmate of the Year. Who, btw, is dating reality TV star Brody Jenner.
72. I love Harveys because they have veggie burgers and now whole wheat buns.
73. I once flew to Europe to meet a boy. Didn't really tell my parents about that one.
74. Hi, Scott. Sarah :)
75. Have a fear of the dentist because years ago (not in Kingston) I had my wisdom teeth out and I'm not kidding, it hurt more than child birth. Seriously. Even though people always say: "I had my wisdom teeth out and then I ran a marathon the next day, got married and flew to Hawaii on my honeymoon. It didn't hurt a single bit." Good for you. Liar. (Sorry, my mom hates that word.) Fibber.
76. As kids when we were little we weren't allowed to say "liar" – nor were we allowed to go to movies on Sundays but that's another story – so we used to say Fibber Magee and Molly. Who are Magee and Molly?
77. We also used to say "Lord love a duck." Don't know where the duck came from, either.
78. I have asthma.
79. I smoked for 10 years.
80. I'm dumb.
81. In my first 100 list, I said I wanted bubbles at my wedding. I didn't get them. I did however get a mirror ball in my bouquet.
82. My husband proposed in our house. With a mirror ball. (I've never told anyone that before.) (And after a dinner at Amadeus.)
83. For a treat, I like extra hot, low-fat, decaf lattes.
84. Since I'm laid off and all, I might start going to the theatre by myself to see potential Oscar nominees. (They have nachos there, too).
85. Speaking of fun, I recently went to Chuck E. Cheese. I really had a good time.
86. My son went up in a tunnel there to poop. We're working on potty training. He likes to have "privacy." Seriously. But then, again, don't we all?
87. I don't get the Jonas Brothers.
88. I don't get Taylor Swift.
89. I like Duffy.
90. I cried in Dr. Seuss's Horton Hears a Who on the weekend. (I'm a little sensitive these days when it comes to themes like fitting in and having a place you're meant to be.)
91. I have four people I'm deciding whether I should be friends with on Facebook. It's not that I don't like them - it's just complicated, is all.
92. I love the doctors and nurses at the Hotel Dieu Children Outpatient Clinic. Twice I've taken my son there and both times they've been fabulous. (Thank you!)
93. My son is interested in nipples. You can thank his stepbrother and sister for that one.
94. My son can sing the words to Britney Spears' Womanizer. It's wrong, I know, but it's sooo cute.
95. I know all the words to the Wonder Pets: "The phone. The phone is ringing. The phone? We'll be right there. The phone. The phone is ringing. There's an animal in trouble."
91. Backyardigans is also catchy.
92. I think I'm the only person in Kingston who thought the Avril Lavigne concert was Horrible with a capital H.
93. I scored one of the first ever Canadian print interviews with Avril. It was the time she talked about Napanee's La Pizzeria, which became a staple in interviews over the past few years.
94. I once had dinner with Avril Lavigne's mother in Amherstview at Nostalgia Station, the restaurant Ryan Malcolm's family owned and ran.
95. I love Oreo blizzards. I might go get one.
96. I voted for Peter Milliken in the last federal election. I know the Greens and NDP can't win without votes, but Conservative Brian Abrams was good and I couldn't risk having a Conservative MP in Kingston.
97. I once planted a flower basket with Kingston Mayor Harvey Rosen.
98. I can do 15 pushups on my toes. (That's down from 25 last year.)
99. My husband thinks I'm colour blind.
100. I'm not.

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Damn you, computer spill-checker!!!!!

Being a lover of words and stories, it always amuses me how one wrong word can ruin a good thing. (Yes, you don't need to send me a note saying I've made mistakes, too. Every reporter/editor/blogger has made boo-boos. It's one of the reasons people love blogging. Blogs don't have to be as perfect as newspaper pieces. My biggest newspaper mistake (and there weren't that many, I'll have you know) was getting the date of Pearl Harbor wrong in a story years ago. Never believe what you read on the Internet!) Check out this ad for a Muskoka cottage that was in The Toronto Star. The read is thrilling, simply because this is a house fit for a celebrity. The idea of living in such a mansion is amazing – and then – boom. You get to the end of the story, and it's a hard slap across the face. Nothing is ever as good as it seems ...
(Try to survive the exclamation points! There are a billion of them!!)

"This Muskoka Cottage is what makes the good life great! Finally, a cottage as distinguished as you! For the past several decades, Muskoka design has been as predictable as the trade winds, vaulted ceiling & hardwood! This "Lake Joe" cottage is an appreciation for "Signature Touches" that unlock & conquer style & design! The interior of both the boathouse cabana & main were custom designed. In total the cottage can accommodate 16 comfortably with 5.5 baths over 6,000 sq. ft. of liv. space! Have you ever: Spent a quarter of a million on an outdoor hot tub? Imported Caribbean sand for a volley ball court? Installed a Blackhawk Security System? Placed an Infinity Waterfall in the outdoor area? Heard such a sound system that is thrilling & unforgettable musical experience thru out the site? Have a 24 hr. lighting and gardener on hand from Advanced Mechanical Installs? If dreams come true, this is it! Completely detailed and furnished!! Take the key & viola!"

*And, yes, I actually just spent a quarter of a million on an outdoor hot tub on Tuesday. Voila!

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A different kind of threesome

In England, the word "brilliant" has a different meaning than here. If Canadians say Dexter is a brilliant show, we mean it's smart. If we say, "that Sarah Crosbie is quite brilliant" we mean I'm smart and stuff. But in England, if someone says "that show is brilliant," it means wonderful, fabulous, perfect.
I have a "brilliant" British friend who I've known since we did a band exchange (no, not like band camp) when we were in high school. (Little known fact: I played the oboe for five years.) She recently sent me an e-mail about what's going on in her life. I read it quickly and was happy to know she was doing well and 2009 was going to be the year of her life when she found herself a nice man.
Then, two days later, I reread the e-mail. We only communicate a few times each year, so I read it again to see if I had missed anything. It's funny how your eyes skim over something and don't get the real meaning.
I thought she said: She was going to find a man. But that's not what she said at all.
What she actually said was: "My new years resolution for 2009 is for a man to find me ( i have written that correctly, as i have no time or interest in speed dating, internet dating etc...)."
I realized in my 31 years that I've never heard a woman say that before. It's always "I'm gonna find me a man!" But anything is possible – maybe more men will start declaring, "I'm gonna find me a nice woman!" (And actually mean it.) Anything seems to be possible these days. After all, America elected a black (and scrumptious) president, Mr. Barack Obama, Mickey Rourke has made a comeback*, and despite the fact that American Idol continues to produce super flops (Taylor Hicks, Katherine McPhee, Rueben Studdard, Fantasia Barrino) while voted-out losers like Chris Daughtry and Jennifer Hudson score big-time, a new season of the show debuts tonight.
Of course, not all women are ready to hurry up and wait. Sometimes women have to take it into their own hands and I admire the gusto of three local ladies who are doing it together. Yes, we girls like to go to the bathroom together. Now, we're banding together to find love together: "Attention gentlemen: Are you footloose and fancy free? Three professional, single women, EACH wanting a kind, considerate, single, unattached male between the ages of 55-75 years for companionship, travel and to share life's adventures. Please send a note with your age and phone number."
The ladies placed the ad in Kingston's daily newspaper, The Whig-Standard.
Note, too, that all they want is someone between the ages of 55 and 75. It's not like when men place ads that say, "Seventy five year old gentleman seeking lady, 24 to 27, with blonde hair, svelte figure, high income, love of nature, fishing, Alaska, beer, bacon burgers who is happy, loving, perfect, kind, and smokin' hot."
What do you think? Should women sit back and let the men find them, or should women be proactive and go get 'em. Half empty or half full? Desperate or keen? Pathetic or driven? I say you go after what you want, or do what feels right for you so you'll never have regrets.
One last thing: You're never too old to get hitched. And that's brilliant.


*Looking for a hot night with your lady/man? Rent 1986's 9 1/2 Weeks with Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger. It's a hot movie, but not one that you have to go through saloon-style doors into a creepy back room to rent. Know what I mean? ...

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Check out these buns

There are a few rules that every single health magazine/TV show/newspaper article/blog/fitness expert will give you when you're trying to lose weight and become a healthier person:
- Eat lean meats, such as chicken (no skin, of course) instead of fattier cuts;
- Drink water (This is my least favourite. Why can't water taste like Diet Coke?);
- Don't eat at least three hours before going to bed;
- Use portion control and don't make dinner your heaviest meal;
- Always eat breakfast, because you'll eat less during the day;
- Limit sugary drinks such as pops and juices;
- And watch your carbs. Don't eat a load of them and when you do eat breads and pastas and wraps and rice, make them whole grain or at least whole wheat. (Make them brown, essentially.)
White bread and pasta are about as popular these days as new Vancouver Canucks' player Mats Sundin because there is basically no nutritional value in them. So all health experts say switching out the white for the brown is one small step that will keep you at a healthy weight.
I think in the last five years, I have eaten maybe five to 10 pieces of white bread - and that's when I had no choice, either when I've been visiting family or out at a restaurant.
It has always been my pet peeve that no fast food restaurants - with the exception of chain sub shops - served any of their products on whole wheat, or, even better, multigrain products. Sometimes, especially when you're travelling, or even if you're just a burnt out tired mama, fast food works and you can make it healthy if you try: A small burger with just lettuce and a little ketchup, a grilled chicken wrap with just lettuce, a salad hold the cheese, the bacon, the croutons, the chili, the nacho chips, the sour cream and the creamy dressing. (Yes, it's still a salad.)
Why am I so nuts about this stuff? I was born with a birth defect.
I was born without a metabolism.
I eat one cookie and I've got a pound of lard stuck to my behind.
Sneak in a few pieces of cheese? Oh, look, I not only have two lovehandles, I now have three. (The third one is like an office chair; it swivels around.)
Eat a pile of salty cashews? Just call me Cankle Crosbie.
Joking aside (oh, that's where the third lovehandle went - my left side) I really do have to be vigilant about what I eat and drink and my exercise. I fight hard to be a size 6 to 8 and it has only been in the last three years that I've learned to keep my weight in check. I once weighed 50 pounds more than I do now and I couldn't walk around the block I was so out of shape.
So, it was with much glee that I opened my mail today and I saw a flyer in my mailbox that said, "Nice Buns." (Why, thank you.) It was a Harvey's flyer announcing: "Harvey's NEW whole wheat bun."
The restaurant is also introducing a new warm grilled Chicken BLT Salad. (If you take the bacon off it, it looks quite nice.)
I've always liked Harvey's. It was a treat to go there when I was a kid and they're one of the only places with a veggie burger. Now I can have a veggie burger on a whole wheat bun or a grilled chicken sandwich on whole wheat. Is it perfect? No, a whole grain bun would be best because some whole wheat buns aren't that much better than white buns, but for me, it's the little things that matter. Now if someone could just come up with a water that tasted like pop, I'd be a happy girl.

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Where there's stank, there's a smoke?

I am a smoker – but I haven't had a cigarette in more than four years.
I smoked off and on from the time I was a teenager to my late 20s, quitting often and never succeeding. And then, one day, I realized there was something seriously wrong with my breathing and I was an out-of-shape tub-a-lub.
Four years later, and with asthma as my souvenir from those 12 years of smoking, I'm still always a little worried something will reignite my need to smoke.
I don't think non-smokers have any idea what it's like to be a non-smoker around cigarette smoke. Sometimes it smells so awful I could gag. Othertimes, I think it smells absolutely de-lish-ous. Nothing has ever matched the succulent pairing of a glass of wine and a cigarette - except maybe, maybe bread drenched in the pooling butter in escargot.
We were out and about today and when we got back in the car to come home, I smelled cigarettes.
"What's that smell?" I said to my husband.
I started sniffing my coat, my pants, the car chair, his jacket.
"What are you doing?" he snarked.
"I smell cigarettes," I told him.
He looked at me like I was crazy and then told me I was crazy.
"Your being neurotic, you know," he said.
Somewhere in my car was a cigarette. I didn't care that he didn't believe me. He's never been a smoker so he has no idea of the pull of a butt's smell. (Yes, some butts smell good. Who knew?)
After a 10-minute drive home, we pulled into our driveway. I went to get my toddler son out of the back seat of the car and I just knew where the cigarette was. I could sense it. I ripped my son's winter boot off his foot and turned it upside down. And there, wedged in between the thick treads, was a cigarette butt.
I love it when I'm right.

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