News on the homefront

I got married. I'm a wife and I have a husband. I adore him.

We went to Jamaica for our beautiful honeymoon. I think we'll go back and buy a little white house on the beach and drink banana-strawberry daiquiris for the rest of our days.

I'm the assistant editor of Financial Post Business Magazine and I love my job. Watch for the magazine on the first Friday of every month with the National Post.

I quit the pub for a while. I imagine it will be very strange having my evenings free for the first time in six years. Will I call my long lost friends? Watch the news every night at 11? Have time to read the newspaper in the mornings? Take up yoga? Or will I just waste my time away?

I'm almost finished reading Down to This by Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall. I've been meaning to read it since it came out, even bought it, but alas, I had no time. I wish Tent City was still around so I could go check it out. It's crazy that a shantytown lived in my own backyard and I had no idea it ever existed. Plus, I figure I must know some of those crackhead characters from the pub.

My cat has lost her ninth life. When Dov asked my mom in his most mobster of voices to "take care of her" while we were in sunny Negril, I never imagined that my wonderful mother would actually take her to a Toronto shelter so they could "find her a good home." Since my darling Spoon had been hissing at us as of late, I had planned on putting an ad in the paper on our return. It would have read something like this: "Crazy, beautiful cat seeks crazy cat lady to love and be loved." Unfortunately, the shelter had other ideas. Rest in peace Spoon.

That's all folks.