My husband is my greatest fan in life. He is constantly encouraging me to chase my dreams, pushing me to face my weaknesses. He inspires me; he balances me. He supports me in everything I do. When you have someone standing beside you, ready to nudge you forward and catch you when you fall, it feels like anything is possible. I'm 27 now, and I still have a lot to learn about married life. But I already know the choice to wed my husband was the greatest decision I've made so far. Being a wife has changed my life in ways I hadn't ever considered.
We can teach our children there's a time and place for cocktail or beach attire without shaming girls for their bodies. And we need to teach and show boys that a girl's attire or presence at a party doesn't mean she's fair game.
Making a promise to stay faithful to one person and then breaking it is less about sex and more about lying. Affairs are a dilemma of integrity. If we are at heart a moral person, as most of us like to think of ourselves, how do we preserve our integrity in the face of our desire for variety?
When my husband began having seizures several years ago, one of the things that struck me was the reaction of people around him. Certainly there were almost always people who wanted to help, but there were many more who were horrified by what was happening. Their fear inserted itself into the situation like a physical presence.
My brother, Brad, has an undergraduate degree in mathematics and a master's degree in biology. Right now you're probably picturing him working as a scientist and wearing a white lab coat at work every day. If so, you're wrong. Dead wrong. He's a television writer.
Often that item of clothing they couldn't separate with yesterday is completely forgotten about tomorrow. How often do we riffle through our closets and see several items of clothes that we forgot we even had? Kids grow quickly, very quickly. Inevitably, clutter builds up. Below are a few very good tips on tackling closets for the whole family.
The public response to the appeal on behalf of Eugene Melnyk, owner of the Ottawa Senators hockey team, for a liver donor has been a heart-warming demonstration of the generosity of our community. Fortunately, a donor was found and the transplant was performed in time to save his life. But is it fair that he received a donation when many others are waiting, and dying, on the waitlist for a transplant? This is one of the common themes in the commentary in the news over the past few days.
Many of us are convinced that being "nice" is the way to win a friend or a partner and keep them; that if we please this person and give them what they need, they'll love us and stay with us, forever. Well, it doesn't really work that way. When we're "nice," the other person can't know who we really are.
During these days and the two weeks I spent recovering from my near-death experience, I had the most inconsiderate and frustrating things said to me. These left me further discouraged and upset.
Mom has Alzheimer's disease, your siblings refuse to talk to one another, and your kids are too busy to lend a helping hand. Somehow, all the caregiving duties have been left to you. What to do? Call an elder mediator. The practice is much like other forms of mediation.
As a society, we are comfortable with what we know and see. Mental illness is not often seen and too few know about it. Those who are mentally ill and seeking treatment are not only dealing with the signs and symptoms of the disease attacking their mind, but also the rejection from the teams of mental health professionals, themselves drowning beneath the paralyzing weight of bureaucracy. Unfortunately, this leaves families alone, scared, overworked, and dejected by a lack of commitment and compassion from the department of Canadian health care that is most knowledgeable about their respective illnesses.
Whenever I tell my friends that I've thought about getting married to a guy that my parents will pick for me, I always get the same response. But the more I learned about the traditions of my culture, the more I realized that our marriages are both a contract and a sacred journey across lifetimes.
If you've travelled in 2015, you know selfie sticks have replaced fanny packs and Tilley hats as the most sought-after tourist paraphernalia. While the device has many faults -- it disrupts the "visitor experience" in museums and at festivals and is pretty much the embodiment of narcissism -- the stick's most serious offence is that it turns users into anti-social tourists.
With all respect to Angelina Chapin, I can't say I agree with her assessment in her blog titled "The Selfie Stick Will Ruin Your Vacation." While I have no great desire to own a selfie stick myself, I just can't seem to get on the selfie-hate bandwagon. Why are the desire to take a souvenir picture of yourself doing something exciting and enjoying the exciting thing itself mutually exclusive?
All the reasons, all the excuses, all the times I've said "I've been busy" -- they all amounted to the same thing. I was absolutely petrified of getting back behind the wheel. The thought made me feel physically sick. But I'd had enough of avoiding the issue and pretending it wasn't there. It was time wave goodbye to that elephant once and for all.
Triclosan is the main ingredient in "antibacterial" soaps. It has the ability to kill as well as prevent the growth of harmful microbes. Over the years, the shine of triclosan has faded due to a combination of problems found in the lab. A natural alternative to triclosan has been growing in both presence and popularity.
A study recently published in the New England Journal of Medicine addresses an interesting, incremental way to motivate people to butt out: you pay them. In a previous post I've written about both the public and private sector rewarding people for healthy living, including in terms of being more physically active and eating/drinking more nutritiously. Paying people to quit may, at first, seem far fetched. But it is part of a larger movement to implement what are regarded as sound policies without invoking the heavy hand of the state: regulating lite.
Some call him a hero, but Imad Zammar says that if his mom, Frieda Zammar, is present, she is quick to correct them and say, "he's not a hero -- he did what you are supposed to do -- for family." Maybe, but not everyone saves their older brother's life by giving him a kidney. And that is exactly what Zammar did.
I grew up with a tough name. Siobhan Adcock. Look at it. There's almost no part of that name that's not sort of a pain in the ass.