Kelly Waterhouse

I am so excited for this weekend I’m not sure how I’ll get through the next few days with any focus, except that of wishing time would fly faster, because this coming weekend promises several rough spectator sports, like watching the Carpenter sit through the Super Bowl. 

Rejection is a part of life that, in my experience, can make you or break you. It’s your choice. 

The best defence is a good offence, they say, so this is my defence for why I placed third-last in my inaugural NFL Pool contest: I had no idea what I was doing. 

Don’t rush to judgement on this, but every night since Christmas I’ve gone to bed with Geddy Lee, the lead singer of Canadian rock band Rush.

I began writing this column from my bed a week ago, propped up with pillows, tucked between my flannel polar bear sheets and my duvet.

Monday mornings are sacred to me, much like Sundays are for most.

No, I didn’t get a Toyota 4Runner. Yes, I’m angry about it. Sure, I’ll get over it, eventually.

Oh my goodness, we’re getting close now. Christmas is right over there. I can feel it. 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that I took care of the contents of my own stocking, because the Carpenter wouldn’t dare (it still rhymes).

Hey Santa, I thought you and I  had something special. 

There are two things I will experience every Christmas season without fail: mixed nuts and mixed emotions.

It’s fair to say that when it comes to communication by text (or any other form of written conversation, or like, conversation in general), my spouse, the Carpenter, is monosyllabic. 

I don’t know if you can read the joy in this column. I can’t convey it accurately with words, but I want you to feel it, experience it and share it with me when you read the following statement. Ready? 

I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I walked through the door of the church I was christened in, but when I saw the sign outside saying “Open for Prayer,” it was an invitation I felt called to accept. 

I didn’t want another device.