Journey to Mee-dom

If the vagina ain't happy ain't nobody happy. Yeah that’s what I said...in a sing song voice - kinda like Bobby McFarrin when he sang “Don’t worry be Happy”, which I sing to my vagina - No, no I don't.  I wrote at the end of my post 'What She-Ra and My Period Have in Common' that it was to be continued, so here it goes.... I am sure you are not shocked by much that I write/say at this point but I have been thinking a lot lately about sharing my 'happy vagina monologues'.   I think vaginas are the neatest and I have mad love for such a miraculous body part so I've been compiling a list of all the elements of a happy creative crevasse  I have come to realize that we don’t typically (and of course there is exception) know how to make conscious decisions to take care of our Yoni’s .  Warning: This post may take you a while to read. There are a few links that I highly recommend, and hope you will share and spread the word on. That being said, I know th

I used to wonder all the time what it would be like to be a mother. I obsessed over it, and I judged everyone based on how fearful I was on how little I actually knew about rearing humans. I made a bajillion oaths about what kind of mother I was and wasn't going to be. I would see women in grocery stores with their kids, kneeling down explaining in great details to them why they couldn't have Smarties and I would smile at them as if to say "nice work!" and then think "Yep! I'm going to be that kinda-mom!". I would also see the exhausted mom and have no idea what she was going through, who would abruptly reply to her kids "Because I said so!" and I would think judge "I'm NEVER going to be THAT kind of mom." Well guess what. I've been both. The truth is that I didn't know who the hell I was before I had kids so how the hell did I know what kind of mom I was going to be? I had not been through even 1% of the trenches tha

As I have often experienced in Kelowna since I moved here - there are no in between seasons. Not from Winter to Summer anyway. Spring is usually barely budding before it gets mowed over. We have snow and then BAM - it's 30 degrees celsius. As luck (for lack of a better term) would have it my air conditioning in my 2003 hub-cap-missing-no-radio-having-sweet-ass Carolla decided (cause it has a personality all unto it's own) to cease working two days ago just as the heat hit harrrrrd (say with PEI long "a" accent). So I seriously was fucking mad. Pissed right off, to be exact. We took it in to the Air Doctor on Enterprise (shout out Air Doc!) who is, coincidentally a super nice honest guy and he couldn't quite figure out the problem, nor could we find the fuse box for that matter. *To the guy who decided to hide the fuse box behind the steering wheel, what the hell buddy? I say "guy", because no woman would ever do such a thing. Today when I was on m