Yet another blogging mummy

I have driven in many cities. Toronto and London being two of them. I have been driven in Italy and India, both of which leave you feeling like you are lucky to be alive as you hurl yourself out of the vehicle that was three minutes ago travelling at 1 million miles an hour, kiss the ground and swear you will give your life to Jesus, confess everything and never sin again, as per your very recent, very desperate conversation with Him. I have seldom, however, driven in a city where, as you come out of your driveway, in order to stay intact, you must assume that everyone in a car today has left their house with an unwavering determination to crash into you. The utter incompetence, pettiness and plain idiocy of drivers in this city leave me thinking that there is no other explanation for their unfathomably terrible driving.  When I first arrived a year ago, I was so outraged, so baffled, that it took me this long to write about it. I just spent the entire time on the roads shaking my head

I toyed with the idea of writing this as a new blog. But then I thought, no. This is all part of it.  So...I'm doing sober October. Or Stop-tober. Or whatever you want to call it. Mock-tober? (as in, mocktail - tober?) Whether I finish it or not, whether I get through the next week or not, or whether I never drink again (preferable), I am quite proud of myself, because I am on day 6 tonight. I am not proud that I am on day 6. I am proud that I am on day 6 after two of the most stressful nights of my life.  Last week my little pickle, newly 4 years old, decided that she was just not going to have a poo for 48 hours. I won't go into details, but my God. I went almost out of my mind with the worry of it. You can't force 'em to eat, and you can't force 'em to have a poo. She held it and held it and held it. I was having visions of her body poisoning itself, although my husband kept sagely (though not entirely helpfully) saying "Noone ever died from not having a