The Globe and Mail - Leah McLaren Columns

Maybe square dances are the kind of bailouts we need

Sat, 4 Oct 2008 00:00 EDT

When I called and invited myself to my mother's farm for the weekend, she wasn't as excited as she should have been.''Of course you're welcome,'' she began, ''but Basil and I are very busy. On Saturday, we're manning the booth at the Purple Hills studio art tour. Then Sunday we have to go your Aunt Kate's to get some apples from her orchard so I can make apple butter and - oh, I almost forgot! Saturday night, we're going to a square dance fundraiser at the Avening Community Centre. I could buy you a ticket.''

Doing Italy in a hoodie and leggings

Sat, 27 Sep 2008 17:45 EDT

There's nothing quite like being the last person standing at a baggage carousel in Rome to make you lose all faith in human civilization

Doing Italy in a hoodie and leggings

Sat, 27 Sep 2008 00:00 EDT

People used to dress up on airplanes. I remember my mother leaving for Hawaii in a corduroy shirt-dress, belted, with pumps and a jaunty silk scarf at her throat. Her perfumed goodbye kiss left a lipstick mark on my cheek for hours after she had gone.

My new routine to happiness

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 00:00 EDT

When I was younger and more naive about the ways of the world, I asked my single friend Brad how he was enjoying the Toronto dating scene.He sighed and shook his head. I will never forget his response: ''You know what dating women in their 30s is like?'' he said. ''It's like this. You meet an attractive woman at a party and ask for her number. Then you go out for lunch and it's great. So you call her again and ask her out to dinner on Thursday. And you know what she says? Just guess.''

A poxie on all this pixie drivel

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 00:00 EDT

Can changing your hair actually change your life?For mere mortals, the answer is probably not. If, on the other hand, you happen to be a former girl-band member turned soccer wife and self-touted ''style icon,'' the answer is abso-bloody-lutely!

The scariest massage I never had

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 00:00 EDT

I was in London, England recently on a location scout for my TV pilot when the minibus passed a rundown row of Hammersmith mansion blocks that looked creepily familiar. I shuddered as a long-lost trauma came flooding back. No joke: I am the victim of repressed spa memory syndrome.

In praise of the perfect house guest

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 00:00 EDT

In his new collection of essays, American humorist David Sedaris recounts a curious news story about a man in Vermont who exterminates the mice swarming his house and then attempts to burn the offending critters in a pile of leaves. The plan goes awry when the mice run back inside, tiny flames licking off their backs, and end up burning down his house.

I'm a weirdo trapped inside a regular life

Sat, 9 Aug 2008 00:00 EDT

Or I wish I was, anyway

I'm sorry I almost stole your ferret

Sat, 9 Aug 2008 00:00 EDT

When I was 12, I changed my name to Jordan. The choice of name had nothing to do with the lead singer of New Kids on the Block or the Middle East. Instead, I thought it would be cool and quirky to have a new name - a boy's name in particular. I was sick of ''Leah'' and all it's nerdy, dull, small-town girl connotations. School was out for summer. I was going to be a Senior at camp. Like my idol Madonna, I was determined to reinvent myself. ''Jordan'' would be my personal Blonde Ambition tour.