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From a feminine perspective, if there's an interesting relationship it is that of father and son. While Daddy might be wrapped around his little girl's finger,  the ties that bind father and son are straightforward. The older is a role model, leader, teacher and friend. Whether it was being with my brother and father or my husband and son, I have seen a unique dynamic where son strives to please and dad wants only the best for, and expects the best from, his younger counterpart.  In the many other examples I've seen over my lifetime too, through friends and acquaintances, this particular family tie is bound like the loose ends of a basting stitch, capable of sliding back and forth from respect, love and pride, to frustration, confusion and misunderstanding. There is undoubtedly a deep connection of affection, but perhaps because of the whole tough-guy thing, it seems to be more covert than it is with a daughter. While spontaneous hugs, cuddles and kisses are part of

I'm a big fan of dads. One was my first love and another is, hopefully, my last. The relationship that a little girl has with her father is a special one. He is the hero, the strongest, bravest man. To him, she is his princess, to be protected and loved. As a wife and mother, watching that develop between your husband and children is equally remarkable.  I remember whne  my guy held his newborn daughter for the first time. Watching this strong man try not to appear terrified, while seeing what was definitely a new love affair already in bloom was a beautiful thing.  Not to mention there's probably nothing sexier than a tough macho man in the company of a little lady. No less interesting to follow, though, was  the dynamic that formed with their dad as both of our girls grew and matured. While his word was law and accepted with respect, they also could get away with far more than their brothers. And knew it. A batted lash, a demure pout, a sweet giggle melted any steely re

This Sunday is Father's Day.  In selecting cards, many people nowadays are adding the personal touch by creating their own, with some of the wonderful images that can be found on online. The variety is endless, perfect for all personalities and styles, whether the intent is to match your own or your fathers. Growing up I was always a Daddy's girl. He was my hero and the cards I gave him were a reflection of that admiration. The covers of the ones I made as a child, and the ones I bought as I got older, were images that I felt suited him. They were depictions of golf and old cars, lakeshores and rustic cabins. The verse inside was always sentimental, always carefully considered to communicate my true feelings about the type of man and father he was to me. My brother, on the other hand, wouldn't have dared to be so overtly affectionate. It wasn't the macho thing to do. So his cards to Dad were typically decorated with humorous images, the message inside respectful,

This weekend we celebrate Dad — the guy who was every little girl's first love and every little boy's first hero. Yet despite the impressive stature, when it comes to gifts and accolades,  fathers are often given short shrift compared to their maternal counterparts.  Mom's cards are usually full of flowery prose and verse, extolling her virtues and the power of her maternal love.  Humour, on the other hand, is what's typically in store for Dad, all evidence of sentimentality covered by light teasing and corny jokes. When we shop for Mom appreciation is shown in numerous ways: clothes, flowers, sweets, jewellery, fragrances or spa treatments. Sadly, it seems imagination goes out the window when it comes to shopping for Dad. While the tie cliché might not be as apt in today's more casual society, we do tend to stick to something when we think we have a winner. For me, that meant giving consideration year after year to my father's love of sweets, foul-smell

"There is a place, Where I can go When I feel low, When I feel blue." There Is a Place, Lennon and McCartney There's most definitely a place in this world like that for me. While it's unfortunately a little too far to visit as often as I'd like, the beautiful French River is an annual destination for recharging and relaxing. The annual spring trek this time, from which I have just returned, was more welcome than normal coming on the heels of a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride this past month.  The birth of two new grandbabies within a week of each other (meaning two new moms needing mom's help), followed shortly after by the passing of my father, had left me feeling emotionally drained and mentally exhausted. Given the fact that I could barely organize my thoughts, let alone an extended weekend holiday, by the time I left last week, I had added physically done-in to my condition. Arriving at our cabin, one of a rustically-elegant group that ar