It's that time of year again, is on everyone's lips. Whether referring to flannel season, pumpkin spiced anything, or simply said with a tired sigh, we are all marking the changes. From my perspective, besides the style switch (my leggings are back in rotation, and layers adding up), I can't help but notice how dark it is.

My family didn't do Thanksgiving when I was growing up, though I didn't catch on at first. Familial structures define normal, so I didn't notice the missing holiday for years (much like I didn't realize we were apparently the only family in Canada that never watched hockey).

The thing about boundaries is that I'm terrible with them. A therapist once explained to me that just because someone asks a question, doesn't mean I have to answer it.

Taking my first plunge into the widely renowned Montreal comedy scene, I wasn’t quite sure what I would be walking into. Being a newcomer to the city, and a newcomer to comedy, my stomach was buzzing like a hive of ever-persistent Quebec wasps.

It's time for changes. No, not to my sexy weekly, don't worry. I'm speaking more generally. Change seems to be in the air. My cursory understanding of the stars isn't sufficient to blame it on heavenly bodies, and despite my witchy genes, I can't read cards without a book.

"Why are all the stores on this street? And why is there a table in the road?" These are valid questions from an astute suburban seven year old experiencing a pedestrian-only city street for the first time.

This past weekend I had a staycation of sorts. My boyfriend headed home to Maritimes, and I had the place to myself, alone for the first time in four years.

When I first met Naghmeh Shafei, I knew her as a friend of a friend, a great dog-mom, and a welcoming soul. I had no idea that she was an extraordinary musician, self-aware and ready to disrupt expectations.

"We have to get ready for winter," I said, shades on, sundress swishing, skin comfortably roasting. "It's September," was the reply. While that turned out to be accurate, the feeling didn't care. I was sweating like summer, but in my bones the change of season was looming like a storm on the horizon.

While this year marked the 7th Edition of Ladyfest, it was my first time attending, making me more than fashionably late.