Karen Stiller

In the last several months, I have eaten breakfasts on Friday mornings in 15 diners scattered across Ottawa. I did some quick math at just my level and calculated that means 30 sausages, also 30 poached eggs (medium) because my order quickly fell into a pattern. The Classic. Two eggs. Poached. Healthiest Bread you have. […]

When I turned 50, Brent had a surprise birthday party for me. We drove down a dark country road to a community hall with a packed parking lot. Still I didn’t catch on. Our friends who were with us told me someone had turned the hall into a temporary restaurant out here close to the

I left my suitcase in Montreal. When I flew home from Mexico a few months ago, after a 10-day self-directed writing retreat during which I worked my process (the Mexican version which involved a terrace and sun and flowers) and made progress on a project — I plotted out my trip home very carefully. It

Recently, I booked an interview with Reinekke Lengelle, author of Writing the Self in Bereavement: A Story of Love, Spousal Loss, and Resilience to interview her for the first part of my doctoral writing project. I loved her book so much and found it so helpful that I made notes in the margin with my

The second time I registered for “Introduction to Pickleball” at the gym I joined, I felt sneaky. Were we even allowed to take it twice? Don’t ask, I told myself. Just do. I worried the coach would recognize me from two days before, and my first time through. He didn’t seem to. Then, because I