On the lips of Premier Mike Harris, the term ‘special interest’ has the tone of epithet. It’s an all-purpose dog-whistle that those fed up with feminists, minorities, the undeserving poor hear loud and clear.

You're not going out like that! You look like a dishrag!

She fanned the fire one-handed, cooked, swept the yard, pulled weeds out of the tomato beds, washed longyis and towels, and even developed a technique to wring them out one-handed—all because she did not want to put her son down.

My own mother named me after her best friend, as women did in those days. Elaine, which I once found too plaintive. I wanted something more definite, a monosyllable: Dot or Pat, like a foot set down. Nothing you could make a mistake about; nothing watery. But my name has solidified around me, with time. I think of it as tough but pliable now, like a well-worn glove.