I miss my great aunt, Mae. My Aunt Mae, or Auntie Mae, or—as we affectionately called her—Annie Mae.   Annie Mae was my mother's mother's sister. For most of her life, she lived in Montreal, but she never missed an opportunity to come to Ottawa to visit her nieces, my mom and my Aunt Joyce. And, of course, she visited with her great nieces and nephews—my sisters, my brother, and my cousins. And me.   One of the things we loved the most about Annie Mae, apart from the amazing fudge she'd bring or make during her stay, was her twisted sense of humour (no jokes were censored) and her quirky expressions: budado  for potato ; bunker  for kitchen counters ; affie-gans  for afghan sweaters . Whenever she said any of these, it was all we could do to surpress our snickers.   I'll also never forget a conversation she and I had, once, when I was in my teens. It was winter, and I was heading out, either to head to school or to meet with a friend. I put my boots on, zipped up my jac...