WTF, I'm almost 30

Work Free Honeymoon Huzzah

2012-02-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

The Dude and I are leaving for our honeymoon in T-minus five hours. Huzzah! I can't say whether we won the honeymoon or not, but I can say that we're amazingly excited about it.

And I really need this vacation. I truly am starting to feel burnt out at work. I'm getting all of my work complete, I'm managing to work ahead, I've gotten a handle on the 50% workload increase and yet what I can't seem to take in stride is the increasing criticisms from my superior.

It started with complaints about my email window time. I wasn't responding within five minutes. When you have IBS, that's just how she flies. Sometimes you're in the bathroom and everything and everyone else has to wait. I had to get a note to ask for flexibility on that score.

Another was feedback I got after we eliminated doing a second pass through our work. When you're doing a single draft of anything (resumé, poem, speech, short story) your first pass is shit. In transcription, your first draft is reasonable because the words are chosen for you, but you're still going to eff up. But in order to do more overall transcripts, we all decided on us handing in the first draft to save time. So I think it's pretty rotten to complain about quality. You choose quantity, thus you must adjust your standards of what you can expect.

Other complaints have been about infrequent, rare or one-off errors that could happen to anyone, all with suggestions on how to help them never happen again. The message behind that feels intense: Don't let it happen again. Natural human error cannot be avoided from time to time. One used to be able to have a bad day, make a mistake, apologize, correct the error, and move on with personal efforts to be more careful. Now it seems like I have to explain myself, have a reason, a preventative solution handy and offer to change the way I do things which in my seven years at work had always been just fine.

And there often isn't a reason except I forgot somehow to do X or Z, something that I may do one to three times a year, but managed to fix. Or I just had an off day and since I couldn't do a second pass on my work, I didn't know and I missed many mistakes. Or I was working sick and took time to lay down and missed frantic emails asking for this or that. Sometimes my email signs me out and I don't notice for however long, sign back and realize I missed important questions.

I'm at a point that every time I leave my desk now I feel fear. I'm finding it difficult to concentrate. I'm working from home, something that's supposed to afford some time-management freedom, and I have never felt so constrained or micromanaged.

Frankly, I'm developing anxiety. I'm finding it difficult to get up in the morning and face the day, feeling like maybe there will be more nitpicking at my performance, something that I know is actually giving me performance problems.

I don't know where this sudden crunch-down came from. My work gets done, I work ahead, and whenever the admin team has made mistakes that negatively affected me, and it's happened numerous time, I've been gracious and told them not to worry, shit happens.

I don't know. Just the last six months have been grating on me. I'm growing increasingly frazzled. I don't know what to do about it.

I'm going to do my very best to enjoy my honeymoon, not think about work, and just relax.

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 26

2012-01-31T14:56:00.000-08:00

Over three weeks! And just look at this hair. I've got a nice natural wave going on, no grease and everything's coming up Milhouse. Priya Means Love is good stuff. Using the famous apple cider vinegar as a diluted rinse really upped the outcome. It's still not to where I think it's going to be, but slowly, slowly my scalp is becoming increasingly cleaner, less oily, mor neutral. My actual hair is a little softer and shinier and the ends aren't breaking off, which they usually would by now this stage of my hair colouring/trim cycle.

Tonight the Dude and I are planning on meeting our new niece. Matt's brother is a new dad and he and his wife live a five-minute walk from here. I've seen a picture of the kid, and she looks a lot like her pa, with her ma's nose. You can already see she's got some good features on her. Really lovely baby, and you can't honestly say that about all them, precious as they all may be.

It's always totally wild to me, you know, going from child-free to parents. And it happens irrevocably in a moment. Pregnancy is, for a woman, a transition stage, but you still have your freedom, if not your body. But whamo! Suddenly you are chained to your baby, exclusively for the next few months at least. And I don't mean chained in a negative way, I mean it in an accurate description sense. Like, that baby needs you and there's no bones about it, no leaving wee one behind unattended. It is in a near constant state of need and you must attend to those needs.

What a massive adjustment. And you would feel all this focused type of love, amidst hormone levels dropping, and your body making all new sorts of changes like lactation and hair loss, all while recovering from your pregnancy and delivery. Dude.

Yeah, I still want to do it.

But really, it's something, eh? To know people for years and suddenly they're almost like new people, because they've undergone a massive life change and no doubt their perspectives have altered as a result. Such a massive thing to have happen. Being a parent is a huge part of a person's identity.

Also kind of wild to think a person could be as little as a few days old, isn't it? A wee little person who couldn't be more brand new. It's the oldest trick in the biological organism handbook, reproduction, and yet it never stops looking like a damn miracle.

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 19

2012-01-24T14:15:00.000-08:00

Day after using Priya Means Love

So, my hair looks pretty clean, eh? Not too bad indeed. However, I've encountered a similar issue I had with the baking soda. It's kind of greasy in the back. Reason? I don't think I'm reaching it very well when I wash. Like I've said, I have a hella ton of hair. Like, tons. So I think I need to put more effort into scrubbing the back, not to mention brushing it out to redistribute the oils.

So basically, I need to use more elbow grease.

The Dude's away on a work trip for a few days. I haven't given much thought as to how I'll spend my time. Drawing and writing, probably. I went for a nice long walk yesterday and managed to fall asleep at a decent hour, despite waking up multiple times. Makes me realize how sedentary I've become. I think it's my natural state, though obviously not the best for my health.

I always sat around. It's a wonder I never became fat. Though I never really ate that much as a kid, so never mind. I'm not fat now either, though I'm... soft. If this were the Renaissance, man, I'd be set. But this being the 21st century, it'd probably behove me to get some more exercise.

If only I cared enough to ever really make a concerted effort. I mean, I do care. My appearance matters to me. I just have always concentrated my efforts on my skin, hair, clothes, basically dressing the body I have, caring for what I've got.

It's not like I have my ideal body, but a long time ago I gave up worrying about it. I have the shortest, highest waist I've ever seen, so that elegant longer, tinier-waisted torso is not mine to have. My breasts are small and that's the way it is. I'm also 5'2". Five pounds makes a big difference on my figure. Going up or down in either direction moves me a full dress size. Five pounds isn't all that hard to lose either, not when I try.

I just don't like trying. How ridiculous does that sound? I really should, though. I'm entering my 30s and it would probably good to have a good base of health and fitness to start out with, lest I become one of those frumpy women who look like they've thrown in the towel.

Know what's got me actually bummed, though? My first real wrinkle. It's on my forehead. Between that and my slowly greying hair, it's becoming apparent that I won't in fact stay young forever after all. When I was younger, despite all my anti-aging measures, I still sort of considered in my fantasy brain that perhaps I would somehow be exempt from aging. Heh. Well, it begins. Awesome.

Though if all goes well with this experiment, I should at least enter my 30s with exemplary hair (Grey hairs obscured by a tasteful red, of course).

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 18 - Pryia Means Love Review

2012-01-23T14:39:00.000-08:00

Today I went out to Grassroots in the Danforth and picked up Lavender Mud Hair and Scalp Cleanser. I normally would have bought right off the Etsy store, but I kinda wanted the cleanser now.

Using it was a lot more pleasant than baking soda. More expensive, by far, but the goal is infrequent washings, so I'm down with that, and in any case my goal is to get off of shampoo, stop the allergic reactions on my fingers, cease rubbing the chemicals into my scalp and improve the quality of my hair.

You have to shake it till it's mixed and thickened up. You pour a small amount into your hair and scrub it into your scalp. I needed a little extra. I have super thick hair and it always takes more of everything to reach everywhere. It felt a little gritty, but not in a bad way. It has an earthy, herbal aroma.

It washed out easily enough and my hair, which had begun to smell funky yesterday now smells like normal hair again. I can run my fingers through my hair and it doesn't feel dirty or oily. It's air drying now and I can already feel the volume. Ah, success.

I didn't need conditioner or anything. It was enough just the way it was. We'll see how long the clean lasts, what it's like dry and how much headway I've made into this shampoo-free life.

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 17

2012-01-22T20:34:00.000-08:00

I bought a boar bristle brush today. I have really thick hair and it takes a long time to brush it through, but it does make my hair shinier and evenly distributes the oil.

I spent three days in a row washing my hair with water, and I haven't wet it since for two days. Some interesting results. It's not nearly as oily as you might expect. I mean, it is oily, but all things considered, it's okay. I've gone eight days without any cleaning agents, and while my scalp isn't producing as much oil, it's still too much and the excess needs to go. I'm going to be looking into a non-detergent non-foaming cleanser tomorrow. It's red clay, herbs, aloe and essential oils. I'll give it a go and write about my results.

With the addition of my boar bristle brush, it should prevent the oils from sitting on the top of my head and that should improve the quality of my hair and make it look more presentable.

I'm kind of excited about the cleanser, but at the same time, I'm wondering if I should plough ahead and go without anything. I suppose managing the grease while I'm going through transition is helpful, and so long as it doesn't strip the hair of sebum, I should be okay. My scalp hasn't been irritated in two and a half weeks, and so long as that continues to be the case with this new product, I'm still going shampoo free.

Chapter Four

2012-01-19T23:19:00.001-08:00

2:20 in the morning and all is well. All could be better. For example, I could be sleeping.

I did some writing tonight. I've completed four chapters of a new novel I'm attempting to write. It's still to new to really talk about in depth, and obviously still a first draft. But I'm pleased with my progress thus far. I've been developing my protagonist, introduced a couple characters and have introduced a conflict. Yes, yes, writing 101. Good for me.

But it's encouraging to keep it up. I'm trying to not just wait for creative impulses, I'm attempting to tap into what I'm pretty sure is there and lying dormant. Getting into a comfort zone and not challenging myself has been bad for my creativity. I used to devote most of my spare time into storytelling and drawing, hours a day.

That pretty much stopped after art school. If you're not meant to be a commercial artist, an art program can kill your drive. Perhaps if I had just leapt into journalism first, I wouldn't have quit for all those years. Many of the classmates I met in in Art Fundamentals pursued their dreams and completed other programs or became commercial artists of some kind. You can't help but question yourself when you're in the minority of those not going for it.

Like I've been saying, though, 2012 is my year. It's the year I'm taking to make creative changes. Just need to keep up my motivation.

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 13

2012-01-18T16:19:00.000-08:00

I washed my hair with only water this evening. Funnily enough, though it's still damp, it feels the best it has so far. Slightly oily, no more dryness and softer than usual.

Ha, as I type this, Bea is crawling into my lap and giving me head butts and cuddles. I can't deny her charms. Good kitty <3

Anyhoo, my experiment is going exceedingly well. I feel like I'm over a major hump here. Not quite where I need to be, but I think there's improvement beginning to occur. And that pleases me.

I'm not sure yet how a couple things are going to go. For instance, I colour my hair. I'm not a natural redhead, quel dommage, and so I purchase a lovely shade of auburn from ye olde hairdresser. I can't bear the thought of going back to my natural colour. I mean, for one, it's nothing special and two, I've begun to gray. It's not everywhere, but it's happening. Genes. What can you do.

So, perhaps I can ask them not to shampoo my colour out, only rinse. I don't want to undo my patient, hard work, but I also don't want to go without hair colouring because I do so love my red 'do.

Just ran my fingers through my hair and it does feel really nice. Conditioner coats your hair and it does have a really smooth feeling. It's silky feeling, right? Slick. My natural hair feels soft. It's not smooth, not dry, not anything. I don't know, it feels like hair kinda should. That slick feeling always made me feel like there was still gunk in my hair, which, really, there was. Now it's bare and air drying and it's an interesting sensation.

I'm totally into this. Only two weeks in and I think I might be hooked.

No Shampoo Experiment: Day 11

2012-01-16T09:53:00.000-08:00

You know what? I'm kind of granola. It's come on me so slowly and gradually as I learned things and became comfortable with my body and who I am, but there's no denying it anymore. I'm granola.

Did you know that if you stop washing your face and wearing makeup for a week, your skin starts to glow, your pores unclog and dead skin wipes away on a washcloth? I've been applying the same philosophy to my skin as I have with my hair, only not intentionally. It sort of happened quietly.

I've been hyper about my skin since I was 13. This has been mostly positive, I think, because I'm reaping the benefits now of having avoided the sun all these years. I have few lines and wrinkles, as I've had little sun damage, though general aging can't be avoided. My mom was super into sunscreen and was always on me about protecting my skin. The daycare I went to had a policy about each child having their own bottle of sunscreen and it had to be applied three times a day, prior to each of the three scheduled playtimes outdoors.

I'd shield my face from the sun at school. I'd walk in the shade. I wore moisturizing creams that had SPF in it. I started getting facials when I was in college, and wearing anti-wrinkle cream. I never sleep in makeup, I exfoliate and wear mud masks.

But this week I did nothing except splash with water.

Oh my God. Okay, my skin is so soft. My pores are so small and they're not clogged as much as usual. Dead skin? What dead skin? My skin's own oil seems to have conditioned it and now has reached a sort of equilibrium.

I washed my face last night because I had makeup on. But this morning, my face was still good. Not oily, not shiny, not a problem. I am turning into such a damn hippy. And I love it. It's so freeing. I mean, I'm doing less and seeing improvements.

My hair is much more of a journey. But seeing how easily my face adjusted to nothing, I'm very excited to see results with my hair. After doing some research, I think I'm going to eschew baking soda altogether. It was helpful initially, but I think just some apple cider vinegar is my next step, that and getting a natural bristle brush, something that will evenly distribute the sebum through the stands and prevent build-up on my scalp.

My hair still smells like nothing. Like hair, I guess. It's a little softer than it was when I first started this whole thing. Not great, but better. Now the Dude is thinking about doing the same thing. Mostly he's just a typical lazy dude when when it comes to personal grooming. The less he can get away with, the better. At first he thought I was a little nutty for doing this, though he didn't attempt to talk me out of it. Now he's considering it for himself, though I haven't been on a campaign for him to begin.

Actually, since I was a once-a-week hair washer and he's a daily hair washer, I think he'd be in a far greater battle.

It's a two-week adjustment period-- minimum. Maybe it'll take six weeks. Some people take months. Blech, I hope I'm not among them. I'm thinking of adding some rosemary essential oils to the mix to stimulate hair growth. I've never been able to get past my current length because of split ends and such. Everyone I've seen who's gone no-shampoo for a long time has beautiful long shiny hair. I want that to be me.

No Shampoo Experiment: Third Baking Soda Wash

2012-01-14T15:33:00.000-08:00

I've done my third wash with baking soda instead of shampoo this evening. I usually only wash my hair once a week with shampoo, but I'm going almost twice a week with the baking soda and vinegar. That doesn't seem like a big deal, right? Though it technically is double duty on the hair washing.

My hair and scalp is still adjusting. It's been over a week now. My hair looks good. It's the feel that I'm still banking on changing. The first time it was bizarre feeling, oily and dry, if that's even possible (It is). Not too terrible, really, not enough to quit, but definitely not pleasant. The second time I had more enjoyable results, probably due to the vinegar. My hair was softer and less dry feeling.

This time it's the same thing, a little softer mostly. Not the silky results you'd get from conditioner, but it's moving in the right direction. So I'm still sticking to it. This time I used a little more baking soda and I got it only damp before scrubbing it into my scalp. I think that was helpful.

Two things I've noticed that definitely has baking soda in my good books over shampoo is 1. No allergic skin reaction, no dry skin blotches all over, and 2. Less frizz.

Ploughing on ahead!

330 Days

2012-01-09T20:38:00.000-08:00

So I have a couple of changes on the go. I suppose this could be considered New Years Resolution-like, but it's more lifestyle/growing up/future planning stuff.

As for the no-shampoo experiment, I washed it Friday and my scalp is not terribly oily now. My hair doesn't smell bad either. So I'm no worse for wear in the greasy and odour department. However, my hair has a strange consistency to it. It's sort of dry and sort of... not. I didn't do the recommended vinegar rinse, which I will be attempting next round.

When I was in the shower I took a heaping tablespoon's worth of baking soda, added water and scrubbed it into my scalp. But it was rather watery so I took another smallish heap and added less water to create a paste and scrubbed that in as well. It was all very strange feeling. If you enjoy suds and lather, this part is not very satisfying.

I left it in for a minute and rinsed it out. Vinegar is supposed to restore PH balance to your hair and give it a healthy sheen. And vinegar is also a cleaning agent, so it sort of finishes the job. The smell is supposed to dissipate after the hair dries.

I am soooo looking forward to no more shampoo. My hair always looks and feels like a frizzy mess after shampooing. It's toxic stuff, it's bad for your hair, your scalp and really, I'm tired of it. My exema rash breaks out when I use it. It's an oil byproduct and I don't want it on my skin anymore. I'm always red and blotchy and dried out after I use shampoo. Wherever it touches me, my skin reacts.

So that's one change. Going shampoo free 2012.

Change two is around the home. Our living room finally has all its necessary furniture. It's like a real grownup room with enough storage. It's functional. It's comfortable.

And we want to own our own house. And this being Toronto, we're in for a rough ride. The housing market is out of control and we don't want to be house poor. There is a condo bubble developing so maybe there will be deals down the road. But while we wait and see where things go there, we're looking to save up a downpayment.

We currently have a decent amount. But it's not enough to get more than a small condo. And I work from home and we'd like to have a child. So a 1-bedroom condo is not going to cut it for our future. We need at least two bedrooms and a den-like space for me to do my job.

So this be the year we save, yo. Come March, we'll be putting away about a fifth of our monthly income. Very... adult. If we lived in our hometown making what we make, we'd have a house. I love Toronto, but in this one way, I hate it. Getting into the market is a nightmare. I don't want to get a place and wind up house poor, unable to pay my mortgage and other bills. So we're waiting till the Dude's income goes up a little more and we have more in the bank.

Change three is my creativity. I'm halfway through my aunt's illustrations for her children's book. I've also started writing again. I want to get in the family track next year, so if I'm going to do something with myself in this regard, the time is now.

I've spent my 20s doing a number of things. I've been in meaningful relationships. I've travelled. I've moved around a lot. I've lived with roommates, alone, with a partner. I got married. I found a good job. I spent time in counselling to get some closure on my relationship with my father. I've figured out who I am. I'm almost 30 and I really truly finally feel like I know myself.

And now I wish to complete a couple creative projects before my 20s come to a close, before I enter my 30s and home ownership and starting a family take me in a direction away from myself. Not that I'll leave who I am, but my world will expand beyond myself, and for a time I will not be my sole focus. Heck, it isn't now. I have to share my focus with the Dude. He's my husband. We're become a team. But this last year I'm going to dedicate to me.

330 days till I'm 30.

No Shampoo For Me

2012-01-06T20:38:00.000-08:00

I'm going to stop shampooing my hair. I've already set this in motion and I plan on documenting the experience. What else is a blog for?

For the past couple years I've trained my scalp to not need shampooing so often. Your hair gets super greasy because the detergents in the shampoo strip your scalp of its natural oils, it goes into hyperdrive to replace them and then ta-da, you need another shampoo the next day.

If you're willing to stick it out, you can get to two days. Then three. Then four. I can get to five comfortably, and seven if I'm stubborn.

But still, shampooing is a pain in the ass. And I have some exema on my finger that flares up when I wash my hair. So the Dude's been washing it for me, once a week. It's sweet, but I really feel like my body is rejecting this substance and considering all the toxicity in shampoo, methinks it's time to move on.

So tonight I used baking soda. I read that I should expect it to take 2-6 weeks for my scalp to adjust and for my hair to look good. Until then, it's going to be a rough road. Well, I believe that. It certainly doesn't look or feel good now. It's sort of dry and greasy at the same time.

Kind of overexposed, but I managed to take a good picture

in the first go, so hurrah!

So here is attempt number one. Looks fine, yes? Well, it's not too bad. Let's see how it fares throughout the week. Also, next time I'm going to do the vinegar rinse. I didn't bother this time and it may account for the blechy feeling in my hair.

Try

2012-01-03T13:16:00.001-08:00

It is colder than Frosty's asshole out there.

It's also the last day of my vacation. Tomorrow it's back to the grind. So to stretch out my day and make it feel more indulgent I redeemed a Groupon for a manicure/pedicure in Mount Pleasant. And it was pleasant, the neighbourhood and the nail salon. It was called Fabulous Manicure Bar, which is not the most appropriate name, I think. Not because it wasn't fabulous, but because the best adjective would be "charming". But I suppose Charming Manicure Bar isn't so catchy.

Going out into that freezing abyss was total crap, though. My god, it got cold fast. It felt blistering out there, the kind of chill that really penetrates your bones. I have an incredibly warm coat, which is mandatory in this country, but still.

I have the rest of the day to spend as I please. I need to do some more drawings for my aunt's book, so that's on my to-do list. But I also want to write. I have made a practice of blogging these past few years, which has been very helpful in keeping me in practice. I think it's important not to get lax about it. I did that with my drawing and it doesn't come quite so easily now, not the creative part. I don't want writing to become a struggle. If you can't write creatively, forget it.

Really, though, my problem is motivation. My biggest obstacle is myself. I'm not a go-getter. I enjoy being comfortable. I'll do what I need to in order to get comfortable and then stay there, more or less. I don't shoot for the stars. I enjoy my life, I love my free time, but sometimes I really think I should be attempting more, just to really try, see what I can do.

Name Game Changer

2011-12-29T10:59:00.000-08:00

2011, where have you gone?

You know, it was a big year. The Dude and I spent it being engaged, planning a wedding (Well, I planned the wedding) and we had showers thrown for us. We moved downstairs to a bigger and better apartment, planted our first garden, and finally got some more grownup furniture. We adopted Sprinkles and Bea and they've really brightened up our lives. We had our wedding, which was obviously the highlight of the year, and over all I'd say the year was pretty damn good.

We also got more Christmas cards than ever before. I think probably we were fresh in people's minds due to the invitations and thank you cards, all containing our current address. Funny thing, I got many adressed to Mrs. Dude, and Mrs. Dude Duderson. My own name completely obliterated by his. Ah, such is life. I haven't changed my name, nor will I, but I have to accept that this information will be slow in making its way to people and many won't retain it in their memories. I get that even in the modern age, it's still less common to keep your name.

Facebook, though, is handy. My name appears correctly there and that will help, I'm sure. My email will also show up with my correct name, so as I email people, it will reinforce the knowledge. My family also seem quietly pleased I've kept my name. Probably they had already figured I would, as they all posed their question, "Are you keeping your name?" as opposed to, "Are you changing it?"

My own mother hyphenated her name back in the early '80s, when it was definitely rarer to do so. After my parents split up, she went back to her maiden name and still had to endure people calling her Mrs. Berri from people who knew her through my brother or I. I could see it bugged her, but she never made a federal case out of it. When you choose what's right for you and that happens to go against social convention, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches with some grace.

I sometimes wonder about children. Again, I think we're going to be planning for parenthood, but until we're 100% onboard with it, I'm not thinking so concretely. But everyone will expect them to be Dudes, not Berris. I'd love to pass on my name. I love the idea of daughters being Berris and sons being Dudes. Why not?

Well, I know why not. Everyone we know will give us grief. Well, no, not everyone. All our friends would understand if we made this choice. But I think our families would be perplexed. And people on the outside would assume a child with my last name would not biologically belong to the Dude. And if we had one of each, we'd appear as a blended family and have to field questions and assumptions all the time. So what would be right for me as a mother would be so socially unconventional it might not even be worth my while for all the hassle it would cause.

The Dude sometimes likes to joke with people that he's taken my last name instead, and it actually shocks people. Rather than chuckling or asking, "Oh, really?" he gets a, "What?!" So deeply ingrained is it that a man's identity belongs to him and a woman's is tied to her family, and the family she belongs to is her husband's.

I wish we lived in a world that respected choice a little more. We can legally make any family name changes we wish. But that doesn't mean the greater world out there will be supportive or understanding. So as it is, keeping my own name may be as far as I go.

Christmastime

2011-12-27T14:55:00.000-08:00

Christmas, she has come and gone, as has my whirlwind tour to my hometown. Unlike being a child and experiencing the pull of two separate families due to a family breakup, being an adult married to another child of divorce means more families to see.

My mother's family dissipated after the back-to-back deaths of my Grammy and mother. My aunt Debby kept things up as best as possible, however my Poppie moved to another town and she had to throw in the towel. Now she's in Vancouver with her husband, my cousins followed suit and Poppie passed away.

This depressing series of events has thus lessened my holiday visiting obligations, but I miss them all. I'd gladly make the time to see them and share in the festivities again, if I could. They were never an obligation in the true sense of the word. They were always a joy.

My father's family is in full swing. People are marrying, procreating. Christmas dinner swelled to 24 people, even with my aunt Mary & co. absent. I really cherish these holiday get-togethers. I love my family. They're the sort of people that even if you're not a blood relative, you belong. Warm, basically.

My aunt, the one who hosts it each year with my uncle, worries about it expanding beyond their means. And it's a reasonable concern. New in-laws, new children, all needing seats and a spot at the table. Everyone's always welcome, but sadly as people move or make their own families and stop coming, it's likely to be the only way the dinner will be sustainable.

And even more sadly, if the Dude and I become parents, I see us being two more who drop out of the dinner, as travelling hours on the highway in the winter in a rental car to zoom about every family we need to see with an infant or toddler is not my idea of a happy Christmas.

So we must make the most of the years we have left. Though although I want to have children, I don't think we're 100% decided on it.

As for the Dude's family, his father and stepmom will likely be spending future Christmases up here, where more of the grandchildren are. But who knows for certain. They're snowbirds and go to Arizona for the winter to bask in the dry heat. I think of them in February when I trudge through the slush.

The Dude's mom stays put in her small village home outside of the city we grew up in. It's charming. She'll likely always be available for a Christmas visit. We've spent the last two Christmas eve's at her place.

People have asked us about making holiday traditions as a couple. Truth be told, it's too early. Our lives, well, we haven't picked a solid direction for the two of us to go in yet. I don't know what will be best for us. I just know that the current status quo is probably on borrowed time. Sometimes growing up is a bummer.

Fire

2011-12-21T23:17:00.001-08:00

The other day I went to The Clay Room in the Danforth on my day off and I spent hours there painting ceramics. One is a teapot that'll go to my mother-in-law, who we'll be spending Christmas eve with, and the others were a set of coffee mugs for the Dude and I, which I envision us sipping out of together on lazy Sundays.

Not this Sunday, though. That be Christmas. And holy gods in the trees, how is this possible? I feel like more and more my life is speeding up and time is moving faster than I'm actually aging. But no. I'm 29. In less than a year I'll be 30 and to be honest, I'm not where I thought I'd be.

Not that I'm in a bad place. But when you choose to live in Toronto and will not move, this almost necessarily means entering into real estate is a scarier and more difficult venture than in other towns and cities. I mean, you can buy a real dive with two bedrooms in a crummy neighbourhood in this city for $300,000. Awesome. So yeah, we're not going to be in the market for home ownership for a couple years.

Then there's parenthood. I don't really have the luxury of surplus time anymore. I don't want to wait till I'm 35 only to discover I have fertility issues that can no longer be easily resolved due to advanced age. Being cheated out of motherhood would break my heart. Now is the time I have to start planning the real deal. I have to save monies (On top of home down payment monies) for a year's worth of mat leave.

I also want to do some creative projects. I've been getting my feet wet, but I can't be passive about this. I don't want to get older and older with no finished works.

Sometimes when I see 21-year-olds I get envious. Just seeing all the potential and little responsibility and all the years of easygoing times ahead makes me wistful. Not that I'd go back, but I did have fun and my mid 20s were in particular very enjoyable. I remember my boss at my internship when I was 21 telling me, "The world is your oyster." Little cliche statements like that start ringing a lot more true when you look back and analyze the choices you made. I think I did okay. But I could do a lot more.

Something about turning 29 has putting something of a fire under my ass. I really feel like I need to be... more.

Artist

2011-12-18T10:07:00.000-08:00

I've started work on my aunt's book. I've gotten three pages done, and I'm aiming for 12. My drawing style has always been cute and childlike, cartoony really. So this is something that is working out nicely for me. It feels good to draw again. It's like riding a bike, I guess.

Though I'm shaky. I used to have a much more fluid hand. I'd sometimes draw a person without having any idea what they were going to look like and make the decision on the spot as my pen moved across the page. Now I'm more unsure and less confident.

So strange what being young can do for your ability to learn. I mean, it's not strange. It's science. Your brain isn't fully developed yet. The things you learn as a kid have the benefit of neurons going crazy and making new connections to help you along the way. When I draw now it's like I can still feel the connections my hands and brain made together as a child, but it's weaker.

Learning to draw as an adult, or even as a teenager I think leaves you somewhat disadvantaged. Not that you're out of luck, but that you have to work harder. But that's the same in many things, like music or dance. Certain things you learn as a kid you sort of hardwire into your brain and body and you can draw on it later without strain. Though I'm a little rusty, and despite not having been at the drawing board for years, I can still watch my hands do, more or less, what they know how to do. It's very encouraging.

I have these lovely new markers at my disposal. I'm unpracticed in them, but one thing I learned as a kid and as a teenager as I dove into new mediums: confidence is half the battle. If you have an artistic ability, you can figure it out as you go. The lessons learned from one medium will translate in some way to another, if you have the courage to try. Having faith it'll work out goes far.

I want 2012 to be a year of artistic revival for me. I want to reopen that part of myself I let go dormant. Art school sort of quieted me. I actually learned a significant amount of things and it was valuable, but it shut me down. Eight years later, I'm feeling ready to try again. Less about making a living, more about personal fulfillment. I can be an artist as a person; I don't have to be an artist as a profession. What I do to pay the bills need not be what defines who I am.

Lovely thought.

Quel Dommage

2011-12-11T09:02:00.001-08:00

One day I'll develop the sleep a normal person enjoys.

Who am I kidding? No, I won't.

Last night I had a lovely time at a joint birthday for friends, who are a married couple the Dude and I know and love. It was meat, cheese, wine and an amazing dance game on the X-Box that the Dude did surprisingly well in. Me, not so much, but I burned some calories, which alleviated my guilt in eating a quarter wheel of brie. Plus it was amazing fun. I love my friends.

We got home late and were in bed by 2:00 and I never was able to fall asleep, despite being tired. My moon time started and woke me up around 5:00 with aching cramps. I had to make several unrelated-to-moontime trips to the bathroom. Sprinkles caught me up around 6:00 and by 8:00, I had no choice but to go upstairs and feed her and Bea. I went back to bed and sweat under the covers and that woke me up, too. Now it's noon, I've been officially up since... I'm not sure, and I feel mentally disconnected.

I have a manicure/pedicure appointment soon, which will be nice. But then the Dude and I are going to the Eaton Centre because we both need shoes/boots. And that won't be nice. It's a Sunday a couple weeks before Christmas at the largest mall downtown Toronto. We're talking zoo central. But I have no winter boots. My only pair, which were three or four years old, developed holes in them by the end of their second winter. I kept wearing them and avoided puddles.

Some women love new shoes. I... don't. I look at every new pair as something new and pinchy that will hurt my feet and scrape skin off my toes or heels. My feet are also 1/2 a size different from each other, so finding a comfy and attractive pair I can afford, which fits both feet properly is a pain the ass. So I hang onto footwear as much as humanly possibly, mostly until they disintegrate off of my feet. And that's what happened to the boots. The soles broke off the front and were catching on escalators. And I looked like a hobo in them.

So before the snow comes, I must get a new pair. And I have to venture out there into the hell that is Christmas shopping season. Quel dommage.

Maybe a movie would be good after all this. My aunt called me to leave me a message telling me that the child in Hugo reminded her of me very much. Call me narcissistic, but now I'm intrigued.

The Non-Finisher

2011-12-06T21:44:00.000-08:00

I don't finish things. I'm a creative type of person who just doesn't, for whatever reason, finish my projects. I drive myself crazy, and it's a short drive.

My graphic novel sits untouched. But frankly, I just can't. Not till I'm older and certain parties are, well, not around to read it. I also feel a little unresolved in my youth. I mean, it's not over and perhaps I need more aged perspective to really tell the story properly. In any case, I feel paralyzed over it and so it remained untouched for a long time.

I've started many novels I've not completed. I get these flashes of productive artistry that fade quickly and leave me with chapters of a tale that goes nowhere.

I did complete a series of abstract drawings several years ago. And that was a pleasurable thing. It's not as though they were displayed anywhere, but they were a collection of feelings and emotions expressed simply during a period of change in my life.

I've catalogued the materials I need to get started on my aunt's project. I'll either order them direct or buy them in the store this week. This will be something I finish, if only because I've got someone I love depending on me to do it.

I need to channel my energy better this year. There are many sides to life and my personal life is rather under control. My creative life needs attention. I want to make 2012 count for something. It's my last year in my 20s and I would like to use it wisely.

29

2011-12-04T09:20:00.001-08:00

Well, I'm 29. The countdown is now on for the big 'ol age of 30. I'm honestly almost 30 years old now and it's kind of crazy.

I think most people kind of feel a little odd about it. I thought I was a grownup when I turned 18, and then really thought I was a grownup when I turned 20. But I knew, really deep down, that it was 30 that was going to signal a sort of adulthood that would be concrete and finite. If you don't have your shit together by then, it starts to suggest something about you just ain't right.

And by "having your shit together", it could mean a variety of things. For example, if you haven't completed a college program or university degree or apprenticeship and are still taking various programs and classes that you ultimately drop out because you can't figure out what you want to be when you grow up, even though you are a grownup, and you're not holding any sort of a job and you're 30, people might start to think you're a fuck up. If you're 23, not so much.

If you have no savings of any kind and are in debt from unnecessary commercial nonsense with nothing to show for it and you have no vehicle or real estate to call your own and likely won't for some time due only to wild irresponsibility and you can't afford to live even in a crummy location without a roommate and you're 30, people might think you're a fuck up. If you're 25, not so much.

Of course, if you have completed your education, you're probably in debt from that if nothing else. And buying a house is ridiculously difficult in big cities where the costs are nauseating and not in proportion to the average couple's income. Hence why being considered a real grownup in the 20s isn't so realistic. My generation wasn't really set up to succeed in the early 20s, what with the obscene tuition hikes, lack of good available jobs, and such.

For the baby boomers, and those born thereabouts, being in your 20s was a time of being a real adult. You graduated high school and you could find a good job with your diploma and stay there. Or you could go to university, paid for from your summer job, graduate without debt into a booming economy, find a good job and stay there. You could afford to get married, buy a house (and banks only looked at the husband's income, and houses were so affordable that this was not a hindrance in the long run, though grossly unfair, but that's another story) and start a family all well before you turned 30.

Now? Forget it. The economy is lousy, education puts you in debt, houses are no being sold for two years worth of one person's yearly income. They're going for five years worth of two people's yearly incomes, or at least here in Toronto they are. So being a proper adult at 25 is pretty much not happening. Maybe in 1975 that was possible, but not now.

Which makes coming of age at 30 all the more insane feeling. It's a delayed adulthood from the early 20s to 30 on the nose, but economy or no economy, 30 is grownup town, whether you like it or not. And your brain knows it. Bodily, you are an adult, both physically and mentally. Your brain has fully developed by the time you're 25 (the frontal lobe is the last step in completion), and unsurprisingly, that's when the average person really starts to think about the future.

So, hello, 29. And a more distant wave to 30, which I'll be seeing soon. I feel moderately ready.

Painting Teapots

2011-12-01T20:38:00.000-08:00

This evening I painted a ceramic teapot with my friends for my birthday (A couple days early). I have this thing for cows for some reason. I'm not sure why, but I think cartoon cows are just the cutest. So I painted cows on my teapot.

It was nice to be creative and actually make something. Growing up, art was something that provided me countless hours of entertainment, and eventually came to define me. I was the class artist, I did an animation program and I took art every year. I went to an arts program in college and that's where it all fell apart for me. I realized I couldn't become a commercial artist and I backed down. Looking back, I shouldn't have given up. I could have become a decent graphic designer, I think.

But being the lesser artist in a room full of talents, in a program with many such rooms, I got discouraged and quit. There's creating art for pleasure, and there's honing your skill for monetary gain. That's something language is for me. I create transcripts every day, accurate and grammatically sound. But art? Somehow it was too personal for me to get too technical about it on the terms of an institution. And I wasn't good enough, flat out. Compared to the general population, I have talent. Compared to artists at large, I'm nothing special, and thus not going to make money off art.

My aunt wants me to illustrate her children's book, and I intend to do it. But first I need to get new supplies. I've let things go so much that I haven't even got the materials I need anymore. Maybe this coming year will be a artful one for me. Perhaps I'll get back in touch with my artistic side. It's in there somewhere.

Dresses and Tea

2011-11-26T15:53:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is a very ladylike day for me. I'm going out with my friends to our regular tea jaunt, and just to sweeten the day with even more gentleness, we're catching the ballet beforehand. It's going to be an afternoon of loveliness.

I've had a cough that's persisted since my wedding. I've gone to a couple movies and I've done my best to suppress it or time its release to convenient moments in the film. At the ballet, I can only hope I don't bother too many people.

I'm currently in love with a number of dresses that I can't have. I can't have them because I can't afford them currently. Why? Well, this laptop I'm typing on was plenty expensive and Christmas is coming.

But here they are anyway:

I love this little dress, but at $100,

it's a wee bit too expensive for me.

This has recently gone on sale.

Once le computer is paid off, it shall be mine.

This happy little number is so retro chic.
It's also on my must-have list.

I think this one was made for me.

Perfect colour and a high waist. Love!

Now this would be an indulgence.
It's a great party dress, but how much wear would I get out of it?
Plus, it's no longer on sale come tomorrow.

I have somewhere in the neighbourhood of 40 dresses. It's taken about three years to build my collection and I can now get away without wearing pants. But considering there's no mix and matching, and they've got to be seasonal, and party dresses are not entirely useable for daily wear, 40 dresses doesn't go as far as you might think.

Hence... I need more dresses. Heee!

Budget Power

2011-11-21T12:53:00.001-08:00

I am typing this from my brand new MacBook Pro. Man, this thing is sweeeet.

And I'm a fucking consumer. I actually feel guilt whenever I purchase something new. I think of landfills and limited resources, and how this item in particular is a byproduct of the oil industry and I've contributed to it... and yes, I certainly know how to ruin my enjoyment of things. When I was in Mexico and had unlimited food, all I could think about were famine victims, and the poor in Mexico who didn't have access to their own country's loveliness.

But putting aside my guilt, which will pass, and focusing on my shiny new thing, I'm pleased as punch. My old laptop was not failing on me, even after three years of service. Macs are dependable like that. I bought an outdated eMac in 2004 and it gave me zero problems for three years before it finally had enough. The Dude revived it and kept it going while I got a new MacBook, and he eventually sold it for $300.

So I guess a Mac's lifespan is at least three years, probably more. My old one, which is still perfectly serviceable but cannot do a variety of things I've been dreaming of, is being sold for $200 to the Dude's brother. His spouse has been wanting a Mac for iPod reasons, and so my MacBook will be more than enough to handle her needs without blowing over $1,000. And that makes me feel better, because even wiping a computer clean, you feel safe with family, plus it'll be reused and not tossed.

Perhaps you're wondering how I could afford a new expensive laptop after having paid for a wedding. Well, my friends, I'm a good budgeter.

The final tally of the wedding was $18,000. I started out with $10,000, a lump sum from my inheritance after my mother died that I squirrelled away for years for a future need I hadn't decided on yet. I'd kept it in the bank for all this time, not spending it, not thinking about it. I have another larger lump sum for a house downpayment (Not enough), and another smaller one to kick start retirement savings.

So with this amount in the bank and knowing we could purchase things for the wedding throughout the year and allow our monthly incomes to absorb the costs, I set about planning in a fashion that I predicted would not incur any debt. Months I didn't buy any wedding supplies, I plunked a large amount into our savings. The Dude's overtime help and got channelled into the wedding. I put down our venue deposit on the line of credit and aggressively paid it down quickly while also saving money on the side. Merging our finances really was the key to success in all these things.

So, here we are, wedding debt free and with money in the bank to plan a honeymoon. Cryptically speaking, this mat not be necessary. I'll know in a few weeks. But! It's there and waiting for us.

This laptop was a major splurge. But though it wasn't easily affordable, it was still doable without incurring debt. Ah, budgets. They make everything possible while enabling a person to sleep at night.

The next big purchase will be a house. That'll take a lot more effort, discipline and time. We're years away from that. Years and years. And since we're in Toronto, it'll be a lot harder. Finding deals for a wedding is a lot easier than finding deals in real estate.

Almost 29

2011-11-18T15:06:00.000-08:00

I'm 29 years old in about two weeks. I've been blogging about my impending 30 years of age since I was 26. 26 is when it hit me that it was actually going to happen. I was so excited to turn 20 because I felt that was real adulthood. But 30 is different because that's actual real adulthood.

20 is nothing. 20 is time to make mistakes and be silly and figure out how to pay rent and buy your own groceries, which is adult, yes, but it's more of a starter challenge, something to master before you really take on some responsibility. Eventually, you get a job with some level of permanence, or take on a career that builds on past jobs. Maybe you get a pet, or even a child, or barring those two you at least take on some houseplants or a garden.

You get an apartment you plan on staying in, or if you're financially sound you get a condo or a *gasp* house. Maybe you buy a car, if you're not an urbanite, and keep up with all the maintenance that entails. You have to sort out your own vision, prescription and dental plans, and generally manage your own health concerns.

You plan vacations that don't revolve around a school schedule. Your evenings are free because homework and assignments are no longer a part of your life, and so you have to really figure out what it is you like to do with yourself. Meeting people is now much harder because you're out of school and so you actually have to put yourself out there or nurture your existing relationships in order to have friends. Socializing doesn't just happen on its own anymore, you must make it happen yourself.

I spent my 20s in a few relationships and making new and re-energizing old friendships. I took up belly dance, did some travelling, got my job, some pets, an apartment I finally plan on staying at awhile, and I've begun gardening and baking. I'm going to enter my 30s married, childless, kitties in tow in a homey apartment with a decent job.

When I was a teenager, I envisioned an artsy existence for myself. I thought I'd be working and living in a studio space, managing motherhood with my art in the city. Or something. Then I thought I'd be a journalist in the city. Then I toyed with living in the country and actually learning to drive. That didn't last long.

Like I said in my last post, I've always looked to the past. Looking ahead and planning my future was never something I did. I had vague ideas, but generally I just tried to focus on things that happened and otherwise meandered through my life, making choices as needed without too much direction. I sort of let my inclinations and heart lead the way.

Turns out I hated going to bars and concerts. I don't like high-powered work or too much stress. I need alone time and I enjoy opportunities to be creative. I like a small circle of friends that are tight-knit and welcoming. Big parties are not my thing, most of the time. I like having cats and I enjoy trips. I don't care much about having a great body, only a reasonably decent one.

These are the things I've figured out about myself and the way I like to live. I'm not living a dream life, per se. It's not exciting or dynamic. It's not the sort of life people dream of. But what I am living is an authentic life, authentic to myself. My life makes sense. I don't worry. Freedom from worry is something I haven't always had.

I'm turning 29, I'm almost 30. Three years I've been writing this blog and who I am has changed a little, in ways I'm okay with. More self acceptance, I think that's the key.

Free

2011-11-15T12:23:00.000-08:00

I have not stopped coughing for days, roughly 8 days. It wakes me up from a dead sleep at 5:00 a.m. I am losing my mind. I've been taking Buckley's before bed, and yes it tastes awful and it works. Until it stops working and I jolt awake to a hacking cough that sounds as though it belongs to a 70-year-old smoker.

I'm supposed to see a movie tonight, but I'm afraid my cough will strike and I'll annoy people and have to leave. I've been dousing myself with remedies to bring on the cough so I can get it over with already, but it drags on and on.

The week has also been spent feeling very introspective. I'm almost always a reflective person. The Dude catches me staring into space, deep in thought, and usually has poor enough judgement to snap me out of it to ask what I'm thinking about, to which I never give him a good answer. But with my alone time I've been really digging into some old memories that pop up. But not really memories, more like old feelings associated with the past.

I've thought a lot about my childhood. And while I think I had a reasonably good one, suddenly and abrasively I'm grateful it's over. I've thought about my teen years, which had its moments, but was mostly a painful and anxious time for me, and I remember the sense of dread I walked around with almost all the time. And it's weird because I'd forgotten about it, I'd forgotten the real way it felt. I intellectually know I hated high school and felt trapped there, but the actual feelings were long gone and I couldn't feel them again.

And then suddenly there they were. A sense of isolation, feeling misunderstood, mild despair and frequent self-loathing. And childhood was confusing and lonely. I always felt trapped. I needed so much alone time, which I was rarely given, and yet when I needed companionship I often didn't have any, courtesy of being someone who liked being by myself.

So here I am, at my desk during work hours, and I'm suddenly hit by a wave of feelings I'd forgotten about, and then all sorts of gratitude it was no longer something I was feeling. And this all happened the week after I got married. I think I experienced the emotional residue of a major life milestone. Like an aftertaste of past experiences that are officially over.

It's weird. My day to day life is the same. I'm the same person and my relationship is unchanged. But there's something in the air, a sense that the future is now more important than the past. I've always looked to the past. That's what being a reflective person is like. You always look backwards to try and understand where you've been. Now I'm looking forward and now that those random waves of past emotions have stopped coming over me, I feel really done with them.

Nothing in my life has changed, except the way I think, which actually might be an incredibly large change, and a good one. I'm excited to think about the future, I mean, to really think about it. And I feel free.

Party with Super Grover

2011-11-12T16:43:00.000-08:00

My first week of married life has been... just like all the past weeks of my unmarried life. Ha! But seriously, it's been nice. The Dude's been working normal hours, so we haven't been holing up and enjoying each other's company and letting our lives sink in a bit. But that is what a honeymoon is for. We're going to be evaluating our options very, very soon. I'm being vague on purpose. How cryptic of me.

Tonight we're going to the McPal house for a belated Halloween/birthday/housewarming party. I haven't seen their place since they took possession of it, and there's plenty of hard work to feast our eyes on. Their last coach house was so lovely and their new house has all kinds of endearing potential. And the stories surrounding its renovations and McPal's dad are the stuff of literary gold.

The Dude is attending this party as Super Grover. It really is one of the better costumes pretty much ever. I'm a pin-up sailor, which in other words could be called nothing special. It's a costume I had bought for Fake Prom Goes To War, but had settled on a '40s inspired nautically themed dress instead. So as not to be wasteful, I'm wearing it now. But I'm already fantasizing about next year when I can be a Ninja Turtle, or Hello Kitty.

Before I go, I'll leave you with a couple teasers from the wedding. We haven't gotten our pictures back yet (That'd be remarkably quick!) but we have gotten some lovely shots to tide us over while we wait.

The Wedding

2011-11-07T08:12:00.000-08:00

I'm married. I've had a day and a half to let it sink in, and in small ways it's beginning to. I totally understand the importance of a honeymoon, though. If we were away somewhere, just the two of us, I think it would really give us a chance to absorb our new relationship status. People have called me Mrs. Dude, though I am keeping my name. The Dude's finger has a ring on it, which doesn't look natural yet. Thinking about the future has a slightly different sensation, in a pleasant way.

The day of the wedding, things were calm. I was in a great mood, I was excited and had some adrenaline going, but we all still managed to have a rather calm and charming day.

Lyn and I had breakfast, my maid of honour showed up around 10:00 and hair and makeup began around 11:30ish when my cousin arrived. McPal got there before 1:00 and we watched Bridesmaids. The photographer got there by 2:00 and we had a fun time, still relaxed and yet peppy. My planner got there around the same time, with flowers, and she helped us get ready, keeping us on schedule.

I was feeling really great. I knew I was marrying the right man, I was going to be surrounded by people I loved, my bridal party was supportive and happy for me, and I looked exactly the way I had wanted to.

We did our party shots prior to the wedding, because I didn't want to expose the ladies in their chiffon dresses to the November chill. We did a handful of good shots and the photographer left to shoot the groomsmen at the venue. The limo came not long after, and I don't remember how long the limo ride was. I had to text about our arrival, so people would be ready. It was so weird. I was en route to get married. I was in a wedding dress. Everyone was waiting for us to get there. It was a very surreal moment in time.

We were a little frazzled getting ourselves in order. We were about 10 minute late for the ceremony start, and the Dude's brothers zoomed past us to find their seats. Matt and the groomsmen had already taken their places. Music was starting. My high school friends were strolling down the hall. I was waving wildly at them and they waved back and smiled. I hissed, "Run! Run!" and run they did, clomp, clomp, clomp into the ceremony room, making a ruckus. It was pretty funny. Somehow all the confusion sort of suited me. This was not a perfect moment, it was a real situation that could not be controlled. There was a momentum and people were falling into it.

When it was my turn, my nerves instantly faded. It was a sense of being exactly where I was supposed to be. My fears of all that attention were gone and I felt like I was surrounded by positive energy. It was really warm in there, not in a temperature sense for me, but just very comfortable and natural. Walking myself down the aisle was a very gratifying experience. I felt like a grown woman making an important decision on my own. Which I am, which I was.

I cried, the Dude smiled and his mouth was twitching. He was so nervous and I could tell he couldn't bear to look at all the people. We held eye contact the entire time. My tears and his smile, and our officiant speaking so well and so beautifully. We had two poems, one at the start about the art of marriage, and another at the end about love.

We exchanged the rings we made, we said our vows, which were traditional, and said our "I dos", not in that order. After our kiss and signing the registry, we looked out to the crowd as we were announced as a married couple. The wedding wands were waving in the air, the ribbons flying, the bells jingling softly, and everyone was smiling. We went down the aisle, hand in hand, and I felt so happy, and just so contented.

A makeshift receiving line formed, one we hadn't planned on, but happened naturally as people wanted to congratulate us. It was very sweet and took a short time, as we had only 85 people to greet. Within 10 minutes, we had seen everyone and were ready for pictures.

Of course, my dad wanted his own pictures before the photographer could get in there. Actually, he took me away from other people and other cameras about a dozen times that night. He made something of a bad impression a few times, but otherwise behaved himself. My brother was full of smiles. I was so glad to see him so happy for me.

Outside our photographer, a friend of Matt's, got some lovely shots. I had a cute cardigan to brave the chill and we spent maybe 20 minutes out there. All of our other shots with our party were done, so we spent the rest of the cocktail hour socializing with our guests. It was great.

At 7:00, it was time for dinner, we didn't bother with any sort of special entrance, and things got going shortly. There were some nice speeches, from the Dude's dad, my dad, the Dude's stepbrother and his mom. His mom's speech was epic. I knew it was going to be good. It seriously rocked the room. The Dude capped off the speeches and he did really well. It was short, sweet and charming.

Then our first dance. Oh, I love the song we used, No One's Gonna Love You. It sounds terrible, but the second part of that sentence is, "more than I do." We had wanted people to join us, but my buddy didn't mention that when he announced us, so no one did. I can't recall if I told him about our wishes or not. Whoops. But either way, it happened the way it happened, it was sweet and we enjoyed ourselves.

Then it was dance time. But first my dear little aunt wanted a picture. She had wanted one in the receiving line and I had asked her to wait. So now the whole room waited while she took the moment to get her picture. It was actually kind of funny just how bad her timing was. Once the dance floor opened, it was open and people were on the floor.

The cake was a funny situation. My planner said it was time, and the Dude ran off to find the photographer. They disappeared for five minutes after the cake cutting was announced. It was so awkward and absurd. No one could find them and we were all standing around to background music waiting and waiting. When the Dude ran back in there was some applause and we got down to business. It was a damn fine cake. The fridge is currently housing a ridiculous amount of it.

The wedding went on till 1:00. At least a third of the guests stayed till the end. The alcohol was flowing and people made good use of it, the dance floor had people up and on their feet, everyone had good things to say about the food, the party in general, my dress. I called a cab company and asked for pretty much every cab. People got going, I wrangled things I needed to get home, tried to make sure people had what they needed and, you know, I'm pretty thankful for daylight saving's time. Instead of getting in bed by 3:00, it was really 2:00.

I didn't drink any alcohol that night. I didn't want to make numerous trips to the bathroom, I didn't want to forget anything, and honestly, I just didn't need it. I couldn't eat much either. I think I was too full of energy, and with the corset on my dress, I just didn't have room. It was too bad, but I'd done the tasting with the Dude so at least I'd had the meal before.

When the Dude woke up the next day, he said, "Good morning, wife." And it was so lovely.

I had exactly the wedding I wanted. I never set out for a perfect day, but somehow that translated into me having a perfect day. I feel so satisfied.

One

2011-11-04T07:41:00.000-07:00

I'm getting married tomorrow. Some time ago I wrote myself a letter via futureme.org. Here's what I read in my email this morning:

Dear Jenn,
Tomorrow is your wedding day. Lyn should be with you for the past week, and (MOH), Christina, and (McPal) should be around. These are really amazing people in your life: family, old friends, new friends and even internet friends. You're a lucky person. Even with Mom not being here, you're surrounded by people who love you and who are happy for you.
Everyone says the day flies by, so try and remember it, don't take the party too seriously and focus on the fact you're getting married. This is the biggest decision you've ever made, because it involves someone else: the person you love most.
Tomorrow be calm and remember what a good man you're marrying. Think about the joy of having a partner to go through life with, someone you can trust, someone you know will be a good father, someone who treats you with kindness and respect.
Give your friends a hug, give the kitties a kiss, and smile, because love is awesome. I can't wait to be you.

Two

2011-11-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

My spa day was exactly what I needed. My nails are pretty, my pores are unclogged and my muscles are relaxed. I also have faith that the giant zit that recently appeared on my upper back will disperse itself before the wedding.

I kind of don't believe any of this is actually happening. Sometimes I feel cloudy in my life. Like I'm watching myself have experiences. I'm always somehow more in the moment when I'm remembering the moment instead of having it.

My spa day was four and a half hours. I've been looking forward to it for weeks and now in a flash it's over and I'm writing about it. I've been planning this wedding for a year. It's going to be a memory in less than 72 hours.

I never gave much thought to how I'd feel having this hoopla surround me. I just knew I'd want the memory, the photo album to show my kids, the chance to have my loved ones all together and an opportunity to wear an impractical but beautiful dress. It's a life experience I can relive in my mind afterwards, where it will stay vivid and joyful.

I think that's pretty much what this is about. The marriage could have been performed privately to the same end for little money and no time. Despite my anxieties over all that concentrated attention, I want the images and sounds to be recorded inside my head, to be able to relive the moments as many times as I want for the rest of my life.

Maybe this line of thinking will make the stress hives that have appeared on my lower back go away.

And now I'm off to a lovely evening with Lyn and another dear friend, to make even more memories.

Three

2011-11-02T07:52:00.000-07:00

Three days till I get married. Three. Three days. Cue The Count from Sesame Street. Bwahahahaha!

Dude, seriously.

Am I worried about spending the rest of my life with the Dude? No. Am I concerned about whether he's the right man? No. Do I feel doubts about whether I want to get married? No.

I am rather nervous, though. And about what, if not the above? I'm getting anxiety about that many people looking at me.

I enjoy commanding a certain amount of attention in specific situations.

For example, at a smallish party filled with enough people I know, I like the times when I'm telling a story and I'm being listened to by lots of people. When I've put effort into a cute outfit and I see people pass me on the street and notice me, I feel good. At Halloween when I'm wearing a great costume, I enjoy it being seen. And of course people reading this blog gives me satisfaction.

But generally speaking, I'm not much of an attention getter. I'm unaccustomed to it. We're talking walk into a room in a fancy dress to some music and everyone stands up and stares at me. Blargh. However, only 85 guests will be there (We invited 117. Yay small weddings!). Only 85, and I have met nearly all of them. So this one issue might not be worth stressing over. But still... I'm pretty sure I'm going to tremble down the aisle.

Lyn is here and ready to help. Thing is I don't need any help with planning or anything, as everything is done. My last week is work-free, pretty much. What I do need help with is getting my mind off my anxiety, and to that tune I've really liked showing her around the city. We hit Roncesvalles and went through Queen West, till Yonge and went north to Dundas Square. Downtown was alight and bustling, Queen West was it's usual smorgasbord of districts, shops and people, and Roncy was bright and charming. Ah, Toronto.

Today it's the Distillery District. I've never actually been. Well, no. I think I was there maybe eight years ago when I came in from out of town, but I'm not sure. So I may as well have never been there. I've been wanting to go for quite some time and it's a great thing to show to someone visiting.

Tomorrow is my spa day, and in the evening it's more time with friends. Joy and fun! And it'll totally be relaxing to get my mind off of being in the centre of this whirlwind.

Last Day of Work

2011-10-28T13:34:00.001-07:00

In a matter of days, my friend/bridesmaid Lyn from California will be here in Toronto, in Canada for the first time, and man will it be chilly times. I'm looking forward to showing her around the city: Roncesvalles, the Annex, Queen West, maybe the Distillery District or Little Italy. There's something awesome about introducing someone to the city you love. I haven't seen her since May of last year, so this is going to be great.

I'm also looking forward to having her meeting my other friends in my party. My maid of honour has met McPal, but my cousin from Vancouver and Lyn have met nobody. I foresee a good group. It's hard not to imagine harmony and fun times when all people concerned are so great.

I've just finished my last day of work for 10 days. I don't totally need the time for wedding planning. Everything is actually done now. But I had the time, and Lyn's in town, so why the hell not? I never take as much vacay as I really should. It tends to pile up while I get frazzled about life and still not take time off.

Things I have left to do:

1. Change my life insurance over to the Dude instead of my brother.
2. Make a final payment to the florist.
3. Make a final payment to DJ.
4. Pick up my dress.
5. Go to the bank and withdraw all the monies I'll need to pay certain people in cash day-of.
6. Get final cost from the venue and write them a cheque.
7. Spend some more time breaking in my shoes.
8. Go to my colonic and spa appointments.

And then it's just the day before, where I'll have my colonic early in the day, check into my hotel with my dress and Lyn, go to the rehearsal, set up some centrepieces, and then go out for dinner back at the hotel. Easy peasy. I'm so glad I got a planner for the nitty gritty vendor stuff for the last week. Otherwise, I'd probably be more stressed out.

I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone, and I'm highly anticipating a time after the wedding where I can channel my emotional investment into other things in my life.

Maid Service

2011-10-23T08:47:00.000-07:00

Two posts in two days! The madness!

I'm hunkering down in my bedroom. The Dude and I decided to get maid service today. There's going to be some filming in our home and we don't keep this place that up to snuff. It's "lived in" around these parts.

Truth be told, it's messier, generally, than I would like. The Dude is a sloppy guy. He leaves too many spills, his dirty laundry coats the bedroom and he doesn't rinse his hairs down the sink after he shaves. So I have a few options: 1. Clean after him myself, 2. Nag him until he does it, 3. Learn to live with it, or 4. Hire a maid.

My method is a selection of all of the above, mostly 3, a touch of 2 when I think a dirty habit is worth forcing some change upon him, occasionally 1 when he's not around and I need things cleaner, and infrequently 4 if the situation justifies it. Today would be such a situation.

I feel odd having someone clean while I goof around, but I was a chamber maid in a hotel once. There were two things I hated while I was working: people hanging around in front of me while I was trying to clean, and worse, people trying to help me, which was no help at all because they slowed me down and messed with my mojo.

So I'm downstairs, away from the maid's efforts, and leaving her well enough alone to go about her business without intruding. It feels off for me, but based on experience, I'm pretty sure that's what she'd prefer. I can hear her bustling away up there, things sound like they're happening quickly. It's the pleasant hum of someone who knows what they're doing.

The Dude is with his brother this afternoon. He's working on a wedding project that had been his idea. No doubt he regrets it now. It's a display for the seating cards.

I bought these wooden tags, pink twine, some blackboard paint and rollers, and a chalkboard marker. I got the idea when I was trying to figure out a way to do a seating chart that, while being nice to look at, allowed me to make last-minute changes and yet work on it in advance, without having to print or frame anything, without selecting everyone's specific seat for them.

This was my answer to those concerns. It was alterable, something I could start any time, and I would not need to frame a thing or involve a calligrapher (Blackboards lend themselves aesthetically well to personal penmanship).

I would paint two tags per person, one rectangle, the other a circle, write their name on one and the table on the other, and then string the tags together with the twine. The Dude suggested we make a valet-key/hotel key-like display to hang them on, and I'm not one to turn down creative ideas I don't have to execute, myself. So that's where he is, getting wood and framing cut to size.

We stained the wood last night and it looks like a kitchen cupboard from 1987. So we'll be doing a white wash on it to keep the pronounced grain but lose the yellowing in the wood, making it more contemporary. Just one more step the Dude hadn't counted on. Such is wedding planning in general.

I really should post photos of this project, but the wood is gone right now, and even if it wasn't, I wouldn't feel natural disturbing the maid so that I could take photos of some apparently random planks of oak strewn about the apartment.

The Time

2011-10-22T19:08:00.000-07:00

Two weeks. Yeah, I'm doing countdowns now. But seriously, how many times will I ever count down to my wedding again? Right? Right.

I had a meeting with the planner and we sorted out the logistics of the day. And it's shaping up to be really low key. And that pleases me. The less you have going on, the less likely things will screw up. The KISS method is my favourite way to get through life: Keep It Simple, Stupid.

Things I'm nixing:

Being Walked Down the Aisle
Why: I'm nearly 29 and I feel totally weirded out being given away by a man to another man, one whom I've been living with for years. What's the symbolism there? My box renders me incapable of giving myself? Plus, my father and I don't have much of a relationship. I find the tradition archaic.

Grand Entrance
Seriously, I hate them. I find them tacky. I think they're unnecessary and foolish. Applauding the wedding party as they prance to music? Really? As if they were performers in a show? I think I'll have more than enough attention that day without milking and squeezing it out of my guests.

Parent Dances
I think dancing with parents is charming... so long as everyone ele is allowed to dance as well. Hogging the floor and insisting upon an audience for the first dance, then the father-daughter dance, and then the mother-son dance is narcissistic. 15 minutes of not letting your guests enjoy themselves while you do? People by now are used to egomania at weddings so they don't think about it too much. They just get bored and converse with their table mates until it's over. So we'll not be doing that. We'll also invite people to join our first dance.

Slideshow
A slideshow can be done well, if it's short, if it's funny, perhaps has various family and friends in it so everyone can enjoy. Better still if it's out of the way and ongoing so people can watch or not at their leisure. But we're not bothering. Anyone interested in our childhood can come over and view our family photo albums in our home. I'll brew some tea.

Garter Toss/Bouquet Throw
When you're nearly 30, gathering all your single friends on the floor to make them catch something that'll predict which one will get married can be a gong show. If they're into it, cool. But generally, I've seen only a couple instances where it's been enjoyed. As for the garter, I'm not having the Dude reef up my dress in front of everyone I know and love.

30 minutes for a ceremony, 1.5 hours for photos/cocktail hour, 2 hours for dinner, the rest of the evening is dancing. Ah, easy peasy. Too bad I had a nightmare last night where the entire timeline fell apart. Ha!

Soul Mates

2011-10-17T16:47:00.000-07:00

I'm getting married in 19 days. What the hell.

So I had my bachelorette party the other night, and the Dude had his bachelor party the same evening. My maid of honour set it up, which considering she lives out of town, was a feat. Most of my friends came and we had a really nice meal and drinks.

My MOH also set up a psychic reading for me at the restaurant. I love that shit. I've only been to a psychic once before, coincidentally a few months ago, and both psychics said the same thing. Either I'm super easy to read/gauge for these type of entertainers, or perhaps both are the real deal in some way. I'm open to the concept of mediums, the second sight and other spiritual matters. I'm also cognizant of not taking a reading at literal value.

Both ladies have told me the following:

1. I'm having a baby next year.
2. I'll have three babies total.
3. I'm going on a big trip and that it's going to be lucky/important.

So who knows.

The psychic at my party drew cards from her deck that said "Reflection", "Abundance" and "Love." So that was nice.

She also said the Dude and I were soul mates. Now, I don't believe in soul mates. I think two souls made for each other out in the universe and then finding each other and completing a perfect union is rubbish. Anyone who is holding out for such a magical love is kidding themselves and probably throwing away perfectly good relationships.

But I think two people can become soul mates in a way. Not that it becomes magic and cosmic, but that your love is mature and your communication works, respect goes both ways, your attraction sustains and your compatibility becomes an organic part of who you are as a person.

I feel like I know the Dude better than I know anybody, better than I've ever known anyone in my life. Are we soul mates? I don't worry about that question. I'm too certain of my choice to really consider it. But that doesn't mean it's not sweet to hear.

Godfather

2011-10-12T14:48:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, I went to my dad's most weekends. He wasn't a stable home sort of guy. He moved around a lot. I never really thought it was weird, though it was occasionally inconvenient. He lived with friends, with his sister, his parents, sometimes on his own, and with my godfather, who was also separated from his wife.

My godfather had two kids, the same ages roughly as my brother and I. The weekends we spent with them was the best. If we weren't with them, we'd usually be on the couch watching TV shows my dad wanted to watch, sometimes playing Monopoly, we went to the beach a few times, or over to my aunt's in the summer for a swim. But mostly it was with my godfather's family and I loved it.

The four of us had sleepovers, we went bike riding, we swam and tried our hand at skateboarding. We went to each other's birthdays and listened to music. It was wonderfully normal, actually, because so few times did I get to spent weekends with friends from school because my dad had dibs. He'd pick me up early from birthday parties because it was his Saturday. He actually took me to his friends' kids' parties without providing me with a present to bring, and I wouldn't know anybody.

Hanging out with this family was wonderful. They were my friends, and they felt like family. I saw my cousins all the time with my mom and with my dad, I had my godfather's kids.

When I was about 18, my brother, father and I were living together in a duplex around my old neighbourhood. Before I moved away to college, my dad and my godfather had a massive falling out. I never learned about the details. I was inclined to think my dad was blowing things out of proportion, as that is what he often does, but the whys of the matter didn't make a difference. The result was the same. My godfather was excommunicated, as it were, from our lives.

Crossing my father in this matter was a highly charged and volatile situation. There was no changing his mind and I couldn't broach the subject with him without regretting it. So I learned to live without this man in my life. And that had always struck me as unfair, but I hadn't known at the time how to stand up to my father.

Over the years I moved on, sometimes remembering the good times, but didn't know what to do about getting back in touch. Some time ago I found his daughter on Facebook and contacted her. It was nice, though the old intimacy was gone. But that's to be expected. I looked through her wedding photos and was pleased to see her so happy, but sad that I'd missed so much of her life when we had been good friends as kids. Always opposites, but we had called each other "godsisters".

So when I was writing out invitations (an incredibly large and complicated undertaking, even for a small wedding) I decided I was going to mail my godfather an invite and let him know I was getting married and would like him to be there. I found his address and number, the same lovely rural place it was back when I was a teenager, and mailed his invite.

I haven't heard from him. I haven't heard from a handful of people, actually. Some are taking their time, or figure I should just know the answer psychically, or were working out the logistics of travel, and one I let slip through the cracks and didn't even send (I am SO sorry!), and I've begun getting a hold of these people personally.

I called the number associated with the address and in that moment realized why I just mailed the invitation without calling first to reconnect. I wasn't sure if they still cared about me and I was nervous about it. So when I called today I left the most rambling insane voicemail message of my life. I asked if they were who I thought they were, was this the right number? Hi, I'm Jendra, your god daughter and I'm getting married, did you get my invitation? Was wondering if you could come. I hope this is the right number. Here's my number. So, anyway... And it went on like that for much longer than it should have.

Maybe I got the wrong address. Maybe they want to avoid my father. Maybe they don't care about me anymore. Maybe it's too far to travel. I don't know. But if they don't get back to me, I'll have to try again and stumble through another nonsensical round of my foolishness.

Another reason I'm looking forward to the wedding is everything will be done and I can put some of this social awkwardness behind me.

I really hope my godfather and his wife can come. I regret not calling first. I think I was just feeling a little insecure. Sometimes I worry the people I care about don't feel the same way about me.

Thanksgiving

2011-10-11T15:28:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I get the amusing sensation that The Sims is a little truer to life than one might think.

I have a lovely bouquet of anniversary flowers sitting on my kitchen table and the room is lovely and clean and newly organized. My mood rises briefly and noticeably as I pass through it en route to the bathroom, just like a Sim character's Environment meter soars when it walks through a room that has some nice art in it. My mood then drops back to normal as I walk through the Dude's makeshift studio.

Flowers are charming and pleasant, aren't they? Some people hate them "because they'll just die anyway," but getting flowers is one of my favourite things. They make the apartment smell and look wonderful and they make me smile for days.

We decided that other than spending our non-family-filled Thanksgiving weekend being useful, we would also spend it eating good food, as life intended. For our five-year-anniversary, we went to the Keg Mansion and gorged on steak. We dressed up (though we were seemingly surrounded by yahoos who looked like they should have gone to Pizza Hut instead, in their ball caps, jerseys, hoodies, ripped jeans and bar tops that split open in the back to reveal a turquoise bra) and had a cozy and romantic evening.

The next night, on actual Thanksgiving, the Dude made a delicious beef stew and I made my first ever pumpkin pie. Both turned out quite nicely and we had McPal and his fiance over to join us. Sharing home-cooked meals with friends has become one of our favourite ways to spend an evening.

It wasn't the first time we've spent a family holiday in an less conventional way, that is away from family. We miss them, but it really brings home the fact that he's my family now. I'm home where the Dude is.

There is a point in a relationship where being together is the priority, and that's a beautiful place to be. It's a feeling of being on a team, of being connected, of being a unit. It's the understanding that on important days we're not going our separate ways to do our own thing. It's the sort of unity I've always wanted. In three and a half weeks, it'll be permanent unity.

Wow. That kind of blows my mind a little.

Thanksgiving Bummer

2011-10-07T21:57:00.000-07:00

The Dude and I are missing Thanksgiving this year. Cue the stereotypical bride who was too busy with planning to sort out the rest of her life. Bah. That sort of is what happened.

And before my American readers get upset for me, understand Thanksgiving is not as big of a deal here (and it's also obviously in October). Christmas is the big ticket holiday. Our Boxing Day is your Black Friday.

Anyhoo, it's not so much that I've been up to my eyeballs in shit to do, but I've been mentally preoccupied and so when it came time to get our tickets to go to our hometown to visit our families, we realized we had missed the boat. No turkey for us. No cozy familial warmth. No harassing my extended family to send in their RSVPs.

This Sunday does happen to be our five-year anniversary, and the last one we'll have before we have a new one on a new date. So we'll go out somewhere fancy, be merry, eat steak and otherwise get things done around the house. How adult. We started by finally hanging some art in the living room.

In a way, I suppose this is good. A quiet anniversary, a weekend to ourselves to get caught up around here, general R&R time. But still. What a bummer.

The Decor/The Shot

2011-10-05T21:36:00.001-07:00

My arm hurts. Tetanus effing shots are not for me. Unless I'm in danger of contracting something, forget it. I'm not doing this again.

I went to the doctors last week for my yearly physical. I mostly complained about my IBS and got a note for my work about it. And then they talked to me about my shots. Was I current? When was my last booster? Well, I don't recall getting one as a teen. My mom was sick around that time, and when she died my father hadn't kept up with my doctors appointments.

So they said I needed my tetanus booster shot. So I had it. I regret everything.

The first couple days were not a big deal. I went out, I had a little to drink, I lived my life. Then yesterday the pain really started to sort of kick in. While at the decorators (I'll get to that), I noticed my arm was a little wonky. I couldn't really raise it up. This was five days after the shot. I hadn't attributed the pain to the shot because it'd been almost a week, but the Dude made the connection for me.

And well, yeah, the exact area of the injection is what hurts. And it's radiating out and causing muscle aches through my shoulder blade. Bloody hell. I mean, seriously, you think you're in the clear and then suddenly you're not. Massage helps. I have drugs for my strain injury that seem to work. I can only take them once a day and they exacerbate my IBS, so I quit taking them. But I've taken one tonight and gotten some peace.

I feel riddled by bullshit health issues. I want to be dismantled and reassembled properly.

So, back to this decorator. I have been vigilant about the wedding budget. I have been squirrelling away more money than I thought we'd need. The end result is something of a surplus, which I have decided to channel into something I thought was out of our reach: professional decor rentals.

Now, if this was the on season for weddings-- well, scratch that, we could never afford a nice wedding during the on season. But if we were to try, we'd be spending around $5,000 more than what we are for the same or similar stuff.

I was able to bypass packages that started at $1,750 for reception decor and $1,500 for ceremonies and get a la carte for the whole thing to the tune of $1,000 total, after tax and set -up fees. They book usually four weddings a Saturday and with five weeks to go, had only booked one. Therefore I could negotiate.

It didn't start off too well. I mean, I'm not good on the phone. I'm really not. I left an email for a well-reviewed decorator and she called me in the morning and woke me. I was getting up any minute, but I was still disoriented. I talked in circles around this poor woman until I finally figured the moment had come to tell her I wasn't a loon, I was just sleepy.

I made an appointment and the Dude rented a Zipcar. Our Zipcar was missing when we got to the parking lot and so we had to trek to another location after calling the company, leaving over 20 minutes later than planned. I called the decorator and left quite possibly the most ridiculous message known to human kind. I rambled about Zipcar, the traffic, apologized and then realized my phone was beeping. So then I started talking about the beeping. Then I hit some buttons and tried to hang up. Then I realized she was only on hold and I kept putting her voicemail on and off hold while I tried to understand what I was doing, frantically asking the Dude for advice about the technology.

I managed to hang up and then realized that not only did I sound completely out of my mind this morning, I was also late and had just left a message that confirmed I was in fact a ridiculous person.

*Sigh* And I kind of am. Part of me, to be honest, sort of embraces it. I come by it honestly. When I was a kid, my mom pulled into a Tim Horton's drive through and realized at the window that she had no money. So we dug through the cushions and mats in the car until we actually managed to find enough change to pay for our doughnuts. You know, rather than driving away without the doughnuts. That didn't even come up.

So yeah, it was a foolish day for me. But! We got some lovely sandblasted trees with high stands that'll have crystals hanging from them for the ceremony. We'll also be getting these lovely blue textured tablecloths that'll be pinned up all pretty-like. These things will really punch up the day. I was willing to do without, but happily I can afford more of the sort of wedding I want. Actually, now I kind have the wedding I was looking for. I want for nothing.

Except for my arm to stop hurting. I still want that.

Le tired

2011-10-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

I have only a brief spurt of energy to write about anything.

The wedding is a month away and things are speeding up. My makeup trial went well today, my last dress fitting is tomorrow and soon I'll have to talk to the DJ and planner and do a detail walkthrough with the venue.

The only thing not going as fast is the RSVPs. Ah, replies. Now, about half of the people we invited have responded. The other half... *sigh* I'm quite literally missing 50 people.

Miss Manners, who is my guru to life, says that guests are responsible for providing their own paper, envelopes and stamps to reply with. These days, if you don't send all those things for people, with the response card giving instructions, then you can almost forget hearing from anyone. Well, no. I'm sure some would make sure to get back, but most wouldn't.

We're going to make a display for the escort cards, and until we know what kind of numbers we're dealing with, we're stuck. Blargh.

After this wedding is done, I'm going to need a new project, something to really sink my teeth into. I'll have all kinds of emotional energy for something else once this is over.

I'm so tired. Insomnia shall not claim me this evening. This entry was of no use to anyone. I'll do better next time.

*Yawn*

The Weekend

2011-09-26T14:52:00.000-07:00

I had my fourth and final shower in my hometown yesterday. It was really lovely, relaxing and calm, with food, wine and good company. My maid of honour was there, with another friend from high school, plus all of my aunts. I received some really useful and wonderful things, the sort of items the Dude and I have been in great need of, but have worked around doing without.

The second half of that day was to include going to a tea event, where writers would read aloud from their books. My ticket was a gift from my maid of honour and I was very keen on going. I love tea and I love books. Whether or not to experience the two together was something of a no-brainer. The shower began at 11:00 and we were to leave for the tea at 2:15.

There were a couple people who couldn't make it, some mothers of young children, for instance. One child had a fever and there were other child-related issues. Another family member had to work. However, one of the ladies who couldn't make it was my father's girlfriend. She's a nice woman, and let us know was likely going to be late for lack of a ride. This was fine with me and with everyone else. My aunts were going to enjoy each other's company after I left and if she could get there before 2:00, she would catch me.

My dad, though, intruded on the shower with his own ideas.

The phone rang and one of my aunts answered it. The conversation appeared to be strained as I watched her sentences cut short and her words grow more controlled and careful. She explained the shower was happening now, that I was busy, that I had another planned engagement afterwards which everyone had been aware of. She seemed reluctant to call me to the phone, yet unsure how to handle the terse and angry barrage on the other end of it.

I realized I was likely the only person capable of putting an end to this tomfoolery, so I took the phone and listened to my father angrily explain to me that my obligation for some reason was to stay at the shower so his girlfriend could come, regardless of whether I had another place to be. Explaining to him that this would be essentially throwing away my maid of honour's gift to me and abandoning our shared plans, which was obviously an insulting thing to do and an unreasonable demand to be making, fell on deaf ears.

He looks upon his lady as an extension of himself, and my inability to accomodate her late arrival as a refusal to accomodate him, and any such refusal as a gross act of disrespect, a respect he feels is his due no matter the personal costs to me or others.

I kept my voice firm, my words detached and coolly rational, which is the only way not to be drawn into a futile and emotionally fraught battle with someone whose mental state is as shaky as his argument. He changed his tactic, and in the tone of voice he usually reserves for saying "young lady", he began, "Now, I don't want to ruin your shower, but..." to which I cut him off to calmly inform him he already had. Realizing he would get nowhere, he said,"Goodbye!" with the sort of finality an agitated wife might tell her husband, "Fine!"

I accepted his goodbye and hung up first, which was unusual. Usually he is the one to slam down the phone, but I think he had overestimated the effect of his goodbye, thinking I would rush in and try to placate him and please him so he wouldn't hang up on me, and he remained on the phone, I think, to wait for my remorse.

I'd have felt embarrassed, but I have not kept my father's nonsense a secret with those I'm close with. They know what he's like and I offered no apologies for him and no explanations. I stopped owning my dad's behaviour a long time ago.

One might say the tension in the room after that was thick enough to cut with a knife, but we cut the cake instead and all was well. My maid of honour was understandably horrified about the whole thing. It was her gift that my father had taken issue with, but the ladies were quick to point out this was his problem, not hers.

Our tea event went ahead as planned and we had a lovely time. The readings were really good, and the snacks were tasty. I got a book and had it signed. By 5:00 I was in very good spirits. Despite my father's foolishness, I'd had a relaxed, scrumptious, friendly and cultured afternoon. I was invited out to dinner, but being the introvert I am, I was ready to just go home and absorb my day.

I'm home now, feeling a little tired, somewhat out of sorts. This is not a negative thing. Being very social and travelling between cities so quickly, I just need to readjust and have a quiet evening to re-energize. Despite my fatigue, I am feeling deeply satisfied.

I also had a wonderful talk with my aunt while I was there. No matter how well you may know someone, there can often be layers to uncover about a person under the right circumstances. I think I have a better understanding of her, who she is, how she feels. It's the sort of way I'd like to be with my own mother, if she were here.

Overall, I had a great weekend. And I have five weeks till my wedding. It hardly even seems possible.

Family

2011-09-21T21:41:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was the 12-year anniversary of my mom's passing. In high school, I took the day off the first year. In college I didn't; each class cost me money. I've never taken the day off work when it's fallen on a work day. It's one of those life moves on sort of things. There have been years I've realized it passed without notice.

But I was aware this year, probably because she's been on my mind more frequently.

My parent situation really, to put it mildly, bums me out. I mean, I've made peace with it and everything. I don't lie awake at night pining for a family I don't have. Well, I do lie awake at night, but that's not why.

There is the situation with my father. Many a person has encouraged reconciliation. And all those people typically are family or the odd friend who isn't aware of the history. I haven't had him in my life since 2006. He had this habit of disowning me for minor infractions, kicking me out of the house during fits of anger, telling me he never wanted to see me again. When I went to live with him after my mother died, he pulled this less than three months after her death, which was shortly after my birthday and around Christmastime.

He started disowning me at about 12/13 when I was in grade eight. It started when I stood up to him one day, after he screamed at my brother till his son collapsed into tears. The issue? My brother had been fooling around with my dollhouse. This sent my father into a rage and in a deluded blast of ignorance he unleashed verbal abuse onto his 10-year-old boy because he didn't want him to be gay.

My brother's not gay, for the record. He just happened to be fiddling around with my dollhouse, the way everyone did, boys and girls alike, when they passed by my room. It was neat. It had furniture and magnets. This was the day I took my first stand. My mother was pro-love and anti-hate and I had absorbed this belief and A. was pissed about the homophobia and B. was horrified at what he was doing to my brother. It's not like he hadn't spent our childhoods bullying us, but this was the final straw.

My father didn't live with us, and therein I took my stance. What right had he to determine if my brother was allowed to play with my dollhouse in my mother's house? And to torment him into the hysterics he had him in, which I could hear clearly through the receiver? Just no. My brother couldn't even hold the phone close to his ear. He held it away from him, still able to hear every furious insult, sobbing inconsolably.

I took the phone and I don't remember the conversation. I know one of us hung up on the other. I know he vowed I was no daughter of his anymore, and I know we didn't speak for half a year. I know this was a pleasant time in my life. I have very fond memories of grade eight.

The final time he did it, after having disowned me about, oh, I'd wager 10 times total, I was 23 if not 24. One of my aunts, who was rather instrumental in my early courtship, such as it was, with the dude back in our hometown, used to pick me up from his place and we'd have breakfast together and visit. My father caught wind of these visits and sought to commandeer them. As though after a weekend lover's romp, the person I'd most want to see would be my father.

He more or less intimidated my aunt out of picking me up and I had to call him and explain that this was not a time I wished to visit, that my aunt and I had plans, that this was a special thing, woman-to-woman. Not having a mother in my life, and being desirous of older female company, this time with my aunt was important to me. There was no getting this across to my father. He has this habit of seeing me as an extension of himself. You can hear it in his voice usually when he says, "My daughter." My daughter, the way he says my toaster or my house.

So that day, again, I was dead to him and never speak to me again and stay out of my life and I'm done with you and so forth. This man, who has begged borrowed and stolen large amounts of my inheritance, who has had me drag him around Toronto hammered at 4:00 after a day at Hooter's, and who gave up buying groceries and stayed out late drinking when my brother I were living with him in high school, felt that my wish to keep my own plans that afternoon was unacceptable behaviour.

That day I called him on it and made it stick. I've been happier ever since. He's long forgotten that day. It didn't really make the impression on him that it did on me.

He was put out that I wished not to be walked down the aisle by him. But really, it would be a facade. By necessity I've been on my own a long time. My aunts have carried me in my times of need as a teen and summers during college. But otherwise, I've been flying solo. And that's how I'm doing this thing.

People ask about my parents. I never know what to say, really. I don't enjoy making people uncomfortable for perfectly reasonable and normal questions. It's never easy to talk about. In my heart, I don't really have any parents. But that's something I'm really looking forward to in getting married: new family members, and new primary people who will be asked about, namely my husband, and eventually my children. Like I was saying, live moves on. And thank God for that.

Vacay

2011-09-17T16:55:00.000-07:00

I think I need a vacation. I've taken some time off here and there, and I have three- and four-day weekends coming up in October and I have the week before my wedding off. But none of this is a vacation. Time spent not working is beneficial, but I need to actively relax.

I think about my work day in the evening. I feel out of sorts in the afternoon, thinking about work. Considering I don't have a high-powered job, I think this is a bad sign as I'm neither a perfectionist nor a workaholic. I believe in working to live, rather than the reverse, and that the personal life I have trumps my professional one in overall importance. So my focus on work is making me anxious and I think I'm getting burnt out.

I was just able to crack my wrist in a totally weird way. It's so rough. My right hand no long makes an easy fist and I've lost some power in my grip. Combined with the aches and stress, I think I could easily spend a week at a spa, letting them mould and rejig me back into proper working condition. If only.

I've often thought that if I had been born in an earlier time, I'd be dead by now. I had tonsillitis, pneumonia and appendicitis and I deal with a host of nonsense and a foolish sleep schedule that has never made sense. If the infection, the fluid-filled lungs or burst organ wouldn't have got me despite a lack of modern medicine, the tribe would have given the likes of me the boot by now.

Really, what I could use the vacation from is my body. Ha!

The Lady

2011-09-13T22:41:00.001-07:00

Today the Dude and I went to our tasting. It was a lovely meal that really pleased my palate. It's one thing I was looking forward to that has come and gone. In seven and a half weeks, the final one will come to pass. And then I'll need a new pet project. Actually, it'll be nice to get back to regular life. I'm pretty low-energy and don't keep really busy. Not having the wedding to plan will open up more of my time to do other things.

But back to this tasting, which had some moments of humour courtesy of this one woman who was also doing her tasting for her wedding. She was there solo and was hungrier for attention than she was for her meal. Cue the quintessential overly obsessed, self-absorbed bride who talks too loud and takes too long to hyperactively say nothing of importance.

The Dude and I were a table away and attempted to enjoy our own conversation, but we couldn't amidst the eager zeal of these gems:

"We don't want dancing. We have this theme about a nice night out, you know? Like at a nice restaurant? I love dancing at weddings, don't get me wrong, it's fun, but it's not what we want, you know? It's just our decision, we really just wanted a theme of a nice night out, so we're not having music. Well, we're having a harp, but at the reception, we don't want music. I mean we're doing a first dance, but we're not having dancing for everyone, you know? Because our theme is about having a nice dinner out at a restaurant."

"I liked the meal. I just have to check with him to see how we likes it. He will complain that it's not hot like I had it, but oh well! Too bad for him, right? The string beans and carrots were good, but I need to check if they're okay. I'll have to see. He couldn't make it, so I can't say for sure right now about that."

"I have to get going. I can't see the room right now. I have some things I need to do now. (Sighs) There is so much to do! So I can't see it now because I have to be going. But I can come back. I'll come back later and see it, is that okay? I really got to go, but it's going well, the planning, you know? You know, we just want to plan our theme around the nice night out. We won't be dancing..."

Sweet Jesus, if there was anything louder than her monotonous babbling, it was the bordom pulsing out of the temples of the coordinators. They stood to leave and she kept them there listening to her repetitive musing for 5 more minutes. All they needed to know is if she wanted to make changes to her menu.

I guess she's just excited. I mean, I am too, I just don't expect people everywhere to get jazzed about whether I'm having carrots or zucchini, or, you know, be so thrilled about my evening wedding that they'd happily spend all night there without being able to dance. Heh.

What a hoot.

Walk Of Hope

2011-09-11T22:56:00.000-07:00

Today I participated in the Walk Of Hope. It was my second time out and I raised $300. It was emotional for me. September in general can be a melancholy time. September 20th is when my mom died. It'll be 12 years this year. In a few more years after that, she'll have been dead longer than I ever experienced her being alive. That's a sobering thought.

I have a pressure in my chest and a small pulsing knot lodged in my throat. Crying seems appropriate, but for now I'm going to write. I can cry later. And when I do, I won't feel so compelled to type anything. Tears from grief have a tiring effect. They lull you into a sort of complacency after you've fully let go. I suppose that's what tears are for.

I'm going to make myself a little vow. I'm going to try never to qualify the pain of someone's loss by how long ago it was. What is gone is gone, but love is love, and time means nothing. When someone experiences a loss they pretty much have no choice but to manage their pain. But ask anyone who's lost a loved one, or hell, lost their family from a divorce, or lost a relationship that really mattered. Years later you can still tell they feel it, you can see the cracks from where they've glued themselves together.

What I hate in contemporary society is this loathsome concept of moving on. Those who know nothing insist it means you should no longer care. That is impossible. Hearts remember everything, cliche though it may be to reference the heart, which is merely an organ. But it's what skips a beat, misses a beat, pounds and aches over loss. It's where the pain hurts.

I'm still mourning. I'm aching over losing someone I've not had in my life for 12 years. It causes me pain all the time, more often than I ever let on. I have my life, my home, my fiance, my cats, a real decent set-up all things considered. I work, I see friends, I enjoy food, I am happy. And behind it all, shelved within easy reach of my memory, is the grief.

This wedding has been bringing it out more often. Sometimes I'll sit here, like now, and I'll become overwhelmed with sadness I can't place. And when I really think about it, I always know where it comes back to. Unaccountable waves of sorrow arrive from one destination.

So I'll let myself think about my mother not being there to lace up my wedding dress, see me walk down the aisle, hear me exchange vows. Doing the walk today was a good feeling, but it was very sad for me. So now, at 2:30 a.m., I'll feel it.

T-minus Two Months

2011-09-08T16:27:00.000-07:00

And the beat goes on. Less than two months to go till I'm wed. To be perfectly frank, it's kind of blowing my mind. I mean, yeah, we already live together. We combined our finances months ago and it's been a success. We got cats together. We've moved together many times. In many ways we're already an established couple, so what's going to change?

The fact that it's permanent. Being common law means that when you part ways, you each take what you brought in and go. Some people think it's the same as marriage, but legally it's not. The law doesn't force you to take on the obligations of a commitment you haven't formally made. You also don't have all the same protections. It's different in that way.

It's also different in the way others view your relationship. Before it wouldn't be unheard of for our respective family members to assume it'd be natural for us to travel separately or consider we'd be fine with being apart on the holidays. Now since our engagement it's understood we stick together.

A breakup wouldn't be a breakup. It'd be a divorce. We're not just thinking about the next couple years, we're thinking about the rest of our lives. There's no potential dating or romance prospects on the horizon. It's all about nurturing this relationship until we die. This is the one person in the whole world that I'll rely on above all others. This is my lifetime go-to person for companionship, comfort and planning my future. And I'll be his.

It's a definitive end to an era of my life and I'm increasingly floored by it. I'm not getting cold feet or the like, but I'm really taking it in. It's the most serious commitment I've ever made. Picking a college and a program was something, but it just required a few years of my time. Choosing apartments has always been temporary. Getting kitties is about a 15-year commitment, give or take. The only thing that would be a bigger life choice than marriage is having children. Even if you change your mind on that one or it's not working out, tough beans.

When I was a girl, I thought I would marry around 25 and be a mother at 28. Now I'll be nearly 29 when I marry and who knows when I'll have kids. I'd like it give it at least a little time after marriage to get on that.

Seems to me a lot of people don't take having kids as seriously as they do getting married. I get when people can't afford a great wedding, they want a great wedding and they figure they'll wait and save up and have children in the meantime. Not my personal choice, but I don't have a problem with it. It's one road to Rome. But there are others who will have a child with someone and then want to live together and will fret over whether to risk marriage with this person when marriage is the lesser commitment next to parenthood.

Marriage used to be the first step in a life together. Now it's nearly the last. People want to be financially secure first, buy their home, rather than start with nothing together and then begin to build wealth, like our grandparents did. Of course our grandparents were expected to remain chaste till marriage, so waiting till later wasn't very palatable. Without that requirement in society anymore, people are more concerned with having the wedding they want. I guess it's the sign of a more affluent society.

For the Dude and I, it's sort of middle ground between the two. We're not financially secure yet, but by getting married, we'll save and build together rather than separately. But it hasn't been the first step. We've already been living together.

The Dude had this idea about being more stable prior to marriage, but it's really hard to live with someone and juggle bills while keeping finances separate and doing it in the name of a boyfriend instead of a husband, where your investment of time and effort is not necessarily going into a permanent shared household, but essentially just another person as there is no formal link between the two of you.

I really am happily anticipating the stability of marriage. Things feel secure now, but really that feeling only really came into being around the time we got engaged. I'm a planner and now we can really get planning: vacations, a house, children, the Dude's business, life in general. It's a final decision about our relationship: we're keeping it. Done looking.

I suppose I'm just musing. It's not just the wedding I've been planning. Lots of talk and discussion has been going into the planning of the marriage.

Home Love

2011-09-05T09:40:00.001-07:00

The Dude's been home for a few days and we've been enjoying glorious nothing together. I often enjoy time alone and being out with friends is wonderful. But there's an entirely different social need that he fills, and no it's not just the bow-chica-bow-bow.

It's more of a feeling of home. This apartment with these furnishings and these kittens and myself only create so much home. The rest is the Dude and when we're together I feel like everything's the way it's supposed to be.

The little absences are planned in advance so I know they're coming, they bring home money, they advance the Dude's career, he keeps in touch reliably while he's away, and they're short. So they're bearable. But when he's gone, despite the house being cleaner, it's rather empty feeling.

When he came home Friday night he was a zombie. He had nothing to say, he was sweaty and clammy and his face was that of a man who needed a two-day nap. Now he's energized and we're thinking of small ways to spend the day. We usually only get one day off together per week, and lately we've been lucky to even get that. So this is kind of a gift. It really makes us appreciate each other's company being away from each other so much.

Some couples spend loads of time apart: separate vacations, military families, long distance relationships, jobs that take people overseas. I don't think we're built for that. Not that we couldn't take it, but that we both prefer to go to bed together each night and it just doesn't feel right unless we do.

We're getting married two months from today. It's a cozy thought to think of marrying a man who feels like home.

Jendra In The House

2011-09-01T22:08:00.000-07:00

September is upon us. What used to be the new school year and mark the end of vacation has become the start of a new vacation schedule at work. I'm not sure how many days I have accumulated. I know that I get roughly four weeks per year. I also know I don't take as much time as I ought to. I have this nervousness about not having any time off available for god knows what might crop up.

Nothing ever does crop up. Things generally get scheduled around these parts. I'm not sure why I don't just take two weeks and do nothing. Well, I suppose it has to do with the fact the Dude doesn't get paid vacation and I'm not going to travel without him, and that's what I really want to use my holidays for: travel.

I want to go to France. I need to see Italy. I have a desire to visit Iceland. And the cities I very much want to see outside of those countries are Prague and Vienna. So five items of interest. I wish I could take two months and just make it happen. With a bank account to handle such an excursion, of course. Ah, dreams.

I've been mostly alone all week. The Dude has been away for consecutive business trips to help his boss photograph wind farms in small towns that are comprised mostly with truck drivers passing through, eating at diners where food is fried thrice. And now he's a couple hours away doing food shoots. He's home tomorrow.

And my IBS acting up has made me squeamish about leaving the house, and it's made my clothes fit poorly. All home and no people makes Jendra a... well, a hermit I guess, which is nothing new, but I don't like when it's not self-imposed. I miss the Dude. We're going to spend all of Labour Day together doing only things we want to do and generally basking in each other's company.

But for now... sleeping alone stinks.

A Moustache To Believe In

2011-08-27T19:36:00.000-07:00

I am watching a second viewing of Layton's funeral on TV. I don't have a lot to say about the service other than I'm sad and I'm wondering where Canada's going to go without him in charge of the NDP. I'm unfamiliar with state funerals. I've only been to private ones and I prefer them for their intimacy.

However, I'm glad for the large-scale ceremony. Despite the lack of intimacy, it's only fitting. He wasn't a private person. He was very public. He took great joy in being out there creating change. There's a clip of him speaking for women, the LGBT community, the homeless, and more. Privacy at this time would be unpardonable, not when there could be more focus to his favourite causes in his name.

I went to the memorial at Roy Thompson and left my own message. I wasn't sure how to word my feelings, so I left this:

God, I'll miss that guy. It's hard to really like politicians, and somehow Jack made it easy. I was just going to write something about love just now, and Jack's words just came to mind. Love is stronger than hate. Politicians take note. People want someone to believe in, someone who will speak for everyone. They want a decent human being to speak for them. He was a rare guy.

Fake Prom Ahoy

2011-08-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm going to Fake Prom! I had a colonic yesterday to assure I'd be able to attend in comfort and peace, and it was the best session I've ever had. My stomach has deflated to normal size, the gas has left the building, I'm feeling energetic and the sadness and lethargy that accompanies my IBS symptoms has been alleviated. I have no idea how long I'll get to enjoy this, but tonight I'm good to go and that's all that I hoped for.

I decided to come out, as it were, to my boss about my condition. She knew I had it, in general, but not the level that it affected my work. I explained the nature of it, how when my symptoms are in full swing I am often kept up at night, about my frequent need to leave my desk for the bathroom for extended periods of time, how I sometimes need to lie down on my stomach or nap from being robbed of sleep, about how the idea of apprising her or creating a notice for extended absences from my station was going to create a long series of emails or notifications sometimes.

She was very understanding and offered a helpful solution to allow me to better manage my time around my IBS needs. It was like a weight had been lifted and the stress I'd been experiencing fell away from me. And now that I'm out about how bad it can get, I don't think it'll actually be as bad.

I'd just been too embarrassed to talk about it to my work. My friends all knew, but getting into your bowel dysfunction with your superiors, no matter how kind you know them to be, is a daunting prospect. But keeping her in the dark to assuage my pride and fears about it was only hurting me. When you start to appear like you are slacking at work and don't take communication seriously, it's time to pipe up.

I'm really hoping with this recent colonic I'll get some quality time to relax in my own skin. I never know how long my reprieve will last, so I have to savour each day and every hour I get.

I'm totally doing it before my wedding, too. Already booked my appointment.

IBS at Work

2011-08-24T19:39:00.000-07:00

IBS is still busy ruining my life.

It's hard to chart the severity of this bullshit, but it really feels to me like it's getting worse over time. I used to take the odd day off from work to quietly manage my symptoms in peace and let them pass, but now that I'm working from home, doing that feels wrong. So I try to work around my bad days.

But this is very difficult. IBS is something that keeps me up at night. By the end of the day, I'm usually riddled with gas. It's like it gets trapped in there and doesn't want to come out unless it's en masse. The belching can actually force itself out of me and it can be painful. And it's something that will keep me up.

And if that's not happening, I'm often backed up, pardon the expression, which inherently steals my energy and robs me of rest due to rumbling discomfort.

So sometimes, being unable to sleep until 3:00 or 4:00, I don't wake up in time for 8:00 to start work. I figure I can get at least another hour or two, and then skip a break and work late if my work assignment sheet will allow it, and it usually does. At least then I don't have to be thoroughly exhausted, only rather tired.

But when the, shall we say, gates open, the day is shot. But I still work. Why? Because I work from home and feel too foolish to call in on these days and say my bowels are malfunctioning again, I need the day off. It's embarrassing.

Occasionally these open-gate days coincide with a late night. It's a terrible whammy of suffering. And I have taken the day off a couple times, but not as often as they happen.

Why? I just feel like they need me. I know they do. My sudden absence (anyone's really) throws off the whole schedule. The other two people who do what I do could be overloaded. I feel immense pressure to work through it.

My health is suffering, though. My mind is frazzled. I'm getting very burnt out. I feel anxious about work now, because I feel like I'm falling behind, always needing a nap I can't take, always bloated and cramped. Unfortunately, stress is a major trigger, and this whole thing is stressing me out.

And I am pretty sure my work doesn't understand. And this is my fault. I just loathe the thought of calling in and explaining this. Who wants to talk to their bosses about their bowel dysfunction and explain why it's impairing ability to work? I try to make it sound like it's not a big deal when I do mention it. I don't want to complain and get honest about it, because when I do I cry.

And now I'm at a crossroads. I had a terrible day at work, where I had to admit I was well behind because I spent so much time in the bathroom. And I know they were frustrated with me. I'm harder to get a hold of via email, which makes their job harder. Well, I'm away from my desk frequently to use the toilet or lie on my stomach or do some stretches to ease my discomfort.

I'm not sure what to do. Do I sit down with my boss and give her a doctor's note and explain my situation? It feels so needy and whiny. And I've recently had a separate health concern regarding the computer. But what I've been doing is catching up to me. I feel emotionally drained from this whole thing.

I have good months, the sort where I actually tell myself I just don't have IBS anymore, just to feel free, but I haven't had a symptom-free stint in awhile. And I long for that, I really do.

Bon Jack

2011-08-22T11:16:00.001-07:00

I can't believe Canada lost Jack Layton. He was passionate, he was the sort of man who you really could believe in. I think he was the best chance we had for the sort of Canada I wanted to live in. I voted for his party. I'm a Green at heart, but I was won over to NDP because of Jack.

I mean, this man really cared about social justice. He wanted fairness for people at all levels of the spectrum. He was tireless. I mean, the guy campaigned through cancer and only a month ago said he needed to take a break. How far gone he must have been for it to have taken him so quickly after that announcement.

The man was a politician, but unlike so very many I've seen, he didn't seem like he was in it just for personal glory and prestige. With all the causes he championed, the sort of issues ordinary people needed leaders to care about, I was able to have some faith that Canadian politics would rise to the levels I dreamt of, where people and not corporations, the environment and not special interest groups, evidence and not ideology, progression and not stagnation would have a chance to thrive.

Who will speak for us now? I don't know. Elizabeth May perhaps, who now is considered as unimportant and irrelevant as Jack used to be less than 10 years ago. Like Jack said, optimism is better than despair. I'll choose faith. This country is capable of beautiful things; not glory, but true humanity and thus greatness. We'll get by, and someone will rise to speak on behalf of those who can't buy political leverage and need a voice in parliament.

But today, I grieve. I had no idea how much I was emotionally relying on Jack Layton to weather what I've been seeing as a dark blot in our political history. Today I mourn.

IBS Strikes Again

2011-08-17T21:31:00.000-07:00

IBS is a cruel beast of a condition. I currently look about five months pregnant from abdominal distention, I'm belching like I just won a hot dog eating contest, and the combination of the two has made me a highly unattractive pile of disgruntled sadness.

This has been going on for days. Symptoms haunt my steps everywhere I go, each and every day. But the constant issues are typically mild. Moderate issues are less frequent and don't last more than a couple days. Severe symptoms are, thankfully, uncommon and don't linger longer than a day or so.

Well, this is a moderate issue and it's been on my case for three days and my patience is wearing thin. I tried to enjoy some quality time with the Dude before he leaves on a business trip and all I could do was burp at various volumes and generate odours from my dinner.

I have a colonic scheduled the day before Fake Prom so that I can assure I'll fit comfortably in my costume, no distention, no nonsense. When you have IBS you pretty much accept defeat when it comes to living comfortably every day. You just handle it as best you can and throw in the towel as needed. But for special events, you really want to be able to enjoy them without your body getting in the way, and Fake Prom is one of those evenings. My pinup outfit isn't really going to have the effect I'm hoping for if I look like I'm going to give birth.

I can imagine what life is like without this condition. I see people with flattened stomachs, eating normally, and I feel wistful and envious. I look at my torso, which often resembles a trunk to me, expanded and riddled with gas, and I get bummed out.

As it is right now, I'll be up for awhile. I'll watch I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, and remind myself it could be worse.

So Etsy

2011-08-16T20:04:00.000-07:00

I've been putting my new Kitchen-Aid mixer to good work, and have already made two delightfully tasty desserts in one week: butter tarts and cheesecake. I may need to slow the pace or I'm going to get wicked chubby. But now that I have the tools at my disposal, it's hard not to think about the things I could be making.

Looking around this place, it's hard also not to be thinking of things I could be cleaning. The bags, the boxes, the clutter is looming large in my office, spilling into the hall. And there's so much more to come, mostly from Etsy. I am pretty much having an Etsy wedding.

Here are some bitchin' wood chip flowers I'm going to leave as favours.

I don't really care much for "branding" at people's weddings. A little touch here and there to let you know where you are, fine. "X & Y, Insert Wedding Date" is okay on one or possibly two things. But I really don't care for favours or gifts to guests that are branded with other people's information. So a plain flower it is, just because it's neat.

In lieu of rice or confetti, here are some ribbons and a bell on a wand.

I was looking for something kind of special and fun, and found these neat-o items for guests to wave instead of throwing things. We won't be going outside anywhere for people to toss specks of whatever into the breeze, so this is a charming option. It wasn't necessary, but it's a twist on an old favourite tradition. It's coming in pink and two shades of blue. Again, no branding.

This is possibly my favourite, simply because of the keepsake value.

This is actually a card box, something I was rather ill at ease buying. A receptacle for monetary gifts? But if you don't have one, people will just give you whatever cards they may bring, and that's not terribly practical. So I found this box, which is a small suitcase, and though you can't see it, there is a slot carved into the side for cards. After the wedding, I'll have a wonderful keepsake box for little souvenirs from the wedding: the invitations, a wood flower, my hair accessory, a table number, cards, things like that.

And they're all en route. More boxes, more clutter, fewer days to go.

Floor Pt 2

2011-08-11T20:44:00.000-07:00

Today is day two of the floor laying extravaganza. We decided not to kid ourselves with the giant linoleum rolls and went the vinyl tile route, which required yet another mystical journey to Home Depot, which sticks on the floor and is easy to cut to shape. It's actually quite perfect for a rental addition space. Regardless, it looks significantly better than grody carpeting from school portable hell.

Here is a view of the work in progress from the kitchen.

Here is the view from the middle landing.
There is the Dude measuring away.

It's been a banner day at the Jendra residence. The floor isn't the only new addition. My work delivered a new computer for me to replace my 10-year-old model. What prompted this was my wrist pain and the fact my old clunker no long ran my dictation software, and that I was slowly crippling my hands from all the straight hours of typing. When you do what I do for nearly seven years, these sorts of issues crop up.

But now with my new beaut of a computer, I can work safely again. I like that I can count on my department to take care of me in these ways when I need it. All I had to do was call and my needs were met. It's nice. I know that's what they're supposed to do, but not all places actually care.

But back to the floor, come tomorrow, things should be better. The kitchen can be cleared of clutter and junk and the (bleh) cat litter again, and resume its normal duties of just being a kitchen. The Dude will put the finishing touches on the new flooring while I try out my new Kitchen-Aid mixer and bake some happiness. The kittens, of course, will go on being kittens with fewer things to poke their noses into. And all will be well.

Home Improvement

2011-08-09T19:47:00.000-07:00

The Dude and I are undergoing a major home project. We're property managers at our apartment, so on top of the Dude handling garbage duties, snow removal and general upkeep of common areas, we also give our landlady options to improve the place. She pays materials, we (meaning the Dude) provide the labour. We live in a better home, she has her property maintained.

So we thought (meaning I thought) the carpeting on the stairs leading to the basement was grody and had to go. It smelled, was constantly dirty and it was the sort of crummy threadbare rush job you see in school portables.

Day 1 was the day of my shower. The Dude attempted to get the materials, the bank card didn't work in three separate locations and he came home totally aggrieved and nothing got done that day.
Day 2 was yesterday. We bought the materials: vinyl flooring rolls, adhesive, adhesive trowel, a crowbar-like tool for prying nails, and a vinyl knife.
Day 3 was today. Today we lifted the carpet from the stairs. Holy merciful Jebus. The dust. The unimaginable dirt that had been sitting and living beneath this carpeting. And the nails in the runner were rusted-- and they were nails! Not screws, nails!

Here are the runners, rusted, dented
and now in need of replacing.

Here is a piece of carpet,
waiting to be disposed of in a land far, far away.

And a view of the stairs from the middle landing,
stripped of nasty carpet.

Tomorrow the real difficult work begins: the measuring and cutting of the floor, and renting a roller to lay the damn thing. But it'll be worth it. I hate that stupid carpet.

Tea Shower

2011-08-08T15:30:00.001-07:00

I have now had three showers. The third was held yesterday by McPal and his fiance on a humid Sunday afternoon and it was the sort of day that makes you love life.

Now, these two are the sorts of people who embody all that is home and garden goodness. To that end, they held a tea party with sandwich squares: cucumber and smoked salmon, plus tuna melts. Then homemade scones with homemade cream and raspberry confit. Then petit fours and this ohmygoditssogood chocolate covered peanut butter cheesecake ball. From scratch.

They had helium balloons, white flower arrangements and we drank tea out of this charming china set on their patio, which had been decorated with white bunting.

I didn't realize they'd go to all this trouble and was even more floored to discover a group of them had gone in on a Kitchen-Aid mixer. Yeah. My friends are generous and incredibly kind people. Out of all the things I didn't see coming, that was somewhere at the top of a list I couldn't have conceived. I also received these lovely whisky glasses and chilling stones. Did you know those existed? I didn't! They're so neat!

I feel loved. Seeing my friends take pleasure in making me happy gave me a really wonderful feeling.

I held back telling the Dude about the Kitchen-Aid, wanting him to see it for himself. He was stunned. He took it inside, came back out, and snapped out of his shock enough to splutter a thank you. He was pretty touched.

And now that we're less than three months to go, things are really starting to move. There's still quite a number of things to be done, which is incredible to me considering how much I did in advance. And I'm pretty grateful I did them in advance now because although it's busier for me now, I can still take a moment to breathe and relax.

Not tonight, though. Tonight we're doing the property management thing, renting a Zipcar, and buying some vinyl flooring to replace the nasty carpet going down the stairs. Home project ahoy!

Two Showers

2011-08-04T16:59:00.000-07:00

The showers came, the showers went and we have all the linens we'll need for years. That is, two showers are over, the ones courtesy of the Dude's family on both sides. We also got an amazing coffee maker. As I was writing thank you notes, which took quite some time for 14, it occurred to me that after the wedding, it's going to be quite a massive undertaking. Good thing I enjoy written correspondance in general.

The invitations arrived today, the boxes of the other wedding do-dads are piled up and the hall is still half-full of our new towels and sheets. What floors me is that if we still lived upstairs, we'd have nowhere to put any of this stuff. Where would it have gone? It's hard enough to store things now. These are high end problems, but damn.

But I digress. Back to the showers in our hometown. They were both done with love and were completely different from each other. On the father's side, it was an all-day potluck affair that doubled as a family afternoon on the lake. It was relaxed, there were kidlets running about, both men and women, and it was outdoors. On the mother's side, it was 2-3 hours, women only, full of laughs and indoors, with sandwiches and squares.

They were fun and generous, held Saturday then Sunday this past weekend, and was I ever beat by the time we got back into Toronto.

The next shower is a tea party McPal and his fiance are throwing for me. I'm really looking forward to it, just relaxing with friends and munching on goodies and drinking tea. I've made my feelings on afternoon tea quite clear, and I have wonderful friends.

One of the Dude's aunts said, "Enjoy your engagement. This is a magical time." I don't know how magical it is, though it's been pleasant and I was tickled by the sentiment. But I'm not a blushing bride needing instructions on her wedding night before I move into my husband's home and take his name. But I am making a formal commitment and hosting a big event. Marriage isn't quite the thorough life-changer it used to be, but going through these months and parties and making plans is kind of magical in its way. Milestones are few and far between in adulthood. It's exciting.

Bye-bye, kitties

2011-07-29T15:15:00.000-07:00

The weekend of Dude family fun is here. We're getting picked up in 20 minutes to head to our hometown for two showers hosted by his mother at one and his stepmother at the other. Being at the centre of things in someone else's family is an odd experience, thought they'll be my family too, soon enough. And they're good people. I'm lucky in that way. I've heard some bad tales of woe about in-laws from other people, and it's always issues that began well before the wedding, but which escalated afterward. I don't feel at all concerned about this sort of thing.

It's going to be a lot of socializing, and we're leaving our kittens behind for the first time. They've grown into very affectionate kitties and I'm really going to miss them. I'm also a little concerned about them getting anxiety and acting out about it. Think urinating in the wrong places, vomiting, scratching. But we have McPal and his fiance coming to care for them, which is a load off my mind.

I'm pretty fussy about my kittens. I heart them to pieces. And that's what I love about cats, is that they're made to be spoiled. The more you indulge them, the happier and better behaved they are, which is stark contrast to other dependants, like dogs and children.

Oh, it's time to go... bye, kitties! Be good!

I'm such a suck.

Woe is Them

2011-07-24T21:17:00.000-07:00

I'm loving Retro Camera, which means I'm loving having a smart phone. I also love Angry Birds. Ah, technology. I resist for so long, then give in randomly and fall in love. Resistance is futile.

Here's some wedding prep shots (Which I didn't intend to shoot in black and white, but oh well) I've taken of some of the things I've had delivered:

From Etsy.
The wood has been stylistically burned on one side.

These are my seating tags. Plan is to paint the untreated side of the wood with chalkboard paint. Then with a chalk marker, write the name on the rectangle and the table number on the circle. I'll tie them together with something fun and charming.

Distressed wood, mini chalkboard.
Cat not included.

Here is a sample of my table numbers, also chalkboard. Bea jumped into the picture, which conveniently gives a measure of reference for just how small and cute they are.

I didn't set out looking for chalkboard; it just sort of happened. And it's thanks to the internet and Etsy. Because of the ease of online shopping, review reading and idea gathering, wedding planning has been ridiculously easy and very pleasurable. Brides used to have to travel from store to store looking for things, comparing costs and were limited by their time and locations. Not I, not in this day and age. Pishaw! The only wedding item/product I have gone into a store to buy is my dress.

I've gotten mostly good feedback from people when I've talked about my upcoming nuptials. You tell people or others mention it, and you receive a congratulations and then perhaps you show your ring and conversation shifts to some other topic of interest.

However, nothing shows you who has emotional baggage when it comes to weddings and marriage moreso than seeing a person's reaction to someone else's engagement. People who aren't interested in marriage, but are confident in their own life choices, will be warm and congratulatory; they understand that your decisions don't reflect on them. They're happy if you're happy.

But there are those out there who only claim to be disinterested, but who clearly are nursing some issues surrounding matrimony. And it can be uncomfortable to witness because it's your life event that's bringing it out in them. For instance:

At dance class a friend was inquiring about my wedding and I mentioned I went dress shopping and found one I could afford, though it was still a lot of money to pay. A woman overheard and thought I meant the costume dresses, and mentioned some were very affordable. I let her know that I was referring to buying a wedding dress.

Her response was quick and terse: "Oh, I don't believe in weddings. I never want to get married."

Well, alright. Most people would have said, "Oh, you're getting married? Congratulations." People who are blase about marriage still know not to rain on someone else's parade, but people who have issues with it revert the focus immediately to themselves and get a little hostile. Sometimes the lady doth protesteth too much.

Another instance, an acquaintance learned I was getting married and her only comment was a question: "How old are you?" "I'm 27." (Which I was at the time) "Oh... Well, that's okay then." Oh, is it? Good news. I almost thanked her for her approval, but decided better of it. Turns out this woman has some significant relationship issues and is going through a hard time. No need to call her out, though it reenforced my opinion about the source of her rudeness.

And recently, another acquaintance learned I was engaged and her reaction was to scoff at weddings and complain about her Facebook newsfeed having nothing but marriage and baby news. No congratulations, no warm wishes, and several jabs about matrimony in general for the rest of the evening. And I barely know her. It was actually the most unpleasant out of the three.

For each of these ladies, I think they've been burned by love. I don't begrudge them their feelings, but there's something to be said for not publicly eating sour grapes over it. I don't need a fuss, but I don't terribly enjoy people I don't know well wrinkling their nose at my happiness.

Well, in three months, this era of life will be over. Funny thing, an engagement. Such a temporary state of affairs. And as much fun as it's been in many ways, I'm rather ready for it to come to a close.

Garden Fun

2011-07-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

The mail has gotten quite fun these days. In my office a small pile of wedding paraphernalia is growing: candy buffet apothecary jars, mini chalkboard easels for table numbers, and distressed wooden tags for seating cards, which arrived today. Also Front Door Organics delivered produce and so the house is full of fresh fruit and veg. Good mail days are one of life's delightful little pleasures.

In garden news, I've been harvesting zucchini and it's been magical. I love going out to the garden and plucking my food. And the pumpkin plant I was bemoaning sprouted a female flower I promptly pollinated and now a charming lil' punkin is growing on a vine that is taking over more and more of my backyard each passing day. I prune where I can, but can't bring myself to remove sections that promise to sprout more female flowers.

The tomatoes are plentiful, though still green. I'm going to have an abundance, which means I need to whet my appetite for toasted tomato sammiches. I've been harvesting my carrots and green beans, and the lettuce has gone to a better place. The only thing not growing are the bell peppers. The plants are growing and flowering, but no baby peppers yet. The onions are also perplexing.

As far as the flowers go, lilies have bloomed and in the unfair fashion of nature they're already on their way out. Beauty is so fleeting. But my sweetpeas, which I had given up for lost due to what turned out to be a less than ideal planting location, have starting climbing the fence and are beginning to flower. So I'm not feeling like a total failure. Not exactly a green thumb, but for a novice I'm very pleased with my first-time gardening results.

Now for some gardening pictures, and just for kicks I took them with a funky phone ap called Retro Phone. Well, not the first one, but the others I did.

Here is my garden with the pumpkin plant claiming
the entire yard for its own.

Here is a Polaroid shot of my first pumpkin!

And my tomatoes! Still green but lookin' fine.

One of the zucchini growing into a fine specimen of yumminess.
Taken with Fudge Can.

My sweetpeas blooming against all odds.

Fun close-up of a tomato with the Orange Box setting.

My carrots growing in a big bunch.

My onions doing... something.
Hopefully growing the way they're supposed to.

Tea Time

2011-07-17T20:57:00.001-07:00

Going to high tea on a Sunday is charming, Harry Potter was exemplary, and my first pumpkin has begun to grow.

These are the small things that please me today.

A few members from craft club have decided to make a ritual of high tea at the Windsor Arms. It's really a wonderful way to spend the afternoon. Sitting around in my pyjamas transcribing TV shows, sweltering in the heat outdoors, paying bills, doing housework and all the like is necessary life drudgery. We all need to work, clean and spend money to make it all happen. But wearing a charming outfit in a beautiful room, having tea served on a Sunday afternoon along with tasty goodies in the company of good friends, well, that's just living the good life, if you ask me.

It's a British custom I wish were more common in daily life: tea time. Just taking the time out in the afternoon to have a light snack with a tea and enjoying some calming conversation.

Western life is just too hectic for that, even for people like me who have so little going on. Seriously, I have it low-key around these parts. But no one else does, and therein is the bummer. I'd love if I had a friend nearby who would reliably pop in for an afternoon spot of tea. I suppose that's what privileged women did back in the day. And sure, they didn't have property rights or the vote, so this really is a rose-coloured glasses sense of wistfulness, but what a shame that tea time went by the wayside.

The Backyard

2011-07-14T22:36:00.001-07:00

The garden is growing. The zucchini and pumpkin are taking over the yard! I'm pruning them, keeping them in check. There are six zucchinis growing that I can see. No pumpkins yet, but they're flowering. I'm trying to pollinate them, but it's kind of hard when you have infinite male flowers and nearly no females. Buzuh?

The tomato plant is out of control. I'm pruning that one, too. It's stretching across pretty much everything and well beyond the stakes. Happily, it's growing tons of tomatoes, but sweet Jebus, it's startling how massive the thing would get without intervention. And I hate pruning. It makes me feel like I'm amputating a living thing against its will because it has the audacity to thrive.

The green beans are already being harvested. It's like every time I go outside there's more beans. My immediate future is going to contain beans. Beans, beans, beans.

I spend a portion of every day out in the backyard tending to the garden. I weed, water and prune. It's relaxing and pleasant, but the Dude and I are already making mental revisions to our garden for next year.

For starters, no onions or carrots, fewer pepper plants and in a different area, only one pumpkin and zucchini plant (They come in pairs, so we planted both), relocation of spices, relocation of beans plus proper structures for them to grow upwards, and the addition of potatoes.

And what does all this mean? It means we're staying put for once. I finally feel satisfied. I've moved because of neighbour issues, and now we're below a terrific lady. I've moved for office space and now I have one. I've moved for more affordable rent, and this place is well in our budget. I've wanted air conditioning, the right to paint, a bigger kitchen and outdoor space and it's all here!

It's taken many a move, by George. From the Annex to the Village, to Parkdale, to Christie Pitts to here, first upstairs and now down, all in 7 years. Everyone's always on my case about moving, and rightly so, teasing me about needing my current address since it's been a few months and I may have a new one. But this place has been worth moving for. And I think it's the backyard that's done it for me.

Four

2011-07-11T19:52:00.001-07:00

This heat is oppressive, isn't it? Well, if you're in Toronto, you know what I'm talking about. We had the AC on for a bit, and discovered the vent or whatever it was needed to be changed when within an hour I was wheezing and sneezing up my soul. I spent a couple days suffering through sinus hell. The heat in comparison is almost welcome. At least I can breathe.

I have recently come into a situation that is quite an ass thing for any woman: my reliable, personable, talented and affordable hair stylist quit. And not just the salon she was at, but apparently the business. And four months before my wedding when I was counting on using her services.

So I went on a search to discover a new salon. I saw excellent reviews for Fringe in Parkdale, my old haunt. The quality of the cut is good and the actual salon is really cool. I like minimalistic modern settings. But... it was $40 more than my price range, and I was kept waiting 10 minutes without an apology, and I was left completely alone in the salon for 15 minutes, not even a receptionist was present. I think the colour was left in too long, not based on how long it needed, but around the stylist's activities. Anyway, I can't justify going back with the highest price and lower service.

So the search continues. And not having a regularly stylist you're familiar with to do your hair on your wedding means you have to call around, ask for prices and get recommendations and pretty much hope for the best.

With under four months to go, things are really starting to happen. In particular, four things.

My maid of honour and my aunt are cohosting a shower for me in my hometown. All my family and nearby friends will be invited. McPal, being my bridesman and Torontonian wanted to also throw a shower, a tea party type affair cohosted with his fiance, for my Toronto friends who would be too far from my hometown to attend the shower.

So this is really nice. But what I hadn't realized was that the Dude's family was going to be as excited about showers as mine would be. The Dude's mom decided she wanted to throw a shower as well to introduce me to her family. I let her know about my maid of honour's shower, but she felt it was important for her to do her own. So now we're up to threee.

Then the Dude's stepmom wanted to throw one for the ladies on her husband's side of the family. I again let her know about the already existing shower and that all the ladies she wants to host would be invited, but she still wanted to host one herself.

I'm having four showers.

Now, this is not a complaint. When you have so many people wanting to do things for you to help you celebrate that you wind up with four showers, this is not a problem. It's an outpouring of love and kindness. But holy moley, I'm having four showers and I never would have seen such a thing coming in my whole life.

I think for the Dude, his family have been wanting to do something. None of his other brothers got married, so while there have been babies born and all the joy that comes with grandchildren, there's been no weddings. So I think that is where a lot of that enthusiasm comes from. It's a chance for parents to get involved and participate in this sort of milestone for one of their kids and show some love, and this may be the only chance so they're making the most of it.

It really is moving. I'm happy I'm marrying into a kind and caring family.

But wow. Four showers. Little-known fact about me: Opening presents makes me feel a little awkward. Looks like I'll be on the road to getting over that in the very near future!

Mail Call!

2011-07-06T21:43:00.000-07:00

I had a really good mail day today. I almost had an exemplary mail day, but was thwarted by an early arrival I wasn't awake to hear. Shame on me.

Number one was a mineral makeup order from Silk Naturals, which the letter carrier thoughtfully stuffed tightly into the letter slot. Perhaps a little grumpy about the strike outcome?

Inside was a plethora of coolness. I bought a starter kit for mineral loose powder. You follow recipes and tweak the measurements to create a loose powder to match your skin tone. And the coverage is awesome. It was kind of a messy alchemy experiment that I took to the backyard. Mixing with the tiny scoop, mixing the powder, testing it, stopping things from blowing away.

I also bought a natural cleanser and lip balm, and some lovely cheap samples for toner, lip plumper, exfoliant and serum, plus a foaming bottle for the cleanser. And it all came to a whopping $32. Amazing deal. I have a new favourite cosmetics store.

The second thing that came in the mail was a new smart phone. I had an old flip phone that was obsolete and dependable. But what really started to grate on me was the quiet ringer I could never hear. So, being on Koodo and grandfathered in with an amazing $35 a month deal, I figured I'd upgrade for free to a LG Optimus One (I so want to call it Optimus Prime).

It's like the poor man's iPhone, which is something I find sleek and pretty but would never buy. I only got the cheap thing I had in the first place because it was free and had no contract. I was planning to ride my old phone out. It was only three years old and it still worked. But having found myself in need of a map, in need of restaurant options while out, in need of a phone I can actually notice ringing, and a proper keyboard so I don't have to click each key tons of times to get a message out (And I like to properly spell and punctuate), it was time.

And the rogue mail that got away? I think it's my wedding invite proofs. I can't imagine what else it would be. Oh, but I want to see them! I almost had a mail hat trick. Usually it's just bills.

The Long Weekend

2011-07-03T09:39:00.000-07:00

Long weekends are the lifeblood of adulthood. Children in this hemisphere get two straight months off in summer, plus March break and Christmas vacation. We typically get, if we're lucky, two to three weeks in the whole year.

Though, if your parents were smart, they made the transition more gradual and less jarring by forcing you as a young teen to find work over the summer, babysitting, mowing lawns, a part-time job. Then a part-time job after school throughout the year, which would become full-time in the summer to save for college. Then full time jobs between college semesters, which is four months straight of 40-hour weeks.

By the time you're 22 and out of school and unemployed, you're thoroughly demoralized and ready for the workforce. Time off is not fun because it means you have $0 and it's horrifyingly expensive and you'll take just about anything.

So here we are.

I've been at my job for six years. That's around the time the benefits of longevity kick in. I now have four weeks of vacay. It's not the two months of carefree summer of my youth, but when would that ever be possible again? Retirement, I guess, but with less energy and more applesauce.

The Dude has been working like a maniac. He's been accepting weekend work, making him work six days straight with only one day off, or worse, the whole weekend resulting in 12 straight days. While I admire his gusto for his career, I realize I alone am monitoring his physical and mental health. He's too busy to realize he's ruining his health.

So this three-day weekend was a godsend. I claimed the entire three days from any work, labour or undesirable activity. It was my mission to play a fun few days for him to finally get some rest, partly for his happiness, partly for mine so he could stop being Captain Grumpy. All work and no rest makes Dude a dull boy.

We're on the last day and he's mellow yellow. We'll be capping this weekend of fun and activity off with drinks at a pub with friends. And then True Blood.

Thing about adult life seems to have a theme of quality over quantity. There's not a lot of quantity to be had, really, not of the things you want, like recreation or vacation. So it's either plan for quality or get nothing.

Time line

2011-06-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

I've been working with a graphic designer from my uncle's print shop and have zeroed in on the invites. We've been emailing back and forth a bit discussing various small changes and I think we've come to a close. They're pretty much something I would make myself if I had the mad skillz. Everything I make tends to be cute or quaint looking. I'm not edgy or alternative or formal or trendy or frilly.

I'm kind of excited to post them, which I'll do once I have sent them out in the mail. I should have them in hand by August, and out by September.

I'm sort of in the swing of planning, and I'm so far in and so close yet so far that wedding planning has become a sort of sub-lifestyle for me. It's on my mind frequently, as it requires decision-making, appointments, labour and monetary investment, not to mention ideas and creative ones at that to make it fun and affordable.

That said, I'll be much pleased when it's all done and I can re-focus my energies on other things. It'll be nice to not have to block off our income in large chunks for an event. Instead we'll be saving for things like vacations or a house.

And I've been giving home ownership a lot of thought lately. It's the dream for most people. It kind of says "I've made it." And indeed in many ways it does say that. And people invest instead in an asset rather than spending on rent, and they can decorate willy nilly. These things are lovely.

But the more I consider what the Dude and I plan to do and our needs, the more I see we simply can't buy a house until he's a photographer. Not just because we need to buy him equipment and secure him regular studio space, but we can't take the same risks if we're homeowners. We'd have too much to lose. The Dude can't be too tied down by property ownership, not if he's going to embark on a career based entirely on getting clients. Until he develops as a successful photographer, saving up and having regular mortgage/utility/maintenance/insurance/tax costs on hand for a home the size we'd need will be unrealistic for us.

So home ownership is likely five-plus years away, if not more. A number of my friends own property now: my maid of honour, some friends north of the city, and now McPal and his fiance. I also have a friend in Ottawa with two properties. But I can reconcile our differing time lines. I'm happy for friends' milestones and accomplishments. I just also try to remind myself just why we're waiting, and that not everyone needs to do things at the same pace.

As it stands, we're likely going to start a family well in advance of having our own house. And that in itself is kind of exciting. But first thing's first, of course. Gotta get hitched.

No Homemaker

2011-06-24T15:47:00.000-07:00

I am not a good housekeeper. I'm not a dirty person or anything, but I'm lax in the tidy department. I'm comfortable with a bit of grime and dirt. And that is the current state of affairs of my home at present. Not gross or unhygienic, but... rustic, let's say.

When left to my own devices I'm merely sloppy, a little unkempt in the living room area, dishevelled in the bedroom and a dish piler in the kitchen. But the spills get cleaned, the bathroom gets scrubbed and garbage goes to live in the trash. Living with the Dude, life's gotten a little messier.

In the face of a messy guy living with them, a lot of women will take on the extra housework themselves and grow agitated. I personally have just lowered my expectations for my home's cleanliness. It's easier.

I tell myself that my children's immune systems one day will be glorious and that mine must already be ready for the plague. Well, maybe not the plague, I mean, my place isn't that bad. But still, this isn't exactly suitable for the delicate.

All of this means that we have to clean this place. We're having a BBQ this Sunday and while I'm comfortable with a certain amount of crust (Ha!), I can't bear the thought of exposing the people I care about to it. It's bad enough when unexpected service people have to poke through my place and I have to say, "Excuse the mess."

I do love entertaining though, and not just because I love seeing my friends (Which I do). It's a delightful way to instigate a massive clean up and get the Dude interested in scouring the apartment with me.

Cleanliness ahoy!

Garden update

2011-06-19T13:26:00.001-07:00

Okay, so the Dude uploaded the pictures! And I took some more today, so here is the chronicles of our gardening venture. I'm really quite pleased, as nothing has died, which is wont to happen when I try to make things grow.

Here are my pumpkin and zucchini plants from, oh, a week or more ago.

And here they are today!

Here is the blossom growing from the zucchini plant.

And in the centre there, the pumpkins are starting to blossom.

Here's the tomato plant from earlier a couple weeks out from planting.

And here it is today. It's really sprouting along.
No tomatoes budding yet, but the plant is really looking pretty happy.

This was the garden before, with the carrots, onions, lettuce, peppers,
green beans and strawberries.

Here's the pepper plants today. I wish they were a little bigger, but they are growing.

The green beans were planted from seed
and they've really jumped out of the ground.

The lettuce is getting big.

And strawberries have started to grow!

Overall, rock on! The carrots and onions have also been thriving, but since all the goodies are underground, their progress will be better recorded once they're harvested.

The one thing that's dead is the grass. Oh, we re-seeded the dead part near the garden, but underneath lush green overgrowth was... dead grass. Go figure. So there's a green patch surrounded by a golden carpet of death. I've been watering it, but it needs more.

Funny, eh? The food is thriving. But the grass? Grass that does nothing? Dead as yesterday's news.

The Introvert

2011-06-17T00:10:00.000-07:00

It's 3:00 a.m. and I'm awake. The Dude is asleep like a normal person, and Bea has sensibly gone to bed. Sprinkles, generally being devoid of good sense, is also up and circling my laptop and getting in my business, probably because she feels she's due a late-night snack.

I read a little blip on introversion today. Every now and then it's nice to read about others' experiences with being introverted. We're in the minority in a society that values extroversion. I particularly liked reading the comments and felt a sense of camaraderie with people who reported doing things I do:

Staring off into space
Not smiling much
Being quiet unless there's a topic of interest being discussed
Not bothering with small talk
Being given to honest and open discussions to the exclusion of social niceties
Getting drained from companionship quickly
Needing to be left alone for large blocks of time

These things tend to strike people as strange or worse: anti-social. Past friends have come down hard on me for being this way, as though I were rude or unpleasant to be around. I thoroughly enjoy people's company, I just don't initiate conversations with people I don't know because I find it taxing. It usually requires me to do small talk and I hate that. I actually can't do it, not really.

I watch people interact all the time, usually talking about the little things or items of low interest to me. I don't know how to start these conversations, I don't really want to join them most of the time, but I do get a sense of loneliness when I appear to be the only party not conversing. I wonder if I'm avoiding the small talk or if people are avoiding me. Perhaps I appear aloof.

This must seem like a discrepancy, to hate small talk and to also feel left out of it. I suppose I just dislike the realization that my proclivity to be private and quiet means people think I'm unfriendly, or shy. I'm not shy at all. I really enjoy public speaking. It gives me a rush. I like to burst out of my shell at parties. I'll dance solo at weddings. I just also like to dine alone in restaurants, go shopping by myself and spend so much time in my head that I often don't notice what's around me.

I guess I kind of close the door on the world when I really get reflective, and people don't like the feeling of a door slamming in their face. I'm 28 years old and it's only the past few years I've really sort of accepted this about myself and started actively revealing myself as an introvert to people I care about. I spent my childhood and adolescence around friends, classmates and teachers who all thought I was either a jerk for not listening, stupid for not paying attention or a ditz for being unresponsive, when I was only overloaded from social stimuli at school and took many involuntary mental breaks.

I wonder what life would be like if we understood ourselves faster. Children don't know anything about themselves except what colours they like and their favourite foods. They know who their friends are, if they want to do something or don't want to go someplace. But they know jack about their personalities and don't really give it much thought. A self-aware kid would be an anomaly.

Teenagers dive into self-discovery, but often screw it up by doing a sort of self-moulding instead, where they copy other kids, hide their preferences, go with the group and try to be who they want to be instead of who they are. Conformity at all costs. Weirdos like me don't make the cut into acceptance and cool land.

One of the things I imagine sometimes is what sorts of ways I'd have reacted to people if I knew then what I know now, and was less apologetic about who I was. Because I did apologize, a lot.

I kind of hope I have an introverted kid, just so I can show him or her some understanding. I have an uncle who once called me a loner. My mom was unhappy about that, but I really appreciated it, just the acknowledgment that I am the way I am and don't need to always be socializing. It's nice when people really see you.

I suppose if I were a man, I could be considered the strong silent type. Too bad for me, I guess. Introverted women are more likely to be considered snobs.

Etsy Wedding

2011-06-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

Gonna take the time to get all weddingy.

There's four and a half months to go, so I've started buying things for the decor. I've been having a lot of fun with it. It's kinda nifty to throw a big party and put your own stamp on it. I'm never going to throw an event of this magnitude again.

I find myself on Etsy a lot, and crafting blogs looking for DIY projects. Today, for example, I bought these for the table numbers:

Hans Creations

I love shabby chic things. But I also like quirky things, so I picked up this for a guestbook/seating chart:

Cut The Cake Designs

Guests go through the card catalogue and find their name, which will tell them their table number, and then there's space to write a message a la guestbook.

And shabby chic and quirky are good, but I also enjoy cute. And cows. I love cows, I really do. Not sure why. So, I got these for a cake topper:

Kikuike

It's going to be eclectic. I started out with a Monet theme idea, which inspired me with the cake and the colours. It sort of set the tone, but I started to feel stifled and constrained with a theme, so I let it go and just focused on what I liked and what would be fun. But the theme was good because it gave me a place to start.

I'm really looking forward to it, but not just the party. I'm looking forward to the ceremony and saying my vows and hearing them back. I'm happily thinking about when we can begin reallocating our money to our future instead of to wedding savings. I'm excited to think about saving for a home, trips and starting a family.

And yes, it is 2:00 a.m. Insomnia, man.

10 years ago.

2011-06-12T15:11:00.001-07:00

So, I have been taking photos of my garden with the Dude's spiffy camera, but I don't know how to get the pictures off said camera. So all I can say at present is that the garden is green and growing and you'll have to trust me that I haven't killed everything off brown-thumb style and am covering my tracks.

The other day the Dude and I were talking about what sports our old high schools had and I hadn't thought that we had certain teams and he was sure we did. So, out came the yearbooks and of course this led to browsing them for memories.

And I had forgotten just how much I hadn't enjoyed high school. But not to worry, it all came back to me as I was flipping pages and becoming increasingly sad. Well, perhaps "sad" is the wrong word. It's more of a muted sense of isolation, inadequacy and stress.

In the 10 years since graduation no other place or era of my life has managed to generate the same response from me.

In college I made only a few friends, but they're friends I've not only managed to keep, but have become even closer to over the years. And there was no bullying, no distinct cool people looking down their noses at anyone, and everybody was free from being the person that everyone thought they were based on perceptions formed from five years ago.

There were times then I felt left out or lonely, but I'm introverted and that's my lot in life sometimes. I never felt open contempt for who I was, and that was the stark difference.

When I was in high school, I started out with a group of friends from elementary school. One dropped me completely and the others never truly seemed to want me around by the end of grade 10. Perhaps we'd grown apart, perhaps newcomers to our circle changed the dynamic and I no longer fit in. Maybe both, maybe something else.

Within days of grade 11 starting, I had a whole new set of friends. It had been gradually coming on in grade 10, and after being ignored most of the summer, it seemed our old connection was dead. And my new friends were odd people, so in a sense I was home.

But having some key friends doesn't prevent you from being harassed. Boys started quacking at me, an old teasing tactic from grade 6-8. I'm bow-legged and my knees and feet aren't aligned straight. I walk a little off-kilter with my toes pointed out, like a duck.

So a chunk of grade 11 was spent being quacked at by boys I grew up with, and eventually by boys I didn't even know. Everyone knows this type, a sort who jumps on a bullying bandwagon: they're not terribly intelligent or good-looking, perhaps they come from money and they have a misplaced sense of their own importance which translates into a really snide arrogance.

If not for the fact my mom had cancer at the time and I had to go home each day and see her sick body and try to sleep at night, occasionally listening to her vomit from chemo, I might have had an easier time handling the additional stress of social nonsense. But such as it was, in addition to the teenage angst, it was a troubling time.

I flipped through the pages of my last years of school and reflected on how I was only ever merely there at that school, and never a part of it. I'd show up, sometimes get made fun of, fall asleep in my classes, talk to my friends, do my time and leave. I left for a semester and while I was gone my mom died. And amidst the strangers in my class I felt a sense of community, something that I know I wouldn't have felt at my "real" school, not surrounded mostly by people who looked at me and saw a loser.

I had friends at my old school, but when the people who don't like you seem to outnumber the people who do, or at least when it feels that way, being surrounded by people who either like you or don't know you is a bit more comforting.

I think that's what being taunted by your classmates does to you. And it came back in waves as I turned the pages. And so I closed the book. I immediately felt better. It's amazing how easy it is to go back there, emotionally, but it's thrilling how simple it is to make it go away.

I love getting older. And I guess I'm thankful my glory days weren't in high school because life has only gone up since leaving. So, maybe it was nice to take the time to appreciate that.

Kids are graduating high school right now. It's been 10 years since my grad. The Dude and I were browsing tuxes for the wedding today and I saw a teen looking for a prom suit. Sometimes that sort of thing makes me feel old. This time it made me feel grateful.

Little bit of this, bit of that...

2011-06-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

I got somewhere in the neighbourhood of three to four hours of sleep last night. I have never been able to maintain a normal sleep schedule, with the exception of when I worked as a chamber maid in the summers between college years. But even then when I had to wake up at 6:00, I still couldn't sleep till 11:30 or 12:00, and I need eight hours to feel like a human being. I'm an inherent night owl.

I've fallen into a bit of a routine these past few weeks. Now that a garden needs my attention and the days are so beautiful that not stepping out into the sunshine is criminal, I spend a portion of my afternoons in the garden, watering, weeding, admiring the new growth. I took some pictures of the progress over half a week ago, but never got them off the camera and now they're outdated. Which is great because that means things are growing.

I tend to do dishes before my work shift is over, usually when I reheating some lunch. After work, I do some flexibility exercises in the office while listening to music. Bea likes to join me and curls around my legs and crawls into my lap while I'm stretching out my legs.

What a calm state of affairs this is.

There's certain things with the wedding that are yet to be handled, but I'm still ahead of schedule. I usually channel my insomnia into wedding planning, which is likely why I'm so on track. There's a boatload to do with this sort of event, but even more or less solo I seem to find time for it all due to my nocturnal proclivities.

~~Guest list~~
~~Venue~~
~~Dress/Shoes/Accessories~~
Tux/Shoes
Groomsmen wear
~~Bridesmaid dresses~~
~~Music~~
~~Flowers~~
~~Cake~~
~~Booking officiant~~
Ceremony planning
~~Rings~~
~~Out of town hotel blocking~~
Licence
Invitations
Seating chart/place settings
Favours
Centrepieces
Transportation
Booking hotel room
Trial hair and makeup
Booking hair appointments

If there actually was a way to have this all done in advance, I'd have the wedding done already. It's not like I'm this way in all areas of my life, though. There are certain things I like to leave to the last minute, like getting up in the morning. When I was a child, I used to run to the bus with my knapsack open, one shoe on, carrying the other, with my coat in the crook of my elbow, trying to stuff my lunch into my bag. Making a specatacle of myself was worth sleeping in till the last possible second. Wedding planning doesn't really fall under the same category, however. Five months to go until it's a memory.

In other related wedding news, McPal and his boyfriend are no longer boyfriends, but... (drum roll) fiances! How exciting! They'll be getting married in a little over a year, possibly two. They were both going to propose to each other in Paris while they were on vacation, but they got robbed and thus thwarted in London, preventing them from seeing Paris. And in the midst of the ransacked flat, they each revealed their intentions for Paris, and McPal proposed. Romantic!

I love love.

The Colonic

2011-06-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

I had a colonic yesterday. Yes, I do those. In fact, in addition to a facial and manicure, I plan on getting a colonic before my wedding so I will be comfortable.

So, bearing in mind what I'm going to be talking about, this may not be the post for you.

Continuing on...

I have IBS and I was experiencing a lot of... inactivity lately. This is usually solved with a round or two of magnesium citrate before bed. It comes in a raspberry-citrus flavour and you mix it with hot water and drink it like a tea. It "hydrates" your lower intestine and thus gets the show on the road down there. No pain, no fuss. Very effective.

Well, that wasn't working. When you can two tablespoons of magnesium days in a row and you haven't had a hint of an rear door exit, you know you have to take more drastic measures.

(My friends and I have been laughing lately about how bowel movements have made their way into our regular conversation. Years ago I would have said, "EWW!" Now? Hell, it's a regular part of my life, ironic pun intended, so I'm less skeeved when talking about it now. Guess I'm getting old.)

Anyhoo, I made an appointment at this place near Ossington station. I had a deal and I wanted to give 'er a try. I have a place I trust already, but I wanted to see if this new place, which is closer to my home, would work out.

Well, it didn't. Oh, it worked-worked. But I'm not going back. Why?

1. I like my colonic clinics to be more clinical looking. This place had an indie vibe, the sort that's charming for a boutique or therapist's office, but if I'm having a tube up my butt, I want to feel like I'm at the hospital.

2. There were two session rooms and one bathroom. At D'Avignon they have a toilet in every room. At this place you might get stuck waiting. And for those who haven't done this before, when you have to go during or after a colonic, there's nothing in the entire world more pressing (Yes, I know, but puns are too easy when you're talking about poo). There was a grip on the wall and while the bathroom was being "reserved" for me, I gripped it and twitched. I don't remember what I was thinking about. Everything I was or had ever been had been reduced to the singular need to go to the bathroom. Because a toilet was not in the room, I had to wait twice as long.

3. I had to wait 15 minutes past my appointment and when I came back from the bathroom, she told me to get dressed. So I got about 20-25 minutes instead of 45. At D'Avignon, they get you right back on the horse and give you your time.

4. At D'Avignon, if you're cramping they add peppermint oil to the water. The ladies there are also nicer. I get relaxed enough there to start cracking jokes as I watch god knows what fly out of my body and down the tube. They all seem rather taken with their work, too, and want to know all the details about your digestion. The woman who dealt with me was a quiet-spoken serious person who tried too hard to sell me products. I also got the sense she was not terribly interested in what I had to say.

In the end I got what I needed. An obstruction is gone and my stomach is no longer distended. I'm comfortable, comparatively gas-free and I have that rare sensation of understanding what it must feel like to be normal. When I touch my stomach now, I keep expecting my hand to find my tummy a couple inches out further. It's so lovely to not feel so bogged down and round.

But I left the colonic feeling emotionally disgruntled. I'm not terribly inclined to list this place by name and call them out, but if anyone in TO wants to try this sort of treatment for their digestive issues, I think I've made my recommendation clear.

Officiate

2011-05-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

A couple days ago the Dude and I went to see our officiant. I had no idea all the processes that go into getting married. Kind of blows my mind now how easy it is to go to Vegas and say screw it.

For example, we're not using an officiant from a company like Kettle Creek or All Seasons. We're using the justice of the peace we saw perform the Dude's stepbrother's wedding last October. We thought she was lovely and dignified and we enjoyed her service. So to use her services, we have to write and mail a formal letter to make a request. She then passes it off to a higher up, who will approve it.

Then we have to come back around August with $75 for the fees associated and our outline for what we want in our service, and a license in hand from City Hall, which will have its own fees and we'll have to go and show our ID and answer questions about ourselves and our parents.

So to think that in Vegas people can meet a stranger and marry them that very day all willy nilly is wild (and yet the country thinks same-sex marriages will degrade the institution). Frankly, I think it makes good sense having to go through hoops. If it seems like too much of a pain in the arse, then it might be a good idea not to get married. I'm comfortable with it not being easy. I just didn't realize how not easy it really was.

So there are five items on the agenda now to take care of: going up to my hometown to design invitations, writing a formal request for our officiant, writing up our ceremony, buying a license, and getting engagement photos done.

This fashion photographer that the Dude has worked for, who's newly into wedding photography, is shooting our wedding as a gift (generous guy!) and he offered to do engagement shots. So we're thinking of doing something offbeat that would be useful to him for portfolio pieces. I'm not terribly photogenic. I have a nose that doesn't cooperate with cameras. But all the same, I'm still looking forward to it.

I'm just not comfortable unless I'm ahead of schedule with this stuff. I don't want to fall behind and get stressed out. Eventually I'll be at the mercy of people's RSVPs, but until then, I'm all over this bidniss.

Make Your Own Wedding Ring

2011-05-21T21:59:00.001-07:00

So, we all still here? Yes? Who would have thought that a guy who's already made a false claim before about the end of times via the return of Jeebs based on Bible math could be wrong? I know, it's wild. But since the Earth is still here and we have to go on with our lives, looks like we'll have to go on paying our credit card bills, sticking to a healthy diet and going to work.

Speaking of life, this is Victoria Day weekend, or as us Canucks call it, the May two-four. If the Toonie doesn't convince you about Canada's love of silly wordplay, the May two-four should suffice.

Most people were out having a beer on a patio or camping or some other worthy day-off activity in the glorious sunshine, which had eluded us all week. The Dude and I, however, had a date at a jewellers called The Devil's Workshop, where we made our wedding rings.

Yes, we made them and it was awesome. You wouldn't think forging metal and sanding it down would be a great time, but somehow it was.

This is what we started out with.

The entire thing took about six hours, with a 45-minute break for lunch. We had to spend the first chunk of time finely sanding down the ends of each piece of gold so they would fit flush together when we started hammering them into shape.

This was actually the second step of hammering, and it was really difficult.

I learned during the initial shaping of the rings that I am no good with a hammer and I have very little in the way of upper body strength. This is not new information, but I really forget how weak I actually am on a regular basis. Possibly my daydreams and fantasies of being athletic or a superhero cause me to lose touch with my physical realities. The Dude had to help me more than once. And since I was making his ring, it was harder and thicker and required more muscle. He had my dainty little number done much faster.

This is how they looked after
we were done hammering them the first time.

This was the soldering part. Fire makes me nervous, but I was hungry and wanted to go to lunch, so I volunteered to go first.

After lunch, we had to hammer the misshapen, medieval-looking gold into actual rings. This was another hammering challenge and I really had to let the ring have it. I wish I'd thought of something angering at the time; I really could have gotten some good aggression out. Plus it would have helped, as I have a hesitant and nervous hammering hand. I was basically giving the thing love taps and they required a good hate hit.

This was when it finally started to resemble jewellery.

Then we had to sand. The sanding essentially took up the rest of the afternoon. We had to use sand paper, four pieces of different refining qualities, and work out every ripple, edge, nick and scrape. And when we were done, we had to use the power tools to sand in the centre, again using four grades of sanding. And then buffing. And then buffing again.

But it was worth it. They look seriously amazing. And along with the experience of making them, after the cost for the workshop, gold materials and tax, we got them both for under $1,000. Men's wedding bands start at around that much (though after today I can totally understand why).

The finished product. Shiny!

All in all, not a bad way to spend the day. Maybe not so much on the most beautiful day of the year on the holiday weekend, but I regret nothing.

Flower Power

2011-05-18T17:01:00.000-07:00

The Dude and I are gardening. Of course one of the reasons we moved down here is for the yard. A yard in this city is a major premium. You're lucky to get a balcony or a deck, never mind a damn yard with grass and such. So a few days ago we spent our day off getting our hands dirty.

The previous tenants had a dog, albeit a nice dog, that destroyed the grass with her many trips outside. So there was a massive brown patch in the back. There was also a strip of weeds lining the fence and wild violets everywhere. The grass had started growing uncontrollably from the rain and it's been too wet to cut. We had so much work ahead of us.

We went out for our supplies using Zipcar and were nine minutes late returning it and were charged an extra $35. We picked up a shovel, spade (Which I've already broken), shears, grass seed, top soil and all sorts of plants. We're going to grow us some dang veggies. We tried the potted garden route on our old deck last year and it went okay, but I was a little disappointed with how small the plants were, and we didn't have enough room for more than a few things.

So we went to Fiesta Gardens and bought onions, lettuce, carrots, green beans, tomatoes, red and yellow peppers, strawberries, garlic, zucchini and pumpkin, plus herbs. I also got some sweet pea flowers for the old weed-ridden fence.

It was hell to get it all together. While digging out the flower bed I found all sorts of bulbs, presumably from a garden that once was, long ago suffocated by weeds. There were piles of roots and growth to sort through and throw away. I couldn't discern what was what, so everything went in the compost so I could start from scratch.

The Dude got to work weeding out the wild violets and digging up what would become our vegetable garden. There were old wooden slabs piled in the back of the yard and he used them to block off the soil. There was a bricked off area we chose as our herb garden.

It was so difficult. For some reason we didn't eat before doing this. We didn't eat all day, in fact. The Dude held up a lot better than I did. Eventually I ran out of steam and was merely out there for moral support in the misty gloom while the Dude finished planting the flowers and more of the herbs.

The next day there was even more to do. The Dude was off while I was working, so he was out there again, shearing the grass, planting the rest of the produce and cleaning away all the dead weeds and grass littered all over the yard.

And there's more to go. But! Here is the current state of affairs:

You can see the patches where we had to plant new grass.
The compost bin is crammed full with more to come.

Here's a close-up of the garden.
The herbs are in the corner.
The pumpkin and zucchini are to the left.

Here are the carrots, onions, green beans, lettuce, and peppers.
Straddling the two sections are the strawberries.

High Tea

2011-05-15T21:11:00.001-07:00

Today was a day of adult pleasures. And I don't mean XXX pleasures, I mean some friends and I went out to the Windsor Arms for high tea. It's not the sort of thing you do in your early twenties. Sundays then are for greasy breakfasts at dives to recover from the night before, where you'll recap your evening with hungover friends over a plate of bacon and hashbrowns. Been there, enjoyed it. But that era of my life, such as it was, is over like Grover.

It was really fun and charming, and I think we had some of the best conversation possible. How could you not while drinking pot of aromatic looseleaf tea in a delicate butterfly teacup? I gave myself a mini facial and then dressed for the occasion in a retro-inspired green dress and a delicate sequin-collared cardigan and the wrongest shoes I could have selected for a rainy day. I had a soaker in both shoes by the time I got there and my feet were going squish-squish.

There's no classy way to dry your feet in an expensive hotel lounge, so I had to go to the bathroom, remove my sopping shoes and dry them with paper towel. This is probably the third or fourth time I've worn these inappropriate shoes to the wrong place and suffered the consequences. I wore them on a walk through High Park and got them filthy. I wore them on an excursion in Mexico to Coba and climbed a monument and my arches ached. I wear them out in the rain and they always get waterlogged. I really don't know why I keep doing it.

But anyway, the tea, back to the tea. The tea was wonderful. The waiter brought out the layered tea trays with scones and treats and these cylindrical sandwiches that resembled sushi. The scones were what all scones should be. They melted. There was cream and jam. McPal's boyfriend said his grandma called the cream the food of the gods. I said if I were God, I'd eat that cream every day. There was whipped cream and strawberries. We were there for two and a half hours and I'm still actually full at 12:30 a.m.

I can't believe there was an era of time when people just did a tea every day. Perhaps it would lose its lustre if it was a mandatory daily thing, but I can't see how. What a sad thing more people don't have the time to sit down to some tea and treats and talk. The four of us were wishing we could always have high tea. McPal and his boyfriend wanted to throw a tea party. Hell, I want to throw a tea party.

I know this means I'm getting old. I don't even care. High tea and my friends makes me happy. Getting older and maturing means doing what you really want to do instead of what you think is cool. Speaking of which, we have a craft club coming up. I love being 28 and I love being a nerd. I also love that being 28 frees me of any self consciousness I ever had about embracing that.

Le TV

2011-05-13T15:18:00.000-07:00

The Dude and I got a new TV a few days ago. Was this terribly wise, considering we're saving for a wedding? Yes and no. Dude's been wearing me down for years on this topic. I had this tube TV that's about 7 years old, which was obsolete when I bought it. It was all of 26 inches, heavy as ass and it still worked. And that's all I cared about.

I'm the sort of person who doesn't upgrade. I will use anything until it breaks. I have the same toaster I bought to take with me to college 10 years ago. It was bottom of the line and it has no special functions. But damn, it makes toast. My electric kettle came from my late grandmother's house 10 years ago.

I had a touch tone phone with a cord that I was given for Easter when I was 13. That was my home phone until I was 23. I finally threw it away when it stopped hanging up properly and I missed calls, the last one notably a person I'd invited over and who could not buzz me because the phone didn't ring. I've never fully stopped feeling bad about that one.

My laptop I bought refurbished at the end of 2007 to replace the eMac I bought in 2004. Apple had stopped making eMacs by the time I bought that bad boy, so I got a great deal. Only when it stopped working and died on me did I consider getting a new computer.

I had the same futon bed and mattress for about six years, which I had bought to go away to college. By the end it had developed a deep grove in the centre and we'd fall asleep on an angle. In the morning the Dude and I would wake up on top of each other. It also smelled funny. So I cracked and splurged on a new bed, a proper adult bed with a pillowtop mattress. But to the Dude's dismay I didn't get a queen. The double seemed more practical.

So I was ready to hold out getting a TV for quite some time. But this living room is so dang small compared to the last one and the TV stand takes up too much valuable real estate. But such a large stand is needed for such a bulky old TV. So the Dude won and step one of making more space was getting a modern flat-screen TV.

And okay, it's pretty amazing. We didn't get the very best TV (of course) and we bought the floor model. We didn't get the 42-inch or the newest model. We stuck in a budget I could live with and quality the Dude could live with. And this was our first big shared purchase.

And it occurred to me that doing this before the wedding was actually kind of a good idea. We breezed through our decision making, sorting out the pros and cons and came to a consensus. It was the same way with choosing paint colours and it's been this way with making wedding plans. It's nice to know our communication holds up for large purchases for the home.

And I guess it's nice to have something up-to-date in the house. Such a rarity.

Mother love

2011-05-08T13:18:00.001-07:00

I generally like the concept of Mother's Day. But on a personal level, I find it painful and sad.

I had a dream about my mom last night, one I can't remember. It wasn't a happy or a sad thing. I just know she was there, probably because she's been on my mind.

My mom and I looked a lot alike. Not as much when I was a teenager, when my face was rounder and I resembled my dad more, but very much so now, now that I'm a little older and my baby face is starting to age. Yes, I still have a baby face at 28. Only a couple years ago I was still being carded for lottery tickets.

But as the years go by, more and more I see my mother's face when I look in the mirror or see photos of myself and it's a shock. But it's not a bad thing, just an emotional jolt from time to time. And then I feel good. It's hard to be too critical of my facial features when they remind me of someone I love. It's not exactly a feeling of being beautiful, so much as it's a fondness and affection for the little quirks in my nose that my mom had.

I think she had a little more grace than I do. She was a kook in her own subtle way, but she was more ladylike, more likeable to more people. She was gentle and firm in her opinions, but she listened. She was gullible and a salesperson's dream. She was sometimes naive and ideological, but a strong feminist as well. She knew how to stick to her guns. She was a poor cook, didn't stress about housework, but my brother and I had all the attention from her that we could want. She didn't miss games and recitals. She made me pursue physical activity (Against my nature) and didn't care how well I did, so long as I did it.

She was often blunt with me when I fell short, and warm when I made her proud. She had high expectations, but not so high I couldn't make her happy. The thing that drove her the most crazy about me was my critical words for things I didn't like and my lack of motivation. Though I was very motivated to articulate when I didn't like something.

My mother and I didn't have a friendship. She was the parent. She never lost her temper with me if I wanted to talk to her about serious things, though she got very embarrassed about sexual matters and generally seemed shy and juvenile about them, her tone growing less mature and assured when questioning if I needed a bra, after having let me go many months too long without one, uncertain how to broach the issue.

But when it came to body images and the media, eating disorders, abusive relationships, and many other problems facing women, she had confidence and wisdom and shared her ideas about those things with me often, usually in her bed. Whenever I saw her reading when I was a teenager, I'd crawl into bed with her and talk. It was the sort of dick move teens pull when seeing attention diverted elsewhere from themselves. But she made herself available, eyes always on her book, so I could continue to feel like I was interrupting her while pouring my heart out.

I miss her. I regret a lot of things. Mostly, I wish I could have come of age when she was alive. I could have gotten to know the woman behind the mother. I never reached a point in my life where I could see her through an adult lens and see who she really was. I only saw her as the dependent I was at the time, with my needs and my wants and all my projections of who I thought she was based on my mood that day and whether or not I had gotten my way.

16-year-olds are capable of loving deeply, but they lack the maturity and depth to love selflessly enough to really appreciate another person. I lost my mother during the most selfish era of my life and I never got the chance to grow out of it and be the sort of daughter I wish I could be to her now. I like to think we'd talk often and I be able to ask her all kinds of things about her life. There are a lot of blanks.

All I've got now is my life to live, hopefully in a way she'd be proud of. In the absence of a living mother, this is the best I can do.

Mother's Day hasn't really gotten any easier, to be honest. But that's just because I love my mom and she's gone. There's some comfort in that. Love sometimes hurts.

Majority bull

2011-05-03T15:06:00.000-07:00

The fucking election.

You know, my stance on the Tories is pretty much a given. My stance on our electoral system is just as poor. A government in this antiqued system can be given total power with 40% of the vote. That minority of support grants over half the seats and delivers a majority government. Or in this case, less than 40%.

That's right, folks. 39.62% of the country elected a disproportionate number of MPs who now speak for 100% of Canada. The rest of the MPs have little voice now. Their policies and ideas and questions can be ignored.

When a system grants over 50% of seats for a 40% showing in support, the system makes no sense. The Green party focused on getting their first MP elected, and they succeeded. But due to a lack of campaign efforts across the country in order to do so, they lost half their support. But with half the support, they have a seat with around 500,000 votes total for their party, whereas with nearly 1 million they had zero seats.

Toronto is thoroughly undersupported. We have 2.5 million people in Toronto. Prince Edward Island has 140,000. We have 22 ridings and they have 4. Doing the rough math, PE Islanders have about 1 MP for every 35,000 people and Torontonians have 1 MP per 113,000 people.

Saskatchewan has about 1,050,000 people and 14 seats. That's 1 MP per 75,000 people BUT! Let's take a look at Rural Alberta ridings, shall we? 590,000 people, 12 seats. That's one MP for every 49,000 people.

The more rural you are, the more sparsely populated your area, the more your vote counts and the more you get heard in the House of Commons. But then again, we have a first past the post system and not proportional representation. So who the hell even needs to bother counting up these numbers. Roughly 60% of Canadians cast votes which elect nobody.

We live in a broken electoral system and that's a fact. Who's going to fix it? The party that just rode a majority off of the existing system? Probably not.

Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T07:38:00.000-07:00

So despite a lingering bout of unwellness, I chose to stay up all night so I could watch the royal wedding. Most people would have gone to bed and set their alarm clocks. I'm too self aware to make what sounds like such a sensible decision. I'd just hit the snooze and go back to bed. If I had any chance in hell of being awake at 5:00 a.m., it had to be an all-nighter.

I watched a PVRed Toy Story 3, drank a 4:30 coffee and catnapped on the couch with the lights and TV on to prevent full-on sleep. And here I am a little before 11:00 in the morning feeling only slightly worse for wear. So I'd say it was worth it.

And there are the cynics out there who decry the royal wedding as a waste of our collective energy (Waves at McPal) but I can't help being thoroughly charmed by the whole thing. I suppose I could explain what it is about the royal wedding that pleases me.

1. It really brought the people of the UK together. The royal family is an enduring smbol of their history, and without any real political power, their influence is only so great as the people will allow it to be. Hence, I think, the affection. They've gone from being the government to being a living cultural relic. They're no more relevant than Japan's geisha, but people like indulging in the more asthetically pleasing aspects of their country's culture from time to time.

2. Speaking of asthetically pleasing, look at all those hats. I've always loved a good hat, but have rarely felt equal to the task of leaving the house in one. I fawn over them in stores, look at them online and fantasize about various hats I would pair with my dresses. But it's hard to pull off a good hat in this North American society without being looked at as an eccentric. And it's not that I mind people who know me thinking I'm odd due to my personality, as often happens. But I kind of feel squemish at strangers staring at me, which they would do were I to sport the sort of hats I covet.

3. It's of historical interest. I wasn't alive for Charles and Di, but I've seen the footage countless times. I kind of wanted to put in the effort to "be there" for this one. William will in my lifetime be my country's head of state. It's an international news story an estimated 2 billion people watched. It's enjoyable to be a part of that and to share a collective experience.

4. If my mom were alive, she'd have watched it. Maybe we would have arranged to watch it together. My aunt/godmother was all ready for it. In fact, I called her last night and her first question was whether I was all ready for the royal wedding. It was sort of a small bonding thing for her and I. She loves the royal family and so did my mom. She would have married around when Diana did, would have been pregnant with me around the time Diana was pregnant with William and now Mom's firstborn would have been married the same year as Diana's was. She adored Princess Di. I think this whole affair and it's timing would have really made her happy.

And my general impressions of the wedding itself were good. It was very restrained. Definitely elegant, but not over the top whatsoever. It was formal, traditional and understated compared to the passion and fervor the English had for the event. And considering the recession, I thought the modesty and simplicity were respectful. Plus now there's this needed boost to the UK's economy, and the royal family pretty much foot the bill for what's now going to be a huge tourism advertisement for London, England. Also, they all got the day off. Everybody wins. Not bad at all.

And, most importantly, I just really love love.

Sick, so sick

2011-04-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

Oh man, I'm unwell. And it's been attacking me for days. It started on Saturday, and I have a reprieve on Sunday morning, but it teased me through the afternoon and really started in earnest in the evening. I suffered most of the night, throughout the morning and had to catch a bus home Monday afternoon.

And that wasn't too bad. I could even stop into a Starbucks for a piece of lemon seed loaf. But when I got home, that was it. Chills. I couldn't get warm, even with three blankets. I was sick to my stomach and couldn't bear the idea of food. I was weak, achy, and I completely succumbed to overwhelming fatigue. And this is on top of the highly unpleasant main symptom that had me two pounds lighter in two days while visiting my family. I'd estimate I'm down another pound.

I took the day off, after being called to the line of duty, so to speak, all last night. I couldn't bear to face the day. I could hardly pull myself out of my bed.

And now I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so I'm taking another medical day. I'm yet to work in my new office. It's there, ready and waiting, set up and all that jazz. I can't help but feel guilty about it. It's not like I'm well enough to be working, but my station is there, visible from my couch, and I feel delinquent.

Ugh. My stomach is aching so bad right now. I'll cut this off.

Found!

2011-04-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

Oh my God, we found Sprinkles. I was in misery and then in a moment I was joyous. Such is the power pets hold over their owners. Or for cats, the power they hold over those they own.

We had given up for the night. It was dark, chilly and she's a calico, which meant excellent at blending into surroundings. It was hopeless.

I went upstairs a little after midnight to grab something from the old apartment and I heard a thud. Akin to "That sounds like a silo tipping over," I thought, "That sounds like a kitten jumping off a surface onto the floor!" I turned around and there was Sprinkles peeking out of the bedroom doorway. My heart sang, it really did.

We had worked out that after she ran out, she then crept into the hole under the stairs and stayed there. At some point, much like the ninja she is, she snuck back into the apartment and had been hanging out there for some time. What a character. Had me in tears and depressed and worried, and all along she was safe and avoiding us.

When I went to her, she was spooked still. The move was unsettling, the strange person in the house was frightening (she is not fond of men), and she was not interested in anything I had to offer. I eventually cornered her, took her in my arms and snuggled her against her will.

I took the squirmy kitty down to the Dude, who had passed out on the couch and woke him up while holding Sprinkles. She was dusty and wide-eyed, he was confused and then relieved and completely jazzed. She and Bea have been exploring the new place and seem to have adjusted, though Sprinkles is still a little extra skittish.

I can't imagine how parents feel when their child goes missing. I mean, I was sobbing and in agony over a cat I've had three months. We let the Dude's brother know we found her. Her said it was a good Friday. And it is.

As for the apartment, more things are unloaded and moved down. We need a whole lotta stuff to make this place work for us. It's gonna be expensive. And now I'm feeling extra happy I've already put down deposits on wedding stuff while I had extra monies and was able to get finite numbers of what stuff costs. For the next few months, we're going to be needing furniture.

Man, if we were 23 we'd be looking for milk crates and begging off old crap from family. Now I'll be looking to finance some condo furnishings from The Brick. I feel old.

Now I'm off to my hometown for some Easter goodness. Lent is almost over and I can have cake. The Dude is staying behind to be useful, god love him. It's been one hell of a week.

Lost

2011-04-21T20:33:00.001-07:00

Today has been terrible. In every way things could have gone wrong, they did.

Sprinkles is missing. When the couch was being moved, the underneath area being her favourite spot to hide, she zoomed out. The Dude's brother tried to interact with her, but she wasn't having it. So she made a break for it to the bedroom. Well, there was no bed in there and when the Dude went in the bedroom, she darted past him, down the stairs, through the open door... and the front door was open.

We all thought it was closed. Sprinkles was gone. I seriously freaked out. I'm still freaking out. I can't stop thinking about her. I love her. I can't stand thinking that I might never see her again. Holding Sprinkles, with her sweet face and her spunky tail and her pathetic meow is one of the nicest things I do with my day.

We all looked for her, but I knew in my heart it was pointless. She's so easily spooked. She's this squirrelly ninja kitten and you can't sneak up on her. She loves to run away from you. Approaching her is not happening. She has to decide to come to you, her way or the highway. But still, we looked under cars and around homes and in the alley. The Dude and his brother went well around the block and couldn't see her.

She could be anywhere in the neighbourhood. She could be close by. I'm really upset. I don't think someone will be able to pick her up easily, Sprinkles being a total spaz, but what if she gets hungry and can't find her way home? What if she gets hit by a car? What if she fights with other cats or a raccoon? She's only half a year old and she's never been outside before.

This whole move has been a wretched experience. I just want to crawl into a corner and sob. All I can think about is how much I want my Sprinkles back.

Sort of moved

2011-04-20T23:05:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting on the couch in my apartment, the one I'm moving out of. There is little else left in this room: a lamp, DVDs, scratching post. Me. Sometimes the kittens, who totally have no idea what to make of this chaos.

The downstairs is really coming together. I have a lot ahead of me tomorrow. The Dude will be at work and after he's done, his brother is coming over and they'll be men and move the heavy stuff all man-like. I am no mover. I'm 5'2" and have the physique of... well, I don't know. No one impressive. Athletic I am not.

The Dude had a lovely time with me as I nearly dropped the TV stand, the bookshelf, the TV, unable to get a grip with my small hands and my short arm span with about zero muscle to get 'er done.

I'm kind of a liability with that sort of moving. I usually make better use of myself hauling the smaller, manageable loads. My thinking is that stuff needs to get done anyway, and it frees up the time and energy for stronger folks to do what I can't. That tends to be how moving goes with me. I'm essentially better than nothing.

But it was just the two of us this evening and the man I love must really love me because I would have driven a less enamoured man to drink. We painstakingly hobbled large things down the stairs, inching our way down. These various daunting trips exhausted me early, and further hindered stage one of the move.

What remains is our detachable couch, the bed, my vanity table, the bathroom storage unit and my work desk, none of which I can do anything about.

So tomorrow I'm lugging down clothes and toiletries, my nightstand, vanity chair, and the kitchen stuff. I also have to wait on the Bell guy to come and make the magic happen. So I'm still helpful, just not as helpful as the Dude's brother will be.

Home is where the effort is

2011-04-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this whole moving thing be the pits. I'm really looking forward to Friday. Why Friday? Because on Friday all our junkola should be moved downstairs. And that would be glorious.

But some major work has been done. Painting, for example, is over like dover. McPal and his boyfriend came over and helped me get a couple rooms done Sunday. The Dude and I got it started Saturday and we polished it up today and then got to work cleaning the general grime 'n slime from the previous tenants. Not that they were dirty people. But there was the dust and goo and grit and crumbs that are standard issue in any rental and it all had to go.

Oh man... there is so much to do. More cleaning tomorrow, basically. And then we'll start the move and do that for a few days after work. Yep.

I'm feeling ambivalent about this whole thing. It may be that the impossible has happened. After 12 years of frequent, almost yearly moving, I'm finally completely over it.

What the hell have I been searching for? Why do I do this?

I guess I like the sense of promise a new place brings. Or a place I thought had charm was in a lousy location. Or the rent felt like too much. Or the neighbours were frustrating. Or I was going through a life change.

I've been wanting to settle in and nest for years. With this apartment we did that. We painted. We fixed things. We installed shelving. And now we're starting all over. It's really coming together and it's going to be nice, but damn if there's not a ridiculous amount to do. And when we're done moving in, we're going to need to reseed the back lawn, and remove junk and debris, and dig up a space for a garden. Why do we need to do this stuff? Because we're both aching for a home and not just a place to stay.

Is it weird how much I'm going to miss the living room? I really, really like it in here. The window is large and the light is lovely. The room is perfect for me. I think part of what holds me back from being enthusiastic about this whole venture is I kind of already feel like I'm home when I'm in here. I don't like moving away from home. Everywhere else since I was 16 has been a place to stay until now.

I won't be moved from the downstairs unit. Not til we buy. We've put more into this new place than we did to move up here. The Dude said something similar to this the other day. I was glad to hear it. My apartment wanderlust is over.

Unless it's haunted down there or something, in which case I take back everything I said. Ha!

Why Harper is a Problem

2011-04-14T23:55:00.001-07:00

I'm up late again and I'm finding it hard to sleep, though I am in bed, my kitties are at my feet snuggling in their adorable fashion, and it's 3:00 a.m.

I've been thinking about low voter turnout in youth. I know when I first could, I was out there and I voted. I've voted NDP, Liberal and Green in federal and provincial elections. I see things I like in all of those parties. Sometimes I have a hard time deciding which I prefer. I love Green in an all-around way, especially on the environment and sustainability. NDP is best for my social values, and helping families. Liberals tend to strike me as the most fiscally responsible and I prefer them for the economy. It was their regulations in place that saved us from the economic downfall the Americans experienced, plus they developed a budget with a surplus.

And who is in power? The craziest, worst party in the whole damn country. I can't intellectually respect anyone who votes for them. The other parties, particularly the Liberals, have their skeletons in the closet, but none so frighteningly as bad as the Tories AKA the Reform Party.

And the people who support Harper won't hear a word against him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qItqs4HO6hc

They just blindly follow him and savour buzz words like "Tough on crime". Harper's mega prisons are a USA model and the States has some of the worst incarceration rates in the world with alarmingly high crime. Why emulate this? It's nonsensical. Crime is down in Canada. If he gave a shit about victims of crime he wouldn't want to dismantle the gun registry, a tool officers across the country use over 9,000 times every day.

These same uninformed voters look at the relative stability of Canada's economy after the recession and think Harper did it, even though he fought to deregulate the banks to be more like the US. He said regulations were hampering business. Well, they saved us and now he's crediting himself.

He's also renamed the Government Of Canada after himself and has been quoted as PM saying, "I make the rules." Steve Hubris Harper.

He's against gay rights. He fought against them. He's against universal healthcare. He supports privatization and is allowing it to leak into our system. He's certainly not supporting hospitals. We're crumbling and he's investing in the military instead.

He's frozen foreign aid. He claims our economy is awesome, while at the same time claiming it's too fragile to help others, while then blowing over a billion dollars for the G20 on frivolous nonsense in the worst location for a summit in the country, leading to the largest mass arrest in the nation's history. Harper the Hypocrite.

He's severed funding to women's groups across the board, evening internationally acclaimed groups. Didn't matter. Women are not a priority for him.

He is a megalomaniac. He has no business being in charge of anybody. I implore any Canadian reading this, please, for the love of your god, vote. And make it count. He's going to erode everything that we are. It's already begun.

And it's 3:30 now and I can link no more. But feel free to Google this stuff. It's out there, and from credible sources.

Leaders Debate

2011-04-13T20:07:00.000-07:00

So, the leaders debate last night was hard to watch. It was mentally quite painful to watch Harper talk to the camera like a robot, lying, downplaying his contempt for democracy and generally put on this passionless persona.

I liked Ignatieff and Duceppe talk about crime prevention in calm, measured ways. They spoke like rational people on the topic, with respect to compassion, real results over ideology, and what would be affordable and reasonable. They spoke to how lengthier mandatory sentences don't reduce crime, nor prevent it, how prison makes criminals worse. Layton also weighed in about prevention being a more important focus. Crime is down in Canada. This is not the time to crack down harder and faster, but to improve victim services and reaching youth and giving them viable options for bettering themselves.

I liked the Liberal's plan for helping students and people caring for ill family. With all the elderly in the emergency rooms these days due to lack of beds in nursing homes, at-home care from family with job protection for them would be beneficial.

I liked NDP's stance of helping immigrants in Canada with programs and assistance to bring their families. I approved of Ignatieff's stance on gun control. I was happy Layton brought up violence against women as a serious issue. I enjoyed watching Duceppe call out Harper right off the bat for his failure to talk to the public.

I'll post my Twitter comments below. I got pretty zealous.

jendraberri

Settling in to watch the election debate.

jendraberri

Oh SNAP! Duceppe with the first awesome jab.

jendraberri

Ignatieff doing well, right off the bat. Harper is smug.

jendraberri

Layton isn't going to be PM, though I do enjoy him taking everyone to task.

jendraberri

Harper has soulless eyes, no passion and reminds me of a robot #db8

jendraberri

Dude, we NEEDED an election, we didn't want it, but it's necessary. Why? Because you suck. #db8

jendraberri

Harper is not talking to the leaders. He's playing for the camera. What a douche. #db8

jendraberri

I think if Layton were a Liberal instead of NDP, he'd have a majority and the NDP would crumble. He's awesome to watch in these things. #db8

jendraberri

"Anything you can't control, you want to shut down". Ain't that the truth. #db8 Ignatieff is doing well. I like the passion.

jendraberri

Parliamentary squabbling? Dude, you were found in contempt because you're a liar. You lied to the people. Ass. #db8

jendraberri

Harper, you can't continue to do what you haven't even started re: accountability #db8

jendraberri

Being able to trust my government matters to me, thank you very much. Democracy is of great importance #db8

jendraberri

Harper is doing his best Mr. Roger's impression. Fails to impress #db8

jendraberri

If Harper cared about rehabilitation, he wouldn't have dismantled the jail farms #db8

jendraberri

Harper keeps saying, "That's simply not true." Asserting that something is untrue doesn't mean you're not lying. #db8

jendraberri

I love Duceppe. If he weren't for separation, I'd move to Quebec and vote for him.

jendraberri

There's only so much money. You DO have to choose, Harper. You chose prisons, jets and a G8 party. We want healthcare. We want services #db8

Guide For Online Clothes Shopping

2011-04-11T22:36:00.000-07:00

I got some dresses in the mail today. I have well over 30 in my growing collection. Some women like shoes, others like purses or scarves or makeup. Some prefer things for the home. I have my weakness, too. I've held back since wedding planning began, trying to save the monies and all that good jazz.

This one is super sweet. Makes me waist look nice 'n narrow.

This one is quite spiffy.

It's updated '50s housewife with flair. Looks great with a cardigan.

I have had great luck shopping online, not always, especially not at first, but these days I've really hit my stride. I was almost feeling confident enough to buy my wedding dress online, though I did buy my shoes. I have developed a little how-to when it comes to buying clothes online.

1. Only shop on websites that look like they splurged on web design. If their site sucks, it's likely because they're unwilling or unable to pay for quality designers, thus they probably won't have good customer service or inventory.

2. When it's time to pay, the website should be a https:// That means it's secure. I always go with Paypal where it's possible.

3. Don't rely on being able to buy your typical size. Always check the charts. When in doubt, fit your problem area. I have a thicker waist. So I base my size around that when my measurements don't match a size (Which is all the time).

4. Online stores that have customer feedback are safer bets. Always read the reviews on any item you want so you can discover any problem areas in the garment or shoe. Does it fit loose? Are buttons sewn on securely? Is the colour less vibrant in person?

5. Be honest about your body type. I've made errors where I was guilty of wishful thinking and bought a dress that in no way flattered me. Sure, a longer waist and larger breasts would be all well and good, but that's not what nature gave me. I learned my lesson and stuck to higher waisted clothes where the bust seemed ungenerous.

6. Check the web for the actual designers of the clothes you want to buy. Sometimes you can buy them directly and save a little money. Other times it means you won't have to pay as much for shipping. I once bought a swimsuit from the designer directly, and bought a short-waisted prototype she had made earlier and was not planning to sell.

7. Some places don't ship to your country. Find that out first. It's a sad occasion to discover an item you love is not available to you. Make sure you're comfortable with the return policy before making your decision.

8. Find a store you're comfortable with: prices, shipping, fit, quality, delivery speed, policies, style. For me, that's ModCloth. I've bought elsewhere, but I keep returning to my favourite.

Basically, sometimes you wind up making bad choices in the beginning, but if you're dedicated to the cause (unique clothing, avoiding malls) then you can quickly get the hang of it.

I only wish I had some reason to buy this:

Sprinkly

2011-04-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

A cat lady is born. They can't be made, you know. I was a cat child, then a cat girl, and at the age of 28, I am a bona fide cat lady.

Eight Days

2011-04-07T12:09:00.001-07:00

So I've referenced moving downstairs before. We went for another two-year deal in exchange for being given free range to paint and have it paid for. Also, we negotiated $75 off per month to be property managers.

Well, the Dude is going to be the one. He's going to shovel the snow, take care of the garbage and recycling, and care for the common areas, plus repair any small things that need done. Also, we'll handle any onsite service people who need to come in or through the house. This basically means the landlady won't have to come by unless there's a real emergency.

The move starts soon. The lass downstairs (The last of her family to remain) will be out by the 15th. So in eight days time we begin our process of filling in holes, sanding and painting, and tweaking things that need fixing. We have zero things packed, no boxes and no movers. Essentially, we'll be moving room by room as things are done being painted.

It's going to be a hectic and stressful week. Cheapest move ever, easiest move ever, but moving in itself is never enjoyable. I'll never fully understand why I keep doing it. And the Dude being cut from the same cloth as I am, is worse, if that's possible. He's the one who really pushed for this change.

I'm excited to think of a yard and ensuite laundry, a proper office, a normal spacious kitchen, more storage and finally having a better space than the bathroom to store kitty litter. But I'm going to miss this living room. It's been my favourite room I've ever had. It's blood red with hardwood floors, the size is perfect, the shape is easy to work with, and all our furniture, pictures, shelving, books and knickknacks have their place.

Everything else sucks. The bedroom is small, there is a foolishly situated Wal-Mart cabinet hanging on the wall in such a way that prevents the door from opening all the way. The closet goes deep, along the wall, however accessing the space is treacherous and maddening. There is a fifth wall that cuts off where a corner ought to be and that's the window. This has the bonus of making the room smaller and more difficult to place furniture.

The kitchen is made from an old small bedroom. The shelving appears to be an afterthought. There is one sink, one drawer and a small cabinet to the side, and then two cabinets above. The rest of the shelving we installed out of pure need. We still can't house all our kitchen stuff properly, and we have put off acquiring things we need because they'd have nowhere to go.

And off the kitchen is a deck. The door to the deck was not built in properly, and the Dude had to insulate it between the cracks. The flooring in the kitchen is the same flooring as what's on the front porch. It's loathsome.

So I grieve not for the loss of those two rooms. Screw 'em. But we've made this place better and we're leaving it in great shape, nicer than we found it. Time to upgrade. Though we already know there's a handful of things that need doing downstairs, too. I guess we're not looking for perfect, just decent enough and fixable. I think there's something good in that.

SlutWalk

2011-04-01T21:20:00.001-07:00

The Dude and I are doing the SlutWalk on Sunday. Why? What's it about? It stemmed from a Toronto police officer telling female university students that they could avoid being raped if they didn't dress like sluts.

This is bullshit. One, what the hell is a slut? Seriously, the more I think about it, the less I understand. Is it not being a virgin prior to marriage? Is it wearing revealing clothing? Is it being popular with men? Because I've heard women called sluts for all of those things.

Is it because your "number" is higher than the "number" of the man you're dating? If you like to drink in bars? If you have had a one-night stand? If you plan ahead for sex and buy condoms? Because I've heard women called sluts for those things too.

Fuck it. It's crap. It's a crap belief.

1. Having consensual sex is a personal decision, and if a woman is actively sexual that's her choice, and she remains 100% control over which interested parties she wants to sleep with.

2. Clothes are not sexual invitations or evaluations of a woman's availability. Women dress for themselves, to look good and feel confident. They dress for other women, to be admired and envied. They dress for their partners, to nurture an attraction and make them happy. And while they do dress to attract men, it's only to draw men into conversation, in the hopes of meeting someone (who she may or may not want to sleep with), nothing more.

3. Rapists who wait for victims in the shadows look for opportunity without witnesses. They don't let lone conservatively dressed women pass by with no one watching, thinking, "Oh, that woman isn't wearing enough makeup and she's in flats. Guess I'll have to wait for a slut."

4. Women are more likely to be assaulted by men they know, and it doesn't depend on her clothes. It depends on the man and what sort of man he is. Men who rape are predatory.

We live in a rape culture. I've heard too many stories of women getting treated like garbage by the police, courtrooms tearing them apart, media outlets focusing on the wrong fucking thing: What was she wearing? What was her reputation. And what gets lost is the fact that a man committed a sex crime, of his own free will. But no, you'd think that men were animals and a look at fishnet stockings removes a woman's right to safety.

I'm marching against this. There is no empirical data that comes close to suggesting clothing choices cause rape. The only thing all rapes have in common are rapists, and victims who were unfortunate enough to come across them.

The sun will come out... tomorrow

2011-03-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

I have had the most ridiculous two days.

Yesterday my work PC was scheduled in for some special attention. It's an old fart of a machine and it's been failing me lately. So I had to lug the beast in via cab and work from (gasp!) the office.

I tried to get set up at a makeshift work station, but the there was a hardware issue, and when I tried to work around it (Which took an hour), I couldn't make the actual station comfortable. I was too short and my elbows were raised up with my wrists at a weirdo position and I knew I couldn't go another five minutes like that.

So we tried the transcription laptop. But then I couldn't connect to the server. So I had to work at another station, and then my software wouldn't open because a piece of necessary hardware was missing.

Blah, blah, blah, right? Well, we took the hardware out of my computer, plunked into this one and I was finally able to work. I went home with my old computer and waited for the Dude to get home to reconnect things for me. And then I found out I was locked out of my email (This happens all the time) and I'd have to wait till the morning to get that resolved.

So I get this small allergy attack and I nip it in the bud with two allergy pills, which destroyed me in a good way and I passed out (I'm super susceptible to any sort of substances. They all tend to affect me heavily). Unfortunately, I forgot to set the alarm.

The Dude sprang out of bed this morning and woke up on time in a panic, but I lapsed back into a coma. Without needing to turn off the alarm, I wasn't prompted to reset it for myself.

So I woke up at noon. NOON! It was 12:00 p.m. and I still hadn't dealt with my email, which meant I hadn't gotten to my work assignment, which I needed to read to download the video I'd require to actually start work. And I had a work meeting at 1:30, which I'd need to leave for at 1:00. Basically, holy crap.

I got everything handled by 12:30 and figured I may as well try to do something before I left. Well, that didn't really work out so well because the hardware I needed to run the godforsaken software was still back at the office inserted in another computer.

Thankfully, I had to go into the office anyway, right? The meeting ended around 3:30 and I left at 4:30 after catching up with my coworkers. I walked home, taking the opportunity for exercise, and got right to my computer. That would have resulted in me finally getting some work done at 6:00 p.m. if only I had remembered to get my hardware out of the other computer.

So I called someone in admin, who was awesome enough to bring it to the closest subway station en route home. I got it at 7:00.

What a day. What a couple of days. I worked on my show for about two hours before deciding to throw in the towel and just allow tomorrow to suck while I got caught up.

And to top it off, Bea snuck in the closet this afternoon while I was getting dressed to go. She inadvertently got locked in the closet for five hours while I was gone.

Sigh.

Another election

2011-03-26T10:58:00.001-07:00

Another election. Jesus Murphy. Now, on the one hand, a side of me welcomes an opportunity to rid ourselves of Stephen Harper. On the other hand, I'm aware we live in a country with an antiqued electoral system that will allow politicians bulldoze voters, and keep parties like Green out, even with nearly a million votes to their credit.

http://vimeo.com/21072501

Watch the video about to get a better idea what we're dealing with here. I vote for no other reason than because I'm militant about exercising my rights. But I'd by lying if I said I wasn't trying to fight off a growing apathy to the whole system. The only thing that prevents me from not caring is apathy is what Stephen Harper is banking on. God, how I hate that man.

He recently went on a tirade about the Liberals plotting a coalition with the Bloc, even though he himself tried to do the exact thing when it suited his party's needs. Newsflash: It's legal and above board to form coalitions if the House believes the acting government is not acting in the best interest of Canada, or is ignoring the will of parliament. Some (many) people in this country are ignorant of parliamentary law and see coalitions as sneaky. What's sneaky is the Conservative leader doing it on the sly and then blasting other parties for doing it against him.

He's prorogued Parliament twice: once to avoid a vote of non confidence and again to avoid answering to the Afghan detainee torture issue. Proroguing is a commonplace procedure-- when all business is concluded. When there are still bills on the table and issues at hand, proroguing is a miscarriage of democracy.

He wasted over a billion dollars on the G20 & G8, namely because he held it in Toronto, against the pleas of the mayor, resulting in the largest mass arrest of civilians in the country's history. He could have paid a fraction of the cost and hosted it in Nunavut or Newfoundland or Saskatchewan, places with small populations and less security risks. They could have built infrastructure and secured it for less than the cost of security in Canada's largest and most easily accessed metropolis.

He's a religious zealot. He's anti-choice for women, and make no mistake that if he thinks he can, he'll tread on women's rights. He's already axed women's programs and services.

Prior to becoming PM, he campaigned for privatization of health care. He's not invested in our healthcare system at all. Boomers are aging and need nursing facilities and spaces. We need more beds in our emergency rooms. We need more doctors and nurses on staff. All those things require more money. He goes and cuts the GST, which does little for most regular people, but those pennies we save each day accumulates into massive monetary loss for the government to spend on services we require. So going to Tim Horton's will be a few cents cheaper but going to the hospital will be gruelling. What an excellent trade off.

He rebranded the Canadian government, that is The Government of Canada, as the Harper Government. Hubris, thy name is Harper. I cannot even properly explain just how offensive I find that. Do you think Americans would tolerate The United States Government being rebranded as The Obama Government? or The Bush Government? There'd be rallies in the street.

He spends tax payers money on Conservative party propaganda! $26 million! Those "Your country is in good hands with Stephen Harper" commercials? Paid for by you and me. He's advertising his own party with our tax dollars. He's not putting that money into healthcare. He's not putting it into education. He's not funding anything of value to us, the people. He's funding a love letter to himself for all of us to watch.

He's managed all of this and more in a handful of years with a minority government. Frankly, I'm terrified. What has my Canada come to? Everything we are, everything we value: women's right to chose, homosexual rights, parental leave, Canada pension plan, healthcare, quality public education...

Does anyone honestly think he supports or believes in any of those things? He doesn't even believe in banking regulations, the ones that saved us from a massive recession. He was for opening the market up like the Americans, and look what happened to them! And now he's riding off the good choices of previous leaders and taking the credit, though he would have lead us down the same road as our neighbours.

Any Canuck out there, with a brain and a heart, look at this guy. Seriously. Look at him. Look at his record. He's failed us, he's failed us so hard and so miserably. He can't be given more power. Open your eyes.