Tuesday, 26 February 2008
S really wants to go on an Alaskan cruise. (Um, yes I did he say he's turning 30 ... not 80.) I have an ocean-phobia (more specifically, I have a crippling phobia of sharks. I say crippling because it will seriously prevent me from swimming in a lake - a fresh water LAKE - if I can't see the bottom. Because, you know, the sharks will get me.) Cruise ships are huge and I'm pretty sure that it doesn't feel like you're on a boat. Also, the abundance of entertainment and yummy food and, erm, alcohol, would certainly go a long way in making me forget about the sharks stalking our progress. Because you know they would totally be following our cruise ship, just waiting for someone to accidentally fall off *hangs head in shame, knowing that if someone were clumsy enough to fall off a cruise ship, it would be me.* There's a slight possibility that I'm exaggerating this ocean-phobia when trying to persuade S to pick a different holiday. It might be easier to get over my phobia if we were cruising in the Caribbean instead of Alaska (which is silly - I'm sure there are a lot more sharks in the Caribbean than in the Strait of Georgia.)
S is pretty adamant about heading to Alaska and seeing as it's his birthday, unless I can come up with a bitchin' alternative, I'll be bundling up and heading North. I'd really like to take a road trip to Northern California. I've always wanted to go to Redwood National Park and May seems like it would be a good month to do it. S isn't as psyched about the trees (apparently bingo and shuffleboard with the seniors are more his style.)
Suggestions are welcome. Where would you go if you had a week off in May? We'd like to avoid any drastic time changes, so that limits us to North America.
Sunday, 24 February 2008
Stella was tuckered out from all the fresh air and exercise.
Saturday night we had friends over for chili and the hockey game. The Canucks managed to eke out a win and Stella was almost well-behaved in front of the company so it was a good night.
I was supposed to write a paper this weekend but I couldn't justify being in front of a computer while it was so nice and sunny out. Really I'm just a procrastinator. And a bit boring, judging from this post. When we moved from downtown we thought we'd continue our downtown life just with more transit. It has not turned out that way at all. Maybe we're growing up.
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
When I was a kid, my dad wouldn't let us paint our bedrooms. He was a big fan of white walls. It was a major victory when I finally convinced him that I needed a lemon yellow bedroom. Whenever we'd ask to paint our bedrooms dark, rich colours, Dad would say that dark colours require more coats and are impossible to paint over. My mother (also not a fan of dark colours) would say that they make a room seem smaller. Is this true? Or were they just coming up with excuses to not paint out bedrooms navy blue? Things to think about, before committing to a dark colour.
I love colour. I really want to paint the bathroom a deep, brick red. Which presents its own set of problems - mainly, is red out? Will I be dating our bathroom if I paint it red? When we decide to sell, will potential buyers be turned off by our bathroom because it's so 2002? I'm not talking about bright red - I want something like the lovechild of cranberry red and terracotta, if such a colour exists.
Our bathroom is very small and windowless, so my mother's "dark paint makes rooms feel smaller" stance is kind of freaking me out. There's not much wall to be painted; one whole wall is white tiles, there's a large mirror, a white door - possibly enough to break up the potential claustrophobia-inducing paint job.
Really, this whole painting thing is just an excuse for me to put off doing my homework. Realistically, we won't have time to paint until at least June so I should stop obsessing about the many different shades of red.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Sunday, 17 February 2008
My mother, bless her, calls them "soft sculpture" - I call them "those things I make, you know, out of felt and embroidery floss." I make them for friends when they have babies. This week I decided to depart from baby names. It all started with a call from my brother. He plays hockey so he pretty much lives wherever his hockey team is located. In the past 2 years he's lived in Port Alberni, Trail and now Penticton. This weekend his team is on a road trip, playing the lower mainland teams. This means we actually get to see him. It also happens to be his 20th birthday. My sisters and I always joke about being Westy's cheering squad but we've never followed through on our threats to bring embarassing signs to his games. Unfortunately for him, I had a lot of spare time this week.
Monday, 11 February 2008
Just Remember In The Winter Far Beneath The Bitter Snows Lies The Seed That With The Sun's Love In The Spring Becomes The Rose
This is what the Okanagan looks like in February. This is why I couldn't survive living there:
I had a really great weekend with K, apart from drinking way too much Saturday night and feeling like I was going to die on Sunday. We went to a local pub - Woody's (seriously) - and got a bit "shmammered" as K put it. We were the jerks heckling the karaoke singers and trying not to tip over the shot glass pyramid (we made it to 23 shot glasses before some jackass came over to chat us up and ended up knocking the whole thing down.) I know I shouldn't judge the karaoke singers because I'm not brave enough to go up and do it. But the thing is, I know that I'm a crappy singer. I don't sing karaoke because I know it would be painful for everyone involved. So it's not so much being scared as it is being self-aware. There was this one lady who kept going up to sing even though I'm pretty sure she was tone deaf. Could she not tell that everyone cringed when she went up to the microphone? Someone actually booed while she was singing The Rose (it wasn't me or K, I promise.) Sunday morning K's neighbour had a gas emergency in her house so her 6-year old daughter and 4-year old son came over. For 6 hours. Add that to K's 1-year old and you've got one noisy house. By Sunday afternoon we were both prostrate on the couch, begging K's fella to go on a McDonald's run (he did.)
I had so much fun with K. It was really nice to get away for the weekend and not have to worry about work or school or anything wedding related (and by "wedding related" I mean "mother related" but that's a whole different story.)
Thursday, 7 February 2008
I'm going to the Okanagan this weekend for my girlfriend's birthday. I am very excited to see K because we only get to see each other a few times a year. I am not so excited for the freezing weather. Every summer I go the Okanagan and I decide that I want to live there. It's sunny and hot and there are so many lakes and beaches. Then I go in the winter and decide that actually I am a wimp and if I can't handle Vancouver's weather, I definitely could not handle the Okanagan in the winter.
I haven't gushed about my puppy lately, so I figure I'm due. Because still photographs do not accurately portray just how adorable Stella really is, I've now resorted to video. I really am that lame.
S dropped a kernel of corn and Stella spent a good 10 minutes hunting it down and eventually devouring it (4 minutes of which I managed to record.) I've edited it down to about a minute and a half. You're welcome.
Wednesday, 6 February 2008
In her post, she talks about how useful it would be for people to come with a warning label to provide information on all the nasty bits (much like warning labels on food provide information on all the chemicals and preservatives and other nasties in the product.) It got me thinking about my warning label (it also got me wondering if S would have stuck around had he known all this when we first met.) So here it is, all my nasty bits summed up:
Type A with uncanny procrastination skills. Stubborn and unable to admit when wrong. Resorts to guilt trips too often. Shouts the answers to Jeopardy at the tv (because the louder you say the answer, the more likely you are to be right, right?) Blog addict. Bizarre food justifications (ie. it's okay to eat candy for breakfast if you have black bean salad for lunch.) Cares too much about the size of her ass. Cares too little about actually reducing the size of her ass. A bit crazy. Clean freak but consistently cluttered. Relentless sweet-tooth. Defensive feminist. Crier. Swears like a pirate. Juvenile sense of humour. Grammar snob. Blanket hog. Talks too much.
I'm sure there's more. I'm sure if I asked S, he could add a lot to this post (however, I will not be asking S as I don't think my ego could take it.)
What would your warning label say?
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
It was nice to see the venue again, to reinforce that it is what we want (we met a bit of resistance from the parents when we announced the reception would be held in an Irish pub.) Last night's meeting also solved the problem of where to hold the ceremony. Instead of having it at another location (not so convenient considering half of our guests are out-of-towners) we will be having it at the pub. Which doesn't sound as classy as it actually is. The pub is actually a 3-story pub/restaurant with a gorgeous rooftop patio. We are going to have the ceremony / cocktail hour up on the rooftop patio and then move down into the restaurant section for dinner. It's a gorgeous space - high ceilings, exposed beams, lovely light fixtures, and no over-the-top Irish! Pub! decorations. It's casual and comfortable and exactly what S and I wanted. There's a stage area where S and his friends will play music for the rock portion of the night. There's a large dance floor and a dj who will take over when S and the boys want a break from playing. We came away from the meeting feeling really confident in our decision and reassured that everything seems to be on track.
And then ... the crazy took over. The next step is signing a contract, putting down a deposit, sending out invitations - all very non-reversible things. I know (hope?) it's normal to have doubts but ever since last night I can't stop the crazy from taking over my thoughts. I love S and I know he loves me. So why am I worried about firming up the wedding plans? When S asked me to marry him, it wasn't an impetuous decision. He thought long and hard about asking me and I thought long and hard about accepting. Since getting engaged we've bought a home together, we got a puppy together - both long-term actions that we wanted to do together. Yet here I am, worried that maybe we're not going to last, that maybe we shouldn't get married because S isn't the best fit for me and I'm not the best fit for him. I constantly over-analyse every situation I'm in, so it shouldn't be surprising that I'm over-thinking this. This is what I do. I think too much, I obsess over every detail, every possible outcome, and at some point the crazy is exhausted and I move on. I'm just worried that this time the crazy will win.