things seen at church

1. A helium balloon make its way up to the chapel. I'm still not sure where the blue balloon came from but I think it was really wanting a shot at the pulpit. 

2. A woman tripping over something in the aisle during Sunday school. Although I could feel her mortification, I was impressed that she ran through the trip and never hit the ground. It was actually something to be proud of. I would have gone down HARD. 

3. Then in the final hour (seriously, who came up with three hours worth of church!?!?!), the teacher's button on her blouse came undone. The bra looked supportive, yet cute but didn't quite match her hot pink top. I'm not exactly sure when she noticed it was undone because I was distracted by the flirting 1 year olds, but I was relieved when it was re-buttoned. I wonder if anyone ever told her that it was over 10 minutes. 

what house?

I'm sure everyone is bored with the house posts... but my head just can't wrap around other subjects these days.  If all goes according to plan, THIS will be mine in two weeks. 

The flooring is in, tomorrow will be cabinetry, and then the bathroom tiles. 

And hopefully when it's all done, I'll be hosting friends even more!

laminate and carpet and tiles... OH MY!

Yes folks, I finally committed to a (town)home. After much deliberation I went with a new home which means I get to decide on carpet, flooring and bathroom tiles. Although it's extremely exciting, it's also exceptionally stressful. For those that know me, I am indecisive by nature. So imagine the joy it is for those around me as I try to debate on what I should do. All that echos in my mind is "What if you screw up and the place looks awful?" This is a house, not just an outfit I wear for a day. If it doesn't come together, it's not a cheap fix. I'm relying heavily on some friends to use their expertise and steer me in the right direction. I will post pictures when there are some... until then, my mind is pretty focused on all of this. But by the end of March, I hope to have my wits about me AND my new home. So be patient and stay tuned. 

I'm all (mostly) grown up!!

la la love

I'll tell you what love is... my friends. Oh boy did I feel the love this Valentine weekend. 

Friday night I had dinner made for me, Saturday night the same. And it wasn't anything out of the box. It was homemade goodness. Both nights the movie rental was out of their pocket. Movie and dinner. Boyfriend? Pish. 

My friends listen to me rehash the same concern (ahem-home ownership) over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. And they still love and listen to me anyway. 

Maybe I'm not married, but I'm sure not navigating this world alone. 

kids kids kids

Remember when you couldn't wait to be an adult? You were convinced that life would finally get good when you could make ALL your own decisions. Working with teens I am frequently reminded of the naive fantasies of being a grown up. Oh, to be a kid again. I can't quite convince them to enjoy being young but I wish I could. 

When I was about 7 there was this crazy snowstorm that hit in May. All the schools were closed and people were stuck in their driveways. I was devastated when my mother told me that I could not walk to school and would have to stay home. (Lest you worry about me being a keener,* come junior high my parents had to bribe me to go to school. I was the queen of excuses as to why I sick this time. Once when my mom was on to me, I drank a concoction of pickle juice and raw eggs to try and make me throw up. Sadly it didn't work and tasted awful). What I wouldn't give for a snow day now!

If I had my very own snow day I think I'd sleep in, curl up in my bed and read all day. 

Other ideas or snow day dreams are welcome!  

*Keener is an underused word in the US of A, so to those readers here you go 

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

There was a long period in my life when I hated the winter. I couldn't wait for Spring to arrive... until I rediscovered my love for skiing. 

One of my earliest ski memories is plowing in to a hay bail at Canada Olympic Park when it was known as Paskapoo (such a cooler name). I'm still unclear as to why they had them but leave it to me to run in to one. All I know is that I was more intent on waving at my mom at the bottom of the hill than I was on looking ahead. Gratefully this crash didn't finish off my ski affair. 

The next fond memory I have is skiing in Windermere with Mel and family. Well, it's not so much a skiing memory because if I recall correctly, I got irritated on the hill. But I do remember singing and dancing in our bedroom to Milli Vanilli. Imagine my shock and dismay when I later learned they were merely scam artists and not just bad musicians.  Blame that on the rain! And how can I forget the time my mom let me play hooky from school so Keltie and I could ski Sunshine on a Friday. She even fed us homemade scones that day. My parents were and are cool. Again, I don't remember much about the skiing but I do remember losing track of my speed as we sung along to the Cranberries in my dad's truck. (Hey, it was a V-8... I didn't know what to do with so much power!!).  Apparently I have a theme of singing and not so much skiing. 

Probably one of my last ski memories until three years ago, was going up a tow rope with my dad on the now defunct Fortress mountain. Somehow we crossed our tips and I graciously broke my father's fall. We weren't thinking quite straight after we untangled ourselves from skis, poles and each other, so when we got upright we decided we'd hike the rest of the way up. Trudging through deep powder in ski boots was one our collectively stupidest ideas in our child-parent relationship. Skiing back down would have added 5 minutes to our total time. Fifteen minutes later we got to the top, huffing and puffing and sweating. Maybe that was the second to last nail in my dad's skiing coffin. Not too long after he took a nasty spill and sat in the lodge the rest of the day. Months later he discovered that he had actually dislocated his shoulder from the fall. Tough man, still is. 

In my 20's I started to try my hand at snowboarding but never went enough to get good (along with my intense fear of getting hurt... and that's why you start at 5). After one particularly bad spill I realized I could ski, not board. And that's when I rediscovered my true love for the sport. I have never looked back.

On Saturday I felt happier than I have in quite some time. I have been determined to conquer moguls and last week I got one step closer. Maybe this year will be the year. Whether I improve or not isn't really the point. I just love hearing my skis carve in to the powder. I enjoy the thrill of attempting a jump, even if I only catch 2 inches of air. Being with good friends and laughing till my stomach hurts is a pretty good bonus too. 

But mostly I love breathing in the fresh mountain air, feeling the sun beat down on me, taking in the beauty of Creation. Yes, life is good.

what's worse?

Yesterday I saw two different trucks with two different phrases pasted across their back window. I couldn't decide which I thought was dumber so I'm taking a poll.

1. Give War a Chance

or

2. Silly boys, trucks are for girls.

Polls are now open, voters may only vote once.

one step closer

I've been consumed by houses. It's most of what I think about and so blogging has not featured prominently in my brain. As for a quick update, I will likely know by Friday if my offer is accepted. There are two other offers on the table. If I don't win, I'm leaning toward another place. Yup, little Aisy is becoming a grown up. The other good news is that I'm starting to sleep again. I'm hoping that's a good sign. 

And to clarify my last post, I meant that buying a house was more expensive than a wedding NOT marriage. I'm hoping to milk as much money as I can from my future husband... ha ha. JUST KIDDING.

parallels

House hunting is a lot like dating. It takes awhile to fall in love with one, then you worry if you're making the right choice, never fully comprehending the risk you are taking until you commit. You might even find the PERFECT match but then you get rejected... or you find out it isn't so perfect after all so you walk away.

But then you analyze it over and over and over again in your head. You weigh out all the pros and cons, you try to justify why it might work. Your friends are expressing their concerns, not sure if it/he is the right one for you. You listen, but secretly you don't want to give up the dream. You want to believe it's the right thing.

You lie awake at night thinking about it, stressing about it, wanting it to be the perfect match. But it's never perfect, only "pretty darn close."

The only difference I've seen through this whole process is that a house is going to cost a helluva lot more than getting married. And while it can't break up with me, it could lose a lot of equity. Ah relationships.

best moment of the day

The most amusing thing happened to me today and I was at a loss for words. Yes, me! SILENCED.

As a good tenant/manager, I braved the snowy roads after work to deposit the rent cheques for my landlord. I quickly scrawled out my cheque in the car, headed in to the bank and handed the bank teller the deposits. She laughed out loud and said to me "Some people should take handwriting lessons." I looked at the three cheques in her hands, noticing how neat my roommates were and then it dawned on me that she was talking about mine. She then said "I mean, do these even look like fours to you?"  I looked at her, looked at the cheque and looked back at her. I said nothing. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I didn't laugh and act like it wasn't mine. I didn't say "Well, I wrote it so yes, I think they look like fours." I didn't even defend myself and say "I wrote it in the car, in a rush." 

My silence was not enough to clue her in to her social faux pas, but I wasn't sure that shaming her in to it was the best option either. I was just plain flabbergasted.

Echoing in my brain was my mother's famous quote "Well your scrapbook would look nicer if you worked on your penmanship." (Only a true Brit can say that. I think it must be required to have neat, legible handwriting over there because even my boy cousins write like girls). Damn you elementary school teachers for not forcing me to be neat and tidy with my printing.  And damn me for being so taken aback that I missed a perfect opportunity to humiliate her back. 

what'd you get for christmas?

I remember when Christmas was measured on how many cool gifts you received. The first thing a friend would ask "So what'd you get?" There were times that I felt deflated at what I received when compared to their haul. I am sure I had friends that felt the same after they got off the phone with me. How grateful I am that as the years have progressed I stopped measuring my Christmas by things but rather on the experience.

The pure excitement and awe that Santa will arrive. The joy I have blackmailing my nieces in to being nice because the man in red is watching their every move. The letter carefully written to this magical man, along with cookies and of course a carrot for Rudolph.

The competitive games on the Wii fit. Sibling rivalry never dies... thank goodness!

The grown-up dinner with my grown-up friends. Seeing their families expand and realizing that highchairs will be a necessary addition next year.

And how often do I get to have a 9 night sleepover with a pretty special 8 year-old? Last night as I crawled in to bed I felt a tinge of sadness that her hand wouldn't softly touch my head or nestle in to my neck. I even longed for her kicks and bed hogging. The day after her baptism we woke up at the same time, turned and looked at each other and then laughed. Then she snuggled in and I said "I bet you won't miss me sharing your bed tonight." And she smiled and said "Nope, you snore!" Love that stinker...

Despite the ups and downs, the differences, the stress, the madness, the noise, the cooking and cleaning, the chaos, I wouldn't change it for anything. Nothing beats Mum's stuffing, the gut-busting laughter that only comes from interactions with people that have known you your whole life, the joy on kids faces as they witness the magic of the season, seeing the personal attention and detail that my very loving parents put in to their gifts and being accepted for my imperfect self. I hit it big this year.

So, what did you get for Christmas?

on my top 10

One of the things I hate the most, that would be in my top 10, is packing. I have been working on my bag for about 1 1/2 hours and expect I'll be done in another 30. I hate trying to decide what I might want to wear in five days. It shouldn't take me 10 minutes to decide between shirts but it does. I'm not even fussy about clothes. I just like to do things last minute, like deciding in the morning what I'm going to wear. I also hate guessing if a top is going to be too warm or not warm enough. And then what I hate most is trying to cram it all in to my suitcase.

Confession: I am spatially challenged. I suck at depth perception and am even worse with dimensions. So you can understand the chore that packing is. So while I should be finishing up my packing I am writing this boring post. 

But the light at the end of the tunnel is that packing means I am going somewhere. And in less than 24 hours it will all be worth it because I'll be heading to this!

the sign

The crush is over when he texts and you actually forget to write back.  It's not that you wait so you don't look too eager or over think what to write... you actually don't even think twice about it!!! Ah emotional freedom. 

For you single folks, what is your sign that it's over for you?

celebrating the american way

and 

will be together for four days here:

for

Who knows what might happen....

the long slumber

Last night I think I slept about 14 hours. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the 8 p.m. show of What Not to Wear. I stumbled out of bed around 10:45 to brush my teeth, go to the bathroom and turn off the lights. There was another stumbling out of bed this morning to go to the potty, then briefly woke up to a text message and then drifted back to sleep. Just before 10 I woke up for the day. While part of me feels rather sluggish for sleeping so long, the other part was in desperate need. It's been one of those weeks. My body and mind desperately needed a break. Maybe bears have it right. Perhaps we should all spend a period of time hibernating.

I'm excited to head down to sunny Phoenix for American Thanksgiving. I'm sure Jo and I will find plenty of mischief.

Also, you'll note I put comment moderation on. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Obama post... I promise! There was a post I wrote a long time ago that someone wrote some pretty nasty stuff on. Sorry for the inconvenience.

it's time for a change

From this:

To this:


Perhaps one step closer to what MLK said "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

Today I'm a proud Canadian living in America...

it was a trick

On Monday my sister directed me to a website that sold a sash that said "Miss Diagnosed". I thought it was a perfect costume for a therapist working at a treatment centre. I was excited when the website had a bold, flashing sign that said "Order by Monday for guaranteed delivery by Halloween." PERFECT!!! I quickly ordered and waited in excited anticipation. I started feeling antsy when it still hadn't arrived by Thursday. I went back to the website and after a bit of investigation noted that the fine print said "Guaranteed by 7 p.m. on the 31st" What the eff? Fried with their false (misleading) advertising I was determined to find a backup plan. Thursday night I hit up the local fabric store for ribbon and iron-on letters. Then I made a pit stop at the Disney store where I scored a tiara for half price. Wal-mart was still open at 11 where I managed to get some fake eyelashes and fake nails. The only thing I wasn't able to find was a tacky 80s dress. So, I rummaged up an old bridesmaid skirt and VOILA

Here is the result...
If you click on the photo, you can see the fake nails. They had these ugly black tips, with silver flowers.

The staff got a kick out of the outfit but sadly only about half the kids understood the humour. I got home after work to see this sitting on my bed.

SO TYPICAL

Lessons I learned this Halloween:
1. Always read the fine print. I can't even return this stupid thing because returns had to be postmarked by October 16th. So now i have two Miss Diagnosed and spent double the money for the same costume. 
2. Never ever bother with fake nails. I could hardly type at work, texting took an inordinate amount of effort (like watching my mom type), and my skin crawled every time the sound of my nails hit something. Plus taking them off was a painful and long process. 
3. Trying to find an 80s dress is harder than you might think... so start early.
4. Fake eyelashes rock. I think I should wear them all the time because they make my eyes look so pretty!
5. You have to back comb more than you think to get big hair.

So readers, since American elections are just around the corner here is your chance to practice a bit of democracy. Time to rock the vote.

Is it better to go store bought


OR

Homemade

(had to show off my "niece" in her monkey suit)

a thing called love

Sometimes I'm a cynic. Sometimes I'm a romantic. But just when I wonder if this dating and marriage thing is really worth it, I read a very simple thing from someone I admire... and a relationship that I envy.

She made me a delicious chicken soup and I just love her all the more the way she is so good to me.

And then I know that waiting for someone that I will be good to, and that will love me more because of it, is indeed worth the wait.

whitney and i

The other night I had a Tommy Boy moment minus Richard and the out of control driving. All the radio stations were playing obnoxious songs or ads. So when I heard The Greatest Love of All, I paused... and then I sang. Who can resist a duet with Whitney Houston? I don't know what the people passing me thought as I belted it out, nor do I care. All I could hear was my perfect pitch and rich vibrato. Thankfully no one was there to tell me otherwise.

But it got me thinking of when I was younger and much more insecure. I would never have sung out loud in my car for fear of being seen. I also hated going through drive through restaurants by myself. Now I've actually eaten alone in a REAL restaurant. Apparently I have made progress in my adult life.

So, what things used to mortify you that you've outgrown?

is it just me?

I am maybe wiling to admit I've become an anal roommate. However, I think I have just been cursed.

So, help me to decide (keep in mind that we are ALL renters. No one in the house actually owns the place):

Would you be confused/annoyed/grossed out by multiple framed pictures of your roommate and her boyfriend in the living room?

Even if you all decide I am just anal, I think it's time for me to live on my own.