Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Our Save the Date Video

I’m not sure anyone got the beginning and the message I was trying to convey. They were distracted by the cute puppies…as I always am too.

Watch it here.

Did you get the message? Or do I just look like a goofus hopping around on one foot trying to get my boot off for no reason?

Our Brand of Romance

The other night (several glasses of whisky in) the boy attempted to be romantic...I think.

We've obsessively been watching 30 Rock recently. One might almost say unhealthily.

"You know, you're like Liz Lemon"

Our delightful heroine

"Umm, what? Are you trying to say I'm funny, or that I'm smart, or always hungry or that I'm just ridiculously awkward?"

"All of those things really....and you're like 10 % him"

Kenneth Parcell, an innocent optimist

" Gee. Thanks...?"

"and I'm like Jack Donaghy"

Wouldn't you want to be him?

Quick retort from me "Sorry hunny, you are so no Alex Baldwin"

"What! How can you say that so confidently? Why aren't I like Jack Donaghy?"

"Give it up, it ain't happening"

"Well actually, you're not mean like Liz Lemon. I think maybe WE’RE Liz Lemon. Combined"

Awwww shucks. I'll take it.

Sunday, 25 December 2011

Wedding Table Sneak Peek

Planning a  bilingual long distance wedding poses all sorts of novel challenges. Here is one of my workarounds. 

Build a mock wedding table complete with greenery, flowers and place settings so we can show pictures to the venue in Italy. It made Christmas Eve dinner extra schmancy. 

 I had a lot of fun wrangling it all, and really liked how it all came together.

Please enjoy:

Friday, 23 December 2011

Tying the Knot

I nearly had a mini heart attack the other day when my cousin theorized on the roots of the phrase “tying the knot”. She was wondering why I keep using those words rather than “getting married”.  And then said she thought those words originated from female bondage, some sort of idea of possession and a rope tying you to your husband etc etc.

That idea was thankfully put to rest real fast. Thank god for Google. The theory is that it originates from the practice of tying knots around the wrists of the betrothed couple during the ceremony, similar to hand fasting today, and Mexican lazo rituals.

I might still be shying away from the words “getting married” although that is most certainly what we’re doing, because it still seems like something that grown-ups do. Yes I’m aware I’m 30 years old.

I have a huge reluctance to identify myself as a bride. The squeee-ing from people who find out I am wedding planning still takes me by surprise. I think part of me still doesn’t know what to do with the exclamations of “Congratulations!” Obviously I over analyze, but what exactly am I being congratulated on? Finding the right person to spend my life with?  Hitting a traditional benchmark in life? “Snagging” my man?  

Logically I understand that I’m surrounded by people who love me and they’re just simply excited for what is a big ritual in most people’s lives. Their wishes are coming from a place of joy. Still, the crazy voice in my head wonders if I am being congratulated because I’m female, and all girls want to be brides and get married and wear pouffy white things and birds on their head, and now YAY! At long last it’s happening for me.

Yes, I should just shut the fuck up and smile and I do. It’s getting the crazy voices to stop over analyzing that I’m working on.  


I still catch myself checking out 16 year old boys with long hair. It’s because in my head I’m still the same age as them.
I’m fully aware this could get me arrested one day.

Thankfully my boy looks like he isn’t a day over 21. Makes the cougar in me happy.

Thursday, 22 December 2011

I LOVE Sparkles

I got to spend some fabulous quality time with my little nephew B the other week. The boy’s brother called him for some help putting up the Christmas lights on their house and asked if I could watch B and his little sister. I got totally excited and said YES!

And then said WTF! I just agreed to watch a barely two year old and a six month old. Me. By myself. No adult intervention to prevent fatal accidents. This was alarming.

Cue frantic Googling to find crafts and activities appropriate for a two year old. I needed to keep that kid occupied or it would all go to hell real fast. A quick trip to the Dollar store and $16 bucks worth of craft supplies later and I felt like I was going into battle, but at least armed with a plan.

I knew the night was going to be fun when little B saw my sparkly gold nails and said “Ohhh Sparklesh, I love sparklesh”. It was on.
This was his "cheese" face. Except he kept drawing it out waiting for you to take the picture and was making a face like he was in pain. He's so damn cute.

When the boy came down about half an hour later, he gasped and uttered “Sean*, WHAT DID YOU DO???”.  He might have been overreacting a tad, or he might have been reacting to the fact that he knows his brother and sister in law are (in the kindest way possible) complete OCD neat freaks.

I had laid down newspapers. I didn’t see what the problem was.

“There’s glitter everywhere!”

Awww, shucks no, it’ll come out.  What’s that? B’s hands are dyed several bright colours from the Popsicle sticks? No worries, we’ll clean him up. What, he has sparkly glue on his forehead and clothes? It’ll wash right out. Seriously the glitter isn’t that bad.

Cue the boy’s brother having a mini meltdown when he came to see what we were up to. And frantically breaking out the vacuum cleaner to try to limit the glitter spread.

B had a blast. He kept calling me AunShun and didn’t want to stop playing with the “sparklesh”. We made a sparkle snow globe with an animal inside (one that you couldn’t see since B was a leeetle enthusiastic when pouring in the sparkles). It was a little leaky and helped the sparkle proliferation, but B was excited to show Mummy what he made for her. His little sister just watched us and gurgled happily.

We figured it was time to go home since B was now refusing to go to bed. He was running around in circles and dancing. And it was entirely sparkle fueled happiness, no candy involved.

As we walked out the door, B’s dad whispered to me, in a scared tremulous voice “Where did you put the snow globe?”

 I really should have said “In your bed”.  

Poor man, I think I shattered his nerves. Just too many sparkles.  

I don’t think I’ll be babysitting again any time soon.
But I’ve already started stocking a messy crafts box for B’s visit at our place.

* Sean is my nickname, all those near and dear call me that.

My Productivity Drink

With the start of the holidays I had concocted an incredibly addictive way to start the morning (mainly weekends, but sometimes snuck in during the week). I made my version of an eggnog latte. A yummy oversized cup of espresso with crema, topped up with a healthy dash of eggnog and another healthy dash of coffee flavoured rum that I brought back from St.Lucia. I dubbed it my “productivity drink”.
It worked wonders. Starting my day off with that jolt of sugar, caffeine, fat and alcohol just kick started my body like nothing else ever had. I belatedly realized I might have a problem when I went to make my power drink and found the rum bottle to be surprisingly light. My healthy splashes were, ahem, quite healthy. I’d only been back a month and nearly drunk the whole full sized bottle myself.

It also got me thinking that the ingredients in eggnog from a carton were decidedly disgusting stuff. I’d never liked it before and I only started LOVING it (a little too hard) once I stared adding it to my coffee. So I figured people had probably been making this stuff for a while before Nielsen got involved and I figured I’d make the stuff myself.

A couple recipes later, and having gotten over the hurdle of the idea of drinking raw eggs (I solved that dilemma by convincing myself that the rum would kill any lurking salmonella) I whipped up a batch. (I tweaked this recipe slightly)

And my mind was blown. I had a full on food-gasm as I took my first sip. This is the shit. My mouth literally dropped open in awe after having my first sip.

It also happened to turn a delightful pink since the spice rum I used was red in colour. Bonus!

I think it was a life changing moment.


This may be turning into a wedding blog. Or at least just for the next 8 months or so.

But I must admit that the mail is a lot more fun these days. All of the things! For me!

Sometimes an engagement puppy just doesn’t cut it

The boy and I got engaged with a puppy exchange. I had always wanted a puppy vs. a ring and he definitely delivered. I’ll share that story another day.
I wouldn’t trade my little goofball for any fancy ring; he brings me so much joy and love on a daily basis (although there was a brief period during toilet training where he peed on the hallway carpets in the apartment where I was completely ready to kill him). He LOVES to cuddle and is just an overall silly dog whose limited intellectual capacity never fails to amuse me. He tops something sparkly and pretty any day.

However there have been moments that I’m just ready to wear a wedding ring.

I was lucky enough to attend my friend Steph’s wedding in St.Lucia a few months ago, and was there was a moment when I wished whole heartedly to have a ring on my finger signifying my status as engaged/partnered/married whatever. We were out at a local “Jump up” and I was being hit on by a guy…pretty unrelentingly. This guy was persistent and of course as soon as I told him I was engaged, asked “Where’s your ring?” I knew it was coming; it’s a question I get a lot. “I don’t have a ring I have a dog” didn’t translate well in this situation, the loud music and my little voice didn’t help either. And I just wished I had a ring on my hand to get this douche bag to leave me alone. He was ruining my night with his presence.

(Steph and me in St.Lucia...Prince Charming in the white shirt behind me)

And really it just got me thinking about a bigger problem. Why did I need a ring to have a valid reason about not wanting to give this guy my time? Why did I need that symbol of being “taken” to legitimize my refusal? Why is it still not okay in our culture to just say “Hell no” and not be called a bitch or worse? As a woman, I still needed to show that I belonged to someone else to have my lack of interest explained and validated. I felt like an object that needed to have an owner. It made me angry and a bit sad that I was just caving in and wanted a wedding ring for all the wrong reasons.

We just got our wedding rings made by an indie jeweler. When they came in the mail it felt like all this wedding shit was now happening for real. I put it on my hand and it felt oh so strange. I have been practice wearing it when I’m alone at home so I can get used to it. And I keep thinking about the signal I’ll be sending to the world  in a few months time.
Taken. Possessed. Committed. Loved.

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

Monday, 17 October 2011


Sometimes when I get antsy at my desk, I go into the washroom and make funny faces at myself.

I twist around and do a little dance.

Today I notice that my eyeliner that I swiped on is a bit off, giving me a weird cross eyed stare. I could fix it, but might just kinda go with it for the day.

Thankfully the bathroom is a private one person type of deal. Not sure it would stop me even if it wasn't.