Fools In Their Madness All Around Know That The Light Don't Sleep

This is how I feel right now:

Very tired and a little annoyed. May is kicking my ass. I have nothing to say that isn't whiny or punchy so it's probably best if I just keep it to myself.

Thank you for all your birthday wishes for Shawn; he had a very nice birthday weekend and is busy making music with his new toys (he managed to snag a new electric guitar and keyboard. Our home is never quiet. *sigh*)

Go Ahead Be Gone With It And Get Your Sexy On

He has a pair of long underwear for riding his motorcycle in cold weather. When he gets home from riding, the layers of clothes are too warm so his jeans always come off, leaving his skinny legs and nonexistent butt clad only in saggy, white cotton long johns. I called them his "sexy pants" once and ever since then he sings "I'm wearing sexy pants" in a raspy Justin Timberlake voice (to the tune of "Sexy Back") every time he dons them. My favourite part is his Timbaland-esque "yey-ah" that follows.

He denies that his habit of leaving his socks on the ground has anything to do with how holey they get.

sock! from Hillary W on Vimeo.

I beg to differ.

He eats peanut butter and bacon sandwiches. He calls them cowboy sandwiches. This may be one of the reasons I married him. (Cowboy sandwiches! How can that not melt your heart?!)

He is a very skilled musician. Sometimes I feel excluded from his rockstar world but mostly I just swoon at his talent.

He sings silly songs about the dogs to make me smile. (Think "they call me Stel-la! That's not my name!" sung to the tune of the Ting Tings' "That's Not My Name!") (I'm sorry if that song is stuck in your head now. If it's any consolation, it's totally stuck in mine.)

He stubbornly (and incorrectly) maintains that crunchy is superior to creamy. Therefore, we are a two peanut butter household. We're both okay with that.

He was born in Montreal and says "poutine" with a proper french accent (erm ... sort of like "puh-tsien" instead of "poo-teen.") This means that I now say "poutine" with a proper french accent. It's dreamy when he does it and quite douchey when I do.

It's his 32nd birthday today.

I love this guy.

Rock Robot Rock

A few months ago Shawn and I tried to find a way for him to quit his job and either go back to school or focus on his music full-time. We failed. There's more to it than that but what it boils down to is that it was a huge risk that we weren't willing to make right now. So for the last few months, Shawn has come home from work every night and tucked himself away in the den to work on his album. It's been difficult. I've gone to bed alone too many times to count, resorting to ear plugs so I could fall asleep. I've been on the receiving end of snarky looks when I interrupt "the process" and I've given many snarky looks when I've heard the same bass lick fifty times in a row. It was worth it, though, because the album is finally finished.

It can be lonely, watching someone you love be so immersed in something that doesn't include you. I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel resentful or envious or stroppy at times. "The process" can be an exclusive bitch sometimes. But now that the album is done and I have my husband back? I am nothing but proud.

Choose The Highest Bidder Was My Answer When They Told Me I Was Up For Sale

Birthdays are a big deal to me. It's the one day a year that the people you love celebrate you. What's not to love about that? (I'll tell you what's not to love: when the people you love think that celebrating you means taking you on a dune buggy ride in the sand dunes. Ahem.)

Shawn's birthday is in five weeks and I don't know what to give him. He needs a guitar for recording his music but I know nothing about guitars and the fact that he's a lefty makes the selection a: more difficult because of the limited numbers of left-handed guitars and b: more expensive (because of the limited numbers of left-handed guitars. *sigh*) We've been talking about getting rid of the computer desk (and PC) in our den and hooking up a mac mini to our home theatre system in the living room. The problem with this scenario is that Shawn would have to pull all of his stuff out of the den and into the living room every time he wanted to record. I know my husband: once the stuff comes out of the den and into the living room, in the living room it will sit forever. The other option is a weekend trip. Air Canada is having a seat sale right now but it ends tomorrow so I need to make my decision today. I like the idea of a weekend trip but I'm hesitating because of the amount of work involved. I would need to book time off work (which is a hassle), I would need to get Shawn approved to take time off work, Shawn's passport expired months ago so that would need to be renewed if we went to the States, and I'd have to figure out puppy care. Also, Shawn is going away for the May long weekend (the weekend after his birthday) so it would probably be too much to go away on his actual birthday (and that kind of takes a bit of the shine off, doesn't it? Taking a birthday trip after your birthday?)

Peeps, I need your help. What should I give Shawn for his birthday? It's not a significant-number birthday so it doesn't have to be over the top but I do want it to be awesome.

People Pushing Through Their Mittens As I Was Beginning To Feel It Soaking Through My Shoes

I woke up this morning to grey skies and rain. I got drenched on the way to work (umbrellas are for wusses! Or, you know, people who forget their umbrellas at work.) Now the sun is out and the sky is blue. I can't take this weather limbo! Either be winter or be summer. Actually, just be summer.

* * * * *

Shawn is on Twitter. His plan of going back to school was derailed by our mutual love of our dual-income lifestyle so his new plan consists of (finally) finishing his album, getting a website, and selling said album on said website. My new plan consists of making him use Twitter and Facebook to reach more people. So if you're on Twitter you should probably follow him. He's pretty funny. And he says "balls" a lot (just ask my family members; every one of them have received a birthday or holiday card at some point with a random "BALLS!" written in it by Shawn.)

* * * * *

Have you heard of the Olympic red mittens? They're kind of a big deal. I've got a pair but only because my mom snagged a bunch a few months ago.

Day 25 of my month of photos:

This statue of Robert Burns stands across from the Vancouver Rowing Club in Stanley Park. It's a little difficult to see because the photo is small, but a pair of Olympic red mittens hangs around his neck.

And When I Get That Feeling

When I found out about my mom's busted pelvis, I told Shawn that we needed to find some cheeseburgers, stat. He then proceeded to sing a song (that he composed on the spot) called "Emotional Eating" sung to the tune of "Sexual Healing." I love that guy.

Day 11 of my month of photos:

Looking up at the Lookout at Harbour Centre through the open-air glass dome of Grant Thornton Place.

His Smile's Your Rope So Wrap It Tight Around Your Throat

I had a fabulous weekend, running from one thing to the next; baby kisses here, tequila shots there, with no rest in between. Instead of paring down my weekend's festivities when I started to feel overwhelmed, I added to the craziness whenever a new opportunity arose. When Shawn called at 6 on Saturday evening and said he'd been invited to play a show, I didn't tell him that I was hungover and in my pyjamas and attempting to motivate myself to do my accounting homework. I got dressed and went to the shady bar and held the video camera while simultaneously keeping a death grip on my bag because it seemed like the sort of place where muggings are not uncommon.

(The audio will not sync with the video and I cannot be arsed to sort it out. Sorry.)

(Shawn's playing the bass.)

My body protested when I forced it out into the cold on Sunday, almost as loudly as Robin protested when I forced her to attend the BlogHer Holiday party with me. I can't meet lovely, sparkly people on my own though (especially when I am hungover and so far from sparkly that I cannot even muster a single twinkle,) so she agreed to be my wingwoman. The party was lovely and everyone I spoke to was wonderful and I will definitely be returning to Tempest.

I'm paying for my fantastic weekend now, as I lie in bed dying of the Throat of Doom. I don't want to be home from work; I'm actually feeling quite twitchy as I picture the mounds of paperwork piling up. I'm determined to be better by tomorrow so I can get caught up. I'm meeting Kyla on Thursday and I'll be anxious enough about that without worrying about invoices and germs too.

Now My Feet Won't Touch The Ground Now My Head Won't Stop

I do karate barefoot on mats that are covered in sweat daily and cleaned not so daily. The mats are sticky in places and smell bad, is what I'm saying. I try not to think about the mats when I'm standing on them.

I get home from karate and I go straight to the bathroom to clean my feet. First I douse them with rubbing alcohol. Then I have a shower and spend a few minutes scrubbing my feet with soap. Then I dry off and do another round of rubbing alcohol.

It's not the germs I worry about. It's not the sweat of strangers lingering on my feet that makes me clenchy. I've never had any sort of foot disease that has scared me senseless. It's just ... why not clean my feet? It takes five minutes. It seems logical to me to spend five minutes cleaning my feet to prevent any sort of foot mushrooms or toe plague or whatever it is I could contract from standing on scummy flooring. It doesn't seem abnormal to me.

But ... Shawn doesn't clean his feet after karate. He comes home and has a shower and cracks open a beer or checks his email or plays with the pups. He doesn't think about what could be growing on his feet. He doesn't worry that his toenails are going to fall out.

It makes me mistrust my brain. It makes me worry that maybe I'm reacting too strongly to other situations. Like the motorcycle.

Shawn took a professional motorcycle safety course that provided ten hours of classroom training and twenty hours of road training. He bought a jacket with armour in it, gloves, boots, and a full helmet with a face shield. He bought a motorcycle with an engine that matches his skill level. And yet ... I worry. I worry about things that I can't articulate because writing them down makes them more real.

At the same time, I'm concerned that my anxiety is an overreaction. Like the karate feet. I'm worried about my worry. Feel free to sympathize with Shawn; the internal drama has made me a very unpleasant person to live with lately. Which is frustrating because I don't want to be mad about this. I don't want to be the shrewish wife who doesn't let her husband have any fun. But I kind of don't want him to have any fun if his idea of fun could result in him getting smushed.

I'll Stop The World And Melt With You

. . . and then my heart melted.

'Cause You Would Never Sue Me Baby It Wouldn't Look Good It'd Be Weird

Last week Shawn sold a pair of speakers through craigslist. There was a bit of confusion on Shawn's part about who he was selling them to and he ended up agreeing to sell the speakers to two different people. In his defence, he wasn't being malicious or sleazy - there was a genuine miscommunication between Shawn and the first person he agreed to sell them to. Shawn sold the speakers to the first person and emailed the second person to apologise and explain the situation.

The second person (hereafter referred to as Mr. D-Bag) replied that Shawn had a week to produce his speakers or he would sue him. He emailed Shawn from his work email address, identifying himself as a Realtor. He told Shawn that their email correspondence was a legal, binding contract and that Shawn had broken that contract by selling the speakers to someone else. He said that as a real estate agent, he was very knowledgeable about contracts and that he knew he would be successful in suing Shawn.

Shawn called Mr. D-Bag to try to diffuse the situation. He felt like he could talk to Mr. D-Bag to better explain the situation and make Mr. D-Bag realize that Shawn had made a mistake and felt remorse. He also offered to help Mr. D-Bag buy a new pair of speakers, using his contacts in the industry to get Mr. D-Bag a sweet discount.

Mr. D-Bag refused Shawn's help, saying that he didn't want or need new speakers; he wants Shawn's speakers. Only those speakers will do. He also reiterated his knowledge of contracts and his belief that he will be successful when he takes Shawn to small claims court. At which point Shawn asks Mr. D-Bag if this is really worth his time. Seriously. He's going to sue Shawn over speakers? And Mr. D-Bag says that yes, he is going to sue Shawn over speakers; it's not that difficult to file a claim and he can recoup the fee when he successfully sues Shawn. Shawn took this to mean that Mr. D-Bag has done this before.

Mr. D-Bag then tells Shawn that if he pays him $200 "compensation" he won't sue him. Oh yes, Mr. D-Bag throws down the extortion card. He tells Shawn he can have a few days "to think about it" and hangs up.

So of course I'm all riled up. I'm all "let's write a letter to his employer! Let's report him to the Real Estate Board of Canada!" and Shawn is all "I don't know. Maybe I should just pay him so he goes away."

Shawn's strategy is to ignore Mr. D-Bag in the hope that he will give up and disappear while my strategy is to draft stern letters that Shawn said I am allowed to send if/when Mr. D-Bag actually files a claim.

The situation is so bizarre. Using Mr. D-Bag's logic, Shawn could sue the two individuals who both agreed to buy the speakers and never showed up to actually complete the transaction. Or the idiot who agreed on the price but showed up with $200 less and pressured Shawn to still sell him the speakers because that's all he could afford to spend on them. That's what Craigslist is. It's sometimes shady and unreliable. Does that mean you should sue every time something doesn't work out in your favour?

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 7

Dear Shawn,

Happy 7 Monthiversary!

The last month has been the most difficult month of our marriage so far. You lost your job while I was in the process of deciding whether or not to leave mine. It was difficult to see you feeling so blue, especially since you are definitely the more positive one in this relationship. And then to top it all off, you got sick with the Flu of Doom and then passed it on to me.

We got through it though, relatively unscathed. My employment situation is officially resolved and my head has stopped melting. You started your new job on Monday and even though you don't love it yet, I'm hopeful that you will soon.

Life is slowly returning to normal.

This past month has made me really appreciate how calm you manage to make me feel. We both know I'm a tad emotive (understatement of the year!) and I while I won't admit to overreacting, I will agree that I tend to react strongly to situations. The upheaval we experienced in the last month would normally send me spinning but you managed to keep me steady. Sure there was stress and a few tears and a few brain-meltingly frustrating moments, but there was also laughter and poutine and homemade chicken soup.

We survived the last month and I can't wait to kick next month's ass with you.

Love you.

Hillary

Famous Homemade Chicken Soup, Can I Have Another Bowl?

Shawn made it to his interview yesterday and then came home and collapsed into bed. I found him there when I got home hours later, curled up in his now-rumpled Interview Clothes. Interview Clothes that I had ironed the night before because that is what you do when you love someone, you iron their dress shirts and pants so they don't look homeless when they go on a job interview. It had nothing to do with the fact that I actually enjoy ironing (let's just keep that our little secret, shall we? I don't want Shawn finding out that I don't mind doing the one chore that he hates with a passion and promises endless backrubs and chocolate in order to get out of doing.)

Shawn has had an impressive array of Man Colds in the time I've known him (no really, click that link - you will pee your pants) but I've never seen him sick sick. He's got a fever that's actually backed by the thermometer and he's been acting a bit loopy. For example, earlier I was talking to Turtle about our little sister (the judgey one) and Shawn piped up that her name is the Hawaiian word for banshee. And then he giggled uncontrollably.  So yes, Shawn is sick. Sicker than I realized at 4am when I may or may not have told him to man up and let me sleep. 

In an effort to alleviate my guilt and prove that I do have the capacity to be sympathetic (just not at 4am!) I made Shawn some homemade chicken soup. It's surprisingly easy to make and it serves its purpose well - the person who makes the soup gets to feel like a rockstar and the person who eats the soup gets to feel loved. 

Put 4 cups cold water and 4 cups chicken stock in a large pot over medium-high heat. Chop up 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts into smallish chunks and add to broth (I usually add the chicken to the broth before I turn the heat on to ensure that the chicken is cooking for the longest amount of time possible but I'm pretty crazy when it comes to cooking chicken. I consistently overcook my chicken because of my irrational fear of germs.) As the broth heats up, chop and add the following: 1 purple onion, diced finely. 2 carrots, chopped. 3 stalks celery, chopped. About an inch of fresh ginger root, grated (minced? I don't know what it's called.) Let the mixture come to a boil. When it's boiling rapidly, add about a cup and a half of uncooked egg noodles, about a cup of frozen pees and a few teaspoons of dried parsley flakes. Bring to a boil again, cover, reduce heat and simmer for about 15 minutes (or until noodles are cooked through and you're convinced the chicken is done.) For maximum brownie points, serve with crackers & cheese and lemon tea. 

And because I have no idea how to end this post: a picture of the puppies each chewing a bone instead of chewing each other. I call this picture Progress (even though you can totally tell from Stella's facial expression that she'd much rather be chowing down on Wolfgang's ear.) 

And Neither Will I Take It From Snappy Young Brats

Shawn and I are making a huge effort to be especially gentle with each other right now. We're both stressed about our individual job situations and what it means for us as a couple. We're both making an effort to be supportive and encouraging and just nice to each other. Except that sometimes, at 4am, when you're shaken awake from a deep sleep so that your husband can tell you that he feels sick, it's difficult to remember to be nice. Sometimes you might respond with a snappy "sssshhhhhh!" and a disgruntled sigh. You might even ask your husband if he could perhaps shiver less violently, as you're trying to sleep.

In my defence, I don't think I was actually awake because I don't remember any of it at all. Shawn told me the story this morning, with puppy dog eyes and a gravelly voice. He's got a fever and chills and a sore throat (and a job interview! today!) and oh, aren't I the best wife in the world? If I ever have kids, I will totally be the mom who's all "Gawd. Can't you change your own diaper? I have important things to do like reading blogs and eating chocolate."

Sigh.

So I made him some lemon tea and made myself a bit late for work but I think it was worth it because he just texted me to let me know that he's on his way to his interview (my lemon tea is magical.) I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he doesn't vomit on anyone.

Fine Place For A Day Full Of Breakdowns Takes More Than A Meltdown To Show Us How

I'm not sure if I need to point this out, but stress management? Is not one of my strengths.

The past two weeks have been stressful to say the least. Shawn's job (which we thought was secure) started to get a bit dodgy. Last Friday, after a week and a half of uncertainty, Shawn lost his job. Partly because of the economy and partly because of his shady boss but whatever the reason, the outcome remains the same - Shawn is officially unemployed.

The plan has always been that he would one day start his own business. We thought that maybe this was an opportunity (a sign? a kick in the pants?) to start the ball rolling. We threw around a few ideas - moving to Kelowna to start the business in a city with less competition, selling our condo and moving back into downtown Vancouver to be right in the thick of things - but in the end we decided to stay put. Shawn is an audio video designer; he designs elaborate entertainment systems and sells the equipment required to complete them. He deals in luxury goods. Luxury is the devil right now. People can't get far enough away from luxury. So plans for Shawn's business have been put on hold and his job search has begun.

Shawn's unemployment + me being absolutely convinced that I was pregnant = a Very Stressful Time for us. Fortunately, my womb is blissfully empty (Tia, I am choosing to ignore you and your "false negative" warning) and Shawn has a job interview lined up for tomorrow. He's lucky that he has a lot of contacts in the industry and managed to finagle a job interview for a position that he knows is unfilled. If offered this job, he will be taking a 20% pay decrease from his last position, which sucks but isn't the end of the world.

Which brings me to yesterday and my meltdown.

Yesterday I had a job interview.

And that is pretty much all I can say about that. I wish I could say more because my brain is bursting, but I can't. I'm kind of peeing my pants right now, but in a good way. The bad stress has turned to good stress all of a sudden and I think I can return to my regularly scheduled program of lentils and vegetables for lunch instead of licorice and cookies.

Shawn and I went to our favourite restaurant last night and ate burgers and poutine (sober poutine is almost as good as drunken poutine - who knew?) and talked about everything that's happening right now. We don't have a game plan but we have a few ideas. It feels good to know that we're in this thing together, that even if I stay at my soul-sucking job, at the end of each day I get to come home to an amazing man and two insane yet adorable puppies and we'll make it work somehow. I feel so lucky and optimistic that this is all going to work out. That's not to say that there won't be more crying or head-melting, I mean I am who I am and let's face it - I may not have stress management skills but when it comes to overreacting and dramatizing even the smallest situation? I'm your gal. Stay tuned for more crazy ...

Just A Perfect Day Problems All Left Alone Weekenders On Our Own Such Fun

This past weekend was so fun, so heartmeltingly perfect, that I almost don't want another weekend ever because there is no way it could live up to the weekend I just experienced. That's just crazy talk though because really, what's worse - a bad weekend or a perfect work week? I'll take the bad weekend every time.

Friday night started with three of my favourite ladies coming over for a food & Wii party. We started the night eating copious amounts of food (see below) and then worked off our cheese-babies on the Wii Fit. I have not laughed so hard in a long time.

Saturday morning I woke up and could barely move, my abs were so sore. Damn you Wii Fit Hula Hoop! A dear friend was in town for the weekend so I took her out for Valentine's / Birthday pancakes. I also managed to convince her that she should let me throw her a baby shower (whoohoo, party planning here I come!)

My Saturday afternoon was a lazy one (which Shawn managed to catch on camera.)

Saturday night was Shawn's album release party at the Railway Club. The show went really well - the bar was packed and Shawn played really well (and looked damn fine while doing so.)

He had to stay until the last band finished so I hopped on the train by myself to head home when I got tired. And promptly realized that taking the train during rush hour is nothing like taking the train at 1am. I think the problem was that I had only had a few drinks at the bar so all the really drunk people were just annoying and loud. Or I'm just getting old.

The weather on Sunday was fabulous - blue skies and sunshine and almost warm. I took the pups to the dog park while Shawn recovered from his late night (he didn't get home until after 4am.) (And he is getting old.) And then we came home and the puppies got in trouble while I made yummy omelettes for brunch.

Stella loves shoes. She is always trying to get into the closet so she can get at the shoes. She's trying to teach Wolfgang her wicked ways.


Sunday night was spent watching the Canucks destroy the Habs and eating chicken satay with peanut sauce (which is now officially my favourite food.) My perfect weekend was not finished yet, though, because after the Canucks games I watched the season premier of The Amazing Race. I love this show. I love Phil Keoghan. I love everything about it. This weekend recap is long enough so instead of babbling about how awesome the first episode was, I'll just say that I'm happy with the couple who was eliminated (they were Annoying with a capital A) and my favourite couples as of right now are Brad & Victoria and Mel & Mike. I would like Linda & Steve to be eliminated next because I don't find it particularly entertaining to watch a man berate his wife for not being able to run fast enough. Can't wait for next week's episode!

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 4

Dear Shawn,

Happy 4 Monthiversary!

In the space of one month we went from being married for a quarter of a year to being married for a third of a year. Blows my mind (both the being married part and fractions.)

We skipped the traditional "in sickness and in health" vows during our ceremony but when I came to you this month and whispered "baby, can you rub this anti-fungal cream onto my rashy back?" in your ear, you didn't turn me down. Thanks for that. I'd like to think that I'd be willing to rub anti-fungal cream onto your rashy bits, should the need ever arise, but we both know that's a load of crap. I could barely manage to help you with the bandaid that one time you cut your thumb hanging a shelf.

This month was spent being itchy (me) and being annoyed at hearing about the itchiness (you.) This month was also spent adjusting to bringing home this guy:

Yesterday we were playing with the pups and you told me that you couldn't remember what it felt like without Wolfgang, that he fits into our family so well. My heart just about melted with the cuteness. After I laughed at you and called you a vagina. Sorry about that. I know what you mean though. Life is crazy and it's noisy but it's also so much fun.

Love you (and your magic anti-fungal cream applying hands),

Hillary

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 3

Dear Shawn,

Today is our 3 Monthiversary.

This month featured some high highs (Festival of Hillary!) and some low lows (almost getting laid off!)

You made my heart melt (like when you surprised me with a macbook on my birthday) and my head melt (like last weekend when we were driving in an unfamiliar part of town and I was really stressed because it was raining really fucking hard and you were supposed to be navigating but you were doing a shite job of it and when I asked you to clarify a direction you gave me you wouldn't answer but instead repeated your vague direction in your annoying fake-British-navigation-system voice and I Lost It and there was shouting and crying and just general craziness. Oh and my sister was in the backseat. Hi, Turtle! Sorry for almost killing you on the way to Westy's hockey game!)

Erm, yes. So high highs and low lows. It's been a good month, though, and now we've been married for a quarter of a year. Blows my mind.

Love Hillary

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 2

Dear Shawn,

Happy 2 Monthiversary. Life is finally returning to normal (whatever that is) at home. The wedding feels like it was ages ago. People keep asking us how married life is. I feel like such a failure when I tell them it's the same. I feel like I'm supposed to say it's fabulous or it's amazing or it's better than I ever thought it could be. Don't get me wrong - being married to you is awesome. It's also the same. There are good things and bad things and at the end of the day the good outweighs the bad and I'm happy. Being married is challenging but (so far) no more challenging that just being in a relationship with you was. I'm happy that I found out about the majority of your quirks before we got married. The sock thing would have been a shock to my system if I was just finding out about it now. I honestly don't understand why you can't put your socks in the laundry basket every night but you don't understand why I love bands like the Arctic Monkeys and the Kooks so hey, we're even. I guess that's a big part of choosing to be together - not understanding wtf the other person is doing but loving them despite it.

We made our first grown-up purchase a few weeks ago. Ok, our condo was our first grown-up purchase but this was a close second. We bought a new kitchen table and couch. When we first started looking, we were looking at temporary-quality furniture. I'm glad we decided to go with the higher quality stuff. It makes me happy to think that we own furniture that will come with us when we move. If we can ever afford to move again. We don't actually have our kitchen table yet but I'm hoping it will show up before Thanksgiving.

This last month has been a bit tense for us. Purchasing the table made us both a bit cranky (talk about a lesson in compromise - our taste in furniture could not be further apart. Everything you liked was metal and glass and everything I liked was wooden and too "old looking.") We're also having a bit of difficulty planning our honeymoon (I still want to go to Ireland, you want to combine our honeymoon with your friend's wedding in Mexico. Seriously. Am I the only one who thinks that it's not a honeymoon if it includes family members?) Life is good though, even though you've made my head melt multiples times. You've also made my heart melt multiple times so I'd say we're coming out on top.


Love you, dude.

PS: Ireland is so much better than Mexico for a multitude of reasons, including - but not limited to - the beer and leprechauns. Think about it.

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 1

Dear Shawn,

Happy 1 Monthiversary. The wedding feels like it was ages ago but at the same time I can't believe it's only been one month. I'm glad that the wedding planning is over and I'm sure you're glad that the Crazy Wedding Planning Nutbar has disappeared.

I haven't finished recapping our wedding yet. I struggled with starting the recap. The wedding was both the most significant thing I've ever done and the most insignificant life event. Significant because, holy crap, now we're married. Insignificant because, umm, nothing really changed. The day after the wedding, you didn't wake up and start putting your dirty socks in the laundry basket instead of leaving them on the floor and, surprise surprise, I didn't stop bitching about it (okay but seriously - IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. You take your socks off at night, leave them on the floor, Stella chews them, they get holes, you yell at Stella, lather, rinse repeat. THE BASKET IS FOUR FEET FROM WHERE YOU LEAVE YOUR SOCKS. EVERY. FREAKING. NIGHT.)

Our first month of married life has been a busy one. We went to Montreal to visit your dad's family. I was concerned about meeting them but I was just being a worrywart. They turned out to be fantastic people, who made every effort to make me feel included. It made me realize how difficult it must be for you, living on the other side of the country from them. I hope you never decide you want to move home though, because the mosquitoes made me want to cry. Maybe you could just convince your family members (all 50 of them) to move out West.

We took your computer with us to Montreal, to give to your dad. Your computer was old and full and it was getting harder for you to record music on it. Your dad had no computer (blows my mind) so he was happy to get your old computer. The plan was to give your dad your old computer, you'd take my newer computer and I'd buy a new laptop. The laptop has been put on hold for now, so we're currently sharing my computer. This situation has brought to light how much time you spend looking at cars online and how much time I spend reading blogs. It has also illuminated our need to learn how to compromise.

We still haven't managed to organise the condo since the wedding. We've made an effort though; we've put away almost all of the wedding gifts. We spent most of our wedding gift cards. We've sent out our thank you cards. Our next project is finding a kitchen table and cleaning out the closets. You and I both have a tendency to collect junk, shoving it away in closets or cupboards, out of sight out of mind. This has got to stop.

Thank you for making our first month of marriage so much fun. We've laughed a lot this past month. Like last night when I was trying to describe how I wanted to cut my hair and I was reminding you of how it was cut when we first met and you said "Oh yeah. You were hot back then." To which I replied, "Back then?" And then you got all flustered and then I laughed because you were so cute, trying to remove your foot from your mouth. Good times, my friend. Good times.

Love you, dude.

PS: Pick up your damn socks.

Well See I'm On To Your Scam And I'll Tell You How

Things that are making my head melt - Tuesday Edition:

The rain. It has been one of the driest Julys on record in Vancouver. We assumed that it would be sunny on our wedding day. We don't have a backup plan for the wedding photos. The wedding photos will be taken outside. Rain or shine, apparently. This just seems like a bad idea though, so perhaps instead of cursing the rain my energy would be better spent figuring out a freaking backup plan.

Stella. I think she has worms. I haven't seen any worms but she seems to have an itchy bum. She has licked a raw patch on her bum. Is this something that requires a trip to the vet or do I just go buy deworming stuff? I have no idea - help me out!

The event coordinator for our wedding. I haven't had any complaints so far. She hasn't been overbearing but she hasn't pulled a disappearing act either. The one thing that bothered me about her was her preference for talking vs writing stuff the eff down. I am very much an email person. I like having a solid record that I can reference if things go pear-shaped. A few months ago we signed a contract with the pub but because we didn't have the final numbers, it wasn't the final contract. On Monday we submitted out final number so it made sense that she wanted me to sign a new contract yesterday. Things seemed a bit off though, so I read through the whole thing and realized that she had added a new line item. Or rather she had changed a previous line item from Tech Rental - $0 to Onsite Music Technician - $500. The "onsite music technician" is the dj that she had told us was included at no extra cost to us. Of course I don't have that in a freaking email, she just told us verbally. I feel so manipulated by her - did she think I wouldn't read the contract? She made no mention of the change at all, she just sent the new contract and asked me to sign it because she'd inputted our final guest count and had a total dollar amount for the food and alcohol. So yesterday I emailed her (no more phone calls!) to ask her to clarify the situation. I wasn't hostile or angry (even though I am angry) I just told her that we understood we weren't going to be charged for the dj and she needs to sort it out. I haven't heard back from her yet and it's kind of eating away at me. Did I mention that she just told us that July 31st is her last day? She's moving to Calgary so someone new is taking over the coordination of our wedding. We've met the other woman once and she seems competent but the whole situation is MAKING MY HEAD MELT.

Work. I really should have taken time off before the wedding. Not to do wedding-related things (I'm almost finished!) but to take the time to do things for myself. Like spend the day at the dog park. Sleep in until noon. Get a freaking massage so maybe I'd stop being such a nutter. Shawn and I were working on the programs a few days ago and the words "I DON'T NEED TO RELAX! I NEED RESULTS!" were uttered by me. And by "uttered" I might mean "shouted."

I think that's everything that's driving me batty right now. I'm sure this list will grow as the wedding gets closer. Should make for an interesting week of posting, right?