When I'm Really Getting Old At Twenty-Eight Or Nine

For the last six months or so, I've thought that I was twenty-eight years old. Whenever it came up in conversation, I would say that I was twenty-eight. It turns out that today is my twenty-eighth birthday. I feel like I've gained a year, like I should be making goals and resolutions with my new found time. This birthday seems a bit anticlimactic, I guess. I feel like I've already been here.

Instead of goals and resolutions, I'm sticking with hopes. I hope that this is the year I start to trust my knees and start to enjoy running again. I hope that I make it back to England. I hope that I find the guts to start yoga. I hope that I sleep more and worry less. I hope to not eat a single beet.

So here's to twenty-eight. Here's to a year of chocolate cake, homemade pizza / hockey dates with my husband, and puppy cuddles.

Bow Wow Wow Yippie Yo Yippie Yay

Bow Wow Haus in Vancouver is a lovely little shop full of any toy, treat, or tool you could possibly need for your pup. The lovely people at Bow Wow Haus have given me a basket of goodies to pass along to one of my lucky readers. Stella and Wolfgang were lucky enough to receive a few little goodies of their own and can vouch for the yumminess of the locally made treats.

If you are a Vancouver (or Greater Van!) local and you have a furry friend who could use some pampering, leave a comment and tell me your pet's name. I'll pick a winner on Friday, October 15th. Good luck!

And It Looks Like Trouble And It Tastes Like Chocolate If You Want It

I have a mid-October birthday and I'm fortunate enough to be Canadian, which means that I've grown accustomed to three-day weekend birthday celebrations and turkey feasts for my birthday dinner with pumpkin pie in place of birthday cake. It is very difficult to be me, I know.

This year my parents are going to Mexico on my birthday which means that my birthday dinner is going to be less "Thanksgiving Extravaganza!" and more "happy birthday, do you know if we're out of sunscreen?"

So I'm making my own damn turkey. On Sunday. As in four days from now. Cue panic.

I've got the turkey covered, it's the other bits I'm worried about. Last Christmas was the first time I'd attempted to make a full turkey dinner and it was stressful and frenetic. I was ambitious with the number of dishes I made and didn't factor in the size of my stove and I forgot the sweet potatoes under the broiler and set the smoke alarm off and said "fuck" in front of Shawn's dad. I'm getting all clenchy just remembering it.

This year I need to focus on making dishes that can be prepared in advance. I've already vetoed mashed potatoes because there is no successful way to mash potatoes and make gravy simultaneously. I've found my potato dish in Jamie's America (it has a proper name but I cannot remember it - I keep referring to them as cowboy potatoes) but I'm a bit lost when it comes to the other sides. Suggestions are welcome (and desperately needed.) I'd like to do a green vegetable that isn't brussel sprouts and it would be nice to have a sweet potato dish, but I'll consider anything.

One recipe I am frantically trying to find is an eggless chocolate mousse (I know it's not really chocolate mousse unless it's made with raw eggs but eating raw eggs gives me the creeps.) Shawn's one wish for Thanksgiving dinner is chocolate mousse and I feel like I should honour his request, especially since I haven't actually told him about the lack of mashed potatoes (I figure it's best to wait until the actual dinner when I can distract him with the cowboy potatoes.)

So. Recipes needed. Especially eggless chocolate mousse recipes. Bonus points if the mousse recipe calls for orange liquor (chocolate + citrus = be still my heart.)

Where The Grass Is Green And The Girls Are Pretty

For me, music is emotional. A song can take me back to a place or a person or a time in a flash and I feel the same feelings, albeit dulled by time. I hear Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again" and I'm back in the old station wagon which is packed to its bursting point with my family and everything six people need for a week at the cabin. U2's "With or Without You" and I'm slow dancing with the guy who would go on to break my heart into multiple pieces, multiple times. Any song from the Killers' first album takes me back to summer 2004, driving all over England in my busted early-90's Astra. My life has a soundtrack. To say that music is important to me is to put it lightly.

There's something magical about live music done well. I'm not talking about flashy shows with lights and special effects and backing tracks to hide the fact that the musicians are sloppy and the singer's voice is lacking. I'm talking about shows - whether in a small club or a huge arena -where the musicians are talented and tight and the singer actually has a singing voice that survives outside the studio. I've been to many shows where I was disappointed with the quality of the live performance but I've been to just as many where I've walked away energized by the display of sheer talent.

I can't pick a favourite concert, just like I can't pick a favourite band. I love them or appreciate them for different reasons. Taking my dad to see Willie Nelson, after being raised on Willie's music, meant the world to me and I don't even like country music (though I make exceptions for Willie Nelson and the Highwaymen); Seeing Wolfmother play in 2006 in a tiny club (that has now been torn down to make room for a highrise) before they became well-known, standing inches from the stage as they rocked their hearts out; Spending three days at the Isle of Wight Festival 2005 but specifically, shivering in a field on a cold summer's night with the people who made England home for me, dancing to Faithless before stumbling back to our tent; Being blown away by Muse's musical genius and live performance; Watching Shawn live his dream of playing the Commodore when he opened for Steel Panther this year.

And now, watching Slash play the Commodore. It was loud and gritty and so rad that there aren't really words to describe it. Slash is a monster. He's a machine. About 2/3 of the way through the set, he played a guitar solo that had the crowd enthralled. It was long - easily 5 minutes but probably longer - and was ridiculous, self-indulgent, and amazing and as it came to an end he segued into "Sweet Child O' Mine" and the crowd went insane. Slash was awesome but the other musicians were equally excellent. Myles Kennedy and Todd Kerns harmonizing on Starlight was probably the best live vocal performance I've ever heard.

It was a fabulous concert, not just because of the talent but also the vibe of the crowd, the impressive air guitar performed by Shawn and his brother, and the poutine nightcap. It was exactly what my soul needed.

Autumn Leaves Have Faded Now That Smile I Lost Well I've Found Somehow

The autumn blues are not new to me. They are not unexpected or original or even interesting but here I am, wrapped up in my melancholy and raging against a season.

I'm struggling. I don't remember being this sad. It feels like I'm spending a lot of time and effort just to be myself. And still I'm failing. I wake up angry that my nose is cold but I refuse to shut the bedroom window at night. I try to measure my words but still they come out snappish and shrill. I cry. At everything.

I know it will pass. It always does. The days get shorter and the rain becomes more frequent but soon I'll be back to being me. October is hockey and my birthday and Thanksgiving and pumpkin pie. Until then, I've got this cuddle bug reminding me to smile.

In The Dark Of The Night In The Hotel When You're Alone In The Middle Of The City Where Nobody Cares To Know

On Monday we left the murder hotel and checked into the wedding hotel (the MGM.) We sprang for the spa suite which was awesome because it was a fabulous room but bad because when we got home we were all "where is our king-sized bed? where is the jacuzzi? where is the man that brings us turkey sandwiches at 4am when we press '0'?"

Monday night was the bachelorette party. The planning of the bachelorette party was stressful but it was a great night. It kind of falls under the "blogging someone else's story" category though so I'll leave you with a picture of Cat and I doing our best to look glamorous.

Tuesday morning was rough. Shawn and I hit the MGM buffet and decided that we never wanted to leave. Pasta, sushi, a taco bar, a sundae bar - it was insane. We ate our way into a food coma and then slept until the rehearsal dinner.

The rehearsal dinner was held at the Hofbrauhaus. It was a lot of fun but I was feeling a tad too fragile to fully partake in the evening's activities. Shawn rallied but even still only ordered the half-litre instead of the litre of beer.

Tuesday was an early night. The live band and abundance of sausage and lederhosen-clad staff were an overwhelming combination for my booze-addled brain. Shawn and I went back to the hotel early so we'd be well-rested for the wedding on Wednesday.

Falling Down A Canyon Like A Couple Drunken Criminals

We visited the Grand Canyon on the second day of our holiday.

We spent day 1 checking into our hotel, unpacking, re-packing, changing rooms (I am no princess when it comes to hotels but a bloody-looking carpet stain and a shower that refused to drain forced me to the brink of crazy) and passing out (in our new! murder free! room) after drinking too many margaritas.

We were ready for some fun on day 2 is what I'm saying.

We did a day-long bus tour instead of a road trip because we ran out of planning time. The tour worked for us in that we got to see the Grand Canyon with minimal effort, but it was definitely not the best way to see the canyon. I'm glad we went but I still want to go back one day to do it properly.

Shawn and I were both a bit grumbly by the time the bus parked (5 hours from Vegas to the Grand Canyon + bathroom breaks = a longass time on a bus) but when we peeked through the trees and saw the canyon for the first time our grumbles turned to awe. Our awe soon turned to giggles as the Grand Canyon is ripe with "that's what she said" jokes (it's so big! it's so red! it's so deep!) and we are 12 years old.

It's impossible for me to describe the Grand Canyon, just like it was impossible to take a photo that really captured its magnitude. It was like looking at the ocean; you know that it ends somewhere but it is so far off in the distance that it seems endless.

It was a wonderful day that I'm so glad I got to share with Shawn (even though he insisted on giving me multiple heart attacks by going right up to the edge and even climbing down a few rocks until my voice got all shrill and tight and I suggested that perhaps he could stop being a jackass because I am too young to be a widow.)