Sunday, 31 January 2010

I'm Gonna Take You Down To The Market Lover

Shawn and I are trying to eat more vegetables. The problem isn't a dislike of vegetables; it's a time thing. It takes a lot of time to chop up enough fruits and vegetables to make a salad interesting. I'm not a fan of a lettuce, tomato, and cucumber salad. I need variety.

Another problem we've faced is that our supermarket has crappy produce. Crappy expensive produce. So we've started making a weekly trip to the green grocer. Yes, it's annoying having to go to another store to complete our grocery shopping but the quality of the produce is so beyond that of the supermarket that it's not even comparable. And cheap! We got all of this for just $36:

It would cost over $60 if we had bought it at the supermarket.

We solved our quality control issue so now it's just a time thing. I'm hoping that the thought of all this beautiful produce going to waste is enough motivation for me to take the time to actually prepare it.

Friday, 29 January 2010

We'll Order Water Torture Sauce And Economics

Dear Issue that is Making me Wobbly,

Please sort yourself out. You're making me twitchy and unpleasant to live with. I don't think Shawn can handle another incident like last night when that jar of alfredo sauce shattered and I had a complete meltdown.

Sincerely,
The One Rocking Back and Forth and Crying

* * * * *

Dear Grocery Bag that I Dropped on the Concrete Ground of the Parkade

Why did you have to be the bag that I shoved my wallet and blackberry into to free up hand space so I could carry more groceries? Why did you also have to be the bag containing the aforementioned jar of alfredo sauce? Were you jealous because the other grocery bags were full to the brim of lovely tasty groceries and you were the last bag I packed so you only got to carry a few random items? I hope you like your new home ... the garbage. I don't care how reusable you are, jerkface.

Regards,
The One Who May Have Been a Tad Aggressive as She Threw You Out

* * * * *

Dear Stella,

Alfredo sauce is not for puppies!

Love,
The One Who Doesn't Want to Clean Up Your Alfredo Vomit

* * * * *

Dearest Blackberry,

Thank you for working again after I dismantled you and cleaned alfredo sauce out of your every crevice with a q-tip. Now if you could just stop smelling like alfredo sauce we could go back to being friends.

Love,
The One Who Gags Every Time She Answers a Call

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

And Ride The Wobbly Wave Of Fame

I worry. A lot. I worry about everything, all the time. It's a struggle for me, when in the midst of yet another meltdown, to figure out if my anxiety is justified or if it's just the crazy taking over my brain. Sometimes I sort it out quickly (like last night when Shawn forgot to tell me to turn right until we were halfway through the intersection and I started to hyperventilate because I didn't know the area we were driving in and he was supposed to be my navigator and what kind of navigator tells you to turn right when you're halfway through the intersection? But then I made it through the intersection and pulled a u-turn and headed in the right direction. Crisis averted. Universe intact.) But then there are times when life tilts on its side a little and I think that maybe all my anxiety is completely reasonable but there's no way to tell, not for now at least, not for a while, so what do I do? I sit here and I fret and I bite my nails and I write vague things on the internet because writing in detail would make things seem too real. I'm feeling wobbly today is what I'm saying.

Sunday, 24 January 2010

Thursday, 21 January 2010

These Are My Confessions

Neither Shawn nor I have ever cleaned our oven. We moved into our condo over two years ago. There is a patch of black sludge at the bottom. Our smoke alarm randomly goes off when we use it. The oven remains uncleaned.

December 16th was the last time I went to karate. At first I could justify it: the dojo was closed over Christmas and then I had my surgery. Now? Now I'm just lazy. And fat.

I am obsessed with well-groomed eyebrows, mainly because I have no idea how to make mine pretty. I pluck out the unibrowy bits but my brows never look awesome. If I see someone with great eyebrows, I stare. Inappropriately. Like, if I'm talking to someone with great eyebrows I will be unable to maintain eye contact because I'm entranced by their brows. Someone, please, put me out of my misery. How do I get great brows? I've tried having them waxed and threaded; I was not impressed by either and not just because it was ouchie.

I shout at the television when I watch hockey.

Music is a huge part of my life. I listen to music every day. I love listening to my favourite bands but I also love discovering new music to love. I love making playlists for myself (I have playlists for dog-walking, cleaning, commuting, driving - trips under an hour in length and trips over an hour in length, etc.) I love making mixes for my friends. I do not love live shows. I feel like a music failure, like I'm not fully supporting the artists I love because I don't go to their live shows. I used to love going to shows but my anxiety and hatred of large crowds has prevented me from going to any in the last few years. This will all change in April when I go see Muse perform. I'm putting it on the internet so I can't change my mind. I love Muse, I've never seen them live, Shawn and I have ground floor seats = I am going to that show no matter what.

I cannot spell tomorrow without spellcheck. I always double the m. Shame.

I think it's disgusting that Shawn puts jam on his grilled cheese sandwich but I think it's completely normal that I put pickles in my peanut butter sandwich.

Alright peeps, this is a safe place; what are your confessions?

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

If You Think That You're Strong Enough If You Think You Belong Enough Nice Dream

Shawn and I saw Up in the Air a few nights ago (verdict? I absolutely loved it and that's saying a lot because generally I hate movies.) There's a scene (not a spoiler! don't yell at me!) where George Clooney is firing some dude and he makes a comment about how the fired dude's resume says he went to culinary arts school and then ended up working at whatever giant corporationy job that he's being fired from. George Clooney asks fired guy how much the corporation paid him to give up on his dreams and fired guy replies $27,000.

Shawn has not stopped talking about that scene.

Shawn has played bass since he was a kid. He has been in bands and written his own music and played countless shows in bars. He is talented (yes, I fully admit that I am biased when I say that he is talented and no, I don't care.)

He's also really hot.

When Shawn finished college, he was accepted into a jazz program at a school 100 miles from where he lived (necessitating a move to the city, which meant finding a roommate.) He was also offered a job (in his town) selling electronics with a salary of $30,000 per year. He decided to work for a year to save money and then move to the city to attend the jazz program.

That didn't happen. The money kept flowing so he kept working and put his dreams on hold.

Eight years ago he decided to move across the country to Vancouver to see what the music scene was like. He made friends, found a job, joined a band, and settled into his new life on the west coast. And then he met me.

The last five years have been about buying a home, bringing home puppies, getting married, paying bills. So many bills. We've had a lot of fun but we also grew up a little. There hasn't been much room for dreams lately. Depressing, right?

So we're talking things through, trying to figure out if it's possible for Shawn to return to school. It would mean not moving back downtown. Taking fewer holidays. Reducing the fancy cheese budget (horror!) It could also mean getting rid of the motorcycle (victory!)

It's just a discussion prompted by a movie right now. Maybe nothing will come of it. Or maybe I'll get the chance to support Shawn as he follows his dream. It's selfish of me, sure, but being able to help him achieve awesomeness really appeals to me.

Sunday, 17 January 2010

Get On The Snake Where You Never Will Believe

Stella has started doing this thing recently where she tries to press her face into our faces whenever we're lying down. I'd like to think that she's just being affectionate but there is a small part of me that thinks she's just measuring us to see if she can eat us (Dear Ben & Maxie: I forget which one of you told the story of the big snake measuring its owner so I'll blame both of you. I am still disturbed even though snopes proved you wrong. Thanks for that, jerks. Love Hillary.)

I love them.

Him too.

What I don't love is when someone dumps the clean laundry on the bed instead of folding it and putting it away and then someone else makes a bed out of my fresh, clean towels. Not mentioning any names.