When I Was A Young Girl I Used To Drink Ale

This is Barney with his greyhound Tara. Tara was a racing dog. Barney rescued her after she could no longer race. Every day Barney and Tara would sit in the pub and drink beer (ale was his first choice but he'd settle for a Guinness if he didn't like the ale on tap.) Barney would buy a package of pork scratchings and toss them down to Tara as he sipped his beer and told his stories. Barney had the best stories. He told tales of the war and of his Italian girlfriend who he had to leave behind when he was shipped back to England. He would talk of his (British) sweetheart and the life they had and the children they raised before she was taken from him by a faulty vessel in her brain. Barney was a bit of a ladies' man. You could tell from the twinkle in his eye.

The pub was never very busy during the lunch hour so even though I was the only one working, I could sit and listen to Barney talk. Half of the time I had no idea what he was saying; his accent was thick and his voice was muffled and too much drink made his tongue thick. I didn't mind, though. I just loved to listen to him.

I left England five years ago and have only been back to visit once. I used to phone Barney every Sunday but it became too difficult; his hearing was failing and he would get frustrated and emotional and I couldn't stand to hear him upset. I resorted to sending him cards and letters, telling myself I would send something at least once a week. Once a week became once a month and then once a month shamefully became a few times a year.

When Shawn and I got married, I told Barney of our plan to honeymoon in England and Ireland. In every letter he sent me he would ask when I was coming back to England and every time I answered that I was coming back "soon." Our honeymoon got pushed back to 2009, then 2010, and then, far past the point of it being even remotely acceptable to call it a honeymoon, we decided on April 2011. We've been talking and planning for weeks now, trying to figure out a way to make our trip happen. I have been so excited to tell Barney that we weren't going to visit "soon" but had a definite date.

Tonight I found out that Barney was admitted to the hospital last week with kidney failure and passed away. He lived a good, long life and spent his later years lonely and in pain. I know that he is at peace now, or rather I tell myself that he is at peace now, but selfishly I feel sad. Barney was a dear, sweet man and my life was made better because it included him. I just wish that I had managed to make it back to England to see him one last time.

Get On Your Dancing Shoes You Sexy Little Swine

I started the evening in my black strappy heels but after a few stiletto-heel-through-the-deck-planks incidents, which almost resulted in me snapping an ankle, I switched to my silver flats. The weekend was a success. The party was so much fun. There may have been a tad too much gin consumed, as shown in this photo of me and Westy. Also shown in this photo of me and Westy is how desperately I need a tan.

Give Up The World Give Up Your Life Cause You Cannot Fight The Television

I go away for two days - TWO DAYS - and Shawn buys a 52" television and mounts it on our bedroom wall.

I have no words.

* * * * *

I should clarify that we did have a 37" television hanging in the bedroom. Before I met Shawn I was very anti-tv in the bedroom and then I moved into an open concept condo and married an electronics nerd who works in the industry (and has access to ridiculous industry discounts.) So it's not like he put a 52" television in a tv-free zone. It's just ... huge. Also, the 52" television has allegedly been hanging in the bedroom since Friday morning (I left Saturday morning) but I am calling shenanigans on that because it is massive and there is no way that I walked past it numerous times (and slept in the same room!) without noticing. Though it did take me over an hour last night to realize that something was different in the bedroom and then a few more minutes to figure out it was the giant television hanging on the wall.

* * * * *

I should also clarify that I'm not complaining about the massive television. I'm just suggesting to Shawn that perhaps making the bedroom into a mancave was not the brightest idea he's ever had and requesting that he put the massive television out in the living room and put the smaller television in the bedroom. I'm also recommending that future giant television purchases should perhaps be discussed with me (stabby stab stab.)

But I Guess Driving For A Week Or Two Puts Words In Your Mouth So Find Dodge And Then Get Out Of It

Friday Faff: Thursday Night Edition

Thank you all so much for your shoe input! I think I'm going to wear the black strappy heels and tuck a pair of silver flats in my bag for when my feet get too sore (read: I get too wobbly) to wear heels.

* * * * *

I got really overwhelmed by all of the road trip options for when we're in Vegas next week so I gave up and booked us a room at the Sahara for the 2 nights before we head to the wedding hotel. We're going to do a day trip to the Grand Canyon and be satisfied (I keep repeating that because I'm disappointed. Even though I'm the one who made the decision. Yes, living with me is a treat.) I just feel like there is too much room for error (if anyone is going to end up in the middle of the dessert with a busted rental car, it's me) and the timetable is so rushed that I could end up being a raging asshole to my friend. I don't want to be a MIA bridesmaid, you know?

* * * * *

Shawn played an acoustic show at the Roxy last night. It was the first time I've been back to the Roxy since my ill-fated bachelorette party which saw me carted away from the bar in an ambulance (GHB ftw!) It was weird to be there, especially at 9pm on a Wednesday when it was less than busy. I didn't expect to feel a physical reaction to being back there but I did. Nothing drastic, mind you, just a niggling little kernel of discomfort that I attempted to quell with much gin. And then poutine. And then I died because I am far too old for midweek drinking.

* * * * *

Dan Mangan's album Nice, Nice, Very Nice is currently putting a huge smile on my face. Good tunes, fabulous lyrics (seriously - read the lyrics for The Indie Queens are Waiting or Some People and try to tell me they're not lovely. I will fight you) and a tour that's heading through Vancouver in November.

* * * * *

Have a great weekend, lovelies!

So You Think You'd Like To Be In My Shoes

I'm going to a giant family party on Saturday and I need some guidance in the shoe department. I'm going to be wearing my new purple dress (that has been hanging in my closet for over a month with the tags still attached) but I don't know what shoes to wear.

The dress looks like this:

(please excuse my messy kitchen!)

And I will be wearing this fantastic necklace:

(that I made! All by myself!)

My shoes options are as follows:

Bronze metallic wedge, grey wedge, turquoise cork wedge, black and white heels, brown / cork heels, black strappy heels.

The most comfortable pair is the grey wedge but they're also the lowest / most casual pair. I'm leaning toward the black strappy heels because they're the most comfortable pair of high heels I own but they're still 4-inch stilettos. They're not comfortable shoes, they're the most comfortable high heels I own. An important distinction. Also, (this is really silly but, um, I'm really silly) I'm 5'8" - wearing 4-inch heels makes me feel like a giant. It's not so bad when Shawn is there to make me feel wee but he's working this weekend so I'll be solo. I'm not sure if I want to be a solo giant. All of my high heels are at least 3.5 inches but I feel like the wedges are too casual for the dress. I need help!

What do you think?

a: bronze metallic wedge

b: grey wedge

c: turquoise cork wedge

d: black and white heels

e: brown / cork heels

f: black strappy heels

Back Up Tell Me What Ya Gonna Do Now Keep Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'

I finally finished my blogroll!

(concept shamefully borrowed from the lovely Sam Dot Com)

(with her permission so I guess it's less shamefully borrowed and more uncreatively borrowed)

Check it out and let me know what you think (unless you hate it. In which case please do not tell me what you think.) (I'm only half kidding.)

Are The Things That Make You Panic Are Your Thoughts Results Of Static Cling?

So my throat rabies migrated to my sinuses which has resulted in me being even more sick and less pleasant than last week. I am a treat to be around, all grumpy / snotty / whiny. Shawn is pretty damn pleased to be in Toronto for work this week, let me tell you.

I had to have a sinus X-ray this morning because my doctor tried to look up my nose and, uh, couldn't because of my monster sinuses. I'm unclear on what a sinus X-ray will show because I was too busy freaking out about EAR GERMS IN MY NOSE while my doctor explained it to me (she used the light thingy to look in my ears and then up my nose but didn't change the disposable light funnely tip in between. Like some sort of animal.)

You know, the light thingy? And the disposable light funnely tip? I'm fairly certain those are the proper scientific names.




It gets worse.

I go for my sinus X-ray and find out that it entails me sticking my face directly on the X-ray board. Like the board that everyone mashes their body parts up against to be X-rayed, not some fancy disposable board that only my face will be touching. And we're not talking a little cheek or chin, oh no, we're talking full-on nose and mouth touching the communal X-ray board. The tech wiped it down with Windex (seriously, he couldn't at least use an antibacterial wet wipe? What the fuck good is Windex going to do? I was not concerned about the X-ray board being streaky, you know?) before I stuck my face on it but all I could picture during the procedure was the impressively hairy dude from the waiting room who had gone before me and was there for a chest X-ray.

I'm not a total germaphobe. I take public transit, daily. I shake hands with people I've just met. I use public washrooms. I let my dogs lick my face. I'm okay with a certain level of germiness is what I'm saying. But I'm not okay with potentially ingesting a stranger's chest sweat. Actually, I think I'll modify that to "I'm not okay with potentially ingesting anyone's chest sweat" and call it a day.