We hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving that is full of family, friends, and of course food (the last part is from Brandon).
My money is on the turkey....
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
The Unit:
A phrase that has appeared in several of my previous "ramblings" is "The Unit" and thus far this phrase has gone unexplained, a situation I wish to correct, right here, right now. However, before I provide an explanation I feel it is important to first define what "The Unit" is not before explaining what "The Unit" is. Therefore, please indulge the following...
"The Unit" is Not:
... a reference to the CBS television show that went off the air tragically because the network failed to capitalize on a show featuring hot guys in army uniforms (genius I say, genius) (for more information please visit: http://www.cbs.com/primetime/the_unit/ - they really are hot!);
...a form/method of measurement (i.e. one unit of blood... or better yet one unit of alcohol);
...a music group (i.e. "G-Unit");
...a synthpunk band from San Francisco from 1978 to 1984 ("The Units");
...an enzyme cavity; and/or,
...an indie pop album by the Australian band "Regurgitator" (yes, they are named Regurgitator and yes I would like tickets to one of their concerts purely because they are called “Regurgitator”... I wonder if Gravol is a sponsor?).
My Bridesmaids (Wedding Party Party, September 18, 2009)
Now that I have clarified what "The Unit" is not, I would like to clarify what it is... "The Unit" refers to the gang of ladies I am lucky to have support me during the 11 months (eek 11 months!) left before my wedding day... AKA: My Bridesmaids. Therefore, "The Unit" is a term meaning friend and support system and while there is no Wikipedia article that demonstrates this fact just take my word for it... mind you I wouldn't mind being supported by a troop of hot guys in uniform (friend or foe) so perhaps we can hope for a looser definition in the future.
The history of the term (so you don't think I am some crazy, militaristic loon) relates back to a simple conversation I had with "The Unit" at the Wedding Party Party. During the course of the evening I referred to everyone in the Wedding Party as a cohesive group a "Unit" if you will... Now for some reason this turn of phrase sparked concern (errr... terror) for my bridesmaids as for some reason images of me with a whip and a box of invitations to be put together flitted through their heads (not quite sugarplums, but hey it works for me... what is the saying, "absolute power corrupts absolutely"?). Nonetheless, it has warmed to all (by hook or by crook, cough...) and I couldn't be happier with the name [as who knows I may really be a crazy, militaristic loon after all].
And now I would like to introduce you to the group of ladies I am pleased to say comprise "The Unit" (in no particular order):
Megan (Maid of Honour or in keeping with my crazy, militaristic loon side - Lt. General): Megan has been my sister, friend, enemy, confidant, life support and everything in between pretty much since she was born (there was some doubt earlier in this decade, but it has all been resolved) and that is why she is going to stand beside me as my Maid of Honour – we share friendship, as well as a gene pool;
Sisters! Toronto Wedding Show (February 2009)
Elizabeth (Rear Admiral - she travels a lot so that's why she's Navy as opposed to Army): Elizabeth and I met at the felt board on our first day of kindergarten and no matter how far we travel we always come back to the same spot - friendship (err... I don't really travel she does, but for the purposes of my ego let's say we);
We've come a LONG way from the felt board Lady!
Lorraine (Major-General): Having been friends for just over 5 years I have to be honest we met because of chicken (ahh the Swiss), but formed a lasting friendship because of her willingness to put up with Brandon (oh and because of laughter, friendship and me giving her directions… poor girl).
Is it a Monkey? Is it a Pindrop? No (we hope!) it's a Baby!
Mallory (Major General): Whether we are fending off Stratfordian Pirates or in elementary school lip-synching to "I Can't Wait to be King" Mallory's support and friendship has never been far from hand and she can’t run away from it no matter how far she runs (and I mean she can REALLY run far!).
Maybe we should give you a moment?
Now that I have introduced "The Unit" I would like to add a couple of other add ons to my contingent that cannot be omitted despite their gender, location or species... they are as follows:
Laura (Queen Mum): Being the head of the female branch of my family my mom performs every job from Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to Medic... (tear);
Robert (Admiral): Being the head of the male branch of my family he too performs every job from Quartermaster to Latrine Duty... (I love you guys);
They must love me...
Kathy (AWOL): From Pathfinders to Swiss, Kathy is a true friend… despite the fact she has taken off for the beautiful mountains of BC she is not far from my mind (I miss you Kathy);
Doesn't she make a beautiful bride? (Kathy's Wedding - July 2006)
Piper (Private): Piper is definitely in the wedding party even if my mother is still opposed to the plan and his not so human status may create a few obstacles to the overall success of my getting up the aisle (he will want my bouquet guaranteed). Nevertheless, Private Piper cannot be left out as he serves as the Court Jester and performs the supply end of the supply and demand chain of Dad’s latrine duty.
Fashion Forward? Look at how the blue brings out his fur...
Coming Next Spring - "Barking Up The Fashion Tree: Queer Eye for the Straight Dog"
Now that you have been formally introduced to "The Unit" it is time to say good night; it is Friday and while I may be the General of this rag-tag team of Army/Navy/Deserters I always have zero energy on Friday nights. However, if you take anything from this posting please keep the following in mind: I am looking for a team of hot guys in uniform to support me (love you ladies and all, but really don’t you think the wedding might be more fun?)... mind you I guess I could settle for a guy I love to pieces and wouldn’t trade for a million bucks (he does wear a uniform after all!).
Now for those of you who are concerned that I have forgotten Brandon's crew, don't worry.
There will be a description to follow soon.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
An Ode to Cindy from Michigan
Searching for the right wedding dress is not a simple task. I have heard rumours of girls putting a dress on and just "knowing"... well it hasn't been that simple for me and there is one reason for that and one reason alone: THE INTERNET. I think the Internet may be the worst invention for weddings since the credit card - and this is not an exaggeration. Think about this for a minute - instead of being limited and therefore content with the selection available in your local stores every bride now settles into her computer chair and starts GOOGLING (another problem as the solution to everything is, "oh I'll figure that out, I'll just Google it). What happens when one starts Googling and surfing the web? Well one finds a beautiful dress and naturally "assumes" that it will not be difficult to find locally, regionally, provincially, nationally or internationally... therefore today's blog is my tale of trying to find the dress of my dreams (anyone up for a short jaunt to Korea or perhaps Peru?).
My initial discovery that this wasn't going to be as easy as I imagined came to light when I went to try on dresses for the first time with my mom and sister. We arrived at the bridal store picture in hand and were all set to start trying dresses on - SPECIFICALLY THE ONE I HAD FOUND ON THE INTERNET... but nope, I found out that while they may carry the designer of the dress they do not carry the actual dress itself... urgh and sigh. That being said I tried on a number of dresses, several of which were beautiful and left with a lot to think about. The problem was that I couldn't forget about the dress, THE dress that I had found on the Internet. I just kept wondering what it would look like... would it be similar, would I look awful, would it make my mom start to cry when she saw me wearing it, would I feel like a million bucks, would Brandon fall in love with me a little more when he saw it?
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Therefore, I printed off the listing of every store in Ontario carrying this designer and started phoning... from Thunder Bay to Renfrew, Ontario I called. Some stores were really helpful, some were plain rude, and others well... we will just leave it at that. Finally, I exhausted all of Ontario and was traumatized to realize that while all were willing to order the dress for me; none had the dress in stock so I could try it on before spending a nice car down payment to see what it looked like. Who buys a dress without trying it on?
My next step was to print off the listings for New York State and Pennsylvania - I assumed this would be a synch! So once more I started calling, I called about 60% of New York and about 40% of Pennsylvania and was about to give up my will to use a telephone (blackened finger tips from dialling, broken nails, inner ear damage, etc...; I am sure you can imagine the sorry state I was in), until... I hit upon a winner. Please find below a short re-creation of my conversation (please note that this is relatively accurate and not been altered for publication):
Well the girl mopes for a few days, contemplates giving up, but then suddenly gets a renewed sense of direction. So I started making more calls and more calls. I started calling stores in Montreal to see if perhaps our neighbours to the East might open more doors for me, but alas... they did not. In fact I felt a little slammed shut on a few time; the worst phone call thus far was with one of those stores. The woman answered the phone with this huge string of French (still no idea what she said) and I trying to be polite said "parlez-vous Anglais?". To which her reply was another string of French, from which I discerned that no she does not speak English, nor why would she want to. Nonetheless, I gave it the old college try and started to explain in my own halted grade eleven French what I was looking for... to be fair there were a lot of ummms, errrs, and a few quietly mumbled swear words in the sentence as I tried to communicate in broken sentences. This lasted for about 3-4 minutes until the woman finally interrupted me and made a statement I will remember for the rest of my life: "this is going to take forever, what is it that you are looking for?" In perfect, unaccented English - SERIOUSLY!
Obviously I didn't find what I was looking for at that store, nor did the rest of Quebec pan out, but I still had two things on my side - desperation and a picture from the Internet of a beautiful dress... (DARN YOU INTERNET!). So I again took a day off to ponder my situation and then felt a renewed sense of inspiration as I hadn't called ALL of New York State or Pennsylvania and there are a couple of other states close at hand, Michigan for example. There is still hope.
So I began once more. However this time I was assisted by my delightful co-worker Denise who felt equally (?) determined to find this dress for me. So we began again and again and again. We kept the drive going and on the GO Train we started making more calls from our luxurious seat in the stair case practically sitting on top of each other (Denise was the scribe and I was the caller). She dictated phone numbers and we dialled and dialled. From Ann Arbour to the moon we kept searching until we struck gold with Cindy** from Michigan.
Now before I explain about striking gold I would like to detail the reason I did not call the designer directly to see if they could help - I couldn't get the telephone number. Apparently the way it works is the dress stores are the only ones really able to call designers directly as I guess (for reasons such as this) the designer does not want to be inundated with calls (some customer service!). I had heard about this legendary number in hushed whispers and Morse Code, but never actually had heard it - it was as mysterious as the Loch Ness Monster, but perhaps more elusive... until Cindy entered my life.
I explained my situation to Cindy and with Denise and I holding baited breaths along with the rest of our growing GO Train audience she repeated another sentence I will remember for the rest of my life, "ummm... I am not supposed to tell you this and don't tell anyone where you got it, but... call 1-XXX-XXX-XXXX and they can tell you who has the dress - JUST DON'T TELL ANYONE OR I WILL GET FIRED!" - She "deep throated" out the location of my future wedding dress! I love you Cindy!
EUREKA!
Obviously I accepted the number graciously and with trembling hands dialled. I was connected and within 5 minutes had the location of the dress. I called and they were delightful. So as a result of my family's great patience with my nuttiness (my dad Googled it and found a telephone number, but it is in Peru, so I think I would rather avoid calling that...), Denise's dedication, Mallory's willingness to drive to PA, Mom and Megan's efforts to find similar dresses, and my own Internet searches (cough, cough) and of course my forth coming long distance bill, I am heading to Pennsylvania to see the dress. Mind you, knowing my luck I will get there and it will be purple, size 30 and a pant suit, but we will cross that bridge when and if it comes.
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I guess I can thank the Internet for one thing... this story (but that is all we can thank the Internet for mind you). I will keep you posted on the search and our trip... hopefully I will return with a dress that makes me smile, my mom weep and Brandon fall in love with me a little more than he has already... keep your fingers crossed!
* Cannot provide dress name as do not want to ruin wedding day by virtue of the Googleability of the dress... ARRRRGGGGH THE INTERNET (eek now I sound like a Stratfordian Pirate...).
** Name has been altered to protect identity as per agreement made in desperation.
My initial discovery that this wasn't going to be as easy as I imagined came to light when I went to try on dresses for the first time with my mom and sister. We arrived at the bridal store picture in hand and were all set to start trying dresses on - SPECIFICALLY THE ONE I HAD FOUND ON THE INTERNET... but nope, I found out that while they may carry the designer of the dress they do not carry the actual dress itself... urgh and sigh. That being said I tried on a number of dresses, several of which were beautiful and left with a lot to think about. The problem was that I couldn't forget about the dress, THE dress that I had found on the Internet. I just kept wondering what it would look like... would it be similar, would I look awful, would it make my mom start to cry when she saw me wearing it, would I feel like a million bucks, would Brandon fall in love with me a little more when he saw it?
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A Shopping We Will Go...
The good ole days (before finding out that dress shopping is not quite that simple)
Therefore, I printed off the listing of every store in Ontario carrying this designer and started phoning... from Thunder Bay to Renfrew, Ontario I called. Some stores were really helpful, some were plain rude, and others well... we will just leave it at that. Finally, I exhausted all of Ontario and was traumatized to realize that while all were willing to order the dress for me; none had the dress in stock so I could try it on before spending a nice car down payment to see what it looked like. Who buys a dress without trying it on?
My next step was to print off the listings for New York State and Pennsylvania - I assumed this would be a synch! So once more I started calling, I called about 60% of New York and about 40% of Pennsylvania and was about to give up my will to use a telephone (blackened finger tips from dialling, broken nails, inner ear damage, etc...; I am sure you can imagine the sorry state I was in), until... I hit upon a winner. Please find below a short re-creation of my conversation (please note that this is relatively accurate and not been altered for publication):
Marie: "Hi, do you have x* dress, by Maggie Sottero in stock?"So I hang up the phone and begin to make plans for the great sojourn as I like to call it. We set a date to go and everything is just sailing along until Wanda calls back and says that the dress is backordered until sometime in 2015 (well that might be an exaggeration) and beyond that the sample size is about the right size for a Barbie (and Barbie I am not). So where does that leave me you ask? Basically back at square zero, but with a date set to go to Pennsylvania... what's a girl to do?
Wanda (sales girl): "Ummmm... let me go check" [puts phone down and I can hear ruffling of paper and things moving around], "no we don't have it, but has anyone told you about "Maggie on Tour?"
Marie: "Maggie on Tour? No, I have only called 120 dress stores why would anyone mention MAGGIE ON TOUR to me?
Wanda: "Well Sugar [yes I was called sugar, ironic no?] it works like this, you pay between $50 to $100 and Maggie sends the dress to the store in question for you to try on, if you like it order one in your size, colour etc... And basically Bob's your uncle [well he's actually my father, but who am I to criticize]".
Marie: "YEAH! Do they offer this in Canada?"
Wanda: "Errr no..."
Marie: "Figures - Pennsylvania here I come!" [not Hollywood, but it works anyway].
Well the girl mopes for a few days, contemplates giving up, but then suddenly gets a renewed sense of direction. So I started making more calls and more calls. I started calling stores in Montreal to see if perhaps our neighbours to the East might open more doors for me, but alas... they did not. In fact I felt a little slammed shut on a few time; the worst phone call thus far was with one of those stores. The woman answered the phone with this huge string of French (still no idea what she said) and I trying to be polite said "parlez-vous Anglais?". To which her reply was another string of French, from which I discerned that no she does not speak English, nor why would she want to. Nonetheless, I gave it the old college try and started to explain in my own halted grade eleven French what I was looking for... to be fair there were a lot of ummms, errrs, and a few quietly mumbled swear words in the sentence as I tried to communicate in broken sentences. This lasted for about 3-4 minutes until the woman finally interrupted me and made a statement I will remember for the rest of my life: "this is going to take forever, what is it that you are looking for?" In perfect, unaccented English - SERIOUSLY!
Brandon and I during our recent Montreal trip...
see no hard feelings (well kind of!)
Obviously I didn't find what I was looking for at that store, nor did the rest of Quebec pan out, but I still had two things on my side - desperation and a picture from the Internet of a beautiful dress... (DARN YOU INTERNET!). So I again took a day off to ponder my situation and then felt a renewed sense of inspiration as I hadn't called ALL of New York State or Pennsylvania and there are a couple of other states close at hand, Michigan for example. There is still hope.
So I began once more. However this time I was assisted by my delightful co-worker Denise who felt equally (?) determined to find this dress for me. So we began again and again and again. We kept the drive going and on the GO Train we started making more calls from our luxurious seat in the stair case practically sitting on top of each other (Denise was the scribe and I was the caller). She dictated phone numbers and we dialled and dialled. From Ann Arbour to the moon we kept searching until we struck gold with Cindy** from Michigan.
Now before I explain about striking gold I would like to detail the reason I did not call the designer directly to see if they could help - I couldn't get the telephone number. Apparently the way it works is the dress stores are the only ones really able to call designers directly as I guess (for reasons such as this) the designer does not want to be inundated with calls (some customer service!). I had heard about this legendary number in hushed whispers and Morse Code, but never actually had heard it - it was as mysterious as the Loch Ness Monster, but perhaps more elusive... until Cindy entered my life.
I explained my situation to Cindy and with Denise and I holding baited breaths along with the rest of our growing GO Train audience she repeated another sentence I will remember for the rest of my life, "ummm... I am not supposed to tell you this and don't tell anyone where you got it, but... call 1-XXX-XXX-XXXX and they can tell you who has the dress - JUST DON'T TELL ANYONE OR I WILL GET FIRED!" - She "deep throated" out the location of my future wedding dress! I love you Cindy!
EUREKA!
Obviously I accepted the number graciously and with trembling hands dialled. I was connected and within 5 minutes had the location of the dress. I called and they were delightful. So as a result of my family's great patience with my nuttiness (my dad Googled it and found a telephone number, but it is in Peru, so I think I would rather avoid calling that...), Denise's dedication, Mallory's willingness to drive to PA, Mom and Megan's efforts to find similar dresses, and my own Internet searches (cough, cough) and of course my forth coming long distance bill, I am heading to Pennsylvania to see the dress. Mind you, knowing my luck I will get there and it will be purple, size 30 and a pant suit, but we will cross that bridge when and if it comes.
.jpg)
How the men in my life felt about my search!
(FYI This is Amandeep (my sister's beau) and Brandon having their heads knocked in
by none other than my Dad... that's familial love if I have ever seen it before)
I guess I can thank the Internet for one thing... this story (but that is all we can thank the Internet for mind you). I will keep you posted on the search and our trip... hopefully I will return with a dress that makes me smile, my mom weep and Brandon fall in love with me a little more than he has already... keep your fingers crossed!
* Cannot provide dress name as do not want to ruin wedding day by virtue of the Googleability of the dress... ARRRRGGGGH THE INTERNET (eek now I sound like a Stratfordian Pirate...).
** Name has been altered to protect identity as per agreement made in desperation.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
How The Boar's Head Proved Why It Is Good to Be Getting Married
Who knew a weekend in Stratford could completely convince a girl that the single life is not all it is cracked up to be?
As many know I have been attached to Brandon since high school and as a result have never played an active role in the "singles' circuit". Mind you, I do wish to clarify that I have no problem observing the "circuit" from the position of arm chair quarterback or better yet "wing-woman" (I am very PC in my terminology) and it was through this position I found myself in a bar in Stratford serving as first lieutenant to my unit* member Mallory.
As this post could be the longest ever as per our experience, I have decided to narrow my tale of how The Boar's Head proved why getting married is great down to three examples of single men we encountered... kind of like the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker (if you will) of Stratford's singles' circuit.
First Example - The Cabinet Maker
In order to give you an idea of what he looked like I should explain that I was torn between calling this gentleman the Cabinet Maker or the Mullet Man (enough said?). He came over to our table after Mallory and I shared a laugh with one of his friends (the laugh relates to example #2 - I will explain later). He was in his 40s and was quite interested in Mallory. He was also (cough) a tad over weight and looked like he had been drinking a 2-4/smoking 3 packs a day for all of recent memory.
There were two parts of this encounter that I thought were the most entertaining, 1) the fact he expended a great amount of effort towards detailing for Mallory about his own history of physical exercise (at minimum 2 hours a day, weights, running...), and 2) when Mallory abandoned me to go to the washroom and he subsequently went out for a cigarette his friends wanted full details as to Mallory's single status as well as her age and whether she was interested in this lovely mullet headed cabinet maker (and obviously being the true friend I am, I suggested she was).
Second Example - The Pirate
The Pirate was actually a member of a group of individuals celebrating "International Talk Like a Pirate Day" (who knew?). For more information visit: http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html. They were all dressed like Pirates with eye patches, swords, and flags. While no one in this group did more than ogle at Mallory it was still fascinating to see these people wandering around AARGHing and drinking.
One member of this group that was predominately was composed of 20 somethings stood out. This man's role was to be the "flag waver", he was 40-ish and looked so proud to have the role of waving the skull and cross bone flag with this group of swashbucklers. Frankly, while he didn't actually make a move I have to say that just the very possibility of such an event makes me feel relieved that I have a perfect first line of defence - my engagement ring (nice to look at and would also serve as a handy form of self defence).
Third Example - The Map Master
While we ran into The Map Master on our way out of Stratford as opposed to at the Boar's Head I feel he nonetheless needs to be included as a prime example of why again I am thrilled to be getting married.
Mallory and I were stopped trying to figure out if we should turn left or right to get to the 401 when this white van pulled up alongside our car. Mallory waved the driver onwards and he pulled around to go in front of us. It took him approximately 3 Mississippis before he reversed and asked us if we needed directions. After inquiring where we were from and where we needed to go he provided udirections (smiling continually like an idiot) and proceeded to move forward for about two Mississippis worth of time. After which he reversed again and said "I don't normally do this..." (ummm can you say cheesy?), but he was hoping Mallory would see him again and proceeded to yell his e-mail address through the car window. He gets points for dedication, but frankly he lost them for the following: 1) being 20 years too old, 2) driving a white mini-van (even red or black would have been better), 3) having a yappy little dog on his lap in the front seat, and 4) can you say future stalker material?
I hope these three examples serve as clean cut examples of why I consider myself incredibly lucky to be getting married (thank you Brandon!). This reality means I can now settle into my role as soon-to-be married "wing woman" (and hopeful matchmaker - look at the future love match I may have orchestrated between Mallory and the Cabinet Maker!).
And now as I go to sleep I feel completely content in knowing that the Cabinet Maker, the Pirate and the Map Master are still out there fighting the good fight in the land of singledom (and hopefully staying well away from my friends).
PS Congratulations to Mallory - she placed first in her age group for the Duathalon - 5 km run, 30 km bike, 5 km run (the reason we were in Stratford!) - You're Amazing Mal :-) I am so proud of you.
* To be explained in a later post
As many know I have been attached to Brandon since high school and as a result have never played an active role in the "singles' circuit". Mind you, I do wish to clarify that I have no problem observing the "circuit" from the position of arm chair quarterback or better yet "wing-woman" (I am very PC in my terminology) and it was through this position I found myself in a bar in Stratford serving as first lieutenant to my unit* member Mallory.
As this post could be the longest ever as per our experience, I have decided to narrow my tale of how The Boar's Head proved why getting married is great down to three examples of single men we encountered... kind of like the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker (if you will) of Stratford's singles' circuit.
First Example - The Cabinet Maker
In order to give you an idea of what he looked like I should explain that I was torn between calling this gentleman the Cabinet Maker or the Mullet Man (enough said?). He came over to our table after Mallory and I shared a laugh with one of his friends (the laugh relates to example #2 - I will explain later). He was in his 40s and was quite interested in Mallory. He was also (cough) a tad over weight and looked like he had been drinking a 2-4/smoking 3 packs a day for all of recent memory.
There were two parts of this encounter that I thought were the most entertaining, 1) the fact he expended a great amount of effort towards detailing for Mallory about his own history of physical exercise (at minimum 2 hours a day, weights, running...), and 2) when Mallory abandoned me to go to the washroom and he subsequently went out for a cigarette his friends wanted full details as to Mallory's single status as well as her age and whether she was interested in this lovely mullet headed cabinet maker (and obviously being the true friend I am, I suggested she was).
Second Example - The Pirate
The Pirate was actually a member of a group of individuals celebrating "International Talk Like a Pirate Day" (who knew?). For more information visit: http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html. They were all dressed like Pirates with eye patches, swords, and flags. While no one in this group did more than ogle at Mallory it was still fascinating to see these people wandering around AARGHing and drinking.
One member of this group that was predominately was composed of 20 somethings stood out. This man's role was to be the "flag waver", he was 40-ish and looked so proud to have the role of waving the skull and cross bone flag with this group of swashbucklers. Frankly, while he didn't actually make a move I have to say that just the very possibility of such an event makes me feel relieved that I have a perfect first line of defence - my engagement ring (nice to look at and would also serve as a handy form of self defence).
Third Example - The Map Master
While we ran into The Map Master on our way out of Stratford as opposed to at the Boar's Head I feel he nonetheless needs to be included as a prime example of why again I am thrilled to be getting married.
Mallory and I were stopped trying to figure out if we should turn left or right to get to the 401 when this white van pulled up alongside our car. Mallory waved the driver onwards and he pulled around to go in front of us. It took him approximately 3 Mississippis before he reversed and asked us if we needed directions. After inquiring where we were from and where we needed to go he provided udirections (smiling continually like an idiot) and proceeded to move forward for about two Mississippis worth of time. After which he reversed again and said "I don't normally do this..." (ummm can you say cheesy?), but he was hoping Mallory would see him again and proceeded to yell his e-mail address through the car window. He gets points for dedication, but frankly he lost them for the following: 1) being 20 years too old, 2) driving a white mini-van (even red or black would have been better), 3) having a yappy little dog on his lap in the front seat, and 4) can you say future stalker material?
I hope these three examples serve as clean cut examples of why I consider myself incredibly lucky to be getting married (thank you Brandon!). This reality means I can now settle into my role as soon-to-be married "wing woman" (and hopeful matchmaker - look at the future love match I may have orchestrated between Mallory and the Cabinet Maker!).
And now as I go to sleep I feel completely content in knowing that the Cabinet Maker, the Pirate and the Map Master are still out there fighting the good fight in the land of singledom (and hopefully staying well away from my friends).
PS Congratulations to Mallory - she placed first in her age group for the Duathalon - 5 km run, 30 km bike, 5 km run (the reason we were in Stratford!) - You're Amazing Mal :-) I am so proud of you.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Reason #1012 Why I Love Brandon
Many people are aware of this, but for your information corny is my middle name... I am constantly telling lame jokes and/or laughing at the most ridiculous things. However, in relation to the wedding I am trying to be reasonable about this delightful personality trait (errr... flaw to some, cough) as I am quite positive no one wants to attend/go to a) a sob fest, b) a reception with lengthy, boring speeches where you debate which utensil to stab yourself in the eye with, and/or c) a room filled with hearts, pictures of kittens, or something equally over the top.
In fact as a demonstration of how reasonable I am I did not once pout, complain, nag, cry, whine, or have any other emotional outburst when I asked Brandon ten-ish months ago to perform a handfasting ceremony with me one year and a day before our wedding and he said flat out no. You see I am above that and I have class which is why I did not get upsent when I was told "no way on earth" (that is my polite translation of the situation).
For those of you who are wondering, handfasting is a primarily Scottish tradition that involves the couple-to-be clasping hands and sharing a vow while their hands are bound with ribbon/cord/string (etc...). This was commonly used back in the "day" (16th, 17th,18th, 19th centuries) because priests were in high demand and sometimes it would take nearly a year before one would pass through the village (thank God for the Model T). Nowadays this ceremony has become a little bit pagan, but don't worry I am not one to veer off the beaten path (forget broomsticks and toe of newt)... all I wanted was to have a moment to pledge my love in a true Scottish fashion and if our hands were tied, so be it. For more information visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handfasting.
Nonetheless, the toilet factor actually gave me an opportunity to prove how adept I am at getting my act together. Therefore 10 minutes later I was dressed (clean) and ready to roll. Mind you I kept muttering about toilets and cleaning products, but that is entirely beside the point.
When we went outside my parents had lit the gas fire and the deck was filled with candles/torches (two thumbs up to all for style and taste). My mom (who from this point onwards shall be called the greatest mom ever) performed the ceremony and bound our wrists with 13 different colours of ribbon. For more information visit: http://www.handfasting.info/h_symbols.html. PS I am not kidding about my mom she was fantastic!
The absolute best part of the evening was Brandon. His vow was tear jerking (as he demonstrated (cough), but don't tell anyone that's a secret and he would kill me if he knew I told!). He even incorporated his love of my singing voice. That has to be love and dedication because frankly I have heard the noise I make when I sing and it probably shouldn't even be classified as singing... perhaps more like a screechy off pitch wailing - love might be blind, but who knew it was deaf?
Pretty good reason to love Brandon, eh?
Mom's Debut...
At any rate, as a result of my maturity and understanding of Brandon's lack of interest in the ceremony I let it slip my mind and continued on with life, until... I was in the bathroom zestfully scrubbing the toilet (on September 17) when the phone rang (FYI this is 9 o'clock at night). A few seconds later my mother walked into the bathroom and told me I had 10 minutes to get cleaned up as Brandon and I were going to be handfast. Now as for my reaction, was it joy, surprise, frustration? No it was confusion... I kept saying, "but I am cleaning the toilet" and asking why if I were going to be HANDFAST would no one see fit to MENTION this fact...
Nonetheless, the toilet factor actually gave me an opportunity to prove how adept I am at getting my act together. Therefore 10 minutes later I was dressed (clean) and ready to roll. Mind you I kept muttering about toilets and cleaning products, but that is entirely beside the point.
I guess this is where the saying "attached at the hip" came from...
The absolute best part of the evening was Brandon. His vow was tear jerking (as he demonstrated (cough), but don't tell anyone that's a secret and he would kill me if he knew I told!). He even incorporated his love of my singing voice. That has to be love and dedication because frankly I have heard the noise I make when I sing and it probably shouldn't even be classified as singing... perhaps more like a screechy off pitch wailing - love might be blind, but who knew it was deaf?
Ummmm... it could be an uncomfortable marriage if we stay like this!
Between the vows, my wonderful family being there and Mallory joining us as photographer for the night the whole night was wonderful. Brandon completely fooled me and made the whole thing a surprise... and despite the toilet cleaning I wouldn't of changed a thing (mind you it would have been a nice touch if he had promised to clean toilets for the rest of our marriage, but we can't have it all). Pretty good reason to love Brandon, eh?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Da Wedding Party Party
The first lesson a soon-to-be bride learns is that scheduling is a nightmare. Trying to get everyone together at the same time and in the same place is an impossible task. However, I was successful and this past Friday night the ladies and gents of our wedding party came over to celebrate the fact there are only 365 days until we buy them dinner again... aren't we nice? (Kidding All) Actually it was lovely to have everyone together as we are lucky to have a fantastic group of friends and family.
The other benefit of having a wedding party party (or WPP as I like to call it when I am pretending to be a rapper - don't worry I do finger movements and everything) is that Brandon and I got to practice having a dinner party. This may not seem important to most but as my cooking experience is limited at best it is always good to show off what I cannot do (thanks mom for your help and everyone else who brought food!). Frankly, I think mom just helped in order to ensure no horrifying food poisoning tales came from the "sick, rad, happenin' partay called da W-P-P" (sorry rapper mode got turned on by accident).
Now the one hiccup in the evening was the unfortunate attempt murder on my life... can you see the newspaper headings? It was worsened because it was my future husband that performed the attack... perhaps he is a hit man in disguise? We were standing forcing everyone to take pictures ad nauseum and Brandon "innocently" (ha!) put his arm around my neck... and one thing led to another and I got pushed... I have heard rumours it was my mom that was involved with an elbow, but frankly I am not sure (Brandon and Mom tag teaming my demise?). Okay I will move on, but peeps (rapper mode) I be watchin' for any more wacked moves.
Anyway, thanks again wedding party for coming and joining in on the fun and just think... less than a year till you can get your life back!
I love him!
The other benefit of having a wedding party party (or WPP as I like to call it when I am pretending to be a rapper - don't worry I do finger movements and everything) is that Brandon and I got to practice having a dinner party. This may not seem important to most but as my cooking experience is limited at best it is always good to show off what I cannot do (thanks mom for your help and everyone else who brought food!). Frankly, I think mom just helped in order to ensure no horrifying food poisoning tales came from the "sick, rad, happenin' partay called da W-P-P" (sorry rapper mode got turned on by accident).
(From Back Left to Right) Megan, Lanny, Dad (AKA Rob), Brandon, Terry, Sue, John, Jason, Amandeep, Mom (AKA Laura), Me (AKA Marie), Lorraine, Adam, Mallory, Piper (dignified gentleman in the collar), Elizabeth, Alyssa, Lorraine (Missing From Picture, But Attended: Meaghan, Ryder and Rhys)
This was taken directly following the attempt on my life...
opinions anyone?
Anyway, thanks again wedding party for coming and joining in on the fun and just think... less than a year till you can get your life back!
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