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I’m on a boat!

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Enroute to the big smoke!

Merrily we drive to Van, after being THE LAST CAR ON THE FERRY.

This weekend, Adam and I are going to Vancouver for a romantical getaway. I know: “Get a room, guys,” right? We’ll stay at Adam’s brother, Brendan’s, place, which is in False Creek. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, since you very well may have no idea where that is. But it’s lovely and while we stay there (Adam lived with Bren during his 8 months of co-op terms in Van), I like to pretend we live in this fabulous downtown-ish condo and are all metropolitan and stylish. Hey, it works for me.

Needless to say, picking outfits is of great importance for such a jaunt, since LET ME TELL YOU, there is a great void in the middle of the Georgia Strait, into which all style is absorbed before passengers alight upon Vancouver Island. I’m not being snotty, since I live on the island and love it there, but seriously, you guys: Something happens between Schwartz Bay and Tsawwassen and it’s not fashionable. I mean, I have left Victoria feeling like I’m lookin’ pretty put together, and by the time I reach Vancouver, I feel like I’m a clamdigger gone far, far astray.

It probably has something to do with the shopping. Vancouver has way better shopping. Don’t even get me started on Seattle (oh, I love you, Nordstrom Rack). Since Adam began his coaching training south of the 49th Parallel, I’ve become much more stylish (in my humble opinion). The options and prices are just SO much better. Victoria has some awesome indie shops and labels, but the prices are pretty much out of my grasp.

To be fair, though, I think a lot of my style metamorphosis has come about thanks to Pinterest. I’ve always had great ideas of what I’d like to do, but without the pieces, it’s hard to put it into action. I like to peruse the ensembles and see what works for me and what I might be able to do. I’ve learned that I can play with accessories (something I think I’ve really shied away from in the past), which really helps to refresh my pieces and enables a much more creative use of my wardrobe. And yes, my wardrobe is plentiful. I’ve got a good idea of what I like and I take exceptionally good care of my clothes. Clothes and fashion bring me a lot of joy, which sounds lame and materialistic, but really, it’s just a way I like to express my creativity (along with every other thing I do all day long—I’m an artist at heart. Always was.).

And then there’s my shoes. My affection for footwear is really enough fodder for an entire blog, or at least it’s own post, so I won’t say much in this one, but suffice it to say that my mother’s been calling me Imelda Marcos for as long as I can remember. I like shoes, and I like good ones, at that. Really, I like good quality everything. I’m not a brand junkie, but I know what I like, and when that coincides with a quality item, I’m sold (over and over again). I think that’s the topic of another post.

So, where was I going with this massive digression? Oh yes, to Vancouver. Where there is shopping (though I have not a lot of money and am aware of my impending trip to Seattle next weekend…). Adam still owes me a birthday present and we decided we’d shop for it together (that’s a two-fer for me!)… I’ll let you know how it turns out!

What do you like to spend your money on? Are clothes and fashion as a form of personal expression important to your identity? If not, what is?

Summertime, I love you.

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Heyo! Isn’t summer great? I mean, it’s all warm and smells like Hawaiian Tropic (the good scent that made you do this when you applied it, before they went and changed the scent <<shakes head sadly>>).

I’ve been out being all summery, which has been great (there’s that word again), since we’ve had a bunch of warm weather ’round these parts. I had begun to think we would never have summer sun + heat together again, ever. Luckily, it came and things got all toasty. Of course, I have yet to be able to coordinate a trip to a beach/lake/lawn with a bathing suit, so thus far (and really, summer’s kind of wrapping up and slipping into fall), my bronzed glow is restricted embarrassingly and quite obviously to my running and cycling shorts. Sun safe? Yes. Summer fun and sexy? Not so much…

I started my archery lessons last week. I’m pretty much a natural. Except for how I managed to repeatedly catch myself with my bow string and wound up with a series of bruises. And yes, I did enjoy explaining how I got them. Is that weird?

Also, know what? You know how they make archery look on TV and in movies? Like Legolas and Katniss? Yeah, that’s not incredibly realistic, it turns out. Now, you guys, this may not surprise you, but it does me, a little. And not just because I’m incredibly trusting and gullible, either. I mean, one would imagine that there must be a nugget, or at least a grain, of truth to what we see on the silver screen. Come on, Hollywood: it’s not like I’ll never figure it out that you’re lying to me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it looks like I will not be

  1. Shooting from a stampeding oliphant.
  2. Shooting rapidly at multiple attackers.
  3. Swiftly plucking arrows from my shoulder-slung quiver and firing them in one graceful motion.

That’s okay, though. It’s still pretty fun and my mom is hilarious (I signed her up for the classes, too)!

We're going that-a-way.

We went sailing on Sunday on my Aunt and Uncle’s boat, The Mantra, in Cowichan Bay. It was awesome. Check out my golden non-marking Sperrys.

 

 

Girl’s week in! (the place is a mess and it’s only day 1)

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So, Adam’s away in Penticton for work. That’s right: It’s just me and the cats. Uh huh, Adam’s been gone, what, maybe 15 hours, and the house looks like a disaster. Sigh. It’s not my fault. I wanted to make delicious dinner for me and I was indecisive, so I kind of sort of picked everything. The resulting mess is probably somewhat related to the fact that the BBQ was running out of gas, so I was prepping in a hurry.

Oh fine. I’ll come clean (even if the kitchen won’t): I hate doing dishes. Wash the floor, clean the bathrooms (and I mean eat-off-the-toilet-not-because-you-would-but-because-you-could clean), vacuum and dust like an allergy-ridden Stepford wife with OCD? I’m on it. But put away dirty dishes? I can’t. Why? The dishwasher is full. Of clean dishes. Clean dishes I would have to put away first, before I could do anything to the dirty ones. I mean, come ON, you guys. That’s epic. Just thinking about it makes me need to take an ice cream break.

Excuse me. I need ice cream… Here’s a picture to keep you occupied during this little intermission:

Hermes the Handsome

My friend Janice is a graphic designer and decided Hermes needed a bow tie. I think we can all agree that she is correct.

Ok. Ice cream acquired and in the process of being eaten. Check. (Just for the record, took me like 34 seconds to hook up a bowl of chocolate chip mint. I gots me a system.)

So I was thinking the other day how I haven’t really posted much about France. Weird, because it was the best trip ever. Seriously, it was amazing. I have always wanted to go to France and while I’ve been super blessed and fortunate to visit some amazing corners of this world, Europe always seemed to stay just out of reach. After wanting to see France for as long as I can remember (it’s the first place I ever wanted to travel to see), I think I was a little worried it wouldn’t live up to my expectations, inflated as they had been over the years.

I’m happy to report, however, that I needn’t have worried. France, you see, is amazing. It’s beautiful. It reminded me of Disneyland a little, where they repaint the garbage cans every night, lest there be any chipped paint, unseemly marks or mild imperfections even on the trash receptacles. My first impression of France, after coming out of the metro station on the first morning — enroute to the Eiffel Tower — was that Paris was stunning. I almost expected it to be just a false front, and if I peeked around the corner, I’d see the city that looked like every other city. But that wasn’t the case. Paris and all the rest of France was just gorgeous. My friends, I’m talking about make-your-heart-sing beautiful.

Paris

First thing I saw. Super-beautiful shiny pretty things. Oh, Paris!

To be totally fair, that was actually my second impression. My very first impression was that it was very busy. This could be due to the fact that we’d been traveling for, oh, 97 hours (fine, it was more like 36 hours, but still) and we landed in Paris on a Saturday night. With luggage that was WAAAAY too big (lesson learned: pack light[er]). We were trying to navigate the metro system, which, just for the record, neither Adam nor myself had ever experienced, after a travel-filled and sleepless 36 hours. I was tired. I was greasy. I was wearing Lululemon pants and no make up, in PARIS. I was concerned we’d lost Jen and Jon and I’d have to call Auntie Carol and explain that we’d misplaced her only daughter.

See, we’d also been waiting at the Charles de Gaulle airport for over 3 hours waiting for Jen and Jon (who turned out to have missed the stop and continued into the city, thinking they’d missed us and would meet us at the hotel) who never appeared, despite our best efforts to locate them in one of the world’s busiest air traffic terminals. Thank The LORD that Jen had provided some rough guidelines for how to get from the airport to the hotel. That being said, we still managed to get a little mixed up, leading a kind French man to ask us if we needed help (whilst we stared at the metro map as though it would suddenly show us the way like Harry Potter’s Marauders’ Map). Our good Samaritan’s reward for this gesture of kindness? Our bug-eyed, somewhat frantic, “NO, THANK YOU WE’RE FINE!” What can I say? We were sleep-deprived and paranoid, having been told repeatedly that everyone and their dog in France wanted to pick our pockets. We both agreed afterwards that he was probably just very nice and helpful. Shame on us.

Luckily, we found Jen and Jon at the hotel. They were just about to leave, because they were heading back to the airport to look for us. That’s what I call friendship. Then, we went to a local pub, ate pizza, fries and drank copious amounts of beer.  It was great.

More to come.

By the way, I’m looking for change. New job, private sector. No point keeping it secret, since the Universe can hardly organize itself to give me an amazing opportunity if I’m keeping my head in the sand and trying to be all secretive. Am I right? I am. I am right.

I’m baaack! Tattoos and cookies and moths, etc.

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Yup. I know. I’m worse than the worst. I tricked you into thinking I would post right away and then left you hanging. I’m very tricksy, you see.

Fair Warning: My friends, this is the first post after a long absence from posting. That means it will not be the best post. It will have many topics, each a rabbit hole attempting to lure you down various meandering trails that are my thoughts. My apologies. Once this is out of my system, we’ll return to my normal programming (which is only slightly less meandering). 

The last several weeks I’ve been pretty busy working on getting ready for the inaugural Pacific Tattoo. Not that kind of tattoo; the musical variety, with drums and bagpipes and kilts, oh my! The show was this past weekend. Actually, there were three shows, one run-through and one full-dress rehearsal. I would know: I was there for all of them. It never got old, either. Once I get around to downloading the vids off my iPhone, I can share some of my favourite parts (Highland Cathedral in the finale was amazing).

Seriously, some of these people could play. Firstably, I love drums. Percussion is so cool, especially when accompanied by marching and swinging kilts. I also love bagpipes, but then again, I am from Nova Scotia and we do have a fair amount of that Celtic thing going on…

I’ve been volunteering for Pacific Tattoo for two years. Yes, 2 years. It takes a long time to get a show like this off the ground. I would know. I’ve been working on the marketing and communications team, which has been fun, but also pretty busy, especially as of late. So that’s my excuse.

Anyway, in other exciting news, I’ve taken 6 Mondays off to use up some vacation time. I really miss flex days. They’re a huge perk of working for government. Since I moved into my current role about a year and a half ago, I had to give up flex days and BOY OH BOY do I miss them. I was happy to work 47 minutes extra every day in exchange for every other Monday off. Now I tend to work 45 minutes to an hour (or more) extra, but without the time off. It’s not as sweet a deal, that’s for sure!

But as of today and thanks to the interspersed stat holidays, Bay’s got 8 weeks of Monday-less workweeks. Aw yayer. Since I volunteered for approximately 27 hours this weekend (why, yes, I did count them), much of today was spent being really, really, exceptionally lazy. Seriously you guys, I slept until 9:30. Then I laid in bed, reading a really bad book, because I couldn’t let it win by not finishing (it didn’t get better, either. I think Hermes could write a better mystery.). Then yoga, which is more like 2 hours of Pinterest (best. thing. ever.) and then Primary Series.

Lo, the weary volunteer returneth at 1 am

This is what I look like after 27 hours of volunteering.

Then I baked some cookies and went for a run. Only the latter was successful (except for how I ate some nachos with salsa and felt like heaving for that last .5 km. As you do.). Know what happened to the cookies? Let me tell you (really, this is the gist of the entire post. I’m easily distracted.). After making ALL the cookies (approximately three dozen, just for the record), I went to put away the ingredients. I had even included extra ingredients: coconut, because it’s delicious and good for me, and flax seeds, because they’re good for me and fun to suck out from between my teeth. Amiright? You know I’m right. You get ’em out and bite ’em in half, which is fun and makes eating flax seeds actually worthwhile, since if you don’t chew ’em up, they, uh, go right through you, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, I digress (often). As I’m putting away the oats, I see something move. IN THE CONTAINER, which is sealed. I pull it down to look closer and discover it’s a moth. We are having moth issues in our house. Clearly. I open the container, hoping the offending critter had flown in while I had the lid off to measure the oats required by the recipe. However, upon closer inspection, this proved not to be the case: The oats were infested. I don’t mean they were seething or anything, but I saw at least 3 and my imagination did the rest. As I squinted suspiciously into the container, I could’ve SWORN the oats were moving. Hard to say, because those dusty little moth bastards are exactly the same colour as the oats.

Well played, unwelcome moths. Well played. First my favourite sweater, now this. It is ON, moths.

So you know what I did? I dumped all the oats and the cookies into the garbage and remained annoyed for 1 hour. Actually, I told Adam that I wasn’t sure if the cookies were okay, whereupon he immediately reached to test one (he didn’t yet know about the potential added protein, see). I stopped him—I’m such a good wife, saving my beloved from eating the bugs I just baked—and asked if he thought they were okay, even if there might have been some moths in them. There also might not be moths in them. Maybe I magically scooped all the oats that hadn’t been a buffet dinner for the moths… Yeah, there were totally moths in the cookies.

Hence, the garbage. What a waste of cute little mini semi-sweet chipits.

I’m the worst. The Worst.

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Yeah, you probably thought I forgot about my blog, being that I was busy being all fabulously wined, dined and romanced by France. You’re not wrong.

Ooh la la!

How cute are we? Très cute.

I got back a while ago (um, 3 weeks?), but as always, it’s been super-ridiculously busy (I’m very important).

Anyway, I didn’t forget. I’ll be back soon. With lots of super stories and amazing photos. Oh France, I miss you! Also, I need to find a job where I can be more fabulous and get to be in France more. Because France is the best place ever and boy, do they ever have nice shoes…

T-minus 7

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Uh huh, in seven days, I’m leaving for France. Paris, for starters. I should pack. And book a wine tour.

Whatevs. Loads of time… Riiight…

So, Adam’s away in Seattle this weekend and I am visiting people up a storm. A little ballet, a little yoga, a little swimming and running. It’s looking good. I started off the fun by mending (badly) a sweater that the moths have treated like an all-night buffet. No biggie, it’s just my favourite (or it was) merino wool sweater. I mean, SERIOUSLY. What’s so delicious about wool? Bloody moths. I see them flying about; I go all ninja on their dusty silver asses. But does that stop them? NO, IT DOES NOT. Because they are bastard people/moths (bonus points if you know where that line comes from).

I’m trying to think of what happened this week. It’s difficult, because I have SO MUCH WORK going on at work that I’m losing what tenuous grip on reality that I had (it was really tenuous, at best). I could work all weekend, but then I kind of figure I’d be a bit of a hypocrite, since I work in health promotion, and we’re meant to be all about work/life balance. Also, I don’t think I’d get it done even if I did work all weekend long. So I won’t. (Pardon me, I’m clearly working through some stuff right now)

I finished The Hunger Games Trilogy last weekend (at the expense of sleep, and it was totally worth it). That story really affected me. I mean, for crying out loud, Katniss was 16! Actually, I was crying out loud, and frequently, at that. The scene with Buttercup did me right in. And sadly, despite the fact that it was a fictional story, I don’t think we’re that far off. The themes and commentary running through that movie/trilogy are pretty deep. Unfair distribution of food? People starving while other people die from overeating and excess? Hmm. Massive chasms separating the wealthy from the poor? Yep. Political power abusing the vulnerable, the very people it should protect?  It’s pretty sad, but pretty realistic, too.

Apart from all that, though, the story was really compelling. The characters were engaging and multi-faceted. On top of that, the main characters were really cool, too. Katniss is an archer. That’s pretty awesome. It also reminded me that I have always wanted to try archery. So, I signed up for an archery course. And, because mom’s always wanted to as well, I signed her up, too. Early Mother’s Day present, since I’ll be in France and can’t make her brunch. Delicious scramble? Bulls eye. Ha! See what I did there?

This will be me. In August. 6 lessons oughtta do it.

I’M GONNA SHOOT BOWS AND ARROWS, YOU GUYS!  And, despite the fact that Adam says that you can’t pull arrows out of a quiver the way you see it in the movies (you know, the cool way, over the shoulder), I’m going to find out for myself. Should be pretty fun! I wonder if I’ll be as good a shot with a bow and arrow as I am with a gun? (whole other story…)

Here is a picture:

This is a pretty awesome Pinterest find!

The Worst.

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I know. I know. Where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks have I been, anyway? Well, let me tell you:

I found this super-cool-looking antique wardrobe and while I was checking it out, all of a sudden I was whisked into a world of perpetual winter, where all the animals talked! There were all kinds of animals, too, even ones we don’t have in this neck ‘o’ the woods: unicorns, fauns, mermaids and centaurs…

Oh wait, that’s Narnia. I didn’t go to Narnia. That’s just a story (albeit my favourite story of all time in the history of ever). I wish I went to a magical land filled with wonderfulrishical creatures. And not just because I was buried in ever-increasingly frustrating work and commitments, either. I mean, I did wish it more because of those reasons, but let’s call a spade a spade here: I pretty much wish the places in my favourite books and stories were real ALL THE TIME. And by all the time, I don’t mean fleetingly, whilst I reminisce about my childhood and those fanciful days of my youth. I mean ALL THE TIME. Life would be cooler and things would always work out and honour and justice would always prevail. Plus, unicorns. I’m just saying…

But no, I was just busy. Sorry ’bout that. I don’t enjoy it, either, but it would seem that, in fact, I am not the boss of me. I don’t know who is, but whoever makes my plans has some serious issues with scheduling and time management. I mean, come ON. I’m so tired, but all I hear is “Mush, MUSH!” and on and on I go.

Whatever. I’m whining. But hey! Look over here! Guess what though? The Fabulous France Foray is really taking shape. This is a very good thing, since we leave in 15 days. That is not a lot of days. Jen has planned us a TRIP THE LIKES OF WHICH YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN. You guys. There will be museums. And art. And palaces. And mirrored hallways. And crypts (“I [will] see dead people“). AND CASTLES OF THE MEDIEVAL ERA! And baguettes. And Bordeaux. And Nice beaches (there’s a pun in there, for you clever devils). And wine.

Oh, the wine. We’re looking at wine tours and all I hear is “this one takes us to a Roman aqueduct” and I’m all like, “TAKE ME TO THE AQUADUCT OF ANCIENT ROME-Y TIMES.” I mean, you guys, people (like you and me, but shorter in stature and life expectancy) built this stuff like a million years ago. Or a thousand years. Maybe a couple of thousand? I really don’t know. I should brush up on my history. This coming from the girl with an undergraduate degree majoring in Anthropology, with enough history classes to have pulled a double major. Well. I can’t be expected to remember everything. Or what I had for dinner last night. Or, what I had for dinner tonight, come to think of it.

So, yeah. I’m excited. Hence, when work is stressful, I just pretend that all I hear is “baguette”. It’s working out for me, as a stress-reduction method. You should probably try it out. I call it “The Paris Effect”. Or “The Baguette Effect”. Or whatever.

“Baguette.”

Check out my reading stash (oh, okay: I’ve been reading the Hunger Games trilogy, too):

I guess this is where we find out how rusty my 1st language is after all this time.

I also finished teaching my last ballet yoga class on Tuesday. It’s kind of bittersweet. My students were awesome, but I’m reaching burnout levels and thus, my spare time is at a premium. I got paid $231 for 8 weeks of classes (which is well below my personal premium). Not that it’s all about the money, but that’s little compensation for basically losing my entire Tuesday nights for two months. Now I’m just teaching one class at work, but with 4 new students! I’m stoked on these great ladies joining the mélange! How cute is this, though: Two of my ballet yoga students brought me a teacher’s gift, knowing I was heading off to France. How amazing is that? I’ve never gotten a teacher’s present before!

 

With tried-and-true, must-visit addresses for the Parisian visitor!

 

Oh what a feelin’!

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Okay, before you read more, click on this and set the mood. You’re welcome. Just bringing a little excitement to your lives.

Now, back to this post. I do not mean the above title in the way that the song does. This was not an “oh-happy-day” kind of Tuesday, if you get my meaning. I mean, seriously, people. SERIOUSLY. Get ready for some whining. Or not. You don’t have to read on. I’m not making you (but there’s a treat at the end if you do!).

Today started with my work laptop not working. For several hours, I tried to put out fires (not literal ones, though it did feel like a hot seat to me) on my work Blackberry, while talking with the help desk to figure out why on earth I had no access to the network. Just for the record, not having access to the network means I can’t access the internet, my email or any of my files. This may come as a surprise, but believe it or not, this particular scenario doesn’t make for a particularly productive morning. And, you guys. YOU GUYS. There was stuff going wrong all over the darn place. I was like a superhero without a spandex suit. I kept thinking of this video all day long, but I couldn’t watch it, because I had NO INTERNETS.

We’re not 100% sure it’s not my laptop (who says there’s no mystery left in life?), but it would seem the issue is that we have more laptop/mobile workers than IP addresses. For real, you guys. It’s like musical chairs. If you’re not quick, you get 2 sticks and a piece of twine with which to accomplish your wonders. I’m like McGyver! That would actually be pretty cool!

By the end of the day, I had a tension headache, a class to teach and was so busy following up on a million things today that I couldn’t get anything done, which leaves me behind. Or, I suppose more behind would be more accurate, because HOLY MOLY I’m already so far behind I’ve taken to laughing all high-pitched and nervously like the mom on That 70’s Show. That laugh is indicative of my need for a massage, a rage cage and a week off. Or possibly just a nap. Who knows.

Whatever. I’m done whining. Tomorrow is Wednesday, which is a good thing. What’s not to love about Wednesday?

Also, I’m going to Paris in 23 days. Baguette. Fromage. Du vin. Mmm… Just need to find accommodations, otherwise we’ll be sleeping on a park bench. I hear the parks in Paris are lovely this time of year. HAHAHAHA (that was high-pitched, but still happy).

Here’s my plan for tomorrow: Whenever things get stressful, I’m going to hum the Indiana Jones theme song and pretend it’s an adventure. Because really, whatever I’m dealing with isn’t going to be poisoned figs or monkey brains, so I’m doing pretty good, actually.

He may not look smart, but he's ours and we love him. He plays fetch. Does your cat play fetch? I didn't think so.

To think that was a short week.

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Well. Didn’t this week just about knock me over, after kicking me firmly in the arse. In four short days. And I even saw it coming! Well, sort of. I mean, I knew things were building up somewhat, because the waters had been placid for about too long. Not that I wasn’t busy; I was indeed Getting Things Done, but now Things Have Really Picked Up.

That’s sort of how my job goes: It’s pretty busy most of the time, but now and then it really kicks it up a notch. I tend to become quieter, shut my door (well, I did, when I had a door to shut) and take some timeouts to give myself pep talks and write lists. Generally speaking, the lists help me focus, but they also tend to freak me out and while I enjoy scratching off my accomplishments, there are days when I seem to work at 96 things full tilt, getting nowhere. I do not like those days. They are not Feel-Good days.

At these times, people tend to notice I’m no longer my happy and optimistic self. I do not laugh as much and I get a very stern look on my face. Possibly because I’m annoyed that working in communications is always so stressful. You know the saying, “A lack of preparation on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine”? Yeah, that’s true, except for people who work in communications. Especially if you need many, many approvals. Le Sigh.

Anyway, I’m there again. Boo hoo. I’m working on many things and feeling disorganized and not very successful, since everything is late. Lateness stresses me out (I know some of you are thinking, “But, Bay, you’re ALWAYS late!” You are not incorrect, my friends. I am often tardy and it drives me bonkers.). I end up feeling harried and more disorganized, which one might think was nearly impossible, but alas! It is not impossible. And then, there I am, kicking myself in the derrière whenever the Week has given me a reprieve between the deliverance of rear-end kickings.

Do you have times like this in your jobs? How do you cope/deal/accomplish things? Because I’d love to know.

On another, slightly less sorry-for-myself front, we just saw Mirror, Mirror. It was cute, but a little lacking in substance. I would’ve liked the direction to go either more glossy fairy tale, or more ironic. The sets were quite pretty (birch forest in winter and amazing castle on a cliff) and the focus was clearly on intricate and ornate costuming. I felt it had a very theatrical feel (that’s two feelings in one sentence: verb and noun. I’m impressed with all that feeling). The dwarves were pretty awesome (comic relief) and I enjoyed the repeated references to the people singing and dancing in the days of yore, and how “apparently people didn’t need to have jobs then”. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen, but I am looking forward to Snow White and the Huntsman this summer.

On another note, I think that I would make a pretty decent Snow White (in my humble opinion), if it weren’t for the fact that I’m kind of latté coloured. Such a shame. They never write (wrote?) fairy tales about tan/olive-y coloured princesses. Le Sigh encore.

Hey, but I’m going to take a ballet class tomorrow, which is awesome. One way to put a ruthless work-week behind you is to lose all dignity in front of many mirrors, whilst wearing pink tights. I can’t wait! (I’m actually serious: ballet class always feels like home)

This is me, aged 13. I still have this costume, which, just for the record, still fits.

I just realized it looks like I have four legs in the above photo. Rest assured, my friends, that this is an optical illusion. I have only two legs. There is, in fact, another dancer behind me. Those are her legs. Just in case you were confused.

The Finish Line

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Happy Easter! I was so busy planning my chocolate finding/eating that I forgot that I needed to wrap up my Lenten blogging mission. One blog each day for 40 days. I realize I missed a day, but just for the record, I DID blog on Sundays, which were technically freebies. I’m going to keep it up, I’ve decided, but I’m aiming for a minimum of four posts per week. Not because I don’t want to blog daily (I just know you’d be at a loss without my random thoughts and insightful commentary), but more because I need to make sure I’m not staying up super late just to post, thus inhibiting my early-morning routine. Which makes me grumpy.

Just for the record, I didn’t consume as much dessert as you might think. Actually, that’s a lie: We did find the restaurant we’ve been trying to recall for three days. We couldn’t remember the name and weirdly, Googling “awesome sundae” didn’t provide us with the clarity we hoped to find. All I knew was that the place had stuff hanging from thingys. I know, right? Shocking we couldn’t find it… But then we DID!

Here is what the sundae looked like, before and after:

What's that on the right? Oh, it's the hot-fudge conveyance mechanism. NBD.

 

The carnage. This took 3 people...

Earlier today, I was looking for a church to attend Easter mass. I found a little one:

The local church, aka Saint James Cathedral

You know, just a small local chapel. Seriously, this place was gorgeous and the music was amazing. There were symphony members and a massive choir. Definitely a post-Whoopie kind of choir, if you get my drift. Here’s what it looked like inside. I don’t know if this photo does this place justice, but it was a lot of beauty:

Heavenly pretty gold dangly stuff!

All in all, a pretty awesome Easter Sunday. Although, no Cadbury Mini Eggs. This may possibly be a good thing. The jury’s still out… (we’ll be finding some mini eggs tomorrow)

I’d write more, but Adam’s sawing logs and it’s making me jealous. Check you later, skaters. Oh wait, one more picture of today’s awesome weather, because it was really an amazing day:

Not sure how I haven't had hay fever yet, but I don't miss it.