Christmas-izing Part 2

So our dining room space got a face-lift too, so it could coordinate with the theme. It was pretty basic. One might think "What can you really do with a table and four chairs?" Be creative!

I replaced the green placemats with soft brown bamboo ones, replaced the multicoloured patterned fabric napkins with white embroidered ones, wrapped them in branch napkin rings, and set them on silver plates.

I placed a shimmery blue table runner down the center of the table, and made a simple winter center piece using a small glass vase from Dollarama, and some pearly and crystally branches from Michaels. I filled the base with pine cones and it was complete!


So altogether it looks great, and goes perfectly with the rest of the apartment. Isn't Christmas decorating fun?

Christmas-izing

So, I'd like to start by saying "Yes, yes. I'm going to get to the wedding. I'm still coming down off the wedding mountain, but there will be an entry about it!"

But, I figured in the meantime I would blog about the Christmas decor in our apartment. I completely redid everything from the rugs to the drapes, in order to fully capture the mood I was trying to convey.

Our wedding had a Winter Wonderland theme, so I figured I'd follow that lead and try and decorate the apartment in the same sort of style.


So there were a few easy changes that transformed my space into a winter wonderland!

1. I found new sequined pillows in silver, charcoal, and white.

2. I replaced the Papasan cushion with a white one instead of a green one.

3. I bought new gray drapes to replace the red ones.


4. I bought a new blue rug to go in place of the multicoloured one.

5. The hand carved basket in the centre used to contain apples, but now contains pine cones.


6. The three frames on the wall are so great because you can interchange what they hold to match your season! They used to have different scrapbook papers in them but I took the panes out, wrapped them in basic Christmas wrapping paper, and they were transformed!


7. I did the same thing with the panels in the media unit in the corner, which used to have green fabric in them.
8. The jars on top of the TV unit contain candies in the right colours.


9. I wrapped some empty boxes I had lying around the apartment in the coordinating wrapping paper, and set them under the tree.


And voila! A magical wintery-but-warm Christmas atmosphere! And you are welcome to visit anytime!

Stellar Stagette

I've just had the bachelorette party to top all bachelorette parties, thanks to my beautiful, wonderful Maid-of-Honour of dreams.

I had no idea what was coming, either. I was simply told to bring:
"A cocktail dress, something to party hard in, a bathing suit, and overnight things."

So, at that point I was pretty bewildered, to say the least. I wasn't expecting anything so elaborate, I feel like I got five bachelorette parties in one! Here's how it started...

The Man picked me up from work as I tried to get information out of him, which he absolutely did not surrender. He drove me to some obscure gas station where I was picked up by my Maid-of-Honour and a friend. I threw my things in the back of their car and away we went! In the backseat I was handed a fuzzy pink crown that said "Princess" and told I could not take it off once the entire evening.

We pulled up at the Greenwood Inn and checked in. (A hotel! Omy!) We took the elevator up to the fourth floor and into room 443, a cute room with a mini fridge and the most comfortable blankets ever, despite their initial lumpy appearance. Twenty minutes later my two cousins showed up with their bags, ready to party. Then all of us girls got into our cocktail dresses (which all turned out to be black, by the way) and traded shoes until we'd all found the right combination. Then, we all put on bright pink sashes. Mine said "Bride-To-Be" on it, the rest said "Princess" but they turned them backward so you couldn't see, and instead stuck little gold stars to their sashes, and wrote assorted funny things of their choosing on them. Some of these things were: Laid of Honour, The Groom's Mistress, The Bride's Lover, etc. We also all got buttons that said "Bride-to-Be" and "Bridal Party Official Member" which was a lot of fun. The girls got to wear crowns too! But theirs were miniature, and were quite a lot of trouble to get to sit properly on their heads. But a few bobby pins later, we were all bachelorette-party royalty.

We headed downstairs for a fantastic dinner in the hotel restaurant, where we were served by someone who, unfortunately, was gender indistinct. Upon further inspection, we found out her name was Ruby, which is not a unisex name. I sipped at my bright pink cosmopolitan as my good friend from work showed up for the dinner. We had an excellent time chatting, and discussing funny marital woes. Then it was back up to the room for some games!

It turns out that while my MOH and a friend were up in the hotel room "getting something" they had actually been decorating, so when I got back to the room there was a big metallic silver banner over the door that said "BACHELORETTE PARTY!" I got into the room and was welcomed by another banner, and a very large poster of a naked man on the wall. Though, the important bits were covered by a red and white target. We then proceeded to drink Pina Coladas and, as stated on the poster, "Pin the Macho on the Man." Basically, someone would be blindfolded, and then reach into a bucket and pull out a, well, a significant part of the male anatomy. Each one of these, um, parts, was different. Had a different joke written on it, was camouflaged, looked like a Dr. Seuss design, etc. Then, that person would be spun around, and then would try to pin the part on the correct area of the male anatomy. We played three rounds, with one tie-breaker. I ended up winning YAY! The prize was that I got to pick one of the assorted game pieces to wear on my sash. I chose the smallest most inconspicuous one, naturally.

After the game was present time, and the entire party crew got together on one bed with the presents in the middle. All three presents turned out to be lingerie, and one of the stipulations of recieving these gifts was that I had to try them on and model them for the party. Needless to say there were a few pieces I was hesitant to wear in front of such a large group. But, pressured as I was, I did as they asked. (Now here's hoping those pictures don't end up on facebook...)

Next, we all got into our bathing suits and headed down to the hot tub, slightly spiked cokes in hand. We soaked for a little while, and chatted about how much our men loved our belly rolls, and how a woman is supposed to have a little mean on her, and before we knew it, we had to rush back to the room and get ready for the next big event.

We made it up, and changed into our "Going Out" attire, looking sexy as ever. We reapplied our makeup, and restraightened our hair. Retraded our shoes. Then we headed downstairs to our mode of transportation which turned out to be... *drumroll* a WHITE LIMO! I squealed in delight when I saw it, having never even set foot in a limousine before. When I got inside, I could not believe how amazing it was. Ultraviolet lights shone all around, with a lit-up mini bar and something that looked like a sparkling runway of lights across the cieling. We turned the music up loud as we cruised down the streets like celebrities. Then, we arrived at the next location.

We pull up at some completely obscure spot, on some unrecognizable street. We walk a little way until we get to a building with no obvious signs or purpose. We get inside and climb a few flights of stairs until we get to a level where there are asian posters everywhere, and this room full of video game and star wars memorobilia, where my MOH is now talking with an asian guy across a glass counter. She is asking for "The Red Room." I am absolutely and completely bewildered now. The man hands her a remote control with the most buttons I've ever seen and we walk down a hallway into this little adorable room. We get inside and there are asian posters all over the walls, with this gigantic screen on one side of the room, and this booth and table on the other side of the room. There are fancy star lights dancing all over in rainbow colours and then I see it. the big black machine in front of the screen with the microphones dangling from its sides. That's right, folks. Our very own KARAOKE ROOM! We eventually get the system going, after a few arguments with the asian employee over whether or not the lyrics are in another language (they are.) We finally get them displayed in english and it's go time! We sang our hearts out, screamed our hearts out, and danced the night away together. I've never laughed so hard in my life! It was such a blast! We were so loud, making up our own lyrics to songs, trying to imitate the dancers on the screen! One of the party guests apparently filmed a great deal of it. Which I never want to see. Ever.

After karaoke, we headed back down to the limo. The temperature outside wasnt actually that chilly, surprisingly. We cruised in the limo to a great club called "Stereo" and had VIP passes, so we cruised past the freezing cold line into the club, adorning our pink sashes and crowns. I got in and was immediately bought a drink. The club was a blast, I ran into some old high school friends, got hugged by at least 4 strangers in congratulations over my imminent marriage, and enjoyed the night scene. Flashing lights, blaring music, and just a lot of people having a great time. At a certain point I got fed up with my crown, and one of the girls said she would only wear it if I got up in the booty box.

Definition - Booty Box: a raised pedestal surrounded by railings in which one showcases their dance moves for all the dance floor to see.

Needless to say, I got up in the booty box. My entire party joined me and we rocked out. While we were up there the DJ said "Big shout out to Holly, she's acting like a real animal tonight. She's having her bachelorette party, congratulations on your upcoming marriage!" And we all cheered and raised our arms in the air. We danced until 2am, when the club had to close!

We took the limo back to the hotel and almost immediately crashed into bed.

In the morning we all begrudgingly got up and whiped the second-day-makeup from our eyes. After a few tylenols and a lot of water, we headed over to Perkins for some much needed breakfast. Mmm, french toast...

I feel so lucky to have such incredible friends. I only hope if they ever need me, I can far exceed their tremendous gifts they gave me last night! I guess now all that's left is to get married...

13 days folks!

The Bomb

The red wire or the blue wire?
Which cord shall cutters score?
The smallest fault would shake the bomb
Down to its very core.

Senses pause in heightened state,
And time seems slowly drawn.
So delicate in nature,
The bomb ticks steadily on.

At times, it seems so dormant,
Harmless and serene.
Other times you’d hold your breath
So to not stir the machine.

And when it blows, it annihilates,
Flattens and disintegrates.
Laying waste for miles around
To everything it hates.

So sensitive the bomb remains.
Would you risk a passing glance?
Knowing every second is
A deadly game of chance?

It is the worst of any kind,
If it were yours, you’d feel the same.
But one man’s burden be this bomb,
And “woman” be its name.

For My Monster

You'll always be the smell of rain,
The very first sip of coke.
You're my extra-butter theatre popcorn,
Punchline to my joke.

You've always been my first snowfall,
You're like waking up in a tent.
You're the tip of the mountain,
The crest of the wave!
Where I'm going, and wherever I went.

You're the french fries in my milk shake,
The cheese on my... anything!
My foot massage, my freezer jam,
My beautiful diamond ring.

You're the brand new book spine cracking,
You're the song when I'm feeling lonely.
You are all the greatest things in this world.
My sweetest love.
My only.

C.U.B.S.

Scary dream last night. The first of its kind for me actually.

I'm on my way to the emergency room, because I somehow got punched or kicked in the nose at work. My mom is driving me, and the Man is along for moral support. We get to the hospital and go in to see the doctor. A non-memorable indian man checks out my nose, and declares it completely fine. Suddenly I'm talking to his female assistant, as I no longer require his service. She says that it's great that I'm here, so they can give me some of the test results from my physical last week. Wonderful! Saves me a trip! I ask a few questions.

"Well, the *indistinct* test went great, you tested negative on the *indistinct* test, and the other test came back fine."

"But," I ask. "Didn't I take four tests? What were the results on the fourth test?"

"Oh, that's not really... something we can just talk about casually. I can't really disclose that information until the doctor is back."

So now I'm freaking out. Why aren't they telling me how the test went? Obviously something is wrong. I'm panicking in the doctor's office, pacing back and forth, trying to get some more information from this woman. She says nothing. What feels like forever later, the doctor comes back in and asks me to sit down.

"So, from the test results," he says as sensitively as he can. "It looks like you have CUBS."

"...what?" Having never heard of this illness before, I inquired.

"It stands for Calcium Unsufficient Bone Syndrome. It's a very dangerous disease. But don't worry, the odds are in your favour. It's all going to turn out okay."

"What exactly are the odds? What's the next step here?" I ask, as the doctor leaves the room. Another long, long waiting period later he comes back in and hands the nurse a form, then leaves again. The soft spoken nurse begins to speak.

"So, basically, the doctor has come up with a simple six month plan to get you back to normal. We're just going to need you to sign this form to get you on a donor list, and we can get this moving along."

"A donor list? For what?"

"Oh, well you're going to need at least four bone marrow transplants throughout the process. It should take 3 - 6 months before we can get a donor for you." The nurse sees the turmoil in my face, and continues. "You really needn't worry, 2 out of 3 people who suffer from this make it through."

I am now completely inconsollible, as those are not very good odds at all. The Man slides over to where I am, while I wonder where he's been the whole time, and tries to comfort me in my grief.

"I really don't know why you're getting so worked up about this," he starts, in his softest tone. "It's all going to turn out fine. It's a good thing they caught it so early. You have always been really weak, especially in your bones. And this will make it all better!"

His comforting words offer no refuge.

I take the forms and sign them, seeing all the names above mine on the list, and hand the form back to the nurse, who is smiling as if unfazed by my fatal news. "Thank you," she chirps as my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

And then I wake up.

Crazy, right? Probably one of the most terrifying dreams I've ever had! And I've never ever had one like this before! I'm just impressed with my imagination!

C.U.B.S.? Priceless!

Although my subconscious grammar could use some work. Unsufficient? That's not a word...

Happiness is a breeze that blows

Just like the bird upon the sill,
Who lands, then flies off elsewhere, still.
Happiness is a breeze that blows.
It comes as quickly as it goes.

Just as the autumn leaves do turn,
Ablaze in beauty, colours burn.
A single glance is all you get,
Before they're caught in winter's net.

The flowers bloom for but a day,
Then just as quickly fade away.
The sun will shine through heav'nly space,
Then swiftly clouds will take its place.

Like the ice that melts and sinks,
Once it helped to cool your drinks.
Like the wind that knocks you o'er,
Once it helped your kite to soar.

Love is found, but hearts are broken.
Gain a game, but lose a token.
Run a race, but lose your breath.
Live a life that ends in death.

Minutes after your song begins,
Silence comes. And silence wins.
Happiness is a breeze that blows.
It comes as quickly as it goes.

O Tidings of Comfort and Joy

As I slid into the car I noticed the humidity in the air, the noise of my fiance's Cutlass, and the Sears shopping bags in the back seat. "What's goin' on there?" I asked, curious as to what he'd done now.

"I dunno... maybe it's an entire bedroom set!" He said, excitedly. "My mum took me shopping and I picked it out. It comes with everything, blanket, pillowcases, sheets. It's sort of an un-birthday present." I glanced over my left shoulder, trying to make out the pattern in the darkness. It was after 10 in the evening, and I'd just finished a shift at work. The Man was picking me up. I couldn't really make out anything more than a couple of triangles.

"Oh no." I uttered under my breath.
"What? What is it?"
"Umm, nothing, really. I'm just, I don't know. Nervous, I guess."
"Why?"
"I don't know if I'm going to like it. I'm afraid I won't."
"You will."

We got back to the apartment, and hauled the oversize bags into the building. Immediately I dropped them on the carpet in the bedroom and flicked on the light switch, hoping for the best. I wanted to like them, I really, genuinely did. As the light came on the comforter was instantly illuminated in its shiny new packaging surrounded by throw pillows and sheets.

"Oh no." I muttered again.
"No. Holly, no. Give it a chance. I really thought of you when I picked it!"
"But I... sort of already don't like it." I said, being as friendly as I knew how to be.
"Let's just take a look at it on the bed, okay?" I gulped, terrified, seeing a vision of us putting all of the linens back in their bags when we were finished. This could not be happening.

First the bed skirt, then two sheets, all out of their bags, packaging materials strewn about the bedroom. Next the pillowcases, and finally the comforter. I stepped back and looked at the sight as the Man scrounged through yet another bag to find another piece, though I could not imagine what more could go on this bed. Suddenly I felt a heavy stone in my stomach, and my gag reflexes began to trigger. Oh. No.

The sight before me was the most masculine combination of patterns and colours I had ever seen. Not soothing, not tranquil, but harsh in geometric designs and composition. Mixes of oranges, reds, greens, suddenly I was transported to a hunting lodge, and this was the tapestry hanging from the wall. Then still, I was teleported to a teepee as I watched the chief himself dance around, his dusty feet pattering across this comforters triangle design, and once more! I find myself in the middle of a cabin, lounging on this blanket as a bear claws at the window and the deer's head on the wall glares down at me with an evil, knowing stare. This blanket could not be farther from what I would have chosen. In any world.

"Baby...?" I said in my cutest, meekest voice. The man looked up from the bag he was shuffling through and flashed me a look of recognition, then relaxed his face and eyebrows in an exhausted, frustrated way.

"What."

"Can I be honest...?" I lifted my finger to my mouth and began chewing my most vulnerable nail.

"No."

"I sort of hate it."

"What?"

"I um, I sort of don't know if I've ever seen an uglier bedroom set in my life."

Then, like a flag of victory, the man lifted from the bag a window valence, matching in pattern to the comforter, the pillowcases, the sheets, the throw pillows, and headed toward me with it, intending to put it up on the curtain rod. His eyes menacing, he marched ever closer, my life flashed before my eyes as the South American afghan pattern encircled me, closing in on me from all directions, like wallpaper over my soul.

"Noooooo!" I shouted my battlecry, throwing my hands out in front of me. Suddenly the world I knew was in slow motion, my arms entangled in the rough polyester valence, the man crashing slowly into me, soldiering onward toward the window.

When time started again I regained my composure, valence in hand. "Absolutely not. You will not put this on that window." The Man feigned confusion, as I marched past him, throwing the overpriced piece of ugly fabric to the ground, where it landed among bags and pieces of cardboard. "Baby. No."

"But, I really thought of you when I picked it out!" He claimed, hands lowered in a pleading motion, and I could tell he meant it. Though, this was not a comforting thought.

"Do you even know me? At all?"

Slowly but surely we took the pieces off the bed and carefully put them back in their bags, and assembled them in the corner of the bedroom. A mountain of my fiance's shame.

"I'm sorry, should I have not said anything?"
"No." He sighed. "I'm happy you did."
"This is what you're getting yourself into, you know."
"I know, baby."
"Are you going to take it back to your mum's? Maybe we can get a new one."
"Yeah." He breathed.

We snuggled up in the old blankets to watch some TV before retiring that day. "You know," I started. "It's sort of funny."

"What is?" He said, tilting his head at me.

"This will be the second comforter we'll be sending back to your mum's."

He paused for a few moments.

"I wish you hadn't told me that."

Update!

So I've been getting a lot of requests for a song list of some kind, so people can find what I'm listening to. I've finally added it on, and you can find it in the right toolbar! You can also find the song that the Man sang to me when he proposed there as well. Feel free to browse through the tunes, or download them at home! They are sure to soothe your soul.

To scroll through the songs (due to the less-than-favourable format of blogger.com) you have to scroll to the right in the widget box before you can find the little up/down arrow to scroll through the songs. There are over 30!

Also, the wedding countdown tool going on the right is counting down to midnight the day of my wedding, not the actual hour of my wedding! Tehe, that would be silly...

Magic in Black & White

So, the man and I were bored the other night, so we decided to dress up and go out on the balcony and take pictures in front of an old white canvas I have. Naturally this was our first choice of activity, as I imagine it would be yours.

Going to the chapel and we're gonna' get married...

Wedding events are coming along quickly and efficiently. You know, you never really know how much goes into a wedding until you have one. There are so many tiny little details that one would never even think of, really. Like, what do you put around the food on the buffet table to fill it up? How do you decorate the guest book table? Who's ever heard of a makeup trial? How are people not bored out of their minds during speeches??

To backtrack, here are the things that have already fallen nicely into place, and were a lot of fun in the process!

1. I've already asked all of my bridesmaids, and they couldn't be more thrilled. Though, it's tough because my Maid of Honour is going to be in BC until the end of August, and another of my bridesmaids is moving to Saskatchewan, and I'm not even sure if she'll be able to BE one, because of the distance and the things I'll need her for in the week preceding the big day. The other two, fortunately, are in the same province. How lucky.

2. I've asked my beautiful flower girl! And she was absolutely ecstatic, though her first remark was "I want a longer dress this time!" (it's her second time down the aisle.) I went over to her house, and we played Barbies in matching princess crowns for a while, and then watched a romantic Barbie movie before I officially asked her. I'm happy that all worked out.

3. The man has asked his groomsmen, and he's FINALLY chosen a Best Man. That was a process, I must say. They are all so high on his list, that he just couldn't decide. What it came down to was pretty much whoever spent the most time with him in a given week. Now all that's left is to assign their duties, I'm sure they'll be thrilled...

4. The venue is booked! It's a beautiful little church that doesn't really look like a church, which is absolutely perfect for us! Basically, our requirements were: a big open space, must have sound and lighting capabilities, a stage, an intimate atmosphere. The place we've found is just perfect for all of those fields, so, voila! Venue. Done. (And, it's cheeeeap!)

5. We've had a meeting with a potential photographer (I'm already decided, mind you, the man would be content with disposables to capture our precious memories...) and he is divine. He's personable and charismatic, seems to really truly care about what he does. He specializes in Wedding photography, and takes the most beautiful pictures I've ever seen. Also, the albums are simply to die for. Sure, it'll eat up about 25% of our budget, but you have GOT to see these pictures!

6. I'm hoping we can find some family members who want to cook up some food for our special day! All we need is enough meatballs, potatoes, mixed vegetables, ham, buns, salad, etc. for 120 people. If I can assign that task to enough people, I think we can come up with a really fun meal! And people appreciate when you go that extra mile, serve a home cooked meal, really a personal touch I think. (and, low on the $$$ scale... tehe)

7. I have my dress!!!

8. No I will not describe it to you. Stop asking.

The Day the Earth Stood Still

"Hey, babe." The man mumbled, poking me in the shoulder. He was stooped up on the couch, and I was sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor. "Isn't it a nice day?"

"Sure it is, Sweetheart." It had been a basic remark, and required a basic response.

"You know," he started again. "You're always saying how we never take enough pictures of us together. We should go to the park and take pictures. It's a nice time of day for that too." He was right, however this was an odd thing for the man to say. It isn't that he isn't a sweet boy, he just never thinks of this sort of thing. And he did. I wasn't going to complain.

"Uhm, sure. That sounds good. Right now?"

"Yeah, I brought your camera from the city." And with that, yet another strange remark, he ran out to the car to retrieve said camera. He has never brought my camera along from the city, but he did today. We were out visiting my family in my home town when this perfect picture taking moment arose.

We got into the car and drove a couple of blocks over to the park. We decided to take pictures near the Nature Pond. We parked awkwardly at the local scenery, and climbed out of the car. We walked over across the gravel and into a grassy ditch. It was currently filled with water so with a running start we clumsily lept across it. I made it, though I coated my flip-flop in mud. He made it with ease. Figures.

We pushed our way through the tall tree line and onto the stone path winding around the expanse of water. The colours were spectacular, since the sun was just about to hit the horizon. The pond was lit up with rich oranges and reds. I couldn't believe it. Suddenly my sweet nostalgia hit me, and I recalled that very first night when the man and I went for that fateful walk to the Nature Pond that changed our entire relationship. It was the night that God led me to his doorstep and asked me to ring on his doorbell. It was the night we walked all over town and discovered everything we had in common, and what an incredible connection we had. We eventually made it to the warm-up shack at the pond, where we ended up talking for hours into the night, and I cried in front of someone for the first time in years. And somehow he comforted me in just the right way. It was fate, and it was beautiful. And I couldn't help recalling.

We walked along the stoney path, and broke away through some grass to climb a tall hill overlooking the water and that fateful skating shack. We made it to the top, and marvelled at the sun kissing the fields in the distance. It was June 20th, the longest day of the year, and all of the edges of the evening were dusted with gold.

The man took the camera, and snapped a few shots of me. I hated all of them. I then asked to take a few pictures of him and he agreed. I took the camera in my hands but on the screen was a video of some sort. I pressed play, only to find sweet piano music playing from a speaker on the screen, to the beautiful tune of "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds. (I later found out that he actually transcribed this music, note for note, by hand since the music could not be found otherwise. It took him hours to write.) I looked up from the small LCD screen and saw that he had reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny slip of paper. Then, as the piano music rose and fell, he began to sing the lyrics from off the slip of paper. I lifted my hands and covered my gaping mouth as I started to cry.


The Luckiest
Ben Folds

I dont get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here.

And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday.
And I know...

That I am, I am, I am
The luckiest.

What if I'd been born fifty years before you
In a house on a street where you lived?
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike
Would I know?

And in a white sea of eyes,
I see one pair that I recognize.
And I know...

That I am, I am, I am
The luckiest.

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.

Next door theres an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep.
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away.

Im sorry, I know thats a strange way to tell you that I know we belong.
That I know...

That I am, I am, I am
The luckiest.


Half way through the song his voice began to crack, because he saw that I was crying. I went up to him and held him, and we danced all through the remainder of the song as he sang sweetly into my ear there, in the sunset.

When the song ended, in his perfect man way, he said, "I guess all that's left is this last part."

"What last part...?" I cracked.

As he knelt down on one knee, he smiled and said, "This is how it works, right?" He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black box. I could feel the words "oh my God" forming in my mouth. He opened the box to reveal the only thing more beautiful than the sun that evening.

"Holly Penner, will you marry me?"

...

"Yes!" I nodded and stuck out my eager left hand, ring finger petrified with anticipation. He slipped the most beautiful ring I have ever seen over my finger and stood up. I jumped into his arms and he twirled me around there on top of that hill in my little yellow sun dress. And we kissed and hugged, and reeled at the intensity of this surreal moment in our history book. Everything was different, and yet so unbelievably right.

We still can not stop calling each other "Fiance" and I don't know if there is a surface in my house that does not have "Holly Gilson" scratched into it.

There's something so beautiful in that moment when all of your dreams come true. When you become that person that you talk about, that person that you long to be, that person in that place with that person with that smile, and everything is as it should be. And it smells like heaven, tastes like ecstacy, feels like euphoria, and before you know it you're floating above the ground, spinning in a brand new world. Thrust into the fuzzy pink corners of your dream land.

And only 143 days until I get to do that again.

"Tex-Ass Hold 'Em"

Here's my new painting commission, done for a lady I work with. She says that she honestly has no idea why her boyfriend wanted it, but he simply always had. I suppose it will always be a mystery. Suffice it to say, I absolutely love how it turned out!



I thought of so many names for it, too. It was really hard to narrow it down to one.

"King, Queen, Jack-ass"
"Asses High"
"Jack-Ass of Spades"

You get the picture.

Face the Day

My aunt (though she doesn't really seem like an aunt, more like a Blogger-buddy!) posted some pictures on her blog of herself and her sweet little girl making faces outside, and I just felt inspired to write something fun and playful. Dedicated to you whimsy, cutesy ladies!


Face the Day

Me and my Mumsy celebrate
When all the rain has gone.
We're making whimsy, goofsy faces
Outside, on the lawn.

Stick out your tongue, bulge your eyes!
Squawkle your hair with your hand!
Make a squeaksy, buzzy noise
The flowers understand!

Bunchy your nose, wiggly your ears!
Scrinch up an eyebrow or two!
Spreadum your fingers, fish-up your lips
Beneath a sky of blue!

Squiggle a lip, scrunge an eye!
It isn't very hard.
We're making whimsy, goofsy faces
In our upside-downsy yard.

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day...

...when it's cold outside, I've got the month of May.

But where have "my girls" gone?

I remember being a young and fantastic child, my head filled with such whimsical ideas bouncing this way and that through my overactive mind. What a time that was, so free of the restraints of life. The ropes of reality hadn't found me yet, that slink through the grass, hissing and slithering until they find your feet and wrap themselves around your ignorant ankles. They make their way up your naive calves, and restrict your creative hands and fingers, that before could paint masterpieces with only two colours of paint and no brushes, and now require a case full of colours to get even close to what you want your painting to look like.

Back in those days, I had so many friends. I wasn't a very social child at school, really. I didn't have many of those sorts of friends. No, I was always surrounded by a different sort, I ran with a much more imaginative crowd. This crowd accepted me for who I was, embraced me for my goof, ran and played with me when no one else would.

They were my girls.

Now, I won't claim to entirely remember them, because unfortunately I can't. I've tried, to recapture them in the deepest parts of my memory, but I just can't seem to find them completely. I've heard about them in the stories my mother tells me, however, and they do seem like an exceptional bunch. And every so often I get a vague memory of the comfort they brought me, or a game we played once, but because I've grown up as society has forced, there is no possible way for me to regain them.

Some would say they weren't real, they were made up, imaginary. But for me, for a six year old girl with radical ideas and knotty hair, a hippie in her own time, they were as real as anything could ever be. They had names, they had faces, they had voices, they had feelings. They were loved, and could love. And they were my very best friends.

I called them "my girls" my mother tells me. She says I used to talk about them so lovingly, I'd go down the list of names, and point throughout the room. Or there were times when only one of my girls would be in the room with us at a time, and I'd have to run off to retrieve another before I could introduce her properly. I could describe their personalities descriptively, and always with the utmost care not to offend in their honourable presence. There were even times when my mother would be walking through the hall with a stack of clean towels in her hands, and hear the faintest little voice coming from my room, as I instructed one of them not to tug on the other's hair, or that it wasn't safe to jump on the bed in such a reckless manner. They may not have been the greatest at conversation, some might say, but they could listen like no one could.

I don't know where they are today. I can almost remember the moment I dismissed them, without wanting to, I did. Not at my parents persuasion, not at my school friends persuasion, but at my own. With my own blossoming womanhood at hand, I took my stick of insecurity chalk and drew a circle around myself, with not even enough space to move. Without knowing it, I had locked my girls out, and locked myself in - trapped by the fear of an unsettling world, bound by the fear of failure, unsure of what I would do to erase my transparent line of chalk and free myself again, dance again.

My girls could no longer reassure me of how beautiful I looked in that dress. They could no longer take my hand when I felt alone. And it wasn't as if I could see them as they paced around my circle, watching and waiting for my escape. No, from within my circle I couldn't even see them anymore.

I'm still working on my circle. You won't be surprised to hear that I haven't erased it, because as a woman you too understand the concept of the circle. You've seen the circle, and felt it, grow and shrink through your hectic and uncertain roller-coaster life. But I'd like to think that right now, my circle is growing. I'd like to think that I am allowing myself room to breathe again, opening myself up to possibilities, making enough room for perhaps two or three people to share my circle with me.

I'd also like to think that one day, when I'm least expecting it, the circle will be gone. Simply from the traffic of people entering and moving on from my circle, the treads of their feet will brush the chalk away. I know that day isn't today, and I know it isn't tomorrow, but I know it's coming. For me, and for you, and that we'd both better be ready because once it's gone, it can't protect us from ourselves anymore. It won't need to.

I know my girls are still out there, whispering magical whims into the ears of some ambitious little girl, coming alive in the drawings of a seven-year-old angel. Letting that knobby first grader win a race or two, and celebrating in her triumph. They're there, and maybe one day we'll meet again.

Thank you, my sweet girls.

Brushing away the tangles of life

Something I think I enjoy most about my entire day.

I'll work a long day, up at 6, home by 4, and I'm exhausted. I've been running around, making everyone else happy, scratching my head for ideas, pulling my hair from stress, running my fingers through my hair for comfort, fussing with my hair for cosmetic purposes.

And then I get home and the most magical moment happens when I get to the bathroom and grab that favourite brush. Those teeth stroke my scalp in just the right way, as the brush moves fluidly through my strands...

I hit quite a few tangles from my stressful day, but the brush takes them out with ease, tugging ever so gently on my over-worked head. And I brush, and I brush, until my hair is only comparible to silk, cascading in one heavenly fold over my exhausted, sore shoulders and neck.

I look forward to this moment every day. These are the tangles I can solve in this life. This is the stress I can ease in my day.

And all it takes is one humble brush.

Ah yes. No joy like this one.

Buddha Thunk?

We had to prep the apartment for the future mother-in-law's arrival. Already, my stress level was through the roof, and to add to it all the place was a mess, and I was expected to make dinner for the three of us. And that dinner had to be incredible. Chicken curry was the decided dish, though I carelessly forgot to defrost the chicken. Rice, garlic-butter broccoli... sounds appetizing, no?

"We have to get the apartment ready for my mom," the man said, as though I didn't already know. I glanced around the apartment, realizing all the aspects wrong with the room. There was so much to do and so little time. Fortunately this woman is notoriously late.

Our first order of business was to reverse the comforters of the beds in the bedrooms. See, the man and I sort of agreed on a purity arrangement for our relationship, so we have separate bedrooms until we get married. I, being the more beautiful of the two, naturally get the bigger bedroom. And, since the man's furniture is much bigger than mine, it went into the bigger room. Thusly, I am sleeping in the king-size suite with the beautiful new dark wooden furniture, and the man is in the tiny room with the mattress and box spring. This is the natural of order of things, as it has always been.

But we had to switcheroo the comforters. I'm sure it is clear why.
So, now the man's bedroom is the big one, and my bedroom is the small one. For today...

The next step in prepping the apartment was to hide incrimitating articles. Gather the wine, hide it in the mini-fridge out of sight. Rearrange the words on the fridge to form happy-go-lucky poems instead of deep, dark ones. Wonderful.

Next, the items that would not be all-that-bad if it were any other woman.
My Buddhas.

I have two small ceramic Buddhas on my entertainment unit - now don't get me wrong! I have not converted, and do not intend to. In all honesty, I simply find him adorable! And he did say a few smart things, I suppose. He also adds to the sort of cultural flavour of my apartment decor. I have two, and both of them had to go.

Now, the lady is a religious sort of woman. Fire, and brimstone, and all that fun. To give an example, she's always been the sort that would jump to the wrong sorts of conclusions from items such as these, and even go so far as to claim they were bringing negative spirits into our home. She's also always been the sort of woman who would hear news, and then claim to have been told by the Lord only a week prior that this would come to pass. Quite a lady.

"Where should we hide these?" the man asked, holding up the chubby Buddha in the one hand, and the wise Buddha in the other. "I mean, I don't really know where to put them."

"Just put them in a drawer, or in a closet, or something. I don't really care, as long as they're out of sight. " I was far too busy with much more important things, like picking through the carpet on my hands and kness, because we still didn't have a vacuum cleaner...

"Maybe I should put it on the balcony?"
"Do you think that's far enough away that the Lord won't tell her that they're there?"

Buddhas taken care of. Check.
Now, for the finishing touches. Dust, wipe, spray...

The man was sitting in the living room playing some video game when I walked in with what I thought was an appropriate finishing touch. I was met with rolling eyes, and groans.

"Holly. Really, don't you think that's a little over-the-top?"
"I don't think so."

He slapped his forehead as I placed the open Bible on the coffee table.

I left for a moment and when I returned he had removed it. Hours later I would discover that he'd removed the open Bibles from our nightstands too. Even though I'd carefully opened the one in "his" room to the first page of "Matthew." I thought it was funny...

But that's men for ya.
Buddha thunk?

I don't want to set the world on fire

The Man and I had finally decided to take the plunge into the world of "Cooldom" in the nation of "Awesomonia" and invest in a game system. A new game system. The debate began, of course, with a thorough discussion of the pros and cons of the two leading consoles, one being the ever daunting PS3, the other the slightly less intimidating XBOX 360. After weeks of sending friends and aquaintances into heated debates over where their loyalty lay, and Googling the two machines a thousand times, we finally came to a conclusion.

And there are definitely three hundred and sixty reasons contributing to my euphoria.

We picked up the ark of the covenant at Future Shop, where it sat waiting patiently for us at the very top of a stock shelf. The clerk helping us in the store was more than happy to climb the ladder to retrieve it. Turns out the mountain of 360's in the centre of the store was a sham, and only air graced their bellies. As the box was lowered from the shelf, held gently in the hands of someone strong and competent, it sort of glowed. I could see in The Man's eyes that it was twinkling for him as well, though I'm certain if I could hear through his ears I'd have been serenaded by a choir of angels. The harps and organs would have chimed in somewhere around the third game, and the second wireless controller or the 120 gig hard drive would have really driven it home.

We retrieved the Holy Grail of 360 games after what was an extremely long city-wide search, but stumbled upon it at a lowly EB Games in McGillivray. One would think I was talking about Halo, but one would be wrong.

I'm talking about Fallout 3, kids.

I'm not sure if there's anything else worthwhile in my life anymore. The second I turned the game on, I was hooked. I was instantly drawn in to its comforting embrace, the soft green glow of the high-def screen before me lured me with its siren song and I have since been powerless to escape. I've leveled up, accomplished quests, killed super mutants with nothing more than a hunting rifle! I've returned a violin to a lowly survivor of the end-of-the-world nuclear holocaust, so she may have a trade to exchange to other tattered members of what's left of the human race. I rescued an entire village from an active Nuclear bomb in the heart of its walls!

What did you do today?

Everywhere I go, I can't help but hum the beautiful 40's tunes that haunt my dreams at night. While doing the dishes at work, a coworker walked in on the chorus of "I don't want to set the world on fire..." She certainly hoped not.

I'm on a roll, though. Who knows.
I might.

Dye Another Day

I glanced at myself in the mirror, and tilted my head up and to the left, a scoff plastered to my face.

"What? What is it?" the man asked from the bathroom doorway.

"It's my hair, it's gotten all dully," I replied, a disgusted tone in the back of my voice. "I think I'm going to dye it again, all dark and sultry." I shimmied my shoulders and pushed past him through the door. Definitely a good decision, I reassured myself. It was true, my hair had gotten "dully." It wasn't at all shimmery, and had no defining hue at all. As a matter of fact, it was getting dangerously close to my natural hair colour - a mousy light-brown. Mennonite brown.

"What are you talking about? It looks fine! It's not dull, it's pretty!" The man insisted from the hallway, while I busied myself gathering what I'd need for my shift at work. "It's sort of summery, in a way, really. I like it."

"Well I don't, it's got to change. I can't afford to go to the salon, though, I can hardly afford my ruffles chip addiction as it is. I'm going to stop by Wal Mart on my way home and pick up a box of something chestnutty."

"If that's what you want to do, then that's fine. I'm sure Kit or Chels could dye it for you." His voice was uncertain, my friends were always so busy. Neither of us were sure I'd be able to get one of the girls to come down and dye my hair before the wedding I planned to attend in a couple of days. Still, it had to be done somehow, even if I had to do it myself.

That afternoon I found "Cappuccino" on the second lowest shelf in the health and beauty department. Garnier Nutrisse Cream seemed pretty dependable, and the girl on the box seemed quite satisfied with her own hair colouring outcome. I bought two boxes, however, since I've got quite a bit of area to cover on this head of mine. I headed home.

"Guess what you get to do tonight?" I said, feigning excitement, as the man shot me a skeptical look. He could read me like a children's book.

"What..." His eyes narrowed, and his hands rested on his hips as a devious smile spread across my face.

"I couldn't find anyone to dye my hair, so you get to do the honours! Doesn't it sound like fun? It'll be easy, I've done it a thousand times!" I sounded pretty sure of myself, given my extensive acting experience, but he seemed completely unconvinced and a wave of panic spread over his face.

"Oh no, absolutely not! There is no way I'm doing that! That's waaaaay too big a deal, if it doesn't turn out..." He began scratching his scalp frantically, going over the consequences in his mind. "No, no, no. Not going to happen, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Nooo! I need you, bud! I can't see it in the back, and I'll never be able to tell if I got the roots!" After a few more minutes of pleading he finally agreed, under the pretenses that he would not be held responsible should the outcome be less than desirable. Agreed.

The evening finally came and he followed me fearfully into the bathroom where I roosted in my most ugly of clothes on a stool in the middle of the room. He picked at the box with his fingertips, a specialist in the beginnings of difusing a bomb. He carefully lifted the three components out of the cardboard, and pulled the made-for-women latex gloves over his fingers. "Great, this is a good start," he grumbled, realizing the gloves barely reached his wrists, and his fingers were now webbed. "You can still back out," he warned. "I haven't ruined anything yet."

"Nonsense!" I proclaimed confidently. How hard can it be?

We mixed the components and began the science experiment on my head. I instructed him to cover the roots first, and then work his way down to the tips. I told him each hair had to be fully penetrated with the solution, and anything left dry would stay light. As I rambled on about the procedure, his eyes widened and the pressure threatened to break him. But, he soldiered on.

He squeezed the bottle slowly over the part in my hai...

"What are you doing?!"
"What? What?? I haven't done anything yet!"
"You're doing it way too slowly! That's not nearly enough to penetrate the roots! You've got to squeeze more!"
"But I don't want it to run ou..."
"Don't worry about that! There are two boxes! This isn't that hard."

He squeezed more solution over my hair. He gently patted it down into my scalp and...

"What are you doing?! What are you doing?!"
"I'm rubbing it in like you said!"
"You've got to do it more quickly, and harder! You're not painting my hair, you're supposed to be soaking my hair!"

He rolled his eyes, grumbled again, and continued. He squeezed an abundance of solution over a section of hair, and frantically, forcefully, rubbed it in. Good, this was the way. He was learning, slowly but surely. This would be done in no time!

The man got through half my head before I got so fed up I had to put on the second pair of latex gloves and do some hands-on assisting. The partnership actually worked for a while, despite the fact that the concept of not-dying my face never really got through to him. In the end I turned out looking very badly beaten around my hair line, and like I had some sort of circulation problem in my extremely purple ears. But the job was finished, two boxes later, and the man could finally relax. For 25 minutes. The results would dictate his fate in the end.

I stepped into the shower and rinsed the solution out, carelessly spraying red-purple dye all over the white tiles and cream-coloured shower curtain. Suddenly I found myself in a scene from Psycho, and began frantically collecting water in my hands and flinging it onto the walls. I did manage to rescue the bathroom, that is to say, everything but the giant purple smear across the bathroom door. This little souvenier was only discovered hours later, and will be a badge of honour for years to come I'm sure.

I blowdried my hair, and emerged from the steamy laboratory into the living room where a very nervous hair stylist sat, awaiting his doom.

"It turned out!" I shrieked triumphantly. He lept from the couch and lifted his arms in victory, and we danced around the room in our glorious success.

"Don't you ever make me do that again!"
"But you did such a great job..."
"No, absolutely not. Out of the question."

And after we ooed and awed over my delicious new hair colour, we paused and looked each other for a moment of silence.

In memory of those who dyed today.

One

You knew who you were meant to be,
But soon enough you'll come to see,
That you you thought you knew before,
Doesn't know you anymore.

Where everybody knows your name

What exactly is it about drinking that brings people together? All it takes is one drink, and you could befriend any person in the entire room. You don't even have to be drunk, you don't even really have to be tipsy, just a drink and everything that normally races through your head in a new or scary situation just melts away.

"Won't I seem stupid? I'm not pretty enough to talk to that guy. She definitely won't like me. I can't sing on stage, I probably picked a stupid song. They'll laugh at me. I won't be able to hit the notes, the music is too loud..."

None of that matters. And suddenly this person is introducing themself TO you, and not the other way around. And then you're introducing your friend to their friend, and at the end of the night everybody knows everybody, and it becomes one giant personal party, in everyone's honour. All because of a drink.

What an exceptionally new learning experience. Just another page in the story, I suppose.

Two halves don't make a whole

I've been away for a while. One can't really blog while they're away, but I was certainly without question "away." It's a strange thing, being away. Stranger still when you don't know you've been, or that you need to return at any point. But I have. And I was.

A sort of overwhelming realization hit me a couple of weeks ago, that terrified me to my very core. I looked at my life, at my relationships, at how I spent my time, and I had absolutely no idea who I was. I sat down and talked to the man, and he said he knew what I meant. We realized we only spent time with our friends when we absolutely could not spend time with each other. I realized that I've stopped painting regularly, I've stopped writing short stories, I can't even get around the city on my own without his car, or his instruction with buses. AND if I were to have a car to get around in, I wouldn't even know how to put gas in it. I've been dependent, and it's so scary.

So we decided to take a break from being a couple. Not a break-up, and not one of those typical breaks that couples take. We were still pleasant with each other, just stopped hugging, kissing, OBSESSING over one another. We forced ourselves to spend time apart. And I don't know if we've ever done anything so intelligent in our entire lives.

Within the first few days, even, I found myself with a much greater sense of individuality and independence. In the first week, I took the bus completely by myself, made a new friend, went out to a karaoke bar and sang karaoke in front of a room full of strangers! I've signed up for a hip hop dance class, I've gotten a $150 parking ticket, I sketched! What a world!

And through it all, and all of our independence and time apart it struck me harder than ever how much I loved the man, and how he was without question the one God wanted for me. I've never really felt that all encompassing feeling before, that nod from above that says "Okay, it is now safe to proceed." God told me I'd made the right decision, and I've never been happier.

The man and I have reunited on a much healthier level, we can have comfortable conversations without fighting over how we made each other sad today, we can bring ourselves happiness without each other, I'm still going out and making new friends, and he's still making time for his friends, and going to school regularly, and investing in himself.

It's really as if before we were two halves, and when we came together we made a whole. Our ignorance led us to believe that this was a healthy way to be, that love means needing someone. We were absolutely and completely wrong! In our time apart we've learned what it means to be a whole person on your own, and by coming together we are so much greater than anything we've ever been. I adore myself! I love the adventures I've been going on, the risks I've been taking, that exercises that have been stretching me far beyond my comfort zone into a strange and exciting world.

Hello, we've never met before.
I'm Holly, and it's wonderful to meet you.

Big Love

The man and I have been completely immersed in this television series lately, on the ledge of obsessed. We saw a couple of episodes on late night HBO over a couple of days, and decided we absolutely needed to see all of it! So we got a hold of the first season and we've been watching through it. I adore it! And I really don't know what the allure is, but I'm just so fascinated by all things having to do with the show!

The series "Big Love" is based around a family of Polygamists in the wholesome state of Utah. One man, played by Bill Paxton, is married to three women, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Chloë Sevigny and Ginnifer Goodwin, and together with their children try to make it through every day life. The three women have very diverse personalities and traits, and very different contributions to the family. Basically, this family overcomes the obstacles involved with living a secret life, while trying to run a business, as well as deal with their dark Mormon background and live a pure and decent life free of the stereotypes that polygamy carries with it.


It's so amazing, I am just crazy about it! Don't get me wrong here, people, I'm not getting ready to convert or anything like that, but it's just so darn interesting. And the actors are just so incredible, and so funny and completely different from what I'm used to seeing. And while watching you're exposed to a lot of basic christian principles as well, and strong family values, which you really don't see a lot of on television anymore.

If you're scanning through the channels and you see it, I definitely suggest you give it the time of day because I am just thoroughly enjoying every second of it!

My Friend Sam

I have a friend named Sam. He comes around usually in the evenings, after the sun has bled its last drops of light onto an arid cityscape, and he's not very polite. He knocks gently on my door, and sneaks quietly in. Sometimes he's so quiet I don't even notice he's come until he's right next to me. I wish he wouldn't sneak up on me like that, but he doesn't mean to, he's trying not to disturb me.

He curls up between me and the man on the couch. In the middle of our movie, and without knowing, he forces me to lean away, inching progressively closer to the distant arm of the love seat. He whispers in my ear during the movie about how the women are skinnier than me, about how the couples are more romantic than ours, about how the characters in the movie are achieving their dreams and I'm doing nothing resembling this at all. And I tell him to be quiet, but he doesn't listen. The man would tell him to be quiet, but he doesn't really notice Sam until he starts shouting.

Sam watches me while I cook sometimes, and I don't really like it. He finds me when I'm painting sometimes, and I suddenly don't really feel like painting anymore. He's just far too distracting, and keeps me from a lot of the things I love to do. But he's my friend, and I've known him for so long that it's hard to tell him "no." I don't have the strength to ask him to leave. The man sometimes does, but I just can't do it. I've tried.

He's around the most in the winter. He obviously has nowhere else to go, and knows I'll be home, because I don't have anywhere to go either. He sort of takes on a more dominant persona in winter, because he has so much more to talk about, and I can't really run. The summer is better, because I can go out and distract myself with the sun, and the grass, and the trees. I can go to the park, or just go for a walk. Sam usually can't find me when I'm going for a summer walk. I think the sun confuses him, he's not really an outdoor kind of guy.

He always comes along when we visit the man's mother. That woman and Sam get along better than anyone I know, so he always asks to come. He usually shows up at the most peculiar times, when I really don't expect him at all (he never calls first.) I'm usually having a spectacular time, and I fantastic day, finishing a successful work day, starting a beautiful painting. Times when I just don't think company's coming, those are the times he shows up. I always ask him why he needs to come, and he never really knows. He had nowhere else to be.

The time I see him most, however, is just before bed. The evening has just transformed into night, and it's quieter in the world than it has ever been. I'm just slipping into my night gown, listening to the nothingness around me, and the light from a nearby street lamp is beaming in through my window making a single illuminated square on my carpet. And in that moment, when my eyes begin to blur, and my mind begins to wander, I hear that small familiar knock at my door and I know who it is. It's Sam. And I don't know why, but like a robot I let him in. I even let him curl up in bed with me sometimes.

I don't like to have him around. He's cruel, and he steals from me. I find things missing all the time that I could have sworn were there yesterday. He has absolutely no regard for my plans or ideas, for my preferences or personal space. He comes between me and the man, and he comes between me and myself. I would never invite him, and I would never send him to your house either, because he's completely unpleasant and a bother on the life of anyone. Some days, I know, some of his other friends don't even want to get out of bed, for fear that he may show up. I know some nights I'm afraid to go to bed, for fear of that feeling in the morning.

Did I say his name was Sam?
Oh, how silly of me. Sorry, I meant "Sad."
Have you met him?

A Birthday in Pictures

1. Lunch at "Mongo's"


2. Five-Pine Bowling at "St. Vital Bowl"



3. Dinner at "Earl's"



4. Trip to the "Museum of Man & Nature" with family

It's a small world after all.

The 19th rolled around (1 day before my spectacular champagne birthday) and I waited with bated breath to see what magic there was in store. The man told me far in advance that this was the day he would present his gift to me. I had a few guesses, a few eyes-squinted fists-clenched hopes, and when my eyes did so eagerly open I discovered the most magical gift of all.

DISNEY ON ICE baby!

Two beautiful tickets wrapped ever so delicately in a little red ribbon. I could not believe it! I'd never been to an ice show before! I remember being in grade ?2? and coming to school only to be bombarded with little spinning light-up doodads, delicate colourful programs, the most elaborate tales of princes and princesses finding true love at last (and on ice for that matter, as if love isn't tricky enough) and I remember the wonder of it all. I was so envious! I had no idea what it might be like to see an ice show!

And for my birthday the wonderful man granted me that one childhood wish. What a stud.

I had such a spectacular time, too. We had amazing seats, and could see absolutely everything from them. From the sparkling fairy tale castle at the one end, to the illuminated patterned ice beneath their twinkling skates, all the way up to the falling snow and bubbles from the darkened man-made skies. He bought me a snow cone, that I ate from the top of Stitch's opened head, coloured with rainbow stripes. Little girls with their parents slipped past us in the aisles, adorned with multicoloured princess gowns, a vision in tulle, proudly sporting their golden mickey crowns, their black round ears peaking out through their carefully curled hair. Suddenly, I felt underdressed.

The zamboni drives out onto the ice, and stops in the centre. The driver gets off, confused, as if something is wrong with the ice-mending machine. He kicks the machine's ribs a few times, and circles it. I'm on to him now. He scratches his head in an exaggerated manner, and I'm certain he's a part of the act. The next thing I know my favourite childhood characters are out on the ice attempting to repair the "broken" machine! Goofy is not much help at all.


And the rest is history. I watched the most elaborate choreography as every princess ever to hit the screen got her own moment to shine in the arms of her prince charming, I watched as Aladdin was taken aback when not one but twenty genies emerged from the smokey castle to the tune of "Never Had a Friend Like Me" to prove the genie's ultimate power, Nemo found his father, Belle saved the Beast, Mulan brought honour to her family, Woody discovered true friendship with a spaceman, even Pinocchio learned the value of ones conscience, all narrated by the fabulous duo of Mickey and Minnie. There was even a sequence celebrating the wonder of the world's cultures to the tune of "It's a small world after all" as the instruments and style of the song changed with every new culture. Ack!


It was just all so much. I was nearly driven to tears when Simba and Nala danced ever so gracefully across the ice, ending with a dramatic pose as Simba caught Nala just before hitting the ice, by her arm and back leg, illuminated by a single spotlight in the middle of the ice. Imagine "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" playing with a rhythmic African beat in the background, syncing with your very heartbeat. Breathtaking.


At the very end such joy and wonder bubbled up from inside me when the characters all marched out to wave us goodbye to "Circle of Life." My life will never be the same!

My Bloody Valentine

Valentines day!

What a ridiculous holiday, an absolute complete waste of money and time, a consumer's holiday, a candy company's joy, an unnecessary trap set for the single folks the world over, pointing a rude finger of disappointment in their direction, reminding them that they are as alone as ever, and that their lives have absolutely no meaning but to find someone who might share Valentines Day with their pathetic likes next year. That's not to mention the couples on Valentines Day, suddenly finding it essential to treat each other with the same love and respect that they ought every other day of the year, shrouded with disappointment because their significant other did not do it quite the way they were hoping, did not get them quite the sort of chocolates they were expecting, and in some cases, did not care enough to remember. A disgusting February event.

But oh how I do love it.
I look forward to it all through January.
A magical day of absolute romantic exaggeration.
The world needs more of that.

My day began with a delicious home cooked surprise Valentines breakfast from the man, seated neatly at the dining room table, an array of breakfast delights in front of him, presents strewn carefully across the centre of the table. O sweet romantic boy.

He got me a book I've been wanting for a long time from Chapters, and a beautiful, delicate pink rose, just into the stage when a flower begins falling asleep, its petals lightly dusted with the gold of old age, its head beginning to turn toward it's mother earth, its leafy arms no longer outstretched begging for love, but resting, waiting for it. He knows me far too well, what a beautiful flower.


We decided that each and every day was Valentines for us, and that we were so fortunate and so blessed to have one another in our lives, that we wanted to reach out to those who may be having a less than merry time on this Valentines Day. We decided that we didn't need an entire day to ourselves, and that we would give our evening to a greater cause. So we called up a couple of his single friends and had them over for a little Valentines party of our own, because the day is about love, and not just romantic love. It's about love for our families, our children, our friends and neighbours, our teachers, our coworkers, the clerk who asks us if we found everything we were looking for today. And it's the perfect day to remember to show love to those around us in everything we do. So that's what we did.

When they came, I discovered that they had decided exactly the theme of our little party, and that it was to be the opposite of Valentines. Now, when you think what that may be, what's the first thing that comes to mind? Love/Hate. Red/Black. Romance/Ecnamor. Whatever the case may be, I doubt you thought of this one:

Zombies.

Naturally, that's what a couple of single guys think of when they think "the opposite of Valentines." So that's what we did. We played a board game called "Last Night on Earth" where the premise is to kill as many zombies as you can before the sun comes up and the virus spreads to the world. You get to be a character, adorned with particular weapons and abilities, all the while keeping watch on the chart mapping each hour until the sun rises. It actually turned out to be a lot of fun, the game even came with its own soundtrack, adding to the suspense and mood of it all.


We flipped through the pages of "The Zombie Survival Guide" and watched "Shaun of the Dead" and "Quarantine." We also spent some time playing "Dead Rising" on one of the guys' XBOXes. It really turned out to be a lot of fun, and by the end of the evening we were all so zombie'd out that we didn't even get a moment to consider that it was Valentines Day, we were having too much fun in bizarre, incredible fellowship together.

What better way to celebrate a day of love?
Though, I wonder now, if I will forever associate Valentines Day with the flesh eating undead.
Heck, don't we all.

February DIY

I have a weird thing about being able to see the spines of my dvd's, and the thing is this: I don't like it. I don't like being bombarded with an overwhelming array of colours every time I look in the direction of my tv, and I decided I wasn't going to have it anymore. It's bad energy, it's exposure to a stressful element, and I want to simplify. So, I bought a hutch.


A beautiful hutch, dark "espresso" wood, with glass panes. That was the only problem, however. Though they were slightly more hidden, I could still see them menacingly peeking out at me through the glass. Solution? Haha, feels like DIY time in Holly World! (Hollywood?)

The first step, of course, was to find something to put behind the glass. I played with the idea of some gold paper, maybe some tissue paper, something from wood or bamboo perhaps, but nothing really seemed to work, or seemed very reversible in the long run. Then it came to me: fabric! So, I went out and found something really beautiful, for only $5/meter!

So, solved right? No, not quite. Too plain, just didn't seem to really be a show stopper. What else could I do? I decided to paint the glass before putting the fabric on it, to add some real character, some real detail. I went online to find the perfect silhouette, and found something I really thought would bring out the theme I was trying to accomplish: cherry blossoms!


So I delicately painted the image onto the glass, and placed the glass in the empty holes. Then, carefully cut the green fabric and ended up adhering it with double sided tape, which has held up pretty well so far! The final result, I thought, was absolutely breathtaking, and achieved my ultimate goal. I ended up replacing the stress with something soothing. I'm so glad I did it.