Saturday, November 23, 2013

One wedding, one honeymoon, and one baby on the way.

So I just finished reading my last post on here, which was in March. Man, the stress I put myself under was phenomenal. And the asshat-ery that others threw in front of Big C and I was easy to deal with, when all was said and done although it sure didn't feel easy at the time. Perspective is a bitch.

I'm not going to go into a big speech about weddings and the stress brides put themselves under to have the 'perfect day'. There are already hundreds, heck, there are probably thousands of articles on the web on how to deal with wedding stress. There are a few good ones out there like this one or this one and most of them all say the same things: Relax. However you can, take yourself out of the wedding world and remind yourself that life is not about the wedding, it's about the marriage. Spa day, massage, swimming, meditating, visits with friends, etc.

Our wedding day came and flew by so fast it was unreal. From the morning we got up to arriving at the cabin for our first night as a married couple, everything was wonderful and if bad things happened, I was oblivious.

I wanted to post a few pics of our wedding day, courtesy of our AWESOME photographer, Memories by Me Photography but my laptop is being a major pain in the ass right now, so I will hopefully get them set up in my next post.

I'll also post about our honeymoon, with a few pics of our travels. We went to the U.K and Northern Ireland, with a quick day trip to Paris thrown in for good measure.

And then the grand finale, as if the title of this post couldn't give it away... We're expecting baby #1 in late February! I haven't taken any pregnancy pics, mostly because I just think it's a waste of pictures, cuz who wants to see yet ANOTHER pregnancy photo? But I would like to talk about some of the experiences I've had since getting pregnant.

Today I've been working on some treasury stuff for a non-profit that I volunteer for. Anyone who knows me is probably baffled by that sentence because A) I hate math, numbers and all things accounting and B) I HATE MATH, NUMBERS AND ALL THINGS ACCOUNTING.

It's not so terrible, it's just that I'm not good at it. If one number doesn't add up right, or isn't accounted for, I'm hooped. I can't find it. I don't want to find it. Ask me to weave a story, or go crafting, or shopping for that hard-to-buy-for-person, or ANYTHING and I'll do it. I'll even do accounting. But that doesn't mean I'll like it, or that I'll do a good job at it.

 So the point is, I'm trying to get this bookwork done this weekend so we can have our meeting and I can stop thinking about it until March, which is when the whole thing starts over again. It's my first year doing this so it's all cocked up, but now that I know the ropes a bit better, I can do a better job of it next year.


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

food IS medicine, you fuckers!

Lately I've been living off potatoes and cheese.

It is terrible, and no good. I'm officially done with shitty eating. I'm determined to turn my life around. I can't be unhappy anymore. Yoga and puppies and art make me happy. This is what I will concentrate on. And good clean food.

Big C's mom called this past Sunday to let us know that she was really unhappy with our wedding invitations. This call took place 2 weeks after they had been mailed out to the guests. Way to upset the bride, bitch, way to go.

The problem she had with it was that her name is on the same line as her ex-husband, as the parents of Big C. Apparently their names being on the same line makes it seem like they are still together? I don't know. They've been divorced for 25 years. She's been remarried for 20 years. Everyone in Big C's family knows this. My family knows this. All our friends know this. I don't know who the fuck would think that they're a couple. If she can't differentiate between being the mother and father of the groom and being a couple, then that's her problem, not mine. She is totally entitled to her opinion, but that doesn't mean she has to be mean about it. I agonized over invitations. I researched for weeks on proper wording for divorced parents of the groom. The major consensus was to put the parents on the same line with their different names. Yes, we didn't include Big C's stepdad, but we had talked about it. We could have made it work if Big C had wanted his name on there, but he didn't because he doesn't consider his step-dad a father figure, but sees him as his mom's husband.


Anyways, I was really upset and bawled my eyes out because what she did was phone and basically hurt my feelings and baffle Big C. It was totally unproductive and usless and hurtful. If it had really meant something to her she should have said something earlier. You DON'T call 2 weeks after they've been mailed out to berate the bride and groom for their choice!


Anyways, I'm really tired right now. I've had a glass of wine with my potatoes and cheese (becuase I'm SO healthy..... :(  but seriously, I'm starting now. Watch me be the most annoying documenting healthy eater EVER) and I'm in bed and everything (even though I'm fully dressed) but I've got to put some socks on and head to the bar to play darts. Heck yes! Coffee and water!

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Holy cats, what a weekend

So I have no idea what happened on Saturday. My brain can't reach that far back.

But Sunday was ridiculously indulgent.

I'm supposed to be living this grain/processed sugar free diet, which for the most part, I am. But something happened on Sunday that broke me down. And that something was:

You bet. I gave in. I had double doubles, 2 bagels, and a large turkey bacon sandwich. And let me tell you that the turkey in the turkey bacon sandwich was NOT actual turkey.

Part of the problem was, when I went into Winnipeg, I left early because the stores advertised that they were open at 9:30. But when I got there, pretty much everything was closed until 11. So I had all this time on my hands. And I REALLY like their coffee. And it just so happened that the Tims I was at had blueberry bagels, which are my FAVORITE. After that I went to Costco and walked around the warehouse, looked around and stretched my legs.

Finally, when everything opened, I went to Ricki's first. They were on the last day of their sale, and I had 3 gift cards to use. After picking out half the things in the store, I spotted the awesomest clutch ever. It was made of silver, almost chain-mail-esque material and I felt like it would be a perfect bridesmaid gift. And it was ON SALE!

The problem was, however, that there were only 2. And I needed 5. So the extremely nice salesgirl made a round of calls to the other Ricki's stores in the city. Surely some would have them too, right?

Well, only one other store, in the St Vital mall had 2. In the entire city, with like 6 Ricki's in it, there were only 4 of these purses. Gaahhhh.

Well, I thought to myself, no worries. I'll pick up the 2, so I have 4, and then just think of something different for my maid of honour, who happens to be my little sister.

And then the salesgirl comes to the dressing room (because I'm trying on half the store while this is happening) and says, "Do you want me to try our store in Brandon?'

What a sweetheart. 'SURE', said I. 'WHY NOT'.

Fuck, but Brandon is at least 2 hours away from Winnipeg! I and just drove and hour and a half to get to Winnipeg! And sure enough, Brandon has some. So one got put on hold for me.

So once I bought all my new clothes (and the 2 clutches) I hightailed it to St Vital and picked up the other 2 purses.

Then I got in my car and, with a pit stop at Tim hortons for a bathroom break, coffee and another bagel, I was on my way to Brandon.

Once in Brandon, I went straight to the mall and picked up the clutch. Relief flooded me. I felt complete and stable once more. Not really. I felt like a foolish wreck. Not only had I just spent like 5 hours in the car, I had eaten nothing but coffee and processed wheat. And for what? 5 clutches, that's what.

So, with another stop at Tim Hortons (there is literally one on every block, EVERYWHERE!), where I grabbed a bottle of water, a double double and a large sandwich, I drove home.

AND THEN. When I finally made it back to the village where I live (from now on to be known as TVWIL) I decided to stop by the curling rink just in case Big C was still there. Sure enough, he was. He was also drunker than a skunk (Bonspiels do that to him). So I hung around and talked with him and 2 other men for a couple of hours, just basically hanging back, having a few drinks and shooting the shit. It was nice, but I was exhausted and just wanted to put my long johns on and lay down.

When we finally got home. I couldn't sleep.


So the moral of my story? Give your bridesmaids a pair of earring. It's less stress that way. And AVOID TIM HORTONS!!!

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Crazy People. Is it just me, or has everyone gone stupid?


Last time I came on here, it was to rant about how unhappy I am about this wedding planning show.

It hasn't changed, although I have lost some weight, thanks to The Primal Blueprint 21 Day Transformation. 5 pounds so far, to be exact. And it's only week one! That alone makes me happy. My dress WILL fit!

Next stop is menswear. After looking around the Moores' site I'd like something like this:


Except without the handkerchief. Doesn't need a boutonniere AND a handkerchief.  I'm thinking a navy tie and white vest for the groomsmen, and a white vest/white tie for Big C.

Or maybe something like this:

Like still grey, but a shade darker. Platinum, I think they called it. I think with a dark tie (navy) it will look fine. If they don't have navy, then I'll just get them all to wear silver vest/tie and Big C can have a white one. Actually mulberry looks kinda nice, with the grey. Except these are manly men. Don't know how they feel about mulberry and grey...

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

I could use a hug.

Ugh. Weddings.

Specifically wedding planning.


You know, when we first got engaged, I was so completely over the moon, there was really no way I was getting off cloud 9. Every waking moment was spent thinking and planning this special get-together and every night was spent dreaming about them. So excited, was I.

Now I can't wait to have this goddamn motherfucking piece of crap day over with. The whole thing is ruined.

Oh. That's a big much.

I didn't want a big day. I wanted a small day. Me, my fiance (we'll call him Big C), our parents and siblings. Just exchanging vows, signing the papers, wearing a ring to symbolize our union and then maybe supper and drinks to celebrate.

Nope. Noooope. That's not what I get. I now have a full-blown hootenanny on my hands.

I get panic attacks, passive-aggressive sisters, overly dramatic mothers, and indifferent in-laws. Too many cooks have spoiled this broth. It's supposed to be a day of love. A day for Big C and I. Now it's a shitshow of 275 people, some of whom I wouldn't know from a hole in the ground (but they HAVE to come because they're neighbors and her husband just died!) and more money being thrown away which I can't think about otherwise I get heart palpitations.

Heart palpitations and gavistcon. My new best friends...

Seriously. How did this get so big? Why did I not speak up a hell of a lot sooner than this?! It's way too fucking late now. We're getting married in 4 1/2 months. The save the dates went out. The invitations are almost ordered. Big C has his list of things to do and I'm trying like fuck to raise some money to pay for the decorations. (4 fucking grand for decor! WTF! Because I wanted the hall to look less hall-ish ooh la la!)

It's all about impressing people. About making a splash. Keeping up with the Jones. Which is ironic because where I come from the Jones' are poor.

I'm so tired. And I'm so stressed. And I'm so done with being tired and stressed. I just want to be at peace. Why can't I be at peace!?!?

Sure. I like my dress. I feel quite beautiful in it. But then I worry that it's too sparkly. Too show off-y, if you will. Like that actually matters. IT'S MY FUCKING WEDDING! Holy shit.  Plus the fact that I'm getting so fat I can hardly fit my dress anymore... Fatty McFuck is my name.

Some women are born bridezillas and some women are forced into that role by terrible people who pass judgement too quickly.

For instance. I don't want flowers. It's not my thing. I will probably carry a small bouquet down the aisle, but my bridesmaids are carrying a little lantern (maybe decorated with greenery). My sister, who is my MOH, and my mom, who are supposed to be the most supportive women in my life have nothing good to say. They want flowers. If I don't have flowers, then I'm a stupid person with bad taste. But no pressure...

Another instance. I could not find an invitation that I loved. I was not willing to settle, because I didn't want to shell out near to 800 bucks on paper that I thought 'would do'. I'm sorry that I care, ok? So I'm fussy with my money, sue me. I had my heart set on a picture invitation, but couldn't find one that worked with the invitation wording and it was sincerely driving me up the wall, like I was going MAD.

I had a few picked out that Big C agreed on, and one in particular was nice. Not awesome, or beautiful, but it would do. My sister and mom liked it, because it was traditional (they're very matchy matchy people) and wanted me to go with that. I wouldn't order it because I just felt like I wasn't done looking. There had to be something out there that I was more excited to spend my money on. And then I get accused by them of being too picky and if I don't have a traditional invitation mom will get made fun of by other women in town. You know what? Fuck you and your idea of picky you irrational bitches.

Too harsh? Too harsh...

So tonight, Big C and I decided to go to and have a look around. We started one from scratch together, in the colours that we like, and I added a picture on the back. It's simple, it's what we want, and it's cheap. Bam. And my sister and mom can just not say anything at all if they don't like it.  They'll probably say something, but by then it will all be ordered and if they want to be useful they can lick stamps.

Fuck, I could use a hug.