Wedding Bells
No... not mine. You can start breathing again.But I'd like to send out a bit "Congrats!" to Heidi and her man, Brett, who got engaged last weekend... two weekends ago, my bad. Has it been that long already? Jeez... feels like forever. They'll be an old married couple before they're even married!
The best news? I get to be a Bridesmaid. Sweet, eh? What's the old saying? Thrice a Bridesmaid, never a Bride. Well, one down, two to go. I'm sure I'll be fine.
So, not much to write this week, just a big shout out to the happy new fiancee's. Go Heidi!
Oh, and for the girls, here's the bling. Nice, eh?
VICTORY!!!
I am the master of my domain. Well, at least my kitchen. I am not alone in my "master-dom", however, and am pleased to report that Alan and I have conquered the evil oven and have proven victorious over it's over-cooking-gonna-burn-anything-you-put-in-me ways. HA HA!
We decided to do Thanksgiving at our place this year. Let me just note right now that "our place" is small. We have seating for two. Three if you count the Papasan chair (which, I have under strict advisement, never to have sex in as it ruins your chair!). Well, if you bring 5 men into an apartment which seats two, amazing things happen. Chairs which you never would have considered as seating in the living room, suddenly become just that. For instance, my kitchen chairs which I'm pretty sure are rated for about 150lbs. can actually hold more like 250lbs if necessary. And computer chairs which, while comfortable, become "recliner" for two lucky men!
But, back to the food, which is the main 'dish' of this post. Hee hee... I love puns!
We woke up bright and early on Friday morning (8:11am by my clock; 8:06 to the rest of the world) to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. AHA! The timer works. Yesssss!!! (we just bought the coffee maker the day before). I quickly learned how to make Pillsbury croissants, or rather how not to. Alan had to roll them... I'm not very good with directions apparently. So we had strawberry preserves (not jam) on our croissants, with some fresh coffee, and then we were off to the races.
I started with Mum's stuffing. Not much of a recipe. It pretty much tells you what ingredients you need but nothing about how much of each ingredient. Alrighty... just start throwing stuff in. So, a package of bacon and half a loaf of dry french bread later, we were half way there. We had to get some more eggs, some sage, and some milk so Alan could make the pies. Like I said, I'm not very good with directions. I forgot these ingredients when we went to the grocery store the day before. Bah, I suck. So, once the stuffing was done Alan did the pies and started to peel the potatoes. I think it was in that order. Anyway, then we got to stuff the turkey. But before that, I had to, gulp, clean the turkey! BLEAH! I had to pluck a feather which was left behind. I had to pull out a bag of gizzards. What an awful word. And then there was the neck. That pushed me over the edge. Alan had to pull that out for me. I couldn't do it. And I've discovered that 11.5lbs is a lot heavier than it sounds. I can pick up 11.5lbs of novels, or DVDs, or clothes or shoes. But hand me a wet, slimy, cold 11.5lb turkey, and I'm done for. Alan was very good about it, but I'm pretty sure there was some annoying whining from me. Oh and guess what? The insides of turkeys are hollow! I know, I know, most of you know that. For whatever reason, I was expecting more meat or something. I was surprised to see rib cage. It kind of freaked me out so Alan had to salt and pepper the inside of the bird.
So, we got it all stuffed up and pinned (Alan pinned it, I couldn't do it... poor birdie) and then it came time to butter and flour the bird. LOL!!! What a gong show. I'm still giggling about this. I grab a stick of butter out of the fridge and start applying it to the bird like it's a stick of deoderant. One problem. Cold bird + cold butter= nada! But my hands were already covered in raw turkey goo so I just rubbed the butter back and forth in my hands for a few minutes to make the butter soft. That worked much better. Then the flowering. The directions say "Sprinkle flour lightly over buttered bird". Well, by that time, my hands were pretty uncoordinated. "Sprinkle" apparently meant "drop blobs of flour in random spots and hope for the best". In the end it all worked out just fine but I was kind of worried for a while.
After the bird went in, I went for a power nap and Alan went to the park to play Frisbee, by himself. Wonders never cease! Just as I woke up, our first guest arrived. We played Cribbage (I won... yeah me!) and then some other folks arrived and started up a Crokinole tournament. I started to boil the potatoes, warm up the ham, and just keep myself busy doing little womanly things! LOL... well... I put on my cute little apron that Alan bought me and stayed out of the boys way, in any case.
Dinner was a hit. The turkey was beautiful. All golden brown and juicy and tender. And best of all, we hardly have any left! The ham was awesome, despite being pre-sliced to sandwich meat slivers, and the veggies and salad brought by our guests were fab-oo! The party shut down around 11 or 11:15. I survived through the first part of "The DaVinci Code" but was lights out by 12:30.
I'm sure some cool stuff happened the rest of the weekend but it's a bit of a blur. Time off from work allows me to pretty much just take time off from life. So that's what I did.
And just in case you're counting, only 13 more sleeps until my Happy Birthday!
Happy (American) Thanksgiving!!!
‘Tis the season to eat turkey, drink wine, indulge in pie, and justify it all! Oh no, my Canadian friends, it’s not yet Christmas, it’s Thanksgiving.
Here, in the good ol’ U.S. of A. we feast and become grossly distended in November. Boxing Day is a “Never Was” here. In the United States we celebrate Thanksgiving (a time to pat ourselves on the back for killing Native Americans it would appear, and show no remorse what so ever beyond killing more turkeys and suffering hangovers) and then follow it up with “Black Friday”. Black Friday is the American Boxing Day. It kind of makes sense, actually. Better to get the sales before Christmas than after, but apparently its insanity. Store fronts are lined with people waiting for the best deals on new plasma screen TV’s, or the coolest toys for kids, by 5am, if not earlier, on Black Friday.
So, with all that under our belts, I put this out to you, my loyal readers: what, truly, is Thanksgiving about? Do we stop in our day to be thankful for anything? Do we say an extra “thanks” to that man or woman bagging our last minute groceries which may or may not include the last turkey in the deli section of our local grocery market? Do we put on an extra smile for the man or woman working overtime on Thanksgiving day, instead of being with his or her respective family, so that we can put one more plate of food on the table? What thanks are we showing or giving as we greedily line up to spend money on items we likely already have but feel we need to upgrade?
While most of my readers are my Canadian friends, I’d like your opinion on what Thanksgiving is, even though it has passed in Canada. It might make it easier to get through my first American Thanksgiving where it would appear very few people truly show thanks!
Best wishes in this coming Holiday season!
Journal Finale: Finally...My How Time Flies
Monday, November 20, 2006
It’s been almost two months and a half since my ‘migration’. I know I’ve been negligent in not completing this journal sooner but it’s been a busy busy month. Let me tell you, moving to the States is quite the experience. But, all in all, it’s been worth it. The “Yanks” are fun and I can’t complain about my choice to leave.
Alan and I are having a great time learning what it’s like to truly live with one another. Believe it or not, we haven’t had any big arguments. There have been tense moments, usually me freaking out about something small that just ticks off that last nerve, but he’s always ready with a hug, and a kind word to get me through.
I’ve taken up the great game of pool. I’ve won twice now, out of 6 sessions. I even beat Alan once, which may not mean much to you, but to the folks we know here, it’s a big deal. At least they pretend it’s a big deal for my sensitive ego!
Driving is awesome. The minimum speed limit on the freeways is about 120/130 km/hr at any given time, and Eddie is lovin’ it! My coworkers, are pretty decent, though their sense of humor just isn’t up to the Canadian standards. However, they got a kick out of my Halloween costume. We went as the McKenzie Brothers:
There are plenty of mundane details to share but by this point you’re just wondering if this is ever Going to end. So, at 23 pages (if you were reading this in PDF format, of course), plus or minus, I bid my adieu. Thanks for reading! I hope it was at least mildly entertaining. We had a great trip down, and have so many fond memories of the folks we said good bye to at the party on my last Saturday night in town. Thanks to everyone who showed up and most of all to Kathy and Pam for setting up such a good time! You are awesome!!!
Love you all so much. Don’t be a stranger. Come visit. We bake now. So we’ll even feed you something other than restaurant food! Pam H., I’m still holding you to your promise to visit in 2008!
Journal Day 6: Homeward Bound!
Friday, September 15, 2006
We woke up at 8am again; Alan had to work of course. Work makes Alan blurry; no scientific reason why!
We finally left Fresno at 9am; Fresno is now deemed the “Red Deer of California”. We headed towards the Sequoia Forest, about 50 miles south of Fresno. Driving in these mountains can only be descried at slow and curvy. It took us 3 hours to drive 80 miles. Unfrickin’ believable! It was well worth it. The trees are amazing; they’re massive. We could stand inside them and disappear.
If you ever need a reality check that there things in life that are bigger than taxes and death, go see these trees. Some of them are more than 3000 years old. Oh the things that they have seen!
Due to reconstruction of the highway through the park, we had an escort out of the park. There were some great hairpin turns amongst the large trees. We even saw one uprooted (a tree, not a hairpin turn. What would an uprooted hairpin turn look like, I wonder?)!
Finally out of the forest, we flew down south arriving in a city called Tara Visa and stopped at
Applebee’s… again… Alan took over driving as I was fried from the trip through the mountains.
We arrived in LA about 4:30. Not good. So not good. Traffic was slow but no worse than we expected. We only came to a complete stop a few times but not for very long. Finally arriving home at 8:30; very dark by then. I was on my last legs, even as a passenger, dealing with the traffic had me on my last nerve. SO MANY PEOPLE!!!
However, our arrival date was impeccable as a package had arrived during our drive home (thank you Heidi) so I even had a present waiting for me when I got home!
We had dinner, I’m pretty sure, but I don’t remember. I crashed hard, and dreamed of home!
Journal Day 5: Starbucks: A Pastime or a National Addiction?
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Up at 7:30 this morning… we sure aren’t spending much time in these swanky hotels.
Best Western Hotel Lobby Garden
Once again, we found a local Starbucks. May I point out that this is the BUSIEST Starbucks I’ve ever been to. There was a line up of cars at least 12 deep through the parking lot, the seats in the shop were full, there was a line up damn near out the door of this place. It was incredible. And rightfully so. It was a great coffee. Grande Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha, with whip, extra hot. AWESOME!!! Anyway, it was full. I think half the town was there.
From here we went down to Humboldt Bay to see… the bay… it was nice. It, too, smelled a little weird. And of course was populated by sea gulls. It was pretty chilly by the water (53F), which really isn’t that cold but I acclimate very quickly. LOL. Anyway, this is the Bay… behind Alan.
He’s such a charmer, isn’t it? Hey, by day 4 on the road, I’m lucky he’s only sticking his tongue out at me and not leaving me behind!
As we continued south we passed through another piece of the Redwood Forest, along Fwy 101. In the day light it’s much less scary, but I’m beginning to wonder what we didn’t see in the dark.
For example, in the daylight, Bigfoot emerges!
We also saw a Bald Eagle soaring high above us as we drove down another mountain , and a group of Hawks circling overhead. See, it’s a good thing we stopped at the Bird’s of Prey Museum otherwise we wouldn’t have known they were hawks! Eh? Eh? Yeah, that’s right, we’re geniuses!
In Leggit, we stopped in a little preserve for the Redwoods and drove through a tree. That’s right – Eddie went through a tree. It was so cool. Alan got out (before I drove into the tree) to take pictures. It was a tight squeeze. Eddie’s not a big car, and I only had about 4 inches on either side of my side view mirrors! We also stood in some trees, lay down in some trees, held some trees up... you get the idea! (FYI – it’s a trick… we only look like we’re holding it up, but you probably already know that!). There was a little gift shop with some cool trinkets and a bunch of old dudes and women sitting out front marveling at the fact that the trees were older than they were. 
Alright, enough pictures for now.
From here, we headed towards Ukiah. But on the way, my driving skills, and Eddie’s ability to take
corners, were tested. There was a race down the mountain from Leggit. I think we all figured Bigfoot was chasing us! Seriously, it was ridiculous. Zipping in and out of other cars, I was keeping up with sports cars. It was a beautiful thing. It became almost too comfortable to be driving that fast because when we arrived in Ukiah it was weird to be slowing down to 50km/hr. We were smart enough to stop in Ukiah for food, which seemed to be a rarity during our trip, and once again had lunch at Applebee’s. Up to this point, just about all of our meals on the road have been at Applebee’s. Good food. Good prices. Huge drinks. Makes for a lot of pit stops for bathroom breaks. Which can also prove to be a problem when driving through small towns in Northern California.
For example, Geyserville, CA. No gas station. No bathrooms. We snuck, literally, into a café which has a sign on the front door which explicitly states “Bathrooms for use of Patrons only”. Well, no one offered to seat us, or ask us if we’d been helped so we helped ourselves. To their bathrooms. Which were really nice; potpourri and everything. I think mine even had a little decorative hat with a ribbon on the wall. Very cute.
Onward south towards San Francisco; the gem of our trip. Once again, we arrived in time to experience rush hour. But I’ll get to that in a minute. We planned one thing right: our arrival into San Fran was by way of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was SO cool. Needless to say, more pictures!!! 
We stopped for a while and saw Alcatraz from a distance, and walked up and down a few streets to get a feel for life in San Francisco. We stopped and walked through a reproduction of the Aqua Ducts at some Science Centre/Museum for a while, and sat at the edge of the Bay and watched the waves, and intermittently , a sea lion playing in the surf.
If you want to see these pictures, write me and I’ll send them. They just aren’t great so I won’t post them here. Oh, and to get all “Hollywood” on you, we went to the place where Sean Connery meets his daughter in the movie “The Rock”. I was like “Oh my god! Nicholas Cage has stood right here!” No, I didn’t really say that out loud, but you can bet I was thinking it!
Continuing on: I feel should tell you that if you’re a yellow car in San Francisco, you are automatically assumed to be a cab. We had at least three people try to “hail us”. They all looked so disappointed as we waved as we drove by that I was almost compelled to stop and take them up a few blocks just to make them feel better.
So, on to rush hour. Wow… that is something else in San Francisco. Michael Fishman received an email from me as we drove through the scary roads of San Francisco and I’m sure if he could have heard what I was saying as I was typing it would have gone a lot like this:
“Dear Michael, OH MY GOD!,
We’re on our WATCH OUT FOR THAT CAR way through San Franci HOLY CRAP co right now. There’s a lot of traff F@*K ic right now trying to get onto the THE LIGHTS ARE OUT? Bay bridge. Calgary’s’ JERK traffic seems so BUGGER ALL sedate compared to this JACK A$$!...”
You get the gist. It’s a good thing Alan was driving. I was so nervous I gave up watching the road and just typed my emails. The Bay Bridge, though, once on it, was quite impressive. It’s like 6 lanes across, and two levels; one for each direction east and west.
Once across this bridge, you enter Oakland. Oakland is HUGE! And still, we’re in rush hour. I had no concept of rush hour until we entered Oakland. Dudes, it’s ridiculous. People do this EVERY DAY! 5mph for an hour to an hour and a half. You’d think that there would be a better way. Nope. It’s like this everywhere in California. Every DAY!!! Unbelievable. And naturally, as soon as one enters rush hour traffic, ones bladder wakes up, realizes it’s full and goes “How long can you stand it? Think you’re tough, big guy? C’mon… try and outlast me! Mwa ha ha ha!!!” This is Alan’s bladder talking of course. If you substitute “girl” with “guy” it would be mine, of course. So, the first town outside of Oakland, and rush hour, we found was Livermore. Yeah… ummm… if you look up “Grossest Bathroom in the World” in the Guinness Book of World Records, I’m pretty sure you’d find the gas station Alan and I stopped at. I figured since we stopped I might as well go, so naturally my bladder decided it was full. Cool; it’s convenient for once! Yeah… not so much. Alan went in and was back out pretty quickly. He wouldn’t even let me look. He said it was pretty much a hole in the floor, and that was it. Ew! I was back in the car in record time and ready to hold it until we arrived back in civilization.
Civilization comes in the form of a town called Patterson. However, on the way to Patterson, we passed Manchester. Why, you ask, did we drive past the perfectly decent town of Manchester? Because Alan is stupid! I say to him (in an awful British snobby accent) “Dahling! Would you like to go to Manchester?” To which he replies (not a word of a lie) “No thank you. I’ve been to Winchester”, in an equally bad British accent. Alright games over. I say “No, seriously, I have to go!” Crap! We’ve now missed the turn off. So, onwards to Patterson. Which, wasn’t a total loss because I got a small taste of home at a gas station. We walked past a station wagon with an older gentleman sitting in the front seat with a Schnauzer on his lap who looked IDENTICAL to my puppy Mercedes, who passed away a year and a half ago. It sure tugged at my heart strings but I was touched, and I got to pet an adorable puppy named Max!
Our last stop of the night was in Fresno. Just for the record: Fresno is the Suck! Dakota Drive is the portal to hell! It took us FOREVER to find a hotel and once we did, it was full. In Fresno. In the middle of September. What the heck? Anyway, some band was in town. So we got rerouted
to another hotel. The bed was pretty much a piece of ply wood with blankets. It wasn’t a great sleep but we had a decent pizza, and watched “The Last Castle” and were off to La La land by midnight.
Journal Day 4: If the Fear Doesn’t Kill You, It’ll Sure Make You Sleep
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Once again up and at ‘em early. We found the nearest Starbucks and were back on the Freeway at 8:30.
Rush hour. This normally wouldn’t bother me. Except in Spokane Washington, rush hour is all uphill. So? What’s the problem you ask? My poor little four banger Chev doesn’t like hills much. Poor guy was huffin’ and puffin’ up those hills as if the Devil himself were chasing him. And rush hour doesn’t appear to stop at the city limits. I felt like we were amidst an exodus for the first 40 minutes we were on the road. Semi’s everywhere. I digress…
We drove through to Kennewick, which is just on the border between Washington and Oregon. We arrived around 11am (I think) and stopped at Denny’s for brunch. Alan had the Grand Slam (something with eggs and a bunch of meat) and I had a BLT. The good news: I got my meal for free. The bad news: the lettuce in the sandwich was so limp and old I couldn’t eat it. I had to pull it out of my sandwich. This is why I got the meal for free. So, my BLT was mostly a BT, with mayo.
We strolled around in the strip mall parking lot for a bit to walk off some of the lunch and then we were on our way to Portland. 
We drove through the Columbia River gorge. The wind was enough to drive me crazy. I felt like I’d just drunk a case of beer. The wind was pushing us all over the lane and I was forced to drive with my hands at 10 and 2 just keep the car in my own lane. We stopped for gas in Bummsville Oregon (really don’t know the name but all that was there was a gas station, a few attendants, three or four other wayward travelers, and some tumbleweeds). The gorge was beautiful but Id’ seen enough by the time we were through the canyon.
We arrived right on schedule just outside Portland just in time for evening rush hour. We’ve got great timing, eh? We decided that instead of driving right into Portland that we’d detour and go by way of Salem. We drove straight past Salem and all the way into Eugene, Oregon, where we had to stop for gas and pee breaks. We met a really nice, but SO redneck, gas jockey at the gas station who was totally psyched about Eddie (my car, for those of you who don’t know). He asked to take a test drive. I gracefully declined his request but told him that if he was going to get a Cobalt, to go for the 6 cylinder ‘cuz while “Fast Eddie” is wicked to look at, he’s rather lacking in the hill climbing department.
By now it was dark (about 9pm) and I passed the keys off to Alan. I was DONE! I’d been driving all day (from 8:30am in case you forget when we started). We drove south towards Grant’s Pass, which is another pass through a mountain range and it also happens to take you through the Redwood Forest along the west coast of Oregon and into Northern California.
For those of you who have never seen a Redwood in real life, in the day light, they’re daunting. At night… wow… they’re something else. They’re even more “something else” when the road is one, narrow, lane each direction, there are no street lights, and there are “Yahoo’s” driving like bats out of hell because they’re familiar with the road. Speaking of ‘bats out of hell’, we actually saw one. It had a 2’ wing span. No, I’m not kidding. Unless they grow Eagles that look like bats and fly only at night, at 4’ off the ground, then we saw an eagle, but otherwise, it was totally a bat. Look what it did to me!
No, really, I was scared to death, getting out of the car. It was dark. It smelled weird. And we couldn’t see more than two feet ahead of us. Alan actually had to take a picture of me walking towards the tree so I could see how far it was so the tree. He was also scared of what else might show up in the picture behind me after he took the picture. To this day, he still maintains my 
bravery for standing in the dark all alone while he took the picture, standing two feet from the car. Anyway, we both ran back to the car (or rather towards headlights we hoped belonged to our car and not someone driving down the freeway) giggling and whimpering at the same time. There was nothing brave about this picture. We were like little girls. It was awful. And yet the adrenaline rush was enough to keep me awake for another 30 minutes or so. I passed out just as we exited The Pass and arrived in Eureka, California. I did, however, make a valiant effort to stay awake. Every 15 minutes or so I’d wake up, apologize for falling asleep while he was driving, and then pass out again. Now it’s hilarious. At the time, I felt SO guilty.
As we arrived in Eureka at midnight, which has some sort of Naval base near it, there were a few miles of road with LARGE warning signs stating that you are not allowed to stop along this stretch of road way. You're not even supposed to slow down; just maintain the speed limit of 55 mph. It’s dark, so Alan never did get to see what it was we weren’t allowed to stop for, but there was some high security looking measures. To this day Alan is curious what it is along that stretch that was not to be seen or stopped for… for now he figures it was ‘cuz someone would shoot at us from a naval ship for stopping… how cool would that look?
Journal Day 3: Hardee's vs. Carl's Jr: A Conspiracy?
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Up early again this morning. 6:45am. Apparently I've self-programmed to wake up at ungodly hours on holidays. I'm pretty sure that if I had to get up for work, I wouldn't be wide awake at this hour. Anyway, up and on our way to the Lethbridge Stantec office which, for our purposes today, is serving as a comfy, coffee serving post office. Kristie, the bubbly receptionist with the biggest smile I've ever seen that early on a Tuesday morning kept the banter going every few minutes saying "Well, they're still not here" ("they" referring to DHL courier who is typically bang on time at 8am every day of the week except the Tuesday morning that I am trying, again, not to mention, to cross the border to start my new life). Eventually I tired of her worrying about the office and dragged Alan off to the mall a few blocks away. We strolled through until we found Music World. I bought two movies (What Dreams May Come and The Last Castle) for $8 a pop and Alan found a CD. Then we went back to the Stantec office and waited until about 10:30 when Mr. DHL finally arrived. I think I probably came across as a bit snippy with him when I said something along of the lines of "it's about time", but them's the breaks. You're late. Screwing with my destiny. I'm gonna be a bit chapped. Plus I'd paid about $6 in parking to keep my car handy.
Once again we were at the border by about 11:45 or so. Met an equally nice gentleman at the border who was VERY LOUD. He was trying to be friendly but I think someone had turned his volume up because by the time we got to the Border Guard who had to process our paperwork we were laughing about being yelled at, but in a nice way.
The border guard inside remembered me from the day before and was momentarily confused as to why I was back. However, he was, too, very pleasant and we completed our paperwork in about 30 minutes. No guns drawn. No sirens. Just a few chuckles at one another's inaptitude and we were off. I felt kind of like a fugitive running for the border. It was right there. I could have just left the day before and no one would have been the wiser, I'm sure, but this time felt sneaky even though I actually had permission. I don't know why.
Once across the border I had to start dealing with the conversion from metric to imperial right away. Boy, that put my panties in a bunch. Almost immediately I turned on Alan (the Yank that he is; or not) and started asking why Americans didn't just change their system to Metric. I mean seriously, they're the only country left that doesn't use it. Why don't they conform? Isn't that what the States is all about, one big melting pot? Anyway, it took me a while to figure it all out with the speeds, etc. but eventually I got it alright. I'm feeling very melted!
We drove straight through into Great Falls, Montana, where we had to stop for lunch, a bathroom break, and a fax machine. I had to fax a copy of my approved Visa back up to Canada so the shipping company with my goods was able to leave for San Diego the next day. Well, we found two rather unusual things:
- We didn't find a Staples or a Kinko's to fax from. We stopped at a bank to ask for directions
and we found Denise. Denise is the friendliest bank receptionist I've ever met. She offered to
fax it for us, to Canada, free of charge. She even smiled when she did it. Plus, when it didn't
go through she said we could go for lunch and she'd keep trying. Turns out it didn't go
through during our whole lunch hour so she tried a different number for us when we got back
after lunch. Nice lady. - Carl's Jr. = Hardee's. But with a different menu; sort of. Down in San Diego, and to my
knowledge the greater part of the US, Carl's Jr. is a major fast food chain. They serve Mexistyle hamburgers, fries, taco salads, tacos (I think) etc. All with this green burrito. Well, the only difference we could find between Hardee's and Carl's Jr., besides the name was the Green Burrito vs. the Red Burrito. Yep, that's the mystery. End of conspiracy theory. It would be be like if McDonalds had a sister restaurant called Shirley's or something. It's so
weird. However, now that I've done some research, the Western states have Carl's Jr., the
Northern West states have Hardees, and the South Central and South East have Krystals' and White Castle's. Crazy.
Once we were done in Great Falls, Montana, we headed south a bit more and then west through Idaho (kind of a boring state after the scenery in Montana), and into Spokane, Washington where we stopped for our first night in a hotel and our first Applebee's meal. We arrived around 8:15 and checked into the Best Western just off the Freeway. Oh yes, folks. It's a freeway in the US of A. Not a highway. Gosh darn Yankees! Just kidding, kidding. Anyway, we checked in, pouted for 20 minutes because we couldn't decide what to eat or which bed to sleep on (we had two queens) and then decided on Applebee's drive through. We ordered two wraps (one spicy chicken, and one oriental chicken) and came back to the hotel to watch Standoff, which is new to me. By 10:15 it was lights out for this cat. The bed was comfy and warm and we'd covered a lot of ground. Or
so I thought.
Spoiled
Well, as if I didn’t do enough sweet talking about Alan yesterday, here’s another post to make the girls out there who read this jealous!
As I posted yesterday, the 14th of November marked the one year “anniversary” of my relationship with Alan. We had talked about how we would celebrate and it was meant to be a low-key night including laundry and a chocolate fondue, though not necessarily in that order. It sounded nice and relaxing, but nothing overly fancy. Well… apparently Alan had other plans in mind, the sneaky bugger that he is.
I ended up working late (the only time, mind you, that I’ve had to do this since starting work in San Diego) and ended up getting home right around 6pm. Just as I was pulling into the parking lot Alan text messaged me and asked for my ETA. 3 minutes, I replied.
When I got to the apartment grumbling to myself that I hated to do laundry on a night like this and wondering whether Alan had started, I found the apartment door locked, which is unusual if we know the other person is going to be coming home in short order. So, I opened the door and there was Alan, standing in a suit, holding a dozen roses. If my jaw didn’t drop, at the very least, I dropped my bag. Naturally I was a little stunned, but in a great way. He came over and gave me a ‘hello’ kiss, but wouldn’t hand me the roses. He looked really nervous. He asked for a hug so naturally I gave him one. Then, he gave me the “Squeezie squeezie”.
What, you ask, is a “squeezie squeezie?” Well, while it’s adorable to us, it’ll likely sound very strange to your readers, but I’ll explain anyway. To those of you who are of a parental nature, my apologies. A “squeezie squeezie” is the somewhat sleazy reach-behind-and-squeeze-the-bum of your partner when you’re giving them a hug. It’s meant to be comical but it’s become somewhat common place in our lives. Sorry Mom, Dad, Christine, and all those people who don’t want to think about bum-touching.
So, after the hug, Alan kind of stands there, still holding the roses. Then he reaches in a gives me a “squeezie squeezie”. Then steps back.
“Aren’t you going to give me one?” he says.
Well, I don’t need to be told twice. So, in I go. Only I can’t squeezie squeezie. There’s something in the way. I know by the feel what it is.
“Oh, you’re in trouble” is the only thing I can think of to say but I’m still SUPER excited about what I’ve just found. A turquoise bag that can only mean one thing: Tiffany’s. Yes girls… Tiffany’s. Woot woot! I’m pretty sure I know what it is so I open it up and sure enough, it is what I think it is – the “Return to Tiffany’s New York” heart tag necklace that matches the bracelet he gave me just over a year ago.
So he’s still standing there. And I’m kind of like “What?” I’m not sure exactly what commenced after that because all I could think was “OMG, I didn’t get him anything”. And he’s all dressed up, and giving me jewelry. Man, I’m spoiled.
Turns out, he also made reservations to “Trattoria Acqua”, an Italian restaurant in La Jolla, right near the cove. So, I got myself all dressed up (including necklace and matching bracelet) and off we went for a wonderful dinner which included Brie and apples, chicken and broccolini, and bacon-wrapped quail (or Quaglie in Italian). After dinner walked along the cove, went down to the beach and taunted the waves to come get us wet. Didn’t really happen but it was a beautiful night to get out and enjoy the ocean. I have a tendency to forget where I live – but every so often on nights (or days) like yesterday, I get a sharp reminder that I live in California where it never gets cold and you can see seals just about any time you go to the beach.
So, in life, and in love… I’m spoiled. Don’t ya just hate me?!
What a Year Can Do
One year ago today Alan moved back to Calgary to steal my heart. Once again, he succeeded. I’m convinced, yet again, that there is nothing this man can’t do. Or won’t do.
In grade 10, ten years ago now, he promised to love me forever. He still does… despite everything that’s happened during the past ten years (though I won't get into details). So, just to convince you all that I am, without a doubt, the luckiest woman in the world let me share a little bit about the man who makes me able to claim such a thing.
Alan moved to San Diego in July of 2001, just two short months after graduating from DeVry. I visited him within a month and fell in love with San Diego. I’m sure part of that was loving the person I was visiting in San Diego, but none the less, it was all love.
During Alan’s years in San Diego I suffered through bad relationship after bad relationship and through most of it, Alan claimed he still loved me, despite his urging to “not wait” for him. He didn’t know when he’d come back to Canada permanently. However, he did wait for me. Crazy kid, I know, but he did.
Then, last November he came back to Calgary to “get me”. He moved 3000 miles with a trailer dragging behind his 2001 Chevy Cavalier (Christine) and prepared himself for a real winter after enjoying year-round motorcycle weather back in San Diego. He found himself a new job, albeit not a great one, and tried to settle back into life in Calgary. By January, he was done with the job. He hated it. Hated going to work, hated thinking about work, and hated talking about work. So, we agreed he should quit and pursue Qualcomm again. By March he as officially a Qualcomm employee again, but was able to work in Calgary until May. Then he left me, again. With one agreement – if I didn’t get to the States, he’d come home to Calgary. He’d decided we were a team and what we do, we to together. Now that, folks, is commitment.
During his time in San Diego, Alan flew home to Calgary just about every other weekend to spend time with me, and family, despite the emotional rollercoaster it put him on. Between May and September, I flew down once. He truly went beyond the call of duty.
By September I was on my way south to be with him. Through the whole trip south he managed to keep a positive outlook on the trip and wouldn’t let me give in to my worries about leaving everything behind. It takes a strong man to keep a woman positive when she wants to wallow in her own self pity.
Now we’ve been here for a month and a half together. I guess it’s been two full months since we left Calgary together. He’s been through a lot – there are a lot of emotional highs and lows with moving away from home, especially to a new country where things are a lot different than I ever expected. He is constantly surprising me with little things: flowers, back rubs, and best of all, support. It’s awesome to love your best friend. AWESOME!
So, that’s about it. I am the luckiest girl ever. Some of you may dispute it, and feel free. I’m sure your partners are “the best” too, but in my opinion, I’m the luckiest and no one will ever convince me otherwise.
However, I should tell you what a year will do, since that’s what this post is all about. A year will give you time to become a better person (even if you need a psychiatrists help). A year will give you time to find a sense of humor about yourself. A year will help you learn to love yourself. A year will help you find the courage to move 3000 miles to a semi-tropical location ;) A year will help you find the strength to give up a car you love (Moe) and, at the risk of sounding callous, buy an even better car (Fast Eddie, oh yeah!) and then drive that car all the way to California.
And a year, apparently, will let you learn to love baking. Well, I guess that only takes 3 weeks. I have started to bake for my co-workers. Banana bread, Butter Tarts, “Oh Henry Bars”, and next week, Nanaimo bars. I know you Calgarians feel ripped off; but as Brad L. puts it, when I’m “done” with San Diego, I’ll come home and bake for you too! (You didn’t think I’d be serious and sappy for the whole post did you?)
You Gotta Know When to Hold ‘Em
Know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to kick ass and come in 4th place out of 50 people in a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament when you’ve never played Texas Hold ‘Em before in your life!!!
Yeah baby! It was a great night last night. A company, Gentile and Associates, hosted a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament for various Landscape Architecture firms in San Diego, San Marcos and Temecula last night. Five people from my office went; two of us wound up in the top 10, 2 in the top 20 and our third guy… well… he won a poker chip set so he can practice for the next tournament! (L to R: Derek, Tala, me, Antonio, Steve)
When I ended up at the High Rollers table with 4 of my colleagues I never would have guess we would have gone that far; especially since we just taught ourselves how to play the day before over lunch hour. Steve tapped out in 6th place after an all-in bet. It was an awesome round for everyone involved. I ended up against 3 guys who were “there to win” according to my supporters. I held my own for 5 or 6 rounds with them. It was a tough game. All in all, though, I’m glad I went.
When I finally tapped out, one of my previous dealers took me outside and handed me what I would call a “stogie”. Naturally, I lit up for a celebratory puff with Derek, a co-worker, and was promptly handed a celebratory beer to compliment my cee-gar! It was a hoot!
Once the match inside was finished (about 15 minutes later… if that) we all shuffled back inside for a raffle prize draw. Everyone from our group took something home: Antonio took a 1GB iPod shuffle (it’s only about an 1” square), I took a 1GB retractable flash drive, Steve took a $50 gift card for Best Buy, Tala (pronounced “tall-a”) won a $10 gift card for Starbucks, and, as mentioned above, Derek too home a 200 count poker chip set. Our buy in? A $5 gift card to a place of our choosing. We all had $5 gift cards from Best Buy. Food was free, drinks were free… it was a great night.
Oh, and Mark, thanks for offering to help us all! I guess we’re so good we didn’t even need help! Yeah right… with your help, maybe we could’ve gone all the way!
Winning ROCKS!!!
Journal Day 2: To Coutts and Back Again
Monday, September 11, 2006
If you’ll notice the “title” of this particular journal entry you’ll notice that it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. But we’ll take care of the mundane details first.
We had planned to get up really early and head straight to the US border but Alan had to make a trip to the bank which required a teller. So, we slept in a bit (if you call it sleeping in when you wake up at 6:30 during your “vacation”), and drove Gillian to her first day of classes.
We managed to find a Starbucks and a gas station and were at the bank at 9:15, fifteen minutes before it opened. We enjoyed our coffees and tried to the read the tattoo on the arm of a man in the truck next to us. Turns out it was “William” written in fancy old letters from elbow to wrist.
We were on the road south by 9:45 and at the USA/Canada border by 10:45 or so. By this point my stomach was in knots. We get past the first border guard no problem. He took our passports and waved us around to the parking lot to go apply for my Visa. So far so good. Once in the office we’re helped almost immediately by a relatively friendly looking individual. By this point I’ve already made mental notes of which Border Patrol guards I don’t want to have helping me based on their appearance alone. Some of them are kinda scary. They all look like ex-marines, right down to the shaved heads and guns at their waists. Yeah! Such a comforting thought.
So he asks me a question, only one.
“What status are you applying for?”
The one question I didn’t have a good answer for.
“Ummm… nonimmigrant… . Alien? I don’t know. Yeah, nonimmigrant worker”.
So he asks us to take a seat and he’ll be with us in a few moments. Turns out that a few moments are twenty minutes at the Border so I’ve pulled out my crossword and I’m just trying to relax. When the officer calls me into an office I know that he’s got bad news. So, I bravely tell Alan I can handle it on my own and head into the office to face this guy alone. He tells me that I don’t have all my paperwork. Yes, I have two copies of my I-129 Form and two copies of my L1B Visa form but I need two, original, copies of all the documents, not just those two forms. And, I need proof that I worked at Stantec for a full year, not on contract but as a full time employee. Bah… alright. Well, not alright, but that’s what I told the guy. I also said I had to kick someone’s ass in Edmonton ‘cuz someone screwed up. He smiled, said he’d do the same thing, and sent me on my way. What a nice guy… didn’t pull a gun on me or anything for having the wrong answers.
So, I leave the office, a little dismayed that I now have to go BACK to Lethbridge and wait over night for Edmonton to ship the papers down to me. But, while my blood is pounding with a little bit of suppressed rage, my heart skips a beat because I realize that Alan is gone. Not only is Alan gone but there’s an alarm going off and all of a sudden the whole office, except one woman, empties out and the border guards start running off towards another smaller building with their guns drawn. Oh my god. What has Alan done? And is he going to get shot?
Then, another alarm goes off on a computer next to me at the application desk. So, a guard comes running back. He looked at the computer, rolled his eyes, and went on to other business. Apparently whatever was so scary that required twenty men to go running with guns ablazing wasn’t nearly as dire a situation as they thought. I never did find out what happened but it all died down pretty quickly.
However, still no Alan that I can see. Son of a… and I don’t even have a cell phone to call him from because I gave it to mum. Double “Son of a… ” So I go stand in the “lobby” (which here means the space between two sets of glass doors which only had doors to the bathrooms, which are both locked, by the way) to see if he’s in the bathroom. A man comes out. I say:
“Was there another guy in there?”
“Yes” he says.
“Was he young?”
“I don’t know”, he says “He was behind the stall”.
Right… of course he is. Well, Alan emerged a few minutes later so everything was fine. He wasn’t shot. Just had to pee.
So, we’re now on our way back to Lethbridge to wait for all of the paperwork to come through, again. Then we can make the same exciting trip back to Coutts tomorrow. See pictures below for ideas of how “exciting” Coutts, Alberta really is. We stopped for lunch before heading back to Lethbridge.
Water tower has a happy face on it.
"Ross's Restuarant and Lounge"
See even the salt is bored enough to defy gravity for something fun to do.
We’ve just pulled into Coaldale, Alberta, to see if we can’t find the “Birds of Prey” museum we saw advertised on the highway. If we find it, I’m sure they’ll be a great story about it too. But mostly, we’re still in Alberta. Not the USA. Bugger all. Thus proving that one can’t have her cake and eat it too!
Whether someone’s been proposed to or not.
Later on Monday
We managed to find the Bird’s of Prey museum. Almost drove past it because from the front it doesn’t look like much but once inside… WOW!
The birds all have out door “cages” which look like half a shed so that they have some shade in the heat of the day. We saw Hawks, Owls, and a bald Eagle that had a very high pitched shriek, nothing like we expected it to sound like. It “yelled” at Alan for taking his picture. Rather temperamental bird if you ask me. Ironic that it’s the American bird?! I think not…
Some of the smaller owls sound like rattler snakes as a means of defense against other predators, and we didn’t hear a typical “hoot” out of any of them, though we did find the ones that would should they decide to vocalize. But, if you don’t sound scary, at least try to scare your predators with “THE STINK EYE!!!”
We were the only two in the museum, which is mostly outdoors and a photographer hunted us down halfway through the tour to tell us that the “curator” was going to fly a red tailed hawk and would we like to see it? For sure! So we got to chat one on one with the trainer about how and why they fly the birds, how much they eat, weigh, and how good their eye sight is. Imagine looking through a pair of binoculars from our Stantec office and seeing the color of the blouse of a woman on the 30th floor of Bankers Hall. That’s how good their eye sight is. Unbelievable.
After the flying of the hawk we strolled back towards some more owl exhibits and were about to amble on towards the indoor portion of the museum when we were chased by a pack of ducks. Literally. They all started quacking and coming at us. We backed on to the little wooden bridge only to be followed, single file, by a dozen quacking ducks. One in particular was rather bold and actually ran towards me, quacking.
I kind of cowered. I know, I’m a wuss, but angry ducks are kind of scary. Turns out, they weren’t angry. They were hungry. You can feed the ducks if you buy the pellets at the museum. Guess we missed that because they associate people with food. But it was good for a chuckle.
Then the coolest thing happened. We got to hold a 6 month old burrowing owl. I was giddy. The leather glove that one has to wear on their hand/arm is heavier than the bird so when the trainer put the bird on my hand I couldn’t even feel it. He just kind of stared and yelled at me. But in a cute way. I swear. When Alan was allowed to hold him it tried to take off. Apparently their lift is amazingly strong compared to what they don’t appear to weight when on your hand. All in all, it got some great smiles from the two of us and an experience we won’t soon forget.
We arrived back home at Gillian’s place around 3:30 and I promptly took off to the bedroom for a much needed nap. The nerves I had built up about crossing the border, followed by the let down of actually not being allowed to cross had taken its toll and I just needed to rest. Alan stayed upstairs and watched TV with the girls. Once Brad, Gillian’s boyfriend, arrived, they decided it was time to wake me up so we could go out to dinner. I think they almost drew straws on who had to wake me. I guess I’m not as charming as I think I am when I first wake up.
We took off for beer and wings at the Blarney Stone, watched some football (no idea who played… I think they were American games though), and then headed home for an early night. Tomorrow, we ride for Coutts… again.
A Lot of Work
Hey "Fans". I've learned that a blog isn't nearly as easy to put together as I thought. So... I've posted my first day of my Journal of my trip south. I hope to get more done tomorrow when I've got more time. Sorry I didn't get more up. Keep looking back for more!
Journal Day 1: Still Crave'n
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Sunday morning came bright and early, literally. I woke up by 7:30 after a rather short sleep. While we left the party relatively early (10:45 or so) on Saturday night I still had two loads of laundry to do. I think the laundry finished at about 2am. Another short night of sleep. Oh well, I can spend more time with my folks awake than asleep anyway.
However, Alan won't let me get away without sharing with you the state of my bedroom that he came home to on Saturday night after the party. My excuse(s) are that it was a rather crazy two weeks and who has time to pack nicely (much less use a dresser or closet to store clothes for two weeks when staying in a strange place) when one is thinking about moving to the States in short order. Keep in mind "short order" will be adjusted in future journal entries.
Anyway, this is the state of disrepair the poor boy found on Saturday night when we snuck back into my parent's house:
Saying goodbye to mom and dad was a somewhat teary-eyed affair. Naturally I kept my sunglasses on so it didn't look like I didn't want to move to San Diego. Alan suggested we take a picture of him dragging me into the car but we decided against it (and yes, that's my new Stantec shirt!!!).
At about 1:30 we headed to London Drugs to buy some cheap sunglasses for Alan since he sat on his after the party on Saturday night. Once on the road we made a pit stop in Okotoks to say some more good byes and by 2:45 we were on our way to Lethbridge.
However, about the time we hit Cayley, we realized we'd left something behind. The Crave cupcakes Amber bought for us on Saturday. DAMNIT HELL!!! That's at least 5 times we've been hosed on the cupcakes. So, after almost 8 months of trying, we still haven't tasted them. Mom and Dad enjoyed them that night for us. Apparently they're quite tasty. We'll never know, but that's what I'm told.
We arrived safely in Lethbridge and had a great night out with my sister Gillian and her boyfriend Brad (sushi). Well Brad isn't sushi but we had sushi for dinner with Brad. Gillian, while familiar with sushi, still put on a good pout for us about the ginger. Charmer, isn't she?
We had dessert at Ric's Grill, a restaurant which used to be a "Jail".
Side note:
Until I was 16 (roughly) I thought that water towers were jails. Now, when you're done laughing,come back to this with me. A water tower as a jail makes sense, doesn't it? There's only one way in and one way out. Up the middle. You only need, like, one guard per shift 'cuz he can see everyone all at once form the middle. Plus if someone tries to sneak out it would be pretty easy to hear. "Tink, tink, tink" against the steel sides. They'd know right away that you'd been snuck some outside paraphernalia in that birthday cake your wife sent you (assuming all inmates are males, and have wives, or haven't been left by their wives subsequent to their incarceration).
I'm pretty sure I've got back up on this too. When I was in university (all be it that time was a bit of a blur) I'm pretty sure in one of my sociology classes we were told that some sociologist guy designed a jail that was like a water tower. They had various levels of cells but they only had one guard on each floor because he could see every cell at all times on that floor. Well, he could stand in one spot and rotate 360° and see everyone. Unless they start developing humans with eyes in the back of their heads technically no one would be able to see everyone at the same time... but I digress. Although mothers do appear to be blessed with 360° sight so perhaps instead of hiring big bulky security dudes, they should hire mums with toddlers at home. They see everything.
End side note.
So, the water tower that used to be a jail. Lethbridge has a huge water tower in the middle of town that they've converted into a swanky restaurant. It has three levels. The first level is the "lounge" which simply means that it's the restaurant with a bar. They served everything they serve up stairs but the bar is bigger. Go figure?! The next floor up is the restaurant which has great views of the city (though so does the "lounge"). Then you can go up spiral stair case to the top floor which only has sky lights for a view. Super cool.
Anyway, we trudged back down to the first level (which is technically just the bottom of the water tower bulb) for some swanky dessert. Well all ordered something different so we could all share one another's. Want to know the rip off of all this? I didn't try anyonelse'ses, and neither did anyone else. But they all tried mine; hmph! I think I got ripped off. But, I did order the best dessert, so there!
Alan also got kinda screwed in the dessert department too. He ordered the Peaches and Cream cheesecake. However, unbeknownst to him there was a woman up one floor that just got proposed to. For whatever reason, she got Alan's Peaches and Cream cheesecake. Alan wound up with Strawberry and banana cheesecake which turned out to be pink in color, but tasted like banana. The strawberry part of the cheesecake was half of an overripe strawberry sitting on top of the cake. Poor guy. He figures if she said yes, then she shouldn't get the cake too, 'cuz really, who gets their cake and gets to eat it too, right? But we'll revisit this little theory tomorrow.
The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. I was in bed, fully clothed by about 10:30. It had been a long and emotionally draining day. The bed, however, was super comfy and I got a decent night sleep albeit a short one since I woke up ready for work at 6:30.
Still No Journal
I truly have finished my journal. I just have to upload all the pictures from the trip and then I'll post them. Hopefully tomorrow there will be PLENTY for you to read. I had pool last night. It was awful. I played a 2 (same level as me) and I was stressed the whole time. I played a mental game on myself, which I'd never done before. I won the first game when she scratched on the 8 ball. I lost the second game by sinking the 8 ball early for her. Then, I scratched on my last ball of the third game which gave her ball in hand. The 8 ball was 6" from the corner pocket. I conceded... I was humiliated enough. Sigh...I wish there was more to tell but I'm all out. The journal will be far more exciting.
Hello Blog Readers
So this is technically my first blog ever! I've been quoted on Alan's blog page before but I really had nothing to do with it. So, I would beg some forgiveness if this is less than entertaining, and less than informative, but I do have a reason for writing this.I moved down to San Diego, CA in mid-September of this year and, along the way, took notes to write a personal journal of the trip for friends back home in Calgary, AB, Canada. It took longer than expected to complete the journal but I'm finally done. It even has pictures for your viewing pleasure. However, with the "for your viewing pleasure" photos, the file is VERY large. So I've decided to post it here for your reading pleasure rather than trying to send it to everyone by email. So, as soon as I learn to do this, I'll post it. If any one reading this is any good with posting large blogs, either in Word format, or PDF format, with pictures, I'll take all the help I can get. Once the journal is posted you'll have a sense of traveling back in time as it was more than a month and a half ago, but again, I beg your forgiveness of my tardiness. Moving to a new country has a way of slowing things down! Stay tuned for future postings!
