Hello BeanTown

Lots of drama on leg one of GNAT (Great North American Tour) so far.   I'll fill you all in later, in the meantime, enjoy Boston's North End

Please Excuse This Interruption

Regularly scheduled blogging may be slightly interrupted as we begin the summertime phase of Life in the OBB which includes much lawn mowing, even more garden weeding and oh, a vacation or two.

Yesterday marked the beginning of "slave to the lawn season".  From now until the end of October or even early November one or both of us will be out on the land, cutting  grass, sometimes twice a week.  I repeat, sometimes twice a week.  Yesterday, the one whom I adore was excited to spend 3 hours on the mower (yes, that's right it can take 3 hours to cut this yard).  We'll see how excited he is long about the end of September.

 In other developments, thank you to those that have weighed in with their thoughts on what those trees are in the back corner.  No one really knows, least of all me.  

Two more sleeps until vacation and let me tell you the count down is really on now.  On further refinement of our plans we have eliminated a visit to Dollywood (I knew the price of admission would be too much for him) but we ARE now including a visit to Lynchburg, TN, home to the Jack Daniel's Distillery.   Never miss an opportunity to have a shot of whiskey, uh-uh, not us!  Oh, and a quick trip down to Chattanooga for lunch with my friend Penny whom I haven't seen in over 5 years.  I'm excited to see her again and introduce her to the one whom I adore.

The car is now tuned up and legal with renewed plates.  The laundry is done and summer clothes await.  The dog sitter is coming for her final instructions tonight and come Saturday morning we are hitting the road.  Which means, Dear Internet, that these postings will be less frequent for the next two weeks.  Much to the chagrin of the one whom I adore, I am bringing my computer on vacation, but I just don't know how much time I'll have with my electronic boyfriend Mac. 

But don't stop checking here, because when I can, I will DEFINITELY be posting from the road.  Thanks to those that have sent happy trails messages.  We intend to make the GNAT (Grand North American Tour) the 2009 trip of a lifetime.

Wordless Wednesday - Sort of Part II

Does anyone know what the hell kind of tree this is?  I have two of them in the back corner of our property and I have no idea what they are.  These dangling buds eventually turn into leaves, but I have no idea what kind.  Help!

You Can Call it Kismet or You Can Call it Karma

This falls under the heading not of "wishful thinking" but rather, more optimistically "planning with intention".  You know the whole Oprah thing - put your intentions out to the universe and through magic, willpower, or the mysteries of "The Secret" your intentions become realized?  I know, I know, it sounds all hokus-pokus-ish, but I promise you it isn't! 

So, last night, the one whom I adore and I were discussing the upcoming lottery draw and once again dreaming of all the things we would do when we win.  These include many things, not the least of which is sharing with some people that are pretty important to us.  But they also include things like spending 6 months of the year traveling (you know, Canada's off season) while the other 6 months would be spent lounging about our lakeside cottage in the Muskokas.  I would write the Great Canadian Novel (or at least a cookbook) and the one whom I adore would perfect his golf game.  Oh, throw in donations to the charities I currently volunteer for and of course some major liposuction for my ass, and you see, we're well on the way to happily ever after.

You might think I'm joking, but we have already had plenty of experience with putting our intentions out there and having them miraculously come true.  I'm not kidding.   Really I'm not!  I submit to you Exhibit A:

• In the summer of 2005 I was returning home to Vancouver from a wonderful vacation in Ontario at the cottage of my oldest friend.   Through my own bad planning I had missed my original flight where I had been booked in my customary aisle seat (because who can stand being stuck on the inside when you need to hit the lav.?).  Anyway, because I missed my original flight I went standby on the next available flight to Vancouver.  A seat became available, but not my customary aisle, only a window seat.  What are you gonna do when you HAVE to be back on the west coast for work the next day?  That's right people - suck it up and take the window seat.  As we're winging our way west, I sat looking out over the lakes of Northern Ontario and Manitoba and the prairies of Saskatchewan and eastern Alberta.  When our plane was right smack over the center of the Rocky Mountains I remember distinctly saying to myself - "I have to find a way to get back there - I miss those mountains".  Ladies and gentlemen, within a WEEK I had a phone call from someone with Fairmont Hotels & Resorts wanting to talk to me about going to work for their property in Jasper.  That's right, people.  Jasper, Alberta.  IN THE HEART OF THE CANADIAN ROCKIES.  

Okay, so maybe it was a coincidence, but I tend to think not.  You see, I was the most unlikely of candidates to be recruited to go to work in such a senior position in a resort - I had never worked in a hotel before in my life!  So clearly, they were desperate.  But I tend to think of it as "intention" being fulfilled.

I know, I know - still probably very suspect.  Well then, I now present to you Exhibit B:

• Two years ago the one whom I adore and I were lounging about a cafe in Florence, Italy having just discovered the joys of cheese & honey, we decided we needed to figure out where our next move would be (professionally speaking).  We had already determined that it would be his career that would lead us to our next stop because, after all, there were so many things I could do with my marketing background that finding a job wouldn't be an issue for me (one of God's little jokes on me).  ANYWAY, as I enjoyed the last of my wine and he the last of his sparkling water, we compiled a list of places we would be happy to live and create our life together.  Right at the top of the list (and I mean at the tippy top, not just *near* the top, but the tippy-tippy top) was Atlantic Canada.  Knowing full well that both Fairmont & Delta Hotels had plenty of properties in the area, we thought it likely that some day something might come available in the region.  We were not home from Europe 2 whole months before a posting came available for Comptroller at the Delta Prince Edward Hotel.  KISMET, I SAY, KISMET!   One trip down east to interview, one other to buy a house and wham, bam, thank you KARMA, we are now Maritimers.

Still not a believer?  Well, I can understand that.  But how about THIS...I now present....drumroll please...Exhibit C:

• So, Fairmont did make me an offer and I did accept.  So I had moved from my fabulous world of the West End of Vancouver where I loved living, but hated my job, to the heart of the Canadian Rockies, and, for a city-girl like me, the middle of nowhere.  I had been living at and employed by the hotel for less then a week when I was making the rounds of each department, being introduced to key people, one of whom was the 2nd in command in the Accounting Dept.  I reached out to shake his hand and received a jolt of lightening up my arm.  I kid you not.  It was not static electricity.  It was a current of electricity shooting up my right arm.  The thought that went through my head as I released his hand:  I'm going to marry this man.  Now, ladies & gentlemen, I had NO idea if this person was single or married, straight or not.  I knew NOTHING about him other than I was going to marry him.  Yes, the hand I was shaking belonged to none other than the one whom I adore.  Oh sure, it took 6 months for him to figure out that I even existed (he refers to those as his stunned months), but hey, here I am, betrothed.   To him.  The one whom I adore.

So if that isn't evidence enough that putting your intentions "out there" can pay off  huge dividends, I don't know how else to convince you.  All I can say is:  we're winning the lottery.  It might not be this week's draw (but that would be nice) or even next week's draw.  But one day we'll win the lottery.  And then lookout world - we've got some BIG plans!

The Never Ending List

She's a quick one today, Dear Internet because that list I refer to in the title?  Yeah, it just keeps growing.  Five days and counting until the Grand North American Tour or GNAT (as I now refer to our upcoming road trip) and holy smokes, where does the time fly?  Seems like only yesterday we had almost a week before we left and therefore PLENTY of time to get everything done.

It's times like these that I can actually truly appreciate being under-employed.  Because if I had to get everything done that  I need to before we go AND hold down a full time job, well, suffice it to say, we'd be flying and not driving!

You'd think that by having someone come stay in your home and mind your dogs would actually make things seem, er, EASIER.  Far from it!  With the thought of an almost perfect stranger staying here, of course there's now the added pressure of making sure all those things you don't clean every week (like the cobwebs in the basement staircase) well,  now need to  be cleaned.   Because heaven forbid she see you actually might have DUST.  In your HOUSE.

So there are floors to be mopped and cobwebs to be dusted, not to mention dogs that need bathing, oh, and right before the 30-hour road trip is the perfect time for your truck to blow some sort of electrical gadget so you don't have radio, electric door locks OR dash board lights.  So, yeah, you have to now run the truck back to the dealership where it just was LAST WEEK getting certified for license plate renewal - which you also have to get done before you think of leaving the province for the rest of the month the plates are actually valid for!

Then there's the whole go stand in line at Access PEI to renew those plates and pay your property taxes , because in this province GOD FORBID they allow you to pay by mailing a cheque to the department of treasury.  That, my friends would be far too easy.  For ME.

Do I sound bitter?  I think I sound bitter.  I have no time to be bitter though - because I also have to get my beautiful dahlia bulbs in the ground before I go and try to get that side perennial bed weeded and let's don't even begin talking about how badly the lawn needs to be cut.  The one whom I adore and I are very strategic when it comes to cutting the lawn.  Last year as new acreage owners we were very anxious to jump on our John Deere and begin trimming the lawn (acreage).   So we jumped on early in May and were mowing that freaking yard (acreage) all the way to November.  Sometimes twice a week.  This year we're trying to defer the first cut as long as possible, but I fear if we don't cut it before we head out on the highway we'll come back to a yard (acreage) of hay.  So, yeah, there's that too.

And what do you think I'm doing to aid in getting all of these (and so many more) things done?  That's right Dear Internet.  I am BLOGGING.  Say it with me now:  "PRIORITIZE!"  Amen.

My Get-Along's Done Got a Hitch

So I’ve got this hitch in my get-along.  The kind that starts at your lower back and travels along your glute, down the back of your leg, behind your knees and to your ankles, exiting somewhere in the foot region.  It starts as a minor tweak which then turns into a nagging ache and if left properly unattended as I have so expertly done the last 3 weeks, it escalates to a full on RAGING PAIN that nothing, not even the beloved one’s left-over T3s can eliminate.

Have you been paying attention, Dear Internet?  We’re getting ready for a 30-hour road trip next week and there’s no WAY I can sit for that long with this issue without totally losing my mind or the one of someone very near & dear to me.  So, after much moaning, groaning, belly-aching and complaining, not to mention a couple of really bad massages administered by the one whom I adore, complete with him kneading the back of my thigh with his knee pushing his full 238-lb weight into my leg, I broke down and called my regular massage therapist, the lovely and perfectly tanned & fit Keslie. 

Despite her perfect All-Canadian Girl-Next-Door looks Keslie is a fantastic massage therapist.   Even though I arrived for my appointment 10-minutes late, she carefully went over the full retinue of what ailed me.  My self-diagnosis was sciatica (which interestingly on the island is pronounced SKY-at-IT-CA, not SIGH-At-ic-a), but I could tell by the look on her face she thought it might be the fact that I could stand to lose 40-lbs and get my ass to the gym on a more regular basis.  But, as I said, she’s a sweet girl and so didn’t actually say this out loud.  Instead she talked about stretching and “engaging my core” and IT-bands and other such ways I could reduce my current pain and avoid further episodes altogether in the future.

I spent the better part of an hour face down on the massage table while she dug into the most sensitive regions of my legs (that is anywhere above the ankle).  Kneading, massaging, stretching my ligaments like they were salt-water taffy.  Oh, let me tell you, it hurt so good.  There were a couple of times I almost came up off the table and hit her square  in the face she hurt me so bad.  But it was all in the name of reducing my current level of pain, so I refrained from said swinging at one who was helping me. 

At one point, I’m lying down with my face firmly planted into the little cradle at the top of the table and with my gluteus maximus partially revealed to she who was healing me, she quietly says “God your ass is tight.”  People, it’s the first time ANYONE has ever said that about my ass.  Given that’s where I’m genetically pre-dispositioned to carry my excess poundage, I’m pretty sure, she didn’t mean it in the “good” way.

 

 

To Every Season Turn, Turn, Turn

The changing of seasons is here and you know what that means don’t you?  Yes, it means it’s time to switch closets from warm, comfortable winter wear to lightweight and sporty summer attire.  I hate this time of year.  I am most assuredly NOT a fan of summer clothes.  Never have been, never will be.  I am much more at home in my winter woolies of bulky oversized sweaters, thick, fuzzy socks, blue jeans or track pants, turtlenecks and pull-overs.  No summer shifts for me.  No cute scooter skirts or heaven forbid shorty shorts.  No Polo shirts or sleeveless cotton blouses.  No, no, I’m not a fan.  Not at all. 

It’s no secret that we’re heading out on vacation in a week…heading to climates that are about 20-degrees warmer than what we’re currently experiencing on PEI.  Of course this calls for summer clothes.  The same summer clothes I put away at the end of last summer when I vowed that by next summer (um, that’s right about now) that I would be several sizes smaller and therefore won’t be needing those clothes.  It’s a good thing I only packed those pieces away and didn’t donate them or throw them out, because, let’s face it, I didn’t exactly achieve my weight-loss goal.

Don’t get me wrong.  I weigh less today than I did at my wedding last August.  Considering that was an all-time high point on my scale, weighing “less” is a good thing, I guess.  I just wish I weighed “lesser” than I do. 

So, today marks the day when I scavenge through the wardrobe, pulling out last summer’s skirts, tops, summer dresses and capris and begin the daunting task of trying everything on in the hopes that it all still fits.  Hoping against hope that I don’t have to go shopping before hitting the road.  Wishing I were a size 10 instead of size 16.  It’s enough to wreck your weekend.