Keep Calm and Ramble On

My stepdaughter Lindsay got married on Saturday.

Not only am I happy for her, but I'm also happy for me.

Now that the wedding's over with, Chuckles can stop dreading it!

Don't get me wrong, Chuckles is happy for her as well, but he was so worried about walking her down the aisle, dancing with her at the wedding, and just losing his oldest daughter to being married.

He woke up on Saturday feeling a bit anxious. His brother and sister were up here from Florida for the wedding and I was hoping they'd distract him/calm him down.

Lindsay and her now-husband Mike were having the wedding in their backyard, which is a pretty piece of land with a pond and everything. Chuckles and I had to go over early, I wanted to be there while Lindsay was getting ready.

Lindsay called and asked Chuck to bring her over a pre-wedding brewski. Of course he saved the day.

Chuckles was a lot calmer after that.

Lindsay has a LOT of damn hair, so it took awhile for her to have it done. In the meantime Chuck and I wandered around the house and around the yard, milling about with the family.

Mike asked Chuck to hold the ring boxes while he tied a harness to their dog, Ozzy. Ozzy was the ring bearer (which turned out better than I thought it would), and he would carry the little pillow on his back.


Aw, Chuck looks so sad. He also looks like he's slyly giving the camera the finger...

I think Desiree (Chuck's other daughter) was tired even before the wedding started...

Chuck and his younger brother Steve and older sister Laura in the backyard.

Lindsay and Chuck weren't the only ones with pre-wedding nerves. Chuck kept trying to convince Mike to take a shot of that Jameson that you can see sitting on the counter, but Mike wouldn't play.

Wedding-pooper.

The weather was absofuckinglutely perfect for a wedding. Not a cloud in the sky, and there was a really nice breeze.

There were some unavoidable snafus and the ceremony started quite a bit later than it was supposed to, but the soft lighting of the afternoon made the pictures really beautiful.

I didn't realize until Friday night (the night of the rehearsal) that I was going to be a part of the ceremony.

I was a bit shocked. If I would've known this, I would've lost 30 lbs first. But Lindsay said it wasn't decided until the last minute, and I was honoured to be in the wedding procession, no matter how I looked. The day wasn't about me anyway, everyone would be looking at my beautiful stepdaughter.

So I rocked what I had.

My sister-in-law Laura was awesome enough to take pictures for me because I couldn't, and my brother-in-law Steve videotaped it.

Mike's brother Dusty walked me in, and of course I couldn't resist making a Kyna-face towards the camera....

Desiree was the flower girl. I loved her dress!

Lindsay and Chuck made their entrance to Led Zeppelin's "Bron-Yr-Aur".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQKQ3-bzXV8

Lindsay looked like a freaking angel in her wedding dress. Chuck looked so proud to walk her in...I started to get teary.

I'm not a religious person, but the pastor that officiated the ceremony was a really cool guy. Mike's grandfather was supposed to officiate, but unfortunately he passed away right after Lindsay and Mike were engaged this year.

They had a chair set up for him and for Chuck's mother Mary, who passed away in 2002. I thought it was a nice gesture.

The magic words were said, and abracadabra, Lindsay and Mike were married.

The reception was held offsite, but we had time for a few last pics in the fading afternoon sunlight before we took off...

Mike's daughter Cailey, putting some artistic touches on the getaway vehicle.

I heart this one.

Chuckles is awesome in this pic, isn't he? Radiating happiness.

I love Lindsay. People always raise an eyebrow when I tell them that my stepdaughter is 25, but I don't care. She's one of the greatest friends and daughter one could have.

Even in pics where Lindsay isn't looking, she still looks awesome.

Chuckles and some hotties.

Preacher signing the marriage license. Told ya he was a cool guy. I'll give you three guesses as to who gave him that beer, and the first two don't count...

The reception was a fun time had by all. The food was delicious, catered by Mike's stepfather. Jambalaya and red beans & rice. The decorations were put together by Mike's mom.

My crazy in-laws. I love 'em.

 

The best part of the day was seeing Chuck and Lindsay get out and cut a rug for the father-daughter dance.

They decided on Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On". And it was a great choice! I'm sure you don't want to watch an entire video of my husband dancing with his daughter at her wedding, but I implore you to watch till the first change in tempo happens.

 Chuckles gets fancy with it. (For some reason the new Blogger won't accept the embedded video code, so I just had to post the link, but click the link anyway. Because you love me and I want you to.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJDJzcxdZwM

I swear, I was crying the whole time I was videotaping. It was ridiculously awesome and touching. I'm so glad I got to be there to experience something like this.

Anyway, it came time for the bride to throw her bouquet to all the single ladies...

...and guess who caught the damn thing?


Desiree did.

It was hilarious...Chuck was like, "Oh....shit. Not again."

As was I. I don't think I could go through this again in just a few more years!

The wedding was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And they planned it in only 3 months!

 This was definitely the sweetest picture of the day. I'm going to get it framed.

I didn't get to sing after all, because of various circumstances. I was kind of sad about it, but once again, the day wasn't about me. So it's all good!

But Mike'll bring his guitar over soon, and Chuck's gonna take some video of me singing the song I was supposed to sing, so ya'll can judge me anyway.

How 'bout that? :)

I'm A Bloody Idiot

So, the Idiot Gardener jinxed me.

His last post was a step-by-step instructional on how to be an idiot and stab yourself with pruning shears. And there seems to have been some sort of subliminal voodoo-hex towards me embedded in it as well.

I commented about the multitude of ways in which I've been injured (I'm very accident prone), but never through gardening.

Well, I thought I had better stay away from all things sharp in my yard, garage, etc. I knew that after I said I hadn't injured myself gardening, I'd immediately have some sort of trowel accident or something.

There isn't room enough in this world for two Idiot Gardeners!

Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus In The Manger, I remain a gardening genius.

Last night however, I proved that I'm still an Idiot Chef.

I mentioned yesterday that it was Canadian Thanksgiving, and that I was making a huge mammoth feast of magnificently colossal epic proportions. All by myself.

Never. The Fuck. Again.

I wrestled with that damn turkey for at least a couple of hours. It looked like I'd slaughtered the bastard in my kitchen. There was blood everywhere.

It took me forever just to get the fucking neck out. It was as big as some entire turkeys I've seen.

I sweated and yanked and pulled on that thing until it popped and ended up spraying me in the face (yeah, I know...that's what she said). I was so pissed off. I love it when I get raw turkey juice in my mouth.

And this ghetto-ass jive turkey was missing half of its giblets. Still had a big ol' tail hanging off it. Why didn't they just leave the feathers on? Why didn't they just leave the head on it?? Just wrap up a live turkey and stick it in the freezer???

Gobble, gobble, SQUAWK.

*deep breath*

It was a long day.

Ten hours of cooking later, I'm finally slicing some potatoes, one of the last things I have to do before everything's ready to eat...I see the light at the end of the cooking tunnel....

*SLICE* "Fuck!"

I sliced the shit out of my thumb. Luckily we had some gauze pads and surgical tape, because a Band-Aid wasn't gonna cut it (so punny).

I soldiered on with my FrankenThumb, and all that was left to do was carve the turkey.

I asked Chuck if he could at least do that (he was kind of making light of my cut thumb), and he sharpened up a knife.

*STAB* "Fuck!"

Chuck stabbed the shit (notice the italics, his was even worse than mine was) out of the top of his hand (karma's a bitch). His appetite wasn't affected, and we're lucky everyone at the table was good with the sight of blood.

The food turned out to be delicious, and everyone enjoyed themselves (even with injuries).

Chuck's daughter Lindsay and her fiancé Mike were over for the meal, and took advantage of the opportunity to go over a few things with us in regard to their wedding on this coming Saturday.

Lindsay asked Chuck to help her pick out a song for the father-daughter dance. She wanted to pick a Led Zeppelin song, because she knows how much Led Zeppelin means to Chuck.

They were going over a few songs, and tried dancing to a couple of them in the kitchen while I was cooking. (Chuck doesn't like to dance in public, so he's been kind of dreading this)

We put on "What Is And What Should Never Be" to try it out, and I laughed so hard, I almost peed myself (ignore my shrill cackling):




I get to also have a part in the wedding.

Mike walked in the door last night with his guitar and some music and said, "So, I have my guitar. I have music. You're going to sing 'Hotel Yorba' at our wedding while I play. And we're going to practice tonight."

In case you don't know what that song is, it's a White Stripes tune that I love.




I don't think he thought I'd agree so quickly. The first time I sang to Mike playing last night, I could see on Chuck's face that he was surprised I sang so well. He's heard me sing, but not as if I was singing for an audience.

Anyway, I didn't get any video of that last night, maybe I'll get some when I sing at the wedding.

Everyone cross your fingers (and thumbs) that I don't suck at singing like I do at slicing potatoes!

Dazed and Confused

It's been so dry and so hot for so long (it's not true, wanted a woman, never bargained for you-ou...), that my Okame Cherry doesn't know its asshole from its elbow.

Or more appropriately (and less crassly) whether it's spring or fall.

It has blooms sprinkled throughout the top. In mid-September.



Normally this tree has beautiful, light pink flowers in very early spring. In fact, mine is an earlier bloomer than other cherry tree varieties.

Why the blooms?

This tree has basically been tortured. Fried under the scorching sun for 6 months, deprived of water, bits of it have been consistently falling off. I tried to sneak it water once in awhile, but it wasn't enough.

Suddenly, the reverse happens.

The tree thinks,'Shit! (because my tree swears just as much as I do) Did we skip winter?' and squeezes out a few flowers, trying to get with the program.

My magnolias do this a lot as well. Maybe it has nothing to do with torture.

*whispers* I think my trees are all smoking crack.

OR, there could also be some rational, scientific explanation. I just prefer to anthropomorphize my trees. And use big words.

I've also been getting these creepy dragonflies all this week.

Usually I think dragonflies are kind of pretty, but these ones are sort of nasty and seedy looking...like they'd take all your money and stab you in a dark alley and leave you for dead.

This is the best picture I could get of one...


Speaking of being dazed and confused, I feel that way myself. Can you tell? This post is all over the place.

I've done a couple of overnight shifts at work (I was supposed to do four, but we got everything done early because we're awesome!). I swear have to keep checking what day it is.

*squints* Oh look, it's September 13th...it's my stepdaughter's 15th birthday. That makes me feel old. Ooooooooooooold. When I met Chuck, she was 8.

Freaks my shit out.



She wanted 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert' for her birthday. And being the cool stepmum that I am, I bought it for her.

That girl loves a drag queen as much as I do. She's awesome.

Hey Hey What Can I Do

I never knew how much I'd appreciate sleep until I got older.

When I was a kid/teenager, it was a major feat to me if I could stay up all night during the summer. My friend Kirsten spent most of those summers at my house and we would stay up all night talking, listening to music, calling the radio station to request songs in the middle of the night.

The only picture of the two of us from junior high that Kirsten may possibly not kill me for posting (she's on my FB). Fashion in the mid-90's was cruel. I think we're 15-ish here.

Then we would sleep till 2 or 3 in the afternoon and do it all over again the next night. And we would be none the worse for the wear!

Even during the school year, I liked to stay up late. I loved watching all the late-night comedy shows. My mum knew I was doing it, and she let me as long as I could get myself up for school every day with no problems and my marks didn't suffer. I would stay up till 2:30 or 3, and would be ready to learn by 8:30 in the morning. Once again, no ill effects!

As I got older and went to university, oddly enough my sleep patterns evened out. I was one of those nerds that went to college to learn instead of party. And it became harder on my body and mind if I stayed up late.

Fast-forward to the Chuckles Years.

Click to see what he's reading in bed...that should have been a warning!

When I first was married to him, I had to go through the immigration process. I couldn't work for two years, and we only had one vehicle. I stayed at home a LOT. His sleep schedule became my sleep schedule. Went to bed kinda early with him (bow-chicka-wow-wow), got up at 5am with him (not so bow-chicka-wow-wow).

Even on the weekends he'd get up at 5. "Why would anyone want to sleep the day away?" he'd say. "What a waste!"

And he was kinda right. I began to enjoy mornings. I would be up early, sipping my coffee. I started eating breakfasts. I got a lot of gardening, cleaning, reading, etc, done. I would be still awake enough in the evenings that I would make elaborate dinners. I really enjoy cooking when I have the time and energy to do it.

Then I started working. And not only working, but at a job with full-time unpredictable hours. Eight to nine hours on my feet. On a concrete floor with an 1/8 of an inch carpet between it and my feet. Heavy mental exhaustion from dealing with crazy people all day.



Most of the time, I think I wouldn't enjoy a nine to five, Monday to Friday sort of job. I've had those before, and they get tediously boring after a short while. Except that I would get to see Chuck more often.

Chuck used to have as unpredictable work as I did, but it left a lot of his weekdays free. We'd often have a whole Monday, Thursday, etc, off together, when he was subcontracting work off of many drywall contractors. We'd go on 'adventures' on the spur of the moment.

Now, the economy's changed and so has the nature of Chuck's drywall work. He's more of a Monday to Saturday guy now, working for one dude. I rarely have Sundays off. I work nights, while he's at home. Or I work days and we're both home at night, but too tired to even talk. Dinner is something frozen tossed in the oven. And sleep...



All the managers take turns closing at the store. Some months, one person seems to get to do it more than the others. This month it seems to be me. It isn't done on purpose, it just happens that way.

I don't mind closing. When I get home, I'm wound up from work and can't sleep right away. I end up reading usually, get caught up in a book, and stay up till 3:30. Then I sleep till about 10:30 or 11. Then I have to leave for work again at 2. I enjoy the sleeping in, but I feel like I'm wasting my day. Weeds are getting tall, house is getting dirty, blogs are going unwritten...

Chuck is also not an easy person to sleep with. I call him 'Starfish'.



He tosses and turns. When he is sleeping, he's snoring or elbowing me in the back. This week has been particularly bad. I haven't had anywhere near a full night's sleep in about that long.



I'm starting to daydream about sleep. I never used to be like that.

I hear some of you with children saying, "You don't even KNOW tired! You don't have kids! If you had kids, then you'd really be exhausted!"

And you're correct. That's why I don't have any kids. I don't even have a dog.

I don't even have a goldfish.

Too much tiring responsibility when I'm already beat.

And I also hear some of you older folk (hehe, I called you 'older folk') saying "You're only 30! Once you reach [some random middle/old age] like me, then you'll really be tired!"

You're right again. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm already really tired now. I'll just be more tired when I reach your age.

I think I need to exercise and change my diet.

Stop reading at night.

Buy a king size bed.

And put a gag on my Starfish.