The End

As I drove Byron to work this morning, I remarked that in two weeks from today, we'll be flying to Edmonton for our wedding. Then another thought happened.

In three weeks, we'll be flying back to Victoria and it will ALL be over.

All this planning and stress and worrying and plotting will be done. We'll be married. I'll be a wife.

I guess when the stress is overwhelming and the lists seem un-ending, I can keep in mind that in three weeks, I will be a wife, back in Victoria, settling into married life. The party will be over, gifts unwrapped, hugs dispensed and tears shed. Life can resume again.

Soon-to-be-spousingly Yours,
xoxoSallyy

To RSVP or Not to RSVP

It is now 25 days until the wedding, and the deadline has come and gone for the RSVPs to be returned. Now comes the ever-awkward "are you coming" emails and phone calls. Blech! Thankfully, so far, the friends we've had that conversation with have been incredibly gracious (Spook) and we completely understand circumstances in life. We have even heard from friends who contacted us to say they can't make it (Candie) and they have also been gracious. We're just trying to figure out how much food the caterer needs to make and how much booze to buy. That's all.

We are dreading the call to one of his friends who we are certain have taken great offense to the adults-only request. Byron called his pal a while back and told them about the wedding and they were quite interested in where we were registered. The next day, the couple went out and bought things off the registry. We have not gotten their RSVP back. I am afraid they raced out, bought stuff, got the invite requesting their ass of a child not come, and are now persnickety at us. My passive-agressive tummy flips at the idea of calling them.

That same PA tummy was in knots today as I had to email an old friend to say that we are unable to make their wedding this Saturday. Logistics don't allow for our attendance, and I feel like a douche for bowing out 5 days before the wedding. AND doing so after we said yes on the RSVP. There is just no way we can make it over to Vancouver this weekend. I hope she doesn't hate me. Please don't hate me, Janet!

Reservedly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

One Month

It's the final countdown. The wedding is one month from today!

I keep having strange dreams, ones that wake me up gagging. Not cool.

Also not cool is my best friend's bosses. They are being asshats and not giving her time off to come up to the wedding. Unless Candie wants to take unpaid leave, which is not cool anytime! Although my longest and dearest, my sweetest and closest friend in the world can't be at the wedding, she will be there in spirit. When I look at the white candles in front of me at the reception, I will see Candie's smile. When I smell the roses in my bouquet, I will feel her love. She may be in Texas, but she is forever in my heart.

I love you, Candie. Now and forever.

xoxoSallyt

(PS - I'll send you some lupins!)

Happy Anniversary, Salters!

Today is Jane and Craig's second wedding anniversary. Happy Anniversary, you two - the cutest little couple, with the sweetest little boy!

Two years ago, when I zipped up your dress and swept eyeshadow on your sparkly eyes, who would have guessed that you would be the mother of a healthy and handsome baby boy. Or that you would be the strong and supportive wife you are. Who knew that you would have a cozy and warm home in Dartmouth, where you made stews and muffins? Who knew? Petite, I hardly knew thee.

I am so proud of you, Jane, for becoming the woman you are. You are smart and warm and loving and I am proud to call you my Baby Titter.

Scissor Kicks!

Sisterly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Differing Side of the Flame

My best friend Candie and I had a debate last night. It was one of those debates that ended with her asking how we are friends?! It's was about the Olympics.

Candie loves the Olympics and loves watching them. I hate the Olympics and thinks it's a colossal waste of time. Candie sees it as patriotism and the human spirit on display. She lives in Texas, and misses Canada so to her, a chance to get a glimpse of the Canadian flag on TV or even to hear the anthem means a lot to her.

But let's be real - the chances of her hearing the Canadian anthem at the Olympics is slim to nil. Don't you have to win a medal to have your national anthem played?

I think the Olympics are a waste of time and money. The money the federal government pumps into the Olympics is poorly spent. Sure, you can come back at me with the argument that funding for sports in Canada is low. But whatever amount spent is, to me, too much. Take that money and spend it on health care, or child care, or caring for the elderly or vulnerable.

I resent that my tax money is being spent on someone's dream to throw a ball of metal the farthest in the world or paddle a boat a few hundred metres the fastest. If your dream is to be the best gymnast in the world, then go get it, babycakes. But do not expect me to have to fund that dream. My dream is to live near the ocean and write novels. I do not expect the government to pay for that, even though there are grants. I do not believe in demanding the government to help you achieve your dream, whether it's the fastest biathlete or best selling author. The government should make sure there are hospital beds when you need one, or there is a pension available to you. The government should be working to provide the basic necessities of life to its citizens instead of allowing someone to be the best butterfly swimmer in the world.

So when I read that $40 BILLION dollars was spent on the Beijing Olympics, I gag. Imagine what that $40 billion could pay for in this world. Vaccines, food, shelter, education, relief from natural disasters, literacy... the list is endless. That money could be spent making this world a better place, instead of finding out who the best beach volleyball team is in the world. Because, really, who cares.

Patriotically Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Road Bump

I hit a road bump today on the road to marriage. The pastor at the church we booked bailed on us. Well, it's not much bailing, as not being available.

We booked the church - a lovely stone country church with stained-glass windows - way back at Thanksgiving. The pastor at the church died just before we got there, and the teary-eyed church ladies assured us they would have a new pastor by the time our wedding rolled around. So last week, I called the church lady and asked about the pastor. She said they have a new one, Pastor George Something-something (he's Japanese) and he's on vacation but he will call me as soon as he gets back.

He's back. And he called me today. When I asked him, very politely, if he would perform the ceremony, he said he was away. And he left it at that. While I stroked out on the other end. I tried to stay calm as he explained that he doesn't work all the time and his time off is September 19th. My left side went numb. I told him the invites have gone out and we have put a deposit down and plans have been made. He suggested we meet on Sunday the 14th or "better yet" Saturday the 20th. I snapped. Those two futile days he offered as plan B sucked and I could feel the shrillness build in my voice when I asked him to find an option for us. He said he'd make a call. He might know someone.

Thank god, he does. His name is Reverend Al McNeil, and he's a retired pastor in the area. Useless George gave me his number and I fought the urge to tell Useless to bite me.

The piece de resistance is that before Useless gave me Revered McNeil's number, he grilled me on if I had any church connections in Lamont. WHAT?!? I don't think I as polite as I should have been when I said no, Byron's side doesn't go to church and any connections I may have had are way back in Nova Scotia so NO, George, I do not have church connections here. I wanted to add for good measure to shut it and give me Al's number.

Al is delightful. He sounds like an old man who is full of business. He is available, he wants to meet with us the week before, and he sounds reliable. I like him. Now I am braced for more bumps to come in the next forty days. 40 days! Aiiiieee!

Bracingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Summertime and the living is... shitty

It's been a delightful summer. It's been warm, but not blistering; sunny with a few days of rain. My tomatoes are coming in lovely, and I even have some peppers. The wedding plans are falling into place and all is well.

Except for seagulls.

I blogged about them a couple weeks ago when I was shat upon on my way to work. But my battle with the gulls has gone further. I want to kill them. I'm talking about bread soaked with bleach, slingshots to the face, stomping on their eggs killing. I have had it with these frigging seagulls!

Our apartment is on a hill, and next door are condos. Because of said hill, our apartment windows are directly across from the roof of the condos, where there are seagull nests. I am convinced there are more than one. All day long, we are forced to listen to the caws, the squawks and screeches of seagulls. It can be very loud in our apartment, so loud that I can't hear Byron talking to me. At night, it's warm so we have our bedroom window open. But it is always closed around 5 am when we are woken up with another day of squawks.

This morning, I stopped at our car in the back parking lot to get some shoes, and the noise of the gulls was deafening. I feared another splat of shit, and I saw hoards of them circling.

The other day, when Byron was sleeping all day for his night shift, I pitied him sleeping in a stuffy apartment while the gulls hollered outside. I called Animal Control to see who I can talk to to get the nests off the roof across the alley from our bedroom window. The man on the line started laughing at me. It's apparently breeding season and it's against the law to disturb nests. He said, and I quote: "you're outta luck." Dammit! How much longer does this go on!?!?

Not only is it a battle at home, but on the streets. My office is on the top floor so we see gulls circling and hear them screaming all day. The entrance to our building is white with shit. The streets look candy-coated with bird poop. Every car has a splatter of shit. It's heinous.

I don't remember this last summer. Of course, last summer, Byron and I just moved in together and got engaged so my mind was pre-occupied and gulls were the last thing I thought about. I have never been so anxious for the end of summer.

If you happen to see a pile of dead birds next to a bleach-smelling bag of bread, don't look at me. That's all I'm saying.

Annoyingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Worst Workout EVER

I signed up for an exercise class through work called "Abs and Butts". It was inexpensive, and I thought it might be a harmless way to get an extra work out. I went to the first class last week, and it was fine. I had never been to an exercise class before, and it was alright. Me and the only other chubby girl in class hid in the back of the gazebo it was held in. I kept up with everyone else and sweaty like a hen hauling wood. I felt rejuvenated and strong after the class. I was also sore as hell for three days after.

Today was class #2. Well, for me 1.5. When I got there with my co-worker/friend Kirsten, they had started stretching on the lawn. We have had rain here for two days, so the lawn was soggy. The instructor said the gymnasium was being renovated and said the lawn would be great. Now, the lawn is in front of a building filled with colleagues, whose offices look down on the lawn. At one point, we were all on our backs, with our feet facing the building. The instructor had us fling our legs in the air and spread our legs as wide as possible. I was supremely uncomfortable.

My yoga mat is black, and it was sunny at lunch time, so my mat turned into a griddle. I could feel my arms getting sunburnt and I was sweating more than necessary. I scooted into the shade, which was on a hill! And because it was the shade, the ground was even soggier! I tried to do one exercise and started rolling down the hill. I got into a snit to end all snits and stormed out of the class. I did not pay that money to sit on wet ground and roll down a hill. I couldn't do any of the exercises properly. I came back to the office and emailed off a snotgram saying this was unacceptable.

Now, my yoga mat has bird shit on the bottom and is drying out in my cubicle. My cube, by the way, smells of worms.

I don't mind breaking a sweat, if it's for a good reason. Next week has to be better. Or I might snap my instructor in two.

Jane Fonda-ingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt