The Anniversary: A Recap*

Just a bit of housekeeping first–I’ve been making the rounds through many of your lovely blogs. I’m going to be MUCH better at leaving comments and love now that I have two weeks off to enjoy a bit of relaxation and I can’t wait to catch up on all your news. I’ve just noticed something… when I switched my blog to WordPress in March the Hubster rigged it so that technically my blog address stayed the same (http://blog.iheartmyshoes.com). However I noticed that in some of your blog rolls it appears that I haven’t updated in 5 months and it shows that my last entry was the last entry I wrote in my blogger blog.

In order for it to get up-to-date, you just need to edit the link you currently have for me. Just re-enter http://blog.iheartmyshoes.com OR http://iheartmyshoes.com and it should start updating for you.

Thanks lovelies!! xo

———————-

Well, it’s official. The Hubs and I have been married for five years and have crossed the threshold into oldy-wed territory. I have to admit, I love that our response to “How long have you two been married?” no longer produces the “Awww, so cute! You’re so new!” reaction. Being a newly-wed was all kinds of fun, but I love being an oldy-wed.

Our anniversary was wonderful. It’s been more of an “anniversary week” than anything else, and I feel spoiled and loved. :)

On Tuesday I came home from work to find beautiful pink roses on my kitchen table. In case you missed the memo, I love roses. And I love that I get them just often enough to keep them as something special.

On Wednesday the Hubster rolled in from work just long enough to tell me to put on my shoes and that he was taking me out. We got in the car and started to drive, but he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. He can be pretty sneaky when he wants to. He drove back to my old Ghetto U territory and took me to the restaurant where we had our first date (and where he took me the night he proposed) and we had a lovely dinner. Afterward he drove to the park where he actually got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife five years ago.

It was the first time we had been back to that park since that night. It all seemed so… different. Mind you, the last time we were there it was night in mid-March and the park was buried knee-deep in snow. We walked the path to the swings where we had sat just minutes before he proposed and stayed for a few minutes. It was getting late and the air was a bit chilly so we didn’t stay long, but it was so nice to revisit our spot and drive around my first university campus. I have so many good memories from Ghetto U.

On Thursday I worked my last shift at the store. I have a whooooole post all about this coming, don’t you fret. The Hubster met me after my shift and walked home with me. We did our gift exchange as soon as we got in. I bought the Hubs a new watch that pretty much does everything but teleport and he bought me tickets to go see SOUTH PACIFIC next week!!!!! I didn’t even know it was playing in Toronto, but it’s one of my favourite musicals–I love all things Rogers and Hammerstein. So next Thursday I’ll be all dolled up and off to the theatre!!

On Friday (our actual anniversary) we packed up the car and went campin’. It was the first time we had ever been together so I over packed everything (sort of) and we drove into the bush. We didn’t have an exact address for where we were going so we got turned around a few times on the way there, but we arrived safely and set up our new pretty tent.

The Hubs and I quickly got to work getting our camp fire going, and I’m pleased to report that, ahem, I’ve still got it. Apparently there is still a little northern Ontario in me after all. ;)

Afterward the Hubster cooked me a fabulous dinner of gourmet camp fire hot dogs. That was one thing I managed to remember. You see, I always tend to over-pack, especially food. However, for this trip I managed to forget just about everything. I forgot the ground beef we were going to cook the next day, oil to cook our eggs and bacon, a spatula and a host of other things. Thank goodness camping is all about improvising, right? :)

After dinner I wandered over to the next site to see who was there and it ended up being a group of people from the West End of the city who knew some of my extended family! My cousin (in-law) and his son were actually camping with them! It was so fun to see them. Holy small world, no?

The Hubs went on a bit of an adventure walk while I stayed at our site and enjoyed our beautiful fire. I brought all kinds of games with us, but we ended up sitting and talking quietly for a while when he got back before turning in a little early. It was so peaceful and relaxing.

I was able to fall asleep fairly quickly despite the fact that the ground was a bit hard / bumpy (note to self: air mattresses are a NECESSITY for camping. haha). I woke up some time in the night to hear the pitter patter of rain drops falling on our tent. It didn’t sound like it was raining very hard so I wasn’t terribly concerned and fell back asleep. I woke up a while later when the rain started again and decided I should probably bring our shoes inside.  We were still dry inside, so again, I curled back up in my sleeping bag and fell asleep.

At around six am we were both awakened by a brilliant flash of light and an enormous clap of thunder, followed immediately by another. We jumped out of our sleeping bags and began the mad dash to try and pack the car before the rain started. We had barely rolled our mats before the sky exploded and it began to pour. The Hubster began making trips to the car with our things as I packed until we had emptied the tent. We were able to move it under the pavilion and dry out a bit–but our super tent didn’t let any water in! WOO! We decided to have breakfast before figuring out what we were going to do, and it was at that point that I realized that I had forgotten half our food. haha! So we had bacon and eggs (that stuck to the pan a bit) that weren’t nearly as good as the ones my mom used to make. *sigh*

We waited around for a couple of hours to see if the weather would let up, but as it continued to pour intermittently throughout the morning we decided to call it a day. Sadly, we didn’t get to do half of the things we wanted to, but it was still fun to sit by the fire and try out our new super tent. We were exhausted when we got home and ended up having a four-hour nap once we had showered and unpacked the car and it turned out to be a lovely, cozy, inside day.

Though it didn’t really work out for us this time, I would definitely go camping again. Hopefully next time we’ll be able to get some hiking and swimming in. :)

All in all, it’s been a wonderful anniversary week and I can’t wait to see South Pacific!

Where I Am*

It’s been a rather busy few days.

For the past few days I’ve been so wrapped up in work and assignments I just haven’t been able to relax. I can’t completely give myself to a good book or movie until I know that there won’t be anything pressing on my time as soon as it’s finished.

As far as work goes, I’m down to four shifts. Four. It sounds so… doable now. Being there is still a challenge–I swear time slows down during my shifts–but I can endure four more. At 8:30pm next Thursday I’ll be free. :)

I’ll also be finished my course  by the end of this week. I received my exam via email this evening and I have until Friday to complete it. I glanced over it quickly, and after several assignments of composition writing, I was relieved to see fill-in-the-blank questions. That’s about all I have left in me right now.

I don’t really know why, but this course has just been unbelievably difficult for me to plow through. I’ve been taking French courses since September of last year, and while this course was obviously more advanced than the previous one, it wasn’t terribly difficult.

It just wasn’t.. exciting.

I’m right in the thick of French grammar and getting through this course was about as fun as having teeth pulled. It was the first one I completed online, and I think I’m going to head back to the classroom when I continue further.

The key word there is “when”.

I’ve decided to take a little break from French. This summer course has just burned me out completely and I’m not enjoying it anymore. I know my limits, and when I stop enjoying something I start cutting corners and stop putting forth the effort to really get something out of the course. I plan to continue again in the winter semester, but for now I am going to do something different.

I’m looking into other courses I could take to expand my teachable subjects that would give me a breather from my language studies. Right now I’m looking at a course that focuses on children with Autism, or taking part one of a computer studies course.

I know, they couldn’t sound more different, but there are a million things I’m interested in learning and teaching and I have the hardest time just picking one.

It feels nice to be excited about a course again. :)

In the meantime I plan to push through and complete my exam and then spend a glorious day downtown in the City with my brother, Choppy. He’s one of the most fun people you’ll ever meet, and I know it will be fabulous. I love Toronto with all my heart–I love the people, the noises, the shops, the culture, the food, the vibe and the atmosphere, and I cannot wait to spend a day walking the streets. As much as I love living in Pretty City, part of me will always miss Toronto!

Anyway, I’m so exhausted that my eyes are doing that hurty burning thing when they are fighting to stay open. I’m off to crawl into bed with one of my old VHS tapes (old romantic comedies just always seem better on VHS) and dream about next Thursday at 8:30pm.

I’ll come back when my eyes are open… there’s so much to tell you!  learned that the Hubster and I are eye soul mates, I’ve decided to be very brave, and I have another long-overdue chapter of Our Story waiting in the wings for you.

Sweet dreams!

Work Grandpas*

(via: http://hullstudent.com/files/minisites/2288/old_people.jpg)

Confession: I have a soft spot for little old men.

I always have–there’s just something about a grandpa (in my family we call our grandpas “Gumpo”) that warms my heart like no other. Don’t get me wrong, I have the most wonderful grammys in the world–including my 94 year old Grammy who is the cutest person EVER and has more of a social life than I do–but I find myself trying to collect grandpas all over the place.

I have church grandpas, school grandpas and work grandpas, to name a few.

My work grandpas are really what get me through the day at my crap part-time job. They come in, are friendly and funny and do what they can to brighten my day without even knowing the effect they have. Sometimes they make cute comments and connections to my real name (which is of a European origin)– I’ve heard some hilarious stories of women they knew in their youth who also had my name.  They chat about the weather, their grandkids, what’s on sale and the state of affairs in the world.

My favourite visits of the day are always with my work grandpas.

As little old men in the store almost always brighten my day, I always try and go that extra mile for them while we chat. I usually tell them about our best deals, am extra friendly at the register and even bag their groceries for them as they leave. One of my favourite grandpas always harassed me about why I worked where I work after learning that I had a university education. When I explained the current job market for teachers in Ontario he went on a big lovely rant about how those hiring guys didn’t know what they were missing. Every week when we came in he asked me if I had been able to find a teaching job yet–and when I finally answered YES he did a little dance and cheered.

I love my work grandpas.

Yesterday I think I found a new work grandpa, and he may be the cutest of all.

I began my shift at 11am and quickly got to work. Not long after I started a little old man came up to the register to check out. We chatted for a minute while I completed his order, then he gave me a big friendly smile and waved as he hurried out the door. I started serving the next customer when I noticed a black wallet sitting on the counter. I asked the woman I was helping if it belonged to her, and when she shook her head I knew it had to belong to the gentleman I had just served. I waved to a coworker to come take over for me and I rushed out the door.

After a quick scan of the parking lot I saw him at the opposite end of the plaza. I took off running and caught up with him just as he was about to enter another store. I called out to him a few times (I think he must have been a bit hard of hearing) and finally he turned around.

Me: “Excuse me sir, is this your wallet?”

Old Man: (patting his pocket) “Oh my goodness! It is! Did I leave it with you?”

Me: “I found it on my counter and thought you might be missing it.”

Old Man: “And you ran all the way here? Why, thank you miss. I never leave it, I must be getting old!”

Me: “Not a problem–it was my pleasure.”

Old Man: “Thank you again, not many people would have done that. I really appreciate it.”

I slowly walked back to my store, feeling good about my good deed of the day. As soon as I got back a whirlwind of customers blew in threw the doors and I completely forgot about it.

Sometime around 4:30pm I was very ready to be done my shift. As I hauled boxes from a cart I heard the front door open and I turned around. There was my old man friend, beckoning me to come over. He had his wallet in hand.

Old Man: “After you brought my wallet back to me this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about what a nice thing it was that you did.”

Me: “Really, it wasn’t any trouble. I’m just glad that I caught you!”

Old Man: “I went home, but I just had to come back to thank you again.”

(He began pulling money from his wallet and held it in my direction.)

Old Man: “Please, I wanted to give you something to say thank you.”

Me: “Oh goodness sir, you don’t have to do that! I was happy to be able to help.”

He stood there for a minute, befuddled that I didn’t take the money. After trying one last time he tucked it back in his wallet, gave me a small grateful smile and thanked me one last time before going out the door. He couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t accept the money for a bit of service I was happy to give, and I can’t believe that he came back so many hours later to thank me again.

Small moments, right?

Thank goodness for work grandpas. :)

As Time Goes By*

(via: http://s3.images.com/huge.75.378650.JPG)

It’s no secret that I generally dislike my crap part-time job. As soon as I have completed my last shift and have run out the door laughing I’ll fully explain why, but until then just know that it’s just not usually a terribly lovely place to work.

But every once in a while something happens that makes me grateful that I was there in that moment.

Today I had such a moment. In the midst of a crazy hectic shift where I had nearly lost all faith in humanity and was convinced that there was a sign somewhere outside the door that read “We don’t like manners in here! Come on in and be RUDE! We looooooove rude! And mean! WOO”.

Seriously. People were just not happy today. Which makes me not happy. And I don’t like that.

And then this little old man came in. He poked around the store for a while before finally bringing up his cart to the front. He had a random collection of items and spent no more than 12 dollars. When he came up, quietly smiled and said “Hello”, I was seriously taken aback. (Someone talking TO me and not AT me? Whoa. Progress!)

I decided to forget allllllll the meanness I had just encountered and poured all the goodness I had left in me into making his stay at my store a pleasant one. As I was helping him put his things into a box, he softly said, “This is my first time shopping, you know.”

I took that to mean that it was his first time shopping in my store, so I laughed a little and congratulated him on finding the best things in the store to buy on his first visit.

He looked up at me, gave me a small, sad smile and said, “Thank you… my wife usually did all the shopping. She just passed away and this is my first time.”

My heart lurched into my throat and I choked out my apologies for his loss as he continued, looking at his wedding band: “We were married for 67 years. She was my best friend.”

Then this wonderful man who had just lost the love of his life began to cry at my cash register. It was every thing I could do to not run around the counter and hug him… but he smiled through his tears, gave me a little wave and hurried out the door.

The customer behind him was already throwing her items at me before I could do anything more, and I nearly forgot about it until a few minutes ago when this song came on my random iTunes shuffle:

I’m so thankful that I had that one, small moment today to catch a glimpse of real, life-long love and remember that there are still good people in the world. I just hope that was I able to offer a small bit of kindness to him as he goes through this difficult time.

Not that I’m rushing old age, but I honestly can’t wait to grow old with the Hubster. He is my best friend and the love of my life. (and we do our grocery shopping together.)

Where there is love, there is life*

Five years down, sixty-two to go. :)

Roommates*

Three of my roommates*

Earlier this week I logged into facebook to see that a young friend of mine had just received her housing assignment for residence for her first year of university this fall. She was distressed at having just learned that she would be sharing a room with someone, as she had high hopes for a single room. Several people (including me) reassured her that things always work out and that this mystery person could end up being her very best friend.

It brought back so many memories of the summer before I left university. It feels like yesterday–I really can’t believe that it’s all behind me now. Accepting a university was traumatic for me at the time (it’s quite a story, remind me to tell you some time… from it I have earned my family nickname “Beef”. haha) and ended with Big Neil driving my acceptance package to the university application center by hand the day it was due, some three hours from where we lived. *bows head in shame*

Once I had made my decision, I began the process of applying for on-campus housing as Ghetto U was over an hour away from my home, much too far to commute. For a small-town white girl from Northern Ontario the application was a bit crazy for me to understand. Did I want to live in a mixed gender house?  Did I want to live in an all-Caucasian house? (no joke.) And the dreaded question: Did I want a shared room?

I checked off each box (with an extra-bold “X” on the NO to a shared room) and sent it off to await my fate. At the school I went to you don’t find out about your living situation until you arrive on campus for Frosh Week. All I knew was that I was going to be in apartment style housing and I needed… stuff. Having never lived on my own before I had absolutely no idea what I needed, and my mom loved me enough to guide me through the process whilst letting me make mistakes and learn for myself. We went garage saling every Saturday and I bought what every student needs (or so I thought):

Breadmaker.
Coat Rack.
Toaster Oven.
Shoe racks. (Necessity of life. Shoes need to be displayed.)
Egg poaching set.
Super Nintendo.

We packed our vanimal so tight full of my stuff I could barely fit in it with my parents. We drove to my new school, parked the big, blue, beautiful vanimal and wandered off to find out how to register and check-in for residence. I was handed a big manila envelope with a house number and room number on the outside. Inside were two keys, a bunch of university documents and an invitation to a toga party. We walked down a path in toward my new “house” and I opened the front door. It was your typical university apartment, complete with a couch from the 1970s. I knew my room was on the top floor, but I still didn’t know if I’d be on my own or not. I was terrified to open the door… then… MAGIC. It was a tiny shoebox of a room, but it was MINE.

We started unloading the vanimal and it quickly became clear that I had not only doubled, but tripled the amount of crap I was moving into my house compared to the other new kids around me. As I watched one guy walk away with two suitcases from his car–everything he had for his first year of school–and I watched my dad struggle in with my 400lb 1980′s television that only worked when you hit the top of it, it occurred to me… did I bring too much?

Let me tell you, did I ever use that breadmaker that first year! (Once. And the bread looked like an alien.) But at least the coat rack was a hit!

I was the first of my housemates to arrive. Next came G–the two of us shared the top floor in the two single rooms in the house.

Next Harriet* arrived, followed shortly by A, who shared the room in the “basement”. R came next, followed by X who also shared a room. R had a very strong personality with definite opinions and interests. She arrived all in black, with fun thick rimmed black glassed and black dreds. X arrived with two track suits, a pot, bowl and spoon, and a huge laptop computer.

I was convinced that perhaps with the exception of X (who wouldn’t talk to us and it took us a few weeks to even learn how to properly pronounce her name) we would all be best friends, braid each other’s hair, spend all night talking about boys and go out together.

By the end of that first weekend we had all met people who would soon form our friend groups and aside from brief meetings in the kitchen, I really didn’t see my housemates all that much. I woke up, went to class, went to friends’ houses, studied in the school and came home to sleep. I became friends with a house of guys around the corner and met Bo Besso, Bo Bandy and Star and then that was that. Sadly, that photo above is the only photo I have of my roommates, and two of them are missing from it. And yes, that is the famous lady bug costume I first saw the Hubster in. This was one of the only times my housemates and I all went out together, and it was the night before I attended the event where I saw my future husband and I became the Lady bug Girl.

We became housemates that weren’t really housemates. We were friendly enough, but for me it never really went beyond that. I have always wished that I had ended up in a house with people I could have really clicked with, but I had a great experience. Though we weren’t friends, we were friendly, and that was enough.

The only one that we could never figure out was X… I have so many hilarious X stories I could make you laugh until you cry. Have I ever told you about the time she brought home a giant hamster in an ice cream bucket? Or the time we taught her about dish soap? Or how about her revolutionary way of eating pizza?

She was… special.

I think my experience is probably pretty common for people who have been mashed together with strangers. I was just lucky to have friends outside when I needed to escape. After first year I got married, transferred universities and adjusted to a new roommate: The Hubster. :)

I haven’t talked to my housemates in years, though I have always wondered where they all ended up. It’s funny how you can live so close to someone for so long then completely lose track of them.

What was your first experience with roommates like?