Stuck in a Furrow

Two years ago, almost to the day, we loaded up the uhaul with all of our stuff and set off for Abbotsford. There were so many unknowns...Mick didn't have a job yet, we weren't sure if our apartment would be a dump, would we even like it out here. We had been dating for a year and were going to be living together...how would that work out for us?

These past two years have been filled with so many highs and lows for both me personally and us as a couple. I will carry with me the fond memories of Abbotsford, of the start of a new chapter, a new life together as well as the things that brought us closer together as a family. We struggled, we laughed, we cried (well...one of us cried more than the other), we juggled and in the end, I know in my heart that I wouldn't trade these past 2 years for anything.

We travelled to Vegas and made so many trips to Calgary for weddings and family. We watched an NFL game and did some outlet shopping in the states. We travelled 12 hours round trip to pick up our puppy and bring him home. We fought about money and juggled finances. We went through the lows of unemployment and struggling to make ends meet. We made decisions together, knowing we were in it together. We made new friends and kept in touch with old ones. We went on drives and wine tastings and into Vancouver. We saw concerts. We did Bikram Yoga and played ball. We stayed home. We cried. We laughed. We became better friends.

We got engaged.

I can tell you the exact spot on the highway that I was passing when Mick called me that August day and asked me to go pick up groceries as he needed to stall me a bit. I remember how mad I was that I had to go to the store. I remember how excited I was to tell our family and friends.

We planned a wedding. We came "home".

We applied for jobs.

We decided to move back to Alberta.

Will I miss it here? I sure will. I work for an organization that I love. I may not always like it, dealing with office politics and rules, butI love what they do and I have some great friends here. People that I'm dreading having to say goodbye too. People that have seen me cry at my desk and shared in my laughter. People that believe in what MFL is doing, changing lives.

Maybe one day we will be back. Maybe.

But for now, I'm so excited to load up that Uhaul and actually get to live with my husband; not seperated by provinces anymore.

Sad to be leaving but excited for what comes next.

No one ever told me that raising a puppy was this hard.

Or if they did, me in all my stubborn glory, would have not believed them. After all, how hard could it be to turn 12 pounds of fur into a loveable, come hither when called, lick my face to show me you love me, lay on my lap in blissful sleep while I watch TV, well-trained pooch?

Apparently it is quite difficult.

This is what HIS (being the boy) puppy did to MY bathroom over the weekend. We thought that instead of leaving him in his kennel for the day as we were going to be gone for the better part of it, we would put him in the bathroom so he'd have room to run! and jump! and play!


Oh my.

We put the towels up, pushed the stuff back on the counter and put his kennel on the floor.

We neglected to A) remove the roll of toilet paper from puppy reach B) clean out under the cupboards, including all cleaning supplies or C) supply him with a toy so that he wouldn't chew everything he could get his sharp claws on.

This will teach us.


























There have been sleepless nights and (only a few) accidents on the floor (thank heavens for a boy to clean them up) and constant monitoring and biting and chewing and pulling and jumping and tears...lots and lots of tears and mostly on my part. Why oh why did I sign up for this?

This might be the reason...


Or even this...


We had grand plans of a puppy who would love to ride in the back seat of the car, windows down and soaking up the wind, tongue panting and eyes watering. We wanted a dog who would go to the bathroom on command. Stay in his kennel at night and not make a peep when we left him for the day. We wanted freedom with a dog and didn't want to become that couple that had to rush home after work to let the dog out.

It is a good thing we don't have any friends here (yet?) as we have totally become that couple that has to run home from work to let the dog out!

Oh well. We do love this little gaffer who makes us laugh as he tries to get traction on the floor while chasing his ball, who is oblivious to the fact that there are pills in his Kraft singles, who will do the poo sniff and run outside in a moment of panic, who still prefers me over the Boy and who is slowly, very slowly, learning how to behave like a good little puppy.


And thankfully, the tears are becoming less.

His name was Roland Peterson.

We spent the summer both doing the same thing; drive-by evangelism and trying to make ourselves feel like we were making a difference in the hot African sun. He was Nampula Hospital and I was Mozambique Film. And the first time I met him was at debrief in South Africa.

It was almost open season. That was when the boys got to ask a girl to the final supper. This was a big deal as for the entire summer, relationships with the opposite sex were not allowed. I guess they feared that if they let a bunch of hormone crazed 16 year olds have free reign there would be a bunch of TMI babies running rampant. I got my share of 'SB' (Special Blessings - aka work duty) for spending my time with a certain Josh. He was a skater and dreamy. I was 16. He was not.

I wanted to go with Josh but he was forbidden to ask me, so it appeared I was going to be dateless. No biggie. That was the story of my life so far. Josh found a replacement. Did I mention he was a skater and dreamy? Girls loved him. Roland was on another team (it was uncommon to mix teams), older and always had girls nearby. He was popular and witty and everyone said what a nice guy he was. We said hi in the lunch line and chatted on the way to quizzing but never really talked.

He asked me to be his date one afternon. He caught up to me as I headed across the obstacle course and seemed nervous as he asked me.

I said no.

My teammates were shocked that I turned him down. Did I not realize he was prime date material? I figured his invitation was a pity invite and it was set up by one of my friends. I was shy and awkward and figured that I was destined to go alone to the open season banquet.

My friends were not convinced of my reasoning and talked to Roland. Told him my reasons for saying no and encouraged him that if he asked again, I surely would say yes.

There was a knock on our lodge door. I opened it to find Roland standing there. His entire team was behind him, maybe for moral support, maybe because I was less likely to say no if there was a crowd. He asked again.

I said yes.

We had fun at the banquet. He picked me up at our lodge, held doors open and we laughed through the entire meal. We spent our plane ride back to NY talking on the in-plane phones and becoming fast friends.

We said our goodbyes at the airport. We exchanged numbers and details on airport pamphlets and promised to write and call. I kept that pamphlet for years. I never did call or write for fear that he would have forgotten me or thought I was crazy. I never heard from him.

I found him on Facebook. I am not a stalker, we are just members of the same group. I am not going to add him or message him, once again for fear that he won't remember the awkward 16 year old he asked to be his date at open season. That was almost 11 years ago.

But it is one of my favourite memories of the summer of '98.

Have you ever had your eyebrows waxed?

There is that day when you look in the mirror and realize that your brows are starting to look a bit unkept. You wait a few more, trying to delay the unavoidable pain of the tweezers. To tweeze or to wax, that is the question. Soon you are shocked to discover that what used to be thin and flattering eyebrows have become a wild jungle of unruly hair and waxing must be done. You make the decision and book the an appointment. No biggie.

The day comes and you are slightly anxious and a bit nervous and your palms are sweaty. You know it is for the best but you still dread it. You sit in the chair, close you eyes tight and wait for the inevitable ripping motion and stinging. There may even be tears. The whole process takes about 2.7 minutes and you are done and ready to move on. The redness will disappear and the slight swelling will do down and you tell youself it wasn't that bad and you'd do it again, if need be.

I decided that moving away is like having your eyebrows waxed. And I don't want to do it again.

It was hard to leave family and friends behind, pack up my life in Calgary and head out to the lower mainland. I cried randomly throughout those packing days and goodbye parties. I'm glad that I didn't have to do it alone though and it is nice that those we love back home are truly only a phone call away. (or a Westjet flight!) I still call Calgary home but slowly Abbotsford is becoming more familiar and I'm sure in time, it will be home. I'm not going to lie, it has been lonely and quiet and a bit stressful with only 1 paycheck for the first few weeks but we've survived and I think our relationship is stronger for it.

The job is going well and this week, I get the amazing experience of gettng to be on tour with the African Children's Choir. The children are precious and the staff is so welcoming. I was nervous and anxious and contemplated not going but I'm glad I put on my big-girl panties and did it anyways. Last night, the children were in the concert and I was "observing" and it felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I don't mean at the chuch in Nanaimo or even just with the choir for this week but that this job was the job for me and wasn't really, just a job. It is with the organization that I have nothing but respect for and I truly love what they do and what they stand for. And who can deny that these children are going to change the face of Africa? This job has been a long time coming and finally, the timing feels right.

There is no greater feeling than being called Auntie.

There is always some mixed emotion with the end of the Christmas festivaties. I'm a bit sad that there are no more presents under the sad-looking tree and that the abundance of food will slowly be depleted. But, I'm happy that it means no more 8 mile hike to the mall entrance or dealing with screaming children in overcrowded stores or the overall stress of finding the "perfect" gift. I have come to the conclusion that the "perfect" gift does not exist. I am going to stop looking for it next year.

Maybe.

This year's Christmas was a bit different. There was no early morning drive to the parents house for brunch and presents on Christmas Day and no Boxing Day trip out to Linden to celebrate with the grandparentals.

It was the first Christmas for mom and dad in the booming metropolis of Morden, MB. We (being the 3 of us...me, the bro and the boy) flew the late flight into Winnipeg where we were greeted with blowing, drifting snow on the runway and probably the worst landing I have ever had the joy of experiencing. Why did we ever decide to go to Manitoba for Christmas. It is cold there! In the end, it was a fun trip but I think that 5 days spent indoors with the family is probably the breaking point. Add a 12 hour drive across 2 provinces and I was never more excited to see my cozy apartment with my own bed and silence. Sweet silence.

I did get a lot of good loot for Christmas this year....I got 2 pictures, both with African themes, candles, hoop earrings, fuzzy pjs and slippers, a crock pot (which I asked for!) towels, a CD, smelly bath stuff, computer stuff and a fantastic teapot with blooming tea. I can't wait to use it but alas, some of it will stay in the boxes or will return to boxes until the big move to Surrey.

All in all, it was a good trip. Mom *forced* us to eat more than is humanly possible, we played Wii and I discovered that I suck at tennis...and golf...and bowling...but I am amazing at darts. The boy finally conceeded in a game of poker to my father and we mixed it all up with a few bevys of choice. We read, we ate, we napped, we ate some more, we played with our new toys and we called it Christmas.

Till next year....

Maybe we will all meet in Surrey.

It is so bad yet I can't help but watch.

Make sure you pay careful attention to the lyrics. They don't get much better than this!



And my personal fave...

Note to self: Do not move to Toronto. Driving the 401 is a royal pain in the..well..you know.

I am on the final 2 days of my trip. It has been a long one and I'm ready, more than ready, to be on my way home. I just have a little business to do in Lindsay, ON.

Hang out with Paul Brandt.






What a hard life I have.

We flew out of NB this morning...right before the travel advisory was in effect. Apparenlty Hurricane Nole was downgraded to "just" a tropical storm but it was enough to have me wanting to be landlocked again.

I got to spend the afternoon in Toronto with my college roomie, Carolyn. The time was never long enough and it was sad to hug her goodbye in the mall parking lot. I was glad that she met me at the airport. I followed her out in my rental car (which is a Dodge...sorry Dad) and I think if I didn't have her to guide me, I would have been horribly lost. We had lunch and did some shopping. It was grand.

I figured out how to get on the 401 again and it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. Traffic was slow going in places but it never really stopped. I am more nervous about having to find my way BACK to the airport during rush hour on Monday.

I could end up crying on the side of the road if I get frustrated or lost. The thought of missing my flight makes my stomach lurch.

I am now in my small but clean hotel room in Lindsay. It is no Fairmont Algonquin, but it will do. There is a king size bed.
And a TV and free wireless internet.

And a Tims just up the road.

What more do I need?