Birthday Toast: Katy and Sean

Make whatever inference you want: saving the best for last? Or last place posted, first in my heart? Whatever you like, today is dedicated to the couple whom I call "My Gravity".

Katy and Sean - How fast can I make Katy cry? 

You two have become my family. It's just been a year and a half that we've known each other, and just less than I year since I've been inducted into your inner sanctum, but to me, you two feel like home. Whenever I'm with you I relax and I swear that my world feels that much more put together for having you in it. Whether you're helping me grow my business or laughing the night away with me (even via ridiculously late-night emails with Sean) you heal my soul. 

Our stories up until this point are similar whether it's the relationships that we've had or the ones we now maintain, and I hope that our lives stay on the same path. I fear I can't go on here... my readers will click away for all the mushiness and I'm losing the ability to see the screen for all the (happy) tears. You know what you are to me (and to Hubband) and I can say, with certainty, that you two make my life whole.

Katy: "You... complete me!"

Sean: "You had me at hello."

Oh, and Merry Christmas, too! 

XOXOXO

Birthday Toast: Bethel and Jason

To my newest friend of those who came to the party! Bethel and Jason - I raise a glass to you two and your love (does anyone else see a trend in these toasts... hmmm... love... anyone?). From the first day I met you, Bethel, you have talked about your relationship with Jason. Not only are you ridiculously happy in the partner this life has chosen for you, but you allow him to be an integral part of your day to day life. I adore that you still think of him as a trophy. I wish for all couples to find the same love for their partner. 

And Jason... shy, sweet Jason... you've become as much a friend to me as Bethel. I can't thank you enough for your continued support of me and my business through Bethel, but of the support you give to Bethel on a daily basis. She glows and it's all because of you.

How did I get no pictures of Jason???

Birthday Toast: Jeff and Betsy

How appropriate: not only is today the toast for some of my favorite photogs, but it's a birthday for one of them too!

A toast to Jeff and Betsy - Just thinking about you two makes me smile. I love how in love with one another you are. And I adore how silly you are with me, with each other and with your clients. It's a rare person who is so comfortable in their own skin and I admire you both for it. You two have been a constant buoy in my career and I can't thank you enough for your unwavering support (and guidance when I'm, ahem, about to pull a bonehead move).

Beyond your friendship, your talent continues to inspire me. Buried deep down inside me (very... very deep) is a photographer who wants nothing more than to learn how to do what you do. Alas, I'm a Planner at heart and that's why I do what I do. I wish you two nothing but wild success for years and years (and years) to come and hope that our friendships, and our businesses, will grow together and be better each and every year. 

Slainte! Proste! Whatever the toast may be, may there always be beer!

And Bets - a very hearty "Happy Birthday" to you my dear! Celebrate in style!

Birthday Toast: Gemma and Josh

Next in line for the toasts is...

Gemma and Josh: You two started it all for me. You were the first client to say yes to me to work your Wedding. On top of that, because of your Wedding, I was introduced to the BEST colleague a girl could ask for - your sister Starr.

Gemma, you never fail to amaze me with your crocheting, your love of books, your unfailing loyalty in your friendships (we should all be as kind) and your ability to decide to do something and follow through with it. You wrote a book, girl.  A real book!  And it's amazing.

Josh, you just crack me up. To this day I'm not sure I've got you figured out 100%. But like Gemma, you pick a goal and work towards mastering it. Your mad biking skills are cool, and your determination to conquer the world of pool is awesome. 

Together you two and an amazing duo and I feel so lucky to be able to call you friends.

Someday I hope Josh will take a picture where he's NOT making a funny face.

Gemma - you are stunning, as always.

Birthday Toast: Chuck and Gaby

At my recent birthday bash I had planned to give a small toast to each of my friends who were in attendance because each and every one of them has made an impact on my life. Since it was crazy-loud at the Shout House I've decided to post them here so they still get to see them. Time for some blog-love... ahhh....

Chuck and Gaby - I've known you for almost 7 years now. I know, right? You two were some of the first friends I made when I visited Hubband all those long years ago and I'm so grateful for you two. You're positive, and supportive and generous beyond all comprehension. You're passionate about one another, about your children, and about your passions in general. You stay true to your beliefs; you never pretend to be someone or something you're not and I admire that so much about you both.

You've taught me more lessons that I can recount but these few stick out in my mind:

• If wine isn't good, make Sangria out of it.
• Never leave home without mascara and lip gloss.
• Love wins - every time.
• Kids don't ruin your life... they make it better.

Thank you to you both for being my longest-running friends in San Diego. A toast to you both - you're absolutely lovely.

Oh, and something else I just learned: Chuck has a very flat head.

Gaby always looks amazing!

And she makes Hubband ridiculously happy!

My 30th Birthday Party

I know I just posted about my Christmas tree but it's Monday morning and it's still before 9am so I'm slightly unfocused on work. I'm still recovering from my 30th birthday week which was all wrapped up in a crazy little bow on Friday night. 

I would love to tell you that it was a very civilized affair with wine sipping and not a lite beer in sight but that would be a lie. It was WAY BETTER THAN THAT! Yes, Hubband and I are still both paying for it but it was definitely worth it. I may have mentioned before that Hubband loves to surprise me. This birthday was no exception. All he told me was "Downtown Fashionable". So I went shopping with a little mad-money that my Godmother sent me for my birthday and bought a totally adorable ruffle-sweater which you will see below. It's festive and yet (in my mind) fashionable. If you're the Fashion Police and feel that I ought to be locked up for that sweater my address is 1800 Go Jump Off a Cliff Lane...

Hubband took me to Shout House. Being the box-dwelling individual that I am, having never been downtown in San Diego for it's nightlife, I didn't know what the Shout House was. Turns out, it's a rockin' establishment full of bawdy music, Miller High-Life beer, and dueling pianos. It. Was. Awesome. I won't bore you with too many details as there are plenty of photos to show that we had a good time. Suffice it to say that I felt that everyone should wear my crown, including an older lady, Mary Kay (my new BFF, LOL!) whom I eventually gave it to. I also thought that the rose that Mr. McCue gave me was a source of utmost hilarity and should be put into as many photos as possible. Turns out I found it funnier than most people. Seems to me that a couple glasses of champagne and a few three or four (yes, you read that right) Miller High Life's might skew one's perception of humor. 

All in all I had a great night. And why am I still recovering? Because Hubband has been sick for two weeks and I was pretty under the weather all last week which any of my clients can attest to. I couldn't, however, put off my birthday for another week since I missed celebrating it on the actual date due to a wonderful Wedding I worked. So we're getting our voices back and we seem to be coming out of the fog of the cold. I still have my trusty Afrin beside me to keep the sniffles at bay, but thankfully we're on the mend just in time for Christmas.

And one last thing - much like my countdown to my birthday, I'm going to blog some consecutive posts about the friends who attended my birthday. Before the big day I had planned out some speeches I wanted to give to each couple who showed up. Since it was SO LOUD at Shout House I've decided to post them here so they will know how much I love them. Stay tuned for the first one this afternoon.

HERE'S THE PROOF OF FUN!

It all started with a pink crown and glass of Jack and Coke...

Uh, no, those are Hubbands' beers, not mine!

And then the crown became a source of amusement for me:

Followed shortly by a new found laugh-fest induced by shoving roses in people's faces:

It was a great night had by all. I can't say enough about all of my friends and how much they made this night. Stay tuned this week for my toasts to my friends. The first one is coming this afternoon!

It's a Schmaltzy Christmas

I used to be a Fisher. I was PROUD to be a Fisher. I did things the Fisher way - very proper, on time, never disheveled, and sometimes, juuuust sometimes, I was accused of being a snob. I would like to take a moment here to point out that "anal retentive" doesn't mean "snob". It simply means we like to do things a certain way. That is still true for many things in my life. I run my business my way and no one else will do it as well. That's not to say that other businesses aren't wildly successful, they absolutely are, but rather that no one would run my business as well as I do. Hmm... am I rambling?  Yes. Yes I am. But, just let it be said for the record: I was, and always will be, proud to have been a Fisher. I love the way my parents brought me up and hope to be only so good to my nieces and nephews.

When it comes to the general operation of my home life, however, I have to compromise with Hubband. I can't do everything the Fisher way - I must make room in my rather Fisher-ized brain for the Schmaltz way of doing things. The most recent occurrence of this is in relation to our FIRST EVER Team Schmaltz Christmas tree. I had a very particular idea in my head of what I wanted. I could visualize it, and had all the necessary accoutrement at my disposal at the store: Gold! Yes... gold! Gold ornaments, gold tinsel, a gold tree-topper. It would be glorious. Then I crashed back down to earth and noticed the adorable man Christmas tree and ornament shopping with me. Oh, right, he's a Schmaltz. He's perhaps got another way of decorating. We actually had this conversation in Target:

Me: "Uh, babe, so, um, are we going to do this tree, like... Fishers?"

Him: *slightly confused look*

Me: "Or we could do it like your family. There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, the Fisher's way is really pretty, and organized, but I'm sure your way is nice too..."

Him: *giggling* "Well what do YOU want?"

Me: *mental damnation... face crumbling into a stupid grin* "Ok, we'll give it the Schmaltz-touch. But can all the ornaments at least match?"

So you're asking yourself, how did he win that battle? Because he gives me this look like "Really? Are you even asking this question? Why don't we do it OUR way". He's so "on" about making it our traditions, not our parents.  It's awesome. The man may not have a firm grip on the use of ten-dollar words but when it comes to matters of the heart he's got it goin' on!

So, for the very first time, allow me to reveal a very Schmaltzy Christmas tree. This is our first-ever real-size Christmas tree that we've bought and/or decorated on our own. To confirm the conviction of surprise from my mother, here's what she said to me: 

"Did YOU buy it or did someone else buy it for you?". 

Yeah, Mum, your little girl is all growed up. We bought it ourselves.

Oh, and for those of you who may not be familiar with the term "Schmaltzy", allow me to dispel any misconceptions right now:  There are two definitions. Well, maybe three. The first is "chicken fat" or "lard" which very clearly isn't true of either of us. The second is "bathetic, drippy, hokey, maudlin, mawkish" (I don't know two of those words...). The third, and more common definition that I like to ascribe to is from my Jewish friends in San Diego: Schmaltz (or to be Schmaltzy) is "the good stuff, the flavor". I like to think Hubband and I are definitely the good stuff. At least for each other.

Okay, okay, enjoy the few pictures. Another post is on it's way very very soon....

My Birthday Week

The countdown is done, and it seemed like everyone enjoyed it. For those of you who followed it, "thanks"! It was fun to be able to share all the good things in my life. And now that I'm actually 30, and far wiser than I was last week at the tender age of 29, I have to say thank you again to everyone for making my birthday week.  

"Week?" you say.

"Yes", I say, "I've had a birthday WEEK! And it's not over yet".

On Friday I had to host a Wedding Rehearsal which is work for me. Yes, I know, I do have an amazing job. Thank you for noticing. But to make my birthday day feel more like a birthday and less like any other day I have to work, my bestie Kate took me out for lunch. She was super sneaky and told her boss that she had "personal errands" to run. Looks like I'm a personal errand. I hope I'm not one of those errands that is dreaded, though, like picking up a prescription or making dental appointments. Just kidding, Katy, I know I'm not. Love you! She brought me a delightful "New Hands" kit from Bath and Body Works that I not only adore but desperately needed.

I also received many excellent birthday wishes through Facebook and one especially touching phone call from my pals over at La Vida Creations. I only wish I could record sound on here (wait... I know there's one smarty-pants out there waiting to tell me that I can) so you could hear the message.  It was a great pick-me-up after a rather frustrating rehearsal where the officiant who refused to call me back before the Wedding announced that he would need a podium tomorrow at the Wedding. Awesome timing, dude. :-P

Unfortunately Hubband was really sick (he had the flu last week) so we didn't go out for dinner. However, he did go to the grocery store and get me the makings of my favorite snack that my girl Gaby taught me (french bread, dipped in oil an vinegar, then layered with fresh slices of mozzarella cheese, tomato and basil). He wasn't, unfortunately, allowed to make me the food since I was trying to stay healthy for the Wedding but it's easy to put together. He also got me a delicious Red Velvet birthday cake. It really should have been submitted to Cake Wrecks but it was delicious and we didn't want to take the time to take photos before we dug into it's sugary goodness. He also surprised me with the Susan Collins "Hunger Games" trilogy and the "Twilight: Eclipse" movie which he suffered through with me that night. Now that's love!

On Saturday I worked the Wedding but had lots of birthday hugs and wishes from all the vendors. It was very sweet of them. On Sunday we lazed around and I was able to have my birthday phone calls from my parents and my in-laws - something I didn't have time for on my actual birthday due to work.

Monday was another birthday day. We had dinner out with our family friends (Shogun Kobe goodness!) where they delivered not only our Christmas presents from our family back home in Canadia (yes, I meant to type it that way) but my birthday prezzie from my parents. It's GORGEOUS! It's a purple, black and green plaid cape from Etcetera out of New York. Once I get a good picture of me in it, I'll post it but so far the pictures have been poor quality cell phone pictures. Diane and Dave (our Canadian friends) also brought me my two favorite treats: Smarties and Gummy Marshmallow Frogs. No, not American Smarties, the good kind, from Canadia. Never had them? Well, consider your life less-lived than mine! 

On Tuesday my Hubband took me out for lunch. I'll call it a belated birthday lunch since we hadn't gone out to celebrate yet. And what did I get? Another birthday present from a friend. Two fabulous new books from author's I've never read before. I'm psyched to get to them over the holidays.

Today I'm giving myself a birthday present: a day at home to do all the things I've been meaning to do since June - clean the office, archive files, set up a better file structure for my clients, etc. Yes, I know it sounds like work, and I suppose it is work related, but I'm feeling so much lighter for having it done. 

I'm not sure what tomorrow will hold, perhaps nothing, but I know that Friday is my birthday party with a few of my closest friends. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing (Hubband does love to surprise me) but I do know that some of my favorite people will be there to help me ring in a great new year. So here's to 30! May it be the best yet!

30 MINUS 1 DAY!

Holy frick!  Do you know what tomorrow is???  It's my 30th birthday.  The 30th birthday isn't just any old birthday, it's THE birthday.  It means I'm an adult now. Or at least I'll try to tell myself that.  It means I'm past my crazy 20's and the disasters of the teens is all but forgotten (almost... *wicked grin*).  

But, as you've all been on my countdown with me (at least I hope I haven't gone this alone... you've been there, right?) I'll bet you're anxious to find out the #1 reason I think I'm made in the shade on my 30th birthday! Hmmm... let's see... what shall that reason be? Hmmm... right, like I have to guess.  Without further ado... 

Reason #1

HUBBAND!

Duh, right?  Gosh, I don't even know where to start without tearing up.  Long story short, we were made for each other.  We met in high school and while it maybe wasn't love at first sight (he was shorter than me... c'mon, give a girl a break) it was meant to be.  We just... fit.  

I know he reads this blog (he spends his life with me but he still reads my silly rants anyway) so he's going to get an eye-full of what he means to me - and now you all do too.  Well, both of you who read this, anyway.  

To me, his is perfect.  He's the yin to my yang.  He's calm when I'm a hot mess; he's smart when I'm, for lack of a better expression "too pretty to know". He's kind when I want to be mean, he's supportive when I think it's time to give up. He's been there through hell and back (both caused by me, and by things we couldn't control) and through it all he managed to love me. I may not look like Nicole Kidman (his other dream girl - can you blame him?) but he chose me. Short, plump, goofy, crazy me. He does seem to think I'm funny, and he laughs when I cry at Biggest Loser. He thinks I'm cute in pigtails and he laughs so hard his nose crunches up when I eat something that I don't like (usually because he makes me try it). He loves to surprise me with gifts or parties which suits me just fine because I do love a good surprise. He cooks for me since I gave up trying to be a good cook years ago, and he takes care of me, all without holding it over my head.  

Oh lawd... here we go... the waterworks are starting... *sniff*

He smells better than any man I've ever met and I love going to bed next to him and waking up beside him the next day.  He's always warm and while he sometimes screws up his face when I put a cold hand on his warm back, he never makes me take my hand away.  He'll get me that box of cookies at 9:30 at night (from the grocery store) without telling me I shouldn't eat them 'cuz I'll gain weight.  And then he takes the box to work the next day so I won't eat any more of them because he knows I'll hate myself if I do.  

He let's my crack on his terrible taste in music (ick... country) and let's me think that I'm the better driver.  He bought me a house with a pink front door because I fell in love with it and he lets me decorate the house however I want, even if that means he's not allowed to hang his speakers from the ceiling.  That's not a joke - he would, in the office, if I'd let him.  He's taking me to Scotland for our belated honeymoon because it's where I want to go.  It's not his first choice but he's excited because I'm excited.  

But for you men out there reading this - don't read this wrong.  He's not "whipped" or "trained".  He's just who he is.  He's the man of the house.  He takes care of me, he provides for me, and he does it all without me feeling pathetic.  He supports me in starting a business that's not making any money yet, but doesn't make me feel bad for wanting a fabulous new purse, or a to-die-for pair of shoes.  

He is, without a doubt, my best friend. He is my reason to celebrate and the reason my life is as amazing as it is as I reach this milestone. Thank you, my dear Hubband. I love you today, tomorrow, and forever.  So much.

And P.S.  Happy 56th birthday to my Daddy-o today.  I love you, Dad.

*Photo courtesy of Resolusean Photography

30 minus 2 days!

Oh. Em. Gee!!! I'm getting so friggin' excited that my birthday is almost here. I think this is the tri-fecta of birthdays. I'm going to be 30, which I'm super stoked about, I love my life, AND! My birthday is on a Friday! Pretty sweet, right? But let's chat about the second last reason out of 8 that I think my life is made, and why I want to celebrate big this year for my 30th birthday!

Reason #2

I have started my own family. No, no, not babies, for those of you who are getting so excited, but a family, just the same.

I have Hubband, of course, the sexiest man alive - also the funniest, smartest, sweetest, kindest, yada yada yada, but I don't want you to get sick all over your keyboard. But more than Hubband I have my crazy little pooch, Peaches. She's our baby. For years and years I wanted a dog of my own but logic prevailed and I didn't get a dog. It's a good thing, too, since I moved so much. But now, I have a dog. And she's perfect. Well, she's perfect for me and Hubband. She's funny, and smart and totally crazy and makes us laugh on a daily basis. Even if it's out of frustration. She loves her mini tennis balls something fierce and goes bonkers if you say the word "Treat". And best of all, she's a total cuddle-bug.  

My day dreams of owning a dog were of me, sitting on a couch, reading my book or watching a movie, with my little dog curled up in my lap. And you know what? I got THAT dog. From the day we brought her home in 2008 she hasn't let a day go by without cuddling in my lap, on my shoulder, or at my feet.  My day dream is not only fulfilled, it's surpassed. Despite the frustrations when she's not listening as well as she should, or when she loses her damn mind when the doorbell rings, she has truly made my life better.

I'm sure, by now, you can guess what Reason #1 is. Just in case you can't, though, I guess you'll have to come back tomorrow!

*Photo courtesy of Resolusean Photography

30 minus 3 days!

So yesterday's post started my love-fest.  And today it continues.  With?  Duh-da-da-da!  

Reason #3

I - finally - get along with my family.  I couldn't have made that statement ten years ago.  Heck, not even 5 years ago, probably.

My Dad is my pal (and really, he always has been) and he talks to me about business like an equal.  That's pretty freakin' cool since he's been "the man" for a huge oil and gas company.  He, too, owns his own business and talks to me about how to market better, and asks me for help with project drafting.  I love that I'm a resource to my Dad!

My sister and I talk like friends now.  Sure, we have the common denominator of having the same parents, but we talk about other stuff too.  She tells me about her work (I was the FIRST person she called when she delivered her first baby a couple of years ago - I'll never forget; I was walking out of the Bellagio in Las Vegas) and she teaches me stuff.  She's amazing.  She's a nurse, a labor and delivery nurse to be specific, and she knows stuff. Like stuff, stuff.  She knows when a fetus is officially viable (I'm pretty sure its 20 weeks), and she knows what NICU stands for (Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit, I'm pretty sure). She's not grossed out by... gulp... vagina's (ew... I even hate typing that word) and she knows how to give people needles. Do you know what that means?  That means she can actually find a vein, a tiny freakin' vein, and put a needle in it. That's INSANE! Suffice it to say, that despite all the ups and downs of sisterhood, my sister absolutely amazes me.

And my Mum. Oh, Mum. We finally figured it out. It took about 28 years for us to get it right, but I think we did. Quick... where's some wood... *knock knock* Growing up we used to fight something awful.  Dad said it was because we're so much alike. And you know what? We are! And damned if I'm not proud as punch to be like my Mum. Hubband calls me Katie when he sees me act like my Mum (which is appropriate since her name is Katie - I'd be concerned if he called me Sharon). And I think I'm finally making my Mum proud. It's not something that parents tell their kids often (or perhaps as often as we feel we need to hear it) but every so often, I know she's really proud of me. And that makes me proud.

Sigh... how's that for something to celebrate? Sure, we're a small family, but we're getting it right. I love that we all need one another, even though I'm a grown up.  

Are you sick of all this happiness yet? Ready for Reason #2?

30 minus 4 days!

Okay, so here we are, at the halfway point in the list of reasons why, at the age of 30, I believe my life is made.  The previous posts (#8, #7, #6 and #5) were all fun.  Now it's time to get serious.  Seriously mushy!  Keep reading if you're up for some lovin'!

Reason #4

I have amazing friends.  The kind of friends that make you proud to know them.  Not the friends who you only introduce to certain people.  The kinds of friends who you feel lucky to have because you think they're way cooler than you are!

I have a girlfriend who works for the City of Calgary - I think that's super cool.  I have a girlfriend who was a former client who, when not working full time this past year, wrote a book.  A book, people.  Who does that? My friend does that, that's who.  I have friends who know famous people, and I have friends who want to see me make it big in life.  I have friends I can cry with when I need to, and friends who come to me when they need help.  I have friends who worked on Wall Street (literally) and friend who dream of doing nothing more than making a wonderful life for their family.  So what makes all of this something to celebrate?  Because they picked little old me to be their friend.  I'm constantly blown away at how much love there is in the world - I see it every day in the emails, the phone calls, the text messages, the cards, the Facebook status updates... it's AMAZING!  

My friends make my life a success.  

Reason #3 is filled with more love... can you handle it?

30 minus 5 days!

Reason #5

I moved to California.  Damn skippy that means my life is made!

Well, sure, most of you that read this blog know that I'm a Californian but I didn't start out here.  I was born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada and moved to Calgary, Alberta when I was 5 1/2.  I grew up accepting that I would always have winter birthdays and long for a summer birthday.  But here, in sunny SoCal I finally get my summer birthdays.  I mean, seriously, how cool is that?  Well, it's not cool at all - it's HOT!  

In California I can wear adorable shoes year 'round without fear of snow-damage and I never have to plug my car in... unless I get a new electric car, that is.  It's never the wrong time of year for margarita's and I can go watch Monster Jam in an open-air stadium.  My guests who visit from Canada can sit out on my back patio at 8am with a cup of coffee or at 8pm with a glass of wine and the only thing they need for warmth is good conversation and a light sweater.

And best of all... I live in California.  No... please read that again.  I live. In California.  HOLY CRAP, right?  Any given day I can drive less than 10 miles and be at the ocean; I can watch the sea lions every day of the week and have my lunch meetings a stone's throw from the beach.  Heck, I can walk on the beach every day if I want to.  I mean, isn't that what we all work for throughout most of our lives?  To live somewhere warm and have access to all we want in life?  Well... I do.  I win! 

Reason #4 starts to get sappier.  I hope you're ready for a couple days of BIG LOVE!

30 minus 6 days!

Still hangin' in there, are ya?  Glad to see you back for reason #6 (don't you love my delusions that people actually read this blog?).

So here it is, reason #6 in the countdown to why I've got it made in the shade at 30!

Reason #6

I. SURVIVED. CANCER. If there's no other reason to celebrate in this life, it's this.  I don't know the statistics on the mortality rate of those diagnosed with any form of cancer, but for those of us with thyroid cancer, thankfully, the statistics are in our favor.  But I'd just like to say it again: I survived cancer.  Holy frick, right?  I'm by no means the only one (thank goodness!) who gets to add this slogan to their life's list of "I did that" but I'm damn proud to be someone who does get to say it. 

Some days I look back at the whole ordeal and think "Meh, it happened to me.  I couldn't do anything but just keep on keepin' on" but that's not true.  I could have let it beat me.  Oh, not physically, of course.  I had the surgeries to get rid of it, but I could have sat back and said "That's it, I give up.  Some day, I'm going to die and it's because of the cancer".  Heck no!  I said "Fuck Cancer" - yep, I even bought the pin.  I had bad days, days where I let it get me down, but for the most part, I stayed positive and just let it happen.  Two surgeries.  OK.  A round of radiation.  C'mon, is that all you got?  More needles than I ever hope to see again in this lifetime?  Sure... what's one more prick in the long line of pricks that I'm likely to meet in this life (get the pun?).  Bring it on.  I'll still survive.  

So, obviously today is one of those days I'm feeling invincible.  I'm officially cancer free (as of Veteran's Day) and I think that's something to celebrate.  And I also think it's part of the whole reason that I've made it.  If I can beat Cancer, what CAN'T I do?  

Reason #5 starts with a "C" too... 

30 minus 7 days!

Following yesterday's post, here is lucky #7!

Reason #7

I don't do what I don't love. Seems obvious, right? But I'll bet there are things that you don't love but you do anyway? I'm SO over that.

I don't love running. I tried it last year, and it was OK, but I didn't love it.  So, I don't do it anymore. I don't love attending events alone, so I don't. If I don't have a "date", I don't go. I don't read the whole book if I don't like the way it starts and I don't finish my meal if I don't like it.  

I don't clean up the dogs poop (Hubband does it) and I don't clean the bathroom. Thank goodness for Hubbands, eh? I do (for the record, though) do all the vacuuming and dusting. We share dishes, making the bed and laundry.  I'm not sure why I feel the need to justify this to you, but I do.  

I don't hang out with people I'm not comfortable with and I don't try to maintain friendships "just 'cuz I should". I don't drink milk and I don't visit houses that have cats (these two are completely un-related).  

All in all, I feel I've got a healthy balance of doing things I love, and not doing things I don't love. I still do go to the dentist, and no one loves that, but that's just a hygiene thing. Tomorrow is Reason #6. If you've been following my blog for more than two months you can likely guess what it is. It starts with a "C".

30 minus 8 days!

I'm turning thirty.  In eight days.  And please, I want you to read that as "WAAHOOO!  I'm turning 30!" not "Ugh... I'm turning... 30?" I'm so ridiculously excited about turning 30. Why, you say, are you embracing an age that so many women dread? Why the heck not? It's awesome!

Over the past couple of months as I've drawn closer to being 30 (yes... months!), I've started to look back at all the reasons I have to celebrate this year. There are tons of good reasons and I've come to realize that while I may not have taken the path I thought I would have to get to thirty, gosh darn it, I've ARRIVED! Every day I have something to be happy for. So I've decided that over the next 8 days I'm going to post one reasons why I think I've "made it".

Reason #8:

I do what I love. Pure and simple. Not only do I get up each morning and stroll the 15 paces from my bedroom to my office (in my pajamas no less) but I LOVE turning on the computer to face the day. Yes, there are days that are challenging, and there are things from time to time that get me down, but 98% of the time, I'm happy.

And it's not just work. I do what I love when I'm not working too. I knit. I watch movies. I read fabulous books. I day dream - OH MY do I day dream! Sometimes I just turn on the music and dance around the house. Hey - if we're putting it out there, why hold back the embarrassing stuff? I talk to my dog, constantly. Some day I expect her to talk back to me. I sing at ridiculously high volumes in my office or in my car. I eat what I want, when I want, and I buy clothes that work for my body (even if I am 20lbs overweight).

On Sunday's I stay in my pajamas all day and watch football with my Hubband and eat bad (but oh-so-good) food. I yell at Phillip Rivers and drool over Peyton Manning. I lie on the sofa and pretend to know what I'm talking about with regards to football with Hubband and just ruminate on how awesome my life is that I'm able to lie around on a Sunday and just enjoy my life.

To take a quote from a good friend and fellow Wedding vendor, Kevin Mudd of Cool Cake Photography, Life. Is. Good.

If this isn't too much happiness for you, c'mon back tomorrow for Reason #7... any bets as to what it is?

Fancy Dancy What?

I had a meeting with a photographer yesterday morning.  Photographers always inspire me to be more spontaneous with my camera work ("camera work" being the little camera on my cell phone).  Yesterday, I was presented with a perfect opportunity to take a spur-of-the-moment picture or two.  

This photo quality, of course, is proof-positive why I'm not a photographer.  It's blurry.  But, I ask you, at first blush, if you saw this mounted on a wall, would you know what it was?  I hadn't seen one before.  I thought it was some new fandangled purse holder, or maybe a baby changing station - oh, did I neglect to mention I was in a restroom?

Turns out, upon closer inspection, it has a more practical function:

It's a HAND DRYER!  You move your hands up and down through an incredibly powerful blast of air.  Turns out, while looking all space-agey to me, it works pretty well.  

Based on the incredulous look I received from the other lady in the restroom, though, it's likely best if I keep my spontaneous photo moments out of restrooms. *giggle*

The song is ended, but the melody lingers on...

My Mother's Father died on Friday.  

I don't know how to feel about it.  I'm sad.  I'm relieved.  I'm a bit numb.  This won't be a proper caithris as he might have had, had he lived and died 200+ years ago in Scotland, but this is what I can do to celebrate his life.

William Wallace McLachlan.

He was Scottish.

He worked for Carnation.  

He was married to Daphne and had four beautiful children: Janet, Katie, Valerie and Donald.

    Janet married Allen and adopted two sons: Brian and Andrew.

    Katie married Greg and had two daughters: Meaghan and Gillian.

    Valerie married Jim and they had two daughters and a son: Katelin, Ellen and Scot.

    Donald married a beautiful woman this year: Kathy.  

    All four children married for love which they had to have learned from their parents.  

He had horses and tractors.

Daphne died all too young.

He always bought us sweet cereal when we visited that Mum and Dad wouldn't let us eat otherwise.

He had a great dog named Hamish.

He used to be called Grandad.  

His nickname was "G'Dad" because Grandad was too long to fit on the stocking we hung for him at Christmas.  

He used to jump over the bollards at the Calgary zoo even when he was in his '60's.

He loved his kilt - he wore it at his second Wedding.

He married Anne Handy and her children became his children too.  

He had a big heart.  

He fumbled a bit - he broke his family when he forgot us.  But he made a new family for himself with Ann.

He was called Bill after this.

He cleared land and built himself a new home.

He loved to watch the finches out his back window.

He got sick; he forgot who he used to be.

He kept fighting until it was okay to go.

He died on Friday, November 26th, 2010.

He will be missed.

In case you wanted an update...

It's a good day.  Mostly.  I don't have all the good news yet but I'm expecting more soon.

You may have read in a post last year that I had cancer.  It's now a year and a half since I had my radiation treatment so after my blood test yesterday, a standard checkup, I was sent in to get an ultrasound.  One short day later (that'd be today) I recieved great news!  There's nothing there.  Well, I mean it's obvious that the thyroid isn't there - I'd be mighty conerned if it was - but there was nothing else there, and THAT'S the good news.  No new lumps, bumps or cancer that they can see.  YIPPY SKIPPY!

So here's the rest of the scoop.  Since the time of my intial diagnosis, the process of treatment and maintenance of thyroid cancer has changed drastically.  Where there used to be no documentation or processes, there is now a 51 page document outlingig the steps the doctors have to put their patients through.  The ultrasound was the first step in the process.  There are two possible next steps:

The first option involves getting two shots of Thyrogen, a day apart, followed by a blood test two days later.  It will likely go like this:  Monday: Ouch, a shot.  Tuesday: Ouch, another shot.  Friday: OUCH!  The blood letting.  The Thyrogen is a drug that tricks the body into thinking that it's not taking Levoxyl (the med I take every day to act in place of the thyroid I don't have).  The best part is that the Thyrogen accomplishes in 4 days what would take my body to do a few weeks.  Not to mention it avoids the crazy-factor that is typically involved with going off the Levoxyl.  If the blood test comes back normal despite the stimulus of the Thyrogen then I'm good to go and will be considered cancer-free.  This, of course, is the optimal option.  However, here's the rub.  Insurance companies don't often approve this process without the inclusion of a radiation scan following the blood test.  The radiation test sucks.  So this brings us to option two, which is far more annoying.  

This second option would involve all the steps noted above, but would also include the necessity of me going off Levoxyl and getting an additional blood test to check for pregnancy... blah!  As IF!  Then, once my body is rid of the Levoxyl I've taken for the past year and a half (and my emotions are off the chart and everyone around me hates me) I will have to get another dose of radioactive iodine (yes, that's radiation), and then go back under the full body scanner to make sure there's no cancer left in my body.  And honestly, that's the worst part.  It doesn't hurt in a traditional sense.  No one is poking you, or cutting into you, but you have to lay still for 40 minutes consecutively while they run this machine over your body.  The "bed" that is provided is a 24" wide (approximately) board with a sheet of the doctors hygienic paper over it.  There's no support, no padding.  It's awful.  And I can't read, or listen to music, or talk.  I have to lay still.  Alone.  In a room that is white.  No one else is in there.  So what do I do?  I count the seconds to see how close I can get to the finishing time of the scan.  BOR. ING.  And even worse than this is the human deprivation that I have to endure after I'm given the radiation.  It's like being trapped in a glass cell.  I can't kiss my husband.  I can't cuddle with my dog.  I can't cook.  I can't visit with people.  And I can't sleep in the same bed as my husband.  For four days.  It's SO weird.    And THIS.  This little gem of a process?  This is the procedure that the insurance companies approve.  Go figure.

So obviously I'm hoping for option 1.  If you wouldn't mind keeping your fingers crossed for me that my insurance will approve option 1 I would really appreciate it.  

Thanks for checkin' in.  I'll try to include updates when I can.  I'm hoping for more good information shortly.  I fully expect to kick this cancer's ass!

I'm a Movie Star

Kinda.  Sorta.

My pal Sean of Resolusean Photography recently did a photo session with Hubband and I.  His wife and I are good friends and I've let my freak flag fly a few times lately around her - she's discovered my obsession with sharks.  Apparently I've shared a tidbit or two with Sean too.  Here's his latest creation.  It's too good not to share!

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Rough Night

Last night left me shaking.  I'm still trying to deal with all of my emotions about it.  Here's what happened:

Hubband and I were just sitting down to relax for an hour to watch a TV show when we hear a crazy noise.  We had the TV on so we weren't sure quite what we were hearing but it didn't stop. So we paused the show and ran to the backyard.  It sounded like the neighbors dog may have caught a cat and the cat was losing the battle.  It wasn't quite that simple... (note: I don't wish ill on any cats, even if they are the spawn of Satan)

The neighbors dog is a very bouncy 90lb boxer who doesn't get enough attention or exercise, so naturally he takes out his boredom by running around and playing with objects in the backyard.  Unfortunately, one of these objects is a decorative, metal food dish stand.  The decorative metal is about a 1/4" thick.  It looks something like this:

PLEASE DON'T BUY THIS FOR BIG DOGS!

Not exactly something that I think of to put out for a Boxer - a Chihuahua, or some other foofy dog, perhaps, but not a Boxer.  Nonetheless, this is what his owners have decided to give him.  In all of his frivolity, the dog (we assume) pounced on this stand in his boredom and managed to get his paw through one of the curlycue's on the side of the dish.  He. Was. SCREAMING!  If you've never heard a dog scream in terror and pain, consider yourself lucky.

Now here's the catch.  The owner's are out of town.  They've left the dog at home with their cousin.  This cousin has dogs, two foofy dogs as a matter of fact, so he knows how to handle himself around animals.  But he's not from San Diego.  He's from Yuma.  So he knows nothing about the vet centers in San Diego.  And why should he?  Who would have expected this to happen?  He calmed the dog down a bit but not before Hubband and I rushed over there to see what had happened.  It's amazing what your mind stops worrying about when you see an animal in pain.  I was in my pajamas pants and tank top, no bra, no shoes or socks, trying to take care of this dog in a backyard that hasn't seen water in years (literally - two years).  When I came home I realized I was covered in burrs, and dead grass.  I didn't care.

And then it hits me - I got into emergency management mode.  Deal with this situation.  The tin snips aren't going through the dish.  We can't move the dog - he's not only in a lot of pain, and we don't have the right equipment to immobilize him in a vehicle, but he's going to hurt himself or us when we try to move him.  Hubband calls an Animal Rescue center to see if they can send someone to come get him.  Nope - but they did tell him that if they came to get the dog, it would be considered abandoned and the owners would never get him back.  Assholes.  Uh... not an option (even if I think he might be better in another home).  

I call the Emergency vet center and they give me three phone numbers.  The first is an emergency, mobile veterinarian.  She doesn't answer.  The second is a mobile, in-home euthanasia veterinarian who the vet clinic thought might have some information about transporting hurt animals.  They also don't answer.  Finally, I find an angel by the name of Damian Mitchell.  He specializes in animal transportation. He's trying to talk me into how I can move the dog because his services are expensive ($225 to pick up the dog).  Then he hears the dog screaming.  He says "I'll get in my car NOW!".  

30 minutes later this angel arrives at our house (he drove down from north county) and completely takes over the situation. He's calm, authoritative, but not pushy, or rude.  He calmed the dog down.  He calmed us down.  He was truly a hero.  By 9:30 last night (this all started at 7:10) we had the dog at the emergency vet clinic.  The ultimate cost of the night was 2+ hours of heartache.  I don't care if it cost us $225.  I wouldn't have cared if it cost us $1,000.

I guess if I can leave you with nothing else, when in doubt about moving an animal, call Damian.  His company is TLC Pet Care & Transport and you can reach him at 760-809-8953.  I want everyone in San Diego County to know about this man - he's truly a gem.  

Thanks for reading... I know it's not the standard, upbeat post, but I had to share about what happened.  I'm still pretty shaken.  And an update on the dog - they were able to get the dog dish stand off him in 5 minutes.  I know it seems like a lot of anxiety for us for them to remove it and make it all right in 5 minutes but honestly, I'm not a vet.  I couldn't imagine trying to force it off myself, and we could have been hurt ourselves.  Lovely, adorable Havoc is fine.  He'll be back at the fence in no time!

Adventures in the Kitchen: Buns

If I haven't mentioned it before, the Hubband is quite a catch.  He cooks.  He cleans.  He brings home the bacon so I can have a career I love.  The cooking is almost always an adventure though.  He's not so into making meals he's made before.  He always wants to "go big or go home".  Since he's always at home when he cooks the only option left is to "go big".  And yesterday's meal was no exception.

We have a bit of a battle in the house - who makes the best chili?  I argue that I do as it's a more "traditional" chili (and by "traditional" I mean that it's the same delicious recipe that my Mum gave to me that I've been using for years and years).  He argues that his is better because it's always different.  And I have to admit, his is VERY good (wipe that smug look off your face, Hubband).  However, after the last chili event we ran into a bit of a situation.  It was SO spicy it was a bit hard to eat.  So instead of drinking lots of milk or water to reduce the spice we found a way to add more calories and fat to the meal - we decided to use buns to aid us in eating the chili more slowly rather than just taking smaller bites.  I know - it's ingenious!  

This time when the Hubband made the chili he used 2 1/2 jalapeños so we weren't sure how spicy it was going to be.  So he planned ahead and looked up a recipe to make homemade buns rather than buying them at the store.  Infinitely more tasty, but arguably far more work.  

They turned out GREAT!  They're a very dense bun because he found a recipe that doesn't require them to rise but here's the process.  I thought it was picture-worthy.

 

 

Mm, mm, good!

The Cleaning Sickness

There's an obvious trend emerging when I get sick.  No, not the gross trend where the cold develops from a small tickle into a monstrous annoyance full of runny noses, sleepless nights and tender glands.  It's "The Cleaning Sickness".

I'm not very good at being sick.  I think I got it from my Dad.  At least if my  Mum had any say in this, she'd agree that my Dad is a bit of a baby when he get's sick.  And so am I.  Of course now that I actually sit here and think about it, I suppose it's a strange opinion.  I don't know anyone who says "Yay! I'm sick! I LOVE getting sick.  Now I can take some time off".  Well, maybe high school students do, but otherwise, many of us suffer through being sick as if it's the worst thing that's ever happened to us.  I'm no exception.  

I get weepy - I'll cry at books.  I'll cry at movies.  Heck, even just thinking about the fact that I'm sick makes me cry.  But it's the last few days of the cold that really surprise me.  On the 3rd last day of the cold (that was yesterday) I am a mess - I lie on the couch, reading books, watching bad TV and movies I've seen umpteen times.  I don't shower.  I eat ridiculously  high amounts of sodium in an effort to drown my sorrows about being sick in a dehydrated fog.  I get sore from lack of mobility.  Basically, the worst version of myself takes up residence on our couch and pouts at the Hubband to please get me Diet Ginger ale and cookies.  He does the first.  He won't give me cookies.  He knows that if he gives me cookies I'll pout at him a week later because for "some reason" my pants no longer fit.  They've shrunk! ;-)

And then the 2nd last day of being sick arrives.  Today.  YAY!  Well, sort of yay.  My voice isn't really up to par and my nose is still runny but I'm a CLEANING MACHINE!  I empty garbages that have needed it for the past week but have gone unnoticed in my daze of illness.  I start organizing - filing, packaging, labeling, reviewing emails long forgotten.  I make the bed.  I get ridiculous amounts of work done for my clients.  I don't know what it is other than my body saying "Ok!  You're almost human again.  To make up for the past week, today you must be SUPER HUMAN!".  And so I go for it.

The last day of the sickness, which is tomorrow, is the day I dread most.  I'm 98.77777% better.  I don't have a stuffed up nose.  My head is clear.  I'm ready to get back to life as usual.  Except, I'm a coughing maniac.  Talking makes me cough.  Sleeping makes me cough.  Cough drops hardly get rid of my cough, though they help a bit.  Sigh...

So, I'm excited about the rest of today.  I shall continue to be uber productive until midnight tonight, at which point I predict the coughing shall commence.  I hope you all sleep well; I know Hubband and I sure won't!

Operation Paint Da House: 2010 - Part II

After posting what I thought was a great post yesterday, using stunning imagery through words, I was corrected by a friend who claims to be a "visual" reader. He offered to help remedy the situation by taking pictures of Hubband and I painting the house. Much to his surprise, I took him up on the offer. So, yesterday afternoon, Sean of Resolusean Photography drove over to my house to make painting appear far more glamorous than it is.  Turns out, painting isn't all that exciting, but Peaches got a great photo session out of it. And I got a great afternoon's conversation. Thanks, Sean, for pretty-ing up my blog and making it more enjoyable for my readers!

I do have to hand it to Sean, though, he does make painting the house seem like a more attractive prospect.  Look at these photos - they make me want to go back out and get some more painting done!

Front light - thank goodness Hubband covered this or it would match the house.

Sean has succeeded in making a can of paint look sexy.  That's right!  S E X Y! 

No! That's not a hot new fashion trend - that's tape, acting as a bangle.  Gotta paint in style, girls!

I put tape in my pocket, and then my cell phone.  When I pulled it out, it was stuck like this.  Surprisingly this was entertaining enough to discuss a few times (with Sean and Hubband).

I told you I slapped the tape to any surface it would stick to.  Turns out it sticks very well to windows.

Within 10 minutes of starting the process yesterday I stuck my elbow flat against a wet wall. I think it says "I'm a hard worker and I'm not afraid to let it show".  Or maybe it says "I'm a klutz with a short memory". 

How does he DO that?  The container of paint looks sexy too!

Tools of the trade. 

 

Not my sexiest, I'll admit...

I got bored with my original canvas so I moved on to a more entertaining one.  Thanks, Hubband!

And now, on to Peaches' pro photo session.  Not much of a worker this dog, but cute as all get out!

The smile just kept getting bigger.  Too cute!

Thanks for everything, Sean! We're looking forward to our next photo session this weekend.  I'll be paint free, this time, I promise!