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".

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*