Now that I finally have time to write, most of the memories about our wedding are getting quite hazy. Thankfully the pictures were just finished, so I at least have a reference for what actually went on.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous or edgy at all on our wedding day. I’d planned myself into a corner - the months of both self- and vendor-inspired angst had finally rolled themselves up into a neat little ball of an event that was just going to happen - and there was really nothing left for me to do.

Nothing, that is, except socialize with the flock of family and friends that had descended on the venue. I was sort of deluding myself into thinking that I would get some alone time and wouldn’t mind being the total centre of attention. I tried turning conversations to other people’s lives - no dice. So after the eleventy-frillionth time I was asked “how do you feel? are you nervous?” and with no last-minute details to distract myself with, I was a complete basket case.

Thankfully that didn’t manifest into more than an uncontrollable lip-quiver during the beginning of the ceremony. Neil was having just as hard a time holding it together as I was - but we both made it through like the rockstars we are!

We had a few people ask about the ceremony and vows we put together - when I get around to turning on the other computer, I’ll post a link to a .pdf with the ceremony text in it.

Of course the ceremony seemed to flash by in an instant, then it was off for photos. I heard the canapes and cocktails were good, but we were too busy being swarmed and shutterbugged and exclaiming “holy crap, we’re married!” to enjoy them.

And on to the party!

And when I posted the day after the wedding that it was the best party we’d ever thrown, it wasn’t an exaggeration. Everyone seemed to have a great time, multiple guests made a point of gushing about how our wedding was the best they’ve ever attended. The most rewarding bit from a bridezilla perspective was that every detail we’d thought of - from food to drinks, to decor, to the fact that we had babysitters, to the favours, the surprise outfit changes and just the mood of the evening - someone made a point of thanking us for, or just commented on how clever, unique and awesome we are.

Even the band emailed the next day to thank us for throwing such a great party where they really enjoyed the chance to jam and rock out (apparently not usually the case at weddings). And while everyone loved the fireworks finale, I think the pyrotechnician was most excited of all about the show he managed to put on (the guy was literally bouncing up and down shouting “did you see that? It was AWESOME!”

We left shortly after the fireworks, but apparently everyone else continued to party well into the night. Neil’s brother managed to find himself in a hottub fully clothed, and one of my brothers passed out under a bush.

I think that means we can officially call it a success.

If you’d like to view the photos, visit www.blueolivephotography.com/jen&neil. Slideshows are a nice sampling of the event. The full 800+ photo online gallery is password protected. The password is the name of the small town we were married in (lower-case). If you don’t know, comment and ask!

Mandalay Beach

Originally uploaded by peechie.

Traveling for work is A-Okay.

Honeymoon is over, still like being married.

I got a whopping 15 hours in Vancouver before flying out again, am now in Orlando, jetlagged to hell with the end trailings of a migrane. At least I’m the only girl on this trip, so I have a hotel room to myself!

I make it back to Vancouver on Wednesday afternoon, sleep in my own bed that night, head to Semiahmoo after work on Thursday for a night there, then back home on Friday, then fly to Vegas for a week on Saturday.

Assuming I survive into May, that’s when you can expect the honeymoon stories and pictures to appear!

Hasta Luego.

We made it to our beautiful villa in Spain, and not a moment too soon.

Morocco is a hard country to visit as a tourist. Totally worth it, but definitely more difficult than any trip I’ve taken before. I’ll get more into that in a post once we’re home.

Anyhow, just as we finally thought we’d at least figured out Marrakech and the Djeema El Fna, Morocco gave us one final fuck you.

Food poisoning.

That set in on the train at about 4:30am of the 12th of April and didn’t cease for the rest of the train ride to Tangier, or the trans-Mediterranean ferry to Algeciras, or the car ride into the Ronda Mountains to Gaucin, or indeed the rest of the day. And night.

Today, the 14th of April at lunch was our first real meal since the nefarious foodstuffs (not willing to try anything riskier than plain bread and weak tea). Needless to say, our simple homemade pasta primavera and salad (with all fresh, local produce, thankyouverymuch) was the best meal we’ve ever tasted.

In that fateful 36 hours, we’ve thrown up and pooped more times than I can count, in three kinds of transportation, across two continents. We have shared the kind of embarrassing bodily-function moments that guarantee we can never split up now for fear of the secrets getting out.

If we can make it through that, we can make it through anything!

Right?

Apparently I need to write this quickly, since Neil doesn’t want to pay for more than 30 minutes of Internet. Great, I got myself a cheap husband (kidding!) (mostly).

Thankfully, this particular internet cafe has the option available to change the keyboard from French to English layout, so typing will be much faster than last time.

Unfortunately, thanks to an influx of sand and bad wine (oh those Moroccans, so proud of their awful, AWFUL wine), my brain isn’t actually that fast, so I don’t have anything particularly poignant to say about the latter half of the Morocco part of the trip.

But I’ll share a short adventure tale:

After we left Fes (getting there from Marrakech via Casablanca and Rabat for those playing along at home) we made our way south to Merzouga to embark on our overnight camel trek.

Unfortunately we got a full-on Saharan sandstorm instead.

But the itinerary must be adhered to!

So picture this: complete beige-out conditions, we’ve got about 3m visibility in any given direction, and sand is blowing into the vehicle through any possible entry-point (air vents, window cracks, door jambs, etc.). Mini-dunes are building up on the road behind any available obstacles: rocks, trees, uneven pavement, abandoned vehicles - the mini-dunes are anywhere from a couple inches to a full two feet high. Palm trees and concrete power poles are toppling in the powerful winds.

And we’re carreening through this, over the tiny dunes, around the fallen trees, past frightened camels.

At 100km/h.

To say we were relieved to finally reach the resorts at the dunes is perhaps the biggest understatement I’ve ever made.

Needless to say we did not embark on the camels that evening.

The tour company did pull through though, and arranged for a suite in one of the nicest kasbahs in the area to wait out the storm. Typically they (the storms, not the Kasbahs) die out overnight and don’t start up again until the next afternoon.

So we whiled away the hours hiding from the sand and drinking Moroccan beer (marginally better than Heineken, but MUCH better than the wine) before we fell asleep.

And the desert sands lived up to the promise: the wind was gone at 5:00am and we headed out to catch the sun rising over Algeria from the Dunes of Erg Chebbi.

It was exactly as impressive as you’d think.

Unfortunately, I can’t share a picture right now, because USB connections, card readers or cd burning seem pretty nonexistent in this neck of the woods. But trust me, it was pretty awesome.

(Oh god - the person across the aisle in this internet cafe is blasting Fergie: must finish quick and run far, far away.)

After Merzouga we went to Ouarzazate, then back to Marrakech (our favourite city in Morocco so far). Tomorrow night we take the night train (Marrakech Express) to Tangier, then a ferry to Algeciras, rent a car and drive for a couple hours into the middle of nowhere (Gaucin) and just chill out for a week.

Hopefully the internet situation in Spain is a bit more favourable.

Hasta Luego!

Greetings from Fès!

Hqve you ever touch)typed on q FrenchùQrqbic keyboqrd§ It co,es out so,ething like this:::

(Have you ever touch-typed on a French/Arabic keyboard? It comes out something like this…)

Anyhow, Morocco is amazing so far. It was really hard to feel comfortable at first, and we’re still pushed heavily toward tourist traps most of the time, but we’re slowly getting the hang of the country.

Average temperatures have been 28-32 degrees celsius, which is perfect (though still damn hot when wandering around outside). There’s no AC, but the stone and plaster architecture keeps it very comfortable indoors or in the narrow streets of the medinas.

Interesting tidbits:

The country is COVERED in cats. Seriously. It’s because Arabs consider them to be very clean as far as animals go, and they keep the mice down (there’s really a lot of garbage everywhere - seems this ancient society still hasn’t figured out what to do with their water bottles and snickers wrappers). But yes, cats everywhere.

The food is amazing. There only seem to be three major dishes: tajines, pastilles, and couscous. All three come in beef, chicken, lamb, seafood or vegetarian. And thanks to very strong traditions of Moroccan hospitality, we’re fed a LOT of all three at nearly every meal. When we come home 20kg heavier, you’ll know why.

Driving is an adventure and lines & signs on the road are merely suggestions. Throw in kamikaze scooters, fearless pedestrians, countless horse-, donkey- and hand-carts (not to mention an abundance of random herds of sheep, goats and cattle), well we’re just very glad we have a driver, instead of attempting to navigate the roads ourselves. Inshallah (God willing) we’ll make it home safe and sound.

There is no experience in the West quite like the traditional Moroccan hammam. If you had any modesty or inhibitions (or nipples) before this process, you won’t by the time you’re done.

Anyhow, internet has been spotty to say the least, but we’ll try another update in a week or so and report on the desert and our camel camping trip. And of course we’re journalling the rest of the trip to share (with photos) when we’re home.

Bon Soir!

Well, we did it!

I’m currently hanging out in bed at the Fairmont YVR, drinking coffee and slowly waking up before breakfast. Our flight leaves at 15:10.

For the wedding, the weather turned around completely and we had beautiful sunshine as the perfect backdrop to a really lovely ceremony.

And the reception was definitely the most fun party we’ve ever thrown.

For pictures, stalk the Blue Olive site. I’m sure many of my flickr contacts will also be posting photos (we totally felt like celebrities with paparazzi all night).

And now I’m going to go get ready to fly away with my husband (and try to get more used to the words husband and wife).

In the meantime, check out my flickr page for honeymoon updates, and see ya when we’re home!

A break from the all-wedding all the time programming (though still a good illustration of how completely detached from reality I am).

Preamble: now that we’re on the top floor (instead of wedged in the middle) we get a great deal more birds wheeling by outside our apartment than I am used to. I am still regularly surprised by them.

Anyhow, the other day, Neil and I were watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

As with the rest of the Harry Potter movies, this one was no less able to sweep me into its crazy world of ghosts and mer-people and wizards and flying brooms.

So it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that I was, once again, caught off-guard by a winged creature soaring past my window at dusk. And then surprised again that it wasn’t a dragon outside my window, but instead just a seagull.

The nutty thing is, once I realized that yes, I am still tied to this mortal coil and living in reality, I was COMPLETELY and utterly disappointed.

I really wanted a dragon.

In fact, I still do.

It finally happened.

Friday, March 21, 2008. Approximately 10:00am, PDT.

I lost it. I snapped. I screamed. I wept. I slammed doors and threw things. I became the complete and utter perfect picture of Bridezilla and threatened to call the entire thing off.

Over a $26 piece of hosiery.

Straw, camel, back. You know the drill.

Yes, the madness has overtaken me (or had - I think I’m mostly better now. Or at least have stopped screaming).

I can’t really remember the actual moment of snapping (blind rage does this funny memory-erasing thing) - but I do know it all started on Thursday evening.

I’ve been looking for a long, long time for a way to get my hot little hands on this product.

I called all of the local specialty hosiery dealers, to no avail. They sent me on a wild goose-chase from one retailer to another (Diane’s said try the Bay. The Bay said try Holt’s. Holt’s said “try Wolford, if they don’t have it, nobody will.” Wolford didn’t have it.

Wolford did sell me $150 worth of not-quite-good-enough substitute products (which I didn’t end up needing or opening, and can hopefully return for a full refund - or anyone want some fancy French hosiery). Other than that, I seemed SOL.

But thanks to the fact that I’ve committed the gross offense of living in the apparently backwoods unreachable realm of Canada, it proved highly difficult. Spanx does not ship to Canada. This issue is usually avoided by using a PO Box just across the border, but they also don’t accept Canadian billing addresses.

I had trouble finding any online business that carried Spanx at all (nevermind the particular product I wanted) who would ship to Canada. After my breakdown Neil did find one with an actual person he could contact and order from, while I rocked and sobbed in a corner. They’ve shipped the product rush with USPS (for the low, low shipping rate of about $45USD). But I’ve been burned by customs before, and don’t trust the shipment to actually arrive by Wednesday.

Yes I could’ve probably avoided the whole catastrophe by better sourcing and purchasing online months ago, but I was holding out hope that I’d find them (or something similar) locally.

But, hindsight is 20/20 and doesn’t help me find what I need within the week. So I started phoning retailers listed on the Spanx site to see if they carried that particular product. Heck no. They only carry the full out body slimmers that go from nipples to knees. And I explicitly needed the low-rise feature.

My last bastion of hope was to make a last-minute run for the border and drive all the way to my nearest Nordstrom. In Seattle. Over 200 kilometers away. Have I mentioned that while the car co-op is fabulous, they do charge usage by the hour and the kilometer?

And we went on a holiday weekend Friday, when the Canadian dollar is at parity, and everyone within reach of the border is driving across the line (the border line to get home was still 65 minutes, at 1:00am). And it wasn’t a holiday in the States, so once we finally made it across the border and into the Seattle vicinity, we were just in time to hit Seattle rush-hour traffic.

But we finally made it, and got to my beloved Nordstrom. Oh Nordstrom. Why must you be so far away. If I could marry Nordstrom I would.

Not only did they have row upon row upon row of Spanx in every shape, size, colour and style I could imagine, they also had a Bliss cosmetics counter, where I could pick up a gigantic tube of the only body butter to ever have gotten rid of my dry skin this year. I’d gotten a wee tiny tube in my hotel toiletries in New York last fall, and had trouble finding an online retailer to send it to Canada ever since (yes Sephora carries Bliss, no they haven’t had this product every time I’ve looked).

Anyhow. I got my Spanx. And the Body Butter bonus. And then we basically turned around and headed home to avoid spending any more money we don’t have.

So, to recap:

Hours of my time running around looking for a product that only lives online or at Nordstrom: $100’s of dollars
Desperation purchase of not-quite-right substitute at Wolford: $150
Desperation purchase and rush shipping online: $75
Co-op car run to Seattle: $200
The godforsaken ‘can’t live without them’ Spanx: $26.50
Sanity: out the window, probably gone forever

Not calling off the wedding because I’m delusional enough to cancel the entire thing because I refuse to have my dimply cellulite-riddled ass seen through my dress in public: priceless.

I’m moving to Tuscany.

I started writing a general update-slash-stream of consciousness post, but I was boring myself (so can’t imagine what anyone who might read it would think). So I deleted it and decided random short paragraphs would be better.

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The title of this post has nothing to do with anything, except the fact that I have Aquafresh Whitening Trays in my mouth right now. Sure, they’re only once a day, but you spend 30 minutes choking on mint-flavoured peroxide and drooling on yourself, and that one period of time per day will feel like an eternity.

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There was a time, long long ago in an entry far, far away when I promised I’d reply to all my comments. I started doing it by email, until I realized I was giving essentially the same response (especially to comments that asked questions), or I was getting email bounce-backs, so I’ve started just replying to comments in the comments field. So, uh, sorry if you were waiting for a reply from me at any point - check the comments of the entry you commented on - your answer/acknowledgment is probably there.

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I am desperately sad that I have watched the last two episodes of jPod and MVP. I’ll admit that they started off pretty bad, and the MVP storyline was completely ridiculous, but the jPod actors were getting so much better, and MVP was supposed to be a footballer’s wives ripoff anyhow, so ridiculousness is sort of de rigueur. Considering the only reason I knew the shows were even going to exist is because of a very short commercial during a Hockey Night in Canada broadcast (the fact that I watched a commercial at all is remarkable in and of itself), I place the blame squarely on the CBC and its lack of promotion.

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I have a confession to make: I’m a bad citizen. I had the opportunity to vote in one of the recent federal by-elections (I live in Vancouver-Quadra) and didn’t. I didn’t actually know of the election until the day-of, and by then didn’t feel like being a totally uninformed voter and toeing a random party line (not having paid much attention to party policies in the past while either) would do anyone much good - so I just didn’t vote. I apologize, and will endeavor to do better in the future.

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I am reluctantly admitting to being a bit crafty. Not crafty as in clever, I’ve been like that since conception, but crafty as in one who crafts. I had a sneaking suspicion about myself after reluctantly going to a pottery-painting event and enjoying it, but wasn’t ready to go any further than that. Now I’m doing a few handmade craft-style touches and embellishments to a few elements of our wedding, and damned if I’m not actually enjoying it.

I have always equated being a crafter to someone who makes those awful toilet-paper-holder dollies. You know the ones - someone’s grandma has bought a plastic faux-barbie doll from the craft store, and knit or crocheted it a dress with a gigantic skirt, made to fit over a roll of toilet paper, as if the paper was a huge crinoline. Often accompanied by a matching (in pattern, and hideousness) kleenex box cover. Either that, or someone who bedazzles rhinestones onto the eyeballs of all the cats on their Northern Reflections Sweatshirts.

And I am soooooo not that person.

But I am enjoying hand-making some things, and adding embellishments (rhinestones not included) to make them a little more appealing. So maybe I am crafty. Just a little.

As long as it is known that I do not knit. Or scrapbook. And I still consider “bedazzler” a four-letter word.

And with that, the timer just went off for these godforsaken mouth trays, so with that I say adieu!

So, my co-workers are totally better than your co-workers.

They’ve been scheming for a week now, completely behind my back, to put together a surprise wedding shower. They even got Neil involved, and had him come to the office for the festivities.

I’d been having a completely insane day, between the regular insanity of getting ready to be off the grid (at least as far as work’s concerned) for a little over three weeks, as well as a project that got bumped up by two weeks today.

So when one of my colleagues suggested a trip down to Starbucks at about 3:00, I was game. He even had us go down to his car in the parkade afterward because he “forgot something” in it.

It was all a complete scam.

I came back up, and Richard (the Starbucks decoy) said “hey, lets go into the boardroom and hammer out that storyboard.” Off we go, and I walked into a room full of people and balloons and Neil.

There was wine, and cheese, and presents, and a plastic tiara with a toilet-paper veil on it.

And how well do these people pay attention? They gifted us with the Cuisinart Grind ‘n’ Brew Thermal 10-Cup Automatic Maker, a bunch of different coffees, and some Tazo Refresh and organic Chai teas (my go-to hot drinks when the caffeine jitters are finally too overwhelming).

Yah, I work with a pretty kickass group of people.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled Happy.

I kept telling myself that I didn’t want to get to this place, but it has happened. I am completely, totally and utterly obsessed with my wedding. I swore I would not be one of those brides who took any moment, any conversation and related anything and everything back to her upcoming celebration. I would maintain other interests, I would talk about other things. I would think other thoughts.

Bullshit.

I am consumed.

And it feels so good to just let go and be that person.

As I see things coming together, as all the pieces start to fall into place, I can’t help but get more and more excited. Trying to shove it all down inside was making me cranky - so I have decided to just go ahead and let myself be that excited, obsessed, unapologetic bride-to-be.

So I hope you’ll forgive me if I have very little else to blog about for the next couple weeks (ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!!1111 - only 14 sleeps until we leave, 16 until I’m a missus).

Anyhow, I figured I’d give an update on the list of wedding to-do’s from a few weeks ago when I was driving myself mad with a few things that were overdue.

I’m quite pleased to say that particular list is almost entirely complete!

We still need to finish writing our ceremony & vows, pick up a couple small travel-related things and rent a car in Spain, but that’s about it as far as those things were concerned.

Of course, more items are still pending - we’re not nearly finished everything yet.

We also still need to:

Finish writing our ceremony & vows (we really need to get this done in the next couple days!)
Pick up our travel package from the travel agent (set for this weekend)
Buy gifts for our attendants (I at least know what I plan on getting - Neil has no idea)
Finalize the rehearsal & dinner (another one delegated to the Groom)
Chase down the few people who haven’t sent in their response cards
Figure out our seating plan
Recruit a Master of Ceremonies (we have a guest in mind - still have to ask him)
Put together a playlist of music for the band to turn on between sets

And there are a few other things I’m leaving out (because they’re surprises!) or just forgetting at the moment.

Now, though, everyone is starting to ask me “aren’t you nervous?”

Nervous about what?

I’ll admit I’m a bit anxious about how the whole day is going to unfold; how is my vision actually going to make it through the execution phase. The only thing that bugs me a bit (and probably what fuels most of the “you must do these expensive things to have a perfect day, or else…” mentality of the wedding industry) is that I don’t get a do-over.

Part of what I love about running major events for work is that each one is a learning experience, and they keep getting better and better. For the wedding, I don’t get a “next time.” It puts the pressure on for sure, and I’d by lying if I said I won’t rehash every little thing that didn’t go perfectly or could’ve been done better with hindsight.

But nervous about actually being married? Hah. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. And frankly, I’d be more nervous if I wasn’t

I was all set to write a ridiculously upbeat post about how excited I am about our upcoming wedding, rambling on about all the little details that are coming together and confessing my complete and utter surrender to being one of those overly giddy and completely wedding obsessed brides to be.

But I’m just not feelin’ it the last few days.

Thanks to the miracle of Facebook, I found out that mid-last-week someone I went to High School with passed away very suddenly and unexpectedly.

Before Facebook, I had kept in contact with absolutely zero people from High School.

While the sting has mostly subsided, High School wasn’t a particularly pleasant time for me. I fell somewhere in the middle of the social spectrum, being fairly relentlessly picked on by a certain group of people, and in turn doing my fair share of picking on another group of people. And of course there were people I was friendly with, and people I just didn’t really interact with at all.

Justin fell somewhere between the latter three groups.

We were in homeroom together for the entire 5 years of High School. We both worked at the local McDonald’s for about 3 years. As far as I recall we never had any type of deep or meaningful conversations, but were always pretty friendly. With one notable exception: he was a persistent, insufferable, unapologetic flirt. And I would continually shut him down mercilessly. There wasn’t any actual hostility in it - it just felt good (as any teenager can testify) to try evening out the social playing-field. Someone laid the social smackdown on me earlier, I took it out on someone else.

Anyhow. Facebook came along, and within the past 4 or 5 months I’ve friended or been friended by probably a good 30% of my graduating class. Justin was one of them. Looking back through my archives, we exchanged about 3 “how’s life” wall posts. I figured I’d see him at the 10-year reunion (coming up this summer), we’d chat briefly, all move on with our lives much the same as we all were before.

Then (and this is now from 3rd and 4th-hand accounts) sometime last week he stopped showing up for work. Nobody could get in touch with him. This wasn’t like him, so his parents eventually had the police go to his place and check on him. He’d had an anneurysm and died.

And, strange as it seems, I’m really bummed about it.

Bummed that he was a good person, a really nice guy, and I hadn’t been nicer to him. Bummed that sometimes shitty things happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

I feel really badly for his friends and family and the tough time they’re going through right now.

And I feel completely weirded out that had it not been for Facebook, I’d just have no idea at all that this had happened.

Almost every morning when I get on the bus, I have the same set of thoughts about my fellow commuters: How do They Do It?

And by “It” I mean, how do they keep it all together, get everything done, manage to blow-dry their hair in the mornings (one of my own shortcomings these days). What are they letting slide?

I’m not sure how it happened, but in the last few years I have managed to go from having a bunch of girlfriends who seemed to have similar lives and goals, to having girlfriends who have less and less in common with me as life goes on. Mostly on the work front. Namely, that most of my close girlfriends just don’t. Or if they do, it’s not full-time. They’re having babies, taking breaks, going back to school or focusing on other hobbies and goals.

Hobbies? Hah. I don’t even delude myself into thinking I have time for hobbies.

Anyhow, I find myself without anyone to truly commiserate with on this particular state of affairs, so I’m opening it up to the internets: How do you do it?

Here’s what it seems I do have time for these days:

06:00 Alarm goes off
06:09 Snooze one goes off, coffee starts
06:18 Snooze two goes off, coffee’s ready (Neil still brings it to me in bed… awww)
06:40 Stumble into shower
07:15 Ok, I lied - this is when I normally stumble into the shower, because I’m absolutely knackered and have trouble dragging my carcass out of bed.
07:55 Leave house (with wet head if I’ve not gotten up until 07:15)
08:30 Arrive at work
18:30 Arrive at home on m/w/f (sometimes because I’m working late, sometimes because I’m running errands after work)
19:00 Arrive at home on t/r (after the gym)
19:30 Eat whatever we’ve created for dinner
20:00 Walk dog, clean up from dinner, make lunch for the next day, tidy up house, throw in a load of laundry, try to get one or two wedding-related tasks taken care of (none of this is solely my domain, Neil and I switch it up and both do all of these during the week).
20:30 Sit down on couch with Neil to hang out with each other a bit
21:30 Fall asleep on couch
22:00 Off to bed
03:00 Wake up, toss, turn, curse. (This only happens about 9 out of every 10 nights - the 10th morning is when I actually get up in time to blow-dry my hair before work)
04:30 Finally fall back asleep
06:00 Alarm goes off…

And so it goes.

So, for all the working girls out there (and heck, the boys too) - how do you do it? I love what I’m doing for work, and have no desire to do it less, but I still feel like I’m missing some crucial element on how to manage to fit a few extra things in there like the blow-drying (oh how I long for good-hair days), running (off that wagon again), better blogging, more picture-taking and maybe, just maybe a social life.

Or maybe it’s just an illusion and you don’t have it together either?

Enlighten me.