WorldWideWaterCooler

I was going to write something substantial, but I couldn’t thing of anything. So I give you this:

Found at Lifehacker. The Emergency Party Button

Cruise Ship Passengers
Make the worst airplane seatmates
DEPLANE ALREADY

Return home to find
My plants all look dead, again.
Hubby can’t water

The dog smells real bad
But it’s still so very nice
To be home with her

Houston is a place
I could be very happy
Never to return

So good to be home
Unfortunately Next Week
I’m away again

Remember those goals I wrote about the other week?

Here’s a recap for those just joining in:
-Plan more meals
-Log food consumed
-Add short daily workouts
-Solidify bedtime routine
-Clean up doghair

They kindof fell apart.

Any guesses why?

I broke the cardinal rule of goal setting/behavior change: DO ONE THING AT A TIME.

By trying to change a bunch of things at once, I set myself up for failure. I based my reward (oh, I decided it would be fancy new sunglasses) on doing ALL of those. Then when I only managed to do some of them, I devolved into doing none.

For example:

I started off with the logging of food. Every morsel was accounted for. And I was taking the time to get ready for bed instead of blindly falling into it. Almost every night! It was going quite well! And I incorporated the swiffering of dog hair – hooray! I was also planning meals and actually cooking again (much easier to do in a dog-hair-free kitchen).

But I couldn’t fit in the 10-minute-trainer workouts. The DVD is still in the plastic wrapping. I’m still having serious trouble figuring out when exactly to do it. My brain says morning, but my body says other things (mainly “grrrrrreeeeeeaaaaaphhhuuuuuuuuuuhhhhmmm”) at 6:00am.

Anyhow, so I’ve not been doing the 10-minute trainer. Which means no reward anyhow. Which means I’m only half-heartedly (if at all) doing the other things on the list.

It culminated last night when I remarked to Neil (after he closed the pizza box) I don’t care that this place is a sty – I just want to ignore it and fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV. Which I did.

So it’s time to start again. Slowly.

One. Thing. At. A. Time.

So I’m back to aiming for those individual behaviors, and tracking them with individual goals. Every time I finish a 1-week streak of one of them, I add another thing. When I finish two solid weeks of any one new habit, I get a smaller reward. Bailing on one of them doesn’t affect the reward for the others.

Then, once I’ve finished the two weeks of the 5th goal (whichever one that happens to be) I get the bigger reward (still sunglasses).

And in the meantime, I’ll hopefully manage to stick with one or two things on the list, and not give up on it all when everything inevitably falls apart, again.

In the past couple months, I’ve reached critical mass of “things” in my life. There are a lot of balls in the air (without sign of lessening that load any time soon – more likely increasing it), and I am at serious risk of dropping even more of them.

Since we came back from the wedding, I’d been driving myself absolutely batty, freaking out about uncharacteristically losing a few things.

I’d managed to misplace the secondary set of wedding rings we bought and wore on our honeymoon (and planned on wearing on vacations where we were apt to lose the real ones, or where they’d draw undue attention), along with a wedding card from a distant relative with a not-insignificant sum of cash inside. More recently I’d completely misplaced my Nexus card and, though I hadn’t looked for them, realized on my last trip I had no idea what I’d done with my noise-canceling headphones since the trip before that.

This is VERY unlike me. I do not lose things. Not even insignificant things, nevermind expensive ones.

I also knew I was getting to a dangerous point with bills. Not like I’d forget to pay anything, because most of it autopays out of my bank account – but there were months of statements I’d not gotten around to opening between trips. I really had no idea what the state of any of my accounts were.

I was feeling the same crunch at work. My normally manageable and well-filtered email inbox had hundreds of messages in it. I was firefighting to solve as many problems I’d created with my own scattered brain as had just arisen as problems are wont to do. I’m certainly not paid enough at this point to take on the kind of responsibility that would have me making decisions or missing actions that would sink ships – but I was certainly on my way to wholly preventable fuckups my boss and her bosses would notice.

It was beyond time to do something.

So I looked in to using David Allen’s Getting Things Done system.

I tackled it first at home: dealt with the stacks and scads of paper and crap that have been amassing in random piles all over the place, got an inbasket and made a bunch of files as I went. It’s not perfect yet, and it’s not done, but it feels SO GOOD to have started.

I plan on taking the day on July 1 to fully implement the system at work. The office should be mostly empty, so it’s a perfect opportunity to deal with things before I go away again, and be able to deal with the pileup once I return.

And considering with the little bit I’ve already done, I managed to find the rings, the greeting card, my Nexus card, my headphones, and a few other things I’d forgotten that I’d forgotten about – I have high hopes for a more organized, more productive future.

Have any of you implemented GTD or another productivity system in your lives? Want to? Tricks to share?

There are not many major life decisions my 8-year-old self got to make. In fact, there were three:

1. I would be married someday
2. I would marry a person whose last name was further toward the beginning of the alphabet
3. I would change my name to my spouse’s last name, so that I too could move up in the alphabetic lists, and enjoy all of the benefits that must come with it (such as being called first to present and getting first pick of gym and classroom equipment)!

And lo! I succeeded! I bagged myself a husband whose name starts with “Wa”, instead of my original “Wi”. I have also learned that my 8-year-old self needed to be much more specific in her demands of the universe, or more generally, to be careful what you as for as you just may get it.

Knowing now that being ruled by the alphabetic list doesn’t extend much past elementary school I don’t really have any logistical need to change my name, but have decided to stick to the principle of following through on what I asked for those many years ago, and become a fully-fledged Watkiss.

And it has not been nearly as difficult or expensive as other name-changing escapades I’ve read about. Perhaps it only seemed easy because I’d steeled myself for the worst. Nonetheless, if you’re changing your name in BC, here’s a handy guide to make it go as smoothly as my name-change has.

First, the Legal Name-Use Rules

According to the BC Vital Statistics Agency (scroll down to the bottom), “after marriage, you can continue using or choose to use your own surname at any time. You also gain the right to use your spouse’s surname. This does not result in a legal change of name or any automatic change to your identification records.”

So this means your Birth Certificate and Marriage License will continue to have your original birth surname on them. It also means that if you ever decide to revert to your original birth surname, you can use your birth certificate to go through the exact same processes to change it back. You never lose the right to use your birth surname or that of anyone you’ve ever been legally married to.

Also from the BC VSA, “if you choose to use hyphenated surnames, a legal Change of Name is required.” The Legal Change of Name also applies to creating a new family surname, or changing the rest of your name in any way (I know in some circles it’s popular to go from “First Middle Maiden” to “First Maiden Married”. And of course, this entire entry only applies to legal residents of British Columbia, Canada.

Name Changing in BC, Step by Step

Note: If you are disorganized or prone to losing things, have two notarized copies made of your marriage certificate, and put the original in a safe place. Carry those around with you for showing/faxing. This is not the voice of experience talking, but losing government documents like that seems like a bad idea and annoying to replace.

1. Go get a new driver’s license (or BCID card). I lucked out with this one, and happened into icbc driver’s services when there was basically no lineup. Show the agent your existing license and marriage certificate. They’ll issue a duplicate license in your married name and – depending on the mood of the agent – may let you take a new picture (otherwise the license will be issued with the picture already on file). This duplicate license should cost you a whopping $17, and will expire on the same date as your existing license (so you don’t get any extra time before you shell out another $75 for your $17). At this point you’ll be issued a paper temporary license in your new name. The new license will arrive within a week or so.

2. Immediately change one credit card. Then the next, then the ones after that. This may apply more to me than you, but I routinely travel to the US, where the rule seems to be to ask for ID with a credit card purchase, so it was important to have ID that matched one of my cards at all times. Phone your card company’s customer service line and ask what their name-change policy is. I found most of the time I had to write a short note with my card number, old name & signature and new name & signature, and fax that with a copy of my marriage license. New cards showed up in the mail about a week later. Do note (especially if you have pre-authorized payments on them) the new cards often came with new card numbers – making the old card invalid. This is why I advocate changing one credit card at a time.

3. Change your banking information. This one was easy – I wandered into the branch with my marriage certificate (and spanky new ID that they needed to see) and asked them to change my name in their records. I had to fill out a short form, and that was it. My bank happens to do personalized debit cards, so I also received a temporary card while I was there, because (you guessed it) my old-name card was cut up as soon as my name was changed. The new card showed up in the mail a week later. Also remember to order new cheques (if you have any use for them) while you’re there. Keep in mind if you use a virtual bank like ING Direct or PC Financial that their debit card name-change processes will likely be similar to that of the credit cards (meaning you’re without the use of your card for a week or so while the old one is invalidated and the new one is on its way). Make sure you always have a valid way to access funds you may need during that time.

4. Care Card. Another easy one – the BC MSP webpage has two forms to fill out, depending on your situation. If your employer covers your BC MSP premiums, fill out a group change form and submit that with a copy of your marriage certificate to the person in your office who deals with such things. If you cover your own premiums, fill out a replacement card request and send that to MSP directly with a copy of your marriage certificate. I fall under the former, and as far as I know, there was no cost to do this. I got a new card in the mail in about 7 business days.

5. Update your passport (if you dare). This was the one big name-change financial hit I took. Passport Canada recently changed their regulations so that you may no longer have an addendum added to your passport with your married name. If you’d like to have a passport with your new name on it, you must fork out the $84 for a new passport, regardless of when your current one expires, at which point you have a new renewal date 5 more years out. Of course because you retain the right to use your birth name (or whatever name you have on your passport), you don’t actually have to change it until your renewal time comes up (or ever). Just remember to book all airline tickets under the name in your passport – if they don’t match, you don’t get on the plane (marriage certificate or no – and yes, I honeymooned under my maiden name). I didn’t (still don’t) want the confusion of operating under two somewhat obscure last names, so I decided to change it right away. When you do change it, all you need is your completed and guarantored application, pictures and ID with your signature in your new name (so even your yellow paper driver’s license will work). I didn’t actually need my marriage certificate.

6 (and beyond). After that, my system was to just dig out all the cards in my wallet and collect pieces of mail I received with my old name on them, and work my way through the changes whenever I had a bit of time. Of course, nobody is consistent in their requirements, so I’ve become awfully adept at navigating customer service phone systems. Most places will accept a note and copy of the marriage certificate by fax. Some (Rogers Wireless, MBNA Mastercard) will just take my word for it over the phone, after answering my security questions. Others (Airmiles, Aeroplan) are far too anal retentive and self-important for their own good, and will require a letter or form and copy of the marriage certificate through snail mail.

A couple things I haven’t ventured into changing yet are my social insurance number and my Nexus card. Service Canada claims on their website that it’s as easy as wandering down to a Service Canada office with my ID and marriage certificate, and they’ll initiate the change. Nexus is completely vague and says I must just show up at their office at the airport during business hours – and considering I try to avoid the airport like the plague between 8am and 6pm, I haven’t been brave enough to do it yet. I do have a flight coming up that leaves midday (flying direct trumps flying when nobody else does), so I may attempt it in a month or so.

When I was hunting for name change info, I didn’t see any comprehensive local-to-BC guides, so I’m hoping this might help others find what I’d been looking for. Also, I’m sure there are things I’ve missed or that just don’t apply to me so I didn’t think of them – so please leave additional info in the comments!

Oh Orlando. City of sunshine, swamps and serious mediocrity. Where every meal is a different flavor of Denny’s and the monotony of flat, mushy landscape is only interrupted by yet another timeshare or theme park.

The one upside to being stuck in Orlando for fourteen entire days is that Neil flew down for the weekend, and we got to experience a few of the Disney parks: Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Typhoon Lagoon.

Having a family and social circle completely devoid of people between the ages of 3-13, it’s been a VERY long time since I’ve paid attention to anything coming out of the Disney franchise. I do have extremely fond memories of going to Disneyland in California in 1994, and considering I was a surly teenager and went out of my way to ensure I wouldn’t have fond memories of anything, my return visit to Disney had a lot to live up to.

And oh how Animal Kingdom delivered! The immersion experience of feeling like one is in a “place” that is anywhere other than the everyday is in full-effect in this park. The staff cast have been fully brainwashed into being exceedingly friendly and helpful without being annoying, and the rides and shows are top-notch. The park isn’t as ride-intensive as the Magic Kingdom, so I felt like I really had a great experience for the one day we spent there.

The Typhoon Lagoon waterpark was also very well done as far as water-parks go. MASSIVE waves in the wave-pool, fun slides and the popular lazy-river of innertubes circling the park. A great place to beat the heat for the day. Complete with slushy, alcoholic drinks readily available.

It all makes me wonder, what the hell happened to Epcot?

I know when Epcot was built, it was supposed to be all “futuristic” and whatnot, but what was probably designed for futuristic minimalism just turned out to be awfully barren and desolate between the pavillions. I did not feel like I was somewhere special.

But even that wasn’t so bad when compared to the advertising.

Now I know that any Disney experience is an exercise in absorbing advertising in and of itself. But Epcot pushes it a step further with entire attractions and pavillions sponsored by big-ticket advertisors who don’t want you to forget it!

The “Honey I Shrunk the Audience” 3D show was preceeded by a full 10-minute video by Kodak urging us all to “take more pictures” because “pictures trigger memories” (note: Neil and I didn’t actually bring a camera to any of our Disney experience, preferring just to enjoy, rather than document). After the attraction, the audience was shunted through to a Kodak store, where everyone can take photos and purchase cameras, memory, batteries, etc.

Same story with the Test Track ride – sponsored by GM, everyone is subjected to a video about how GM has innovated testing to make your car safe, then the fun roller-coaster-ride bit, then the audience exits first through a full GM Showroom (complete with window-stickers showing features and MSRP info) then the Test Track store where you can buy a model hummer or T-shirt with a hummer on it, or 12 different kinds of GM/Disney antenna balls.

And it goes on and on. The Coca Cola Cool Zone. HP’s Mission: Space. The Nestle Food Scientists presenting Living with the Land. Siemens’ IllumiNations fireworks show at the end of the night (complete with Laser images and gobos of the Siemens logo projected everywhere).

As far as I’m aware, Disney isn’t in any danger of going broke, and those attractions could certainly be “made possible” without the “generous grants” from the title sponsors. I expect that of the local $11/day admission PNE, not the $67/day admission Disney. For that amount of cash, I expect to be impressed and at Epcot, I just wasn’t. At all.

I think Walt would actually sigh and roll over in his cryogenic container if he were re-animated to see what had happened to Epcot.

One of the special programs you can sign up for at Disney is to dine with one of their Imagineers – something I’d love to do if/when I return to the parks. With products like the original Magic Kingdom, and the new Animal Kingdom, I’m fascinated with how their team dynamics work, bringing together the expertise to create experiences that make even me not mind the fact that I’m in a fenced-in area with thousands of other people’s children.

If I manage to have a chat with an Imagineer in the future, I now have another question to add to my list: what on earth prompted your talented team to just abandon Epcot, and make the fatal mistake of leaving the entire park in the hands of marketing and sponsorship revenue?

Now that I’m back in town, and for the first time in quite a long while don’t actually have another plane ticket booked to anywhere for the foreseeable future (also known as “October” ’round these parts) I’m really trying to buckle down and work on a few areas of my personal life that I’ve been meaning to improve upon.

This is more for me than you, but if anyone wants to pester me about these and keep me accountable, I’d definitely welcome the prodding.

Here are the goals I’ve set for myself for the rest of the month, some big, some small:

-Make meal plans. Neil and I have been away so long, I think we’ve only actually cooked three real meals in our kitchen since we’ve been married. We eat better and healthier when we plan food – do more of that. Plan and make at least 4 meals in per week.

-Log everything I eat. If I’m recording my food, I do much better at choosing “apple” instead of “cookie” when the 3pm snackmonster attacks.

-Do a sesson from the 10-minute trainer 6 days a week. If I’m going to succumb to late-night fitness informercials, the least I can do is take the damn DVD out of the box and try it.

-Wash off my makeup every night. I’ve been lucky enough to have pretty darned good skin for the last number of years while falling asleep with a facefull of leftover makeup and daily grime. Note to self: you are getting older and can not hide from wrinkles forever. It is time for an extra dose of soap and water and nighttime regenerative moisturizer.

-Swiffer every other day. Dog hair does not have to be a way of life. Cleaning up after it, does.

I think these are do-able goals for the next couple weeks, after which I’m hoping they easily become habits.

One thing I’m trying to figure out, though, is an adequate reward for actually meeting all these. I’m not particularly good at denying myself life’s little (and sometimes not-so-little) pleasures as they come, so it’s gotta be something I wouldn’t normally just do or buy for myself -but also shouldn’t be excessively extravagant (remember it’s just two weeks I’m talking about).

Suggestions?

Part One Here.

Outside of Marrakech, most of the rest of the country was kindof a blur. We caught many of the highlights: The palace in Rabat (no photos allowed), The art deco and impressive Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, the incredible souks of Fes, the dunes of Erg Chebbi and more Kasbahs than I can actually remember.

Our entire time there, though, there was one overarching feeling – you’re not really welcome here, but your money is, so hand it over and kindly piss off. It’s probably partly because we had our experience orchestrated through a travel agency (we’d booked through GAP Adventures, who then sub-contract to local agencies in Morocco), but we were shuttled from tourist trap to tourist trap, and probably spent a lot more on the trip (especially food) than was really necessary. We did expect to pay the tourist tax though, so we weren’t too surprised and didn’t kick up much of a fuss.

We were also prepared for beggars and scammers, and I actually got kindof used to small children grabbing my back pants pockets in crowded areas feeling for a wallet. And we even realized that sometimes it’s helpful to give a kid a few dirhams once we’d given up trying to navigate our way back to our riad from the middle of the souks. What I wasn’t prepared for was the dressing down by teenaged boys for not giving them enough money for essentially nothing.

I’m sure it’s not uncommon, but there seemed to be very little knowledge of what the value of a dollar (or in their case Euro as the conversion currency of choice) really is for the average person. There is just a sense of “you have money and I don’t, so hand some over.” We were berated and abused more than once for not handing over the equivalent of about 20 Euros (at least) for anything from pointing us in the right direction, to vehemently insisting Neil have a seat on a rickety stool while waiting outside a Hammam for me – then not letting Neil leave without handing over money in repayment for a seat he didn’t want or need in the first place.

Things may be different in smaller towns, but the residual bitterness the Moroccans we met still have from the French and Spanish occupation, as well as the current disdain for white tourists of any sort makes me think aiming for 10,000 tourists/year by 2010 might just backfire.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country, and I’m still really, really glad we went. We did meet some lovely people during our time there who were pleased and proud to share their culture, heritage and country with us – they just seemed to be the exception rather than the rule.

I’ve got some really great and really fond memories of the place – but I also know that with a whole world out there to explore, I didn’t fall in love with it and I’ll probably never go back. And that’s a bit of a strange feeling to have.

No, I wasn’t arrested for running a meth lab , and I didn’t get lost after the evacuation. I wasn’t even in town! I’m just stuck in Orlando for work.

Regular blogging should resume sometime after the 15th.

If you’re following my facebook or twitter (the line between the two is increasingly blurring these days), you might have seen that I posted about finally uploading the honeymoon photos. After sorting through 10 gigs of pictures, I think I managed to put a pretty good selection on flickr.

I was going to attempt to pull a Darren Barefoot and share no more than my favorite three – but I couldn’t narrow it down quite that far. I’ve managed to cull it down to (in my opinion) the best seven, spread across two blog posts. And I’ll try to share some of the more poignant and less boring memories of the trip between them.

Of the four major cities in Morocco we visited (Marrakech, Casablanca, Rabat, Fes), Marrakech was where we spent the most time (5 nights) and became far and away our favorite (and where we ended up chowing down on the most exotic edibles during our time in the country – including a roast mutton head. The verdict: tasty, but less meat than I’d have thought). True to form, the Marrakchis are some of the most laid back and welcoming people we found in Morocco, and it was where we felt most welcome.

We also fell in love with the Djeema El Fna – a gigantic square of storytellers, snake charmers, hustlers, juice sellers, food stalls and more. It’s not so much that the square itself is remarkable – you can find similar fare in markets all over the world – but this one has been carrying on, almost exactly the same as it always has been, for thousands of years. It’s not something that was put together for tourists, it just is.

You can see it in the way the biggest crowds always amass around the storytellers. We’d heard a great deal about the fabled storytellers of Morocco – how their stories weave two or three plotlines together, but stop just short of actually reaching, or even implying a conclusion: that’s the job of the audience.

We’d read translations of a few stories, both before and during our trip, but not knowing any Arabic, we couldn’t possibly understand what crazy and convoluted circumstances the grizzled old man was weaving together at the center of the circle in the middle of the plaza. But judging from the animated way he made faces, intonated his voice, wrapped his body around his words and absolutely captivated the audience of 20 or so men gathered around him – it had to have been something good.

And this was just one of the more subtle reminders to us, as tourists, that “this is not for you, you do not belong.”

A funny thing happened on the way to our honeymoon.

I changed my facebook status from “engaged” to “married,” refreshed the page, and saw that all the wedding product ads had magically switched themselves to baby product ads.

It’s not quite true that the first question out of everyone’s mouth is “When are you starting a family?” That’s the second question. The first is either “How was the wedding” or “How’s married life?”

But it is a question that nobody fails to ask. (Unless you’re my mom, and so hungry for grandchildren that you’re terrified that asking will jinx the situation and you may have to get another dog before baby humans make their way into your life.)

And it’s a question that I still don’t have a good answer for.

I mean, my biological clock is certainly ticking – or at least I assume that’s what’s happening because the sight of babies now makes me go “aw” instead of “ew.”

But the overwhelming emotion in the face of contemplating joining the breeders of the world is still utter and abject terror.

I’ve been looking for a way to put it into words, but I think a commenter on amalah.com said it best:

But also, this really scares me. I’m a lawyer, fiance is a lawyer, we both work long hours, and no way we can work these hours once we decide to have kids. It’s clear I’ll be the one to cut back the most (although he’ll frankly have to as well, because seriously, we were both up until 4am working last night). Anyway, your comments about staying home and its effect on your opinion of yourself scare me. Your comments about feeling like you’re always working to meet deadlines but yet you feel like a drain on the finances scare me. Comments about it not occurring to him to put the kid to bed or brush the babies teeth scare me. And the 345 comments agreeing with you scare me. I don’t want to resent myself. Or my husband. I don’t want to feel like I can’t go to as many happy hours as him b/c what I do isn’t as important. But I look at you and everyone else and it seems like it’s simply inevitable? Scary.

Even though I never really thought I’d be the type to want to be a stay at home parent, it’s still not all that simple. My biggest fear comes from what will happen by default when we do reproduce, thanks to the fact that I’m the one in this relationship with the uterus.

The Cranky Product Manager summed it up pretty well:

You’ve been understanding about the CPM’s requirement for a reduced travel schedule, her need to leave at 5pm on the dot when she once regularly stayed past 9pm, and her need to work at home when her nanny gets sick, doesn’t show up, or quits out of the blue and leaves the CPM without viable alternative childcare for 3 weeks at a time. You’ve put up with canceled and postponed meetings due to illnesses and doctors visits. You’ve gracefully dealt with conference calls with a wailing baby in the background. Kudos to you, DysfunctoSoft. The Cranky Product Manager thanks you.

So yes, DysfunctoSoft, you are enlightened. Somewhat. But she can’t help but notice you don’t give the DADS the same flexibility as you afford moms. You expect the dads to travel incessantly, work endlessly late hours, and be available on a moment’s notice. And DysfunctoSoft is hardly atypical. For example, the Darling Husband of the Cranky Product Manager works at nearby software company — let’s call it AHoleSoft — in a similar role. AHoleSoft gives Darling Husband no slack to contribute to the childcare situation. (AHoles. What do you expect?) As a result, it all falls 100% on the Cranky Product Manager’s shoulders. And that is crap, my friends. Unexpected crap, at that. Especially for someone ambitious who had dreams of taking over the world with her wealth of product management knowledge and derivative evil genius. Though she never thought it would happen to her, the Cranky Product Manager finds her career derailing, unable to accept a promotion because she can barely keep up as is.

So I guess the answer is: yes, ideally I will have children someday. I’m pretty sure I would like it (and them).

But I’m not ready to lose the birth control until I figure out how not to lose my job, and more importantly, MYSELF in the process.

After threatening to get bikes ever since we moved in together, Neil and I finally took the plunge and went out and got ourselves a pair of commuter cycles.

We didn’t intend for them to match, but they do. I got this one (in black/grey) and he got this one (in green).

We went a step above the standard Costco or Canadian Tire bikes, so the frames are a bit lighter and more durable, and the wheels are bigger (so less effort to make them go ’round) with higher-quality tires.

Disc brakes and full suspensions can wait until next year if this whole “biking to work” thing actually sticks.

But I’m excited enough by the fact that we can go ride around the neighbourhood on sunny days. I’d honestly forgotten how much fun cycling is (having not bothered with it basically since I’d gotten my driver’s license and no longer needed it as a mode of transportation).

I felt a bit wobbly getting back on, but it was, well, like riding a bike. You never really forget – and in no time I was cruising around like a, not pro exactly, but fairly competent average rider.

Next step: braving morning commuter traffic in an attempt to get to work next week.

Step after that: acquiring a Springer so we can take the dog with the bikes and not die if she decides to spook and dart, and finding a trailer or rack sufficient to hold the picnic BBQ and beach supplies.

Then we’ll never spend another sunny day at home!

Post title yanked from the title of a monologue by Dr. Erica Hahn in a recent episode of Grey’s Anatomy that was on my TiVo. Sweet TiVo. My constant (and it feels like only) companion at the moment.

It’s true though. I really feel like I don’t make friends particularly easily, which really sucks when you feel like you need some.

Oh I do have some really special people in my life who fall under both friends and family who would be there in an instant if ever I really needed them.

And we certainly get invites to “important” parties held by friends and acquaintances (by “important” I mean holidays, birthdays, things of that ilk) and dinner parties, BBQ’s, etc.

The people I’m missing (and it’s really been a near-constant sore-point in my personal life) are the friendly acquaintances that you can hang out with, without having a reason. Other than say, it’s Wednesday, let’s sit down and have a glass of wine (tea, go for a walk, chat, whatever).

I mean, I guess I have a reason for wanting that right this moment: Neil’s out of town, I’ve run out of TiVo’d shows to watch and no matter how much I talk to her, the dog doesn’t talk back. Which makes it seem like I’m looking for last-resort companions, but believe me, if I could think of someone to call, the TiVo would’ve stayed full. And even when Neil is around, there are people we’d rather hang out with than eachother sometimes (both separately and as a couple).

I’m basically at a point where I’m bugged enough about the situation to stop deluding myself into thinking that it’s not a problem for me.

Not that I’m asking for a pity-party or play-dates (okay, maybe I am, just a little), but seriously, how do you transition past the point of being friendly with people when you happen to see them, to being friends with someone and comfortable enough to actually pick up the phone or email and say “hey, let’s go ride bikes get together this week” without seeming weird?

So I’m trying out this twitter thing. 140 characters seems entirely manageable right now as far as blogging and updates go.

Feel free to follow me here.

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!