....celebrating tonight in the Midlands - the British Midlands that is.
Canadian medics at the University of Warwick Medical School (and a few of their British counterparts) had gathered together to watch with bated breath as THE final olympic event was played out at Canada Hockey Place.
Judging by the wild cheering in the background of our daughter's phone call after 7 minutes of overtime, the ex-pat audience approved of the final result. AND SO THEY SHOULD!!!!
Great performance Canada; great games Vancouver. There were plenty of critics and not a few skeptics - but the skeptics have been won over and the critics - well, they'll still be there in 2012 when the Summer Games open in London. Against all the odds, Vancouver has pulled it off.
What's the betting it snows in Vancouver next week!
The Ode
My friend Katy did a wonderful ode on Facebook during the Beijing Olympics featuring one of the best things about Olympics: good looking men.
She didn't do it this year so I suppose it's up to me. Here it goes.
Hot Male Athletes of Vancouver 2010
She didn't do it this year so I suppose it's up to me. Here it goes.
Hot Male Athletes of Vancouver 2010
One of today's GOLD MEDALLISTS! Jasey-Jay Anderson. The 35-year-old snowboarder known as the 'Old Man' who has been to FOUR winter olympics and finally won his gold! Did you love the image of him holding both his kids with his medal?
Yum.
Just racing on that snowboard makes him hotter.
And speaking of snowboards . . . .
How about Mike Robertson who won silver for snowboard cross? Hugh Grant lookalike? Ummm, yes.
And then of course, there is the bearded man who gets hot points for barreling down a tube of ice head first.
Jon Montgomery
Next is the men of the broom. Who knew curlers were such cuties? Apparently my mum. No wonder she's been addicted to curling for so long.
Mr. John Morris ladies. Curler by olympics, firefighter by everyday life.
Ulstred, Team Norway's skip also gets a mention. Mostly because he is tres handsome and my mum's favorite:
Next we've got a hot speed skater, and gold medal man: Denny Morrison.
You can feel the focus burning your soul.
My personal favorite of the games was a partner, and I couldn't find any photos of just him. But that's okay because she's pretty hot too. It should be illegal to be this good looking and graceful as a couple:
Who does not love Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue? AAAAAAAH! It's almost too much how cute they are. And did we love him on the podium belting out 'Oh Canada'? Yes we did.
Seeing as I clearly have a thing for cute Chinese men, I can't write this entry without a shout out to our very own Patrick Chan who sort of resembles Astro Boy. He might also be the nicest person on the planet. And he'll be our golden boy in 2014!
And last, but certainly not least, is my favorite of all time. True, he's not in Vancouver right now. But he has Vancouver in his name so it sort of counts.
Adam van Koeverden
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
Note: this is not a complete list. These winter games are full of cute boys and pretty women. It's sick how good looking everyone is.
That Good Old Hockey Game
For those from around the world who have tuned in to watch the Vancouver 2010 Olympics, you may have noticed something: Canadians Love Hockey.
Love?
Is that the right word?
It's more like a feeling in our core. This thing we all feel akin to. A sport that bonds each and every Canadian in some way.
Me? Yeah, I like the game. I'm not a fanatic like others (Tara), but I like it. You see, if I let myself watch it too closely, I can get slightly obsessed. Sort of like these Olympics. I get too emotionally involved.
Like every other Canadian, I know.
But it's not a good scene.
When the Flames lost in game 7 during the Stanley Cup play-offs in 2004, I was in London. I called my parents balling from a red phone booth. I walked down those cobblestoned streets sobbing my eyes out. My American roomates/classmates had no idea what was wrong with me. A game right?
Secondly, I am a Flames fan. The Engineer is an Oilers fan (if you are American, this is like Yankees/Redsox). Our truly bad fight a few years back involved these two teams. I insisted the Engineer leave my house. Forever.
Over hockey.
This crazy sport on ice really does touch almost every citizen. Everyone has a story.
Take the Engineer. Not unlike this Tim Horton's commercial,
he wasn't allowed to play hockey as a little boy. So what does he do now? Plays hockey. His friend moved here from India in high school. He never saw snow, let alone ice, in his life. He's been spending these last few years learning how to play that good old hockey game.
The good man I spoke of a few entries ago who passed away was my dad's cousin. My dad grew up on a farm in rural Alberta. When I commented that Alex had always been 'husky' my dad smiled and told me that they used to put him in goal hoping not many pucks would get past his size. This made me smile. I could just see these farm boys running to the outdoor rink after doing their farm chores, for a game of twilight hockey (at 3pm).
And that's what hockey is.
A game that every boy played. From crude ice skate rinks made by dads in the backyard, to frozen ponds, to the community centre - every boy I grew up with played the sport. And sometimes we did too. But I didn't skate, I preferred to run on my pics hoping to keep up. To this day, when I walk into a community centre and that smell of ice, equipment and hot chocolate hits me, I am taken back to Friday nights in high school. They were spent cheering on the team your crush played for. For me, that was the St. Boniface Seals.
Tomorrow it doesn't matter if you're a Flames, Oilers or Canucks fan. What matters is that you are a Canadian fan. And we'll be watching, all 36 million of us, as our boys bring gold to where it belongs. The girls already did!
For those of you who don't get us Canadians and our hockey obsession, check out the man who sang it best: Stompin' Tom Connors.
www.bridesmaiddiaries.com
Love?
Is that the right word?
It's more like a feeling in our core. This thing we all feel akin to. A sport that bonds each and every Canadian in some way.
Me? Yeah, I like the game. I'm not a fanatic like others (Tara), but I like it. You see, if I let myself watch it too closely, I can get slightly obsessed. Sort of like these Olympics. I get too emotionally involved.
Like every other Canadian, I know.
But it's not a good scene.
When the Flames lost in game 7 during the Stanley Cup play-offs in 2004, I was in London. I called my parents balling from a red phone booth. I walked down those cobblestoned streets sobbing my eyes out. My American roomates/classmates had no idea what was wrong with me. A game right?
Secondly, I am a Flames fan. The Engineer is an Oilers fan (if you are American, this is like Yankees/Redsox). Our truly bad fight a few years back involved these two teams. I insisted the Engineer leave my house. Forever.
Over hockey.
This crazy sport on ice really does touch almost every citizen. Everyone has a story.
Take the Engineer. Not unlike this Tim Horton's commercial,
he wasn't allowed to play hockey as a little boy. So what does he do now? Plays hockey. His friend moved here from India in high school. He never saw snow, let alone ice, in his life. He's been spending these last few years learning how to play that good old hockey game.
The good man I spoke of a few entries ago who passed away was my dad's cousin. My dad grew up on a farm in rural Alberta. When I commented that Alex had always been 'husky' my dad smiled and told me that they used to put him in goal hoping not many pucks would get past his size. This made me smile. I could just see these farm boys running to the outdoor rink after doing their farm chores, for a game of twilight hockey (at 3pm).
And that's what hockey is.
A game that every boy played. From crude ice skate rinks made by dads in the backyard, to frozen ponds, to the community centre - every boy I grew up with played the sport. And sometimes we did too. But I didn't skate, I preferred to run on my pics hoping to keep up. To this day, when I walk into a community centre and that smell of ice, equipment and hot chocolate hits me, I am taken back to Friday nights in high school. They were spent cheering on the team your crush played for. For me, that was the St. Boniface Seals.
Tomorrow it doesn't matter if you're a Flames, Oilers or Canucks fan. What matters is that you are a Canadian fan. And we'll be watching, all 36 million of us, as our boys bring gold to where it belongs. The girls already did!
For those of you who don't get us Canadians and our hockey obsession, check out the man who sang it best: Stompin' Tom Connors.
www.bridesmaiddiaries.com
The Eve of the End
Tomorrow night Vancouver's flame goes out.
To put it dramatically.
But it's true! I can't believe how fast these 16 days have gone. I can't believe how fast these past few years have gone actually. It seems like just yesterday when the announcement was made. Wait, nevermind. They've been working on that Sea to Sky Highway and the Canada Line forever. God, all that work for SIXTEEN days that have gone by in a blink!
I'm not sure what I expected these past two weeks to be like, but they definitely have exceeded my expectations. Does that make sense?
At first, I didn't think this city was really that busy. "Like Midtown on a Monday" I told the Engineer. Which is pretty much what it's like: Time's Square on Robson Street. A New York Times journalist went so far as to say "Vancouver is Manhattan with mountains".
It is busy. I love keeping my window open at night so I can listen to the screaming drunks shouting about how great Canada is. I love walking down Robson through the sea of red. I love the fact that on every corner, at every time of day, people with flags from all over the world are smiling and happy.
It's official: I am going to miss Vancouver 2010.
What is Vancouver without the 2010 behind it? We've been working up to these 16 days for 7 years. What's going to happen on Monday?
We go back to normal?
Ugh.
The biggest story right now in Canada is how these Olympics have changed our nation. Michael Brunt says it best in this video. They started out tragically. Then there were some glitches and failures. But it never dampened the Canadian spirit.
Across this country, 27 million citizens tuned in for the opening ceremonies. 21 million for the Canada/US game #1. Over 3 million Canadians are wearing those coveted red mittens complete with maple leaf palms. Everyone has worn red and white everyday. We've cried, we've shouted, we've hugged, we've celebrated, and, most significantly, we've shown the world who we truly are.
We're nice, polite, loving, supporting, grateful, enthusiastic, ambitious, determined. We're proud.
One of our athletes lost her mother two days before her skate. The whole nation felt her pain and cried when she did. The whole nation wishes Virtue and Moir would fall in love already and make good-looking skating babies. The whole nation walked through Whistler with Jon Montgomery. The whole nation was just as proud as Frederick when Alexandre became the first Canadian to win gold on our own soil. The whole nation is going to be sitting on the edge of their seats tomorrow for the biggest game in Hockey history (is that possible?). (Note: I capitalized Hockey).
We may have been shy about it at first, or apologized for having such an ambitious program called 'Own the Podium" (umm, every country has that BTW), but as of tonight, we have made Olympic history. We now have earned the most gold medal's this Winter Games, we've earned the most a host city has ever earned, and we broke our own record. We might even break another record tomorrow.
Tonight I saw the Indian luge athlete telling the Queen Elizabeth theatre (full of the Vancouver Punjab community who had banded together to pay for the Indian athlete's uniforms when they couldn't afford them) how lucky we were to live in a country where it is okay to be both Punjab and Canadian. Where everybody respects everybody.
That's what we're showing the world.
I always believed we were the best nation in the world.
Do you believe?
To put it dramatically.
But it's true! I can't believe how fast these 16 days have gone. I can't believe how fast these past few years have gone actually. It seems like just yesterday when the announcement was made. Wait, nevermind. They've been working on that Sea to Sky Highway and the Canada Line forever. God, all that work for SIXTEEN days that have gone by in a blink!
I'm not sure what I expected these past two weeks to be like, but they definitely have exceeded my expectations. Does that make sense?
At first, I didn't think this city was really that busy. "Like Midtown on a Monday" I told the Engineer. Which is pretty much what it's like: Time's Square on Robson Street. A New York Times journalist went so far as to say "Vancouver is Manhattan with mountains".
It is busy. I love keeping my window open at night so I can listen to the screaming drunks shouting about how great Canada is. I love walking down Robson through the sea of red. I love the fact that on every corner, at every time of day, people with flags from all over the world are smiling and happy.
It's official: I am going to miss Vancouver 2010.
What is Vancouver without the 2010 behind it? We've been working up to these 16 days for 7 years. What's going to happen on Monday?
We go back to normal?
Ugh.
The biggest story right now in Canada is how these Olympics have changed our nation. Michael Brunt says it best in this video. They started out tragically. Then there were some glitches and failures. But it never dampened the Canadian spirit.
Across this country, 27 million citizens tuned in for the opening ceremonies. 21 million for the Canada/US game #1. Over 3 million Canadians are wearing those coveted red mittens complete with maple leaf palms. Everyone has worn red and white everyday. We've cried, we've shouted, we've hugged, we've celebrated, and, most significantly, we've shown the world who we truly are.
We're nice, polite, loving, supporting, grateful, enthusiastic, ambitious, determined. We're proud.
One of our athletes lost her mother two days before her skate. The whole nation felt her pain and cried when she did. The whole nation wishes Virtue and Moir would fall in love already and make good-looking skating babies. The whole nation walked through Whistler with Jon Montgomery. The whole nation was just as proud as Frederick when Alexandre became the first Canadian to win gold on our own soil. The whole nation is going to be sitting on the edge of their seats tomorrow for the biggest game in Hockey history (is that possible?). (Note: I capitalized Hockey).
We may have been shy about it at first, or apologized for having such an ambitious program called 'Own the Podium" (umm, every country has that BTW), but as of tonight, we have made Olympic history. We now have earned the most gold medal's this Winter Games, we've earned the most a host city has ever earned, and we broke our own record. We might even break another record tomorrow.
Tonight I saw the Indian luge athlete telling the Queen Elizabeth theatre (full of the Vancouver Punjab community who had banded together to pay for the Indian athlete's uniforms when they couldn't afford them) how lucky we were to live in a country where it is okay to be both Punjab and Canadian. Where everybody respects everybody.
That's what we're showing the world.
I always believed we were the best nation in the world.
Do you believe?
Go for the Gold, or Fourth Place
Have you heard of the 'Own the Podium' program that Canada created for its 2010 athletes? The goal of Vancouver 2010 was to be the overall winner of the games with the highest medal count.
Well, we probably won't be owning the podium this time round. We've heard American snowboarders saying, 'Canadians might own the podium, but we'll be borrowing it for 2010'. We've heard criticism from competing countries. We've even heard our own team blaming the program for their losses in speed-skating.
Obviously it would be super awesome wicked to see Canada up there with 25 medals, but at the end of the day, does it really matter. And if so, to whom?
The IOC counts the 'Olympic Winner' as the one with the most golds. Well guess what? We have 6, with Germany and the US only one gold ahead of us.
And even without winning the most golds, I am pretty sure for us, these Olympics have been pretty golden. Alexandre Bilodeau winning the first gold on Canadian soil with his brother by his side. Virtue and Moir winning the first Canadian (actually North American) gold in Ice Dancing and bumping those pouting Russians off the podium. And just a few minutes ago, Ashleigh McIvor won the first gold in women's Ski Cross - EVER!
Those are just the golds. We have silvers and we have bronzes too.
And if they gave medals to the top 10 in all the events, Canada would definitely be owning the podium. Sure, getting fourth probably doesn't feel as good as getting bronze, but it's fourth! IN THE WORLD!
Melissa Hollingsworth tearfully apologized to messing up her heat and losing a medal. Ummm, you came in fifth Ms. Hollingsworth. You came fifth in the world in a sport where you are going 140km/hour head first on ICE!
Heck, I can't even slide down a toboggan run properly! Delsbosco came 4th in ski cross - he was trying for second but ended up falling and winding up fourth. Meh. He beat ALL the other competitors to make it to that final. And even though he fell, he still finished his race. Isn't that the message Olympics should be sending home? That even when you fall, you stand tall and proud and finish the race?
Davey Barr came in 6th in that same event. Sixth out of 33 - and two days before he wasn't even good enough to be on the Canadian team! He made it because two other skiers got injured and now he's SIXTH in the world!
Canadians focus solely on our losses. Well, that's what it seems like in the press. The weekend wasn't great. Sure, we lost in hockey. To the Americans. But our women are still kicking ass. And when it comes to curling - our teams are kicking BUTT! Maybe we should focus on the other most played ice sport in Canada.
The Olympics shouldn't be about medals and winning. What about sportsmanship? I know that is a very Canadian viewpoint, but it's good viewpoint.
Take yesterdays ice dancing win. When the final numbers were up, and the gold was awarded to Moir/Virtue - did they gloat? No, they thanked Canada for all their support. What did their biggest competition and training buddies do? (who are American) They rushed up to their friends with tears in their eyes congratulating them. And not that fake, 'I'm so happy for you' (not), White/Davis were genuinely happy for their friends. It was amazing. I cried.
The Russians, on the other hand, continue to be bad sports. From having ex-presidents write VANOC complaining that our judges are corrupt and our Olympics are horrible all because your greasy-haired skater didn't get gold?
(reminder Russia: it's because of your corruption in the 2002 Olympics that sent figure skating into a whole new points system and put cheaters like you in the spotlight)
To the ice dancers pouting on the bronze podium in their ridiculous outfits and tacky make-up. Maybe if they hadn't offended Australia, Russia would have had a chance. Nah. The Canadians really did rock it.
The other amazing thing about the Olympics is family. I adore watching the family of athletes cheering on their loved one - winning OR losing. When Scott jumped up to hug his crying brothers and they lifted him off his feet? Crying. Maelle's mom waving her flag, her cheek covered in maple leaves? Crying. We are really seeing how family makes these athletes who they are. Joannie Rochette has to skate today, after losing her mum only a few days ago. I feel that with the knowledge of her mum watching over her, and feeling the support of our entire nation, she will do her best ever skate.
The most incredible thing about these Olympics, I feel, is how this city feels. For once, everyone is happy. Even in the rain. People are smiling, talking to each other. We are all proud of our Canadian team. Heck, we're excited about every athlete we see. We're making friends with people all over the world. We've joined together as one nation, proud, strong and happy - in our wins and losses.
The most incredible thing about these Olympics, I feel, is how this city feels. For once, everyone is happy. Even in the rain. People are smiling, talking to each other. We are all proud of our Canadian team. Heck, we're excited about every athlete we see. We're making friends with people all over the world. We've joined together as one nation, proud, strong and happy - in our wins and losses.
And in the end, isn't that the real gold? Cue 'After School Special' music . . . . .
I Think I'm Turning Portuguese, I Really Think So!
I am in an inter-racial relationship.
And as it turns out, so is my friend.
Except in my case, my fiance is Chinese. In her case, her boyfriend is Portuguese.
Inter-racial you ask? Well, maybe that is going too far. But after spending a night with her at a Portuguese dance, I realized that although we are from Europe, we are not at all the same.
We stand out like Babylon whores, as my friend points out.
I'm not sure about that. But we do stand out. Partly from our pale skin and light hair, and partly because we towered over all the Portuguese people by about a foot.
British people are not exactly a tight knit community sort of people. Sure, back in gay ole England they are in pubs bonding over the common lack of dental care.
But here? It's not like we stick together keeping our culture alive and reminiscing about the 'old country'. I do my part: I drink tea and watch Corrie on CBC.
But Portuguese people really keep their traditions alive. So do Italians, Greeks, Arabics, Chinese, and the list goes on. I think it must only be us.
So here we were, two tall blonde girls, at a Portuguese Valentine's Day dance. In a gym. Connected to a church. And one of us was wearing leopard print to be 'ethnic' (I'll let you guess who).
This is the deal: you pay $40 and get all-you-can-eat-and-drink. The gym is decorated in the fashion of a prairie hall wedding: pink paper hearts, streamers, doilies. There is no mood lighting for dinner. Nope, the lights are bright so we get full view of Uncle Jesepe's hairy chest and gold cross.
The food is DELICIOUS! We had Portuguese buns, of which I had two. Then soup with sausage, kale, potatoes, carrots and other yummy things. Then salad. Then rice with a seafood platter.
Oh the seafood platter. I helped myself to fried sole with a special hot sauce. As well as several mussels and peel-your-own shrimp. When I realized it was 'all you can eat' I may have gone a little mental. I finished off our platter, then the boys' platter, and then we ordered another platter! My plate was round with shrimp debris. I was such a graceful eater. I went through about 20 napkins, was licking my fingers and dropped lettuce down my dress.
We were still not done. Next came platters of roast potatoes, chicken and beef. Followed by cheesecake. I did not like the cheesecake. But possibly because I was a Portuguese bun myself at this point.
All the while we are having endless bottles of red wine.
I love Portuguese people!
When dinner was finished, the lights dimmed (finally. I had shrimp guts on my dress) to announce the beginning of the dance.
Everybody danced.
To this polka-ish Portuguese music played on keyboards and an accordion. Who doesn't love an accordion?
The floor was full of husbands and wives who have been together so long they both resembled potatoes (you know that way old people do). Mothers making their daughters spin them on the floor (and I don't mean 12-year old girls. I mean middle-aged daughters). Kids twirling around the feet of the adults. Really old grandpa's dancing with any woman who would say yes - not because they were being pervy, but because they missed dancing with their wives. It was amazing.
K and I just bobbed on the outskirts.
We were very popular. Men would come up to us, some wearing shirts with a glittering Jesus faces on the front, others with low-buttoned shirts showing off their hairy chest glory. One man got so excited talking to us, his fake tooth popped out and landed on K's shoe.
You must think I am being conceited right now. I'm not. This is just what happens when you are the foreign fish in a pond. All the other fish are fascinated by your presence.
Firstly, they would all ask if we were Portuguese. Obviously not. But they wanted to be polite.
Then they asked if we were sisters. The only resemblance being our deathly pale complexions and yellow hair (maybe it's like that thing us white people have with Asians: they all look the same to us).
Then they would recount the reasons why they love Canada and why being Portuguese is awesome.
It was not only the first time I had been in a gym since 1996, but it was the first time I had ever been the popular girl at a dance in a gym in my life. It was like being prom queen.
Which set up the Portuguese wives hating us. Again, K referred to us as Babylon whores. Or it could be the fact we don't speak the language (well, I sort of do. I can say 'thank you' in Portuguese, which is what I said to anyone who talked to me).
But whatever the reason, those wives disliked our presence. Tooth man tried to introduce us to his wife. She glared at us and pulled him away. Yes lady, that's right. Us outsiders have snuck into your party to steal your toothless husband. We prowl all the European community centres looking for men from the 'old country'.
K finally convinced me to dance with her boyfriend, who twirled me around the room to said Portuguese polka music. But after my pound of prawn, the spin around the room made me want to vomit. In fact, without the food I would probably want to vomit. Those Portuguese really like to twirl!
The dancers kept going late into the night. It was fun watching them. They are all about 5'2'', and were shaped like little apples. They were dressed in their finest and having the time of their life.
From the outside, we can tease communities like this for their brightly dyed blonde hair that is a tad too yellow, or the skin-tight dresses and open shirts. But what we might fail to see is that this community sticks together through thick and thin. They all enjoy seeing each other. Smiles are bright and genuine. And once they get around the Babylon whore shock, they sure are open to letting us join in on their community.
If only for one night.
And as it turns out, so is my friend.
Except in my case, my fiance is Chinese. In her case, her boyfriend is Portuguese.
Inter-racial you ask? Well, maybe that is going too far. But after spending a night with her at a Portuguese dance, I realized that although we are from Europe, we are not at all the same.
We stand out like Babylon whores, as my friend points out.
I'm not sure about that. But we do stand out. Partly from our pale skin and light hair, and partly because we towered over all the Portuguese people by about a foot.
British people are not exactly a tight knit community sort of people. Sure, back in gay ole England they are in pubs bonding over the common lack of dental care.
But here? It's not like we stick together keeping our culture alive and reminiscing about the 'old country'. I do my part: I drink tea and watch Corrie on CBC.
But Portuguese people really keep their traditions alive. So do Italians, Greeks, Arabics, Chinese, and the list goes on. I think it must only be us.
So here we were, two tall blonde girls, at a Portuguese Valentine's Day dance. In a gym. Connected to a church. And one of us was wearing leopard print to be 'ethnic' (I'll let you guess who).
This is the deal: you pay $40 and get all-you-can-eat-and-drink. The gym is decorated in the fashion of a prairie hall wedding: pink paper hearts, streamers, doilies. There is no mood lighting for dinner. Nope, the lights are bright so we get full view of Uncle Jesepe's hairy chest and gold cross.
The food is DELICIOUS! We had Portuguese buns, of which I had two. Then soup with sausage, kale, potatoes, carrots and other yummy things. Then salad. Then rice with a seafood platter.
Oh the seafood platter. I helped myself to fried sole with a special hot sauce. As well as several mussels and peel-your-own shrimp. When I realized it was 'all you can eat' I may have gone a little mental. I finished off our platter, then the boys' platter, and then we ordered another platter! My plate was round with shrimp debris. I was such a graceful eater. I went through about 20 napkins, was licking my fingers and dropped lettuce down my dress.
We were still not done. Next came platters of roast potatoes, chicken and beef. Followed by cheesecake. I did not like the cheesecake. But possibly because I was a Portuguese bun myself at this point.
All the while we are having endless bottles of red wine.
I love Portuguese people!
When dinner was finished, the lights dimmed (finally. I had shrimp guts on my dress) to announce the beginning of the dance.
Everybody danced.
To this polka-ish Portuguese music played on keyboards and an accordion. Who doesn't love an accordion?
The floor was full of husbands and wives who have been together so long they both resembled potatoes (you know that way old people do). Mothers making their daughters spin them on the floor (and I don't mean 12-year old girls. I mean middle-aged daughters). Kids twirling around the feet of the adults. Really old grandpa's dancing with any woman who would say yes - not because they were being pervy, but because they missed dancing with their wives. It was amazing.
K and I just bobbed on the outskirts.
We were very popular. Men would come up to us, some wearing shirts with a glittering Jesus faces on the front, others with low-buttoned shirts showing off their hairy chest glory. One man got so excited talking to us, his fake tooth popped out and landed on K's shoe.
You must think I am being conceited right now. I'm not. This is just what happens when you are the foreign fish in a pond. All the other fish are fascinated by your presence.
Firstly, they would all ask if we were Portuguese. Obviously not. But they wanted to be polite.
Then they asked if we were sisters. The only resemblance being our deathly pale complexions and yellow hair (maybe it's like that thing us white people have with Asians: they all look the same to us).
Then they would recount the reasons why they love Canada and why being Portuguese is awesome.
It was not only the first time I had been in a gym since 1996, but it was the first time I had ever been the popular girl at a dance in a gym in my life. It was like being prom queen.
Which set up the Portuguese wives hating us. Again, K referred to us as Babylon whores. Or it could be the fact we don't speak the language (well, I sort of do. I can say 'thank you' in Portuguese, which is what I said to anyone who talked to me).
But whatever the reason, those wives disliked our presence. Tooth man tried to introduce us to his wife. She glared at us and pulled him away. Yes lady, that's right. Us outsiders have snuck into your party to steal your toothless husband. We prowl all the European community centres looking for men from the 'old country'.
K finally convinced me to dance with her boyfriend, who twirled me around the room to said Portuguese polka music. But after my pound of prawn, the spin around the room made me want to vomit. In fact, without the food I would probably want to vomit. Those Portuguese really like to twirl!
The dancers kept going late into the night. It was fun watching them. They are all about 5'2'', and were shaped like little apples. They were dressed in their finest and having the time of their life.
From the outside, we can tease communities like this for their brightly dyed blonde hair that is a tad too yellow, or the skin-tight dresses and open shirts. But what we might fail to see is that this community sticks together through thick and thin. They all enjoy seeing each other. Smiles are bright and genuine. And once they get around the Babylon whore shock, they sure are open to letting us join in on their community.
If only for one night.
Butch Cassidy and K.D. Lang
A friend commented on my latest blog entry (via Facebook, the only comments I get here are to get a larger 'area down there' for men) regarding how she too felt proud to be Canadian after the Opening Ceremonies. Except when it came to K.D. Lang. Said friend currently lives in London, and apparently when she went to work the next day everyone asked who the 'bloke in the ill-fitting suit' was. My friend wished David Aitkins had chosen Shania.
But here's what I have to say about that Miss L :)
I am proud proud proud that I come from a country where same-sex marriage is legal and recognized. There are so few nations in the world who can say this, and NONE, except Canada, in North America.
Choosing K.D. Lang was a bold move, I agree. It would have been easy to showcase Shania or Celine. But what about one of our most talented singers? No one can deny that voice. She brought Canada to its knees. And yes, she wore a suit. And yes, she resembles a man.
But she made us cry.
She made the room I was in stand-up and applaud.
And more importantly, she probably inspired a girl or boy out there afraid to be what they really are. She proved that it might not always be the most popular choice to go against society, but when you truly are who you are, you can move a nation. If you're really good, the world
The Brits can take that and stuff it up their snooty asses.
For those who wondered about Leonard Cohen, he is recovering from a back injury. He told David Atkins that it doesn't get better than K.D. Lang
But here's what I have to say about that Miss L :)
I am proud proud proud that I come from a country where same-sex marriage is legal and recognized. There are so few nations in the world who can say this, and NONE, except Canada, in North America.
Choosing K.D. Lang was a bold move, I agree. It would have been easy to showcase Shania or Celine. But what about one of our most talented singers? No one can deny that voice. She brought Canada to its knees. And yes, she wore a suit. And yes, she resembles a man.
But she made us cry.
She made the room I was in stand-up and applaud.
And more importantly, she probably inspired a girl or boy out there afraid to be what they really are. She proved that it might not always be the most popular choice to go against society, but when you truly are who you are, you can move a nation. If you're really good, the world
The Brits can take that and stuff it up their snooty asses.
For those who wondered about Leonard Cohen, he is recovering from a back injury. He told David Atkins that it doesn't get better than K.D. Lang
My Home and Native Land
The time has come friends. Vancouver 2010 is finally here!
I remember finding out we got the Olympics way back in 2002, or was it 2003? Anyways, it's been a long time. And I thought, 'wow, 2010 is soooo long away - I will totally be married with kids by then and watching all the events because I will be famous'.
Plans have clearly changed.
Meh.
My apartment is situated right in the mix of things too - so it's extra exciting! This is the view of athlete's village from my house:
Clearly I stole this photo from Sports Illustrated. And clearly I don't know how to use photo shop to draw a circle around my house - but I can tell you that right of BC Place (that white thing, home of the opening ceremonies), is a smaller white thing (the hockey place), and right of that is a clump of five high rise condo buildings. I am in the middle/front of that clump. Good location right?
Anyhoo, they are finally here and this city is swarming with people from all over the world.
I was lucky enough to go to the dress rehearsal of the opening ceremonies, which put me in the mood for the games. And it was just as amazing watching it on Friday with my friends and family (albeit without the falling snow or leaves). We were asked not to spill the beans about what we had witnessed so that no secrets could be revealed. So of course I immediately called my mum to tell her about Sarah Mchlachlan. The Engineer hung up on me because I kept saying, 'and then' 'and then' 'and then'.
Lesson here? Don't ask the worst ever secret keeper to keep a huge world secret!
The Olympics leave me an emotional wreck. Refer to a post back in the time of Bejing. When men's hockey won gold WAY back in 2002, I hid under a table for most of the night because I can't handle the excitement/suspense. It's as if I prefer to watch the games after I know we have won/lost. That way, when a Canadian Cowboy falls in front of the grandfather that taught him how to ski, I won't fall to my knees and cry for him.
Am I a freak?
I emailed David Atkins after the opening ceremony 'glitch' to let him know that I hoped he wasn't sad because it was an amazing show.
Yup, I'm a freak.
When I was studying my acting degree, our teachers said time and again, artists and athletes are the same. We both need to train, practise, focus, sacrifice normal lives, etc. So maybe when I see an athlete fall and ruin their chances I recall a particularly bad audition. Or when they win, I know that feeling when your agent calls to tell you that you booked the part. Granted, not a gold medal part. But receiving something to show for all your hard work is all one and the same right?
I watched us win our first gold in a crowd of people on Robson Street. I like how I say 'our', when it was Alexandre Bilodeau who actually worked hard to get it. Being around hundreds of screaming Canadians made me feel like I come from the best country ever.
Oh god, and with his brother in the stands? I was a ball of mush.
Back to the opening ceremonies, I know not everyone enjoyed it, yes you L.L., but I was so extremely proud to be a Canadian. W.O. Mitchell combined with Donald Sutherland's voice? Ummm, yes. That quote, I can't find it, but it's really what it feels like to be from the prairies. K.D. Lang? AAAAAAAAAAH Chills! Orcas swimming across the floor, complete with blowholes? Totem poles growing from the ground?
When Wayne Gretzky jumped in the back of a pick-up to drive through the streets of Vancouver, you knew you were really in Canada. I loved the waiters running out of restaurants to catch a glimpse of the Great One. That is a dream, for anyone who was a kid in the eighties.
I am from this amazing country. This amazing province. It has orcas, and totem poles, and fields of blowing wheat.
And that no matter where in the world I might end up, I will never lose my maple leaf pride. Just ask my American friends who went to RADA with me, I think I told everyone I was Canadian everyday. Especially when the profs would try to correct my 'American' ways.
I am Canadian. And proud of it. Except for that rendition of 'Oh Canada'. I was not proud of that.
Of course, the ceremonies gave a lovely moment of recognition to the tragedy that happened earlier that day. Nadar Khokhobashvili. I truly hope all the athletes take on John Furlong's message to carry his memory and inspiration through the games. I know us spectators will.
I will leave you with one of my most favorite moments of the night.
Go Canada!
I remember finding out we got the Olympics way back in 2002, or was it 2003? Anyways, it's been a long time. And I thought, 'wow, 2010 is soooo long away - I will totally be married with kids by then and watching all the events because I will be famous'.
Plans have clearly changed.
Meh.
My apartment is situated right in the mix of things too - so it's extra exciting! This is the view of athlete's village from my house:
And this is my house from the sky:
Clearly I stole this photo from Sports Illustrated. And clearly I don't know how to use photo shop to draw a circle around my house - but I can tell you that right of BC Place (that white thing, home of the opening ceremonies), is a smaller white thing (the hockey place), and right of that is a clump of five high rise condo buildings. I am in the middle/front of that clump. Good location right?
Anyhoo, they are finally here and this city is swarming with people from all over the world.
I was lucky enough to go to the dress rehearsal of the opening ceremonies, which put me in the mood for the games. And it was just as amazing watching it on Friday with my friends and family (albeit without the falling snow or leaves). We were asked not to spill the beans about what we had witnessed so that no secrets could be revealed. So of course I immediately called my mum to tell her about Sarah Mchlachlan. The Engineer hung up on me because I kept saying, 'and then' 'and then' 'and then'.
Lesson here? Don't ask the worst ever secret keeper to keep a huge world secret!
The Olympics leave me an emotional wreck. Refer to a post back in the time of Bejing. When men's hockey won gold WAY back in 2002, I hid under a table for most of the night because I can't handle the excitement/suspense. It's as if I prefer to watch the games after I know we have won/lost. That way, when a Canadian Cowboy falls in front of the grandfather that taught him how to ski, I won't fall to my knees and cry for him.
Am I a freak?
I emailed David Atkins after the opening ceremony 'glitch' to let him know that I hoped he wasn't sad because it was an amazing show.
Yup, I'm a freak.
When I was studying my acting degree, our teachers said time and again, artists and athletes are the same. We both need to train, practise, focus, sacrifice normal lives, etc. So maybe when I see an athlete fall and ruin their chances I recall a particularly bad audition. Or when they win, I know that feeling when your agent calls to tell you that you booked the part. Granted, not a gold medal part. But receiving something to show for all your hard work is all one and the same right?
I watched us win our first gold in a crowd of people on Robson Street. I like how I say 'our', when it was Alexandre Bilodeau who actually worked hard to get it. Being around hundreds of screaming Canadians made me feel like I come from the best country ever.
Oh god, and with his brother in the stands? I was a ball of mush.
Back to the opening ceremonies, I know not everyone enjoyed it, yes you L.L., but I was so extremely proud to be a Canadian. W.O. Mitchell combined with Donald Sutherland's voice? Ummm, yes. That quote, I can't find it, but it's really what it feels like to be from the prairies. K.D. Lang? AAAAAAAAAAH Chills! Orcas swimming across the floor, complete with blowholes? Totem poles growing from the ground?
When Wayne Gretzky jumped in the back of a pick-up to drive through the streets of Vancouver, you knew you were really in Canada. I loved the waiters running out of restaurants to catch a glimpse of the Great One. That is a dream, for anyone who was a kid in the eighties.
I am from this amazing country. This amazing province. It has orcas, and totem poles, and fields of blowing wheat.
And that no matter where in the world I might end up, I will never lose my maple leaf pride. Just ask my American friends who went to RADA with me, I think I told everyone I was Canadian everyday. Especially when the profs would try to correct my 'American' ways.
I am Canadian. And proud of it. Except for that rendition of 'Oh Canada'. I was not proud of that.
Of course, the ceremonies gave a lovely moment of recognition to the tragedy that happened earlier that day. Nadar Khokhobashvili. I truly hope all the athletes take on John Furlong's message to carry his memory and inspiration through the games. I know us spectators will.
I will leave you with one of my most favorite moments of the night.
Go Canada!
A Good Man
Just yesterday, I lost a very lovely man in my family.
My father's cousin passed away suddenly and quietly. It was a complete shock to all of us, especially as we were headed to his home for the day in White Rock.
As we are a small family, even our 'second cousins' are close, so his passing is a very sad thing for us. My parents and I headed to White Rock to be with his wife and children (who are not children anymore, and haven't been for a long time, but you are always someone's baby right?).
It was my father's job to call everyone back in Alberta to alert them of his death. As he was making calls, he noted that news would travel fast using the 'farm morse code'. This is what I love about where we all come from. Gossip, good or bad, travels fast. People come out in droves bearing squares and dainties. And the community always bands together.
Like me, Alec was really proud to be from a farm in Alberta. Even though he left at a young age to become an Engineer; he always knew our rural community was home. And in true prairie fashion, he passed away while eating breakfast, about to head out for a game of curling.
His sister-in-law, a recent widow herself, talked about how lucky I was to be entering this stage in my life. She said she would give anything to be back in her youth, in love, and planning her wedding - planning her life really. She said this time is so magical. All the women agreed. I choked up. She told me to treasure these moments because life can be taken away when you least expect it. We take each other for granted, but someday, as she put it, you will lose what feels like your right arm.
It's a lesson I hope we can all think about. As we grow older, and our weddings are over, our children are grown, to look at our partners and try to remember that fleeting feeling of falling in love.
In my case, I thought about my own dad. Here my cousins are, adults, but losing a constant in their life. So I hugged my dad, awkwardly. Who then told me he might die of cancer. Not that he has it, he just could. My mum told him he has terrible timing.
I think Alec was full of lessons. In life and death. In his life, he worked hard and showed loyalty to one company for over forty years. In retirement, he lived everyday fully, even with the diabetes that led to yesterday. He curled, lawn bowled, played bridge, and traveled the world. In fact, he just got home from Hawaii last week. Instead of moping in his older years, he embraced retirement joyfully.
In death, his lesson is to love your spouse, no matter how grouchy he gets. Or how much she nags.
And to give your dad a hug.
My father's cousin passed away suddenly and quietly. It was a complete shock to all of us, especially as we were headed to his home for the day in White Rock.
As we are a small family, even our 'second cousins' are close, so his passing is a very sad thing for us. My parents and I headed to White Rock to be with his wife and children (who are not children anymore, and haven't been for a long time, but you are always someone's baby right?).
It was my father's job to call everyone back in Alberta to alert them of his death. As he was making calls, he noted that news would travel fast using the 'farm morse code'. This is what I love about where we all come from. Gossip, good or bad, travels fast. People come out in droves bearing squares and dainties. And the community always bands together.
Like me, Alec was really proud to be from a farm in Alberta. Even though he left at a young age to become an Engineer; he always knew our rural community was home. And in true prairie fashion, he passed away while eating breakfast, about to head out for a game of curling.
His sister-in-law, a recent widow herself, talked about how lucky I was to be entering this stage in my life. She said she would give anything to be back in her youth, in love, and planning her wedding - planning her life really. She said this time is so magical. All the women agreed. I choked up. She told me to treasure these moments because life can be taken away when you least expect it. We take each other for granted, but someday, as she put it, you will lose what feels like your right arm.
It's a lesson I hope we can all think about. As we grow older, and our weddings are over, our children are grown, to look at our partners and try to remember that fleeting feeling of falling in love.
In my case, I thought about my own dad. Here my cousins are, adults, but losing a constant in their life. So I hugged my dad, awkwardly. Who then told me he might die of cancer. Not that he has it, he just could. My mum told him he has terrible timing.
I think Alec was full of lessons. In life and death. In his life, he worked hard and showed loyalty to one company for over forty years. In retirement, he lived everyday fully, even with the diabetes that led to yesterday. He curled, lawn bowled, played bridge, and traveled the world. In fact, he just got home from Hawaii last week. Instead of moping in his older years, he embraced retirement joyfully.
In death, his lesson is to love your spouse, no matter how grouchy he gets. Or how much she nags.
And to give your dad a hug.
The Search Continues
I am not going too crazy trying on dresses, considering it is the funnest part of planning a wedding. I think I want to take my time and really try on all the styles I want to, before making a final decision.
On Tuesday, a shipment of four 'rental try-on' dresses arrived from Aria. They are a dress company from Boston who design really simple, pretty, and frugally priced dresses. The best part is trying on dresses in the comfort of your home. With the mum, a few bridesmaids, fresh pasta, and bottles of wine.
Wine often features in my stories hey?
So there we were, watching me try on dresses. I liked it. I don't know if everyone else did.
On Tuesday, a shipment of four 'rental try-on' dresses arrived from Aria. They are a dress company from Boston who design really simple, pretty, and frugally priced dresses. The best part is trying on dresses in the comfort of your home. With the mum, a few bridesmaids, fresh pasta, and bottles of wine.
Wine often features in my stories hey?
So there we were, watching me try on dresses. I liked it. I don't know if everyone else did.
I think this is going to be a tough decision. I liked these dresses because they had pockets. Therefore I want poufy right? But then I looked really nice in mermaid. The woes! The woes! Oh god, Sarah, read the first entries I ever wrote where I tell people NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR WEDDING EXCEPT YOU! And maybe your mom. But not in my case. HA!
Today, my mum and I accidentally tried on dresses at Bryan's Bridal. I was pleasantly surprised at the selection and the price point!
We found a few possibilities. One was poufy, silk, and had pockets Super elegant, slimming and for the first time I felt really like a bride. Especially when she put the long veil on me. I thought I wanted a fascinator but the veil is so pretty! My mum choked back a tear.
Then my dad walked in to find us. He said 'yeah that works'. I told him to go back to Starbucks, he refused. I asked if he felt emotional at seeing me in a wedding dress. He did not.
He did like my next selection. A Pronovias dress that is mermaid-ish, with those layer/tier things, and one strap that was big flowers. I totally did not want the layer look, but I LOVED LOVED LOVED the flowers. They were very me.
ACK! I want them all! I should claim my 'Chinese' wedding thing and wear four dresses.
As my mum points out, you not only have to pick the dress that suits you, but the dress that suits the wedding. The poufy was 'New York/Goldman Sachs', the other, very much whimsical.
ACK! They both sound good!
I am not ready to settle just yet. Kleinfeld's makes me feel guilty for trying on dresses and not buying, but I suffer from severe buyer's remorse! What will happen if I can't return it?
Misadventures with Mr. Mop
This adorable dog continues to be the most embarrassing thing since my mother in the tenth grade. Or that time my nose started to bleed on my way to middle-school and I bumped into all the cute boys from high-school. MORTIFICATION.
The other day, after one too many glasses of wine, I thought it was a great idea to let the boys off-leash on their evening walk. After all, my area no longer has traffic due to some sporting event and there was no one in the park.
But I forgot about the fact that Rainy City is crawling with RCMP and Police right now. Mop tore after one said RCMP officer, with Brooklyn on his tail yapping up a storm. Neither would come back.
The RCMP, thankfully, is not from Vancouver and therefore did not realize I was breaking the law. He was also super nice, as most RCMP officers are. He tried to pet the boys, but Mop barked at him. I told him that my dog was afraid of his hat. So he took it off! So cute. And then Mop was putty, rolling on his back. We actually had a nice conversation, but I am sure he could smell my wine. Then Mop pooped next to him.
MORTIFICATION.
Today, dressed in my workout clothes, no make-up and hair pulled up, I ran into an ex-boyfriend. Awesome. Which is only fun when I look super pretty. I am engaged, so at least I had that :) Anyways, my ex has a new puppy. Mop hates puppies. Therefore Mop tried to attack said puppy. Embarrassing. Then he growled at me when I punished him. Embarrassing.
The other night, I tried on wedding dresses at home. Some of my bridesmaids were over. Therefore Mop was on his best behavior. Umm, lies. One of my BM's pretends to be the dog whisperer and is constantly 'pssting' at him. Even though it looks and sounds ridiculous, he does cower to her. But aren't dogs for cuddles?
I don't know if you know this about dogs but they really like to sit/sleep on anything on the floor. Blanket? Yep. Plastic bag? Yes sir. The train on my mermaid dress? You bet!
This is actually not embarrassing. Just cute. I was literally standing there for only 30 seconds and Mop made a little bed on the dress. He even took a little ride on it.
Currently, he is sleeping on his back and snoring a bit. It's hard to believe he can be such a jerk.
Destination Bride Part Five: Santorini
I thought it was time to head back to Europe and scope out another super-awesome place to get married.
A little island in Greece known as Santorini.
Sparkling blue water.
Hillsides of white houses and blue roofs.
Sandy beaches.
Glasses of white wine at sunset.
A donkey ride down the aisle.
Yes?
Yes!
It's a wedding out of 'Mamma Mia' heaven!
Saying our 'I do's' at sunset overlooking the Caldera. Drinking ouzo with our friends and family. Eating baklava until I had to lie down from sugar-honey overload.
Sign me up!
Of course there are some cons. Like the fact Greece is really quite far away. And that we can't dance the whole night away. Or that the reception venues hold more than one wedding a night so we have no privacy. But privacy shrivacy. Look at these pictures!
A little island in Greece known as Santorini.
Sparkling blue water.
Hillsides of white houses and blue roofs.
Sandy beaches.
Glasses of white wine at sunset.
A donkey ride down the aisle.
Yes?
Yes!
It's a wedding out of 'Mamma Mia' heaven!
Saying our 'I do's' at sunset overlooking the Caldera. Drinking ouzo with our friends and family. Eating baklava until I had to lie down from sugar-honey overload.
Sign me up!
Of course there are some cons. Like the fact Greece is really quite far away. And that we can't dance the whole night away. Or that the reception venues hold more than one wedding a night so we have no privacy. But privacy shrivacy. Look at these pictures!
There is a plethora of Greek wedding planners who can help you make your big day happen. Totally reasonable packages that get all the legal stuff done and throw in the donkey!
www.santoriniweddings.com/santoriniweddingpackages.htm
www.thebridalconsultantsantorini.co.uk/index.htm
Oooompa!
Umm, how do you spell that?
Sarah of the Rings. Well, actually, it's only one ring
I am obsessed with my ring!
As mentioned, in 2007, I have always loved the engagement ring.
I mean, it sparkles, it's pretty, and in my case it's pink. PINK! I love it!!
The Engineer is awesome for choosing it. Correction: I am awesome for choosing it. Like a crazy wedding psycho, I first picked out my ring two years ago. When on a 'casual' field trip to Tiffany's, I found the Legacy and immediately became obsessed.
When I saw the Engineer later that afternoon, I asked him how much he loved me. He knew right away something was up and asked me what I wanted. So I told him.
But never trust a guy to remember a ring you want. That's why you need a jeweller friend who will always remember your dream ring; so that on the day when the Engineer decides he's finally ready, he can call up said jeweller who will know exactly what to do.
He will spend the next six months searching for the perfect pink sapphire around the globe to create a Legacy-lool-alike at not the Legacy-$33 000-price tag.
Crazy bride-wannabe girl will then change her mind when she sees a blue sapphire at Tiffany's in New York and give the Engineer a near heart-attack as said jeweller friend is currently somewhere in Asia with pink sapphire. Clearly, I changed my mind back. I suit pink. I suit my ring. When anyone sees it they say 'your ring is soooo you'. Is this their nice way of saying they don't like it?
I feel bad for being such a crazy ring coveter now. The Engineer had the ring/proposal in the works since the summertime. I have been nagging him practically everyday about getting married. Don't judge me reader! I know all you girls out there all did it before you got engaged. Or are doing it now. We're all the same. When we know, we know. And we want it.
Men? They take a while.
I always said to the Engineer that he should just know. That is isn't going to just click one day that it's time.
This is, in fact, exactly what happened.
Apparently the Engineer was walking through Manhattan one day and it just 'clicked'. He thought: I am going to propose to Sarah. I asked what triggered it. He has no idea. I suspect it was about the same time he realized how nice it is to have someone at home washing dishes and grocery shopping while he is at work 10 hours a day. He denies this.
Anyhoo, it's all done now and I have the glorious pink rock on my hand.
I stare at it all the time.
In London, I would catch myself in any window. At department stores, in the kitchen, in the Tube. Just looking at the glittering perfection reflected back at me. I was not alone in this. The Engineer also would gaze affectionately at Rosie.
We once had this argument that it doesn't really matter if the man loves the ring because it's the girl who has to stare at it.
I realize now that the Engineer was completely right in his view.
He was very proud to give me Rosie. He loves her like I do.
We stare at her all day. I think the Engineer is still a little nervous about letting it out of his sight. It is, after all, the most expensive thing he has ever bought and had to hand over.
I find myself talking with my left hand. Holding it up to caress my face (just a few hours ago I scraped my cheek by accident). Waving my hand about to give directions to Olympic tourists who aren't actually asking for directions. I stare at it when driving. They just made cell phone use whilst driving illegal. They should probably make staring at one's engagement ring illegal as well.
I am not alone in this ring obsession. One of my BM's has also admitted to staring at her ring. And she's been married for two years!
They say diamonds are a girl's best friend. My ring is a sapphire therefore I feel the saying should be "pink sparkly things are a Sarah's best friend".
Hmmm, that actually encompasses a lot . . . . like a certain someone's pink Coach bag. And a pair of pink Kate Spade's I want for my wedding. And a Mini-Cooper at Yaletown Mini. See? The list goes on. Muhahahaha
As mentioned, in 2007, I have always loved the engagement ring.
I mean, it sparkles, it's pretty, and in my case it's pink. PINK! I love it!!
The Engineer is awesome for choosing it. Correction: I am awesome for choosing it. Like a crazy wedding psycho, I first picked out my ring two years ago. When on a 'casual' field trip to Tiffany's, I found the Legacy and immediately became obsessed.
When I saw the Engineer later that afternoon, I asked him how much he loved me. He knew right away something was up and asked me what I wanted. So I told him.
But never trust a guy to remember a ring you want. That's why you need a jeweller friend who will always remember your dream ring; so that on the day when the Engineer decides he's finally ready, he can call up said jeweller who will know exactly what to do.
He will spend the next six months searching for the perfect pink sapphire around the globe to create a Legacy-lool-alike at not the Legacy-$33 000-price tag.
Crazy bride-wannabe girl will then change her mind when she sees a blue sapphire at Tiffany's in New York and give the Engineer a near heart-attack as said jeweller friend is currently somewhere in Asia with pink sapphire. Clearly, I changed my mind back. I suit pink. I suit my ring. When anyone sees it they say 'your ring is soooo you'. Is this their nice way of saying they don't like it?
I feel bad for being such a crazy ring coveter now. The Engineer had the ring/proposal in the works since the summertime. I have been nagging him practically everyday about getting married. Don't judge me reader! I know all you girls out there all did it before you got engaged. Or are doing it now. We're all the same. When we know, we know. And we want it.
Men? They take a while.
I always said to the Engineer that he should just know. That is isn't going to just click one day that it's time.
This is, in fact, exactly what happened.
Apparently the Engineer was walking through Manhattan one day and it just 'clicked'. He thought: I am going to propose to Sarah. I asked what triggered it. He has no idea. I suspect it was about the same time he realized how nice it is to have someone at home washing dishes and grocery shopping while he is at work 10 hours a day. He denies this.
Anyhoo, it's all done now and I have the glorious pink rock on my hand.
I stare at it all the time.
In London, I would catch myself in any window. At department stores, in the kitchen, in the Tube. Just looking at the glittering perfection reflected back at me. I was not alone in this. The Engineer also would gaze affectionately at Rosie.
We once had this argument that it doesn't really matter if the man loves the ring because it's the girl who has to stare at it.
I realize now that the Engineer was completely right in his view.
He was very proud to give me Rosie. He loves her like I do.
We stare at her all day. I think the Engineer is still a little nervous about letting it out of his sight. It is, after all, the most expensive thing he has ever bought and had to hand over.
I find myself talking with my left hand. Holding it up to caress my face (just a few hours ago I scraped my cheek by accident). Waving my hand about to give directions to Olympic tourists who aren't actually asking for directions. I stare at it when driving. They just made cell phone use whilst driving illegal. They should probably make staring at one's engagement ring illegal as well.
I am not alone in this ring obsession. One of my BM's has also admitted to staring at her ring. And she's been married for two years!
They say diamonds are a girl's best friend. My ring is a sapphire therefore I feel the saying should be "pink sparkly things are a Sarah's best friend".
Hmmm, that actually encompasses a lot . . . . like a certain someone's pink Coach bag. And a pair of pink Kate Spade's I want for my wedding. And a Mini-Cooper at Yaletown Mini. See? The list goes on. Muhahahaha
Salt Spring Island's housing needs sound so familiar
So, the recently completed housing needs assessment on Salt Spring Island confirms that the lack of affordable
housing is affecting virtually all segments of the population - and the most urgent need is housing for the homeless and those at risk of homelessness.
These findings should come as no surprise, since they mirror many of the concerns expressed in the Gabriola Island Affordable Housing Needs Assessment completed just three months earlier.
There are strong similarities (and a few notable differences) between these two island communities.
Here on Gabriola, the absence of public transit makes the village centre and north end of the island virtually the only realistic option for many who cannot afford to own, insure and run a car. Sure, we pride ourselves in our willingness to offer a ride to those we see walking along the road - but, if we're honest, we're all becoming just a little selective in who we will stop for, and who we will drive past. And not everyone wants to be dependent on the goodwill of others in their daily lives - so, for some, the hardship and isolation just spirals.
Of course, with a population of 10,000, the economics of a public transit service on Salt Spring stacks up more strongly than it ever will on Gabriola - but the social cost to the community of not having a bus on the island is becoming ever more evident.
Sure, the Islands Trust must sit down and reflect on the need to legalize the use of suites and cottages as affordable housing - but without the ability to access essential services, the scope for offering truly affordable housing is severely limited.
housing is affecting virtually all segments of the population - and the most urgent need is housing for the homeless and those at risk of homelessness.
These findings should come as no surprise, since they mirror many of the concerns expressed in the Gabriola Island Affordable Housing Needs Assessment completed just three months earlier.
There are strong similarities (and a few notable differences) between these two island communities.
- Both are projecting significant population growth over the next 20-30 years - and in both cases the majority of that increase will be older people in retirement, or approaching retirement.
- Both communites have identified a shortage of good quality, affordable housing - especially in the rental sector, on which so many people, both young and old, are now dependent given the steep rise in property prices in recent years.
- More than 20% of the housing stock on both islands is owned by non-residents, often standing empty for much of the year. Rentals on these properties are often seasonal, resulting in displacement of tenants for part of the year.
- There is a serious shortfall in housing for those with special needs in both communities
- The number of homeless people is increasing - though in both cases, "couch-hopping" probably disguises the true scale of the problem
- For those with low (or no) income, access to essential services is made much more difficult by the lack of transport.
Here on Gabriola, the absence of public transit makes the village centre and north end of the island virtually the only realistic option for many who cannot afford to own, insure and run a car. Sure, we pride ourselves in our willingness to offer a ride to those we see walking along the road - but, if we're honest, we're all becoming just a little selective in who we will stop for, and who we will drive past. And not everyone wants to be dependent on the goodwill of others in their daily lives - so, for some, the hardship and isolation just spirals.
Of course, with a population of 10,000, the economics of a public transit service on Salt Spring stacks up more strongly than it ever will on Gabriola - but the social cost to the community of not having a bus on the island is becoming ever more evident.
Sure, the Islands Trust must sit down and reflect on the need to legalize the use of suites and cottages as affordable housing - but without the ability to access essential services, the scope for offering truly affordable housing is severely limited.
In a land where size 8 is 'plump'
Today as an actress I had the most perfect, amazing, incredible audition of my career.
It was for the LEAD role in a new pilot produced by Chuck Lorre. Chuck Lorre is like a god of comedy.
The Engineer and I love love love 'Big Bang Theory' - I mean who doesn't? And if you haven't seen it, I am fairly certain you should.
He's the man behind 'Dharma and Greg', 'Two and a Half Men', 'Grace Under Fire', 'Roseanne' - just to name a few. Not to mention an episode of 'Muppet Babies'.
Anyhoo, he's funny, smart, writes great sitcoms. Basically my dream man. Erm, job.
But I have to be 'plump'.
I guess CBS is having a hard time finding a 'plump' girl in LA (land of bobble heads) and therefore called up to my agent. When told I was a size 8, the casting girl said 'perfect, she's plump'.
PLUMP
Size 8
Los Angeles is on crack.
Don't worry, I didn't immediately throw-up my dim sum and hire a personal trainer. I feel pretty okay at size 8. And I work-out 5 days a week. So if I'm not a size 2 now, I am fairly certain that without a starvation and laxative diet, I am never going to be.
The role is the lead role, the Dharma in 'Dharma and Greg' if you will. So not only am I more than happy to oblige and be my pudgy little self, it is pretty much a dream gig. I get to be on a major network sitcom AND still eat cheese. Heck, eating cheese would be encouraged!
So fingers crossed. I'm not holding my breath. LA might think I am obese. It would be a great job though. And it would be even better if I wasn't considered plump. But normal.
Los Angeles, and us the viewers, need to start changing our perception. We're happy to be size 8, or 10, or 12 at home. But then we criticize those on television that are the same size as us.
Meh. Whatever. I'm not going to be a size 2. EVER. So I will enjoy my bacon and hope that Chuck calls me up.
It was for the LEAD role in a new pilot produced by Chuck Lorre. Chuck Lorre is like a god of comedy.
The Engineer and I love love love 'Big Bang Theory' - I mean who doesn't? And if you haven't seen it, I am fairly certain you should.
He's the man behind 'Dharma and Greg', 'Two and a Half Men', 'Grace Under Fire', 'Roseanne' - just to name a few. Not to mention an episode of 'Muppet Babies'.
Anyhoo, he's funny, smart, writes great sitcoms. Basically my dream man. Erm, job.
But I have to be 'plump'.
I guess CBS is having a hard time finding a 'plump' girl in LA (land of bobble heads) and therefore called up to my agent. When told I was a size 8, the casting girl said 'perfect, she's plump'.
PLUMP
Size 8
Los Angeles is on crack.
Don't worry, I didn't immediately throw-up my dim sum and hire a personal trainer. I feel pretty okay at size 8. And I work-out 5 days a week. So if I'm not a size 2 now, I am fairly certain that without a starvation and laxative diet, I am never going to be.
The role is the lead role, the Dharma in 'Dharma and Greg' if you will. So not only am I more than happy to oblige and be my pudgy little self, it is pretty much a dream gig. I get to be on a major network sitcom AND still eat cheese. Heck, eating cheese would be encouraged!
So fingers crossed. I'm not holding my breath. LA might think I am obese. It would be a great job though. And it would be even better if I wasn't considered plump. But normal.
Los Angeles, and us the viewers, need to start changing our perception. We're happy to be size 8, or 10, or 12 at home. But then we criticize those on television that are the same size as us.
Meh. Whatever. I'm not going to be a size 2. EVER. So I will enjoy my bacon and hope that Chuck calls me up.
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