LisaListed

The best things in life aren't things at all


4 Comments

10 Things I Miss About Calgary

Yesterday I posted “Ten Reasons We Love Life In Chicago” – but I didn’t want Calgary to get jealous! There are definitely some things that we do miss about Calgary, after all I did compose a love letter for Calgary about a year ago which I will post soon.

Ironically, as I type this… it is SNOWING in Alberta… like real snow. It’s May 6th, 2015. Guess which picture is taken today in Calgary and which picture is taken today in Chicago:

calgary spring snow
spring in chicago

 

 

I wish this was a joke, but it’s just a way of life. No one is surprised by this, yet nobody welcomes it either.

Okay, let’s get on with it shall we? Obviously, I miss our friends and family…  let’s collectively “awww” over that for a minute…   I also really miss our accent! Yeah, I know you are reading this and think to yourself “I don’t have an accent…” But we really truly do! I get SO excited to hear it when I speak to most of you… people from Northern Alberta have it the most. “Eh”, “sorry”, “about”, etc are all very true to the stereotype… and I’m darn tooting’ proud of it! Alrighty then, let’s move on to what I miss about the city itself, shall we:

1) Second Cup – The Pumpkin Spice Latte and Gingerbread Latte seriously makes me homesick during the winter time. There is no comparison. Suck it, Starbucks… their PSL is more like StarSucks.

second cup

 

 

2) Waves Cafe – The caramel frappes in the summertime are in a whole new playing field then all of the other frappes in the world. Yeah, I said it… I totally go whappe for their frappe!

frappe

 

 

3) The Memorial Trail Stairs – Those stairs are a lung burner, a thigh burner, a butt burner… but I LOVE them so much for these reasons! I cannot find a hill, let alone stairs, in Chicago to improvise on. I loved the commadery and respect of other stair lovers as well. “Started from the bottom….”

 

stairs

 

 

4) Glamorgan Bakery – Cheese Buns. And donuts. And sausage rolls. And cream puffs. And cheese buns again. Hint: microwave the cheese bun for 10 seconds and your life will forever be changed into a ooey gooey cheesy goodness!

 

cheesebuns

 

 

5) Rat Free since ’93 – don’t quote me on the year, it just has a nice ring to it. Rats.. gross. Dear Americans reading this… yes, it’s true!

rat free

 

 

6) Plus Fifteens – Best winter invention ever. Working downtown and walking through the secret passages from building to building deserves a Nobel Prize. Especially during the 8 month winters. I didn’t realize these were not in every city until I moved away… they are an absolute necessity in life.

 

plus 15

 

 

7) Jelly Modern Doughnuts – After one bite of their donuts, you’ll be willing to spend more than $3 per donut.

jelly

8) Eau Claire Park and Stephen Ave – I used to love going to Eau Claire during my lunch hour to break up the day or else sitting on a patio on Stephen Ave drinking my day away

 

eau claire
9) Floating Down The Bow River – Can you miss something even if you’ve never done it? I was always dying to do this… One day!

bow

10) The Mountains – Have to give it to them… those mountains sure keep ya wanting to come back for more. We got engaged in the mountains, had our mini honeymoon in the mountains… so many special moments happen in the majesty of the Rockies!

IMG_0411

YES PLEASE!

 

IMG_0600

IMG_4492

 

IMG_4549

 

IMG_4562

 

IMG_4577

Calgary, you are where I became my true self. Where I met the man of my dreams. The place where I realized that life didn’t have to have limitations… That I decided settling wasn’t an option for me. Calgary, you were only my home for 5 years, but you will always hold a place near n’ dear to me.
I miss you, ya cold son of a gun!
And Albertans, I miss you too… Cheers ya tough troopers!
P.S. you definitely have the Canadian accent in case you are still in denial 🙂

calgary spring

 

Enjoy Life,

Lisa

Advertisements


3 Comments

A Year Ago I Quit My Job To Move To Another Country With My Husband

Holy crap – One year ago today, we gave our two week’s notice to our jobs and told our friends/family that we were packing up and moving to the US in two weeks. That was one of the toughest things in the world to keep a secret, as we weren’t sure until the very night before that we would actually be moving.

IMG_3445

We had to list our home and keep that as a secret from our friends, which sucked because if friends wanted to come over we would have to come up with some sort of excuse/dirty lie so that they wouldn’t see the For Sale sign in our lawn. 

We had to figure out if we should sell our house, then we had to actually sell our house when that decision was made (thanks Dad). We had to sell all of our belongings (I was an effin Kijijii ninja), figure out what the shit we were getting into, try and manage the thousands of pounds of paperwork that was coming our way that we didn’t understand, figure out if we should keep our car, if we should hire movers or if we should rent a U-Haul and drive a trillion miles, keep a documented spreadsheet with every single item listed with a value that we had to present to the always so friendly peeps at the border, cross our fingers that our Visas would actually get issued. We were homeless and jobless for a few days and it was utterly terrifying…. yet thrilling!

Everything fell into place for us literally seconds before manic panick mode struck… John’s offer was unconditional on the Friday, our house closed at 11:58pm on the Monday, and we quit our jobs the very next morning so that we could LEAVE the country in 15 days to make John’s start date. Ideally we would have given more than two weeks notice, but we didn’t have that luxury. Our renewed passports arrived the day before we left the country. We both had a sense of relief knowing that things would get a little less hectic after we arrived in Chicago, but little did we know that things were going to get ten fold more hectic once we actually got here. The hectic-ness was just getting rollin’…

I look back at the excitement, fear, and courage on the day where we were able to spill our secret and by golly goodness, I am so damn proud of us for taking one hellllll of a risk. Over the past year, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about taking chances… about how it’s really just about overcoming your fears. I’ve come to realize that every time you take a big risk in your life, no matter how it ends up, you’re always glad you took it.

Enjoy Life,
L


10 Comments

Emotional Hoarders Unite

My name is Lisa and I am an Emotional Hoarder.  Not to be confused with a “can’t throw away soup cans, have spiders crawling on my toilet, used kleenex collection” kind of hoarder. I’m more of a “saver of things that have some sort of emotional value” kind of hoarder. Actually I’m about 100 points away from being any kind of self proclaimed hoarder… the “H” word is a hard word to accept. Maybe denial is the first sign? Bear with me if I turn to anger next…

I tend to give things “feelings”.

I fought back tears when I sold my first car because I was certain that Henry Honda thought that I was abandoning him and I made myself believe that he (yes, “he” as in my car”) thought that he wasn’t good enough for me. Even after a few months (and right now as I’m typing this) I wonder how Henry is doing… if his new owners are kind to him and taking good enough care of him. I can’t bring myself to wonder if he’s actually in one of those auto graveyards…

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always been this way. I didn’t really realize that this was an issue until my husband pointed out that I was giving my car feelings. Uh, didn’t everybody do that?! Hearing that this kind of behaviour was not normal was news to me!

I feel guilty about throwing something out that somebody has given me. Even if I don’t like it or if I never use it.

I have a chest that my Dad gave to me when I was probably ten years old that it full of cards, letters, poems, etc. given to me from people. Words that touched me. Even though I rarely go back and read them, and even though the top of the chest is completely busted, I will never get rid of the chest itself or the sentimental words within the chest. I will also probably never get the top of the chest repaired because I fear that the repair man will break it even more. That’s totally logical, right?

Within that chest there are letters from my deceased Grandma, she used to be my pen pal, and when she died I read all the letters and cards that I had kept from her over the years. If that’s not comfort, than I don’t know what is! Also within that chest is a letter from my cousin, Nicole. Nicole is about 15 years older than me and although she lived in an entirely different part of the country from me and we hardly ever saw her, I still idolized her and looked up to her growing up. I thought that she was THE coolest! Nicole went missing in Syria on March 31st, 2007 and although her Mom and Brother have done absolutely everything possible to try and find out what happened to her, sadly, it’s still an unsolved mystery. I have a letter from her from when I was about 12 where she had traced her hand for me… again, that was so comforting to me.

I have every single nice card or letter from my parents. I have every single card that we received from our engagement and our weddings. I have every single card that was ever given to me that was out of the ordinary… such as the card I received out of the blue with a gift card to Magnolia Bakery “just because” or the card I received my “Lovely” necklace with that was also “just because”. I have kept all the flower “cards” that I have received from John, especially the “just because” ones.  And if the card is homemade, you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll keep that too.

For every single email account I’ve ever had, I’ve ALWAYS struggled to delete any non-junk related email. It’s pathetic really. I am pretty sure that I still have emails from when I was in grade 8. Don’t judge.

When we moved to Chicago, as I’ve mentioned before, we started brand new – selling most of our belongings in Canada. I had no problems getting rid of our furniture and such, but getting rid of things that have sentimental value to me is nearly impossible for me to do. Our friends in Calgary are keeping boxes of John’s and my childhood memories which the very thought of having to get rid of brings a lump to my throat. John had a dinosaur hat that was given to him that probably didn’t cost any more than ten dollars, but because it had sentimental value it made the cut and was brought to Chicago. Sadly, throughout the moving process it got crushed and ruined, and it was so tough for me to throw away. RIP Dino Hat

I’m also a hoarder of things that I can consider to be special and/or fancy. Case in point, I never actually wear my Lululemon clothing to work out in because I want to “save” them and make them last longer. I have clothes in my closet that I hardly ever wear because I want to “save” them for something special. I always save gift cards too because I know that once I use it, it’s gone. I will go to the store that the gift card is for and pay for the item out of pocket because I want to save my gift card. John forces me to use them, which I’m begrudgingly grateful he does. He also forces me to spend the full amount on the gift card because he knows that if there is money leftover, I will “save” it.

images-2

I save fancy bath products that I receive to the point of where I hardly ever use them because I am “saving” them. Until recently I saved my first pair of boots that I had ever bought, but I finally managed to bring myself to get rid of them when they started to make me bleed… but even then I made excuses for them and tried to convince John that I would just wear thicker socks with them. I have saved a leather coat from my Grandma that hangs in our front closet that I have never actually worn before, I’m not even sure if it actually fits me to tell you the truth, but I will likely save that forever too. The jewellery box that my parents gave to me when I was probably 14 or so it completely busted from moving over ten times, but I can’t bring myself to replace it even though the top rests on top and the side doors don’t easily open or close.

Even as a child, I would always save my Halloween candy. I would eat my least favourite ones first and then hide everything else under my bed. I would allow myself one or two of my favourite chocolate bars, but my natural instinct was to save them. I would save my Halloween candy to the point of still having about 80% of it the following Halloween and I’d have to throw my last year’s stash of favourite chocolate bars away.

I’m a booze hoarder too. I HATE cracking open an expensive bottle of booze because I am saving it for sometime special. In fact, John and I have been saving a fancy bottle of Pinot Noir since we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Whenever John asked me if I wanted to crack it open, I would always tell him no, that I wanted to save it for sometime special. It’s been sitting there collecting dust for about five years and although we have shared SO many special times in our life, I still wouldn’t want to crack the bottle of wine. I didn’t even have a pathetic excuse as to why none of those moments where special enough to crack, all I knew was that I wanted to save it. For what? I had never really thought about what the perfect occasion would be that would make me WANT to actually open it… so we continued to save it.

BUT WE FINALLY CRACKED THE SPECIAL BOTTLE OF WINE!!

Last week was another loooooong week at work for John. Since August he keeps telling me that “this is the busiest time of the year”. Whenever I ask him when the “busiest time of the year” will finally be over, he doesn’t really have a concrete answer. Since August his hours have been getting longer and longer, and his stress levels have been getting higher and higher. He loves his job, don’t get me wrong, but having him come home around 9:00pm is starting to get really old. I don’t even bother starting to cook dinner until around 8:30pm most nights. This past week was probably the longest week he’s worked all week, and he had to go into work for Saturday and Sunday as well. Knowing that he had to work all weekend on top of an already really long week, we decided on Friday night that a glass of wine was most definitely necessary (to be clear, by glass of wine I really mean bottle… but glass sounds nicer.)

It was just a typical Friday night, nothing special or anything. We were wearing our cozy winter clothes, which include sweat pants, hoodies and for me a magic bag wrapped around my neck because I have I am always freezing if I’m not in a sauna. When John was selecting a bottle of wine, he first grabbed the Pinot Noir that we’ve been saving for the past five years. For some reason at the time, I didn’t fight it. So sweatpants, hoodies, magic bags and all, we popped open that fancy bottle, put our feet up and savoured each and every sip.

IMG_6697

What I learned from doing that, is that there was never going to be the “right moment”. There was never going to be a moment that I had deemed special enough to crack that bottle of wine. I would always find an excuse as to why we should save it for another five years. Instead of waiting for the perfect moment, I learned that just an ordinary Friday night was in fact the perfect moment! It helped me remember to live in the moment, to stop romanticizing about future moments, to stop pretending as if there would be an actual moment where I decided that “it was time…”

I learned that although I will likely always save all my letters and cards that I receive, and that I will still have a hard time giving or throwing things away that are sentimental to me, life is too gosh darn short to save the fancy wine. To not wear the expensive gym wear to the actual gym. To use the fancy soap on yourself. To eat your favourite chocolate bars first before digging deeper into the others.

Lovely, life’s too short to plan for special moments! Just pop open the fancy wine and enjoy it because tomorrow promises nothing. And for goodness sakes, you can always go and buy another bottle of wine to save for another five years!

Enjoy Life,

L


12 Comments

Because I Said Sew

A Hem – now that I have your attention and those extremely clever dorky puns out of the way, I have a story to tell you.

IMG_2377

Most girls at one time or another in the life learn how to sew. Well maybe not sew, but at least learn how to sew a button back on or to hem a pair of pants. Maybe even hand sew a small hole in fabric closed.

But not me! When I told this to my Mom, she didn’t believe me that I never learned how to sew. She was a little bit horrified. My Mom used to sew all Halloween costumes for my sister and I, and I remember in junior high when my sister went on an apron sewing spree. But somehow, I slipped through the ropes of learning how to sew. I never took a Home Economics course in any of my school years, nor did I ever have any strong desire to learn how to sew or to do anything girly at one stage in my life. I was a bit of a tomboy.

At my first corporate job, there was a woman who I worked with who was sick of seeing me in pants that were just a little bit too long. Finally, one day she cracked and let out a small outburst:

“Didn’t your Mother ever teach you to sew!?”

I would have loved to see what my face must have looked like, because she then followed up with “Oh my gosh… what if you don’t have a Mother!” She went on a tangent and felt terrible, but in return she hemmed any and all pairs of pants for me during my time at that job. Thank you again!

John would make little comments to me here and there when there was a small tear in something that needed to be sewed up or when I would pay a tailor to sew fallen off buttons back onto my peacoat. I brushed his comments off, but don’t worry Honey… I heard them all.

Since moving to a new country where I am not allowed to work, I initially felt pressure (not from my husband) to be THE ULTIMATE HOUSEWIFE! Sweet John would tell me that I already was the ultimate housewife, but we all know that he is biased. I was convinced that an ULTIMATE HOUSEWIFE needed to at least know how to turn on a sewing machine.

I looked up sewing classes and did my due diligent. For some reason or another, I didn’t want to learn to sew at a place like Michael’s. Like I am in most things in life, I decided that if I was going to learn how to sew than I was going to go all in. Sew (c’mon had to sneak one more in there) after many hours of researching sewing courses, I found the perfect one where I would learn to sew. It was in Uptown, which I had initially confused with Old Town so I thought that it was close by. Turns out, it wasn’t at all… but I got to meet lots of strange characters on the train commuting back and forth.

The class that I had chosen was taught by a high end fashion designer who sewed his own creations for his clients. He did everything from bridal to leather jackets, so I figured if he couldn’t teach me to sew than nobody could. I registered online for my sewing classes and received an email saying that there will be a follow up email with all necessary information. The week before my classes were about to start, I began emailing and phoning the guy to ask for the list so that I could pick up anything that I may require. I didn’t hear back from him.

The night before my class was scheduled to begin, I was in a tithy. I figured that I would just show up empty handed the next day, but then at 7pm that night I FINALLY received an email from him saying everything that I needed. There was a lot and I didn’t know what half of the stuff on the list was, so I panicked! John was still at work, I couldn’t drive myself (no license remember?) to a store to pick up the stuff on my own, so I did what any logical woman would do. I called my parents and cried. Boo Hoo.

IMG_1013

The sewing store closed at 9pm and God knew if John would make it home before then, so I was panicked, flustered, pissed off and lonely. I lucked out and John got home at 8:15pm and immediately drove my ass to the store to go on the hunt for shit neither of had any clue about. One of the items on the list was “muslin” – It took everything in my power to make sure I pronounced that word correctly when I asked the employee where/what muslin was. We gathered most of the stuff and went home. John was so nice about the whole situation… He’s seriously the best!

image4

Now, most people sew a pillow case or an apron as their first project when they are learning to sew. Not me… oh no no no!!! I decided that my first project was going to be a freakin’ WRAP DRESS! One that I could hopefully wear when I finished. Go big or go home, right? You going to give me grieve about not knowing how to sew on a button – I’ll show you, I’ll sew a gosh darn wrap dress!!!! (Side note: I’m not competitive at all.)

My sewing classes were 3 hours classes once a week for ten weeks. My very first day, I was cocky because for some reason I thought that being naturally athletic would translate well into being a natural sewer. I asked the guy “So it’s going to take me thirty whole hours to sew one single dress!?” I was baffled and was certain that I was going to finish in half that time. Nope… it took me a total of probably 45 HOURS! 45 freaking’ hours… let that sink in.

image3

My 45 hours in that sewing class were interesting. There were a few classes were I was the only female and also the only straight person. I thought that my dreams were coming true and that I could finally be surrounded by my new found gay best friends. Except they wanted NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!!!! They were too busy flirting with each other. I thought that it was awesome, until I realized that I was such an enormous outcast in my sewing class.

 

In one of my sewing classes, I met a Russian girl. I thought that maybe we could bond over being foreigners and such, but quickly realized that we had nothing to bond over. She bragged to me about how she received a green card by marrying an American and swiftly divorcing him. She then went on to brag about how she is known as the fashionista among all of her friends and they all look to her for new trends. I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

IMG_2376

There were also a few people who constantly pestered me about poutine or who would want to argue with me about how disgusting poutine was. They acted as if they were the poutine champions of the world. Finally somebody asked what was in poutine and I heard somebody say “cheese, french fries, and mayo.” I almost lost it at that point… here I’ve been listening to some dorks go on about poutine and they don’t even know what the hell it is!? C’MON!!!! So I specified that traditional poutine was “french fries, gravy and cheese curds” – and no not cheese slices, but CURDS!

The actual sewing aspect was A LOT MORE tedious and annoying than I ever would have imagined. Never did I realize how key patience were in the sewing world. Perhaps that was why we had never met before? It took my 15 minutes every single time to put the damn thread through the “eye” of the needle on the sewing machine. I would have to get down on one knee, close an eyeball, tilt my head and chest slightly to the right, and hope that my wood pecker hand movements would eventually put the damn thread through the hole. And that was the start of class every single time.

I had no idea how much cutting and pinning and ironing was involved in sewing. And it takes so freakin’ long! Every time after sewing class I would tell John what I had just spent the last 5 hours doing and I always felt like I should be able to tell him that I did more than just cut and iron. Props to all you sewers – you are patient people.

image5

image6

image7

On my very last class the instructor (who was totally, unbelievably strange by the way… but also nice) was talking to me about how he was getting ready to turn the big 4-0. He kept going on and on and on about it, and I would just smile politely or make an “uh huh” noise when it felt natural. He was still going on about turning forty, and had come over to sit REALLY close to me to help me with something… like so close our noses were almost touching… when this is what he said to me:

“We’re about the same age, aren’t we!?”

I almost cried on the spot. Sew much for this class I thought….

image1

All of that aside, now that it is all over, I actually think that I might enjoy sewing. I like being able to create something new and after I was finished, I was so proud of myself for creating a wrap dress that I can actually wear. I at least now know where the power switch is on a sewing machine, how to cut fabric properly, I’ve learned sewing terminology, I’ve learned that it’s really annoying to be sewing and realize that your machine isn’t threaded, I’ve learned that the sense of pride you have when it’s all over is worth all the pin marks in your finger pads. I hope that one day I’ll sew my own children their own Halloween costumes, don’t hold me to that though.

image8

Ironically, through my whole entire 45 hours of sewing class, I was never taught how to sew a button on… but that’s what tailors in our condo lobby are for, right Baby?!

 

Enjoy Life Lovelies!
L


7 Comments

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly – Six Months In

After ALREADY/ONLY 6 months in Chicago, John and I have about 5,000 pictures together on these bridges. We have about 60,000 thousand photos of us in Chicago in general. And I have about 20,000 photos of Chicago’s landscape.  Yes, we have 85,000 photos in the last six months.

 

image6

On The Bridges

 

image3

Photo Cred: ME!

 

bridges

Photo Cred: Google                                                                      Can you tell why I love these bridges so much!?!?

 

Since moving here, we have made a handful of friends to add to our bunch of forever kind of pals. (If you read TALL, DARK & HANDSOME (for a woman) – SEEKING Fellow Carb Lover & Outdoor Activist you will know just how gruesome it was to try to make friends.) We now have friends who we celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving with and we are also spending American Thanksgiving & Christmas with (and potentially NYE.) Yay!

Sign on our door for Canadian Thanksgiving

Sign on our door for Canadian Thanksgiving

 

Okay Lovelies, so in my VERY FIRST POST as LisaListed I promised that I would share the good, the bad and the ugly… so I’ll give you a little taste of some of the ugly. Keep in the back of your minds that we DO love it here, but I will keep my word and dip your toes into the ugly pool.

THE UGLY
It hasn’t all been rainbows and butterflies … there have also been some tornadoes and rats:

– There has only been ONE teary phone call to Mom and Dad. The loneliness and home sickness hit me for about 24 hours about 5 months in, but it subsided pretty quickly. Although I’m sure that son of a gun will strike again… probably in the dark and dreary winter.

– Crossing the street is a daily activity of playing chicken with cars, taxis, buses, etc… so far I have an undefeated record

– I was almost mugged once but thankfully had nothing on me.

– I’ve just gotten off the phone talking to three different health insurance companies trying to pay one stupid bill but each company that I talk to tells me that I need to call a different company… and getting ahold of an actual person to speak with is a God send! Until they tell you to call a different company… then I hate them as much as the computer I was just yelling at trying to say “claim” clearly enough so they could direct my call properly. And then you finally get a hold of a person who is as useless as a left toe… I’m still pissed if you can’t tell. Just take the money or let me keep it.

– It sometimes terrifies me knowing that we live in a city where terrorism is a true threat… to live in a city where people carry guns, where people get mugged, where the streets are lined with beggars. There are streets where I spin my wedding rings so that the diamonds face the inside of my hand and I am extra aware of who is walking beside and behind me. I’ve asked John on more than one occasion “was that a gunshot?” and there have been times when he can’t tell me with absolute certainty that it wasn’t…

– It’s scary to know that the newspaper here has an entire section under the Sports Headlines titled “Homicide Watch Chicago”.  And I’m mad at myself for becoming desensitized to reading about all the shootings that happen almost every single night… I have caught myself thinking “only 4 shots last night, not bad..” and I HATE that.

We still have frustrations here… I’m working up the courage to write a follow up post to The Not So Warm Welcome – We Blame You Justin Bieber. Maybe courage is the wrong word… I’m working up the energy to do so. And also the patience, I get so pissed off thinking about some of the things we’ve had to deal with (mainly healthcare. Grr..)  I had thought that most of the confusing paperwork and the hours dealing with the Government, the Embassy, DMV were a thing of a past… but they most certainly are not… we are already dealing with filing our taxes and I can tell already that this is going to be one expensive, confusing and frustrating situation. Although MAYBE in another six months I will finally be able to receive a drivers license – YAY!

 

IMG_4781

Proof

 

(That being said, we both feel very safe here. I’m working on my street cred every day (just kidding… kind of.) It is just the reality of living in a big city and we are both new to this.  In all seriousness,  if we didn’t LOVE it here then we wouldn’t still be here.)

Our journey has taught us more about different cultures. Has taught us about a variety of paperwork that I do not wish to pass onto my worst enemy. Our journey has allowed us to view life in a new light. I am a different person compared to who I was this time a year ago.

quote 1

Who I was a year ago is so different from who I am today. How ironic that a year ago today we moved into our “forever home” not having any idea that our “forever” in that home would hardly last six months…  I still cannot get over this. It blows my mind. John and I sometimes talk about that house and long over the amazing kitchen, main floor and backyard but we quickly remind ourselves of having to shovel the three car garage’s driveway twice a day. And that normally curbs the longing. We have adjusted from living in a four bedroom, 3.5 bathroom home to living in a one bedroom/one bathroom apartment pretty well  (although there were most definitely times were I wanted to pull my hair out due to lack of storage. Our vacuum cleaner’s home was in our hallway for the longest time, then it was moved to behind the couch, and then finally we managed to somehow make room for it in our bedroom closet.) Our storage locker is perfectly suited to hold a set of winter tires and hockey gear. So Canadian of us.

IMG_2269

When we first got our keys and my lovely Mom helping us do a thorough clean


IMG_2279

IMG_2280

When we moved into our home, we had no idea that six months from then John and I would have two weeks to sell ALL of our furniture, donate everything else, and put whatever we could stuff into our Ford Edge to bring with us to a whole new country. I realized over Thanksgiving that I had even given our gravy boat away. We had celebrated Christmas  & John’s Dad’s birthday at our forever home last year and I’m so thankful to have created those memories. But a home is where your heart is, and our hearts have settled quite nicely into our rented itty bitty home in Chicago.

IMG_3190

Christmas on our back deck. Bonus about moving when we did – we never had to mow the lawn ONCE! That’s funny to me.

In some ways it feels like we have been in Chicago now for SO much longer and in other ways it feels like we are still so fresh here.  It’s weird. When I’m asked where I am from, I still say Canada. And then I have to say:

“no, not Toronto or Vancouver. Calgary.”

“No, Calgary is not close to Toronto, it’s about an hour east of the Canadian Rockies.”

Which I typically receive a blank face from and follow up with “North of Montana.” (When I’m asked where I grew up, then I say in a small town relatively close to the Alaskan border because can you even try to explain where the hell Peace River is!? Explaining where Peace River was to fellow Albertans was difficult enough – my go to response was always a heavy footed 5 hours north of Edmonton.)  I’ve been told that we’ve been here long enough to respond to that question with “Chicago” but no matter how long we live here, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to say that I’m not from Canada.

Whenever I see somebody wearing something with some sort of Canadian symbol, I get SOO excited. Embarrassingly excited. Within our first month or so of being here, I saw somebody in Millennium Park wearing a T-shirt with a Canadian flag on it… before I knew what I was doing I smiled at him with a big, goofy grin and followed that up with a ginormous over friendly wave. Like not just a cute little wave with my fingers… but my WHOLE ENTIRE ARM flailing in the air, like I was waving my hands in the air and I just didn’t care. I didn’t realize at the time that maybe he didn’t know that I was Canadian, and I had hoped that IF HE DID KNOW  he wouldn’t have given me that strange look.

Just this past weekend, John and I were walking admiring the fall foliage when I saw three guys coming towards us… one of them had on a hat with a curved red ‘C’… I had mistaken this symbol for the Montreal Canadiens symbol when in fact the guy was wearing a Chicago Bears hat. I couldn’t help myself from pointing at him (again, full arm exertion and index finger out loud and proud), smiling and much too loudly saying/shouting “CANADA” at him. We made eye contact and it was weird. I wouldn’t have blamed John if he had explained to the guy that he was taking me for a walk from my “home”. I’m doing my best to work on keeping my outbursts intact. I’m still learning how to cool my jets. Whenever I see a little piece of “home”, I have an overwhelming sense of emotion in my soul.

chicago bears

montreal

image8

 

image7

Snapped this beauty at the Botanic Gardens


I love all of the Canadian stereotypes and it makes me feel strangely happy when a smart ass asks me to say “A-B-O-U-T” – sometimes I humour them and say “aboot” doing my best to not crack a smile. Most often times I pronounce it as “about” and they kind of get disappointed. Other times I have been asked where my accent is from and I proudly say that I’m Canadian. Then do the whole “no, not Toronto or Vancouver” dance all over again. I’ve been told that I pronounce “bag” and “pasta” funny . I quite enjoy hearing that I have an accent.  On the flip side, I often see tourists looking super confused and lost and I offer to help them… I also have a strange sense of pride in being a local.  Maybe I’ll just coin the term and call myself a Canadian Chicagoan – who likes ketchup on her “hawt dawg.” A Ketchup Eating Canadian Chicagoan – there ya have it, folks!

Since being in Chicago, our lives have changed drastically. Our lifestyles have changed immensely. And our relationship feels like we are dating ALL over again. A few weeks ago I had received a text from my friend which said that she had just saw John and I and that we had looked like best friends rather than an old married couple. I couldn’t imagine a better compliment to receive about our marriage than that.  Not that we were ever unhappy in Calgary or had a bad relationship, but our evenings and weekends were WAY different from what they are here. We are just so much happier now.

image5

 

One of the biggest truths I’ve learnt about big life changes is that some people won’t come with you. And that’s okay. Plenty of people miss their share of happiness – not because they never found it but because they didn’t stop to enjoy it.  This journey has forced us to stop and enjoy it. Life to me is about going on adventures. Being around good energy. Connecting with people. Learning new things. Growing. There are days where you will have to create your own sunshine – but you can’t enjoy the rainbow without a little rain, right?

My perspective and view on life are a trillion time different from the Lisa who had just moved into her forever home with my handsome husband and I’ve got to tell you this…

My life today is richer, fuller, HAPPIER, healthier and now has more depth.

My life today ensures that I am not just living the same year 40 times in a row and calling that a life.

I’ve learnt that happiness and success is about spending life in your own way. There is no “wrong way”. Live a life that feels right to you… nothing’s more fun than doing something that somebody said you can’t.

Each and every day now gets lived, so even though we still have frustrations and miss our loved ones back in Canada, I’m not sure there is a more beautiful thing to discover about life then to truly live each and every day. Stop focusing so much on living a perfect life that you forget to live.


image2

The Pretty

My lovely, I have learned that there will be times in your life when all of your instincts will tell you to do something. Something that will defeat logic, upset your plans and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications and just go for it.

I’ve learnt that life isn’t necessarily about the happy ending… it’s about the story.

image1

Enjoy Life,
L


13 Comments

MOVIE STARS FOR A DAY – Take 2

Shall we pick up from where we left off in Take 1? If you haven’t read it yet, I am sorely disappointed in you. And so is your Mother. So read it. Now. Thank you 🙂

MOVIE STARS FOR A DAY – Take 2 begins now… AND ACTION!!!

(Quiet on set, we are now rolling)

take2

I get super excited AGAIN and tell John:

“TOMORROW WE ARE GOING TO BE IN A MOVIE!!!!”

John’s reaction is NOT what I was expecting. I just ASSUMED that he would be just as excited as I was, but he sure put the ass in me (see what I did there?)

Not only is John not nearly excited as I am, he is not excited in the slightest. IN FACT, he has the nerve to be not very impressed WHATSOEVER! I am extremely confused as to his reaction and cannot understand why he isn’t jumping off the ceiling after I told him that we were going to be in a movie the next day! (Now to be clear, I realize that I potentially have made it sound as if John totally blew his fuse and berated me… but there was no abuse involved at all. Or yelling. Not even voice raising. God, he’s so patient…)

The funny thing is is that John just kind of looks at me with a look that says “What have you done?” … He knows me so well. RIGHT before we moved from Calgary I was only 1% away from submitting John’s photos to a modelling agency without telling him. I was certain that he would be scooped up right away and would be walking the runway with Giselle. I know what you’re thinking, why would I want my husband to walk the runway with GISELLE!? Because I trust him and my jealous days are behind me. How cool would it be to transform from mathematician to supermodel man?! Pretty cool right? I didn’t think he would feel the same way, which is why I didn’t tell him my trick up my sleeve. But I spilled the beans during our 3,500 hour road trip to Chicago.

Okay, okay.. back to the story of being movie stars. I tell him what I’ve done and how I submitted some photos of him, etc, etc… and next thing I know I get an email saying that we are booked to work TOMORROW! FOR A MOVIE! I try to convince him how awesome it all was, but he wasn’t biting. I told him that the email said it would only take 3-4 hours and then we could retire from our movie careers. He begrudginly agrees.

And that is when I tell him that the location is in Ukrainian Village (about a 3o min drive) for early morning the next day. This makes John even MORE unimpressed as he was VERY much looking forward to not waking up to an alarm clock on his Saturday morning. Fair enough, but I mean… how often does this opportunity come around!? I am able to convince him by reminding him that it is only 3-4 hours and that it is a “once in a lifetime opportunity”. Finally, because he loves me so and realizes that he doesn’t have an out… he is sold.

We have a celebratory drink and then we hit the sack to get some good shut eye before our big debut. I cannot sleep for the life of me because I had no idea what to wear. The ONLY info that we received was to wear “dressy casual” for a “baby viewing party”. That’s it. At this point we had no idea what the movie was even about or who was cast in it. I had no idea what the hell a baby viewing party even was. I still don’t. Finally, instead of sleeping I settled on 3 options to wear for the next day. When I woke up extra early the next day to do my hair and makeup, I pulled the options out. When John saw two of the options I had pulled he had said something along the lines of “I regret to inform you that clubbing attire and sparkly sequence dresses are not baby viewing material.” He was so right…. but the “dressy casual” part was playing with my mind… what would that be considered in Hollywood!? You tell me.. So I settled on my third option.

When we arrived on set, even John was a little bit excited at this point. We parked and saw the Brownstone where they were filming. It looked so neat. We were told to go into this crappy church to sign in. There were maybe 8 round tables with people scattered around them and I figured that these must be the other extras. We sat down at a table and tried to be friendly to a couple of men, but they weren’t all that interested in chit chat with us. I can take a hint and I’m happy not to participate in awkward small talk with people who don’t want to talk to me. One guy was even chewing tobacco and spitting in to a plastic cup. Gross.

John and I kept looking around at the awkwardness of the entire situation and I tried to avoid eye contact with John’s eyes that I’m sure were screaming “You dragged me out here for this?!” Without having the courage to look him in the eye, I muttered a quick “sorry”.

Eventually we all had to line up for Wardrobe to go over our looks, and thanks to John, we were the only ones who got the thumbs up from Wardrobe and didn’t have to change… I most definitely was not the only one who was confused as to what “dressy casual” for a baby party was… them other girls thought they were going clubbing as well!

image4

Proof he was a little bit excited too…

 

We sat back down and I figured we were going to be called any minute to do our scene so we could leave. We had already been there for two hours, so we only had to be there for another hour or so… two hours at most. Au contraire, mon frère! We sat around for hours… literally hours. Finally people started to talk to us and we quickly realized that we were the only newbies. These people were serious. Like legit serious. They were trying to make it to the big screens and were “pros” at being extras. Because I’m such an ass I had extreme difficulty in taking these people seriously as they told us the rules for being extras… we were NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE to make ANY eye contact with any of the actors/actresses. We were NOT TO SPEAK unless spoken to. And when you are told to jump, you dare not talk back to ask how high… you just DO AS TOLD! It all seemed so serious to me.. and ridiculous. I used to bump into the CEO from my company back home in the elevator and the hallway quite often.. and guess what? He looked me in the eye and would joke and make small talk with me. If the CEO wasn’t too good for me, surely these actors weren’t either. Does that make me conceited?

I did my absolute best to keep my mouth shut and not shoot out any sarcastic comments. One or two popped out, but I still consider that to be a success of biting my tongue. I could tell John was thinking the exact same thing that I was thinking… Why are these guys making such a fuss over this, and how do these people think that they are going to be making it big when all that we had to do was send over a few photos the day before to “get the job”… it’s not THAT hard. That probably makes me conceited too.

FINALLY we got called to go outside and to line up outside of the brownstone home. We literally stood in a line as if we were being picked for Red Rover teams in elementary school (why would that game ever get banned?! It was AWESOME! Makes ya tough!) So there we all are, a bunch of wannabe schmunks, standing in a line on a brisk, chilly morning without daring to make eye contact with anybody but the squirrels. Two people eventually came over to us schmucks, didn’t say a word, looked us all over as if they were the Marine Sergents and picked four people out of the probably 20 or so people there. Somehow, John and I were part of those picked. We were mostly excited to go inside as it was seriously really cold that morning… the email failed to mention to bring winter jackets.

image1

Where the “magic” happened. I know it looks warm, but it wasn’t. Blue skies being all deceiving..

image5

We were picked – whoop! whoop!

The four of us followed the cast crew inside like cattle. When we got inside the Brownstone, we saw two famous people. I will not tell names, but they are both well known for sitcom series. I was EXTRA excited to see the actress as she is from Canada, therefore I figured we would bond over our Canadianism. Nope. It was really weird inside… I’d much prefer to get caught in an elevator with my prior CEO than these people. All that kept running through my mind was that I better not sneeze or look at anyone. We were placed and John got to sit on a couch close to the actress. I was SO jealous that he was going to bond over Canadianism with her instead of me. I had to stand in a hall so that the actor could walk past me to the actress. THAT was the scene. And we were inside REPEATING the same effin thing for TWO HOURS STRAIGHT!!! I forgot to tell you that I get bored REALLY easily and after the first 30 times of redoing that scene I was ready to go home. But it wouldn’t be Hollywood if they didn’t redo it 3,333 more times just to get that perfect shot.

Finally, the extras were told to go back outside. I figured that it was time for John and I to go home now! YAY! I was so excited to be finished! When we got outside, ALL THOSE OTHER POOR SCHMUCKS were still waiting outside!!! They now had chairs, but I felt so awful for them!  We had figured that all the other extras were sent home… NOPE! They were still outside FREEZING!!!! Little did I know that we would be joining the other schmucks to freeze outside for the next few HOURS! Eventually, John overheard some work crew guy say that lunch would be in two hours. I figured that John and I would be gone by then so I started to google places we could venture to afterwards to reward John for being such a patient hubby and coming along with me. Except two hours had passed and we were still sitting outside….

image2

I was not the only bored one…

Then we heard “lunch will be at 5:00pm” … isn’t that dinner time? I figured that we would still be gone by then, so tried to calm my teeth from their constant chattering. Sadly, we were around for the 5:00pm lunch time and at that point, I figured that we could scarf down our food and then peace out. And truthfully, I was kind of excited for an elaborate actor’s lunch… the other extras bragged about how they always get fed so well, so my expectations were way too high when we were served dry, boiled chicken with microwaved broccoli. I was bored, cold, and sad that I dragged John along for this, and was sick of hearing all these wannabe actors talk about how they are going to update their IMDb accounts with this “extra work”. Um… you guys just sat outside for the whole entire day!?? But before the schmucks were allowed to eat their “lunch” everybody had to wait for everybody else to eat first and you still had to be on your best behaviour not to talk to them or look at them.

Over lunch, we started talking to people who told us that this was a normal day as an extra and that only certain kinds of people were cut out for this. I agreed. I tried to whisper my apologies to John for wasting a Saturday on this and I told him that we would just leave right after lunch. I went over to the “casting director” and told him that John and I had to leave as we were only told that the scene would take 3-4 hours and now we were having a lunch at 5pm. I told him that our puppy had to be let out because he’s been alone all day as we were not expecting the day to be this long. And cold. And boring. (I didn’t mention those last two points.)

The “casting director” looked at me with a look of utmost confusion. He was flabbergasted to say the least! Like sincerely flabbergasted. Apparently, when you have the “honor” to be an extra… people don’t just leave. They are thankful to have gotten the opportunity, etc and this was a first time he or the extras had ever heard of extras leaving before they were told they were able to. I was adamant to the guy that John and I had to leave by 6:30pm at the latest and sat back down, proud of myself for standing up for myself.

This is the best part and this is when I should now tell you that THIS WAS NOT EVEN A PAID JOB!! FOR ANY OF THE EXTRAS!!! WE WERE ALL VOLUNTEERING OUR TIME!

This pissed me off. Here I am being TOLD that I am not permitted to leave when I am volunteering my time? Holy Dina! I almost went all Diva like… surely they couldn’t kidnap us all! But I didn’t. I go back and tell this to John and I am adamant that we are leaving at 6:30pm NO MATTER WHAT!

And then.. at 6pm John gets called to do his couch-sitting scene again. I figure that it should only take about 30 minutes this time around as last time it look so long they couldn’t possibly need him for longer than 30 minutes. Like c’mon, a person is literally walking ten feet to another person… It could NOT take more than 30 mins. And then we would be able to leave… HURRAH! I assumed that only John had been called because I had pissed off the casting director and he was punishing me by not being in the scene with John. Fine by me! At 6:45p, John comes back inside… I go all Ikea Commercial on him and tell him to get in the car! I almost toss him the keys, tell him to run and then…. I hear my name being called. Shit. I am called back to do the scene.

I am at a crossroads and decide to just shut the hell up and participate. But I cannot get poor Ernie’s exploding bladder out of my mind. I figure if I hurry then it won’t take long. Nope… FINALLY at 8:30pm, they are done filming the scene where I stand and the actor walks by me.

During the whole day, the actress was stuck up, wouldn’t talk or look to anybody but the Director or the other Actor, and would suddenly need a drink before they were reading to say “ACTION!” And of course her drink of choice was not in the vicinity. I got over my earlier jealousy of John being so close to her and there were many times throughout the day that her and I were face to face. Literally. And she would not make eye contact with me! And trust me, I tried! It almost became a game to me. At one point, I thought that I would force her to make eye contact with me, but she simply looked at my forehead. Seriously?! What a stuck up son of a gun…. you’re disappointing another Canadian, lady! In a last ditch effort to bond over our Canadianism, I loudly whispered “Go Canada” at her. She gave me the most pathetic sound/laugh and still did not make eye contact with me. How rude.

That ticked me off, so as I was leaving the scene, I took out my phone and snapped an unflattering photo of her. I was really sneaky about it but the other extras who saw were horrified on my behalf. I didn’t care. It’s not like I had an IMDb account to update.

In my failed attempt to become an extra on Chicago Fire or Chicago PD, I somehow had managed to get my husband and I roles as extra in a friggin movie that probably won’t even make the big screens.

image3

Not sure how but John managed to capture this photo of the actor walking by me

As we drove home after our 12+hour day on set (for which we did not get a penny for… legally we wouldn’t have been able to accept it anyhow, but it’s all about principle, people!) with a bunch of wannabe actors who will also likely never be an extra on Chicago Fire or get their 15 minutes of fame. Am I judgemental? Yes! One girl was moving two LA in two weeks time to live her dreams… I asked her about her plans once she got there and she didn’t have ANY! NOTHING! I assumed she must have a sweet resume or something, but her clubbing’ dress didn’t seem to help her out there either. Another girl was still living with her parents and doing free extra work was her “job”. Call me judgemental, but that shit wouldn’t fly with my parents.

As we were leaving, I withheld myself “Peace Out, beyotches!”ing the extras. What that other extra had said to me was so very accurate… “there are only certain kinds of people cut out for this” – surely, I am NOT one of them… but if volunteering 12 hours of your day to stand outside in the cold is your cup of tea, drink up sister!

As a side note, John was incredibly sweet and never gave me a hard time about our shit day together. He even told me on the drive home that maybe one day it’ll be a cool story to tell. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I have the most supportive and patient husband to put up with me and my shenanigans. Thanks for loving me.

To any extras or wannabe actors out there who I’ve offended, my apologies. At least you’ve gotten rid of two more potential competitors as I hope to never do that again… unless it’s for Chicago Fire or Chicago PD (call me)

Enjoy Life,
L


11 Comments

MOVIE STARS FOR A DAY – Take 1

images

Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to be a movie star for just a day?

To live the lifestyle of the rich and famous?

To have people fawn all over you and want to be you?

To drive fancy cars, to live in big mansions with a cleaning lady and maybe even a pool boy (or girl)…

To get your hair and makeup done, to wear fancy pants clothing, to have perfectly manicured toes and fingers at all times?

To see yourself on a magazine cover and skim the pages of Vogue with an in depth interview of yourself…

Maybe you’ve even pulled your own Kim Kardashian in the hopes of making it big in LA… no judgement here! Okay, that was a big lie, plenty of judgement here!

JUST FOR ONE SINGLE DAY, isn’t that something you have at least WONDERED about at least at one point in your life?

I never had any burning desire to be an actress or a singer. I live in a realistic world and I’ve always known that I would be the worst actress… I can’t lie to save my life and those times I’ve tried to be “fake nice” I’m not fooling anybody. Nor can I sing… my second grade choir teacher suggested to me that perhaps singing was not my forte. Grade 2 teachers crushing dreams left, right and centre…

BUT the world has a funny sense of humour and … well… GUESS WHAT….!!!

A few weeks ago, John and I had the opportunity to be movie stars for a day!!!

How did this happen you ask? Well let me tell you all about it… and like any story, there’s no better way to start then the very beginning, right?! That’s what I thought. So here we go:

I grew up in a small, northern town where the closest Ikea was a 5+ hour drive south. We were pretty isolated to say the least…  It was so small town that everybody knew the mayor, and everybody knew the mayor’s secrets.

When I moved to Calgary, I thought that I was moving to the “big city.” It was in Calgary where I learned that mayors are typically viewed as a local “celebrity”… not just a typical person who you see at the drug store getting their prescriptions filled.  I grew up with the mayor’s son in my class and I didn’t realize until just this very moment that that would possibly be cool if I lived in a big city… but where I grew up, the kid was just another bratty kid who didn’t get any sort of special treatment. And nobody in my class could care less who his parents were. This is how small town I was/am.

When we moved to Chicago I realized that it’s pretty laughable to have once thought that Calgary was the “big city”. I realized quickly how small potatoes Calgary truly was in regards to “big cities”. When we moved here I was on the hunt for three things:

1) Find Oprah

2) Find Chicago Fire or Chicago PD while they were filming

3) Become friends with Melissa McCarthy from Mike & Molly

Since moving to Chicago, John, Ernie and I have gone on so many adventures together around the city. On one of our adventures, I saw green papers taped to every light post…

image1 

When I read the green papers I almost hyperventilated I was so excited! I took a photo of the paper so that I could remember EXACTLY when and where Chicago Fire was being filmed! I thought that I had hit the jackpot… that I was being let in on some confidential super secret that only secret services know about.  And yes, you can bet your bottom dollar that when the day finally arrived for Chicago Fire to be filmed in that certain location Ernie and I went for one hell of a stroll!

I tried to play it cool as bet as I could when I eventually got there. Ernie and I tried to be very casual, pretend like we lived in the area… we walked up and down different streets and sidewalks so that we didn’t appear TOO suspicious or desperate. Mostly desperate. But remember that I’m a terrible actress and I wasn’t able to hid my desperato for too long.. which is how I was able to snap a few photos!! They aren’t the best… but c’mon, I was trying to play it cool!

image6 image5 image4 image3 image2

This guy was by himself at one point and Ernie and I “HAD” to walk past him… and he totally smiled at us!  I smiled back with a quick n’ cool nod to the guy doing my best to hide my sheer excitement. I also tried to hide the extra pep in my step! It took everything in my will power to hold me back from doing a full on happy dance. I’ve been told that I’m easily impressed.

image7

They finished filming and I noticed a sign that said “Extras Here”. That got me thinking …  how hard could it possibly be to be an extra!? Probably pretty tough… but I thought that that would be pretty frickin’ cool! I thought that being an extra would be difficult and would mean that I made it in some strange way that I never attempted to make. I got myself super excited (super excited is probably a very large understatement) and convinced myself that I would be an extra for Chicago Fire one day! I figured being an extra was still pretty awesome and that I could add it to my bucket list solely to check it off. Who wouldn’t want to live the glitzy life for just a day!?

As my dear husband knows, when I start to research something… I cannot help but do a full on research paper that includes hours upon hours of due diligence. I can’t help it… it’s in my blood. I could never understand the research that my Dad would put into buying a car… but now I TOTALLY get it and I’m the exact same way. Props to my Dad as he had to break more of a sweat than I did as I’ve been fortunate enough to use Google for most of my searches. I did “some” research as to how to become an extra for Chicago Fire and/or Chicago PD because I secretly hoped that Sophia Bush and I could maybe become friends or something. I still have that hope. After doing some research, I filled in some questionnaires for a company that casts Extras for Chicago Fire and I sent along some photos. I figured that this was actually pretty awesome and that I should sign John up too! What would be the chances that we would actually get to be extras anyhow? Slim pickings, right??? I figured that the pickings were in fact so slim, that it was not necessary to inform John that I had signed him up. Oops.

It was a Friday evening, and John had just gotten home from work at almost 9:00pm. He had an especially long week at work, and I could tell that he was absolutely exhausted. He was beat. He was looking forward to waking up on his own terms the next morning and I couldn’t blame the poor guy. So while John was still in his shirt and tie after coming home from a long ass week, I checked my email…

Low & behold this was sitting in my inbox…:


FullSizeRender

“This email is to inform you that you are booked to work as an extra on Saturday, September 13th for the movie (I won’t say the title)”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!??!

I instantly get super excited, John has no idea what the hell is wrong with me, and I excitedly tell him to “CHECK YOUR EMAIL, CHECK YOUR EMAIL!!!”  I can tell the last thing that he wants to do is to read another email, but begrudgingly he checks his email.

And guess what pops up on his screen? You probably guessed wrong…

He had an Inbox of 0!

I know, right? I felt awful.

I quickly fired off a reply to my email and asked if this was for just myself, or for John, or for both as I realized that I did not provide an email address for John when I signed him up. I get an immediate reply saying that it is for both of us!!!!

I get super excited AGAIN and tell John:

“TOMORROW WE ARE GOING TO BE IN A MOVIE!!!!”

———-

Stay tuned, my lovely, for Part 2 where I tell you about our day as Movie Stars!! (aka extras… but let’s not get into semantics)

Enjoy Life,
L

Read Take 2 here… 


1 Comment

Bloggity Blog Hoppin’ Hop

What the hellllllllll is a Blog Hop you ask? That was my question to when I was asked by Routine Dreamer to participate in a Blog Hop. Essentially what it is is a blog train… ALL ABOARD LOVELIES!!!

blog hop

Routine Dreamer asked me a few questions that I am to answer and then I hand over the blog baton to two others and they do the same… which is apparently a Blog Hop! Who knew!?  Routine Dreamer is a bright, young man who writes with a pure and raw honesty that you cannot help but feel. I connect with his words and enjoy his posts very much. So thank you, Mister, for asking me to play along!

Let’s get down to it folks!

  • What am I working on/writing?

I tend to go through spurts… as of write now I am writing nothing other than this post. I may start a book since I’ve been told numerous times lately that I should do so… but that’s up in the air. Like the clouds.

  • How does my work/writing differ from others in its genre?

I don’t really know… I’m a different breed and always have been. I’m the kind of gal that you either love me or you non-love me (hate is too strong a word… I reserve that work for things I actually hate such as fake cheese). I’ve been told by my friends that they enjoy the strange things that pop out of my mouth and that is what they would miss most for when we moved to another country. So here you go, you can still read the crazy thoughts that go around in my mind!

  • Why do I write what I do?

I started sharing our journey of moving to the US from Canada but it turns out that I have more to say than just the stories of our journey. I write what I’m feeling and I write in the hopes of connecting with another being who knows that they aren’t crazy for feeling what they are feeling.. there’s another crazy out there who feels what they feel.

  • How does my writing process work?

I just write. What comes in my mind. My hubs watched me start a post one day and he said “you can just write just like that!?” I didn’t know that that was strange… I write the thoughts in my head as they come. Which I think is why my friends and family tell me that they can hear my voice and imagine us having a real conversation in real life.

Okay, now is the time to pass along to Blog Hop Baton! And I pass the baton to…..:

1) A La Modern Mom

2) Autumn

Thanks for playing along!!! If you are confused about what a Blog Hop is, don’t worry… I think we all are!

Enjoy Life,
L


8 Comments

Who Knew That So Much Of Your Life Could Change In Only A Matter Of 3 Months?

3 months

92 days

2,208 hours

25% of an entire year

A whole quarter of a year!

That’s how long it’s been since we left Canada and made Chicago our new home

That’s how long it’s been since we saw our one bedroom, one bathroom apartment for the very first time

That’s how long it’s been since all of struggles were really put into overdrive

That’s how long it’s been since our puppy no longer has a backyard to frolic in

That’s how long it’s been since we started this crazy journey of ours

That’s how long it’s been since the best part of our life began!

Who knew that so much of your life could change in only a matter of 3 months? I sure as hell did not! In only a matter of three months, we are living a whole new life and each day that passes, it is starting to feel more normal! We are loving this “city life” and absolutely loving living downtown in a major city.

Living downtown Chicago, you see approximately 180 differential kinds of people. People who you prejudge right away until they smile and say “hi” to you. People who you try to avoid eye contact with until they reach down and start petting your puppy and you can see their eyes light up from a love that only a puppy can provide. People who shake their cup at you and you wonder what they are going to do with any change their muster up… but then you talk to them and you hear their side of the story.

In three months, I have really enjoyed living a city that is so cultured. Living in a city where a Memorial Parade can make you tear up even though you aren’t from this country. You can feel the pride, the courage, the strength and the sadness from those whose shoulders you are rubbing against.  You can walk down a block or two and have hundreds of different cuisine offered to you. You can walk down the street and hear languages that you have never heard of before.

photo-25

In three simple months, my eyes have been opened. I love all of the different kinds of people who live here. The other day at a popular clothing store, a white man helping me was wearing a turban, had a piercing through the septum of his nose, was wearing a cop tank top, tight leather pants, as well as high heels. I didn’t think anything of his style choice until I was leaving and thought that if I had ever seen somebody dressed like that in Calgary, I’m sure I would have thought that he was weird or strange. But now, I applaud his confidence and courage to be who he wants to be.

Since living in Chicago, we have started to “play” tennis. We walk like we are walking to China. Hell, we have gone to China Town and to Greek Town! We go to baseball games. We try new cuisine. We are meeting new people who I have an inkling will become lifelong friends. We have gone stand up paddle boarding. We go to the beach. We go for bike rides and jogs along the lakeside. We probably eat too much gelato, but really is there such thing as too much gelato!? We are learning a new language (yeah, they speak English here but differently terminologies, learning healthcare terms, learning different sayings and pronunciations, etc)
We are vacationing in our own city and we love it! We haven’t even done 2% of the greatness that Chicago has to offer and yet we are already having the time of our life!

photo-24

I guess it’s true that the higher the risk, the higher the reward. I am so proud of us for doing all of this and for living outside of the box. We are making a lifetime of memories together and creating stories that only each other’s souls are able to hear.

I cannot wait to see what greatness unfolds in the next three months of our journey!!

Stay tuned, my lovely, stay tuned!

photo-16

Enjoy Life  (we sure are!)
L


11 Comments

I Like Big (M)UTTS And I Cannot LIE

Dear Blogging World,

I mention our beloved pup, Ernie, in many of my posts… I decided that today is the day that you finally get to meet him!

Blogging World, meet Ernie!

Enjoy Life
L

photo-13

Ernie’s first day at home xo