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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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….

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.

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

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)

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!

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.

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

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….

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.

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

MOVIE STARS FOR A DAY – Take 1

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…

 

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!

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.

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…:

“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… 

Liebster Award – Numero 2! Encore, Encore!

Although I was just nominated for this award not too long ago, I’ve been nominated once again from Autumn! So thank you very much, Autumn! I appreciate it hugely and graciously accept!

So here we go again, folks! The rules are here in case you forget them.

11 Random Things About Myself

1. I do not do fake cheese… ie. velveeta, american cheese, space cheese… no thanks
2. I love dolphins and have gone swimming with them in the wild in New Zealand
3. As a kid I used to hate cookies, donuts and pizza.. my parents called me the Fruit Monster because I loved fruit so much
4. For the majority of my life, I’ve had a dog as a pet
5. I can’t wait to go to Thailand, Vietnam and Bali one day
6. I’m not extremely tech savvy
7. I could eat 5 pound of king crab all to myself (well, I’m up for the challenge anyhow)
8. I love small, thoughtful gestures that make someone feel special
9. My older sister looked like Annie when she was a kid
10. I drove a packer/roller for a construction site one summer
11. I can hold my own in a chess match

Questions From Autumn

1. Stripes or Polka Dots?

   Both 🙂

2. Signature Starbucks drink?

   Depends on my mood…  I like a gingerbread latte in the winter, an iced caramel macchiato in the summer with extra caramel, an iced tea if I’m not feeling coffee…

3. What’s your best feature, in your opinion? (Self love, y’all)

   I’m thoughtful

4. If you could live in another era, which era would you choose?

   I will also require an explanation…I like this era. I like life now 🙂

5. Who inspires you?

   My Mom. She was one of the greatest teachers there ever once was.  She worked endless hours and did so much for her students because she loved them. She spend her evenings doing schoolwork and spent her summer in her classroom preparing for her kids. From a daughter’s perspective she put way too much thought and consideration into every single report card and it always took her forever to do them because she would never write anything generic. Looking back, I love that about her. She always did so much extra for her kids and she would do it year after year after year without getting the recognition she deserved. As an adult, I realized that she did so much for her kids because she loved them… not because she wanted a pat on the back.

6. Describe your perfect day.

   My favourite kinds of days are going on new adventures to places I’ve never been before with people I love. Eating good food. Drinking good wine and/or other bevs. Going to the beach. Watching the sunset. Smelling fresh flowers.

7. Favorite way to relax and de-stress?

   Ideally a day at the spa! Followed by wine.

8. Describe one quirk about yourself.

   Oh boy… I have many. I can’t and will not finish the last bit of liquid at the bottom of my drink. The thought of backwash has taunted me from my childhood days.

9. What was your childhood dream?

   So cheesy… to meet my Mr. Wonderful and have a long, happy and healthy life together. Nailed it.

10. What is your mantra/favorite quote?
    
11. What’s one item off your bucket list?

    Paddleboarding!! Happy to have scratched that one off last weekend 🙂

 

My Nominees:
A La Modern Mom
Witty Critty
Kevil
Don
Aimee

My Questions for the Nominees:

1. What are your favourite and least favourite blog posts to read?
2. If you could have any profession in the world, what would it be (without worrying about money, time, financial)?
3. What is your favourite physical feature of yourself?
4. Who do you need to say “I love you” to more?
5. Who do you need to say “I’m sorry” to?
6. Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?
7. Where is your favourite place in the whole world?
8. If you could redo anything in your life differently, what would you redo?
9. What is the nicest thing that somebody has ever done for/to you?
10. What would an ideal day be for you?
11. What is your favourite post that I have ever written?
12. What is your favourite post that you have ever written?

Enjoy Life, Lovelies!
L

 

 

 

Does Size Really Matter?!

The age old question that never seems to die… The answer to this question gets debated back and forth with such controversy… And yes, my lovely, you guessed it… today I am going there!!!! I am going to talk about it, give you my opinion, maybe even paint you a pretty picture, so hold on tight because HERE WE GO!!!

My answer to this age old question only has two letters… and you guessed them ‘n’ and ‘o’!

Now is probably about the time to get your head out of the gutter, you sick perv, because you think you know what I am talking about, however you are oh so wrong. I know that you think that I’m talking about “that” and some of you were already excited to read what I was about to write, some of you were completely disgusted with me and have probably already stopped reading altogether by now, and then there were those who would never admit to wanting to read this, but secretly were pretty curious…

So if I’m not referring to “that” what the hell am I rambling about? Well I am going share with you my  journey of accepting myself the way that I am no matter what pant size I am. If you are so disappointed with this new topic, I understand if you quit reading, but I encourage you to come along for the ride, my lovely, the more the merrier! Stay tuned for tales from my double chin 🙂

Now, I’m not entirely sure at which point my mind was swallowed by society’s perception of what the perfect beach body was and how I so badly needed to obtain it to be a better person, but somewhere along the lines, it did. I think it was somewhere in my late teens or early twenties though. Throughout high school, I was always very athletic and active and never gave one thought as to what jean size I was because I truly did not care. That was such a wonderful feeling and I’m working on having that feeling back again.

I was never exactly a super scrawny rawny, nor was I obese, however I still was never happy with my body no matter what weight I was. I have always had a healthy lifestyle, I eat relatively healthy and also regularly go to the gym, however it didn’t seem to matter what I did or didn’t do, nothing was ever good enough. I would look at old pictures of myself and think to myself “man, I had a killer body back then… I wish that I appreciated it more back then, I would love to look like that again” and there were probably times that I said this to myself were I still looked the same… but when I looked in the mirror, the body I was looking at was not the body that I saw in old photos.

There was always something… too soft in one place, not enough muscle definition in another, etc… and I would focus only on that, I wouldn’t see the good parts. I used to frustrate my husband when we would take a picture together and force him to take another picture with me because I thought my face looked too fat in the first one. No matter what I ate or how hard I exercised, I was always able to find something to pick apart…

My poor husband has had to listen to me complain about how I look like a stuffed sausage in my jeans, how my body looked like a white whale in my bathing suit, etc, etc… and the poor guy endlessly told me how beautiful I was to him, but I wasn’t able to see myself through his eyes. (Much to his credit, he has never given up trying to make me see myself the same way that he sees me. And for that, I love him dearly.)

I’ve struggled for years with my weight, obsessing over it, shaming myself for it, and I have FINALLY come to realize that this bootylicious body of mine is the only one that I am ever going to get. I am 5’8″ and have been anywhere from a size 2 up to a size 10, and the size of my pants no longer controls me. I have somehow learnt to let go and to stop putting so much energy and attention on my own body image issues.

I’ve learnt that the size of my pants does not define me as a person. I’ve learnt that people aren’t going to talk about my body at my funeral, they are going to talk about what kind of person I was. I’ve learnt that I would hate for my own child to ever have negative thoughts about her body, and I that I need to ensure that she hears her Mom talk about how much she loves her body. I’ve learnt that my husband, family and closest friends do not give a single crap what size I am and that neither should I. I’ve learnt that people at the beach aren’t going to point and laugh at me, that they themselves likely have the same insecurities that I do. I’ve learnt that some years I will be a size 6 and some years I will be a size 10 and that is a-okay. I’ve learnt to accept myself the way that I am whether I ever obtain a “perfect” beach body or not. I’ve learnt that I would never in a million years talk to any other person the way that I talk to myself and that I need to start being nicer to myself.

I’ve learnt that I am a happier person when I allow myself to occasionally indulge and eat the white pasta with cream sauce, or to have a whole dessert all to myself. I am a happier person when stop I focusing on a caloric intake and outtake and just enjoy myself.
I’ve learnt not to let some symbols on a pair of pants define who I am as a person. I have learnt to fully accept myself and to own my bootlicious self no matter how licious my booty is that year…

I’ve learnt that my thighs will always be each others best friends, that they have such a strong bond that there is nothing that I can do to separate them. They keep each other company. They tell each other secrets. They cuddle and snuggle each other when comfort is needed. I’ve learnt that it’s okay if I’m never able to grate cheese off my stomach. It’s okay if my arms wave back at you a little bit when you wave to me… they are friendly and for that, I love them.

I’m more than the number says on the scale. I no longer allow that number to reflect who I am. I value so much more in this life than jeans that might be a little bit too snug. And that, my lovely, is why size does not matter.

Enjoy Life,
L

TALL, DARK & HANDSOME (in a woman’s way) – Part 2

Making new friends in not only a new city, but a new country is TOUGH! I wrote about my failed attempts at making new friends here, which includes trying to make friends through meetup.com, asking strangers at the dog park for the phone number, etc.

I am happy to report that three months in we have fabulous new friends who we already have plans to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving, US Thanksgiving and Christmas with this year. Bottles of wine made this decision and for that we are grateful.

They have two of the sweetest and cutest kids ever. An 8 (and a half) year old daughter and a 7 (and a quarter) son. The son has already told John what a great father he is going to be (my heart melted in a big, fat pile of jelly when I heard him tell John this) and the daughter is the kind of daughter that you hope your kids turn out to be.

Now, for those you actually know me, I’ve never been much of a fan of babysitting. To be frank, there are kids out there who I just do not want to spend hours of time with knowing that I am responsible for them. Your hooligan puts his hand in the garborator while I’m in the bathroom, and your other hooligan kid turns the switch on and somehow it’s my fault that you didn’t teach your kids not to do this?! No thank YOU! My sister was always the babysitter in our family and although I wouldn’t outright say that I don’t like children, but I might whisper it…. I kid, I kid (pun super intended) I like kids, just not all of them… especially the kid who is throwing his spaghetti onto my head at a restaurant.

And yes, I know that you are drinking your coffee while you are reading this, and I know that you are rolling your eyes at this thinking to yourself “Just wait until you have kids” but that is precisely why I am waiting, thank you very much. Are we finished with the eye rolling now?

Back to the story, now much to my own surprise, I OFFERED to babysit these two little cutie patooties… MORE THAN ONCE! I like them and I would be okay with spending hours upon hours with them. Now, I haven’t been taken up on this offer yet and I probably won’t after their dear Mom reads this, but that’s beside the point.

The other night as I was chopping and dicing onions, my phone lit up with a new text message from my new Christmas sharing friend. I was so excited that I unlocked my phone with my slimy onion hands and much to my delight, this is what her message said:

“The kids are making baby John and Lisas and they are babysitting them. IT IS HILARIOUS!”

She also attached this photo:

Now tell me, does it get any cuter than that?! Tell me you wouldn’t want to spend two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with this family too!?

Enjoy Life,
L

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.

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!

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!

Enjoy Life  (we sure are!)
L

A Letter To My Thighs

Dear Thighs,

First of, I would like to apologize to you. I am sorry for whispering behind your back and saying those hurtful things. You’re right, at first I was sorry to have been caught saying them, but now I really am sorry for saying that I wish I could have the very desired “thigh gap”.

I have come to my senses over the past few years and I am sorry for ever thinking such absurd thoughts. I understand now that you have such a bond with each other and how could I ever wish for you to part ways?! You two are the best of friends and have such a strong bond with one another and I am ashamed that I tried to ruin it. How could I ever want to ruin such a physical and emotional bond!? I’m sorry.

You have stuck together through almost 30 years and I am disgusted with myself for wanting to separate you two. I know that you guys keep each other company, that you tell each other secrets. I know that you cuddle ands snuggle one another when comfort is needed. You two are soul mates, you two deserve one another. The love between the two of you is so strong and fierce that it is often envied by many.

My dear thighs, I love you just the way you are. Through thick and thin, come hell or high water, I guarantee you that you will never, ever have to part.

With Utmost Love,
LisaListed

My lovely, did you ever fall victim to the “thigh gap” tornado?

Enjoy Life!
L

 

We Are The MOST ANNOYING New Friends EVER

Okay, so we are happy to report that we are making friends, YAY! I posted about making friends here and although we are making new friends, lately I’ve realized just how annoying we really are!

When it comes to food, I don’t think that we are outrageously picky but there are definitely a few things that I cannot choke down no matter how hard I try. And trust me, I’ve tried! It makes me feel so rude when somebody asks me if I like something that I really truly do not like and I admit my strong dislike to them. It makes me feel so very, very rude.

This seems to be reoccurring a lot lately and I cannot help but feel like we are the most annoying new friends EVER! Our new friends (whom we very much like) invited us to go for sushi with some of their other friends… well, John absolutely detests sushi so we passed. And then not even a week later, they ask us how we feel about Bloody Mary’s… I CANNOT stand tomato juice. I have trust issues with tomato juice. When I was a kid, I poured myself a cup of juice… I gulped it down so fast and then when my tastebuds kicked in I almost threw up all over the kitchen floor. I thought I was pouring myself fruit punch, when in fact it was actually tomato juice… since then, I have never been able to drink the stuff ever again.

I’m worried that we are coming across as the picky and snooty kids who push food around on their plate… and I don’t want to be those annoying friends! But what are the chances that the same people ask you two times if you like something and BOTH those times you don’t!? WE ARE SO ANNOYING…

I didn’t know what to do, so I sent her a list of foods that we don’t like because I was terrified if she asked us a third time she would stop being friends with us annoying people. So I apologized and sent her this list:

– Fish (John thinks it tastes the way it smells… my goal in life is to change this guy’s mind and to enjoy the deliciousness of the fishy world)
– Tomato Juice (see above story)
– Horseradish
– Blue cheese
– I cannot stand mayo or mustard
– (I forgot to mention that I also cannot stand fake cheese… Cheeze Whiz, Space Cheese, etc)

I would be mortified if they ever had us over for lunch one day and made us fish sandwiches that were marinated in horseradish, topped with blue cheese, and soaked with mayo and mustard. Oh my gosh, can you imagine?!

Other than those few items, we will eat and or drink anything! We aren’t jumping on the “gluten free” and “dairy free” trends (yeah, I called them trends… you bandwagon hoppers! Have a bagel with cream cheese already… (except you, Jeff, I know you are the real deal) (how many rules am I breaking by having brackets within brackets… it’s like math class all over again!)) We aren’t vegetarians or vegans or any of those… we just don’t like a few things, that’s all! Isn’t that normal? Or when you’re an adult are you supposed to like absolutely everything? I missed that part of adulthood if that’s the case…

Whenever somebody asks me what I like to drink, my response is “everything” because it’s true… or so I thought. I like vodka. I like beer. I like wine. I like red, white, rose, bubbly. I like rum. I like rye. I like drinks that put hair on your chest, as well as drinks that taste like rainbows and butterflies. But now because of this experience I now know to say “everything, except tomato juice (and Clam in Canada… gross)”.

I wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette to enlighten our new friends of our “list”… so I panicked and blurted out a list in good ol’ text fashion. What’s the proper way to handle this situation? Are you supposed to lie and just become bulimic all of a sudden? Is there even a proper way? Enlighten me, lovelies, please enlighten me…

We are seriously so annoying… but we are FUN! Not to mention that we wear matching T-Shirts!

Do you have a list of foods that you cannot stomach for the life of you? If so, how do you tell new friends said list?

Enjoy Life, my lovely, and please hold that tomato juice!
L

Summertime Madness, Summer Love, Summer Polar Vortex…. What the!?

I can’t help but notice the difference of headlines between the US and Canada… some are serious and some aren’t so serious. The weather is always a much talked about topic whether you are talking to your Grandparents, your co-workers, the lady at the Post Office, etc. It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to the weather will likely at one point be brought up.

One of the major differences I’ve noticed about the headlines here in the US are that some of them are just so dramatic! Over the weekend while I was preparing dinner the news was on in the background. I heard the news anchors compare the upcoming week’s weather with the much talked about “polar vortex” that took place this past winter… naturally, this caught my attention!

Being a Canadian, when I hear the words “polar vortex” I think of weather so cold that your face hurts. I think of air that blasts through your parka, scarf and toque that chills you down to the bone. I think of ice storms, of blizzards, of a snow tornado if you will. I think of your breath freezing right in front of you as you gasp for air because your body goes into shock that it is just so darn cold. Being from Canada when I hear “polar vortex” in July, I think that the igloos are going to be taking over, so this caught my attention.

The news anchors went on to discuss the summer Polar Vortex warning that the temperatures in the upcoming week would not quite be hitting 80 degrees (about 25 C)… that’s what the big stink was about!? A “cooler” week that with the humidity will still feel like a hot and sticky sauna? I still can’t seem to wrap my mind around these headlines…  I cannot believe that People, Time, NY Post, Yahoo News, Washington Post, Huffington Post, etc, are all talking about this Polar Vortex… so dramatic, I tell you!

This morning, while GMA was discussing the polar vortex they were warning people that “this morning people have been spotted wearing pullovers.”  This made me happy to hear that the igloos are not in fact taking over, but that there were a few people spotted wearing long sleeves this morning.

Stay easy, breezy and beautiful, my lovely! But not polar vortex breezy…

What’s the craziest headline you’ve ever seen?

Enjoy Life,
L