New Duties

I am now a housewife, with what will one day be the cutest little house ever. Unfortunately that “one day” seems in the rather distant future. So until then I am extraordinary or uncommon in that I live, cook and clean in a perpetual construction zone. When afters occur I’ll post them but I’ll leave the before shots to your imagination.

We moved in right after our wedding with limited lights, the drywall and plaster in a state of disrepair (ie barely holding on to the walls), floors covered in an embedded layer of plaster dust and dirt, bags and boxes of old plaster, tools and materials over every available surface, plexiglass/plywood windows and my most darling honey. Our kitchen was livable. I had a gorgeous stove, old fridge, plastic laundry tub for a kitchen sink, utility shelf for cupboards and folding table for my countertop. Our living room was inhabited by a little table with two chairs, a pull out couch and a lazy-boy. My mother and aunt went crazy before the wedding trying to get our bedroom painted- accomplished! And while we were on our honeymoon my in-laws carpeted our bedroom. The bathroom was started but my husband wanted this really intense shower made with a mix of glass block and tile. He ran out of time so for the first four months of marriage we showered at my in-laws. Oh the day he finished it, I will never again underestimate the joy of being able to shower when it’s wanted rather than desperately needed!

My dad was working on the electrical while Aaron was setting up our “kitchen sink” and was commenting that I actually had it pretty good. My husband cared enough about me to make sure I had running water in my kitchen. Not so his wife. Mom and Dad built a house when I was 5-10 (yes, it took them that long) and when they moved in Mom had to get her water from the bathroom all the way across the house and lug it to the kitchen to do her housewifely duties.

Have I ever mentioned how much I admire my mom?!

Moving, Tears and Loooove!

It's been a long time!

I tried to keep writing after getting home from Africa but life just got to busy. Life's still busy (future posts:P) but now that I'm removed from my home and native land I have to keep in touch anyway.

Proverbs 27:10 "...for better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off."

Isn't that sad?! It made me tear up. Those of you who know me know that tearing up is a frequent occurrence. In the last month:
-Saying goodbye to everyone to move 17 hours away.
-Aaron pinched my jeans with pliers and accidentally (?) got skin.
-Mom texted me from my best friend's baby shower.
-I threw up and had no mommy to say, "ohhh baby!"
-Looking at pictures of my nephews on facebook.
-My dad-in-law told a joke where I was the punch line.**
-Walking into Aaron and I's very much unfinished house that needs to be ready for occupation in 2 months. :P

I think that's all the times in the last month. Aaron probably remembers better than I. I have promised Aaron that I will NEVER use tears to manipulate him.

Even with the tears though the happy times have filled in every moment between. I love being close to my Aaron. Not having to have phone dates, not having to hear about his day but being able to participate in it, sitting beside him during meeting, hearing him pray, watching him interact with his (crazy) family, seeing him smile love at me, hearing him repeat the same old jokes over and over again....

I'd go on but I've given Aaron permission to proof read all blogs and if I get too sappy he'll edit me! I'm used to telling the world every detail of my life and he's like a sealed attic. We bought a house last fall which we're fixing up for when we're married. I told EVERYONE the second our offer was accepted. Aaron just got around to telling his people this month because it was too personal of an item to share.

Looking forward to blogging again! It's so much fun watching life for stories to tell- please comment! I love reading them:):)

**Aaron's edit: My dad-in-law told a joke and I didn't get it.

renovations dad style

So being the dutiful daughter that I am I decided to give my father one day of my two weeks off to help him renovate. (He and mom go from empty nest to two daughters and three boarders: Bedrooms needed to be carved from the deep dark depths of the basement.) So I am put to work on a harmless, yet not altogether mundane task: Clean and prime three basement windows.

Window number one: clean outside of inside pane. Clean inside of inside pane. Clean between inside and storm panes. Clean inside of storm window. Decide to knock storm window out of the frame to clean all crevasses. My fist is unable to supply enough force. Grab hammer and father to supervise. Tap along left side, right side, bottom, top, left side, and then through window pane. Supervisor removes hammer from my grasp and orders me away from the window. I comply.

Windows number two and three. I clean outside of storm windows from the exterior of the house.

While on exterior of said house a downpour commences. Concrete walkway along the edge of the house has been excavated with only a deep mudded valley in it’s place. Deep valley begins to fill. This is helped along with the waterfall pouring off the eaves. I ponder above situations for 10 minutes. After careful analysis I have determined that this may indeed be a negative situation requiring immediate attention from my supervisor. I bang on side door repeatedly. (Door bell is, and has been for the extent of my memory, useless.) I bang more. Footsteps bound up basement stairs and away from me. Front door opens. I bang more. No footsteps. I run through the waterfalls and knee deep water to the front door. I bang. Footsteps and door opens. Supervisor is now aware of the issue (he sees waterfall). He runs to 2nd floor bathroom window where he proceeds to climb out on lower roof to clean blockage to the downspout. I run to downspout unaware of his course of action. I yell his name, blind to his presence above me. He responds and proceeds to dump his first armful of leaf, mud and roof granular mixture on to my head. I am speechless.

I immediately tendered my resignation on the working renovation committee of “the house” but as there was much consternation on hearing this pronouncement a spot was made available on the steering committee of which I am now a happy and contented member.

(“Dad, I need you to build a wall here with internet access 10” from the west wall. A plug is needed in two locations as I haven’t determined where I want my nightstand. I also would dearly love to have a light switch which controls the lights in my room. I need the insulation, tyvek, vapour barrier etc inside my wall. I need the holes in my wall patched. I want a built in bookcase right here……..”)

Joy!

Phil 3:1a "Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord."

Paul doesn’t just command us to, "Rejoice!" and end it there. He gives us on object to gaze upon. Not circumstances. Not family. Not love. Not education. Not money. Not status. Not entertainment.

He shows us the Lord. The one who will never fade, change or disappear. The one who emptied himself, humbled himself and became obedient unto death. The one who God has highly exalted and given a name which is above every name! The one that I bow to. The one who is my Saviour.

female teenaged computers

Okay, so my last post was a cop out in that I basically made you all read a forward. Well sorry to disappoint but this is another cop out. I was reading the help desk postings at work (this is the best way to find out if someone new has been hired in your department) and found this gem. I could not contain my full belly laugh. Enjoy:

"Last night my computer wouldn't shut down for some reason. I removed a black cord sticking out of the wall and it seemed to help it shut down. This morning my computer turned on, Outlook opened, but no contacts. I closed outlook and attempted to open it again, It was mad at me so it wouldn't open. After about 5 attempts to open outlook I went to the help desk and about 4 mintues later as I'm typing in my troubles, outlook opened. Go figure. And then my contacts appeared. This is a critical issue and is causing a lot of distress. I'm concerned my computer is developing a personality similar to my teenage children. They need me, I need them, we love each other deeply, but when called upon to do something... they suddenly have something else they'd rather do. In human years, how old is my computer and is it by chance a girl?"

prarie poem

This was emailed to me by a friend who recently shifted from "the prairies" to Vancouver. The irony: 

 

 WHY I LOVE  THE PRARIES 
Author Unknown

When it's Christmas on the prairies   
And the gentle breezes blow,
About sixty miles an hour
And it's forty-five below.
You can tell you're  on the prairies 
'Cause the snow's up to your butt,
And you take a breath of Christmas air
And your nostrils both freeze shut.
The weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around,
I could NEVER leave  the prairies 
My feet are frozen to the ground!

MUD MUD MUD

A couple weeks ago I participated in an event that supposedly initiated me into the realms of cool people on the prairies. This was only following excruciating rounds of verbal torment from the two draftsmen at work: my sister, Shawna and “the coolest guy ever”, Clayton. (This is a direct quote from said source and does not in anyway describe the feelings of myself or the world in general.) Apparently I was a chicken, scaredy cat, wuss, old fogy and, worst of all, a city slicker.

The event? Mud bogging!

I prepare myself for the worst: touque, mitts, camera, shoes with grip, ugly sweats and uglier sweatshirt, Kleenex and cough candy.

So Clayton picks me up in his brand spanking new truck that’s older than even me. Marvin is large and frightening, I have to take a running leap into the truck as my legs are incapable of stepping as high as I need to. The acrobatics are accompanied with very ladylike grunts and flailing arms as I reach for the stability of the seat at some elevation far above me.

We head for the neglected backyards of the industrial park. Here Marvin puts on a show: Ponds divided and conquered, trenches gouged through knee deep mud, 90 degree hills topped and straw whipped in swirls.

I, Screech, did not screech! I maintained my cool and even summoned up courage from some deep part of me to timidly yell, “faster, faster!”

(Please note that hyperbole has been, yet again, effectively administered!)

Below are some pictures of this momentous occasion: Enjoy!

hyperbole

It was noted on an anonymous comment that I tend towards “hyperbole” on my blog entries. At first I was horrified! Who dares insult my writing style! Overcome with curiosity I went to the website of choice when this occurs: www.dictionary.com. A new word has been added to my rather limited vocabulary (thank goodness for ‘shift f7’). Hyperbole is an obvious and intentional exaggeration.

How can one argue with such truthful honesty!

the white wall

Went to visit my folks a few weekends ago and drove home after breaking of bread. In the city it was gorgeous (considering that it was still in the low minus’s and the snow was feet deep). In fact it was balmy enough that tights and sensible boots were not needed. Yup, again, the whole 3” heels thing. (When will I learn? When I have bunions that add an additional width or two to my shoe size.)

Headed out of the city and the real weather hit.

I spent 3 hours with both hands glued to the wheel, my right (bare) foot switching continuously from gas to break, my eyes on the 10 feet in front of my car that would sometimes clear off allowing me a seconds glance at ice, drifts and even bare pavement.

The sky was that pale, crisp blue. The sun a distant shimmer of things past. The horizon a white glittering line. The effect of the unseen wind was 2 feet of snow dancing and swirling about above the road I was traversing.

There were a couple places where I was alone on the prairie with only the above in view. It took my breath away. No matter where I end up in life this will always be home.

Tears and Weddings

Two down two to go!

Another sister got married this past Saturday and, as was mentioned, a blizzard raged outside. The cold wasn’t too bad even with only a bridesmaid dress and light wool shawl, it was the wind. My hair was firmly anchored with a gallon of hairspray yet when I stepped outside it felt like it was going to be ripped off. Side note: If you consider yourself to be of the brave heroic sort, come visit us in the dead of winter.

The wedding went beautifully, my speech, the many performances by Shawna (the other unmarried sister), the food, the dresses (sewn by Mom) and the actual marrying part. I do remember one moment that was less than perfect. Wailing. Gut wrenching sobs. A snort. And, hold your horses folks, I am recalling the visual: A mouth at it’s furthest possible extension, shoulders rising and falling with alarming frequency and big juicy tears rolling down rosy cheeks (sandblasted from the aforementioned wind).

You begin to ponder on the possible source of this vision: A drunk wedding crasher? The Mother of the Bride? A jilted ex (or wanna be)? An over emotional guest who has just suffered the loss of her husband?

No, I respond to all of these suggestions! It was the younger sister of the Bride, bridesmaid #2, just between the signing of the registry and the final presentation of the couple.

Let us all raise our glasses in a toast to Shawna, for her deep love and appreciation for the state of marriage.