Say What?

There are certain things you don't get to do until you're older: your first driver's license, going to college, or getting a place of your very own. I haven't had this pleasure quite yet, but two of my very good friends have, and they threw a little bash on the weekend to celebrate it.
I was pretty excited to go to my first housewarming party ever, as it seemed like a cool, grown up thing to do...or something. Long story short: it was a great night filled with drinks, music, a hairless dog, Laughing-My-Ass-Off and one complete revelation on the behalf of yours truly.
It was only around ten or eleven and I was sitting on the couch, nursing a plastic cup of mango margarita punch the tender way you cradle a premature baby. I looked around the room and I realized that I didn't know anyone. Also, all of the people I didn't know, sitting around me WERE NOT TALKING. Maybe they were just comfortable and they didn't have anything to say to each other, but my awkward meter was about to blow us all to high heaven. It was like the atmosphere was waiting for me to crack. Steve Buscemi in Armageddon. I could hear the high pitched scream of a boiling kettle somewhere in the back of my brain and I found myself spitting out phrases the socially inept rehearse on cue cards before they go out for the night.
"....Did anyone see the game last night?" as well as the dreaded "....So what do you do?" (Side note: telling people you want to be a writer is as pretentious sounding in real life as you imagine it to be in your brain. I have to come up with some other occupation to give people for the next time I go to a party.) Suddenly, it was painfully obvious to me that I was the youngest person in that room and I had the incoherent social skills to prove it.

I have been spoiled by college parties where everyone is a bunch of smashed n' stoned strangers, babbling at each other incoherently about music and movies and blah de blah de blah. Parties where I myself have been messed up and uncaring of what I said or what people thought. The housewarming party is a new breed of get together. Everyone was kind of acquainted. There was French bread and brie and jello shots. (Okay maybe not a COMPLETELY new breed.) The point was, in this smaller, more intimate and mature venue, I was a fish out of water. I was going to have to escape this island on my own, or else start having conversations with a volley ball a la Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

Eventually the awkward got blown away and people began to chat, but by that point I'm pretty sure I was too gun shy to REALLY, REALLY talk to anyone. I guess the point I'm trying to make here is that I've always been better at expressing myself via writing, and casual talking with people has never been my strong suit. In my mind I'm a warm person who people get along with and click with instantly, and the reality is just blisteringly different.

The night was still a great success. Even more because I realize I'm very much a person in progress.
Also, in case you were wondering, here's the hairless dog. He belonged to the boys who lived downstairs. ADORABLE.

Dream Pie

Two days ago it was mama's birthday. She's really lucky because she ALWAYS gets a long weekend for her big day. Come the Victoria Day weekend, the house is always filled with laughter and people, and it's a great time! This year we had our neighbors and some friends over, ate a big meal and watched some fireworks go off in our backyard. Literally in our backyard. Off our deck. Were we scared? Yes. Was it awesome? EXTREMELY.
For the past three years, I've sort of taken charge of the birthday cake operations in the house. Anytime someone has a birthday it's up to me to find out what they want and to put their wish into action. I'm like the birthday cake genie or something.

Mama isn't a big dessert person, but we seriously believe it's bad luck to not have any cake, so I took it upon myself to force an answer out of her. Last year I made champagne cupcakes with vanilla bean frosting, and the year before that it was lemon cream cupcakes with lemon frosting, and vanilla cupcakes with blueberry frosting too! (She likes telling me to surprise her. All the time.) This year though, I finally needled a request out of her: coconut cream pie. I used Martha Stewart's recipes... (Who knows cream pie better than Martha? ....Don't answer that.) It was one of the best and most delicious things I've ever made. It was the prettiest, too.

Ooh! Aah!
With REAL whipped cream.


And white chocolate shavings. Yes, I did just go there.

Sportin' Style

I had to take a few snaps of my outfit for today. I was on my way out the door when I had a flash of inspiration. It was a sudden moment of complete and total EUREKA. So I stopped in mid-step, pivoted and dashed back inside. I grabbed my camera and went to the back deck to take a couple of pictures.... Did I mention that I was on my way to the gym?

Did I also mention I'm a total ham?

I can snap pictures of me making faces at the camera in all kinds of pretty dresses, and that's cool, it's fun, but I'm not always comfortable with it, because it's only half honest.
When it comes down to it, I change outfits twice a day almost every day. This is my OTHER uniform, something I have been, and will be rocking daily for weeks, months and hopefully years to come. Don't worry, I promise I'm not going to go on another I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT rant, I'm here to talk about gym fashion. You know, serious stuff, people! If it's important enough to make it into my everyday life, it's important enough to write about in my blog.

There are four elements to this outfit:
1. The headgear
2. The tee
3. The shorts
4. The shoes

1 & 2.... As I'm sure you can see, I stay awesome at the gym by wearing sunglasses... I also rock them at night and in the bar, like an 80s song AND a douchebag. My hair gets pulled up into a tight bun and my bangs are held back with an elastic headband. Please note how nothing in this outfit is colour coordinated. I did that on purpose, to be ironic, or whatever.

As for the t-shirt.... The Hart Dynasty is a WWE wrestling tag team from Canada. Recently I went through an easy six month phase of being completely obsessed with the drama of pro wrestling. (Side note: RIP Randy Savage.) I know it's all set up, but the athleticism, a sense of showmanship and it's cheesy as hell.... Right up my alley. I only wish I had been into it in the 90s, because apparently that was golden age... Whatever, I still loves me some Miz, some John Morrison and some Daniel Bryan. Dear future employer, stumbling onto this blog.......I have nothing to say at the moment that might salvage your opinion of me. I'll get back to you on this.

You normally don't see this much swagger from someone in biking shorts.

3 & 4... shorts and shoes. The shorts are from Joe Fresh, and I'm pretty sure my mom bought them on sale. I don't even know how to tell you what colour they are. The racing stripes are some washed out pink and the main part is some weird green-grey-concrete tone I've never been able to nail down. I like them because they don't ride up when I'm on a roll. Also, anything equipped with racing stripes gets a thumbs up in my book.

The shoes are white, yellow and black Reeboks. I think I've have them since at least my first year of college... three years ago. I really think they pull the whole look together, don't you? It's like I always say... There's something about a pair of well loved, dirty running shoes that adds a touch of class to the ensemble.

Realistically, this is what I'm wearing when I'm not prancing around in dresses, sandals or skinny jeans. JUST GLAMOROUS. What do y'all rock when you aren't being fabulous citizens of the world?

Random Roots

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you may remember my beverage ramble about Dry Lavender Soda. Well yesterday, I had an encounter with a pop of another kind while randomly wandering my local Homesense with my mama and our family friend, Val. I was looking at agave nectar and exotic kinds of pink salt from all over the world when the displays of soda pop in glass bottles caught my eye. (Be it known henceforth, pop comes in cans, soda pop comes in bottles.)
The discovery was the Root Beer by the maine root pop company. Their claim to fame (or lack thereof) is that their product is all natural and hand crafted. Their claim to infamy is that the company is spearheaded by a guy in a tri-coloured headband, and another guy who looks like a deer in headlights... They make great soda pop though, and it's free trade. I know that this is coming from somebody who is probably going to drop dead one day as a result of aspartame poisoning, but I really enjoy the fact that I recognized every single ingredient on the list and could pronounce it on my first try. Purified water, cane sugar juice...etc... Small but mighty.

I'd like to think my small affair with weird pops and cane sugar started in my trip to Texas in November when my friend Josh (and photographer and general awesome) insisted we track down Dr. Pepper made with REAL CANE SUGAR. It was one of those things you could only get in Texas, in the States.... Forget about it, Canada.
One night after a day of filming we went out for dinner and then we cruised our way around Houston, to try and find this stuff. We ended up at a really fancy grocery store. (They had a security guard on a segue in the the parking lot...) where we wandered around, marveling at the novelties the American people are privy to. It was there that we finally found the pop in little glass bottles.

I think I bought two six packs and Josh bought.... three? The smoothness and the difference in quality turned us into instant fanatics. For the rest of the trip, those were the answer to a long hot day filming in the Texan sun, and Josh even took some back in his suitcase for his family, like a badass smuggler. I finished my last one waiting for our flight out of Texas, at 4 in the morning or something... Crazy.

Josh n' me, on our infamous Texas trip.

ANYWAY--

As far as taste goes, this stuff has the smooth personality of a jazz musician and a texture that puts other kinds of root beer to shame. It's carbonated but it doesn't burn on the way down. The aftertaste is a mere hint and it's pleasant. Yeah, I'm getting REALLY connoisseur on you now.
It IS 165 calories a bottle, but if you're one of those people who doesn't like to put chemicals into their body, or you're looking for a good treat, I'd recommend this in an instant.

Zumba

In my seemingly never ending mission to find personal fitness and self control around food, I'm trying to find exercise I like doing. It's not as hard as it sounds... Mostly I avoid spinning like the pedal pushing torture-fest that it is. I tend to like cardio that gets my blood pumping and my feet moving. Short form on this one:

SPIN = BAD. RUNNING = GOOD.

So for the past two weeks I've been going to Zumba classes at my gym. For those of you who don't know what Zumba means, it's Spanish for, "your arms, hips and feet are ALL GOING TO BE DOING DIFFERENT THINGS SIMULTANEOUSLY!"... Or something. I couldn't find it on Wikipedia, and let's face it after that, the lazy searcher knows when the battle is over.

Zumba is basically dance routines with the adrenaline pumped up to 100%, set to the music from around the world. E.g. salsa and merengue (which IS music and not fluffed up egg whites, thank you very much) as well as some Indian and African music that got punched in the teeth by techno pop. Basically you follow the instructor as best as you can through choreographed dances that kick your ASS. The first week I went I was tripping over myself and shuffling to keep up.

I watched the instructor as she grapevined with her feet, her hips swiveled and her arms somehow managed to weave in a graceful manner ALL at the same time. Impossible. I was staring, trying to remember which was my right and my left. Eventually I got the hit of the beat into my head and I let myself have fun with it. I know lots of people say they're really self conscious in a gym/fitness class setting... and I might have been like that for awhile... But even if I can't keep up or get all the steps right, I always make a point to keep moving. I'm not there to impress anyone, I'm there to have fun!

You too can be this cool. (Source.)

The other awesome thing about these classes is that anyone can try them. There are girls bigger than me, ladies smaller than me, women my age, older, purple, you name it. At the end of my second class I was dripping sweat, my pulse was pounding and I was happy as hell.

I guess this just means that it pays off to give everything a try or two... and if you can't cut it with spinning, like me, I would recommend Zumba. The music is a little different from your repetitive top 40. You get to shake it out, feel kinda exotic and it's the kind of workout you underestimate. Trust me.

I'm just warning you now, despite the talk about salsa, shaking and gyrating, this class is NOT SEXY. You get grossly hot under the collar and you sweat in places you didn't know you could sweat... Still, it's completely worth it.

Oh mother, where art thou?

I know I already made my mother's day post, but I wanted to include some pictures from the big day, because I was so excited about it. My mama doesn't like going to the spa and we weren't sure what to get her for a small gift. I know it's not supposed to be about about buying your mother things, but showing her you appreciate her. My sisters and I ended up taking her out to lunch at a nice local restaurant called Solé. If you happen to live in Waterloo and you're looking for a place with a little class and a tasty lunch, look no further.

It came highly recommended on Urbanspoon, and it didn't disappoint. It was a three course fixed menu, and by the end of it, we were stuffed and happy about it. Mama gets particular about restaurant food, since she likes to cook and feels bad about shelling out cash for something she could make for cheap at home. However, the dishes were nicely plated, and complex enough that you probably COULDN'T make them at home without shelling out tons of cash for different ingredients. (I had braised beef brisket on ciabatta bread with caramelized onions, three year old cheddar and New Orleans style barbecue sauce, WHAT? Insanity.) As you can see, the dessert was beautiful too:

Carrot cake with bourbon caramel sauce.

Taking my mom out to eat was the perfect plan because around the house she does so much of the cooking around the house. We really wanted to treat her to a nice place so she could enjoy very bite without working for it, and without the dishes afterwards!
Since it was a nice place, I dressed up a little, and snapped a few outfit pictures. The red and the blue were opposite and fun to play with, especially with the neutral base of the dress. This outfit was kind of an experiment though, so I'm interested to know what y'all think. I'm not completely sure of it but I acted like I knew what the heck I was doing, and really, confidence is the best accessory, isn't it?

Cardigan & Leggings - H&M
Dress & Gold bracelet - Forever 21
Shoes - Local shoe store
Necklace - Gift from my mother from New Orleans

Mama bird

My mom found out about my second tattoo tonight... the one I wanted her to never find out about.

We were sitting and chatting with the Kennedys on in the background when suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence. "You have a tattoo," she said, "I just saw it." It was an accusation, not an observation, by the way. And sure enough, there it was, peeking out of the dress I was wearing.
I guess these things happen. They're bound to, with warm breezy clothing on the way. Ah, summer.

For those of you who don' t know, it's a nightingale on my left side. Also, for those of you who don't know, she hates birds slightly more than she hate tattoos. Happy mothers day, right? I guess that's a gift that keeps on giving.

When I explained I had gotten it in the summer and had successfully hidden it for a good eight months, she relaxed a little. Then I added that it was for the eating disorder I had been been actively fighting, and she accepted it a tiny bit more. She even asked me what the tattoo actually was, "waffles?" She took something that I thought would shock and appall her... and she accepted it with humour. She might not be crazy about it, but she took it in stride and listened.

That, and for many other reasons, is why I love my mom.

Then of course, I had to guiltily confess I have another tattoo appointment booked for the end of June, and her chief concern was that I can't afford these things when I'm paying off student debt. So I used her own philosophy against her: life is short. I've said it here before and I will say it again: yes, when you get a tattoo it's for the rest of your life... but there isn't a standard length of a human life. I could die in five minutes, or I could go years from now. How long that ink is under the skin is a testament of time. So she told me I had better explain what I wanted to get before we spoke to my father about it.

That's why I love my mom.

We briefly tuned in and out of watching the Kennedys and she told me she remembered where she was when she learned about each of them dying, these moments of history she was alive to remember. We ended up talking about a little bit of anything and everything. A little family history, and in the spirit of the day, she told me my birth story. About how the doctor on call pushed his intern out of the way to pull me out, how I was born blue, without air, instead of crying. How when I was born, it was pouring rain outside.

That's why I love my mom.

I'll post pictures from our Mother's Day Lunch later today... in the mean time, go call your mother. Hug her. Kiss her on the cheek, or invite her out for a cup of coffee. She deserves a little of your time. Tell her why you love her. Write her a blog post.

Spring Cleaning Chaos

Since my last post everything has been in an uproar. I packed up and moved out of my apartment, back into my house in Waterloo. I went to the awards show for Media Arts (my program) and had one of the best nights of my now-over college career. I said one temporary goodbye to lots of amazing friends. I've been applying for jobs, and I have been going to the gym! (Just ask my sore EVERYTHING.)

I also got the chance to go to Steve's (my sister's boyfriend) tattoo appointment. I intend to post about it ASAP! The funny thing is, I have loads of material, but no time or energy to write about it! I guess I'll just have to sneak another cup of coffee into my schedule... Who needs sleep, right?

One of the things that has been completely consuming my time is DE-CLUTTERING. My mama loves to give little presents, sometimes just for no reason at all. It's very sweet, but... It is in this way, that I have accumulated gadgets and gizmos aplenty. The sheer amount of stuff I have only came to my attention as I was moving. At one point I stood with my roommate in the middle of our kitchen, stranded in a sea of half packed boxes and plastics bag and cried out in despair: "We'll never make it out alive!" (Note: we did. Thanks to her.)

Really, I feel a bit like a hoarder... And I also feel the way I'm living does not reflect my inner philosophies. I want a clean room and a clean mind and a clean slate. So I've been tidying and purging.

If you ever find yourself in the same boat as me I can offer a few words of advice:
YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO THROW THINGS OUT. Be prepared for this. Get garbage bags: one for stuff you and nobody can use. One for stuff someone else might need/want. Donate it. Pawn it off on your siblings. Throw a garage sale-- just get rid of it!

YOU SHOULD ENLIST HELP. Trust me, if you've collected stuff over the years, the hardest thing to do is get rid of it. You've held onto it for a reason, emotional, impractical, whatever. Enlist a friend, a sibling, or even a dog to give you a skeptical look whenever you clutch your 6th teddy bear, look into it's eyes and you think about keeping it.

HAVE A BREAK. No, I'm not being paid off by Kit Kat to say that. Organizing and cleaning and purging is grueling and time consuming. This blog took me two days to write because I started it while I was on a cleaning break, and I've been polishing and scribbling it here and there between cleaning, eating, and going to the gym. It's not easy. So take breaks to preserve your sanity and get some fresh air.

BIN THERE, DONE THAT. If there's something you're not using now, but you know you'll want to keep it in the future, box it up and put it into storage or something! You don't have to get rid of EVERYTHING but you want to be sure it will be useful or meaningful to you in the future.

And with that, I'm back to cleaning. Later Days!