{lyrics}

i've started a collection of favourite song lyrics on my window.
you know, so that when i pull up the blinds and it's not a nice day outside, i will still smile.

{part 14}

{parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,  10,  11, 12, & 13}

"hi, i'm nancy. you two look very interesting--"

i looked up from my laptop and stopped chewing my croissant. because what did that mean?

it was the very beginning of day eight. we were in the hotel restaurant eating brekkie and discussing what might possibly be in this thing the scottish call "black pudding" while i tapped out a little blog post and uploaded a few pictures. then all of a sudden, there was this woman towering over our table and telling us we looked interesting. for some reason, it rubbed me the wrong way.

"beautiful" is a nice thing to be called. or "lovely." "interesting" feels more like a reference to my clear eyebrows and big ears.

as soon as i was done thinking about how i didn't like to be called "interesting", i thought to think about how i had no idea who this woman was. she smiled too much. she stood a little closer to barclay than to me. she was holding a clipboard. who even uses those anymore?

it's amazing to me how quickly you can think things, considering all of this passed through my mind before nancy could finish her sentence, which ended this way:

"would you like to be in an advert? it's for walker's crisps."

oh. tv interesting. that's maybe better than just plain interesting. better than a kick in the pants.
{cultural clarification: advert=commercial, walker's crisps=lay's chips}

i looked at barclay first, because i'm more likely to throw yeses at people while he's more likely to think something's a scam and politely tuck his yes away into his coat pocket as though it were a wad of hundred dollar bills. but he was already looking at me waiting for me to look at him, and when i caught his eye he smiled and nodded in this way that he does when he knows i want to say yes to something and he might think it's silly but he's ok with it all at the same time.

so the yes was said and we gave the lady our number and she told us more details and then she said something polite about how she should let us finish our breakfast. which, you know, that was nice. i didn't dislike her anymore.



so we finished up, ran to our room to drop our stuff off, and met the crew outside of the hotel. the director, who we met right off the bat, was a short and fat yet stylish man with large sunglasses who talked exactly the way you're imagining he talked. he was surrounded by about a million, or 30, bustling men and women with mics and cameras and walkie talkies and other miscellaneous equipment and clipboards and game faces. they whisked us away to a lighthouse by the sea and took funny footage of us saying ridiculous scottish phrases in our clumsy canadian accents, laughing too much and {me} saying too often, "oh crap, i think i wrecked the commercial."



the director asked us if we didn't mind "acting romantic with each other" and we said we didn't mind it very much at all, which delighted him. so, if you're in scotland, you might soon happen to turn on the tv and see barclay awkwardly biting a single chip out of my mouth and then saying some funny little scottish thing, and me doubling over laughing, covering my mouth so that this beautiful country isn't subjected to my uvula.

we did a bunch of different takes, and then the director put his hand up and said, "we got it!" and everyone clapped and shook our hands and thanked us and made us sign stuff and one guy gave us money and we felt like movie stars even though all we really are are a couple of chip eaters.



we finished off the bag of chips that had been our prop and said goodbye to the director and his scurrying crew, saying that we'd had a great time but we had a train to catch.

because we had and we did.

{part 15>>>}

{heads up}

kelly ann's music monday playlist today is practically perfect in every way.

celeste is the blogger mostly likely to make me eat my laptop. who's buying blueberries today? me. that's who.

brandi's instagram is one of my favourites to follow. i'm not sure if she actually lives on this planet though. her's seems just a tad lighter and dreamier and prettier and stuff.

{just a few sites for your listening and eating and looking at pleasure. click on the screen shots to visit.}

{peek}

just the other day, i:

1} bought some blank postcards, painted on them, and sent some words to some lovely people in my life.

2} explored an old building i'd never explored before. because you and i both know: you should always explore old buildings.

3} went to roller derby with my friend kiersten. it's a whole new world.

4} took a walk around the neighborhood while listening to coeur de pirate. she's just fantastic walking-around-the-neighborhood music.

5} found an fascinating display in an abandoned shop window. was, in turn, fascinated.

6} explored some more and found a wheat field made entirely of glass wheat.

7} bought some cozy wintery sweaters to snuggle up in.

8} doodled just for fun. because if you don't doodle just for fun sometimes, i think your brain starts to look like a prune. like, more than it already does though.

9} made shadow puppets on the floor while waiting for supper to happen. because of how grown-up i am in real life.

10} ate peanuts, simply because i'm not allergic to them.

11} did a puzzle and ate chocolate-dipped frozen yogurt on a stick.

12} was visited by the ghost of college-past, and my good friend, crystal. she is one of the best friends to explore with because our common-sense levels are about equal. if you know what i mean.

13} played some music just for fun. again with the prune-brain thing.

14} drank gratuitous amounts of coffee/hot chocolate/tea/warmed up milk. because i love me a hot beverage.

hope your weekend is merry and bright.

{two wrongs make a right}

i've been trying to figure out watercolours lately.

i was at the store getting groceries, took a wrong turn at frozen yogurt and ended up in the craft section, where i found a lot of watercolours for a little money. i thought, "that seems like a good idea," and i bought them.

since, i have developed a whole new respect for people who can paint with watercolours. i've always got either too much paint on my brush or too much water, and it ends up looking a tad preschool.

however, even though i've not yet felt as though i've gotten what i was going for, i've made some fairly alright mistakes. kind of like going to the store for some eggs and coming home with paints instead.

would you care to see my favourite mistake?

i tried painting a map of the world, and ended up hating it. so i flipped it over and tried painting some hot air balloons on the other side, and ended up hating those, too. but when i was carrying it past a window to throw it in the garbage, i noticed this:




kind of like a stained glass window? kind of?

{confession: i hope someone else does this too}

{her, and what we should do about her}

SHE IS SO UGLY.

i'm not even going to try to sugarcoat it. some of you might think i'm being mean, but i need to get this out there.

she's rude, and smelly, and terrible to look at.

she's got pimply, cratery skin that she tries to hide under gloopy inches of foundation and blush; her mouth is the size of a dump truck, her ears stick out from her face like giant kites that could whip her off into the sky at any moment, and her face is just slightly green. she's a copycat and a phoney. she's loud and belligerent. actually and frankly, to put it delicately: i can't stand her.

so i really don't get why she's often featured on so many of the fantastic blogs i follow. i don't understand why she has so many facebook friends or why she's got everyone twisted around her knobby little finger. 

now, before you cringe and balk at the blatant name-calling; before you put trembling fingers to your faces to check your skin and ears and mouth for fear that i am talking about you; before you start formulating comments in defence of the aforementioned "she", hear me out because i grew up with her. i know her in real life. i met her in elementary school and i've known her ever since. 

her name is Jealous, and she has been stinking up the internet lately.

{i'm going to take a sharp left here, but we will arrive back at the point momentarily.}

there have been, in the last few months, a surplus of blog posts complaining about pinterest, about facebook, and especially, mostly, about "perfect blogs" and the "perfect lives" these blogs portray. complaints about bloggers painting a pretty picture of their lives and not being "real", by hiding away things that they struggle with or any dark secrets they might have. you know, things like dust bunnies and depression and crying babies. 

these irritated/angry posts never sit right with me. at the surface, probably, it's because i don't like feeling like we are automatically obligated to share every detail of our lives just because we're involved in social networking. i didn't start this blog to share my inmost thoughts and ideas with everyone and anyone who happens to stumble on it. i started it because i like to write, i like to doodle, i like to see what other people are coming up with and enjoy their creativity. why is it wrong for me to clean my kitchen before taking a picture of it for my blog or only post pictures of myself that i think are somewhat flattering or not write about the parts of my week that had me in tears? 

i clean the whole house before we have company. i put on make-up before i go out in public. i don't walk around in the grocery store wailing and crying and taking random strangers by the arm to share with them each sordid detail of my last few weeks--and i don't feel like that's an act, i don't feel like i'm putting on a show or pretending i'm perfect... i just kind of feel like i sort of have maybe a right to my privacy {i know, right? how dare i}. it's my choice how much i want to share, and if i feel like sharing a cookie recipe and picture of my spotless living room, i suppose that's what you're getting. 

if i DO feel like sharing something sad, or revealing a part of my heart to you {because yeah that happens sometimes}, i guess you could call that your privilege. not your right. say thank you, take from it what you will, but don't expect this to become an online diary. 

but the point is not that. 

the point is that after reading five or ten blog posts about the evil perfect model/couple/family/mommy blogs that are infiltrating the blogosphere and making us all feel like pond scum, i got to thinking about why they would bother us so much. i mean, i'm not exempt. i have this same relationship with a few blogs, the whole love/hate thing where i don't want to stop reading because they have such neat ideas and recipes and patterns, but i cringe every time there's a new post because the blog author is so much more creative, beautiful, put-together, etcetera etcetera, than...

oh. 

we've come full-circle. 

it's me.

i am Jealous. 

i want there to be something wrong with these people. i want there to be dust bunnies, or depression, or crying babies. as though somehow that would make all the rest of the perfection sting me a little less. 

and that is what is so ugly about her: Jealous is not just a feeling. 

she's someone who gets right inside your rib cage and smokes a cigarette, and the smoke climbs up your throat and into your head and it clouds your vision and makes you angry at other people for having nice things, for being who they are, for living out their full potential. what could be inspiring and beautiful is twisted into something that injures you and makes you bitter. the smoke rots your insides and wrecks your heart. 

i know that there are those who go overboard. the every-other-minute in-your-facebook statuses GUSHING about the perfect husbands and the beautiful beautiful beauty of pregnancy and amazing lives and houses and vacations... but those are not going to go away. 

and the only thing you can really do about them is deal with yourself. 

learn to rejoice with those who rejoice, even if they have something you don't. learn to be inspired by someone who can do something you can't. learn to love others enough to be happy for them and wish more good things on them. 

and, if all that is too hard for you right now, shut down your computer and go for a walk.

{part 13}

{parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,  10,  11, & 12}

when i woke up i didn't know where i was or where i'd been or what i was supposed to be doing. i was in a hotel room but it was a different one than last night or the night before that or the night before that and i'd lost track of where in the world this could possibly be.

i stared at the ceiling as though my memories were millions of little black spiders skittering across it into the dark corners where i'd never find them again. i began pulling down little bits and pieces of yesterday and last night and the weekend as a whole: the ferry, the enchanted forest, train rides and the beach and being lost and being broken out of our train station prison. it was day seven. tuesday. we were back in edinburgh and i was starving.

so i shook barclay awake and we visited a nearby grocery store and bought some croissants and fruit, and then we went for a great little walk by the water and up the street and into a park filled with swans.








we really liked the swans, but decided that they would be better in technicolor, so we got out our sharpies and made the appropriate edits.






just kidding. obviously.

we visited some charity shops and mucked around the park, and then we walked to grandma and grandpa's house, where we were fed and fed and fed until our bellies grew round and large and we imagined our eyes filling up and spilling out delicious scottish broth. {after all, your body is only so large--if you eat so much, where else is it going to go? down into your legs? don't be ridiculous.}

we spent the afternoon being shown yellowed photographs of relatives and weddings and vacations and other miscellaneous special events and we shared our pictures of inverness and nairn and the isle of skye. and as soon as the food had settled in us, we were fed some more. it was a fantastic time.

part-way through the afternoon, the phone rang and it was another of barclay's cousins, who lives up the coast in aberdeen. barclay chatted for a bit and then hung up. "you up for another train ride?" he asked.

and of course i was.

{part 14>>>}

{title track}

it's a neon day, the kind with its own heartbeat. 

{i used to be an extrovert, but now i crave my alone time.}

my house is right near the skyscrapers, and on a day like this i like to put on my headphones, choose coeur de pirate, and walk around below them, pretending like they're the eiffel tower or something. i visit the book store and the coffee shop and the record store and those kinds of places; i keep moving. but this day i find myself short of breath. 

i sit on a bench. i tap the volume button a couple times so that the music completely drowns out the clack of heels on paving stone.  

"encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort..."

i realize how long it's been since i just sat outside like this, watching people, smiling at strangers. 

why don't i do this more often? this is my favourite thing.

i admire the building tops, the way the windows reflect the sun; i lean back on my hands and watch a small child, apparently also tired of walking, suddenly sprawl out on the pavement. he will walk not one more step today.

i wish i was three. when you get tired, you just lay down until someone picks you up and takes you home for some apple slices and a nap.

his mother looks exasperated and i smile at her as she surveys her sack-of-potatoes three year-old. 

why don't i do this more often? this is my favourite thing!

i think it's amazing how you don't need eyes or ears to know when someone is beside or behind you. what sense is that? the one that is not quite a sound and not quite a sight and not even a feeling?

i turn with a start and find a guy grinning at me from a couple feet away. 

"great weather! isn't this weather great?" he asks exuberantly. "last year this time we had 6 feet of snow! last year this time it was forty below! and here we are, same time, same place, sitting on a bench."

i've eased my right ear bud out so i can hear him, but i hold it close to my ear so that he can see that i'm not interested in conversation. 

"yep," i say. because, you know, i don't mean to be rude, but i didn't come here to pick up guys. i smile, but only with my mouth, and start to put my ear bud back in.

"it's not even snowing," he observes.

i nod. because i agree. because it's true.

he seems happy that we have something in common, even if it's just the weather. 

"i have so many cold sores," he tells me.

i try to keep a straight face, but i know my eyes are widening a little. he has obviously thought this through. 1: find something we have in common. 2: reveal any possible deal breakers. 3: redeem myself by showing my good qualities, like how i'm a family man. 

"my mom was saying that yesterday. i go over there for sunday suppers all the time. she says it looks like i got beat up. it kind of does, doesn't it? like i have a bloody lip?"

i nod again. because i agree. because it's true. 

"but they have great stuff now that you can put on cold sores. they'll be gone in no time at all. i'll put it on tonight and they'll be gone by tomorrow." 

"yeah, for sure," i say. 

"that's great," i say. 

"well," i say, looking at my watchless wrist, because that just seems to be the international sign for having to rush off somewhere and because i've completely forgotten how to excuse myself from unwanted conversation, and finally, oh yes, "i have to go. nice to meet you."

and, i guess, that's why i don't do this more often.

{a cure, an aid, a miracle}

do you have a friend?
do you have a significant other, or crush?
do you have a person in your life who you wish was your friend but, due to lack of real life social skills following years of online social networking, don't know how to make them your friend?
do you have a mailman, a librarian, or bookstore owner in your life who seems a tad lonely but really, really nice?

because i have thought of something that will make your friends friendlier, your romances romancier, your social life socialier, and your lonely people happier. provided none of the above have a peanut allergy. then i have to tell you: there is no hope.

hey. every human-level miracle has some sort of limitation.

this miracle in particular is named

DARK CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER CHEESECAKE FOR TWO

and, like any good miracle, there are preparations to be made. you must gather these things:

* a box of those chocolate cookies {you know, the kind that you might use to make ice cream sandwiches}. alternatively, if you don't know what i'm talking about, you could probably just use oreo cookies.
* a tablespoon {i would say, maybe even a tablespoon and a half} of melted butter
* 1/2 cup cream cheese {4 oz}
* crumbled dark chocolate bar {i'm talking about those lindt 90% cocoa ones. but, i mean, if you want milk chocolate, you could do that too. spoilsport.}
* 1/3 cup peanut butter
* 1 teaspoon vanilla
* 1 & a 1/2 cups of whipped cream {the frozen stuff, thawed}
* 2 fancy cups or glasses {this is dependant on the person you're going to be sharing this miracle with. if it's your best friend, you could do it in a martini glass or something fun like that. if it's the librarian, you could do it in a cute coffee cup. you know what i mean?}
* this song playing in the background {it infuses a certain something into the miracle}: 


here we go:


1) crush up five cookies and mix them with the melted butter. cram that into the bottom of your cups. you might think about putting a little extra into your cup. or theirs. you know, depending on how good a person you are.


2) grab a hand mixer, and beat up the peanut butter, vanilla, and cream cheese. stir with a spoon just once so that you have something to lick.


3) crumble in the chocolate bar in tiny pieces. probably not the whole chocolate bar, unless you really really love chocolate bars. i used probably 1/3 of one of those big honkin' lindt bars, but i'll leave this up to your discretion. at least have the decency to leave two squares for the top.


4) add about a cup of whipped cream {or more, you know, if whipped cream is your favourite} and just stir it in. 


5) refrigerate for a couple hours. i know, you just want to eat it now, but i promise it will taste better if you wait. i promise. and i'm a very honest girl.


6) put the rest of the whipped cream on the top along with some of the leftover chocolate. 


7) this step is very important: DON'T EAT THEM BOTH BY YOURSELF. there is nothing miraculous about sitting alone on the kitchen floor stuffing yourself full of chocolate and cream cheese. the miraculous part is the part where you go and find your friend, or that guy you have a crush on, or whoever, and say, "do you have a peanut allergy?" {and then, ONLY IF they say 'no':} "here, i made this for you!" wear a smile and offer them your cup of miracle. it will spark something in both of you, i promise.


and i'm a very honest girl.

{because i am so honest, i would feel bad if i didn't admit that i made these for barclay and i the other night, and after i ate mine i finished his off too. he had a stomach ache that night. so.}

{OH! AND! this recipe is adapted from one found here. check it oot!} 

{part 12}

{parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,  10, & 11}

"well. looks like we're locked in."

it was 2 am, early tuesday morning. so day seven, technically. we'd almost been in scotland for a week, and it looked like we were about to spend a night in a darkened train station.

i leaned against my backpack.

"i'm glad i brought my winter jacket. it's chilly." i couldn't help but be kind of giddy. i love when things go wrong. is that weird?

barclay just nodded. he loves when things go right. he kept one hand on the padlocked gate, as though he still had hope of getting out somehow. i was past that already. i was a prisoner behind iron bars. i was homeless and cold, and loving the dramatics of it all. how romantic! how exciting! we'd cuddle for warmth and sleep under the scottish sky. i was scoping out dark corners and pulling out my extra mittens. {layering is key.}



in light of all this, you can imagine my disappointment when we were rescued, not even a half hour later.

a group of construction workers found us and popped the lock with a crowbar.

rats.

however, i did learn two things from this event:

1) it is very easy to break into a train station.
2) you won't even get in trouble for breaking into a train station.

we thanked them, even though they totally wrecked our adventure, caught a taxi to an inn, and slept and slept and slept.

{part 13>>>}

{a helpful guide to men, according to a barista}

it's valentine's day. but you knew that already. 
i mean, you had to: 48 percent of the population is thrilled about it and 48 percent is devastated. it's like the day after the superbowl, or every time lady gaga comes out with a new cd. there's not a whole bunch of middle ground. 


don't worry. i'm not here to spill all the juicy details of my valentine's day. we're not overly valentinesy around these parts anyway. we're in that 4% of people, leaning more slightly towards thrilled, but not out to spend an arm and a leg on flowers which will inevitably rot on the counter. but, i mean, you feel free. 


however, because i know that there will be a lot of dating going on in the world this evening, and because i know that a lot of that dating will be taking place in coffee shops across the globe, i thought i'd share an essay written by my friend, carmen. it's a truly insightful piece. {it'd be better if you knew carmen in real life, because then you could picture the facial expressions she'd make while saying all of the words, but it is a good read nonetheless.}

{Subtitle: Why the First Date Should Always Be at the Coffee Shop}

By Carmen

http://bestlinesborrowed.blogspot.com/

I had the lovely privilege of working at a coffee shop this last spring and summer while I finished school.


It was lovely because I had delightful co-workers and a fabulous boss.  It was a privilege because, after school year after school year of working financially lucrative but emotionally draining part-time jobs, I was only responsible for two things: get people their coffee, and make it good.


But if you've known me for any length of time, you've already anticipated that I somehow made a simple, relatively mindless job into some sort of investigation.  Because I like investigations.  I like methods.  I like patterns and clues.  And above all else, I like thinking that I can figure people out.


So.  Without further ado, I present my deeply profound and unfalteringly accurate treatise on what a woman can tell about a man by the type of coffee he orders.


Ahem.

A coffee means that he is strong of character, not given to following trends, and wastes neither time, words nor money.

An americano means that he has all the characteristics of the coffee man, but with a touch of class.  He probably wears a scarf in the fall, and he keeps shoe polish on hand.

An espresso --regardless of how it's served-- points to a slightly aloof man.  Now, I'll be the first to admit that there is some grey area here.  He could be pretentious (check to see if he has a large ring on his pinky finger, is wearing only organic wool, and/or has an unbroken copy of "War and Peace" under his arm) or he could be cultured (for example, does he meet with other customers to debate and laugh together in a foreign language?).  This also applies to cappuccinos.

A tea means that he values the home.  He doesn't care what people think of him, and he talks of his mother with deep respect.  If, however, he orders a fruit or berry tea, drop him immediately; you will never measure up, in his mind, to his mother. 

A London Fog (some call it an Earl Grey latte) means --well, I don't know how to put this softly.  He's a bit childish.  He's never really gotten over the giddiness of being an adult, and he tends to assert his self-perceived maturity in ill-timed and inappropriate ways.

A basic latte man is likely just going along with the flow.  He doesn't see why some people love coffee shops and why some people love to hate the idea of four dollar drinks.  Coffee shops serve his immediate purpose and, besides, his girlfriend loves them.

If a latte man wants a flavor in his drink, the barista must consider which flavor before judging him.  Something mainstream like vanilla or hazelnut barely matters.  See "basic latte man" --he probably doesn't even know that he could request a different flavor.  If he asks for something like "toasted marshmallow" or "pumpkin spice," however, he is susceptible to advertising and easily led by popular opinion.  This sort of man believes that his coolness increases with the length of his drink's name.  The Caramel Macchiato man is resolutely in this latter category.

Most men who order mochas, in my experience, don't even know what's in it.  "That's, like, coffee with, like, milk?  ...and chocolate?  Seriously?  Huh."  See "basic latte man" but add a bit of bad money managing.


The Hot Chocolate man. This man is not the kind you want to date. No, this man is the kind you want to marry.* The Hot Chocolate man knows who he is. He likes hot chocolate and he's going to order hot chocolate, regardless of what you or his buddies think of him for doing so. Maybe he sounds a bit too set in his ways-- a bit too lone wolf? Just watch his eyes light up when the barista asks him if he wants whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Snatch him up quickly, before she does.

*The only exception to this rule is if he thinks he's cute for ordering hot chocolate and keeps mentioning the fact.

There are many more drinks, of course, but you get the idea.  What complicate the issue more [read: what makes the investigation more interesting] are any specific requests made by the man to the barista regarding the drink.  I've summarized them below for your benefit.

Black: He's straight-forward and simple; what you see is what you get.
He specifically requests whole milk:  He cares a little too much about being a man's man.  Has probably practiced his Rambo face in the mirror (bandanna optional).
He specifically requests skim milk:  He thinks a little too much about his figure.
He specifically requests sugar-free syrup:  He's prone to dramatic spurts.  Probably whines when his team loses and boast obnoxiously when they win, always forgetting that he had nothing to do with it either way.
To his coffee or tea, he adds milk: He's on the right path and has the right goals.  Cheer him on-- he'll be a great man if he has the right woman behind him.
To his coffee or tea, he adds sugar: He doesn't like conflict.

And there you have it.

Having contemplated this system for some time, and having been convinced of its accuracy, I told my boss one day, "I could never respect a man who orders a skinny London Fog."  She laughed.

The next day, a young, tough, swaggering male police officer came into the shop.  You know where this is going, don't you?

He was, no doubt, used to women's heads turning after his uniform.  His very aura demanded respect.  And he ordered a London Fog.  Remembering my conversation with my boss, and dearly hoping to laugh, I asked him, "Would you like whole milk or skim?"  He said, "Oh, skim, please!" 

With all my strength, I kept my face straight and asked mischievously, "And would you like the sugar-free syrup as well?"

He said, "Sure, that'd be great!"  Poor man.  For his sake, I hope the woman he dates doesn't read my blog.

{the adventures of karz and tim and the big fat third wheel}

i've spoken before of a valentine's day four years ago that consisted purely of sitting on a couch beside a happy and engaged young couple, both loving and hating the situation and reeking of eternal singleness. {eternal in the very loosest sense of the word. i met the man i would marry three months later and we were engaged within the year, so.}

but the point is not that.

the point is that that valentine's day wasn't anything new to any of us; for years i had been, like, their little adopted norwegian child. they took me to the rodeo and on what might have been considered dates and on shopping trips and to visit her parents and his family. i crashed through the dating scene like a cow through a field of porcelain grain and, somehow, always found myself alone in the backseat of karlie's car, talking too loud and irritating the crap out of tim while he tried to woo my best friend.

their relationship was steady and beautiful and i had front row seats from day one {we all met each other on the first day of college. it was a little bit like a tv sitcom situation}.

anyways. we're all grown up now {and, like "eternal", i'm using "grown up" in the very loosest sense of the words}. karz and tim got married and moved clear across the country to bc, while i moved here and married barclay. long story short: we thought we'd see each other maybe every other year for the rest of our lives and we were miserable apart from each other. they missed their little adopted viking girl, i think, and i sure missed my valentine's buddies. we prayed, God answered, and tim got called in for a mysterious and very unexpected job interview on new years' eve 2009--with my boss at the time, who he'd never met, for a job he'd never applied for or even knew was available. they just happened to be in town that day, which is no small matter when you live on the other side of the country {i really can't even describe to you how amazing this is}. too amazing, to be sure, to be coincidental, and the fact of the matter is that my friends live walking distance from my house now.

but, i guess, the point is not all that either.

the point is that there is going to be a new third wheel in karz and tim's relationship. a much smaller, but maybe louder, third wheel. karz asked me to take some pictures of their little family and, even though i am by no means a photographer and had never even attempted anything like a real photo shoot before, i was too excited about the whole thing to say no.

so. blogland, i would like you to meet these good people.










dear little third wheel,
you are stealing my spot. 
i hope you know that.

i set the bar really high.

you'll need to be loud and obnoxious. belligerent. you'll need to throw things from the back seat and make it awkward for these two ragamuffins to do anything romantic in front of you. you'll need to ask lots of questions and just always be there. valentine's days, weekends, holidays, saturdays, 3 in the morning.

especially 3 in the morning.

you'll need to cry a lot on karz's shoulder, because {and i know you'll find this out} she is the best at making people feel better. she'll say wise things and if she doesn't know the answer, tim probably will. they make a good team like that. she'll take you on adventures and make you laugh and bake really sweet things for you to stuff your face full of. she'll make you listen to country music {you don't have to like it though}, and she'll take you to the ranch so you can be spoiled by her parents. her little brother will teach you how to dance in the kitchen and make you a peanut butter banana wrap. his name is aj, and i think he'll make a fantastic uncle.

i'll still be around though, just to make sure. and every once in a while, i'll pull you aside and remind you how lucky you are to have a front row seat to this steady and beautiful relationship. watch them and learn from them.

love,
your crazy viking aunt,
suzy

{OK, Go}

smart people.

they make the funniest comedians, the best friends, and the most amazing musicians.
case in point: OK Go.

i've seen this video by this ridiculous {in a good way} band circulating the internet lately. 

there's some skepticism as to whether it's a "fake" or not. i mean, watch the whole thing: it looks kind of fishy. maybe an even better word: impossible.
but i've seen other videos by this band, and i had faith in them. they're smart people.

so i did some research and came across this article, which explains how the video was done. let's just say i'm impressed out of my sneakers. OUT OF MY MIND.

"To hit the marks on time and effectively “play” the song, one of the band members wrote a computer program to convert musical bars into miles per hour. The speeds were not high: about 35 mph during the chorus and 17 to 22 mph on other sections of the track. But Kulash wasn’t watching his speedometer as he drove. He had a visual downbeat reference in dropped beanbags marked with flags, plus a metronome in the car."


if you haven't seen any of OK Go's other ridiculous {in a good way} music videos, click on a few of these, my favourites:

{the flowerchild dwelling}

today was fun because i got to do a guest post on one of my favourite blogs ever.
click on the screen shot to go there and meet kelly ann. {you will like her instantly.}

{the four types of valentine's day-ers}

there are four types {at the very least} of valentine's day celebrators. so this morning over brekkie, i designed a card for each:

firstly, there are the gooshes. these are those of you who watch too many chick flicks and expect every holiday to be romantic, perfect, and bloggable. you'll for sure cry on valentine's day, either because everything lived up to your expectations or because it didn't. for you, stars lyrics for the one you love.

the second group of people like valentine's day, but aren't overboard about it. they're still on the boat. they're the boaters. to you, valentine's day is a good excuse to give a card, eat more chocolate than usual, go on a date, have a girls' night out. for you, a card you could give to your mom, your sister, your best friend, or your husband. or whoever. the mailman, maybe. your dentist. you know, etcetera. 

the third group of people are the haters. obviously. this group acknowledges valentine's day with angry facebook statuses and comments regarding commercialism and stories of horrible valentine's days past. {trust me, i know. i once spent valentine's day sitting on a couch with my roommate and her fiance. we didn't even watch a movie or anything. as far as i remember, we just sat there and thought about how we all wished i wasn't single. i don't remember anything else about that night.} contrary to popular belief though, the haters are not all single. some people love their significant other and hate valentine's day. for you, a card you can give your at least one other friend who hates valentine's day. 

the fourth group is more hate-y than the haters and they don't even acknowledge it. i think, if you think about something even a little, you still have a tiny little spot of your heart that could one day learn to love it. the fourth group hates valentine's day so much that they refuse to think about it at all. which means they didn't read this whole post. which means i didn't go to the trouble of designing a card for them.

because they're silly.

{if you'd like to see the printable cards i made for the blogosphere last year, click HERE.}

{part 11}

{parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, & 10}

we made it back to the ferry dock with a half hour to spare. the rain was coming down and we were drenched. again. my eyelashes stuck together in little triangles and my hair curled under and adhered itself to my chin. i felt like one of those girls in music videos walking through the rain singing a song about their broken heart, but i probably looked more like a clump of hair pulled out of a shower drain.

we ducked into a shed with a picture of a coffee cup on the door. three small tables and a tiny little counter. a wee coffee maker and a few baked things behind glass. wet, heavy air. a kind old woman and her husband, who'd obviously been out in the rain too. the feeling from the enchanted forest and castle still hung in my head and around the foggy corners of the little coffee shop. the man shook water from his rain hat onto the floor.



"ah," he said in his thick scottish accent. "worn and weary travellers, i see."

they fed us free mince pies and coffee and commented on how few travellers come around in winter. the woman noted that we were lucky the ferry was going out this week at all, but we already knew that.

 we visited and warmed up and dried off {our faces, at least} and then boarded the ferry.

the rest of the evening was spent riding and running and asking. we owe a lot to the elderly.

we rode the ferry; we ran, holding tight to each others' hands, through the pelting sleet in mallaig. we realized we didn't know where we were running to. we tapped on a darkened shop window, where an old woman and her silver-haired husband were arranging dangling ceiling snowflakes. they directed us to a restaurant, and told us how to get from there to the train station. they asked where we were going. we shrugged.

"maybe edinburgh?" barclay said. i tried to smile at the man, but my eyelashes were still stuck together and water ran into my mouth. he looked sad for me.

wonder of wonders: when we got to the station there was only one train heading out that night, and we were 15 minutes early. we were going to fort william.

okay.



we made it to fort william just fine, but discovered when we got there that we didn't want to stay there. we flagged down an older gentleman, who turned out to be a train conductor.

he was probably the nicest man ever. "oh," he said when he'd looked at our train passes, "just get on this train. it's a first-class sleeper to london, but we'll stop in edinburgh."

problem: our train passes were not good for three things: we couldn't leave the uk, we couldn't ride first class, and we couldn't get on those caledonian sleeper cars. not without paying the difference, which would be a few hundred dollars. we politely declined. he politely whispered, "don't worry. i'm in charge, and i say it's ok."

those two sentences are a couple of the most fantastic of all the sentences.

we rode first class back to edinburgh, where our train angel helped us off.

here is where things got tricky.


there is often a reason why there are rules. no reasoning, no rules. usually, anyway. no one would tell you not to stick your head in an alligator's mouth if it wasn't going to bite your face off. this is an important thing to remember, especially when you're travelling in another country.

our train left us for london and we set off through the deserted train station. it was 2 in the morning and we were about ready to crumble into any old bed and sleep like rocks.

it felt funny, making our way through the station that had been so full and bright and bustle-y when we'd left it two days earlier. the lights were mostly off and the shops were closed and dark. we realized then that, because the sleeper train wasn't scheduled to let anyone off in edinburgh, the station in edinburgh would not be expecting anyone to get in at 2 am and, obviously, would close for the night.

the full extent of that fact didn't fully sink in though, until we got to the gate and saw the padlock and jiggled it a bit and found that it stayed fully closed, even with our best wiggles and jiggles.



this. i thought this was hilarious. i leaned against the gate and laughed so hard my cheeks hurt. barclay shook his head and took my hand. he is slowly growing used to curveballs, but they are still not his favourite. he managed a grin.

"well. looks like we're locked in."

{part 12>>>}