As You Wish

So, a year ago, I promised you guys a wedding blog. Either I forgot I said that, or life got so busy it MADE me forget that... but somehow, that never happened.

Here we are, a year+ into our marriage, and I am finally going to write it. Now, a recap for those new to the blog: Steve and I have had quite a journey over the last 9 years. We became friends on Twitter, over our love of the Atlanta Braves. When I became single a couple years later, we started talking more often, and our relationship developed. We met for the first time in person in Atlanta, June 2013, when we attended Chipper Jones's number retirement, and have been together ever since.

Steve likes to tell people he proposed 493,876 times - he probably did, but in his version of the story, I turned him down all those times. Truth is, we planned our wedding in October 2013 in a hotel room in Halifax, NS. We knew I was going to move to Canada, so we agreed the wedding would be in Atlanta. Atlanta will ALWAYS be home to me, and is the foundation of us getting together, so it was the perfect location. Little did we know, our immigration journey was going to be a long and bumpy one. November 2018, I FINALLY moved up to Canada on a visa. We got married in a quick justice of the peace ceremony in December so we could put in my permanent resident application. I didn't want to let go of the wedding I'd been planning for over 5 years, so we decided we'd still have the Atlanta wedding, and that would be the day we actually celebrated as our wedding anniversary.

I spent 5 months planning a wedding remotely, and let me tell you - I could not have asked for better vendors than the ones we used. I'll add all of their links at the bottom of this blog, because they deserve any and all business I can bring them. The ONLY part of the planning that was stressful for me, was not being able to see the venue in person. I am ALWAYS in hostess mode, and not knowing exactly where everything was, and how it was laid out (I was given floor plans and pictures, but it's never the same as seeing it in person) was killing me. Having a ridiculously patient venue staff was much appreciated, because I know I can be a lot, at times. I also was stressing over our wedding portraits, not knowing the scenery available to us at the venue. The portraits were EASILY the most important part of the day for me, because we had waited so long, and worked so hard for this moment. Our photog, Katie, was incredible, and made a point to visit the venue months ahead of the wedding to tell me what she saw for pictures. We had a bit of a kerfuffle getting an officiant, and I'm glad we did, because James ended up being the perfect choice for our special day.

I was blessed enough to have my Mama and sister do the flowers and cake for our day, so there wasn't any stress there, since they know me so well. My only stress with that part was making sure they knew how much I appreciated their efforts.

So, the day before the wedding came, and Mama, Gordon (stepdad), and I met at the venue to do a walk through of the venue, and make sure we had a good plan for setup the next day. Our wedding was a small affair, just family and close friends, so there wasn't a big event to prepare for, and seeing it all in person calmed me a lot. Again, the venue staff was so accommodating, and patient with all of my questions.

The prep on the wedding day is a bit of a blur, because it was so crazy. But I have this weird trait, as a SUPER anxious person, to go into calm mode when things are hectic (especially in a party setting, maybe it's the hostess in me?). So I just adjusted with the little curves the day threw at me. I simplified my makeup, was fine that the cake was melting in the heat, didn't care that I forgot some of the decorations in the car, etc. All that mattered to me was that Steve and I were getting our day, finally.

We started with a first look. I love the whole "first look is the walk down the aisle" concept, but since the portraits were so important to me, this gave us a chance to knock most of those out pre-wedding.

Then we came to the ceremony. As my readers know, my Daddy passed away in 2014. So, I knew I needed to have my Mama walk me down the aisle. She means just as much to me as he did. I have been so blessed with the parents (David, Jan, and Gordon) that God has given me, and having them all there, even with one in spirit, meant so much to me. We walked down to Haley Reinhart's version of Can't Help Falling in Love with You, as a nod to my Daddy. He was known to call and sing Happy Birthday to his friends/family as Elvis, so that was my way of including him in the moment.

We had an unplugged ceremony, and I think our guests felt restricted from that, so we have hardly any pictures from the reception (I'd hoped we'd have selfies galore). But the day was PERFECT, and we have amazing memories to last a lifetime. We could not have asked for a better day, and both still comment on the day when we look at the pictures. I mean...

PERFECTION.

If you're looking in the ATL area for wedding vendors:

Photography: Katie Coon Photography

Venue: Lanier Islands

Officiant: James Hamp

Hair: Laura Austin

Busy... I'm So Busy, My Head is Spinnin'

I was shocked, when writing my last blog, that it had been 9 months since I'd written last. I said I was going to write the post about our wedding, next.

It has now officially (tomorrow) been one year since that blog, and not a draft has been written. 

I guess life has changed a bit, huh? So, I am still going to do the wedding blog, maybe even tonight, but want to just do a general catch-up blog, first. I have a blog that I know is coming soon, but posting it without catching everyone up first would not make any sense, since none of you know what has happened in the last year, unless we're friends on social media. Brace yourselves - this is going to be a long one.

My last blog was July 2nd of last year, and I was discouraged about us finding a house. Exactly 18 days later, we did just that! When I was still in the States, and not sure when I'd be able to move up, we would talk about where we were going to live. My joke was always "well, we'll have a house on the water, for sure." Knowing that would never be the case, because the housing market up here is so expensive, that waterfront property was out of our reach. We'd been looking in an area that had big yards, because we had a precious pooch, that needed space to run. As all of my readers know, we unexpectedly lost her in 2017. But we stayed in the same area, because it was still the area we loved. On July 19, we got a text from a friend for us to take a look at a house in a different area, that we'd not had any desire to look at. His advice "I know it's not where you're looking, but trust me." We looked online, and it was a lakefront house. We called our realtor, asking her to add it to the 3 houses we had lined up for viewings the next day. When we showed up at the house, as we turned on the street, I was already saying "Ughhh... I hate how close the houses are to each other." When we parked in front of the house, and got out of the car, I instantly said "Wow... I love the outside. Look at that door! It looks like a lakehouse. You don't even notice that it's close to the neighbors." 

I was in love before I knew I was in love.

As we walked through the house, more and more got better. So we came to the moment we were "dreading". Going down to the basement. Every other house we'd looked at that we'd loved the main floor(s), the basement had killed it. For those not familiar with our relationship, we met on Twitter and became friends from both being Braves fans. We both happen to be big sports memorabilia collectors, so we were in need of a big basement to display everything. We walked downstairs, and I won't say we were blown away by the basement, but we could definitely see it working for us, plus it had my much desired downstairs guest bedroom. I love a guest bedroom where your guests feel like they have their own space at the end of the day. We walked down to the lake (even though there was no need - IT'S A LAKE, I'll take it), and by the time we got back up to the house, we looked at each other, and just knew. By early afternoon, we had an offer in on the house, and by that evening it had been accepted. We were under contract for our house!!

This was it the day we saw it first.

And this is the view from our backyard. 

So, our closing day wasn't until October 1st. Lots happened between then, most important: MY BIRTHDAY. I kid, my birthday used to be a big thing... but now that I live up here, the multiple friend celebrations can't happen. Our most notable thing between July and October was our visit to Newfoundland. Steve is from there, and his sister/her family live in St. John's. So we decided to go over Labor Day weekend. I am going to post some pictures, but NONE of them do the beauty of this area justice. I hope to get better with our "good" camera, and go when we can spend a good amount of time for me to capture the magnificence properly. We had SUCH a fun time with family, and I was sad to leave.

I also HAD to get screeched in while I was there. I am now an honorary Newfoundlander. I'm going to post the video of that moment first, but I HIGHLY recommend you watched them in order, because the guy that did the ceremony was BORN to do this job, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. 

The moment of being declared an honorary Newfoundlander (last of the series - video 5)

Pre-show (video 1)

Cooking the Newfie steak (video 2)

Most of the ceremony, plus kissing the cod! (video 3)

The shot of screech! (video 4)

So then, October rolled around, and we moved into our new house! We have done SO much work on the house since we've moved in, and even hosted a couple of parties in November and December, even though the house wasn't anywhere near ready for company. We got the fabulous news that Steve was finally going to get his hernia surgery that he'd been waiting on for almost 2 years at the time. The week before his surgery, COVID became a thing in North America. THANKFULLY, since it was so new, it did not delay his surgery. 2-3 more weeks, and he would've been on another indefinite end list. That being said, it has been our life since then. He's thankfully back at work (but from home), but we've been mostly at home for 5 months now. 

Yes, it sucks at times - my Mama & Stepdad were supposed to visit us end of May/first of June, and got cancelled - but you know what? We're healthy, and have income and a roof over our heads. I say we're good. 

I hope you all are, too!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh... Canada.

I am grossly behind on updating this blog, and there has been a lot to talk about, but no real time to stop and do so. There have been more immigration steps, house hunting, wedding planning, our illnesses, cat illnesses... and suddenly it's July.

So, I'll do my best to catch everyone up with where life is now, and where it's been since I last posted in November (NOVEMBER??? 9 months ago, really?!). 

So, given the position I was put in with suddenly being without a job, I had no health insurance after the first week in October. As I've spoken about a little in this blog, I have several health issues - some life-threatening, and some chronic pain-related - so not having insurance just flat-out isn't an option for me. That put us in one spot: we needed to get married as soon as I moved up, so I could be put on Steve's health insurance through work/put in my PR application with immigration so I could get a health card. 

We got married on December 18th (took us a month to get all of the paperwork in order), in the lobby of our apartment building by a Justice of the Peace. While she was fantastic, I'd been planning our wedding for 5+ years at this point, so the idea of giving up what I'd been working on/dreaming of for us really upset me. We decided this would just be the "official, but not official" marriage, and we'd go on with the actual wedding in the Spring, and celebrate that as our "official" marriage, and anniversary going forward. It's what would've been the wedding if I'd still had my job when I moved up, so it only made sense. 

That being said, above all else, this is a shoe blog. I bought these heels 3 years ago, and literally never even opened the box they were shipped in; saving them for our wedding day. I decided to give them a trial run on the "official, but not official" day, and thank goodness I did. They're PERFECTION, but too small, and I would've been in trouble if I'd had them on for the "official" wedding. But look how pretty!!!

Brand: Taylor Says Name: Til Death

Store: https://taylorreeve.com/

Review: 6" heel. Fits SMALL. I'd for sure recommend going up a size. Keep in mind, I'm used to having my toes squished, and being uncomfortable for the sake of fashion. These were unbearable, and I only wore them for about an hour, if even that. 

Since December, we've been house-hunting like crazy. The market is out of control right now in Halifax. People are listing for $50,000-$80,000 above what their house is worth, and getting it. It's been incredibly discouraging, especially since we waited this long to be together, and now are still waiting to start our life here on our own. We're getting glimmers of hope here and there in the last 2 months, so I'm trying to stay positive and know our house is coming soon.

Other than that, we dealt with health issues (both us, and Gus - our sweet, 18 year old cat), and *I* dealt with wedding, Wedding, WEDDING. That'll come in another post. It was almost 6 years in the making - it's earned a solo post.

I am still holding off on a job search, in hopes that we'll find a house soon, and I can get us through the move before taking on the stress of resumes, interviews, etc. We'll see if that plan changes in the coming months, if no houses come about. 

So, until next time (i.e. THE WEDDING), it's good to be back, and I'll see you all soon... I hope!

O Canada... A Journey.

So, I've spoken over the years in this blog about my long distance relationship, and I THINK about my immigration journey... but long story short if I haven't: 4 years of trying, and here we are: it's time to move to Canada.

The plan for the last 2 years has been for me to continue working for the company I was working for, and working remotely from home. Suddenly that plan fell through when everything I'd been told for 2 years got ripped out from underneath me. I had to make the unfortunate decision to put in my notice, because I now had to figure out what my life was going to be in Canada with this new twist. My income, health insurance, house plan, etc. was all gone thanks to an unfortunate need to not be truthful with me by a company I'd been with for 13 years. It was (and still is) heartbreaking, but life has to go on.

So the full court press started of getting to Canada as quickly as possible. Despite me wanting this to happen within a couple of weeks, too much has to happen when you haven't even gotten started on the end game. I began packing, and tying up loose ends. Hired a moving company (Trans Canada), and just tried to keep moving. My fibromyalgia did not cooperate, and everything came down to the wire (I was packing literally as the truck was being loaded for Canada). Finally all of the details were done, and it was time to go.

This is when the drama started (not that there hadn't been enough to get to this point). I went to Atlanta for the Xtina concert, thinking I'd have a day or two to finalize everything at the house when I got back in town before Steve flew in for us to drive back to Canada that week. I got a call from him on the way home from ATL on Monday that winter weather was heading in for the NE States and New Brunswick at the end of the week, and he had to stay in town to wait on my furniture to be delivered before he could go anywhere. So basically it was either I drive by myself to beat the weather, or we wait on him and pretty much guarantee we go through  a lot of bad roads. There wasn't a choice. I packed up the car Monday night, and hit the road Tuesday morning with the two cats.

Tuesday's drive went slowly at the start because I was so tired from driving from ATL, plus packing all night that I kept having to stop because I was so tired. Once I got a 5 Hour Energy things went smoother (I don't do well with caffeine, so I was taking teeny sips every 10 minutes or so, but it served its purpose). The problem was, I was so mentally exhausted that by the time I made it to Cincinnati, 10 hours of driving and Harvey at her peak of "I'm over this drive" put me at my limit. I knew I couldn't stop at Cincinnati because that would put me in a horrible position for the next day, so I pushed myself to Columbus and stopped for the night.

Wednesday we set off and hoped to make up time. Did pretty well as the day started, then started getting calls. We'd been working with Trans Canada about not knowing whether I would be in town by the time my goods got there or not. They told me Steve could sign for everything as long as they had all of the paperwork signed by him, and a copy of his passport (which we got to them). Steve showed up Wednesday to sign for everything, and border services wouldn't clear it because the goods weren't his, plus he didn't have the B4 form filled out (which Trans Canada told us nothing about). Trans Canada tried to get him first to lie and say they were his, then tried to get him to pay the fee just to get everything across the border so they could keep moving. Steve, of course, refused both. He called me to fill me in on what was going on, then I called the rep for the company to see what he said. He claimed we'd had the conversation about Steve lying to customs the whole time. There NEVER would've been a chance I would've agreed to this, given we've been going at this for 4 years. I'm not going to do anything to put my immigration in danger. Then the dispatch officer called me and claimed the reason the shipment was rejected wasn't because of us not lying about the goods, but because Steve didn't know my status as a resident in Canada. At this point I lost it, because I told him we'd been working on this for 4 years, there was ZERO chance he didn't know that, so I knew I was blatantly being lied to. And between Steve and I, we were getting a different story every single time. I set back out on the road, and Steve spent the rest of the day on the phone with border services/the warehouse, and they both told him to stop talking to Trans Canada, because they were flabbergasted at the position they'd put us into. So I'm talking to Steve at the end of the day Wednesday, completely exhausted both mentally and physically, going down a mountain in the middle of the night, and suddenly I see in my rear-view mirror Harvey has escaped her carrier. That was the straw. I burst into tears, hung up on Steve, and tried desperately to find a place to pull off on the side of a mountain to get her back in her carrier (those familiar with past blogs know my fear of heights, so this was a worst case driving scenario). I got her back in, and we drove for another 2 hours after that/finally stopped for the night in Cromwell, CT.

I knew Thursday I'd have to get up early because I lost almost 3 hours from the drama the day before. I hit the road at 7. That day was pretty uneventful, driving-wise. I get to the border and...

"You can't move to Canada."

I was numb at this point. I let them tell me all the reasons I supposedly hadn't done things right. Once they were done, I asked them if I could go outside to get Steve the keys to the car so the cats wouldn't freeze to death (he'd come to the border with a friend to help me drive the last leg). They were ok with that, so I went out there and immediately told him to get our immigration lawyer on the phone. 2 hours later (the story is too long and complicated to tell) we hit the road towards "home". 5 hours + a dinner stop later, we were able to go to bed. A 15 hour day for me. 

Friday morning, we knew we needed to go to the warehouse to get the paperwork, go to border services to get it stamped, then back to the warehouse to get the goods released. After that, it would just be getting it unloaded at the storage unit. We figured maybe 3-5 hours. Wake up Friday morning: blizzard. Left the apartment at 9:00. Should have taken us about 20 minutes to get to the warehouse. Took us 3 hours. The snow hit almost a day earlier than they were expecting, and was a lot worse than called for. So lots of people didn't have their snow tires on their cars yet, therefore were causing a bunch of wrecks/delays. We had a few things we'd planned to do after the move, and that all got thrown out the window. Thankfully, the actual process of paperwork went super smooth. We got to the storage facility at 3:00, and figured we'd be done around 6:00. We left there just before 8:00. It's a long, frustrating, painful story that isn't worth going into at this point because of how long this blog already is. The one positive thing I WILL say about Trans Canada is the driver was amazing at his job. Problem was, they had him as the driver/unloader, so everything got done wrong in the storage unit, and they had to start over once he saw that was the case. At the end of the day, we had to pay an extra $1500 for the delays that Trans Canada had caused. On top of the thousands we'd paid for the move itself. 

12 states. 2 provinces. 4 days. I told you all we'd have an incredible story for you by the time all was said and done, and this is it... in a VERY condensed version. Apparently 4 years of emotional turmoil wasn't enough.

To give a current update: we're all here in Halifax, and our only current dilemma is the fact Harvey's nose is torn to shreds from busting out of her carrier (the zipper cut it all up). It's looking better every day, I just hate her being hurt. But both kitties are doing well in their new (temporary) environment. Here's hoping we find a house soon so we can start our new lives in Canada!

Something's Gotta Give.

I know better than to proclaim my "health goals" out loud, because that's an instant jinx. My health goals are going to take a LOT of mental work for me to reach (3 years of in-your-face stress has broken me). The physical part is easy, once you break the mental.

That being said, as a very small step, I am going to attempt to start cooking every meal for myself again. I find it's very hard to cook for one. I've cooked for two most of my adult life (and, God-willing, that'll be true again soon). So when I have tried to cook just-for-me over the years, I end up with leftovers, that usually go bad in the fridge because I don't want the same thing again, or I forget about them.

As a result, I've resorted to a lot of simple dishes, or heat-and-eat. And, of course, eating out. I've also noticed when I DO try to cook, I feel like I have to follow a recipe a lot of times. And I have forgotten many of the things I used to cook on a regular basis. My "chef" instinct has faded tremendously. It's still there, don't get me wrong. I can still follow said recipe, but not have to break out the measuring spoons/cups for tsp, 1/2 cup, etc. (any chef worth her salt can eyeball those things). But that natural ability to see ingredients in the fridge, and put a meal together has left me for the most part.

Most of my life, I've been one of those people that knew while I may not always be happy about the weight I was at, I would never be obese, because I'd reach that "frustration level" somewhere around size 8-10-12, and hit the gym hard, to never let it progress to an uncontrollable state. And up until about 2010, that theory held true. I'd usually hit 8, get fed up, get down to a 6- and maintain that for a respectable amount of time.

Something changed after that. I've spoken about my anxiety before, and I don't want to use it as a cop-out for laziness, because there has been a lot of that, but I think it has been the driving force. From 2012, forward, I have gone through a divorce (essentially, though not a legal marriage), moving, beginning the immigration process, my father's death, my step-grandmother's death, my cat's death, changing paths on the immigration process and starting anew, a couple of friends' deaths, family moving in with me, adopting a new cat, my step-grandfather's death, family moving out, and my paternal grandmother's death. Some of which was traumatizing, some just life-changing, but all at least came with a bit of warning/preparation time. Then we capped it off with losing my sweet puppy (of almost-11 years) VERY unexpectedly. Which I still can't fully process. It's like I haven't really had time to "settle" my anxiety in 6 years before the next thing happens. And my health has suffered.

So tonight, I am taking a VERY small step toward the old me, and cooked an improvised/healthy dish. Baked shrimp egg rolls. Nothing but olive oil, shrimp, garlic, spinach, broccoli slaw, and lite soy sauce. Didn't even use the egg for the sealing/basting. So, maybe it's just a roll.

Regardless, I'm making an effort: 

      

Lost and Broken

Tonight starts the first vacation I have had since Christmas last year. I was supposed to be "yelling" VACATIIIOOONNNN on FB, and headed to Summer's house right now, to attend the Bama/UT tailgate tomorrow. That was supposed to be the way I kicked things off before Steve and family members got into town for an epic week.

 And now it all feels unreachable. 

 I know it will still be a wonderful week, with a lot of love. But this is a horrible feeling. Like, when life keeps kicking you, and keeps kicking you, and keeps kicking you... you do what you can to stay positive. To not let it break you. You find the good things to focus on, to just attempt to not completely have a mental break. You say things like "Man, this vacation is going to be AWESOME." And then life is like, "Pshhh. Watch this."

 I don't know what God's plan was for taking my baby from me without any warning. I don't know if he wants to prove to me how strong I am. I feel like the tests I've had on that over the past 3 years have been enough. Losing my father. Losing my cat. Losing 3 grandparents. Losing friends. Not to mention the medical and personal emergencies. And that whole immigration thing. Why one more test? Why take the one true companion I had in life away from me? The reason I am not locked up somewhere in a straight-jacket. She was the one thing that I knew I had each day. Yes, I have the cats here too - but cats are cats. Mine are very affectionate, but even so, they're very self-sufficient. Allie knew that her smile brightened my whole world, even on the darkest days. That if she just sat next to me while I cried, or kissed my tears away, my mood instantly lifted. That no matter how many times she told me how mistreated she was, because she'd only been out 4 times in the last hour, and was given 6 treats instead of the 8 she wanted, I would still listen and give her a kiss to make sure she knew I loved her.

 For 10+ years, she gave me the best love. The unconditional, I-love-you-more-than-bacon love. She was hand-picked by God for me. Sure I thought I was looking for a cat that day. He knew I was looking for Allie. And now she's gone. And I can't stop crying. I'm writing this through tears streaming down my face. Every time I hear a noise outside, or the neighborhood kids yelling, I brace myself for the loud indignant bark that is supposed to come. And it doesn't. And I think about the fact it never will again. My whole world is forever changed. Again.

 And this time I don't know if I am strong enough to get through.

 Rest in Peace, my precious Allie. Mommy loves you with her whole heart.   

Mean Jean

It still doesn't feel real. I've shed a lot of tears over the past couple of weeks. We've been to her house twice to collect/clean out memories. But somehow, my brain is just not really registering that the last of my immediate family on Daddy's side is gone.

When I think of my childhood, I think of two things. Home (Atlanta), and East Tennessee. Mostly Rockwood. From the point I almost drowned at the lake house, to the piano lessons, to the Honeybee Tree game... SO much of my childhood memories are connected to my Nana. "Mean Jean" as she was referred to by our whole family. Which, if you knew her, was the silliest nickname. Given she didn't have a mean bone in her body. Smart aleck? Spunky? Funny? ABSOLUTELY (this runs in the Smith blood). Mean? Not even a little bit. I cannot think of one time in my childhood that Nana even scolded me. I'm sure they're probably there... I just don't remember them.

It's funny how you remember the stupid little things you'll miss when you lose somebody. I used to love to play in the flour canister when I was little. I loved how soft the flour felt between my fingers. I think I even had a little song/rhyme that went with it, but I certainly can't remember it. There might be family members that do. I also loved Nana's tea pitcher. It had this mixer built into the lid that you pumped to mix/stir the drink inside. Think like a TNT detonator. That's how I treated it, as I pumped it every time she made tea. Even in adulthood.

I'll never get to taste that tea again, or pump the mixer handle.

We went this past weekend to sort through as much as we could. Decades worth of memories/clutter is overwhelming. You want to take everything. It meant something to her, therefore it means something to us. But obviously, keeping everything isn't an option. So you have to somehow think realistically. 

I'm lucky that I just had to go through this with my own stuff 3+ years ago when I moved out of my apartment and in with Daddy, planning for my move to Canada (ONE DAY, AMIRITE?!). So I was able to shut off the Katie "BUT IT MEANS SOMETHING" brain, and only take the few little things that I knew I would treasure. Plus one big thing. Nana's house (not Nana herself; the house visits) to me was always about the piano. Even when I got older and didn't sit down to play it. I would plunk out a quick Hot Cross Buns or Chop Sticks, just to reconnect to my youth. It's now in Daddy's house, and will eventually be in mine & Steve's home. I plan on reteaching myself to play the basics, then progressing from there and actually doing what I should have done in my youth, and becoming a piano player - not just a piano plunker. 

This might be the view I'll miss the most. Oooh, baby baby! Buh-buh-buh-baby!

Most of the cousins know this view the best. It's just missing the lower branches to help you climb up to the top.

I remember when the branches of this tree were so low I would try and hide inside of them during hide and seek. 

Mama's tree

I didn't have the pic of me & Liz as kids in front of this tree handy for this then-and-now photo-op. But once I find it, I'll be sure and add it. 30 years later...