I am not even trying to be a dirty hippie when I tell you that when I sit in my backyard and see clean clothes flapping in the sunshiny breeze, I feel like everything is going to be ok.

Advertisements

Aloha

Yesterday after work I sat down at our desk and started pulling together everything we would need for our upcoming vacation. I gathered both of our passports, my medical info and then looked up our flight itineraries online to double check what time we’d need to be at the airport Sunday evening.

Only, when I looked at the itinerary, Adam’s name wasn’t on it. I checked and double checked and scoured the pages, but only ONE passenger was listed: me. “Don’t panic” I told myself, “DON’T PANIC DONTPANICDONTPANICDONTPANIC!! FJNWUSRJDFJKF!L$%^!”

And then I thought wait! I can just look up our flights on the WestJet website, perhaps they only put my name on the itinerary because I booked them! Yes! That must be it! So I enter all of my shiz on WestJet.ca, and a ticket pops up.

ONE ticket.

For me.

Aaaand then I started panicking FOR SERIOUS. How the hell did this happen? How do you FORGET to book a ticket for your partner for your ONE yearly vacation?? I immediately called WestJet, hoping that some “superagent” could take pity on my bumbling incompetence and give me a cheap flight because the flights, the ones (or, ONE, as the case may be) that I purchased back in March for around $600 were now $1400. And um, no. NO. Do not want.

Guys, I was on hold for 38 minutes. Thirty-eight minutes! Sweating, biting my lip, and smiling furiously as Adam and his two erstwhile cousins walked through the door around minute 27. The cousins have been staying with us for a few days while they do some work in our town and it’s been sort of like an extended boys night, a boys week if you will. Each evening consists of drinking lots of beers and laughing loudly at each other’s jokes, while farting and scratching themselves.

Needless to say I adore them.

SO. Boys are sitting around laughing and shooting the shit, Madeleine is pacing downstairs trying not to lose her shit. At one point, the younger of the cousins walks downstairs and strikes up a conversation

“What’s up? Who are you on the phone with?”

Bursting with terror and fear I hiss “I think I forgot to book Adam a plane ticket to Hawaii!”

The cousin’s eyes widen. He’s silent for a moment, and then the dick just laughs! Then keeps laughing. Doubles over laughing in fact. And then he says, “How do you ‘forget’ to book your husband a plane ticket?”

Yes! Exactly! Look at my face! THIS IS NOT HELPING!!

I am on hold for what seems for forever. But, what I didn’t remember but what you guys probably do remember is that I have no memory. Like, NO memory. I can’t remember where I put the garbage bags, or who’s birthday it is until its tomorrowandomgIdon’thaveagift and, as the kind WestJet woman kindly explained to me, I didn’t remember that Adam and I had booked separately.

I didn’t remember the conversation about each of us using our own points to book flights because they wouldn’t let us combine them. And I didn’t remember how, although we’re on the same flight, we have different confirmation numbers and booking codes.

And I didn’t actually know, that because we have different last names (I never changed mine) they didn’t know to combine the reservations to avoid this sort of last-minute panic.

The funniest part was that halfway through my eternity of being on hold, I was sitting there with my hand on the button to buy another ticket. I thought that if I told Adam and left the decision up to him, he would opt not to come and instead stay at home and deal with some pressing matters that have come up lately. So I was going to just book it so he couldn’t make that decision.

And confronted with this, I thought to myself very seriously: “I will do what it takes.”. I was determined to have Adam there beside me, sipping mojitos and getting skin cancer because he refuses to use suncreen. We need this, I kept thinking, we need to fortify ourselves for the months ahead and at some point the memory of those beaches and mojitos and sandy kisses will be all that’s sustaining us. So I was going say fuck it to the $1400 and do it.

Oh my god. Why am I like this? This can’t be normal! But hey, all is well.

We are BOTH getting on a plane Sunday evening and leaving this hellhole for a week. One blissful, glorious week where we can give each other pseudonyms like Louise and Rodrigo, drive around in dog-hair free rental cars, wear ridiculous shoes and get sand in place sand should never be.

All is well. Aloha!

Polyanna

There’s a situation in my life which has been quietly simmering for roughly two years now. Within the last six months however, the simmer has grown to a boil and over the course of the next few months it will almost absolutely overflow.

I swear I’m not trying to be purposely obtuse and I am sure I will share the details with you at some point. I am a writer after all, putting words onto paper (or pixels onto screen as the case may be) is more cathartic for me than therapy, or even, dare I say it, a stiff vodka-lemonade. Creating something beautiful helps negate the ugliness that so often fuels the need to write in the first place.

ANYWAY. Due to the overwhelming amount of stress and stress and oh, STRESS, in my life at the moment I desperately feel the need to express gratitude. At the risk of sounding Pollyanna-esque, I need to look on the bright side, put things into context and calm the fuck down.

So. Things I am grateful for (in no particular order):

  • Firstly, my health. Yes even, despite the kidneys. I feel strong lately, in a physical sense if not an emotional one. I am not fighting a Sisyphean battle with addictions, I am not morbidly obese, or battling a fatal illness and I have all of my limbs, senses and mental faculties. I am still here.
  • My family (even though, and perhaps especially because, we always shit too close to the cupcakes). In my work with teens and even amongst my friends I have seen many dysfunctional families and it is difficult to overstate the impact of a close-knit, unconditionally loving family. Having that safety net, that team behind you is incredibly valuable and I am doubly lucky that I was both born to incredible parents and gained a whole other awesome set when I married Adam. These bitches have my back.
  • My job: A) Because I have one at all and B) Because, despite the occasional heartbreak (see “addiction” above) I get to spend a good portion of each day being reminded of how incredibly smart, witty and resilient this next generation is. I feel lucky that hundreds of teens have trusted me, confided in me and laughed at my lame jokes over the past four years. Also, I now know more about teenage boys than I ever wanted to.
  • OH! Here’s a good one, just, you know the teeny tiny fact that I live here. In one of the most beautiful parts of the most beautiful countries in the entire world, where I am able to express my opinion both as a person and as a woman. I can vote, move freely, earn money and know that in the next few days I will eat, have shelter and probably not be killed, robbed or raped. Yeah, that.
  • Adam. (If you’re feeling nauseous today maybe skip this one because it’s about to get reeeeal cozy up in here!) I’ve never met a man more ridiculous, strange or loving. He irritates the hell out of me, (to the point that I thought it perfect to choose a pearl as my engagement ring) forces me to become a better person and constantly challenges me to move beyond my too-strict ideas about what a life “should” look like. I am a better person for having met him. It’s been nine years and if you asked him, he wouldn’t hesitate before  guaranteeing you another ninety more.
  • My friends. I don’t know how to elaborate on this one, where to begin. They remember my birthday, fly me to Toronto for visits, let me live vicariously through their singleton adventures and over the years have listened to me obsess about a seemingly inexhaustible range of topics including but not limited to: self hair cuts gone wrong, doomed crushes, midnight breakdowns, bunny custody fights, fear and loathing in small towns, sexcapades, and things I wouldn’t even tell you, INTERNETS. They are the shit.
  • And of course all the little things. Things that could be found in the Book of Awesome. Clean sheets, sunlight, goat cheese, beautiful shoes, cut flowers, secrets, books, books, books.

Pollyanna OUT. Thanks for reading.