Good Morning My Darlin’ D

Delayed hitting publish on this as these were my vows –

D is a dedicated reader….

August 13, 2016

Good Morning My Darlin’ D.

The countdown is hours until I become your wife.  I will be there hoping more than anything that when you see me at the end of the aisle, walking towards you, that you will know you were right when you asked me to marry you.

Since the moment you walked in my door, behind your brother, insisting “you were from the Maritimes and Maritimers hugged rather than shake hands,” I knew I wanted to get to know you better.

After courting by text and email for 8 months from 4750km away, just over a year ago I met you again and this time I fell in love with you and the place you call home, now our home.

Do you remember our first same postal code date, the night we sat together in PEI making up stories about the couples sitting around us? Do you remember when we left and I jumped into that first puddle? Two feet in, arms wide open. You looked at me with such wonder in your eyes. So I took your hand, and you hesitantly stepped into the second puddle with me. The third puddle we jumped in together and the fourth, which I might add was the deepest, you pulled me in. That evening is symbolic of everything since. Although we were hesitant in the beginning, we are a team. Sometimes I pull you, other times you pull me, but more and more we jump together. You are a kind, humble, genuine man, my dragon slayer and I can’t imagine how you think I am worthy of you but somehow you do. I can’t begin to tell you how much you have changed me, how much you have moved me, how you have made me a women by how much you have loved me. For that I am eternally grateful. If you can promise me anything, promise me that when you are sad or unsure or you loose your faith in you, that you will see yourself through my eyes.

It has been a broken road that has led me to you. All the more reason to not take for granted that I have been so blessed to find a man that honours our differences and embraces our kismet. You encourage me to be your math girl, your fairy sitting on your shoulder when I can’t be there in person and your funky puddle jumper when we are together. You make me better, you make me shine brighter, you encourage me to sing like no one is listening, to dance like no one is watching and most importantly to love like I have never been hurt.

I promise to stand behind you when you tell me you’ve got it. I promise to stand in front of you, when you don’t. And when you need neither, I promise to stand beside you, to walk beside you, to be your friend, your lover, your wife. You are my ONE that I want to grow old with, share adventures with, laugh with until we cry, cry with until we laugh. To continue to jump into puddles with.

 

I believe that we can be extraordinary together, rather than ordinary apart. I promise to love you to the stars and back. You are my goodnight moon, my David, whom I wish every night to sleep well and dream soft with. I promise to work every day at being your ONE.

I love you to the stars and back.

Your Samanth (ah)

Random Acts of Kindness

It is our wedding day.  The day when it is supposed to be about me and D.  The day when we officially become one team.  We have been a team a while but today the world will be witness to the official part of the union

Throughout the past 4 years (in particular), I have benefitted over and over again from random acts of kindness.  Sometimes it was a seemingly small thing – a hug by example, but in reality, it was huge.  It was everything and more, that I needed in that moment.  Over the past 4 years I have been blessed with place to stay, a shoulder (or a hundred) to cry on, a smile, a compliment, a meal, a bracelet, flowers (both real and virtual).  Each of these things or moments was/were a random act of kindness that was not obligated.  They were simply and unconditionally given.

On this day, that I am to have the ultimate gift, D’s heart to care for forever and I am committed to doing my own random acts of kindness.  This will be my way of paying forward the kindnesses that I have received. My acts will be given without explanation as every gift should be. I am committed today to let the universe show me what I need to do as unconditionally and without expectation as every act of kindness for me has been.

 

Baby Shoes (for my Son’s new Son)

Inspired by Jen – Brea’s Air

To MY darling Son!

Today will be one of the hardest and most amazing days of your life. Please remember that although you will never forget how much hurt your beautiful wife will go through today, over time (and you’ll be surprised how quickly) she will forget.

As the two of you go through this day you will feel frustrated, exhausted and at times you will want to even quit and walk away, but it will be then, when they (your wife and new son) will need you the most!

Take a breath, and then another, because today is when you will fall in love together with another human being as you have never before, as unconditionally as any heart can.

Today is the day your lives will change forever. I know this as your mother, because I am your mother.  Today, you will understand this as well. It is the day when you will truly understand love as you have NEVER understood it before.

Today, when you think you can’t, I KNOW you will, because you are my son. I love you, exactly like you will love your son. Today you will understand that gift.

I promise,

Mum.

A Blogging Challenge

Here it is….

I would like YOU to submit (by comment) a title for a Blog.  Any title.  I will write as I am inspired.  It can be any title, any subject.

Ready…

Set….

Go!

Not exactly as shown PART 2

6 months later….

D1 (D’s older brother) is my Man of Honour.  He didn’t get to come to pick THE dress so as a follow up, I figured it was only right that he got to come with me to pick up THE dress.  It was important to me that he see me first and add his two-bits.  A male perspective if you will and most certainly, a male perspective that I hoped would reflect his brother’s.

D1 and I walked into the shop together.  They were expecting me and already had THE dress hanging in a change room (still under cover of a garment bag – but ready to go).  “Isn’t it bad luck to have him here?”  The clerk asked.  Both of us were quick to correct her…

“Not the groom!”  We laughed.  It wasn’t the first time.  D1 and I scoped out the reception venues with the same assumptions being made by the sales staff.

It was time.  6 months had passed and I was just a little excited to try on THE dress.  Having it be mine made things that much more real.  It had already been nearly a month since I had put D on the plane to go back East.  I was missing him.

The garment bag was opened and the back of the dress exposed.  Hmmm I thought, THE dress I thought was a bit more tea dyed.  Eh, what do I remember it has been 6 months. The clerk undid the zipper. Ummm did’t THE dress have a row of pearls on the zipper line? I stepped into the change room.  Alone with THE dress.  I fumbled for a moment, not sure what to do.  I looked at the dress.  What could I do?  I pulled out the receipt.  Same number on the tags, same name on the tag, same measurements on the tag.  Obviously I didn’t remember THE dress.  Over the 6 months, my memory had created a completely different dress.  Put the dress on Sam!

Stripped down to underwear and socks, I stepped into the dress.  The form fitted dress.  THE dress was A-line.  This dress was fitted. I fumbled around for a moment trying to do up the zipper.  I looked down and behind me.  This dress had a train. THE dress did NOT have a train.  I was getting married at a country church on the prairie.  THE dress did not have a train! THE dress was country and simple.  It was fun and like me, ready to dance the night away.  THE dress was SAM!

The clerk was now behind me doing up the zipper.  The zipper that fit over the curve of my backside, the small of my back, glided smoothly over my spine and rested exactly where it was designed to rest.  I let out my breath.  It took 6 months for this dress to show up.  This was not THE dress.  It was however a dress.  I didn’t love THE dress, I liked it.  Did it really matter?

The curtain was thrown open. I was expected to walk out, stand on the pedestal, and with damp teary eyes, show D1 the dress.  That is what every bride-to-be does right? Instead, I stood there stunned.  But that’s when the magic happened. I looked at D1 and he looked at me.  His jaw had dropped and he said “Your beautiful.”

It was time to give this dress a chance.  I walked out, stepped up onto the raised circle and looked at the mirror.  This wasn’t THE dress but this was MY dress.

MY dress has sparkle and flatters my curves, MY dress is silver tones and has lace that is…. well…. a little less country and a little more rock and roll SAM. The other Sam.  The Sam that D fell in love with.  The Sam that tried on far too many shoes but found the perfect ones in the end.  The Sam who will wear her Cinderella pale blue Fluevogs that will carry her down the aisle to her Prince and Dragon Slayer.  The man who patiently waited for her a for lifetime.  The one who taught her, it was safe to love again.  This was MY dress.

D1 and I headed for dinner, having My dress neatly packaged and in the back of my jeep.  “I must tell you Sam, that isn’t the dress I imagined you in.”

“Me neither,” I laughed and then over a glass of wine, explained “not exactly as shown.”

Not exactly as shown PART 1

Being a part of the real estate industry has had me see a lot of business cards.  Some are better than others whether it be the cute sayings or the glossy finishes but most entertaining are the photos.  I am sure you have seen them. The person hands you their card.  You look from the card to the face of the agent that handed it to you and question with all of your polite composure, “So you’re SAM???” because Sam in the photo is not the Sam handing you the card.  Maybe it is Sam, just 30 years ago, a lot less hair dye ago and way less chocolate ago.  Sigh….

I know who I see in the mirror and who I see in a photo can be drastically different depending on how much self esteem I have that day.  I have looked in the mirror as I walk out the door and thought “huh, not bad…” only to catch a glimpse of myself in the glass door as I enter work and reassess to “what the heck was I thinking?”

D sees something I will never see.  I tell him that mother nature got it right when she reduced his vision as he got older.  It’s her way of ensuring I stay good looking… you know the hazy soft around the edges with less defined wrinkles and certainly no grey glamour photo kinda look.  He laughs when I tell him that and tells me I am beautiful in his opinion.  I’m glad he sees me that way.  I’m also just a wee bit smitten with him!

8 months ago, my gang took me shopping.  I had a few weeks of getting use to being engaged and having already experienced a wedding or two in my life was not sure that this wedding would be traditional.  D wanted guests and dancing.  He wanted to share our happiness he said.  So I agreed, not knowing what that would look like.  I can tell you without a doubt, we both agreed the minute this wasn’t fun anymore, we would not do it.  So, as I was saying, I sent out a group message to my girls that if they wanted to check out a possible church with me I was heading out on Saturday morning.

The girls agreed and that Saturday, hopped in the jeep.  I started driving out of town.  “Where are we going?” one of them asked.

“Morley,” I said.  “I am not sure how far West it is but I need to get a sense of timing. D and I think it looks like the churches at home so it will be a good spot for us.”

“Church? We’re going to a church? Well that makes more sense, I thought we were going to look at a couch.”

“Couch?  Why would you think that?” I was so confused.  So were the gang.  Apparently my message was auto corrected from “church” to “couch”and because I have this amazing group of friends who support me through anything, well, they were on board to go see a couch. Bless them! I love them to pieces.

The church was perfect BTW and 10 days from now (August 13, 2016), I will stand in it with D in front of our guests to promise forever.

After we wandered the grounds we headed back to town, a short stop at a dress shop in Cochrane was unsuccessful so back to Calgary we went.  What I am now understanding, is that you don’t spontaneously go wedding dress shopping.  It really didn’t matter to me, because I was simply indulging the girls.  This was to be fun and fine, I could do dress-up for an hour or two.

The girls however, were on a mission.

We entered the shop to see aisles and aisles of dresses.  Every colour of white and off white you could imagine.  Long, short, funky, a-line, x-rated and mermaid.  Good grief!  I hit the change room.  J was on tie her in and zip her up duty.  K and L started pulling styles.  I think I may have tried on 30 dresses in an hour.  It came down to 2.

I don’t remember the 2nd choice anymore other than it was 3X the cost of the one I chose. My adult head decided this is a day, one day, one day a couple of hours and not worth spending thousands of dollars on a dress.  I was not “in love” with either and after trying on THE dress a second time, I knew I liked it and maybe the girls were right, I did need a wedding dress and so it was ordered.  Delivery would be the middle of June 2016 – 6 months later

To be continued…..

 

 

 

Stretching our comfort zone

I have always been open to learn something new.  I have made commitments over the years to go back to school (twice now), learn a new instrument (cello) try a new art medium (recently playing with water colour and acrylics) and now, I am ready to explore again.  I have been looking for a reward for waiting one more week before I head east.  Something that I can look forward to in small time increments because waiting for what will be another 3 months (after he returns to Nova Scotia following the wedding) before D and I are together again is seeming unbearable.

I love singing.  I grew up singing, in school choirs,  with the radio, in the car.  I sang to my son when he was a baby.  I did this comfort mostly him, but it comforted both of us.  He didn’t judge.

I remember as a child listening to my mother singing with the radio… The unicorn by the Irish Rovers, Downtown by Petula Clark or I’m so Dizzy by the one hit wonder Tommy Roe. She loved Elvis and as a result, so did I.  I grew up with my Father’s music of Kris Kristofferson, Charlie Pride, and Jim Croce.  I sang all of it along with my own favourites, the Eagles, Air Supply, Kiss and Billy Joel.  Over the years I have gained an adult appreciation for a number of styles.  I sing loud and likely off key when I am alone in the vehicle.  Music is something I enjoy.

I have time left here before I join D out East.  Music is something that has been very much a part of his life.  I would like to share that with him.  The opportunity to explore this surfaced yesterday.  Iris was one of my agents.  She officially retired yesterday to be a voice coach.  I was lucky yesterday to have her invite me to stop by and try out her skills as a teacher.

I am learning to trust process, be open and stretch my comfort zone.  I am glad I did.  I am glad I belted some sort of nonsensical noise out of my mouth last night without concern for what it sounded like.  I learned that maybe I can be confident enough to sing with D just a little louder.  Even if it is just noise.

Thank you Iris for asking me to try.  I am looking forward to trying again with you soon and seeing what kind of nonsense we can get up to.

Never underestimate the power of …

Never underestimate the power of…

superheros

sun filled days

a puppy’s growl

a child’s laughter

the words of a song

the touch of a lover

the love of a mother

the written word

the unspoken word

faith

belief

magic

time

the lack of time.

Never underestimate the power of imagination, truth, lies, fairy dust, unicorn sparkles and hope.

Never underestimate the power of…

 

 

 

Racoons in the Family

As a young reader I became a fan of Farley Mowett and in particular, 2 of his books inspired me as a child of the prairie – The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be and Owls in the Family.  I grew up in Southern Alberta and as a young child escaped the city with a GREAT Aunt Lucille (my maternal grandmother’s sister) whom I adored.  She transported my younger sister and I to our GREAT grandfather’s home in Saskatchewan.  He lived in a place that was home to a grain elevator, a church and a post office.  There may have been 5 or 6 other homes in the town.  I don’t remember any more.  The youngest grandchildren were in fact younger than me.  They lived about 2 miles west of town, well within walking distance for kids back then.

Our Summers were made up of no indoor plumbing, no power, wooden sidewalks, garter snakes, frogs from the pond and endless adventures making ice-cream with a salted crank bucket.  Of course there was church on Sundays and many an hour spent laying on our backs performing great feats of “cloud busting.”  We solved the world’s problems kissed by the sun and the wind of the prairie.  We sang out loud and rescued what ever we imagined needed rescuing.  Those summers, I learned to love the horizon and solitude.

D and I have our new version of heaven.  He has been lucky enough to be there for almost a year now, waiting for Sophia and I to join him.  Almost without exception, every day he sends me a photo of another flower blooming in our garden.

He reminds me how many of them will need to be moved either this Fall or next Spring because they aren’t in the best place right now to thrive.  I love the fact that this is something he cares about.  I love the fact that he shares this.

D is a bird guy.  Not one of the tried and true charting binocular guys, but more of a love the songs, the freedom to fly, appreciate the creatures kind.  Every day he checks the feeders knowing that the hummingbirds need their sugar, the gold finches have a certain seed preference, the wood peckers are hanging precariously from the hummingbird feeder because they are too silly to see the suet feeder across the yard and the crows are simply annoying at dawn.  The bird feeders have created a downstream effect on my preferred 4 feet and fur creatures.

This is Dennis.  He (we think) has been stopping by since last fall to fill up on bird seed.  He has made his home in the garage.  I know this because our formal introduction last fall by D was one neither of us will soon forget.  D asked if I wanted to see where the little guy was living.  Of course I wanted to know the neighbours.  So in the garage we go.  Neatly kept at the back of what was not the brightest corner of the garage, was a perfectly round hole in the pink insulation.  D informed me there was about a kilogram of seed in that pouch.  I suggested he repurpose it back to the bird feeder.  That didn’t go over well.

Dennis was no where to be seen.  I figured I could personally judge the damages by poking the bulge below the opening.  I am not sure who flew out of the garage faster or farther without touching the ground.  D will likely tell you, that once he had recovered from the scream of his wife to be and horror of the of our guest, and of course after he stopped peeing himself from laughter….  I think the squirrel won.

As an update, Dennis and his friend Chipper the chipmunk (also a member of our extended family) have extended family attending the daily feeding.  Good news travels.

Remington has been the roadrunner to my D’s Wile E Coyote.  9pm is D’s missed opportunity to grabbing the newly hung bird feeder before Remington the racoon has once again manipulated the string, branch or height for yet another feast.  I met Remington one evening.  He had formally blown off D’s scolding for once again succeeding in cleaning out the place.  Apparently I personally have foiled any attempt D may have to getting rid of the pest by naming him.  I am convinced this is merely an excuse for D.  He likes the little bugger.

This past couple of weeks have convinced me even more as a purchase of rabbit pellets was made.  It was an attempt to save the bird seed for the birds and keep Remington satisfied with an alternate source of nutrition.  Now, I was of the mindset that this particular food choice being wrong.  Turns out I was wrong!  On two counts…

Remington is Remitina… she has kids.  We will be upping the food order this week.

Raisins are the reason I have trust issues.

I stood in front of the display cabinet looking at the muffins, hoping to find something that appealed to me for breakfast.  It had been an exhaustive 2 days at my course (conflict resolution) at JIBC in Vancouver.  There I stood, completely overwhelmed with the decision of Morning Glory vs Apple Oatmeal.

Karen appeared beside me and with me stared at the display of fresh baked goods.  “What’s the problem?” she asked.  Karen is blunt and to the point.  It is one of the things that I truly adore about her.  There is never any concern for what she means or if there is any underlying unsaid motive behind her comments.  She is who she is and what she says is just that.  I think I have heard it referred to calling a spade a spade.

“The label says Morning Glory muffins and on the other side of the same plate it says Apple Oatmeal muffins.”  Neither Karen nor I had moved a muscle.  The two of us where still standing side by side staring ahead at what was creating great anxiety in my life.

“I still don’t get it.” Karen was clearly in her own simple “what you see is what you get” world.

“I want an Apple Oatmeal muffin.” I was not understanding why she couldn’t see as plain as day as I was, the problem.

“So grab one!!”

“But they all look the same on the plate, I don’t know which one is apple and which one is Morning Glory.”

“Oh for God’s sake, pick a F@$%^ muffin.”  Karen was exasperated with my indecision.

” I can’t!” I stated firmly, “I simply can’t deal with a raisin this morning.”

Karen for the first time in that exchange looked at me.  “You don’t like raisins?” she asked.

“Nope,” I replied.  “Raisins are the reason I have trust issues. I can’t risk raisins today.”

It’s good that she hadn’t sipped on her coffee yet.  I think the muffins may have been showered in coffee at that moment if she had.  “Try the lemon poppy seed.” she suggested as she walked away.

I sighed and reached to the next plate over.  It wasn’t going to be a raisin day for me.