Still working on the "Happily Ever After" part...

I think we’ve been smug, naive. I always scoffed at "and they lived happily ever after", but somehow I ended up believing it. "Not us", I thought. "We’re stronger than that", we said. 

This isn’t to say that we’re throwing in the towel - not by a long shot. But, it’s certainly been harder than I ever thought, and I can see how marriages could falter. 

We’ve been living apart since November, and it’s starting to really take its toll. I’ve started classes in another city, and he’s still on contract with a job that is causing him more stress and aggravation than what it’s really worth. 

I talk about how hard it is to be married to a chef, how they’re married to both you, and their job, but I never really considered that his work could unravel us. Especially worrisome is the fact that nurses and chefs have two of the highest divorce rates! It’s startling, this realization: the thought that we could come to a point where we aren’t "us", but rather "him" and "me". 


This is probably all hyperbole, and it will all work itself out, but it’s definitely something to be cognizant of. I’m trying to be more thoughtful of our interactions, more caring, more focused. I’m determined - we’ll turn this into "Happily Ever After," yet.

Coffee Tour #1007

Coffee Tour
When Russ and I first moved to St. Boniface in Winnipeg, we went for a walk and were elated to discover Winnipeg's best coffee shop, Cafe Postal, was right around the corner from our new house!

It's Official!

Married Life


We did it! We got hitched. Dropped anchor. Settled down. Tied the knot. Made it official. After seven years, we’re finally Mr. and Mrs.!

After all the plotting and planning, the day finally came. It wasn’t without its share of hiccups, but nothing ever really is (that’s totally the perfectionist in me talking). 

The boys rocked it out of the park, setting up the hall that morning. I’m still so impressed that they got it all done, since there were so many little details. And really, Russ’ dad is a rockstar - he set up the ceremony site by himself and managed to run back to the hotel, shower and shave, and get back to us just in time to walk down the aisle.

The local caterer we booked typically does much larger events, so I’m incredibly pleased they were able to work with us on this. The food was amazing. Or at least, so I was told by everyone else - I ate a couple hors d’oeuvres and picked at my dinner, and then the food we had packed up for us ended up getting dropped on the way up the hotel elevator…

The cake was amazing, though - I had two pieces, and then ate a piece for breakfast! The girl who baked our cake is a genius, and she’s a friend of a friend. She totally came through when our original bakers flaked on us, and stopped returning our calls (seriously! wtf!!)…

Also, we also couldn’t be happier with our photographer, who really was so gracious and accommodating the entire day. She was absolutely wonderful, and I would recommend her a million times over. Seriously, book her for your wedding, family portraits, adult cake smash!

Before we were married, I really didn’t think having a ceremony and the whole wedding thing was really that important. I always said I would have been happy living in sin for the rest of our lives. But then, having done the whole shebang, I realize how beautiful and special that moment is. Standing in front of all the people we love most in this world, committing ourselves to one another, we couldn’t have felt more loved or supported. It’s a day that I’m truly going to value for the rest of our lives. Now, I just can’t wait to see all the photos so I can relive it again and again! Until then, I’ll have to survive with the hashtagged photos…

Home is where the dog is

Bosko
Our house is fairly quiet - Russ usually works weekends and often isn't home until at least ten o'clock at night. That means that I'm by myself pretty often - which is great, since it leave me with time to study or volunteer or basically have a life of my own - but, too many house by myself, and it starts to feel pretty lonely.

I started to find myself thinking of how wonderful it would be to hear the pitter-patter of little feet. Since we're in now way ready to start thinking about human babies, we did the next best thing - we adopted a dog!

After hours of pouring over PetFinder, we finally agreed on a dog that Russ thought he could handle (he's been uneasy around dogs since he was a kid), and one that would fit our condo's tight weight restrictions. Then, we found him: a ten pound stray fostered by a rescue group in Texas. So, after all the paperwork and reference checks, Russ took a Friday night off work (seriously!) and we headed to YVR to pick up our little rat-terrier cross. He made the flight in a kennel designed for a dog the size of Hercules from The Sandlot, so when we picked him up he looked like he was the size of a teacup - we were so excited we forgot to take pictures!

He's been with us for a week now, and we couldn't be happier! He's a bundle of energy, and it's so great to have an excuse to head out for walks and to the park, and he's a super cuddler. He loves playing fetch and cuddling with his pet giraffe (when he isn't trying to decapitate it)! The foster group that had him had named him Mickey, which just didn't seem to fit. So for a little dog with a big personality, we've decided to rename him Boskorelli, after the character on Third Watch.

Seriously, he's the best. Get ready to be inundated with puppy photos!!




An Introduction

Growing up, I was always known as a "picky eater". Mayonnaise? Revolting. Radishes? Gross. Cauliflower? Not a chance. If I ever saw how something was made, that was it - there was no way you would ever be able to get me to eat that ever again. I guess I had a way of taking things to extremes.

Years later, as I'm approaching my thirties, my earlier stubbornness finally makes sense: I wasn't picky - I just had high standards! You see, my mother was a workaholic single mom. She worked ten hour days, and then came home in time to shove a few tater tots or grilled cheese sandwiches down my gullet before hustling me off to softball practice. Most of what I ate as a child was hastily prepared, processed junk coming from a box (whether that box came from the pantry or the drive through was the only surprise). 

Most kids rebel by getting tattoos (which I did), or listening to punk music (I do that, too), but I found another way to push back against my conservative, suburban upbringing: as soon as I moved out, I was seemingly on a quest to eat all the foods that my convenience-obsessed family wouldn't touch. Samosas, kebab, tzatziki, stir-fry, butter chicken, sushi: these are all things that are pretty basic now, but I'd never even heard of while growing up. 

Eventually, this newfound passion for the unknown led me to working in hospitality, especially in resorts far removed from the suburbs I'd grown up in. By the time I was twenty-one, I had worked in one of the best restaurants in the country and found myself living in the Rocky Mountains. It was here that I seemingly solved the second part of my earlier "picky eater" status: rather than learn how to cook myself (and be completely turned off by the final product), I fell in love with a chef. 

I haven’t worked in the industry for a number of years, but I remain passionate and opinionated about food. I would be silly not to be: our lives revolve around my soon-to-be husband’s work schedule (including outlet openings, crazy functions, and our own missed holidays) and our spare time is spent going to new restaurants, farmers markets, and generally talking about food. While it can be a bit lonely when he’s on yet another ten-day stretch, I love my life. It’s not one that I’d ever recommend, and most of our friends and family really don’t understand how chaotic things can be, but food is everything to us. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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