The Naked Beaver

The other day, I treated myself to a Brazilian wax and I went to arguably the best place in Edinburgh. It was expensive, but the technician was fast, friendly and experienced. When I left the establishment somewhat lighter, I knew in my heart I can't give up the goo. You see, when I first got my job, I laid down the dough and got a Brazilian, a full leg and underarm wax and paying the bill brought me closer to tears than having hair ripped out from the roots in my most sensitive areas. So I decided to take it easy and do DIY waxing/hair removal in an effort to save money. I kept this up from about February until July when I decided to go ahead and treat myself in the days leading up to the wedding. I went to a cheaper place and immediately regretted it. Dirty walls, hard, thick wax and a procedure that took double the length of time that I was used to. NEVER AGAIN. But I got a better result than what I do myself. So I decided that it was worth paying good money to go to a nice, clean place (read: expensive) to strip down to basically nothing and make small talk with a woman I've never met before and have her put hot wax on my va-jay-jay and confirm that I'd like my "bottom" done too.

But while I was lying there with my limbs akimbo, I wondered why us women do this to ourselves. We don't have to and it's debatable as to whether or not it's detrimental to our health and skin. I don't take my clothes off for money nor are my nether regions featured in blue movies. So why do I feel compelled, and ultimately satisfied, to be hairless? I don't think it's due to societal or relational pressures. I guess it just makes me feel nice. I would love to have a really good conversation about this. I'm interested to know why other women do it or don't do it, for that matter. Anyone care to chime in? Boys are allowed (I'm looking at you C7).

Looky looky...

I'm a wedding graduate featured on my favourite wedding blog. When I asked Dave if her minded if I put our wedding forward to be featured on a popular blog, he told me he didn't have any problem with me "pimping" our wedding. Da nerve. I had to explain that I was trying to do a service to others. How many Black brides do you see "out there"? Mmm? Exactly. Anyway, I'm rather proud. A Practical Wedding has helped me and so many brides and I'm just paying it forward.

Hey, you're still here? Go check it out!

I'm glad our wedding got featured because I'm not committed to going over and over it on this blog. I may write about it in the future, but I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a little sick of talking about it. I have a feeling I'll go back to it now and then, but only when I feel like I have something new to say about it.

Two years and counting

I mentioned recently that work has been kicking my ass, but hopefully, I've turned a corner (knock on wood). I had to have a talk with my boss and basically tell him that I was drowning and needed help. That is something I've never had to do in all my years of working but I co-coordinate the biggest programme in the School. *Sigh* I'm not going to get into it because I'm having a three day weekend and I don't want to ruin it by thinking about work.

Moving on.

I've been reveling in the wonders of Scotland. The weather has turned and the crispness and the changing leaves make me so happy. Dave, his parents and I went to an airshow last Saturday and it was hands down one of the best days I've spent in the UK. I've never been to an airshow before but I would definitely go again. What was really fab was the fact that the day was absolutely stunning. Clear blue skies and a hot, unapologetic sun. I was supposed to go to work that day to play catch up, but I called in "hell no" and joined my family on a sweet day out. It was particularly special because it was so great to see my mother-in-law so excited about a massive war plane.

One thing I love about the Scots is their pride in their culture and their history. I can't begin to explain how excited I get when I see men in kilts or hear a really good bagpiper. So it was a treat to see the military pipe band do their thing.

Sometimes I take it for granted that I live in a somewhat foreign country. I have become use to the accents, the foods and the rituals, but when I see something like this, I'm reminded of how fortunate I am and that I need to enjoy it while I'm here. It has been almost exactly two years since I landed at Glasgow airport and one year since we moved to Kirkcaldy. It's tough sometimes, especially since we have such a clear vision of our future and we can't wait to realize it, but I have to say, Scotland kicks ass. From time to time I'll show it off so that you can get a sense of what I experience and see.

** I'm sorry if I haven't responded to comments straight away. I'm not sure how to receive comments to my email. I used to be able to on my old blog but I'm having difficulty configuring this new one.

Mmmm. Guacamole.

I just made a big bowl of the g-stuff and that was the most fun I had all week. It has been C-R-A-Z-Y. It's the start of the academic year and since I'm pretty much the main point of contact, everyone knows my name. And not only that, they love screaming my name all the live-long day. I can expect another three weeks of this (plus a couple of Saturday catch up days) and it's going to be tuff. So I'm trying to get little bits of pleasure when I can. Like the guacamole. And watching trashy t.v. when Dave's not around, like "Paris Hilton's New BFF". And making beautiful cookies (seriously the best I've ever made). Because I'm prone to forget that life is made up of the little pleasures. When it's wall-to-wall hell I have to try even harder to remember that.

So, I'll be back soon. With stuff. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to eating my guacamole and sleeping in on Sundays.

In the meantime

First off, I need to say that I know that I am extremely lucky. I have a decent job and make decent money (though I see very little of it since we’re committed to saving for our future). I have good co-workers and even a friend at work and I’m so grateful. Things are good to great in my personal life; I have an amazing and supportive husband and family-in-law, and I have brilliant friends back home and around the world, though I could use a few more here to have a bit more of social life. The problem is that I know I’m not living my best work life. I’ve had my adventures (and you better believe I will have more), I’ve travelled, I’ve fallen madly in love. But there’s a gaping hole between the hours of 9-5. I’ve tried to ignore it for the past four years, but now it’s so big, I fear that I will fall into it. I need to really stretch myself and I know I’m not doing that now. Don’t get me wrong – I’m doing a good job at work. I always do. But I want to be a warrior princess at work. I want to put out fires, engage people, build things up and see the end result. I guess in some ways, I do that now on a very small scale, but I climb ant hills at my current job; what I really want to do is scale Kilimanjaro. But I have to wait. I know now that I definitely want to pursue a Masters degree, most likely in Public Administration and/or Community Affairs. I want to make things happen that will better the lives of people at the community level. I want to get in a position where I’m managing the projects and calling the shots rather than assisting those who are doing all the fun things. The future me is coming into to focus. But I can’t start it now. My excuses aren’t lame, but real and insurmountable for the time being.

So I have to make the most of the meantime. Because I need to continue living in the present. I got pretty good at this while living in Japan. Everyday was a struggle and an adventure. Now life is a struggle but very much in an easier way. Now I must wait in the dimly lit tunnel of the every day without getting apathetic. That, people, is a task more exerting that trying to understand directions in a language you barely understand. But for my sake, and my family’s sake, I must do it.

So here is what I'm going to do: really enjoy my time and do STUFF. Like explore this beautiful country like I used to in that other country I lived in. Dave and I will take little weekend trips (on the cheap!) and discover our adventuring selves again. I'm going to pursue a new hobby (sewing) and reconnect with an old one (knitting). I'm going to host dinner parties and go out for happy hour. I'm going to enjoy my time here so much that I will be sad when it's time to go. This is my new goal.

The picture above was taken nearly a year ago by my SIL Louise. Girl's got talent.

On having a non-Saturday wedding

I lurve Saturdays. I can sleep in, stay up late, do whatever and eat whatever I want without guilt and be an all around bum. They are blissful and an awesome day for an event. So no wonder Saturdays are so popular for weddings. I think I haven't yet been to a wedding that wasn't on a Saturday.

Initially, the husband (ooh, I still love saying that!) and I assumed that we'd get married on a Saturday (obviously), but I wasn't exactly married to the idea (pun!). I'm a very flexible gal and so when I started seeing links for "mid-week special" of course I clicked on them. I tell you, the pricing differential can be OUTSTANDING. Of course, Saturday weddings are a venue's bread and butter, and increasingly, so are Friday and Sunday. Monday to Thursday are infinitely less popular days to get married, but for the engaged couple, they can be a lifesaver. For people who don't know Dave and I, we are extremely pragmatic. So when we saw the pricing differentials, getting married on Thursday was an obvious choice. Ok, not so obvious, but really, really good.

Between us, we broke it down:

• It was our wedding so like SNAP, we had the power;
• Since we decided to have it in the summer to best accommodate our families and friends on both sides of the Atlantic, we knew they would be on holiday anyway, so essentially, every day would be a Saturday;
• The money thing (but I’ve already mentioned that); and
• Thursday, in my book at least, is almost the weekend.
  

So that was it. We booked Thursday, 09/07/09 (British for July 9, 2009) and we were done.

At first, I would constantly tell our invitees that it was a Thursday. I guess I was somewhat embarrassed because it seemed to announce that we were too poor for a Saturday wedding. But it was no big thing. No one bitched or asked why and it was just accepted.

As time went on, I became a bit proud that we decided to go against the grain and do what was right for us. To some, I could see how our decision could be construed as selfish; in essence, we were asking local people to take a day off. But it was our choice to have our wedding on a Thursday so it was their decision to attend. Personally, if the shoe was on the other foot, and Dave or I was close to the person/people getting married, would take the day off in a heartbeat. (I had to qualify that because I refuse to go to weddings of people I’m not close to or don’t like. They can be tedious affairs, particularly if you have no connection to the people getting married).

So it worked for us. And what kicks ass is our anniversary will be celebrated on the weekend for the next 3 years. That’s pretty sweet.

* You'll notice I posted pics of the kiddies that attended our wedding. They didn't give two poops about our wedding being on a Thursday.

The Canadian Accent, Eh.

Is there such a thing??? I'm not too sure, but some Brits I have encountered are adamant that there is. Apparently, these people can tell I'm Canadian because my accent is "nicer", "softer" and "less brash" than my American counterparts. I'm not sure if they are referring to stereotypical personality traits of Canucks, but since I'm on the phone a lot these days, the origin of my accent comes up quite a bit.

Personally, I think generally, the differences are minimal. Eastern Canadians, particularly the islanders, have a strong, jumbled accent, borrowing from their Scottish ancestors and god know what else. I also think Canadians have a somewhat nasal quality to their inflections. I recently heard a woman being interviewed on the news and I instantly said "She's Canadian" and she was. She was from some small town in B.C. and was nasal as hell, so I instantly heard the difference. Then again, Midwest Americans (I use "Fargo" as my reference) are pretty nasal, so you just can't be sure.

From my experience of living in the UK, it seems that Brits don't like Americans, or the idea of them, and are always eager to engage a Canadian. Everyone has a cousin/aunt/friend of a friend who lives in Canada and our reputation often precedes us. That usually means I can say most anything and get away with it. Muhahaha. Still, I feel a certain pride talking about Canada and discussing the differences between us and our Southern, gun-toting, anti-healthcare, undercover Republican brothers and sisters.* It's almost like being back home.

*I kid. I know they're not all like that.