Life is Happening

I'm fighting obesity and encouraging everyone else to as well

I went to Utah

I realized just how much I love these little people and living with them.

I went to Hawaii.

I did a photoshoot with my cousin Brittany.

I started working.

I'm loving my new crew

I'm dating this boy.

I'm happy. Really happy with life.

Goodbye Canada

I've been contemplating an e-reader for quite some time. Because I really do read quite a lot of books (I read over thirty this year). And books are heavy (though my future library is still a plan). But there are so many options that usually I get overwhelmed. I hate picking between things that are barely different. And upon reading and re-reading e-reader reviews, I determined that most of the e-readers are pretty similar. The Nook has a better touch screen, but the Kindle can play audiobooks and MP3s. How do you decide between that? I told my Dad I was planning on buying either a Nook or Kindle soon (I think I like the Nook better, but if I return to Canada they don't have Barnes and Nobles and I lose the benefit of free-wi-fi in-store and free tech support should my Nook go crazy). Upon telling him, he scoffed and said I could just have his Kindle that he got for free.

This option made it so I didn't have to decide.

Decision made for me.

I pouted for a moment upon receiving it. 

Its not exactly what I was thinking I wanted - it doesn't have the touch screen (Yup, that sounds super superficial and stuck up).

What kind of devices don't have touch screens anymore? (And again.)

But then I started to fidget with it. And started to read (currently: Janet Evanovich's One for the Money - and its not half bad). I can download free books. Who doesn't love a good and free classic novel. And I realized that I'm quite happy with this new addition. Yes, I stole it from my father. Yes, it doesn't have a touch screen. But as it turns out it does exactly what I need and want it to do - put words in front of me.

Its official.

I'm an e-reader convert. 

(Though I have been told its not Guatemala acceptable unless I really want to get mugged again.)

The Not Thanksgiving Part I

I called my father up two weeks before American Thanksgiving, and in a feeble voice and roundabout manner, asked him quietly if he would bring me home for American Thanksgiving. He gave me a gruff response and told me not to get my hopes up. But my hopes were already up. The idea had entered my brain and had already consumed me. The urgency with which I wanted to return home shocked me. So my father's less than favourable response was disappointing. But, like me, he needs to adjust to an idea before he can fully accept it. So when he called me back a few hours later, his tone conveyed that he would be happy to allow me this ridiculously short notice request. My dad is the best, because he really and truly does try to accommodate to the best of his abilities. He doesn't let me be ridiculous, but he often goes above and beyond for me. And I know I don't often express my appreciation for that. 

But I had some favourite parts of the weekend.

Young Josh picked me up from the airport. I had left really early and when I walked out of customs I expected to see his smiling face. 

But he was no where to be found.

And I pouted... I still remember the couple of times when the people who were picking me up were over an hour late coming. And its a little disheartening to step off the plane and have no one there waiting for you.

So I called him.

And he cursed his luck.

Poor boy had arrived over an hour early to get me, but had to move his car three times, to stay in the free parking. And on the third time, he just knew that I would get out and he'd still be moving the car.

He was right. That did happen.

I was glad to have some time with Josh though.

And was pleasantly surprised to find Josh to be EXACTLY as he had been before he left.

And I don't mean that in a bad way. Because Josh has always been kind, funny, thoughtful, smart and wise. 

And he is still all those things. Just now he has some mission stories to emphasize the points he already was making. It was surreal, the feeling that nothing had changed, while really, everything has changed. But Josh is just Josh. Constant and steady.

But two very funny moments happened while I was at home, the first involving Josh.

NUMBER ONE. I arrived home on Thursday and didn't tell anyone I had been mugged. I was embarrassed and really, how do you bring something like that up? So I just didn't say a word.

But Friday, Josh comes into my room in the morning and begins his usual banter to me. Well he grabs onto my hand (which had a large fingernail scrape down the back of it from the Wednesday night events), and I pull away.

"Ow, Josh! Dont do that. My hand hurts!"

"Why? What did you do to your hand?"

"I got mugged."

"Shut uuup! No you didn't. What really happened to your hand?"

"I got mugged. I don't know how to say this another way."

"Shuuut uuup. Seriously, you don't need to lie. For real, just tell me what really happened."

After going back and worth like that, I finally pulled out my phone and let him listen to the voicemail the District Attorney in Boston left me, saying they were charging the girl I had identified (the bigger girl) with armed robbery.

And only then did he believe that I was telling the truth. 

It was hilarious that he wouldn't believe me.

Why would I make up such a story?

His first response after he began to believe me?

"You always have the coolest stories Melissa. Seriously, all the crazy stuff always happens to you."

He's not wrong. My life, for the most part, is never that dull.

NUMBER TWO. But Matt and Tiff came over in the afternoon and were on hold with an insurance company. My dad, Matt, Tiff and I were all sitting close and bantering back and forth, when Matt saw the huge scratch on my hand.

Matt: "What happened to your hand?"

Me: "I got mugged."

To which Tiffany responded "Moving on" and turned the conversation back to insurance.

I mean, I wasn't making a big deal of it, so I suppose its fair that other people didn't feel the need to either. I had been a little surprised by the response, but shrugged it off.

After they were off the phone, Matt, Tiff, my dad and I got in the truck to go eat lunch, and as we drove Matt brought up my hand again.

Matt: "Oh, so what happened to your hand?"

Me: "I told you, I got mugged."

Tiffany: "WHAT?! That was real? I thought you were just joking!"

Matt: "Are you serious?"

Dad: "Ya, she actually got mugged."

Tiffany was thoroughly horrified that she hadn't believed me at first. But I suppose the casual manner with which I mentioned it made it sound fictional. There were no tears. Just a matter of fact re-telling of the events. 

I actually find it endearing that they couldn't believe that something like that would happen to me. Because seriously, who gets mugged? Its so unlikely and so random. And their responses are hilarious to me. 

I love that Matt and Tiff tried really hard to make sure both sides got to see them and spend time with them. They came to the West Side for like fifteen minutes, just so they could see Dave.

 I think that the division of family time is one of the hardest things when you get married. Because you go from spending all your time with YOUR family, and suddenly you have to sometimes miss things because you have another family that also wants your time and attention. I know that it was hectic to divide their time and resulted in several drives across the city, but I, for one, really appreciate the fact that Matt and Tiff make such a huge effort to let each of their families know they still love them and want to spend time together. And even let straggling siblings crash other family time.

Matt and Tiff are just my favourites. And I love getting to be around them and couldn't help but feel so excited that we had both made it home for American Thanksgiving. The combo of them together makes me laugh so much. And I often think I need to laugh more.

To be continued...

Father Weekend - May 21, 2011

When my cousin Maikal got married, I had decided I couldn't come home for the wedding.

Truthfully, coming home takes a lot out of me. Its so emotionally draining. And sometimes,

(ok, most of the time) I come back and wonder why I went in the first place. 

Because school alone is emotionally exhausting, and to add any more drama to that, 

is almost more than I can take. But I at the same time I hate to miss out.

So to make me feel better about missing Maikal's wedding, my Dad came to see me.

He wanted to go to a baseball game. When I told my friends, they scoffed. Because Chicago was playing Boston for the first time in like 90 years. And they were positive that we wouldn't be able to get tickets.

But we did.

Well, my Dad did anyways.

We went to Fenway and bought some red sox paraphernalia so we could at least pretend to be fans.

It was freaking cold. And our super ultra light rain jackets were not doing it for us. 

But we got commemorative cups and some fenway franks.

And I attempted to steal any warmth my father's arm would offer as we took in the feel of the game.

And then we left before the game was over. HA.

Really, its just kinda cool to be at a game.

Even if you don't stay the entire time.

We were positive that the Red Sox would win. They were definitely up when we left.

But upon arriving back at the hotel, we discovered that in the 8th inning, they'd fallen to pieces and lost miserably. The rainy-mist wasn't worth staying for the game excitement though.

It was fun to say we'd been there though. Witnessing sport history and whatnot.

Grown-Up vs. Growing Up

I am well aware of the fact that I have great parents.

And I certainly dont deserve them most of the time.

I get snippy and become an ornery teenager again. I'm short tempered and melancholy and just plain not fun to be around. And even as my responses come out, I know they're unjustified.

But my parents are patient with me.

They just want me to be happy.

And love me even though I'm a jerk kid.

And I know I'm lucky. Because they are so good to me.

This trip was rather impromptu for them.

I know they worry about me. And dont want me to feel left out since I am so far away. Or alone.

So they do what they can for me. And I know I dont act nearly as grateful as I should for all they do.

But I am grateful.

There is rarely a day where I dont still feel like a child. Dental degree or not, I still feel like I have so much growing up to do. And I depend quite heavily on my parents still. But the thing that caught me off guard as my parents visited, and we ran endless errands (which were all for my benefit but had me banging my head against a wall), was that I am used to being far away and doing things my own way. I may not feel like a grown up in a lot of ways, but I like the independence being an adult has afforded me. Which I suppose is no surprise, considering even as a child I always wanted to do things my own way, regardless of how my parents thought it should be done. Its hard to reconcile the two feelings though. Because on one hand I am still a child, who needs her parents and on the other I know that time has elapsed and as much as my parents support me, they dont live my life for me and I have had to grow up and be on my own. 

But I had a heavy patient week, which meant that the majority of what I did with my parents consisted of eating... Um ya... being a little pudgy in family pics is cool right? 

This is the jist of the short trip...

Have you been to

Red Bones?

It is Awesome BBQ joint.

Took a small jaunt to the Community Boating Center

I was gonna take my parents for a spin, but it was a rather windless day and didnt seem worth it, so they settled for a picture by the boats.

So I'm an awkward girl. Who really needs to be in the right mood to run errands and shop.

Bike shopping was fun for about twenty seconds... and by fun I mean awkward.

But I will concede that the end result is pretty worth how horrendously I hated shopping for it.

Hello new bike. 

And hello being caged in the car by said bike.

It was a tight squeeze getting the bike to fit in the car indeed!

My favorite part

My parents wanted to go to the beach.

But it was cold to me - to the point where I needed to be fully clothed at the beach.

And I was tired and grumpy.

But I brought a pillow and a blanket and promptly fell asleep.

It was cold. But I slide my legs into the sand so my blanket could wrap around me tighter. 

And when I woke up, I felt much better.

It ended up being my favorite part.

Even though I had pouted about going because of the cold.

Though, hilariously enough, my mom didnt set up shop anywhere near my dad and I.

We each had our own books so it didnt particularly matter. But it was funny.

Especially when I wanted to capture each of us at the beach via photo. I had to scramble over to my mama. Funny lady. To be fair, I chose the sunniest slash walk the least amount spot and she went for the shadiest spot she could find. 

The sum of the trip? Food good (particularly the chocolate restaurant we went to). Shopping bad. Less errands and more relaxing next time please.

Superbowl Present

Ben is thoughtful like this.

As is my poppa.
See that sandal? Ya... about three years ago my favorite sandals of all time finally bit the big one.
Which was fair since I'd had them since grade nine.
Six years for one pair. But the devastating part was that I couldnt find another pair that I loved as much. Apparently, since that point, my dad has been looking for a replacement for me.
My dad is awesome.
I love superbowl parafanalia.
And I love sandals that can be worn with socks in the winter.
My dad knows me too well.

Run Run

My dad raps softly on my door this morning and peeks his head in.

"Run Run?"

My eyes flutter open. It takes a moment to let my mind begin to boot up.

I'm still tired. Again, I went to bed late and am woken up early.

"Run Run? Its noon your time."

... ... ...

"Ten am this time. You coming?"

Yes I am coming.

I love the Saturday morning runs with my Dad.

First I am exercising - something I should be doing everyday.

Second - Runs allow us to chat. Its our time together. Just him and me.

I think often about the runs we've taken together, especially when I'm far and away and unable to be part of them.

I'm a sucky runner. But he lets me control the pace.

Doesnt matter if the pace is running him into the ground or ridiculously slow.

I love our runs.

We talk.

It is awesome.

And I never doubt that I am important to him.

There are other people that I may not always feel important to.

But my dad is not one of them.

Our run was a suckfest. Guess thats what I get for not having done cardio since October.

But we got home and cleared all the ice off the driveway.

The whole driveway was ice FYI and not small.

Then we went and washed his truck and my mom's car.

They we went and got bandaid's and hair products.

And then dropped the recycling off and bought pickles.
And he told me that its not fair when I wear makeup... cause it enhances and makes me even more beautiful.
I rolled my eyes at that.

But I love my Dad.

The End.

P.S.

My mother said there was a huge bug in the garage. And needed my Dad to come kill it.

This is what he brings back in the house...

Can you tell what it is?

Its a huge mother bug - on a tooth pick.

Who does that?

Good thing Dad was there.

My hero.

Here With Me: Day Four

For the last while my hair has been, to put it mildly - a big fat mess. On Monday, it finally was a little on the normal side. On the acceptable side.

So Cathy - here it is.





So on Monday, we planned to go back to our roots (aka we wanted Seafood again).

(Arent our fish faces awesome!)

One of my favorite things about my parents coming is the fact that my roommates usually come out to eat. I donno, its one of the traditions from Edmonton that I've missed here. Because having your roommate come is a nice sign of friendship. And I want my parents to meet the people I live with, spend time with them.


Because well, sure you can live with someone without being their friend, but its so much more enjoyable when you have someone to bond with. And people I bond with, I want to meet the people who are important to me. Its just one of those things.





So Sheila came with. And we laughed at the ridiculousness that is my parents. A few of the highlights...

1. My dad eating raw oysters...

sicknast. 

He said they werent

nearly as bad

as he remembered

 them being.

2. Sheila recommended Swordfish to my mom.

When my moms dish came she pointed at this.

And exclaimed: "Look its my swordfish!"

To which I laughed and corrected. Because that was sweet potatoes.

This is sword fish. Silly Momma.

3. We were talking about people getting pregnant at my dads office.

And we were saying how ridiculous it was that there was

like fifteen that were pregnant, to which my mom reply's:

"Guess it was a long hard winter."

Sheila and I died right then and there.

So Sheila and I get in the car. And I want us to take pictures makings faces... She was like "I cant do that." But I made her try anyways.

I forgot how I used to be like that too when Cathy would make me make faces.

I guess I've gotten better.

We were in a food coma tho (phrase of the visit). And as such a little pouty.