So now that the cat is officially out of the bag to everyone we know, I feel able to open my mouth again. We spent Thanksgiving weekend visiting family and friends, meeting with photographers, and looking at venues for the ceremony and reception. We put 900 miles on our rental car, I came back with a sore throat, and we both are completely and utterly exhausted. It was, however, an incredibly productive weekend. Before Christmas, my goal is to:

a) have the venue booked
2) have the photographer booked
c) have the church booked
d) have a tasting with the caterer scheduled
e) have the Save-the-Date cards printed and mailed/ready to take to Ireland

How many do you think we'll have done?

Side note: If you haven't seen The Wire, consider this your notice that you must watch at least the first season before coming to the wedding. (I'm not kidding. There will be a quiz.)

Main Entry: be·troth·al
Pronunciation: \-ˈtrō-thəl, -ˈtrȯ-, -thəl\
Function: noun
Date: 1831

1 : the act of betrothing or fact of being betrothed
2 : a mutual promise or contract for a future marriage

Main Entry: en·gaged
Pronunciation: \in-ˈgājd, en-\
Function: adjective
Date: 1629

1 : involved in activity : occupied, busy
2 : pledged to be married : betrothed
3 : greatly interested : committed
4 : involved especially in a hostile encounter
5 : partly embedded in a wall
6 : being in gear : meshed


So what are you guys doing August 20, 2010?

Tonight was the first sighting . . . Christmas lights on a house.

And they were on.

As the MNF fellas would say: C'mon man.

I miss church.

I know, I know. No one my age goes to church anymore (do they?). But after going to such a wonderful place and belonging to such a welcoming community for seven years or so, it's been hard to let go of it. I miss the feeling that I used to get when I'd arrive for services. I miss the sounds, the hymns, the goosebumps I got. The fantastic (and fantastically sassy) handbell choir. The rousing sermons, the feeling I got when I got to speak in front of the congregation, where I would look upon people my age, people with children, people who were well off, and people who had just wandered in. The many opportunities to get involved (which, admittedly, I didn't take enough advantage of). The list goes on.

Last fall, I thought I'd found a new home. At first, I had a good feeling when I walked in the building . . . I was quick to find a way to get involved. But the luster wore quickly, and after a few months, when I found my mind wandering during the sermons and wondering how quickly I could get out of there, I started searching for somewhere new. I've been to a few different churches since then, and nothing has fit quite right. I understand that church and the idea of a house of worship means a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, it means a place that awes and inspires me; a place that helps me seek up and surrender to something outside of myself. A place where people encourage each other and aren't scary welcoming, but come-as-you-are-at-your-own-pace welcoming. A place where I actually want to be.

The search continues.

Canadians - well, Torontonians at least - tend to carry travel mugs. Ordinarily I wouldn't think much of it, but here I see as many travel mugs as I see take out paper cups. In such a metropolis as Toronto, where there are twice as many Tim Horton's as there are Starbucks (and that's a lot), it's clearly quite convenient to pop in and grab a coffee; it's not as if it's a rural area and no one passes a place to grab coffee on their morning commute. Is it financial? Maybe, although I bet most people would choose convenience over spending $1.29 for a coffee at Timmy Ho's. Is it environmental? Maybe, although I'm too realistic to think that so many people care that much about the environment to use a travel mug every day. Maybe it's juts the "in" thing to do. Taking the GO train from Scarborough? Make sure you've got your travel mug. Spending time from up north on the VIVA bus before tranferring to the TTC? Make sure you've got your travel mug. With handle, of course.

At what point does it become cleart that you're just not going to fall asleep again? I have been up since three o'clock and am still wide awake. I feel that if I'm not sleeping, I might as well be doing something productive, y'know? Working on my scarves, sending a few emails, reading . . . And what happened to writing? Didn't I want to be a writer once upon a time? I have done none of those things. Instead, I have tossed and turned, been downstairs, tossed and turned some more, and continued to lie here with my eyes closed in hopes that the sandman will grant me some mercy. Apparently he only makes one round a night -- maybe two. But I'm pretty sure that at 5 a.m., his shift is over. I'm actually thinking of getting up and starting my day. What time do grocery stores open? Maybe I could do some shopping before work. Or laundry. Then I could go to the office and actually get some work done before I crash. I'm anticipating the crash to happen around 11. This doesn't seem the best way to start a week, does it?

It's a good Halloween night, really . . . very windy . . . cloudy night . . . just enough of a nip in the air. I even bought candy to give out to trick-or-treaters. And none of that Dubble Bubble rock hard gum, either. I'm talking Mike 'n' Ikes, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and O Henrys. And not one kid in a cute costume!

. . .

I kid you not, as soon as a typed that, I had a stream of about 10 kids to the door. Dorothy (and Toto) and the Tin Man, Davy Crockett, some scary monster-type thing, a cowboy/farmer looking kid, I think there was a fairy in there somewhere . . .

Now I don't feel bad, even if I have to eat the rest of the candy myself. (Which I won't, my dentist will be happy to tell you.)

You know what's missing from tonight? Disney's Halloween Treat and It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Instead, I'm making do with the original Halloween and The Skeleton Key. My, how things have changed.

Don't forget to have your parents check your candy when you get home tonight . . .

My flirtation with sleepmuchless nights has continued over the months. The one night that I can remember where I've gotten a good night's sleep was at Miranda's place, on the Keetsa. I've considered sleeping pills, although I feel I'd regret that in the long run. Sunday night it got to the point where I was actually counting sheep. I wouldn't recommend it though; I always seemed to get distracted around 13 or so.

Tonight's reason for being up at 2 a.m. is a good old-fashioned nightmare. We were in the house, but a stereotypical bad guy came in and went upstairs looking for me. We then ran like the wind, out of the house and down the street. Somewhere along the way, my co-fleeer turned into a coworker of mine, and we were trying to sneak into houses because it was cold. We snuck back into my Grandma's house without knowing it was hers, and it turns out that scenario had changed -- she was the reason why we were running! She snatched my arm, and awake I was.

Look, it may not seem scary, but there was a bad man in the beginning. And if anyone remembers my Grandma pre-2000 (pre 1995, even), you'd remember that she could be pretty scary!

Now. Why isn't he home yet from work . . .

Early summer, I bought a little plant to brighten my desk. A small cluster of gerbera daisies, it was, with pert, green leaves and four bright red blooms. It was a happy time. And then, a few weeks later, the blooms all but withered and wilted away. I wasn't sure if new blooms would appear, so rather than leave the plant on my desk, I brought it home. It did okay in the house, and I decided to try planting it outside. It appeared, however, to be a bad decision; within days, the leaves wilted and turned brown. I wrote it off as being dead, but left it in the planter out of sheer laziness. And then, my friends, sheer laziness paid off -- in a week or two, the plant sprouted fresh leaves, full and green and sturdy. I was surprised, but obviously quite pleased. And then - and then! I looked out on the back deck one morning to see one red bloom finding its way toward the sky.

In other gardening news, I got my crocuses and other-species-which-name-I-can't-remember-right-now bulbs into the ground yesterday evening. Actually I did my crocuses over the weekend was going to finish this weekend, but was scared into doing to last night by a frost warning. The area still looks a wreck, but I'm still trying. My new Ethel gardening gloves are fantastic though, a massive improvement over the old clumsy ones that I had been using all summer.

It seems that that's it for my gardening season! Hopefully I'll have some compost to use by the time next spring rolls around.

Lessons learned:

- Good gardening gloves make life so much easier.
- Pay attention to the what needs full sunlight and what does better in partial sunlight!
- Do not be afraid to tame runaway ornamental grass!
- When planning a garden, make sure to allot space for plants to grow into; when adopting a garden that you did not plan, patience is key.

I am no longer a U2 virgin.

The band was in Toronto for two sold-out shows, and we went last night. It was great fun, a mix of new stuff and old favorites (including an acoustic version of "Stuck in a Moment"), an unbelievable stage and great atmosphere, with the roof of the Rogers Centre open and the lights coordinating with those of the CN Tower. And there's something about 60,000 people singing "Amazing Grace" that's a little humbling.

I also think I might've gotten a contact high, but that's another story . . .

Then, to an outside observer, it might seem as if I followed the band to New York. I did not -- although I did end up in the city for my first ever business trip. To some people, 16 hours in a car with your boss might seem like the worst idea anyone's ever had. But Dunkin' Donuts coffee will get you through some pretty scary things, including driving at 4:30 a.m. We actually went to Philly first, and while she was fawning over a friend's new baby, I was frolicking about in the Betsy Ross House and seeing the Liberty Bell. I also ran into a friend of mine (in a shoe store!) who I hadn't seen in years. I'm pretty sad that I missed the Rosenbach Museum & Library, which isn't open on Mondays, but that will be my first stop next time. And back to New York for longer than a night, for a change! I flitted about for a few days, heading to a meeting here, an event there, dining with Benjamin Bratt (that's right) and generally avoiding the NYU undergrads that were swarming around the East Village. (P.S. What am I doing in the East Village? Keetsa-ing, that's what!) Oh, and running into another friend who I hadn't seen in years.

Then it was home again, home again, jiggity-jig. Until next weekend, that is . . .