Reverse psychology

Everyone in Northern Ontario is sick of winter. This fact was established a month ago when spring officially rolled in, but winter refused to bend and raged on, taking with it our hopes for an early spring barbecue, tulips in April, and shopping for new spring clothes.

For the past couple of weeks, it's been snowing every few days. And not the kind of snow that just trickles down and melts on impact. This snow builds up, then melts the next day, taking everyone to the point of ALMOST believing spring is just around the corner. For a few moments, the sun will come out and the world is as it should be. Everything is rosy and spring is buying us flowers and telling us how good we look in our new jeans, taking us out for expensive dinners and holding our hands. Then winter rears its hideous head again, and down comes another five to ten centimeters of snow. 

If winter were a man, I'd have broken up with it weeks ago. I would have told it that I just can't do this anymore. All of the mind games, thinking it had changed into spring, and then getting my heart broken over and over again. I'd have given winter back all it's junk, it's snow shovels and mittens and winter boots, and told it not to try and contact me again. 

Even my Pops, who NEVER complains about the weather, is feeling the It Should be Spring Blues. Too warm to ski-doo, too cold to do yardwork (not to mention the yard is still covered in a couple feet of snow.) A couple of weekends ago, it was, once again, calling for snow. I decided to play a little game with Winter. I would go to the lake and spend a perfect winter weekend with my Pops. I went to the library and picked up a couple of books. Visions of hot chocolate, steambaths, and walks in the wintery woods danced in my head. If winter's not going away, I thought, I'll act like I've fallen in love all over again. I'll act like I never want it to leave. I'll be that clingy, needy girlfriend no one wants. I'll scare winter off with my incessant text messages and 3 a.m. half-cut phone calls.

The weekend was everything I'd hoped it would be. My pops and I read all weekend in his cozy house in the bush with the woodstove burning, stopping only to make each other delicious food (him: homemade pizza and a breakfast of fried balogna and scrambled eggs; me: roast chicken with pasta and roasted root veggies). We also took a break from our books to watch the Leafs beat the shit out of the Habs and take a walk on his property in the woods.

And suddenly, just like that, I wasn't pretending anymore. Just like the turning point in your favourite romantic comedy, I realized this whole winter thing - not so bad when you can be at the lake, warm and cozy, spending time with your Pops.

I'm still anxiously awaiting spring - but with a little less anger in my heart. 

I no longer want to kick winter in the junk and leave it in the fetal position crying hot tears that will melt the snow.

Then again, a quick wedgie when no one's looking probably wouldn't hurt either.

Wonderstruck

Tuesday night, a little part of me was satisfied, completed, fulfilled as I sat in a stadium and watched one of my favourite bands of all time perform a sold out, incredible show. 

You'd think after more than 30 years in the business, Fleetwood Mac would be tired, but this show was incredible. Just like thousands of women in the 70's, with their bell-bottomed jeans and long wavy hair blowing in the breeze, that night we all fell in love with Lindsay Buckingham and swooned over the goddess that is Stevie Nicks. Even all of these years later, through all of the Fleetwood Mac drama, despite all of the rumours we've heard, these two still create magic when their voices hit the mic. 

Growing up in a family where my mom played the guitar and my dad often called us into a room to listen to song lyrics, I've always really appreciated music. And even though I've only been to a handful of shows, the feeling that washes over me when I'm listening to amazing live music is almost euphoric. When the first couple notes of a song ring out and you realize they're about to play your song, the one you've been waiting for, praying would be on the set list. And you link arms with your girlfriends and clasp their hands and sway to the music and sing your little heart out. 

With every song that played, my sister, who is a HUGE music lover, got more and more excited. "We're probably NEVER going to hear this song live again!" she would yell, her eyes twinkling. And she's right. The chances of Fleetwood Mac going on tour again after this, let alone us scoring tickets again, is slim.  

With all of the scary, nasty, unpleasant things we deal with in our lives, taking the night to tune out and listen to some incredible music was the perfect way to spend a Tuesday night. I kept thinking about how lucky we are to be able to experience it. As I stood there swaying to the music with three of the best people I know, I was complete. Two days later, I feel like I'm still buzzing off of the experience. 

Totally awestruck by Stevie Nicks' beauty. Amazed that Mick Fleetwood and Johnny McVie can still rock out like they did. Crushing on Lindsay Buckingham like nobody's biznatch. But more than anything, so grateful for the beautiful evening shared with a few of my very favourite soul sisters. 

Shiny and new

When I marry Damien in five months (FIVE MONTHS!), I'll be gaining a husband who laughs at my dumb jokes and dumb t.v. commercials in a high-pitched giggle that makes me giggle every time. I'll be gaining a husband who not only listens when I talk about the things I find on Pinterest, but when asked where he found the recipe for tonight's sausage and pepper penne answered "Pinterest!" with no shame whatsoever. I'll be gaining a husband who tolerates doing the groceries by himself and enjoys trying new recipes, but also likes watching hockey, drinking beer, and can catch a fly ball and make it look smooth as buttah. 

One of the best things I'll be gaining, though, is a brand new family. With my Dad and Gilly, that makes EIGHT whole people in my immediate family. Damien and I both come from pretty small (immediate) families, so having those extras feels so great. There's always tons of laughter and good food and interesting conversations and great advice. And the only thing I had to do go get this new, shiny family was fall in love and get engaged, which really wasn't so hard at all.

 

I feel like I got a really good bargain. Aren't they cute?