Love – Page 25 – Rant and Roll

All the thanks are belong to you!

Well, a magical thing happened yesterday.

The Word Press gods smiled down on this here little blog, and my post We are all travelers here was Freshly Pressed.

This was my second foray into the FP world, and I have to say I am just as humbled, honoured, and jazzed as I was the first time.

But more than anything, I am so excited to meet all you new fab chaps that have stopped by my little slice of the internet.

Thank you all so much for coming over, leaving a note, liking a post, or just taking a peek around.

Here at Rant and Roll we like to have a good time. So please, put on some sweet tunes, limber up those limbs, and have one sweet mad dance party.

I am working on a longer piece for Friday’s post, but in the interim, please enjoy this sneak preview:

In our hotel suite, we ate sushi and drank diet coke. My sisters gave themselves pedicures in the bathroom, and I practiced putting in my contact lenses.

That night I slept, but the butterflies in my stomach and the persistent buzz of a malfunctioning air conditioner ensured that I slept little.

The morning of the wedding broke absolutely beautiful. It was to be a hot, sun-drenched day, perfect for a garden ceremony and dinner.

The first person to arrive was our photographer, my soon to be sister in-law Vanessa.

“Getting here was crazy!” She exclaimed. “There’s this crazy burnt-out semi-truck taking up space on the number 1! Traffic was moving so slow, I didn’t think I was going to make it on time!”

A burnt out semi-truck?

…

Tune in Friday to read the full story!

Same bat time, same bat channel.

And in the mean time, let’s end on a laugh, shall we?

Cat in a backpack

How I found her:

Nuff said.

I’m finishing my coffee. Enjoying my coffee.

Hello you fab chaps!

Well, here we are, looking back on another week lived, facing the beautiful blank slate (oh how I wish!) of the approaching weekend.

I love Fridays because I truly believe they have life re-generating powers.

And what, might you ask, are other (real-life) things that share those same invigorating powers?

For the answer to this question, please look no further than THIS:

OKAY.

I drink coffee every day. I wouldn’t say that I drink a TON of the stuff – for instance, between Monday and Friday I drink a vanilla latte every morning, and come the weekend, I drink at least one cup of java (but never more than two), upon rising from my bed of rest.

In my humble opinion, there is no better way to herald the breaking dawn than with a piping hot mug of milky, sweet espresso.

(Urg, I feel weird just using the term “breaking dawn.” DAMN YOU TWILIGHT!)

Weekend coffees have become even more deluxe of late, what with the addition of a Nespresso milk steamer/frother to our kitchen gadget repertoire.

(Full disclosure: other than our raclette machine and a decrepit old blender, said repertoire is pretty darn bleak.)

Anyway, now that I have purchased the above pictured vanilla syrup, I really feel like our adventures into the world of joe are just going to EXPLODE.

Think of the possibilities!

Vanilla steamed milk for nights when I’m feeling eight hundred years old!

London fogs for mornings when I’m feeling particularly Dickensian!

Vanilla café au laits for every other time other than the two I’ve mentioned above!

ALL RIGHT.

Also.

Do you know what is the actual exact opposite of what I have just described above?

THIS:

BLECH.

Who decided to make diet Crush cream soda happen?

They should be publicly shamed, and then sent to Baffin Island for twenty-years of hard labour.

Talk about toxic waste in a can.

Yeah, yeah, I realize that pop of any kind isn’t exactly a staple of a healthy, organic (blahblahblah) lifestyle, but JEEZE LOUISE.

Somethings are sacred!

And by somethings, I mean CRUSH CREAM SODA.

Won’t somebody please think of my childhood?

In other news…

What the heck is going on here:

Do people have hundreds (or thousands) of loonies and toonies just lying about, clogging up their living space?

Is this a worry that people have?

“Oh sorry Jim, I would totally have you over, but my place is just over-run with coinage. Thank goodness Metro News has provided me with the tools I need to combat this problem head on!”

Good grief.

I never, ever have cash, let alone enough change to fill out an entire bank roll.

But a girl can dream, can she not?

And if I’m going to spend my life dreaming, I am going to do it dressed like THIS:

Fifteen dollar pants?

CHECK.

Paddington Bear coat?

CHECK.

A date with a microphone, stage, and comedy-hungry audience?

Checkcheckcheck.

…

So what’s on the docket for all you beauty cats this weekend?

And what drink will you be having?

Do be sure to tell me, because I’m taking orders.

We are all travelers here

I daydream a lot.

I think about the worlds and places that we have yet to visit. How we might fly far and away, up past the moon, beyond our stars; a one-way trip to distant isles, and unexplored realms; unsolved probabilities, and untamed possibilities.

I dream.

I close my eyes and breathe.

This past month I haven’t been reading much.

I’ve been too busy with different things – comedy, writing, work, running, volunteering. Things that I love, but things that take time.

On the metro in the mornings I wake my brain with crosswords.

The repetition.

Of synonyms.

Of puns.

I miss the feel of bound paper between my fingers.

At daybreak, my quiet commute, punctuated by the flipflipflip of pages, chapters, worlds.

At nightfall, crisp, cool sheets, and the sweet scent of sleep. My heavy eyelids and my frantic panic to read just one more (just one more) paragraph, before giving in to rest.

I miss this.

So tonight I will not daydream,

I will sit swaddled in blankets, surrounded by text, exploring a distant, but (not-so) long ago land.

And I will feel my fingers burn with envy. With passion. With zeal.

To create.

Break.

Participate.

To write. Read. Believe.

I think Ray Bradbury said it right:

And so to all of you, goodnight.

Safe flight.

Love in the little things

Things that I love.

Marc’s cold hairy knees pressing into the backs of my (warm, hairless) knees, as we spoon together at night.

That first sip of vanilla latte – all sweet steamed milk, espresso and foam.

Finally smelling spring in the air.

The funny way my big sister always says, “Oh hellooooo” at the beginning of our Skype calls.

Short sundresses.

Telling a joke and then pausing, so to let the audience’s laughter wash over me, like a wave made out of happiness.

Managing the trifecta of hair removal – leg shave, armpit shave, brow pluck – ALL IN ONE GO.

When my little sister calls me WAWA.

Finally watching 30Rock.

My poppy-red coat that makes me feel like Paddington Bear.

Kitten kisses.

Cleaning the shower REALLY WELL (and then using it right away.)

Eating chocolate covered cinnamon buns.

Sprinting so hard until I feel as though the only way to put out the fire in my lungs is to barf them right up.

My mum’s broken sarcasm detector. (“Oh that’s not true…IS IT!?”)

Looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I look really pretty today.

Laughing with friends until I think I am going to pee my pants.

Quoting Arrested Development, The Big Lebowski, A Fish Called Wanda, Rushmore, Love Actually, and Mean Girls all the gosh-darned time.

She doesn’t even go here…

Having a mad dance party in my underwear, in a Top Shop change room because the song playing at that very moment was just too good not to.

Boardwalk brunches.

This.

My brilliant friends.

My amazing family.

My beautiful man.

You.

Never forget.

Always, always you.