Dear Momma, I’m pregnant and it’s a pandemic

Hi Momma,

As you might have heard, we’re living in unprecedented times. It seems like every day things get a little more surreal and I find it very hard not to let the waves of uncertainty and panic get the best of me.

You know – how it’s been for the last thirty-five years of my life?

I’ve really been practicing my yoga breathing, especially at night as I lie in bed falling asleep.

(I haven’t been so much practicing my yoga yoga, but in all honestly, with the way things are going, it’s very likely that I’ll be unrolling your mat and switching on YouTube so that I can start.)

I thought you would be so proud of me – signing up for prenatal yoga classes at my local community centre. They were to start in April and be my new Sunday morning routine, a new twist on my weekend workout.

A marker of how much I’ve matured over the past five and a bit months as this little babe has grown inside of me.

Yes, that’s right momma, I’m having a baby.

I’m having a baby during a pandemic.

Doesn’t that sound wild?

I really wish that we could chat on the phone. Just hearing your voice would be reassuring – a little break from our ever-churning news cycle.

We could talk about what’s happening in the Maritimes and our palpable relief that the US-Canada border has officially (or as close as we’re going to get) closed.

I know you’d also love our Provincial Health Officer, Dr. Bonnie Henry. She’s brilliant and badass, compassionate and calm. Sometimes I get choked up just listening to her, because she reminds me of you.

All courageous, smart and strong women do.

Remember how sensitive and emotional I’ve always been? Well, multiply that by about seventeen, what with all these hormones coursing about my body.

As much as my heart aches that you’re not here momma, there is a part of me that’s slightly relieved. I am so glad that you don’t need to navigate the health care system and deal with chemo appointments or rescheduled blood work, and the unease of heading into hospitals with your compromised immune system.

If something were to happen to you now, and Kate and I and our families couldn’t get to you, I don’t know what I would do. My heart is so sore for the families that are not able to reunite for those moments that I am certain that mine would shatter if put in the same situation.

I’m also trying not to let it bother me that Marc isn’t allowed to come to anymore of my appointments.

My twenty-week ultrasound was yesterday, and he was relegated to the parking lot as I got to see and say hello to our little one.

It will be the same for our midwife appointment today, and all future meetings going forward.

I’ve been trying to get him to feel the little kicks that have slowly begun to get stronger over the past week, but sometimes I think the babe is a bit of a trickster because they will immediately stop moving as soon as he puts his hand on my tummy.

Even now as I write this, I can feel them dancing about. I think they may be saying hello.

Momma, I also want you to know how well I am taking care of myself. I was so afraid coming into this pregnancy that I wouldn’t be able to move outside of my eating disorder and the unshakeable parameters that have ruled my life for so many years.

I’m so happy to say that it’s been the exact opposite.

For the first time ever, I get excited about preparing and eating food. I relish and take pleasure in nourishing my body.

I’m still exercising a lot, but purposefully. I’m always listening to how my body feels and modifying when I need to.

Turns out too, that the only way I was ever going to buy new workout clothing was to get pregnant. Should have learned this a long time ago, because man can a good pair of high-waisted leggings really set you off on a high.

I’m always learning momma.

I’m learning how to be a momma.

I wish you could see me.

I wish you could teach me.

I wish you could keep me safe and brush my hair and tell me that it’s all going to be okay.

I see you in today’s sunrise momma.

Thanks for telling me every day.

Say something I’ve giving up on you


Some things.


I made this:

jedi meme

In light of the Seahawks’ absolute dismantling of poor Peyton Manning (and what I can only surmise to be the entire collective Coloradean consciousness), I figured post-game we all needed to bring a bit of levity to the situation.

Because, and I think we can also all agree here, that a slightly more entertaining game, and not just a blow-out of every tire on the Denver semi-truck heading to Nowheresville, would have made for a much more enjoyable three hours of football.

(And to all the glorious, gloating – totally deserved, and encouraged gloating – Seattle-ites –  yes, I too am including you in that sentiment.)

Just saying.

But seriously though, what is wrong with this man?

Why does he look like this?

(Also, WHO IS HE?)

And why doesn’t he know that, in the end, the light side always, ALWAYS wins?


This quote:

“A word is not the same with one writer as with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.” —Charles Peguy

I have been thinking about this a lot of late..

I came across this text in the wake of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s tragic death this past week.  Someone commented that, although he was not a writer, he was often reminded of Mr. Peguy’s word when confronted with Hoffman’s seamless, and yet soul-wracking transition from one character to the next.

And of this, I agree.

I cannot say that I have ever been disappointed by any of his myriad performances. Whether disgusting, or delightful, there was always an innate (and oh-so important) humanity to his characters; one that was never forgotten, nor manipulated, or abused.

But truly, for me, Hoffman will always and forever be The Big Lebowski’s Brandt, the most amazingly sycophantic suck-up to ever grace the silver screen. An absolute perfect foil to both the Dude’s lackadaisical, anti-hero, and Walter’s neo-conservative, Vietnam vet (and owner of Sobchak Securities.)

Just listen to this laugh:

I love this movie more than I can properly communicate, and although only a supporting role, Hoffman’s brilliant portrayal of the Big Lebowski’s assistant is the linchpin, of what I believe to be, the best movie I will most likely ever watch.

And I think that’s why I’m thinking about the quote – everything about the film feels as though it is the sum of months, and months of meticulous preparation, culminating in pitch-perfect performances by absolute masters of their crafts.

It is gut-wrenching in its simplicity, and perfection.

You truly can always tell when an individual, or individuals, put everything they have into their art. (I use the term “art” loosely, and define it as anything from dance, to sculpture, to ultramarathon running, to public company auditing.) It doesn’t matter the medium. Gut-wrenching transcends boundaries, or definitions.

It, as I believe as shown by the outpouring of grief over Mr. Hoffman’s death, transcends life.


For my part, I’ve been doing some light crying all evening long.

Not for any real purpose or another.

I watched this video a couple of hours ago, and all I’ve done in the interim is listen to incredibly sappy, emotionally destructive songs, and read about all the insane human rights abuses occurring at this precise moment, all around the world.

Sometimes I think the world is void of anything good.

There is no other way to describe the sensation of emptiness I feel when confronted by such ignorance and inequality.

I want to run away and hide and have Marc’s strong arms wrap around my weak little body and then we’ll just lie that way until our bones rust, and our smiles turn to stone.

This could, of course, never happen.

Because a.) I know how to turn off Youtube.

And b.) because I am, as some of you know, a proper LOVE WARRIOR and if nobody else is going to champion the betterment of this heaving cesspool of a planet, then I bloody well GET ON IT.

Plus my body is jacked.



I am writing a book.

This is exciting.



For my birthday I did this to my hair:


I have been wanting to do something blondy-blond for a while now, but haven’t been able to muster up the appropriate level of courage to commit to the follicle colourization process with gusto.

(AKA I am a giant wimp.)

But I figured I am only twenty-nine once – I might as well do it now before the aliens arrive and I spent the next sixty-odd years of my life making origami toilet paper swans for our six-legged, intergalactic overlords.

They’ll probably want me bald as a baldy thing.

(Egg? Cue Ball? Bruce Willis?)

Yippee Kai Yay.

Let’s get together and feel alright

My life currently revolves around three things:

1. Running.

Scotiabank half-marathon this weekend! I’ve raised almost $1,200 and it’s going to be an absolute hoot of a run.

Sub 1:30 or bust!

2. Bring up the Bodies (by the AMAZING Hilary Mantel)

This woman is an absolute genius. She makes me want to create beauty.



Are you dudes watching this!?

IT’S SO GOOD. (Although mega, mega stress-inducing.)

Also, the whole world needs more Mandy Patinkin.

Meanwhile, around the apple orchard:

Oh hi there.


Delicious treats.


Godzilla-fied New Westminter.IMG_20130617_184405

Close cribbage games.

Post-talk flowers.IMG_20130617_184527

So blue haroo, and pip pip, and all that my good chaps.

I hope this week is filled with all the good things.

And more.

Things are looking a little brighter around here

Happy first day of spring my lovelies!

We are, of course, still freezing our collective buns off out here on the West Coast of British Columbia, but hey, we made it through the wilds of winter (on paper, at the very least), and as such, are ready to embrace the warm, wet, winds of spring!

(Should they ever arrive.)

Hmmm, the combination of warm, wet and embrace sounds a little terrible doesn’t it? I feel like I’ve described the new season like I would a one-piece bathing suit, post-dip.


Somebody get me some brain bleach.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

Moving on!


Over the past couple of days I’ve been working really hard at taking it easy. I went for a massage on Monday in order to deal with some tightness in my upper back and right hamstring, and yesterday, I made the important choice to rest, instead of running, when I arrived home after work.


I am already feeling a heck of a lot better.

Let’s just see if I can keep this up.

There are so, so many things coming down the pipe over the next few months and I just want to write all about them here and now, but ACK. I cannot.

And it’s killing me.

But soon, my precious(ES).


In the interim, here are some snaps from MAD CENTRAL (population: 3) that we’ve taken of late:





Pre-dinner walk.


Kitten dance.

IMG_20130317_102652Oh good grief. Are we the absolute worst?


Either way I just cannot help myself…because, well, it’s just too funny.

Happy Wednesday you beauties!

I’ll leave you with a little something from the master (Keats) of the spring verse:

Open afresh your round of starry folds,

Ye ardent marigolds!

Dry up the moisture from your golden lids,

For great Apollo bids

That in these days your praises should be sung

On many harps, which he has lately strung;

And when again your dewiness he kisses,

Tell him, I have you in my world of blisses:

So haply when I rove in some far vale,

His mighty voice may come upon the gale.

Mixed Nuts

This weekend was as jam packed as an unopened jam jar.

It was a really great mix of time spent with friends and family, excellent food, and of course beauty, brilliance and hilarity.

Here are a few highlights from the past two days:

Brilliant brunches.

Bean Sprouts.

Smoking smokers.

Post-Prometheus chai.

Dream House.

Dream lunch.

Super dog.

Secret messages.

Yesterday was Italian Days along the length of Commercial drive. Luckily the rain stayed away and we, along with M’s sister V, her partner J, and his parents E (alias Darth Gruyere) and C, walked the length of the street, taking in all the different sights, sounds, and smells the festival had to offer.

It was a really lovely way of spending an afternoon.

(Though next time we are really going to need to get our mitts on some cannolis. And by some, I mean all of them. And by mitts, I mean mouths.)

On Saturday night M and I went to the pictures and took in Ridley Scott’s latest oeuvre – Prometheus.

Going to the movies is always a bit of a trip for us because we pretty much never go anymore.

Like, ever.

This is a bit strange because at the beginning of our relationship you would be hard pressed not to find us in a movie theatre at least once a week. (M was even a projectionist at two of the local independent theatres in the city during his undergrad.)

Now, we maybe take in a film twice a year at most.

I suppose we’ve just lost that interest. That spark.

(Perhaps we’re just waiting for the mother load of a movie to blast us back to our former selves? We’re not sure.)

Either way, this trip we did not hit pay dirt.

My tweet that night summed up how I felt (in under 140 characters) about the film: I LOVE Alien/Aliens, but – there’s a reason why they’re separate movies. Trying to make both at the same time just doesn’t work. #prometheus

If you want a much longer take on how I felt about the movie, please read this absolutely brilliant and gut-busting hilarious review by  Henry Rothwell.

It’s magic.

And (in my opinion) bang on.

In terms of tough mudder: t-minus less than two weeks to lift off!

Yesterday I had one cracking run. I completed 15.4 km in 1:08 – one of my fastest runs to day. And that was after running 12 km on Saturday, combined with my circuit strength training.

I’m feeling really strong, and goodness knows the callouses on my hands are forming personalities of their own.

I can’t really tell you guys how stoked I am to drive up to Whistler and see what the course has in store for us.

I mean, don’t get me wrong – I, under no circumstances, believe that this is going to be a walk in the park. I know full well how greweling the entire experience is sure to be.

But heck if that doesn’t make me any less excited!

I am ready to get my mudder on, and get it on hard.

 Tonight Mr. M and I ate farfelle with vine ripened tomatoes, kalamata olives, fresh basil, and paremesan cheese. We watched Sunshine.

It’s still cold, but things are slowly changing.

When you’re moving this fast, they’re bound too.