Stand by your maaaaannnnn....

My guy.

I'm just so darn taken with my man! He's off at a rehearsal now, so I don't mind mushing all over the place.

I think I'll go back to the beginning for this one...

For those who might have heard the rumor, yes we did meet -- kinda -- on the internet. Last spring, I was bored bored bored after my BF/MoH Rita moved back to the Okanagen, so I joined a free dating website on a lark (mostly, frankly, to laugh at the funny profiles). Turns out, there was an online forum/message board thing, where I met a bunch of very super people, who formed a group who did a bunch of stuff together. Mostly single, though occasionally paired up, we went to barbeques, concerts, camping and -- Best Time Ever -- whitewater rafting.

I really wasn't interested in dating anyone. I was in my last year of school, and I had no idea where I'd be moving to at the end of the year. All I was sure of was that I didn't want to stay in Vancouver, and I didn't want to feel tied to the city by the emotional bonds of a relationship.

In the summer, I had noticed, in passing, the profile of a man from Gibsons who seemed clever and nice and liked a lot of the same things as me. I put him on my favorites list (for a lark) and had a fun reparte in the 'word association' thread on the forum late one night with him. Still, I didn't want to date anyone, so I didn't contact him.

Fast forward to the week of the BC Teacher's Strike in October 2006. I was attempting to respond reasonably to the rash of anti-teacher vitriol that was in a thread on the forums with some success (ok, none). Out of the blue comes an email from "wandercoast" thanking me for my sense and perspective in that particular thread. I responded to the email, he responded back; a few minutes later we were on MSN chatting briefly. Steve mentioned that he was interested in meeting some of the people he had chatted to on the forums; I told him there was a bunch of people going bowling that Friday. Turns out, Steve was coming in to town for his mum's birthday that weekend, so it was easy enough to come in a day early and see these crazies in person.

The day of the bowling, I was off school in the afternoon and spent the day moving my furniture from one bedroom to the other. By nine pm I was hot, sweaty, tired and more than a little cranky from having to take my bed apart with a hammer, instead of the more customary screwdriver. I considered not going bowling (I hate bowling) but there were people -- this guy Steve among them -- who I had told I would be there. One quick shower, jeans & sneakers later, I was out the door.

I got to the bowling lanes just before ten pm. I was greeted by friends and sat down beside an empty chair. It seemed like, oh, a second later that this guy sits down next to me, introduces himself as Steve, and asks in a very cheeky manner, "so do you REALLY hike and camp?" Ordinarily, I would have told this stranger exactly where to get off the bus, but instead I laughed and said I did.

The next five hours are a bit of a blur, but we talked for just about all of them, and I remember liking him very much, and hoping he liked me too. There was a brief hiatus driving to the pub after bowling, when he got a ride with someone else, but I was so pleased when he sat down next to me on a brick wall at the pub. We were still talking when the pub closed at three am, and I drove him to John & Gayle's house in Delta. I had been noticing that he had been touching my knee in the pub, and giving off 'interested' body language, so I found myself hoping he might even kiss me goodnight (shocking, really, as I don't usually warm up to people so fast).

When we reached his parents' house, I stopped the car all optomistic... and he patted me on the shoulder, said goodnight, and booked it out of my car as fast as he could.

(I suspected I had read the situation wrong, but turns out he really liked me too, and didn't want to scare me off by being all forward -- silly boy!)

I was very sad (woe!) but as we had talked in general terms about hiking some weekend, I still thought I might see him again. I sent him an email on Saturday to make a suggestion about hiking... he sent me one back... we talked by MSN or phone for three hours a night all week. By Tuesday night he was coming to visit me for the weekend; by Thursday night we were in a fully-fledged relationship.

When I picked Steve up from the ferry on that stormy Friday night (the ferry was almost two hours late), he rushed across the parking lot to see me and gave me a huge hug. He didn't want our first kiss to be in the BC Ferries parking lot, so he made me drive us (holding rain-wet hands in the car) up to the lookout on Cypress, overlooking the lights of Vancouver for our first kiss...

At the end of the first weekend, we hiked up the Lynn Creek loop in the rain, soaked and holding hands, and irrevocably in love. Instead of a relationship that tied me to Vancouver, Steve's strings gently pulled me to the Sunshine Coast, where I always wanted to be and didn't know it. We spent every weekend together, ten days at Christmas (at which time we decided to live together) and I moved to Gibsons in February, just over three months after our first meeting.

Here is a picture I took of Steve taking pictures of the snow during our Christmas break in the Kootenays:

It is now just over nine months since that fateful bowling adventure, and we are still madly in love, newly engaged to be married, and constantly grateful for the most fragile of circumstances that brought us together.

Steve had, the day before we met, ended a very brief relationship with a woman on the mainland, and had resolved not to date off the Sunshine Coast again as the commuting was just too difficult. What if he had stuck to that resolve? He could have not sent me an email about the strike, or could have not wanted to come bowling (he hates bowling!), or the teachers might not have striked at all. What if I had gotten to the bowling alley fifteen minutes later? He might have gone. What if I didn't go at all?

I hate to think of universes in which we might not have met.


I adore him.
He adores me.
He accepts me exactly as I am -- better yet, he loves me exactly as I am, flaws and all.
He is so smart I have to work to keep up with him.
He calls me on it when I'm being snarky.
He encourages me in everything I do (except the snark).
He is so crazy talented (we have a mutual admiration club with a membership of two) that it takes my breath away.
His hugs are the best place to be. Ever.

Ah well. And he's at rehearsal.

So, on a much lighter and sillier note:



(heehee)

Eeek?

I got an email today from a wedding-planning website I signed up on called the Knot.

It tells me that I have 299 days left and 157 things to do.

Eeek!

Steve tells me he is resigned to 153 of those things being done in the month before the wedding. Thank goodness for realistic fiances.

banditos!

So, Steve & I get back from Mike & Laura's place up in Halfmoon Bay (where we had a wonderful 24 hour holiday of hot dogs, triplets & swimming in the ocean) to find the cat food bin, overturned, by the front door.

Ordinarily the cat food lives in a shut cabinet in the living room. The cats don't have the thumb power to open the cabinet or open the cat food bin, so that means that the pair of wildly cute juvenile raccoons that have been eating the cherries on the tree next door have developed a taste for cat food. This explains why Bean's dish is always empty, and also explains the time last week the cat food was in the hallway, also open. Poor Angel got blamed for that particular incident, though I noticed at the time that she didn't look quite guilty enough to have done the deed herself.

Having righted the cat food bin and put it where it belongs, I asked Steve if he noticed a particularily animal smell... we went into the bathroom to find a giant turd in the bathtub and pawprints on the toilet seat -- we definitely have raccoons! After cleaning up, we considered ourselves lucky: had they not pooped in the tub, or been so diligent about hand (ok, paw) washing, OR, if we had left the window by the front door open (like we usually do), we wouldn't have a cat food bin or cat food at all.

Steve figures they got it to the front door, saw the window wasn't open, and had an "oh, crap" moment when they realized they couldn't get it out of the house, then decided to open it up and chow down right there. Keep the eye on the prize, banditos!

Tomorrow I'm buying a child/raccoon-proof latch for the cabinet where we keep the cat food.

In other news, Findlayson's resized my ring perfectly, and it looks marvelous. It's all sparkly and shiny, especially while swimming.

Here it is on:

Steve asking me every four minutes if I still had it on got a little tiring, I have to admit. I understand it's the first jewellery he's bought, so he's a little paranoid about it's safety, but still. I took it off to show him my new ring tan-line, and you should have seen his face: "where IS IT?!"

We received an amazing bouquet from Mike & Laura -- Mike is Steve's older brother, and has finally been asked to be Best Man. They are the parents of the triplets, Andy, Sam & Justin. It's ok -- multiples run on LAURA'S side of the family.

Here is the gorgeous bouquet:

We also received a card from my mum & dad, Tracy & Rod, which was quite a relief. They've always purported to like Steve very much, so not hearing from them after the initial announcement was a bit worrying. Mind you, the circumstances of the announcement left a little to be desired. I had left a very simple message on the machine on the Sunday morning asking for a call back. My mother, inexplicably, decides to call back during the last 15 minutes of the World Cup final. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "So, Steve asked me to marry him this morning."
Tracy: "Oh, that's wonderful, Lorien. I'm so pleased for OH GOOD BALL!"
Me: "Um, yeah. So, the wedding is going to be next May, May 19th. I'm sorry you'll have to miss May Days."
Tracy: "That's ok, a wedding is more important than May Days. There'll always be another May OH MY GOD HE JUST HEADBUTTED THAT GUY!"
Me: "Um, yeah. So, it'll be down here..."
Tracy: "ZIDANE GOT CARDED! IT'S A RED CARD!"
...

Turns out they were just embarassed about not making more of a fuss... it's really ok, as I've known about this soccer-addiction for a long time. My father would (and does) wake up at 2am on a Saturday to watch Manchester United games live. Then, instead of going to bed like a sensible person, he would go to the computer to read the blow-by-blow on the internet... of the game he just watched! So long as they're happy about it, I don't care that they were distracted by 'the beautiful game'.

Mind you, for the past two weeks, I've been expecting a call from them along the lines of "so... did we hear you right? engaged?"

Steve's parents, John & Gayle, were tracked down the night of the engagement somewhere in... well, I don't even know. Maine? They went on a roadtrip for a cousin's wedding and ended up at Steve's grandmother's house to dispose of the effects etc. as she's now in assisted living. We had NO idea where they'd be, so Steve just picked a random relative to call and lo! there they were. Asleep, but woken up for the news. They return to Delta tonight, so Steve & are heading over to the mainland this weekend. We'll go to Illuminaries, do our last MEC shop for the West Coast Trail (which is in less than a month! yay!) and Steve's mum & I will get to talk weddings 'till our tongues drop off... poor Steve.


All in all, it has been a very satisfactory first few weeks being newly engaged. I've listened to some great music (Duttons played SOPA and, impromptu-ly, jammed on the porch of the Gumboot during the fiddle camp), watched a Sea Cavalcade Parade and fireworks, dressed like a pirate to the office for a week (arrrr, for Sea Cavalcade maties) and had, generally, a wonderful time.

I consider myself quite blessed, actually, to live in such a place, with such a man, and with such supportive and genuine friends and family. Rita and I have had some lovely chats, I've talked to Jody & Julia in South Africa, received emails from all kinds of friends... and tonight Steve and I have been asked to attend an engagement dinner to be hosted by Susanne & Ray. Even the raccoons are relatively good neighbours.

Lucky us!

Starfish and rings and running oh my

Sunday was a quiet day. The morning was spent lounging and chatting (and ring fondling), until we decided we needed to get out of the house and shake the dust of the city off. We drove up to Egmont and walked the rather gentle path over to Skookumchuck Narrows. They really are cool: you can hear the rushing of the tidal waters through the narrows from quite a distance. It looks just like a bit of rapid on a river, since the further shore is really quite close -- except, of course, that it is ocean.

We got to wander down the forest paths hand-in-hand being goofy and silly and all in-lovey. Then we ate granola bars and watched the bore, then we poked purple starfish (which are hard! really, not all soft like they look), then I got bored (of the bore...heh) and started back early. Even though I was only walking on my own for some 20 minutes, I realized how much I am used to walking with Steve, being all -- well, being us.

The walk, however, was a good cardio workout, which is good training for the West Coast Trail. After we decided to do the WCT, back in early May, I told Steve that I didn't want to be proposed to on the Trail, when I would be stinky and perhaps wet and unhappy. Little did I know that Steve had decided then to leave the ring at his parents to propose upon our return (when we'd be clean and dry and, presumably, happy). I'm glad he didn't do that, for three reasons... first, because I'm impatient, and wouldn't want to wait; second, because I would always wonder if I passed some kind of test on the WCT which made him decide to propose and thirdly, because... if I'm wet and unhappy (and whiny) I might not pass the test :-(

Anyhoo, now that the first week of OMG-ness has (mostly) worn off, I've been thinking more in focus about wedding stuff. I've had ideas about my wedding for years, like most women, but now that the reality is here, I'm finding out what I 'really actually for real' want.

I had initially thought of a rustic, organic wedding, with little lavender plants and cedar saplings as favours/table decorations on top of cedar boughs. Then I started thinking of how I could get my rustic decor a little more sparkly, by adding some tealights in clear glass votives... then I realized that I Really Wanted a sparkly wedding with rustic/organic touches. Now I'm putting (theoretically) cedar boughs, lavender and red roses in glass vases on runners of red crepe paper with tealights in glass votives... then I read some website that had all white linen & china with with fruit bowls... stupid internet! Oh well, this is why I have ten months, right?

Speaking of ten months... I don't have any "in ten months I want to weigh 110lb" expectations, but I am pleased that we are getting out and getting exercised... being with someone forever reminds me that I should take better care of myself, so that I am better able to take care of my *husband* and, eventually, children. To better train for the WCT, and for life in general, part of my wedding planning is fitness training... which is why I took up running. Today. Yes, really, today. Steve is a runner from way back, though he hasn't done much (ok, any) since we got together, so he knows how to do it right. We went to Cliff Gilker Park and ran (and walked) along the trails, which is my favorite way to run (and walk). Angel, our (nee my) dog, was O Happy Day to have two (two!) walks in one day, and... well, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. It was actually quite nice. We went for 20 or so minutes, and ran some and walked some and ran some more. Next training day is Thursday (wish me luck).

On the upside, my ring is getting sized tomorrow! I take it in at 9am and pick it up by 5pm... Findlayson's Goldsmiths have kindly offered to rush my sizing so that I can have it asap. A woman in my office recommended them, and they are over a week faster than the other place that called me back, so easy decision. And one more thing off the list.

List... hmmm, there's something on that list... Crap! I forgot to book the hall for the Friday night! Tomorrow, I swear.

Here is a purple starfish, just begging to be poked:

SEVEN rocks, no less!

So today was ring-shopping day. Since Steve totally blew his engagement timeline (personally, I think it's cuter'n heck that he couldn't wait to ask me), he didn't have a ring in-hand to propose with.

We decided to walk onto the boat -- the ferry that leads to the mainland -- and bus downtown to check out some supposedly-legendary sale at the Bay. After some espresso-fortification, we headed into the infamous Hudson's Bay Company to look for a ring. And basically found nothing.

Next stop, Metrotown Centre, the largest mall in BC, where a co-worker had recommended Ben Moss. Once in Metrotown, we basically drifted from jewellery store to jewellery store looking at and trying on.

Since we are determined to not go into debt for our wedding, including the ring, we were very up-front that we had a small budget. Some salespeople looked on our declaration as a challenge to find their most-on-sale rings for us to look at; others looked at it as a challenge to get us to go into debt: "no payments to 2007", "we do have layaway", and "come on, it's the most important ring you'll buy." Whatever. Out of the ten or so stores we visited, we got exactly one 'congratulations'.

After the end of a long day and one all-you-can-eat-sushi lunch, we had narrowed the field to two... ok four. At one of the early stores, we saw a princess cut 'green quartz' solitaire with diamonds on the shoulders that was nice (but I might have been sick of it in 40 years), a small but brilliant diamond solitaire with a lovely simple setting (which I was afraid I would break, as I'm not very gentle with my hands), a princess cut blue topaz with two tiny diamonds (which was an important $25 over our budget) and an unusual, organic design peppered with seven tiny diamonds (which can't really be worn with a wedding band). Since we aren't traditional anyway (ok, not capital-T traditional), we opted for the organic shape.

I have ten months to decide if I want a wedding band also, in which case I'll move it up a finger or to my right hand. I can't wait to wear it! but I have to wait at least until it's sized... and Steve thought I was impatient before! We hadn't been in the house five minutes before I had left voicemails for every jeweller in town. Ok, there's only three. But still!

Here is the lovely thing:

So.. that's one thing crossed off the list. And two more added: get ring resized and add to insurance policy. So far, I have booked the hall (yay me! except that I forgot to book it for decorating or rehearsal time... must remedy that on Monday) and... that's it. I booked the hall -- Chaster House, a heritage house right on the ocean in Bonniebrook -- the day after Steve proposed. I guess it was weighing on my mind, eh?

Most of the magazines & websites I've read say this is the time to finalize location (done!), finalize budget (I need to know more prices before I can do this), finalize guest list (ha! not even close), and start trying on dresses (God help me). We've asked our people of honour and brides/grooms people: Rita as MoH, [the person Steve apparently hasn't asked yet] as BM (heh), Alex and Lisa as attendants. We've told the parents (and that's two funny stories for later) and told all our friends.

It seems like a lot to do some ten months in advance, and from what I've heard, It's Not Going To Get Any Better.


Darling, have you ever been to Vegas?

O dearly beloved...

"My beloved is mine, and I am his."

:from "The Song Of Solomon"

Ok, I'm not religious, but I AM an English major, and that line has always captivated some part of whatever passes for my romantic soul. I hope you all appreciate that I am resisting the urge to get all messy & mushy here, so instead I'll relate (in a matter of fact sort of way) the events leading up to this blog.

Ok, maybe not. I'll probably get all mushy over the wonderful and fragile contingency that caused Steve & I to meet last fall, so I'll cut right to the chase: the proposal. Steve & I have been dating since October 21, 2006. Yes, I know that's not very long, but we were all love-at-first-sight-y, so this was pretty inevitable since day -- three? four? We've been living together in the charming little town of Gibsons, British Columbia, since February 1, 2006. Also not very long. I know.

Steve has been nothing but candid with me that he did see me as his potential life partner, so you'd think all that "does he like me That Way" anxiety would be averted... and it kind of was. To be immediately replaced with the "so we're in love and it's obviously forever so why the heck doesn't he ask me" variety of anxiety. What can I say? I'm an Aries. I'm impatient.

We had gone as far as deciding that getting married next year would be best in order to leave lots of time to have a family... then that May would be a good month to get married in... to deciding the Victoria Day long weekend would be the best day to have the wedding on (for ease of relative travel). We even decided to hike the West Coast Trail this summer instead of next in order to use all my holidays for weddding-ing and honeymoon-ing. You can see why I was getting impatient? That hall needed to be booked already!

Several several weeks ago, Steve told me his engagement time-line was early fall. I crossed my fingers that we could still get a hall that late in the year, but stuffed my impatience into some metaphysical closet and set down to enjoy the summer.

It was funny, then, to be having a lazy Sunday morning, cuddled up and talking about the impending visit of our evil landlady (the landcow) and having Steve comment that, "if she buys us out of our lease, that would practically pay for our wedding!" I was in the middle of commenting that I was much less impatient about getting engaged than a few weeks ago, when "will you marry me?" appeared above my head. I immediately propped myself up and looked straight at him. Several choice phrases came to mind, but I settled on "is this a for-real proposal?" After thanking me for utterly ruining the mood, he asked me again.

"Of course."

Here we are in early days.

Well, I'm bad.

And there I was, resolving not to be one of those people who starts a blog and never posts. Oh, well. After spending a week sick, Steve sensibly dragged me out hiking last Saturday. He thought we'd do a reccy of the Tetrahedron, just to see if we could get in and if there was any snow. The book we have said that the logging road was decommissioned, which would have put paid to the adventure, as I don't much like hiking up logging roads. Turns out the road was not decommissioned, which was great, but it was pretty wintery, which was less great. I told Steve that the next best thing to having a girlfriend with a 4x4 is a girlfriend who grew up in the Kootenays. As I was flying up ice-encrusted roads with an igloo-sized high centre of ice -- in my tiny little Toyota Echo -- I just thought I would channel my parents flying up our driveway in Argenta in little tiny Datsun station wagons... and it worked. The ghost of 'Swampy' smiled upon me, and we made it to the lower parking lot, where we were the only non-4x4 in the place. Mind you, I haven't had the heart to look at the skid plate (but I did check for random car-bleeding on the snow when I pulled out). The path was stomped hard, so we didn't think we'd need the snowshoes. We slogged up the path to the upper lot -- thanks, Angel, for poo-ing for the SECOND time right in the MIDDLE of the path when I, not expecting poo no. 2, hadn't brought a spare BAG -- and saw (along with surprise poo) spectacular icicles on a north facing cliff. Once we reached the alpine area, it became nice and flat-ish and we were in the sun even in the trees. Even though the path was still packed hard, it would have been nice to have the snowshoes in order to tromp around on the frozen lakes. Not, mind you, that my track record with frozen water has been spectacular this year, but it still would have been fun. We hiked into the Bachelor Lakes cabin where there was a small mob of young -- ok, younger -- people in pyjamas and with empty bottles of rum scattered about. They were very nice, and the cabin was HUGE, at least by Kootenay standards, and Very, Very Warm. We eventually dragged ourselves (ok, I dragged myself; Steve was off taking pictures of the lake) away from the wood stove and scouted a few areas we would like to hike with the snowshoes, and, oh, maybe some FOOD? Yes, we, consummate hikers, not only didn't bring the snowshoes, but didn't bring the trailmix either. (I didn't bring a coat, but that should surprise no-one who knows me.) The hike back was much, much faster than the hike in. The sunlight was lovely, and the shadows were infinitely artistic, and Steve wanted to take lots of photos. I wanted to sprint back to the car. "Why are you walking so fast?" "Why are you so grumpy?" I swear I could smell the trailmix from a kilometre away but I stopped, somewhat ungraciously, for photographs and to pack a few snowchunks over the poo. Once back at the car, we snapped a few photos of the intrepid Echo, and were back on our way. To bed. Monday was a walk -- just a walk, Steve said -- up the civilized trail at Chapman Creek. It was a fun walk, mostly level, and with the sound of the river always in earshot. For some reason, I was expecting to see a body the entire trip. Morbid much? Little did I know, the body would be ours! Well, not quite. We reached a big rockfall where the trail went basically straight up the hilly/cliffy bit but, before we could discuss whether to go up or turn around, we heard a big scree slide and cracky branches that sounded for all the world like something big was headed our way. Unanimously, we chose up. Thank goodness there was a rope handhold, or it would have been way suckier. That is, suckier than it was, all hopped up on adrenaline and... more adrenaline. Once at the top, we walked all romantic hand-in-hand down an old logging/wagon road which... disappeared. Rather than trespass or walk a paved road back to the car, we decided -- and I do mean 'we' as I had a hand in it too -- to bushwack straight back down the hilly/cliffy bit to meet up with the trail by the river. This is where you should start laughing, because I haven't bushwacked in years, and never in a coastal rainforest and Steve... well, I wouldn't let Steve lead, so any experience he might have had was completely wasted on the enterprise. We reached the bottom a little muddy, a lot twiggy and having a load of fun. This weekend I get to decide what to do. Fleamarket anyone? Steve?