Moving Moments

This past weekend, Sean and I packed and moved all his stuff to my apartment. Anyone who's ever moved or helped someone move might understand the horrors that the previous sentence implies, but for those of you who haven't, or if you are a hyper-organized freak-of-nature, read on with my compliments.

It was Easter weekend- you know that wonderful spring holiday filled with Ham and Chocolate, walks in the park and R&R. Except for us of course, who happened to be trapped in our very own self inflicted hell.

Ok, okay, I'm being a little over dramatic. It actually wasn't that bad- Sean, like me, is not a pack-rat, and we managed to pack/get rid of everything from Friday to Sunday. We packed dozens of boxes, carried them down to the lobby ("Oh, uh, Hi Mr. Security Guard, no, we're not moving... yes, we know we have to give notice... uh, we're just, uh, transporting some boxes.") crammed them into my Mazda Protege, drove the 35kms (1 hr drive) to my place, unloaded, drove back, rinse and repeat.

Our very last load was at about 3pm on Sunday afternoon- plenty of time to get loaded and unloaded then over to my parents' place for dinner. It was a very big load- Sean wasn't quite sure it would all fit, but I had faith in my shuvementa gifts. We piled box after box into the back seat (the seats were folded down) using every spare square inch of space, then shut the doors and opened the trunk. This is where things went sideways.

A few months ago, I locked my car keys in the trunk, and found out the hard way that my trunk release is broken. Ever since, when I open the trunk, I place my keys on the inside rim of the trunk, because you couldn't possibly shut the trunk with the keys there, right?

I placed my keys on the rim, we filled the trunk fill to the brim, we looked around to make sure there were no more items to go in, and... I slammed the trunk shut.

Well, it would appear it is possible to slam a door shut with a big wad of keys right in the middle.

We pulled, we pried, we swore, we laughed and finally we just stared at the mess we were in. The car was packed and ready to go, but parked (in a no parking zone I might add) and locked and not going anywhere.

What ended up happening was Sean rammed one of his fingers between the car and the trunk lid and managed to just tap the unlock button attached to the keys. I opened the doors and started unloading... all the bloody boxes out of the back seat, then out of the trunk, through the backseat. When everything was empty, I crawled through the backseat into the trunk and pulled the emergency release. Hurray! The trunk was open!! And as I slid out of the trunk, the seat of my pants caught on a hook... and tore a big hole in the ass of my jeans.

Let's just say, it was not on my weekend 'to do' list to stand around loading a car with boxes in a no parking zone with my ass peeking out of my pants, but alas, I did it anyway. I'm just glad we were both able to laugh our way through it.

Battle of the Bulge

Recipe of the Day: "Funny Little Muffin Tin Poached Egg Thingies"

Ingredients:
2 eggs
2 slices Calabrese Salami or similar
green Tabasco
pepper & parsley

1. Spray muffin tin and drape each salami slice over a muffin hole
2. Crack an egg in each
   
3. pepper, parsley & Tabasco
4. Put in 350ish degree oven
   
5. Go have a shower
6. Take out of oven- egg white will be all cooked and yolk will be half hard/half runny- just the way I like 'em.

Don't forget the shower- very crucial to the cooking process.

So, I've started again with the low-carb eating. I'm ready this time thanks to my brief stint with the ever handy Special-K challenge which never fails to remind me how much I fucking hate eating cereal.

I thought about shelling out and trying the LA Weight Loss or maybe WW, but I've found LC to be easy to do, and effective. I lost 70 Lbs doing this before, and kept it off for almost 2 yrs, but then something happened and I have once again ballooned to ridiculous proportions. Well, like any normal bride (I'm comparing myself to a 'normal' bride, not suggesting I am one) I want to look my best on my wedding day. (Even if it is going to be taking place in somebodies office, squeezed nicely between a half dead houseplant and a coat-rack.)

Today's Battle of the Bulge points (ie: Lbs lost): 0 (I did just start this morning!)

Boxes of memories

Yesterday, with the help of my good friend Meghan, I finally dealt with my apartment. I say 'dealt with' because the mess and clutter was just as much psychological as it was physical.

I am a messy person to begin with. I'm not a very good organizer and my time-management skills are almost non-existent. Combine all that with the fact that I deal with clutter the same way I deal with all my other problems; out of sight, out of mind... and you start to understand my predicament.

Over several hours, we completely gutted the place. Closets, drawers and shelves were emptied, their contents strewn over the living room and sorted into garbage/recycle, charity and keep. The smallest pile by far was the 'keep' pile.

The end result is that I now have a fairly organized and clean-ish apartment that is mostly ready for my fiance to move into. More importantly, I've been forced to deal with everything I've been keeping packed away. And not just the old papers and knick-knacks. For some reason when we started pulling everything apart, I hadn't anticipated all the skeletons coming out too. Not all were bad, (some were very well dressed) just a lot of mementos of people and places I'd done my best to forget, or at the very least, not think about. People that had hurt me, people I'd hurt, old friends I've out-grown (or who've out grown me), past successes and failures, bittersweet memories, old favourites, and many, many mistakes. All the things that have culminated in the person I am today.

I took a good long look. I said a silent prayer. And I let go.