In other news...

I find this tremendously funny.

Shoeshopping

Hi there, just a quick post because I should be studying...

I have a dilemma regarding wedding shoes. Although, I guess it's not much of dilemma because I've already decided - I'm not wearing white shoes. Unless I find a really great pair. Okay, maybe I'm not as decided as I thought.

You see, the problem is, I really hate white shoes. Maryanne can attest to this. In fact, I hate anything white on my feet, and even most colours or patterns. I only like black or brown shoes, and I only wear black socks (which is sometimes a problem when I want to wear brown shoes). Unfortunately, all of this dislike of white could cause problems for my wedding day, when traditionally, you wear white shoes with your white dress (I'm okay with wearing white clothing, just not shoes).

I've already hashed this out with a couple of girlfriends, including my MOH (Maryanne, that abbreviation was for you). They all agree that I should just wear what would make me happy. Julia thinks I should wear my black Kenneth Cole dress sandals (the most comfortable dress shoes I have ever worn), and be done with it. Becca thinks that I should just wear whatever colour I want. I'm leaning toward buying a new pair, because in my mind, special day = new pair of shoes.

But here in lies my dilemma. What kind of shoes should I wear? What colour should they be? I think black is out of the question - as much as I'm not willing to wear white shoes, I think black and white together only look good if you're a mime. Someone suggested that my shoes could be my "something blue", and I don't think that's such a bad idea. Overall, I think I'm looking for something simple and classy, with a heel. However, I'm not going to stress about it now, because soon the spring shoes will be coming out, and I'll have all the selection I want.

I guess I just find shoes fun to think about. I was browsing online the other day, probably while I was supposed to be writing something, and I came across a few shoe-beauties that I wanted to share with y'all. First; as I mentioned before, I'm looking for something with a little height:


however, I think this might be a little much. Do people actually wear these? How would you drive? How would you not topple over? What if your heel gets stuck in a crack in the sidewalk? These shoes fill me with more horror than that time I met Steven Harper.

Next, I challenge you to find what's wrong with these shoes:

Can't quite figure it out? Here's a hint: they're for drag queens! That's right folks, these shoes only come in women's sizes 10-15, with widths between C and EEE. And I was freaked out that time two men came into the shoe store I worked at and tried on all the size 12w's we had. Apparently there's a whole market for these kinds of shoes out there in cyber-land. Who knew?

So apparently I'm a little behind...

But here are lego Meg and Karl.

This is Karl, as seen by me. Notice that he has his upside-down smile on, like when he sort-of wants to smile, but really doesn't want to put out the effort. He's wearing a Santa hat because in a picture we took before we started dating he had a bemused smile and a Santa hat on. And he looked a little gay. Also notice that he hasn't shaved, because Karl not shaving is a typical source of conflict between us. I say he should shave more, he says he doesn't have time. Seriously - who doesn't have time to shave? It's like saying you don't have time to brush your teeth. But I digress... Next, he's wearing the scarf my mother crochet'd for him, in the Swedish colours of blue and yellow. He's wearing a tie-dyed shirt because that's the closest they had to a Hawaiian shirt, and in his hands he's holding a book and a coffee - both indispensable items in the life of Karl. He's wearing blue and green plaid pants because I feel that Karl, left to his own devices, would actually wear pants like that. And finally, he's standing in a background entitled "Flames of Perdition" because I think that's the sort of place you can find him. (Just kidding!)

Next is Meg, as seen by herself:

I gave myself shoulder-length brown hair (because that's what I have), and I'm wearing a black sweater and khaki pants (because that's what I usually wear). I think I was even wearing a black sweater and khaki pants when I made this picture. Also, I'm wearing a colourful scarf because my mom crochet'd a scarf for me too; mine is brown, purple, and orange (and looks gorgeous with my burnt orange sweater and leather jacket, I might add). Finally, I'm sporting what Maryanne calls my "judging eyebrow". Apparently I raise my eyebrow when I disapprove of something, and according to her, it happens a lot. It's usually aimed at her, but I barely notice that it's happening.

And, last but not least, is Meg as seen by Karl.

Karl gave me really dark hair (although it's the same style as the hair I gave myself), and he gave me really light skin (unlike me, who forgot to change my face colour). In my hands are my cellphone and a Pez candy dispenser (to signify my love of candy). I'm wearing a shirt that says "Freestyle" because he thinks that's the kind of shirt I wear. I argued with him on that point, and challenged him to think of three shirts I own with logos or sayings on them. He thought of two so we called it even. I'm wearing a crown because one year I dressed up as Miss Canada for Halloween and I wore a fake tiara, and it stayed in our house and became the studying crown. I think Maryanne wore it more than I did - maybe because she studied more. Finally, the pièce de resistance is the fact that I'm standing on a golf course. Karl knows I hate golf, hence the judging eyebrow again. According to him, being on a golf course is 'outside my paradigm'.

So there you have it, folks. Karl by Meg, Meg by Meg, and Meg by Karl. I won't bore you with a psychoanalysis of what it all means, but I'm pretty sure it means Karl has issues with his mother. No, I'm just kidding - Karl's mom is a sweet lady. I hope you enjoyed our pictures!

-M.

How I made a little girl's day

Today I asked a friend's daughter to be my flower girl. I have known Anna for about a year and a half, and I have never seen her so happy! First she smiled, then she blushed, then she quietly said, "Yes." She didn't really want to know any of the particulars (like what kind of dress she'll be wearing), she mostly just smiled, and smiled some more. Yet I know that she was thrilled. I explained that she'd get to wear a dress and carry flowers, and that she'll be in lots of pictures that day. I did avoid mentioning that she'd be walking by her self in front of a packed church - I didn't want to scare her. Thankfully she'll be walking toward her Dad, who is the priest performing the ceremony.

I'm glad that she's so excited about doing this. Seeing her face light up reminded me of being a little girl, and how I'd always wanted to be a flower girl. So many of my friends had, but with both of my parents being only children, there were no cousins or aunts and uncles to ask me. Anna's mom mentioned that she was worried that Anna would never have the chance because she was getting a bit old for it (she's nine), but that's exactly why Karl and I asked her - we knew her personality, and we knew that she would be reserved enough not to be a distraction, but beautiful enough for everyone to take notice.

I've never knowingly made a little girl's day before, but it was a good feeling.

Grumble and Ye Shall Receive

The other day I was grumbling over the fact that I had ordered an Esso Speedpass and it hadn't arrived yet. And behold! Today it came. Now I can fill up at Esso stations and get 5x the Aeroplan points.

Have I mentioned that Aeroplan points are my new obsession? A few months ago I received an offer from my credit card company that I couldn't refuse; one aeroplan point for every $2 I spend using the card. My heart skipped a beat and my mind soared - I could go to Europe! I could go to Africa! I looked up how many points I need to get to said places - 60,000 points, at least. A quick calculation, and...wow. That meant I'd have to spend $120,000 on my credit card to accumulate enough points to go. Knowing that it could be many years before an amount of money that large had flowed through my credit card, I decided to be a little more proactive in my search for Aeroplan points. I discovered that Esso gas stations accept aeroplan cards, and that I get one point for every $3 spent there. Things were looking up. I then realized that if I filled up at Esso, credited my aeroplan card, and paid with my credit card, I'd get...a whole bunch more points.

That's when I discovered speedpass, and its wonderful ability to combine both my credit card and my aeroplan collector card together into one beautiful microchip. I can now wave this wonderful microchip in front of a gas pump and presto! I can buy gas and put myself further into debt (Note to self: mustn't forget to pay off the credit card, not just charge to it!). Nevermind that I never leave the house without my wallet, which holds both my credit card and my aeroplan card. Nevermind that it would be just as easy to use the card as it would be to wave some magic microchip wand. Nevermind that it would be tremendously easy to lose the speedpass, along with my keys...nevermind all that; I'm going to Europe, dammit.

-M.

Skipping! (Gasp)

And I had been doing so well. I got up today, did a few things, and then I looked at the clock and realized it was 9:45 (I have class at 10:00). No big deal, right? Wrong. I'm still in my pyjamas, I haven't eaten anything, I haven't made a lunch, and there's no possible way I can do all that and still make it to class on time. So what do I do? I choose not to go.

I admit it: I'm a sucker for staying home when I have to be somewhere. I love the guilty thrill of sitting at home, watching the time go by: "It's 10:15! If I'd gone to class, I would have been there for 15 minutes..." I think skipping is probably number one on my list of things I love but know that I shouldn't.

I always make these super excuses for not going: there's no possible way I can make it on time; I can use my time so much better at home; I can do all these wonderful things I never make time for; etc, etc. And yet, somehow, I end up doing nothing but watching movie trailers in my pyjamas and posting on my blog. All those wonderful things get pushed by the wayside in my laziness. What is it in me that just doesn't want to do what I'm supposed to?

A quiet, non most-triumphant return

Hello everyone,

It's been a long while since I've posted. I'm almost certain no one will be checking my blog anyway (except for maybe Trisha, who was bugging me to post when I saw her on Thursday), so I'm not sure why I'm even bothering to post anymore. But for some reason I just couldn't let this blog die.

You may have noticed that I changed the title of my blog. I took the title from a play that's being put on by La Troupe du jour in Saskatoon - they're doing a play this season called La marriage de la fille Gareau. It's a small-town Saskatchewan take on the Marriage of Figaro, and as most of you know, I'm getting married next June. I thought the title fit, although I don't think my wedding will be nearly as crazy as good ol' Figaro's. Certainly no primae noctis here. Gross.

I have lots of adventures to relate regarding my wedding and my life, but right now I'm at the Campion library, and Karl wants to move on to a different library. Wow, what an exciting Saturday for me! Yipee! Libraries! (Maybe I should get used to it, if I'm going to marry Karl...)

So long for now, folks (or rather, folk).

-M.