Better Than a Hamster Wheel

About a month ago, Ken and I purchased a brand new treadmill with a little financial assistance from the folks. And what I mean by "folks" is my ever-so ready to help you get thin and out of your maternity clothes that you've been wearing ever since you had a baby five months ago mother. Although the concept of being "thin" is somewhat abstract and foreign to me I have, in fact, been using the treadmill regularly and have discovered - or rather re-discovered - that I HATE running. I love the idea of running but the actual running part pretty much sucks.

The first time I decided to use that torturous conveyor belt I felt as though my body was not my own. I could have sworn my legs used to work properly and that at one point in my life running didn't cause my lungs to spontaneously combust. It was utterly and unequivocally pathetic. However, I am proud to say that after running for 30 minutes three times a week for the last month, my performance has improved dramatically even if my attitude towards running hasn't.

The one great thing about a treadmill is that it keeps you moving whether you want to or not; all you have to do is stay on. Maybe one day I will come to love running. Okay, probably not. Love? No. But tolerate? It's possible. One can only hope. Wish me luck (because I need it)!

J

But Where Are his Powers?

My family has taken quite a liking to calling my four and a half month old son "Dobby." At first, I was not so kean about this playful teasing, but now I kind of get it. There IS a slight resemblance. You be the judge.

J

A Glee Gush

In highschool I was the typical jock who didn't really stray far from the gymnasium. I had found my adolescent niche, I was good at what I did and I was well-liked by my peers. Though it wasn't the highlight of my existence, I loved highschool. It was easy and fun. However, I have but one regret: why, oh why did I not mix sweat with solos - volleyball with vocal - deaks with dance - homeruns with harmony - jockism with jazz hands?!? Because I would have looked absolutely ridiculous, that's why. But I would have loved every minute of it! Just like I love every minute of watching my new favorite show, GLEE. Hurray for vicarious living...in the past. Did that make sense?

J

Finding the Right Fit

Ever since we got married, Ken has, almost without fail, checked the listings on realtor.ca to browse through his dream houses. I, on the other hand, thought that such an activity was merely wishful thinking and somewhat futile, considering that we wouldn't be in the market for a house for at least a couple of years. So why get excited about something you know you can't buy? It's as frustrating as window shopping - man, do I hate window shopping!


However, just recently Ken and I have started to look into buying our first home and I can't tell you how incredibly obsessive compulsive I have become about checking the listings. The possibilities are definitely not endless - we only have so much money to spend - but I now love looking at all the pictures and imagining what furniture would go where and what colour I would paint the walls. It brings up a lot of questions though because before, I never really thought about what exactly I wanted because I saw owning a house as something so far away from the present. So now I have to ask myself all these questions: should we sacrifice square footage for location? Should we invest in sweat equity or go for something that wouldn't require much work? Is a garage more important than yard space? Attached, detached, semi-detached? Basement suite? 3 bedrooms or 4? How many kids do I think I'm going to have anyway?! And mortgages - the mind boggles!


It will probably take us another year just to figure out what we want. Maybe window shopping isn't so bad after all - as long as it's for houses.

Marriage: a competition?

One thing that you need to know about me and Ken is that we are both very competitive people. This personality trait is quite an advantage when we are on the same team/page but when we aren't...well, let's just say that things can get quite "colorful."

Most of the time our competitive constitutions center around who is right and who is an idiot. Examples of this "friendly fire" vary from things as important as whose family should our kid(s) go to if we die? to things as unimportant as who has the most accurate finger flicking aim in croquenot? And while the majority of our banter is, indeed, benign - it can, on occasion take on a more fiendish aspect that results in wounded pride or sore ribs (from the mother of all evils: poking attacks!). Consequently, on "one of those days" a venerable amount of our pillow talk time can be taken up apologizing and laughing about how stupid we are...haha.

You know what, though? I would rather remain in a repartee with Ken for eternity than spend a lifetime getting along perfectly with anyone else. Feel free to gag, scoff and/or mock but the fact remains that even when we attempt to refute and retaliate, defend and disprove - in the end, we always let our relationship win. And that will now, and forever, make all the difference.

J