Words to live by

It is 8 pm and a comfortable 25 degrees. There is a breeze that is only noticeable when I look up and see the trees move. I have found the perfect spot to sit and think, read, blog. I'm sitting on the front step of the house with my back against the door. The overgrown cedar and pine hedge provides an effective screen from the traffic on the front street (not that it's that busy). I finally have some time all to myself but I am happy to share some of it with my friends.

This morning I was reviewing some articles at work--editing for grammar, style and mechanics. The articles were written by financial advisors and submitted for approval to send for publication. usually the pieces are pretty dry and not well written. Sometimes I learn something about investing or money management. Today I came across the word intestate. I had never seen the word before. I first thought it was a typo but spell check didn't seem to have issue with it. So I looked it up.

Intestate: to die without a will.

Actually, the formal definition is, to die without a legal will, and the origin of the word dictates that it be taken in the context of last testaments, but I prefer the more simplified version because it allows for some interesting thinking (I think).

Intestate: To die without a will...to what? A will to live? To die? To honour? To love? To fight? To learn? To believe?

Your financial planner will tell you that you don't want to die intestate because it will mean that determining the distribution of your assets then becomes the responsibility of a probate court. By my definition of the word, I wonder if it is possible to die without being intestate. If you're dead, you've given up the will to do something, haven't you? But who cares, you're dead! The bigger concern I think is if you're living intestate, because if you're going through life without a will, good or bad, where does that leave you?

You're never too young to plan for your death, and you're never too old to find a new reason to live.

Not exactly noble or anything, but here's one reason to live: live for days when you come home wondering how exactly you're going to pay all those bills that come with moving only to open your mail and find a cheque for $820.58 from your lawyer's office. I phoned my parents and told them I won the mortgage lottery.

The cash is a refund of sorts. Before taking possession I had to write a cheque for the rest of the down payment plus property taxes, lawyers fees, and an estimate of the interest due to cover the period between taking possession and my first mortgage payment and a bunch of other stuff. Or something like that. Anyway, usually they over budget so once the paperwork clears you can get some money back. I had completely forgotten about this until I saw the cheque. Tie that with the surprising news that my $0.20 off/litre gas card does not expire this month (as it says on the back of the card), with only half the limit used, but in fact will be of use until August 31, 2009 and I am feeling pretty lucky. Maybe I should take that cheque to Vegas. Or do I put it in my will? :P

Missing the point

I was out with Chris tonight. We had plans a while ago to go out for nachos but, as he tells the story, I ditched him. I prefer to just say I double booked myself. Anyway, tonight we finally made it to Carlos and Murphy's. Honestly, the nachos weren't great and the service was stupid slow. Chris and I have decided to take it upon ourselves to review the nacho plates at various establishments throughout the city.

Chris is a faithful reader of my blog and he had a small complaint to register.

"All my wedding got was a few pictures!"

I explained to him that I had planned on devoting a space in a blog post to his wedding but that the post just didn't develop as I had hoped. Not wanting to disappoint a VIP reader though, I'll recap some of my thoughts of the special day.

Sunday afternoon was Chris’ wedding. It was beautiful. I’ve known Chris since high school when he dated my best friend at the time. Honestly, I used to resent him sometimes. The girl only seemed to have time for me when she and Chris were fighting. I never would have guessed at the time that one day I’d be attending their separate weddings.

Today I’m actually good friends with Chris and don’t keep up much with the girl. I have a better appreciation for the good guy he is. I no longer resent him but instead respect and admire him. He found his perfect match in Dayna. I know that’s cliché; of course you’re supposed to marry your perfect match. But Chris and Dayna really make sense and I can see how they are helping each other become even better people. That's the kind of love I would want for myself.

Rob was the Best Man and I think he did a great job, despite not being sure at first what the role entailed. He gave an entertaining and heartfelt speech. As we drove home that night I told him I wished he could one day say such nice things about me at my wedding.

And there you go. I don't have a nice conclusion or overlying point to all of this, which is why I struggled with the post. But hopefully it will make my nacho eating, jet setter pal Chris happy anyway. Cheers to you and Dayna.

In search of a yellow brick road

My parents left for a few days of camping today. Tracy is working nights so my mom asked me to pick up and look after Elmo. I headed over there after Pilates around 8pm. First thing I noticed was the container of blueberries sitting on the kitchen table. Mmm. I snagged 1/2 a cup to put on my yogurt tomorrow morning. Then I turned and spotted a beautiful quiche on the stove. It was still warm as I served myself up a piece. I also cut another portion to take for my lunch. I call this, shopping at the neighbourhood Mom and Pop place.

Upon returning to my house I took Elmo out for a walk. We headed east and then turned north up Ferry Road. Not long after crossing Ness Avenue we happened across an older gentleman shuffling along. He waved so I smiled and waved back. I thought to myself at the time, "what a friendly neighbourhood!" What I didn't know was that if that poor old man could speak, he would have asked, "what's a nice young girl and her dog doing walking around these parts?"

As we carried on I noticed that seemingly every other house had a "BEWARE OF DOG" sign. One warning was simply scrawled in black permanent marker beside the front door. Another hand made design showed a picture of a cute beagle, not unlike Elmo, but with the caption, "Can you run across this yard in under 3 seconds? I can." Not wanting to encounter a ferocious hound, I hurried us along.

I don't think we're in Charleswood anymore, Elmo" I said as we passed by more derelict shacks and snarling canines.

Fear not friends, the St. James Ghetto does end at Amherst. There are no guard dogs here, as evident by the number of bunny rabbits I see scampering along from yard to yard.

For those who I haven't updated yet, tonight will mark sleep number six in my house. I am loving my new life and new space. I thought I knew myself well enough to legitimately worry that I would have a hard time adjusting to living on my own but apparently I don't know my own strength.

I haven't blogged in a while. I tried last night to summarize the events of the past week but I just couldn't get the words out. Instead I'll just throw some pictures up here and let you fill in the blanks.

Props for ajillstory

I added a list to my blog after having a discussion with George today about our love for lists. It is my wish list for the house. George said it would be helpful for people who may want to bring a gift to the housewarming party I will eventually throw. I personally find it useful to just get the items out of my head. Traditionally I keep lists on paper but this is even better because I keep starting lists and then losing them in the bottom of my purse or the pockets of my jeans. Now I don't have to try to remember to pick up paper and post-its! (although Dad did bring some for me today.)

Paint and boxes

It has been almost a week since I first turned the key in the door to my little house. The last few days have been a blur of paint and boxes.

My room is pretty much complete while the spare room, or the room my sister has claimed (which makes me smile because she keeps telling me we can't live together. And we won't, but there will always be a place for her when she wants it) has a coat of primer on it. The Atomic Orange colour is still trying to break through.

Elmo loves going over there. We can't leave him behind. He likes the back yard a lot which is well fenced to keep the little wanderer from getting away. While we work he is content to flop down on the floor and sleep.

The house has been busy and full since I took possession. Finally, on Saturday night my parents were out and we weren't working. I grabbed my journal, printed off a few e-mails I had been meaning to read, leashed up Elmo and headed over for some alone time. Once inside I opened up all the windows to let the place breath and enjoy the sounds of the neighbourhood.

Tonight I had my first dinner party. It was my mom's birthday so I hosted a small family gathering. I tried to keep notes of all the things I realized I still needed--oven mitts, salad tongs, note paper to write lists on. I'm not there yet, but I'm amazed at how close I am.

Here's my favourite part of the night. I walked into my room where my sister was wrapping presents. I noticed the card she was signing looked familiar. I asked her to hold it up for me.

I could hardly believe it. I had gone into the village at lunch to pick a card up at Shoppers' Drug Mart. After reading every Happy Birthday Mom card in the collection and finding they read more like mother's day verses, I decided to hit one of the other shops. There were many different pretty cards to choose from and I again laboured over the decision to pick the right one. The one I picked featured an image of a painting of a lady with a hat. Inside it simply read, "Happy Birthday". I just thought the picture was pretty. Apparently, so did my sister as only two hours after me, she went into the same store and picked out the exact same card. Stuff like that has happened before--like the time we bought each other the same obscure DVD movie for Christmas or how we'll get ready to go to a family function only to find we've picked matching outfits. So this time, all I could do was laugh and say, "oh Tracy, I love you."