So as a freshly married couple, how does one go about impressing their new spouse? Well, if you’re married to me, obviously you politely ignore the crazy while it slowly leaks out. Also, this is an excellent idea;

After a ridiculously yummy and filling feast of Chinese take out and you’re reclining on the couch, full belly and perfectly content, you manage to restrain your utter shock and horror when your freshly minted wife spins around her laptop and yells;

“Oh my fucking god! Look at this retro couch! It’s in that antique shop we stopped at on Friday and it’s in mint fucking condition and on SALE! And it has a CHAISE LOUNGE!

I. Must. Have. It. NOW.

(Keep in mind that the antique store is in a village 45 minutes away and though it’s 8pm I know that the owner lives right above and loves to make a sale.)

You impress your brand new wife by turning your head to hide the fact that you’re rolling your eyes, borrow a truck, drive her out to buy it right then and there, haul it home, unload it, realize the old couch won’t fit where she was planning on putting it so you load it into the truck and drive it to your office where it can be safely stored as she loves it at refuses to get rid of it (please don’t even think about wondering why I just replaced a couch that I love. This one has a CHAISE!) and then you come home and kiss her and still love her as you watch her hum happily while rearranging the living room.

Score.

It rained all week and then on Thursday it was sunny and beautiful and perfect for a secret wedding beside the river.

Yes, that’s right folks. Steve and I got hitched.

Susin, Stan, and baby Gray came down and we chugged bubbly right from the bottle and laughed and ran on the beach and then we all said some words and then used Stan’s back to sign some papers and WHAM! We’re married! Once we get our photos back from our fantastic photographer Kathryn I shall post more than anyone cares to see.

Now here’s where the fun begins. The wedding was a secret so the next step is to tell the families. My crazy hippy folks will laugh and think that it was a “lovely” idea.

Steve’s family? Apparently his sisters and father will be amused for the most part. His mom? Uhm. Not so sure. There was no mention of God during the ceremony (though oddly enough, one Elvis quote) we didn’t get married in a church, I have tattoos and snuck away with her first born so chances are that our newly minted mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship has started off on the wrong foot. Like a mangled and bleeding foot that’s broken in 17 or 18 places. And maybe has a touch of the gangrene.

Oh, did I mention that they haven’t even met me yet?

We’re going out to the east coast in October so that they can meet the “surprise wife” and I’m hoping that she has had sufficient time between now and then to digest the news. In our defense, introducing my parents (think Simon & Garfunkel with a tray of hash brownies) to his rather conservative god fearing ones really was just something we felt should probably never happen. We’ll use the travel distance of east coast vs. west coast as an excuse………..

So there you have it. My big news, my big day. It was beautiful and I am thrilled and in true Kim fashion, though I am taking his name, I don’t even have to change my initials or signature. It’s still an H followed by an illegible squiggle.

I love when shit works out like that.

I now have a husband. I am now someones wife.

She lived in a cage for 5 years pumping out puppies and lapping water from a fucking hamster bottle. 5 years without anything but wire walls and an abscessed mouth full of rotten teeth- half of which we had to have pulled so that she could learn to eat properly- and a growth covering half of her one and only eye, unnecessarily rendering her mostly blind until we also had that removed. She’d never been for a walk or fallen asleep in someone’s lap while feeling safe and she had never seen a toy let alone would have known what the hell to do with one.

She was never a puppy, she was a product.

This is Lucy now.

She still has her problems. She bolts out of the room at unexpected loud noises, shakes for hours after the thunder stops and has to be medicated for fireworks, but she sleeps curled up with Maggi at the foot of our bed -safe- every night.

I have a long list today but it starts off with the fact that I am hopeful that Steve sees this new post in his reader and goes out and picks me up a bottle of wine. It has to go first on the list because I swear that he only skims my posts. Fucker. Plus I want the wine really bad so it should be first.

Other slightly less important things that I am hopeful for;

*I am hopeful that our plane doesn’t crash when we whip out to Edmonton this weekend for Ckenzie’s wedding. She has been like a daughter to me since she was 8 and though her dad and I dated for less than a year and I lost touch with him about a decade ago, she still calls me mom.

**I am hopeful that Steve still wants to fly home with me on Sunday. As a large contingent of my father’s side of the family happen to live in Edmonton my fantastic Uncle Darcy will be hosting a big bbq in honour of my rather rare visit. There will be loads of us of all ages and ungodly amounts of booze and laughter and someone will fall in the fire at some point, even if there isn’t one. I will do drunken wheelies in my Uncle Dale’s wheelchair for at least a half hour on the back deck or until Dale throws a beer can at me from the grass, or wherever I have unceremoniously dumped him.

Steve will be meeting them all for the first time. They will undoubtedly recount the time I was spending the summer in Alberta with my father and he pulled a rifle on a guy I was holding hands with on the couch while whispering a low and frighting “What are your intentions with my daughter?” When the boy eventually started breathing again my father simply giggled and walked away. They may also bring up the time a date came to pick me up and my father and 7 of his 9 siblings answered the door. They scrutinized him in total silence while he stood awkwardly outside wondering what to do until one of my uncles finally yelled out “Fuck it! Don’t like the look of this one, let’s string him up!”

Again, Steve will be meeting them all for the first time. Fuck.

**I am hopeful that my damn receptionist gets back from her 400 year holiday soon. I hate people and I want to beat the shit outta the fucking photocopier.

***I am hopeful that baby Gray remembers the fun days like last Sunday when he’s older. Sitting with Auntie Kim having lunch and then traipsing around the wildlife park and having to kidnap him with a modified full nelson out of the bouncy room and throwing him down the slide lest we never be able to leave the park.

***I am hopeful that Susin’s husband Stan never again accidentally orders 50 wings instead of 15 on wing day. 50 hot and 50 garlic. Despite the 100 wing fiasco in the afternoon, he still managed to polish off the bulk of his dinner at the Mexican place we went to before the Kelowna Matt Good show. I am also hopeful that the four of us will have many many more of those patio dinners when we laugh so hard margarita comes out of places that it shouldn’t.

****I am hopeful Steve goes to pick me up a bottle of wine that is waiting for me when I get home from work. A big one. Yes, I know I’ve already said that. Shut up.

*****I am hopeful that my crazy lovely mother has many more birthdays ahead of her. When I phoned her yesterday she said “My birthday? Today?” *obvious sounds of flipping pages in the background, maybe a calendar or maybe the phone book- with her you never know* “Oh look! It is! Wow, I’m 83 today!” (Just for the record, she’s 62 but is desperately looking forward to when she “looks” old enough to act batshit crazy in public and get away with it. You laugh because you think I’m kidding. You clearly haven’t met my mother. She will pee her pants in public the first chance she gets. Do not doubt me on this.)

*****Lastly I am hopeful that Steve bought wine. or beer. I could really handle a nice cold beer while walking the dogs later.

Monday morning, I have to tell you, was shaping up to be the start of a craptastic week. I wasn’t holding out much hope of feeling any less stabby than I stated the day.

So how does one change that tumble down the shit water-slide? How about a last minute invite from Matt Good to go to the sound check for the Kamloops show, watch the boys fuck around on stage in a big empty theater and then lounge for a good long while in the sun bullshitting with the band and 5 other people. Should that not be enough, how about if Matt graciously puts you on the guest list (with wicked seats I might add) because you have tickets for the Kelowna show tomorrow.

Yeah. That would do it.

I don’t know who I owe karmically but they need a thank you card or a case of bourbon.

Excuse the absence my pretties…..I kind of have a big bowl of diarrhea on my plate. With a side of hate.

Work is currently a pressure cooker of everything that gives birth to grey hair. Then my freelance writing gig has just heaped an ungodly amount of work on to my “unable to say no” lap and holyfuckinghell. My dog also just broke my favorite (and at the time very full) wine glass with the 700 foot stick that she had in her mouth.

Oh, and in my day job, my receptionist- the guardian that keeps the rabid salesmen away- is in Winnipeg awaiting the birth of her first grandchild. I love her and am excited about her new family addition but because this blog is all about ME I have to lament her absence in that I had to deal with the crazy fucking spa product chick that I’ve hated for 3 years and who Karen knows well to keep far away from me least I punch her in the throat.

So… having said that… I miss you all. I haven’t visited any blogs since my legs felt freshly shaved and I can’t see this changing in the next week. Stick with me gang, I’ll provide porn and free product samples soon. Or at least I’ll blog about wanting to have porn and free product samples.

Oh, and did I mention that I’m working towards launching a kick ass food blog?

Yeah. I need more wine.

On the up side, Steve and I zip out to Kelowna on Wednesday to see my other boyfriend Matt Good in concert. This is prefaced by a wee visit with my baby Gray before Suz Stan & Steve & I head out for an awesome mexi dinner and then some swooning (or at least Suz & I) over Mr. Good.

I definitely need more fucking wine.

So the Good clan grows……..

Between the little cutie his wife brought along and the one that is currently incubating in her oven, we may have a Good family band yet! It will be like the Partridge family- I mean, if the Partridge family blogged about human rights, politics and how to shit bomb someone with the stealth of a ninja.

I’m hoping for a bizarre celebrity name. I’m also hoping the first baby pic to eventually hit his blog has the wee one in the ever popular though rarely seen “I hear Matt Good is a real asshole” onesie.

Congratulations!

(I told Steve that my “other boyfriend” was pregnant & he seemed genuinely pleased. Damn fine man, him.)

This is my Friday. This is what it feels like when the stars are all aligned.

*The gorgeous shiny solid metal pasta maker that I ordered online arrived. I always have things delivered to my office as no one is at home so it was a little awkward when everyone saw me making out with it. Of course they’ll forget all about that when I come in on Monday with Lobster stuffed ravioli in a thyme and brown butter sauce! HA!

**I leave in the morning for a sleepover with Suz & my baby Gray. We shall spend the day at the water park with a picnic lunch and a giggly little boy. I have recently purchased a wicked new camera so I will undoubtedly spend an inordinately large quantity of time snapping pics of him. If he grows up thinking paparazzi is normal then I fear I will be to blame.

***I just received an email telling me that the smarmy rowing machine that we bought will be leaving the warehouse on it’s way to me.

****I have cold pizza in my lunch. (Hence the necessity for the rowing machine I suppose.)

Yes- this is what it feels like when the stars are aligned. Happy Friday everyone.