Weather....or not

Now, I don't wish to sound as though I'm complaining (since so much of what I've written so far could come off in that vein if you weren't aware of my general sarcasm), but I don't own any cold weather clothing. The yard sale cleared me out of so many of the items I didn't wish to bring to England, and consequently, the majority of my winter wear. Let's be honest, I'm not expecting to need so many woolen turtlenecks in London. And I expect to replenish my wardrobe considerably upon arrival.

I'm also not a cold weather person. I have resigned myself to it in Ottawa and have subsequently purchased snow pants to combat my hatred of chills. But look at the difference in the forecasts today between London and Ottawa! I'm practically gleeful looking at London:

And then there's Ottawa. Today. Right now...outside my front door...brrr!

You'll all have to excuse me while I have a solo dance party in honour of my soon-to-be city and the best weather I could hope for it in October!

Only 45 days to go....

Working Weekend

We spent the bulk of this weekend running around, taking care of those little things that needed attention. Aside from some actual job-related to-do items, there was no end to the mountain of chores that had to be dealt with around the house. During the "heat wave" today we were able to tackle the yard clean up. I'm pretty aggressive at the best of times when it comes to cleaning out at the end of the season, but this year I made sure to go just a little deeper. I feel like I just have to assume that the people we're going to be renting to won't care for gardening and that I'll be back at square one with all those invasive plants when we return.

It seems now as though renting the house has turned a corner and will be a far less painful process than I had imagined. I'm waiting to see how it all turns out, but at the very least, we might have found a property manager we can trust and feel confident that we'll return to our house in *almost* the same condition. We did a little staging of the house to get some photos while the light was good. I trust this guy to know how to rent a house, but I think James and I could both agree that we didn't want to leave the photos to chance when they can place such a crucial role in getting someone to give the ad consideration.

Tomorrow is also our last Halloween for a while. Yes, yes, I've been told that England does Halloween, but let's be honest, it won't be the same. And I won't be packing up my extra-amazing Halloween decorations, so I'll be two years without strobe lights, smoke machines, misters and the other spooky accessories I've collected. So Halloween may exist, but it won't be my Halloween and I'll adapt to, and embrace, the ersatz version next year.

Crying

It's getting to that point for me and for my family that this move is real. I found myself crying at the most random and, let's face it, inconvenient times this week. My mother asks every day how many days I have left in Canada (she knows I'm using a tracking app to watch the days tick away). She's at the point where she's getting tearful just thinking about it and talking on the phone.

Then I have mornings like this one where I wonder why on Earth I'm crying. This is going to be fun. Better than fun. Amazing. And life-changing. And exciting. Crying is for sad things (mostly). This isn't a sad thing. The people in my life will still be there...I'll just have to work harder to connect with them. I've gotten some practice as of late in connecting with someone further afield than my own city or province. It's been very eye-opening to me that I can maintain a fulfilling friendship and a meaningful connection with someone on the other side of the country. I'm glad to have this friendship and know that even further distance won't disrupt this rhythm. That gives me hope for all those friendships I'm scared of losing.

Sounding off

Every day when I get home from work I turn on the Food Network and catch a little cooking action to inspire the creation of dinner. More often than not I end up sitting on the couch, tummy rumbling, wishing I was in their kitchen or that James would get home to make our meal. Today was no exception, however, there's been a line-up change and I'm now welcomed home by Jamie Oliver and his 30 Minute Meals. Fantastic.

Today's meal involved two things I really can't stand: yogurt and pita bread. That's a lie. I do actually like both of those items and eat them consistently. The problem is that I can't stand the way that most Brits say either of those words. They don't sound palatable to my ear (god, that's a bad visual). In London I will, of course, be surrounded by people who say these things in this manner and a whole slew of other pronunciation variations I've never had to contend with daily. And you know what? I'm going to be the one with the accent. I'll be the visitor from away and I'll be the novelty. This will be a new phenomenon for me. 

Anyway, I'm going to live. It's fine. I'll probably end up coming home with some sort of bastardised accent akin to Madonna's. Though, if I'm honest, I'd really like to attract as little attention as possible for my accent. Lucky me that Londonist had a clever little article about pronunciation pitfalls and that many of the comments were, in an uncharacteristic move for the internet, also helpful!

Yup. That's what I'm thinking about today. My funny accent. Not Occupy Wall Street. Not my carbon footprint. Not the soul-crushing reality of my shattered dreams. Just accents. 

Making the cut

Right now I'm trying to determine how to distill two years' worth of "life" into whatever boxes and suit cases we're taking with us to England. There are a lot of things to consider: will we go camping? do I need really cold cold-weather clothing? what if I want one of my books? how much would this cost to replace? And that question, the very last one, is where I'm stuck. Truth be told, I don't want to take much of what I own in my closet. I really would just rather take one suitcase full of clothing and acquire new items upon arrival. Who wouldn't relish the idea of starting over in a new country with a new wardrobe?? Can someone else try explaining this to my husband...he doesn't quite understand.

Tripping over blogs on the Internet this week, I happened upon a new (to me) one, The Cherry Blossom Girl, and am already in love with her style and her closet. And the, lo and behold, she puts credits on each post and a number of items come from asos. Can we talk for a minute about how I'm moving to England and I love this girl's style and that the pieces I'm coveting on her blog come from an online retailer based in England? I know! Fate! So now that our hotel is booked I have a two month UK address. I'm already pre-shopping.

Sorry James, I need some new threads.

Coming Clean

It bears pointing out that I am very excited about this move. As much as I know I'm going to complain, cry and generally find our itinerant lifestyle tedious over the next few months (ok, who are we kidding, right until we're in our own flat in March), I also acknowledge how incredibly lucky we are to be in this position. Not everyone gets this sort of opportunity. And certainly not with the same level of financial support. We are lucky. 

There. I've acknowledged it. I thank my lucky stars constantly that we're going, but that doesn't mean I can't do a little complaining and be honest about my situation. So, I'm going to complain in the upcoming two years, ok? But let's all remember that this post happened so that I don't have to worry about if people think I'm a spoiled diva or something. Apologies in advance for giving you that impression.

Awesome. Moving on.

It's kinda like...

I figured out this feeling I have all the time: it's low-level anticipation. It's the kind of anticipation you get when you're waiting for Christmas. Or your birthday, if you're not down with Christmas. Or maybe Halloween. Maybe you're just really into Halloween. Regardless, it's the type of anticipation that you can't do anything about. The date is fixed. You can't speed up time and you can't skip a few days to get there sooner. You just have to wait. And wait. And wait.

So I'm waiting.

The one really poor thing about this type of anticipation, however, is that (for me, at least) it leads to inactivity. I get so consumed by the end that I forget I have to continue living my life until it arrives. I can't just sit around the house hitting "sync" in Byline Reader on my iPad. Or playing endless rounds of backgammon against the computer as the clock slowly counts down. Heaven help me if that's how I spend my last less-than-two months in Canada.

My new mission is to include more "living" and less "waiting" into the daily routine. I have to get out there and see friends. I should probably also consider starting packing piles. And maybe plan a few going away parties. Probably a birthday party too, considering my 30th birthday will take place three days before we board our plane.

Right, time to crack on.

62 and counting

The days are running down faster than I expected.

We went to the cottage this past weekend for Thanksgiving. It was the last time that I'll likely see a number of my family members, including my brother. On the one hand, I was sad, but on the other it felt unreal in part because of how many days we still have in Canada and in part because of how ill I felt for unrelated reasons. It's a bit odd not knowing when I'll see my brother again. We've been apart more than we've been together during his lifetime, so it's normal for us in a way, but at least I've always known vaguely when we'd be face to face again.

My cousin is looking to visit us and I suggested she visit in January or February. I'd be thrilled if that actually came to fruition. We'll be living in our hotel for those months which makes it a little cramped, but it also means that I'll likely not be working and can show her around in proper tourist fashion.

Work has been all sorts of crazy lately. The store that I work for was sold and the new owners are relying on me to supply them with much of the information that they're going to need to run the store upon my departure. It's the absolute last thing I want to be doing during my last few months in Canada. I hate that this has been put on me during a time in my life when I'd really like to make work a secondary or tertiary concern. I've always put this job ahead of other aspects of my life and it makes me feel almost taken for granted that I'm going to continue to do so when the job and the future of the store has so little bearing on my future. *sigh* But I'm also not the sort of person who can do their job at a lesser level of satisfaction. It's like I've been trapped into this ordeal, without my consent and without any consideration toward my own quality of life.

So that's what's been making me crazy these last few months. Too much on my plate from a job that I won't hold in two months or be able to come back to upon our return to Canada.

Our accommodations are being booked today in London. After that, we'll have flights booked and all the other necessities. Our passports were renewed, complete with serial-killer-esque photo for me and a visa is in the works. The trip we're taking to Chazieux for Christmas has been planned and it appears we'll be taking an overnight ferry for part of the trip. I'm curious about this ferry business. I hated the overnight train we took from Paris to Florence. I can't imagine a ferry is any better.

Oh, and our yard sale was a huge success! I forgot to mention that people came in droves to buy our cast-offs, to the tune of nearly $900! It felt great to get rid of so much of our things, but it was also the coldest day of the month thus far.

One less thing to do. We must soldier on.

Not feeling it

Everything has been so time-consuming lately and it's left me feeling as though I'm disappointing a lot of people. I don't have time to do it all and it's starting to wear on me. I want to be able to see everyone and spend time with the people I care about, but I'm also stressed about not getting everything done in time for the move. It feels, a lot of the time, like people don't understand the amount of work this is for us. And for me especially, with work being a lot more hectic in the next couple of months for various reasons. I hate being made to feel as though I'm letting people down when I can't do it all, attend everything, commit to each person exactly when they want me to be there. I've never handled that well in the best of times, so right now is even more anxiety-inducing for me. I don't like the idea that I'll be leaving for two years, having disappointed the majority of the people I love and care for.