SAIL AWAY

This blog will be continued, for the time being, at this site.

WEDDED BLISS

The wedding day arrived bright and early, after a night of having every guest to the house for dessert and wine. We had all been at Smugglers cove the afternoon before the wedding and had gotten acquainted for a couple of hours on that sublime strip of sand and water.

I met the groom's parents for the first time. They are lovely people and we got along wonderfully. The dessert party later that evening just cemented everyone's camaraderie and a quick trip to the much read about Bomba Shack after the guests had departed the Villa

with most of the younger people had ensured that I slept like a log that night due to happy fatigue and a bit of jet lag.

The morning dawned and there were drops of water over the deck from rain through the night. Now the sky threatened more rain and we kept going outside and looking up to see if there was any blue bits headed our way. There was plenty of blue sky in the distance though it didn't look good over Tortola. But I was confident that we had a good chance of a lovely day as I knew the weather changes fast here in the Caribbean.

Amy got started bright and early doing her own hair and makeup before starting on Shonah, the maid-of-honor. I went about getting bagels with the trimmings out on platters, and juice and coffee made and put out on the table in a help-yourself sort of way. Christopher spent most of the morning laying on his bed with his computer

while the women of the house were in happy chaos of showers, blow dryers, ironing and makeup. There were peals of laughter all morning, especially once the two bridesmaids arrived from their beach-side apartment to join in and have their hair and makeup done. One of them is blessed with a perpetual laugh and zany sense of humor and she kept everyone's spirits up and the house full of laughter for the rest of the morning.

Amy, bless her dear heart, stood on her feet from 7:30 in the morning until 3:45 in the afternoon, not taking a single break, to get everyone looking absolutely stunning. I had decided, long before my daughter had even met her man, that when my girls decided to marry I would hire Amy to do the makeup. I had worked with a lot of makeup girls and Amy's work was outstanding, especially her way with eyes. And my girls have beautiful eyes and I knew no one would do them the justice they deserved as well as she would. She didn't disappoint. I never imagined, back when I first made that decision, that I would be paying her with a trip to an exotic island.

At around 1:00 I hopped in the Montero (which we had finally gotten on our way back from Smugglers Cove the day before) with Christopher and Izzy and headed down to Long Bay so he could get ready with the rest of the groomsmen and give a hand to the groom where needed. When we arrived at the beach cabin and knocked on the groom's door, his dad answered. The groom was off with the wedding planner to find a new spot for the ceremony as, apparently, the surf was too high to have it where they originally wanted it. My eyebrows shot up. Oh really!?

Let me explain:

In the two days that the Ashleigh and Rob had been on the island before we arrived they had been busy with plans and errands with the wedding planner. On our first night in the villa my daughter had filled me in, between my frantic calls to find out where my luggage was, on what had transpired with said wedding planner. Apparently the woman, who is the most well known and used planner on the island, was very obstinate about some things; one of those things being where they chose to have the ceremony. They wanted to have it on the west end of the beach where it was away from the resort and thus much more private with less chance of looky-loos and walk-bys. Planner said no. She felt the surf would drown out all the voices and no one would hear a thing. She suggested, insisted really if Ashleigh is to be believed and I believed, that they get married on the lawn behind a building where there was a gazebo. Aghast, the bride and groom informed planner that they didn't travel half way around the world to get married on a piece of grass, they could have done that quite nicely in Vancouver. They specifically chose Tortola for it's beaches and they were getting married on that beach. Up until now, Ashleigh had never pulled the 'Bridezilla' routine but apparently came close in this moment. Planner backed down and barefoot on the sand it would be.

So knowing this, my hackles were raised upon hearing she was now dragging poor Rob around to find a new spot. "Come on" I said to Izzy, "we are going to take a look at this surf and see just how high it is." I marched (yes I am afraid I marched) down the beach to the chosen spot. Looking out over the landscape I could see that the surf was indeed very high, but there was lots of sand beyond the reach of the water's edge. At least 30 feet. Looked like a ploy to me. I marched back and found Rob had just arrived. I asked him what was going on and if this was Planners ploy to get her way of a wedding on the lawn. He said that she was right, that the surf was far too high and would likely wash away the arch and isle before they even started and they had picked a new piece of beach. I said I had just walked down there and it looked like there was a lot of safe beach to me. He said no, it was a good call, and they were going with the new location. I asked where it was and he told me out in front of the restaurant. I groaned. I knew that this was the one piece of beach Ashliegh had not wanted to use as it was right in the thick of any activity going on at the beach part of the resort. I tried to protest but he cut me off and said the decision was made [I had never seen this side of him and, although frustrated, admired his decisiveness] and that he needed his guys to come down there and start clearing lounge chairs from the area. I left them to it and headed back to the villa with Izzy. On the way we tried to figure out how I would break this news to Ashleigh. I wasn't looking forward to it.

When we walked in she was getting her hair done and she asked how Rob was and did I give him her message (I love you and can't wait to see you, or something like that) and I said yes and he had one for her (I love you and can't wait to see you too, or something like that). I then said that there had been a small glitch to their plans. Right away her face changed to one of dread and said one word, "What?" "Wellllll, with this weather today the surf is really huge down there and it isn't safe to have the ceremony where you wanted it." I cringed slightly waiting for her reaction. It came. "What?? This better not be 'the Planner's' doing." "No," I sort of lied, "Rob agreed and he has picked out another spot that he said you will love." He had said that he would make sure it was perfect. I could see she wasn't convinced. "Where?" she asked. Ok, so this was the part I didn't want to tell her. "Uh... I didn't go and look because I just wanted to get back here but it is more towards the resort." "It better not be near the restaurant." she didn't look like a happy bride anymore at all. "Look sweetie, you need to trust your guy. He said he would make sure it was perfect for you and he knows just what you want. I am sure [I wasn't at all] that you will love it." She was still frowning and I made some excuse about having to go get some ironing done and made a hasty retreat before she could ask me anything else.

I found out later that Amy talked to her about what was really happening that day, that she was marrying the man of her dreams and she was in paradise. Why let something that was beyond her control ruin the fun of the morning. Just let it go. Miraculously, it worked and Ashleigh let it go and soon the peals of laughter were ringing out from the table once again. Whew. Add saving the day to Amy as well as beautifying everyone. Asking her to come along was probably the best decision I made in this whole affair.

All too soon, the time came to take some pictures of the girls before we headed to the ceremony. It was actually 4:00 and we should be down there by now but we weren't going to miss having photo's in the gorgeous setting of the villa.

We headed down to Long Bay and suffice it to say that we could never have imagined how beautiful, how perfect, this day would turn out to be. Pastor Ricketts was amazing. To say he had never met the married couple, before two hours ago and then only Rob, the ceremony was a complete reflection of who they were and what was important to them. He made us laugh and he brought tears to our eyes. Yes, the surf was pounding and I had trouble hearing the vows, but a more fitting setting for these two lovers who are almost as much in love with the water as they are with each other could not be imagined.

HOME AWAY FROM HOME

We pull into the parking area and I turn off the ignition and heave a sigh of relief. Then I realize that the compact car containing Christopher and Izzy isn't there. I wonder aloud if, when we weren't right behind them, they decided to drive down to the beach for a bit. We piled out of the SUV and I mentioned the HUGE spider web I had noticed in my peripheral as we came up the driveway and then the HUGE spider that lived in it. I had missed him at first because he was green with red dots and blended in with the flora.

Shonah and Amy ran down the driveway with cameras to get pictures of the horrid thing, and left me to heft the luggage out of the car. I walked through the little wooden gate set into a cream colored adobe wall and gasped with delight at the view. Even though I had, as previously mentioned, seen all of this on the internet already it was about a thousand times better in person. The glassy pool lay immediately ahead with the red-tile roofed house right behind it.

The terra-cotta tiled patio was surrounded by a white fence in the typical Caribbean style and the sea and islands lay far below and to the horizon in a haze of many blues.

I slowly made my way into the house and it too was exactly as pictured on the internet; terra-cotta tiles on the floor, heavy rattan furniture with deep cushions, and a fabulous gas stove in the kitchen that I was looking forward to using.

The girls joined me with cries of delight over everything they saw, and insisted on showing me photos of that ghastly spider down the driveway. I asserted that, as long as he stayed there, he would continue to enjoy his life in the Caribbean. If he came up to the house for a look, his days were done. Not sure how I would accomplish the deed though, as stepping on him would be akin to stepping on a small dog.

We each went to see our rooms; Shonah would be upstairs in the master suite with her sister, the bride, for the first two nights, and I would share the kids room with Amy. Christopher, when I arrived, would have the lovely downstairs room with a queen bed and Izzy would take the small child's room. We started unpacking and I wondered aloud where said son and girlfriend could be. We were all settled in and checking out the fridge to see what the 'welcome snack items' might be when we heard their car pull into the parking spot. They arrived, dragging their suitcases and told us where they had been for the past hour.

Apparently, the guy leading them in the white van was leaving for Florida the next day. He had friends all over the island that he needed to stop by and see to say his farewells to and decided that this was as good a time as any. He led Christopher all over the island. And I do mean all over. The next week, anytime we drove somewhere new to explore a beach or a little area, the two of them would exclaim - 'yep, we were here already'. He took them so far that they even had to stop and fill the car up. That annoyed me and I declared that car would be the one that went back tomorrow full of gas then, and my tank could stay as it was.

Not long after, the housekeeper (who we would grow to love) arrived with the bride. She had offered to drive down to Long Bay, where Ashleigh had stayed for her first two nights on the island with the groom and his family, and bring her up to the house where she would stay until the wedding day. We had a joyful reunion and while the late-comers settled in, I called the airport to inquire on the status of my missing luggage. I got the same affable fellow and was told it had just arrived and would be put in a taxi to the house. I asked how he would know where the house was as there wasn't an address - the road didn't even have a name that I knew of. He said not to worry, it would be fine. I worried.

The housekeeper told me that if I wanted to be sure to have the luggage tonight, it would be better to drive back to the airport myself to get it; that they would tell me it was coming but it wouldn't come and might not even come tomorrow. That this was the way of the Caribbean. The wedding was the day after tomorrow and so I had to have it before then. And we had work to do tonight on some bits for the table and for every single thing we needed to do, a component of it was in that bag so we couldn't do anything. But it was dark now and I didn't want to drive all the way back on those roads when I didn't know where I was going yet. I called the airport every half hour to see if the bag was on it's way, and I am sure the poor guy was ready to fly to the states to buy me whatever I needed by the time I made the last call. He told me it was on it's way in a taxi and about half an hour later I heard a honk outside the gate. I ran out and, oh what a glorious sight, there was my bag.

I hauled it inside, and pulled out all the bits for the wedding. The girls spent the next happy hour putting it all together while I tried to figure out how the PILE of groceries I had pre-ordered, and had just arrived, were going to fit in the fridge and cupboards. The kids gave me such a hard time about how much food there was spread all over the kitchen, but I knew what I was doing. I had found a website for a grocery store called Bobby's and they had put up sample orders for a week on a bare-boat charter, so I had a good idea of how much food the six of us would need for this first week. I had carefully planned menus and worked out quantities and now, although it looked like I might have over-estimated just a tad, I was sure it was just what we needed.

It lasted two weeks.

To be continued.....

TORTOLA DRIVING

I have found heaven. And it is called the British Virgin Islands.

After twenty-four and a half hours of traveling (we drove away from the house at noon on Monday and arrived on 4:30 Tuesday, but they are 4 hours ahead) I along with Shonah my daughter, and Amy the wonderful makeup girl that I often work with and call my on-set daughter (who had jumped at the chance of an all-expenses paid trip to the Caribbean in exchange for doing hair and makeup for the bridal party) arrived tired but very happy on Beef Island. Beef Island is connected to Tortola with a short bridge and houses the airport and a lovely stretch of beach called Trellis Bay where my daughter and I would later take the North Sound Express ferry to Virgin Gorda for the second week of our get-away.

The last flight of three connections was from Puerto Rico in an 8 seater Cessna. When we checked in we were told that the flight was overbooked but, not to worry, they would bring in as many pilots as needed and made sure everyone had a seat on one of their many aircraft standing by. We collected our checked-in luggage from the flight from Atlanta and handed it over to the agent for Cape Air. As she tagged those bags she asked for my carry on luggage, the piece of luggage containing all of my clothing for the trip except for one swim suit, including my outfit for the wedding. It also contained various elements of decorations and favours for the reception; ribbon, a wax seal kit, place card holders, some of the little white sand pails to hold the goodies at each place setting, and some of the goodies such as tiny bottles of maple syrup (representing Canada) and tins of tea (representing England)... that sort of thing. I had joked earlier that, should anyone try to force me to check it, they would have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands. Now this agent was looking at me and expecting me to just hand it over.

"Oh , I won't be checking this," I declared, "it contains very important items for a wedding and I cannot risk it getting lost."

"Well you are flying on a Cessna and there is nowhere for you to stow it in the cabin. It has to be checked and go in the back of the plane with the rest of the luggage. " She said with some sympathy.

"I'm sorry, there has to be a way I can keep it with me." I said as I gripped the handle tighter, not sure why - just in case she tried to snatch it off of me perhaps?

"It has to be checked."

I looked at my daughter for help and she shrugged. "If it has to be checked, mom, then it has to be checked."

I very reluctantly handed it over and watched her every move to make sure it was tagged properly. She then placed it alongside Shonah and Amy's bags and assured me that it would get on the plane just fine. With a longing look back at it, I tried really hard to believe her as I walked away.

Amy boarded the first of the three flights it would take to get everyone booked over to Tortola, and Shonah and I waited another 20 minutes for the pilot of the third overflow plane to arrive. When we climbed aboard, we were just three passengers.

After a breathtakingly beautiful flight across the azure Caribbean Sea dotted with lush green islands circled with white beaches, we landed at Beef Island Airport and made our way into the small terminal. Amy was waiting for us with our luggage piled at her feet. We were to meet my son Christopher and his girlfriend Izzy there as they had arrived on their flight connection from Dallas about two hours earlier and so, in a hurry to get going, I grabbed my big case and as my daughter grabbed hers scanned the pile for my smaller carry on. It wasn't there.

"Your carry on didn't come with my plane." Amy said.

"You have got to be kidding me." Was all I could say. I didn't want to think about the possibility of it having been left behind or put on the wrong flight. "Let's get through customs and then we can talk to the agent for Cape Air. Maybe it came on my plane."

We breezed through customs; and I will mention here that the Immigration Officer hit on my daughter saying something about the first pretty face he had seen all day - this after checking me through not 3 minutes before, the nerve of him!. It became a regular occurrence for her throughout the entire length of our stay, no matter how brief the encounter. She found it flattering at first, then amusing, then tiring and finally downright annoying. She doesn't get that sort of attention from guys at home, so it was funny for me to observe. (And yet Amy, who has to knock the guys off with a stick at home was virtually ignored the whole week. Maybe it's Shonah's blond hair, fair skin and the fact that the girl has some serious curves? I don't know.)

I headed to the Cape Air desk while the other two went off to find my son and Izzy, and it was there that I got my first taste of Caribbean laid-back, 'no problem' attitude. I did my best to calmly impress upon the happy fellow the importance of finding and retrieving the luggage ASAP - without allowing the huge well of frustration, panic and some anger that was forcing its way up my throat from a churning stomach to influence the words I used (such as 'There were THREE of us on the plane. How could you imbeciles lose luggage when you had just THREE passengers??') or resorting to threats (such as 'Look Buddy! I realize this is the laid-back Caribbean and all but if that luggage isn't here in time for the wedding you'll be laying DOWN for a long time), as that just gets you deliberate indifference. So I kept a smile on my face and even managed to crack a joke or two. He responded very well and assured me it would be on the next flight over from Puerto Rico which would be in half an hour and that he would put it in a taxi to our villa the second it landed. I told him I would call from the rental car office in half an hour to make sure it had arrived.

Meanwhile, Christopher and Izzy had been located and everyone was loading all of the luggage in a courtesy van which then took us the 30 minute drive to the car rental agency. When we arrived, there were only three cars parked in the lot and none were the one I had reserved. Turns out, it was still being used and wouldn't be ready until tomorrow so we were given a small SUV and a compact car. This meant I would have to drive, something I was hoping I could put off until I had a chance to experience the challenge of driving on the left side of the car on the left side of the road up and down steep hills with killer switch-backs from the comfort of the passenger seat. No such luck.

Once we had sorted out the cars I called the airport. The bag had not arrived. He assured me it would be on the next flight. Amazingly, I kept the frustration out of my voice as I told him I would call again in an hour.

The car rental agent asked if we knew where we were going and I told her I had directions to our villa but only one set so the two cars would have to stay together. She offered to have the fellow who drove us from the airport lead us in the white van. We gratefully accepted and piled into the vehicles. Just as we were setting off, I realized that she had said she wanted both cars returned with full gas tanks. I hopped back out of the car.

"We have two vehicles through no fault of our own," I explained, "so I won't be filling both back up. I will return this one full and the other will be whatever is left." I had read about the steep gas prices on this tiny island and so wasn't falling for that. She agreed and I jumped back in the SUV. The white van and the compact car with my son and Izzy were nowhere in sight. I put the car in drive and headed down the road, remembering to stay to the left, as fast as I dare go on the narrow street. To no avail. They were gone and so we were on our own. "Pull out the directions." I told Shonah, who was riding shotgun. The owner of the villa had sent us very detailed written directions from the airport to the villa and I had them in a folder with other information we needed on this trip.

The girls were fascinated with the Caribbean architecture and the bright colors of the houses. "I am judgmental when I see a house painted these colors in East Vancouver." Amy declared. Here, they were charming. They were busy snapping pictures as I tried to stay calm, stay left, and not think about the killer hills ahead of us.

I don't like the unknown. If I am to go into something or somewhere I haven't been before, I do a lot of research. I get a lot of grief about it from my kids. But it's just the way I am. So, in the months before this trip, I had spent hours on the internet and had Google Earthed the place until I knew every road. I had seen YouTube videos people had taken while driving the roads [that should tell you something about them right there], I had studied maps and read accounts. And what I had learned was that the terrain on all of the British Virgin Islands but one goes straight up from the beach. Even some of the beaches go uphill. And the roads were in poor repair for the most part with pot holes, speed bumps and, it bares repeating, killer hairpin turns. Residents drive at dangerous speeds going up and down the hills and sometimes even overtake other vehicles on blind corners. I had read of the many accidents that occur, some leading to death. I was informed. And freaked out.

We got to the one big roundabout in the main center of the island, Road Town, and counted the exits till we got to the third one and veered left onto the main thoroughfare. After a couple of blocks we came to a T intersection and turned right, the girls yelling 'KEEP LEFT' as I made the turn. The next direction on the sheet said 'turn right up Joe's Hill'. Only thing was, the hill was on the left. We came to a road that had a street sign but half of it was broken off and it just read '...Hill'. "That's it!" I cried and made a sharp turn left. "NO!" Shonah cried out, "You're supposed to turn right. The directions say right."

"They're wrong." I said. "There is no hill on the right, and the sign said '...Hill' so it has to be this. Besides, I recognize this turn from Google Earth and it leads up to the ridge that will take us across to the other side."

"I don't think so mom. You're gonna get lost."

That freaked me out. That and how steep the road was and the blind curve ahead that looked like it went straight into a jungle.

"Ok, I'll turn around." I said and took a narrow, steep road on the left that looked more like a driveway. I could see there was a house or two up ahead and figured I could turn around in their driveway. When I got up there, there wasn't much driveway and the road was even narrower. I pulled into the bit of space and could see right away that I didn't have enough room to back up and turn around. "I am going to have to back all the way down this road." I wasn't happy.

I started backing down the steep, narrow road and hadn't gone far when a car came down the hill right at us. Daughter stated the obvious, and I said that he would just have to wait. He came right up onto our bumper and stayed there as I slowly backed down about a hundred yards of narrow road bordered by a rocky face on one side and the tops of trees down a very steep drop off on the other. When I got to the end, I was afraid to back onto the '...Hill' road because I had to back across both lanes to get to the left and I couldn't tell if there was anything coming down the hill from around the curve. The girls yelled to go and that it was all clear, so I just trusted them and gunned it. The car on my bumper screeched around me as soon as there was room and took off down the hill.

It didn't take long for us to realize that the road WAS Joe's Hill and now I had to circle back around somehow and that meant driving through town again from a direction I had no map for. At some point I went to make a right turn at a T intersection. We were on the straight through road. There were three lanes for cars at the T with one car in the middle. Looked like he was on the left to me. Looked like normal Canadian sort of set up to me. So I turned right, into the right lane.... and a car came right at us. I screamed. I think the girls yelled that I needed to stay left. Thoroughly rattled, I backed up - on a busy street mind you, with a LOT of traffic - and drove to the left side and turned. The guy in the middle who had confused me was really angry but the guy who I almost hit just laughed. In the BVI residents cars have a yellow license plate and rental cars have light blue ones. He knew what the problem was. Stupid tourist.

We managed to make it back to "...Hill Road" and once we made the first terrifying hairpin turn, we had no trouble the rest of the way. When we found the road the house was on and I made the turn, a loud "You have GOT to be kidding me!" came from Shonah. And I could see why. The road, again looking more like a single lane driveway, rose up before us at such an steep angle, it was almost like looking at a wall. I floored the gas pedal and the SUV (all 8 cylinders) groaned it's way up and around the sharp bend. The parking area for our cars was immediately on the left after the curve and I pulled into it and shut the ignition of with a huge sigh of relief. Then I realized that the Christopher and Izzy's compact car wasn't there. They set off before us; one could assume they didn't get lost as we did as they had an islander leading them.... so where were they?

To be continued...

WEDDING FERVOUR

Two weeks today is wedding day.

Ashleigh and her fiance, Rob, have been back home from London for three weeks and between going to the gym together almost every day, fake and baking twice a week to turn the pasty winter white skin slightly tan so we don't burn in the Caribbean, and running ALL OVER the map on wedding errands, this puppy is tired. I am going to need a vacation to get over the past few weeks. But, I am loving it. Aside from the fact that I am going through more gasoline than a long-distance trucker, it is such a treat to be able to spend this much time with my daughter in the last few days before she moves on to her new life (in what looks like will be North Vancouver - a 45 minute drive away). Although, I have to say, being mother-of-the-bride is a bit of a tightrope act, taking your steps very carefully because one slip in either direction and you are in trouble. I was warned about this by a good friend who's daughter married last summer. The bride is, naturally, stressed and tired and the person she will usually take her frustration out on is mom. Thus a well intentioned comment or piece of advice will not be received in the spirit it was given and, more often than not, a sullen or terse reply will result. I had mentally prepared myself for this and so just bite my tongue and try to put it down to wedding stress. But I will admit that it is hard not to feel hurt. Especially when, right after snapping at me, she turns to Rob and is all softness, smiles and kisses. If she snapped at him as well then putting it down to stress would make sense and be easier to accept but because that never happens I feel quite abused sometimes. Remember that line from Steel Magnolias where Sally Fields says "why is all abuse heaped on the mother of the bride?" - it is so true. My friend and I have come to the conclusion that it is because they know we will love them no matter what and so we are safe. I take some comfort in that.

As long as I keep most of my opinions to myself and try not to overload her with suggestions, we get along great. And it really is a lot of fun. The other day we went for her dress fitting and, such a relief, there wasn't much alteration needed. The zipper bulged at the bottom right over her, um, bottom and the seamstress and I got into a discussion as to why it was doing that. She thought the lining was too tight and needed letting out. I did not agree and thought it was either that the dress was a bit too loose there or that the outer layer was attached to the lining wrong. She would not let go of the notion that the lining was tight and I finally told her I had been sewing for more than 35 years so kind of knew what I was talking about. She told me she was a seamstress and she knew what she was talking about. Ashleigh did not want the dress letting out as she did not feel it was tight at all but we finally just threw up our hands and said, fine - let it out. At that moment another seamstress came along, took one look at the problem and proclaimed that it was not the lining but that the dress needed taking in at the zipper. She popped a few pins in and, voila!, the bulge disappeared. I scored big points with the daughter on that one.

Speaking of dress fittings.... mine fits!!!!!!! I tried it on two weeks ago and it fits perfectly. Well, I would like to lose another 5 lbs to reduce my shrinking tummy roll even further but I have to say, I am pretty pleased. All the trips to the gym have really paid off. And, after searching the shops high and low for the right earrings and necklace to go with the dress, I found just what I wanted. Not at a shop but at the studio of a local jewelry designer that Ashleigh worked for years ago. We visited her a week ago to order some pieces for the bridesmaids gifts and for Ashleigh to wear with her wedding dress. Entering her workshop is like walking into Aladdin's cave. There are strands of pearls, piles of Swarovski crystals, and loops of gold and silver chain shimmering on each and every available surface. It takes as much willpower as I can muster not to pick up all the finished pieces and try them on. In among the treasures I spied a spool of hammered gold chain circles which I fell in love with on sight. The designer held out a few pieces made with it and I wanted them all. Then she held up another one and I think I might have actually swooned. I knew right away that it was the perfect piece for the dress and when I tried it on my daughter confirmed it. We picked up the finished jewelry yesterday and it all looks so beautiful. Very exciting.

OBAMAMANIA

I am not sure why everyone is so starry-eyed and treating Obama as if he is some sort of demi-god.  Not sure what all the adulation is about.  Up until a few months ago I had never even heard of him and when I did, my first thought was that no one with 'Hussein' as part of their name would ever get elected as US president.  Obviously I misjudged the American voters on that point.

That aside, the guy doesn't have much of a track record.  He voted 'present' over 130 times as Senator; you can't effect change if you aren't willing to stand up and vote yes or no.  He has no experience in the area of foreign policy.  He is a gifted orator [although we know that writing your own speeches in Washington just isn't done], he has charisma, intelligence, is energetic and optimistic but he has yet to prove if he can lead.

I fully realize this is not a popular or even welcomed opinion to have, but I have never been much of a follower or let others opinions of me change the fundamentals of who I am or what I believe.  I think outside the box and sheep mentality drives me crazy.  So I am sitting back with eyes wide open to watch and wait before I jump on this bandwagon.  

Show us what you can do, President Obama.

MUST GET INTO THE DRESS

Ok I have a confession. I never made it to the Fort to Fort trail. I can't recall why I didn't go on the day I said I would but I didn't go. I have, however, paid for a month's pas (thank you Visa) to the local rec center and have gone about 10 times in the past three weeks. I would have gone more but Christmas was in the middle and ... well you know how that goes.

I spend the first 30 minutes on the treadmill. My first few visits, I couldn't get past effort level 3.4, which is basically a step above meandering. Now that is my low setting and I get up to 4.6 which is a slow jog. Yep... jog. Me. Who'da thunk it. I only manage about 45 seconds to a minute at that speed and then drop down to the high 3's but I consider that progress. I then do a round of weight machines and free weights which takes about an hour - 3 sets of 15 reps (I sound like I know what I am talking about, don't I?) on about 6 machines... all but one for the arms and chest. Must get rid of that awful flapping flab that has the nasty trait of appearing on my upper arms whenever I raise them above my waist.

So here is the shocker - I am already seeing (more like feeling) the effects. I have biceps. I can feel the muscle, rock hard, where there used to just be soft flabby bits. And when I lift my arms, the flapping flab seems a little less flappy. I hope it isn't just wishful thinking.

I haven't tried the dress on yet. I am afraid of it not fitting still. I haven't seen much improvement on the scales. In fact, despite keeping my Ferrero Rocher consumption down to 2 over the entire holiday season (and this is no small feat, I love them so much that one Christmas my rather large stocking was crammed full of only those lovely golden orbs. My kids know me SO well) and eating almost no baking (well, except for my home made orange chocolate biscotti and lemon tarts) I gained three pounds. Not good.

I have 42 days to get into this dress. I HAVE to do it. It is my only New Years resolution - which I never make because I never keep them and then I am full of guilt and shame and who needs that? The shoes I ordered online to match (mocha) the dress arrived yesterday and they are GORGEOUS. They fit perfectly. I now have a complete outfit. I just need the body to go with it.

Help.