It hit me like a fly hits the windshield of a speeding bus.
With the kids at school, my artist working in her studio, and me on a day off, I had stepped out of the house for a couple of hours to put up some of our Christmas light display on our western Canadian, suburban home. With 8,000 bulbs in our display, it takes a lot of time and even more thought to set it up.
By the time I had another 2,000 bulbs on the house, I was mentally drained.
I needed to shut my brain off. I needed to feel my cold-numbed fingers and toes. I needed to go inside.
So, I did.
I started a very small painting project a few months back.
The landing at the bottom of the stairs in our bungalow had been an ugly brownish-red colour since we moved in over 10 years ago. I have loathed the colour since Day 1 and had always wanted to change it.
We were married in 2007. Fourteen years ago this week. In the heat of summer. In an outdoor wedding. In the middle of the afternoon. On the western Canadian prairie. At a museum in our hometown.
Like all marriages, at our wedding, we had a blank canvas. We had years, decades ahead of us; and like most young couples we were a blank canvas full of optimism, passion, and romance pushing us forward into a lifelong, loving relationship.
Alas, I’m not sharing a love story today. While a blank canvas is a great relationship analogy, we, quite literally, had a blank canvas at our wedding.
First post. But where do I start our story?
The beginning might seem the logical place. There’s definitely many amusing moments, but I’ll save those stories of the first time we met for another day.
Instead, today, I simply want to give you a sense of who we are as a family. Who I’m married to.