#250 or.. so who am I? (Third time's the charm?)

I must admit that knowing this is the 250th post is kind of daunting.  Of course, if I'd been writing daily since I started, I would have blown past this milestone a ways back.  But I do feel like there should be something momentous written on my 250th post.

And lately, I've been contemplating what might become a series of posts about "Who am I?"  Early on in the blog, I posited a random list of things about myself that I might have expounded upon in full posts at a later time.  I was single, grieving a relationship or two, living in a small town in the mid-West and trying to find an audience for my voice.  On my 25th post, I decided to go to Twitter, and see if I could get The Bloggess to look at my blog.

I was a, um, cynic of Twitter.  I kept my presence on Twitter quiet from those around me.  Surely there is nothing of value on Twitter, but maybe I might be able to find a few folks to come over and read my blog.  Maybe I might find an audience.

I had no idea.  There is no way that woman writing that blog and trickling on to Twitter in February 2012 - not really that long ago - would have had any idea what the future held for her.  Fifteen short months later, and here I am living in another country and married to the most wonderful woman I could never have imagined.

In December, when our relationship and our intentions had solidified enough to be willing to share in public, I had modified one of the items on my "list" - which was to cross off that I was single.  Now to look at the list, there are so many other items to cross off that are not presently true about myself.  For example, I can't watch too much Hulu now because Hulu won't stream in Canada.  :(  I clearly no longer live alone - I am living during my temporary visitor visa period with my wife, and of course, I hope and intend to make it a permanent thing.  This is the first year in four that I won't be coaching soccer, and while I will miss it, soccer was not my passion.  And I most definitely do not live in a small town anymore.

But the core of who I am is still the same.  It's just that some of my circumstances have changed.  I am a person who chooses not to take life too seriously, who loves genuinely and strongly, who gives people the benefit of the doubt and believes in the good of people.  Writing this description of myself feels more like trying to write an online dating profile, and it is impossible to capture who a person is in just a few sentences.  Frankly, I prefer medium length walks on the beach, not long ones.

And in the beginning, I felt detailing who I was didn't really make sense.  Because frankly, I hoped my stories would strike you as familiar.  I'd remind you of that person you know who lives down the street, or who you grew up with, or perhaps even remind you of yourself.  I think finding the commonality between people helps bring us together.  And so I planned to assimilate you.  Borg-style.

Because resistance is futile...

Trading Places...

So here it is. Daylight. On a weekday.  And I am wide awake and out of bed and my love still lies sleeping.  To be clear, she is the one who goes to work every morning.  And here in Canada, it is not a holiday.

Most mornings, even if I am awake before she leaves, I typically stay in bed until she leaves.  I do this, auspiciously, to stay out of the way of her morning routines.  While I say this tongue in cheek, it is actually a habit I developed during my year of living as a guest in other people's homes.

Let's face it.  In the morning you have certain routines you go about and do.  It's not that you're unmalleable, and you can't alter them to accommodate someone else, and perhaps even YOUR routines DO involve someone else, such as kids or even pets.  But you have a certain order of things that you typically tend to do from when you first open your eyes, to when you finally put your feet on the floor (or for some of you, there's just an instant second between the two), to when you pad towards the bathroom and begin your morning routine.  If someone else is in your bathroom, or in your kitchen, you need to make some adjustments.  Not unreasonable adjustments, but still...

I always felt it more respectful as a guest not to interfere with my hosts' morning routines. It wasn't that I couldn't insert myself into it, but most of them were heading off to work, and I usually wasn't.  Part of the reason I *was* a guest.

So, I'm used to hanging out in the bedroom out of the way, while my love does her morning routine.

THIS morning, however, I woke a good hour before the alarm even started going off.  There I was like a meerkat, bright eyed and bushy tailed looking around checking everything out, realizing that it was much too early for me to be awake and yet...

There I was.

So I did what any newlywed would do, I started to snuggle in closer to my wife, nudging her and kissing her and hoping, perhaps, she might enjoy a little morning rolling around before she had to go to work.  I mean what better way to start your day than to have someone wide awake make YOU wake up an hour early, right? I mean let's face it, I can take a nap later this afternoon on the couch, so what's there to lose? Oh, wait, yes, you mean SHE's not allowed to nap mid-day at her desk? Oh... yeah... well....

Actually, my poor girl gets killer headaches on occasion, and this morning happens to be one of those occasions.  Now wait! I can hear you now.. "Oh, only nine days into wedded bliss and she's already giving you the 'headache' excuse... Good luck with that one!" *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*.  Well... gosh.. when you put it that way... Well, thanks.  Way to make my day.  *sniff*

But seriously, my poor Poo is down for the count... and here I am bright eyed and busy tailed.  VERY unusual for me.  So, to be sweet to her, I decided to get up and head into the living room and WRITE about her instead.  Because isn't that what the wife of every blogger dreams of?

That's what I thought...

One Word At A Time...

A blogger friend of mine has this tattooed on his arm.  To remind him to keep writing.  Tattooed.  Permanent.  It's like he takes this writing thing seriously or something?  What's up with that?

I admit the last couple of months I haven't been taking the writing thing seriously.  I've written a whole 10 blog entries - well published a whole 10 blog entries - since March.  It's been a combination of things.

First, the easy excuse to lay down is that I have kind of moved (visiting, I swear, CIC, just visiting, but hoping to move) to another country.  I've left behind a good group of friends that I'd managed to develop - a community - over the last four years.  I drove 2600 miles (give or take) in a short period of time (like three and a half days), and have shacked up with my Twitter love.

Well, um, last weekend we made it official.  No longer just "shacking up", we married each other.

That's my second excuse.  Yeah... that's it. :)

But actually, that has been another issue.  Blogging - for me - sometimes is writing about nothing (that's what I promised you in the early entries!).  It's about taking something small and just writing my (ideally amusing) musings.  Shampoo.

These days, though, I'm not running solo, and I'm not talking about people who are anonymous and who have no idea that I'm writing about them.  Now, though, if I write about those endearing idiosyncrasies, I'm talking about someone that others who read this blog know.

I admit, that this has stymied me on occasion.  There have been a few blog entries gestating, gurgling, waiting to find their way to the surface, that I have squelched out of a sense of decorum.

But I need to remember my friend's tattoo (tattoo! Permanent! Still impressed by that) that I need to just write. One. Word. At. A. Time.  And I know that my love loves me, and if I write something gently teasing her, that she'll still know how very much I love her.  But I can also find many other topics of interest to write about too, and if I can't, then I need to get out into the world a little more.  After all, I'm in a whole new country - surely I can find something amusing to write to you about.

I'll try a little harder... One word at a time.  Thanks, Ken! :)

Big Brother

So, I'm one of many people who have many email accounts.  I created one a few years ago when I got a new iPhone for work to create an iTunes account that was separate from my home account.  This was after I'd left my old life.

In my old life, I was a member of CostCo.  Where I was geographically there was no CostCo - Sam's Club was the local warehouse store.  I was no longer a member of CostCo, but at some point I started getting CostCo e-mails at the new account which I was reserving, I admit, for mostly commercial e-mail kind of stuff.

I really didn't think twice about it.  Until they told me my annual renewal was coming up.  I scratched my head wondering, but, again, didn't think much of it.  Thought they were mistaken.  Whatever.

Now I've been in Canada almost two months.  And this is an account I only access on my iPhone.  I may have logged in once or twice on the computer, but it isn't an account where I am particularly active.

So imagine my shock - still in quite a bit of disbelief - when a little over a week ago, CostCo sent me an email from Costco.ca.  The Turbo Tax ad had a maple leaf and all.

WTF?

How did they know I'm in Canada to customize / change the emails they are sending me?  At what point did they realize I'm here for longer than just a vacation?  I mean really?

And since then, there have been three more e-mails from them.

Makes me wonder what communicates with what around here.  Did Gmail communicate to them where I was when I opened (or frankly, just likely deleted immediately) their prior emails?

Anyone with any plausible explanations would be useful.