june captured.

death cab & long weekends.

t.g.i.f.f.

thank god it's fucking friday.

and it's a long weekend ta boot.

so much planned for this most patriotic long weekend.

bonfires with friends, swimming in my parents pool, eating every cherry in town.

and a last minute decision to see the hip play with death cab for cutie on the fort george grounds with some of my favourite people has me peeing in my panties. i remember falling in love with death cab after hearing 'soul meets body' on the 'oc'. oh the oc, it feels like you are a high school, seth & summer decade ago. so good, so long ago, shit i'm old.

happy canada day. happy friday. happy so many things.

{source}

i pretty well tingle up with goosebumps every time i hear this song.

it makes me want to get married again.

the results are in: we are fucked.

for the good of my health; i vent.

6 months ago i shared that we are on the hunt for our forever, permanent, not-moving-again unless it's into a victorian mansion on an acre of land with a wraparound porch and stained glass in every window home, and since then, i have given a valiant effort on the hunt front. we creep mls on the daily, get new listing results via email from our real estate agent/very good friend/curly headed fuck like clockwork, and have even attended a few open houses and some private viewings--all to no avail.

honestly (and i can't believe i am going to admit this), but i have liked 3 out of the 857,106,72 homes we have looked at/been in/considered perfect from afar, and when i say like, i mean don't hate with every fiber of my being. and surprise fucking surprise, they have all been waaaaaaay over budget, in neighbourhoods and on streets we could never afford, not even if paulie was the ceo of go transit. the worst part is, every time i click clack my search info into the fields of that damn mls search (i could do this with my eyes crossed and closed, while sleeping and shit face drunk) i can't help but scroll that price range max all the way to $300,000, $400,000 who am i kidding $900,000, and then sit back to drool all over myself, all the while cursing every rich bastard who owns the kind of dream home i want 

more than anything.

it's a discouraging process, finding a dream home, and i give kudos and high fives and "fuck yeahs" to anyone who has been able to do it, within a reasonable length of time, on a budget and with hair on your head at the end of it all. we purchased our current home when we were 22 years old, and the stress i thought i was under then, doesn't pale in comparison to the anxiety that takes over me when i think about doing it again.  why all the humming and ha-ing and inability to make a decision? why do i snub my nose up at every house that scans through the never ending list of 'for sales' in the niagara region?

the biggest reason, and i have almost convinced myself of this, is that the right home hasn't been put up for sale yet. i know that the chances of finding our dream home in the exact condition we want it to be, is slim to none. what i refuse to believe, is that something like it, a lot like it, isn't out there. when it finally presents itself, we will know. i will most likely know from the listing alone that it's the one. stepping foot in it will confirm that, and we will all live happily ever after. right?

maybe (yes. this totally is the reason) part of me still doesn't want to believe we will leave our home. our real estate agent/very good friend/curly headed fuck has been forewarned that when the day comes that we have to put our house up for sale, there will be no sign going up on our front lawn. there is no way in hell that i'm going to let every dirt bag in town know that my house is for sale, leaving it open to the general population to visit during open houses, just because they are "nosey" or "curious". which obviously is the number one reason i go to open houses, but come on, i'm not a dirt bag. i'm more of a dirtball. i also hate the idea of turning the corner onto my street every day, and seeing that sign, staring me in the heart, constantly reminding me that it's only a matter of time before i'm packing my shit and leaving. 
for good.

the search continues. i hate being a grown up.

she dreams of italy.

"occasionally she dreams of italy.

she dreams of cheese shops, persnickety fiats, 

and very fine leather goods."

-kate spade

last year at this time we were floating through italy on our honeymoon. not a single day has gone by since that trip, that i haven't thought about italy in some way. i go through withdrawals and find that making myself a caprese salad, pouring a glass of red wine and sitting in front of the laptop going though our photos from start to finish (only stopping to grab a tissue to wipe my tears), really helps. 

what? that's weird and not normal? really now.

if i could go to italy every year, i would. in the short time we spent there, it taught me so many things i didn't know before:

the way it makes you appreciate the simple things in life.

the way it shows you how beautiful a place can make you feel.

the way it makes you long for beauty in your life.

this means more of things like cappuccino's under an umbrella in the rain, colorful doors adorned with pots of pink geraniums and freshly laundered clothes hanging on the line. tumbler glasses of red wine, fresh lemonade made with sun-warmed lemons, kissing someone you love in the streets because you love them too much to wait another minute and eating dinner for 3 hours, later than you should. taking naps in the afternoon and not feeling bad about it, eating good cheese and  fresh prosciutto for lunch every day. buying something expensive because it's worth it. each and every hard earned penny of it.

  

it's simple. it's more beautiful than you could ever prepare yourself for it to be.

it's my idea of heaven on earth.

and i miss it every day.

for the love of a good cocktail: classic canadian caesar.

for as long as i can remember, my cocktail of choice has always been a spicy caesar. no matter what time of year, or what the occasion may be, i am always down for this tasty, savoury drink. i usually like to have it before my meal, kind of like an appetizer, and am so full from it, i move on to something more light and refreshing to drink during my meal. it has become a sort of tradition to make caesars on sundays when having dinner with my family, and i firmly believe the recipe we use is perfect. because sharing is caring, without further adieu, the tastiest caesar you are yet to try.

how we do: classic canadian caesar

you will need:

mott's extra spicy clamato juice

3-5 dashes tabasco sauce

3 dashes worchestire sauce

salt & pepper to taste

1 teaspoon dill pickle juice

caesar rimmer 

2 shots of vodka

spicy pickled bean, stalk of celery, pickle spear to garnish

a good caesar is a combo of spicy, salty and tangy, with a nice kick of vodka to bring out all the flavours. if you prefer gin to vodka, you can use it as a substitute, and apparently, for gin lovers, which i am not, it's divinity. most of the ingredients for this recipe you will already have, but i feel substitutions can always be made to suit your taste. do whatever blows your skirt up. hopefully you're wearing underwear. 
you dirtball.

 rim the edge of your glass using a lemon or lime wedge,  and then spin the glass in your "rimmer". i prefer a good amount of salt, so i have enough to get me through my whole drink. if you don't have the authentic "rimmer", celery salt mixed with some salt & pepper works too. fill your rimmed glass halfway with ice, and then your ingredients. this process works for me:

salt & pepper--vodka--tabasco--vodka--worchestire--vodka--pickle juice--clamato juice--stir--garnish--vodka

k. maybe i don't use that much vodka. with the amount of garnish in there, you pretty much have yourself a meal in a glass. they are so good, that when you see someone drinking one, you have to have one for yourself. give em' a whirl and let me know what you think! 
cheers big ears.