I feel like I never have enough time to blog anymore about my days which sucks because they have been very exciting as of late. So instead of trying to write these long winded blogs I decided to just do highlight reels so I feel sane. August an the beginning of September were just whirlwinds for me. Mom came for two weeks after not seeing her for over a year. A fucking year. Much deserved visit. We went to Koocanusa for the weekend to Dave and Jen’s camp and went on a poker rally.


And just when you thought there couldn’t be any more camo, we came home and packed up for the Flathead to go hunting.

We didn’t see anything legal to shoot so it was slightly disappointing but the season is still young! Not that I have any time…

Upon arriving home I started a new job as a Real Estate Assistant here in town which is turning out to be just perfect for me. I can still teach in the mornings and evenings and let little doggie out in the afternoons.

So last weekend we decided to go to Duncan Lake to Jays cabin and hike up to the Macbeth Icefields. How hard can hiking be? It’s just walking right?

Wrong. Jesus christ I thought I was going to die. 9 hours later..

This was probably the most challenging thing, physically and mentally, that I have ever made myself do. I have been on long hikes before but this was torture. Straight up boulders and tree roots and stumps. Straight down breaking your knees with every step. But I fucking did it. I only cried for the last 30 minutes of the trail! Shin splints. You bastards.

We were literally walking along a mountain ridge. It was terrifying.

Suffice to say, I am pretty much done with being outdoors for the year. Seriously. Nature, you are real pretty and all, but I am ok with hibernation for the rest of the year I think. I will just be an observer. From my window.

Onto my next venture, I am opening my studio in 13 fucking days. Holy shit. Our to-do list is fucking huge but it is good motivation. I can’t believe what a transformation the basement has seen in under a year. It is truly incredible to think that what was once a joke/dream of opening a studio in Fruitvale is actually manifesting.

Gah, I am running out of time now but I will write sooner than later! I need to pencil in some Crawly Land time once a week I think. Along with meditation time, yoga time, running time, food prep time, Biggie Smalls time, work time, cleaning time, class building time, TIME TIME TIME TIME TIME TIME TIME TIME TIME.


Finally I feel like I am living again 🙂





(Hi Jenny)





Yoga class etiquette 

So I’m attending a tin yoga class which is a fucking treat for me because as a yoga teacher it’s hard to get to a real class that I’m not teaching myself because I rarely want to do more than one yoga class a day. 

I walk into the studio that I’m also teaching at and chat with the other teachers and make my way into the room. 

It’s quiet. 

The teacher has set up her mat with some candles and what not. A few other ladies are lying on bolsters enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. I arrange my Mat and collect some props and sit down and start to chill. I lie down on a bolster and am listening to the calm specifically chosen spa music. Feeling zen as fuck. I am totally happy with my choice to attend a yin class because I never do that and am feeling like I need some nice slow deep stretch. Settling in.

In walks some fucking guy. Late 50s. I hear him come into the lobby and loudly talk to the teacher in the reception area about his entire week. I internally roll my eyes while they are closed. 

He bursts into the studio. Comes right beside me and literally throws his bag on the ground making me jump. Then he takes his mat and like smacks it on the ground. Clearly that didn’t smooth it out so he picks it up and again smacks the fucking mat on the ground like he’s spreading a bed sheet only with a large heavy plastic mat. Ew.

THEN. As if he’s not being obnoxious enough. Takes out his probable iphone2 and starts madly texting someone.. with the keyboard clicks enabled. Ew. Like writes a short novel to someone. I hear the little beep that he’s rapidly sending multiple texts to his people. I’m annoyed. 

He sighs and says, “OK TIME TO YOGA”. Then he loudly unzippers his bag, which I’m positive is made of chains and lead, and then settles in. 

Oh but first he needs to get up and stretch and then locate his janitor size set of keys in his pocket and DROP (I kid you not) DROP his keys on the floor. 

Guys. Don’t be this guy. Please. I can’t stress it enough. Come in and shut up. Some people use this time as “me time”. Not “me and some guy time”. 

Yoga Teacher Training: What they really teach you.

As you can all imagine, I finished my Yoga Teacher Training course, and then some. It was not at all what I expected. I had imagined a bunch of hippie loving vegans all singing in circles and practicing yoga every day and OM’ing my little heart out.

Boy was I wrong. Now perhaps it was the specific studio where I trained and the instructor’s teaching methods that made this experience so.. unique. I will let you decide. All I know is that this was harder than 4 years of University. No joke.

I will demystify some things for my readers. What do you actually learn there? Is it hard? Did you seek enlightenment?

Here’s the truth.

1) YTT teaches women how to deal with women.

Being in a studio with the same 33 women every single day for 6 fucking weeks is basically my nightmare. At LEAST 5 women are on their period at all times. It is like highschool. There are cliques. There are the super keen teachers pets who sit front row on their mats meditating while they wait for the teacher to arrive. There were the dreadlocked girls with massive OM symbols tattooed all over their backs who did headstands and arm balances during breaks. There was one guy in the whole classe who was on an entirely different plane than most human beings I roll with. There were women in their 60s who’s yoga practice put mine to shame. There were 18 yr olds fresh out of highschool looking for a way to not join the conventional workforce. There were mutes that didn’t say a single word the entire 6 weeks. Then there were the brats who giggled and didn’t take things so seriously as everyone else. I hung out with them. Obv. I’m sorry but I cannot keep a straight face when a bunch of women stand in tree pose holding hands talking about how much we love each other and support each other like trees in the forest. Fucking kill me. I pretty much loathed these women by the end. Nobody should ever have to be around this many women. EVER.

Put all these types of women together every single day and it is pretty much a recipe for an emotional breakdown. What did this teach me? How to tolerate women. I struggled with my instinct to judge everyone instantly. I had to tune into my “yoga vibes” and find ways to not let my eye twitch when someone mentioned the word “vegan” or “crossfit”. I worked my way through every single woman in that class until I liked at least one thing about each of them. I even left the course with a few new friends, which was a total bonus considering I live in a pretty isolated part of BC.

This was really hard for me. I am a guys girl. I like boy things. I like boys. I like fart jokes and doing beer bongs. Yoga, however, has taught me how to appreciate women. We aren’t so bad after all.


2. You do not know how to do yoga.

Seriously. Start from scratch. Everything you thought you knew about the correct alignment in postures is wrong. Think you have a nice down dog? You don’t. Think your Warrior II is special? It’s not.

I literally had to relearn every posture. Unless you have a private yoga instructor, you likely have never been adjusted into the correct postures for the majority of your practice. The cueing of poses is so critical and there are a ton of really shitty yoga instructors that aren’t teaching the correct alignment. Getting into a perfect triangle pose is work. I had been dumping into it every single time. I had to really back out of it and work on my core because otherwise the pose is pointless. This leads me to my next point.

3. It is all about anatomy. 

For someone like me who couldn’t even tell you what the bones in my legs were called (like um where’s like my tibia?), you pretty much leave YTT feeling like a fucking doctor. You become one of those annoying people who says scapula instead of shoulder blade, clavicle instead of collar bone, ilium instead of hip bone, coccyx instead of tail bone. You become a genius basically. I had no clue what was inside my body. I just left my innards to themselves. Just do your thang, insides. Now I can tell you when my psoas is feeling strained and causing me back pain. I can feel ligaments and tendons and know what they are called and how long they are and where they attach and what the move. Again, I am a fucking know-it-all genius now. Physio Therapists probably fucking loathe yoga teachers.

4. Yoga is a business and the Director of your studio is just as greasy as a car salesman. 

It seems so wrong but hey man, they are just trying to deliver yoga and pay bills. I am in the midst of opening up a studio in my town and when it all comes down to it, even though I just want to teach yoga for free so everyone can reap the benefits, I need to pay for my cork floors and pretty spa-like bathroom. Studio’s are a lot of upkeep. Props are expensive. Loans cost money. Training courses are long, intense and expensive. You are not paying $20 for an hour of instruction. You are paying $20 for hours of designing custom classes that will make you feel amazing, an hour of cleaning the studio so it looks and feels like a spa, book keeping and paperwork, planning workshops, and advertising. The behind the scenes work of a yoga teacher is where we earn our $20/student fee which ends up being not the greatest profit. We learn how to make you want to come back. Let us take care of you and buy 10 class punch passes if you want the best deal!

5. Be very wary of where you take your training.. 

If you are looking to learn the 8 limbs of yoga, discover your chakras, doshas, etc. make sure you do your research. The studio I trained at did not cover any of the philosophy of yoga and I was pretty disappointed. The director is strictly alignment based and obsessed with the spine and anatomy. While I think that this is really important when cueing students into asanas, I also felt like the joy of yoga was sucked away from me and stripped down to essentially a personal trainer program. Near the end of my training I wasn’t even sure if I liked yoga anymore, let alone was I going to embark on a career opening a yoga studio? It is really important to make sure whatever training you take, it suits your needs. Yoga is not just a “workout”. It is a time to dedicate yourself to taking care of your body. It clears your mind. It really is a way of life and a mindset. So meet with the instructors. Take them out for coffee. Get to know their passions. I would have chosen a completely different training program if I had taken a moment to do this.

My instructor, unfortunately, was a drill sergeant who was likely suffering from dementia. With 33 other women in the course, it was hard to get my questions answered. I felt totally disconnected from my personal practice. Her way of teaching gave me anxiety. Teachers need to adapt to all kinds of learning methods. Criticism should be constructive and personal. Not something that can be pointed out as “being wrong” in front of all your peers. I have never felt so belittled in my life. Some people need this competitive sort of push when they learn. Me, on the other hand, felt like crying every week. The general consensus among my peers was that our instructor was severely bipolar and struggling with some serious mental issues, but I can still come to the generalization that you NEED to do your research. Ask prospective studios for a few contacts that have completed their training course and connect with them. They will tell you honestly how the teachers instruct. I’m not saying that I am soft and can’t take a little criticism, but this woman had my friends in tears and ridiculed students to other students behind their back. Find a positive mentor. It will make or break you.


This course was really eye-opening for me. I learned so much about my body. So much about my own patience. I was fully dedicated and immersed in something. I haven’t had this sort of focus in YEARS. It hurt. I was in crippling pain for the first two weeks but eventually gained so much strength and flexibility. Again, it was harder than university. It was a mind fuck. We wrote a 16 pages final exam. It was outrageously inappropriate and covered so many topics that weren’t discussed during the training.  I left feeling defeated.. just to find out that they didn’t even mark the exams… it was “more of a survey so the instructors could see how well they taught”. I was furious. I was constantly angry and felt murderous.


But guess what. I know how to teach a yoga class. And I can’t fucking wait.

Now that I have been out of Yoga Jail for a week, I have collected my thoughts and realized that in the end, I made a few friends and learned how to be a productive teacher at the expensive of a terrible one.

Leaving all this behind me, I am only looking forward to my new studio.

So here is a small poll for you! #1 or #2? My business name was approved. Coming soon to a Fruitvale near you…


Let me know which one you like better 🙂

Namaste, motherfuckers.

My growing gut

I haven’t eaten this much bread since high school. I have a gut. It is concerning. 

Karlin ate raw salmon. Like a chunk of ground up raw salmon. I was gagging. 

I had this delicious pasta with stewed vegetables and was very happy with myself.  

After dinner we strolled down this street that gave me the worst anxiety. People were EVERYWHERE. It was chaos. I don’t understand when people work because every street is always packed with people wandering around and eating and drinking! We just went for a walk around the Notre Dame and people were drinking wine before 10 am. These are my people.

I finally caved and bought an industrial amount of macaroons and ate them all in bed like the sloth I am becoming.

Yesterday we decided to check out the arc de triumph and I’ve got to say we were super impressed! The views from the top were stunning. We’ve been having pretty good luck with lineups too. We had to wait maybe 3 minutes. By the time we left there was a solid 30 minute line. Suckas.

I thought after climbing all these stairs to get to the top I would work off some fat but my gut was def still there this morning. Thanks for nothing, stairs. 

Here’s some cool views from the top:

It was windy AF at the top. So give me a break! Also, watching the traffic circle was hilarious. I imagined every single driver being like “WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING?!?” 

This guy was all “omg, Becky”.

The sculptures on the 4 sides of the arc were pretty impressive.

After ooing and aweing at the arc we walked down des Champs-Élysées Ave where all the huge baller ass designer stores are. In most stores, there was a secret service agent standing at the door and they had to unlock the door for you to come inside to their fancy stores. So we didn’t go in. Except for this expensive pen store because there was a mildly cool pirate ship in the window and Karlin insisted we go in and see it. Oh and we went into Hermes and I felt like fucking riffraff.

I don’t know why I took pictures of Louis Vitton. It wasn’t all that impressive. I don’t even like LV. I just thought it was a cool thing to do because other people were doing it. 

Anyways, we walked on and found 2 palaces across the street from each other. The Grand Palais and the Petit Palais. One was bigger than the other.. GOOD JOB ON THE NAMES, GUYS. #accurate

Paris’s door game is mad strong. Every door looks like royalty. Take note, Canada.

The grand palace was actually sort of creepy. You couldn’t go inside and it was just this giant empty palace. We were peeking in the windows obv. And like, this place is huge. The entire ceiling is glass. What a waste of space! And yet people buy a 400 sq ft apartment in the same area for half a mill. Craziness.

I google earthed it so you can see how ducking enormous this place is.

I personally could think of a lot cooler things to do with that kind of space. Just sayin.. INDOOR DIRT BIKE ARENA, ACROBAT SCHOOL, BOWLING ALLEY, LARGE SHOE COLLECTION, GROW OP. 

Most indiscreet grow op on the planet. 

Anyways, we discovered you could walk through the Petit Palais FOR FREE. Which was awesome because Paris is the most expensive place on the planet with exception to maybe some place in Dubai.

There was some beautiful architecture and painting and sculptures everywhere with a huge garden in the middle. 

Just a typical Friday night coming home from the bar ^^^

After looking around the Paris we carried on towards, I don’t even know. We just walked. We walked for 5 hrs yesterday. (Still fat).

We found this Oblisk that Egypt gave to Napoleon as a gift. I probably made this up but it sounds legit.

And a pretty dope ass water fountain with Zues getting ready to shred his golden guitar.

By the time we figured out how to get home on the train I was ready to booze pretty hard so we stopped at one of the billion random cafes and watched people for an hour on this cool street.

On our way back to our apartment we spotted a jazz club and were like YEP THIS IS HAPPENING.

I put on my new coat which was a mistake.

Because the waiter smashed a wine glass all over me! But luckily the material is a little rain coat-y and I managed to dab off the red wine. The Jazz was excellent and we even bought their CD like little groupies.

Also, I finally had a chance to try some traditional French veal and chutney which was amazing. The only downfall was that the portion was about the size of my thumb. We were both starving after.

So we walked around drunkenly until we found a place that served nachos. Apparently the beer I was drinking had tequila in it so I was pretty spent after!

Wasn’t even hung over this morning which is excellent because this afternoon we are going to a fashion show!!!

We just went to a little market this morning and I ate this veal stew in a bun that was unreal. 

We found this cool statue thing also..



And another baller door. Think this was their government building.

Two more things: I’d be annoyed if I were Paris because people lock little pad locks I absolutely everything. Not just that one famous bridge or whatever. They are everywhere!



And second of all, this store was like “fuck gargoyles, I’m carving cats into my building because I’m going to die alone”


Ok I better shower and clean up my life before this fashion show!!


Wine, wine, you make me feel so fine!

We went to my dad’s new B&B in Kelowna last week and went on their wine tour. It was pretty fantastic! Turns out, I’m a pretty big fan of Rosè! Who knew? 

I’d never been on a winery tour (hard to believe considering I’m a textbook wino) but it was such a lovely day I just had to share! If you’re ever in Kelowna, I can recommend a few wineries you must visit and a pretty baller Bed and Breakfast to stay at too! 

This was the view from my dad’s balcony. 

 It’s a beautiful spot! I believe it’s going to be called La Belle Vie B&B. 

Anyways, I’ve been eating some really good meals lately but one was worth mentioning because it was so delicious. Last night I was talking to Steph and she mentioned how she went to get shawarma. Just the mention of shawarma made me salivate. Then I got a mad craving for OPA! So I decided to make Slovaki skewers. 

For my marinade, I used:

1/4 cup red wine (more just an excuse to open a bottle.. #wino)

1/3 cup olive oil

1 tbsp organic oregano

1 tsp organic thyme

1 lemon (juiced)

1/2 tbsp crushed garlic (I’d use more but I ran out)

Salt and pepper 
If I had more time and wasn’t starving while preparing my dinner I would have added peppers and onion to my skewers. Whatever.

So I cut up 3 chicken breasts and marinated them for about 2 hrs then skewed them. 

Then I threw some oil in a pan and cooked them for about 6 minutes on each side. Served with some tzatziki and I swear it tasted better than OPA. 

And obv I served with a Caesar salad because I’m fucking obsessing over Caesar salads lately. I cannot get enough. 

We made ribs the other night and they too looked so pretty and beautiful with a Caesar! 

Mmmm now I want a Caesar. I’m not talking salad. 

Also, I worked out this morning and it felt fucking great. After. Not before. And I didn’t eat the cheese cake or clean my car. But I may have wine tonight.. 

Shout out to my 1.5 L  of wineeeee 

Seven days..

Say it like you’re the girl from The Ring. Because that is how I feel right now. 

Only I’m having a wayyyy better hair day. As it would appear I am getting married in 7 days. Holy hell. Everyone keeps asking how I’m feeling and it’s getting annoying. I feel like all I get done every day is make bigger longer lists. That’s all wedding planning is really. Making lists. Then people expect you to give them your delicate lists so they can do whatever is on said lists. But I can’t do that. I wish I could but every time I give someone something to do I feel like I should have just done it myself. I’m not a delegator. I’m a task hoarder. 

Actually my mom has been a huge help from across the country. I can do all the hands on shit if she makes phone calls. Fuck do I hate calling people. I feel like I need time to formulate responses. Email me. Text me. Don’t call me. I’d rather write a 44 minute-long email than have a brief phone conversation. It’s an introvert thing. Leave me alone.

So anywho, I think I should be a wedding craft maker. I pretty much loathe girly white wedding shit but I’ve been nailing the decor with some helpful suggestions from my sister in law. I get an idea and she tones it down and makes it slightly less redneck. 

Example one. 


Jen: Um.. K.. But you need to mount it on something cute. 


I wanted tin can centrepieces with wild flowers. Jen wrangled me in. 

I wanted everyone to have little hilarious barn animals as their place holders. BOOM.

I guess I shouldn’t give all my hilarious decorations away in case my friends decide to become followers today. 

So my bridesmaids threw me a ridiculous staggette in Calgary during the Stampede. Holy Christ was that a hang over. 

Please note my bridesmaid on the ground. I vaguely remember this and it was only 6:30. You did good, girls. Real good. 

It took me 3 days to recover after that 12 hour shift of drinking. Never again.. Until someone else gets married anyways.

On the plus side, I miraculously lost weight after that trip to Calgary. Not sure how. All I did was drink and eat burgers and pizza. I guess it’s what my body does when it’s stressed. I VANISH. 

I’ve managed to keep my goal weight steady for the last week whilst drinking wine every night! It’s like the best. I’ve also been swimming across the lake and hiking a lot so that might be combating the wine? All I know is I spent a year getting to this weight and now that it’s 7 days until go time, I suddenly can’t be bothered to lift weights and even look at the elliptical. It can suck it. I have 2 more days until Jenny poo comes then my mom and Clayt and dad and patty and grandma! Fulllll house. Full house of alcoholics. This is gonna be good. 

I’m getting fucking married guys!! 

Maximum Death Workouts

I know that a few months ago I talked about some of the workout programs I was involved with and mentioned that MaxWorkouts in particular was very challenging and cruel to all humans. I think I need to revisit that topic. I made it about 4 or 5 weeks into the 12 week program before life got in the way and travelling and, let’s be fucking real, nice weather began to emerge. I was feeling great and lost 15 pounds which was a lot considering I’m not an obese person to begin with. But as soon as the sun peeked out from behind the mountains it became easy to put off the workouts and go do something outside. Like drink beer and shoot guns and build stuff. What would you rather do? Go down to your dungeon home gym and do a gruelling workout that leaves your breathless and weeping? Or go water your adorable garden and talk to your broccoli in the gorgeous mountain morning air? DERRRRR NO BRAINER.

So I know this is just an excuse but I own it and it’s all mine and you can’t have it. Everyone has an excuse. But you can choose to own up to your excuses and get back to work as I declared yesterday! And back to work I fucking did. 

Starting back at Week 1 of MaxWorkouts, I was hesitant to do the workout because I remembered the tears and whining that came from my body after. However, I woke up this morning from the most bizarre fucking dream ever. I was a bridesmaid in Kim Kardashians wedding. I was wearing this skin tight white slinky dress standing beside the other midget Kardashians and felt like a fucking tall cup of whale. And not because I was fat, but because they were so petite… Like my bridesmaids.. Fuck. So if I’m going to be standing beside my own beautiful Kardashians bridesmaids during my wedding, I at least need to look ripped AF. 

So Week 1, Day 1. Again.

10 squats, 10 push-ups, 10 lunge and twists, 10 bar pull-ups, 10 lateral lunges each side. Two times.

That alone got me breathing hard. But that’s just the warm up and you’re supposed to do it 3 times but I’m a pussy.

Then 10 back squats (I put 15 pounds on each side), 10 dumbbell push press (I started with 10 then felt like a major puss and tried 15.. Then went back to 10 lol), then 12 barbell chin pull-ups using 10s. Do this 5 -6 times.

I did 5 and was gasping and sore and angry. Quite angry actually. 3 months ago I would have breezed through that shit. It just goes to show that you need to keep your fitness game going strong because you can lose it so quickly. Thankfully I kept 13 of the 15 pounds off during my last 1-2 months of half ass workouts and flexible dieting. But I definitely lost my Heman strength. 

So I’m back at it, and it sucks. And I deserve it. And wahhhhhhh wahhhh wahhhhh. Back to logging my meals in My Fitness Pal, eating celery and enjoying rice like its more fulfilling than a cheeseburger.


$2.99?? PIG FO ALL

So our local grocer put all this pig on sale for $2.99 and I went fucking pig crazy. $2.99 for an entire picnic ham? Kidding me right? 

So I prepared a delicious pig pot. 

Fill bottom of your crock with brown sugar and decorative mustard.

Cut your fatty pig side up like she snitched and stuff a few cloves inside the cuts.

Give her another pat with brown sugar.

Decorate with more mustard. I even used fancy mustard because I’m posh AF.

And voila!  8 hours later you’ve got fall off the bone ham. I had men working on the house so I made them all little piggy sandwiches and they were impressed with my skills. 

Cut off all the fat. It’s gross. Jen, stop staring at that bone. 

Wedding Rituals I Find Silly

I am learning so much about weddings lately and a lot of it I find so strange. This past weekend my future mother-in-law hosted a beautiful bridal shower for me at a bed and breakfast winery. She and my sister-in-law probably spent 100 hours preparing 1 million appies and decorating the place. There were even hand painted wine glasses as take aways. Such a massive get together for what.. Because I’m getting married. I find it strange that people go to such great lengths to celebrate something that isn’t really an accomplishment. Congrats on finding a human you want to hang with forever. Umm it was pretty easy. I didn’t really have to try that hard.. I just met him and we mutually agreed we were the coolest and then phantom glued our hands and hearts together. It wasn’t like I found the cure to foot fungus and hemmorhoids. I just fell in love with someone. This simple act now deems me eligible for presents and more attention than any normal person would want. 

I walked into the bed and breakfast and wished I had an invisible cloak so that it wasn’t so “OMG SHE’S HERE” *insert trumpets sounding* Thank god Jen was with me so at least it was like “OMG SHE’S HERE AND WHO IS THAT?” 

Then there was the present opening. First of all I was wearing a possibly inappropriate low cut dress and my tits were hanging out. So imagine bending over in front of 100 eyes (with grannies) watching me grab gifts.. That I don’t need… Or deserve for any reason. It was hella awkward. I might understand this shower ritual if I didn’t already have a full house equipped with everything I need. But having somewhat strangers try to decorate a house they’ve never been to is quite funny. I now have enough napkins to host all of Alberta over for dinner and wine glasses for each person. 

Anyways, I’m not trying to sound ungrateful at all because I thought it was really sweet that everyone went to so much trouble for me. I just don’t understand why some traditions stick, even when they don’t make sense in our modern society. Where couples often live together before marriage and have everything they need. Maybe it’s secretly for the parents in sort of a “thank god my spawn found someone to create spawn with”. Who knows. All I know is that I am discovering more crazy wedding things that are “tradition” that I am throwing right out the door. The whole “groom takes garter off of brides thigh with teeth in front of all the wedding guests” tradition is awful. Pretty sure nobody wants to see that. Also pretty sure my thighs will be a sweat lodge and Karlin would emerge looking like a wet seal.

Or when I was purchasing flowers, another massive expense for someone who doesn’t even really care for flowers, I was getting all worked up over all the people at the wedding that were entitled to corsages and boutonnières. All the grandmothers and mothers and groomsmen and grandfathers, etc.Guess what I think are ugly? Corsages and boutonnières. Guess who is getting one? NOBODY. If this is “my big day” then I’ll do what I want. No shoving cake in eachothers faces. No bouquet toss. Let’s all just dress up and eat good food and drink good wine. We don’t need to pour sand together and light ceremonial candles. We can do what normal people do when they want to celebrate. Take shots. 

Rant over. Back to the bed and breakfast. The woman who decorated this place was a god. She up cycled so many old pieces and incorporated lace and corrugated metal in so many beautiful spots I was truly inspirered.

This hanging old door with lace and pearls. Loved. This sliding barn door made from old pallets. Adored. 



This bathroom killed me. Claw foot tub with old windows covered in lace and hanging lights. Le sigh! 



The corrugated metal with lace on top tickled me. Every room was so precious. 







And chandeliers were everywhere. Like every corner. My heaven.






Please note we spent a lot of time getting ready to hang in this classy establishment…



And then got absolutely Opposite Day non classy drunk after and ended up at some of the less finer drinking holes in Trail.








What a greasy night that turned into. Can’t wait to do it again in the big city! 

Welp back to my million wedding crafts. But first, birthday cake.

Happy birthday Karlin my love! 


One Pan Chicken and Squash Gnocchi

Prepare to drool on your lap like you’re watching RyGos smear creamy KD and crushed ketchup chips seductively all over his stomach. 


Shit got really real in the kitchen on Friday.  I made this chicken, spinach, mushroom, and squash gnocchi creation in a creamy garlic Parmesan sauce. From scratch. I rarely make cream sauces from scratch because I suck at making roux or whatever the fuck it’s called (butter and flour mixture). But I laid all my shit out so it was ready, because it’s all about the timing, and created a god damn masterpiece. 


That’s me whisking away my creamy sauce. I actually used a half and half cream and skim milk. Mixed it with the roux and added chicken stock and nutmeg and garlic. 

Pre cooked some chicken and shredded it.  

Then added it my cream sauce and threw in the spinach and mushrooms.



Oh and the gnocchi. Can’t forget those little babies. Covered it in Parmesan and popped it in the oven for 20 min. Huge success! 




Today I felt like doing some spring cleaning chores I’ve been slowly walking away from for weeks. I took everything out of the fridge and cleaned every shelf and threw out all these old expired leaking bottles of filth. Then I made little placemats for the door shelves because they were covered in a smorgasbord of sauces and soya sauce. I guess that’s a sauce too. Loser.


As if this post wasn’t boring enough, here’s a picture of my personal slave putting my socks on because I had just painted my nails (jk I am just lazy). 


Darrrrr he’s cute.