Almost a month later - my sister's wedding re-cap

I keep telling myself to be more consistent but always find other things to fill my writing time. I wish I could say it would be other procrastinating methods but almost always it is something productive. Right now I wanted to finish my ironing, marking, planning but my keyboard is right here - how convenient...

The biggest news I wanted to blog about is my sister's wedding...in JAMAICA. Over the Easter weekend my entire family - with exception of a honeymooning cousin - and significant friends found ourselves in the middle of the most luxurious resort known to man. I have been to a few resorts with my family but nothing will equate to this one.

Check out this foyer...

the following photos were actually taken in the middle of the night when Dave went out for a stroll - however his fantastic new skills in photography allowed him to manipulate the light. I know there is probably a fancy word for it but I like to call it - magic.

This is a shot from my cousin's camera - a view from a shady bed under one of the many reserved "huts".

AMAZING ROOMS! During vacation to a sunny destination it is mandatory to spend as little time in your room as possible - however, it is always nice when you have decadence like this.

This was the business section - taken the day after the wedding, sorry for the continuity - usually these are the first pictures I take but I was so excited that I had completely forgotten my usual first day room shots.

What you can't see is the stack of marking I brought with me just in case I had "down time" - never happened. On the plane ride home I contemplated divvying out the work I had to passengers - that also never happened.

Love the patio - with our space pods and amazing view.

Grande foyer...please - do come in.

Did I mention the 24 hour butler and room service?

Oh and there was a pillow menu...yes a full descriptive page on 7 different pillows. Our party agreed that "economical" was the best pick.

Rain shower - that our group had heated debates about. "is it a good shower or not" - discuss...

I spent most of my time in the sun - they had these beds by the pool. Each day a new cousin would share it with me since the organizer of the trip - the lady responsible for this life of luxury - is my mom, and she wanted me to have sun. God love that women's lioness protective instincts.

We were all excited to sit in the sun - read some gossip mags and have a few laughs...

"I don't know why, but I don't like this lady" - no one does Dad...

Okay so we were actually there for one reason - to see this...

Early in the morning I was answered the phone and before I could mumble: "too early - go back to bed". I heard the bright voice of my sister: "I'm getting married today! meet us for breakfast - 20 minutes".

Please note - this place made their own mini donuts fresh each morning - I only had 2 the whole trip. I felt this was commitment enough considering the amount of beverages I would consume.

Don't worry - as Maid of Honour I can handle this mayhem... urgh my milk to coffee ratio is completely off now!

Getting my sister ready was surreal - I was so focused on all those strings and ties I wish I could access the picture, hopefully that will follow after.

Michelle was very relaxed - I chalk that up to a great Maid of Honour - and I know that sounds like I am boasting but consider this: Michelle was my Maid of Honour, and both of us were relaxed and laughing as we got ready for our respective big days - must be something in the sister bond.

It was a perfect set-up, and very "Michelle". I am just surprised that we didn't come in horseback. There was a steel drum band playing and although Michelle wanted the traditional "canon in B" (or whatever it's called) to play her down the aisle, I insisted she have her other favourite song play the bridal party in - so we all walked in to "somewhere over the rainbow"

I was determined not to cry - so the best way to do that was to keep laughing, and have other laugh with me... Look at the picture below - see that brown small platform leading to the beach - yes, Steve and I decided to jump from it to enter in as Best Man and Maid of Honour. What I found even more funny was that when we did it - you could hear the bride's side (family) saying: "oh Jackie.." I thought it was original but apparently they all knew I was going to do something.

Here we all are - waiting for the Bride!

There she is!

Dearly beloved...

At this point I could not hold back tears...but did laugh when Nanna came up during the ceremony to fix a bridesmaid's dress.

Love a wedding that demands flip-flops...

Yay! you're married!

Fun Fact - Michelle and I wore the same shoes on our wedding - cute sister stuff...

I thought it would be cute to write "Michelle and Danny April 3, 2010 - JAM-ROCK" in the sand...

William had other ideas of what we should write in the sand...

It's okay though - I still love him...

Photo taken by my cousin - amazing work Stef, even if Rafaella demanded this shot. Diva.

Being someone who loves to talk, and doesn't mind big crowds - I was terrifed for my speech. Writing it caused a wastebin full of kleenex.

My sister has been my constant.

We all laughed when I forgot my champagne flute at my own table - but luckily the best man had left his behind so when I realized my mistake i recovered by saying: "So raise your glass.. (grabbing best man's left over glass) sure I'll drink this - it seems to be the motto of this trip..."

Now, I wanted to end my speech with a great quote - "May the best of your today, be the worst of your tomorrow". To me it wasn't just a tribute to their wonderful relationship, but really a message to my sister. She had found the person that would not abuse her caring nature but rather protect it.

I would love to say how this was delivered perfectly, with great cadence to make the crowd all sigh...but instead all that was heard was "ummm??". That is because, I essentially cursed them - I was trying so hard not to cry that I ended up reversing best and worst! I made an awkward recovery, and everyone laughed - and then I shrunk off into a corner and gulped down whatever drink was in front of me.

Michelle had these personalized cake toppers made - again, very Michelle.

Momma with her two married "daurs"

Afterwards, we were all heading to the disco - that is everyone except Dave and I. The party went back to get out of wedding clothes and into "disco" clothes and when I arrived in the room I found Dave sick in bed, shaking from sun stroke. Worst I have ever seen - on anybody.

Lesson learnt - however, if there is one thing you learn on a trip with your ENTIRE family - it is that EVERYONE will comment on your burns. As if you never noticed you had this searing skin that was painful to the touch.

"Hey, you got really burnt?!" "Did you put on sunscreen?", "You should sit in the shade today".

The last day went by too fast - before we knew it were were packing our bags, meeting in the lobby and having our last bottle of "WATA" - yes that was the actual brand name of bottled water.

Now almost a month has passed and I have finally posted a blog. Michelle and Danny I love you both. Danny, I am excited that I may actually have a teammate now against the vicious "team Dave and Michelle".

March Breaking Re-cap

I started my March Break somewhat early - but posting way to late.

On Thursday evening Dave and I treated (or somewhat treated) two very wonderful friends B and C to dinner at Susur Lee's renovated/re-newed restaurant "Madeline's". A gift certificate from the lovely C for our wedding and we gladly splurged her (and B) to a fantastic dinner, with splendid friends and a pricey bottle of red. I left a little tipsy but full.

That Saturday, Dave and I took off for our exotic trip to Seattle, WA. I was too excited. To see the Mishmirs (Tamir and Michelle) and doing some much needed shopping. Although my shopping was not complete it still ended as all things should - with a few new pairs of heels and some great dresses.

We left in the rain...

In Seattle we had a fantastic dinner at home with Tamir and Michelle, then crashed only to wake up early and drive to Portland to do some major outlet shopping and see the Raptors play!

I loved travelling through the Market, I feel like I would buy all my groceries there, then buy fresh cut flowers to replenish in my home overlooking the water.

I found my Mecca...the original Starbucks...

We drove through the "Rosedale" of Seattle and I picked my future home.

Oh...and take a great group shot...

Returning home Thursday I was greeted with a large list of school "to do's" as well as my cousins wedding on the Saturday....but more on that later...

3 weeks ago...

Okay..where do I start...

Well I am not writing as much as I set out to do when I started this blog. Correction - I write a lot, but nothing here. I hope to remedy that. No matter what I write here I always find it somewhat therapeutic. Something about typing on keys reminds me of writing letters. I still prefer pen and paper but that is much harder to share.

3 weeks ago I co-hosted a bridal shower for my lovely sister, now just mere days away from her actual wedding I am doing anything to procrastinate from the growing pile of "to do's..."

One of my personal favourite things from that day was that I made a tiramisu (2 actually) I decided to record my steps in pictures. There was no recipe to follow just the verbal directions from my mother, which now in retrospect was my favourite part.

Ingredients and preparations....

the assembly line...

I am told that they key is just to "dunk" the cookie...mmmm lady fingers....

layer by layer....

it comes together! Shave dark chocolate for extra presentation marks!

I am proud to say that it was a fantastic shower - with minor issues of a pounding migraine headache, and "interesting" Russian ladies who could not wait 10 minutes for the coffee to brew.

busy busy bee

I have been so busy these past 2 weeks but I promise a new post in the upcoming days - it will serve as a great distraction from everything I should be doing.

To give you a hint of what is to come...

- my sister's bridal shower

- dinner at Madelines

- our trip to Seattle

- my cousin's wedding!

So many wonderful things and new big things to come!

Caro Nonno

March 3^rd would have been my Nonno Pasquale’s 84^th birthday. In my own way I celebrated – I thought of him all day repeating the same phrase he would say to all members of the family when their birthday would arrive: “It’s your birday? No…it’s MY birday!”

Yesterday marked the 3 year anniversary of my Grandfather Pasquale’s death.

The man that would “twist my arm” and steal my birthdays may be physically gone but I now see him more and more in my father. His movements, his phrases, all echoed in my own “Babbo”. When my grandfather passed away I started calling my dad, “Ba”, the very same way he addressed his father. It was not a conscious decision but in some way I felt that there still needed to be some representation of him.

My Nonno’s brother – Francesco is almost his twin brother. On my wedding day I cried hugging him feeling as though a connection could be made, and some magical portal would open allowing me to hug my Nonno on that special day. The past few years, at random family events I would catch a glimpse of his graying hair, and distinct facial features and for a moment I would think Nonno was there. It’s comforting and upsetting all at the same time. A discomfort I gladly endure.

My father and uncle are both wonderful writers in their own right and I feel the best tribute to my Nonno would be to share the very special words my uncle Frank composed for the funeral.

~

When paying your respects, many of you may have seen my father’s sledgehammer on display. You see, I borrowed that sledgehammer but never got around to giving it back.

Over the years, I had borrowed so many tools from my Dad that I had lost track—but he never did. Every time I saw him, he would be sure to ask me how my family was, just before reminding me to return his sledgehammer.

Turns out I owe him so much more.

When I was a kid, my Dad gave me some of my fondest memories. Trips to the lake, visits to my relatives—I loved those times. I remember playing with my cousins until I was literally dizzy with laughter while my father joked and played cards in the other room. After he retired, his passion became his garden. We can all remember his legendary tomato plants and his seven-foot-tall squashes—and his ceaseless war with squirrels and raccoons.

Christmas, Easter, birthdays, weddings—it didn’t matter. Ask anyone who knew him and they will tell you—as hard as he worked and as tough as he could be, my father had joy in his soul. If I have even a fraction of that, it’s because of him.

My Dad’s story is shared by so many—leaving everything behind and coming to a far-off country full of strangers, seeking a better life for his young family. When I ask myself if I could make the same sacrifice and muster the same courage as my father did over fifty-five years ago, like most of my generation I would have to answer “no.” This is another small testament to how much I owe my father.

He’s gone now, but I will remember him every time I smell sawdust; every time I finish a hard day’s work; every time I sit in a comfortable chair; every time I’m around a table with friends; every time I look at his grandsons; and every time I make someone laugh.

When I think of my Dad now, I try to imagine him reunited with his parents and his brothers, sitting at a table with his friends in the shade of an apricot tree. He’s playing cards and enjoying a glass of wine. But then he checks his watch, as he so often did. I imagine someone kindly touching his arm and saying, There’s no rush anymore, Pasquale. Have another glass.

My father knew we loved him. We told him as often as we could, especially near the end. But only after it was too late, I remembered something that I should have told him, but had forgotten. Now, if I could only take him away from his card game for a few precious moments, I would be sure to tell him,

Grazie per tutto, ba… thanks for everything.

A very young me with a very special Nonno.

Bella Nonna

My grandmother is my hero.

The strongest woman I have, and possibly will ever know.

Earlier this month she turned a fresh new 80 years old. I watch her mind deteriorate but hold steady to the stories she has told me. The life she has lead and the struggles she has endured silently. I always wondered what lessons women would teach their young girls in the old country – before school was allowed. I thought of how quickly you would learn but spending time with my grandma as a young girl and even now as a woman I think time is passing too quickly and there is so much more I need to know.

Basics were covered young - how to clean clothes, mend holes, sew a button, set the table, cook the pasta, make the bed and tuck the sheets in tight. Move quickly but carefully, slowly on stairs – never run why be in a rush to fall.

As I grew older, the lessons were more advanced. What makes a true friend, protect your heart it’s delicate - don’t just let anyone in. Laugh, never let them see you cry, if you fall pick yourself up and always depend on your family to help if it gets hard. Your sister is your best friend – if you don’t know it now, you will later. Trust your parents.

I learnt how to make pasta from scratch never from a box, how to roll gnocchi, split beans, pick the best tomatoes. I learnt the quick burning pain on my bottom from the swift movement she dealt would deal out with the wooden spoon, the metal spoon and most often the slipper (usually a slight wooden heel). Even though I was never beaten I learned respect the old fashioned way and I appreciate every moment of it.

I am her bella nonna, her poopie, the one who doesn’t call, the who doesn’t visit her…I am just like the other 8 who belong to this elite league. Even though we share the title of “grandchild” and we are all told the same things as the others time after time there are still those private moments where she shares her soul with us, one on one. We are all special to her and she makes us feel it.

I pray to God that she will be with us for many more years but yet I hear her voice in my head – one of the greatest lessons she ever taught to me –

“Bella Nonna, you cannot pray for what you want, you can only pray for the strength through whatever is given”