Take your best shot

Times change.

Now that I have that cliché out of the way …

Back in the day, we had to get accredited to take a camera into a concert. We’d wear our dorky press passes around our necks and lug any amount of gear into the arena, entering through a door reserved for VIPs.

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It’s time for a chowdown!

The first frost is coming. Soon.

Yet my garden is teeming with tomatoes. Some are red, a lot are still green. It’s been a kick not having to buy certain vegetables for the past couple of months: zucchini, tomatoes, cucumbers, beets, carrots, chard, lettuce … and herbs, so many herbs!

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Digging deep

I am in a rut.

And it’s deep. Oh boy, is it deep.

This is not a personal-life rut. No, in fact, today is the six-month anniversary of the day I married My American. We said our vows in front of a handful of friends, pledging to hold each other’s hand along this journey called life.

It’s a career rut. And I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.

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Taste wars: Canada and America tee off in caramel test

Some things are just different down here.

I hope I’m not different.

When last I left you, my garden was starting to grow and I was still waiting for my Green Card. Today, I have zucchini growing to sizes I didn’t know zucchini could be, and I have my Green Card. Not only that, but I’ve legally changed my name to My American’s surname (it’s a total feminist move, shut up) and I have a job (it’s in retail, it’s no big deal).

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Grounded

Today is my last day driving for a couple weeks.

My B.C. registration and insurance expire at midnight, and I’m not ready to be a full Washingtonian just yet.

Oh, I’m ready ready but I don’t have all my ducks in a row, which feels strange for me. I went to the local SSA office a week after I got here and applied for my Social Security Number (SSN). That was too soon. I wasn’t in the system yet and I had to wait for verification from the big guns in Baltimore, MD.

Next stop, the Department of Motor Vehicles. Ah but if one doesn’t have an SSN, one cannot get a driver’s licence without a stringent identification process and interview. It will be easier if I wait for my SSN.

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A new definition

I’m already starting to struggle.

It isn’t my new hometown, although that brings with a collection of challenges.

It isn’t sharing residential space with my soon-to-be husband.

I am not allowed to work. No job, no freelance contracts, no contentcheap labour farms.

I am not allowed to work.

Say that out loud, slowly.

Not.

Allowed.

To.

Work.

For the Independent Career Girl, those are difficult words to say.

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Breathing deeply

Did January even happen?

One day, I woke up and it was February.

And here I am, living south of the 49th and fully ensconced in My American’s house in Spokane, Wash.

With a deadline of April 25 to get married.

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