Two years ago I moved from Australia to Canada. I was fresh out of university and couldn’t have been less interested in pursuing a career if I wanted to. I don’t understand how the years went so fast, but I can’t recall a better 730 days of my life.
After all that talk about adventuring and hiking last week, I broke my foot.
Hey you. It’s been a while. Last time we spoke, I was one month into my Canadian adventure. Would you believe me if I told you it’s now been 21 months since I packed my life up and moved halfway across the world?
How have I eaten so much peanut butter?
Literally. I came flying down a (steep ass) ski slope and plummetted chin-first into the rock hard snow.
Yesterday marked 2 weeks since I moved across the world. I packed my life into 20.6kg and wheeled it behind me all the way from the warm, sunny suburbs of Brisbane, Queensland to the quaint and shivery town of Canmore, Alberta. I’m not sure if it feels “real” yet – or if it ever will, considering…
Well, hey there! It’s been a few weeks since we last caught up. My working life in Canada is just around the corner, so I’ve been focusing on participating more in my actual life to create memories for future smiles while I’m away and missing home.
If you need me around 7:30am, you’ll find me in a cozy corner of bliss: as close to glowing sunshine that flows through my bedroom window as my mattress will get, wearing fluffy bed socks, with a bowl of soul in one hand and spoonful of peanut butter in the other. Divine.
For me, no breakfast routine is complete without an enormous, unmeasured dollop of peanut butter. I haven’t always felt that way, though.
You know, although friendships fade and people move on with their lives, there some that were destined to reappear. They remind you of a point in your life which (whether it be in a big or a small way) shaped the person you are today. They bring back memories that might have been buried beneath the…