Girl vs. Expectation

Tomorrow we’re back on a plane to Vegas. I absolutely could not part with Quebec City without writing of expectation.

If you’re keeping up with my travels, (which let’s face it, you may not be… you have your own life after all! ) you’d know that six weeks ago we were living in sumptuous Montreal. The food, the culture, the summer festivals, the food, the yoga, the food,the shopping, the food!… I loved everything about it and I’m really looking forward to returning next summer when we stop there again. Now, let me explain to you, looking at a “Tour Plan” (the term used to map out the dates and locations where the show will perform over the next several years), it’s pretty difficult not to have expectations. “London? Yaaay! Charlotte? Boooo! San Fran? Yaaay! Pittsburgh? Hmmm…” You’re literally trying to figure out what the next five locations you’ll call “home” will have in store for you.

Back to Expectation. I was told as a pigtailed, Barbie-connoisseur and again as an acne-ridden, whiny pre-teen and again as an overly sensitive, overly dramatic high school cheerleader not to have expectations and therefore I’d never end up disappointed. I’ve found this is an excellent piece of advice to give to someone when you know the likelihood of them “ending up disappointed” is about as probable as me having to pay excess baggage fees tomorrow (ps. That’s pretty bloody likely!). However, I was never told about the plus side of not having expectations…. and that would be the Pleasant Surprise.

This brings me back to Quebec City. I’m not exactly sure why, but when my eyes scanned over the Tour Plan to see Quebec City I thought “That will be a great city to really focus on my half-marathon training… I mean, what’s there to do in Quebec City?” I had no expectations. Not of shopping, sights, activities, even food! None. And what did Quebec City do in response to my less-than-enthused outlook? She threw me one hell of a surprise party, fireworks and all.

We arrived here and instantly were magically whisked away to a cross between the film set of Harry Potter and the year 1820.  The city is one of the oldest in North America and surrounded by “fortification walls”  which instantly made me feel oh-so Damsel in Distress as I gazed out of my 19th floor window to what literally looks like castle walls below (with cannons to boot, fired every night between 9 & 11pm!). I believe A said it best when observing an old school military bomber plane gliding past our window, “It’s like we live in the 1800s here.”

Not only did I not have any expectations of the city itself, I didn’t really have any expectations of what my life would entail during these 5 little weeks. Teaching yoga, running, writing, wifely duties… all par for the course. And then The Contest came up.

Sidebar: The previous tour we were on, I was surrounded by a group of the most diverse, beautiful, witty, supportive, loving women who came to be known as The Wives Club. As touring “wives” we leaned on each other for support, the occasional babysitter, yoga classes, drinking buddies, crocheting lessons… it was truly a sisterhood. Now that we’ve all gone our separate ways, I knew there would be a bit of a void going on here in this new tour experience. Those women… they will never be replaced.

So still being new to this particular tour, and with the lack of my Wives Club around to keep me company, I figured it would be natural to feel lonely from time to time. However, the second The Contest came to fruition, loneliness became the absolute least of my concerns because all of a sudden my “family” from all over the world, they showed up. More about The Contest in later posts… back to QC. Everyday became jam-packed with a To-Do list long enough to make a girl crawl back into her king-sized, delicious Hilton down-feather bed My Best* and I referred to as “The Cloud” and hide.

*My Best refers to one kick-ass Lady in my life. I do not know what I’d do without her. She is my friend, motivation, confidant and sister. A mirror of who I am and a reflection of who I aspire to be. She loves salty chocolate, bread, feather earrings and dancing non-stop. You’ll read a lot about her here.

Between teaching my classes, stuffing my face with maple-chunk muffins, networking my maple-chunk-muffin-bum off for votes, planning our rendezvous with Ireland, upholding my commitment to Mr. Tony Horton and p90x, upping my running schedule to include an extra run a week for half-marathon preparation and making sweet love to this beautiful city, 5 weeks flew by in the bat of a Dior-mascara’d eyelash. Highlights included kayaking to the Montmorency Falls, which are often compared to the famous Niagara Falls, to watch the finale of the International Fireworks Competition over a bottle of iced-cider; hitting up the one gay bar in all of Quebec City, “Le Drague”, too many times to count to beg for votes (not to mention a karaoke performance by none other than Moi of “Like a Prayer”. My gays love a lil retro-Madonna.), achieving my longest distance, fastest paced runs to date, consuming way too many maple-infused baked-goods, and to top it all off, being offered a PAID freelance online writing gig! Quebec City not only rapidly became one of my favorite cities thus far, I also believe these 5 weeks are some of the happiest weeks of my short life.

I’m off to dream. Thoughts are becoming too random for even me to follow. 6am will be whispering my name in no time telling me it’s time to fly again. So I’ll bid you a sweet goodnight with this:

“The best things in life are unexpected because there were no expectations.”

Girl: 1

Expectation: 0

(And let’s not forget one more shameless plug: If you haven’t voted for us to win the wedding of our dreams, please visit and PLEASE VOTE! LOVE FREELY!  A million warm chocolate-chip cookie hugs to you.)


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