Some credit must be given to my leading man, Howie, for without whom I would not be a wife. Howie and I first became friends in Grade 10 Outdoor Education Class. I helped him paint his canoe paddle and he (slightly creepily in a 15-year-old-boy-way) tried to hit on me, repeatedly. It wasn’t until he was drafted into the Ontario Hockey League and moved four hours up north to Sudbury that I realized I kind of missed the guy. From there, a long-distance relationship blossomed. For the next seven years we were cities, provinces and at one point countries apart. Growing up as adults but growing closer togetheras a couple. Finally one Christmas break (while I was still wearing my Swiss Chalet uniform .. grrrr) he got down on one knee and asked “Wil ye met me trouwen?” And I said yes.
Howie’s good at pretty much all sports, he’s a staunch Conservative, has a beyond abnormal passion for Survivor, loves pizza, and considers any pants without an elastic band “dressing up.”
Howie thinks I could be prime minister if I learned French.
I think he’s amazing.