Exotica

Just over a week ago, I was in Banff for a work conference/workshop thing (yes, I know, life is terribly tough isn’t it?) and on the second night that we were there, we were taken out to one of the local restaurants for dinner.

We were told where we were going, some place called Grizzly’s. Now I had heard of this place once before when we were in Banff. On that occasion, I was there with the family and we were looking for a restaurant that we’d been to on a previous visit, one where we could have fondue. It happened to be closed for renovations and so enquires were made about other options that would enable us to have a fondue dinner.

The name Grizzly’s came up. I overheard another group talking about it at that time and telling how there were phones at every table so that guests could ring each other … because it was a swinger’s place. We decided to eat elsewhere that night.

So now I was headed off to a restaurant with a group of people from work and in my mind that place was a swinger’s joint. Nervous? Hell yes!

Fortunately when we walked in there wasn’t really much sign that it was actually a swinger’s place, other perhaps than the photos in the front of the restaurant that referred to some hedonist’s holiday place and the odd little promotional item that one could buy – a pink “Grizzly’s” g-string. We settled in to our seats and I glanced about nervously, noting that there were indeed telephones by all of the tables.

But putting that out of my mind, I focused on the menu. There was a range of different options for the fondue, but only one that truly caught my eye.

Exotic Fondue. A mixture of meats to be cooked and enjoyed. There were a few raised eyebrows as people saw it and a couple of us decided that it had to be tried.
Rattlesnake, Frog’s Leg, Ostrich, Venison, Buffalo, Alligator and Shark. How the hell could I pass that up. Of the lot, I’d only eaten Shark, Buffalo and Venison before. We were sadly informed that they were out of rattlesnake though. We had to put up with mere Python instead.

Of course, as you can probably imagine, most of the discussion centered around whether everything was just going to taste like chicken and I can only gladly say that it didn’t. I would have to say that the alligator was my favourite and that the frog leg and snake were the most disappointing. But heh, at least I can say that I’ve tried them!

And the telephones you ask? How can I not address that further? Well the fact is that the place was set up as a night club in the 60’s and that the owners were in fact swingers. The phones were indeed there to help people get together, but we were assured that no actually swinging (ie sex) had taken place at the establishment itself. It wouldn’t have worried me if it had, after all, I’m sure they’ve washed the tables.

bah humbug

I have been accused at work recently of being the scrooge, chiefly because of a complaint that I made about the local radio station playing Christmas songs intermittently (hey, we are talking about the 1st of December here).

Well the other night i came home determined not to be Mr Bah Humbug and to get the Christmas tree that had been purchased inside the house so that Caroline and the kids could decorate it. I don't usually participate in this because the excitement that it generates in the kids is usually enough to stress me out and ensure that I ruin it for everyone (maybe I really am the scrooge!).

All was well for a while, up to the point that the tree was formed more like a banana than a nice straight Christmas tree. This meant that although I'd carried it in, sawed off the bottom two inches and tried my damndest, the tree simply wasn't going to stand up straight without further adjustement. And given that it was 10:30 at night, I was covered in sap and had been repeatedly speared by pine needles, I lost it. Bah Humbug. Worst tree ever, cursed six ways to Christmas.

Over the course of Friday I thought about it though and came into the house determined not to ruin the Christmas spirit and see the tree where it belonged; upright, vertical and in the stand.

What I found instead was that Michael and Caroline had beaten me to it and the worst Christmas tree ever was in fact a delightfully bushy, tall marvellous tree.

Right now, it's being decorated. Photos to come.

not right dammit

I don't care how many times you say it, the forecast HIGH should not be -29C!

Sins of the Father

Last week was parent teacher interviews for the kids at school, so we trundled along to hear what their teachers would have to say about them. Nothing bad and plenty of good which was lovely. Its an amazing insight into a part of their lives that I otherwise don’t get get a view of.

There was one little piece of the night that cracked me up and I had to note. We were talking to Michael’s science math teacher and she was telling us how Michael usually finished his work early and was quite happy to help some of the students that were struggling with the work, that he was something of a leader in the class. Then she mentioned that if there was one thing that he could work on in the class, it was that he tended to do quite a bit of reading in the class.

Déjà vu! Flash back to year 11 when Mum and Dad came home from a parent teacher interview at school and let me know that my Biology (and home room) teacher had made the observation that if I spent a little more time concentrating on the class and less time reading my books under the desk, then maybe I would be able to better than the mid 80’s I was getting!

Man did I laugh!

3.5

I thought that I’d resolved not to write about the traffic here again, but I can’t help myself. Yesterday afternoon, the wind blew in and with it came the snow. We were all looking outside and thinking that it wasn’t a good sign for the drive home. I made sure that I got out on time to beat the major rush of traffic and thought I was doing well until I hit the gates to the plant. Things got slow after that.

As I made my way across the new overpass to the other side of the highway, things got worse. As I gazed left I saw the big red snake – tail lights being applied repeatedly giving it flashes as of light glancing of its scaled hide. When I looked right it was worse, a stream of white lights filtering down the highway to add to the tail of the snake. And they were moving at a speed that I could have beaten on foot.

I managed to get as far as taking my place in the snake and then moving at a crawl for a hundred or so metres and then came to a complete stop. It had taken me about 30 minutes to make it that far.

TWO HOURS later, we started to move again. Yes, I sat in a line of traffic on that one and only blasted route home for two hours without effectively moving (well other than for the brief moment when we all had to pull onto the shoulder to let an ambulance through).

And of course yesterday was one of those days where I had managed to leave my ipod at home and had to put up with local radio. One channel that I was listening to was supporting International Aids day and so was playing all these depressing songs about that, whilst the other was playing awful crap that at times included Christmas songs. Way to make people want to get out of their cars and shoot someone I tell you!

There’s two hills on the way home from site. You go down the first and up the second. Apparently conditions were so icy on the first of them that trucks were going down all but sideways. So they closed the highway until they could get the sanding trucks out. I’m all for safety, but damn, I sure wish it hadn’t taken 2 hours to sort that mess out. After all, it meant that it only took me three and a half hours for the trip door to door.

And of course there’s that little bit of me that really wanted to experience driving down the icy hill!

76 Trombones (led the big parade)

Last Saturday night it was time for the annual Christmas Pageant in Fort Mac. Now last year it had been held in the morning and it was about -25C outside, so old scrooge here said “Baa Humbug” and didn’t go near it with a 10 foot pole. There was also that minor thing where I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from comparing it to the Adelaide Pageant. Fair or not, I decided not to put it up to that sort of scrutiny.

This year, it was about -5C outside and at night and so we decided to check it out.

We had a junk food dinner after ringette and then waited in the restaurant until the crowd started to build before making our way outside. We were near the end of the parade route and that meant that it was a good 30-45 minutes before it got as far as us. That was long enough for us all to start feeling the weather, especially the disinterested boys.

But we battled on until finally it arrived. And it was everything that I expected. Kids on trucks with lights and tinsel over them. I guess the best measure of it was the fact that half way through Sam decided he was so cold and it was so boring that he went and sat in the car for the remainder of the parade. The rest of us held out until Santa came by, but probably only just.

That’s probably harsh for what was achieved in a small community, but that’s what I get for being spoiled with the Pageant at home all these years. It was funny talking to the Canadians about how we get into town at 5-6am to reserve a spot, taking lots of sunscreen and floppy hats as we stood in the snow wishing we’d been wearing more layers!

Whoosh

Winter is here again, which means snow on the ground, shoveling the driveway and the sidewalk, freezing all your bits off and of course skiing!

Last weekend the ski hill opened for the first time for the season and we managed to make sure that we all got a little bit of time in on the one run that was open.

Last year we hired skis and equipment for the kids, but this year, after doing a bit of research and financial reasoning, we bought them skis. Discount sales and the fact that we’ll get two years use out of them actually made it more economic. It was interesting to see the varying levels of excitement at having their very own skis.

Michael was keen to get them, though he intends to do more snow-boarding this year (particularly in Fort Mac, saving the skis for our trip to Kimberly …24 days and counting!)

Sam wasn’t really interested at all, just happy to have hired skis because he didn’t really see himself skiing that much (last year he racked up the ‘most minutes spent in the lodge award)

Tom was keen, but thinking about the snowboarding as well and then of course there was Emily, who practically leapt out of her skin at the prospect.

Following the actual purchase of them, Michael was happy, Sam was reservedly happy (they’d not had bindings in stock for the skis that he’d wanted and so he’d settled for a pair the same as Michael’s) Thomas was over the moon because he has twin tipped skis so that he can go backwards easily and Emily was happy as a pig in the proverbial because her skis are pink and purple with flowers on them!.

Saturday was the day to test them all out, so we picked them up from the sports shop with their bindings newly applied and headed off to the ski hill where we had our photos taken for our season passes and took off down the slopes.

It was a success all round. Michael only managed two runs before having to head off to hockey, but was happy with his skis. To my utter astonishment, Sam elected to continue skiing rather than go to Michael’s hockey, a complete change to where things had ended last year.

Thomas was in his element, off jumps and skiing backwards on his second run for the year and after a up and down (as in fall down, stand up) start on her first run, Emily happily made her way down subsequent runs with only one or two falls. Not bad considering the extra length on her skis this year! And she only fell over at the chair and held the entire lift line up once.

In talking with Sam at the end of the day, he was very happy to say that he hadn’t enjoyed it last year because his boots hadn’t been very comfortable and he didn’t like his skis that much, but that this year in his own boots and on his own skis, he’s enjoying it. Yay!

Bring on the big runs!

Nightmares

About two weeks ago, one lovely morning, I woke up at about 4am and thought that I could hear some odd noises. I waited those few requisite moments for the fog to clear from my skull and concentrated a little harder, trying to ascertain whether it was the sort of noise that one drags their arse out of bed for, or ignores and goes back to sleep. With those moments past, it started to sound suspiciously like the TV was on downstairs, which sadly for me fits into the category of arse-dragging worthiness.

So, having committed myself to the trek, I made my way down stairs to find the little pink think snuggled upon the couch with her pillow and blanket quietly and happily watching TV. I asked what was going on and she let me know that she’d had a scary dream. I asked her what it was about, but with a fevered little shake of her head, informed me that it was too scary to talk about.

I opted for not pursuing it further, rather devoting my energy at that time to getting both her and I back into bed.

With that achieved, I slept through until the alarm went off what seemed to be only moments later. But I didn’t forget. Later I pursued the course of questioning that would ascertain the root cause of the nightmare. When pressed I was informed that it was a “Madagascar dream.” That was both surprising and puzzling so I said, “I thought you liked Madagascar.”

“I only want to see the second one, I don’t like the first one,” I was told. I let her know that next time, rather than go down and turn the TV on that she should come and tell me and let me help her that way instead.

The next couple of weeks passed with out incident until the other night, when at 2am I was awoken by small footsteps advancing toward the bed. Warding off the desire to turn them away sight unseen, I allowed the little girl to climb into my bed for a few moments whilst she calmed down. Once again, scary dreams seemed to be the issue and again, it was too scary to talk about.

Of course, welcoming a small child into one’s bed isn’t ever the comfortable and snuggly experience people sometimes make it out to be. It’s more about elbows and cold feet in disconcerting places and how a 3 foot tall little thing can take up 90% of the available bed space. And as a result of that it was only about 5 minutes later that I was escorting her back to her bed and promising that I would lay down with her for a bit, which was a great promise to make until we reached her bed and I realized that that the last two feet of it was occupied by various toys. This left plenty of room for Em to stretch out, but very little for Daddy.

I only lasted another 5-10 minutes and then I abandoned her to resume sleeping. And thus it was that some 10 minutes after I returned to my bed and attempted to douse the activity that had commenced in my brain I once again heard footsteps. I waited patiently to receive the expected guest but was surprised to find that the footsteps retreated. Retreated, yes, but not back to bed; rather down the stairs and yes, once again I heard the incriminating beep that meant the TV was on. Arse dragging time was back again.

Rather than put her back to bed and face that discomfort, or struggle to accommodate her in my own little night time haven, I pulled her quilt and pillow into my room and had her sleep on the floor beside my bed. That way, when she woke me again, at 4 am, things were a little easier to manage.

And again, the following day I worked to find out just what had been so scary. After much resistance, a quiet and timid little voice gave me just two words.

“Lost Doggy.”

I got dragged out of bed and all over the house and unseemly and ridiculous times of the night for a lost dog? We don’t even own a bloody dog, so it was someone else’s lost dog! Total bastardry, that’s what it was.

The Sky is Falling

I was driving home from work the other night, staring down the highway, quite relaxed because for once there weren’t any traffic problems. Then I saw what appeared to be a shooting star, but in a trajectory that I’d not seen one before.

On the occasions that I’ve been lucky enough to see them previously, they’ve all had a lateral trajectory, paralleling the horizon. This one was distinctly vertical, headed straight for the earth. It was about half way through it’s 2 second appearance that things got really interesting though. At that point, instead of just fading out, it blossomed into an orange fireball that lit up the sky quite significantly.

It was truly amazing and spectacular. And of course there was no one in the car with me for me to be able to say, “Wow, did you see that!?” It was all over the radio the next day and was seen from all over Alberta, but I couldn’t believe that I’d been lucky enough to witness it myself. I just happened to be on a stretch of the highway that was headed directly toward where it fell. Speculation is that pieces of it actually hit the ground and I have to confess to the most fleeting of thoughts as to whether I was witnessing a plane fall from the sky, but they were quickly dismissed.

What I saw appeared to fade from the bloom well above the horizon, certainly more so than this shot, captured on a police car's camera.

Let the Carnage begin ... or traffic, part um,. what 62 now?

Winter is here and along with winter comes driving in the snow. Fun. Well, it can be. But it can also be a right bastard. This morning was just a reminder of that, though fortunately I wasn’t the object of the lesson.

Since I arrived here last year, I know that I’ve complained almost constantly about the traffic in this single-highwayed town. Well over the last 12 months, with the boom in work up here and the increasing number of projects under development, nothing has happened to ease that pain. The 30km trip is almost guaranteed to take a minimum of 1 hour if you manage to leave the office by 5:10pm. Any later than that and it just gets worse and worse. There are bypasses and over passes and things planned and under construction that will probably make a significant difference … about the time that we manage to get out of here.

This morning, after some snow overnight, someone managed to find the going a little bit more treacherous than usual and came unstuck; overturned in the ditch. Of course, they happened to pick a day when I’d had to stop for gas and so wasn’t as early as I might have been (not that it would have made too much of a difference). It meant that traffic banked up. And when it takes you an hour and 40 minutes to travel the 30kms from your door to the office, you really do wonder why the hell you bother.

And having managed to finally get past the pinch point on the road that was the accident scene, I’d only managed to go another 5kms before there was a second vehicle rolled over in the ditch (this time on the far side of the divided highway as opposed to in the ditch separating the roads. Truly the first day of the winter carnage. I’d like to propose that it be the last as well, but with the combination of weather and driver behaviour that we have up here, I just can’t see it happening.

It's Ba-aack

Yes, it’s November in Fort McMurray and that means that the snow has returned. A couple of days ago we had the first sprinklings of snow that managed to stay on the ground and then last night we received a lovely white blanket thick enough that the grass on the lawn has disappeared and the drive way required the first shoveling of the season.
And of course after reversing out of the driveway this morning to turn and head in the opposite direction, I had that quick little reminder to brake early and allow for the snow as I managed to get the car almost sideways whilst executing the u-turn.
As I left our street to turn onto the more trafficked part of my route to work, I was also quickly reminded of the fact that the nice fluffy white snow quickly turns to icky brown mush when the temperature hovers just over the freezing point and everyone drives all over it.
So it’s really just a matter of looking beyond the dirty brown strip that bisects the pretty picture and pretending that it isn’t there!

A thought

Every time that we go through a doorway with no window in it, there’s a chance that there’s going to be someone coming through it the other way. When you’re on the push side of the door, that’s no great drama. The worst that tends to happen is that you push against something that gives way suddenly and stumble forward.

When you’re on the pull side of the door, if someone happens to come through at the same time, you tend to be at risk of a sudden, large, firm object (ie the door) being applied with force to your face. Bring on the dentists.

So here’s the thing. How many toilets have you been to where the door opens outward.
I’m guessing somewhere between none and bugger all. Now think about the use of the room in question. Who’s more likely to be in a hurry and hence be charging through the door with little regard for what’s on the other side? The guy who’s just relieved himself, or the guy who happens to have a bodily function threatening him with public embarrassment if he doesn’t get in there and do something about it RIGHT NOW?

Re-hinge the doors?

Camper Capers

Last week I went to a workshop down in Kananaskis, a gorgeous little place in the Rockies. Because I was off to such a wonderful place, I was of course followed down by a crazy lady who brought four kids along for the ride, never mind the 8 hours or so that it takes to drive there.

By coincidence, we’d also been advised that the camper trailer would be available for collection in Edmonton (just in time for the snow of course) so we planned on picking it up on the way back to Fort Mac.

That was planned for Saturday. So after a couple of drinks with the McColls in Calgary Friday night, we retreated to our hotel and then planned our get away for Saturday. There were a few things on the agenda: Get to Ikea to buy a desk for the basement, get to Costco to bankrupt ourselves and of course get to Morinville to pick up the camper. All of this after the drive from Calgary to Edmonton.

There were some tricky logistics involved. Ikea is on the south side of Edmonton, Costco on the North and the RV place 20 minutes north of that. The biggest hassle was that we really needed the camper first so that we had somewhere to put the desk so that we could transport it. Especially because when we set off from Calgary, the wind was gusting in excess of 100km/hr, giving some of those nice big buses a good 5 degree list as they drove up the highway, shifting sideways a foot or so before being jerked back on course. It was great fun.

We finally came up with a plan at Ikea. They didn’t close until 9pm that night, so we ordered the desk that we wanted, then I dropped Caroline and the kids at Costco and went to get the Camper.

Other than the outrageous cost of the camper repair, all went well and I met them back at Costco where we had to put the camper up enough to squeeze in some of the shopping.

Now at about this time, Old Man Winter decided that it was time to give Dave a reminder of just what it was that he was in for and perhaps a little warning. Because as I made my way around the camper, stuffing stuff in it and trying to get it all back down where it was supposed to be (tricky with a chair in the wrong spot apparently) those 100km/hr wind gusts continued. And as if that ‘Old Man’, bastard that he is decided to have a little chuckle and add a little snow into the mix. And the joy of 100km/hr winds mixed with snow is that it means that it comes at you horizontally, right into your ear hole. So it was no surprise that just as I was finishing, I noticed that the bars that keep the slide out in the right place weren’t where they were supposed to be, so that meant another 10 minutes in the lovely fall weather. At least it stopped snowing.

But I survived and we got under way, went all the way back to Ikea on the other side of town, loaded the desk, grabbed some dinner and set off for Fort McMurray, wind be damned.

It was going to be a late night. Petrol consumption was high (though I did get a shock when I got a complete tank of gas for about $80! Can you remember the last time you got petrol fro 94c per litre?) and it was a bastard of a drive with the wind playing havoc. I was glad that it was just a tent trailer behind me and not a full sized caravan.

I’d had two real bastard drives up highway 63 prior to this one ... once due to heavy rain and the other because of a bloody blizzard that blew through. This one rated right up there with those bastard drives.

And because I’ve bothered writing this much, you know there’s something coming, don’t you? Well yes there is. We were around the half way mark from Edmonton, some 200km short of Fort Mac (which is the start of a 200km, stretch with no services) when something didn’t quite feel right with the car. I slowed down, concerned, but with the way that the wind had been moving the camper around, throwing us sideways, I’d been fighting it all the way and it didn’t really feel any different. So we continued on.

It wasn’t much further though until once again, things didn’t quite feel right. This time I decided that I really should stop and take a look. We weren’t in a great spot. I couldn’t get right off the road and we weren’t that far from the end of a bend ... far from the right place to be stopping. And when I got out and surveyed the trailer, my stomach lurched.

It wasn’t just that we had a flat tyre. It was the fact that we had NO tyre. In fact, not only did we have no tyre, the rim had collapsed as well. It was four letter worded.

Post traumatic analysis tells me that the first time I felt something, the tyre had blown and because the wind was so bad, the fact that I was then driving on the rim didn’t really register ... not until it collapsed and we were rolling on the drum.

At this point in time it was 11:30 pm (strangely reminiscent of the time of night at which i found out that it wasn’t going to go up prior to repair). And we were stranded. We were only 1km from the last point of contact with civilisation that we’d passed and we were 200kms from getting to real civilisation (haha, I just called Fort McMurray real civilisation, how funny am I?) Oh and it was at this point that having jacked up the camper, I realised that although the brace from the car would remove the nuts from the spare tyre, it was the wrong size to get the dead rim off. Oh shit.

Our options were limited: Call the CAA, turn around and drag the bugger back to Wandering River (1km back) or advance to a point where we could abandon the trailer and hope for the best). We called the CAA to discover that we weren’t covered for the trailer and so then faced calling a contract from a hundred k’s away at $250 (if they’d come) or some sort of abandonment.

We moved up the road to where there was an entrance to what we thought was a gas plant so that we could at least get far enough off the road to be a bit safer from the traffic. That was when we realised that we weren’t at the entrance to a gas plant, but to the very last farm house before Fort McMurray. And the lights were on.

So feeling like a depraved character from a b-grade horror movie, I walked up to this middle of the nowhere farm house, wheel brace in my hand to knock on the door. A woman walked out and spotted me and I received an appropriate, extremely cautious look as she went back in the direction that she’d come from. That was when a rather large guy in his boxers came to the door.

All I’d hoped for was a socket that would fit the nut. But he offered to pull on some clothes and bring his truck down for a look. I met him back down at the camper and we attempted to get the rim off, but it was free-wheeling and we couldn’t get enough purchase to turn the nuts. So up to the workshop we went, loaded up the compressor, pulled out the impact wrench and back to the camper. The rim was off in moments. That was when we could see the wire from the tyre that had managed to wrap itself in around the brake drum. That left us in a quandary ... to take it further and risk not getting to Fort Mac (and with no spare) or to abandon it.

At that point, Tim (the farmer) offered to allow us to leave the camper behind and have his brother (who happens to be a heavy vehicle mechanic) take a look at it in the morning. We opted for option, “Sent by an Angel” and took off for Fort McMurray, sans camper.

We did finally get home at about 3am (despite the old man’s attempts, throwing snow and wind at us the entire way).

When I got up at 11am the next day, I called Tim to find out if there was anything that I would need to bring from Fort McMurray to assist. I was informed that it was all fixed. His brother had had it off, checked it out, made a minor repair to the brake and it was waiting for me to come and get it.

So after searching in town for a new rim and tyre, I went for a casual 2 hour drive to get it and tried to give his brother some money for what he’d done (I’d dropped some bills in Tim’s hand the night before). Barry adamantly refused to take my money with a ‘pay it forward’ Karma based attitude ... “some day i’ll be stuck out there and looking for someone to help me,” he simply said.

Another casual 2 hour drive back the other way and both I and the camper were home again.

And so that’s where I pondered what to call this one ... “Why Dave should buy a tent ...”? or “Blessed or Cursed?” Because I have to wonder if the camper and I should never be together, but we were truly incredibly blessed in terms of the location in which this occurred and the assistance that we received.

All I can say is that we’ve been looked after.

At the Cinema

We went down to Edmonton for the long weekend that just passed (Thanksgiving) with a couple of things on the agenda. First was to get some of our warm stuff (like my winter boots) from the camper (yes, it’s still down there) before it’s too late. There was also the fact that young Thomas had an excessive amount of money burning a hole in his pocket from his birthday, which meant Toys ‘r Us was unavoidable.

There was a potential trip to Costco – wholesale warehouse, where you buy your washing powder in containers big enough for boat people to swap continents and your candy in quantities to employ an army of dentists.

And of course there was the fact that we were staying with the Duells and thus a thanksgiving dinner was in order.

Oh, and perhaps a bit of shopping – after all, one can’t escape Fort Mac and not do a little shopping.

We got away Friday night without drama (always nice) and collapsed in St Albert around 11:30pm with the only disaster being that the DVD player decided not to work in the car on the way there and the only near disaster being a random elk that decided to wander across the road and cause me to go from 100 to 10km/hr in a short space of time. The next day we went to the RV repair shop, retrieved our stuff (and drooled over a few new Jayco vans) before continuing down into Edmonton.

After surviving Toys R Us, (if Thomas walking out with a nerf gun almost as big as he is is surviving) where we met up with Bob and Nancy and their girls for the Costco extravaganza. I must say that the control exercised by Caroline and I was quite remarkable and probably assisted most by the fact that we knew there was bugger all room left in the car after clearing out the camper trailer.

Part of the plan for Sunday had been to send Caroline off shopping whilst I took the four kids to the movies, but by the time that we got around to the movie bit, Caroline decided that she didn’t really want to do anymore shopping and so she’d go to the movies as well.

I think that the last movie that I saw in the cinema was Return of the King. Yes, the third installment of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It’s been that long. So imagine just how much I’d enjoyed going through the now screening list to find a movie that all four of our children would sit through and at least enjoy a little. Think about how excited I was when the result of the search was, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”

But of course with Caroline going as well, Michael quickly seized on the concept of one parent going with him to see something he wanted to see and the other taking everyone else (or at least those that preferred) to see the dog movie. There was the briefest glimmer of hope that I wouldn’t have to be that second parent when Michael was quite firm on wanting to be accompanied by Daddy to the movie. Sadly, so were the other three. And of course majority ruled and I got to see the dog movie.

The funny thing is that when I was taking four of them, I was quite resigned to the fact that I was going to see it. But with an alternate option, a glimmer of hope emerged. A glimmer was quickly smashed against the rocks, reason dispersing it to the furthest reaches of the universe and dog movie it was.

Did I enjoy my first trip back to the cinema. Well, it wasn’t as bad as getting a needle stuck in my eye, but the fact that I had to pay so much to watch that movie …ouch. Now I remember why I love DVD’s and a home projector so much.

After the movie it was time for Thanksgiving dinner. Which in true Aussie style, meant a BBQ and good red wine. But then, thanksgiving isn’t really about turkey anymore than Christmas is (apparently) so we were lucky to get to share it with friends from home and to have escaped Fort Mac for the day. I’ll tell you about the harvest festival in a whole other tirade.

Third Eight

So it would be wrong of me to let such an occasion pass unmentioned, even if I do happened to be five days late or so. Yes, on the 2nd of October, Thomas turned 8. And, although at risk of saying this upon the occasion of every birthday from this point on … “I can’t believe my little man is 8!:”

So how is Thomas at 8? He’s still a delight. He still struggles with his speech at times, but it doesn’t seem to be holding him back too much. Its mainly when he decides to go off on a whine that he tends to become les decipherable.

There were moments late in the last school year where we thought that the school was going to recommend that he stay back a year to ensure that his reading and hence his writing was up to scratch. We resisted on the basis that he’ll be spending 18 months in what ever school year he ends up returning to school in.

He’s reading has certainly come a long way … I don’t get the opportunity to compare him to his peers, but within himself he’s improved a long long way. His writing I can’t say quite the same for, but we’ll persevere and I’m sure that with effort he’ll get there. He is certainly showing an aptitude for math similar to his older brothers.

He retains his wicked sense of humour and is often smiling, wanting to keep up with the two older boys and at his most frustrated when he finds himself excluded.

He has an Aussie friend Harry over here that he has a lot of fun with, they’re both into starwars in a big way and share other interests as well. He’s playing ringette again this year, in Emily’s team, but sadly not Harry’s. That was almost enough for the commitment to the team to be over before the season began, but I think after scoring a couple of goals and realizing that he’ll be one of the power players on the team that he might start to change his mind.

One of the nicest things that can be said about Thomas at the point in his life is the bond he seems to have formed with Harry’s youngest sister, Bridget; who’s all of 2 and a half years old. If we happen to be sitting down and having a couple of drinks, Bridget is quite happy to go and plonk herself in his lap and he’s quite happy to have her there. It’s very cute.

Fall is here again

I had to travel down to Edmonton and Calgary during the week and flew back into Fort McMurray as the sun was headed towards the other side of the world and I happened to glance out the window the plane.

It was a spectacular sight as the leaves have begun to turn and so instead of the varying hues of green that are usually visible out of the window, it was a much prettier view with the sun catching and reflecting off the golds and yellows and oranges of the birch leaves.

It was truly a reminder that fall is here again. That and the fact that once again, we’re seeing single digit high temperatures and in the mornings, temperatures that struggle to get positive.

Broken Rule

I went to work yesterday ready to prepare for a workshop that I was running in the afternoon. About 10am things started to deteriorate when it seemed like my digestive system was about to rebel and object to the food that I’d put in there for breakfast.

I soldieredon, swallowed a couple of tylenol and things seemed to improve somewhat through the rest of the day, though not quite to the point that I would have liked. My phone was happily vibrating away throughout the day as people tried to call me. The third time that it came up as ‘home’ I decided that I really should answer it and find out what was going on.

It was of course Caroline. She had rung me to let me know that she wasn’t feeling well and so would I be able cook dinner for the kids. By this time it was about 4pm and my health was taking a decided turn for the worse and so I knew that things weren’t going to be pretty by the time that I made it home.

Indeed, by the time that I did get home, I was aching, nauseous and less than happy. The difference between Caroline and I at that point was that Caroline had managed to make it to bed. I found at least 3 visiting children in the house so I quickly sent them off packing and then cooked dinner for the kids (if you can call pulling out some pre-cooked chicken out and boiling some 2 minute noodles cooking).

Then I clambered into bed.

I set the alarm so that I’d remember to put the kids to bed and when it went off, basically arranged for Michael to play Daddy and get everyone into bed.

Fortunately it worked. I can’t help but think though that one of the golden rules has been broken ... we’re not both supposed to be sick at the same time! Its supposed to be that one parent gets sick, the other works their arse off keeping everything afloat, then they get sick and the first one has the pleasure of picking up all that slack whilst they’re still trying to improve.

Both sick at once ... complete bloody rip off.

Nick of Time

The other night as I went upstairs to go to sleep, I was surprised to find that Thomas had decided to sleep outside of his room on the landing. I was just in the process of starting to move him when Emily came stumbling, sleep-eyed out of her own bedroom. I assumed that she was just going to go to the toilet, but she got as far as Thomas and then turned, headed back into her room. Just as she started to turn away though, I noticed a touch of ‘spittle’ between her lips as her cheeks puffed out just a little.

With no time to really think about it, I grabbed her arm and steered her into the nearest bathroom and managed to get her close enough to the toilet that at the point of expulsion, the vomit that I’d forseen predominantly went straight into the bowl. Talk about intervening in the nick of time! The Thought of what we’d have been dealing with had she managed to eject the contents of her stomach over her carpet and toys in her room really is just too much to think about.

She spent the rest of the night asleep on the floor of our ensuite bathroom, which she wasn’t overly happy with, but it also proved to be a prudent move later in the evening when she wasn’t quite aware of where the bucket was. Fortunately by that time we weren’t talking large volumes of vomit.

And of course, the real tragedy was that the following day was to be her first ever night of Gymnastics, which she was oh so excited about, to the point that about the first thing that she said to me as I cleaned up the bathroom was, “Daddy, do I still get to go to Gymnastics?”

I’m sure she’ll make up for that disappointment when she get’s there this week.

Sproing

The weekend just passed was a long weekend (Labour Day) and so we decided that whilst the weather was still somewhat passable, we’d take the opportunity to snap the camper on the back of the car and take off for a couple of nights.

We opted for Jasper because although it’s a long drive (let’s face it, everything worthwhile is from here) it’s in the Rockies and worth visiting every now and then. Friday night, I rushed home from work ready to put the camper down and get underway. In the process of putting the camper down, I thought to myself, “don’t forget the little safety lock that you put on to show Dad when he was here.”

Of course, I promptly forgot. That wasn’t a big drama, it just involved winding it back up to undo it. That’s where things didn’t quite go according to plan. You see the place where this lock was is on the opposite side of the camper and so as I wound it up, I was unable to see that part of the safety lock managed to hook one of the pulleys for the lifting mechanism. It wasn’t until I went back around there to release it that I found this out of course. And by that time, it had not only caught, but bent the lifting arm. It didn’t look good, but I did manage to get the camper back down again.

Then we took off on holidays, and found the rain. We had planned to stop the night in Athabasca, but when we got there, there was sufficient rain that the prospect of standing in it and trying to get the camper up without all the bedding becoming sodden was a little more than we cared for. So we drove on, hoping to find the other side of the storm, watching as lightning lit the sky all around us.

The rain stopped and it seemed that things were taking a turn for the better when we found a lovely little camp site to stop at. We detached the camper from the car, put all the jacks down so that it was close to level and then started to wind the camper up.

Somewhere in this process was where I heard it, “Sproing” and at that point noted that not all of the camper was winding up. At that point, just a little despair set in as I figured that I had managed to snap one of the lifting mechanism’s cables. At 11pm on the Friday night of a long weekend, several hundred kilometers from anywhere likely to be able to help us.

I swore a bit. Caroline was a trooper. I swore some more.

We hitched the camper back on and started driving on towards Edmonton where we were likely to be able to get help.

As we drove through Morrinson, we saw a sign – RV CITY – BODY SHOP. We checked the door. It appeared that they’d be open in the morning. One could only hope that they’d be able to help with the cable.

We drove on to St Albert and found some room in a motel before driving back to Morrison in the morning. At the first mention of ‘Tent Trailer’ and ‘Cable’ I believe the response was, “oh, that’s gonna be ugly.” Fantastic, what a perfect start to a conversation.

The first impression I got was that we were about to run into some ‘typical’ Albertan customer service when the woman basically responded that there was no way that they’d be able to help (though I think she was really referring to their ability to fix it on that day). Being somewhat desperate though, we hung around and suggested that maybe we should be heading further into Edmonton to their competition. About that point we started to talk to one of their technicians who turned out to be about as helpful as someone could be under the circumstances.

It took about 4 blokes to assist in lifting the roof to a point where it could be propped up sufficiently so that we could get in and retrieve our stuff and also at that point to see the damage that had actually been done. Turns out that there was no snapped cable .. just a pulley wheel that had come off where it was supposed to be and some significant damage to the lifting arm. Nothing that I was happy to see.

The end result of our inspection was that we needed to leave the camper behind so that they could repair it for us. That meant that we had to cram everything that we’d taken with us in the camper had to be crammed into the car and go with us (and we didn’t even have the luggage pod on top of the car). Not so squeezy? Considering that one of the greatest joys I’d had from our first trip was finally having somewhere to put all of our stuff and being able to remove the pod from the roof of the car, this was just a little disappointing.

So packed to the rafters, squashed back into something a travel mode that though accustomed to, we thought we’d left behind, we were left to travel on and attempt to find some accommodation in Jasper. On that last, good weather long weekend of the year. It turns out that we were unable to find any for the Saturday night and so stopped just outside of the national park in Hinton. We had been hoping to catch up with the McColls around the campfire Saturday night, but with those plans dashed were pleased that we managed to get a room in the same hotel for the Sunday night.

Turns out that the hotel that I’d booked over the phone for Saturday in Hinton had a swimming pool … and a waterslide. That meant for happy happy kids and an enjoyable stay. We went for a drive to some hotsprings (can’t remember the name just now) and although we didn’t partake in the overcrowded bathing, we went for a walk to the source of the springs where Caroline and the kids dipped their feet. I predicted that with kids crossing the creek someone was bound to get wet and was almost proven wrong. Almost, because both Sam and Thomas managed to get one foot dunked in the water on their way back.!

The following day we took off for Maligne Lake and Canyon and met up with Jim, Annie and their kids Emily and Angus for lunch at the Lake. We did the Maligne lake boat tour to the ‘famous’ spirit Island which was fabulous. The weather wasn’t quite postcard perfect, having snowed on us as we got out of the car in the carpark. Yes, that’s right, it snowed on us … in August! But the place was so beautiful that even without the sun’s warming touch, it was a magnificent sight.

Following our visit to the lake and a walk down to the canyon (well worth seeing) we headed back to the hotel where we dined with the McColl and then set about working out how we could manage to have a drink with our kids in separate rooms some 20 metres apart and around a corner.

We settled for sitting in the corridor whilst we had a couple of quick drinks but ran into something of a problem when we exhausted the limited supply that we’d brought with us. A trip to the bar downstairs addressed the immediate shortage and enlightened us to something that we simply wouldn’t have suspected. Hotel deliveries. A quick phone call to one of the local bottle shops and a little later … alcohol delivered to us sitting in the hall. Not a bad night at all in the end.

Monday was just a simply 9 hour drive back to Fort Mac. Oh and we’re still waiting to hear about the bloody camper repairs … one feels that it could be staying South for the winter. I might have to call it The Goose from now on.

And then they were gone

We have been very spoilt for the last 3 weeks or so in having my parents visiting from back home. (I started this at least a week ago ... but have taken a long time to get around to finishing it).

If there's one thing you learn from such a visit, it is of course the old adage that you don't know just how much you miss something until it is gone. Having Mum and Dad here in our home for a week was too short, but additionally wonderful. It was great for the kids to have the chance to spend some time with Nanny and Poppa.



It all fitted in very well and it was incredibly nice to have some help with some of those little jobs that I haven't seemed to find the time to get to, not to mention the fact that they were here every night when I got home from work.

Of course it was always going to be a short term thing and the Sunday upon which they left came around way too quickly. There were a couple of stand out moments on that final day for me that cause a welling of tears, threatening the barriers that held them back.



We went to church in the morning and as always, seating is something of an issue. We don't exactly get there early enough to have a pick of seats and with 6 of us we often struggle to all sit together so with 8 there was no hope. We found 5 seats with 4 in front and so Caroline and I sat down and were promptly joined by all of the kids. Thomas was sitting next to me but of course Emily was most indignant that she wasn't next to Daddy.

I suggested to Thomas that he might like to move but he wasn't going to until I pointed out that it would be his last chance to sit with Nanny and Poppa at church. he was off like a shot and i don't think i'll ever forget the look on his face as he stood quietly by his Poppa's side, gazing up and waiting for Poppa to notice that he was there. The exchanged look when Dad did notice won't be leaving my memoray any time soon either.

Later in the day we were back at home and Sam had taken out his home made kite to see if he could fly it. I, being the doubter than I am, didn't think that it would ever fly and was inside busy loading photos onto a digital photo frame for Caroline's Mum and Dad. Well the kite must have flown a bit because later on Dad came in asking if I had a ladder other than that which was my grandfather's. The kite was stuck up a tree, beyond reach and unlikely to come down any time soon with it's tail wrapped around several branches.

We investigated various ways of reaching it, but it looked like a lost cause to me. I had written the kite off. But Dad had managed to understand Sam much better than I had and had picked up on the fact that the kite was one that Sam had made at school in Australia (where as I thought he'd made it locally). Dad persevered and the kite was salvaged, with Sam showing due pleasure. It was a lovely moment to have had Poppa do that for him.

The final moment that sticks with me was at the airport where we finally had to say goodbye. Thomas came up to me and said with glistening eyes, "I'm going to miss Nanny and Poppa." As I relayed this to Mum, we both fought back tears.



The drive home was hard, something to do with unseasonal levels of moisture under the eyelids and that night was strangely quiet.

Now we're left counting the days until our next visitors get here (105 as of this moment)

Turn that way ... no, the OTHER WAY!

In the last couple of weeks, we’ve managed to drive from Toronto to Montreal, to Quebec City, to Lake Placid, to Rochester and finally to Niagara Falls. One of the things that I’ve been meaning to buy whilst we’re away is a GPS unit. Until I actually manage to do so however, we have been reliant on maps and the good old combination of Caroline navigating and me following the instructions.

Now at this point, you’re probably expecting that there’s likely to be some criticism of the navigational portion of that equation, but the reality is that Caroline is actually a great navigator. Its my inner sense of doubt and apprehension that probably gets us into more trouble, because I hate nothing more than the feeling that I don’ t know that I am headed in the wrong direction. And so I would have to say that as many of the u-turns that we’ve enjoyed were my fault as opposed to navigational error and the navigational errors tended more to be the result of a lack of a map of appropriate detail or scale than directional misfortune.

It all came to something of a head last night after a couple of hours of hurried outlet shopping in the US as we tried to find the right bridge to get us across to the Canadian side of the falls whilst paying the least amount of toll possible.

It was about the point that we were trying to head the right way onto the 104 that things went wrong. The main reason they went’ wrong was because again, there wasn’t enough detail on the map and I made an assumption that we needed to go one way and Caroline only looked up to tell me that I should have gone the other way at the point that we were committed to going where we shouldn’t.

Not to worry, you simply take the next exit, get off and then turn around and come back the way that you came. Unless you’re me. Then you get off, get back on and find yourself back on the road that you wanted to be on, but still going in the wrong direction. Another exit fixed that and we eventually found our way back to the point of the first error.

But by this time, Caroline was seeing the funny side of a situation to which I was far from amused, resulting in her being in a fit of giggles and me being, well ‘a grumpy bastard’ probably understates it.

All things come out ok in the wash though and we managed to take a slow, scenic route, run a red light and finally make our way onto the bridge that brought us back to Canada. We even found the hotel.

I still intend to buy the GPS unit though, even if I do get it at a point where I really only have one option to travel by on the way back to Fort McMurray!

The Falls

We find ourselves tonight at Niagara Falls. Wow. It’s hard to describe the beauty of this place and the wonder that it inspires. Despite the hordes of tourists around the place and the gaudy Vegas-like entertainment strip, the falls themselves are worthy of the visit. I don’ think verbal or written description can truly do the falls justice, they are simply amazing.

We went for a ride on the Maid of the Mist this afternoon, the boat that takes you right up to the horseshoe falls (there’s actually two major components to the falls) and the sheer volume of water that pours over the cliff every second is mind blowing. I simply can’t imagine what inspired some bloke to go over the falls in a barrel. In about 1901 none-the-less. And he survived. Some kid actually survived falling over the falls in nothing more than a life vest at some point early in the same century and if it was your kid that you saw going over, you’d have to think that it was the last time that you were ever going to see them. Its just a monstrous amount of water.

Its 9pm at the moment and apparently they light up the falls at night. Hopefully once Mum and Dad come back from their walk, Caroline and I will get a chance to go out there and have a look ourselves and see it.

Go ... Australia?

So here we are in the middle of the olympics and we're touring all around North America. It's made for an interesting and different experience of the olympics from what I am accustomed to.

For the first couple of days we were in Eastern Canada and so watching Canadian broadcasts of the event. Right now though, we're in Lake Placid, home of the 1980 (and 1932) winter games in the good ol' US of A.

THe canadian broadcasts I've found in the main to be quite watchable. One of those things about Canada, is they don't have quite as many athletes featuring in medal winning events. That means that although they focus on the Canadian atheletes when ever they can, they tend to show a wide variety of other teams as well. And their commentary doesn't appear to be too biased.

But now, in the US, my god, what a difference. Its all america all the time. Australia might rate a mention if we happen to win a medal, but its a big chest thumping, self congratulating style of presentation. It may be the same back home when someone from outside of Australia is subjected to our TV coverage (hell, even I've complained about the sort of coverage we get at home .. swimming swimming and more swimming ... but this has sure rammed it home!

The Bastard Tour of Canada

Caroline’s cousin Klemens came to stay with us for a couple of weeks last month and it was great to have him out. There were moments though, when reflecting upon his time with us, that I had to rate it as something of a bastard’s tour of Canada.

It wasn’t all bad, it was probably just a piece of it that really doesn’t sound all that good upon reflection.

Klemens landed in Calgary and Caroline and the kids picked him up from the airport. One of the first experiences that he was treated to was the Calgary Stampede. Sounds great. But then one has to consider that he was attending this wondrous event with Caroline and the four kids in tow! I believe his comment was something along the lines of ‘its very busy, isn’t it?” in reference to the efforts associated with successfully negotiating such an event with the four children (he is one of four himself, so by the time he left I think that he had a new-found respect for what his own parents had been through when he was growing up).

He was left to spend the latter part of the evening by himself when Caroline brought the kids back to our accommodations and from a couple of conversations we had, I’m sure he appreciated some of the finer points of the cow’girl’ population.

After that, the next thing that we decided to do to him was sit him in the back of the car with the smalls and casually take off for Montana. Then, the following day, show him all the lovely scenery from a bus, make him sit and mind the pizza with us while some people went horse-riding (admittedly it was by his choice that he wasn’t part of the equestrian activities) and then bus it back down the mountain.

Then, there was another long drive in the car, a stop at a decaying and no-longer used aqueduct (the risk of travelling with engineers) and then even more driving until we stayed at Dinosaur Provincial Park. Even there we gave him a chance to have some time alone and sent him off to climb to the top of the formations and capture the sunset (only to find out the next day that he hadn’t actually made it all the way tot the top as he’d stopped halfway up!)

Of course, with the dawn came another day and another car ride in the back of the car with the kids. This time we had to get all the way back to Fort McMurray, but we decided that we should be make a stop at the actual Dinosaur museum that lives just outside of Drumheller. It was an impressive looking building that held great promise. But because this was the bastard tour of Canada, all we did was look at the outside, glance at the café and tell Klemens that it was time to get back in the car, visit the supermarket in town for some food and off we went again, driving solidly until about 10:30pm that night when we finally arrived back in Fort McMurray.

We said goodbye to Klemens a week after that and I think that I can say that he actually had a good time and we did manage to send him out drinking with a couple of girls from work, so he wasn’t caged for the entire time1

Cowboys and ... well, more cowboys

One of the things that we wanted to do when we headed down to Calgary the other week was attend the Calgary Stampede.

We were driving down and making arrangements with our generous Calgary hosts, the McColl’s when they let us know that they were going to be at the Stampede that day. A plan quickly formed and soon Caroline had us heading off to ‘The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth’ the first instant that we could upon our arrival in town. We dropped the car off, jumped on a shuttle bus and made our way to the Stampede.

It’s a big event. And like the Royal Adelaide Show, it brings the rural to the city but in a way like I would never have imagined. Now given that we’d driven 700+ kilometers to get there in the previous two days I can’t exactly say that I was approaching this with the best frame of mind. And what I saw when we arrived, quite frankly filled me with dread.

Everywhere you looked there were cowboy hats and cowboy boots. Sure at the Royal Show there’s always some dodgy trend going around, but its typically restricted to that youthful group of people with spare cash and little sense.

At the stampede, there is no such restriction. Age, race, weight, no matter how you cut it, someone was there in their cowboy boots and hat. Now don’t get me wrong, there were some people there that looked hot in their boots and hat, but let’s face it, those were the people that would probably look good in a hessian sack. And I must thank those people (especially the girls) for their attachment to their tiny daisy duke denim shorts and bared midriffs.

Unfortunately fashion sense, apparently like intelligence, is not something that is handed out to all comers. And its particularly sad when the people that have missed out on both of those things decide to cowboy it up. If your belly is two feet past your breasts and your four foot tall, a cowboy hat, boots matched up with a frock really isn’t a good idea. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her.

I can’t say that I really did the Stampede justice as I only managed to spend the one afternoon there and all I saw was the chuck wagon races (great fun for the first three or four, but not something I’d want to spend 2 hours watching again) and the Grand Show.

My first impressions (that those dancing cowboys might be more inclined to participate in a bit of brokeback mountain action rather than any rodeo) of the grand show, weren’t so grand, but it did warm up as things went along. It was possibly detracted from a little by the fact that we all had to stand up and the damn thing went for so long, but by the end of it, I was glad that I’d seen it.

Of course, having said all that, I missed the rodeo and from all reports, it sounds like I missed the best bit. Only Caroline (with due support from Klemens) was brave enough to take the kids a second time! At least everyone had another great day and Mum will be loved for that.

A Beary Scary Adventure

Ever since we've arrived in Canada we've eyed off the great outdoors and talked about how much fun it would be to go camping in this amazing place. But I have to say, one of the biggest deterrents for me has been the thought of bears. And I have to say that it's the first time that I can say that I understand the foreigners consideration of sharks when they visit Australia. I mean, there's probably as many people killed over here by bears as there are by sharks in Australia (can't be bothered searching for any real stats to support that).

Anyway, all those little thoughts about bears that chased themselves around and around my head led me to lean towards the sort of holidays that involved cabins and hotels. And what i really wanted to buy was a big kick arse, solid walled trailer (aka caravan) that no bear was ever going to get into.

Of course, as you'll know from my recent post, we didn't buy the big kick-arse solid walled thing, we got the canvas sided tent-trailer that can be peeled open easier than a sardine can. I finally came to the conclusion though that since most of the bears up here are the black variety rather than the grizzly variety. To some extent it's like saying that they're only gummy sharks, mainly and there's only the occasional great white.

So of course, when we decide to take the thing out for our first trip, I didn't even consider where we were going and in fact it was later that we actually changed our travel plans. It wasn't really until we were at Glacier National park and we pulled in to set up that I realised exactly what we'd done.

We'd driven right into the heart of grizzly territory.

Fan dabby dozy.

It became fairly evident that there was a very proactive 'don't attract the bear' culture going on in that park. Something about the signs that demanded that you weren't allowed to keep food, cooking utensils, water, eating utensils ... pretty much anything that might have a trace of food upon it in the actual tent trailer.

So for the first time in our lives we'd gone out with everything in a place where we wouldn't have to pack and unpack and pack and unpack and the first thing we had to do was bloody unpack it all and load it into the car!

Fortunately, despite the fact that the ranger assured us that there had been a very credible mountain lion sighting the previous night, we slept well and long and after cooking our hot dogs over the camp fire, made sure everything that might attract a bear was safely stowed away. It made for a very full car and a very empty van. It's amazing what a lot of driving, staying up late and utter exhaustion can do to allay one's beary fears.

So we survived our first night camping in the rockies, even if we were to cheap and lazy to walk all the way to the showers which you had to pay for. We might have stunk for a couple of days, but maybe we'd just been spoilt by the McColl's, our hosts in Calgary.

The fact that as we prepared to get ready for the day a couple deer wandered through the park started day two of beautifully.


The second night we were a little better prepared and by virtue of the fact that a lot of people moved on that day, we were able to shift some of our storage from the car and into one of the bear-proof storage bins that are provided in the camp. And the best thing about the second night was the sky. Night one ended when the rain came down and put a downer on the camp fire. Night two was clear as can be and it was stunning. The stars were like carpet. You felt like if you reached up and swept your hand through the air, you could collect a fistful of diamonds to bring sparkling to the ground.

It was so gorgeous that when I got up to pee at 3am i was left staring in wonder ... gazing to the heavens ... right up until I remembered the bit about the mountain lions and the bears!

Honoured

Growing up in Australia, we’re influenced by North American culture in a multitude of ways that you don’t even think about. Now that we’re living over here, some of them occasionally pop up out of the blue and where you’d be surprised if it happened at home, over here, you tend to think, “Oh yeah, I guess they do that here.”

The most recent example of this that I’ve come across popped up at the end of the school year. Michael and Sam were invited to a presentation evening. I didn’t actually wonder too much about it other than to make sure that I got to the school in time to be there for the presentation.

As it turns out, both of the little blighters ‘made honour role.’ Quite impressive really. And one of those things that I remember having heard about randomly through all those American TV Shows and movies that I watched as a kid growing up. I have to say though I never understood the mechanics of it until now.

As far as the school that our boys are at, to make the honour roll, you have to exceed 80% in all of your subjects. Now given that they both skipped half a year of school and moved forward, I have to say that I am very very proud of them

We’ll leave out questions about how good the education system might be, about the fact that it seems to be a very test-orientated, seventies kind of environment and just bask in the fact that they both managed to do it. Hopefully they keep their heads down enough next year to manage it again!

How to start a holiday

If you’ve ever read any of my entries that happen to relate to packing for a holiday before, you’ll realise that it’s not exactly what I call the happiest portion of the time designated for relaxation and escapism.

Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve been trying to make a break from Fort Mac so that we could a) escape Fort Mac (a vital sanity restorer) and b) christen the camper trailer that we’ve bought. Yes, that’s a bit of news in and of itself. We’ve bought a Bonair camper trailer (or as they’re known as over here, a tent trailer – photos hopefully included).





With the turnaround finalisation dates being somewhat elastic in their timing, it was something of a challenge for us to actually pin down dates upon which we could travel. We finally did manage to get some dates together and also managed for them to coincide with the Calgary Stampede.

The plan was, leave Fort Mac Friday night, travel the rest of the way to Calgary on Saturday morning and then spend Sunday through Tuesday in Calgary and the local surrounds (I was then going to fly back to Fort Mac for the remainder of the week before returning to Calgary to drive back with the family again). During this time, one of Caroline’s cousin’s from Switzerland is going to be arriving for a short visit with us as well. We haven’t seen him since we were in Switzerland on our honeymoon (when he was 8) so it’s going to be interesting to meet him again.

Things in this world tend to be a little fluid though, so my plans changed and although we managed to get down here over the weekend, I’ll be flying back to Fort Mac on Monday and then back to Calgary on Wednesday night).

Anyway, the point of all this is that we did manage to leave Fort McMurray late on Friday (mainly because I got home from work an hour later than I had planned). And because I was late, I did manage to avoid that heart palpitation inducing period that involves getting crap in the car ready to leave. What I did find out though as I wound down the support to lower the van onto the tow ball was that there simply wasn’t going to be enough clearance to tow it adequately. Of coure, we live in Fort McMurray. Which means that when you go to purchase the draw bar, you get the ONLY one that they have in stock, which happens to have a 4 inch drop.

Now that was fine for getting the camper back to our house from the people that we bought it from, but once Caroline had had her way with it and stuffed it to the seams with the things that a of six needs for a week away from the civilised comforts of home, it was simply too much. We weren’t going to be able to get out of the driveway, let alone the 700 odd kilometres required to get to Calgary. And of course 6pm on a Friday night is the ideal time to be wanting to go to town to purchase a new drawbar.

I did ring friends on the insanely remote chance that they had one lying around (hey it worked for spit and swallow one year) and wondered what the hell I might do. It was then that I pulled it from the car and noticed the little piece on the labelling that noted that it could be used either way up.

Fortunately, although not in an overly aesthetic towing position, it was good enough to be able to safely tow and get us underway.

And thus, with a minor panic settled before it escalated into a major Dave moment, we left home. I managed to turn three whole corners before we had to come to the first stop of the journey. And I must say that the fact that it was a set of flashing police lights illuminating the skyline over the top of the camper was a reason for a minor panic all of its own.

As it turns out, turns two and three of the three corners that we took from our house prior to stopping have stop signs at them. At the first one, I didn’t quite come to a complete stop, mainly because I was still feeling the weight of the laden camper and getting used to the handling of the car. It turns out that at that point a police car nestled in quietly behind us.

When I reached the second stop sign (turn 3) there was a car coming. Its position was such that if I rolled through the sign and didn’t come to a complete stop, I could continue, where as if I stopped, I’d have to wait that little bit longer. So I rolled through.

And it was at that point that the fancy lights display started up behind me. I quietly pulled over and waited for the local officer of the law to come and have a little bit of a chat for me.

He opened with “Do you know why I am pulling you over?” to which I had to reply in the negative in case I suggested that I’d done something wrong other than that for which I’d been stopped (no point dobbing yourself in for more trouble – I assume its because of the kilo of coke in the back?)

He pointed out the fact that I’d failed to stop at two stop signs and added, for information purposes only I’m sure that each one in and of itself was worth a little donation to the Province of Alberta (or city of Fort Mac) to the tune of $287. As he said, “Not a good start to a holiday.”

I took it like a man though, after all, I did break the law, and kept the crying on the inside, saving the outward tears for the signing over of the funds. We had a bit of a discussion at that point about the fact that he done me a favour as had the highway patrol stopped me on the open road (because the driving behaviour I had exhibited in the 300m he had observed clearly meant that I was off for a family spree of recklessness and law-breaking) they would have the right to tow my vehicle if I were unable to provide valid insurance.

Because when you get stopped over here, they ask you for you license, registration and insurance. We found items one and two and then handed over item 3 … which was invalid. Recommence the heart wobbles.

There was an error on what we’d received from the insurers though as it stated that it had expired at a time before we’d even set foot on the fair shores of Canada.

All in all it was lining up for a severe and expensive bollicking, but to my surprise, he finished off with the fact that he’d do a license check and if it came up clean, he’d let me off with a warning. At that point the heart settled (a little) and I knew we’d be on our way as I have no license problems in Canada (yet?).

Thank God Caroline wasn’t driving, because one of the tasks for Calgary was for her to get her Canadian license!

Singapore Stories - the tooth ache

It was a Sunday. I was due to fly off-shore the following morning. But before that, there was a staff vs students soccer game at the school that Caroline was teaching at. I played to bring up the numbers on the faculty side of the game.

During the game, I started to notice a disturbing trend. When I headed the ball, it felt like one of my fillings was jarring loose, or wobbling around in its socket. As the day progressed, it started to worry me more and more, mainly because I was about to head out to the middle of the South China Sea for a couple of months with nary a dentist in sight.

After we’d eaten dinner and it was still bugging me, I decided that I should try and do something about it. And of course 8pm on a Sunday is a great time to try and get into the dentist. I went through the phone book and finally managed to get a dentist that would open up for me ... for the measly sum of $200 (plus whatever treatment they would provide).

I ventured in there and explained my situation, that I was leaving first thing in the morning, that I wouldn’t be back for about 2 months and so I wanted to know what was going on with my tooth. So after taking a look and not being able to find anything, the lady said that she’d need to take x-rays, so x-rays were taken. Then she came out and happily told me that she’d be able to view them tomorrow. Quietly and calmly (well almost) I reminded her of the fact that I had already told her that I was leaving first thing in the morning and that I wouldn’t be there to view them tomorrow.

She had a bit of a think and presented me with 2 options. She could give me some painkillers and hope that things went away, or she could take the nerve out. Now is it just me, or are those two options just ever so slightly diametrically opposed to one another?

I nearly shat myself at that the time and decided to go with the option that didn’t involve tearing into my mouth late at night at least until I was absolutely sure that it was actually the best option for me to take. Besides, I’d been told that a severe toothache is actually not a bad way to get some time off of the barge. I wasn’t keen that as a back up plan though and opted for a course of painkillers!

We left the surgery and Caroline suggested that perhaps we should call her friend back home who was at the time in the latter stages of studying dentistry. I was all for a bit more information. After a couple of quick questions, she asked exactly the right one. Did I have any sinus trouble. As it turned out I did at the time and it was suggested that referred pain from sinus trouble could result in the sort of sensation

More importantly, she referred to the fact that a nerve removal procedure should be done over a period of two visits, spaced something like 2 weeks apart. The thought of what might have happened in my mouth had I opted to go with ‘just rip it out’ quite frankly sets my bladder quivering!

I was very relieved when my sinus trouble cleared up a week later to note that my tooth was in fact fine!f

the itch you shouldn't scratch

Summer's back here in Fort McMurray and there's a couple of things that come with summer. The first notable thing that comes about with summer is the caterpillars. And not just one or two of the little blighters, but literally swarms of them.

Apparently its an annual thing here. Such an annual thing that it was reported on the radio near hatching time that the municipal council was out spraying .. because there were something like a billion caterpillars expected to hatch.

Now that is a lot of caterpillars. There were patches of them on the trees, square feet of black patches of caterpillars. I went out to Tom's soccer and there was some pine fencing and there were lines the entire length of the fence, caterpillars crawling from one end to the other, head to tail.

They don't last for too long though, only a couple of weeks, so that now there are really none to be seen.

But they have been replaced. There's a new menace on the prowl.

Mosquitos. And maybe they're not quite present in the same numbers as the caterpillars, but they're more mobile and they're a hell of a lot more vicious.

We brought the rid back with us when we came back after easter as we've been told that the local stuff doesn't have the active ingredient that makes rid so good. And so the other night I went out to play a game of soccer and Caroline told me to remember to take the Rid, because i was playing on the field that she usually plays on and its a bit of a meeting place for the winged vipers.

I of course agreed that that would be a good course of action and promptly left it home. I borrowed some stuff off of one of the locals and covered every inch of my bare skin and that seemed ok. After the game, as we stood around and had a few beers, it was an interesting little dance that one adopted, trying not to spill the beverage whilst trying to swat away mosquitos like the planes attacking king kong at the top of the Empire state, though they seemed to bring more friends than the planes did against kong.

I thought I had survived ok, but then the following day, the dots started to appear. Little red, mosquito induced welts all over the backs of my calves. Turns out that the little bastards had found something of a loop hole. Get me through my socks. Being long socks, i'd left them up, thinking that this would at least protect part of my body from the swarm.

It wasn't really until the following day that I realised this though. Not until about the time that I suddenly felt itchy all down the back of my calves. And after a day in jeans, with the denim not so gently caressing them all day, I finally took them off and found my legs to look something like a crazy drunks version of abstract join the dots.

Eventually, they might even fade away ...

Chemical Warfare

When we were growing up, we had an apricot tree in the back yard. For awhile, I was a big fan of apricot jam and even apricots straight from the tree. As time went on though, I think it reached that too much of a good thing point and I started to eat them a lot less.

We also had a dog that liked the apricots, but being something of a small dog, she wasn't really of the right sort of stature to reach the apricots until they'd already fallen from the tree. Added to that, i think she had something of a taste for the softer, baked in the sun, slightly fermented fruit rather than the fresh stuff.

The result of this was usually discovered later in the evening when the dog was asleep inside. You'd be happily watching tv when a stragne aroma would suddenly waft through the room, usually with enough stench behind it to clear out anyone unfortunate enough to remain in the vicinity.

Well, apparently the affect of apricots isn't limited to K9's. The dried apricot variety, particularly when processed through a woman's digestive system, produces an effect almost to a level equivalent to that of the dog.

So it was with great delight that I sat watching TV the other night that I discovered that one of the things that had been consumed during the trip back from Edmonton (that Caroline had made with the kids (and without me)) was dried apricots.

And let's just say that I didn't discover this fact through discussion. Ahh memories.

The Christening

A month or so ago now, with Summer on the horizon (somewhat distant, but there none the less) I decided that it was about time that I invested in some golf clubs. After all, the only clubs that I’d ever had had been handed down from Paul to Dad and on to me. I was one of those rare people that pulled out a driver that was actually made of wood! Not to mention the size complex one get’s when everyone else’s driver is about 3 times the size of your own.

I was in Edmonton for work and so walked into the shop, got the guy to show me some clubs and walked out with a brand new, complete set of clubs. They go well with the bag that I won several years ago. It never quite looked right with the old clubs in it.

I am getting invited to a number of golf days through the unions that I am now dealing with and other work functions. I have been looking forward to that point where I get to pull the clubs out and actually have a hit.

Caroline has also been somewhat keen to pursue a it of golf and went to an information night at one of the courses here a little while ago. In doing this, it was suggested that she might need some clubs. I told her that if it really came to it, she could use mine (at least until she decided whether she was actually going to enjoy the game or not).

And yes, you can probably guess what happened at this point. I came home one evening to be told that Caroline had managed to get along to a bit of a give it a go type session at the driving range and that she’d used my clubs.

My new clubs.

Not the old clubs

My brand new, never used, never touched a golf ball, barely even swung, brand new golf clubs.

“It was only the driving range and I didn’t use them all.”

They were my new clubs. I still haven’t used them. And now, they’re not even virgins anymore. What more can I say?

Man Down! Man Down!

Last night the boys’ school held a ‘family dance’. Essentially it was a disco for the kids that the parents got to go along to so that they could embarrass their kids (well I’m sure that wasn’t quite the intent, but for the only girl-aware boy that we know it was certainly the case!)
That however is the purpose of writing. As usual it was something of a struggle to get all four Temby minors dressed, agreeable and moving out the door in a cohesive fashion, so Michael went on ahead to wait for us in the school playground. As we managed to mobilise extra children, Sam and Thomas also went on ahead and we followed with Emily (more than happy to be escorted by both Mummy AND Daddy!)

When we arrived at the school, we found Michael on a bench on the side of the playground in tears. Asking what had happened, it was quickly determined that a boy from Sam’s year level had shot both Michael and Sam with a ‘bb gun’. My first instinct was to shrug it off (I’ve never actually seen or used a bb gun but was always of the impression that they would sting a bit, but that was about all. The fact that the kid had one in a school playground (even after hours) was something that I wasn’t impressed with by any stretch of the imagination.

Sam showed me where he’d been hit (in the knee) and blood had been drawn and then Michael showed us the two spots (welts) on his back where he’d been hit). I decided to call the boy (who was nonchalantly playing on the equipment) over to let him know just how I felt about it.

He was rather insistent that he’d only shot Michael once (like that made a difference) so we showed him the two spots and asked him what he thought they were. A rather ignorant shrug of the shoulders was the response to which I believe i replied, “Well they aren’t bloody bug bites are they?!”

We abandoned him and went on to the school, having assured him that we would be reporting it to the school and that therefore he could expect his parents to know about it.

Its worth noting at this point that if I was angry, Caroline was seething to a degree at the dangerous level of “very angry mother.”

We did indeed report it to the headmaster of the school, who promptly went directly to the house of the child in question and knocked on the door. Massive kudos for immediate action.

During the course of the dance, Caroline discussed the incident with a number of people who said that we should report the incident to the RCMP (cops). My initial thought was that this was possibly a little over the top. But I kept thinking about it as the night wore on.

I haven’t ever really reached a point of being particularly pro or against gun ownership. Because it all comes down to who owns the gun. Responsibly owned, the gun is no worse than a chainsaw. I know a number of people that own guns and take every precaution one could ask for in regards to ensure safe operation.

And then there’s the American gun culture that we all hear about. And living up here in the remote parts of Canada, there’s a lot of hunting that goes on. So I have to wonder about a 9 year old kid who is allowed to wander around the streets with a bb gun unsupervised and exactly what his future holds for him.

Let’s just say that his immediate future definitely includes a visit with his parents by the school and may well indeed include a visit from the RCMP. Because in the end, we did make the call. I don’t want to have to worry about my kids being threatened by a bb gun. Deadly? Probably not. Potential to cause injury? Definite. I don’t want to risk that one percenter (or even less) that one of those pellets takes out a kid’s eye (my kid or anyone else’s).

Emily's first goal

Here, it is, Emily's first ever soccer goal!

And a minor twitch

Something that I haven’t been able to ignore over here lately are the ads for drugs on the television. I really only remember two types of drug ads from back home (well three if you count the anti illegal drug type) and those tended to be grouped into two areas: Headaches and period pain. Not having any need for the later, I didn’t pay much attention. Neither did I tend to pay a whole lot of attention to he former (which probably means that there’s a host of ads for different drugs that I’ve completely failed to account for).

But over here, it’s almost no holds barred by comparison. (Remembering here that much of te TV that we watch is from the US via cable). But the thing that gets me literally giggling on the couch, in serious risk of a floorward tumble is the second half of the ad. Well really, it’s more than half and that’s part of the point, but it’s the bit of the ad that comes after the first bit and therefore is thought of as the second half.

You see if an advertisement for one of these drugs goes for a minute, only the first 10 to 20 seconds actually tell you about the benefit of the drug and the wonders that it will do for the body, mind and/or soul.

The REST of the ad, the funny bit is obviously one of those things that get’s generated by the legal, sue the pants off your neighbour type world that America seems to live in.

So what transpires is that you start out with an advertisement for a medication that will (hypothetically and not based on any REAL drug) cure you of a mildly annoying case of drippy nose. They’ll tell you just how wonderful it is and how dry and well maintained your nose will be as a result of taking your drug. The announcer will be upbeat and happy.

Then there will be the bit that says that before undertaking a course of their drug, you really should consult a physician. Because there’s just a slight, remote chance of a side affect.

Well, for a start, there’s the bit where they tell you that the drug is guaranteed to work for everyone. Then there’s the side affects. These are generally read in that sort of monotonic, deadpan voice that says, “We’re really not saying anything important right now, so you may as well change channels, but just in case, we’re going to cover our arse). And of course, there’s a remote chance of:

Liver failure, heart palpitations, weepy arse, genital shrinkage, mild brain melt and just ever so remotely possibly, your dog will turn gay and run off with the neighbour’s tomcat.

And you wonder why I fall about laughing ...

And one more ...

More Video

So I went to bed last night thinking that the video had failed as it wouldn't come up after I'd posted it here, but tonight when I turned the computer on, there it was, so hopefully it worked for everyone else! The footage is from our trip to Marmot Basin as the title suggests. It's taken on a green slope mainly because that's where I was prepared to get the camera out. We've some footage from the top of the mountain of the scenery but I'm still experimenting with getting the video from the camera to the computer. Anyway, here's a little bit more from when I got adventurous and did some filming whilst skiing (on the easy run of course)!

Ski Bunnies

I should know better than to try and post video, but I'm a glutton for punishment, so let's see how we go ...

Clunk

With the sun making a reappearance and treating us to a truly beautiful day on Saturday, I cajoled Michael and Sam into getting out into the park that adjoins our house to kick the soccer ball with me. They'd been enjoying the sun most of the day, but I'd just returned from a couple of hours at work and so was keen to get out and have some fun.

All was going well and we were chasing the ball as much as our inaccurate passing required, right up to the point where Sam chased the ball in amongst the play equipment in the park. He was so focussed on the ball that he was chasing that he failed to notice that he was running straight at a steel horizontal bar that was right at head height.

There was a rather loud clang as he managed to smack his forehead into the bar and then he was flat on his back, tears streaming from his eyes, blood in his mouth and just a little bit the worse for wear.

It would have been funny if it hadn't been such a vicious smash. Fortunately he was ok not too long after, though with a sizeable egg on his forehead which is now starting to bruise nicely.

Still kicking

Was it tempting fate to post about the fact that the snow was almost gone? Or was it the fact that Michael has been wishing that there would be snow on the ground for his birthday next week? There is of course no such reason for it, but the reality is that over the weekend and Monday/Tuesday we had about 72 hours of snow. Not big fluffy flakes, but tiny pin head kind of flakes. But when it’s been falling for that amount of time, my god does it build up?!

Of course it started whilst we were in Edmonton on the weekend. Sunday morning we awoke and were thinking about what we’d like to do before we went back. As we enjoyed our breakfast we heard that there was a snow storm predicted all the way from Calgary through to Fort McMurray. Deciding that discretion would be the better part of valour, we got in the car and drove, with a commitment that if we got an hour out of Edmonton and the roads were too bad that we would then turn around and stay the night.

The roads were pretty good and we were travelling between 90 and a hundred clicks for hours. It was when we turned north up Highway 3 that things started to get a bit slower. In the main, driver behaviour was good and with the conditions being what they were, I wasn’t taking any chances with overtaking, so if someone in front of me was doing 80, that’s what I did until there was a really really really safe chance to go past them (I think I overtook two vehicles) or they took a different route.

Fit n Firm

So for the last 12 weeks I have participated in a program that the local equivalent of TAFE has been running called Fit n Firm. The result has been watching my eating habits and a lot of time spent on the elliptical trainer in the basement.

Tonight was the final measurement. The results? I’ve lost 15 pounds (yes, I’ve noted before that although we’re in a metric country, they’re still sometimes a little backward). I lost cm off my waist and 4 off my hips and improved my reach (in a stretch out and touch the toes sense) by 10 cm.

Overall, I’ve been really happy with my success. I’ve actually managed to buy a pair of shorts a size smaller than normal and for the first time in a very long time, bought a t-shirt that was a medium rather than a large. But there’s still room for improvement!

Suicide Drive

As I sit in a hotel room, waiting for four young children to depart to the land of nod (or sleepy bo-bos) and Caroline parties with her ringette team, I find myself with that wonderful confluence of events ... some time to write, and something to write about. Even though it’s small, I decided that I should capture it.

I was driving with the kids today, having finally managed to get them into the car as we attempted to get to Caroline’s ringette game somewhere near the front end of the game (she had wisely gone on ahead with team-mates) and given I didn’t really know exactly where I was going, i wasn’t perhaps paying quite the attention to the road that i might normally.

I pulled up at an intersection and looked at the arrow on the sign above me that clearly indicated that I was in a lane that could only make a left hand turn. No problem there, left was the direction that I wanted to go in. So I reached into those somewhat dormant recesses of my mind that relate back to the study I did to get my Canadian license and thought, “one way road onto one way road, you can make a left hand turn against the red light, just as you normally can for a right hand turn.

Now because I was on a one way road, I was against the left hand curb of the road, rather than the island as I would have been had I been on a divided road. Which meant of course that because I was turning onto another one way road, I hugged the curb just as if I was turning left at anytime with care back home.

I made the turn and casually started accelerating. There was no traffic so I was nice and relaxed. That relaxed feeling wasn’t a long-term friend though, it had no intention of hanging around. It really started to flee at about the point in time when I realised that there was a small red sedan travelling in the lane next to me on my right. Of course, that in itself wasn’t so bad. It was the fact that it was travelling toward me that gave me pause. That and the really strange look that I could see on the other driver’s face as he looked at me.

Because of course, in Canada, when someone is driving towards you on the road, they are supposed to go past you on your left, not your right! And when I think about it from his perspective, he was actually driving on a divided road. A road that consisted of 6 lanes, three either side of a substantial traffic island. And given he was in the middle lane of his three, there was no way in hell that there should have been another vehicle heading toward him on his right!

Fortunately there was a hotel on the corner and so i quickly aborted my suicide drive and decided to pull into their carpark, traverse it, pull back onto the road that I turned left from and try again. This time I managed to wait for the lights and make my left hand turn to the far side of the intersection.

On the bright side, the kids didn’t even notice that something was wrong!