We were at mass last night and the kids were endeavoring to restrain their excited little hearts and find a way to survive mass without exploding. As usual, I had Emily next to me. Throughout the mass she’d whisper little things to me. Things like “I love you with all my heart Daddy,” or “I love God too,” or “Church isn’t just for rich people, is it Daddy? It’s for everyone.”
As curious as I always am about where some of these little whisperings come from, nothing quite tops the point where she had a curious little look on her face, drawing me to lower my ear to her level so that she could offer up whatever little piece of wisdom it was that she’d been mulling over.
She looked at me, lifted her mouth to my ear and whispered, “I farted.”
Dec 24, 2010
Dec 17, 2010
Do you fake it?
The Christmas tree that is, don’t know what the rest of you were thinking.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
Dec 13, 2010
Top Speed
We played touch football again tonight, something we’ve been partaking in each Monday night since the season began. We’ve had a mixed season, leaning more to the losing side of the balance sheet than I’d prefer, but most weeks there’s something in the game to at least keep me interested.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Dec 11, 2010
Start with a list
Its always interesting when you see your children starting to emulate some of your habits. Its funny enough when you realise that you are repeating the things that your parents have done. I often walk out of the house thinking, wallet, watch ... starting off the list that I used to hear my father walking out the door with (wallet, watch, train ticket).
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
Nov 9, 2010
Just like Christmas
Unwrapping everything of the back of returning from Canada has been a little bit like Christmas, finding things that you knew you had but hadn't really thought about until you find them again.
Then there was the stuff that was put into storage in Australia whilst we were away. I knew that we'd put some wine into storage, because we weren't quite up to chugging it all down before we left and were too tight to just give it away (especially when we found out that we could actually have it stored). Caroline asked me the other day how much wine we had put into storage and I told her that from memory (as poor as that can be) there was about a dozen bottles that we'd bothered to save. She seemed surprised and when I asked why, she told me that there appeared to be more boxes than would be required to pack away a dozen bottles of wine.
Tonight I happened to find where those boxes had ended up in the shed and decided to take a peek and get them down into the pit where they'd be isolated from the temperature fluctuations they'd otherwise be exposed to. It was like Christmas come early as each bottle had been individually wrapped and I found myself exclaiming in delight as I discovered the treasures that had been put away over three years ago.
Six dozen bottles of 8 to 10 year old reds now nestle in the pit, awaiting further exploration. I sense some fun ahead! Now if only I hadn't decided 21 days ago to enter into a self-imposed detox for a month. I sure wouldn't be typing fluently right now, that's for sure.
Then there was the stuff that was put into storage in Australia whilst we were away. I knew that we'd put some wine into storage, because we weren't quite up to chugging it all down before we left and were too tight to just give it away (especially when we found out that we could actually have it stored). Caroline asked me the other day how much wine we had put into storage and I told her that from memory (as poor as that can be) there was about a dozen bottles that we'd bothered to save. She seemed surprised and when I asked why, she told me that there appeared to be more boxes than would be required to pack away a dozen bottles of wine.
Tonight I happened to find where those boxes had ended up in the shed and decided to take a peek and get them down into the pit where they'd be isolated from the temperature fluctuations they'd otherwise be exposed to. It was like Christmas come early as each bottle had been individually wrapped and I found myself exclaiming in delight as I discovered the treasures that had been put away over three years ago.
Six dozen bottles of 8 to 10 year old reds now nestle in the pit, awaiting further exploration. I sense some fun ahead! Now if only I hadn't decided 21 days ago to enter into a self-imposed detox for a month. I sure wouldn't be typing fluently right now, that's for sure.
Nov 8, 2010
Father of the Year
Last weekend was pretty busy. We’d just had two days of having all of our stuff from Canada land in our house in boxes and having to arrange and unpack everything. On top of that there was the apartment that we had to clear of all the stuff that we’d been surviving with.
As all of this is happening the kids were oscillating between helping, un-helping and generally ignoring the fact that beyond their own possessions, there were other things that needed to be loaded and unloaded from cars. Kids are like that. Sam and Thomas I must say won the prize for most consistent application of the help factor out of the four of them, whilst Michael was being a little more inventive, deciding that it was quicker to rip-stick the goods from the apartment to the car.
The rip-sticks even made it out into the church car park whilst the kids waited for us to finish gas-bagging.
As we went to leave the church, Thomas went for one last run down the slope of the carpark to jump in and stash the rip-stick. As he did so, the additional speed undid him and he fell backwards, to land solidly upon his rump, his hands out behind him in an effort to take a little of the sting out. He shrugged off the embarrassment and sheepishly boarded the van.
When we were then at the apartment, he complained that his wrist was sore and that he wouldn’t really be able to help to carry very much. Caroline suggested that we’d need to take him to the hospital in amongst everything else that was going on for the day. To say that I was excited about going to the Women’s and Children’s to spend a couple of hour waiting to be seen would have quite simply been a big fat lie.
So I did what any good father would do. Told him to suck it up, see how it went and carry on.
As the day proceeded, he seemed to favour it less and I was happy that the right decision had been made (having convinced Thomas that it was likely just a bit sprained and that it would come good over the next couple of days).
During the week, the pain continued and Caroline decided (like good Mothers do) that it would be worth getting him checked out by the doctor after all. This resulted in a trip to the radiologist. When he came home last night, there was no sign of a cast, but Thomas was happy enough to let me know with one of those little Thomas smirks that he had a fracture. I played it up and let him know that at least with no cast, he wouldn’t be too restricted.
Then today the phone rang at work. It was Caroline to inform me that Thomas would have to go back to the doctor tomorrow ... yes, for a cast of course.
“Just a sprain,” he said. Father of the year for sure.
*(As a side note, those toys have been a huge hit - I think the fact that they received them at Christmas last year when the world was doused in snow was a bit of a let down for them initially)
As all of this is happening the kids were oscillating between helping, un-helping and generally ignoring the fact that beyond their own possessions, there were other things that needed to be loaded and unloaded from cars. Kids are like that. Sam and Thomas I must say won the prize for most consistent application of the help factor out of the four of them, whilst Michael was being a little more inventive, deciding that it was quicker to rip-stick the goods from the apartment to the car.
The rip-sticks even made it out into the church car park whilst the kids waited for us to finish gas-bagging.
As we went to leave the church, Thomas went for one last run down the slope of the carpark to jump in and stash the rip-stick. As he did so, the additional speed undid him and he fell backwards, to land solidly upon his rump, his hands out behind him in an effort to take a little of the sting out. He shrugged off the embarrassment and sheepishly boarded the van.
When we were then at the apartment, he complained that his wrist was sore and that he wouldn’t really be able to help to carry very much. Caroline suggested that we’d need to take him to the hospital in amongst everything else that was going on for the day. To say that I was excited about going to the Women’s and Children’s to spend a couple of hour waiting to be seen would have quite simply been a big fat lie.
So I did what any good father would do. Told him to suck it up, see how it went and carry on.
As the day proceeded, he seemed to favour it less and I was happy that the right decision had been made (having convinced Thomas that it was likely just a bit sprained and that it would come good over the next couple of days).
During the week, the pain continued and Caroline decided (like good Mothers do) that it would be worth getting him checked out by the doctor after all. This resulted in a trip to the radiologist. When he came home last night, there was no sign of a cast, but Thomas was happy enough to let me know with one of those little Thomas smirks that he had a fracture. I played it up and let him know that at least with no cast, he wouldn’t be too restricted.
Then today the phone rang at work. It was Caroline to inform me that Thomas would have to go back to the doctor tomorrow ... yes, for a cast of course.
“Just a sprain,” he said. Father of the year for sure.
*(As a side note, those toys have been a huge hit - I think the fact that they received them at Christmas last year when the world was doused in snow was a bit of a let down for them initially)
Oct 24, 2010
notes on the pillow
One of those delightful things about a small girl learning to write is that occasionally she takes it upon herself to communicate to us when we’re not there by writing a note and leaving it about the house somewhere for us to find. Often there’s sweet sentiments being expressed along the lines of ‘I love you Daddy’ or ‘Thack you Mum and Dad.’ (Let’s face it there’s still some work to do on the whole spelling thing!)
Of course, the fact that she’s seven and subject to the whims and mercies of her parents means that there are times in the little girl’s life when what’s best for her doesn’t happen to coincide with what Emily wants.
Fortunately for her on such occasions, when she’s alone and isolated and we’re not obliging her with being the object of a pointed and somewhat loud verbal ‘correction’ she can now resort to pen and paper. Instead of sleeping and resting her tired little head, recharging the brain and enjoying some down time in the land of nod, she can leave a little message for us so that we know what she was thinking before she went to bed.
Little things like, “I hate you.”
Gotta love ‘em eh?
Of course, the fact that she’s seven and subject to the whims and mercies of her parents means that there are times in the little girl’s life when what’s best for her doesn’t happen to coincide with what Emily wants.
Fortunately for her on such occasions, when she’s alone and isolated and we’re not obliging her with being the object of a pointed and somewhat loud verbal ‘correction’ she can now resort to pen and paper. Instead of sleeping and resting her tired little head, recharging the brain and enjoying some down time in the land of nod, she can leave a little message for us so that we know what she was thinking before she went to bed.
Little things like, “I hate you.”
Gotta love ‘em eh?
twelve
Two weeks after Thomas has his birthday, Sam has his. Its been that way for the last 10 years and will of course continue ad infinitum. Sam was very excited to have his birthday in Australia this year. He, more than anyone else had expressed this desire whilst we were still in Canada. The thought of having just one more birthday on the wrong side of the ocean was really too much for the poor little bugger to bear.
At twelve, Sam is still possibly the most emotional of the boys. He’s a bright kid and has his own independent streak, choosing his own way. There’s still a bit of his fear to try something that he doesn’t think he’ll be good at, but he has also been happy to tread a different path, choosing volleyball in Canada and now, rather than taking up cricket, he’s going to give tennis a go and is playing indoor soccer with some friends.
Sam is still happy to offer a hug and was taking great delight in standing one side of you and tapping you on the other shoulder so that you’d look the other way. Having realised that people tend to pick up on this, its now evolved to be a tap on the shoulder and a duck down such that it doesn’t matter which shoulder you look over, you’re not going to see him there until you glance down to see him smiling up at you from around your knees.
It has been great to see how happy Sam has been since he’s returned to Oz. He’s reconnected with some friends and has settled nicely into school. He hasn’t been too forthcoming with how he’s going with the whole friends thing with me thus far, but he’s coming home happy and heading off to school each day with a smile on his face, so one doesn’t like to push too far.
Happy 12th Sam!
At twelve, Sam is still possibly the most emotional of the boys. He’s a bright kid and has his own independent streak, choosing his own way. There’s still a bit of his fear to try something that he doesn’t think he’ll be good at, but he has also been happy to tread a different path, choosing volleyball in Canada and now, rather than taking up cricket, he’s going to give tennis a go and is playing indoor soccer with some friends.
Sam is still happy to offer a hug and was taking great delight in standing one side of you and tapping you on the other shoulder so that you’d look the other way. Having realised that people tend to pick up on this, its now evolved to be a tap on the shoulder and a duck down such that it doesn’t matter which shoulder you look over, you’re not going to see him there until you glance down to see him smiling up at you from around your knees.
It has been great to see how happy Sam has been since he’s returned to Oz. He’s reconnected with some friends and has settled nicely into school. He hasn’t been too forthcoming with how he’s going with the whole friends thing with me thus far, but he’s coming home happy and heading off to school each day with a smile on his face, so one doesn’t like to push too far.
Happy 12th Sam!
Oct 16, 2010
Ten
The 2nd of October was Thomas’ tenth birthday and the first one that he’s managed to have in Australia since we left in 2007. He was pretty happy about that, as were all of his siblings (and possibly those of us that make up the rest of the family as well).
A year on, Thomas has achieved a lot. He’s competed in ski-racing at Jasper, he scored honour roll at school and he continues to develop into the sort of delightful young man that a proud Dad likes to boast about.
One of the things that has stood out lately is what I like to refer to as Thomas’ smug grin. It appears every now and then and always brings a smile to my face.
It comes out when he knows that he’s said or is doing ‘the right thing’. He’ll announce some little tidbit of wisdom, knowing that he’s saying exactly what a parent would expect their good son to say and then it appears, the little self satisfied, smug grin. I do adore it. It shows the intelligence lurking behind his sparkly eyes. It probably means that we’re in for trouble, because its that sort of intelligence that shows he knows full well what is expected whether that happens to be the path that he’s chosen to take or not.
It also means that he shows enough forethought (at times) to know that if you say the right thing, you might just escape the consequences that go with saying the wrong thing on the back of having done the wrong thing. I hope that makes sense in translation. I know it does to me, it was one of the lessons I managed to learn fairly early on in life!
Thomas retains his sense of humour and his willingness to persevere to succeed. As he embarks on the journey back into the Australian school system (not to mention finally getting a chance to start to play cricket) it will be critical for him to maintain both of these and hopefully with some extra support, he’ll continue on the hard earned path to success that he’s begun on so far.
A year on, Thomas has achieved a lot. He’s competed in ski-racing at Jasper, he scored honour roll at school and he continues to develop into the sort of delightful young man that a proud Dad likes to boast about.
One of the things that has stood out lately is what I like to refer to as Thomas’ smug grin. It appears every now and then and always brings a smile to my face.
It comes out when he knows that he’s said or is doing ‘the right thing’. He’ll announce some little tidbit of wisdom, knowing that he’s saying exactly what a parent would expect their good son to say and then it appears, the little self satisfied, smug grin. I do adore it. It shows the intelligence lurking behind his sparkly eyes. It probably means that we’re in for trouble, because its that sort of intelligence that shows he knows full well what is expected whether that happens to be the path that he’s chosen to take or not.
It also means that he shows enough forethought (at times) to know that if you say the right thing, you might just escape the consequences that go with saying the wrong thing on the back of having done the wrong thing. I hope that makes sense in translation. I know it does to me, it was one of the lessons I managed to learn fairly early on in life!
Thomas retains his sense of humour and his willingness to persevere to succeed. As he embarks on the journey back into the Australian school system (not to mention finally getting a chance to start to play cricket) it will be critical for him to maintain both of these and hopefully with some extra support, he’ll continue on the hard earned path to success that he’s begun on so far.
Sep 23, 2010
The heaviest sleeper of them all
The family all arrived safely from Europe, tired but happy to be here. They were tired enough that it was considered prudent to let them have a little bit of sleep before I dragged them here there and everywhere for their first day.
So about 10am everyone clambered into bed and by about 10:00:23, four of the five were happily off in the land of sleepy bo-bos. Two hours later it was time to get everyone up again so that they didn’t have so much sleep that they couldn’t sleep later on when the sun disappeared.
Sam woke up nicely, Michael woke up but everytime I turned around he’d laid back down again and was ‘resting his eyes’. Caroline woke up, but didn’t really seem to show any intent of actually moving and of course then there was Emily.
Emily didn’t want to wake up for love nor money. I poked, I tickled, I gently shook, I opened the curtains to allow the sun to stream in. Nothing was working. I stole the covers and decided that maybe dragging her out of bed would be the bit that would finally do the trick. I didn’t want to drop her on the floor though and so as she came off the bed, I lifted her by the ankles.
And she slept on.
I had the mite upside down. Hanging in the air. And she didn’t even wake up.
That’s some serious sleeping. I had to put her down of course. After all, her face did start to go a little red. In the end I carried her out to the car and she woke up there eventually.
So about 10am everyone clambered into bed and by about 10:00:23, four of the five were happily off in the land of sleepy bo-bos. Two hours later it was time to get everyone up again so that they didn’t have so much sleep that they couldn’t sleep later on when the sun disappeared.
Sam woke up nicely, Michael woke up but everytime I turned around he’d laid back down again and was ‘resting his eyes’. Caroline woke up, but didn’t really seem to show any intent of actually moving and of course then there was Emily.
Emily didn’t want to wake up for love nor money. I poked, I tickled, I gently shook, I opened the curtains to allow the sun to stream in. Nothing was working. I stole the covers and decided that maybe dragging her out of bed would be the bit that would finally do the trick. I didn’t want to drop her on the floor though and so as she came off the bed, I lifted her by the ankles.
And she slept on.
I had the mite upside down. Hanging in the air. And she didn’t even wake up.
That’s some serious sleeping. I had to put her down of course. After all, her face did start to go a little red. In the end I carried her out to the car and she woke up there eventually.
Sep 15, 2010
Welcome Home
I’d been back in Oz for about 36 hours. I’d had a lovely dinner with Mum, Dad and my brother and sister and families.
I drove home carefully, still conscious of the fact that I was now on the other side of the road to that which I’d been driving on for the last 3 years. In the main part, it’s not a problem. There was just the one little old lady who gave me a strange look in the carpark as I drove toward her on the wrong side.
So I was just a little surprised that as I pulled off the street upon which the apartment is on and into the carpark, I was followed by the delightful flash of red and blue police lights. I didn’t recall that I had done anything incorrectly on the way home, so waited to find out from the source.
The guy was nice enough and informed me that they had a camera in their car that read number plates and then interfaced with a database that had alerted them to the fact that the vehicle was marked as potentially being driven by someone with an expired license.
Holy crap! Not because my license had expired, because it had … I have a Canadian license that I have to get reverted, but because of the technology. I thought it was damn impressive.
I let the cop know that I did in fact have an expired Australian License and showed him the Canadian one instead. He wished me well and we parted ways. It was an interesting way to learn about expanded Police capabilities.
I drove home carefully, still conscious of the fact that I was now on the other side of the road to that which I’d been driving on for the last 3 years. In the main part, it’s not a problem. There was just the one little old lady who gave me a strange look in the carpark as I drove toward her on the wrong side.
So I was just a little surprised that as I pulled off the street upon which the apartment is on and into the carpark, I was followed by the delightful flash of red and blue police lights. I didn’t recall that I had done anything incorrectly on the way home, so waited to find out from the source.
The guy was nice enough and informed me that they had a camera in their car that read number plates and then interfaced with a database that had alerted them to the fact that the vehicle was marked as potentially being driven by someone with an expired license.
Holy crap! Not because my license had expired, because it had … I have a Canadian license that I have to get reverted, but because of the technology. I thought it was damn impressive.
I let the cop know that I did in fact have an expired Australian License and showed him the Canadian one instead. He wished me well and we parted ways. It was an interesting way to learn about expanded Police capabilities.
Europe – Part 2
As seems to happen more and more these days, I found some time to write, but haven't managed to get around to posting. I've finally taken a moment to do so, so here's the latest:
--------------------------------
September 1st.
I am currently on a train in Outback New South Wales. It’s a considerably rougher journey than the one recently taken through the rural areas of France and significantly slower to boot. It does of course give me a little time to write as its only my second day on the job and you can only achieve so much work on a noisy train without the resources of offices etc. I most definitely don’t have access to the internet.
I think that the last time that I managed to post something I’d managed to track our holiday through to Venice and possibly even back to Switzerland. I’ll have to check before I post this.
After saying farewell to Switzerland, we hopped a train to Marseille. We didn’t know much about Marseille, the fact that we were going at all was something of a stab in the dark. Caroline had mentioned at some stage that we should perhaps look at going somewhere else in the time that we had other than just Paris and Venice and suggested some on the Mediterranean in France. I had a bit of a look and although it apparently had nice beaches, it sounded like it would be overflowing and even the pictures of the beaches seemed crowded beyond belief.
With a little bit of help from the internet, I took a look at some other cities in the region and decided that Marseille with its fortifications and old Port looked considerably more interesting. And so off we went.
The train ride was fun, especially the part where we had to lug our copious amounts of luggage onto the train and then try and find somewhere to store it all whilst we rattled along (rattled isn’t really the right word to describe the pleasant journey, but it is more ‘trainy’ – the trip I am on right now … that’s a rattly ride).
We managed to arrive and get off the train and then we had to manage to get to the hotel. After a little stress and some questions, we made it out of the train station and started to make our way up the road toward where the hotel was supposed to be. Turns out it was about a 100m away and just across the road! Talk about a bonus. We quickly settled in the hotel and then decided to go for a walk and see if we could find somewhere to have some nice French food.
We strolled down to the port, admiring the old French buildings and the port, soaking in the Mediterranean sunshine until it was time to seek some dinner. We found somewhere that looked good, with a waiter who was friendly and willing to speak some English and endeavour to meet our needs. The food was lovely, though Sam wasn’t overly impressed with the calamari that he’d ordered. It came with a risotto, which for some reason turned out to be grey in colour. If you’re going to try and get a kid to do something, serving up grey rice that looks suspiciously like it could have been some sort of brain (my description, not Sam’s) isn’t really the best way to go about it. All in all though we made do and walked away happy … which is more than we could say for our next dinner in Marseille, but I’ll get to that.
On our second day we decided to take a bus trip around town to see the place and although we saw it, there wasn’t really time to get off anywhere along the way, so it was really just a tease of what the city had to offer. Later in the afternoon we took a boat trip out from the old port and visited the fortress where the Count of Monte Cristo was set and then on to one of the other small islands where we found a beach so that the kids could have a swim. It was a lovely day and as the sun started to set we made our way back to the mainland and found ourselves a restaurant.
The waitress who seated us was lovely, but sadly that seemed to be the last contact we’d have with her. A Belgian girl and her Grand Father ended up at the table next to us and were kind enough to translate the menu for us. The whole meal seemed to be a battle for the waiter’s attention and we took to starting a pool on how long it would be before each part of the meal to arrive to try and keep the kids entertained. All in all, our three course meal took two and a half hours, which considering we had the kids with us and that we finished at 10:30pm was just ridiculous. If it hadn’t been for the lovely Belgians next to us who were able to get the waiter’s attention and communicate with them a couple of times, we may have still been sitting there today waiting for the final component of our meals.
We bid farewell to Marseille, sadly with that meal as something of a lasting impression and boarded the train to Paris. Emily was very excited to be going to Paris at last, letting me know that her friends at school had been especially jealous that she was getting to go there to see the Eiffel Tower.
There was also the element that she’d not bought souveneirs at some of our recent stops so that she could save up her funds and buy one in Paris.
The train ride was uneventful once the luggage was again stowed and we arrived in Paris with only the problem of again making our way to our hotel. This time it certainly wasn’t a short stop from the train station. We opted to put as many bags as we could in a taxi and for Emily and I to accompany them and for Caroline and the boys to catch a bus and walk the last bit to the hotel.
Emily was suitably happy at the moment when we were able to glance down one of the streets and see the famed tower and other than arriving to find out that they didn’t seem to have record of our booking, we were all soon safely ensconced in our hotel with the top of the Eiffel Tower visible through the roof-top window.
It had been a wet and drizzly morning when we’d travelled to Paris but we
--------------------------------
September 1st.
I am currently on a train in Outback New South Wales. It’s a considerably rougher journey than the one recently taken through the rural areas of France and significantly slower to boot. It does of course give me a little time to write as its only my second day on the job and you can only achieve so much work on a noisy train without the resources of offices etc. I most definitely don’t have access to the internet.
I think that the last time that I managed to post something I’d managed to track our holiday through to Venice and possibly even back to Switzerland. I’ll have to check before I post this.
After saying farewell to Switzerland, we hopped a train to Marseille. We didn’t know much about Marseille, the fact that we were going at all was something of a stab in the dark. Caroline had mentioned at some stage that we should perhaps look at going somewhere else in the time that we had other than just Paris and Venice and suggested some on the Mediterranean in France. I had a bit of a look and although it apparently had nice beaches, it sounded like it would be overflowing and even the pictures of the beaches seemed crowded beyond belief.
With a little bit of help from the internet, I took a look at some other cities in the region and decided that Marseille with its fortifications and old Port looked considerably more interesting. And so off we went.
The train ride was fun, especially the part where we had to lug our copious amounts of luggage onto the train and then try and find somewhere to store it all whilst we rattled along (rattled isn’t really the right word to describe the pleasant journey, but it is more ‘trainy’ – the trip I am on right now … that’s a rattly ride).
We managed to arrive and get off the train and then we had to manage to get to the hotel. After a little stress and some questions, we made it out of the train station and started to make our way up the road toward where the hotel was supposed to be. Turns out it was about a 100m away and just across the road! Talk about a bonus. We quickly settled in the hotel and then decided to go for a walk and see if we could find somewhere to have some nice French food.
We strolled down to the port, admiring the old French buildings and the port, soaking in the Mediterranean sunshine until it was time to seek some dinner. We found somewhere that looked good, with a waiter who was friendly and willing to speak some English and endeavour to meet our needs. The food was lovely, though Sam wasn’t overly impressed with the calamari that he’d ordered. It came with a risotto, which for some reason turned out to be grey in colour. If you’re going to try and get a kid to do something, serving up grey rice that looks suspiciously like it could have been some sort of brain (my description, not Sam’s) isn’t really the best way to go about it. All in all though we made do and walked away happy … which is more than we could say for our next dinner in Marseille, but I’ll get to that.
On our second day we decided to take a bus trip around town to see the place and although we saw it, there wasn’t really time to get off anywhere along the way, so it was really just a tease of what the city had to offer. Later in the afternoon we took a boat trip out from the old port and visited the fortress where the Count of Monte Cristo was set and then on to one of the other small islands where we found a beach so that the kids could have a swim. It was a lovely day and as the sun started to set we made our way back to the mainland and found ourselves a restaurant.
The waitress who seated us was lovely, but sadly that seemed to be the last contact we’d have with her. A Belgian girl and her Grand Father ended up at the table next to us and were kind enough to translate the menu for us. The whole meal seemed to be a battle for the waiter’s attention and we took to starting a pool on how long it would be before each part of the meal to arrive to try and keep the kids entertained. All in all, our three course meal took two and a half hours, which considering we had the kids with us and that we finished at 10:30pm was just ridiculous. If it hadn’t been for the lovely Belgians next to us who were able to get the waiter’s attention and communicate with them a couple of times, we may have still been sitting there today waiting for the final component of our meals.
We bid farewell to Marseille, sadly with that meal as something of a lasting impression and boarded the train to Paris. Emily was very excited to be going to Paris at last, letting me know that her friends at school had been especially jealous that she was getting to go there to see the Eiffel Tower.
There was also the element that she’d not bought souveneirs at some of our recent stops so that she could save up her funds and buy one in Paris.
The train ride was uneventful once the luggage was again stowed and we arrived in Paris with only the problem of again making our way to our hotel. This time it certainly wasn’t a short stop from the train station. We opted to put as many bags as we could in a taxi and for Emily and I to accompany them and for Caroline and the boys to catch a bus and walk the last bit to the hotel.
Emily was suitably happy at the moment when we were able to glance down one of the streets and see the famed tower and other than arriving to find out that they didn’t seem to have record of our booking, we were all soon safely ensconced in our hotel with the top of the Eiffel Tower visible through the roof-top window.
It had been a wet and drizzly morning when we’d travelled to Paris but we
Aug 26, 2010
Europe - Part 1
I guess I finally realised that I was leaving Canada for good when I boarded the plane to Munich in Toronto. I mean, leaving Fort Mac was one thing, but it wasn’t really until I was on that plane to Munich and settled that I really stopped to think about the fact that it was the last time that I be flying out of Canadia, barring some return ski trip in the future (though one should never say never!).
I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about it though because the bloke next to me managed to distract me. Not through stimulating conversation, because I established very quickly when I asked where he was from that he was Polish, but didn’t speak English. I also very quickly established that there were going to be boundary issues on the arm-rest given he was bigger than me and exceeding his spatial allotment. That and the fact that he smelt. Not only did he smell of having spent some pre-flight time in the bar, but also from having spent more than the allotted time either in the same clothes, or since last bathing.
If he sat still it wasn’t too bad, but it seemed that every time he moved the disturbance in the air became a disturbance of my olfactory senses. And of course, because his english was so poor, he couldn’t operate the in flight entertainment system, so he’d look at what I had on my screen and then indicate that he’d like to watch the same thing. I thought I’d left operating two systems behind the last time that I flew with Emily.
He did sleep that helped a little, but in the morning, he seemed curious to see what was outside of the plane all the time and would reach across me to lift the blind. This had a lovely dual effect. Firstly I was blinded by the bright daylight from outside due to having been watching movies in the near dark for the prior 6 hours or so and secondly, my olfactory senses were slammed with a sledge hammer as the less than fresh air about him was distributed across the plane.
I landed safely in Munich and apparently still have some sense of smell remaining.
During the transfer process in Munich I had to go back through the whole x-ray process with my hand luggage. Given that I was transporting two laptops, this was a painful process that I was glad to have only been through at the first flight in Fort McMurray. Munich managed to take things to a whole new level for me.
“Is that a doll in your luggage?” I was asked. Well, now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I was traveling with a doll in my hand luggage. It was Emily’s American Girl, Julie, that had been inadvertently left behind when they’d left the two weeks previously. Turns out that Julie had to go through the x-ray process all on her own.
I very briefly considered protesting that to put the poor doll through that might be considered an invasion of her privacy. However, upon consideration of the sorts of return invasions of MY privacy (not to mention my anatomy) that such protests might invoke, I decided to let the doll suffer through the affair. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect anyway and certainly made no complaint afterward.
The doll wasn’t the end of it though, they also insisted that I pull the cameras that were in my luggage out and have then go through the scanner again not to mention that I then had to turn the camera on and show them a picture as well! That’s one of those points in time when you start to wonder what the last photo you took was. In my case, it was a picture of Emily and Breagh, nothing to worry about at all.
For the final flight to Zurich, I actually managed to score an exit row seat which was nice, though somewhat wasted fortune considering it was such a minor hop of a flight. One shouldn’t complain though.
Upon arrival I was more than happy to pile into the van with an excited family and head off to Brennan where we were kindly being accommodated with Rita and Armin.
We spent a little time in Switzerland not doing a lot before our first excursion to Venice.
There were mixed reactions to the announcement that we were going to go to Venice, ranging from jealousy and people telling us that we’d love it to those that asked, “Why would you want to go there, its a crowded stinky place.”
Other than that, I had no real pre-conceptions about the place other than to expect lots of canals, over-priced gondolas and given that it was Summer, some delightful aromas that my Polish companion may have unwittingly prepared my nose for.
We drove the van across Italy, enjoying the changing scenery, counting the tunnels (something like 37 between Brunnen and Venice). Upon arrival, we parked the car, using one of the multi-storey carparks, which was an interesting exercise given we were in a large, 10 seater (that’s 4 rows of seats) Volkswagen van and we were assigned a park on the very top (8th) level of the car park. Things were a little nerve-wracking navigating the steep, circular spiraled ramps in the manual van. There was very little room for error and I was rather relieved to find that I managed to get to the top without any scratches or dents. There was plenty of evidence that those who had gone before had not all been able to say the same thing!
We had reduced our luggage for this trip which was a lovely little idea of Caroline’s that probably saved all sorts of hell as we made our way to the water ‘bus’ that was to take us around to where we were staying. The first sights of Venice were indeed inspirational as we cruised along the Grand Canal around to the San Marco stop where we would disembark.
With Venice being such and old and storied city, it seems almost pointless for me to try and capture what it is in a few words, so I won’t try. Suffice to say that I adored the architecture and uniqueness of the city. We dined out on PIzza and pasta and traipsed our way through the alleys and streets. With only two nights, we barely scratched the surface of the city, but then with 4 kids in tow, exploring museums and operas and the like was never really going to be an option anyway.
It was of course easy with the kids along to tell which of the shops were displaying the outrageously priced real Murano glass simply from the look on the face of the vendor when one entered the store. Those with the real glass on display were also those that stood with looks of impending doom upon their face and didn’t draw breath from the moment we entered until the moment we left their store. One of them must have been really over the top because as the kids went to go inside, he quite simply shooed them back out the door and denied them entry!
It was something of a relief when we finally left the last store to realise that we’d navigated so many shops with so much glass and managed to avoid destroying anything at all!
We stayed just in behind the Piazza San Marco, which given the amount of walking that the stay entailed and the fact that we dragged four kids along with us for the entire time, was a fabulous place to stay.
As with all visits, we had to leave and managed to do so intact, with everything that we’d taken there in the first place, which is always a nice way to do it (and never guaranteed). And so we drove back through the Italian countryside, admiring the churches and castles that adorned the higher elevations and cliffs and the terra cotta tiled houses in the villages that we passed. Around lunch time we decided that it would be nice to visit one of these small places and find some lunch at a nice bakery.
Such a simple plan. it only took an hour or so for us to get off the highway, drive into a village and wonder if it had been abandoned as we drove around looking for somewhere that might actually be open. Michael was most indignant when we finally found a supermarket to discover that they closed from 1 until 3:30. Or in other terms ... whilst we were there hungry.
Eventually after some frayed nerves and terse words, we did manage to find somewhere to eat and then returned to the highway, guided by Homer (Simpson, not the classic philosopher and my choice for the GPS voice) and on our way again back to Switzerland, with me declaring that we would never again leave the highway to search for a meal.
As famous last words go, I ate my own on that one. We drove along the highway past what we were later to discover was Como and in a fit of madness (or penance) I suggested that we drive in and find somewhere to eat. It was about the right time of day and the town appeared to be a village perched on a cliff over-looking a lake. I thought eating with such a view would prepare us well for the remainder of the journey.
It turned out that we couldn’t find anywhere to eat at the top of the cliff over looking the lake, that real-estate seemed to have been taken up by people who liked to live there and save that view for their own personal enjoyment. We did however make it down to the lake and again, after some somewhat random searching, locate a nice restaurant by the lake with a view only marginally defiled by the landscaping construction works between us and the body of water.
As we’d limited our parking time and then had to walk a fair way to get to where we ended up eating, I opted to go fetch the car whilst Caroline and the kids had gelato. Again it’s the simply ideas that seem to end up being the most poorly executed and I found myself discovering the walled portion of old Como, mostly as a result of discovering a series of one way streets and a couple of poor turning choices. I did however managed to make my way back and locate the family and after a very short driving tour of the old city, we were on our way again.
Our drive out of Switzerland had taken us via San Gotthardo which is scenic, though somewhat longer than the more modern option of traveling via the engineering marvel that is the Gotthard tunnel. A 17km journey under the mountains.
Our return journey didn’t take us through the tunnel either, but over an alternate pass through the mountains. That was fine, because there’s been a lot of work on the pass over the years and there’s lots of tunnels and bridges and its quite a nice drive. Right up to the point where some of that work was still going on and they sent us on a merry detour up the old pass. That of course would be the really really windy one, with second gear switch backs every 150 metres or so and steep drops down the side of the mountain as reward for any driving incompetence one might show. In the dark.
Suffice to say we made it, but it did mean that we were somewhat delayed in our arrival in Glarus where Mirriam was kind enough to actually greet us when we pulled in close to midnight!
I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about it though because the bloke next to me managed to distract me. Not through stimulating conversation, because I established very quickly when I asked where he was from that he was Polish, but didn’t speak English. I also very quickly established that there were going to be boundary issues on the arm-rest given he was bigger than me and exceeding his spatial allotment. That and the fact that he smelt. Not only did he smell of having spent some pre-flight time in the bar, but also from having spent more than the allotted time either in the same clothes, or since last bathing.
If he sat still it wasn’t too bad, but it seemed that every time he moved the disturbance in the air became a disturbance of my olfactory senses. And of course, because his english was so poor, he couldn’t operate the in flight entertainment system, so he’d look at what I had on my screen and then indicate that he’d like to watch the same thing. I thought I’d left operating two systems behind the last time that I flew with Emily.
He did sleep that helped a little, but in the morning, he seemed curious to see what was outside of the plane all the time and would reach across me to lift the blind. This had a lovely dual effect. Firstly I was blinded by the bright daylight from outside due to having been watching movies in the near dark for the prior 6 hours or so and secondly, my olfactory senses were slammed with a sledge hammer as the less than fresh air about him was distributed across the plane.
I landed safely in Munich and apparently still have some sense of smell remaining.
During the transfer process in Munich I had to go back through the whole x-ray process with my hand luggage. Given that I was transporting two laptops, this was a painful process that I was glad to have only been through at the first flight in Fort McMurray. Munich managed to take things to a whole new level for me.
“Is that a doll in your luggage?” I was asked. Well, now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I was traveling with a doll in my hand luggage. It was Emily’s American Girl, Julie, that had been inadvertently left behind when they’d left the two weeks previously. Turns out that Julie had to go through the x-ray process all on her own.
I very briefly considered protesting that to put the poor doll through that might be considered an invasion of her privacy. However, upon consideration of the sorts of return invasions of MY privacy (not to mention my anatomy) that such protests might invoke, I decided to let the doll suffer through the affair. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect anyway and certainly made no complaint afterward.
The doll wasn’t the end of it though, they also insisted that I pull the cameras that were in my luggage out and have then go through the scanner again not to mention that I then had to turn the camera on and show them a picture as well! That’s one of those points in time when you start to wonder what the last photo you took was. In my case, it was a picture of Emily and Breagh, nothing to worry about at all.
For the final flight to Zurich, I actually managed to score an exit row seat which was nice, though somewhat wasted fortune considering it was such a minor hop of a flight. One shouldn’t complain though.
Upon arrival I was more than happy to pile into the van with an excited family and head off to Brennan where we were kindly being accommodated with Rita and Armin.
We spent a little time in Switzerland not doing a lot before our first excursion to Venice.
There were mixed reactions to the announcement that we were going to go to Venice, ranging from jealousy and people telling us that we’d love it to those that asked, “Why would you want to go there, its a crowded stinky place.”
Other than that, I had no real pre-conceptions about the place other than to expect lots of canals, over-priced gondolas and given that it was Summer, some delightful aromas that my Polish companion may have unwittingly prepared my nose for.
We drove the van across Italy, enjoying the changing scenery, counting the tunnels (something like 37 between Brunnen and Venice). Upon arrival, we parked the car, using one of the multi-storey carparks, which was an interesting exercise given we were in a large, 10 seater (that’s 4 rows of seats) Volkswagen van and we were assigned a park on the very top (8th) level of the car park. Things were a little nerve-wracking navigating the steep, circular spiraled ramps in the manual van. There was very little room for error and I was rather relieved to find that I managed to get to the top without any scratches or dents. There was plenty of evidence that those who had gone before had not all been able to say the same thing!
We had reduced our luggage for this trip which was a lovely little idea of Caroline’s that probably saved all sorts of hell as we made our way to the water ‘bus’ that was to take us around to where we were staying. The first sights of Venice were indeed inspirational as we cruised along the Grand Canal around to the San Marco stop where we would disembark.
With Venice being such and old and storied city, it seems almost pointless for me to try and capture what it is in a few words, so I won’t try. Suffice to say that I adored the architecture and uniqueness of the city. We dined out on PIzza and pasta and traipsed our way through the alleys and streets. With only two nights, we barely scratched the surface of the city, but then with 4 kids in tow, exploring museums and operas and the like was never really going to be an option anyway.
It was of course easy with the kids along to tell which of the shops were displaying the outrageously priced real Murano glass simply from the look on the face of the vendor when one entered the store. Those with the real glass on display were also those that stood with looks of impending doom upon their face and didn’t draw breath from the moment we entered until the moment we left their store. One of them must have been really over the top because as the kids went to go inside, he quite simply shooed them back out the door and denied them entry!
It was something of a relief when we finally left the last store to realise that we’d navigated so many shops with so much glass and managed to avoid destroying anything at all!
We stayed just in behind the Piazza San Marco, which given the amount of walking that the stay entailed and the fact that we dragged four kids along with us for the entire time, was a fabulous place to stay.
As with all visits, we had to leave and managed to do so intact, with everything that we’d taken there in the first place, which is always a nice way to do it (and never guaranteed). And so we drove back through the Italian countryside, admiring the churches and castles that adorned the higher elevations and cliffs and the terra cotta tiled houses in the villages that we passed. Around lunch time we decided that it would be nice to visit one of these small places and find some lunch at a nice bakery.
Such a simple plan. it only took an hour or so for us to get off the highway, drive into a village and wonder if it had been abandoned as we drove around looking for somewhere that might actually be open. Michael was most indignant when we finally found a supermarket to discover that they closed from 1 until 3:30. Or in other terms ... whilst we were there hungry.
Eventually after some frayed nerves and terse words, we did manage to find somewhere to eat and then returned to the highway, guided by Homer (Simpson, not the classic philosopher and my choice for the GPS voice) and on our way again back to Switzerland, with me declaring that we would never again leave the highway to search for a meal.
As famous last words go, I ate my own on that one. We drove along the highway past what we were later to discover was Como and in a fit of madness (or penance) I suggested that we drive in and find somewhere to eat. It was about the right time of day and the town appeared to be a village perched on a cliff over-looking a lake. I thought eating with such a view would prepare us well for the remainder of the journey.
It turned out that we couldn’t find anywhere to eat at the top of the cliff over looking the lake, that real-estate seemed to have been taken up by people who liked to live there and save that view for their own personal enjoyment. We did however make it down to the lake and again, after some somewhat random searching, locate a nice restaurant by the lake with a view only marginally defiled by the landscaping construction works between us and the body of water.
As we’d limited our parking time and then had to walk a fair way to get to where we ended up eating, I opted to go fetch the car whilst Caroline and the kids had gelato. Again it’s the simply ideas that seem to end up being the most poorly executed and I found myself discovering the walled portion of old Como, mostly as a result of discovering a series of one way streets and a couple of poor turning choices. I did however managed to make my way back and locate the family and after a very short driving tour of the old city, we were on our way again.
Our drive out of Switzerland had taken us via San Gotthardo which is scenic, though somewhat longer than the more modern option of traveling via the engineering marvel that is the Gotthard tunnel. A 17km journey under the mountains.
Our return journey didn’t take us through the tunnel either, but over an alternate pass through the mountains. That was fine, because there’s been a lot of work on the pass over the years and there’s lots of tunnels and bridges and its quite a nice drive. Right up to the point where some of that work was still going on and they sent us on a merry detour up the old pass. That of course would be the really really windy one, with second gear switch backs every 150 metres or so and steep drops down the side of the mountain as reward for any driving incompetence one might show. In the dark.
Suffice to say we made it, but it did mean that we were somewhat delayed in our arrival in Glarus where Mirriam was kind enough to actually greet us when we pulled in close to midnight!
Aug 10, 2010
Leaving
As seems to happen more often than not lately, its been some time since I made the time to sit down and write. There’s been plenty going on and that has been at least half the issue. Its been way to busy to take the time to sit down and write about it.
As I sit here and type this theres a small, compressed army working their way through our house with boxes, paper and enough tape to subdue a small herd of buffalo. That’s a good thing, because after four more sleeps i’ll be heading off to the airport to fly out of Fort McMurray for the last foreseeable time.
It’s been a frantic couple of months since the job decided to open up back in Adelaide. Between negotiating exit time frames betwixt the Canadian business (that really didn’t want me to leave until October at best) and the Australian business (who would have ideally liked to have had me in July) and then going through all the ‘oh crap this is really happening’ moments.
I didn’t write too much about the job because for some time it wasn’t even there and then it happened very suddenly. The federal government is spending some money on rail over the next couple of years and I am going back to do some project management on parts of my old stomping ground (and some new parts as well). It will be good to get back into rail for a while and I am looking forward to seeing some of the people that I now haven’t worked with for the last 3 years or so. Just have to finish packing at this end and of course, go through the whole extraction from the boxes process that happens at the other end.
Caroline and the kids have managed to do the smart thing and are currently traipsing around Switzerland, whilst I finish off work and see the packing finalised. Of course, when one considers the outward journey, there’s probably some justice in that approach because although I didn’t get an overseas holiday, I essentially missed the entire packing effort.
The only two real stress points for me at this stage are the fact that we haven’t managed to sell the caravan or the car. I have someone coming to look at the caravan tonight and hopefully they’re impressed by a) the fact that its a great caravan and b) by the fact that I am in sheer desperation and will be prepared to take a significant hit on it to see it safely off my hands before I head out of here.
Maybe by the time that I actually post this (internet is down just now) I’ll have better news on that front.
And so I am sitting here as the house turns into a series of boxes, waiting for the next step, wishing the next four nights had passed and that I was about to board a plane to go meet up with Caroline and the kids in Switzerland. But I do like to think that we shouldn’t wish our lives away and so I’ll grin and bear it, knowing that each day brings us closer again (at least until the day that I leave them all behind and continue on to Adelaide.
Between now and then appears to be a series of random goodbyes as I run into people and realise that in all likelihood, I am not likely to run into them again, often in strange locations at unexpected times.
One of the hardest things about leaving anywhere is always the special friends that you meet in your time there generally don’t come with you (not matter how much you might beg them to) and so the time until you get to see them again becomes a big unknown. We’ve made plenty of friends from around Australia, so I am sure that that is likely to become a consistent point of holidays into the future, but we’ve also met a lot of wonderful people from Canada. Enough that we’ll be looking to come back on a holiday visit at some point, even if it’s not all the way back to Fort McMurray.
And so as with all departures, there is an air of excitement about, ever so slightly tainted with the disappointment that we won’t be seeing some wonderful people quite as soon as we’d like.
As I sit here and type this theres a small, compressed army working their way through our house with boxes, paper and enough tape to subdue a small herd of buffalo. That’s a good thing, because after four more sleeps i’ll be heading off to the airport to fly out of Fort McMurray for the last foreseeable time.
It’s been a frantic couple of months since the job decided to open up back in Adelaide. Between negotiating exit time frames betwixt the Canadian business (that really didn’t want me to leave until October at best) and the Australian business (who would have ideally liked to have had me in July) and then going through all the ‘oh crap this is really happening’ moments.
I didn’t write too much about the job because for some time it wasn’t even there and then it happened very suddenly. The federal government is spending some money on rail over the next couple of years and I am going back to do some project management on parts of my old stomping ground (and some new parts as well). It will be good to get back into rail for a while and I am looking forward to seeing some of the people that I now haven’t worked with for the last 3 years or so. Just have to finish packing at this end and of course, go through the whole extraction from the boxes process that happens at the other end.
Caroline and the kids have managed to do the smart thing and are currently traipsing around Switzerland, whilst I finish off work and see the packing finalised. Of course, when one considers the outward journey, there’s probably some justice in that approach because although I didn’t get an overseas holiday, I essentially missed the entire packing effort.
The only two real stress points for me at this stage are the fact that we haven’t managed to sell the caravan or the car. I have someone coming to look at the caravan tonight and hopefully they’re impressed by a) the fact that its a great caravan and b) by the fact that I am in sheer desperation and will be prepared to take a significant hit on it to see it safely off my hands before I head out of here.
Maybe by the time that I actually post this (internet is down just now) I’ll have better news on that front.
And so I am sitting here as the house turns into a series of boxes, waiting for the next step, wishing the next four nights had passed and that I was about to board a plane to go meet up with Caroline and the kids in Switzerland. But I do like to think that we shouldn’t wish our lives away and so I’ll grin and bear it, knowing that each day brings us closer again (at least until the day that I leave them all behind and continue on to Adelaide.
Between now and then appears to be a series of random goodbyes as I run into people and realise that in all likelihood, I am not likely to run into them again, often in strange locations at unexpected times.
One of the hardest things about leaving anywhere is always the special friends that you meet in your time there generally don’t come with you (not matter how much you might beg them to) and so the time until you get to see them again becomes a big unknown. We’ve made plenty of friends from around Australia, so I am sure that that is likely to become a consistent point of holidays into the future, but we’ve also met a lot of wonderful people from Canada. Enough that we’ll be looking to come back on a holiday visit at some point, even if it’s not all the way back to Fort McMurray.
And so as with all departures, there is an air of excitement about, ever so slightly tainted with the disappointment that we won’t be seeing some wonderful people quite as soon as we’d like.
Jul 22, 2010
Living by List
There are those amongst us for whom life is a list. I can’t say that I’m really one of them. I have to force myself to write the to-do list and then I have to force myself to remember to look at it to make sure that I’m doing the things that I wrote down.
Caroline on the other hand is a lister for the ages. Last thing at night or first thing in the morning, she’ll be writing her list. Its probably why she’s such a wonderful mother. Heaven knows that with the four kids and everything they bring with them, if it wasn’t for some of those lists, things would quite simply fall apart.
As we start the process of heading home though, I can see that my life for the next couple of months is going to be nothing but a series of lists. It will all be in a good cause of course, but even so, it’s going to be interesting.
On the up side, at least we're on our way home!
Caroline on the other hand is a lister for the ages. Last thing at night or first thing in the morning, she’ll be writing her list. Its probably why she’s such a wonderful mother. Heaven knows that with the four kids and everything they bring with them, if it wasn’t for some of those lists, things would quite simply fall apart.
As we start the process of heading home though, I can see that my life for the next couple of months is going to be nothing but a series of lists. It will all be in a good cause of course, but even so, it’s going to be interesting.
On the up side, at least we're on our way home!
Jul 5, 2010
Proud
Last night was awards night at the kids school and we were fortunate enough to be invited (they only invite you if one of your kids is going to win something). We were in face extra lucky because we were invited on behalf of both Sam and Thomas.
Sam has made honour roll for the last 2 years and had been doing well again this year, so it was somewhat expected that Sam would once again manage honour roll and thus the reason for his invitation.
Thomas on the other hand, has had to work really hard right through school to over come the speech issues that he has and all that it entails with regard to reading and his general speed. He’s certainly a very clever lad and there’s no doubting his intelligence, but he has to work extra hard for his academic accomplishments. One of the most pleasant surprises in our time up here is how much support has been available within the school for Thomas to help him with his speech and related issues.
The one thing that has always been consistent with Thomas though has been his perseverance and willingness to undertake whatever is required for him to get through what he needs to. The other is the fact that his teachers have always said that he’s a willing helper and good role model in class. For that reason I expected that Thomas was going to pick up a ‘most improved student’ or ‘community’ award, so I was more than a little surprised when all the non-academic categories had been awarded and Thomas’ name hadn’t come up.
When it did come up for having made honour roll, my heart burst with pride and I can barely begin to describe how happy I was for him. Both of his older brothers had managed to get honour roll at least once (Michael may yet get it this year but we’re waiting on exam results) and it is ever so satisfying that Thomas has been able to join them in the club.
Congratulations Sam on your Honor roll hat trick and to Thomas for your amazing efforts!
And in a subsequent development (this is a week or so old) Michael managed to pull off Honor Roll as well this year and in addition, topped his class for Maths. Just another reason to be very proud.
Sam has made honour roll for the last 2 years and had been doing well again this year, so it was somewhat expected that Sam would once again manage honour roll and thus the reason for his invitation.
Thomas on the other hand, has had to work really hard right through school to over come the speech issues that he has and all that it entails with regard to reading and his general speed. He’s certainly a very clever lad and there’s no doubting his intelligence, but he has to work extra hard for his academic accomplishments. One of the most pleasant surprises in our time up here is how much support has been available within the school for Thomas to help him with his speech and related issues.
The one thing that has always been consistent with Thomas though has been his perseverance and willingness to undertake whatever is required for him to get through what he needs to. The other is the fact that his teachers have always said that he’s a willing helper and good role model in class. For that reason I expected that Thomas was going to pick up a ‘most improved student’ or ‘community’ award, so I was more than a little surprised when all the non-academic categories had been awarded and Thomas’ name hadn’t come up.
When it did come up for having made honour roll, my heart burst with pride and I can barely begin to describe how happy I was for him. Both of his older brothers had managed to get honour roll at least once (Michael may yet get it this year but we’re waiting on exam results) and it is ever so satisfying that Thomas has been able to join them in the club.
Congratulations Sam on your Honor roll hat trick and to Thomas for your amazing efforts!
And in a subsequent development (this is a week or so old) Michael managed to pull off Honor Roll as well this year and in addition, topped his class for Maths. Just another reason to be very proud.
Jun 13, 2010
The Great American Road Trip Pt.2 - Vegas Baby
After exploring our overnight camp spot for the morning, we finally arrived in Vegas mid afternoon, driving the RV toward the strip in one of those around and about GPS inspired tours, mainly prompted by the fact that we weren’t exactly sure where we were going to stay. It has been intended that we’d sort that out before we got there, but with the changed itinerary, that didn’t quite happen.
We found the strip, and pulled in at one of the first hotels that we came to, which happened to be one of those that Caroline’s research had turned up as a possibility to stay at – the Excalibur.
Eventually we managed to book ourselves in, park the RV and head into the hotel. The kids were super excited about getting to go for a swim, but when we were finally ready, we found out that the pool closed at some stupidly early time (obviously to encourage people to go gambling instead). Instead we decided to head out on the town, find somewhere to eat and see if we could line up some tickets to a Cirque de Soleil show.
The lights came on as we strolled the strip and we researched the best way to buy tickets, found m&m world (where Emily had a melt down as a result of being denied her own personal tube of mini-m&m’s). We had a great dinner and continued our stroll down the strip, taking in the various sights. It was a stupidly windy night – not windy enough to stop me from buying an over-sized margarita, but windy enough to stop the volcano erupting. We had hoped to get to the hotel with the roller coaster than ran on its roof, but in the end the kids were tired and it was totally at the other end of the strip (which is significantly longer than I’d expected) so we turned around and made our way back to our own hotel.
It didn’t appear that the roller coaster at New York New York (next to our own hotel) was running – again probably due to the wind) and with four kids in tow, I was left to walk past rather than into Coyote Ugly. We had to settle for putting the kids to bed and dragging our tired butts down to the casino for some blackjack.
There were no magic millions waiting for us though, so it was off to bed before too long.
Day two we followed through on our research and bought tickets to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows (its amazing how many of them run continuously in Vegas) and then spent most of the afternoon at Circus Circus where the kids indulged in some of the rides and eventually ended up cycling through the laser tag over and over again.
I had an interview with someone from home (that’s not going to result in anything) and after that, we were somewhat rushed to get some dinner in our bellies before going to the show. We thoroughly enjoyed it and then took the kids back and put them to bed.
Caroline and I hit the tables and after initially struggling to find one with a vibe that I liked, settled down in a seat next to a girl with a rather phallic balloon on her head on one side and her friend, wearing one about her waist on the other. They were obviously well into the spirit of Vegas and more importantly, the cards were being kind to me. It turned out that the girl with the balloon on her head was on her bachelorette trip and the other girl was her bridesmaid. She was more than happy to tell me that she was marrying on the 11th of September and that they were both pilots!
It wasn’t long after that that I ordered a drink from one of the waitresses and when she brought it back, I went to give her $10 bucks for it. She kept asking if I was tipping her. I was a little confused as whilst I had intended to tip her, I thought that I needed to pay for the drink first. It was about then that the girls that I was sitting with explained to me that you don’t pay for drinks whilst you’re gambling in Vegas. Hello! Spot the newbie!
Needless to say I had a couple more after that and got to enjoy such things as the bride-to-be shouting out “Look at me Daddy!” at the top of her lungs (her father had joined us at the table). I assume that’s not a saying that’s common in Vegas with some of the entertainment that’s available, but hell, one can’t be too sure and getting told off by the croupier for not talking like a lady. By the time Caroline came over and joined the table I was winning cash and drinking from a penis-straw supplied by the bridesmaid, who was more than impressed when I kept it for each subsequent drink.
Good times indeed.
We found the strip, and pulled in at one of the first hotels that we came to, which happened to be one of those that Caroline’s research had turned up as a possibility to stay at – the Excalibur.
Eventually we managed to book ourselves in, park the RV and head into the hotel. The kids were super excited about getting to go for a swim, but when we were finally ready, we found out that the pool closed at some stupidly early time (obviously to encourage people to go gambling instead). Instead we decided to head out on the town, find somewhere to eat and see if we could line up some tickets to a Cirque de Soleil show.
The lights came on as we strolled the strip and we researched the best way to buy tickets, found m&m world (where Emily had a melt down as a result of being denied her own personal tube of mini-m&m’s). We had a great dinner and continued our stroll down the strip, taking in the various sights. It was a stupidly windy night – not windy enough to stop me from buying an over-sized margarita, but windy enough to stop the volcano erupting. We had hoped to get to the hotel with the roller coaster than ran on its roof, but in the end the kids were tired and it was totally at the other end of the strip (which is significantly longer than I’d expected) so we turned around and made our way back to our own hotel.
It didn’t appear that the roller coaster at New York New York (next to our own hotel) was running – again probably due to the wind) and with four kids in tow, I was left to walk past rather than into Coyote Ugly. We had to settle for putting the kids to bed and dragging our tired butts down to the casino for some blackjack.
There were no magic millions waiting for us though, so it was off to bed before too long.
Day two we followed through on our research and bought tickets to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows (its amazing how many of them run continuously in Vegas) and then spent most of the afternoon at Circus Circus where the kids indulged in some of the rides and eventually ended up cycling through the laser tag over and over again.
I had an interview with someone from home (that’s not going to result in anything) and after that, we were somewhat rushed to get some dinner in our bellies before going to the show. We thoroughly enjoyed it and then took the kids back and put them to bed.
Caroline and I hit the tables and after initially struggling to find one with a vibe that I liked, settled down in a seat next to a girl with a rather phallic balloon on her head on one side and her friend, wearing one about her waist on the other. They were obviously well into the spirit of Vegas and more importantly, the cards were being kind to me. It turned out that the girl with the balloon on her head was on her bachelorette trip and the other girl was her bridesmaid. She was more than happy to tell me that she was marrying on the 11th of September and that they were both pilots!
It wasn’t long after that that I ordered a drink from one of the waitresses and when she brought it back, I went to give her $10 bucks for it. She kept asking if I was tipping her. I was a little confused as whilst I had intended to tip her, I thought that I needed to pay for the drink first. It was about then that the girls that I was sitting with explained to me that you don’t pay for drinks whilst you’re gambling in Vegas. Hello! Spot the newbie!
Needless to say I had a couple more after that and got to enjoy such things as the bride-to-be shouting out “Look at me Daddy!” at the top of her lungs (her father had joined us at the table). I assume that’s not a saying that’s common in Vegas with some of the entertainment that’s available, but hell, one can’t be too sure and getting told off by the croupier for not talking like a lady. By the time Caroline came over and joined the table I was winning cash and drinking from a penis-straw supplied by the bridesmaid, who was more than impressed when I kept it for each subsequent drink.
Good times indeed.
May 31, 2010
Looking for an Exit
As our time in Canada marches inexorably toward its end point, one of the greatest challenges that we’re facing is not knowing what the end point is. It is a great uncertainty that plays with one’s mind.
The process that has been outlined thus far (took some poking, prodding and not-so-subtle kicking to get it moving) essentially boils down to finding yourself a job back in Australia (with the company) and going for it. Once you have that secured, you then need to work around turning that into a date for return.
The company will of course be supporting us in all this and looking for opportunities as well, particularly in areas that lie outside our own sphere of contacts and influence.
It would be easier to feel good about the process if it was a tried and true and we’d had good feedback, but at this stage, its very much a mystery and the first people to be going through it are all doing so at the same time. So far, it doesn’t really seem like there’s hundreds of people jumping up and down to take us all back. I mean, when you think about it, when we all left they had to fill the jobs that we were in. Now, they either have to invent jobs, wait for people to leave or win new work to generate new positions and we’ve all been over here growing in skills and experience and aren’t necessarily looking to go back in the same capacity that we left in.
What that leaves us with is uncertainty. Lots and lots of uncertainty. There’s no fixed date or location, so when do we enrol kids in school? And when we do, which school do we enrol them in? Do we rely on getting something int he state that we want to go to or do we just go with a wing and a prayer. When do we start packing the house?
There’s much to think of, even more to organize and quite frankly its doing my head in and isn’t helped by working a turnaround just now and facing another between now and our mystery exit date!
The process that has been outlined thus far (took some poking, prodding and not-so-subtle kicking to get it moving) essentially boils down to finding yourself a job back in Australia (with the company) and going for it. Once you have that secured, you then need to work around turning that into a date for return.
The company will of course be supporting us in all this and looking for opportunities as well, particularly in areas that lie outside our own sphere of contacts and influence.
It would be easier to feel good about the process if it was a tried and true and we’d had good feedback, but at this stage, its very much a mystery and the first people to be going through it are all doing so at the same time. So far, it doesn’t really seem like there’s hundreds of people jumping up and down to take us all back. I mean, when you think about it, when we all left they had to fill the jobs that we were in. Now, they either have to invent jobs, wait for people to leave or win new work to generate new positions and we’ve all been over here growing in skills and experience and aren’t necessarily looking to go back in the same capacity that we left in.
What that leaves us with is uncertainty. Lots and lots of uncertainty. There’s no fixed date or location, so when do we enrol kids in school? And when we do, which school do we enrol them in? Do we rely on getting something int he state that we want to go to or do we just go with a wing and a prayer. When do we start packing the house?
There’s much to think of, even more to organize and quite frankly its doing my head in and isn’t helped by working a turnaround just now and facing another between now and our mystery exit date!
May 4, 2010
Hairlairious or Hairifying?
Caroline had told me that she was taking all the kids to have hair cuts today and so I was looking forward to seeing them all neat and tidy again when I arrived home from work. All of them except Michael that is because if the last couple of efforts were anything to go by, he was only going to lose an inch or so.
Before I left work, Caroline called to check when I’d been home and dropped into conversation the fact that Michael wasn’t happy with his and so not to be too harsh on him or make any sort of comment that was likely to offend him.
It brought back the time that I had a hair cut that I loved, but that everyone around me thought was something along the lines of ridiculous. My brother’s not so politically correct comment was “that’s fucked,” whilst Dad, being the understanding and creative individual that he is, took one look and said, “wear a hat.”
Well, as if I was going to cave in the face of such opposition! And being conscious of that, I haven’t pushed Michael too hard and wasn’t going to on this occasion either. I was kind of hoping that peer pressure might win him over, but clearly he doesn’t exactly worry about the opinion of his peers! That could be a good thing.
Anyway, I came home from work and was greeted by an ecstatic Thomas, complete with very short hair. Sam was equally happy with his short hair, but there was no sign of Michael or Emily. Turns out that Emily was enjoying some ‘personal time’ as a result of her reaction to the take away Chinese that had been brought home for dinner.
As for Michael, well I was of course most interested to see what had happened to his head. That was rather difficult though because I was soon informed that he had gone into hiding and hadn’t been sighted in the 2 hours since he’d come home from the hair dresser.
Apparently he’d sat and endured the massacre and as soon as it was finished, stormed from the chair directly to the car without even a comment. Needless to say that I was expecting something pretty bad, but decided that I’d have dinner before I bothered facing him. Eventually he was tracked down, but before I could see him, he slipped into his room and stood holding it, refusing entry. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but that wasn’t going to do much. Michael was in no mind to let me in, going so far as to say that I was the one that he especially didn’t want to see it. I decided to give him time, but Caroline, having dealt with the 2 hour absence decided it was time to confront him. I left her to it.
I finally managed to sneak in to our room when he was talking to Caroline, still far from loving life. I only saw the back at first. It was shorter, maybe an inch above his neck line, may be a little messy. I lay down on the bed, not making any sudden moves or even commenting, waiting to be invited. When he finally did decide that I could have a look and let me see, it wasn’t really that bad at all.
Except for the fact that he hated it and that for a delicate young teenager’s soul that meant the world was ending.
Caroline, being the super-Mum that she is, proposed a solution: One of the Aussies that we’ve met here in Fort Mac happens to be a hair dresser. After a bit of a look on line to see if there was something that Michael might be able to live with after his hair had been ‘butchered’ and an emergency call was put into Mel.
A short time later, Michael was sitting on a chair in the living room, scissors being re-applied to his hair. A short time later again, he was done, there was a smile on his face and the world, whilst not perfect, had certainly tilted back toward a what a 13 year old might consider balanced.
Before I left work, Caroline called to check when I’d been home and dropped into conversation the fact that Michael wasn’t happy with his and so not to be too harsh on him or make any sort of comment that was likely to offend him.
It brought back the time that I had a hair cut that I loved, but that everyone around me thought was something along the lines of ridiculous. My brother’s not so politically correct comment was “that’s fucked,” whilst Dad, being the understanding and creative individual that he is, took one look and said, “wear a hat.”
Well, as if I was going to cave in the face of such opposition! And being conscious of that, I haven’t pushed Michael too hard and wasn’t going to on this occasion either. I was kind of hoping that peer pressure might win him over, but clearly he doesn’t exactly worry about the opinion of his peers! That could be a good thing.
Anyway, I came home from work and was greeted by an ecstatic Thomas, complete with very short hair. Sam was equally happy with his short hair, but there was no sign of Michael or Emily. Turns out that Emily was enjoying some ‘personal time’ as a result of her reaction to the take away Chinese that had been brought home for dinner.
As for Michael, well I was of course most interested to see what had happened to his head. That was rather difficult though because I was soon informed that he had gone into hiding and hadn’t been sighted in the 2 hours since he’d come home from the hair dresser.
Apparently he’d sat and endured the massacre and as soon as it was finished, stormed from the chair directly to the car without even a comment. Needless to say that I was expecting something pretty bad, but decided that I’d have dinner before I bothered facing him. Eventually he was tracked down, but before I could see him, he slipped into his room and stood holding it, refusing entry. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but that wasn’t going to do much. Michael was in no mind to let me in, going so far as to say that I was the one that he especially didn’t want to see it. I decided to give him time, but Caroline, having dealt with the 2 hour absence decided it was time to confront him. I left her to it.
I finally managed to sneak in to our room when he was talking to Caroline, still far from loving life. I only saw the back at first. It was shorter, maybe an inch above his neck line, may be a little messy. I lay down on the bed, not making any sudden moves or even commenting, waiting to be invited. When he finally did decide that I could have a look and let me see, it wasn’t really that bad at all.
Except for the fact that he hated it and that for a delicate young teenager’s soul that meant the world was ending.
Caroline, being the super-Mum that she is, proposed a solution: One of the Aussies that we’ve met here in Fort Mac happens to be a hair dresser. After a bit of a look on line to see if there was something that Michael might be able to live with after his hair had been ‘butchered’ and an emergency call was put into Mel.
A short time later, Michael was sitting on a chair in the living room, scissors being re-applied to his hair. A short time later again, he was done, there was a smile on his face and the world, whilst not perfect, had certainly tilted back toward a what a 13 year old might consider balanced.
Apr 29, 2010
seven and thirteen
It’s probably a sign of how busy we’ve been and where my head is at that I am lumping two significant events together even though they occurred over a month apart.
On the 21st of March, our little pink thing became a little less little, though certainly no less pink when she turned seven years old.
Bubbly and happy, she continues to exude confidence almost everywhere she goes whilst occasionally slipping into squealy, scared little girl mode, more often than not just for an excuse to get Daddy’s attention I am sure. She was very excited for her birthday, as is more than appropriate for someone turning a massive seven years old. She was especially happy about the party that we held for her with a host (or perhaps more accurately a gaggle) of kids from school. two boys were ‘fortunate’ enough to make the invite list, the first of whom was greatly relieved to be invited into the basement with Emily’s brothers as the girls went crazy around her.
Two moments stand out in my mind from the day, the part where she was opening her presents, seated on the couch, the entire party population crowded around her like petitioners about a court princess.
The second moment occurred when it was time for the pinata. We’ve been through any number of pinata’s over the time that our kids have had birthdays, home made, store bought, but regardless of the origins, they’ve all gone down the same way ... gradually bludgeoned to death by small beings wielding a long blunt object with varying degrees of proficiency.
But for some reason this one was supposed to be different. Not that I had a clue. I did the usual thing, hung it up, lined up the kids and gave them the blunt object. Emily protested loudly but I insisted that this was exactly how it worked and away we went. Each time Emily came up, she took the stick with a dark look and an overly angry and enthusiastic swing. When the candy finally fell, she stormed off with tears in her eyes.
Apparently this was a ‘special’ pinata and everyone was supposed to hold one of the streamers and pull it and that would make the candy fall ... except for the fact that I don’t remember seeing anything about that anywhere on it. She cheered up again soon enough.
One of the big differences that we’re seeing this year is the fact that Emily is learning to write and that she’s more than happy to share her new-found knowledge and skills with us. Its not unusual to find a little note outside the door or scattered about the floor letting us know that the little pink thing does indeed love her Mum and Dad. Of course, with the skills, one doesn’t necessarily develop the filter that social norms might otherwise give us and so we’ve also been known to find amongst the literary marvels the occasional note that says something as blunt as “I hate you”. Of course, that only happens when she doesn’t get her own way!
So at seven, the opinions are stated firmly and loudly, the smiles plentiful, hugs large and genuine, and the mood swings gradually coming along to show us those potentially horrifying glimpses of the future with a teenager!
Which of course leads us to the other momentus occasion that was as recent as yesterday. Michael turned 13, and so we do, in fact have a teenager in the house.
The biggest thing for us with Michael turning 13 this year was as simple as finding something to give him. With departure from Canada on the horizon (even if further than we’d like) it rules out a lot of electronic options as we are better off waiting until we’re back in the land of 240v (even if its more expensive) and we don’t really want to clutter up the house with crap any more than we’ve already managed to. In the end, he decided the he’d really like some roller blades so that along with a few books to read seems to have done the trick.
Michael continues to succeed at school, though I think somewhat reminiscent of another family member, might struggle with some of the more mundane aspects of the schooling. With the age gap to most of the people in his class, he’s struggled to click with a lot of his peers and seems to view them mostly as more trouble than they’re worth. He’s continued to enjoy to read, devouring my bookshelf at a rate that simply blows my mind. Nothing like buying him a book so that he’ll have something to read for the last couple of days of a holiday and seeing him finish it before we even get to the part where we’re traveling home again. Of course, it’s hard to complain when your teenager gets excited about a book shop.
We’re definitely seeing the emotions run hot and cold as Michael embarks on this next stage of life’s journey and I can hardly wait until the communication drops off to grunts and groans! He continues to enjoy his soccer, having been one of the key players in his indoor team.
Summer will be interesting when having just turned 13 he will have to play in a combined U14/16 team. Some of the older kids that I saw playing after the U14 games during the winter were taller than I am. At least the better U16 players will be playing in the men’s league where I’ll have to try and out run (not likely) or out push (highly likely) them. I’m also hoping that he gets a decent coach as I believe that he’d benefit from being coached by someone other than his father (maybe he’d listen a little more and offer a few less opinions).
Regardless of how it turns out, he’s a kid that its easy to be proud of and I hope that he keeps going down the right track ... even if he does need a bloody hair cut.
On the 21st of March, our little pink thing became a little less little, though certainly no less pink when she turned seven years old.
Bubbly and happy, she continues to exude confidence almost everywhere she goes whilst occasionally slipping into squealy, scared little girl mode, more often than not just for an excuse to get Daddy’s attention I am sure. She was very excited for her birthday, as is more than appropriate for someone turning a massive seven years old. She was especially happy about the party that we held for her with a host (or perhaps more accurately a gaggle) of kids from school. two boys were ‘fortunate’ enough to make the invite list, the first of whom was greatly relieved to be invited into the basement with Emily’s brothers as the girls went crazy around her.
Two moments stand out in my mind from the day, the part where she was opening her presents, seated on the couch, the entire party population crowded around her like petitioners about a court princess.
The second moment occurred when it was time for the pinata. We’ve been through any number of pinata’s over the time that our kids have had birthdays, home made, store bought, but regardless of the origins, they’ve all gone down the same way ... gradually bludgeoned to death by small beings wielding a long blunt object with varying degrees of proficiency.
But for some reason this one was supposed to be different. Not that I had a clue. I did the usual thing, hung it up, lined up the kids and gave them the blunt object. Emily protested loudly but I insisted that this was exactly how it worked and away we went. Each time Emily came up, she took the stick with a dark look and an overly angry and enthusiastic swing. When the candy finally fell, she stormed off with tears in her eyes.
Apparently this was a ‘special’ pinata and everyone was supposed to hold one of the streamers and pull it and that would make the candy fall ... except for the fact that I don’t remember seeing anything about that anywhere on it. She cheered up again soon enough.
One of the big differences that we’re seeing this year is the fact that Emily is learning to write and that she’s more than happy to share her new-found knowledge and skills with us. Its not unusual to find a little note outside the door or scattered about the floor letting us know that the little pink thing does indeed love her Mum and Dad. Of course, with the skills, one doesn’t necessarily develop the filter that social norms might otherwise give us and so we’ve also been known to find amongst the literary marvels the occasional note that says something as blunt as “I hate you”. Of course, that only happens when she doesn’t get her own way!
So at seven, the opinions are stated firmly and loudly, the smiles plentiful, hugs large and genuine, and the mood swings gradually coming along to show us those potentially horrifying glimpses of the future with a teenager!
Which of course leads us to the other momentus occasion that was as recent as yesterday. Michael turned 13, and so we do, in fact have a teenager in the house.
The biggest thing for us with Michael turning 13 this year was as simple as finding something to give him. With departure from Canada on the horizon (even if further than we’d like) it rules out a lot of electronic options as we are better off waiting until we’re back in the land of 240v (even if its more expensive) and we don’t really want to clutter up the house with crap any more than we’ve already managed to. In the end, he decided the he’d really like some roller blades so that along with a few books to read seems to have done the trick.
Michael continues to succeed at school, though I think somewhat reminiscent of another family member, might struggle with some of the more mundane aspects of the schooling. With the age gap to most of the people in his class, he’s struggled to click with a lot of his peers and seems to view them mostly as more trouble than they’re worth. He’s continued to enjoy to read, devouring my bookshelf at a rate that simply blows my mind. Nothing like buying him a book so that he’ll have something to read for the last couple of days of a holiday and seeing him finish it before we even get to the part where we’re traveling home again. Of course, it’s hard to complain when your teenager gets excited about a book shop.
We’re definitely seeing the emotions run hot and cold as Michael embarks on this next stage of life’s journey and I can hardly wait until the communication drops off to grunts and groans! He continues to enjoy his soccer, having been one of the key players in his indoor team.
Summer will be interesting when having just turned 13 he will have to play in a combined U14/16 team. Some of the older kids that I saw playing after the U14 games during the winter were taller than I am. At least the better U16 players will be playing in the men’s league where I’ll have to try and out run (not likely) or out push (highly likely) them. I’m also hoping that he gets a decent coach as I believe that he’d benefit from being coached by someone other than his father (maybe he’d listen a little more and offer a few less opinions).
Regardless of how it turns out, he’s a kid that its easy to be proud of and I hope that he keeps going down the right track ... even if he does need a bloody hair cut.
Apr 21, 2010
The Great American Road Trip Pt. 1
In retrospect, referring to our holiday as our Great Griswaldian Adventure in the weeks and months leading up to it may have been a less than inspired choice, if for no other reason than feeling like it’s poking fate in the eye and waiting for a reaction.
Caroline and I were up until after midnight the day before the trip, making sure that we would have everything that we would need and that it had been compressed into suitably small shapes so as to allow us to board a plane.
The day of depature, Michael and Sam had their indoor soccer finals and the original plan had been to go straight from the soccer to the airport where we’d abandon the car for a couple of weeks. When I looked at the luggage that needed to go in the car it was readily apparent that one car stuffed to overflowing simply wasn’t a good answer, not to mention the fact that the last minute panic meant that we weren’t all ready to go at the same time.
So two cars it was to soccer, with Michael and Sam both coming away with Gold medals after their respective games. Following that, it was a dash to the house, loading everything into the car to the point of imminent explosion and off to the airport. I dropped Caroline, the kids and the luggage off at the door and was about to go park the car when Caroline asked me where my hand luggage was.
Oh crap.
The instant she asked me, it flashed through my mind. In order to pack the luggage in the car I’d moved my car out of the garage. When I’d packed everything else, I put my hand luggage down on the ground. Because the garage was full of mud from the snow, I put it on one of the few clean spots. To get Caroline’s car out I had to move mine back in, which meant that my luggage was now right in front of my car. In fact, it was basically underneath the front. We all piled in the car and left, sans my hand luggage.
My instant reaction was to flee home to get it, but we were close enough to boarding that I didn’t think I’d have time. I gave it up and went to park the car.
Urgent calls to the one person that had access to our house went unanswered.
When I came back from parking the car, Caroline told me there’d been a slight delay and that I may have time. I fled the airport, mind whirling, eyes on my watch and doing the arithmetic. If I sped the whole way home and back again, I might make it just in time IF they took 10 minutes to board and I could get in at the last second. A bad run of lights, getting booked for speeding, or simply having to park a little too far away would potentially mean missing the flight.
I stopped, turned around and returned to the terminal, where Emily unfurled herself from her mother’s arms to give me a big hug. She’d been terrified that Daddy might not make it on the plane.
Normally missing my hand luggage wouldn’t mean a lot. No book to read, no iPod for the journey, possibly even missing a snack I’d packed. On this occasion however, I’d happened to pack the bag with all the charges for our cameras as well as the video camera in my backpack instead of the luggage.
As we flew to LA, we considered our options. We’d get some photos, but would probably exhaust batteries fairly quickly and we’d have no video. Our first point of call out of LA was intended to be the Grand Canyon. Surely that wouldn’t put too great a strain on the cameras! Yeah, right.
Option 1 was try and find a retailer that would sell us new battery chargers for the cameras. Likely to be expensive.
Option 2 was to have Nancy go to our house, retrieve the bag and courier it to us. If we went down that path, it would also be expensive and involve a change of plans so that we could be in a location where we could receive mail.
We settled on option 2, forked out the requisite arm and leg and changed our plans to head straight to Vegas from LA rather than the Grand Canyon.
And with that happy little start, our vacation was underway!
Caroline and I were up until after midnight the day before the trip, making sure that we would have everything that we would need and that it had been compressed into suitably small shapes so as to allow us to board a plane.
The day of depature, Michael and Sam had their indoor soccer finals and the original plan had been to go straight from the soccer to the airport where we’d abandon the car for a couple of weeks. When I looked at the luggage that needed to go in the car it was readily apparent that one car stuffed to overflowing simply wasn’t a good answer, not to mention the fact that the last minute panic meant that we weren’t all ready to go at the same time.
So two cars it was to soccer, with Michael and Sam both coming away with Gold medals after their respective games. Following that, it was a dash to the house, loading everything into the car to the point of imminent explosion and off to the airport. I dropped Caroline, the kids and the luggage off at the door and was about to go park the car when Caroline asked me where my hand luggage was.
Oh crap.
The instant she asked me, it flashed through my mind. In order to pack the luggage in the car I’d moved my car out of the garage. When I’d packed everything else, I put my hand luggage down on the ground. Because the garage was full of mud from the snow, I put it on one of the few clean spots. To get Caroline’s car out I had to move mine back in, which meant that my luggage was now right in front of my car. In fact, it was basically underneath the front. We all piled in the car and left, sans my hand luggage.
My instant reaction was to flee home to get it, but we were close enough to boarding that I didn’t think I’d have time. I gave it up and went to park the car.
Urgent calls to the one person that had access to our house went unanswered.
When I came back from parking the car, Caroline told me there’d been a slight delay and that I may have time. I fled the airport, mind whirling, eyes on my watch and doing the arithmetic. If I sped the whole way home and back again, I might make it just in time IF they took 10 minutes to board and I could get in at the last second. A bad run of lights, getting booked for speeding, or simply having to park a little too far away would potentially mean missing the flight.
I stopped, turned around and returned to the terminal, where Emily unfurled herself from her mother’s arms to give me a big hug. She’d been terrified that Daddy might not make it on the plane.
Normally missing my hand luggage wouldn’t mean a lot. No book to read, no iPod for the journey, possibly even missing a snack I’d packed. On this occasion however, I’d happened to pack the bag with all the charges for our cameras as well as the video camera in my backpack instead of the luggage.
As we flew to LA, we considered our options. We’d get some photos, but would probably exhaust batteries fairly quickly and we’d have no video. Our first point of call out of LA was intended to be the Grand Canyon. Surely that wouldn’t put too great a strain on the cameras! Yeah, right.
Option 1 was try and find a retailer that would sell us new battery chargers for the cameras. Likely to be expensive.
Option 2 was to have Nancy go to our house, retrieve the bag and courier it to us. If we went down that path, it would also be expensive and involve a change of plans so that we could be in a location where we could receive mail.
We settled on option 2, forked out the requisite arm and leg and changed our plans to head straight to Vegas from LA rather than the Grand Canyon.
And with that happy little start, our vacation was underway!
Jasper Juniors
This year, rather than spend our winters freezing our butts off at, and shuttling back and forth between ice rinks, we managed to keep the kids out of any ice sports and pursue other options.
The boys all played indoor soccer and Emily and Thomas joined the Nancy Greene Ski Program. Emily would have loved to have played indoor soccer but unfortunately her games would have been on Saturday which simply wasn't conducive to the lifestyle that we wanted this year. At least when the kids are skiing we get to indulge as well.
One of the things that the Nancy Greene program enables the kids to do is participate in ski races, something which Caroline and I were certainly excited about, regardless of whether Emily and Thomas thought it would be particularly special or not.
With our other commitments and fun (like holidaying in the Caribbean) we didn’t actually get to as many of these events as we’d have liked, but we did make the one that we considered most important - the Jasper Junior Olympics.
It was held the week after we arrived back from our cruise, so we went from the sand to the snow in a very short space of time. Caroline and the kids went on the bus on the Thursday, whilst I worked through Friday. Then I caught the plane to Edmonton and drove out in a little Hyundai to meet them in Jasper.
It almost uneventful except for the bit where I was driving along at the permitted 110kms/hour and looked up to see the back end of what I think was an Elk wandering off the road to my right. I hit the skids, veered into the left lane and set the heart racing to about a billion beats a minute. I slowed down and considered just how bloody lucky i was that there hadn’t been anyone in the lane along side me, not to mention that it hadn’t been the front end of the animal that I’d seen! Otherwise it would have been a very very messy experience.
Eventually I controlled the heart and made it the rest of the way and by the time that I’d managed to make it to the Rockies proper, I was in a suitable frame of mind to admire the absolutely stunning view as the bright, silvery light of a very full moon cast its ethereal glow across the snow-capped mountains. It was truly wonderful and I would have given a lot to have had a camera handy (not to mention some decent photography skills) so that I could have captured it to share.
The following day we were up bright and early to pack ourselves onto the team bus so that we could head up to the mountain to do some skiing (oh and um, watch the kids too). The kids were split into age groups and genders for racing and the older kids skied on a tougher course. That meant that Emily would be skiing down a green run near the base of the mountain whilst Thomas would ski at the top on a black run! Caroline was kind enough to do our volunteer duty so that I could fit in some extra skiing (something about having missed most of the Christmas ski adventure).
It was going to be a delicate task once the kids were ready to ski as all we had to go by was the number of their bib as to when they would be coming down the mountain. Michael and Sam and I did some exploration to make sure that we’d be able to get from one to the other in time the waited near Emily’s run for her first race.
It was very cute to see the little kids skiing their hearts out as they weaved in and out of the gates to get the fastest time that they could. On the first day they would each have two timed races to see who could produce the quickest time.
Emily fared very well in her event, coming in 11th in her age group, which was just one place short of getting a ribbon! After her first run we raced to the bottom, caught the lift back to the top and skied across to Thomas’ course. We had to repeat it for the second run in the afternoon.
Thomas skied well on his first run, but unfortunately on his second, lost his edges about 5 gates from the finish. He got up quickly and kept skiing, but hadn’t realized that he’d missed a gate in the process and sadly ended with a DNF (did not finish). That meant that he didn’t get an official time for his runs, but from his first run he was around the middle of the pack. When you see the speed some of the kids that have been skiing (and racing) for many years achieve, middle of the pack is bloody good.
On the second day, the racing was a team event, with the various ski teams competing against each other. This meant that each skier would participate in two tandem slalom races, weaving through the gates side by side against their competitor (based on their time from the previous day). Apparently there’s then some mathematical wizardry around which teams win how many of their races to determine the overall winner.
Again Emily was the first down the mountain and she managed to get over the line first, smiling as she came over the line. I had a little more concern for as although he had put a brave face on the disappointment of the Saturday, I knew that he really wanted to be able to say that he had won something.
In his first race he managed to well and truly beat his opponent over the line. Then we raced off to see Emily again. In the first race they came down one side of the course and then in the second race came down the other, I assume to even out any slight imbalances in the positioning of the various gates. Emily went close, but was just beaten over the line before we scuttled off to the top of the mountain for the last time.
Thomas skied his best and again managed to get himself over the line, coming out with a double victory and happily, a good story to tell about his efforts at the Jasper Junior Olympics.
From there it was just a casual bus ride back to the Mac. All 10 hours or so of it!
The boys all played indoor soccer and Emily and Thomas joined the Nancy Greene Ski Program. Emily would have loved to have played indoor soccer but unfortunately her games would have been on Saturday which simply wasn't conducive to the lifestyle that we wanted this year. At least when the kids are skiing we get to indulge as well.
One of the things that the Nancy Greene program enables the kids to do is participate in ski races, something which Caroline and I were certainly excited about, regardless of whether Emily and Thomas thought it would be particularly special or not.
With our other commitments and fun (like holidaying in the Caribbean) we didn’t actually get to as many of these events as we’d have liked, but we did make the one that we considered most important - the Jasper Junior Olympics.
It was held the week after we arrived back from our cruise, so we went from the sand to the snow in a very short space of time. Caroline and the kids went on the bus on the Thursday, whilst I worked through Friday. Then I caught the plane to Edmonton and drove out in a little Hyundai to meet them in Jasper.
It almost uneventful except for the bit where I was driving along at the permitted 110kms/hour and looked up to see the back end of what I think was an Elk wandering off the road to my right. I hit the skids, veered into the left lane and set the heart racing to about a billion beats a minute. I slowed down and considered just how bloody lucky i was that there hadn’t been anyone in the lane along side me, not to mention that it hadn’t been the front end of the animal that I’d seen! Otherwise it would have been a very very messy experience.
Eventually I controlled the heart and made it the rest of the way and by the time that I’d managed to make it to the Rockies proper, I was in a suitable frame of mind to admire the absolutely stunning view as the bright, silvery light of a very full moon cast its ethereal glow across the snow-capped mountains. It was truly wonderful and I would have given a lot to have had a camera handy (not to mention some decent photography skills) so that I could have captured it to share.
The following day we were up bright and early to pack ourselves onto the team bus so that we could head up to the mountain to do some skiing (oh and um, watch the kids too). The kids were split into age groups and genders for racing and the older kids skied on a tougher course. That meant that Emily would be skiing down a green run near the base of the mountain whilst Thomas would ski at the top on a black run! Caroline was kind enough to do our volunteer duty so that I could fit in some extra skiing (something about having missed most of the Christmas ski adventure).
It was going to be a delicate task once the kids were ready to ski as all we had to go by was the number of their bib as to when they would be coming down the mountain. Michael and Sam and I did some exploration to make sure that we’d be able to get from one to the other in time the waited near Emily’s run for her first race.
It was very cute to see the little kids skiing their hearts out as they weaved in and out of the gates to get the fastest time that they could. On the first day they would each have two timed races to see who could produce the quickest time.
Emily fared very well in her event, coming in 11th in her age group, which was just one place short of getting a ribbon! After her first run we raced to the bottom, caught the lift back to the top and skied across to Thomas’ course. We had to repeat it for the second run in the afternoon.
Thomas skied well on his first run, but unfortunately on his second, lost his edges about 5 gates from the finish. He got up quickly and kept skiing, but hadn’t realized that he’d missed a gate in the process and sadly ended with a DNF (did not finish). That meant that he didn’t get an official time for his runs, but from his first run he was around the middle of the pack. When you see the speed some of the kids that have been skiing (and racing) for many years achieve, middle of the pack is bloody good.
On the second day, the racing was a team event, with the various ski teams competing against each other. This meant that each skier would participate in two tandem slalom races, weaving through the gates side by side against their competitor (based on their time from the previous day). Apparently there’s then some mathematical wizardry around which teams win how many of their races to determine the overall winner.
Again Emily was the first down the mountain and she managed to get over the line first, smiling as she came over the line. I had a little more concern for as although he had put a brave face on the disappointment of the Saturday, I knew that he really wanted to be able to say that he had won something.
In his first race he managed to well and truly beat his opponent over the line. Then we raced off to see Emily again. In the first race they came down one side of the course and then in the second race came down the other, I assume to even out any slight imbalances in the positioning of the various gates. Emily went close, but was just beaten over the line before we scuttled off to the top of the mountain for the last time.
Thomas skied his best and again managed to get himself over the line, coming out with a double victory and happily, a good story to tell about his efforts at the Jasper Junior Olympics.
From there it was just a casual bus ride back to the Mac. All 10 hours or so of it!
Mar 14, 2010
Daylight Saving
It seems that every couple of years with the change for daylight savings, we get caught out. One of the things about living in Fort McMurray is that I don’t tend to pay much attention to the local media. Let’s face it, it’s pretty much restricted to local radio and for as much as they try hard, I can’t say that I am a fan and so more often than not, you’ll find me listening to a podcast rather than the radio. What it meant this year was that it snuck up on us. Someone said something late Friday to me, but that went in one ear and out the other.
So this morning I woke up, looked at the clock and realized we weren’t going to make 9am mass. I did make the effort though to get up and make sure that the kids were fed in time for the 11am mass instead. Having cooked pancakes, I logged onto the computer for a bit and then, when I though it was about 20 to, called out to Caroline to make sure she would be as ready as the rest of us. On the hour, as she emerged from the lofty heights of the second story, I politely told her that we would be rather late. At which point she asked why, given that it was only 10am. I re-checked my watch and slapped myself for being a goose.
Half an hour later, as I sat down to write here, something clicked in my head and I remembered that brief and vague conversation that I’d had on Friday that had mentioned daylight savings. I checked the internet and sure enough, it wasn’t 10:30 anymore, it was 11:30. We’d missed the mass anyway. Goose squared!
And a brief note: When the sun rises at 4am and it’s still daylight at 11pm at night in high summer, what is the point of daylight savings? It’s not really like you’re running out of the stuff!?
So this morning I woke up, looked at the clock and realized we weren’t going to make 9am mass. I did make the effort though to get up and make sure that the kids were fed in time for the 11am mass instead. Having cooked pancakes, I logged onto the computer for a bit and then, when I though it was about 20 to, called out to Caroline to make sure she would be as ready as the rest of us. On the hour, as she emerged from the lofty heights of the second story, I politely told her that we would be rather late. At which point she asked why, given that it was only 10am. I re-checked my watch and slapped myself for being a goose.
Half an hour later, as I sat down to write here, something clicked in my head and I remembered that brief and vague conversation that I’d had on Friday that had mentioned daylight savings. I checked the internet and sure enough, it wasn’t 10:30 anymore, it was 11:30. We’d missed the mass anyway. Goose squared!
And a brief note: When the sun rises at 4am and it’s still daylight at 11pm at night in high summer, what is the point of daylight savings? It’s not really like you’re running out of the stuff!?
Holiday Pt 3
Yes, it’s taken me a while to finish this off. Work has been somewhat frantic since our return, but I finally pulled my finger out and found some time to finish this off!
After all of the excitement of the shuttle launch, it was almost hard to believe that we were only at the very beginning of our holiday.
The four days that followed were consumed by Disney as we roamed the parks of Walt Disney World. We whipped fairly quickly through the Magic Kingdom as much of it was very similar (if not the same) as Disneyland in California. We had planned to go back to have a look at the bits that we skipped, but by the time that we’d been through Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Disney’s Hollywood Studios we decided that we’d take the time to get back to Fort Lauderdale ahead of the cruise.
Disney was a heap of fun, especially for the kids, but I can’t say that it quite inspires the same words that the shuttle launch did. That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy it, just that having already been to several theme parks, it wasn’t quite the unique opportunity that the launch was.
We also did some outlet shopping, but any rumour that a couple of shop owners may have managed to pay cash for luxury apartments in the Caribbean following our may be slightly exaggerated.
The truly joyous part of our endeavours in the outlet shops would have to have been the point where the clerk told me that he would have to ring for authorisation on my card. I stood there as they rang the bank, confident that there was plenty of money in the account, even substantially confident that I was in fact, me. After a brief discussion, the clerk handed over the phone so that I could speak to the bank and ensure them that yes, it was me, I was in America and I really did want to proceed with the transaction.
All was good. Then, about 30 seconds after we finished the transaction, my cell phone rang. It was the bank. Was I trying to spend $5,000 at Universal Studios Florida? Given that I hadn’t in fact been anywhere near the place at all and certainly hadn’t managed to break the laws of physics as we know them (at least whilst I was awake) I assured the nice man on the phone that I wasn’t in two places at once and indeed wasn’t trying to spend that money. My card had been compromised. Shit. I took the time to cut it up in the store and then listened as I was told that my new card would be mailed out to me in 7-10 business days. In Canada. That was going to be extremely useful seeing that in 7-10 days I would be in the middle of the Caribbean. Fortunately, it was only my card number that was compromised and there was no need to cancel Caroline’s. I t just meant that any time I wanted to spend any money, I would have tobeg ask her nicely. Huzzah!
After the fun of the launch, the shopping and the theme parks, we drove back to Fort Lauderdale where we had a one night stop over before we were due to get on the ship for our cruise. We went for a drive to the Everglades so that we could see a different sort of landscape and quite possibly a ‘gator or two.
We were almost to the turnoff to our destination when I glanced at the fuel gauge and realized that there was a reasonable chance that we simply weren’t going to make it to where we needed to go and that we were quickly approaching a point where we also wouldn’t be able to make it back to our point of origin either. The road was an arrow straight highway cutting across the everglades and in my naivety, I expected there to be interchanges somewhere with gas stations. Apparently not. We cut our losses and turnaround around, heading back to the first point that we saw a gas station and filling the van whilst grabbing some lunch. We were very excited to see a bakery, right up until the point where we went inside and didn’t really recongnise anything. Caroline and I had the Mexican equivalent of a pie but the kids were pretty much out of luck, with not one of them liking what we’d bought them.
Anyway, refueled and slightly less hungry, we stopped at a ‘quaint’ little tourist place where we could go for an airboat ride which was kind of fun, but of course it’s not until you’ve paid your money and are halfway through the ride that they tell you that the weather’s too cold and so you’re not likely to see any ‘gators. Given that they’re cold blooded and that it was in fact cool and windy, we’d expected this and wanted the airboat ride anyway, but I bet there were a few people there who wouldn’t have bothered handing cash over if they’d known. Of course, on the up side, they did have a little collection of animals that were being rehabilitated and so we saw some captive ‘gators and even managed to hold a baby one, which Emily was very very excited about.
After that, we headed out to the original place that we’d been going to go to so that Caroline could try some ‘gator nuggets. Once we’d turned off the highway and made our way toward the reservation upon which the next tourist place was built, we managed to see some ‘gators. The sun had come out and so in the reeds next to the canals, there were a number of them sunning themselves to spread some warmth through their bodies. They didn’t do anything other than lie there (which is apparently a significant part of their lifestyle) but it was great to get to see them outside of a pen.
After that, it was back to the hotel for some dinner and our final land-lubber’s sleep before the cruise.
The following afternoon it was indeed time at last to get ourselves off the land and onto the ship. Full of beans and excitement, we went through the embarkation process, grabbed some champagne and clambered aboard the Celebrity Solstice.
I have to say that our first impressions were good. The ship was beautifully decked out and for me in particular, a far far cry from the conditions in which I used to live whilst working off-shore.
Having made it through life-boat drills and found our cabins, we explored the ship, being sure to make it in quick time to the kids programs to try and off-load the extras, but unfortunately they weren’t that keen and really wanted to stay with us. That was fine for the start and we were sure that we’d off-load them the following day.
What can be said about the cruise? It wouldn’t be fair on anyone to go into a blow-by- blow account, so I am not about to do that. Let’s just say that it was quite simply a bloody fantastic holiday.
The food was great and there was always something to do if you were prepared to go look for it (and you didn’t have to look hard). From going to the gym and watching the ocean drift past as you ran, to swimming in the pool, or simply holding up one side of a bar, it was just wonderfully relaxing.
Our first stop was in San Juan, Puerto Rico where we took a great bus tour around the island before browsing through some of the shops. We were interested to realise that San Juan is a commonwealth of the United States and it had an interesting history that one could barely begin to appreciate in the time that we had there.
The second stop was St Maarten, where we pursued the shopping a little harder as it was truly duty and tax free. We dipped ourselves in the ocean (hard not to when the water is so gloriously warm and the sun is streaming down on you from above) and having more time in St Maarten than we’d had in San Juan, went back to the ship for lunch and to drop off the two older boys who weren’t quite as interested in seeing anymore of the island than they already had.
Caroline, Thomas, Emily and I returned to the Island and jumped into a taxi so that we could find another beach and see a little more. Caroline thoroughly enjoyed the taxi ride, mainly because she had the chance to speak Dutch to the driver. Whilst Caroline looked into hiring flippers and snorkels for the four of us, I noticed that happy hour and the adjacent bar was nearly over (it only ran from 11am to 4pm!) and so took my chance to pick up a beer (can’t say no when it’s a whole dollar, even if it is American). We then attempted to get out to the reef that was just off-shore, but it proved too difficult for Emily and so she and I went in and played in the shallows whilst Thomas and Caroline eyed off the fish. It was sadly a little choppy, but they did get to spend some time out there.
The third stop was Tortola, of the British Virgin Isles and again, we took a tour of the place, though because there was six of us, we ended up in a taxi rather than one of the tour buses. Whilst it might have been air-conditioned and we didn’t have to wait for other people, our driver sadly lacked the personality and joi de vivre that you would expect from an actual tour operator. At least we got to see the place. We went swimming at Cane Garden Bay, a gorgeous little spot even with all the tourists (hard to avoid when you land a ship with 3200 people on it) and again simply enjoyed the fact that we were dressing lightly, swimming in the ocean and bathing in the sun!
The final stop for the cruise (prior to disembarkation of course) was Haiti. The cruise line made much of the fact that they were stopping there so soon after the earthquake that had devastated the island. In essence, they said that they had liaised with the government prior to doing so and the fact that they brought supplies, as well as tourists who would actually spend money and support the local population meant that continuing to visit was the right thing to do. For me it meant the chance to try out the Dragon’s Breath Zip line, the world’s longest zip line.
Unfortunately it meant lots of waiting for the rest of the family and Caroline had to juggle getting Emily’s hair braided and trying to see when I’d actually come down the line. The weather closed in on our way up the hill and by the time I was off, it was raining, but it was still a very cool thing to have managed to do.
Before that we’d taken a snorkeling tour out to the reef and as we arrived there, I was not quite so thrilled to have them tell us how there wouldn’t be many fish due to the fact that the locals had been living off fish for hundreds of years (or more). There’s nothing quite like paying your money and then finding out that there isn’t going to be a lot to look at. We still saw some cool things, but it wasn’t teeming with life the way the reef in Jamaica had been the year before.
As our last stop on the tour, Labadee was a bit of a disappointment. The stopping point is owned by the cruiseline and as such, didn’t have the flavour of the other stops where you actually managed to get into the local town (even if that was a tourist haven) and take off in any direction you wanted. Basically it seemed a bit sterile. It was still better than working though!
After all of the excitement of the shuttle launch, it was almost hard to believe that we were only at the very beginning of our holiday.
The four days that followed were consumed by Disney as we roamed the parks of Walt Disney World. We whipped fairly quickly through the Magic Kingdom as much of it was very similar (if not the same) as Disneyland in California. We had planned to go back to have a look at the bits that we skipped, but by the time that we’d been through Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Disney’s Hollywood Studios we decided that we’d take the time to get back to Fort Lauderdale ahead of the cruise.
Disney was a heap of fun, especially for the kids, but I can’t say that it quite inspires the same words that the shuttle launch did. That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy it, just that having already been to several theme parks, it wasn’t quite the unique opportunity that the launch was.
We also did some outlet shopping, but any rumour that a couple of shop owners may have managed to pay cash for luxury apartments in the Caribbean following our may be slightly exaggerated.
The truly joyous part of our endeavours in the outlet shops would have to have been the point where the clerk told me that he would have to ring for authorisation on my card. I stood there as they rang the bank, confident that there was plenty of money in the account, even substantially confident that I was in fact, me. After a brief discussion, the clerk handed over the phone so that I could speak to the bank and ensure them that yes, it was me, I was in America and I really did want to proceed with the transaction.
All was good. Then, about 30 seconds after we finished the transaction, my cell phone rang. It was the bank. Was I trying to spend $5,000 at Universal Studios Florida? Given that I hadn’t in fact been anywhere near the place at all and certainly hadn’t managed to break the laws of physics as we know them (at least whilst I was awake) I assured the nice man on the phone that I wasn’t in two places at once and indeed wasn’t trying to spend that money. My card had been compromised. Shit. I took the time to cut it up in the store and then listened as I was told that my new card would be mailed out to me in 7-10 business days. In Canada. That was going to be extremely useful seeing that in 7-10 days I would be in the middle of the Caribbean. Fortunately, it was only my card number that was compromised and there was no need to cancel Caroline’s. I t just meant that any time I wanted to spend any money, I would have to
After the fun of the launch, the shopping and the theme parks, we drove back to Fort Lauderdale where we had a one night stop over before we were due to get on the ship for our cruise. We went for a drive to the Everglades so that we could see a different sort of landscape and quite possibly a ‘gator or two.
We were almost to the turnoff to our destination when I glanced at the fuel gauge and realized that there was a reasonable chance that we simply weren’t going to make it to where we needed to go and that we were quickly approaching a point where we also wouldn’t be able to make it back to our point of origin either. The road was an arrow straight highway cutting across the everglades and in my naivety, I expected there to be interchanges somewhere with gas stations. Apparently not. We cut our losses and turnaround around, heading back to the first point that we saw a gas station and filling the van whilst grabbing some lunch. We were very excited to see a bakery, right up until the point where we went inside and didn’t really recongnise anything. Caroline and I had the Mexican equivalent of a pie but the kids were pretty much out of luck, with not one of them liking what we’d bought them.
Anyway, refueled and slightly less hungry, we stopped at a ‘quaint’ little tourist place where we could go for an airboat ride which was kind of fun, but of course it’s not until you’ve paid your money and are halfway through the ride that they tell you that the weather’s too cold and so you’re not likely to see any ‘gators. Given that they’re cold blooded and that it was in fact cool and windy, we’d expected this and wanted the airboat ride anyway, but I bet there were a few people there who wouldn’t have bothered handing cash over if they’d known. Of course, on the up side, they did have a little collection of animals that were being rehabilitated and so we saw some captive ‘gators and even managed to hold a baby one, which Emily was very very excited about.
After that, we headed out to the original place that we’d been going to go to so that Caroline could try some ‘gator nuggets. Once we’d turned off the highway and made our way toward the reservation upon which the next tourist place was built, we managed to see some ‘gators. The sun had come out and so in the reeds next to the canals, there were a number of them sunning themselves to spread some warmth through their bodies. They didn’t do anything other than lie there (which is apparently a significant part of their lifestyle) but it was great to get to see them outside of a pen.
After that, it was back to the hotel for some dinner and our final land-lubber’s sleep before the cruise.
The following afternoon it was indeed time at last to get ourselves off the land and onto the ship. Full of beans and excitement, we went through the embarkation process, grabbed some champagne and clambered aboard the Celebrity Solstice.
I have to say that our first impressions were good. The ship was beautifully decked out and for me in particular, a far far cry from the conditions in which I used to live whilst working off-shore.
Having made it through life-boat drills and found our cabins, we explored the ship, being sure to make it in quick time to the kids programs to try and off-load the extras, but unfortunately they weren’t that keen and really wanted to stay with us. That was fine for the start and we were sure that we’d off-load them the following day.
What can be said about the cruise? It wouldn’t be fair on anyone to go into a blow-by- blow account, so I am not about to do that. Let’s just say that it was quite simply a bloody fantastic holiday.
The food was great and there was always something to do if you were prepared to go look for it (and you didn’t have to look hard). From going to the gym and watching the ocean drift past as you ran, to swimming in the pool, or simply holding up one side of a bar, it was just wonderfully relaxing.
Our first stop was in San Juan, Puerto Rico where we took a great bus tour around the island before browsing through some of the shops. We were interested to realise that San Juan is a commonwealth of the United States and it had an interesting history that one could barely begin to appreciate in the time that we had there.
The second stop was St Maarten, where we pursued the shopping a little harder as it was truly duty and tax free. We dipped ourselves in the ocean (hard not to when the water is so gloriously warm and the sun is streaming down on you from above) and having more time in St Maarten than we’d had in San Juan, went back to the ship for lunch and to drop off the two older boys who weren’t quite as interested in seeing anymore of the island than they already had.
Caroline, Thomas, Emily and I returned to the Island and jumped into a taxi so that we could find another beach and see a little more. Caroline thoroughly enjoyed the taxi ride, mainly because she had the chance to speak Dutch to the driver. Whilst Caroline looked into hiring flippers and snorkels for the four of us, I noticed that happy hour and the adjacent bar was nearly over (it only ran from 11am to 4pm!) and so took my chance to pick up a beer (can’t say no when it’s a whole dollar, even if it is American). We then attempted to get out to the reef that was just off-shore, but it proved too difficult for Emily and so she and I went in and played in the shallows whilst Thomas and Caroline eyed off the fish. It was sadly a little choppy, but they did get to spend some time out there.
The third stop was Tortola, of the British Virgin Isles and again, we took a tour of the place, though because there was six of us, we ended up in a taxi rather than one of the tour buses. Whilst it might have been air-conditioned and we didn’t have to wait for other people, our driver sadly lacked the personality and joi de vivre that you would expect from an actual tour operator. At least we got to see the place. We went swimming at Cane Garden Bay, a gorgeous little spot even with all the tourists (hard to avoid when you land a ship with 3200 people on it) and again simply enjoyed the fact that we were dressing lightly, swimming in the ocean and bathing in the sun!
The final stop for the cruise (prior to disembarkation of course) was Haiti. The cruise line made much of the fact that they were stopping there so soon after the earthquake that had devastated the island. In essence, they said that they had liaised with the government prior to doing so and the fact that they brought supplies, as well as tourists who would actually spend money and support the local population meant that continuing to visit was the right thing to do. For me it meant the chance to try out the Dragon’s Breath Zip line, the world’s longest zip line.
Unfortunately it meant lots of waiting for the rest of the family and Caroline had to juggle getting Emily’s hair braided and trying to see when I’d actually come down the line. The weather closed in on our way up the hill and by the time I was off, it was raining, but it was still a very cool thing to have managed to do.
Before that we’d taken a snorkeling tour out to the reef and as we arrived there, I was not quite so thrilled to have them tell us how there wouldn’t be many fish due to the fact that the locals had been living off fish for hundreds of years (or more). There’s nothing quite like paying your money and then finding out that there isn’t going to be a lot to look at. We still saw some cool things, but it wasn’t teeming with life the way the reef in Jamaica had been the year before.
As our last stop on the tour, Labadee was a bit of a disappointment. The stopping point is owned by the cruiseline and as such, didn’t have the flavour of the other stops where you actually managed to get into the local town (even if that was a tourist haven) and take off in any direction you wanted. Basically it seemed a bit sterile. It was still better than working though!
Feb 10, 2010
Holiday Pt 2 – The Launch
Having barely survived the sleep deprivation and all that lead up to the scrubbing of the first shuttle launch, we stoically decided that we would indeed back it up with yet another night of sleepless insanity and return to the Kennedy Space Centre for the re-scheduled launch of STS-130.
We slept for most of the morning and went Outlet shopping for the afternoon, grabbed a quick dinner and then headed back to the bus stop to get picked up for a return to the KSC. Being the second day and with only 24 hours notice that the event was on seemed to significantly change the number of people that were able to attend. It was also Sunday night rather than Saturday which may have deterred a few locals who had to work.
Whatever it was, it made things better for us as we were through the gate quickly, spent more time in the Space Centre and didn’t have to line up for 2kms to get back on the buses when the time came to move over to the causeway. For some reason we still spent a bucket of time in the bus waiting (I think they held them all until the shuttle had been fueled) and because the bus driver we had on the second day was complete crap compared to the first day, despite the reduced numbers, we ended up on exactly the same piece of real estate. This time however, we were much better prepared for the cold, double panted and extra-womble like layered to repel the chill wind. We'd even stopped to buy a couple of beanies!
And there we waited, counting the hours, then the minutes until the launch was due, again watching the clouds overhead, hoping against hope that we would be more fortunate.
The reduced numbers gave us some time to move around a little and the wind wasn’t quite as fierce, so the cold was slightly more bearable. Thomas and I wandered down to the launch clock that you see if you ever watch one of these things on the web and the T-20 hold came and went.
There were whispers of 60% chance of launch, dropping to 40% at some point, climbing again … all designed surely to keep us nervous with anticipation. The T-9 hold came (a 30 minute hold in itself) and we continued to count the minutes, watching them creep by, waiting whilst the kids slept. Then a cheer went up, we had moved past the T-9 hold, things were happening, it looked like it would be a go (but we held our breath because our tour operator from the day before had told us of a time when a launch had been scrubbed with 2 minutes on the clock). The real no turning back point is at 30 seconds.
We woke the kids up, shaking and talking and shaking until we knew they were awake enough not to succumb to sleepy bo-bos at the critical moment and then waited just a little bit longer.
Then we heard it, “Go for Launch!” 10 seconds … the free hydrogen burnoff … 9 seconds … 8 … 7 … 6.6 seconds … Main Engines Start … 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 …0! Ignition! Hold down release and launch!
The first thing that we could see (being some 5 miles or so from the launch pad) was a burst of fire down near the base of the pad. Then the night sky is lit up until it is the colour of a beautiful orange summer sunset, almost as bright as day light.
The tail of flame shoots skyward propelling the shuttle into the heavens. You can’t see it for the intensity of the light, but you know it’s there with its crew strapped in and flying. 20 seconds or so after the launch, as the shuttle shoots upward, the wall of sound catches up, the deep base rumble washing over you, literally rippling the water, stirring up the ‘gators and giving you yet another sense of the power and wonder that is unfolding before your eyes.
As the shuttle climbs, the intensity of the light fades and the shuttle tilts over and rolls ready for separation of the boosters.
There’s cheers from the crowd as it is announced that separation has been achieved, memories of Challenger vivid amongst the launch community, everyone hoping that they never see anything of its like again.
It continues to fade until the night sky has resumed its dominance over the intruder which disappears toward the darker sky of space, its light now white, like an overly bright star before it winks out, only 3 and a half minutes from that moment when ignition began.
The words really don’t do it justice, nor do the pictures. It truly was a once in a lifetime, awe-inspiring spectacle that I count myself incredibly fortunate to have witnessed it.
We slept for most of the morning and went Outlet shopping for the afternoon, grabbed a quick dinner and then headed back to the bus stop to get picked up for a return to the KSC. Being the second day and with only 24 hours notice that the event was on seemed to significantly change the number of people that were able to attend. It was also Sunday night rather than Saturday which may have deterred a few locals who had to work.
Whatever it was, it made things better for us as we were through the gate quickly, spent more time in the Space Centre and didn’t have to line up for 2kms to get back on the buses when the time came to move over to the causeway. For some reason we still spent a bucket of time in the bus waiting (I think they held them all until the shuttle had been fueled) and because the bus driver we had on the second day was complete crap compared to the first day, despite the reduced numbers, we ended up on exactly the same piece of real estate. This time however, we were much better prepared for the cold, double panted and extra-womble like layered to repel the chill wind. We'd even stopped to buy a couple of beanies!
And there we waited, counting the hours, then the minutes until the launch was due, again watching the clouds overhead, hoping against hope that we would be more fortunate.
The reduced numbers gave us some time to move around a little and the wind wasn’t quite as fierce, so the cold was slightly more bearable. Thomas and I wandered down to the launch clock that you see if you ever watch one of these things on the web and the T-20 hold came and went.
There were whispers of 60% chance of launch, dropping to 40% at some point, climbing again … all designed surely to keep us nervous with anticipation. The T-9 hold came (a 30 minute hold in itself) and we continued to count the minutes, watching them creep by, waiting whilst the kids slept. Then a cheer went up, we had moved past the T-9 hold, things were happening, it looked like it would be a go (but we held our breath because our tour operator from the day before had told us of a time when a launch had been scrubbed with 2 minutes on the clock). The real no turning back point is at 30 seconds.
We woke the kids up, shaking and talking and shaking until we knew they were awake enough not to succumb to sleepy bo-bos at the critical moment and then waited just a little bit longer.
Then we heard it, “Go for Launch!” 10 seconds … the free hydrogen burnoff … 9 seconds … 8 … 7 … 6.6 seconds … Main Engines Start … 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 …0! Ignition! Hold down release and launch!
The first thing that we could see (being some 5 miles or so from the launch pad) was a burst of fire down near the base of the pad. Then the night sky is lit up until it is the colour of a beautiful orange summer sunset, almost as bright as day light.
The tail of flame shoots skyward propelling the shuttle into the heavens. You can’t see it for the intensity of the light, but you know it’s there with its crew strapped in and flying. 20 seconds or so after the launch, as the shuttle shoots upward, the wall of sound catches up, the deep base rumble washing over you, literally rippling the water, stirring up the ‘gators and giving you yet another sense of the power and wonder that is unfolding before your eyes.
As the shuttle climbs, the intensity of the light fades and the shuttle tilts over and rolls ready for separation of the boosters.
There’s cheers from the crowd as it is announced that separation has been achieved, memories of Challenger vivid amongst the launch community, everyone hoping that they never see anything of its like again.
It continues to fade until the night sky has resumed its dominance over the intruder which disappears toward the darker sky of space, its light now white, like an overly bright star before it winks out, only 3 and a half minutes from that moment when ignition began.
The words really don’t do it justice, nor do the pictures. It truly was a once in a lifetime, awe-inspiring spectacle that I count myself incredibly fortunate to have witnessed it.
Feb 9, 2010
Holiday Pt 1 - Emily the Unsleeping and Thunderbirds aren't Go.
In addition to being the day before we set off on our Search for the Sun, Friday the 5th was Caroline’s birthday. Knowing that our departure was scheduled for the not so kid friendly time of 12:40am on the 6ht, 6th, the plan was to go out for birthday dinner and then put the kids to bed for a quick nap before heading to the airport.
We enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Keg with Bob and Nancy and the girls and then went home with the kids’ excitement levels being tweaked up a notch with the reducing time until our scheduled departure. We cleaned house, booked a taxi and tried to get four children to go to sleep. Emily simply wouldn’t. Thomas was trooper and the first one to the land of sleepy bo-bos and even Michael and Sam went to sleep. But Emily was a right little bugger and only fell asleep about an hour before we intended to leave for the airport.
At the scheduled time we peered out the front window waiting for the taxi, but 10 minutes after it was due to arrive, there was no sign of it. Caroline called the taxi company and they said that they’d send another one as quickly as they could.
I started waking the kids up, which was an effort and a half. Talk about out to the world. You seriously have to wonder about the effectiveness of a smoke alarm with kids when you’re in their room all but yelling over the alarm that’s going off and still not being very successful. Sam has taken to sleeping with one quilt under him and another over the top and as I woke him up, he started pulling the top one back over the top of him. I dragged it off him, only to have him sleepily start to drag the ‘under-quit’ up over him instead. I had to drag that off him as well and it wasn’t really until I started to bodily pull him from the actual bed that I started to get any sort of responsiveness that one could relate to being awake.
A short time later, with still no sign of any taxis I started to stuff our luggage into our car. The taxi showed up as I was working on bag #3 and so we quickly transferred it, stress levels rising as we attempted to get everything we’d packed, plus the 6 of us into the minivan cab. We made it without anyone losing any limbs and arrived at the airport in plenty of time to catch our flight.
Of course the next issue was the fact that there’s an in-flight entertainment system, kids that have had just enough sleep to boost them and desperately tired parents (and kids, even if they won’t admit to it). The first flight was about 4 hours in duration and despite threats, bribes and every other trick in my arsenal, Emily simply would not sleep. Knowing that at the end of the flight we’d only have 3 or so hours in the Toronto airport before another 3 or so hour flight down to Miami and that at the end of that flight, I had a 4 hour drive to look forward to, I wasn’t really coping very well.
Emily spent almost the entire flight awake, of course only really nodding off at the end so that I had to practically carry her sleep-walking style, up the aerobridge and into the terminal.
By the time that we’d collected our luggage prior to customs, Emily was of course falling asleep every 3 steps and any time we paused, she’d simply drop where she stood and attempt to sleep.
For the second flight, she sat next to Caroline and I managed to get enough sleep to survive the drive to Orlando without incident. Finally we were at our hotel.
Now if only that were the end of the bone wearying itinerary, it would have been ok. As we’d left Miami for Orlando, we’d stopped to do some shopping, picking up some blankets, chairs and food because a mere hour or so after we arrived in Orlando, we were due to be picked up and taken to the Kennedy Space Centre.
Yes, there was a shuttle launch scheduled and we decided that it was too good an opportunity to pass up. We made it to the space centre and arrived to the strains of our guide Milton telling us that not only was this the last ever scheduled night launch for the shuttle, but that he’d never seen so many people ever show up for a launch. It was packed. As a consequence, by the time we managed to get in the gate and take a quick turn at the launch simulator, it was basically time to line up to get back on the bus to go to the causeway where we’d be watching from. After carrying the chairs and blankets around all night, it was good to get some respite, when we finally made it onto the bus, about an hour after we had originally been scheduled to. We’d started the evening with something like an 80% chance of launch, but by the time that we were on the bus, it was down to about 60%.
Out at the causeway, we managed to snag our own piece of real estate, one row back from the rope and with a view of the little speck of illumination that was the shuttle on the launch pad.
(Click on the pic to Enlarge)
We snuggled up as warm as we could manage, the wind working hard to chill us to the bone (because we came to Florida for the sun of course) and us with an eye to the sky as the early morning started quite clear, but gradually clouded over.
Clouds would drift in and drift out, but the chance of launch was being continually cut. When it was down to 30%, I still had a confident feeling that things would work out for us. The clock continued to count down, we continued to freeze. We made it all the way down to the T-9 minute hold without any mechanical incident to halt proceedings and sat with our fingers crossed.
We took a few pictures, feeling somewhat camera-inadequate as we stood amongst thousands upon thousands of enthusiasts with camera equipment worth the price of a small third world nation and between the distance, lack of a tripod and the limitations of our camera, did the best that we could:
(Click on the pic to Enlarge)
And then came the words we’d feared. The launch had been scrubbed. The cloud cover was too low and quite simply, the shuttle wasn’t going to fly. So at 4:30am after travelling since 12:40am the previous day, we packed our weary kids and bodies back into the bus, faced with the question … if it was only delayed 24 hours, would we stuff our hands back in our pockets and drag ourselves out there again?
We enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Keg with Bob and Nancy and the girls and then went home with the kids’ excitement levels being tweaked up a notch with the reducing time until our scheduled departure. We cleaned house, booked a taxi and tried to get four children to go to sleep. Emily simply wouldn’t. Thomas was trooper and the first one to the land of sleepy bo-bos and even Michael and Sam went to sleep. But Emily was a right little bugger and only fell asleep about an hour before we intended to leave for the airport.
At the scheduled time we peered out the front window waiting for the taxi, but 10 minutes after it was due to arrive, there was no sign of it. Caroline called the taxi company and they said that they’d send another one as quickly as they could.
I started waking the kids up, which was an effort and a half. Talk about out to the world. You seriously have to wonder about the effectiveness of a smoke alarm with kids when you’re in their room all but yelling over the alarm that’s going off and still not being very successful. Sam has taken to sleeping with one quilt under him and another over the top and as I woke him up, he started pulling the top one back over the top of him. I dragged it off him, only to have him sleepily start to drag the ‘under-quit’ up over him instead. I had to drag that off him as well and it wasn’t really until I started to bodily pull him from the actual bed that I started to get any sort of responsiveness that one could relate to being awake.
A short time later, with still no sign of any taxis I started to stuff our luggage into our car. The taxi showed up as I was working on bag #3 and so we quickly transferred it, stress levels rising as we attempted to get everything we’d packed, plus the 6 of us into the minivan cab. We made it without anyone losing any limbs and arrived at the airport in plenty of time to catch our flight.
Of course the next issue was the fact that there’s an in-flight entertainment system, kids that have had just enough sleep to boost them and desperately tired parents (and kids, even if they won’t admit to it). The first flight was about 4 hours in duration and despite threats, bribes and every other trick in my arsenal, Emily simply would not sleep. Knowing that at the end of the flight we’d only have 3 or so hours in the Toronto airport before another 3 or so hour flight down to Miami and that at the end of that flight, I had a 4 hour drive to look forward to, I wasn’t really coping very well.
Emily spent almost the entire flight awake, of course only really nodding off at the end so that I had to practically carry her sleep-walking style, up the aerobridge and into the terminal.
By the time that we’d collected our luggage prior to customs, Emily was of course falling asleep every 3 steps and any time we paused, she’d simply drop where she stood and attempt to sleep.
For the second flight, she sat next to Caroline and I managed to get enough sleep to survive the drive to Orlando without incident. Finally we were at our hotel.
Now if only that were the end of the bone wearying itinerary, it would have been ok. As we’d left Miami for Orlando, we’d stopped to do some shopping, picking up some blankets, chairs and food because a mere hour or so after we arrived in Orlando, we were due to be picked up and taken to the Kennedy Space Centre.
Yes, there was a shuttle launch scheduled and we decided that it was too good an opportunity to pass up. We made it to the space centre and arrived to the strains of our guide Milton telling us that not only was this the last ever scheduled night launch for the shuttle, but that he’d never seen so many people ever show up for a launch. It was packed. As a consequence, by the time we managed to get in the gate and take a quick turn at the launch simulator, it was basically time to line up to get back on the bus to go to the causeway where we’d be watching from. After carrying the chairs and blankets around all night, it was good to get some respite, when we finally made it onto the bus, about an hour after we had originally been scheduled to. We’d started the evening with something like an 80% chance of launch, but by the time that we were on the bus, it was down to about 60%.
Out at the causeway, we managed to snag our own piece of real estate, one row back from the rope and with a view of the little speck of illumination that was the shuttle on the launch pad.
(Click on the pic to Enlarge)
We snuggled up as warm as we could manage, the wind working hard to chill us to the bone (because we came to Florida for the sun of course) and us with an eye to the sky as the early morning started quite clear, but gradually clouded over.
Clouds would drift in and drift out, but the chance of launch was being continually cut. When it was down to 30%, I still had a confident feeling that things would work out for us. The clock continued to count down, we continued to freeze. We made it all the way down to the T-9 minute hold without any mechanical incident to halt proceedings and sat with our fingers crossed.
We took a few pictures, feeling somewhat camera-inadequate as we stood amongst thousands upon thousands of enthusiasts with camera equipment worth the price of a small third world nation and between the distance, lack of a tripod and the limitations of our camera, did the best that we could:
(Click on the pic to Enlarge)
And then came the words we’d feared. The launch had been scrubbed. The cloud cover was too low and quite simply, the shuttle wasn’t going to fly. So at 4:30am after travelling since 12:40am the previous day, we packed our weary kids and bodies back into the bus, faced with the question … if it was only delayed 24 hours, would we stuff our hands back in our pockets and drag ourselves out there again?
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