Every morning on the way to work we get a traffic report on the radio. It means that you get to hear when some goose has rear-ended some other goose and there’s going to be serious delays on the highway.
Yep, on THE highway. There’s one of them. There is NO OTHER WAY TO GET TO WORK.
So what good is the traffic report?
Sep 25, 2007
Experiments in Elasticity
It’s a long time since I did maths at university and considering that I managed to do one of the subjects twice, you’d think that I’d remember a little more of it. Sadly, what I remember amounts more to remembering the topics about which I now know I know nothing.
I couldn’t find the determinant of a matrix, let alone change its base. I know for a fact that I didn’t know what a Fourier Transform was when I did maths, so there’s no chance of me telling you what that’s all about now. And of course the only limit that I’d ever approach these days would either be the blood alcohol limit for driving of the limit of my own maths knowledge. I’ll let you decide which might be reached quicker.
Things I do remember from maths, whilst a significantly shorter list are infinitely more fun. Ask me some time about the Lumberjack Song or Burger King day.
But the thing that I’ve remembered off and on since leaving uni that I wanted to talk about today is a fragment of a lecture.
I remember one day that we were told that traffic flow could be simply (as in it’s a simplified model, not accurate or easy to do) with springs. Essentially, traffic flows as if there is a spring between each vehicle. When you think about it, it all seems perfectly natural. As the car in front of you accelerates, a gap opens up before you, stretching the spring. You speed up, shortening it again and if you over-accelerate, you compress the spring, closing the gap, potentially causing you to brake as they continue to accelerate again (stretching the string again).
It’s one of those tiny things that has always amused this small mind when I get into heavy traffic. And I just thought that I’d comment on it, because by God have I spent an inordinate amount of time in heavy traffic lately. Thinking time.
And when you’re stuck like that, it’s very tempting to experiment with the traffic’s elasticity, braking late, accelerating quickly and then jamming the brakes on again. I wonder if I could cause a traffic jam, just through random and erratic braking and acceleration patterns. My guess is that I could slow things a bit, but that I’m more likely just to piss everyone off and that the person behind me would just give me more room. At least until someone got in between us and I had a new victim.
But it’s not really worth trying because I’d be unable to gauge my success unless it made the radio.
I couldn’t find the determinant of a matrix, let alone change its base. I know for a fact that I didn’t know what a Fourier Transform was when I did maths, so there’s no chance of me telling you what that’s all about now. And of course the only limit that I’d ever approach these days would either be the blood alcohol limit for driving of the limit of my own maths knowledge. I’ll let you decide which might be reached quicker.
Things I do remember from maths, whilst a significantly shorter list are infinitely more fun. Ask me some time about the Lumberjack Song or Burger King day.
But the thing that I’ve remembered off and on since leaving uni that I wanted to talk about today is a fragment of a lecture.
I remember one day that we were told that traffic flow could be simply (as in it’s a simplified model, not accurate or easy to do) with springs. Essentially, traffic flows as if there is a spring between each vehicle. When you think about it, it all seems perfectly natural. As the car in front of you accelerates, a gap opens up before you, stretching the spring. You speed up, shortening it again and if you over-accelerate, you compress the spring, closing the gap, potentially causing you to brake as they continue to accelerate again (stretching the string again).
It’s one of those tiny things that has always amused this small mind when I get into heavy traffic. And I just thought that I’d comment on it, because by God have I spent an inordinate amount of time in heavy traffic lately. Thinking time.
And when you’re stuck like that, it’s very tempting to experiment with the traffic’s elasticity, braking late, accelerating quickly and then jamming the brakes on again. I wonder if I could cause a traffic jam, just through random and erratic braking and acceleration patterns. My guess is that I could slow things a bit, but that I’m more likely just to piss everyone off and that the person behind me would just give me more room. At least until someone got in between us and I had a new victim.
But it’s not really worth trying because I’d be unable to gauge my success unless it made the radio.
The things we do
It was about 12pm Saturday that I was discussing shopping with Caroline and how we really needed to get down to Edmonton in the near future so that I could get some clothes for winter as I brought one windcheater and my ski jacket with me and bought a rugby top the last time we were in Edmonton. That was it for me in terms of jumpers and things to keep my torso warm as the temperature plunges. It simply wasn’t going to be enough.
We quickly assessed our commitments for the rest of the afternoon and Sunday and I half jokingly suggested that we just get in the car and go. 15 minutes later we’d made the decision and set about getting ready to drive for 4.5 hours down to Edmonton.
We stopped at our new house (the one we get to move into this weekend!) and grabbed the cargo carrier for the roof of the Explorer (yes, Caroline does get some useful things from garage sales) then came back to the town house to grab the last of our stuff and go.
I seem to remember telling the kids that all that they would need was a change of underwear and something warm because we’d be staying overnight and coming home the next day.
But of course, then someone mentioned a swimming pool at the hotel and the possibility of ice skating at the mall and suddenly the car had way more stuff than I had anticipated. But then, I should have learnt to accept that by now. I think we finally managed to get away at about 4pm.
We drove down to Edmonton and the kids watched some stuff on Michael’s portable DVD player (the one that we bought for the car needs a new fuse apparently) and on the laptop and were really good the whole way there.
We got in late of course, at about 9pm or so having only stopped once for a quick pit stop. We packed the kids into bed without dinner (though Thomas and Emily were in our room and complained bitterly. Especially poor tom who’d missed out on Dinner the previous night when he was stitched up in the hospital).
Caroline and I lashed out and ordered room service with a bowl of chips in case either Thomas or Emily was awake when the food arrived. Emily was, so she had some chips to eat before she finally crashed out.
Two late nights in a row meant that we all slept in (except for me. I managed to wake up at 5am and toss and turn until I gave up at 6:30 and got out of bed). So we managed to get to breakfast at 9am and again lashed out and all had the buffet.
With stomach’s full we managed to load ourselves back into the car to head off to the West Edmonton Mall.
Someone persuaded me that we should stop at Toys ‘R’ Us on the way and so the first hour of the available shopping time passed in the way that all time in Toys R Us passes. “Can I have … I want … look at this …”
I left a bit frazzled at the end of it and so it wasn’t the best start to trying to find clothes at the Mall. Especially because we hadn’t been able to find a special treat for Thomas for being so brave at the hospital. This meant that we were going to be haunted by that failure right up until the time when we finally would find something. Not good when you’re trying to park 4 bored kids in a store whilst you try on clothes.
Rather than expound on the pain and frustration, let’s just summarise with the facts:
Sears is shit.
Emily was happy to try on clothes, be they too small or too big (there was at least one top meant for an 18 month old that she walked out of a change room wearing, and one ladies’ small).
The boys wanted no part in trying on clothes and were right miserable about it.
We shopped for an hour longer than I’d planned and didn’t get away from Edmonton until 5:30.
But we did get away and managed to get home safely, if late and slightly terrorized from driving in the rain.
And of course, the one fundamental thing that I noted during the trip (which I of course really already knew, but had reinforced) was that men shop differently from women.
I’ve heard it expressed as Men will buy a $1 item that they need for $2 whilst women will buy a $2 item that they don’t need for $1. In our case it amounted to this:
Dave walks in with three boys who need clothes but are less than happy to try them on. Dave picks clothes out in the right sizes and says “Do you like this.” When the moons align and they say yes, he forces them to try them on. Now having the size, it is a simple process of continuing the ‘Do you like this,’ line of questioning.
With three boys 90% sorted, Caroline came past and got involved. The end result was that 95% of what I had went back, the boys suffered through a lot more trying on, they all ended up with clothes and it probably saved us 20-30% of what it would have cost if I’d gone to the till.
Clearly this is the way that we manage to stay afloat financially. Caroline is a better economic shopper than I am.
But it was more stressful. (At least we were all friends by the time we got into Fort Mac at 11pm or what ever the time was).
We quickly assessed our commitments for the rest of the afternoon and Sunday and I half jokingly suggested that we just get in the car and go. 15 minutes later we’d made the decision and set about getting ready to drive for 4.5 hours down to Edmonton.
We stopped at our new house (the one we get to move into this weekend!) and grabbed the cargo carrier for the roof of the Explorer (yes, Caroline does get some useful things from garage sales) then came back to the town house to grab the last of our stuff and go.
I seem to remember telling the kids that all that they would need was a change of underwear and something warm because we’d be staying overnight and coming home the next day.
But of course, then someone mentioned a swimming pool at the hotel and the possibility of ice skating at the mall and suddenly the car had way more stuff than I had anticipated. But then, I should have learnt to accept that by now. I think we finally managed to get away at about 4pm.
We drove down to Edmonton and the kids watched some stuff on Michael’s portable DVD player (the one that we bought for the car needs a new fuse apparently) and on the laptop and were really good the whole way there.
We got in late of course, at about 9pm or so having only stopped once for a quick pit stop. We packed the kids into bed without dinner (though Thomas and Emily were in our room and complained bitterly. Especially poor tom who’d missed out on Dinner the previous night when he was stitched up in the hospital).
Caroline and I lashed out and ordered room service with a bowl of chips in case either Thomas or Emily was awake when the food arrived. Emily was, so she had some chips to eat before she finally crashed out.
Two late nights in a row meant that we all slept in (except for me. I managed to wake up at 5am and toss and turn until I gave up at 6:30 and got out of bed). So we managed to get to breakfast at 9am and again lashed out and all had the buffet.
With stomach’s full we managed to load ourselves back into the car to head off to the West Edmonton Mall.
Someone persuaded me that we should stop at Toys ‘R’ Us on the way and so the first hour of the available shopping time passed in the way that all time in Toys R Us passes. “Can I have … I want … look at this …”
I left a bit frazzled at the end of it and so it wasn’t the best start to trying to find clothes at the Mall. Especially because we hadn’t been able to find a special treat for Thomas for being so brave at the hospital. This meant that we were going to be haunted by that failure right up until the time when we finally would find something. Not good when you’re trying to park 4 bored kids in a store whilst you try on clothes.
Rather than expound on the pain and frustration, let’s just summarise with the facts:
Sears is shit.
Emily was happy to try on clothes, be they too small or too big (there was at least one top meant for an 18 month old that she walked out of a change room wearing, and one ladies’ small).
The boys wanted no part in trying on clothes and were right miserable about it.
We shopped for an hour longer than I’d planned and didn’t get away from Edmonton until 5:30.
But we did get away and managed to get home safely, if late and slightly terrorized from driving in the rain.
And of course, the one fundamental thing that I noted during the trip (which I of course really already knew, but had reinforced) was that men shop differently from women.
I’ve heard it expressed as Men will buy a $1 item that they need for $2 whilst women will buy a $2 item that they don’t need for $1. In our case it amounted to this:
Dave walks in with three boys who need clothes but are less than happy to try them on. Dave picks clothes out in the right sizes and says “Do you like this.” When the moons align and they say yes, he forces them to try them on. Now having the size, it is a simple process of continuing the ‘Do you like this,’ line of questioning.
With three boys 90% sorted, Caroline came past and got involved. The end result was that 95% of what I had went back, the boys suffered through a lot more trying on, they all ended up with clothes and it probably saved us 20-30% of what it would have cost if I’d gone to the till.
Clearly this is the way that we manage to stay afloat financially. Caroline is a better economic shopper than I am.
But it was more stressful. (At least we were all friends by the time we got into Fort Mac at 11pm or what ever the time was).
Sep 18, 2007
Tom(s) Thumb
As part of the effort of integrating ourselves into the society up here in the frozen north, we’ve enrolled the three boys to play ringette. For those of you from back home who have no idea what that is (like us) its a little similar to ice hockey, but rather than hitting a puck around the ice, you move a ring around by sticking a stick in the middle of it and flicking it along the ice. And apparently you don’t get slammed into the walls as much either.
The one truly common thing between the two games is of course that you need to ice skate. On Friday night, Michael and Sam had their first ringette practice and of course neither of them had ever been on the ice before. So when I looked out and saw kids a foot shorter than them hurtling up and down and skating backwards, I worried somewhat for their egos and with Sam in particular, about how his willingness to give the game a go would fare. After all, I still remember dragging and bribing him into the basketball stadium the first time and watching him refuse to go on the court for the entire game!
I’ll let Caroline fill people in on the joy that she’s had chasing down the equipment that you need for the game, because she’s had a heap of fun trying to avoid spending hundreds of dollars when the stuff may not be used for long. Basically, you need all the same padding as ice hockey. Which meant that for the first half hour, we waited patiently whilst Michael and Sam got padded up with some assistance from a couple of ladies and their kids who had people on the ice already.
It was very cute to see a young girl of about Sam’s age enthusiastically helping him to put on elbow pads and helmets and things. Of course, whilst appreciating the help, I don’t think he was at all interested in any further sort of friendship there!
Finally though, they carefully made their way down the stairs to the ice. Michael was the first one out, hanging desperately to the side of the rink and the guy that was helping him. Sam ventured out even more tentatively to give it a go as well. The sticks were very quickly discarded in favour of simply trying not to end up on one’s arse.
Michael was of course the one more willing to try and Sam to his credit had a bit of a go, but seems to have some balance issues. After a couple of minutes he came off the ice and sat and I was worried that his entire ice skating career would end right then and there. But to his credit and my enormous relief, he was talking about having another go when he’d had a rest.
Michael decided to come off for a rest as well. He came back through the gate in the rink and the woman helping us closed it behind him. It was at that point that we heard Thomas cry out and realised that he’d managed to get his thumb caught and crushed in the hinge side of the gate! It was quickly opened again, but it was at that point that the blood started flowing. He had a cut about a cm long down vertically down the pad of his left thumb.
A quick and desperate search for medical aid and ice (ironic how hard it can be to find ice at an ice rink) ensued. I ended up out the back of the rink with the rink attendant getting a bag of ‘snow’ from where it had been dumped by the zamboni whilst someone inside had managed to find an icepack. (The attendant told me that they’d been cleaned out the day before when someone broke their ankle ...(ouch?!)).
I quickly took Thomas to the car and left Caroline with the other three at the ice rink as we dashed off to the Fort McMurray hospital.
Thomas was super brave. Once over the initial cry, the next most upset he got was when he was talking about his trip to the Port Lincoln hospital in the ambulance and how he’d been given a bear. The tears really started to flow when he realised that he didn’t know where the bear was! The poor little guy was devastated at the thought.
We managed to get to the hospital without doing anything silly in the car, though it was a tough trip for me, torn between wanting to get there as fast as I possibly could and sticking within the law of the road whilst Thomas casually bled in the back seat.
The first stop was triage. We were quickly directed to the registration desk where the fun started with getting entered into the computer system. I bit my tongue and answered the questions, noting the 25 people already sitting in the waiting room. It was about 7:50pm.
“No I don’t have a health care card, its still being processed.”
“Yes, I am from Australia, but I am on a work permit and living here”
“I’ll have to pay by credit card.”
“I realise the doctor may prefer cash, but I simply don’t have any and have to pay by credit card.”
As we went through this, I pulled the ice pack off Thomas’ thumb to see how he was going. There was still plenty of blood seeping from the wound and he was quite red down to his wrist, but it had slowed significantly. Of course, all we’d had to put on the wound at the rink was a band aid and an ice pack (and this was clearly a cut that would require stitching) so I asked if they might have something more appropriate to dress the wound with. A nurse walked past at this point and the wonder of a blood stained child came to the fore. Suddenly the registrant was told the rest could wait and we were whisked away to x-ray to see if there was any further damage from the crush.
After some quick x-rays we were taken through the waiting room (no doubt being cursed by everyone there at getting treated so quickly) and beyond the magic door to wait in the treating area.
And we waited.
Caroline showed up with Michael, Sam and Emily. Emily was very cute with her concern for her brother, asking every now and then, “Are you okay Thomas?” concern etched into every feature.
We debated whether Caroline should take the kids home and I catch a taxi with Thomas, but decide to see how things panned out for a bit. Michael went to the car and picked up his portable DVD player which entertained the four of them.
At some point a nurse came in and we thought we were getting close to being seen.
Vending machines were raided to provide a little sustenance as we continued to wait.
Caroline went out with the other three to get some dinner which ended up consisting of Wendy’s on the front step of the hospital.
We waited some.
At some point in time Caroline asked about timing and we found out that there was only one doctor on duty. Ouch.
At about 10pm (though it could have been a little later), a nurse came in and told Thomas that she would put some numbing stuff on the wound to prepare it for stitches so that he didn’t have to have a needle which was something of a relief.
Then of course, happy that things were happening, we waited some more.
At about 11pm we were asked to move rooms and were taken to a room clearly set up for minor procedures such as thumb repairs. At last it looked like we were going to reach the place we needed to. So we waited. And of course as we waited, I wondered about the fact that the bit of numbing stuff that been put on had been put on something like an hour ago. I wondered just how effective the external application of it would be.
Finally, some time after 11pm we saw the doctor for the first time. He apologised for the wait and then quickly disappeared. He returned again about 15 minutes later, ready to go to work. The first thing that he did was pinch Thomas’ thumb with a pair of tweezers to see if Tom could feel it. He said that he could. He did it in a couple of places around the wound and Thomas felt all of them. Then he pinched air where Tom couldn’t see and asked Thomas if he could feel that.
Thomas laughed for the first time in several hours, saying,”No, you didn’t even touch me!” Very perceptive and amusing, but of course it also meant that the numbing agent had been pointless.
So the doctor picked up a needle.
Enter Michael the Useful.
As the needle was picked up, Michael takes one look and exclaims, “Woah!” And takes a backward step, which of course does just so much wonderful stuff towards reassuring Thomas, who was about to have it stuck in himself about how painless the anaesthetic might be. I moved Michael out the way and the needle went into Thomas. I felt for the poor little bugger. He’d been so brave all night, but that was too much and the tears escaped. Though it must be said, he was still as controlled as he could be, which considering how much sleep he’d had and the time of day was amazing.
Then came the stiches. Emily of course was fascinated as the doctor started to put a stitch in Thomas’ thumb. But only for the first one. I think the whole bloody wound and needle in my brother was a bit much for her then, so she sat down quietly.
But four neat little stitches in one by now, bruised and swollen little boy’s thumb and we were done.
And at 11:55pm, we all walked out of the hospital, simply glad to have Thomas back in one piece. Even if he is tied together with string.
The one truly common thing between the two games is of course that you need to ice skate. On Friday night, Michael and Sam had their first ringette practice and of course neither of them had ever been on the ice before. So when I looked out and saw kids a foot shorter than them hurtling up and down and skating backwards, I worried somewhat for their egos and with Sam in particular, about how his willingness to give the game a go would fare. After all, I still remember dragging and bribing him into the basketball stadium the first time and watching him refuse to go on the court for the entire game!
I’ll let Caroline fill people in on the joy that she’s had chasing down the equipment that you need for the game, because she’s had a heap of fun trying to avoid spending hundreds of dollars when the stuff may not be used for long. Basically, you need all the same padding as ice hockey. Which meant that for the first half hour, we waited patiently whilst Michael and Sam got padded up with some assistance from a couple of ladies and their kids who had people on the ice already.
It was very cute to see a young girl of about Sam’s age enthusiastically helping him to put on elbow pads and helmets and things. Of course, whilst appreciating the help, I don’t think he was at all interested in any further sort of friendship there!
Finally though, they carefully made their way down the stairs to the ice. Michael was the first one out, hanging desperately to the side of the rink and the guy that was helping him. Sam ventured out even more tentatively to give it a go as well. The sticks were very quickly discarded in favour of simply trying not to end up on one’s arse.
Michael was of course the one more willing to try and Sam to his credit had a bit of a go, but seems to have some balance issues. After a couple of minutes he came off the ice and sat and I was worried that his entire ice skating career would end right then and there. But to his credit and my enormous relief, he was talking about having another go when he’d had a rest.
Michael decided to come off for a rest as well. He came back through the gate in the rink and the woman helping us closed it behind him. It was at that point that we heard Thomas cry out and realised that he’d managed to get his thumb caught and crushed in the hinge side of the gate! It was quickly opened again, but it was at that point that the blood started flowing. He had a cut about a cm long down vertically down the pad of his left thumb.
A quick and desperate search for medical aid and ice (ironic how hard it can be to find ice at an ice rink) ensued. I ended up out the back of the rink with the rink attendant getting a bag of ‘snow’ from where it had been dumped by the zamboni whilst someone inside had managed to find an icepack. (The attendant told me that they’d been cleaned out the day before when someone broke their ankle ...(ouch?!)).
I quickly took Thomas to the car and left Caroline with the other three at the ice rink as we dashed off to the Fort McMurray hospital.
Thomas was super brave. Once over the initial cry, the next most upset he got was when he was talking about his trip to the Port Lincoln hospital in the ambulance and how he’d been given a bear. The tears really started to flow when he realised that he didn’t know where the bear was! The poor little guy was devastated at the thought.
We managed to get to the hospital without doing anything silly in the car, though it was a tough trip for me, torn between wanting to get there as fast as I possibly could and sticking within the law of the road whilst Thomas casually bled in the back seat.
The first stop was triage. We were quickly directed to the registration desk where the fun started with getting entered into the computer system. I bit my tongue and answered the questions, noting the 25 people already sitting in the waiting room. It was about 7:50pm.
“No I don’t have a health care card, its still being processed.”
“Yes, I am from Australia, but I am on a work permit and living here”
“I’ll have to pay by credit card.”
“I realise the doctor may prefer cash, but I simply don’t have any and have to pay by credit card.”
As we went through this, I pulled the ice pack off Thomas’ thumb to see how he was going. There was still plenty of blood seeping from the wound and he was quite red down to his wrist, but it had slowed significantly. Of course, all we’d had to put on the wound at the rink was a band aid and an ice pack (and this was clearly a cut that would require stitching) so I asked if they might have something more appropriate to dress the wound with. A nurse walked past at this point and the wonder of a blood stained child came to the fore. Suddenly the registrant was told the rest could wait and we were whisked away to x-ray to see if there was any further damage from the crush.
After some quick x-rays we were taken through the waiting room (no doubt being cursed by everyone there at getting treated so quickly) and beyond the magic door to wait in the treating area.
And we waited.
Caroline showed up with Michael, Sam and Emily. Emily was very cute with her concern for her brother, asking every now and then, “Are you okay Thomas?” concern etched into every feature.
We debated whether Caroline should take the kids home and I catch a taxi with Thomas, but decide to see how things panned out for a bit. Michael went to the car and picked up his portable DVD player which entertained the four of them.
At some point a nurse came in and we thought we were getting close to being seen.
Vending machines were raided to provide a little sustenance as we continued to wait.
Caroline went out with the other three to get some dinner which ended up consisting of Wendy’s on the front step of the hospital.
We waited some.
At some point in time Caroline asked about timing and we found out that there was only one doctor on duty. Ouch.
At about 10pm (though it could have been a little later), a nurse came in and told Thomas that she would put some numbing stuff on the wound to prepare it for stitches so that he didn’t have to have a needle which was something of a relief.
Then of course, happy that things were happening, we waited some more.
At about 11pm we were asked to move rooms and were taken to a room clearly set up for minor procedures such as thumb repairs. At last it looked like we were going to reach the place we needed to. So we waited. And of course as we waited, I wondered about the fact that the bit of numbing stuff that been put on had been put on something like an hour ago. I wondered just how effective the external application of it would be.
Finally, some time after 11pm we saw the doctor for the first time. He apologised for the wait and then quickly disappeared. He returned again about 15 minutes later, ready to go to work. The first thing that he did was pinch Thomas’ thumb with a pair of tweezers to see if Tom could feel it. He said that he could. He did it in a couple of places around the wound and Thomas felt all of them. Then he pinched air where Tom couldn’t see and asked Thomas if he could feel that.
Thomas laughed for the first time in several hours, saying,”No, you didn’t even touch me!” Very perceptive and amusing, but of course it also meant that the numbing agent had been pointless.
So the doctor picked up a needle.
Enter Michael the Useful.
As the needle was picked up, Michael takes one look and exclaims, “Woah!” And takes a backward step, which of course does just so much wonderful stuff towards reassuring Thomas, who was about to have it stuck in himself about how painless the anaesthetic might be. I moved Michael out the way and the needle went into Thomas. I felt for the poor little bugger. He’d been so brave all night, but that was too much and the tears escaped. Though it must be said, he was still as controlled as he could be, which considering how much sleep he’d had and the time of day was amazing.
Then came the stiches. Emily of course was fascinated as the doctor started to put a stitch in Thomas’ thumb. But only for the first one. I think the whole bloody wound and needle in my brother was a bit much for her then, so she sat down quietly.
But four neat little stitches in one by now, bruised and swollen little boy’s thumb and we were done.
And at 11:55pm, we all walked out of the hospital, simply glad to have Thomas back in one piece. Even if he is tied together with string.
Sep 13, 2007
Disappointed
As I noted in my email announcing the last drift update, there was a 70% chance of snow yesterday. And for those that pointed it out to me, yes, I understand the irony of the fact that I was complaining about the heat and now am pointing out how cold it is. The thing that’s surprising me is just how quickly we’ve gone from one to the other.
I didn’t see any.
It was funny though, because Tuesday when I saw the forecast, I looked forward to being able to go home and tell the kids that we might get some snow tomorrow. I wanted to see their faces when they realized that we might get our first snowfall. The instant I walked into the door I had kids yelling at me, “Daddy, its going to snow!”
Whilst I might have been robbed of the small pleasure, I was delighted to see the enthusiasm on their faces. The excitement was palpable. Thomas was chattering madly about how we might be able to get out the skis that have been purchased and try them out! I tried to point out that whilst there MIGHT be snow, there certainly wasn’t likely to be enough that we’d get to do anything fun with it.
Eventually as I packed them off to bed I had to make a promise that if it started snowing, I’d wake them up so that they could see it.
But to be honest, I think Caroline and I were equally as excited about the prospect of it snowing as the kids were. Though I would have been happy if it was just for one night and then we didn’t see it for ages. We were both guilty of looking out the window as we went about the night time ritual, just in case it had started already, but there was no snow.
I have to admit too, that the first thing that I did in the morning was look and see if there was any sign of the whiteness. There wasn’t. It was just bloody cold. So we get to wait a little longer for snow. I can handle it. Its already cold enough thanks. There was ice on my car this morning and I can see that I will soon be going out to turn the car on so that it heats up some 15+ minutes before I want to leave in the morning. The seasons are turning fast!
I didn’t see any.
It was funny though, because Tuesday when I saw the forecast, I looked forward to being able to go home and tell the kids that we might get some snow tomorrow. I wanted to see their faces when they realized that we might get our first snowfall. The instant I walked into the door I had kids yelling at me, “Daddy, its going to snow!”
Whilst I might have been robbed of the small pleasure, I was delighted to see the enthusiasm on their faces. The excitement was palpable. Thomas was chattering madly about how we might be able to get out the skis that have been purchased and try them out! I tried to point out that whilst there MIGHT be snow, there certainly wasn’t likely to be enough that we’d get to do anything fun with it.
Eventually as I packed them off to bed I had to make a promise that if it started snowing, I’d wake them up so that they could see it.
But to be honest, I think Caroline and I were equally as excited about the prospect of it snowing as the kids were. Though I would have been happy if it was just for one night and then we didn’t see it for ages. We were both guilty of looking out the window as we went about the night time ritual, just in case it had started already, but there was no snow.
I have to admit too, that the first thing that I did in the morning was look and see if there was any sign of the whiteness. There wasn’t. It was just bloody cold. So we get to wait a little longer for snow. I can handle it. Its already cold enough thanks. There was ice on my car this morning and I can see that I will soon be going out to turn the car on so that it heats up some 15+ minutes before I want to leave in the morning. The seasons are turning fast!
Sep 11, 2007
Industrial ... Stupiditiy or Traffic, part 3
There’s been a large scale process of Union voting in the time that we’ve been in Canada. I can’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of the industrial climate here at this point, but I’ve got a couple of bits of information that help me to understand. Some of this could be wrong and a little ill-informed, but its just to paint a picture, not to discuss the finer points of Canadian Industrial Relations or its laws.
There’s an overriding agreement that says that when the unions are negotiating, they all do so at the same time. When something like 75% of the unions have agreed and signed on to the agreement, the others are forced to arbitration with no legal right to strike.
If they haven’t got that many unions signed up, then they have the right to strike, but have to provide notice and meet other conditions.
As of about 4 days ago, they were about 2 unions short of getting to the 75% that would remove the legal right to strike.
The Carpenters Union issued notice of intent to strike. It went to the courts with a result that it was ruled that any strike would be illegal. Over the next four days, 2 unions signed up and now the right to legally strike is off the table.
And that’s where we are today. The union is playing it smart and they aren’t putting the members at risk by striking. Instead, when they’re off duty, the are operating ‘information pickets’. What this means is that groups of them stand at strategic points with signs seeking support from their follow workers.
What this meant for me today was that there was about 50 of them on the other side of the highway waving placards and generally being well behaved and peaceful … well back from the traffic and all.
Which would be fine if it wasn’t for the bloody rubber neckers. And I should point out that this is far from restricted to Canada. Singapore was a classic for it. Now if you’ve been keeping up with recent posts and have kept track of this ramble, you’ll be taking into account the volume of traffic that comes down this highway as I return from work. Buckets of it.
But put one person on the other side of the road with a sign and some twit thinks that he needs to read it. So he slows down. As does the person behind him. When all the other twits decide that this is a good idea, I get stuck at the other end of the bloody line doing 30kms/hr on a 100km/hr highway taking an hour to get home instead of 30 minutes. Not that I’m bitter at all.
It just means that the day before I leave this place, I want to go stand just off the side of the highway as peak hour starts with a sign that can only be read by a fifth grader in a pickup truck that reads something like:
“Before I leave, I just want to cause my own little traffic Jam”
There’s an overriding agreement that says that when the unions are negotiating, they all do so at the same time. When something like 75% of the unions have agreed and signed on to the agreement, the others are forced to arbitration with no legal right to strike.
If they haven’t got that many unions signed up, then they have the right to strike, but have to provide notice and meet other conditions.
As of about 4 days ago, they were about 2 unions short of getting to the 75% that would remove the legal right to strike.
The Carpenters Union issued notice of intent to strike. It went to the courts with a result that it was ruled that any strike would be illegal. Over the next four days, 2 unions signed up and now the right to legally strike is off the table.
And that’s where we are today. The union is playing it smart and they aren’t putting the members at risk by striking. Instead, when they’re off duty, the are operating ‘information pickets’. What this means is that groups of them stand at strategic points with signs seeking support from their follow workers.
What this meant for me today was that there was about 50 of them on the other side of the highway waving placards and generally being well behaved and peaceful … well back from the traffic and all.
Which would be fine if it wasn’t for the bloody rubber neckers. And I should point out that this is far from restricted to Canada. Singapore was a classic for it. Now if you’ve been keeping up with recent posts and have kept track of this ramble, you’ll be taking into account the volume of traffic that comes down this highway as I return from work. Buckets of it.
But put one person on the other side of the road with a sign and some twit thinks that he needs to read it. So he slows down. As does the person behind him. When all the other twits decide that this is a good idea, I get stuck at the other end of the bloody line doing 30kms/hr on a 100km/hr highway taking an hour to get home instead of 30 minutes. Not that I’m bitter at all.
It just means that the day before I leave this place, I want to go stand just off the side of the highway as peak hour starts with a sign that can only be read by a fifth grader in a pickup truck that reads something like:
Sep 10, 2007
Road between the lines
Since I’ve been up in Fort Mac, they’ve been doing roadworks. I’m sure that I’ve mentioned it before. Its summer (well, it was) and so it’s a good time for them to be doing road works. I have no problem with that. I even acknowledge that we’ve been somewhat unfortunate as to time our arrival to coincide with the major highway upgrade that’s going on as it apparently only happens once very 6 years or so.
Its been interesting to watch how they’ve gone about this work though. The stretch of road that they’re upgrading extends over about 20km. And of course every morning and every evening virtually half of the population of Fort Mac travel over this road. So you wouldn’t do the work then, would you?
No, don’t worry, even up here they’re not that silly. They do the roadworks at night. What they leave behind is various stretches of completed pavement. Sometimes it’s the old pavement scraped back in preparation for the new surface. Sometimes it’s the first layer of the two layers of pavement that are being applied and of course at other times, it’s the final bitumen surface, both pavement layers complete.
At each of these stages, a speed restriction of 80km/hr is applied. The road is usually a 100km/hr highway. And I am fine with that because it’s important to be safe.
So far, they’ve completed the paving over some 75-80% of the road. The 80km/hr restriction extends over the entire length of the completed works.. Yep, not one small section of the road has been lifted back up to 100km/hr. And because the completed works now extends past the Suncor site, I get to do 80 km/hr all the way to work. Which would be great if that’s what everyone else did. But everyone else seems to think that because the road is usally rated at 100km/hr, they should continue to do the 110+ that they would normally do.
Hence, most of my ride is spent cringing as I watch the rear-vision mirror, waiting for some day dreaming speed maniac to give me a not so gentle shove from behind. And its one thing for to wait to be rammed by a Ford F150, but its something else entirely when you see a bus or a B-double wait until the absolute last moment to pull out and over take you.
Of course there’s a good reason why they leave the lines off the entire length of the road and don’t lift the speed.
There’s no line marking machine in Fort McMurray.
Yes, you know you’re in Hickville when they have to bring in a line marking machine and therefore have to wait until the very end of the job so that they only have to mobilise it once.
Its been interesting to watch how they’ve gone about this work though. The stretch of road that they’re upgrading extends over about 20km. And of course every morning and every evening virtually half of the population of Fort Mac travel over this road. So you wouldn’t do the work then, would you?
No, don’t worry, even up here they’re not that silly. They do the roadworks at night. What they leave behind is various stretches of completed pavement. Sometimes it’s the old pavement scraped back in preparation for the new surface. Sometimes it’s the first layer of the two layers of pavement that are being applied and of course at other times, it’s the final bitumen surface, both pavement layers complete.
At each of these stages, a speed restriction of 80km/hr is applied. The road is usually a 100km/hr highway. And I am fine with that because it’s important to be safe.
So far, they’ve completed the paving over some 75-80% of the road. The 80km/hr restriction extends over the entire length of the completed works.. Yep, not one small section of the road has been lifted back up to 100km/hr. And because the completed works now extends past the Suncor site, I get to do 80 km/hr all the way to work. Which would be great if that’s what everyone else did. But everyone else seems to think that because the road is usally rated at 100km/hr, they should continue to do the 110+ that they would normally do.
Hence, most of my ride is spent cringing as I watch the rear-vision mirror, waiting for some day dreaming speed maniac to give me a not so gentle shove from behind. And its one thing for to wait to be rammed by a Ford F150, but its something else entirely when you see a bus or a B-double wait until the absolute last moment to pull out and over take you.
Of course there’s a good reason why they leave the lines off the entire length of the road and don’t lift the speed.
There’s no line marking machine in Fort McMurray.
Yes, you know you’re in Hickville when they have to bring in a line marking machine and therefore have to wait until the very end of the job so that they only have to mobilise it once.
Sep 6, 2007
Fall
Summer has gone and fall (that would be autumn to most of us) has just begun. To put things in perspective, its the equivalent of early March here in terms of where we are in the climate cycle.
Except for the fact that it was -1C when I got up this morning with a forecast of +9C.
Isn't that something to get excited about! And to think its barely begun to get cold.
Except for the fact that it was -1C when I got up this morning with a forecast of +9C.
Isn't that something to get excited about! And to think its barely begun to get cold.
Sep 4, 2007
The Conversation ... continued
So after a long weekend (in both the traditional holiday sense and as well as the emotional one) of deep and meaningful conversations about things like why we're on this side of the world and what we hoped to achieve whilst we are here, I had my first opporutnity today to pick up the conversation around our future that had been so dissatisfactorily abandoned late last week.
Good result: The choice regarding a move to Sarnia is well and truly back on the table and will be ours to make at the appropriate time.
It seems that I was painted a half complete picture and that in an attempt to keep me in the loop with some discussions that were happening further up the ladder, I managed to be left with the worst possible impression.
Back on track and so now we are again looking forward to a point where at least if we end up here long term, its because we have chosen to do so.
I probably should have made the effort to have had the conversation over the weekend rather than let it all stew. Live and learn.
Good result: The choice regarding a move to Sarnia is well and truly back on the table and will be ours to make at the appropriate time.
It seems that I was painted a half complete picture and that in an attempt to keep me in the loop with some discussions that were happening further up the ladder, I managed to be left with the worst possible impression.
Back on track and so now we are again looking forward to a point where at least if we end up here long term, its because we have chosen to do so.
I probably should have made the effort to have had the conversation over the weekend rather than let it all stew. Live and learn.
Sep 2, 2007
Back to School
Thursday was the first day of school for the boys. Yes, you read that right, Thursday was the first day of school. Because we’re in Fort Mac.
Why else would you start the school year on a Thursday which, by the way, happens to preceed a long weekend. Oh yes, and Fridays are half days too.
Uh huh. The first week of school consisted of one and a half days. Which in hindsight might actually have been a good thing.
Upon coming home from work, I asked each of the three boys how their days had gone.
Thomas replied that it was good.
Samuel replied that it was ok
Michael replied that it was bad.
Which kind of even’s itself out to ok in a mathematical type sense, but doesn’t really help when reality is put into place.
I’m not quite sure what was so bad for Mikey. The things that I have managed to place together are
1) That they only get 15 mins for recess and 20 mins of time outside for lunch. The rest of lunch is apparently spent eating, sitting at your desk. And you’re not allowed to leave.
2) That he had to do work on his first day. Under later interrogation Mikey declared, “At St Thomas the first day was easy, and even the first week we didn’t have to do much, but here we had to do work on the first day!”
Later that night, whilst Caroline was out, I got to sit down stairs and overhear Mikey in tears as he complained about just how bad school was to Sam. No amount of reasoning from me was ever going to help him get over that. Telling a distressed 10 year old that things would be better in a couple of weeks is as successful as asking a starving lion to please wait 10 minutes before devouring the ripe juicy carcass that has just been made available to it.
I was both saddened and amused when I heard him start plotting the different ways in which he could manage to not end up there on the following day.
I hoped that the fact that the second day of school being a half day would mean that things wouldn’t go too badly. Thomas told me his day was ok again, Sam said it was worse and there were certainly no signs of improvement when I spoke to Michael.
Sam dissolved into tears when he said that he had homework to do. I told him that he’s really good at doing his homework and so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. The the waterworks really started as he told me that he was going to have to do all his writing in cursive! More futile placating of small child followed.
On the upside for Friday, we did manage to buy a Wii system yesterday. Something of a triumph when you consider that I must have stopped at at least 12 different stores to try and get one between Calgary and Fort Mac (including the entire bloody West Edmonton Mall) only to be told on every occasion … we don’t have any in stock.
This would have been much better in terms of making kids happy if we were ready to plug it in! We did also get our keys to our house on Friday, so that was exciting. Of course, once again, it would be more exciting if we were in a position to live there! But so far, our freight is still locked up in Toronto. If they haven’t released it when I get to talk to them on Tuesday, I might well have to fly Caroline (and kids?) down there to do it for us!
Anyway, on the school front, at least it’s a long weekend and so we can sell the fact that week two becomes really only three and a half days of school.
Just remember, all of this has come on the back of ‘the bombshell’. Life’s a bit tense right now. Lucky I get to come into work on Saturday and relax!?
Why else would you start the school year on a Thursday which, by the way, happens to preceed a long weekend. Oh yes, and Fridays are half days too.
Uh huh. The first week of school consisted of one and a half days. Which in hindsight might actually have been a good thing.
Upon coming home from work, I asked each of the three boys how their days had gone.
Thomas replied that it was good.
Samuel replied that it was ok
Michael replied that it was bad.
Which kind of even’s itself out to ok in a mathematical type sense, but doesn’t really help when reality is put into place.
I’m not quite sure what was so bad for Mikey. The things that I have managed to place together are
1) That they only get 15 mins for recess and 20 mins of time outside for lunch. The rest of lunch is apparently spent eating, sitting at your desk. And you’re not allowed to leave.
2) That he had to do work on his first day. Under later interrogation Mikey declared, “At St Thomas the first day was easy, and even the first week we didn’t have to do much, but here we had to do work on the first day!”
Later that night, whilst Caroline was out, I got to sit down stairs and overhear Mikey in tears as he complained about just how bad school was to Sam. No amount of reasoning from me was ever going to help him get over that. Telling a distressed 10 year old that things would be better in a couple of weeks is as successful as asking a starving lion to please wait 10 minutes before devouring the ripe juicy carcass that has just been made available to it.
I was both saddened and amused when I heard him start plotting the different ways in which he could manage to not end up there on the following day.
I hoped that the fact that the second day of school being a half day would mean that things wouldn’t go too badly. Thomas told me his day was ok again, Sam said it was worse and there were certainly no signs of improvement when I spoke to Michael.
Sam dissolved into tears when he said that he had homework to do. I told him that he’s really good at doing his homework and so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. The the waterworks really started as he told me that he was going to have to do all his writing in cursive! More futile placating of small child followed.
On the upside for Friday, we did manage to buy a Wii system yesterday. Something of a triumph when you consider that I must have stopped at at least 12 different stores to try and get one between Calgary and Fort Mac (including the entire bloody West Edmonton Mall) only to be told on every occasion … we don’t have any in stock.
This would have been much better in terms of making kids happy if we were ready to plug it in! We did also get our keys to our house on Friday, so that was exciting. Of course, once again, it would be more exciting if we were in a position to live there! But so far, our freight is still locked up in Toronto. If they haven’t released it when I get to talk to them on Tuesday, I might well have to fly Caroline (and kids?) down there to do it for us!
Anyway, on the school front, at least it’s a long weekend and so we can sell the fact that week two becomes really only three and a half days of school.
Just remember, all of this has come on the back of ‘the bombshell’. Life’s a bit tense right now. Lucky I get to come into work on Saturday and relax!?
Bombshell
The other day, due to vehicular swap arounds, I got a ride home from work with my boss. There was a raft of issues discussed during the ride as there’s always plenty going on and plenty to talk about.
It wasn’t until we were about 2/3rds of the way home though that the bomb bay doors opened and this little gem fell from about 30,000 feet.
“We’re recruiting someone else to go to Sarnia for us.”
Yep, you read it correctly. It now seems that we will be in Fort Mac for the longer term. It wasn’t that getting us to stay here wasn’t expected. But the timing was surprising, as was the manner of delivery.
I’ve been bracing Caroline for sometime for the time when the company turned to us and said, “you know, we’d really like to have you stay on here and continue what you’re doing.”
I also expected at that point in time to be given a choice, that maybe there’d be some incentive offered to keep us in the middle of nowhere.
I certainly didn’t expect it to happen 7 weeks after we arrived here and I certainly not to have it dropped on me in that manner with a third person in the car. It kind of made it difficult to have a truly detailed conversation around the piece. So now I have to try and find another time to have that part of the conversation with him and point out just what it has meant.
I managed to start the conversation the following day as we had a breakfast meeting with our client, but I really didn’t get past the “ok, here’s what you’ve done to me, I didn’t get much sleep last night because my wife was in tears and awake thinking about the consequences of what it means to all of us. Oh and by the way, the kids were starting school this morning too, so we really needed this right now.”
I mean, for me personally, there’s pros and cons. It’s a great work opportunity. There will be more for me here than there would be in Sarnia. And after all, I go to work everyday and really only have to deal with the fact that we’re in Fort McMac on the weekends … and of course during the commute to work in a vast field of incompetence (two days ago it took me one and a half hours to travel 30kms because some d#&%wad had managed to have a crash on the bridge in town. (I missed the morning one because I was headed to a workshop rather than to site – otherwise it would have taken me that long to get in to work as well.) And let’s put the 1.5 hours in perspective. For about 15 of those 30kms I was actually able to travel at 100km/hour! But I digress … traffic part 2 is a whole other post.
Where was I? Oh yes, for me, the whole Fort Mac thing isn’t that much of a drama because I spend most of my time working. It’s only when I think about how much effort it is to leave the place (either financially or in terms of time commitment) that I start to cringe about this location.
For Caroline however, who has to suffer the trials of Fort Mac (like a half hour wait just to treat the kids to some maccas for the their first day of school) there is quite simply a host of reasons to want to go to Sarnia. And the fact that she’s had no say in the fact that we are now stuck here longer term simply isn’t fair and just (And I’m sure will be the focus of one of her near-future missives)
So the conversation must continue. I’ll keep you posted.
It wasn’t until we were about 2/3rds of the way home though that the bomb bay doors opened and this little gem fell from about 30,000 feet.
“We’re recruiting someone else to go to Sarnia for us.”
Yep, you read it correctly. It now seems that we will be in Fort Mac for the longer term. It wasn’t that getting us to stay here wasn’t expected. But the timing was surprising, as was the manner of delivery.
I’ve been bracing Caroline for sometime for the time when the company turned to us and said, “you know, we’d really like to have you stay on here and continue what you’re doing.”
I also expected at that point in time to be given a choice, that maybe there’d be some incentive offered to keep us in the middle of nowhere.
I certainly didn’t expect it to happen 7 weeks after we arrived here and I certainly not to have it dropped on me in that manner with a third person in the car. It kind of made it difficult to have a truly detailed conversation around the piece. So now I have to try and find another time to have that part of the conversation with him and point out just what it has meant.
I managed to start the conversation the following day as we had a breakfast meeting with our client, but I really didn’t get past the “ok, here’s what you’ve done to me, I didn’t get much sleep last night because my wife was in tears and awake thinking about the consequences of what it means to all of us. Oh and by the way, the kids were starting school this morning too, so we really needed this right now.”
I mean, for me personally, there’s pros and cons. It’s a great work opportunity. There will be more for me here than there would be in Sarnia. And after all, I go to work everyday and really only have to deal with the fact that we’re in Fort McMac on the weekends … and of course during the commute to work in a vast field of incompetence (two days ago it took me one and a half hours to travel 30kms because some d#&%wad had managed to have a crash on the bridge in town. (I missed the morning one because I was headed to a workshop rather than to site – otherwise it would have taken me that long to get in to work as well.) And let’s put the 1.5 hours in perspective. For about 15 of those 30kms I was actually able to travel at 100km/hour! But I digress … traffic part 2 is a whole other post.
Where was I? Oh yes, for me, the whole Fort Mac thing isn’t that much of a drama because I spend most of my time working. It’s only when I think about how much effort it is to leave the place (either financially or in terms of time commitment) that I start to cringe about this location.
For Caroline however, who has to suffer the trials of Fort Mac (like a half hour wait just to treat the kids to some maccas for the their first day of school) there is quite simply a host of reasons to want to go to Sarnia. And the fact that she’s had no say in the fact that we are now stuck here longer term simply isn’t fair and just (And I’m sure will be the focus of one of her near-future missives)
So the conversation must continue. I’ll keep you posted.
Metric
It was something of a source of comfort when I was leaving home, knowing that the country that we were going to be working in was metricised (if its not a word, it is now). I worked for Americans when I was in Singapore and whilst it was good for my education to have worked with feet, inches, kips and fathoms and the like, it wasn’t really that entertaining.
Of course, one of the things about Canada is that it has a somewhat reduced proximity to the US of A. this means that there’s sure to be leakage across the borders.
And so its with great amusement that I read some of the measures of contents on labels, in particular, pop bottles (aka soft drink).
There is no 600ml bottle of coke in Canada. Its obviously shaped around the equivalent American bottle, which from memory is a 16 ounce (which is a pint – and of course these are US pints and ounces, not British ones). What does that mean incommon sense metric units? It means that you get a 473ml bottle of coke.
Somehow cans come out at a nice even 355ml, but that’s sure to be more by luck than design.
And you know how when you go to print things and you have to shift the paper size between A4 and A3, there’s all these other random and stupid paper sizes in the list to choose from? Things like letter and 11x17?
Well apparently, that’s something else that’s leaked across the border because they’re ‘standard’ paper sizes over here. And of course when you get a notebook for a diary, that’s a different size again, so even the things you print don’t fit neatly within the book. Not that I’m bitter …
Of course, one of the things about Canada is that it has a somewhat reduced proximity to the US of A. this means that there’s sure to be leakage across the borders.
And so its with great amusement that I read some of the measures of contents on labels, in particular, pop bottles (aka soft drink).
There is no 600ml bottle of coke in Canada. Its obviously shaped around the equivalent American bottle, which from memory is a 16 ounce (which is a pint – and of course these are US pints and ounces, not British ones). What does that mean in
Somehow cans come out at a nice even 355ml, but that’s sure to be more by luck than design.
And you know how when you go to print things and you have to shift the paper size between A4 and A3, there’s all these other random and stupid paper sizes in the list to choose from? Things like letter and 11x17?
Well apparently, that’s something else that’s leaked across the border because they’re ‘standard’ paper sizes over here. And of course when you get a notebook for a diary, that’s a different size again, so even the things you print don’t fit neatly within the book. Not that I’m bitter …
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