It was a Sunday. I was due to fly off-shore the following morning. But before that, there was a staff vs students soccer game at the school that Caroline was teaching at. I played to bring up the numbers on the faculty side of the game.
During the game, I started to notice a disturbing trend. When I headed the ball, it felt like one of my fillings was jarring loose, or wobbling around in its socket. As the day progressed, it started to worry me more and more, mainly because I was about to head out to the middle of the South China Sea for a couple of months with nary a dentist in sight.
After we’d eaten dinner and it was still bugging me, I decided that I should try and do something about it. And of course 8pm on a Sunday is a great time to try and get into the dentist. I went through the phone book and finally managed to get a dentist that would open up for me ... for the measly sum of $200 (plus whatever treatment they would provide).
I ventured in there and explained my situation, that I was leaving first thing in the morning, that I wouldn’t be back for about 2 months and so I wanted to know what was going on with my tooth. So after taking a look and not being able to find anything, the lady said that she’d need to take x-rays, so x-rays were taken. Then she came out and happily told me that she’d be able to view them tomorrow. Quietly and calmly (well almost) I reminded her of the fact that I had already told her that I was leaving first thing in the morning and that I wouldn’t be there to view them tomorrow.
She had a bit of a think and presented me with 2 options. She could give me some painkillers and hope that things went away, or she could take the nerve out. Now is it just me, or are those two options just ever so slightly diametrically opposed to one another?
I nearly shat myself at that the time and decided to go with the option that didn’t involve tearing into my mouth late at night at least until I was absolutely sure that it was actually the best option for me to take. Besides, I’d been told that a severe toothache is actually not a bad way to get some time off of the barge. I wasn’t keen that as a back up plan though and opted for a course of painkillers!
We left the surgery and Caroline suggested that perhaps we should call her friend back home who was at the time in the latter stages of studying dentistry. I was all for a bit more information. After a couple of quick questions, she asked exactly the right one. Did I have any sinus trouble. As it turned out I did at the time and it was suggested that referred pain from sinus trouble could result in the sort of sensation
More importantly, she referred to the fact that a nerve removal procedure should be done over a period of two visits, spaced something like 2 weeks apart. The thought of what might have happened in my mouth had I opted to go with ‘just rip it out’ quite frankly sets my bladder quivering!
I was very relieved when my sinus trouble cleared up a week later to note that my tooth was in fact fine!f
Jun 30, 2008
Jun 23, 2008
the itch you shouldn't scratch
Summer's back here in Fort McMurray and there's a couple of things that come with summer. The first notable thing that comes about with summer is the caterpillars. And not just one or two of the little blighters, but literally swarms of them.
Apparently its an annual thing here. Such an annual thing that it was reported on the radio near hatching time that the municipal council was out spraying .. because there were something like a billion caterpillars expected to hatch.
Now that is a lot of caterpillars. There were patches of them on the trees, square feet of black patches of caterpillars. I went out to Tom's soccer and there was some pine fencing and there were lines the entire length of the fence, caterpillars crawling from one end to the other, head to tail.
They don't last for too long though, only a couple of weeks, so that now there are really none to be seen.
But they have been replaced. There's a new menace on the prowl.
Mosquitos. And maybe they're not quite present in the same numbers as the caterpillars, but they're more mobile and they're a hell of a lot more vicious.
We brought the rid back with us when we came back after easter as we've been told that the local stuff doesn't have the active ingredient that makes rid so good. And so the other night I went out to play a game of soccer and Caroline told me to remember to take the Rid, because i was playing on the field that she usually plays on and its a bit of a meeting place for the winged vipers.
I of course agreed that that would be a good course of action and promptly left it home. I borrowed some stuff off of one of the locals and covered every inch of my bare skin and that seemed ok. After the game, as we stood around and had a few beers, it was an interesting little dance that one adopted, trying not to spill the beverage whilst trying to swat away mosquitos like the planes attacking king kong at the top of the Empire state, though they seemed to bring more friends than the planes did against kong.
I thought I had survived ok, but then the following day, the dots started to appear. Little red, mosquito induced welts all over the backs of my calves. Turns out that the little bastards had found something of a loop hole. Get me through my socks. Being long socks, i'd left them up, thinking that this would at least protect part of my body from the swarm.
It wasn't really until the following day that I realised this though. Not until about the time that I suddenly felt itchy all down the back of my calves. And after a day in jeans, with the denim not so gently caressing them all day, I finally took them off and found my legs to look something like a crazy drunks version of abstract join the dots.
Eventually, they might even fade away ...
Apparently its an annual thing here. Such an annual thing that it was reported on the radio near hatching time that the municipal council was out spraying .. because there were something like a billion caterpillars expected to hatch.
Now that is a lot of caterpillars. There were patches of them on the trees, square feet of black patches of caterpillars. I went out to Tom's soccer and there was some pine fencing and there were lines the entire length of the fence, caterpillars crawling from one end to the other, head to tail.
They don't last for too long though, only a couple of weeks, so that now there are really none to be seen.
But they have been replaced. There's a new menace on the prowl.
Mosquitos. And maybe they're not quite present in the same numbers as the caterpillars, but they're more mobile and they're a hell of a lot more vicious.
We brought the rid back with us when we came back after easter as we've been told that the local stuff doesn't have the active ingredient that makes rid so good. And so the other night I went out to play a game of soccer and Caroline told me to remember to take the Rid, because i was playing on the field that she usually plays on and its a bit of a meeting place for the winged vipers.
I of course agreed that that would be a good course of action and promptly left it home. I borrowed some stuff off of one of the locals and covered every inch of my bare skin and that seemed ok. After the game, as we stood around and had a few beers, it was an interesting little dance that one adopted, trying not to spill the beverage whilst trying to swat away mosquitos like the planes attacking king kong at the top of the Empire state, though they seemed to bring more friends than the planes did against kong.
I thought I had survived ok, but then the following day, the dots started to appear. Little red, mosquito induced welts all over the backs of my calves. Turns out that the little bastards had found something of a loop hole. Get me through my socks. Being long socks, i'd left them up, thinking that this would at least protect part of my body from the swarm.
It wasn't really until the following day that I realised this though. Not until about the time that I suddenly felt itchy all down the back of my calves. And after a day in jeans, with the denim not so gently caressing them all day, I finally took them off and found my legs to look something like a crazy drunks version of abstract join the dots.
Eventually, they might even fade away ...
Jun 15, 2008
Chemical Warfare
When we were growing up, we had an apricot tree in the back yard. For awhile, I was a big fan of apricot jam and even apricots straight from the tree. As time went on though, I think it reached that too much of a good thing point and I started to eat them a lot less.
We also had a dog that liked the apricots, but being something of a small dog, she wasn't really of the right sort of stature to reach the apricots until they'd already fallen from the tree. Added to that, i think she had something of a taste for the softer, baked in the sun, slightly fermented fruit rather than the fresh stuff.
The result of this was usually discovered later in the evening when the dog was asleep inside. You'd be happily watching tv when a stragne aroma would suddenly waft through the room, usually with enough stench behind it to clear out anyone unfortunate enough to remain in the vicinity.
Well, apparently the affect of apricots isn't limited to K9's. The dried apricot variety, particularly when processed through a woman's digestive system, produces an effect almost to a level equivalent to that of the dog.
So it was with great delight that I sat watching TV the other night that I discovered that one of the things that had been consumed during the trip back from Edmonton (that Caroline had made with the kids (and without me)) was dried apricots.
And let's just say that I didn't discover this fact through discussion. Ahh memories.
We also had a dog that liked the apricots, but being something of a small dog, she wasn't really of the right sort of stature to reach the apricots until they'd already fallen from the tree. Added to that, i think she had something of a taste for the softer, baked in the sun, slightly fermented fruit rather than the fresh stuff.
The result of this was usually discovered later in the evening when the dog was asleep inside. You'd be happily watching tv when a stragne aroma would suddenly waft through the room, usually with enough stench behind it to clear out anyone unfortunate enough to remain in the vicinity.
Well, apparently the affect of apricots isn't limited to K9's. The dried apricot variety, particularly when processed through a woman's digestive system, produces an effect almost to a level equivalent to that of the dog.
So it was with great delight that I sat watching TV the other night that I discovered that one of the things that had been consumed during the trip back from Edmonton (that Caroline had made with the kids (and without me)) was dried apricots.
And let's just say that I didn't discover this fact through discussion. Ahh memories.
Jun 4, 2008
The Christening
A month or so ago now, with Summer on the horizon (somewhat distant, but there none the less) I decided that it was about time that I invested in some golf clubs. After all, the only clubs that I’d ever had had been handed down from Paul to Dad and on to me. I was one of those rare people that pulled out a driver that was actually made of wood! Not to mention the size complex one get’s when everyone else’s driver is about 3 times the size of your own.
I was in Edmonton for work and so walked into the shop, got the guy to show me some clubs and walked out with a brand new, complete set of clubs. They go well with the bag that I won several years ago. It never quite looked right with the old clubs in it.
I am getting invited to a number of golf days through the unions that I am now dealing with and other work functions. I have been looking forward to that point where I get to pull the clubs out and actually have a hit.
Caroline has also been somewhat keen to pursue a it of golf and went to an information night at one of the courses here a little while ago. In doing this, it was suggested that she might need some clubs. I told her that if it really came to it, she could use mine (at least until she decided whether she was actually going to enjoy the game or not).
And yes, you can probably guess what happened at this point. I came home one evening to be told that Caroline had managed to get along to a bit of a give it a go type session at the driving range and that she’d used my clubs.
My new clubs.
Not the old clubs
My brand new, never used, never touched a golf ball, barely even swung, brand new golf clubs.
“It was only the driving range and I didn’t use them all.”
They were my new clubs. I still haven’t used them. And now, they’re not even virgins anymore. What more can I say?
I was in Edmonton for work and so walked into the shop, got the guy to show me some clubs and walked out with a brand new, complete set of clubs. They go well with the bag that I won several years ago. It never quite looked right with the old clubs in it.
I am getting invited to a number of golf days through the unions that I am now dealing with and other work functions. I have been looking forward to that point where I get to pull the clubs out and actually have a hit.
Caroline has also been somewhat keen to pursue a it of golf and went to an information night at one of the courses here a little while ago. In doing this, it was suggested that she might need some clubs. I told her that if it really came to it, she could use mine (at least until she decided whether she was actually going to enjoy the game or not).
And yes, you can probably guess what happened at this point. I came home one evening to be told that Caroline had managed to get along to a bit of a give it a go type session at the driving range and that she’d used my clubs.
My new clubs.
Not the old clubs
My brand new, never used, never touched a golf ball, barely even swung, brand new golf clubs.
“It was only the driving range and I didn’t use them all.”
They were my new clubs. I still haven’t used them. And now, they’re not even virgins anymore. What more can I say?
May 24, 2008
Man Down! Man Down!
Last night the boys’ school held a ‘family dance’. Essentially it was a disco for the kids that the parents got to go along to so that they could embarrass their kids (well I’m sure that wasn’t quite the intent, but for the only girl-aware boy that we know it was certainly the case!)
That however is the purpose of writing. As usual it was something of a struggle to get all four Temby minors dressed, agreeable and moving out the door in a cohesive fashion, so Michael went on ahead to wait for us in the school playground. As we managed to mobilise extra children, Sam and Thomas also went on ahead and we followed with Emily (more than happy to be escorted by both Mummy AND Daddy!)
When we arrived at the school, we found Michael on a bench on the side of the playground in tears. Asking what had happened, it was quickly determined that a boy from Sam’s year level had shot both Michael and Sam with a ‘bb gun’. My first instinct was to shrug it off (I’ve never actually seen or used a bb gun but was always of the impression that they would sting a bit, but that was about all. The fact that the kid had one in a school playground (even after hours) was something that I wasn’t impressed with by any stretch of the imagination.
Sam showed me where he’d been hit (in the knee) and blood had been drawn and then Michael showed us the two spots (welts) on his back where he’d been hit). I decided to call the boy (who was nonchalantly playing on the equipment) over to let him know just how I felt about it.
He was rather insistent that he’d only shot Michael once (like that made a difference) so we showed him the two spots and asked him what he thought they were. A rather ignorant shrug of the shoulders was the response to which I believe i replied, “Well they aren’t bloody bug bites are they?!”
We abandoned him and went on to the school, having assured him that we would be reporting it to the school and that therefore he could expect his parents to know about it.
Its worth noting at this point that if I was angry, Caroline was seething to a degree at the dangerous level of “very angry mother.”
We did indeed report it to the headmaster of the school, who promptly went directly to the house of the child in question and knocked on the door. Massive kudos for immediate action.
During the course of the dance, Caroline discussed the incident with a number of people who said that we should report the incident to the RCMP (cops). My initial thought was that this was possibly a little over the top. But I kept thinking about it as the night wore on.
I haven’t ever really reached a point of being particularly pro or against gun ownership. Because it all comes down to who owns the gun. Responsibly owned, the gun is no worse than a chainsaw. I know a number of people that own guns and take every precaution one could ask for in regards to ensure safe operation.
And then there’s the American gun culture that we all hear about. And living up here in the remote parts of Canada, there’s a lot of hunting that goes on. So I have to wonder about a 9 year old kid who is allowed to wander around the streets with a bb gun unsupervised and exactly what his future holds for him.
Let’s just say that his immediate future definitely includes a visit with his parents by the school and may well indeed include a visit from the RCMP. Because in the end, we did make the call. I don’t want to have to worry about my kids being threatened by a bb gun. Deadly? Probably not. Potential to cause injury? Definite. I don’t want to risk that one percenter (or even less) that one of those pellets takes out a kid’s eye (my kid or anyone else’s).
That however is the purpose of writing. As usual it was something of a struggle to get all four Temby minors dressed, agreeable and moving out the door in a cohesive fashion, so Michael went on ahead to wait for us in the school playground. As we managed to mobilise extra children, Sam and Thomas also went on ahead and we followed with Emily (more than happy to be escorted by both Mummy AND Daddy!)
When we arrived at the school, we found Michael on a bench on the side of the playground in tears. Asking what had happened, it was quickly determined that a boy from Sam’s year level had shot both Michael and Sam with a ‘bb gun’. My first instinct was to shrug it off (I’ve never actually seen or used a bb gun but was always of the impression that they would sting a bit, but that was about all. The fact that the kid had one in a school playground (even after hours) was something that I wasn’t impressed with by any stretch of the imagination.
Sam showed me where he’d been hit (in the knee) and blood had been drawn and then Michael showed us the two spots (welts) on his back where he’d been hit). I decided to call the boy (who was nonchalantly playing on the equipment) over to let him know just how I felt about it.
He was rather insistent that he’d only shot Michael once (like that made a difference) so we showed him the two spots and asked him what he thought they were. A rather ignorant shrug of the shoulders was the response to which I believe i replied, “Well they aren’t bloody bug bites are they?!”
We abandoned him and went on to the school, having assured him that we would be reporting it to the school and that therefore he could expect his parents to know about it.
Its worth noting at this point that if I was angry, Caroline was seething to a degree at the dangerous level of “very angry mother.”
We did indeed report it to the headmaster of the school, who promptly went directly to the house of the child in question and knocked on the door. Massive kudos for immediate action.
During the course of the dance, Caroline discussed the incident with a number of people who said that we should report the incident to the RCMP (cops). My initial thought was that this was possibly a little over the top. But I kept thinking about it as the night wore on.
I haven’t ever really reached a point of being particularly pro or against gun ownership. Because it all comes down to who owns the gun. Responsibly owned, the gun is no worse than a chainsaw. I know a number of people that own guns and take every precaution one could ask for in regards to ensure safe operation.
And then there’s the American gun culture that we all hear about. And living up here in the remote parts of Canada, there’s a lot of hunting that goes on. So I have to wonder about a 9 year old kid who is allowed to wander around the streets with a bb gun unsupervised and exactly what his future holds for him.
Let’s just say that his immediate future definitely includes a visit with his parents by the school and may well indeed include a visit from the RCMP. Because in the end, we did make the call. I don’t want to have to worry about my kids being threatened by a bb gun. Deadly? Probably not. Potential to cause injury? Definite. I don’t want to risk that one percenter (or even less) that one of those pellets takes out a kid’s eye (my kid or anyone else’s).
May 19, 2008
May 12, 2008
And a minor twitch
Something that I haven’t been able to ignore over here lately are the ads for drugs on the television. I really only remember two types of drug ads from back home (well three if you count the anti illegal drug type) and those tended to be grouped into two areas: Headaches and period pain. Not having any need for the later, I didn’t pay much attention. Neither did I tend to pay a whole lot of attention to he former (which probably means that there’s a host of ads for different drugs that I’ve completely failed to account for).
But over here, it’s almost no holds barred by comparison. (Remembering here that much of te TV that we watch is from the US via cable). But the thing that gets me literally giggling on the couch, in serious risk of a floorward tumble is the second half of the ad. Well really, it’s more than half and that’s part of the point, but it’s the bit of the ad that comes after the first bit and therefore is thought of as the second half.
You see if an advertisement for one of these drugs goes for a minute, only the first 10 to 20 seconds actually tell you about the benefit of the drug and the wonders that it will do for the body, mind and/or soul.
The REST of the ad, the funny bit is obviously one of those things that get’s generated by the legal, sue the pants off your neighbour type world that America seems to live in.
So what transpires is that you start out with an advertisement for a medication that will (hypothetically and not based on any REAL drug) cure you of a mildly annoying case of drippy nose. They’ll tell you just how wonderful it is and how dry and well maintained your nose will be as a result of taking your drug. The announcer will be upbeat and happy.
Then there will be the bit that says that before undertaking a course of their drug, you really should consult a physician. Because there’s just a slight, remote chance of a side affect.
Well, for a start, there’s the bit where they tell you that the drug is guaranteed to work for everyone. Then there’s the side affects. These are generally read in that sort of monotonic, deadpan voice that says, “We’re really not saying anything important right now, so you may as well change channels, but just in case, we’re going to cover our arse). And of course, there’s a remote chance of:
Liver failure, heart palpitations, weepy arse, genital shrinkage, mild brain melt and just ever so remotely possibly, your dog will turn gay and run off with the neighbour’s tomcat.
And you wonder why I fall about laughing ...
But over here, it’s almost no holds barred by comparison. (Remembering here that much of te TV that we watch is from the US via cable). But the thing that gets me literally giggling on the couch, in serious risk of a floorward tumble is the second half of the ad. Well really, it’s more than half and that’s part of the point, but it’s the bit of the ad that comes after the first bit and therefore is thought of as the second half.
You see if an advertisement for one of these drugs goes for a minute, only the first 10 to 20 seconds actually tell you about the benefit of the drug and the wonders that it will do for the body, mind and/or soul.
The REST of the ad, the funny bit is obviously one of those things that get’s generated by the legal, sue the pants off your neighbour type world that America seems to live in.
So what transpires is that you start out with an advertisement for a medication that will (hypothetically and not based on any REAL drug) cure you of a mildly annoying case of drippy nose. They’ll tell you just how wonderful it is and how dry and well maintained your nose will be as a result of taking your drug. The announcer will be upbeat and happy.
Then there will be the bit that says that before undertaking a course of their drug, you really should consult a physician. Because there’s just a slight, remote chance of a side affect.
Well, for a start, there’s the bit where they tell you that the drug is guaranteed to work for everyone. Then there’s the side affects. These are generally read in that sort of monotonic, deadpan voice that says, “We’re really not saying anything important right now, so you may as well change channels, but just in case, we’re going to cover our arse). And of course, there’s a remote chance of:
Liver failure, heart palpitations, weepy arse, genital shrinkage, mild brain melt and just ever so remotely possibly, your dog will turn gay and run off with the neighbour’s tomcat.
And you wonder why I fall about laughing ...
May 7, 2008
More Video
So I went to bed last night thinking that the video had failed as it wouldn't come up after I'd posted it here, but tonight when I turned the computer on, there it was, so hopefully it worked for everyone else! The footage is from our trip to Marmot Basin as the title suggests. It's taken on a green slope mainly because that's where I was prepared to get the camera out. We've some footage from the top of the mountain of the scenery but I'm still experimenting with getting the video from the camera to the computer. Anyway, here's a little bit more from when I got adventurous and did some filming whilst skiing (on the easy run of course)!
May 6, 2008
Ski Bunnies
I should know better than to try and post video, but I'm a glutton for punishment, so let's see how we go ...
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