What's Next?

I Just Got Back from a Little Trip

Did you know that it takes three years to complete an education that allows you to run one of these things?  It's a type of engineering degree.  If you close your eyes while riding your super-Euro pedal bike along side of them, they sound just like sailboats with their sails flapping and their works creaking.  I didn't actually close my eyes because I likely would have died and I totally forgot about that whole traveller's insurance thing but, that's what they sounded like.

 

And, did I mention the beer??  I discovered Rose Beer.  It's really hard to explain the taste without sounding like a total girl; it lacks that whole belchy beer taste and, instead, has the aftertaste of a berry tea (a man's description).  I don't think we can get it here in the Kootenays but it gives me a new mission.

Speaking of men (I know, you're finally paying attention), I met some of the most amazing people.  Unfortunately, some of them were my co-applicants for my next great job.  One in particular is an amazing specimen named Werner (pronounced Vanner; this took me two days to get) who hails from the South African military where he has experienced all of the things that I have only learned about in theory.  He is brilliant, handsome and was so much fun to explore Den Haag with.  He was the one who knew to ask the hotel concierge how to get back to the hotel even before we left.  As I said, brilliant.

Nothing can make me appreciate Canada like talking to people from other areas of the world who have been shot at work and have never seen snow.

Mr. Orwell, You Were Right

Shhhhhhh.....

Ixnay the alktay about the artelcay and the assportpay.

Sitemeter has informed me that I got a hit on my last post from the Feds.  Just when I'm trying to leave the country.  Coincidence?  I think not.

Note to self:  Must watch the buzz words.

The Secret Handshake

I've often wished that I had traveled more.  I have been envious of those who have emailed fabulous pictures of foreign lands, great smiles and dark beer.  You know the ones; no kids, only seem to be back on the homeland long enough to clean up and head out on their next grand adventure.  They have some freakish, innate ability to know exactly what to pack, how much money they need, where to stay, what the rules are, where they are going and, nothing ever goes wrong.

An example?  But of course.  Here is a short email conversation with a friend of mine who has recently gone to South America for well over a month.

Traveler:  I'm staying a little longer.

Me:  What?  How can you just do that.  What about your return ticket?  Do you have money?  Don't you have to go back to work?

Traveler:  Handled.  I'm taking this boat trip to see turtles.  It's about a week, I think.

Me:  What, so you just came up with an extra $1000 to take a cruise?

Traveler:  I met these two guys who knew someone.  Anyhoo, I got a good deal.

Me:  Being a mule only seems like a good deal.  When you land yourself in some Chilean jail with your new friends, remember that cartel is spelled c-a-r-t-e-l.

Traveler:  You're an idiot.

So, back to everything that I don't know about traveling.

I am going to The Netherlands on Monday for a job interview.  I know I sound so cool and collected when I say it like that but, I am not a world traveler.  I don't know the secret handshake.  For example, I thought that the expiry date on my Passport meant that it is valid until that date, being not expired and all.  Well, this is where you from the travelers' club are having a little giggle at my naivety.

I know I'm probably breaking some pinky-swear secret by letting Joe Public in on this one but, here it goes.

Your Passport must be valid for 3 to 6 months AFTER your return to the Mothership.

So, the expiry date on your Passport is not really an expiry date at all.  It's merely there to let you know that your Passport has, indeed, already expired.

Stay tuned to learn how you, too, can spend $1000 to get your Passport renewed really quickly.

Why I Shouldn't Leave Town

On a long distance phone call from home at 7:00 this morning;

"Mom?  It's Liam.  Do you know where my Passport is?"

Time for a Change of Scenery?

Good News in the Mail

One free, non-transferable round trip flight ticket anywhere in Pacific Coastal's world.  Which is:

I've spent quite a bit of time studying this map trying to pick my next vacation destination.  I can't seem to find Hawaii anywhere on their routes.  Everything seems to be north of my current location.  Who travels north?

I'm now wishing that it was Air Canada that elected to turn off one of their engines over the mountains whilst I was traveling with them last September.

Seriously, nice gesture on the part of the airline considering I didn't even write one of my typical super-bitch letters.  Also, I'm so glad that they were able to reiterate in the accompanying letter that I was completely safe throughout the entire incident.

They really look forward to serving me in the future.

"I'm Here to Save Your Ass, Not Kiss It."

I was having such a bad day!

I was writing a final exam and..... well, that was all.  Just the exam.  Totally ruined my day.  There's a bit of a history with this particular exam.

My employer, in conspiring with a college, has decided to formalize my training and, by doing so, is forcing me to make a conscious effort to not stick a pen into my eye every day I wake up.

At some point, important people have agreed that a few nursing courses would be a good compliment to a paramedic's training.  Wrong!  Just wrong.  Wrong.  I work with nurses; trust me when I say that we do a totally different job.  I think they are great, all filled with empathy and compassion and stuff and, I'm glad they work with me so that they can keep me from saying stupid things like, "I'm sorry, did no one tell you that eating french fries three times a day would give you a big ole stinky heart attack?" or "No, I will not grab your smokes on the way out because I'm not going to help you to guarantee that I'm back here carrying your sorry ass up these stairs again." or "I'm interested to know what made you think that sticking a toothbrush up there would help with your constipation." or "Have you heard of Darwin?"

A good nurse partner, much like a parent, knows when I'm about to say something that could land me in a supervisor's office and uses diversion tactics to push my attention elsewhere.  "Look, an eagle."

So, the exam.  I've written this critical care nursing exam once before, without success.  My instructor decided to let me re-write it because, though I had the correct answer to most of the questions, I failed to answer them thoroughly.  Flashbacks to grade 12 math.

When it came time to re-write the exam, I crammed all the phraseology and ideals on family-based practice, oral hygiene a moral distress (what is that?)into my seizing brain only to discover that the college had sent the wrong exam to my proctor.

Flush!  That's the sound of my brain relieving itself.

A week later, I re-crammed for the third time, regurgitated eighteen pages worth of explanations and went back to work.  Now, I wait.

Dear Employer,

Please don't make me be a nurse.  There are people out there who have chosen to be nurses and, thank goodness, have everything that I lack to do the job well.  They are smart, even-tempered and non-judgemental.  I dabble in the smart-enough category but the others are lost on me.

Thanks,

Kim, paramedic.

I Neeeed This

This is the Microdrone....your eye in the Sky.

"Communicate.  Collaborate.  Control."

Everything I need.  Except for the Communicate and Collaborate part.  If someone out there could fund-raise or something for me, I would really appreciate it.

In Case You Are Wondering

Did you know that the average teenager has approximately twelve random thoughts per minute?

Listening to two of them having a conversation in the Jeep last night almost gave me a seizure.

Parallel Universes

I received a phone call from the service dude at the bike shop today.  My motorbike is in for its annual spa day.  He told me that he was working on my bike and he had found a problem with the "front crank system".

Shawn (aka Service Dude):  "The front crank system is shot and needs to be replaced."

Me:  "Can you explain that one to me a little more?"

Shaun:  "Well, the rider would have noticed it for sure.  It would have been rattling all over the place.  The bolt that secures the front wheel to the fork was really loose and the steel shaft almost destroyed the aluminium sheath that it sits in."

Me:  "Well, I'm the rider and I haven't noticed anything.  Is this something that should have been caught on a regular service inspection?"

Shawn:  "You are the rider?"

Me:  "Yes."  I get that a lot; big bike.

Shawn:  "You should have caught this on a regular pre-ride check.  You know, ABC's.... air pressure, brakes, chains and make sure everything's tight?"

Me:  "Yes, I do all that.  Didn't notice anything.  How much to replace it?"

Shawn:  "$79.95"

Me:  "Seriously?  No brainer.  Fix it."

Shawn:  "Really?  I've tightened it up and it will be fine until it loosens off again.  Then you'll have to replace it for sure."

Me:  "Well, we don't need shit loosening off when I'm going 100 km/hr down the highway now do we.  Hellooooo.... lawsuit"

Shawn:  "Haha... 100... that's funny.  Well, I'll switch this thing out and you can pick it up tomorrow."

Me:  "Thanks.  Did the new faring come in?"

Shawn:  "Faring?  There's nothing wrong with it."

Me:  "You didn't notice the huge crack?  Are you sure you have the right bike?  2001 Suzuki Bandit?"

Shawn:  "Hmmmm.  This is Shawn from Gerrick's Cycle.....  I'm working on a Norco Bigfoot Mountain Bike.... Sound familiar?"

Pause, silence, my eyes gazed up and to the right.  I slowly lowered my hand that I had firmly placed on my hip (me being all self-righteous on the phone).  I felt a little dizzy as the blood rushed from my brain to my cheeks (wasn't being well utilized in the brain section anyway).

Shawn was talking about my son's mountain bike that I had also dropped off for a pre-season work up.

The salt in the wound?  Taryn-the-seventeen-year-old-girl was sitting across the table, witness to the entire conversation including my moment of realization, and the pathetic me as I stammered through the various excuses including English as a second language, growing up with fetal alcohol syndrome, my shoes were too tight that day, the usual.

That's right, meet the Sheepish me.