What's Next?

Embarrassing

In case anyone is wondering what absolutely no pride looks like, wonder no more.

Things that Coil

The phone rang; I answered it.  It was Liam-the-thirteen-year-old-boy calling.... from the bathroom, on his cell phone.

"Hi Mom.  I'm taking a dump and there's no toilet paper in here."

We are currently renovating the bathroom so there is nothing in there except a toilet and a shower.  The extra toilet paper was out in the hall.  I looked for a Bic pen to disassemble (because that's what MacGyver would do) to pick the locked door knob.

I was quite surprised to find that most pens seem to have a thicker, ratcheting type system these days and they do not fit into a door knob.  Who knew?  So, found a nail.

Liam, waiting patiently, shouted from his post, "I can get up and come to the door."

"NO!!!  Keep your butt planted on the toilet."

"OK.... I've made a lasso!  You have to see this.  It's not quite long enough but it still looks cool."

Now, I have to ask, in the context that I have presented above, what do you think he was talking about?  I'll tell you what I thought.  I thought he was being a typical teenaged boy who was bored waiting for his Mom to break in and give him toilet paper and was, therefore, peering into the toilet to see what shape his poop had made in the toilet.  Similar to a wistful girl picking out shapes of unicorns, bunnies and Justin Timberlake in the clouds.

I did the predictable thing and threw the toilet paper at him through a six inch opening in the door and told him that he's disgusting.  Daily reminder.

Five minutes later, Liam came into the living room swinging a piece of string around above his head.  His lasso.

The voices in my head are now shouting, "Don't jump to conclusions, don't judge, don't be so cynical, don't assume............"

Just Try To Sit Still

In my eternal quest for funky, addictive music from around the globe, I have found this catchy little tune from Romania; Dragostea Din Tei by Ozone.  Norway, you've been bumped.

Only as Good as My Tools

On February 20, 2008 there was a total lunar eclipse, full moon and a clear sky.  It was an amazing sight.  Something to be frozen in time by my fabulous Nikon D40 camera.

Here is my attempt with a 55-200mm zoom lens, a tripod and a remote control shutter release.

And, following is my Dad's picture with the same camera, free-hand, with a 70-300mm zoom lens which has a great internal stabilizing system.

Recap:  I planned, set up a tripod, used a remote so as not to touch or move anything and got something that looks like a preschooler's visual interpretation of his pet turtle.  My Dad walked out of his house, hoisted up the camera and snapped a picture that is worthy of the NASA website.

Air Travel in the 21st Century

Yesterday, following another angst filled week of training in Vancouver, I happily embarked on my journey home.  The trip generally involves a one hour flight in a small commuter airplane that even I have to hunch over in.  The plane du jour seats fewer than nineteen passengers so, no need for a flight attendant to service my every need.  In fact, I have flown with this airline so often now that I generally recognize the pilots (from previous flights, my friends, keep it clean).

One of the downfalls of living in Pleasantville, on the edge of a cliff, is the lack of available technology that those from major centres take for granted.  Things like functioning airports, for example, with lights and approaches and such.  Dare to dream.

Prior to boarding the plane this afternoon, I phoned home to ask one of my children how the sky looked.  Since taking this job and being weathered-in or weathered-out of various locations, they have become quite adept at analyzing cloud height and percentage of cover.

The mini-meteorologist reported that though the clouds were below the mountain tops, there were quite a few holes so, I was given a 50-50 chance of getting home.  The pilots (I did not recognize either of them) were giving slightly higher odds but neglected to tell us what I already knew; they were not frequent flyers into this region.

So, after about an hour of flying, I could see all the signs of a failed attempt; the weaving airplane, the pilots peering out the windows through the holes in the clouds to the unfamiliar landscape, looking back at the clock and the GPS.  Followed closely by the 180 degree turn and the announcement that they were unable to manoeuvre through the clouds to the airport, we were returning to Vancouver.  So predictable.

At least they kept both engines running this time.

And that, my friend, is two hours of my time that I will never get back.

Sir Stanley

Stanley Park is the oldest urban forest and park area in Vancouver.  Many great photo-ops, like this beautiful swan, along the walk.