Ooooh, the Pain!

Everything hurts. Literally, everything hurts. Including my toes, which rarely hurt. But here I sit, in pain from head to toe. It doesn't hurt so much when I'm not moving, it's when I have to get up out of a chair or lift my arms that causes a groan response.

What caused this pain, you ask? Well, in all my infinite wisdom I decided that yesterday I wanted to learn how to snowboard. So I dropped Glen off at work for the day and up Mt. Washington I drove, bent on taking a lesson. I rented a pair of boots, a board, and got myself a "discover snowboarding" lesson. So I get to the lesson, and one of the instructors is younger than me. The other one is an older fellow named Ken, who reminded me almost too much of Dave from the tri-ice a thon. You remember Dave. Crack those walnuts! Well this guy was just like that. Without the walnuts bit.

So they started out by teaching us the basics, like how to walk around with one foot attatched to the board and the other free. Simple in theory, except that the attatched foot gets torqued at very unpleasant and sometimes painful angles while moving in this postion. But don't worry, that's normal. That's right, the pain is normal. Disturbing, I know. Next they went through how to gracefully get off the charilift without falling flat on your face. I swore I would never get it, but once they showed us how it wasn't really that hard. Four times yeaterday I got off the chairlift without falling. Four times! I feel like I should get a medal just for that.

So next came the hard part, standing up. Hard part, you ask with skepticism? Yes. Because the the damn board MOVES while you're trying to stand up. Do you know how hard it is to stand up when your feet keep slipping out from under you? Pretty damn hard. But it turns out, if you use your hand to grab the front of your board and wedge your fingers underneath, it makes it a lot easier to get up. This is, of course, from the sitting position. It's much easier to get up from being down on your knees, 'cause all you have to do is stick your butt gracefully in the air and lift your body up. Not nearly as hard as the gynastics you need to stand up while facing down the hill.

Next comes edging, which is basically slipping down the hill on the edge of your board. This requires a decent amount of balance, but it can be done. Both forwards and backwards. With a little practice I could even go back and forth across the hill. So now all I have to do is learn how to switch from forward to backward and back again. Which isn't so hard on flatter hills, but when you point the board straight down to turn on a steeper hill, you get going pretty damn fast! Which then, of course, means you bail onto either your knees or your butt to stop, rather than just digging the edge of your board in. Did I mention I'm a beginner? So you fall on your butt, but rather than trying to get up facing forwards and needing to do the now painful gymnastics move on a steeper hill, you flip yourself over. Not an easy task when you consider your feet are fixed to the board and you need to flip the whole apparatus over. So you do this wonderful graceful move where you fling one leg over the other and whip the board up into the air so you can start on your knees. Then you lift your arse gracefully in the air, push yourself up and away you go again.

One of the principles of this sport is that you need to hold you arms up to about shoulder level to steer well. So the whole day you're holding your arms up. Let me tell you you'll feel it the next day. And all the moves required to get standing, stay standing, or turn around requires the use of many, many muscle groups. If you ever wonder why most snowboarders are so ripped, try it. You'll understand. A few more days and I'd probably have washboard abs. Another nice thing is that if you fall backwards and you're facing up the hill, you fall hard. It's not just ass meeting ground, it whole body meeting gound after a few seconds of free fall backards. Luckily I only managed to wind myself once this way. And I'm glad it was only once. I believe this particular problem is the reason snowboarders wear helmets. Next time I will be renting a helmet.

So now here I sit, in utter pain every time I need to bring the coffee cup to my mouth, and groaning every time I stand up. But it was totally worth it.

Ever been biking in gale force winds?

So the snow has finally almost completely melted, so I'm back to biking to work and the gym again. And let me tell you, a week of a treadmill to a running junkie like me is pure torture, so I'm glad the snow is finally gone. Though looking out the window right now depresses me a little, since it's now snowing again, and I heard it's supposed to keep going for a day or so. Super.

Anyway, so Monday and Tuesday this week we had really strong winds and rain from two separate storms. Our power went out Tuesday night sometime because of it, too. Actually, because of trees that have blown over and such, a lot of people on the island have been without power for about a week. But anyways, back to my story. So on Monday I decided that even though it was sprinkling a little, I would ride my bike to work, so that when I went to the gym after work it wouldn't take me a long to get home as if I walked.

As the day progressed the weather decided to get worse and worse. The wind got stronger, and it rained harder and harder. Probably one of the reasons Monday was such a nice day in the lab. No one wanted to leave their house to go out and do anything. So finally, 3 o'clock arrives and the wind is the strongest it's been all day. But I decide, since I'm a brave Albertan, that it's just wind, I'm going to the gym anyways. So I change into my pants and away I go. Well, my pants were still damp from getting to work in the morning, but I only had to get to the gym, so I figured I'd stick it out. I couldn't go my normal route, since they had it blocked by danger tape from several fallen trees, but still I headed for the gym. I made it most of the way to the gym all right, but when I got to the top of the hill the wind was so strong I had to get off my bike and walk the rest of the way.

I've been in my share of windy situations, but this was completely insane. The wind was so strong I had to lean on my bike and hold it against the ground so it didn't blow away. I could barely stand, not to mention walk. I stood waiting for the light to change and I swear I thought I might just blow away. For those of you who were there, it was Skyline Ridge wind times 10. And the rain came at my face so hard it almost hurt. Yeah, I called Glen to come pick me up after I was done at the gym.

I didn't know wind could get that strong. I was wrong. So next time I hear that a storm's bringing gale force winds, I think I'll just go home instead of to the gym.

It's just like home...

So winter has finally arrived here in Campbell River. Real winter. With snow, a freezing temperatures and windchills. Yes, it is winter. As illustrated in the above pictures I took on the way home from the gym today. On the way home from the gym because there's too much snow to run outside, so I have to use the treadmill at the gym. Actually, the walk to get to the gym is a workout in itself, because the plows like to spread the snow from the road up onto the sidewalk, thus making walking very slow and irritating.


So this all started last Saturday, while I was sleeping off my last night shift, and the insanity has continued since. Normally, the snow melts as soon as it hits the ground, and it's all gone within a few days. But not this time. This time it's about -4, and it hasn't gotten any warmer. So the snow's not melting. Which is, to a former Albertan like me, hilarious to watch. On Monday, the RCMP were telling people that if they didn't have good snow tires, to stay home if they didn't have to go out. SNOW TIRES! Who in Campbell River has snow tires? The roads were fine, by the way, as long as you kept it slow and knew what you were doing. Which, of course, most people here don't. Case in point, Glen and I were on the on the way to the video store on Saturday night, walking, and this one car swerved off the road and CLUNK! Right into a light post. On a straight, flat road. Neither of us could figure out what he was doing but it looked like he had just steered right into the post. Then he sits there for a minute, and just drives away. Doesn't get out of his car to check the damage, just drives away. So Glen and I checked the lightpost, and he'd lost about a foot and a half off his bumper, and his headlight. And he didn't even get out to check!

It started snowing again last night and has kept going all day, leaving us with a snow base of a good 2 feet. Schools everywhere north of practically Nanaimo are closed. I can't quite figure out why, since most of the main streets are plowed, and again, it's only -4 degrees. On Monday when I went into the gym, the lady asked me if I drove and when I said yes she was amazed. But then I had to qualify that by saying I'm from Alberta and this is nothing. Really. All of you probably wouldn't bat an eye at this weather. But Campbell River has ground to a near stand still. I just watched a guy try to get out of our parking lot, and he needed three people to push him out. Of course, if he had stepped on the gas slowly instead of stomping on it, he wouldn't have had a problem. But that was funny for me to watch.

So Glen and I have had a good chuckle at the expense of all the Campbell Riverites. And we've gotten a taste of home at the same time. Now if only it would go away so I can go jogging again...

Surfing causes bruising!

Well, it's official, I have now been surfing. Jana, I'm sorry but the opportunity presented itself and I just couldn't say no. The opportunity being a free weekend and it not being freezing cold yet, so still available for camping. Glen and I drove to Tofino this weekend to check it out and we took a 2 hour lesson with an outfit called Surf Sister that's centered there.

First of all can I just say that i look damn fine in a wetsuit. It squeezes in all the cubby areas and smooths out the bumps, thus giving the impression that I'm actually much better looking than I really am. I'd post a picture but I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Jana, you would love them, since they also squeezed my chest into nonexistance. Not the most comfortable things to wear by far though, since they make you feel like you're choking, and they zip up from the back, so you can't really just leave the zipper open to prevent the choking feeling. But much needed 'cause I'm sure I would've frozen to death in about 0.005 seconds were I not wearing one. The waters of the pacific are quite cool, you see. Not arctic fresh, but nearly so.

Anyways, so we get into our wetsuits and get a little lesson on the beach on some theory of how not to kill ourselves, and then they take us into the water. Not entirely unpleasant since we have the wetsuits and all. For those who don't know, here's how it works: You go into the water to the depth you want, in our case it was about waist level. Then as the wave approaches, you hurl yourself onto the board floating in the ocean next to you, and correctly position yourself on the board. At this point I felt tlike a beached whale, as I had some difficulty finding the correct position on the board. I blame my 9 1/2 meter legs. Then as the wave approaches, you paddle until it catches up to you. You paddle about three more times, then do a push-up move, fling your feet underneath you, and somehow try to stand up without falling over and getting a snoutful of saltwater. All this while the wave is still pushing you, so you have a chance to actually ride it.

There are many flaws in this theory. First, it's damn hard to get yourself up on this board without falling off the other side or turning yourself sideways. Second, the paddling never really seems to do much. And third, the push-up/leg fling move is nearly impossible if you have no upper body strength. I have no upper body strength. And finally, if you do get up, or nearly up, there is no graceful dismount. You basically just have to bail off the board. Which is not to say that I didn't have fun. I had an excellent time, all I need now is practice.

But there'a really nothing like that first mouthful of saltwater to remind you you're in the ocean. It tastes horrible, and I don't even want to think about how many amoebas/bacteria/algae/other assorted creepy crawlers I swallowed during my many, many wipeouts. Oh, and I've not found anpther sport that produces the infamous "hip bruises" that us hikers are so well acquainted with. Only these hip bruises you can actually see. I'd post a picture, but it's hard to get the whole thing without showing a little too much skin, and no one wants that. I think it's because you're lying belly down on the board so much, and they just get pressed against it or something. It also bruises the bottom fo your rib cage and makes your arms really, really sore. And it gives you some fabulous sore areas where you get beaned by the board or the sand when you fall. And that happens a lot. But it's totally worth it.

So in conclusion, I'm definitely going back to Tofino to go surfing again. And you can do it there year round, so that might be soon. Perhaps a certain family might be interested in coming out at Christmas and we can go...

If that nurse rolls her eyes at me one more time...

Yargh! Okay, I have my bad days every now and again, I'll admit, and today is no exception. One of the lad aides is sick, so I've been collecting and going to ER to do the collections since 2 pm. It's now 4 pm, and it's been the most annoying 2 hours EVER. I'll just get back from emerg, and they'll phone again to get me to come bakc to draw blood. They saw me walking out the door. They know I'm leaving. Why not stop me before I leave ot save time? But noooo, they let me leave and then call to get me to come back again.

And bloody hell, if that nurse in emerg checks on me while I'm collecting and rolls her eyes at me one more time, I swear I'm gonna punt HER through a plate glass window. She's small enough, and I have enough rage that I think I could actually do it right now. Yargh! Okay, so I missed one patient. Fine. It happens. But then she has to get me to stand there, while she gets ready, and then we go back to the patient, 'cause we're gonna get that blood come hell or high water. According to her, anyway. She doesn't care that I'm only actually allowed to poke the patient twice, and she doesn't really seem to care that I don't want to do it again, because I know if I've already missed twice, I'm gonna miss again. That's just the way I work. SO back to the patient we go, and she starts manhandling this poor lady that's been vomiting so bad she actually came to emerg. And you know it's bad vomiting if they come to emerg because of it. So she's feeling around on this patient, and she asks me where I tried. Both arms, I said. So she grabs a hand. Hand veins ae seriously painful, and rarely work very well, and generally you end up bruising the patient pretty bad. But a hand vein it is. So she's in there with the needle and it's just not coming. Oh, the incompetent lab tech screwed up again. So finally she weilds the needle and gets soemthing. Well, it's barely moving and a HUGE blood blister's forming on this lady's hand. Plus she's groaning 'cause it hurts like hell, but we're getting blood, so the nurse is VERY pleased with herself.

So I'm in with another patient, and I miss twice again. Big surprise. I'm sucking today, what more do you want? And as I'm leaving I hear them talking "oh, maybe we should send (insert nurse's name here) in with her to help again". Okay, if your nurse can get the blood and I'm so incompetent I need help to get any blood from anyone, why do you phone me in the first place? Do it your freakin' self! And don't tell me how to do my job! Yes, I can get blood, but not under these poor conditions, with everybody and their dog telling me what to do and checking up on me very 5 minutes to see if I'm doing my job right (despite the fact that they don't really know what my job is to be able to tell if I'm doing it right). Oh, and by the way, this isn't my job. It's a lab aide's job, but they're all sick or don't want to work 'cause of the condtions here, caused mostly by your "friendly" emerg staff.

So stop rolling your eyes at me like I'm incompetent and I don't know what I'm doing. I do know what I'm doing, it's just hard to work when everyone's looking over your shoulder and you're already having a bad day. And beware emerg nurse, 'cause there are PLENTY of plate glass windows here at the hospital.

Enough of the damn babies!

As though it wasn't enough that Glen's family brought his 3 year old nephew to visit and I had to deal with hearing "Evan, stop that!" for 3 days, but now there are babies everywhere! There are babies at the grocery store and the dollar store when I go shopping. There are babies at work to take blood from. In the past couple weeks, I've taken blood from two babies. Nearly three, but luckily the lab aide came back from her break before they decided they wanted bloodwork on the second baby that had come into emergency that night. Two babies! One was so new he was still red. And when I say new I mean, like, 2 hours new. Like he popped out of the womb and there I was, waiting to jab him in the heel.

And it’s not as though I really mind taking blood from the babies. Yes, they scream bloody murder, but they’re a lot more tolerable than some adults ‘cause they don’t try to tell you what to do, and they don’t get all overdramatic and act like they’re gonna faint. Yes, they cry, but they just have to sit there and take it, ‘cause they can’t say otherwise. It’s the parents of the baby, who are always there, telling me what to do and gasping when I stick the needle in because I’m hurting their poor defenseless, sick little baby. Oh, what a cruel person I am. But lets face it, moms and dads, you’re baby’s sick, and it’s probably better that I take blood and we find the problem than to not hurt your little bundle of joy because you can’t stand to watch me do it. And you try to send them out of the room, but they don’t want to leave their poor little baby. It’s a frickin’ baby! It’s never gonna know you left the room when I was taking blood, ‘cause it’ll never remember. So just leave the room because your obsessive cooing and telling the baby that it’s gonna be ok is making me sick. And me being sick does not bode well for the fact that I’m about to approach your screaming baby with a very sharp needle.

And just to add insult to injury, I walked into the gym today, a generally baby-free zone (since babies aren't generally concerned with keeping their abs flat and their butts small), and I was assaulted by the crying, whining, gurgling sound of nearly 30 babies! They must have some sort of post-natal class for new mothers where you bring your baby to the gym or something, but there they were. In all their tiny, pink and blue wearing glory. Freakin' babies in my gym! This is usually my oasis. The one place I can go that is baby-free, and I can look like crap and no-one will care, and I can sweat as much as I want and it’s actually a good thing. And they have now invaded my beautiful oasis. And you all know how much I love babies. Stupid little pooping crying machines that they are. And the lady teaching the class was all “okay, now put your baby on your tummy and lets play patty-cake”. Aargh! Stupid babies! I don’t want to hear about all the babies over the speakers when I’m on the stairmaster sweating like a pig. I want to hear the new Fallout Boy song, or a little oldies. Not frickin’ patty cake! Stupid, pooping, peeing, whining, crying, gurgling, smelly babies…

So in conclusion, forces that be, enough with the bloody babies! I’ve had it. I see one more baby in the next week I swear I’m gonna grab it and punt it through the nearest window. And I’ll make sure it’s one of those really sharp, plate glass ones that shatter really well when you break them, too.

Pay attention when you're driving, dammit!

So the riny season has finally arrived here in beautiful BC. Thus, when I got up this morning I put on my bright yellow, water resistant, butt flap jacket to go out for my morning jog. Well, water resistant, my ass, but that's another complaint for another day.

I was happily jogging along, not really enjoying the squishing my toes were making in my shoes. I was nearly finished, when, as I was crossing the street, some lady damn mear ran me over in her car! To be fair to her, there were a group of kids crossing the street in the other direction, but once I waited for them to get out of the way ('cause God forbid they should stop and wait for me, despite the fact that I'm going far faster than them), I started crossing. Well, she stomps on the accelerator and I nearly run into the side of her car. Then she has the nerve to give ME a dirty look when I wave her to keep going. After all, I would've had to run around her car since it's now sitting in the center of the intersection.

But seriously now, how did she not see me? You guys have all probably seen the bright yellow butt-flap jacket. It's bright yellow! And it's a cloudy day! How do you miss that running towards you? But apparently she did, and just decided she was going to keep going on her merry way, and ignore the fact that pedestrians actually have the right of way in Canada. They do, really. It's a law.

But this is not the first time this has occurred here in Campbell River. Drivers here have an irritating habit of ignoring everything around them when they pull up to an intersection. Oh, that jogger in the white T-shirt? I didn't see her, despite the fact she's been standing there since I pulled up to the light and cut her off as she was trying to cross the street. Biker? What biker? Oh, you mean the one I just about ran off the road? Didn't see her, but I do remember seeing a blinking red taillight on something going down the side of the road.

Seriously, one of these days I'm just gonna lose it and throw myself on front of one of these idiots. That's right, I know you don't know I'm there 'cause I saw you not look both ways as you were approaching the intersection. So watch out, 'cause next time I'm gonna fling myself in front of your fancy BMW, put a nice big dent in the hood and then sue you for that half-million dollar house you own. And all because they'll give any idiot with two arms and a right leg a driver's license here. No wonder insurance prices are so bloody high...

I hang my head in shame...

Well, I have hung suspended by a thin rope 30 feet over the edge of a cliff, I have climbed 50 foot waterfall with only picks on my boots and ice axes, and I have floated 2000 feet above ground, held up by only a few meters of paper thin nylon. And by far the stranges thing I have ever done is today, when I went "tanning" for the first time.

I know, I swore I would never partake in this stange, somewhat masochistic ritual. But as I gazed into the mirror this morning and noticed my darkening farmers tan, I decided to suck it up and go to the tanning salon. Well, not really a tanning salon, since it's attached to my gym. I figured, what with the wedding dress being strapless and backless, that a farmers tan might not look so good. So in order to even it out, I purched 3 months of unlimited tanning at the gym. I also purchased the "accessories" that go with what is known as fake n' bake. A pair of goggles that are set on top of the eyes to protect form light damage, which look more like shiny, bulging red eyeballs, and tanning cream, which is supposed to prevent the skin from drying out during the tanning. All I know is it smells fruity.

So they let you into this little room with the tanning bed. You get into whatever little amount of clothing you would like, flip the switch and lay down in the bed. Then you're lying there. Thinking about how stupid you feel. Here you are laying in a bed made of light tubes, risking melanoma so you can look good by having a tan. Man, did I feel stupid. At least it doesn't last very long. Today I went for 8 minutes. Though 8 minutes of lying there thinking about how stupid you feel lying in a bed of lights while nearly naked is actually a very long 8 minutes.

But I'll keep going, 'cause I laid down a fair chunk of change for the time. And because if I wanted to stop the farmers tan I would have to stop running outside. And I'm sure we all know that's not going to happen. So tanning it is. Though I'm sure after these three unlimited months I won't be visiting the tanning salon again. Hopefully.

Why I could never go back to high school...

So I have decided that, after condsiderable thought, I would never, never do high school over again. This is in response to one of those hypothetical question thingys. I would never do high school over again because it really, really sucked. I had friends that turned out to be losers, and I worked too hard at a job that I didn't get paid enough for. But I have also determined that I could not go back to high school in the current state that is high schools. My pants aren't tight enough. I don't have to lie down to get them on, and I can actually still eat while wearing my pants. I also like to enjoy the occasional cheeseburger, which is shunned by today's skeletal high school girls. Oh yeah, and I like science. I'm pretty sure girls aren't supposed to like science in high school anymore. Or even like school at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's cool to be failing if you're in high school right now. I also enjoy camping, and the only time I ever wear makeup is at Halloween. I find it rather pointless spending an extra 20 at the mirror in the morning to paint my face on. And the only reason I currently have long hair is so I can get an updo for my wedding. Give it a week after the wedding, and I'll probably look more Ashley Judd than Ashley Simpson. That's another thing. I like country and rock music. Ashley Simpson sucks. I'd take Nickelback or Jason McCoy over the Black Eyed Peas any day. Ooh,music with words rather than just a beat. There's a concept.

If Idid go back to high school in my current state, however, I would literally be the coolest chick there. I rock and ice climb, I bike, and I love camping. The guys would be all over me. And I don't think I'm half bad looking now either. Plus given my current state I wouldn't put up with their crap, either. If I were to go back to high school now, I would be cool. Really, really cool. But I've been there, and done that, and I don't want to go back.

Pull up your pants before I do it for you!

Okay, seriously, is it now cool to have a portion of your ass crack show because you wear your pants so low? Is this now attarctive? What really gets me is when they do it at the gym. The WOMEN'S gym. Who's looking? There are no guys there. So they must be doing it to piss off all the other women. There was a girl there the other day, and if she had run any faster on that treadmill her pants would've come straight off. You're supposed to be comfortable at the gym. The gym is supposed to be a haven where you can look like crap and no one cares 'cause you're getting fit and they all look like crap too. So why the popularity of wearing your pants uncomfortably low? Especially with sweat pants that are too big for the person wearing them. What, they didn't have your size in the store at the time so you figured you'd just buy the big ones? Maybe you should've waited and gotten a size that fits instead of rolling down the waistband so the world can see your ass.

What also annoys me is their seeming ignorance of what I will call their side chub. This is the area below the waist on the back side of your sides that when you wear your pants a little tight sticks out due to the flab. Everyone has this, even those cocaine-addicted skeletal people we call models. It's just always there. And I fail to understand why they feel the must display their side chub for the world to see. Not only is the shirt tighter than it should be, but it's short, so if there's any belly fat, it, too is openly displayed. I'm 6 feet tall and I can find shirts long enough to cover my belly fat. That means everyone else can too.

So to all the stupid teenage girls who pause on the treadmill or walking down the street at least 2 times every 5 minutes to yank up their pants so they don't fall down 'cause they refuse to pull them up to the spot that they were designed to be worn at, I'm tired of seeing your underwear! I don't care if you paid $40 for that ridiculous hot pink thong, pull up your pants, before I'm forced to come over and do it for you!

Free the toes!

I have decided, after much consideration and thought, that I am emphatically anti-sock. I prefer to let my toes roam free in the air rather than to cage them in the tight cotton of socks. Given the choice between sandals and shoes, it'll be sandals every time. During the course of evolution, I don't think the powers that be intended us to be walking around with socks on. They intended us to run free without confining our precious toes to small leather pockets and cotton-elastic coverings.

So I have decided that all days off, time off, and vactions shall heretofore be sock-free. No socks will be worn unless absolutely necessary. And I encourage all of you to do the same. Don't restrain your feet and allow them to stew in their own stench and sweat, set them free. So go down to the nearest Wal-Mart or Saan store and buy yourself a pair of flip-flops. Or slip ons. Or even the kind of sandals with the straps. Join the revolution, and free the toes!

When you're smilin...the whole world smiles with you...

I have decided that the old addage, smiles are contagious, is actually true. I have discovered, by careful observation, that if you smile at someone, you are likely to get a smile back. Even if that person is in a particularly cranky mood. Ridiculous grins work particularly well in this situation. I also find it's difficult to be angry with a ridiculous grin on your face. I discovered this just today at work. I was working with, lets call her Crazy Jane, and she drives me insane. She's like a little buzzing mosquito that can't sit still for more than 5 seconds without annoying you. And despite her small stature, she may just be the loudest person in the lab. Carzy Jane is particularly difficult to work with when she thinks it's a busy day. Let's just say she doesn't handle stress well.

Anyways, I whipped out the "I'm a nut job" grin, and it seemed to make Crazy Jane significantly less annoying. Or maybe it was the spontaneous release of endorphins to my brain. Either way, I have decided that any situation can be made less stressful/bad/unpleasant if you have a maniacal grin on your face, or you're willing to chuckle at the utter ridiculousness of your situation. So cheer up, 'cause it won't seem so bad if everyone around you thinks you're crazy.

And in response to Slacker's mission: mission accepted. I estimate it will take approximately two years for full deployment of said song skills. But it'll be worth it.

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone..."

The return to BC...

Well, I find myself back here in rainy BC. After two airport transfers and a 10 minute ride from Comox to Campbell River where the pilots outnumbered the passengers (I was the only one on the plane), I finally made it back alive. But let me tell you, never again will I willingly transfer that many times. But at least I didn't have to go through security more than once. Note to self, don't wear shoes with eyelets that set off metal detectors again. They make you take your shoes off right in the airport! It's incredibly annoying!

So the Ice festival went excellent, if I do day so myself. I must say that the second day I was becoming more comfortable on the ice. Is it weird to be 50 feet up a slab of ice, hanging on only by a couple picks out the front of your feet, and actually not be terrified of dying? 'Cause I was at that point. And it was frickin' cool! It almost makes me want to hunt down some frozen ice here so I can hone what little skills I have. And also to further develop my rippling biceps. Next year, I predict some futher winnae by the Damgaard clan. 'Cause we have to go back next year. It's expected. Plus, I'm sure the COE would be lost without us. And Cool Bananas would miss us too, I'm sure.

Bananas is a fun word. Lots of a's. Just like Damgaard. Maybe that's why Jana likes it so much. Same nuber of a's as our last name. Weird. Anyways, until my next inspiration hits, at which point you will be able to read more of my insane rants.

Five alive fruit juice and Chaka Khan, my friends...

Get out of my bloody way!

Well, I was on my way to laundromat, shopping cart in tow, and I encountered a pair of women with strollers. They were spread two wide, effectively blocking the entire sidewalk. This would have been all good, except that as I approached, neither of them moved. Is it not custom in Canada to be kind to strangers and make room for them on the sidewalk? Is it not taught by most parents to be nice and have one person slow down and walk behind for a minute to avoid making the oncoming person walk on the grass or squash themselves into a bush trying to get by? Evidently that was one message that is not taught by parents here in Campbell River.

Not only did these stroller moms not move, but I do believe they actually walked wider apart. And it's not like they didn't see me coming. I, like them, had a cart on wheels. And my cart tends to rattle along on the sidewalk. So if they didn't see me coming, they at least would have heard me. But nooooo. They didn't move an inch. And I was forced to lug my cart full of dirty laundry onto the grass and around a telephone pole because of this rudeness. Sufficed to say, my little cart is not made for off-roading, and pulling it through the grass is rather difficult.

And this is not the first occurrance of this behaviour here in my rainy paradise. Often, while riding my bike along the sidewalk, I am forced to either stop or ride out onto the road to get around a pedestrian. While I would prefer to ride on the road all the time, this isn't exactly feasible, as the drivers here are even less considerate than the pedestrians. So I ring my bell, and they look up and see me coming. But do they get out of the way, or even move to one side so I can get by? Noooooo! They continue on their merry way, right in the middle of the damn sidewalk!

So I will issue this warning to the pedestrians and stoller pushers of my fair city. Get out of my bloody way! And if you don't, the next time I see you, you will either be clotheslined by an angry biker or recieve a nice elbow to the face from the crazy lady with the shopping cart. So don't tempt me, I'll do it.

On a lighter note, you will all be happy to note that this week's excursion to the laundromat was wonderfully free of little old men wanting to discuss same-sex marriage.

Just a note to whomever it was that sent me a comment about how cyclists are actually supposed to ride on the road and should in no way expect pedestrians to jump out of the way when they see a cyclist or hear a bell from behind them. I do not expect a pedestrian to jump out of the way when they see or hear me coming on my bike. What I would appreciate is a little common courtesy when they do know I'm there. Not unlike the stroller moms, some pedestrians tend to take up the entire sidewalk. By all means, do that if you want to. But when you see or hear me, moving to one side of that chunk of cement so I can easily pass is a courteous thing to do. The same is true for when I am also a pedestrian. I've noticed that in the city where I live, if I'm passing two people in the opposite direction, despite that fact that they've seen me (and I know they've seen me because we've made eye contact), often they do not move over so I can pass, thus forcing me out onto the road to get around them. Again it's a courtesy thing. Moving a little to the left or right wouldn't necessarily cost you anything, but it makes life a little easier for someone you don't know.

So back to the bikes. Yes, cyclists should ride on the road and not on the sidewalk. But you, reader, failed to mention your own whereabouts. The city where I live is hilly. And not little hills, big ones. And I'm not Lance Armstrong. I do not excel in the mountainous portion of the course. On the side streets, where the curb lane is mostly reserved for parked cars, I stay off the sidewalk and ride on the road. But on busy roads when I'm going up a hill (which is often), if I stay on the road, the cars coming from behind me like to honk, follow too close, cut around me with only inches to spare (sometimes not even that as I have been clipped by a few side view mirrors), or even roll down their windows and swear, make threats and tell me to get on the sidewalk because I'm going too slow. So am I to stop and try to explain to them that I should really be riding on the road instead of the sidewalk despite the fact that often the sidewalk is empty? Oh, I'm sure they'd enjoy that, what with all the road rage occurrences nowadays.

When I am on my bike, I do not expect a pedestrian to move out of the way if I am on the sidewalk. But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't appreciate if they did. That's the point I'm trying to make with this entire entry. No, the stroller moms and other pedestrians do not have to move to one side if the sidewalk when there is someone coming from behind or in front of them. There's no law that says they have to move. And I'm certainly not going to say anything to them as we pass. It might irritate me for a while, maybe even enough to, I don't know, write a blog about it, but I'm not so seething with rage that I'm going to lose it and beat some 15 year old to a pulp because him and his girlfriend didn't clear the sidewalk when I rang my bell. But common courtesy taught to me by every adult I ever knew was that if you see or hear someone coming, move over so they can get by. You don't have to, but it's being nice to the other person. That's my whole point. Why isn't anybody nice to anybody else anymore? Even if they are a complete stranger?

Why I should Rule the World.

I have decided I should rule the world. If I were in charge, everyone would get paid what they're worth, or not worth, in some cases. Don't you hate those people who do way less than you at the same job, but get paid the same, or even more than you and you have to bust your butt to do what you do? That would not happen in my world. If you do less work than me, you will get paid less. That is how it will work. And if you don't work, you will only be paid if you have a pretty damn good reason for not having a job. Welfare would change if I were in charge of the world.

The opening ceremonies of the olympics would change if I ruled the world. There would be no spandex, no interpretive dancing, and far fewer of those plays where everything is a symbol of something else. If you want to say somethig, just say it. Don't pansy around it by putting on a play. And lets face it, the spandex really does have to go. It frightens small children, and most adults. Spandex were not meant to be worn. I still have no idea why they were invented. So if I ruled the world, I would outlaw spandex.

I would also be far better at ice climbing if I ruled the world. And rock climbing. And all those girls I hated in high school would be fat now. But I think that's everyone's fantasy. Admit it, you've thought about it. And I could eat everything I want and not gain weight as long as I ran every day. This would include pie, chocolate, and all manner of cakes and cookies. And there would always be money for vacations and trips.

Yes, I believe the world would be a better place if I put myself in charge.

Showers are great.

I love showers. I really do. They make you clean, they make you feel better. I'm glad I am able to have a shower every day. Especially when I'm cold from my jog, I can jump in the shower and get warm. Getting out of the shower is often difficult. It's cold outside my little ceramic tile/plastic shower curtain cocoon. You get to wash your hair in the shower, too. Which often brings fun smells like the lavender shampoo and conditioner I have right now. It stinks pretty, as my grandpa would say.

Showers are even better after a few days of hiking with no showers. Then you feel really clean. Putz and Slacker can relate to this quite well. Showers are also the time that many of the women-folk like to shave. So you get prettier in the shower, too. That is, if your idea of pretty includes hairless armpits. I learned something new today. The medical term for armpit is axilla. I thought it was just an armpit. But it's not. It's also an axilla. Now you've learned something too. Unless you already knew that. In which case, man you have too much time on your hands, you freak.

That's all for today. Until next time.

Crazy old men in laundromats...

So I have decided that this is a good place to rant about thing that annoy, amuse, or otherwise tickle my fancy in my rather boring, but sometimes interesting, everday life. So now beginneth the ranting.

So I was at the laundromat today, minding my own business watching my pink underwear swirl around the glass in the dryer, yet again. The was this little old man sitting in a chair near me and he had that shifty look about him, like he wanted to talk but was unsure of how to interrupt me while I was writing my letter (as I am known to do while at the laudromat). So I tried desperatly not to make eye contact with said little old man, so as to avoid awkward conversations I didn't want to have with strangers. But to no avail. He didn't take the hint, and started talking to me anyway.

He wanted to know my opinion on same sex marriage. I claimed to have no opinion, in a feeble attempt to deter him from further interrupting my letter writing, but again he didn't take the hint. He said it was wrong. He had been married and raised 3 kids and thought that was the purpose of a marraige and what two men have is not a marriage and why do they have to call it that. I will put emphasis on the word HAD because he wasn't wearing a ring. Why me, you ask? I have no idea. Perhaps he sensed the redneck Albertan in me, and believed that I, like King Ralph and himself, was against same-sex marriage.

But I feigned interest in what he was saying so he'd stop talking ot me and I could finish my letter. And because I felt it would be rather cruel to rip a strip off a little old man in a laundromat by poking holes in his inane theory, and telling him all the reasons I believed that same-sex marraige is okay, and maybe even a good idea. He left me alone eventually. But I don't think I'll just let that one slip by me next time. So to all the future little old men in laundromats that want to have politcal/religious/philosphical/family value descussions with me when I'm trying to write a letter to my mom while my pink underwear swirls endlessly around the glass at the front of the dryer, you have been warned.

And in the beginning, there was little to say...

I have no idea why I started one of these. Well, I guess we'll see how it goes. I really just opened an account so I could call Jana crazy. But I guess that backfired.