I have exactly 7 minutes to get out a quick update of what my evening has in store for me:
Tonight I'm going to pick up the boys, raid the neighbour's garden for fresh veggies and figs, rush inside to make dinner (I'm thinking rice, chicken, fresh greens and broccoli), give the boys their baths, prepare formula, wash the dishes, hopefully throw on a load or two of laundry, read a bedtime story, put the boys to bed, work a little bit on Andy's busy book, then collapse into bed.
Oh, and I was hoping to raid the blackberry patch again for some more berries to make into jam
... and play with the boys
... and spend some time with Daryle
... and organize my photos for an upcoming scrap booking event
... and read my book
... and update my blog
** I have about 2 minutes left **
... and finally clip that hangnail that keeps snagging on EVERYTHING
... and call a couple of friends to catch up on how their week went.
** 1 minute left **
Whewww. I'm exhausted just thinking about everything.
I think I'll just enjoy the minute of relaxation - it may be my last for the day (laughing).
Friday, August 26, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Writer's Fest
6 events in 2 days. Now, this is my idea of fun. Yes, I am a pencil neck geek (thanks to Grant Lawrence for getting this particular phrase stuck in my head).
However, this year is a little challenging. Andy is only 9 1/2 months old and I am still getting up once or twice each night. Hence the rubber-chicken, head bobbing, about-to-drift-off-to-sleep routine while attending the evening lectures. My deepest apologies to Judy Fong Bates and Giles Blunt for my sleep-deprived rudeness at their events.
My first event at the writers' fest was to listen to Charles Foran. Who? A rock star according to all the people waiting in line around us. They can't wait to hear him, their excitement buzzes around us. Okay, sure. We take our seats and scan the front of the auditorium and see a somewhat dishevelled, greasy-looking, used-car-salesman-look-alike chatting to some festival organisers. No - say it ain't so. This cannot be Charles Foran, he looks so... well... icky. I should know better - and be less judgemental. He is brilliant. His discussions about and readings from his Mordecai Richler biography are riveting. I'm not a Mordecai Richler fan, so I'm very pleasantly surprised to hear about both the rude, belligerent and tender, caring sides of this larger-than-life Canadian personality.
Our next event, this year's Bruce Hutchison Memorial Lecture, has Judy Fong Bates speaking about growing up as the only Chinese girl in her community. She opens the lecture by speaking directly to the audience; lively, warm and her comments are heartfelt. Then she starts to read directly from her notes. Ugh. I wish she had just made a few point-form notes and spoke to us in the direct, relaxed manner she used at the beginning of her event. While her topic is interesting, her soft-spoken gentle voice lulls me to sleep. I keep waking up with my head jerking up from my chest. Dad isn't faring any better. She drones on about half an hour beyond her scheduled time. Honestly, it feels like this event will never end.
Every year that I've attended the first event on Sunday mornings the audience has been sparse and rather sleepy. The audience at this year's early morning event proves to be no different. However, we're in for a treat. Wayne Grady and Merilyn Simonds are hilarious! Their lively banter and witty remarks keep the audience in stitches for most of the lecture. Together, but very much on an individual basis, they wrote a book about their trip from Vancouver to Toronto via the U.S. coastlines (picture their route as a giant smiley-face). Merilyn's sections begin with an 'M' and Wayne's with a 'W'. As they take turns reading excerpts from the book, they emphasize the M or W - entire audience chuckling at the wee joke. Merliyn chats about relationship-related things while Wayne speaks of facts and figures - audience chortles in response to spousal digs and jabs between the two of them. We all leave feeling quite awake and cheerful, those of us with books to sign bolting up to the tent to have a quick chat with Wayne and Merilyn and get their autographs.
Next up: Grant Lawrence. OMG. This event was my only personal choice, all the others had been selected by Dad. As Dad is an avid reader, I'm always more than happy to attend events chosen by him, but I am also glad we didn't miss out on this one. A self-professed pencil-necked geek, Grant appears as anything but. He's handsome (actually gorgeous with brilliant blue eyes), muscular and speaks with such animation that I think the entire audience is quite captivated. I know I am. He reads from his book titled "Adventures in Solitude: What Not to Wear to a Nude Potluck." We're all having a great time, it's like he's speaking to each one of us individually. I suppose his background as lead singer for a band and hosting radio shows on the CBC have provided him with a lot of public speaking practice. I can't wait to tuck into his book.
After spending a pleasantly exhausting lunch break with Mom N, Mom J, Daniel and Andy, Dad and I are already quite tired by the time we find our seats for Giles Blunt's lecture. You see, after our lunch at the A and W we went and tired ourselves out swimming at the pool in Sechelt. Fighting the current in the river run and tossing a ball around wore us out. Unfortunately, Giles' gory readings aren't quite enough to keep my mind focused, his monotone voice lulls me into a fixed-gaze zombie state while I try to stay awake by gouging my nails into my palms and thighs. I think I managed to avoid a repeat performance of my rubber chicken impression from last night. It was a close call.
Dad and I saunter down the street to have dinner at the local Indian restaurant; each having the lamb curry and freshly prepared chai tea. Satiated, we head back to the festival. After an unsuccessful quick search for caffeinated products we nervously head over to our final event. We're nervous about whether or not we'll be able to keep our eyelids open the entire time. Fingers crossed - me with my nails gouging into my palms for good measure.
When I first read the festival write-up about Ivan Coyote and Veda Hille I wondered if Dad had lost his mind in making this selection. Of course not - their performance is absolutely fantastic. If you ever get the opportunity to see Ivan and Veda perform together - seize it! Ivan tells various stories about her life with Veda playing musical pieces in between. Sounds dull doesn't it? Wrong!!! Do the exclamation marks get my point across? Probably not. I couldn't find a clip of them performing together, but to prove how good they are here are clips of Veda Hille singing her song LuckLucky and Ivan Coyote speaking at the Vancouver Poetry Slam to give you an idea of the talent they bring to the writers' fest. We're all enjoying their event so much that towards the end when we're asked to join in a round of "Tuktoyaktuk Hymn" we all sing along. The auditorium is filled with a giant choir of discordant voices. Glancing around, other audience members are blissfully singing along, in tune, out of tune, everyone is happy.
So, on this cheerful note, another writers' fest wraps up. Having had our literary fill, Dad and I return to the house happily chatting about the festival and its the highs and lows. Yet again I'm in awe of the speakers and the efforts of the staff and volunteers that make this such a memorable event.
I wonder who'll be on next year's schedule?
However, this year is a little challenging. Andy is only 9 1/2 months old and I am still getting up once or twice each night. Hence the rubber-chicken, head bobbing, about-to-drift-off-to-sleep routine while attending the evening lectures. My deepest apologies to Judy Fong Bates and Giles Blunt for my sleep-deprived rudeness at their events.
My first event at the writers' fest was to listen to Charles Foran. Who? A rock star according to all the people waiting in line around us. They can't wait to hear him, their excitement buzzes around us. Okay, sure. We take our seats and scan the front of the auditorium and see a somewhat dishevelled, greasy-looking, used-car-salesman-look-alike chatting to some festival organisers. No - say it ain't so. This cannot be Charles Foran, he looks so... well... icky. I should know better - and be less judgemental. He is brilliant. His discussions about and readings from his Mordecai Richler biography are riveting. I'm not a Mordecai Richler fan, so I'm very pleasantly surprised to hear about both the rude, belligerent and tender, caring sides of this larger-than-life Canadian personality.
Our next event, this year's Bruce Hutchison Memorial Lecture, has Judy Fong Bates speaking about growing up as the only Chinese girl in her community. She opens the lecture by speaking directly to the audience; lively, warm and her comments are heartfelt. Then she starts to read directly from her notes. Ugh. I wish she had just made a few point-form notes and spoke to us in the direct, relaxed manner she used at the beginning of her event. While her topic is interesting, her soft-spoken gentle voice lulls me to sleep. I keep waking up with my head jerking up from my chest. Dad isn't faring any better. She drones on about half an hour beyond her scheduled time. Honestly, it feels like this event will never end.
Every year that I've attended the first event on Sunday mornings the audience has been sparse and rather sleepy. The audience at this year's early morning event proves to be no different. However, we're in for a treat. Wayne Grady and Merilyn Simonds are hilarious! Their lively banter and witty remarks keep the audience in stitches for most of the lecture. Together, but very much on an individual basis, they wrote a book about their trip from Vancouver to Toronto via the U.S. coastlines (picture their route as a giant smiley-face). Merilyn's sections begin with an 'M' and Wayne's with a 'W'. As they take turns reading excerpts from the book, they emphasize the M or W - entire audience chuckling at the wee joke. Merliyn chats about relationship-related things while Wayne speaks of facts and figures - audience chortles in response to spousal digs and jabs between the two of them. We all leave feeling quite awake and cheerful, those of us with books to sign bolting up to the tent to have a quick chat with Wayne and Merilyn and get their autographs.
Next up: Grant Lawrence. OMG. This event was my only personal choice, all the others had been selected by Dad. As Dad is an avid reader, I'm always more than happy to attend events chosen by him, but I am also glad we didn't miss out on this one. A self-professed pencil-necked geek, Grant appears as anything but. He's handsome (actually gorgeous with brilliant blue eyes), muscular and speaks with such animation that I think the entire audience is quite captivated. I know I am. He reads from his book titled "Adventures in Solitude: What Not to Wear to a Nude Potluck." We're all having a great time, it's like he's speaking to each one of us individually. I suppose his background as lead singer for a band and hosting radio shows on the CBC have provided him with a lot of public speaking practice. I can't wait to tuck into his book.
After spending a pleasantly exhausting lunch break with Mom N, Mom J, Daniel and Andy, Dad and I are already quite tired by the time we find our seats for Giles Blunt's lecture. You see, after our lunch at the A and W we went and tired ourselves out swimming at the pool in Sechelt. Fighting the current in the river run and tossing a ball around wore us out. Unfortunately, Giles' gory readings aren't quite enough to keep my mind focused, his monotone voice lulls me into a fixed-gaze zombie state while I try to stay awake by gouging my nails into my palms and thighs. I think I managed to avoid a repeat performance of my rubber chicken impression from last night. It was a close call.
Dad and I saunter down the street to have dinner at the local Indian restaurant; each having the lamb curry and freshly prepared chai tea. Satiated, we head back to the festival. After an unsuccessful quick search for caffeinated products we nervously head over to our final event. We're nervous about whether or not we'll be able to keep our eyelids open the entire time. Fingers crossed - me with my nails gouging into my palms for good measure.
When I first read the festival write-up about Ivan Coyote and Veda Hille I wondered if Dad had lost his mind in making this selection. Of course not - their performance is absolutely fantastic. If you ever get the opportunity to see Ivan and Veda perform together - seize it! Ivan tells various stories about her life with Veda playing musical pieces in between. Sounds dull doesn't it? Wrong!!! Do the exclamation marks get my point across? Probably not. I couldn't find a clip of them performing together, but to prove how good they are here are clips of Veda Hille singing her song LuckLucky and Ivan Coyote speaking at the Vancouver Poetry Slam to give you an idea of the talent they bring to the writers' fest. We're all enjoying their event so much that towards the end when we're asked to join in a round of "Tuktoyaktuk Hymn" we all sing along. The auditorium is filled with a giant choir of discordant voices. Glancing around, other audience members are blissfully singing along, in tune, out of tune, everyone is happy.
So, on this cheerful note, another writers' fest wraps up. Having had our literary fill, Dad and I return to the house happily chatting about the festival and its the highs and lows. Yet again I'm in awe of the speakers and the efforts of the staff and volunteers that make this such a memorable event.
I wonder who'll be on next year's schedule?
Friday, August 12, 2011
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggitty Jig
The difference between loneliness and solitude is subtle. When travelling alone, one could succumb to a bout of loneliness or relax and enjoy the solitude. For my part, I've basked in the solitude. The peaceful, quiet minutes and hours have passed quite happily. I love to sit and read, people watch and occasionally jot down a few scribblings, so having some time to myself feels luxurious and self-indulgent.
Recalling dinner last night, I wonder what the other galvanizers thought of me. People often misinterpret my quietness as a lack of interest. So, difficult as it was, I tried to ask questions, remember names, and remain light-hearted and relaxed. Perhaps my efforts paid of as everyone I met at the seminar was pleasant and I'm actually looking forward to the next one.
Information gleaned from the seminar was... I don't know... interesting. The SAP session covered information about implementing one system to cover the entire business cycle from initial customer contact to collection of invoices and included such things as scheduling and materials planning. However, it was far too expensive (upwards of $40,000) for our little company to implement. The electronic banking session re-sparked my interest and I'll be following up with my financial institution to refresh the information I have on hand about online banking. A zinc supplier discussed different zinc purchasing methods and the challenges of shipping zinc for on-time deliveries, I'll be making inquiries with our supplier about possibly setting up a consignment scenario. The insurance and accounting portions weren't particularly applicable to Canadian companies, but even they have given me some items that I'd like to get clarification on from our accountant.
With the insurance and accounting sessions being in the middle of the afternoon after a nice lunch of a turkey sandwich I had a hard time staying awake. At break time I bolted for the door to get some fresh air and went for a walk, not realizing that my movements were being watched. As I stretched my legs and took in the snippet of scenery, I took my time. I was gone for about 10 minutes, 5 minutes beyond break time. I didn't think it would really matter if I was gone an extra few minutes as throughout the seminar, attendees had been taking extended breaks, some even missed entire sections of the agenda. I was therefor surprised when Phil said they were waiting for me before beginning the next discussion. "Really? You're kidding?" "No, we're glad you're back, have a seat." Sheesh. Still feeling a little sleepy, I took a Diet Pepsi for its caffeine content and returned to my seat.
The session on harassment and HR was quite good. The lawyers covered topics like sexual, age, and racial harassment, immigration issues, employee discipline and termination, and they constantly reminded us to document, document, document. Following the harassment and HR session I had a really good conversation with my neighbour and we discussed several scenarios that our companies had been through and how they had been handled.
The Rocky Mountains slide under the plane as we fly over the ever-increasing number of snow-topped peaks and the threads of back-roads diminish. Flying above the clouds now, my notepad is partially bathed in warm sunlight. I long to see the familiar scenery of home. With any luck I'll spot our house, the office and maybe even my little ones playing in Liz's yard. My arms ache to hold them.
This morning, somewhat to my relief, my shuttle bus neglected to pick me up from the hotel. Aaaaahh. I was pleased to avoid having to endure a white-knuckled return trip to the airport. Glad to have planned my journey to the airport with a safety buffer of an addition hour, I managed to remain calm, demanded a full refund and immediately called a cab. Said taxi appeared almost immediately and a cheery, talkative young mom-of-two whisked me off to the airport. No lurching, no white knuckles, just pleasant banter.
Boarding both flights to and from Denver had minor hiccups. Heading out, I found that my seat had been re-assigned and the hiccup flying home was that United Airlines hadn't scheduled any employees to get the passengers onto the plane. Like unthinking farm animals we all watched the plane pull up to the gate, the passengers disembark, luggage was unloaded, the new luggage loaded and then... nothing. We all stood at the gate wondering what was going to happen next. Eventually one employee showed up and announced for everyone to please come to the desk with their documents ready. Of course she was instantly swamped by a plane-load of people. Gone was the prioritizing of passengers and boarding in an orderly manner, it was a free-for-all crush.
We've now been in the air for about and hour and a half and looking out the window I see a thick coniferous forest below, I wonder how far from home we are. At least this area looks more familiar, the comforting darkness of the evergreens blanketing the sides of the mountains. Reflecting back on my trip I'm glad I went to Denver. I learned a lot and made some great contacts in the industry. Even when things went slightly awry, my fellow travellers in the airports and on the plane stayed in good spirits.
Recalling dinner last night, I wonder what the other galvanizers thought of me. People often misinterpret my quietness as a lack of interest. So, difficult as it was, I tried to ask questions, remember names, and remain light-hearted and relaxed. Perhaps my efforts paid of as everyone I met at the seminar was pleasant and I'm actually looking forward to the next one.
Information gleaned from the seminar was... I don't know... interesting. The SAP session covered information about implementing one system to cover the entire business cycle from initial customer contact to collection of invoices and included such things as scheduling and materials planning. However, it was far too expensive (upwards of $40,000) for our little company to implement. The electronic banking session re-sparked my interest and I'll be following up with my financial institution to refresh the information I have on hand about online banking. A zinc supplier discussed different zinc purchasing methods and the challenges of shipping zinc for on-time deliveries, I'll be making inquiries with our supplier about possibly setting up a consignment scenario. The insurance and accounting portions weren't particularly applicable to Canadian companies, but even they have given me some items that I'd like to get clarification on from our accountant.
With the insurance and accounting sessions being in the middle of the afternoon after a nice lunch of a turkey sandwich I had a hard time staying awake. At break time I bolted for the door to get some fresh air and went for a walk, not realizing that my movements were being watched. As I stretched my legs and took in the snippet of scenery, I took my time. I was gone for about 10 minutes, 5 minutes beyond break time. I didn't think it would really matter if I was gone an extra few minutes as throughout the seminar, attendees had been taking extended breaks, some even missed entire sections of the agenda. I was therefor surprised when Phil said they were waiting for me before beginning the next discussion. "Really? You're kidding?" "No, we're glad you're back, have a seat." Sheesh. Still feeling a little sleepy, I took a Diet Pepsi for its caffeine content and returned to my seat.
The session on harassment and HR was quite good. The lawyers covered topics like sexual, age, and racial harassment, immigration issues, employee discipline and termination, and they constantly reminded us to document, document, document. Following the harassment and HR session I had a really good conversation with my neighbour and we discussed several scenarios that our companies had been through and how they had been handled.
The Rocky Mountains slide under the plane as we fly over the ever-increasing number of snow-topped peaks and the threads of back-roads diminish. Flying above the clouds now, my notepad is partially bathed in warm sunlight. I long to see the familiar scenery of home. With any luck I'll spot our house, the office and maybe even my little ones playing in Liz's yard. My arms ache to hold them.
This morning, somewhat to my relief, my shuttle bus neglected to pick me up from the hotel. Aaaaahh. I was pleased to avoid having to endure a white-knuckled return trip to the airport. Glad to have planned my journey to the airport with a safety buffer of an addition hour, I managed to remain calm, demanded a full refund and immediately called a cab. Said taxi appeared almost immediately and a cheery, talkative young mom-of-two whisked me off to the airport. No lurching, no white knuckles, just pleasant banter.
Boarding both flights to and from Denver had minor hiccups. Heading out, I found that my seat had been re-assigned and the hiccup flying home was that United Airlines hadn't scheduled any employees to get the passengers onto the plane. Like unthinking farm animals we all watched the plane pull up to the gate, the passengers disembark, luggage was unloaded, the new luggage loaded and then... nothing. We all stood at the gate wondering what was going to happen next. Eventually one employee showed up and announced for everyone to please come to the desk with their documents ready. Of course she was instantly swamped by a plane-load of people. Gone was the prioritizing of passengers and boarding in an orderly manner, it was a free-for-all crush.
We've now been in the air for about and hour and a half and looking out the window I see a thick coniferous forest below, I wonder how far from home we are. At least this area looks more familiar, the comforting darkness of the evergreens blanketing the sides of the mountains. Reflecting back on my trip I'm glad I went to Denver. I learned a lot and made some great contacts in the industry. Even when things went slightly awry, my fellow travellers in the airports and on the plane stayed in good spirits.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Hotel Bound
Negotiating my way out of the airport posed an unforeseen challenge. I could not see a sign that said "EXIT" or "outside world - this way" and when I approached a customer service desk there was absolutely nobody there. At a loss, I actually resorted to approaching a stranger who looked like they knew what they were doing. Once in the main terminal I found a shuttle service that had the Denver Tech area listed prominently as a destination - perfect. With door and platform number in hand, I headed out of the terrifying airport.
Jumping from the kettle into the fire is what happened next. Quickly apparent was the error in choosing this particular shuttle company. When I first approached the platform I could see a driver cleaning his windows and wiping some bugs off the front of his van. Was this my shuttle? It looked very welcoming. No, no, no. Mine was filthy - covered in a week's worth of grime and sounded like a bucket of bolts. My heart sank. I was tempted to go and get a refund, yet decided to chill out and see what was going to happen next. You never know, I might have a very pleasant experience regardless of the dilapidated state of the vehicle. Wrong.
I'd already begun to think I've made a very, very big mistake in travelling to Denver. In the terminal there were signs informing people where to find the tornado shelters. TORNADO SHELTERS!!!! And upon leaving the air conditioned micro climate of the airport, I staggered out into the blast furnace that is Denver, and then, much to my alarm, we drove past a larger than life statue of a dark blue horse rearing up with glowing red eyes. What the hell?!!! What sort of people live here and what do they worship? The demon horse frightened the beejeepers out of me. I wished I could turn around and return home on the very next flight.
Despite my churning stomach I sat calmly and watched the scenery go by. I must admit, it was actually rather beautiful. It reminded me a lot of driving along the highway approaching Merritt, the wide open views, sprawling buildings, dry, open grassy areas. As I tried to distract myself with the lovely scenery, my driver's right foot seemed to rise and fall with no relation to the flow of traffic or distance between us and the vehicle ahead. Lurch forward, slip back a bit, lurch forward again, again, again. I think the vehicle in front of us must have thought that we were going to drive right over top of them. We lurched through the downtown core, lurched through "Orchard" and finally stopped at my hotel. Relief.
Jumping from the kettle into the fire is what happened next. Quickly apparent was the error in choosing this particular shuttle company. When I first approached the platform I could see a driver cleaning his windows and wiping some bugs off the front of his van. Was this my shuttle? It looked very welcoming. No, no, no. Mine was filthy - covered in a week's worth of grime and sounded like a bucket of bolts. My heart sank. I was tempted to go and get a refund, yet decided to chill out and see what was going to happen next. You never know, I might have a very pleasant experience regardless of the dilapidated state of the vehicle. Wrong.
Despite my churning stomach I sat calmly and watched the scenery go by. I must admit, it was actually rather beautiful. It reminded me a lot of driving along the highway approaching Merritt, the wide open views, sprawling buildings, dry, open grassy areas. As I tried to distract myself with the lovely scenery, my driver's right foot seemed to rise and fall with no relation to the flow of traffic or distance between us and the vehicle ahead. Lurch forward, slip back a bit, lurch forward again, again, again. I think the vehicle in front of us must have thought that we were going to drive right over top of them. We lurched through the downtown core, lurched through "Orchard" and finally stopped at my hotel. Relief.
Short, Quick Flight to the Land of Denver
I'm ready - finally. Having packed and re-packed my carry-on bag no less than five times, I'm ready to call for a cab to take me to the airport. A fine start to the beginning of my solo adventure to Denver. Phone call made, I begin to unpack - yet again. Logic being: I must be able to fit my purse in there along with everything else, I just need to rearrange things a little. I have been informed that the taxi will take at least 20 minutes to arrive. The dispatcher was...wrong. The doorbell rang when I was only halfway down into the bag. Oh dear. Stuff, cram, jam and zip (of course while attempting to restrain the contents which were trying to liberate themselves).
A nervous, rather jumpy traveller, I arrived at the airport a full four hours early. I suppose I'm cautious with a capital "c". Nervous and awkward though I am, I feel prepared. My wallet has been emptied of absolutely everything not relevant to the trip, Visa has been informed of my travel plans, the boys are safely ensconced with Liz and I have plotted my path needed when I'm disgorged from the cab.
Once at the airport I feel overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. I'm a tiny sparrow entering an eagle's aerie, I move ahead tentatively. Where do I go? What do I need to do? Is there still an airport improvement fee to be paid?
Slight p a n i c.
Right in front of me is a small counter with some pamphlets. I drop my bag down and try to gain a bearing of where I am. In the correct place apparently - what luck. Or should I say, what luck that the airport was planned well - considering idiots like me. I have landed at the US Customs Declaration pamphlet counter - good. Document complete, I head towards the check-in counters, gasping in distress when the lineup appears to be long enough that it looks as though people have set up camp; their belongings sprawled around them haphazardly. Like a beacon in the night a computer kiosk glints in the light beckoning me to come over and try its check-in process. Surprisingly simple (am I referring to myself or the kiosk?), I'm quickly checked in and smugly saunter towards security having dodged the gargantuan lineup. The airport continues to shock and surprise me as I easily flow through security, US Customs, the declaration desk and at last I proceed to the pre-boarding waiting area. Yes! This travelling thing isn't too bad - yet.
I have plenty of time to have lunch (a bento box - yummy) and enjoy a leisurely wait at my departure gate. My new read "Adventures in Solitude - What Not to Wear to a Nudist Potluck" is certainly entertaining and my waiting time passes quickly. After two other flights have departed from my gate, it looks like my flight is next.
I wonder how I'll cope on board. In the waiting area I've moved twice to get away from annoying fellow passengers. It's odd. When I first sat down I was the only person in a row of twenty seats. What would possess someone to sit directly beside me? How could that seat possibly have been more inviting than the other seventeen not directly adjacent to me? I couldn't take it - after five minutes of said person slamming against the seat-back I up-sticks and relocated. My next location wasn't much better. It had at first looked appealing, what with the cheerful European family quietly chatting amongst themselves. Well, as soon as they boarded their plane to LA, a sports group, raucous with youthful vigour and excitement, filled the seats around me. Their excitement, not being particularly contagious, I escaped to the most isolated, bleak chair available. It's really not that bad. I have a view of my plane and the tarmac and lots of legroom in front of me.
As the lot of us proceed through the final screening, I'm informed that my seat has been re-allocated. Hmmm, pardon me? My seat has been... what? A few heart palpitations later and I'm seated in a slightly upgraded seat with a bit of leg room. Nice. As we taxi out onto the runway the pilot makes his usual announcements and tells us that it looks like we're going to have a "short, quick flight to the land of Denver." Land of Denver?
A nervous, rather jumpy traveller, I arrived at the airport a full four hours early. I suppose I'm cautious with a capital "c". Nervous and awkward though I am, I feel prepared. My wallet has been emptied of absolutely everything not relevant to the trip, Visa has been informed of my travel plans, the boys are safely ensconced with Liz and I have plotted my path needed when I'm disgorged from the cab.
Once at the airport I feel overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. I'm a tiny sparrow entering an eagle's aerie, I move ahead tentatively. Where do I go? What do I need to do? Is there still an airport improvement fee to be paid?
Slight p a n i c.
Right in front of me is a small counter with some pamphlets. I drop my bag down and try to gain a bearing of where I am. In the correct place apparently - what luck. Or should I say, what luck that the airport was planned well - considering idiots like me. I have landed at the US Customs Declaration pamphlet counter - good. Document complete, I head towards the check-in counters, gasping in distress when the lineup appears to be long enough that it looks as though people have set up camp; their belongings sprawled around them haphazardly. Like a beacon in the night a computer kiosk glints in the light beckoning me to come over and try its check-in process. Surprisingly simple (am I referring to myself or the kiosk?), I'm quickly checked in and smugly saunter towards security having dodged the gargantuan lineup. The airport continues to shock and surprise me as I easily flow through security, US Customs, the declaration desk and at last I proceed to the pre-boarding waiting area. Yes! This travelling thing isn't too bad - yet.
I have plenty of time to have lunch (a bento box - yummy) and enjoy a leisurely wait at my departure gate. My new read "Adventures in Solitude - What Not to Wear to a Nudist Potluck" is certainly entertaining and my waiting time passes quickly. After two other flights have departed from my gate, it looks like my flight is next.
I wonder how I'll cope on board. In the waiting area I've moved twice to get away from annoying fellow passengers. It's odd. When I first sat down I was the only person in a row of twenty seats. What would possess someone to sit directly beside me? How could that seat possibly have been more inviting than the other seventeen not directly adjacent to me? I couldn't take it - after five minutes of said person slamming against the seat-back I up-sticks and relocated. My next location wasn't much better. It had at first looked appealing, what with the cheerful European family quietly chatting amongst themselves. Well, as soon as they boarded their plane to LA, a sports group, raucous with youthful vigour and excitement, filled the seats around me. Their excitement, not being particularly contagious, I escaped to the most isolated, bleak chair available. It's really not that bad. I have a view of my plane and the tarmac and lots of legroom in front of me.
As the lot of us proceed through the final screening, I'm informed that my seat has been re-allocated. Hmmm, pardon me? My seat has been... what? A few heart palpitations later and I'm seated in a slightly upgraded seat with a bit of leg room. Nice. As we taxi out onto the runway the pilot makes his usual announcements and tells us that it looks like we're going to have a "short, quick flight to the land of Denver." Land of Denver?
Monday, August 8, 2011
Shedding a Tear
I haven't nursed or pumped since yesterday morning. I'm not happy about it, but I'm not terribly upset about it either. However, I am feeling a little glum.
I know, I know. To many people, nursing a baby is considered a bit of an indulgence, almost selfish. Baby will do just fine without feeding directly from its mother is what I've been told recently. Babies have been surviving very well for decades on formula without any issues. Baby's big brother is just fine and he was fed solely with formula. True, my first baby wouldn't nurse and he is certainly a healthy, happy 7-year-old boy now. But I can't help feeling a sense of loss at the prospect of never nursing Andy again. My milk filling his little tummy, the comfort both of us receive from being snuggled so close together, etc. However, as schedules and the demands placed on me have changed recently, nursing has become more of a chore. Andy hasn't nursed from me for over a week and pumping takes so much time. After a rough night, of which there are many, I would really rather sleep a half hour longer than sit on the loveseat and pump milk. Then at the end of an always-frantic day, rather than topple into bed to catch a few winks, I have to pump then store some milk.
Enough. I've had enough and right now seems like a good time to go through the agonies of drying up. I wish I had the luxury of staying home with Andy for the entire year of maternity leave, but that's just not feasible. I wish I didn't have to go on a business trip in the next few days either, but I have to go - it is part of my job now that I'm the office manager at work. I wish I had more time to pump and weren't rushed for time at the beginning or end of the day.
All these thoughts were running through my head tonight as I sat beside my father as he drove us back to the house after the final event of the Sechelt Writers' Festival tonight. I actually felt a little surprised about how emotional I feel about stopping nursing. Looking out the window, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.
Am I doing the right thing? Will Andy be able to produce enough antibodies of his own to fight off colds and viruses? Will I put all the weight back on that I had lost? Will I be able to control my incessant eating habits? So many questions to which I don't have the answers.
I know, I know. To many people, nursing a baby is considered a bit of an indulgence, almost selfish. Baby will do just fine without feeding directly from its mother is what I've been told recently. Babies have been surviving very well for decades on formula without any issues. Baby's big brother is just fine and he was fed solely with formula. True, my first baby wouldn't nurse and he is certainly a healthy, happy 7-year-old boy now. But I can't help feeling a sense of loss at the prospect of never nursing Andy again. My milk filling his little tummy, the comfort both of us receive from being snuggled so close together, etc. However, as schedules and the demands placed on me have changed recently, nursing has become more of a chore. Andy hasn't nursed from me for over a week and pumping takes so much time. After a rough night, of which there are many, I would really rather sleep a half hour longer than sit on the loveseat and pump milk. Then at the end of an always-frantic day, rather than topple into bed to catch a few winks, I have to pump then store some milk.
Enough. I've had enough and right now seems like a good time to go through the agonies of drying up. I wish I had the luxury of staying home with Andy for the entire year of maternity leave, but that's just not feasible. I wish I didn't have to go on a business trip in the next few days either, but I have to go - it is part of my job now that I'm the office manager at work. I wish I had more time to pump and weren't rushed for time at the beginning or end of the day.
All these thoughts were running through my head tonight as I sat beside my father as he drove us back to the house after the final event of the Sechelt Writers' Festival tonight. I actually felt a little surprised about how emotional I feel about stopping nursing. Looking out the window, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.
Am I doing the right thing? Will Andy be able to produce enough antibodies of his own to fight off colds and viruses? Will I put all the weight back on that I had lost? Will I be able to control my incessant eating habits? So many questions to which I don't have the answers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)