The Daily EO

The Daily EO: September 16th, 2012

Participating in the Terry Fox run is pretty easy when you are 2 people in your thirties. You can start getting ready about 15 minutes ahead of time, and arrive about 5 minutes before it begins, run/walk/bike, and be done. With a group of seven people – 3 of them people children under 10, things get more complicated.

By the time we left at 11:30 am with 3 bikers, 2 rollerbladers and 2 runners, we had already been at preparation for about an hours. First there was snacks, then making sure the bikes were ready, then the appropriate attire/shoes discussions, then snacks again because both parents were asked, then finding money for the donation, then screaming, then crying when an accident happened, then peeing, then eating, than strapping on the roller blades, then searching for headphones and house keys. Finally, we were ready to leave.

After all that, I could have just stayed home.

As Terry Fox was from Port Coquitlam, the close by Coquitlam run is pretty small, but very convenient for us. We walked/cycled/bladed up to the park when the event was taking place. Everyone got free lemonade. Then everyone had to find the bathroom.

We managed to get ourselves registered, donate and everyone got Terry Fox ribbons. We started out in the middle of the pack at the first turn a friendly policeman directed up right when we should have got left. Alison – whose days of blading were sometime before – found her self barreling down a hill while her husband shouted stopping directions at her. Her horrified children watched as she grabbed on to a rotund stranger and managed to slow down so when she did actually fall, it was a minor scrap on one arm.

Emile wanted nothing of this chaos and left us well behind and we didn’t see him again for an hour as he decided to complete the 10 k route.

After her terrifying blaze of glory, Alison and the two younger children turned off at the 2K route, while I continued on with the oldest child on her bike. I encouraged her, I coached her, I told her she was doing great and we both eventually managed to get up that first long hill in the blazing sunshine. As I felt the strength wan in my legs, her Dad caught up to us on his blades and I found myself abandoned without a backward glance. Children are so fickle.

I proudly ran my 5K with my ribbon flapping – only occasionally sticking to my sweaty skin.

September 16th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Seeing the next generation of children learning about Terry Fox – a man who had set out quietly but made a big noise.

The Daily EO: September 15th, 2012

I awoke early in my new city. Before even my friends and their kids did. It was 6:30 and I needed to pee urgently. I eventually found myself sitting on the couch reading one of the local papers. I was reading all of this Coquitlam news with very little context. The sun was shining in and I realized that I sitting waiting for everyone to wake up when I could slap on my running shoes and go for a run in the unusually dry and sunny Vancouver weather.

Yes! I will explore my new city. I will learn her secrets and soon be avoiding traffic snarls like a local.

I snuck out and started running up the hill. I had romanticized this in my head and was feeling pretty smug and happy. A man on an old ten speed bike wearing large earphones came tearing around a corner about 3 feet in front of me. He shouted “Give me your dinosaurs! Not your diplomats! Not your Embassies! Your DINOSAURS!” He was speaking directly to me – he wanted me to receive this message.

I was startled for he bolted out in front of me, because verbalization didn’t make much sense to me, and he wasn’t wearing a helmet or using a bike lane. I spent the rest of the run trying to puzzle this out. But it took the romance away. No more small town.

We had an appointment to look at the coolest loft in Yaletown (“the” place to be in Downtown Vancouver with prices to match). The loft was fantastic in many ways and terrible in others. This lead to the first of many differences between Emile and I today.

After that I had made an appointment to have my eyebrows threaded and my eyelashes tinted. Mother of Pearl! Who invented this? I can have my eyelashes dyed and they look like I am always wearing mascara – but better. And I don’t have to worry it smudging or running or taking it off. What an Invention! I am loving this. Emile and I made up, I was so happy.

Next we went to Emile’s swanky office and he showed me about. We spent 3 hours looking for apartments and getting hungrier and hungrier and more and more solidified in our homelessness. There should be laws for descriptive words on listings. We made a couple of calls, and the joy of my eyelashes faded a bit.

The road dogs were not particularly good, but they filled the need.

Emile needed to fix up his wardrobe, so we made our way to Pacific Centre which was completely packed. I walked into Banana Republic and Emile almost fainted at the price of the first pair of pants I picked up for him. He said “Let’s go to The Bay”. I then took him into Guess and a couple other stores. He kept saying “Let’s go to The Bay”. Yes, bloody well, shut up, I’ll take you to damned Bay. Arggg!

Could we find the suit section in The Bay? Finally with some things to try on, Emile stood with a strange look on his face in the change room. I had long since collapsed to the ground in frustration and confusion. He thought he was having an anxiety attack about all of this change. I immediately remembered how much he is going through and we made up again.

We bought hardly anything at The Bay, and went outside. It turns out though, that it wasn’t an anxiety attack – Emile was just having heartburn from the raw onions on his hot dog. He’s feeling much better after a antacid.

Well, onto Moore’s and a very canny salesman took one look at our bedraggled and weakened selves, and kept the store open for us 1/2 later than closing times. And he earned that commission. Emile was beyond making decisions at that point, and simply kept agreeing with whatever I or the salesman said.

Dinner was quick shared pad thai entrée near Metrotown and then we stopped at my grandpa’s place for a quick visit.

September 15th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: For the first time in my life, I was able to drop in on my grandpa.

The Daily EO: September 14th, 2012

Greetings from Coquitlam, BC and the Lydell Family Residence!

Hours on the Road: 10 hours
Kms Travelled: 846

I found myself alone in my mom’s house as everyone left for work. It was 7:30 am. It was weird having nobody to wave goodbye from the front porch or at the airport gate. But I pulled out and heading on the “Crow Highway” or Highway 3 “Shortest Route to the Coast”.

I love the drive from Cranbrook to Vancouver, it is filled with amazing mountain passes with cities dotted along about every 1 hour. There are multiple passing lanes so when you are going down an 8% grade behind a large truck, you can pull around and make a more speedy descent.

I haven’t driven this drive alone for more than 15 years and I enjoyed the solitude. Alone with my thoughts I wondered “Have we made the right decision?”, but mostly I just sang along to my iPod.

As I passed through Creston, I considered purchasing fresh fruit, but decided I would bring it from Osoyoos instead. I love the romance of roadside fruit stands. I imagine family orchards three generations deep with luscious peaches and crisp apples in their blood lines. I am sure it is much more corporate today, but I love to stop.

I stopped for gas and lemon Perrier frequently – the latter causing my bathroom breaks being a little more often than a tank of gas.

In Osoyoos I stopped and purchased a large basket of nectarines and large McIntosh Apples. I cannot return to BC without enjoying a case of BC Macs. I love them – it tastes of crisp weather, Hallowe’en, and raking leaves.

I drove without incident until about 15 kms out from my destination and then entered the construction on Highway 1 and the Port Mann bridge. It slowed my progress tremendously, but I was still able to roll into town just in time for dinner.

September 14th, 2012 Exta-Ordinary: I’m here.

The Daily EO: September 13th, 2012

I felt ambivalent about the drive to Vancouver the next day. It’s long, but not really that long. Long enough to listen to about 3 hours of music, 1 1/2 hours singing along to Ragtime – my favorite musical – and 3 vinyl café episodes. But not so long that you need to start out at the break of dawn or drive into the night. I had been somewhat anticipating the drive all week. Emile left ahead of me, and I am anxious for things to get started. But at the same time, I like Cranbrook and hanging out at home.

Home is stable. It doesn’t require me to learn the streets, or figure out who my dentist will be. I know where to get things, I know where to park if I want to head to the bank. It’s easy because I lived it. Vancouver not so much.

I put off packing much to my mother’s consternation. She asked me several times if I needed help. I think she didn’t like see things left undone when they could be . . . well.. . done.

September 13, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Cranbrook isn’t home anymore.

The Daily EO: September 12, 2012

I ran to the place where I started my post secondary education – East Kootenay Community College, or as it has been renamed College of the Rockies. I realized it had been 20 years exactly that I had first walked through those doors while many of my friends headed off to university in major centres. I was forced to a college because of my lack of language skills (I don’t have a passing grade in Grade 11 language) – a requirement for university in BC. I dropped out of French after Grade 8 (au revoir Monsieur Vankamp), then attempted Spanish by correspondence. Both failed for different reasons. But the backdoor into the University was through a college transfer after my first year.

I told everyone that I was terribly disappointed, but the truth was, going off to University at 18 was frightening for me. College was much like high school. I lived at home, I had a locker, and the classes were small. I was relieved to have this transition year. Even when I choose my university, I went with the University of Victoria because it was smaller – both the university and the city. My parents both are UBC (University of British Columbia) alumni and I really thought growing up I would be at UBC in Vancouver for Engineering of all things. Seriously – did I not look at my physics grades?

But instead I got a B Sc. in Psychology at UVic. I wouldn’t have met the people in my life that are precious to me if I hadn’t taken that path – Lisa and Jason to name only a couple.

So as I stood wheezing outside the college, I remembered the first psychology and sociology classes I took there and my realization that school didn’t have to be just chemistry, biology and physics. There were other options. Other choices. And Psychology was really compelling.

September 12, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Thank goodness for having a terrible ear for languages. I wouldn’t change that part of my path even if I could.

The Daily EO: September 11th, 2012

To register a non-BC car in British Columbia, you have to complete a safety inspection. That is okay with me I suppose, but it seems like a conflict of interest like many “inspections”. So a mechanic is being paid by me to do an inspection, but yet answers to the Government of BC on whether he is certified to do these inspections. So, he can be really stringent and annoy me with a whole bunch of things that have to be done – that also likely increases his take in the short-term. But, if he dings me for all this work, then chances are I am not coming back next time. And I tell all my friends. Who guards the guards? Hmmm?

My car went through its inspection – just some housekeeping things came up, and came with the strong recommendation that do my front brakes and replace my tires. However, the shop was not going to make these failure items on my inspection. Good. But I am getting the brakes done anyways. Nobody wants weak brakes on the mountain passes of BC.

September 11th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: A bizarre and unproportional feeling of sadness when I watched the removal of my front door window tint. Apparently, not allowed in BC. And driving home? It was so so bright. I’m still squinting.

The Daily EO: September 10th, 2012

The Poka Yoke concept was developed at Toyota in Japan. It essentially means to mistake proof or error proof something. It is primarily a manufacturing term, but Poka Yokes show up all over the place in every day life. Like how you can’t put a diesel pump into your gas car. Or jigs used when cutting wood to block a miscut. Many things that make life safer are often mistakenly caused Poka Yokes. It is not truly a poka Yoke unless it stops you from doing it. For example, if you are driving your standard car and you notice that you are red lining it and adjust your gear or speed accordingly – this is not a poka yoke because it didn’t stop you from make the mistake in the first place.

Most hand mixers have a poka yoke when it comes to inserting the beaters. There is a physical difference between the holes or beaters that does not allow you to insert the wrong beater in the wrong hole.

I was keen to make a peach/blueberry buckle for the family here because first of all it is darn delicious and secondly there is an excess of canned peaches here. Apparently there was a “buy 5 cans for $5” and both my mom and brother bought some. To make a buckle, you need a hand mixer for the cake part. It’s not my kitchen and not my hand mixer. Knowing as I do about Poka Yokes, I didn’t pay too much attention to making sure I put the right beater in to the right hole. Well, either the poka yoke was broken or it was ineffective. Because I quickly realized that I put the “octagon” marked beater into the round hole. Easily. Well, if it went in easily then it going to come out easily.

No. That is not correct.

So, I pulled on it. I pulled again. It wasn’t coming out. I was alone thankfully – I’d never hear the end of my brother complaining that I wreck everything – black sheep of the family you know. Hmm. Maybe if I take the whole thing apart there is an emergency release mechanism. I found the screw under a plastic piece and cracked off all the individual pieces holding it together. I finally got inside and found to my chagrin, no emergency release mechanism. So I put is all back together. A single beater hand mixer. What to do? I think I will take the brute force approach and just pull as hard as I can. And you know what? It actually worked. The beater popped out.

Frankly at this point, I was exhausted and I didn’t feel like making this buckle any longer, but I was half in, so inserted the beaters correctly this time and started off.

I turned on the mixer to Level 1. Nothing. Level 2. Nothing. Damn it. Level 3? Yep, we’ve got action. Too much action. Sugar and butter every where. I persevere. I get that cake mixed, fruit on top, crumble made and into the oven. A 15 minute recipe has now taken 1 1/2 hours.

The mixer was eyeing me. Out comes the screwdriver and I take it all apart again. I determine the trouble to be that I didn’t properly secure the electronics attached to the switch properly. But this time I am smart! I plug it in to test it BEFORE I put it back together again. While I hold the electronics in place, I turn it to Level 1. It works!

And I electrocute myself. Son of a…! Ouch! Damn it.

Shake it off. Put it back together again. Test again. Level 1, 2, and 3 work. Hooray.

Wrap up the mixer and put it away like nothing happened. Sit calmly at the kitchen table awaiting my electrical currents to return to normal.

September 10th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: When my mother came home she finds something on the floor that looks like a dried cranberry. When she picks it up it is a little black rubber piece that I recognize from the inside of the mixer.

Advocate for Poka Yokes, people. They can save your life. Or at least your afternoon.

The Daily EO: September 8th, 2012

I put my husband on a plane today because he has to start his new job on Monday. Fine wife I am. First I convince him to move to BC with me, and then I don’t follow through. I am not starting a new job yet and I am in the general comfort of my childhood home. While he is working and crashing on the couch of generous friends. I mean, that is hardly fair is it? Shouldn’t I be facing this new challenge by his side? Nope, I just drive him to the airport and send him on his way. Go make us some money, honey.

September 9th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: The pretty black and white floral umbrella my mom bought me as her Going to Vancouver gift. I’ll be pretty and dry.

The Daily EO: September 8th, 2012

(in Cranbrook, BC)

It’s strange to be here again so recently after our last trip. It somehow feels like this all part of the same journey, that we had just stopped for 3 weeks in Huntsville. This seems very unreal to me right now. Emile starts his job on Monday, so perhaps he will get real for us then!

The morning dawned bright and cold and I was up at 6 am. I am not sure why I have been waking every morning for the last 2 weeks at 7:30 am, but it is even worse now that I am in Mountain time zone. But it odd for me to be in a dark and silent house after a full night sleep waiting for the sun to rise. This is leading to delicious afternoon naps.

September 8th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: After 3 weeks of frenetic activity, a little down time.

The Daily EO: September 7th, 2012

Greetings from Cranbrook, BC and the Levang Family Resort!

Hours on the Road: 7
Kms Travelled: 606

Today was a short jaunt home comparatively speaking. Just 1/2 of Montana left to go until Cranbrook – Emile flies to Vancouver on Sunday.

I was anxious to get started being so close to home, and I watched Emile intently while he tried to enjoy a leisurely breakfast. And today promised not to be a 15 hour marathon – there were only really 600 kms to travel – it was nothing really. But I am coming home to British Columbia after 16 years away. I wanted to get home for that reason and because I was so tired of seeing the inside of the Honda Fit.

Our travels took us through the flat prairies right into the Rocky Mountains. On the way, we journey through Glacier National Park and Cut Bank “The Coldest Place in the Nation”. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? The coldest place in the nation is in Montana? Not Alaska? Or maybe just considering the lower 48, Minnesota or something? Nonetheless, someone found the time and money to build a talking penguin statue that makes the claim. And seriously, if a penguin actually talks to me, I tend to believe what they have to say.

The BC places started to get more and more prevalent as we neared the border. At the gas station in Eureka (10 kms from Canada), there were more Canadian plates than American ones. I understand first hand the challenges that a strong Canadian dollar gives for Canadian companies trying to do business in the US, however, as a consumer, it works out pretty well.

We stopped at the duty-free shop in Roosville, Montana, USA called “First and Last Chance”. I am not sure who in the dark, dingy bar/store/casino was on their first chance, but there were some hard living people in there.

I insisted on a stop in Cranbrook before heading home because I wanted it official:

September 7th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: