Author: theinvolvedhusband

Online Buying and Selling – bargain hunting or a twisted social experiment?

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We live in an age of unfathomable technology and information. The world is, quite literally, at our fingertips. We can be sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld reruns, pick up our phone and place an order for a George Costanza bobblehead figurine from another country and have it shipped to our doorstep in time for Festivus. At the touch of a button we can live-chat with friends and family from across the globe, or connect with total strangers and build new friendships. It truly is an amazing time to be alive. Unfortunately this technology combined with our love of “stuff” has a dark side. A deep pit of maleficent activity where even the most pure of hearts can be destroyed in seconds. If you ever feel that humanity is doing well and that mankind is progressing forward towards utopia, armed with a level of knowledge and intelligence that has never before been imagined, then simply visit an online Buy and Sell page; you will be brought crashing back to earth as you realize that people can really be senseless imbeciles.

I realize that this is a pretty strong generalization to make about the human species but to be fair, anyone who has spent any amount of time trying to sell something online will be in full agreeance with my assertion. Where else can you put out an ad for a red bicycle and have no fewer than three people (people who somehow manage to function in daily life) promptly proceed to ask what colour the bike is. They walk among us – and they make me want to hit my head on the desk. BONK BONK BONK.

For whatever reason, people seem to stop reading immediately after the item headline. In fact, often they don’t even make it that far; perhaps they just needed a nap. You can put all of the information that anyone could possibly want – Make, model, size, colour, age, price, serial number, history dating back to the day it was made in a third world factory – but regardless of that, someone will skip over every detail and start throwing out questions that you have already answered.

Your ad: “Fits 2003 to 2005 Chevy pickups only”

First response: “Will it fit a 1972 Dodge?” BONK BONK BONK

 

Your ad: “Extra Large – I bought it for my German Shepherd but it’s too big”

First response: “Will it fit my Chihuahua?” Well, maybe if little Pedro is crossed with a Woolly Mammoth, but otherwise I’m gonna say “no” – BONK BONK BONK

 

The frustration of trying to answer questions from people who can’t be bothered to read can be offset by the humour of reading other people’s for-sale ads. Being a ‘professional salesperson’ I always get a chuckle out of some individual’s attempts at writing a sales ad for whatever item they have deemed expendable in their life. Some of these ads are intentionally humourous (and kudos to those people) but some of them try far too hard to convince me just what a bargain their item is. Some of the common catch phrases that I enjoy are:

“I just want it gone” – no, no you don’t. If you just wanted that old pee stained mattress gone it would be free. You want it gone plus $50.00.

“I just want what I paid for it” – Well isn’t that a special deal. If I wanted one for what you paid for it, I would go to the store and buy one for what you paid for it. Thanks anyway.

“Save the taxes” – again, that is not much of a bargain there, Edith. I don’t like taxes any more than the next person but if that’s the only difference between a new one from a store with warranty or scraping the cat hair and your kids Popsicle stains off of your prized possession, I will stick with the new one thanks.

“Woman driven / ridden / owned” – these ones always crack me up, and not for the stereotypical (and incorrect) “women can’t drive” discourse. When it comes to things like bikes, snowmobiles, cars or other motorized vehicles, there are many women who have tons of talent and use their recreational products to the absolute limit of its engineered design. If you think that “lady owned” means the item you are shopping for hasn’t done a second gear smokeshow through the parking lot or cleared a 70 foot tabletop jump, you’d be wrong. Also, if you’re using this as a marketing tool, stop it. It’s not 1950.

“Trades only, won’t sell” – this one always perplexes me. What if someone offered you a million dollars? Would you sell it then? Of course you would, so we know you’re a liar already. These ads are usually followed by a completely unrealistic trade value request so I suspect they are just hunting for a sucker. Example “1983 widgetmobile, rusty, doesn’t run. Won’t sell, trade only for Ferrari or possibly the Hope Diamond”

There are other fun filled areas that could be noted, such as those annoying people who feel the need to point out that they don’t like the product you are selling or why they think the price is too high. Even worse are those people who say they will buy something and then don’t show up to get it, but those people are not even worth discussing – They are the online equivalent to the black slime inside of an old toilet tank; just leave it covered and pretend it’s not there and you will be much happier. Most of the problems with online Buy and Sell pages could be alleviated if both the buyers and sellers paid even the tiniest bit of attention to what they are actually reading or writing. The concept is easy: Sellers – write down what you are selling with enough information for the buyer to be interested and Buyers – actually read this information and decide if you want to purchase the item. It’s really not rocket science. Now if you will excuse me I’ve got a guy on the line who wants to trade some white wall tires for a bag of used Tupperware lids.

Sometimes a Motorcycle is More Than Just a Ride

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My brother Jim (left) and myself, heading for the Toy Ride in 1986

 

Growing up in northern British Columbia, my brothers and I always had motorcycles – in fact I cannot recall a time when I didn’t have one. Minibikes and then dirtbikes, two strokes or four, motorcycles have always been a method of expanding my world, a mode of transportation, allowing me to visit friends or explore areas that were too far away to bicycle or walk to. Through the snow free months most days consisted of getting off of the school bus, siphoning a splash of gas out of one of dad’s cars (shhh), and heading off on another two wheeled adventure – if I was lucky I’d make it home for supper. No cell phones, no GPS and certainly no plan, it was a level of freedom that I have chased ever since.

In 1985, as my 16th birthday approached, I began preparing to have that world of freedom expand again with the anticipation of my driver’s license. Preparation for this event came in the form of a previously well-loved 1978 Yamaha XS400. My older brother Jim helped me with a coat of paint and some polishing to make her look better; this didn’t change the fact that it burned oil like ‘73 Datsun but at least she was shiny. I was ready to hit the streets. My brother was a few years ahead of me on life’s timeline so there had been a gap between the time when we road dirtbikes together and the time that I could get out on the street with him. Now that I had my license it was time to renew this riding partnership.

Fast forward a few months and I found myself waiting impatiently one afternoon for Jim to arrive back home. The reason for this impatience was pure excitement – While I was in school that day, he had gone to town to purchase a brand new Yamaha RZ350 for himself. When he turned in the driveway I instantly knew this plan had changed however, as I heard the low four-stroke rumble of a V4 instead of the expected ring-ding of a two stroke twin cylinder Yamaha. As the shiny new Honda thumped up the driveway I stood in awe – The Red, White and Blue VF750F Interceptor was a thing of beauty. Remember this was 1985, so while these bikes are pretty tame by todays standards, at the time this was the reigning AMA Superbike Champion pulling into the yard! Suddenly my little 400 Yamaha wasn’t as interesting as it had been leading up to this moment – I needed to figure out how to upgrade, and fast. A love affair with the Interceptor was born.

Through after school jobs and possibly some financial assistance from my family (thanks dad!), I spent the next year collecting pieces to help make my dream come true. In those days a person could still easily purchase salvage vehicles from the insurance corporation, and I had found a crashed VF750F Interceptor to buy. With some further searching, the help of friends and through word of mouth, I found another one with a blown engine. The plan was to put the engine from the damaged ’85 into the straight ’83 frame and hit the road. Simple, right?

For the next few months I poured literal blood, sweat and tears into my project. As a naïve teenager, I am sure that mistakes were made. There were no YouTube videos, Google searches or forum chat rooms to help solve a problem – I just had to figure it out. I also fully anticipate that future archeologists will scratch their heads in wonderment when they find the number of twisted off ¼” drive adapters that may or may not have mysteriously flown out of the garage and across the ditch. Some necessary metal work that was far beyond my talent level of the day came at the hands of a friends dad (ok not just the day, he still has more talent in his pinky finger than I have in my whole body – thanks Mr Schuett!) Sorting out electronics was also an issue as one of the ignition modules had been broken so I had to mismatch the spare module with the wrong chassis – and it wouldn’t run. It took several weeks and a lot of help from a guy named Earl who worked at the Honda dealership and was particularly adept at scrolling through microfiche pages to figure it out. The trigger on the crankshaft was slightly different between the two model years, and it confused the ignition box just enough to let it idle, but not rev up. After weeks of frustration it turned out to be a simple oversight and an easy fix. (At this point it’s ok if some of the younger readers takes a moment to Google “microfiche” – I’ll wait)

During the build of this motorcycle I had plenty of company in the garage; for a good part of my life we had my mom’s brother, Larry, staying with us. A WWII veteran who had lived a harder life than most, Uncle Larry spent many years being entertained by my antics as a teenager and he became a fixture in the garage during this project. He would come outside almost every day with a rake in one hand and a cold beer in the other, taking a break from his self-imposed “chores” to lend me some moral support. Often this support came in the form of chuckling at me as things sometimes didn’t go as smoothly as I had planned (such as the previously mentioned flying ¼” adapters) and I suspect my Uncle saw this learning curve for what it was – a labour of love that would teach me a lot about mechanics, patience and problem solving.

Eventually I did get my beloved Interceptor finished and surprisingly it even managed to clear a motor vehicle inspection. Unfortunately my Uncle Larry passed away in August of 1986, mere days away from when I got my pride and joy on the road. It has always saddened me that one of my biggest supporters never got to see the completion of that motorcycle – I know he would have teased me about lost tools and tantrums but I also know he would have been proud to see her run. Sometimes life can be cruel that way.

That Interceptor treated me well for a couple of summers, although I suspect the Superintendent of Motor Vehicles at the time didn’t like it very much. He did seem to care for my wellbeing though, judging by the number of letters he wrote me to discuss my driving habits. Who knew that having a high performance motorcycle before you were old enough to vote could possibly lead to the occasional driving infraction (or ten)? I lived, I learned and as the years went by I went through a small fleet of motorcycles, attending toy rides, touring and drag racing a list of CBRs, FZRs, Ninjas and the like, but I always had a soft spot for the old Interceptor I had built during my senior year of high school. Through a few years while the kids and family life kept me busy I even went without a streetbike at all, sticking to dirt, snow and other sports that were more family oriented than a pavement bound supersport motorcycle – although I always talked about when I would get back into street riding.

That day finally came recently when I was looking at getting a commuter ride and I wandered into the local Honda dealership, only to see a shiny red 2004 Honda VFR800 Interceptor that they had taken in on trade. A few quick phone calls, a scribble in my cheque book, a visit to the insurance agency and she was all mine. As soon as I had laid my eyes on this bike I knew that I was long overdue to be back on an Interceptor, and while this one is several generations newer than the one I had built so many years ago, the lineage is impossible to ignore. There is no comparison between the original Interceptor and this, the 6th generation of the name, but the V4 still seems familiar, like reuniting with an old friend. And its good to be back – it feels like home.

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The newly acquired Interceptor

Ride on, Gord

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I wrote this piece for Mountain Sledder Magazine but it has some life lessons that apply even if you are not a “snowmobiler”, so I’ve shared it onto the blog. Life is short, make the most of every moment my friends – sooner or later the shadows fall on every mountain top.

Link is below:

Ride on, Gord

 

Kiss this, MS

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Lets be clear, my wife is going to kill me for posting this picture.  She wont think it’s very flattering and I’m sure she will note that her hair isn’t perfect.  My faithful readers know that my wife is often a large part of my ramblings so she may even think that this is going to poke fun at her – but she is wrong.  The fact is, this picture is one of the most amazingly beautiful images I have ever seen, and I will tell you why.
My wife has recently been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, or MS.  This is an autoimmune disease in which the body attacks the central nervous system, damaging the myelin sheath that protects the nerves and thereby limiting and impairing the nerves ability to transmit messages to the muscles.  About three years ago my wife was on the losing end of this battle with MS, only suspecting this was the cause of her finding herself bedridden without warning on many days.  She started having trouble with her job that she normally excelled at – she went from an awarding winning top performer to someone who couldn’t make it in to work because she needed to lay in a dark room in complete silence, hoping and praying that the pain would end. With endless tests and doctors appointments, trips to see specialists and new medication trials and failures, there was still no clear answers.  MS can be a difficult disease to get a firm diagnosis on as the symptoms can be so different between each and every person afflicted with it.  In fact, they call it the snowflake disease because no two sufferers are exactly alike. So while time marched on and outside help didn’t seem to be coming (not for lack of trying!) my wife slowly slid down into a dark hole of despair, her balance growing worse by the day.  Her fear of falling led to more time wasted simply sitting in a bed or the tub, waiting for an answer that wasnt there.  That all changed one day when a  neurologist told her something that she hadn’t heard before; something that resonated inside her and changed both of our lives forever. He told her that she had to “lose the weight or lose your legs.” She needed to get moving.  She needed to exercise more, not less.  The more she thought about all of our outdoor adventures, hiking, taking the dogs to the lake, snowmobiling, camping – all of it made her determined; losing the use of her legs was not an option. She decided that she wanted to fight – and fight she did.  She joined a bootcamp that was willing to work with her limitations, letting her push at her own pace.  She started walking, 15 and 20kms a day quite often.  She changed our eating habits and I found myself cooking better, with whole foods, no more processed crap out of a box.  This journey of diet and exercise deserves a blog on its own and that day may come, but for now I won’t go into great detail; this is about the photo.
The improvements came a little at a time.  Having gone off work on long-term disability, this fight was now her full-time job.  At bootcamp she could measure herself and quantify her improvements easily, counting pushups and timing laps, but the real changes were at home.  She could stay up late to watch a movie with our family and not have to worry whether that would mean she would be bedridden the next day.  We could go out for dinner in a noisy restaurant and stay long enough to enjoy visiting without having to run for the dark quiet of home.  As an added bonus, the pounds began to fall off of both of us.  To be supportive of her I had signed on to this new lifestyle 100% and it has changed me as well, again another story for another time.  Slowly she found herself able to get back to doing the things she loved.  That’s not to say there aren’t bad days of course.  They still happen occasionally, and we still have to be careful with the stairs – she has bounced down them enough times already.  But for now, with a conclusive diagnosis of MS finally in hand and with her most recent MRI showing no further damage, we can live for today.  She continues to fight everyday knowing that the physical health is only part of it – the mental health is also important and keeping active is a great way to stay positive.  My wife has become the most driven and positive person I have ever met, overachieving at every turn and surprising almost everyone along the way.  They say that a picture speaks 1000 words and the moment I saw this picture it became a symbol of this entire voyage we’ve been on.  It shows how far my wife has come, from lying in a dark and silent room, curtains closed, dreading the 12 steps to the bathroom to this: Actual running.  It shows the most amazing, focused  person I know doing something that she shouldn’t be able to do.  It shows the result of literal blood, sweat and tears. It shows a fighter.  And I couldn’t be more proud.

Thanksgiving Needs More Cowbell

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Happy Thanksgiving.  It’s that tiny window in our year, wedged between summer frolic and Halloween.  I say wedged because Halloween is a full two month ordeal around our house, with decorating, planning meals for a Halloween party, designing costumes – there’s very little time for this turkey nonsense to be honest.  However it still is a time of family and friends so we find a day to squeeze it in between zombies and snowmobile polishing.  If thanksgiving has snuck up on you and you haven’t done it the honour of two weeks of planning, here’s a little piece of information to keep handy:  the grocery stores are an absolute zoo. If you have social tendencies and like to visit with people you hardly know, then this is a great time for you to shop.  What better way to spend an entire afternoon than standing in a lineup with a bag of the wrong kind of buns, (because your favourites were sold out), talking to the brother of a lady who knew your grade 12 history teacher’s wife?  This scintillating conversation really plays on the heartstrings of the social butterfly but most normal people recognize it for what it is: a complete nightmare.  At this point you may consider dropping the buns on the spot and screaming “I NEVER LIKED CARBS ANYWAY!!” and then climbing into your car and driving.  A long ways.  If you need to say “Dónde está la gasolinera más cercana” then you may be far enough, but barely.  Of course we don’t do this (usually) – instead we smile, talk about the weather and silently count the items the lady has in line ahead if you.  (Thanksgiving or not, you put down 17 items at the 15-or-less express till and you will get “THE LOOK” from me.  Fair warning).
Upon returning home I find that the real chaos is happening.  At least it appears chaotic to me.  It is, in fact, the complete opposite of chaos.   I must point out that most of the time the day to day cooking of meals in our house is done by yours truly.   These large multi-serving extravaganzas though?  Thats my wife’s department – and she is good at it.  So what looks like complete food havoc to me is actually being run with military precision.  I take notes and keep track as best I can but I really can’t keep up.  POTATOES ON AT 1:45!  STUFFING OUT AT 2:10!  The notes are detailed and exact – and leave just enough room for assumption to make sure I can screw it up.  “Well of COURSE the salad should be tossed now, in 7 minutes and 18 seconds you’ll be mashing potatoes and then the turkey will be out 36 seconds after that.  When did you THINK it would get done?”
Whew – when she’s right shes right. Really dodged a bullet there.
Like a master conductor in front of an orchestra, my wife stirs, covers, mixes and roasts a vast array of vegetables, meats, salads and desserts – all timed out to the second.  It’s actually impressive to watch, except I dont have time to enjoy the moment – I’m too busy trying to keep up with the tasks that I’ve been given.  That’s the difference with the orchestra analogy – a maestro usually has musicians that at least know how to play.  By this point I have realized that the tasks I’ve been given are ridiculously easy – she has obviously figured out my competency level, and it’s not flattering.  I’m the cowbell guy in this band.  She masterfully adds dozens of  spices and seasonings in an exact recipe of perfection while I ask questions like “how big a chunks do you want this potato cut into?” CLANG CLANG CLANG
After a couple of mistakes and near misses, my nerves are frazzled and I start to think perhaps the idea I originally had was better; I’m actually still not convinced that individual packaged TV dinners for everyone is that bad of a thought.  But just as it looks – to me at least – like all hope may be lost, my amazing wife calls everyone to the table and starts setting out this incredible meal. Turkey, stuffing, cranberries, potatoes, gravy, brusselsprouts, ceaser salad, carrots, and of course, the buns – wow!  I’m not sure how this all came together. Now if only she would let me put out the Pez dispensers that I had picked out for dessert it would be a perfect meal. I guess Chewbacca and Darth Vader will have to wait for Christmas.

Kita the Adventure Dog

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It was the summer of 2005 when we were visiting a close friend down in Kamloops BC, about 6 hours drive from our home.  In the backyard that our friend shared with his neighbor was this scrawny little pup that was, for the most part, neglected by her owners.  This pup was the friendliest little thing we had ever seen, with a complete love for people – even though people are the beings that neglected her to the point of near starvation, her ribs visible all down her gaunt frame.  We approached the owners and offered to take her but they insisted that they would take care of her.  When we left we ensured that there was some food on hand and that our friend would continue to feed her, as he had been, in the owners absence.  On the drive home we talked about the pup, wondering if we should have stolen her even, but we decided that with our buddy watching out for her she was better off than in a shelter at least so we left the situation alone.
A couple of weeks after we had gotten home the phone rang with that fateful call; it was our friend from Kamloops.  “Those guys dont want the dog” he said.  “They told me to tell you that if you dont take her they will get rid of her.”  Not wanting to know what they meant by “get rid of her” we quickly loaded up the truck and headed back down for the five hour drive to save the pup.  Her name was Kita and at this point in time we had no way of knowing just how lucky we were for this chance series of events.
Once we got her home she very quickly bonded with us, eager to please after the months of neglect that had equaled her puppyhood.  Carla, my wife, used pieces of hotdog as rewards and had her trained to do all of the basic commands inside of one day.  Kita the wonderdog was earning her place in our hearts already.  A trip to the vet gave her a clean bill of health and he told us that she hadnt been spayed so we should plan for that once she heated.  He also warned that the poor upbringing may cause later health issues that were impossible to predict, and may in fact shorten her life.  As for the breed, she was anybodys guess.  Possibly a shephard cross, maybe some retriever; She was so skinny that the possibility of there being some greyhound in her was even mentioned.  Whatever she was, she amazed us everyday with her love, good nature and willingness to learn.
For awhile there was nothing to do but let her put on some weight and settle in with our kids and other dog.  And thats when we noticed the brain damage, or at least thats what I thought she had.  Every now and then we would observe her running frantically in circles, head turned sideways, staring straight up in the sky and barking.  As much as I looked, I could find no reason for this – there was never a bird or anything visible that would justify this insanity.  We honestly figured that being starved may have stunted her brain development.  Then one very quiet afternoon I DID notice something when she started her escapades:  the faint rumble of a jet taking off at the distant airport.  Once we started to pay attention, she did her crazy circles right on schedule with the airport departure flights.  We then realized that the yard that she had been locked in for her puppy months was very close to the airport in Kamloops.  The assumption is that the planes over head were one of her few sources of entertainment and stimulation when she was small, so she “played” with the planes when she heard them.  Although it lessened over the years this strange behaviour never ended completely, with Kita chasing invisible planes she could hear in the distance right up to her last day.  She even taught this ritual to one of our other puppies in later years; I always wished I could hear her thoughts for this.
Over the years Kita quickly learned her place in our “pack” as the protector of the kids.  Whenever they were going for a walk or hike in the woods, we sent Kita along and had no worries that she would die before she would let anything happen to her “people”.  She tangled with her share of animals on our acreage as well, with occasional trips to the vet for patching up after run ins with a bear, a fox and a porcupine.   Her absolute trust in people amazed even the vets as she would simply look for you to say “its ok Keeds, you’re a good girl” and then she would lie there perfectly still for stitches or quill removal, whichever the situation warranted.

As life went on, the adventures continued and Kita took it all in stride.  She loved chasing sticks and would fetch them until she would drop if you let her, her toys taking precedence over almost anything.  Anything, that is, except food.  As a side effect of being starved when she was younger, Kita never did fully understand that yes, there would in fact be another meal coming.  Some dogs can be free fed, just taking a few bites when hungry, leaving thier bowl partially full at all times.  This was not how Kita approached it.  Her mentality was to err on the side of caution by wolfing down every last crumb in her dish and then check for more.  Sometimes she found “more” in another dogs bowl or, if we were unfortunate enough to leave the food bin open, she hit the jackpot and could merrily pack away a week or two’s worth of food in one sitting.   I guess she figured you just never know.
When picking a dog we always say you have to research the breed and pick one that suits your lifestyle.  Too many times you see a dog that is completely out of its element, fighting its instincts and physical attributes to fit in with a lifestyle it wasnt meant for.  Obviously we didnt have the luxury of being selective with Kita, but if we had we dont know how we could have made her fit our outdoor lifestyle any better.  Kita was so perfectly at home with us out in the bush, be it Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter.  Hiking, snowmobiling, quad rides, camping, berry picking, Christmas tree hunting: she did it all and loved every second of it.  Kita trusted her people to never hurt her and as such would ride anywhere or do anything we asked her to:  on the quad, on the snowmobile, in a skimmer towed behind the snowmobile, she was up for any challenge. At the lake Kita would often join Carla in the canoe, sitting in the bow for a morning paddle,  watching the sun rise while the kids were still in bed.  She knew that when she got back to the campsite she would be rewarded with campfire bacon and toast.  I mean Kita not Carla of course, although Carla never shied away from the bacon either.
The soft side of Kita was also unmistakable as her empathy for everyone shone through.  If you were upset or not feeling well she would lick your hand and lean against you just to let you know she was there.  If you were in bed she would try to weasel under the covers in a not very subtle attempt at being sneaky.  If a child cried she would be noticeably upset and would not settle down until you told her it was okay.  She didnt always know what was going on but if you werent happy, she wasnt happy.
All was not perfection with this glorious beast however.  She had a few small quirks that we grew to love as just being part of her charm.   She never stopped wolfing her food down.  She was always oily which, while it gave her a nice shiny coat, made her smell very strongly of “dog”.  And lastly, she had this little habit of needing to poop about 15 seconds into a walk, wherever that happened to be.  Everytime.
And now our time together has come to an end.  Through failing eyes, failing ears, failing teeth and failing joints our superdog was tired from a life well lived on this planet.  She was able to handle everything that life threw at her but, like the rest of us, time is the ultimate adversary and Kitas battle was a gloriously fought one.  She is now resting peacefully high atop a mountain, overlooking the valley of lakes and rivers in one of her favourite areas, with her stick by her side.  She exceeded expectations and gave us thirteen amazing years of love and friendship.

RIP adventure dog.  We love you.
 

Look For the Helpers

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How many times have you heard someone say “I have lost all faith in humanity?” How many people yearn for the “good old days” of people helping people instead of the egocentric, self-serving examples of human action that we see far too often in today’s world? Sometimes it seems like we are alone in this life, with very few people who are willing to help in a time of need, willing to sacrifice their own time for the good of others. Sometimes it seems like there is very little “good news” to be found. And then there is this last week.
As the fires in BC rage on, tens of thousands of people have been forced from their homes, sometimes on very short notice and leaving with minimal supplies to head to neighboring communities, hoping to find a bed or a place to park. Being evacuated from your home, disrupting your family, your job, your life – not knowing when you can go back or if you will even have a home to go back to, has to be an incredibly stressful time. In times of tragedy, Mr Rogers once famously said to “Look for the helpers – you will always find people who are helping”. This past week one certainly does not have to look very hard to find them, and the people stepping up to help have left me to sit here in a state of disbelief – quite frankly I am in awe.
In the recent days we have seen people open up their homes and yards to displaced families, taking in strangers without any expectations of compensation; Taking them in simply because they needed somewhere to stay. We have seen campgrounds open their gates, waving fees and organizing food drives for people with RVs. We have seen hotels offer free or deeply discounted rooms for other evacuees. Restaurants, pubs and catering services have also come on board with offers to help those in need. Child minding businesses have offered free daycare for children who have had to leave their homes behind.
Pets and livestock from the affected areas have not been forgotten, with literal heroes driving into danger with trailers, hauling horses out to safety, setting up areas to keep them and dispersing literal tonnes of donated hay out to feed them. Shelters began to pop up for smaller pets as well, with dogs, cats, birds and other loved animals being fostered or looked after by volunteers, with food and supplies being donated by pet stores and other animal loving people.
As the most basic human requirements of food and shelter are being taken care of, even more people jumped in with offers to help make the evacuees stay a little more comfortable – Laundry services have been donated, Hair and beauty salons are offering free haircuts and styles to the evacuees, Gyms have offered the use of showers and equipment and delivery companies have been taking donated goods and foods to areas as needed – again for no charge.
We have Mobile mechanics and Mobile tire repair people out and about, fixing peoples vehicles so their cars and trucks are available to them, many times using parts and services donated from other (potentially competitive) businesses. We have people loading up their trucks with fuel and heading out on the highway, topping up anyone who has been caught between gas stations without enough in the tank to make it to their destination. We have people setting up road side stands, offering free snacks and drinks to weary travellers that have been on the road for many hours. We even have mobile septic companies travelling around to empty the tanks of people who are staying in their RVs in areas with no available sani-dump.
We have seen individuals from other Provinces load up trailers with food, clothing, water and fuel and drive for hours, or even days to get to the evacuations centers and distribute these goods. Some of these people travelled from areas such as Fort McMurray, who knows the horrors of a fire and evacuation all too well and perhaps still have not fully recovered from the events of last summer – yet they are finding the time and energy to head West and help others.
Radio and television crews, news teams and on air personalities have cancelled holidays and thrown the shift schedules out the window, working endlessly to bring us up to date and accurate information about the fires, the evacuations, the alerts and the highway closures.
And then there are the front line people – I honestly could write a book on these people who already work to protect us on a day to day basis and are now stretched to the breaking point, working tirelessly to save lives and save towns. The countless volunteers at the check in centers for the evacuees. The Firefighters, RCMP officers, Search and Rescue members, Armed Forces, Ham radio operators, Volunteer fire departments, Paramedics, First responders, traffic control – the list goes on and there really is not much left to be said but THANK YOU ALL.
I am sure I am overlooking other examples and if you feel left off of this list I am truly sorry, there are no intentional omissions in this little dissertation – I merely wish to point out how humbled I am by the groundswell of goodwill we are witnessing. You make me proud to be a part of this community, you make me proud to be a part of this Province and you make me proud to be a part of this Country.

Oh Canada!

What I really want for Fathers Day

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As it’s June now and us dad’s have our big day fast approaching, I thought I would take a few moments and write a wish list for my girls for father’s day.  I know I can be hard to shop for and sometimes finding the perfect gift is difficult so this handy little guide should make your life easier.    First off I want you to be happy.  Continue to follow your dreams.  Continue to push your limits and continue to amaze me at every turn.  You have all become such extraordinary young women that you leave me in astonishment every day.  You are all destined for great things and I cannot wait to see you fulfill your dreams.  Don’t let anything or anyone stop you.  Next, of course, I want you to be healthy.  I know as young adults it’s easy to get sidetracked and perhaps not eat as well as a person could but please try.  Trust me when I say that the day will come when you will regret poor eating habits.  Finally, please forgive me if I’ve ever done anything that has seemed less than 100% in full support of you and your ambitions.  I’ve never claimed to be perfect and I have tried my hardest to do what I’ve believed to be best for you.  If I’ve failed at any portion of this it was absolutely not intentional.

P.S. – I know that as life happens we all end up moving and living farther apart from one another but whenever possible, please humour me with our annual attendance of the father’s day show and shine.  I realize that wandering around sweating in the hot sun with a giant crowd of people, looking at cars that you don’t particularly care about, is not likely that high on your “fun” scale  but trust me – this is truly one of the highlights of my year.    Oh yeah, I absolutely love the gifts and cards that you make for me too… *hint hint*

 

May contain wheat – unlike my pet rock

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I freakin love hamburgers. There, I said it.  Judging by the number of hamburgers that are consumed worldwide I can also only surmise that I am not alone.  I’m pretty sure McDonalds didn’t change the “billions served” sign solely because of me, although in my burger hayday I certainly did my part to help.  I am telling you about my burger infatuation because it provides you with some integral background information for my little story.  You see due to some health questions recently within the family we started investigating a few various issues with food intolerances.  After some testing and a Doctors consultation it was revealed that a couple of members of our family do not get along with wheat, or more specifically Gluten, in our digestive tract.   No problem, if something doesn’t agree with you then don’t eat it, right? Just like that we were on our way to a GF (gluten free) lifestyle.

For those of you that do not know, gluten is nothing more than an enzyme that is found in wheat. At least according to chemistry it is.  According to my stomach it is a tiny ball of demon spit encased in razor blades.  So I only have to avoid eating wheat, and life is good!  As it turns out, this was not such an easy a plan.  Apparently food manufacturers have some time ago figured out that wheat is a very cheap filler and that it should be added to EVERYTHING.  I started off thinking that all I had to avoid was bread which, in itself, was a cause of mild panic.  Sandwiches, buns, toast and yes, HAMBURGERS were all literally off the table.  Ok, I can do this – I am strong, I shall overcome… wait, WHAT?!?  I also cannot have any normal baking such as cinnamon buns, donuts, muffins, cookies, cakes or pastries?  Relax, just breathe, no problem, I am still strong enough… I think.  Oh I have to remove pizza too as well as any breaded deep fried goodness such as fish and chips or prawns or wontons.  Ok, this isn’t fun anymore.  We are now starting to severely impact my diet along with my will to live.   Much like a boxing match with no referee, (or a 1970s TV record album) the hits keep coming; Cereals, salad dressings and puddings were added to the list along with most any kind of processed meats:  sausages, hot dogs, pepperoni, deli meat, etc.  Instead of simply avoiding one item that I couldnt eat, I quickly found myself searching for things that I could eat.  Or perhaps just stop eating and die – that was beginning to look like a viable option.

One of the first things I noticed about trying to avoid gluten is that there are a lot of people doing the same thing right now. There are actually people who are eating gluten free with no real medical reason to but hey, life is about choices and if they feel better not eating gluten then more power to them. It has become the equivalent of platform shoes or pet rocks – it seems like the cool thing to do at the time but history is going to look back and laugh.  This is helpful for those that actually require a GF diet in that it has opened the door to more choices as manufacturers and marketing teams scramble to cash in on the latest fad.  (Funny how money will drive new products when actual health reasons won’t, but that’s a topic for another day).  Unfortunately however it also means that most other people do not recognize a valid gluten intolerance and instead lump you into a group of annoying trend followers, the likes of which cannot order a coffee without sounding obnoxious.  Venti Iced Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato, Sugar-Free Syrup, Extra Shot, Light Ice, No Whip anyone?  You can almost hear the servers’ eyes roll inside their head when they are asked about GF options. The restaurants also like to ask you if it’s an allergy or a preference, and this is done so that they know how much they should care.  On a scale from one to ten, saying “allergy” gets you a care level of 0.5 and “preference” gets you a care level of negative twelve.  The respect that we glutenites garner is truly awesome.

Thanks in no small part to the gluten fad there has become a ton of GF options available at grocery stores now too. There are a couple of small yet notable problems with the many products that have hit the market to feed the GF craze.  The first is, for some reason when they take gluten (or wheat) out of a product they have to replace that void with approximately seven hundred chemicals, all with names that would make Mary Poppins think “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” was an abbreviation.  I took a bit of chemistry in school and I have a limited understanding of how things mix together but for the life of me I cannot understand how taking one item out of a formula can lead to the introduction of such a long list of other chemicals to replace it.  To put it bluntly, the running joke we have is that the words “gluten free” on a product simply means “chemical crapstorm”.  Now one would think that if you have the ability to mix chemicals and make food without worrying about how long the ingredient list is then it would at least be delicious, but you would be wrong.  This leads us to the second problem with many GF food products:   THEY USUALLY TASTE LIKE CRAP.   Unless of course you enjoy eating drywall putty or play-doh, you will most likely find that GF offerings can be a “little off” when it comes to taste and texture.  And by a little off I mean awful. I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that there are a few products out there that do manage to pull off their charade and actually do taste very good, but it takes some hunting to find them.  You’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince or something like that.

I have learned a lot about food in general during this new venture of ours. I have also found ingredient lists that have absolutely shocked me with what they contain.  On a serious note I urge everyone to read the labels on the food they eat.  I don’t mean skim it and pick out a couple of things you recognize, I mean read it to understand it.  Look up those words that you don’t know.  Find out what you are putting in your body.  Remember that a long word doesn’t necessarily mean a bad thing but you should at least know what it is, shouldn’t you?  I am actually thankful of the lessons that this has taught me about the ingredients in our food…if only someone would combine those ingredients to make me a cinnamon sticky-bun flavoured carrot stick my life would be complete.  Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go feed my pet rock.

Keeping your sanity: A non-political rant about politics

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I rarely get involved in politics on the internet.  And by rarely I kind of mean never.  Honestly I would rather stick needles in my eyes than get involved in a political argument online.  This does not mean I do not have my own thoughts and beliefs, I just know that the chance of winning a political argument online is about the same as the chance of me winning an argument with one of my daughters; At best I will walk away with a tiny shred of dignity and an appreciation for why some animals abandon thier young.
I do however keep a very open mind and I like to think that I can look at both sides of a position and take away some knowledge from almost any view that may help with a future political decision.  The key word here is “almost”.
Due to the ridiculous amount of political postings, rantings and musings of late it has become impossible to read them all, so I have devised a simple way to quickly weed out the postings in which you will find zero worthwhile content.  You know the ones, they are always full of misinformation, half truths or often outright lies, and even if there was potentially a worthwhile point to be made it is so shrouded in the authors obvious bias and disdain that the message is lost in a sea of negativity that is just not worth trying to navigate.  This brings us to my easy to use system.  This system of vetting possible informative posts is based on avoiding some “buzzwords” that are simple to spot.  If you find more than one of these buzzwords it’s time to scroll on – Life is too short.
The easiest way to lose my interest in a good debate is to start using silly name hacks.  These are things like “Trudope” for our prime minister, “Chrispy Clark” for the Premier of BC and any of the thousands of plays on the name “Trump”.   It doesnt matter on which side of the political fence I am sitting, as soon as you modify a person or politicians name I instantly know the level of intelligence I am dealing with. Insulting someone by rhyming or twisting thier name kind of ended in grade 5.  This includes calling a Conservative a “Harperite” and calling any Liberal a “Lieberal”.  How amazingly witty *insert eyeroll here*
The next word that is sure to lose my attention is “Sheeple”.  Beyond the basic annoyance of this word, to simply write off an opposing opinion as only following the masses is quite frankly an insult to free thinking people everywhere and lends zero credibility to their point.  I do think for myself thank you, and if that leads me to an opinion that coincides with the rest of the “sheep” then perhaps it is not me who is lost.  “Lemming” is another variant of this and should get the same treatment.
Very closely related to these terms is the ever popular demand to “do your own research”.  This is often lumped in with “I’ve done mine”.   The arrogance of this is, of course, mind-numbing.   Basically what they are saying is that they read some stuff online and it’s the absolute truth and what you believe is false so you need to take the time and learn… BUT they can’t be bothered to show you where their research lies.  That’s ok, believe me when I say that I can’t be bothered either, especially if your sole argument is to tell me that I just haven’t tried hard enough.
The next couple of ways to lose my interest in a post are a little less political and more into the conspiracy theory realm, although the two are very closely related and one usually leads to the other.  The first one is the use of the term “Big Pharma”.  For some reason people have developed this amazing ability to blame every problem in thier lives on “Big Pharma”; from housing prices to a dead battery in their car, some people are convinced that every aspect of thier life is manipulated by drug company CEOs and profits.  If your argument or point involves calling out “Big Pharma” please substitute the word “Sasquatch” instead – it will be more interesting and it will give you the small possibility that I may keep paying attention.  At least hearing how a Sasquatch has affected your life would be entertaining.
Continuing with the conspiracy side of political rantings, anything that has its origins with the root word “zion” is an instant way to get me to keep scrolling.   The most popular of these are “Zionist Plot” and “Zionist Shill”.  The subwords are almost enough to make the list on their own in fact.  As soon as you read “plot” you know you are on your way to a full blown, tin foil hat conspiracy theory and “shill” is just a cop-out for when someone cannot articulate any kind of argument on their own merits.  Losing an argument?  Just call the other person a “paid shill” which means that they are secretly working for “the other side” and therefore must not be believed.  Once someone has nothing left to say and cannot support thier point of view with facts then this is their easy backstop.  When you hear this term you know that the other person has zero credibility and offers nothing worthy of paying further attention to.  It’s time to move on.  

    Feel free to expand and update this list to fit your own preferences.  Some other danger phrases you may wish to watch out for would be: any “Matrix” references, all suggestions of a “New World Order” and silly blended words such as “Feminazi”.  It is very rare for any useful, interesting or meaningful points to be found when these terms are floating around.  Does ignoring posts with these words make a person uneducated?  Not at all.   It just helps to distinguish logic and reason from the rhetoric and noise.  Once you pay attention to when and where these terms pop up you will quickly see that reputable, rational and logical sources simply don’t use them at all.  Your sanity will thank you.