Category Archives: Travel with kids

Finally Feeling Festive, and Universal Studios: Wilder, Faster, Scarier, and Wetter.

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Normally I’m in full-on festive mode on November 1st, MAYBE November 2 if I’m exhausted from Halloween. But this year November didn’t feel very festive to me; too crazy, too busy, too sad. I was putting myself through the motions a little bit, but now after this weekend, I feel like myself again. It’s full on Nicole the Elf.

Friday was the first Friday night I have been at home since late August. So naturally, my husband had romantic plans for me: a trip to Canadian Tire. We bought a couple of strings of red Christmas lights to go with our icicles, light-up trees and animals, and other outdoor ornaments, plus two new extension cords. Woot. Then when we got home, he realized that we needed more clips for the lights, and recruited Mark to go with him. They came back with green spotlights, a light-up snowman and giant gift box, and eight glowing candy canes to make my lifelong dream of a candy cane lane come true. And they did get the clips as well.

My husband spent five hours arranging everything on Saturday, in the minus 25 degree weather, never once asking for my help, so there’s several stars on his heavenly crown. I made gingersnaps and we watched Love, Actually for the first time. Actually, I loved it!

Isn’t it funny how things like a movie or Christmas song can become combative and divisive? If you want proof that such things can be dramatically polarizing, just try mentioning Baby, It’s Cold Outside or Love, Actually. There are many arguments that Love, Actually is a terrible movie, and those arguments seem to be mainly based on the fact that it doesn’t show “real love” and isn’t “realistic,” has poor messages, etcetera. Have you SEEN the news lately? If anything is over-rated, it’s reality, and so when I watch a movie I want it to be as escapist as possible. I just want some good smooching scenes and a story line that doesn’t have anything to do with The End Of The World As We Know It, and therefore, I give Love, Actually two thumbs up.

Speaking of escapism, let’s talk Universal Studios!

We visited Universal Studios twice during our vacation, for a grand total of 18 hours and 29.6 kilometres of walking. Universal is, in the words of my husband, a lot more rock and roll than Disney. The rides are wilder, faster, scarier, and wetter. The big roller coasters: Hulk, RipIt Rocket, and Dragon Challenge all make Expedition Everest look like a children’s carousel. I am an intrepid roller coaster rider, and I actually thought I was going to black out on Hulk.

But the water rides, hoo boy. Last time we were at Universal, Mark went on a water ride called Dudley Do-Right’s Ripsaw Falls. He went by himself because the temperature was about 20 degrees and overcast and no one else wanted to get wet. He talked about it a lot, and since it was 30 degrees and humid when we were at Universal, Jake and I decided to accompany him. In my mind I envisioned something like Disney’s Splash Mountain – a few big hills with some splashing. I was not prepared for what happened. Fortunately – foreshadowing! – my husband decided to sit it out and hold my bag. The boys and I were getting on the ride when I asked the employee where I could sit to minimize getting wet. He looked at me with great amusement and said “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be soaked.”

This turned out to be only too true. After a few splashy downhills, I started to curse Mark for coercing me into this. Then, as we were heading up a tall hill in our little log, I saw it: a waterfall that we were going to go through. An actual sheet of water. By the time the ride was over, my hair – which was in a bun – was plastered to my head, I had mascara streaks down my cheeks and on my chin, leaving only a few spikes on my actual eyelashes, and I was participating in my own personal wet t-shirt contest, the ONE DAY I wore a white tank top instead of a black tank top. Believe me when I say it was the saddest wet t-shirt contest ever.

If you love being clammy and wet for an entire day, I recommend this ride. Otherwise – maybe take a pass. I did see some young girls going on all the water rides, smartly dressed in bikini tops and little shorts, like the Florida veterans they were. I am not normally a “Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top” kind of girl, also being 41, but I tell you that I envied them, as my tank top clung to me clammily as the sun went down.

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Universal has all sorts of Marvel Comic rides – like the aforementioned Hulk, and Spider Man. It did make me wonder what would happen to those rides, now that Disney has bought Marvel. At any rate, the Universal employee costumes are much, much better looking than the Disney ones, as you can see here.

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One of my favourite parts of Universal was Krustyland. If you’re a Simpsons fan, this is very fun, and all the employees are dressed in Krustyland red-striped sideshow shirts.

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That’s me BEFORE the water ride.

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If you’re lucky, and you time it right, you can even fulfill your lifelong dream of getting your photo taken with Krusty the Clown and Sideshow Bob. I had to wait until the second day to do this, but it was strangely exhilarating.

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Don’t I look excited?

Of course, Universal is home to Harry Potter land, and I will admit something right now: I’m not a Harry Potter fan. I mean, I’m not NOT a fan, but I have never been interested in seeing any of the movies or reading the books. I live with three fans, however, and they were enthralled. Hell, I was enthralled too. The detailing is amazing and if you have passes to both sides of Universal – both Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure – you can take the Hogwarts Express between the two. We did that many times and it was really special.

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The train takes you between Hogwarts and Diagon Alley.

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My mother-in-law had given the kids money to buy wands at Diagon Alley, and it was a really special experience. You do not just walk in, grab a wand, and pay for it. There’s a whole wand ceremony, and throughout Diagon Alley are spots to use the interactive wands. If the wand-holder does the “spell” correctly, it activates a display – a water fountain spurts, a bird starts flapping its wings, a hat floats into the air. It is well worthwhile for fans and non-fans alike.

The 3D adventure rides – there is one at Gringott’s Bank and one at Hogwarts Castle – are a lot of fun but beware! I felt a little queasy and nauseous at the Hogwarts one, which has you flying through the air playing Quiddich. As I mentioned, I have a stomach of steel for roller coasters but this one did make me feel a bit off.

On the other end of the spectrum is the Who-ville Land, all gentle rides meant for the Dr. Seuss set. I forced the kids to go on a couple of those rides and we actually got stuck for a few minutes on the Cat and the Hat ride. We were stuck in the living room, on a ride shaped like a couch, for probably less than five minutes, but with the continuous loop of children’s music it felt like a lot longer. It reminded me of a colleague of my husband’s, who was once stuck on It’s A Small World for 45 minutes. This was what she looked like afterwards:

Anyway, if you have little ones it is a nice, quiet part of the park. Plus, at Christmas it’s all decorated up.

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At five o’clock on most days Universal hosts a parade, and if you’re there at Christmas, it is a copy of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. We missed it by one day when we were there, but we had seen it on our previous trip, and it is a lot of fun.

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Ah, look at that outfit. I am currently wearing two sweaters, knee-length wool socks, jeans, and fuzzy slippers and I am FREEZING. It looks like it has warmed up to minus 13 (minus 22 with wind chill!) and I really should put on eight more layers to take poor beleaguered Barkley out for a walk. I also have teacher gifts to make (these, if you’re interested, and maybe some of this or this) because the last day of school is FRIDAY THE SIXTEENTH WHAT THE HELL SCHOOL BOARD. All of which is to say, my frozen fingers are signing off. xo

Disney’s Animal Kingdom, or “What’s a Yeti?”

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Good grief, it is cold in Calgary right now, even by Calgary standards. Preparing the children for school feels a bit like that Hoth scene in The Empire Strikes Back – “My friend is out there!” – and all the dogs in the city are going slowly mad, stuck in the house. Spare a thought for the elementary school teachers who have nothing but indoor recesses as far as the eye can see.

On that note, I’m longingly thinking of last week, when I felt a bit too hot. I miss that feeling, and so I’m revisiting the Disney parks, one by one, in my mind.

Animal Kingdom is my favourite of the Disney parks, and it is also the most beautiful, with carefully crafted and wonderfully detailed homages to parts of Africa and Asia, and also a section called Dinoland USA.

Small digression: none of the costumes/ uniforms worn by park employees are in any way attractive or flattering. In fact, it’s almost as if Disney wants their employees to be as androgynous and sexless as possible, and selects clothing for that purpose. However, the costumes worn in Dinoland USA are by far the worst, as far as appearances go. Bright red blouses with blue sleeves and yellow collars are paired with yellow slacks with a green dinosaur motif and red dinosaur footprints on the butt. I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about the costume, and were the Dinoland USA employees disappointed when they were assigned such outfits to wear, and how many costumes were each employee assigned? If you were working at Dinoland USA did you have several of those pants hanging in your closet, or would you have to always be doing laundry? Because it would seem a bit depressing to open a closet to several of those costumes hanging there.

Then I started thinking about the employees’ welfare in general. Disney is by all accounts an excellent employer, but I wondered which job would be worse: working in the Florida heat and humidity all day, or being inside in a dark and loud, icily air-conditioned indoor ride? I can imagine it would be hard to work in the unrelenting heat all day, but I think it would be worse to never see the sun, only the artificial dim lighting in the indoor rides, along with the cacophony of screams and ride noises and terrible music. I started to worry about those employees and their Vitamin D levels, and if it wasn’t weird, I probably would have asked them if they were taking supplements.

Not to mention the air-conditioning, my god, the air-conditioning. Maybe it’s just my frozen Reynaud’s hands and feet talking, but the air-conditioning is something else. Floridians must really love their air-conditioning because it seems to be set on “hell has frozen over” at all times. Our hotel room, each time it was serviced, was turned down to 64 degrees Fahrenheit, and each time a door opened I was subjected to an icy blast. Tip: if you go, take a long-sleeved shirt with you to put on every time you go indoors, because it is shocking.

That was a long digression.

Animal Kingdom is truly beautiful, and if there is one thing Disney does well, it’s the details.

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See what I mean? The Kilimanjaro Safari is a very lovely ride, and we went once in the morning and once in the late afternoon, and both times were very different and wonderful.

flamingos

I loved flamingos as a child, because my favourite colour was pink. I still love them, and they are so funny to watch, because they are constantly turning their heads from side to side, like they can’t EVEN with things.

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Animal Kingdom is home to my favourite ride of all: Expedition Everest. If you are a fan of wild roller coasters, this one is fantastic. Conversely, if you are not a fan, DO NOT GO ON THIS. Last time we were here, the whole family went on it and my husband and younger son had motion sickness because of it. But I loved it and went twice this trip; once on my own and once with Mark.

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There’s usually a long wait, and Disney makes the wait kind of fun, because of all the little details and story-telling along the way. The story is that you are in a museum dedicated to “Yeti research” and so there are little vignettes about the last expedition, and the cameras they found that had hairy blurred faces in them, and so forth.

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So it’s all yetis, all the time at Expedition Everest. Every single display tells a yeti story, so I found it quite funny when I was almost at the front of the line and it became apparent that not everyone shared my joy in soaking up the little details. One of the little displays had a giant cast of a “yeti footprint” and the woman behind me said to her teen daughters, “Oh look, that must be a big beehive or wasp nest or something.”

One of the girls rolled her eyes and the other said “MOM, it’s supposed to be a footprint? Of a yeti?”

The mother, who apparently had not taken in anything in the previous twenty-five minutes, said “What’s a yeti? Did you girls learn about this in school or something?”

I wonder how she felt about the ride itself, which features a shadow play of a yeti ripping the train track off in front of you, and then has a giant animatronic yeti growling at you.

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We spent nine hours at the park and walked 14.3 kilometers, and it was worth every step. My kids and husband would probably want me to tell you that their favourite ride was Dinosaur, which is kind of fun and features a video preamble with Phylicia Rashad. That got me thinking about her, and wondering about her life as Mrs. Huxtable, because standing in line a lot will do that to you. What do Phylicia Rashad and Dinoland USA have in common? They occupy Nicole’s thoughts a lot at Animal Kingdom, I guess.

On that note, I’m off to bake bread and make lentil stew, because if there is something that is missing at Disney World, it’s lentils. I may be the only person who noticed their omission though. Have a beautiful weekend, and stay warm. xo

People are people

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A cold snap has hit the city and it’s hit me especially hard since I just got back from a week in Florida on Sunday night. The past day and a half have been an absolute blur of writing, working, yoga teaching, housecleaning, grocery shopping, and laundry. Dear lord, so much laundry. A week in Florida was the longest time I’ve gone without doing laundry, and there was an absolute mountain of it. Today I put the fuzzy flannel sheets on the bed, making for an even six giant loads in the past 36 hours.

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But it was all worthwhile, this thudding back into reality. It was a great vacation which I’ll write about in more detail a little later. I don’t want to forget a thing.

I love travelling and I love coming home; I love meeting people and talking to people and people watching, and then I love coming home to my cozy little house filled with Christmas music and yummy, non-fried food. It’s really interesting, the people you see when you travel far from home. I mean, some people are more interesting than others, like the very drunk man who got escorted out of the Disney resort with no shoes nor shirt, only shorts that he had urinated in. I was outside reading, waiting for the Disney Magical Express to take me to the airport, when I noticed him being held upright between two Disney employees clad in white pants and brightly coloured shirts. It was 1:15 pm and you have to wonder, was he drinking at the Drop-Off Bar at the Big Blue Pool? How does one get that drunk at a Disney resort? Yes, there is a cacophony of children and tinny music, but is that any excuse to pee your pants? Sir, focus on making better choices.

On the other end of the spectrum was the emotional and heartfelt employee at the shop in the Orlando airport. My husband had given the person in front of us a penny (they still have pennies in the States!) so she could receive an even amount of change back, and the employee was so touched by his “generosity” that she discussed it with us for two solid minutes. I don’t mean to take away from his penny, but her gratitude exceeded what I thought was appropriate. Then, while I purchased breath mints and fruity Mentos, she chatted with me for several minutes about my accent (“Are you from Scotland or Ireland?” she asked, and seemed a bit disappointed when I said Canada.), my trip to Disney World, and her impending head cold. Meanwhile, the lineup behind me was increasing rapidly. The next person in line got similar treatment so I think that woman was in her element, working the cash register in the shop where she could meet and chat with people from all over the continent, and maybe even the world.

As a sidebar, I was purchasing breath mints and fruity Mentos as a last resort, as what I really wanted was gum for the flight. But – fun fact – there is no gum for sale in the entire Orlando International Airport. Gum cannot be acquired for love or money. The reason, as I found out from listening in to another conversation that the employee was having, is that there is carpet. Were people spitting their gum onto the carpet? I guess so. It must have been a large enough problem to do away with gum altogether.

All of which is to say that if you’re travelling in that area and you want gum, bring it from home. Just don’t bring any Kinder Surprises, if you know what I’m saying.

Speaking of contraband items, one of my very favourite things about Disney World and Universal Studios is that they really make sure no one is packing heat in the parks. I don’t know about you, but I find that incredibly relieving. Disney does a thorough bag check AND “random” checks with metal detectors. It’s not really random because both my husband and I received those checks on Wednesday night after we were running from the bus to the park entrance, so as to not miss our Fast Pass window. Our Fast Pass for Space Mountain expired at 6:50 and we got to the park at 6:35 so we were sprinting past the scooters and slow-moving foot traffic. Do not do this if you don’t want to seem like a suspect. I was happy to comply, of course. I’d happily go through a physical pat-down if it meant I could enjoy Big Thunder Mountain without worrying that there was a disgruntled/ angry/ unstable armed person around. Universal Studios does not do random checks – everyone goes through the metal detector, just like at the airport.

Another thing about Disney is that they issue “Magic Bands” to wear on your wrist, that can be synced with all your personal information, your phone, your passes, and even your credit card. It’s an incredibly efficient system, but at times it is a little startling. I was in line for Expedition Everest, when one of the signs that they change to keep things interesting flashed “Welcome Nicole!” It was both Big Brother-ish and kind of nice. I mean, it’s nice to be welcomed.

The elderly lady sitting next to me on the plane ride from Calgary was a little worried about not being welcomed in the Orlando airport. Her husband was behind her, a lesson for everyone to just pay the $10 so you can choose your seats, and she kept craning her neck around to shout conversation starters at him, which he did not seem to respond to. I don’t know if she was brand new to flying, or just super excited to get free refreshments, or both, but every time the cart came around she would order three different drinks, a hot one, a cold one, and water. When asked if she wanted cookies or pretzels she said both, every time, and then stashed them in her purse with an expression that showed her joy in scoring such treats at no cost. Throughout the flight she kept shouting to her husband “Three hours left!” and I would look at my watch and see that there was only two hours, but not think much of it.

The pilot announced that we were starting the descent into Orlando, and the lady went OFF. The flight was an hour early! Why was it so early! She checked her ticket and the time was WRONG on the ticket! The time of arrival was supposed to be 4:45 and here it was only 3:15! The airline messed up and now she was going to be waiting for AN HOUR at the airport because no one would be there to meet them! This went on for some time until her husband finally shouted back that it was 4:15 and she must have set her watch wrong when they landed in Calgary.

Oh.

I later saw them at the luggage carousel, happily with people who I assumed they were staying with. It’s nice when things work out like that.

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The Friday before we left, I came home from teacher training to find that the boys and my husband had brought up the tree and ornaments from the basement, so we could decorate before leaving for Florida. It was the best surprise ever, and now my house feels wonderfully Christmassy. We bought a new tree this year, after several years of my husband putting the tree up and saying “We need a new goddamn tree, this one is terrible.” We couldn’t decide on white lights or coloured, and so we found one that has a white light setting, a coloured light setting, and a setting that cycles between the two. I love it so much.

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Oh, what’s that I’m holding? My teacher training certificate! It’s official now, and I’m as happy as can be. Plus, get a load of the tree! It’s gorgeous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some laundry to fold. xo

Life is a destination. No. Wait.

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I feel like I’m in some weird time warp and also, like I’m Laura Ingalls at the beginning of the Long Winter, with a sense of foreboding about the months to come. There’s snow on the ground and it’s cold, cold, cold. I dug out my thick woolly legwarmers and enormous warm mittens today, to take Barkley for a walk. It snowed all weekend, much to my dismay.

Friday my husband loaded up the van and took the boys and dog to my in-laws’ for Thanksgiving, eight hours away. It snowed or sleeted most of the way, but was otherwise uneventful. I had teacher training until late Saturday afternoon, so the plan was for me to fly out Saturday night, and drive back home all together on Monday.

Side note to say that Friday was the first time in years – I don’t even know how long – that I was all by myself in the house, without even the dog to keep me company. It was bizarre, not having anyone else’s schedule or needs to think of. Mind you, the days prior to that were a blur of preparing and packing and getting everyone else ready, but come Friday, I realized it was just me. I didn’t have to let the dog out, I didn’t have to feed anyone except myself. All I had to do was make it to class on time, and that’s it. It was a little surreal.

Another side note: since my husband took the van, I was driving his three-quarter-ton truck. Technically I could have taken his car, but the thought of it possibly getting dinged in the parking lot of the yoga college was too much to bear. I don’t think I could stand that kind of pressure. Plus, the snow had started and the plain fact of the matter was that if I – god forbid – was to get in an accident, being in the giant truck would be much preferable than being in a little sports car, on so many different levels. One of those levels would be that my husband would be much less upset if the truck was in an accident, than his girlfriend/ car. The other was that I felt eminently safer in the truck. You can’t hurt me, motherfuckers, you can’t even try, I thought to myself from my much-higher-than-normal vantage point. This is what driving a three-quarter-ton truck will do to you. I’m not excusing my behaviour, I am just stating a fact. You try it, and tell me it’s no different from driving a minivan. You cannot. I felt like one of those guys on one of those gold mining shows, but with much lower stakes. And less gold.

I will admit I felt a little strange when I drove it to the homeopathic dispensary. I mean, it has an elk decal in the back window.

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I am pretty spoiled, on account of my nice van with its heated seats and its sharp turning radius and its keyless entry. Despite my newfound extreme driving confidence, I found myself feeling slighted at having to actually use a key to turn on the engine, like a barbarian. And the radio stations were not tuned to my favourite Hits of the 70s and 80s. However, those inconveniences paled in comparison to my new Don’t Mess With Nicole I Am Woman Hear Me Honk The Horn of This Big Truck kind of way.

I also felt slightly ridiculous in that I left a lot of extra time, in anticipation of the roads and traffic being awful with the snow, and it turned out there were no delays at all. I ended up at class a full fifty-five minutes early, so I sat in the cab of The Truck, pressing “Like” on all the Instagram posts that had cute animals and photos of food in them.

Saturday was even gloomier than Friday; the snow kept falling intermittently and, alarmingly, a fog started to creep in. It is hardly ever foggy here, being landlocked in the middle of the Prairies, but the fog indeed rolled in. The last time it was foggy I was also due to fly out of town, if you recall. All through class on Saturday I kept glancing out the window, where it was evident the fog was getting thicker and thicker. I kept checking my flight status app and all was on time, no delays. O-kay. I rushed home after class, caught a cab to the airport, sailed through security, checked again. Flight – on time. I sighed with relief and sat at the bar to order a glass of wine. No sooner had my wine appeared than my husband called, to tell me my flight had been cancelled.

Indeed, one check of my app and I saw the truth, updated one minute prior: CANCELLED.

Cancelled, and me with a full glass of wine.

Thirty minutes and 2000 steps later, I found I had been bumped to another flight, that was going through Edmonton. Edmonton! My one hour flight was now going to take much longer, but I would still get there. I sat down at the bar – again – and ordered a glass of wine – again – only to find out, ten minutes later that the flight to Edmonton was delayed and I now had a mere ten minutes to make the connection.

At least this time I had made a dent in my wine.

I trundled back to the gate, where I was chirpily informed that the plane hadn’t even arrived yet, and if it did arrive, I would hopefully still make my connection. “Hopefully” was not the term I wanted to hear, particularly since I had sent all my luggage in the car with the guys, and all I had with me was my makeup bag, a toothbrush, a hair brush, and my blow dryer. I was extremely unequipped to be stranded in Edmonton.

Too long, didn’t read; I ended up on the 8:05 am flight Sunday morning, which meant I had to grumpily get up at five after an anxious, unrestful sleep. The good news is that everyone was happy to see me, and we had a nice visit with a lot of people. I missed seeing my friend Sam (HI SAM) and I could have done without paying for three cab fares in less than twelve hours, but it’s all about the destination, not the journey, right? No? Oh.

My Face Says I’m Disappointed, But My Heart Says I’m Happy

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Well, hello there! So much has happened in the last two weeks; my husband took time off work and we Vacationed Like Nobody’s Business. First of all, the boys finished off their week of karate camp with a mini-tournament, and all I can say is that I really get Aly Raisman’s parents. I really do. I cannot imagine the nervous breakdown I would have in the highly unlikely event that my children were Olympic medal contenders, because I find myself sweating, with heart palpitations, just watching the karate kids sparring in a fun-tournament-that-has-no-real-consequences. Johnny, you’re a cream puff. It’s not just for my kids, either; I find myself all tied up in knots watching ANY of the students.

Happily, the mini-tournament went well, and the boys did not have to compete against each other too much, which was a huge relief. They are in the same belt and age group and so this has happened in the past; it is just as much fun as you might imagine.

Just as a quick side note: the only summer Olympic event I actually am interested in watching, albeit briefly, and never very closely, is women’s gymnastics, and unfortunately this is the only summer Olympic event my husband is NOT interested in watching. This means there is a lot of Ooh, look at that! kind of commentary, followed by total disinterested silence from the other spouse. Occasionally there will be a polite Ah! in response, but those Ah!’s are few and far between.

After karate camp, my husband took the boys Camping For Real, which meant that I stayed home and made avocado fries and kale chips and watched back-to-back episodes of NYPD Blue before falling asleep at 8:45. I also tried to soothe Barkley, who had apparently fallen into a deep depression after hearing the truck being packed up and being left behind. Poor puppy. Who can blame him? NYPD Blue isn’t everyone’s taste. He sat outside in the backyard, staring at the garage for hours, until I tempted him in with treats, only to go back outside again. It was like a less-sad version of that movie where the dog waits for his deceased owner at the train station until death finally releases him from this heart-breaking hopefulness.

God, now I’m depressed.

Vacation! Back to vacation. We spent a few days at my parents’ place, and the weather cooperated enough for us to not only go boating, but for the boys to go tubing and swimming as well. My dad snapped this photo of me, and it cracks me up.

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I look like I am Deeply Disapproving of all this Fun In The Water, but really, this is just what my face looks like in repose. I was fully approving of the aquatic good times, I swear.

We then spent eight days at my in-laws’ place, where we had not one but two lovely dinners with friends, I enjoyed a Girly Afternoon With The Girls complete with mani-pedis and lunch, the boys went swimming several times, my husband and I took not-sad-anymore Barkley for long walks along the creek, and we went bowling twice.

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Notice anything about this photo, other than my saucy bowling shoes? My shirt – which I chose while shopping with my mother, who thinks I wear Too Much Black – is not only colourful, it is long sleeved. It seems the below-average temperatures like to follow me wherever I go this summer. The chilliness didn’t really kill my summer buzz, but I would like more opportunities to wear my cute summer clothes before fall sets in.

To be honest, it kind of feels like fall has already set in; soon we’ll be doing things like wearing socks and sweaters and non-flimsy scarves. August is a bit of a funny month for me; for example, I spent this morning at the orthodontist, and next week the boys have appointments with both doctor and dentist. I need to make optometrist appointments, and I have to buy a LOT of clothes. I had the boys try on every clothing item they have, only to discover that Mark has zero pants that fit. Jake now has three pair of Mark’s old pants – the only ones that weren’t worn completely out – and nothing else. There’s only three weeks left of summer vacation!

Well, I need to cram some fun times into these final three weeks, as well as all the important health-and-clothing related business. Maybe I’ll take the kids to the amusement park, so I can look Deeply Disapproving there.

The Miracle of Flight

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I’m on the internet a fair amount, mostly because of work and writing related obligations, but also for the social aspect. I love all the photos of kids, puppies, vacations, food, and silly things, I love funny memes, I love updates about people’s lives. But with the internet comes a flip side, and although I should be deadened to it by now, I am not.

Yesterday I was flipping through Facebook and I noticed an article that had been shared a few times. I noticed, in particular, on one friend’s page that the aforementioned article had over thirty comments on it and – cue the ominous, Jaws-theme-song-type-music – I clicked on it.

I know what you’re thinking. Nicole! What’s wrong with you? Have you never been on the internet before? DON’T READ THE COMMENTS. I know. I know. I’m disappointed in myself as well.

The article in question was this one, that listed all the reasons people shouldn’t recline their seats on airplanes. The comments were mixed between I am going to recline my seat whether you like it or not, you whiny baby, deal with it and Everyone who reclines their seat is an inconsiderate asshole, every single one of them, reclining seats should be BANNED. There was really no middle ground; after all, this is an internet argument, and there is no room for middle ground here. Pick a side, people, there is no room on the fence.

This is where I out myself as the Switzerland in this airplane-reclining-seat-mortal-combat. I fly fairly often, and I don’t recline my seat, unless I am on a red eye, and then I definitely do, because I’ve taken Gravol within an inch of my life and will sleep and drool all over myself for the duration and I like to be reclined for that. Generally speaking, though, I sit up straight and I use the flight time the way God intended: to read, watch a crappy movie, or to stare blankly at the seat back for hours like David Putty on Seinfeld. I will also eat lots of free cookies and pretzels, but that’s about it.

Nor do I care if the seat in front of me is reclined. I’m fairly tall but I’m not a big person, and a reclined seat in front of me does not affect my airline experience in any major way. Sure, there might be slightly less room for my free cookies and pretzels on my tray, but I don’t really care. This is not the era of The Glory Days Of Airline Travel. We are not on the set of Mad Men. No one is sitting in cushy comfort with free cocktails and bathroom booty calls. We are all just crammed in and hoping for the best. I think we can all agree that airline travel these days is uncomfortable no matter what the situation, and for me, someone reclining their seat is not going to negatively affect my trip.

To be honest, I was kind of aghast that Reclining Seats Versus Not-Reclining Seats was such a vitriol-filled issue, and YES, I know, have I ever been on the internet before? No topic is too small or ridiculous to warrant heated discussion and name-calling. No topic is too minor to cause people to take sides and friendships to break up. This is the era of The Glory Days Of The Internet, and everyone gets to Air Their Grievances, just like it is Festivus somewhere, every day.

I like to think of myself as a positive person, as a mix between Sally Allbright and Maria von Trapp, going around singing lame songs all the time as I alphabetize my spice cabinet, but things like this make me gravely disappointed in all of humanity. I mean, for all I know the Asshole Who Reclines Their Seat has a bad back that makes it impossible to sit straight for five hours, and for all I know the Whiny Baby Complaining About Reclining is six foot six and the circulation below their knees is being cut off.

Whatever happened to Communicating Needs and Common Decency/ Respect for Fellow People? I don’t know how you would react, but if someone behind me asked me nicely not to recline my seat because it was bothering them, I would not recline my seat. I wouldn’t go off the deep end about My Rights As A Passenger To Recline My Seat. And similarly, if someone reclined their seat and for some reason it was bothering me, I feel that it would be okay to talk to that person and not assume that he or she was The Worst Person On The Face Of The Planet and start mentally plotting their demise.

Let’s all agree that a) airplane travel will always be a bit uncomfortable but it’s worth it to experience the Miracle of Flight rather than spend three weeks driving/ sailing somewhere, b) if we have an issue with something we will look at it at an individual level, rather than Painting Everyone With The Same Bitter Brush, and c) it’s impossible to choose between cookies and pretzels, instead ask for both.

Starting summer with a (lightning) bang

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Usually the last few days of school are accompanied by lots of feelings and emotions about the end of school; the kids are both excited at the thought of lots of unscheduled days ahead and worried about them, they are happy to be through with school and sad about not seeing their friends, they are looking forward to a new adventure and emotional about leaving their teachers and classrooms behind. But this year was different because as soon as school let out we have been swept up in a whirlwind of activity.

Thursday was the farewell ceremony for the Grade Sixes, followed by a dance which was – by all accounts – EPIC. Friday was the last day of school and we barely had time to bask in the glow of excellent report cards and excitement about new scholastic adventures before we headed off to the airport. My cousin was getting married the next day, and it was a big, old-fashioned family-reunion-type wedding. I was a teenager when I attended her baby shower, and it is very special to see someone who I used to babysit get married.

We rushed to the airport, which, in retrospect, was completely unnecessary. Sudden electrical storms had all flights grounded; no planes were taking off or landing for hours. As the time ticked by I started wondering if we were even going to be able to take off that evening. After a two-hour delay we finally boarded, but the electrical storms that had plagued us in Calgary followed us all the way to Regina. The entire ninety minute flight was extremely turbulent, and by “extremely turbulent” I mean “bouncing off our seats and swaying back and forth in the manner of a carnival ride.” The flight attendants were unable to do anything but remain seated with seat belts securely fastened. It was by turns terrifying and sickening, and when we finally landed I was relieved to see that the weather was fine. Sure, it was late and dark, but at least it wasn’t storming. We had a two-hour drive ahead of us on a bumpy, two-lane, secondary highway.

Half an hour into the drive, the electrical storms started again. Have you ever been in a prairie electrical storm? When lightning flashes, the entire sky lights up in a blinding flash, followed by complete darkness. This, along with a) oncoming traffic in the form of semis on a two-lane highway, and b) rain coming down in sheets, made for a very very long drive. By the time we got to our hotel, it was after midnight. I had been up for over 20 hours straight by that point, and the winds were so strong I had a hard time actually walking through the parking lot. We checked in, got into our room, I went to set up the pullout couch for the boys, and realized there were no linens or pillows for them. Since it was so late, we (read: my husband) had to go to the main desk and retrieve them. By the time we got the bed made up and everyone settled, I was beyond exhausted.

The next day I wondered how much makeup would be required to cover up my eye bags. The lighting in the bathroom was unflattering at the best of times, but after that day of travel, I looked about thirty years older. I kept asking my husband if that was what I really looked like, until he got irritated with the questions. I ended up taking selfies in different parts of the hotel room to see if there were any differences, happily, it wasn’t as desperate as I thought.

eyebags

We’re going to need a bigger makeup bag.

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Getting better…

Of course, I’m happy to say it was all worthwhile to see my cousin so happy, and married to someone who obviously loves her very much. I got to see cousins I hadn’t seen in twenty years or more (many of whom I used to babysit. See also: I am getting old.) My male cousins were good sports to dance with me even though they desperately didn’t want to. The boys and I did the twist, and I even danced with my dad, who complained that I don’t follow well. It’s true. I’m brutal.

I’m also happy to say that the trip home was much less dramatic. We did pass this motel on the way home, and it made me laugh.

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You guys, it has cable television AND in-room coffee. Why didn’t we stay there? Now that would have been an adventure.