Absolutely No Bumping

This is how your employer shows he really cares (or wants you back at work ASAP): a bubble wrap "helmet" and a delicious Edible Arrangement :)

Yes, it says "ABSOLUTELY NO BUMPING". None. Not even a little.

Helicopters, Fuel Trucks and Prairie Chickens! Oh My! AND "The Mom Vs. Bicycle" Incident

So it seems as though my new job has some pretty awesome perks to it. Things like actually being paid for the number of hours you work, not having pay deducted for time that you take to go to the bathroom, not having to work on Easter Sunday, and getting to go on impromptu helicopter rides followed by being allowed to drive a fuel truck (when, in fact, you were hired to be an office manager), AND STILL GET PAID!

To make a short story shorter, yesterday I flew up to Gypsumville (approx 250km Northwest of Winnipeg...with a big ol population of 285) with Jeff (our pilot) and Walter (the guy who does everything from ordering coffee to designing new camera systems for the helicopter).

C-FJPL our Bell 206 Long Ranger Helicopter

The purpose of this trip? Jeff had some work to do with Water Stewardship (or maybe it was Manitoba Infrastructure and Transportation), and I wanted to drive the fuel truck back to Winnipeg for no reason other than to say I have done it!

I named her "Big Bertha". She is old (1987), rusty, noisy, has a wimpy horn, and her seats are really bouncy. I like her :)

Like any good trucker I wore plaid for the occasion (unlike any good trucker, I showered that morning)

Walter and I stopped for lunch in some little town called Ashern, evidently known for nothing besides its giant prairie chicken (even though the website claims it is an ideal place to raise a family, settle in for retirement or start a business).

We then continued on, eventually stopping to fill up with gas (Charles, I finally found a truck that gets worse mileage than yours did! It averages out at 5 miles per gallon!). It was at that time that Walter decided to change the view of the CHASE camera (which was recently bought to use for aerial filming with the helicopter and Walter brought along to test out) to this:

 

Had I known I was being filmed I would have something more interesting than just sitting there, bouncing along and giggling to myself. I would have definitely honked the horn, because for the size of truck the horn sounds extremely wimpy (very similar to the Road Runners "meep meep!"), and maybe even made a clever joke or two. Unfortunately, I didnt do either of those things... and instead got caught saying something about how the muddy gas station window water (that Walter had just finished "washing" our front window with) probably didnt even contain water, just mud...but then realized that if it didnt contain water and just mud, it would be a solid....ah damn.

If you overlook the fact that that afternoon, while I was happily bouncing along saying unintelligent things about muddy water, my mom had been run over by a bicyclist on Fort St. and ended up in the emergency room at Health Sciences Center (but she is OK now, aside from what we assume is a mild concussion, some bruising, and general soreness (so I wont say more about it than that because she is embarrassed that weird happenings always have a way of finding her...)), it was a great day! 

On that note, I shall end this blog and go wait by the phone for everyone to start calling and demanding further explanation of what shall forever be known as "The Mom vs. Bicycle" incident.

More Laughs (Brought to you by Veteran Affairs Assistance Service)

It has been a while since I have poked fun at the military. Trust me, it isn't for lack of things to poke fun at, it's just that sometimes there there are other, more pressing, issues on your mind (like your partner going away for the better part of a year, or impending world doom).  Truth be told, Ive been feeling a little less than "good" lately, and it almost might be worth while calling the Deployment Support Center, but wouldn't you know it, I have no idea where I placed their number (if that remark wasn't funny then you should read THIS post).

Luckily, I was recently put back on some (prescribed) mood altering medication (the stuff my deployment support package should have come with in the first place). This means that my depressed mood has been replaced with a slightly more cheerful, albeit still sarcastic and cynical, mood.  That said, here is my random, sarcastic, and cynical, thought/rant for the day:

The Veteran Affairs Assistance Service is in cahoots with the Deployment Support Center when it comes to giving people useless junk.  

 
I find it ironic that a card with a 1-800 support line that is open 24/7 feels the need to place a "mood reader" on their business card. It is almost as if there the instructions should be edited to read "Hold thumb on square for a count of ten to indicate how stressed/troubled/worried/sorrowful/depressed you are. To avoid high call volumes, and longer than usual wait times, please only call us when square remains black."

Now dont get me wrong, there definitely needs to be a support service, such as Veteran Affairs, available to Veterans and their families. However, is it really necessary to put a device that apparently reads you mood on the back of the card?  Can't a business card just be a business card and nothing else? Must every support group available to me couple their support with novelty items? If so, leave out the practical, boring things (IE: sticker, plastic bookmark, magnetic ruler) and the weird mixed meaning things (IE: Big Grip jar opener, band-aide dispenser, mood calculating contraption) and put something in there that I can at least have some real fun with (IE: multicolored plastic monster finger puppets).

Good Things Come in Small Packages...

And when you order something from Stapes.ca, small things come in big packages.

That is a 12" ruler...

...a whole lot of protective cushioning...

...and a Micro SD card.

Part of me wants to give the packer of this box the benefit of the doubt and assume that they were out of smaller boxes at the warehouse. But you know what? I really doubt it.. Thank goodness shipping was free.

Happy Halloween!

This year I made the most of Halloween by decorating the apartment, making candy apples, carving a pumpkin with Charles and roasting pumpkin seeds. Of course we (and by "we" I mean Charles...) had to take a couple pictures of our pumpkin to share. Charles named him Milbert.

 

Like last year I feel the need to share another one of my favorite Halloween cartoons. Enjoy!

 The Skeleton Dance

Happy Halloween from all of us!

The Deployment Support Centre

An unknown author once said that when someone you love is deployed half of your heart is deployed right along with them. Since the Military is responsible for taking the someone away in the first place, they have tried to soften the blow by establishing the Deployment Support Centre that enables " all families and partners of deployed Canadian Forces Members [to] receive a consistent level of support from their home bases through contact with their chain of command."

Apparently part of this offer of  "support" comes to you through the mail in what I like to call the Pre-deployment Goodie Bag. 

Much like any other goodie bag, this one stocked full of things to help lessen the stress, anxiety and sadness that comes with a deployment. Prozac? No. Paxil? No.  Zoloft? No. Brochure with sad looking cartoon characters on the front to remind you how saying Good-Bye to him as he leaves is going to be one of the single hardest things you've ever had to do? Yes.

Band-aid dispenser (complete with Band-aids) to help patch up what is going to feel like a gaping hole in your heart once he is gone? Yes.

"The Big Grip" for use as a jar opener, non-slip coaster, light bulb remover, screw driver gripper, sink stop, garlic peeler (?!) and constant reminder that you no longer have a man around to do all of that for you? Of course, how practical.

Magnetic ruler, book mark and sticker? Yep, got them too. As to how these are going to make me feel better about Charles being gone for nine months...well, your guess is as good as mine.

Jokes aside, while I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind my "goodie bag", I must say that I am also slightly offended.  To me, as I am sure to anyone else that has had to go through the deployment of a  spouse or family member, deployment is not something that is taken lightly. It is a serious and potentially life changing experience that affects not only the person being deployed, but also the people they leave behind. As such, I feel that it should be treated in a respectful and mature way. I do not for one second think that a booklet depicting various depressing farewell scenarios, a jar opener, and a band-aid dispenser are anywhere near appropriate.

Bottom line? Deployment stinks. Even if you are one of the guys (or girls) that is sincerely looking forward to being deployed, there simply is no way for loved ones to be separated for any length of time without it being difficult for everyone involved. Giving someone a bunch of free junk doesn't make things any easier, or better. As my mom says, you can put glitter on shit, but it is still shit. 

So what would make it better? A simple, clean package with no bells, whistles or big grips. Let me know the support is there should I need it, provide me with any information that I may find useful in preparing for the deployment and, as a final touch, a simple yellow ribbon so that I too may show my support.

Boobie and The Beast

This is a story about a bird and a breast. My bird, and my right breast, to be exact. There really isn't too much to tell, although I am certain that I will somehow be able to draw this story out much longer than the actual event that took place.

It had been a particularly rough week with Cleo. She, for reasons only known to her, had decided to turn completely demonic. She didn't seem to know what the heck she wanted. When she was in her cage she would scream to be out, when she was out she would make a mad dash back to the cage only to scream to be let out once again as soon as you closed it and left the room.  If you managed to extract her from the cage by using a hand towel (dubbed "the extraction rag by Charles"), and make it far enough away so she couldn't make her way back to the cage, you'd most likely be bitten only minute later.

I decided that since she was being such a holy terror I would try and snap her out of her funk by removing everything and anything from her cage that she would try and nest with and be possessive over. Her beloved cardboard box was removed and hidden in the closet, her tent suffered a similar fate, and all paper products from the bottom of the cage were confiscated.. I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty as she ran around the bottom of her cage looking for her belongings. My feelings of guilt didnt last for long however, because as I walked out of the room Cleo (with the small amount of Bird Brain she possesses) was already planning on how she could exact her revenge.

If you over look the fact that both Charles and I had been up since 4:30am, the next day started out much like any other. Convinced that there was no way we were going to fall back asleep, and that it was a waste of time just laying there, both of us got out of bed at 5:30am. I, in an attempt to be productive, started doing accounting homework at 6am (you can imagine how well that went) and continued working away until 8:30am or so.

Since I only had 30 minutes left before I was scheduled to work, and the accounting was going less than well, I decided that I would take a break and spend some quality time with Cleo.  Roughly 15 seconds after "extracting" Cleo from her cage, Charles received this email on his Blackberry..

I just took Cleo out to spend some time with her before work and when I bent over partially to get something she ran right down my shirt and into my bra and started to bite me. Then I tried to get her out and she latched onto my finger and wouldn't let go. She bit me really deep.  And now I am crying. And I hope if someone reads this email they laugh because of how pathetic it is. I know I would.

Some people dont believe what they are told, they only believe what they see...and so for those people (and for the rest of you who are curious about the havoc that a yellow beast wreak upon one's bosom) here is photographic proof to back up my tale of woe. 

Bite marks and bruising

Chunk missing from my middle finger

And for those of you that scoff at my war wounds, I DARE you, come, have a yellow bird run down your shirt and see how well you fare!

This post is dedicated to Leanne who knows that that wrath of a lovebird is no laughing matter...