I Don't Always Workout...

I saw this on the interweb and it made me laugh. Partially because I know people like this, but mostly because I could easily be that person. 

I know so many people who actually do work out on a regular basis and have earned the right to post and brag a little. I have cousins and friends who run, on purpose. 5km, 10km, half-marathons, full marathons, triathlons. Some who ride bikes for 50-100km (or more) every day. When they post on Facebook, by golly they've earned it. Me? Umm... "I did 5 minutes of Kettlebells this morning and I'm exhausted." To me, that just seems like one of those "fishing" posts where someone puts up a self-depreciating status so everyone they know can chip in and tell them how wonderful they are.

So, every time I get the urge to let the Facebook community know that I did 4 pull-ups before crying like a little girl, I picture my post showing up right after someone who deserves to post. 

Friend: "Whew, just got in from riding my bike from Magrath to Taber and back. I'm a little tired, but I'll be better after breakfast."

Me: "Eight reps and I can barely move my arms..."

This is why I'll never be on the motivational speaking circuit. So as a favor to everyone, I'll spare you the details and disturbing mental images of my occasional brushes with fitness. It turns out, walking through the exercise room doesn't count as regular physical activity.

Adventures in Ikea

My sister gave me a shopping list (and money to go with it) for a few simple items she wanted from Ikea. Since I would be in Calgary and Edmonton this week (both have large Ikea stores), I figured it wouldn't be a problem. After all, how hard could it be to pick up a chandelier, 4 packs of plastic cups, and a swing? Clearly, it's been a while since my last trip to Ikea.

Remember the scene in Harry Potter where they set up the small tent and everyone goes inside to find a spacious, nearly palatial, setup with multiple rooms? That's what Ikea seems like to me. It might look large on the outside, but it's much bigger on the inside. The only thing worse than trying to assemble Ikea furniture and deciphering the instructions is trying to navigate through the store. Theseus had an easier time finding his way through the Labyrinth at Crete.

I start out on the second floor because I vaguely remember the kids' stuff being up there, somewhere. In retrospect, I should've seen warning signs in the number of bewildered looks from people wandering around against the flow of traffic indicated by the not-so-helpful blue arrows on the floor. I think the staff sit around at the company Christmas party and watch the store security videos to laugh at everyone wandering around lost.

I found the plastic cups relatively quickly, which gave me a false sense of hope. At this rate, I should be out of here in 10-15 minutes, tops. Not so much. This is when they start springing helpful signs like this one...

They should just put up a sign stating, "Now you're really screwed. It doesn't matter which way you go, you'll never again see the natural light of the sun." So, my only options are the showroom, or the showroom tour. Fan-frikkin-tastic. I guess I'll go to the showroom

Those bedroom displays they have set up? They aren't showcases, they are rest stops assembled by frantic shoppers trying desperately to survive after being stranded for days. They're like the emergency stations on the way up to Everest. I think one of the displays had "Donner party was here" carved into the wooden side-table

Hmm, there's the restaurant again, which means I'm going in circles. Oh look, the helpful and easy-to-follow store guide...

So I still have to find a swing and a chandelier. There's no point in asking staff for directions. The only Swedish I know was gleaned from watching the Swedish Chef, which is less helpful than you might think ("Weer de hellen es der wayen ooten?").

Feeling fairly confident these items aren't on the 2nd floor, I finally found stairs down to the main level where I eventually stumbled across the lighting section and found the specified chandelier. Two down, one to go. More wandering, some crying about possibly never seeing my family again, and a short bout of hysteria later, I found the bulk furniture section, which means I've been through the whole store and haven't found the swings yet. Crap-tastic.

Do you know what they installed before you get to the checkouts? Touch-screen terminals where you can search the catalog and the computer will tell you where the item is located. Do you know where this sort of information would be helpful? At the FRIKKIN ENTRANCE!! Turns out, the swings are in the kids' section, which means I have to go back upstairs. Oh, joy.

So, back through the fire swamp, past the lightning sand, and just after the flame spurts there is the kids' section. Where are the swings? On the wall beside the stupid plastic cups. I was going to use my phone to send a photo to my sister to see if this was the kind she wanted, but there's no signal. If you see a group of women gathered around in Ikea, there's probably a really good deal on something. If you see a group of men gathered together, there's a strong possibility they've found a small hole in the store's shielding where they can get faint signals on their smartphones. "If we only had a Heisenberg compensator, we could remodulate the phone frequency to intermittently fluctuate the signal in order to bypass the dampening field from the shield generators."

So, if by some miracle this gets uploaded, it means I must've found enough of a signal to contact the outside world again. Tell my family I love them and I miss them terribly. I'd ask for someone to come find me, but I don't want anyone else to be lost on my account...

A Small Serving...

...of crow.

It all started when I saw the video from Jon Schmidt and Steven Sharp Nelson posted on facebook. I've said it before, I'm a sucker for a good piano, and this is some good piano with excellent cello accompaniment. And then when Jon's daughter Sarah comes out and sings at the end... wow, let the melting begin.

I didn't know this was a Faith Hill song. I've never seen the Grinch movie, and you may not have noticed from previous posts, but I don't spend a lot of time on the country music stations. It might have been sleep deprivation which contributed to my decision to look up the Faith Hill version, or it may have been morbid curiosity. I'm not quite sure. I don't spend a lot of time looking up country music on YouTube either...

So, it is with no small amount of reluctance I am compelled to admit that is a good song. At the same time, I'm going on record to say it bears very little resemblance to country music, so I may get to have a little gravy along with my side of crow (everything is better with gravy). The instrumental version was moving by itself, but Faith's vocals and the lyrics really did it for me. It met all my criteria: good voice (check), non-objectionable lyrics (check), moving music &/or message (check, and check), complete absence of warbling or twang (check).

Don't get too excited though, I'm not ready to consider the possibility that there may be other country songs worth hearing...

A(nother) Pet Peeve

Let me start off with a song written and performed by Bowser and Blue:

Yup, that pretty much sums it up... It's Christmas, not Xmas. It wasn't a mas and then you broke up with it. It really cooks my goose when I see people doing it who know better. Are you lazy? Or just afraid to call it Christmas? Facebook doesn't charge by the letter, you have the room to spell the whole word... Just sayin'

Good Times

I got to spend my week in La Crete helping set up the computer systems for the new Subway opening up on Monday. Monday consisted of a flight from Lethbridge to Calgary to Grande Prairie, and then a 7hr+ drive north to La Crete. I came within 190km of the Northwest Territories. That's as far north as I've ever been, or ever wanted to be, in my life. North is not usually my friend. North is cold. I don't like cold. I like south. Arizona is south. Florida is south. California is south. South is my friend.

Let's put this into a little perspective for those who may not be familiar with the geography...

The purple line represents the drive from Grande Prairie to La Crete. It turns out there are flights from Edmonton to High Level, but the $800+ ticket wasn't in my travel budget. And yes, I do have the Lego Store marked on my Google Earth map.

I was lulled into a sense of false security on Monday, as the weather was 2-5C above zero all the way up, which was warmer than the weather at home. The drive up was rather uneventful, fortunately. It wasn't until High Level that I saw a deer crossing the highway... in the middle of town. The weather dropped to the -25c to -30c range on Tuesday and stayed there until I left early Friday morning.

Add to that three fun filled days of fighting with computer systems which were supposed to have been updated before they were shipped to the restaurant (sadly, not so much). I guess it was a good thing I spent all day, every day working on the computers because there wasn't really anything else to do in town.

I left early Friday morning with so I could get to Grande Prairie for my 4:20pm flight and have time for pit stops, meals, poor driving conditions etc. It was all going well until I got to High Level.

"This is where the fun begins..."

I was making pretty good time when I got to High Level. I had a two and a half hour buffer, which I felt would be enough to handle most scenarios. About 5km south of town, there was a small line forming on the highway for what looked like an accident up ahead (I couldn't see because of the large trucks in front). Three emergency vehicles went by, and so did about 45 minutes. No problem, I still had over an hour. And then one of the highway trucks with the orange flashers started working his way down the line telling everyone it would be about 5-6 hours before the accident would be cleared up. Now that becomes a problem.

This is the ONLY highway going south from High Level, which seems like a glaring design flaw if you ask me. The "highway guy" told me to go back to High Level, take the highway going east, then go down to Red Earth and come across to Grande Prairie that way. My Garmin didn't want to let me do that, so I went to the Shell station to look at a map. Ummm... turns out Red Earth is a 5hr drive, and Grande Prairie is another 5hrs from there, which means there's no way of making my flight in 8hrs. To rub lemon juice in the paper cut, while I'm standing there looking at the map, the accident was announced over the local radio telling everyone to avoid the highway and there was no detour. Awesome sauce with a side of fries.

I went out to the car, pulled out my laptop, used my mobile internet stick, rebooked my flights for Saturday and informed Budget I wouldn't have their car back until Saturday morning. Then I waited. And waited. High Level is not a fun place to be stranded for four hours. If you've seen the movie "Trapped in Paradise", first of all I apologize profusely, no one should have to site through that (I still feel bad all these years later for taking a girl to see that movie). Anyhow, Paradise is a larger town than High Level with more to do.

I had lunch at 11:00, and did the sudoku puzzle on the back of the "Muskeg Buzz" out of sheer boredom. I drove up the highway at noon to see if they had made progress. Nope, still turning people away. So, back to town... I went back to check at 1:00. Nope, still not cleared.

Wait a minute! The same guy who told me to go to Red Earth is now escorting vehicles onto a side road. I followed the procession down a gravel road, hoping desperately he isn't going home for lunch. The convoy turned onto a small one-lane dirt road which led in behind a loading yard for trains, over the hill, through the woods, and onto the highway on the other side of the accident. Son of a beached whale! All this time and a quick 10 minute detour would've had me back on my way and home in time for bed. Curse you Dodge Avenger for not having a dash-mounted laser!

Speaking of the Dodge Avenger, I have to say, not my favorite car. If you rev the engine, you can watch the gas gauge go down. It has a combined highway/city mileage rating of 22MPG. Crap on a stick, our V8 Suburban does better than that. And that's what the car is rated, not what it actually gets... And to make things even more fun, because it's a rental, it receives all the loving maintenance of a bludgeoned seal. The girl at the rental desk said "You won't need snow tires, the roads are all clear." Thanks Dead-end Job Barbie, you can guarantee the road conditions between here and the NWT for the week??

I stopped at a gas station for some travel munchies on the way up on Monday and the "Oil change required" light came on when I started the engine again. That little light on the dash looks nothing like an oil can. It looks like a gravy boat. "Why yes, come to think of it, I could use some gravy. Thank you, thoughtful car, for reminding me."

Awesome Idea!

One of the families in our ward gave this to us yesterday and I thought it was a great idea...

Due to the photo quality, you probably can't tell right away what it is. It's an Advent Candle. How cool is that? Every day you burn the candle down to the next line and wait again for the next day. I like this idea a lot better than the candy advent calendars, and not just because I have pyromaniacal tendencies. I may have to try this with a bigger candle  :)

'Tis the Season...

A friend on facebook posted this video and I had to pass it along. When you see stories like this, it tends to renew your faith in "peace on earth, good will towards men"...

What's more shocking? The fact she pepper sprayed roughly 20 other shoppers to get an XBox 360 for half-price? Or that other customers were so focused on getting the same deal, this woman managed to take one, pay for it at the register, and leave the store without being apprehended? When she got home, did she include the part about spraying other customers when she tells everyone what a great deal she got? Little Dudley can proudly tell his friends, "My mum sprayed 20 people to get this for me."

When the wisemen brought their gifts to Mary and the young Jesus, I'm sure this isn't what they had in mind as an end result of the tradition they started.