10 Years Gone By...

Ten years ago I had just gotten out of the shower when Doug called out that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York.

“A Cessna?”

“No, a 747 it looks like”

“Whaat?”

By the time the second plane hit it was obviously not pilot error and I knew that my work day had just been turned ass over teakettle. By the time I got to work at Vancouver International Airport, US airspace had been shut down, Canadian airspace was shut down except for diverted aircraft that couldn't land in the US and our airport was bunkered down with checkpoints well back of the terminal.

The tension and confusion inside the terminals only increased once the first of the 34 in total of diverted planes arrived and passengers were told what had happened and why they were in Vancouver and not their destination in the US. It was all hands on deck as every employee that worked for the Airport Authority and all the airlines tended to those passengers and crew members to find them accommodations, food and whatever assistance we could give them. I had one heartbreaking moment when I talked to a lady who had been headed to New York and was trying to contact her son there. She was frantic when she couldn't get ahold of him. There were so many people and so many stories and a million unanswered questions. The surrounding communities pitched in, including City Councils, hotels, restaurants, the Salvation Army and Red Cross. By the end of the day the terminals were like a ghost town. All the restaurants and shops had closed. It was quiet and it was eerie.

The runways had been turned into a parking lot for 747's. 34 diverted planes, plus all the planes that couldn't take off. What. the. hell. had. happened.

It was still quiet and eerie the next day. Still shell shocked we gathered to make plans on how to deal with the thousands of people who would need to be processed once the US and Canada opened up their airspace. And when it opened the next day, it was crushing.

Thousands upon thousands of people flowed into the terminals, trying to book flights. At one point there were so many people that management was worried about the weight tolerance of the floors and had to wind the lineups outside the terminal and into the top level of the parkade. We spent the day just trying to assist people, answering questions, directing them to where they needed to go. The anxiety level was so high, but there were some bright moments as well.

I was outside when one of a steady stream of cabs dropped off an elderly lady with quite a few pieces of luggage. I grabbed a cart and took it over to help her load it but she was obviously distressed and very frightened. Her husband had left a couple of hours before her in order to try and book them flights and she was to meet him here. She was overwhelmed by the number of people. I asked her what airline and she said he was going to try them all. I thought it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack but I asked her to describe him to me and had her stay put while I went into the terminal hoping to find him. It was absolute chaos. As I pushed my way through the crowd I thought there's NO way. There is absolutely NO way that I can find one specific person; wait a minute. There he was. Just as she described. Looking up at the monitors. I asked him if he was who I thought he was and he said yes and I said good – I have someone outside who is going to be very happy to see you. I led him back to her and she burst into tears and hugged me. Hard.

It took quite a while, but eventually things got back to normal. Well, not normal. Normal metamorphosed into the ashes of the twin towers to be replaced by unheard of civil rights subtractions.  Once the backlogs were cleared, we began to process what happened.  To see the first plane take off after the airspace opened was emotional. 

I just wanted it to be safe.  

And then I cried.

The Sky is Falling

Seems that the whole fiasco that caused the mortgagecrisisresultingingovernmentbailingoutautoindustrywtf nonsense is playing havoc with the stock market. And now, apparently, things aren't working the way they should be. As in stocks go up when they shouldn't and go down when they shouldn't. As in when Doug buys something it goes down and when he sells, it goes up. Well, not always, but often. And that's because the sky is falling. It's been going to fall for the past couple of years. How do I know this? Chicken Little Doug tells me. Every. Single. Day.

It starts at 6:30 am every morning – except when we're in Hawaii – then it starts at 3:30 am. Doug turns on his Android and starts checking the market. And then the fun part begins. Looking at charts. And then he wants me to look at them too. I'd rather stick a fork in my eye or run with the bulls in Spain. I've learned to not move when I first wake up, or open my eyes, because that's when I get the running commentary on what's going on in the market, the tsx, the dow, the S&P, short, long, bull, bear, blah, blah, blah.

The pace picks up when the tv is tuned to the market channels and all the pinheads are yelling above themselves and at each other over whether Barack Obama caused the shares of Amazon to fall, or world peace to disintegrate. It's kind of like listening to Nancy Grace when she gets all shrieky saying “breaking news, breaking news”, when it's all a rehash of some case that is a year old. And everyone is going crazy because the market is down the market is up the market is sideways and then someone's head explodes and all's right with the world. Until the aftermarket. And the opening of the European market. Then the Asian markets. 24 hours of nonstop freakenomic entertainment. And all the while voices are calling – the sky is falling, the sky is falling.

Yes, indeed, if Doug is right and the the sky IS falling, you know where I'm going to hide? Under my bed, counting my change. You may join me if you wish.

Sister Wives

I just finished watching the last episode of Sister Wives – the show about a polygamist family living somewhere in Utah.  I had expected it to be based on what I’ve read in the news – a bunch of people living in a gated compound where the elders determine which young girl will become the next wife of the creepy guy that belongs to the compound because no way in hell is he getting any woman the normal way.  So it was a surprise to find that the family was mainstream and modern, well except for the whole 3 wives and 1 fiancee situation. 

I really don’t understand what’s in it for Kody – the husband.  Doug says that he can’t imagine putting up with having more than one of me.  He only watched one episode and was all “That guy is crazy”.  He always has the deer caught in the headlights look on his face (not sure if its because of the wives or what he may have smoked when he was younger).  

But really?  I could have used some Sister Wives when I was a young mom trying to balance work with kids and there was no husband around.  The women on this show would have made my life so much easier.  Meri is the First Wife, works outside the home and appears to be the family organizer.  Janelle is the Second Wife and is one of the breadwinners – she prefers it that way.  Christine is the Third Wife and is absolutely hilarious.  She’s the one who stays home with all the kids and keeps things running smoothly.  These women are strong and opinionated – WHERE WERE YOU GUYS WHEN I NEEDED YOU???

Back to Kody.  He works as a sales rep, drives a beautiful Lexus and looks like he’s just a bit out of his element.  Looks like your typical guy.  Married to three women, engaged to a fourth.  Just celebrated his 20^th anniversary with Wife No. 1; Wife No. 3 just had her 6^th child; the wedding is just a couple of days away to soon to be Wife No. 4 and he decides, on camera, to announce to all the women that he picked out the wedding gown.  Ahh Kody.  You might want to remove that bullseye you have painted on your forehead.

Because, Dude, you managed to piss off each and every one of them.

The fiancée is pissed because she is aware that this may cause problems with the existing wives, Wife No. 3 has just had her 6^th child and MAY be a bit hormonal – she takes off her microphone and walks out after telling him that when they got married he didn’t give a rats ass what she wore, Wife No. 1 is having the most difficulties with the idea of Wife No. 4 and Wife No. 3 never had the big fancy wedding with the big fancy wedding dress.  Kody, Kody, Kody.  What WERE you thinking?

So really, what’s in it for him (besides the obvious)?  If Doug pisses me off he only has to deal with me.  If Kody pisses one of his wives off, there’s a good chance that he has pissed them all off and has to apologize to all of them.  Individually.  Four times e.v.e.r.y. time.   

Sister Wives – they rock. 

Loose Change Lady

Nothing like family arriving for your mom's 75th birthday to get someone motivated to finally clean up their house.  And no, that would not be Doug.  He doesn't give a rat's ass if the house is clean for family.  "They're just family, why are you freaking out??".  And I don't, unless it's his family.  But I still think we should clean the house at least ONCE a month, Doug.

During this cleanup, I had the same reaction I always do when I pick up loose change from every nook and cranny, drawer, floor, pocket, cupboard, laundry room - AAAAGH!  Why can't SOMEONE do SOMETHING with all this STUPID change hanging around.

A few, well actually quite a few, years ago we rounded up all our change, wrapped it in the proper banking wrappers and decided "Holy crap, look how much change we have - I know I'll spend it on lamps for our bedroom and it will be like they're free!"  Yay me!  Well, I bought the lamps and meant to cash in the coins, but they were heavy, I wasn't sure if the bank would take ALL of it, blah, blah, blah.  The mound of change ended up under our bed and stayed there for a very long time.

Eventually the money got moved into a closet and we continued to collect and hoard those shiny, shiny trinkets.  Being in Canada it does tend to add up because we have Loonies and Toonies and if you grab a handful of change you're more likely to have $30.00 rather than $1.25. 

It got me thinking that we probably have an awful lot of money hanging around.  And I do want two more stainless steel appliances for the kitchen.  And Doug is quite happy to have 1/2 and 1/2.  And I'm not so much. Brainwave!!!

No - I'm not going to wrap and count all our loose change and then go and buy those appliances.  Doug likes deals on the most inane things - like parking.  So I told him that I was going to round up every last loonie, toonie and nickel in our house and use it to spend on everyday things until it was gone.  I would not use my Visa, bank card or cheques. He jumped on board immediately and was all "that's an amazing idea - here, let me get a dump truck and unload all the loose change from my office and my bedside table for you!!".

So, there we have it.  I'll take the next while and only spend our loose change on everything we need (excluding set household expenses that are automatically charged to visa) including groceries, household items, clothing etc. and see how long it can last.  It's a double bonus - we recycle our change back into the economy and we don't take anything out of our bank accounts.

And the best part - Doug will be so happy that we used loose change on everyday expenses that he'll be all for the rest of the kitchen renovation.  Yay!

I really wanted a Puppy....

But instead I got an iRobot Roomba.  It's just like a puppy.  It bounces around the room bumping into walls and chair legs - starts off in one direction and then makes a 180 and happily leaps off in another direction.  All the while sucking up every last crumb, hair and dust that is in its way.  What a bonus - instead of me cleaning up after a puppy it cleans up after Doug and me!  And just like a puppy it is sometimes hard to find.  I left it running last night on the main floor while I went downstairs to watch tv and when I came back upstairs I couldn't find it anywhere.  I almost caught myself calling for it, as if I had named it or something.  It took me at least 10 minutes to find it way under Doug's desk in his office - orange light blinking that it needed feeding charging.

I am smitten with it.  It actually appears to have a personality, albeit a bit robotic, but still.

You need to see it in action to appreciate the cuteness factor.  Trust me....

PS - his name is Mop.

What's the deal with WOOD?

I was reading my newest edition of House and Home during breakfast (aka quality time with my husband) and mentioned to Doug that the editor was editorializing a discussion she was having with her husband that a lot of women have with theirs.  At which point, totally unprompted, Doug chanted "men should leave all decorating decisions to women".


But I said, no not that - the other major discussion:


To paint or not to paint WOOD (all in caps because it's up there with GOD).


The editor was talking about her kitchen cabinets - they were cherry and she wanted to paint them a charcoal colour and add sleek metal pulls.  I was all, absolutely!  I would love to have that in my kitchen.  But of course her husband didn't want to paint wood.  I ran into that with so many clients where we wanted to repurpose furniture or cabinetry and for the most part any mention of paint caused anaphylactic shock in men.


(We once had a cabin that was made all of wood - the floors, the walls, the cabinets, the ceilings - everything was wood.  I wanted to paint the walls to brighten it up and Doug just laughed and laughed, saying "You don't paint WOOD".)

So I asked him "What's the deal with you guys and wood?"

And this is what he, in all seriousness, said:

"Men have a closer relationship with wood than women do.  We work with it and women don't."  And then he left the room.

I'm all "What?  You're What??  OK Mr. Computer Programmer/woodworker guy, I failed to notice the amount of whittling, carving and sanding that was required everytime you wrote some code".

And he pointed out to me that he had built the room downstairs (and yes, I do remember those gorgeous 2x4's) and had made a coffee table and I will concede that.  And I promise never to paint the coffee table that he made.  But really, this relationship with wood is just weird.

At the end of the magazine they have a regular column called "Ask a Designer".  And the questions was about how to decorate a master bedroom.  Cameron McNeil, the designer guy, said about the furniture that was in the room:

"Your wood furniture is nice, but all of it together seems a bit heavy.  To vary the look, paint your bedside tables in Bone White".

Now there's a man worth marrying.

Way too Quentin Tarantino for me

I really think that Quentin Tarantino is a brilliant story telling genius.  I just wish I could watch his movies.

I've watched parts of Pulp Fiction, Natural Born Killers and Kill Bill.  Parts.   That's it.  Because there always comes the part where I've had to bury my head in the cushions and then wait for Doug to tell me that it's ok to look.  Only there never seems to be a time for me to look.  But that's just me, squeamish as hell.  But I have watched enough of those movies to appreciate the brilliance that is Quentin Tarantino.

So why I thought I could watch Inglourious Basterds?  Not sure.  Probably because of Brad Pitt.  And because the reviews were all "The most entertaining movie of the year" "Quentin Tarantino's most entertaining film yet".  Entertaining, they said.

And it grabbed me right from the start.  Until I had to bury my head in the pillow - oh, about 15 minutes in.  And unlike the others times I watched his movies, this time was in high definition with surround sound.  So even with my eyes closed the clarity of the sound left NOTHING to the imagination.  Not since I was 11 and watched Hitchcock's The Birds have I had worse nightmares.  15 minutes!

And based on those 15 minutes?  Bloody Brilliant!

Doug will have to watch the rest later.  And then  he can tell me the sanitized, prettier version.