Styrofoam Cookies and Very Little Leg Room

Every once in a while I take a journey some place that requires me to purchase a ticket and fly the skies with WestJet (I try to avoid Air Canada because, frankly, they just piss me off).  I actually enjoy flying for the most part; there is something very exciting about the sound of that big engine as the silver winged agent of transportation shakes and rattles down the runway and you are pushed back against your seat as it lifts off and gains altitude.  I like looking out the window at puffy clouds, snowy mountain tops, prairie wheat fields and dark depths of ocean and I particularly love the goings on of the people right from the time they enter the waiting room at the gate until we reach our final destination (this includes the flight crew by the way). 

Most airports quite effectively indicate, with very large signage, where to go to find your gate and there are numerous signs that list the departure and arrival times of the numerous flights that day. Inevitably there is at least one person who is late.. I often wonder what makes them late?  Were they hung up in traffic, did their car die on the roadside, did they have trouble finding their passport or were they so intent on standing in that boring long line up at Starbucks for their Chestnut Praline Latte that they failed to hear their name being repeated over and over on the static ridden intercom???  “WestJet is paging Mr. Better Late Than Never, please report to gate A15 for IMMEDIATE departure of your airplane to Puerto Vallarta”. Who the hell is late for a flight to Mexico when you are trying to escape the miserable snow and cold of a Canadian winter???  If I was going somewhere like that I’d be in the departure lounge long before my take off time let me tell you.

Oh yes, or the flight is delayed (in great big letters on the sign at the gate), departure lounge is full and some ding-a-ling in loafers, yacking on his cellphone is trotting at breakneck speed, waving his passport and loudly addressing the WestJet agent  “I’m on that plane to Prince George” and actually attempts to run right past her before she sticks out her hand and tells him it hasn’t even boarded yet.  Oh some folks just don’t get it now do they?  Then there is the woman wearing her pyjama bottoms (please someone promise me that the day I wear pyjamas in public you will commit me to an asylum!) who saunters up to the counter with her boarding pass in hand and reads the sign and then asks the gate crew if this is the right gate for her flight to Calgary.  God love the agent who had the balls to ask her what it said on her boarding pass and what it said on the sign and then asked her if there was something about either one she didn’t quite get. I nearly spewed my dark roast Timmies out on that one (I didn’t get in the Starbucks line up in case I might be late for my flight).

Boarding is called; according to pre-boarding folks, then according to zones 1-4 which is on your boarding pass. Apparently a fair number of people can’t count to four because that caused some confusion and then do you not think they would have their boarding passes and their ID out PRIOR to getting to the counter?? Oh no, for some it seems to be a total surprise (even though we had been reminded at least twice before lining up) that this would greatly help speed up the boarding process but still there was fumbling in pockets, purses and carry-on bags to find the right documents.  You just want to walk up and smack them on the forehead but I didn’t think they would let me on the plane if I did that so I just did it inside my head!

Now we are inside the plane. Here again, the ability to count and recognize letters of the English alphabet come in very handy if you are to find your correct seat. Imagine finding out that row 18 seat A is not the same as row 20 seat F?? Once arriving at their correct seat now comes the awkward choreography of stuffing that bulky carry on bag that I swear you stuck your child in so you didn’t have to pay for a ticket, into the overhead bin. No sir, that will not fit. I don’t care how many times you poke it, shove it, push on it. Meanwhile twenty people are now breathing down each other’s necks waiting to get to their seat. Nice stewardess comes along and saves the day; she unzips the bag, lets his dog out... (just kidding).  Now that we have to pay for our checked baggage people are stuffing everything they can into their carry on and it is making for interesting overhead and under seat packing.

Find your seat and carefully manoeuvre your arse into the thing that resembles a seat but is actually just a bent piece of metal with slightly stuffed cushion to sit on. With your knees up around your ears fish around for your seatbelt and get it fastened , breathe out, let your knees down and then pull your shoulders in tight because the seat next to you is now occupied by some gargantuan mass of a man with cell phone in hand and a burger from A&W in the other. Oh my God. I hope he doesn’t drop that on my nice red coat and he better not burp or fart into my airspace. Help me now.  And why does he need to be talking on that damn phone while he is boarding a plane in the first place. I hope he bites that instead of his hamburger.  Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact. Oh well, it’s a short flight and I am sure I will be okay.

Now for the fun part. Bless the hearts of the in-flight crew as they stand in the aisle and ask all of their super attentive passengers to pull out the card with the safety features and follow along. Do they really think that any of us has lived so far away from civilization that we don’t know what a seatbelt is, how to do it up and take it off?? They must get bored out of their tree saying that over and over in English and then to repeat it in French. Once that is over with they wait until the nose is in the air, the engines are at full throttle and you can’t hear yourself never mind anyone else and then proceed to give us further directions about something one would assume is important but all it sounds like is that horrid teacher on Charlie Brown that actually doesn’t speak.  “Wha, wha, whaaaaa, wha, wha wha, seatbelt, wha, wha, wha, turbulence, wha, wha, wha”.   Doesn’t sound any different in French either.

Once we are at our cruising altitude it is time to sit back, drop your table tray and indulge in the fine cuisine offered by our airline. This comprises of an assortment of Coca Cola products, water, coffee, tea, wine and beer (the latter two you have to pay for and they kindly accept all forms of payment apparently). Please tell me why you would need to order alcohol on a one hour flight?  If I had to spend more than an hour with that massive man hoovering up his hamburger I might have purchased an entire bottle of wine but I chose a diet Coke and cookies instead. Cookies you say?  Oh yes, in fact, according to the package these special cookies are, and I quote “Europe’s favorite cookie with coffee”.  Really? I thought Europeans had fine pallets when it came to cuisine.  Biscoff.  Not even an alluring name. Sounds more like some sort of upper respiratory illness that comes in a small plastic package. Ginger flavored styrofoam.  Then I realized I wasn’t drinking coffee with them so I am presuming that makes all the difference in the world.  The only other choice was pretzels and I had those once before. I am sorry but you cannot pass off sawdust compressed into a pretzel shape as a snack.  That hamburger is looking good right now.

We no sooner finish our snack when we are notified by the steward with the sexy Australian accent that we will be landing soon so we need to put everything back in place and make sure our seatbelts are on. The pilots bring down our plane with grace and ease, hardly a bump and everyone claps. That is what they do on Westjet flights. Now, here is the funny part. The mere act of landing on the tarmac does not equate with immediate opening of the cabin doors yet there is always one or two dimwits who find it necessary to be up and out of their seats before the seatbelt light is turned off . Where exactly do they think they are going? No matter how you cut it, if you are in row 17 you will never get off the plane first unless you are on fire or having a heart attack. So there they stand until everyone else is up and moving and the stairs are ready to be used. I just don’t get it.  Oh yes, and there is always someone who has to get on their cell phone and let their wife know they have landed and he’ll be out in a minute. Excuse me? Your wife is in the terminal building and can clearly see your plane has landed; why do you need to phone her?

Living in the north you get used to getting on and off planes without the luxury of a “tunnel” or whatever they call that thing that attaches to the plane. Oh no, we go down the stairs onto the tarmac and walk, in all kinds of weather and temperatures, to the airport terminal. Rain, snow, -40C, you name it. We are a tough bunch.  Our luggage is rolling down the carousel within a few minutes of arrival and we are all reunited with loved ones who have missed us while we were away. But one more thing...looking over I now see a man picking up his suitcase and sniffing several wet spots that he has spied. I stare in disbelief. He looks right at me and says “I’m just checking.. it’s only rain though”. Oh thank goodness for that. I thought a dog peed on it somewhere between the plane and the airport.

Can’t wait for my next trip! 

Empty Nesting

As I sit in my sewing room drinking my coffee this morning I am paying close attention to the sounds in the house. Other than my keyboard tapping, the gentle hum of the washing machine and Bob's footsteps on the kitchen floor it is pretty quiet. That is, in large part, due to the fact that we have no kids at home anymore. Yes, I have found myself the mother of an empty nest; the little birdies have flown the coop and landed in their own places.

I was warned by so many people that I would be "devastated", "at a loss", "sad" and whatever else when the kids left home but so far I can't say I have felt anything close to that at all. Of course I miss them; I miss the space they take up in the house, I miss their goofiness, I miss their laughter, the endless belching/farting and other odd noises Dylan used to entertain us with, the practical jokes Lindsay would play.. I miss them a lot. However I believe it is in a good way that I miss them. They are both in a place where they belong and pursuing an education in what they are most passionate about. Music for Dylan and art for Lindsay. Hard work, yes, but fun and exciting all the same. New friends, new places to explore, a place to fulfill their dreams. And they are happy. (Yes I know that isn't a real sentence).

I don't care what anyone says; life is too short to go through the motions of a career or education doing something you are not happy with. There is no point in becoming a dentist just because that is expected of you and three generations before you did it; especially if you can't stand staring at someone's yucky looking teeth!  If you love digging in the dirt and know all the names of the little green plants and you can make them into beautiful big plants what is the matter with being a landscaper or a the owner of a greenhouse? Nothing. Yes, it is very important to be able to make a living, support yourself and a family and not starve to death so you have to keep that in mind but you need to find happiness in what you are doing too.

Yes, both my kids are in college; not university. Is that a problem? Not for me and not for them. Lindsay tried university for one year and hated it; several of her professors didn't have enough command of the English language to actually be teaching and she detested sitting in a class listening to someone drone on and on about stuff and then going home to read three hundred pages of a textbook that was so dry it would choke an elephant. My kids are  hands on; they are much like me. Show me something, offer a few directions and let me at it. Give me lots of pictures; make it fun and interesting. Guaranteed I'll remember it. 

Well what kind of job prospects will they have with a diploma in Visual Arts and one in Contemporary Music you might ask?  I will answer like this: pretty much the same job prospects as someone who graduates from university with a degree in science, English lit or most anything else. There are no guarantees for any of them. This might just be the stepping stone to further education; they might seek out and find the perfect job and be quite successful for a while before they turn to something else. I know they won't have debt up to their eyeballs after a two year program so that alone is worth something. 

Oh yes, back to the empty nest which is what I started all this for! I won't look at my nest as being empty; it wasn't empty when it was just Bob and I when we got married; it was just a small nest. We made it bigger when we added two children and now we just have to rearrange the sticks and feathers so we don't get lost in it. It's hard to remember back to a time when we didn't have children in the house so now we get to re-discover that part of our lives again. It's all good. 

So, no, I am not sad, devastated, at a loss, lonely or otherwise buried in angst now that my kids are away from home. I am excited for them; I hear such joy, excitement, passion and wonderment in their voices when we talk on the phone that you can't be anything but happy for them. . . and that's what it's about. Being happy.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Coaster Swap

Well, I signed up for another swap through Quilting Gallery, thanks to Michelle Foster for organizing and making these swaps available for those of us who love to quilt. This time around it's cute little reversible coasters with applique bugs on one side and little blocks on the other side. I enjoyed making these; they were simple easy to do but I must say I hate putting binding on 5" squares!!!

Applique side up (before binding):

 Back of coasters (before backing)

Close ups of applique sides:

Finished Project!

My coasters will be travelling to my swap partner who lives in Dubai, United Arab Emirates!

I must make a better effort of contributing to my blog.. once I get in here it's fun.

Heather

Springtime Musings

The calendar says that spring arrived over two weeks ago and for a few days last week it actually appeared as though Mother Nature and the makers of my calendar actually agreed upon something for once. Well that didn't last long. We were out in our short sleeves walking and biking last week; I raked some dried grass up and cleared some old stalks out of my flower bed; I even planted some delicate little seeds in my greenhouse. Apparently that type of activity really got caught in Mother Nature's craw because she promptly  sent winter back here to remind us that she is the boss. The trumpeter swans were not impressed; nor were the robins or the tulips that were poking up out of the ground. 

I don't know what you do when the weather is crappy. I hate being cold; really hate being cold. I don't like the wind either. What I do like is large pots of tea, CBC radio and barricading myself in my quilt room where I can forget what it's like outside. My mind can create all sorts of projects for using up my stash of fabric; I check things out on Pinterest, surf the web and make good use out of my sewing machine.

Here's what I've been up to: The first picture is a scrappy wall hanging I put together. I just made this one up. The second picture is a little pin cushion I made from an antique quilt that I bought for dirt cheap and then cut up (it was in pretty rough shape but good enough to make things out of). The last is a wall hanging that  I made for a quilt swap that I'm in.

So, I guess I can't complain too much about the weather because it gives me a good excuse to create things. I am blessed to have a group of wonderful friends who share the same interest in quilting as I do and we inspire each other to carry on a tradition that has been around for many, many years. 

Hope you are having a good weekend!

Heather

What's New in the Sewing Room??

Well, I've been busy doing some quilting in the past few weeks and I'm going to start sharing my projects on my blog. I have been quilting for about 25 years I think.. the first "real" quilt top I ever made was back in 1989 when I was working in North Bay, Ontario. I got off a stretch of night shifts at the hospital and decided to make a quilt. Not much planning involved but my scissors got a work out as I cut up over 200 squares of fabric to make an Irish Chain quilt. I am so glad someone invented a rotary cutter..what an amazing tool it is. With a sharp blade and a steady hand you can buck up 8 layers of fabric in no time and before you know it you have all your pieces cut and ready to sew.

I digress... I've made big quilts, medium sized quilts, lap quilts, table runners, wall hangings.. you name it. I prefer traditional patterns and country colors but will venture out and work with funky stuff once in a while. I'm not into some of the more modern prints that remind me of technicolor vomit... whatever I'm sewing with it has to be peaceful to cut up and sew back together. That sounds odd but believe me if you have to work with colors and prints that aggravate the soul it isn't fun!

So, here are my two very latest projects. I am enrolled in a Mug Rug swap and these two delightful little quilts were so much fun to make. Traditional piecing, "lick and stick" applique (Wonder Under) and hand and machine applique stitching.

I was at a quilt retreat a few weekends ago and, although I only got one project near completion it was a fun one to work on. There are 921 pieces in this scrap quilt; I made it entirely of scrap fabric. Just have to put borders on it. Traditional star patterns have always been a favorite of mine so this was a perfect match with all the bits and pieces of scraps I had.

See you later.. I'm heading back into my sewing room to figure out the next project!

Earthquake..... a really big one!

Well... last night I was relaxing in a nice hot bath, enjoying a fine glass of Zinfandel and reading a mystery novel (the novel wasn't that great but that's ok). I was zoned right out in my little spa environment when all of a sudden the bath water started to slosh back and forth in the tub (twice it went right over the edge of the bathtub) and I felt like I was out on a rough lake in a canoe.I was lightheaded, dizzy and slightly nauseated; just like being sea sick. I would take a guess that this sloshing of water lasted about 50 seconds.

 Now, one would think a person would jump right out of the tub and go "What the hell just happened?" but no, I was apparently thought the wine had elicited some sort of hallucinatory effect so my first reaction was to put the wine glass on the floor and cease drinking it immediately. I read a few more pages and then got out of the tub.

A few minutes later I showed up in the living room to find Bob and the kids there and they peppered me with questions "Didn't you feel that?", "It's all over Facebook", "We had an earthquake", "Weren't you scared?". They filled me in on all the things they had seen and felt. The blinds on the living room window were shaking back and forth like crazy, the house felt like it was moving, the hanging lights were moving back and forth etc. I've since found a few things that fell over; books and pictures. The kids were quite excited over the whole thing but unnerved and a bit scared at the same time.

Bob said he felt like he was going to pass out because he wasn't moving but everything around him was; I felt like I had vertigo and that continued on through the evening with the aftershocks. Although there was no shaking that I could feel you would just get little waves of "unsteadiness".. it was all very odd. I can only imagine what it felt like on Haida Gwaii and I am so thankful that nobody was hurt and there appears to be nothing major in terms of damage (at least nothing reported to this point).

If nothing else, this a huge wake up call. The magnitude was 7.7; that is a massive earthquake and had it been centered in a populated area there would have been casualties and major damage. I guess we should all pay attention; we live a fair ways inland and felt it strong enough to do what it did here..next time we might not be so lucky.


Have a good one!

What My Jobs Have Taught Me.

I've been in the workforce since I was twelve years old; and by that I mean making an actual paycheque from a job. That's thirty-five years of working! My jobs have included working in a hardware store, a food court vendor, as a care-aide in a nursing home, a maid/cook/server/general laborer at a fishing resort, clerk in a quilt shop and various positions as a registered nurse. I learned a lot in each job; some I liked more than others and I only had one that I really did not like at all and it only lasted a few months (thank goodness). 

My first paying job, at the age of twelve, was in the hardware store. It was here I learned to count change, organize various sections in the store, take stock, place orders and deal with the public. I enjoyed spending some of my paycheque on things from the store (craft supplies, wool, presents for my family and lots of things to stock my fishing tackle box). I enjoyed this job very much and it was here that I started to hone my communication skills; you have to be really good at listening, watching body language and being on the receiving end of some pretty nasty talk from customers. I still have some of my purchases from that store!

At the age of sixteen I became a care-aide in a nursing home of seventy-five residents. I learned a lifetime of skills at this job. I provided all sorts of personal care to elderly residents (bathing, dressing, feeding, assisting with exercises, assisting nurses with procedures etc). Working with a team of people provided a wealth of opportunities to observe different approaches to the same job, how people worked together (or not!!), how personalities affected the workplace and how some people are in a job for reasons that aren't altogether beneficial to the people they are working for or with. I learned a lot about family dynamics and how family members treat their elderly relatives (again, good and bad) and I learned about dying as many people I cared for passed away.

Working in a fishing resort was a ton of fun! I did this for two summers out on Lake of the Woods in Ontario, working for my US relatives at the resort they owned. I cleaned cabins, baked bread, pies and cooked in the kitchen, I sold bait, gutted fish, bailed out boats, took reservations and was the picture taker for lots of pictures featuring fish, beer and smiling faces! 

My nursing career started in 1988 and I have done that job ever since ( worked in my friend's quilt shop for a while along with nursing... it was for a fun reprieve from the stresses of my nursing job). I have worked in acute care (Alberta, Ontario and BC) doing everything from delivery babies to medi-vac flights, long term care (Alberta and BC) working in long term care facilities and for the past eight years I have been working in Home and Community Care. It is in this last area of nursing that I believe I have found my special place.

I appreciate the science and the art of nursing; my personality tends to put me more on the art side but I embrace them both. There is constant learning happening every single day and it would take me a long time to outline what I have learned doing this job. I think it is best put this way: I feel privileged to be able to practise nursing. I am involved in people's lives when they are very vulnerable, anxious and overwhelmed at the complexity of the health care system. I love being able to talk with them, share resources, help them navigate and hopefully find a solution that will work for them and their families. It isn't always easy; sometimes people aren't very nice and I hear a lot of anger and frustration but I won't take it personally; people need to talk, they need someone to listen and to validate their feelings. So many times they just don't know which way is up and how to sort things out. I don't mind helping them through that. We are like detectives; putting together all the pieces to make a whole picture; lots of sleuthing through information, talking to people and looking at the evidence.. it's fun!

I can sincerely say I love my job; that is no lie. There are days I would like to shut my office and not come back but that doesn't happen very often; I have a good team to work with, my community is awesome and I hope that I can make a difference for people. The day I stop learning or wanting to learn will be the day I need to have a talk with myself and ask why I'm still doing what I'm doing.. I hope that day doesn't come for a long time.

Cheers!
Heather