Locomotion

If I haven't mentioned it already, life is really really demanding right now. A has a major contract to fulfill, which is essentially a full-time job, as well as his regular gig while I'm digging in on my new career position at a big company. It's been two months now and we've been scraping by with 5 minute quality moments. These quality moments are by far less than what I would honestly consider quantifiable by the word 'quality'. Sometimes, these moments are without words and simply snuggled in front of the tv in Birdie-ized clothes. Other times are when we talk in the bathroom together - one bathes and the other shaves while watching the monitor light steady-on (please, no blinking, please!).

For A's birthday, I decided that since I had no time to be thoughtful or actively pursue a real gift, I would consider giving an 'experience'. To accomplish this we would both have to compromise to make this gift happen - the gift being a weekend at Whistler so A could mountainbike ride while I hung out with Birdie. Along with the trip along Sea to Sky, we both had to get all our gear together, to leave on time from work and be okay to miss a weekend at home (which I must admit, I more often than not crave instead of activity). A had to commit to working twice as hard the next two weeks to make up for the lost work time on the weekend even though the trade-off was appealing. We made it happen, we made it work, we had a great time, we're still tired but very pleased.

Expectations of each experience we consider and engage has to be tempered. The 'what the hell' attitude has to be gauged against, 'are we nuts?' or 'are we being true to ourselves?' or 'are we making life too much work?'. On this occasion, we were being true. While on the weekend, we regularly had to remind ourselves of that, particularly when Birdie thought the only fun thing about the restaurant was crawling around the floor and eating... well, you can only imagine. That dinner got put in a take out carrier.

Now, we're heading to the Prairies on a trip for many reasons, most of which are well worth the effort. Sure, we've got to stop in Calgary for a meeting on Friday morning. Sure, we have to come home on different days to fulfil both work and family obligations. Sure, we've got to get ready for Birdie's one year party (k, that's actually really fun). Sure, we're tired - yep, still after one year. Sure, we're us... yeah, it's the new world we live it. Managing expectations of myself, my relationships and my abilities to do stuff is a constant mental effort. That being said, to live life - our life - without some element of risk, well now that would be a compromise.

Being back at work has given me opportunities to experience places in Canada that I haven't been before. At the beginning of July, I landed in Calgary for an important meeting. Yes, I've been to Calgary before... but not during the Stampede. It was nutty. I was in a two day meeting downtown Calgary but you wouldn't have known it since it was totally the norm for business attire to be tossed aside for the entirety of the event. Dudes and dudettes were on their BlackBerrys, flagging taxis and ordering their javas in the morning as per usual. It was a mildly disconcerting experience. In fact, the meeting agenda I received the day before I departed for Calgary invited such attire. Huh? I thought this was an important meeting? It was. Nevertheless, there were dudes. It was business as usual, just a bit of carnival or whatever going on.

Last week, I flew in a wee plane North. Northern BC. First stop Fort St. John. I arrived at the Best Western (barely) and shortly after I put the card-key in the door to my room, I heard a loud crunch on the wall outside my window. I overheard some cussing and realized that a serious brawl had been going on for some time right there. Bloody, drunken, shirtless messes were christening my northern experience straight-away. I promptly reported the skull-cracking to the front desk attendent. For some reason, I thought she would call the police. Nope. She headed straight for the two and yelled that it was time they stopped their fighting. It was actually quite effective. I said to her, I didn't expect you to go out there when I reported them. She simply answered, "I grew up here." The end.

Well, the end until the cops came by knocking on every door of the hotel inquiring if a bloody man was in the room. They just wanted to ensure that the 'loser' of the fight wasn't dying in the hotel room since he was identified as a guest at the hotel. Wow.

I won't even get into the Boston Pizza dining experience that same evening. It's just too surreal. I slept oddly that night - not necessarily because of the brawl or the BP in my stomach rather because the sun only set for 2 hours until it came right back up. I woke up at 5 am and the sun was well on it's way into the day. North Country.

Anyway, my road-trip North of Fort St. Crazy took me to the Peace Canyon Dam which is located in the glorious Peace Canyon Valley. I was in awe of the beauty of the nowhere. Deer escorted me right up to the dam - even a wee fawn with a speckled tush checked me out.

It seems that cowboys, costumed or not, comprise a good portion of my work travel adventures of late. Not sure I'm ready for Texas yet. Soon though.