Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Another Top 5
Top 5 reasons to never fly “Uflighted Airways”*:
1. They know how to squeeze a penny until it screams.
There are no attendants to “check you in”, so you complete the process yourself at a self-serve kiosk. Which is fine, unless you're behind a family of 17 with 89 pieces of luggage who have obviously never flown before and are blown away by having to check themselves in.
But the real cost savings on UA hit me on the way home from America. When completing my self-check-in, I was asked to spend $XX to upgrade to “first class”, to spend $40 to purchase 3-5 cm of extra leg room, and forced to pay $15 USD for a single checked bag. But all my booze and food were free.
Ha. You didn't actually believe that last sentence did you?
2. The flight attendants are incredibly happy to serve you.
On the way to America, a man in the window seat of my row was given his glass of water. When he asked “for ice please”, the flight attendant ignored him for a few seconds, then thrust out her hand towards him and demanded, “Give it to me.”
3. The pilots sound very interested in their jobs.
On both flights, the pilot intoned in a flat monotone as fast as possible, “Wearearrivingatthegate10minutesaheadofschedule. Theweatherisyadayada. ThankyouforflyingUflighted. Wehopeyou'llthinkofusinthefuture.”
4. They want you to exercise your bladder.
The Airbus 315 seats about 102 people in economy.
When on the flight to Chicago, the flight attendant announced at the beginning of the trip, “There are two washrooms located at the rear of the plane for economy class. Do not, under any circumstances, use the two washrooms located at the front of the plane. I repeat, you will not use the washrooms at the front of the plane. They are not for you.”
I understand that’s where the champagne and caviar parties take place.
5. They revolutionized the boarding system.
Instead of the tried and true method for boarding a plane (back to front) you now get a number on your boarding card. I have no idea how it’s generated, possibly by alphabetical preference or by the number of times you’ve flown with them, but either way, I was seated in the middle of the plane both times, but the last group to board. Which mean no room in the overhead bin. Perhaps “preferential” boarding was one of the pay options I missed during the check-in process (see #1).
I can't wait to fly Uflighted again.
*Name has been changed to protect the very guilty.
1. They know how to squeeze a penny until it screams.
There are no attendants to “check you in”, so you complete the process yourself at a self-serve kiosk. Which is fine, unless you're behind a family of 17 with 89 pieces of luggage who have obviously never flown before and are blown away by having to check themselves in.
But the real cost savings on UA hit me on the way home from America. When completing my self-check-in, I was asked to spend $XX to upgrade to “first class”, to spend $40 to purchase 3-5 cm of extra leg room, and forced to pay $15 USD for a single checked bag. But all my booze and food were free.
Ha. You didn't actually believe that last sentence did you?
2. The flight attendants are incredibly happy to serve you.
On the way to America, a man in the window seat of my row was given his glass of water. When he asked “for ice please”, the flight attendant ignored him for a few seconds, then thrust out her hand towards him and demanded, “Give it to me.”
3. The pilots sound very interested in their jobs.
On both flights, the pilot intoned in a flat monotone as fast as possible, “Wearearrivingatthegate10minutesaheadofschedule. Theweatherisyadayada. ThankyouforflyingUflighted. Wehopeyou'llthinkofusinthefuture.”
4. They want you to exercise your bladder.
The Airbus 315 seats about 102 people in economy.
When on the flight to Chicago, the flight attendant announced at the beginning of the trip, “There are two washrooms located at the rear of the plane for economy class. Do not, under any circumstances, use the two washrooms located at the front of the plane. I repeat, you will not use the washrooms at the front of the plane. They are not for you.”
I understand that’s where the champagne and caviar parties take place.
5. They revolutionized the boarding system.
Instead of the tried and true method for boarding a plane (back to front) you now get a number on your boarding card. I have no idea how it’s generated, possibly by alphabetical preference or by the number of times you’ve flown with them, but either way, I was seated in the middle of the plane both times, but the last group to board. Which mean no room in the overhead bin. Perhaps “preferential” boarding was one of the pay options I missed during the check-in process (see #1).
I can't wait to fly Uflighted again.
*Name has been changed to protect the very guilty.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Another Rite
We've been having the best summer weather to date. Sunny. Warm. Verging on (too) hot.
It's just like you imagine the summer to be: long days, late nights, trips to the farmer's market, BBQ'ed food, swimming pools and sunkissed kids.
However amongst all this frivolity, Nate, at four, is undergoing a rite of passage. It's one we all went through; one we may still bear the scars from. Yes, it's the time of year where training wheels come off and the relatively flat tarmac of our street becomes witness to burning rubber and skinned knees.
This past Sunday, while Jake was sleeping off the effects of a lunchtime cheeseburger and chocolate milk, David tinkered with Nate's bike, effectively halving the wheel base:
Here's the "I'm a proud owner of a two wheeler" photo, which is also known as, "I have no idea how hard this will be, so right now I'm smiling and there's no level of panic whatsoever."
David encouraged Nate to lean from side to side to test the balance. He encouraged Nate to walk with his bike to experiment with its stability:
And then they ran up and down the street several times:
And four tries into it, Nate was riding. By himself.
Let's hope the next sessions go just as smoothly. 'Cause it's nothing like when I tried to ride a bike. At age 8. Oh yes. But let's save that embarrassment for another time.
And you? Do you remember learning to ride? Or have you been teaching your children about life on two wheels?
It's just like you imagine the summer to be: long days, late nights, trips to the farmer's market, BBQ'ed food, swimming pools and sunkissed kids.
However amongst all this frivolity, Nate, at four, is undergoing a rite of passage. It's one we all went through; one we may still bear the scars from. Yes, it's the time of year where training wheels come off and the relatively flat tarmac of our street becomes witness to burning rubber and skinned knees.
This past Sunday, while Jake was sleeping off the effects of a lunchtime cheeseburger and chocolate milk, David tinkered with Nate's bike, effectively halving the wheel base:
Here's the "I'm a proud owner of a two wheeler" photo, which is also known as, "I have no idea how hard this will be, so right now I'm smiling and there's no level of panic whatsoever."
David encouraged Nate to lean from side to side to test the balance. He encouraged Nate to walk with his bike to experiment with its stability:
And then they ran up and down the street several times:
And four tries into it, Nate was riding. By himself.
Let's hope the next sessions go just as smoothly. 'Cause it's nothing like when I tried to ride a bike. At age 8. Oh yes. But let's save that embarrassment for another time.
And you? Do you remember learning to ride? Or have you been teaching your children about life on two wheels?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Hyper Connectivity
David and I own a Social Media company. Really, it's David's baby and I'm along for the ride he's created. He's the brain and the energy behind the whole endeavor.
Being married to an entrepreneur in the social media space, I learned a fair amount about the social trend by dint of living with David. Then I joined the company as a project manager after mat leave one, the HR manager after mat leave two, and now as the Operations Manager. There's no one above me, so I could call myself the COO, or the OOO (Only Operations Officer) if I wanted.
The long and the short of it, is that being in the social media space as part of my job has changed a lot of things for me. I blog. I tweet. I have a fancy new Blackberry.
But all this social media involvement at work and at home has certainly affected the dynamics of our lives. I explore this idea over here. I'd be interested in hearing how social media has changed, or continues to change, your life.
Being married to an entrepreneur in the social media space, I learned a fair amount about the social trend by dint of living with David. Then I joined the company as a project manager after mat leave one, the HR manager after mat leave two, and now as the Operations Manager. There's no one above me, so I could call myself the COO, or the OOO (Only Operations Officer) if I wanted.
The long and the short of it, is that being in the social media space as part of my job has changed a lot of things for me. I blog. I tweet. I have a fancy new Blackberry.
But all this social media involvement at work and at home has certainly affected the dynamics of our lives. I explore this idea over here. I'd be interested in hearing how social media has changed, or continues to change, your life.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
C'Mon and Roar you Lions Roar*
When we received four free tickets from our neighbours to the BC Lions game (CFL folks), it seemed like a good idea at the time. Ever since going with his dad last season, Nate's been asking about his next trip to the stadium. He watches the games on tv with us -- a large bowl of homemade popcorn is an added draw -- and waves his BC Lions flag with glee throughout the year. In fact, at times he will sporadically shout "Go BC Lions!" at the top of his lungs. Even if it's the depth of winter.
Which brings us to last Friday. The first home game of the season. And four phenomenal seats. We were close to the field... so close that you felt like you were participating in the game much more than observing it.
Nate was excited the night before.
Nate was excited the morning of.
Nate was excited on the walk over.
And here is Nate right before the game while David was braving the food and beverage lines:
So, I focused my attention on Jake, attending his first ever game at 22 months. And lest you think this is young, there were lots of children 5 and under at the game. Men smashing full force into other men while trash-talking each other across the line of scrimmage is family friendly entertainment folks, lest you be thinking otherwise.
Oh and there are the Felions too. I didn't take any photos of them, but David also noticed that we were a lot closer to the "view" from our borrowed seats. (Our company owns season tickets, but they're much farther up in the stands.)
Back on point, here is my attempt to get "the excitement of my first football game ever" photo with Jakey.
Not to be put off by my children, I enlisted David to take a photo of me and the boys.
Do you know what horrifies me most about this photo? I wore that top to work today. I had no idea about the leaning forward thing in it. Yeah. Mortified.
So the kind lady next to David offered to take a family photo. But she was obviously unaware of my peanut head issue. And David's massive cranium issue. This looks like some sort of weird fun house shot: Just how distorted can we make this family appear? At least you can't see down my blouse.
Yeah, unfortunately, I don't think any of these'll make it into the scrapbook album somehow.
You'll just have to take my word for it when I say that we all went to the BC Lions game and had a fantabulous time. And were too busy to take any photos. Maybe next time.
* One day I'll record my kids singing the BC Lions song. You'll thank me for it.
Which brings us to last Friday. The first home game of the season. And four phenomenal seats. We were close to the field... so close that you felt like you were participating in the game much more than observing it.
Nate was excited the night before.
Nate was excited the morning of.
Nate was excited on the walk over.
And here is Nate right before the game while David was braving the food and beverage lines:
Yeah. Don't hold back there guy.
So, I focused my attention on Jake, attending his first ever game at 22 months. And lest you think this is young, there were lots of children 5 and under at the game. Men smashing full force into other men while trash-talking each other across the line of scrimmage is family friendly entertainment folks, lest you be thinking otherwise.
Oh and there are the Felions too. I didn't take any photos of them, but David also noticed that we were a lot closer to the "view" from our borrowed seats. (Our company owns season tickets, but they're much farther up in the stands.)
Back on point, here is my attempt to get "the excitement of my first football game ever" photo with Jakey.
Image 1: Lady, get away from me.
Image 2: That flash is getting in my eyes. Give it to me.
Image 3: Oh good god. Someone tell her to stop.
Image 4: Hey lookie over there... So they call them Felions, do they? Rawr.
Not to be put off by my children, I enlisted David to take a photo of me and the boys.
Do you know what horrifies me most about this photo? I wore that top to work today. I had no idea about the leaning forward thing in it. Yeah. Mortified.
So the kind lady next to David offered to take a family photo. But she was obviously unaware of my peanut head issue. And David's massive cranium issue. This looks like some sort of weird fun house shot: Just how distorted can we make this family appear? At least you can't see down my blouse.
Yeah, unfortunately, I don't think any of these'll make it into the scrapbook album somehow.
You'll just have to take my word for it when I say that we all went to the BC Lions game and had a fantabulous time. And were too busy to take any photos. Maybe next time.
* One day I'll record my kids singing the BC Lions song. You'll thank me for it.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
The Big Guns Roll into Town
Yesterday, the big guns referenced in this post rolled into town. Well, except for Mr. Lady who lives here. The big gun in this town.
Where am I going with this? I have no idea.
Anyway, some people who shall remain nameless but I think it was this guy, although I might be wrong on that point, implied that Mr Lady and Redneck Mommy are actually the same person. Here is photo evidence that they are in fact two distinct entities. Of differing heights.
Definitely the most demur of the group was Katie. Of course she, apparently, got stuck with all the driving on the trip (did you see the size of the vehicle they were given?!). She survived the harassment from the back seat driver, barely. Which, I mentioned, doesn't count for much when you have multiple posts on your blog describing the various states of crumpledness of your vehicle(s).
Here we are doing our best to avoid the triple chin. Not bad. I am the only one who came out with smile wrinkles but that's because I lived in tropical climates for six years. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Unlike the crush and rush of Blogher, I got the chance to talk quite a bit with Tanis and Catherine. It was profound. So profound, I don't remember what we talked about. But I swear it was profound and interspersed with advice on what ages your kids are able to be left alone at home without a sitter. I volunteered 4 and 2, and Catherine 3 and 1, so I think that pretty much confirms that we're all ready for another round of going out next time everyone's in town. Oh, and Catherine mentioned she'd be willing to raid my husband's single malt scotch collection. Sounds ideal.
Anyone curious as to why my head looks so small? I think it's true that I have a peanut head. Explains a lot in retrospect.
I have an awesome group photo courtesy of MrLady's hubby and Morton's fine establishment. Unfortunately, I do not own a scanner. So you can just close your eyes now and imagine the fabulousness of it.
Okay.
So all in all it was a good night, even if it ended at midnight and I turned into a pumpkin on the way home.
Where am I going with this? I have no idea.
Anyway, some people who shall remain nameless but I think it was this guy, although I might be wrong on that point, implied that Mr Lady and Redneck Mommy are actually the same person. Here is photo evidence that they are in fact two distinct entities. Of differing heights.
Definitely the most demur of the group was Katie. Of course she, apparently, got stuck with all the driving on the trip (did you see the size of the vehicle they were given?!). She survived the harassment from the back seat driver, barely. Which, I mentioned, doesn't count for much when you have multiple posts on your blog describing the various states of crumpledness of your vehicle(s).
Here we are doing our best to avoid the triple chin. Not bad. I am the only one who came out with smile wrinkles but that's because I lived in tropical climates for six years. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Unlike the crush and rush of Blogher, I got the chance to talk quite a bit with Tanis and Catherine. It was profound. So profound, I don't remember what we talked about. But I swear it was profound and interspersed with advice on what ages your kids are able to be left alone at home without a sitter. I volunteered 4 and 2, and Catherine 3 and 1, so I think that pretty much confirms that we're all ready for another round of going out next time everyone's in town. Oh, and Catherine mentioned she'd be willing to raid my husband's single malt scotch collection. Sounds ideal.
Anyone curious as to why my head looks so small? I think it's true that I have a peanut head. Explains a lot in retrospect.
I have an awesome group photo courtesy of MrLady's hubby and Morton's fine establishment. Unfortunately, I do not own a scanner. So you can just close your eyes now and imagine the fabulousness of it.
Okay.
So all in all it was a good night, even if it ended at midnight and I turned into a pumpkin on the way home.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
If I Don't Come Back in a Few Hours...
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Smokin' Hot
After two summers in a row of "El Crappola" weather (brother-in-law to El Nino), we have been blessed, to date, with some smokin' hot weather. Thanks be to all who control the weather gods, influence them with dances, pay tribute to the altar of Mr Golden Sun, tithe the weather man, yada yada. It's working.
The thing about the hot weather though, is that it slows you down. The mental faculties stop working so well. Witness: I have retrieved my car keys from inside the deep freeze and David's tennis shoes in the last few days.
And the thing about men, especially husbands, is that they can sniff out this weakness. They might not be able to see a dirty sock in the middle of the bedroom floor for three weeks straight, but they can see their wives' mental facilities start to fade within a nanosecond of it happening.
And so began Saturday morning. A record breaking day for heat and humidity. At least it felt like it. There's no need for you to go into the archives and tell me that the real record-breaking heat was in 1938 which means that global warming is just some kind of fallacy perpetrated by David Suzuki and a left wing think tank. Global warming's the truth.
Deal with it.
Hmmm...
Okay, so where was I?
Right, heat and mental faculties.
David, sensing the moment was right to strike, casually asked me on Saturday morning if I would let him have a smoker. A Weber Smokey Mountain Cooker. Now, contemplate that statement if you would. If I said, "No," I would be in danger of being a petty-minded family dictator. If I said, "Yes," we would be in possession of the (possibly only) kitchen/cooking gadget David doesn't own. Seriously. Rock, meet hard place.
Needless to say, David is now in possession of his (very last, plead to the kitchen god's wife) own smoker.
Today he tried it out and, like a man, decided to double the recommended amount of hickory for the spare ribs. Let's just say the entirehouse backyard neighbourhood got smoked out today.
Seriously, this heat wave better end before he starts working on his "Why I need a motorcycle" pitch. A wife can only take so much heat.
The thing about the hot weather though, is that it slows you down. The mental faculties stop working so well. Witness: I have retrieved my car keys from inside the deep freeze and David's tennis shoes in the last few days.
And the thing about men, especially husbands, is that they can sniff out this weakness. They might not be able to see a dirty sock in the middle of the bedroom floor for three weeks straight, but they can see their wives' mental facilities start to fade within a nanosecond of it happening.
And so began Saturday morning. A record breaking day for heat and humidity. At least it felt like it. There's no need for you to go into the archives and tell me that the real record-breaking heat was in 1938 which means that global warming is just some kind of fallacy perpetrated by David Suzuki and a left wing think tank. Global warming's the truth.
Deal with it.
Hmmm...
Okay, so where was I?
Right, heat and mental faculties.
David, sensing the moment was right to strike, casually asked me on Saturday morning if I would let him have a smoker. A Weber Smokey Mountain Cooker. Now, contemplate that statement if you would. If I said, "No," I would be in danger of being a petty-minded family dictator. If I said, "Yes," we would be in possession of the (possibly only) kitchen/cooking gadget David doesn't own. Seriously. Rock, meet hard place.
Exhibit One
Needless to say, David is now in possession of his (very last, plead to the kitchen god's wife) own smoker.
Today he tried it out and, like a man, decided to double the recommended amount of hickory for the spare ribs. Let's just say the entire
Seriously, this heat wave better end before he starts working on his "Why I need a motorcycle" pitch. A wife can only take so much heat.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Just Do It
Yesterday, I heard a news blip on the radio talking about children and activity levels. The study they were quoting said that fully 1/4 of Canadian children are now overweight or obese. Apparently, less than 30% of children get the 90 minutes of physical activity a day required to meet minimum acceptable activity standards. That floored me. But I guess I can see how it happens. Kids go to preschool all day, parents pick them up, get home to get dinner on, baths and storytime. Given hectic lifestyles, it might easily happen that a child does not maintain a high activity level.
When I was young, I remember spending all our summers (and the better part of any non-rainy day) playing outside. And I know we spent even less time outside than my mom did when she was young. Growing up firmly in the middle class, my peers and I enjoyed lots of activities beyond just being told to go play outside. Between us, my brother and I were enrolled in figure skating and hockey, swimming, badminton, tennis, and soccer to name a few. Also, we didn't own a car until I was 8 (yes, you read that right), so my family walked absolutely everywhere: the grocery store, the library, the park. You name it.
Even before we had kids, David and I discussed the importance of keeping them active (and tired) to keep them happy, healthy, and, hopefully, out of trouble.
Ever since Nate was an infant, he has come with us to Ultimate games to watch mom and dad play. Now, at 4, he can throw a pretty mean backhand. Lately, we have been bringing the boys to the tennis club. While we play, the boys chase balls on the sidelines, play with cars and trucks and do a fairly good job of finding fun. They do, however, want nothing more than to be a part of the tennis game. We have to cajole them off the court and take breaks in our own game in order to let them have a turn. And proud mom that I am, after less than 7 tries, Nate could hit the balls back over the net.
Here's hoping we're starting everyone off on the right foot.
When I was young, I remember spending all our summers (and the better part of any non-rainy day) playing outside. And I know we spent even less time outside than my mom did when she was young. Growing up firmly in the middle class, my peers and I enjoyed lots of activities beyond just being told to go play outside. Between us, my brother and I were enrolled in figure skating and hockey, swimming, badminton, tennis, and soccer to name a few. Also, we didn't own a car until I was 8 (yes, you read that right), so my family walked absolutely everywhere: the grocery store, the library, the park. You name it.
Even before we had kids, David and I discussed the importance of keeping them active (and tired) to keep them happy, healthy, and, hopefully, out of trouble.
Ever since Nate was an infant, he has come with us to Ultimate games to watch mom and dad play. Now, at 4, he can throw a pretty mean backhand. Lately, we have been bringing the boys to the tennis club. While we play, the boys chase balls on the sidelines, play with cars and trucks and do a fairly good job of finding fun. They do, however, want nothing more than to be a part of the tennis game. We have to cajole them off the court and take breaks in our own game in order to let them have a turn. And proud mom that I am, after less than 7 tries, Nate could hit the balls back over the net.
Here's hoping we're starting everyone off on the right foot.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
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