What passport delay?

For months on end, various news outlets have been warning people about the horrendous delays in obtaining passports. Lining up at 4 am. Waiting for 9+ hours, only to be turned away. And all because we Canadians will have to show passports at all borders by what, 2009? Suffice it to say, the panic was on.

My mom & uncle went in the spring, lining up at 6 am. They were done by noon, and had their passports a few weeks later. My coworker’s son applied in November, was told it was “on its way” in December, and it arrived after he’d left for Mexico, in February. In typical fashion, I worried vaguely about getting our passports done, but never gave it that much thought.

Before our trip to Ontariario in July, I did manage to get all the forms signed and the photos done. Then I stuffed it all in an envelope, and hoped that I could find the time to apply at an office, either back east or when we returned to Vancouver.

We landed on a Thursday night, and I convinced D to spend the night at my parents’ instead of driving home. At 7 am on Friday, I headed to the closest Passport office.

I waited all of 2 minutes outside, at which point a nice man led the group of us upstairs. We got into a line, and were assigned call numbers quickly. After a mere 90 minute wait, I was up. The clerk was helpful and quick, processing all four applications in under 20 minutes. I was told the passports would arrive in 3-5 weeks, and was on my way by 9 am.

That was August 3rd.

The first 3 passports arrived on August 16th. The 4th arrived a day later. And here I was, adding 2-4 weeks to the original 3-5 week estimate, just to keep myself from worrying when they might arrive.

Incidentally, a coworker of mine received a similar envelope from the passport people on the same day as ours arrived. However, instead of a passport, they were nice enough to return her birth certificate. Which she’d sent to them in May, with the application. Her husband’s arrived the next day - the birth certificate, that is. They’re still awaiting the actual passports.

I’m really not a nice person. I just play one on this blog.

I’ve reverted to my I’mFromABigCity mentality, long believed quashed by small-town living these past 11 years. Not so much. Deliver me unto a small farming community in Alberta and my inner snarky laugh-at-the locals bitch comes out.

Discussed this evening:

- the fact that the people in the Okotoks (google it if you want. It exists.) traffic jam could only be attending a Cow Tipping convention.
- the locals at the Roadhouse we decided upon for dinner. Wow. Smoking in a bar. Karaoke (country, of course). The short dude with the biiiig cowboy hat, hitting on one of my coworkers.
- the gentleman who shared his gaseous emissions with the entire. fucking. bar. Loudly.
- our waitress and her unfortunate eye shadow choices.
- the generosity of one coworker’s husband, giving her an expired credit card to “have fun” with on this trip.
- the stud at the bar, complete with ZZ Top beard, plaid shirt, and shades.

Really. Just not nice. Funny, though, if you count the laughter amongst the four of us.

Shits & giggles.

This photo makes me almost cry from laughing.

Oh, to see Creepy Uncle Stephen in a dress-like garment. The joy! The Karma!

I wonder what he’s saying…..

And the look on Chimpy’s face? Fucking priceless. What could he be thinking:

“Damn. That guy from the Frozen North gets to talk to a woman, and I’m stuck beside Mr. Russia.”

Side effects may include.

We have a satellite. I am grateful for this because of handy things like time-shifting - shows are on at various times, and I’m not limited to the west coast schedule - and multiple-market channels (such as Global from Newfoundland to BC).

Some of the things I’ve noticed when comparing US television to Canadian:

We get the same. damn. news. but ours isn’t SCARY. Granted, the subject at hand might be scary, but I never get the impression that the newsreaders are being paid to up the drama by pontificating about the 4,000 Common Household Items That Will Kill You! This is merely one example, and yes, I might be exaggerating. But not as much as you’d think. Everything is cause for high drama on the US news. I can’t stand watching the teaser ads, let alone the newscasts.

Who do I thank for the ban on drug company ads? The CRTC? After the 8th ad about *insert wonder drug here* that will cure *insert ailment of the moment here*, including the seemingly endless list of potential side effects, I was getting a little punchy. I pointed out to D that it’s a good damn thing Canada doesn’t allow those types of ads, because I’d have to start writing letters. To someone. Honestly, I don’t care that Zygribulama* will cure my wart problem**, or that pregnant women can’t take it, and side effects may include dry mouth, flatulence or death. Shut the fuck up already.

* totally made up. Knowing my luck, it’s probably a real drug.
** I don’t have a wart problem. No. Really.

O Canada.

I like to think that I’m patriotic. Not in an overt way, just in that I love my country. And I’m happy to be Canadian.

I tear up when I hear our national anthem. Especially when my kids sing it. Unprompted. Now that is a proud mothering moment right there. Even D gets a little misty.

To all my fellow Canadians, friends and bloggers alike, HAPPY CANADA DAY!!

Go have a beer, eh!

Insult to injury…

Not only is the new “Child Care Benefit” from our oh-so-great PM taxable, but you actually have to apply for it.

Um…wha?

They already know who the fuck I am, and send me the usual CCTB every month. But I have to apply for this?

Fuckers.

The real reasons we live in the back of beyond.

Taxes. Erm. How does $350 per year sound? Sure, we don’t have a sewer system (private septic) and we’re on a well, and the garbage man doesn’t stop at our house. But so what? Taxes are nothing, and even with things like new infrastructure, ours don’t go up. Of course, this could have to do with the fact that our house is nothing great, and the assessment is relatively low. Again, who cares? Sometimes I’d like a bigger/nicer/newer home, but damn. That’s more house to clean. Gahhhh.

Acreage. I can use that word because we have 1.01 acreS, offically. Makes me giggle. Who the hell measured the .01 in that?? Our front yard is huge - soon to seem more so because of tree removal - and the back yard is just slightly smaller than huge. Sure, we have to mow it, but it’s quite lovely.

Traffic. If we see 5 cars in a row heading to town in the morning, it’s a busy morning. I always know when we leave late: the bus has gone by, and “traffic” is backed up a bit. Har!

Population. There seem to be a lot of people from Vancouver buying places and moving here, mostly because housing costs are insane in the Lower Rainland and in the Okanagan areas of BC. Still, this is a small town. It gets very busy from May to October, what with tourists roaring through and/or vacationing at local lakes, but it’s a small town. Gossip isn’t about the latest crap from H’wood, it’s about your neighbors. It’s amazing how much human drama exists on the planet.

School. Sure, there are probably better schools in any area of Vancouver. However. My kid plays outside at recess & lunch, walks to daycare after school, and his classes are in the 20-kid range. And we know most of the teachers by sight, if not by name.

The sky. I fully believe that the sky is somehow bigger here, more majestic. Maybe it’s the sweeping views from certain locations in the area. Maybe it’s the lack of people/pollution/noise. I just know I love it.

Wildlife. The first spring we lived in this house, we had a deer come up to our back door to feed off our grass. Austin just about burst from excitement! D chased a black bear through the front yard four years ago, trying to get a “good” shot of him. (dumbass) We drove into the yard last winter to find a family of deer just hanging out. And they stayed for a few minutes after we were all out of the van, something that still amazes me. The birds are incredible: hummingbirds, woodpeckers, bluejays, sparrows. Last year, there was a young bull moose hanging out in the area; D2 & I heard him bellowing every morning as we walked.

Damn bugs.

I grew up in a nice, cozy suburb of Vancouver. I lived in “the city” until I was 23 years old. Varying suburbs, none of them far from the hub of activity that is Vancouver.

Then I moved here.

In rural BC, things are vastly different than in the city. I must admit, the first couple of years here were hard. People who grow up together in small towns are cliquey (sp?) , to say the least. It’s very difficult to make new friends. Especially when, at the ripe old age of 23, I was not yet a mom. Seriously. Luckily, this has changed, and I have a good network of friends now. I also managed- amongst D’s coworkers at one of his jobs - to meet a woman I would consider a true friend of my soul.

The truth is, I enjoy living in a small town. I like my corner of the wilderness. It has it’s problems, but there are some amazing people living in these parts. As much as I miss my family and friends in Vancouver, I now find it hard to imagine returning to the city. I don’t rule it out, though, because you just never know what the future may bring.

What I Miss About the City:

• grocery stores open past 6 pm 8 pm 10 pm. Admittedly, we have come a looooong way since 1996, when this town shut down completely at 6 pm every night. Earlier on weekends!
• shopping. I try to shop locally, to keep the economy going, but it’s hard. We do not have a shoe store, for example. And even when we did, they never carried my size. (11)
• friends & family being nearby
• the potential for major career growth and/or change
• activities for my kids.

What I do Not Miss About that Same City:

• traffic. I estimate it takes less than two days for my road rage to return in full force when I’m in Vancouver.
• housing costs. I won’t say what we paid for our house in 2001, but it’s less than some people pay for their vehicles.
• the crazy pace of life. There’s something to be said for living a bit slower.
• the lack of a “community” feeling. I’m sure there are exceptions to this, however hard they are to find. My parents have lived in the same house since 1977, and they barely know any of their neighbors. WTF?!

An example of something I don’t enjoy about living here is the pine beetle epidemic roaring through our forests. It’s sad. A bug that cannot be stopped because nobody paid enough attention. A bug that has systematically turned once-green forests into swathes of red & dead sticks. Our beautiful one-acre property is going to be logged in the near future. Logged. When I think of loggers, I do not envision them coming to our property to cut down 90% of our trees. Yet, this is my new reality.

Because we have power lines running through the north and east sides of our property, Hydro has kindly offered to come in & fall the “hazard” trees. No cost to us. The catch? They drop the trees, and that’s it. No clean up , no hauling.

It kills me to know that we’ll have a mostly-bare lot by the end of April. I want to cry.

Perhaps the bug could never have been stopped. Perhaps railing at the government’s long ignorance of this issue is pointless. I don’t care. It pisses me off that the first hint we heard of this on the “big city” TV channels occurred when the pine beetle finally breached a “worthy” area of the province. Yes, it reached a city. That got someone’s attention. No matter that this little bug has eaten a path of utter destruction throughout the north of BC. Now it’s threatening a fucking golf course! We must act!

Grr.

Note: We had already decided to log the trees when Hydro contacted us. An acquaintance will be doing the work, and we should actually clear some money from the deal. I don’t particularly care if Hydro falls the trees near the lines, as long as they don’t fuck with our septic field or do it too soon (the wood will dry out, weigh less, and bring in less money at the mill).

Minus WHAT?!

The thermometer outside my front door is currently sitting at -25C. (or -13F for those not in Canada - funny how that hardly seems like a low enough number to get across how freaking cold it is this morning)

Anyhoo. The van is plugged in. I’m going to start it soon, in hopes that the seats soften up a bit and we might have something resembling heat on the way to town.

Brrrr.

February is cold. Go figure.

The opening ceremonies for the sporting event being held here were last night. I took our three billets because, well, I had to. The athletes are key to the whole thing, and a little snowstorm wasn’t going to keep us away.

Unfortunately, the fates conspired against me. Things I have now Learned The Hard Way:

1. If the athletes are to arrive BY 6:30, and the doors open AT 6:45, one should show up at 6 pm sharp.
2. When waiting to enter an arena, in February, outside, it will snow.
3. Said snow will then stop when you’re within sight of the door, and can almost feel the warmth within.
4. If one has arrived AT 6:25, one should realize that there is no chance in hell of actually getting inside the arena. The line is long for a reason.
5. The snow? It will start up again while one is walking to the rear of the arena, where they have helpfully set up a big-screen and hay bales.
6. Jeans are NOT acceptable winter wear. Nor are runners, for that matter. Gloves would have been nice, but damn, the van was too far away.
7. Hay bales do manage to keep one’s ass warmish.
8. The bonfires will be too far from the seating area to make one damn bit of difference.
9. The vendor will run out of hot chocolate. WTF?!
10. The snow will stop for good, but the wind will pick up. Wind chill factor is pure evil.
11. After freezing for two hours, one will discover that standing up and walking around is somewhat warmer. Har.

Honestly, the event was well done. Our local arena has a 2200 person capacity. Unfortunately, almost 1500 of those spaces were taken up by the athletes, coaches, officials and dignitaries. So, a mere 700 (or so) people made it into the stands. What. Ever. The emcee was amusing (weather guy from Vancouver), an Olympic gold medallist was in attendance and gave a great speech (Daniel Igali), and most of the speakers kept their blathering to a brief minimum.

Plus, we had the added bonus of booing the mayor (old hag who only gets re-elected because the retirees here love her) without her knowledge, AND booing the event director who deigned to mention the hardy souls who braved the cold and stuck around outside. Petty? Probably. Fun, and a nice distraction from our impending frostbite? Absofuckinglutely.

My only real complaint? (the cold doesn’t count, because I know what month it is, and that I live in the north of BC. And I’m not even complaining about the slightly painful defrosting that occurred in my nose and forehead. Really, I’m not) No, my complaint is this: after all the careful planning to ensure that athletes and billeting families were matched up (the insanity I survived on Thursday evening), that billeting families followed the rules, that kids got to venues, and that the athletes were corralled/supervised prior to the opening ceremonies (nobody but the athletes were allowed in the building), the IDIOTS released them all, en masse, into the snowy & cold night when the whole thing was over.

WTF?! I’ve known these kids and had them in my care for all of 24 hours, and I’m expected to find them in that crowd? Thankfully I’d told them to meet me at the van, should things get nuts after the ceremonies. They’re such amazing boys. I found them within 100 feet of the van, heading in that direction. I fear I wasn’t making much sense, and only cared about getting into the van where it might be warm.