Carrie’s Ramblings

Lakehead Univeristy Alumni Magazine article0
Carrie posted in What's happening on December 12th, 2010

Recently I was asked to answer some questions for a blurb in the Lakehead University Alumni Magazine. I thought my answers were going to be a little blurb on the side like, “This is what Carrie says…” but turns out it was a full page spread about me. You can read it here: http://magazine.lakeheadu.ca/2010/fall/promoting-environmental-stewardship/

A Lion and a Lynx0
Carrie posted in What's happening on December 11th, 2010

I wrote this article for a local paper who does a Pet Adoption Success story every once in a while, encouraging people to adopt pets from the shelter.

A Lion and a Lynx

After going through the painful process of putting down our 16-year-old cat, my partner Ryan and I were hesitant about going to the shelter. I felt like I never wanted to love again if that was how it had to end. The loss of a pet is never easy, but the silver lining for both of us was that we could now open our home to a cat who might need a friend. We both liked the idea of adopting an older cat from the shelter; one who had seen his share of tough times and needed a warm sunbeam or comfy lap to relax in his old age.
Within about seven seconds of meeting “Dill”, Ryan was completed smitten. I was horrified. “We can’t get that cat, he’s a small lion. He’ll crush us in our sleep!” I said. Dill was an enormous orange cat whose desire for affection was almost overwhelming. I was won over about ten seconds later.
“You know,” I said to Ryan, “we could get two cats. They could keep each other company, and once you have one cat another isn’t that different.” However, our desire for an older cat was completely undermined by a spunky little kitten with a disproportionally long bushy tail, and six toes on each foot. They both came home with us that day.
“We have a kitten?” Ryan looked at me slightly amused. I shrugged my shoulders and grimaced, “What could I do? We connected.” With long tufts of hair coming out of his ears, his grey tabby colour, and huge snowshoes for feet he looked just like a little lynx.
A little patience was needed when we first brought them home, as they were nervous about the change and hid in secret nooks and crannies in our house. Now “The Boys” have gotten over the Hide-under-the-bed-all-the-time stage and have taken over their new kingdom. Here we are a month later and you would think our house was built specifically for them. ‘Every cat owner knows, nobody owns a cat.’
Dill is now Phineas, the Lion King, and his second favourite spot is sprawled out on the foot of our bed; his number one spot is anywhere that is on top of someone. We should have a sign on our door that reads: “Do not expect to sit down in this house without a cat in your lap.” The spunky little stray kitten was instantly named Zephyr, the West Wind who has come crashing into our home. Zephyr can’t sit still long enough to have a favourite spot. In true kitten nature everything is interesting and he always needs to be part of the action, following us wherever we go. He’s often bugging Phineas to play with him, though he still hasn’t figured out that 4 extra toes doesn’t improve his traction on hardwood floors.
Introducing two cats to a new home has not been without its challenges: Zephyr needed to be neutered and when we brought him home from the vet Phineas thought he was an Evil Space Creature or something. There followed a week of tension and stress with cat fights all night, fur flying and the whole house turned upside-down. It was also the first time I’ve ever bathed a cat (it was recommended to get the smell of the vet off of Zephyr). I didn’t know a cat could make noises like that! Phineas absolutely will not share the bed and is unfazed when pushed out, simply readjusting and making himself comfortable on top of us. He’s also crushing my arm right now as I try and type this. We still catch both felines on the kitchen counters though they jump down right away because they know it’s not allowed. And the training of a stray cat to use a litter box is still not complete. Ryan growls in frustration and mumbles something about the stupid cat, but then I catch him and Zephyr curled up together on the couch for an afternoon nap. How did we end up with such a pushy lion and a troublesome lynx?
Every now and again I visit the Mae Bachur website and look at all the cats we couldn’t take home with us. I’m sad to see some of our favourites still haven’t found somebody to love, but smile when I notice different profiles disappear from the website as they find their “forever homes”. At night when the four of us snuggle up together in bed and struggle for our share of covers or pillow space, Ryan and I are happy that Phineas and Zephyr have proven worthy successors of our old cat.

“Another cat? Perhaps. For love there is also a season; its seeds must be re-sown. But a family cat is not replaceable like a worn-out coat or a set of tires. Each new kitten becomes its own cat, and none is repeated. I am four-cats-old, measuring out my life in friends that have succeeded but not replaced one another.” ~ Irving Townsend

Here comes the sun1
Carrie posted in Recreation on February 8th, 2010

On Sunday I sat on the chairlift and felt warmth on my face.  Cuba aside, it was the first time I in many cold dark months that I consciously feel warmth from the sun.  Though the weekend was unseasonably warm in general, hovering around the zero mark with a little windchill thrown in there, the SUN actually felt like more than just a figure of speech.  Feeling that warmed on 10 square inches of exposed skin was like the promise of spring.  That sometime, winter would end and we could be warm again.

Ryan’s just annoyed because the warm weather wreaks havoc with his cross-county ski wax.  I have waxless, I won.

Office hockey0
Carrie posted in Recreation on February 4th, 2010

A bunch of people decided to build backyard hockey rink outside of our office this winter.  They diligently shoveled out a patch and got the city to come and flood it for them.  Now at noon on any given day you’ll see people out there on our lunch break skating around and playing pick-up.  Wednesdays is the official game day when certain sections challenge other departments.  Behind the rink is a steep (STEEP) embankment where we go tobogganing sometimes.  Like, it’s really steep.  You can hear people screaming from inside the office as they fly down the pitch.

This Wednesday we held a fundraiser for the family of a woman in my office, who’s daughter was in a bad car accident and is now paralyzed.  She had to go spend more than a month in Edmonton at hospital so Shelagh had to take off work and find a place to stay down there, put ramps in their house, etc.  It’s really expensive.  So as a fundraiser for the family Environment Yukon hosted a hockey game and BBQ.

Anyone with skates got on the ice at the same time, and there was nothing to distinguish the teams.  The 17 people going north were on one team, and the 14 people going south on the other.  Unfortunately the ice didn’t freeze well and there were lots of air pockets that we broke through, making giant craters.  We marked some with boots and orange spray painted some others but soon there were more boots on the ice than free ice.  But it really leveled the playing field because no one could be a good skater on this ice.  You’d take 2 steps forward and then trip and fall.  You’d pass the puck up the ice and it would come to an abrupt stop in some hole.  Which means we spent more time laughing at everyone falling on their faces than playing hockey. Skates and sticks flying everywhere, people wiping out into you, and no one in control of the puck at all.

There were several media there and someone from the department was taking photos.

Cayo Coco0
Carrie posted in What's happening on February 3rd, 2010

Last week we returned from a trip to Cayo Coco.  Where is Cayo Coco?  It’s technically part of Cuba, but not really. I mean, our passports would say we went to Cuba, but Cuba and Cayo Coco are two very different things.

Cayo Coco is more like a Canadian tropical island.  The province of Cayo Coco.  Ha! The Canadian version of Guantanamo Bay.  Only instead of a dubious prison, Cayo Coco is an island of resorts.  Just resorts.  There are no towns on Cayo Coco, no Cubans actually live there.  The white sand beaches are lined with resorts but 85% of the island is undeveloped.  No building can be more than 3 stories high, so our 3rd story hotel room had an excellent view of the ocean even from 500 metres away from the beach across the lagoon. The flight leaves Toronto directly to Cayo Coco with the stewardesses getting everyone pumped saying “Is everybody ready for vacation!?”  Because everyone on that flight was going to one of those resorts.  And every resort was full of Canadians.  French Canadians mostly.  Ours was nearly empty as it was the off season, but other people we ran into said that their resorts were nearly 90% French Canadian. Every waiter, cook, bar tender, and activities programmer spoke French and English and Spanish and who knows how many other languages.  I met a couple of Brits…one family from Argentina, the rest Canadian.

It was so strange for Canada to suddenly be the centre of the universe. The staff would all ask, “Where in Canada are you from? Toronto? Montreal? Vancouver?”  We smiled and tried explain “Norte”.  That brought questioning looks until we explained we lived near the Arctic Circle.  If you think the Cubans were astounded you should have seen the reactions from the other Canadians.  One woman from Quebec didn’t understand that I would actually live there.  She thought I was just there for work, no one actually lives there.  The Lifeguards had Canada hip bags; the housekeepers ankle socks with maple leaves on them.  Gardeners had Habs t-shirts or Flames baseball caps and people don’t think twice about receiving a Twoonie or Loonies as a tip.  The seats on the Bici-Taxis had maple leaves on them and MuchMusic was playing in Spanish on the TV.  I thought, this is what it must be like for Americans to travel and have so many familiar things around them…

But we weren’t really travelling.  The purpose of the trip was rest and relaxation and visit with Ryan and Linner’s parents.  We made a serious dint in our book collections (and our livers), played cards with intensity, and enjoyed meals together catching up.  We sat on the beach, went snorkeling, scuba diving, and sailing.   We did take one day to join a tour to the mainland and visit a couple of cities, a cigar factory, a sugarcane mill, a plantation, and a mangrove forest, but we didn’t really like it as we’re not very good “Follow the Flower” tourists.  We kind of cringed as we realised that we were the Holland America tourists who sit on their coach buses who we make fun of all the time.  Not to mention that the game was up when we quickly realised the driver and tour guide were in cahoots with certain tourist traps where they strategically dropped us off.

I would love to go back and travel around Cuba. I think it’s a fascinating country.  Even from the very little we saw of it, so many myths were destroyed.  It helped too that Ryan is a walking dictionary and his Spanish fluency allowed us to have some more in-depth conversations with the gardeners.  They always had the best stories and loved to hear about where you were from and what your home was like.  They could talk forever and we would trade beer we snuck from the bar for small animal figurines woven from palm fronds and flowers for our rooms.  Even in Ciego de Avila Ryan struck up a nice conversation with an old woman sitting on the park bench next to him.  I was highly motivated to take a Spanish class so that I could speak with people as well.  I got by with a combination of French and “No hablo Espagnol” but it wasn’t the same.

But while I greatly enjoyed soaking up the much needed Vitamin D to get me through the rest of the winter (the Groundhog says there’s 6-weeks left of winter. HA! We should be so lucky…) one week of sitting on the beach was about all I could take.  There’s only so much canned-entertainment and getting fleeced as a tourist that we could put up with.   The all-inclusive deal sucks you in then nails you with all the extras.

But I have a nice tan…

Pictures here.

New Year’s Eve at Sprucewind0
Carrie posted in What's happening on January 11th, 2010

For a change of pace, I rented Sprucewind Girl Guide camp for New Year’s weekend.  Traditionally we’ve spent New Year’s at a friend’s place at Marsh Lake but it was taken by the flood so we needed a new venue.  Sprucewind was a great locale were we could all hang out but have good access to shinny-hockey, snowshoeing, and cross-country skiing.  A couple of friends said, “Well you need to sell this to me,” to which I responded, “No way. If hanging out in a rustic lodge and playing outside on New Year’s Eve with good friends doesn’t speak for itself, you don’t have to come.”

In the end 8 of us trekked out to the camp after work on New Year’s Eve to enjoy the time together.  When we arrived we surveyed the un-plowed parking lot, then picked up some speed and dove in. The little Versa prevailed and plowed through the snow right at the lodge doorstep.  The other small cars didn’t have any trouble either and it was actually the giant pick-up truck that got stuck and took us 20 minutes to get out!

I quickly ran inside to light a fire and start the slow process of thawing out the lodge.  It took us a good 2 hours of blazing fire to get the lodge to a temperature where you could take your mittens off and not freeze your hands.  At one point Ryan and I were starting to cook some Pad Thai for dinner (our chicken had frozen solid) and were dancing around the lodge in full battle dress (down booties, snowpants, Down jacket, wool toque and scarf and mitts) and we looked at each other thinking, “Are we having fun yet?”  It was dark at 4 pm and the temperature was rapidly falling.

Soon more food and friends arrived and we shoveled paths to the outhouses and woodlot and a little parking lot.  We chopped and chopped and chopped firewood and had very scientific debates on exactly how to bank the fire so that it would burn all night and we wouldn’t freeze in our beds.  Eventually we found old emergency wool blankets in the corner closet and pinned them up against the windows to try and preserve some heat.  While the lodge was not frozen anymore, you definitely had to have some indoor shoes and didn’t want to get too far away from the stove.  We kept the corner closet door shut but our veggies froze so we pulled them out.  We discussed the pros and cons of chamber pots and if it was really, I mean really, worth it, and the boys complained of cold toilet seats until us-girls taught them the art of hovering.  As we dashed out to the outhouses or to get more wood, we watched the temperature outside gradually creep down and finally rest at 38 below, with not a breath of wind.

One of my friends asked me, “So you actually bring little girls out here in the winter?  That’s hardcore.”  I smiled and nodded but had to think that it would be tough to have young girls out here at this temperature. At the same time, this is what good camp stories are made of.  “Remember the time we went to camp and it was so cold we couldn’t sit on the outhouse seats?”  And I thought, this is what good Girl Guides are made of.

In the middle of the night the fire died down and I woke to the sound a friend getting up to make a dash for the outhouse.  When she came back in she collected more wood from the veranda, chopped some more kindling, got the fire going again and banked enough to last us until morning.  As I lay snug in my warm bed, tackily not offering to help, I couldn’t help but really appreciate camping with Northern Girls.  This friend grew up in Stewart Crossing, in a cabin heated by wood, dog team in the yard, and wild game in the freezer.  She knew what she was doing. I didn’t have to get up and supervise, or listen to her whine from her bed that she was cold.  I could totally count on her skills to keep us warm for the night and I was so thankful I chose to go winter camping, at 40 below, with Northern Girls.  Girls who weren’t afraid of cold weather, could light a fire in the middle of the night without turning a light on, and wanted to spend New Year’s eve in a frozen Girl Guide camp.  Yeah it would be tough to have some young girls out there, but they would be tough because of it.

In the end we never did go skiing or skating; we just sat around and enjoyed each others company.  The blue-moon light up the forest and when the cell phone told us it was midnight we broke leftover Christmas Crackers, put on paper crowns, played with silly kid’s toys, and hugged each other to ring in the New Year…and for warmth.

Lynx release1
Carrie posted in What's happening on December 9th, 2009

On Monday I was invited to participate in the release of lynx that had be rescue by an extremely lucky woman.  Lucky as in she’s lucky she didn’t die.  In the picture in the paper, that’s me taking the photo in the background as they move the crate out of the truck.  It was pretty uneventful really.  In fact the lynx didn’t even leave when we opened the crate.  We had to practically dump it out to get it to move.

Read the article in the Whitehorse Star.
That’s my job…

The true meaning of Christmas0
Carrie posted in Rants on November 30th, 2009

I would like to take a moment to let you all know how many of your Yukon tax dollars have been spent on The True Meaning of Christmas thus far.

It started with an email from a representative of the Social Planning committee here at Environment Yukon.  It rather innocently stated,[subject title] Christmas Gift Exchange, “We are trying to bring back this fun, inexpensive way for staff to get together and just enjoy so…that being said, please keep your gifts under $15.  Be creative - there are a lot of interesting and cool gifts out there for this price range.”

Now my position on this email was to ignore it.  I’m not going to be there, I’m heading home, you can exchange to your heart’s content. So I didn’t give it another thought, until this happened:

Bob emails back, “Call me a Scrooge but my feeling is that we could spend $1500.00 in a much better way that would embody the true spirit of Christmas by actually helping someone in need…” Then he went on to say that our social get together could involve some meaningful discussions on how we spend this money to help people in dire need.  He provided some links to great organisations etc etc etc.

My reaction this time was to think, I guess that’s true because you usually end with a candle and some chocolates that someone bought at the last minute because it’s generic and anyone could like it, blah blah blah. And to ignore it.  I’m not going to be there, you can NOT exchange to your heart’s content, I don’t care.
But then Billy, Suzie, Joey, Michelle and whoever else piped in with their support comments that were variations of this phrase, “Great idea Bob! Thanks for reminding us about the true meaning of Christmas…it’s about helping others in need/it’s about getting together and sharing/it’s about finding what really matters/it’s about thinking about others/blah blah blah.”  You get the picture.  Lots of people being reminded about the “TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS.”

Thing is, all these people think that everyone is in agreement, so they REPLY ALL to everyone in Environment Yukon.

But from where I sit, and I sit in a pretty central (read: gossipy/water-cooler-like) location, I’ve been hearing differently.

The people who don’t agree are grumbling to themselves.  They are whispering in the hallways about so-and-so’s comment and what Whosit had to say.  With malice in their voices they are gossiping to each about how they don’t want to give to a charity they just want to have a social party with their friends, and Bob is only saying this because last year he got stuck with the pink fuzzy handcuffs and couldn’t take a joke.  None of these people are emailing “REPLY ALL” though, but instead just bitching to each other, so those on the fence are now thinking, “Well I guess everyone must want to give to a charity,” and a serious case of Groupthink settles in.

Now I’m a big cheerleader for good communication and saying what you mean or else shut up about it, but I understand why these rebels won’t Reply All.  Because who’s going to stand up and say, “Actually, in this festive season I would not like to give to charity and instead contribute to our meaningless consumer driven lives by buying cheap Chinese junk and getting drunk with friends/colleagues”?  No one is going to actually confess to that! But lots of people are thinking it.

So now there are bitter whisperings about ‘The True meaning of Christmas.’  People are saying “It’s about helping others,” others are saying, “It’s about getting together with friends and being merry.”  Oh there is a whole range of responses to this question and meanwhile I’m trying to get work done because I’m getting OUT OF HERE for Christmas (that’s what the true meaning of Christmas is to me) but my Inbox is being flooded by all of these people TELLING me what the true spirit of Christmas is all about.

But I’m still reading all this and keeping my mouth shut. For a change. But here are my thoughts (you know I have them):

#1)  It is true that Christmas is WAY too consumer driven.  While I’m a fan of Chinese Gift Exchanges because they’re usually pretty hysterical, I agree that more often than not you end up with some ridiculously useless stuff. And $15 is a lot of money for useless stuff.  It can’t be specific really to a person because anybody could end up with it, and so what are you going to get?  Which is why I support the Christmas List.  Though selfish and greedy in appearance, I believe that properly utilised this service actually benefits “The Christmas Spirit”.   A) You get the person something they actually want/need/value.  B) You don’t have to buy random junk and hope that you can pretend you actually know them well enough to know what they’d like.  C) You don’t have to spend as much time shopping for random things but instead can shop with purpose, thus freeing time for other Christmas activities such as criticising family haircuts, consuming copious amounts of Egg Nog, and working overtime to pay for your ridiculously high electric bill for all the extra Christmas lights. But I’m off topic now.  Point #1 is, I see where the Charity-Hippies are coming from I don’t really feel like shopping for junk either.

HOWEVER, here is thought #2)

How dare you make me feel like less of a decent human being because I want to get together with my friends/colleagues and exchange some gifts? Because that’s totally the way ALL of those emails came across.  “Thanks for reminding us about the true meaning of Christmas”?  Is that a jab?  What are you saying exactly?  What was at first worth ignoring only, was now getting me riled up.  Suddenly all of those emails translated into, “We are superior beings because we refuse to participate in the Capitalist Christmas Craze and you lowly people are so petty.”  Which may or may not have been the intent but that’s what happens when you REPLY ALL.  I swear that  button should not exist on Government emails.

Thought #3)  I don’t care, I’m not going to be here anyway.  Do whatever you want.

But what really irritated me more than anything were all the people telling me what “The true meaning of Christmas is all about.” That just irked me.  You can’t define what “Christmas is all about” to other people.  In this day when Jews are putting up Hannuka bushes and people are wishing each other “Seasons Greetings” for fear of insulting one another, there is no set definition on the “Spirit of Christmas”.

So I can hardly bite my tongue anymore.  But you’ll be comforted to know that while Bruce and I are trouble makers in the department, real rebels, we did have better sense than to actually say what I’m about to say.  Instead we laughed long and hard about all the ways we could stir the pot, and then actually spent time DOING OUR JOBS.  As opposed to Replying All.  But I thought of replying 2 things:

#1)  I’m Jewish.

or

#2) [picture my young, innocent face, amongst all the hippies that work for YG and old cronies that are just biding their time ’til retirement] “I thought the true meaning of Christmas was about Jesus the Messiah being sent to Earth by God to save us all from sin?  I’ll pray for your souls tonight.”

Just imagine the reaction.  Or lack thereof.  Who’s going to actually write something down and Reply All arguing against that?  Because, technically, I mean technically, I’m right.  And technically, if you argue against me, I could claim discrimination based on religious beliefs or something ridiculous like that. So by saying that, my real goal, other than conversion of all the sinners in the world, is to shut-people-up.  MY GOD!  Move on people!

I can just picture my fellow Environment Yukon hippies being afraid to walk by the Bible-Thumper’s office.  No one would come and bug me with Make-Work-Projects.  I would always get what I wanted from people because they would be afraid of the wrath of God I could bring with me.  I could get out of doing work by saying I have to go to church.  It would be great.

It could also be career-limiting.  So Bruce and I laughed long and hard about it, then moved on. I figured it would be hypocritical to try and tell other people about the True Meaning of Christmas.

Olympic torch comes through Whitehorse0
Carrie posted in What's happening on November 10th, 2009

Last week the Olympic torch was brought and run through Whitehorse. My office is right across from the airport and so we ran out there to see it come running by, then at home it came down from the Canada Games Centre and right past our house.  The funniest part was the gridlock it caused at the intersection of the Alaska Hwy and Hamilton Blvd.  There were cars backed up for…metres… and people would go to turn left and suddenly there was no place to go so they were stuck in the middle and the light would change and cars are trying to go around them and they’re trying to back up but the person behind them doesn’t know what to do and everyone is waving and panicking and no one knows what to do. I thought, “Aww it’s just like home…”

Afterwards we went down to Shipyards park where they had a stage set up with musical entertainment and food boths and lights and speeches etc.  It was very carvival-like.  CocaCola gave out free cokes in glowing bottles and everyone had flags or cowbells or these weird little tamborine things that RBC gave out.  You could get your picture taken with the torch and they had bonfires all around.  I was really tired and didn’t want to go out of the house again, but I thought, “This thing doesn’t come through here every year, so I’d better go and check it out.”  so i did.

This is what I saw.

The Great pumpkin shortage1
Carrie posted in What's happening on October 28th, 2009

I read today that a blog, to be a blog, must be updated every few days.  Since I seem to have fallen off on that recently I guess I’d better start writting. I think I’m mostly jealous of other people’s blog.  Uncle Mikey has cool photos and stuff on his.  I can’t figure out how to do that. So I’ll just have to focus on writing well.

Yesterday we tried to have a pumpkin carving party.  2nd annual.  Last year’s was actually pretty big.  We had heaps of people and cool carvings though none as interesting as Hayley’s Obama silhouette carving last year.  But this year was a little less exciting.  It sorta snuck on me, Halloween.  So I called people together using the reliable Facebook messaging system and people couldn’t come! Why?  Here’s why:

1) Nick has highland dancing at the college.  And he was sober.  I try to imaging a 6-ft-something tall gangly guy doing Highland dancing and have to say, “Pardon me?”

2) Holly had a pottery class to attend.

3) Sheila had Can-Can.  She just told me Can-Can.  I don’t know what that means.  Like, is she watching it or doing it or is it code for, “I don’t want to go to your stupid party this year”?

But all of this doesn’t really matter, because it’s not like there were any pumpkins around.  Ryan went to both major grocery stores as well as 2 of the smaller ones and there were none to be found.  Apparently, word on the street is that there was a bad pumpkin crop this year and so they’re hard to come by.  Tim managed to get one earlier that day but by the time we got to the store, nada.

I wondered if other people had managed to find a pumpkin and when they started showing up I realised we weren’t the only pumpkin-less people.  So we got beer instead.  Pretty good trade off if you ask me.

Lindsay however, would not be deterred so easily.  She purchased a small watermelon that must have cost her a fortune at this time of year and proceded to carve it.  Jack, the Pumpkin King from the Nightmare before Christmas resulted, and he’s quite cute sitting there all green.

At least we’ll have one decoration for Halloween.