Back vs Stomach

This morning I had the 0715 shift report time. The cafeteria opens at...earlier than 700, so I was able to go in and get a mixture of oats and yogurt and a couple muffins for the road. Oh, and rice krispies. So, I take my little red tray of food and decide to just stay on the bottom floor of the cafeteria instead of ascending to the second floor this morning, to save time and energy, and pain in my back. I tenderly lower my body at a table by my lonesome and I'm facing an older gentleman who is sitting, faced to my left. I chomp away diligently at my morning meal and don't think of much. I think of how I really love 'yoats' and how my back is quite tender and just try not to move more than my mouth. I hear the older gentleman make a coughing noise. No big deal.

A man and woman enter with their little red trays and set them down, a seat away and across from the left-facing gentleman in the orange toque. The man and woman left their trays to go get some jam and in the mean time, the orange-tipped man continued his hacking until he turned quickly and vomited in the trash can gratefully right behind him...ungratefully directly in my view. I think I paused...every muscle below my forehead and above my belly button, deciding what to decide to do about my current predicament, as he continued vomiting a few more times. As my eyes were in a moment of indecision, they continued witnessing his convulsing heaves. I peeled my eyes away and cast them toward my own food.

Here was the moment where I had to mediate between back and stomach.

"Ow," said my stomach.

"Ow, don't even think about it," said my back.

Why move seats when I was almost done eating just to get up, move, sit again, finish and then get up again, move again, etc. It was just too much to bear. My stomach was quickly disciplined and I let my back be the victor.

The other man came back and witnessed some of the vomiting and looked at me. I'm not sure what my face told him, but he kept looking at the vomiter, his food and myself, and it made me laugh. Not out loud, but enough to comminucate that I too was undone. but I also felt bad for the guy! It's no fun to vomit. And why oh why was he still stuffing froot loops and yogurt into his stomach if it was rejecting the thrown-out waffle being finely coated in syrupy vomit?

I don't know. I commanded my stomach to finish the yoats and I took my muffins, my red tray and my back out of the dining area.

Well, lessoned learned: go upstairs to eat.

Days Off

Besides the broken back, the nothing but good times continue. There are just so many things to tell about!

I got paid! That's always reassuring, that I'm not actually being mistaken as a volunteer. We all wondered about monetary materialization for a while. My fears are gone, and so should be yours...

My face wash smells like Sprite. Here in Canadia boonies I think of Sprite more than I have in my whole life. And that leads me to think of Italian sodas that my family makes now and again and it makes me miss those occasions. Hey out there, family that rarely reads my blog. Love you guys!

So, in the week of Feb 1-6 I only worked two days. So, with four days off in a row, Seth, Merilee and myself went to Victoria Island. It took a two hour bus ride connected to a 15 minute sky train to a 1 hour wait to a 45 minute bus ride to another hour and a half wait to the hour and a half ferry ride to another hour bus ride just to freaking get there... So that you don't have to think about how long that was, I'll just tell you this: we started at 9am in Whistler and arrived in Victoria Island at 6:30pm. All that transport was very tiring.

So first thing we did was call Dispatch to tell them we would be needing an extra day in order to see anything at all, since at that moment in time we had only that day and the next off. It would be horrifically unhelpful to just go home the next day at 10am. They told us we could have another day. Yay! So, we checked in to our hostel, added an extra night, and dropped off our crap to go to dinner.

We walked for many blocks to an Indian restaurant. It was pretty good. We got food and ate it. Then we left after we paid for it. Pretty basic.

We went around the town a bit then, looking for ice cream mostly, but seeing many other things in the mean time. Like buildings, stores in them, windows in the front of them, and whales and totems and eagles, oh my! on the street. Finally we slipped into a conviently placed store filled with all the junk one needs at 9pm or later and got a little tub of vanilla brownie fudge ice cream and three spoons. We went back to our hostel, ate it, played some pool, did some yoga while I wasn't the one playing pool, and THEN we went to bed. The room was awesome! Well, it was a room. With a bunk bed, a mirror, a small desk and a chair. But the ceiling was like twenty feet up. Two more bunks could have easily made their way up there. But as it was was sufficient for sleeping, which we did.

Then we went to breakfast in the AM at a place called the Sour Pickle. It was yumesome! No, didn't have any pickles, sour or otherwise, and yes, it was the typical breakfast all day place, our order taken by an asian lady that we couldn't understand who kept coming back to ask, "is anything all right?", another asian-looking man taking off an apron and going out the front door, either to smoke or get more ingredients for his kitchen...it was the beeest. Really. I do recommend it.

Then off we walked for many many many blocks. Many. We saw the world's tallest totem pole with a living, sitting eagle on its top. We saw a beach with an ocean attached to it. We saw many rocks worth picking up to admire on the beach. We got more ice cream and that was enough to fill our ice cream quota for the week really. Those fast food ice creams go right through me usually. Yeah, I don't like to hear about it either. Okay, so we kept walking. Oh, we walked through a park! Beacon something park. Lovely place. Did you know there are black squirrels? There are. Did you know there's a peacock in Beacon park? Birds just don't even know how beautiful they are, don't you think?

Ah shoot, I have to finish this post now. Okay...we had a lovely day, rewound that hectic travelog, made it home for prison dinner and slept. I woke for the 0415 shift the next morning. Yay. 12 hour shifts are the most delicious. Oh yeah, so just in case you didn't know, I'm driving motor coach buses up here in Whistler Canada, transporting the security personnel to and from venues where they can protect people. It can get super boring, but it's beautiful around here. I haven't fallen alseep at the wheel yet. So...more later. Cheers!

January's Short Story

Actually, I had the idea for this story and it just kept coming out until 10 thousand and a half words were burnt onto the page. I wrote it in probably eight hours...it just came. I loved it. I hope you can read it all, because you need to start somewhere. I'm going to have eleven more. Hopefully I can keep them shorter, but I think this story needed everything I put in it. Pretty much. But I appreciate your fresh (soon-to-be wet) eyes, so you can drop off your comments. If you're anonymous, however, I think you should say something productive if anything at all. Just sayin. I appreciate encouragement and constructive criticism as much as the next writer. Maybe even more than the next writer. We don't know who he/she is, anyway, so it's hard to tell.

The short stories that I write this year will be on a separate blog. They're too long to post in with the Dramastic writings, and I don't want those delicate and sometimes petite writings to be interrupted by visually intimidating, lengthy posts like Heather's Heart. Heather's Heart is a work of fiction. It is not about my life. I hope it doesn't happen in my life. But many characters are inspired by people very close to me, though I do not intend that these similarities are necessarily reflective of my perceptions of these people. I fictionized many things. But I also felt many real things as I wrote it and it comes direct to you from my tiniest heart fibers... Hope you enjoy. Cheers!

Little Pieces of Canada

I notice as I drive up and back the same 15 minute stretch of highway 99 twenty times a day, that I wave at all other motor coach and bus drivers. It has become so second-nature that I sometimes catch my hand waving at anything that looks big or has clearance lights on it...
Like Hostess truck drivers, for example, or pick up drivers. Even when I was getting a miracle ride home from church today I kept my hand from lifting as every great motor coach sailed by.

I know the road so well that I can practically sleep and drive. But I don't. The coaches seem to get as bored as I sometimes, driving along, they themselves having memorized the route. Only now and again will the routine be broken up by a slow tractor in the way...or a female flagger in a neon yellow reflective jumpsuit...or a snowboarder racing across the road as only a snowboarder can in stiff snowboarding boots...but not by any animals yet. I haven't even seen a piece of road kill here in Canada. They take cleanliness very seriously.

But when I walked out of the metro on Friday when I went down to Vancouver to send off a mitigation letter to plead for innocence in regard to my logbook infraction on day one, I saw a man sitting on the rain-wet ground. His hair was the same color as his face, as his jacket, as his hands, as his sign, that said, "Anything will help." Anything, really? I could think of a few things that might not...but anyway, I thought of one that could have. "I have an apple," I offered. He opened his mouth and I knew.

"I'd take it, but I don't have teeth to eat it!" He smiled. His look was as vacant as his gums. He had laughed about it, but really. That's sad! Can't even eat an apple for how life has neglected his mouth. Wow.

Today I made it to church. A little 5-member branch in Squamish, BC. Today there were about 15 or more people, though, for all the visitors. I brought two others with me, Merilee and Seth, our curious friend. It was a much less dramatic journey to get there this week. We got dropped out of the bus right off the highway (basically tucked and rolled) and then from there it was just a mile walk in a mildly misty air. It was pleasant. And on the way, there was a sign about how to care for your dog on its leash and its poop, and underneath the human part there was this for the dogs:

Dogs: Woof Woof, Bark Bark. (Good Dog).

I laughed and laughed and made Merilee take a picture of it. So she made me get in the picture and I'm sure that looked marvelous...but it was a funny moment. I'll hopefully get that picture soon.

OH! We've walked around the Whistler town a couple times. We hit up the sweet library (that's now closed for the Olympics...and there's a secondary school that's going to close for the whole Olympics, can you believe that?), we strolled the whole area that's marked on the cartoon map as "stroll area" and looked at all the over-priced stores. We walked through one Olympic store that has awesome cool Olympic everything that I can't afford. We walked through the movie theater which really has a speak-easy feel to it. We found a MARVELOUS candy store called The Great Glass Elevator Candy Store. YUM I found a piece of heaven in Whistler. And we got icecream that was delish and not as expensive as the other place that has a great, actual-size COW made of...ceramic? who knows what. But whatever they made it out of must have been expensive, or why else would one scoop of icecream cost $4.95? That's not right. They had creative t-shirts, too. Like "The Jonas Brudders" and "Dairy Potter" etc. Maybe if they laid off the gimmicks people would actually buy their ice cream! cuz it wouldn't cost an arm and an udder.

We saw a lot of people running around in short shorts and long socks with Australian flags for capes. It was Aussi day! That was all we saw, though. That and a whole heap of snow boarders and skiers. Oh, I bought some mittens. They're red and white with little Canada flags on them and Whistler on the wrist. Cute and cuddly, that's what they are.

Okay, that's all that's come to mind here as I sit down. And I'm about to run out of battery. So no pics with this post. But soon!

Don't Lend

A snowflake perched on my fingertip
Briefly pecks with a winter nip.
One, warm from a beating heart,
Melts the finite frosted art.
Distinctly unique yet none perfect,
Two matchless formations briefly connect.

My five fingers merged into his,
Trust his lead wherever it is.
Each tip, clutched in a faithful hold,
Could have a different story told
Of every touch and tender graze
Slowing nights from becoming days.

What are the odds that two will meet,
Even match, though with parts incomplete?
Both, hoping the lend will give and take,
Try hand in hand a life to make.
Divinely paired yet none perfect,
Two mismatched formations briefly connect.

"Hello, Bonjour"

The official languages of the Olympics are French and English. Often I will hear people say these two words for greeting and since I know both languages I usually respond to the word I hear last, “Bonjour!” But there are only a dozen maybe who can go any farther than that, and with these dozen I have a jolly splendid time using the French side of my tongue. ☺ It’s the best.

There isn’t a whole lot to do except eat, work and sleep up here. We went into town today and I’ll get to that in a later post. But they provide three meals daily and the options are quite varied. On top of that, the food is actually quite good! Cereal is always available (aaand, I seem to be eating it at every meal…) and desserts are served with dinner. Recently there has been a lot of blueberry-inspired dessert options. Methinks they have a great big glob they want to use before it goes bad. My roommate hypothesized that they must have had a large blueberry donation. These are times when I just pat her hand and nod. And laugh, haha! Cuz she’s so funny. Blueberry donations… There is a road here that intersects the freeway called Blueberry Dr. and that made me happy and continues to do so each time I pass it, which is about a double dozen times a day when they put me on twelve hour shifts every other day.

We have nine buses and eighteen drivers staying here in Whistler. So, now when there isn’t as much to have driven around we basically have day on/day off schedules. One driver works twelve hours instead of two working six hours…don’t know why really. A LOT could go a lot better around here, if people communicated and made final decisions. There are just so many people and things to keep track of. I’m so glad I’m not in any leadership position of any kind. Bless their hearts…

Sunday was a day off for me and a bunch of the other Mormons. We decided to jump on the bus headed to Vancouver and go to church. Back when we were housed in Vancouver I had looked up where local churches were and there was an address listed not far from where we were staying. We ended up going to a different ward the first Sunday, but this Sunday I was desirous not to have to travel the eight miles/forty minutes out of town. First thing I had to do though in Vancouver was go to the UDAC (don’t worry about what that is) to get my “accreditation.” I don’t even know its purpose but I wear it around my neck and it makes a lot of things become free and closed doors magically open. It’s sweet. So, I got that first, which only took about five minutes. During those five minutes, Vic was having one of the UDAC employees look up the address of the church since I couldn’t remember the exact location, only that it wasn’t far from the hotel. She looked it up and the internet showed that at that location the ward was Spanish. I thought to myself, “huh.” And took the sticky note she had written the address on and returned to the mini bus filled with drivers. We were headed back to the hotel anyway and I would double check the address because I know that I saw a regular ward meeting at that address. It was true when I looked again, it said 1st Ward Spanish (1:00) and 4th Ward (1:00).
It was already 1:00 when we rushed for the city bus so we weren’t so concerned with being on time, but we did want to get there asap so we walked briskly. I had little black flats on and it wasn’t ideal. We did catch one bus. It took us maybe 1.9 of the 2.7 miles we had to cover and where it dropped us off we walked some more. It was cold and slightly rainy, too. Uphill both ways… jk. Well, after passing a Jewish center, a Methodist chapel and some other building with fancy letters that looked possibly religious, we saw a simple steeple on a brown brick building and we knew it was the one. Well, technically it was the right church, the right religion, but we all heaved a sigh when we saw the letters on the outside: La Iglesia de Jesucristo de los Santos de los Últimos Días. Wrong language. Apparently the Internet failed to mention that actually the 4th Ward met at 9AM.

We sat around for a while, soaking in some spiritualness, talking to our nonmember friend that had trekked with us…yeah, that too, and then left to wait for the next bus to take us back to the hotel. My feet hurt by the end, but it was a fine adventure. This friend is still asking a lot of questions and I gave him my little copy of those give away paperback types of Book of Mormon. I guess he’s already started reading it and getting bugged by the “And it came to pass”es, so he’s doing just fine… ;) Anyway, it’s a good book.

Pretty much now I should be done. This is long enough. I have written a poem that I may post next time I’m around the Web. I’ll just say it’s been a hard one to get out. My creativity is constipated. Too much serious work digestion. A la prochaine!

Who knew

When you can't go into the already-cramped office area because you're not allowed to, but you want to use the Internet, well then just huddle at the neighboring trailer where no one can see you (except the curious grounds workers) and pilfer the internet from outside. mwahaha ha ahem. My fingers are cold...

Another Day

So, I have arrived in Whistler. It’s seriously way beautiful. It’s about a two hour drive from Vancouver and the last hour or so is spectacular. After a bend in the road, looking over a very far drop the ocean comes into view, but it’s surrounded by mountains and has big, rocky islands spotted throughout. It’s important that I keep my eyes on the windy road, however, so I haven’t taken many lengthy looks. But the snap shots that my eyes reported to my brain were very agreeable. It reminds me of Alaska and Provo Canyon kinda mixed together. Wednesday was the first drive where I took up a group of people with me to Whistler. After dropping off my bags in my room (I’ll get to that in a minute) I went back to park the bus. The way we parked—wait, back up. Where we have available to us to park is dismal. We parked in there facing away from the exit and I voiced that it might be better if we at least angled ourselves the other way to make it easier to get out. The other drivers agreed. I moved my bus and when the next driver went to move his, stuck. So we figured we’d get that one unstuck in the morning and leave the others as they were.

When we returned in the morning at 9AM, the bus I had parked moved out perfectly. Another had been parked behind the others so it moved out just fine as well. The stuck one wasn’t going anywhere, even after half an hour of chains and sand. The chains burrowed nicely into the icy dirt making a cozy dual tire cradle for the bus to rest in until the tow truck giant wrecker tow mobile came. Oh, and the other bus that I hadn’t parked the night before but would be assigned to for the day was also stuck. So we had two stuck buses and a tow truck on the way. We waited in the little driver’s lounge and drank hot chocolate and three drivers against one dispatcher discussed Mormonism with another worker. It was pleasant enough, but she kept saying, “WOW” to anything pretty significant like “uh huh, you guys are nuts.” Haha But it was a fine discussion. The guy driver next to me went for the kill, ya know, right into the Joseph Smith seeing God story and I, who am very not ashamed of that story, still thought it just wasn’t the right setting for the whole explanation, but whatever, he went for it. Sometimes, in my personal opinion, ‘missionary mode’ is better left to missionaries, and ‘simple answers until further questions’ can be for the non-full time missionary members to practice, showing mostly a good, happy, real example of gospel living. I like to keep conversations real, two-sided, open for people that I’ll be working with instead of shooting out the whole story first chance they ask. But, best of all, just ask for and follow the Spirit.

Aaaanyway, so since it took about two hours longer than expected to back out the other two buses, Merilee and I have the day “off” until 4pm. We’re doing laundry and sleeping. Well, I’m obviously not sleeping at the moment, but I will. Gonna change the laundry first. I got pretty nice rusty chain juice all over my pants this morning. We’ll see if that comes out.

Our rooms are about ten by ten by ten. Four more feet than my body’s length all around? Yeah, that might be about right. There’s a door to get in through, a six-foot tall locker, a five foot tall boxy closet of sorts, a desk attached to the wall under a window and a bunk bed. I’m on top. So, all things considered…it’s not terrible. At least we only have two people in here. I heard that Security workers have four to a room. Yow. There are individual communal showers, if that makes sense, public restroom toilet stalls, even some urinals even though our trailer is all chicks inside. And there’s free laundry! And I have to go change mine. So, this is where I’ll end so I can sleep. A la prochaine!

Week One

Well, almost one week anyway...okay actually five days. I've done mostly sitting and I've made over $700 after taxes already. :) Cool.

Okay, so to explain the first day's post...We didn't get a whole lot of "how to" information (a pattern that has continued solid throughout the trip) about our driver's log book before we started on the road. EVEN when instead of leaving at 7AM we left at 10AM, we still didn't know what we were doing and really even where we were going except following the first bus. The bus that my driving companion Merilee and I were in had a governor at 70 (meaning we couldn't go over 70 mph in case you didn't know) and soon we lost those in front that could go faster. I was quasi-sleeping in the rear when Merilee kind of panic exited and it was one of those unfortunate exits that doesn't have an on ramp to get back onto the freeway. So we eventually got back to the freeway and to the waiting drivers, but there was no intercommunication among drivers and it was a real mess. I'm not very good at mind reading. I've been trying to work on it, but it's not coming very naturally. It would come in handy about every five minutes here, because no two minds are alike, neither any two plans, two decisions, two final words.... Yaaaaa! It's somewhat frustrating. But I'm still having a good time. Optimism ruins bad situations and I'm really having a great time. I just love Merilee, she's awesome.

Okay, well so we were driving. I started driving Thursday at about 5:30 in Boise, ID. We drove for about two hours and guess where that led us? Le Grande! Cool! I called my Grandpa but he was stuck at home without Grandma and couldn't come see me (too bad I didn't know we would be stopping...I wonder if anyone knew...) but it was still fun to talk to him. Then we continued on. our log books had us logged on as "on duty" since 7AM, so when we got to Washington I had been "on duty" already almost fifteen hours so when the amaaaaaaaaaaazing weigh station guard checked our log books, his thin understanding of motor coach road rules wrapped us into parking and bringing in our paper work. He printed off some sheet of rules that were really vague and hard to understand on the fly but he relied on them like the Bible for a just punishment. Technically, however, if the right rules be read correctly, we weren't over our hours of allowed driving time for the day. See, drivers (truck or passenger vehicle) are allowed only so many hours on the clock a day and in the week. If you go over it could mean you're working too hard and could get drowsy, etc., etc. So, it's heavily tracked, regulated and punished. So I was one that got caught. The awwwwwwwwwwesome guard took us all through the process with this little "my tights are too tight" attitude, not really listening to our questions for clarification, just pointing to the omniscient piece of paper, and even covering his ears with his hands when my supervisor tried to get something cleared up. Wow. He decided he would go "easy" on us and he only fined us for going over 14 hours...which didn't make any sense to anyone. And another driver found the green book of official federal rules later and found out where the guard was wrong. So, we'll get off the hook, but we still have to plead our way out of it with a judge and stuff. Me and my noodle-nerve self were crying in front of the guard and the other drivers. I always get teary when I'm getting disciplined for something and it frustrates me even more and I lose control of my tears even more....I think it's terribly lame. But my throat ties in about eight knots if I try to suppress it and then I'll end up crying anyway, so I just let it out.

So, he finished the lame, lengthy process of giving me a lame, pricey ticket and I went back to my bus. Merilee would have to drive from there because I was off the clock until 9:20 the next morning. It was about 11 then. We drove to the next town, Kennewick, and it wasn't until 1:30 that we were checked into a motel and 2AM when we got to bed. LONG DAY.

Well anyway, here in Vancouver it's pretty cool. The first thing they warned us about was to not walk within 8-10 feet of the perimeter fences where our buses will be parked because of the heroin addicts throwing needles over the fence. They do it in anger because the Olympic committee took that port-side lot that formerly had abandoned warehouses on it that the addicts used as hide-outs of sorts, so it's mostly an act of vengeance. So, we need to watch out. I see bums EVERYWHERE and it makes me sad. Drugs are so powerful it's just not even fair....there are so few people that aren't mixed into some addiction or dependence on some substance not meant for consumption. Really sad.

Well, there's really too much to say... I'm in a hotel called the Shaughnessy and its theme is "cruise ship." We have individual rooms with a pull out couch bed, a bathroom, a sink with cupboards and drawers and a microwave, a television, a two seater table and a patio. Neat idea, sure, but a definite weird smell and sense of isolation that I really don't like. It's like a slightly souped up camper. Except this room I'm not worried about crashing into icebergs and sinking. At least that's nice...

So turns out I won't be staying in Vancouver, I'll be in the mountain town Whistler. It's the olympic venue for most skiing events and I'll get to see it tomorrow. We've just been training so far, which includes a lot of information, misinformation and re-information and sitting. And donuts. So I'll be disembarking the Shaughnessy and headed to a truck trailer with bunk beds in Whistler. Huzzah. :) The adventures seem to be endless for the 2010 Olympics.

Until next time. I have to wake up much too early tomorrow.

Day One

My very first driving infraction. $179

It's 2 am

I've had better days