Michael's Meanderings

Happy! Happy! Happy!

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:55:00 +0000

Snow! Snow! Snow!

I've been so bored lately, trudging around the trails behind my house. Now that we have enough snow, the kicksled can come out! Even better, we have a new high-energy dog on the street. Two-dog-power was fast. I can't wait to try three!

Gourmet food for when times are tough...

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:10:00 +0000

I was watching an episode of Clara's Great Depression Cooking on Youtube when something caught my eye. It was the advertisement. An advertisement for cat food.

Coincidence, incredibly sophisticated software, or pure, evil genius?

Peter Pumpkinhead

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 07:15:00 +0000

This year, I thought I would break with my long-established tradition of covering my head with shaving cream and scaring kids. I didn't carve an elaborate pumpkin, either.

This year, I decided to mix things up a bit. I covered my head with a carved pumpkin and scared kids.

Looking at the picture, it's pretty obvious that the "scarecrow" is someone dressed up with a pumpkin on their head. After all, who would be crazy enough to leave an enormous bucket of candy guarded only by a sign that reads "Sorry, we can't come to the door. Take only 3"?

Peter Pumpkinhead

But when it's dark and you're a kid with your eye on the prize, you only notice the things (like the pillow and newspaper stuffing) that you want to see. You don't notice the bent rubber boots or the knees that look an awful lot like, well, human knees. You don't notice that, at that angle, the pumpkin should have fallen off of the scarecrow's shoulders.

With my head stuffed into the pumpkin, I couldn't see anything, but I could hear what was going on up and down the street just fine. I struggled to stay perfectly still, lest my movement give anything away. My neck strained under the weight of the pumpkin.

As in previous years, we didn't get many trick-or-treaters. It was worth it, though. Every batch of kids got their fright of the night. There's something immensely satisfying about scaring kids (and their parents) and hearing them laugh and talk about it excitedly all the way down the street.

An interesting side note, every single kid counted out the candy they took from the bucket. "One, two, three."

My Granny.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 05:30:00 +0000

On September 30th, after a long fight with cancer, my Granny - the last of my grandparents - passed away. But I don't want to write about how she died. I want to write about how she lived.

My Granny lived with a zest for life that endeared her to everyone she met. It didn't matter with whom or where, it would take only seconds. We could be at a restaurant about to be served by an obviously cranky waiter then, all of a sudden, my Granny would say something and BOOM! the waiter would go from cranky to doting. Instant endearment.

It was the same with my friends. She was always a hit, even when I was a teenager. Seriously, how many teenaged kids get to hear their friends say "Your Granny is cool"?

My Granny always swore that her outgoing nature was borne from nervousness, not confidence. Watching her, you'd never know.

My Granny was (and always will be) famous for several other things. This is, by no means, an exhaustive list:

Her Granny chin
Her curly hair
Sloppy kisses
Trying rollerblading for the first time while in her sixties (earning her the nickname "Supergran"
Her knitting proficiency. She knit us all a new sweater every year for Christmas, which was something that we all looked forward to. Some of her knitted items were modeled on the covers of national magazines!

The many mitts knitted for my sister's wedding.

My Granny and Pop were an inspiration for my own marriage. During their last visit with us, my Granny mentioned to Fawn that she would have left my Pop on several occasions - if she'd had someplace else to go. Watching them look lovingly at each other, it would be hard to imagine them ever having a single argument. All those years later and they were still moon-eyed and dreamy over each other. That has helped Fawn and me get through some tough times.

Tough times, according to my Granny, were "all character building".

I was in Toronto last week because of my Granny and Pop. They didn't want a bunch of friends and family crying and feeling sorry at a funeral or memorial service. Instead we had a "Celebration of Life".

It was very appropriate. Very appropriate, indeed.

My Granny.

Never grab a Mountie's firearm.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 16:59:00 +0000

I just had to share this story from Clare's blog, The House and Other Arctic Musings.

It will get better.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 04:13:00 +0000

Last year, about this time, things were not good. Not good at all.

Jade was having constant seizures and Fawn and I were at the end of our ropes - and near the end of our hopes. We were exhausted, eating poorly, and always on-guard. What hope we had was because of the ketogenic diet. We would soon be taking Jade to Vancouver to get her on the diet.

The night before the Jade's induction, a very pregnant Fawn woke up with intense abdominal pain. It was so bad that I had to call an ambulance, but couldn't follow her to the hospital. I needed to stay with Jade.

Lying awake on that couch, feeling absolutely exhausted but completely unable to sleep, waiting for a call from the hospital, wondering if my wife and unborn child were going to be alright, and wondering if my first child would ever be more than a constantly-seizing, heavily-medicated shell, was the absolute lowest point in my entire life. I wondered how things could possibly get worse, knowing deep in my heart that they could.

But I never gave up. Fawn never gave up. Jade never gave up.

With a lot of work, teamwork, research, determination, winging-it, trial and error, hope, and support from family, friends, and strangers alike, things got better.

In fact, we've come a long, long way since last year.

No, things aren't perfect. Jade's still having small seizures that disrupt her sleep, but we're working on getting rid of those, too. But dietary restrictions and some language delays aside, you'd think that she's just like any other almost-four-year-old. Halia's happy, healthy, and walking. Fawn and I are still married. We're eating better. We're spending more time together. In spite of Halia's best efforts, we're sleeping better. We're happier. Things are much, much better.

The lesson? No matter how bad it gets (and it can get awfully bad) if you refuse to give up, it will get better. It will get better.

It will get better.

When badder English is gooder than good English.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 01:27:00 +0000

I'm in Watson Lake where I'm attending a conference. Every good conference has a little break between the sessions and when the evening's activities begin. Right now, it's that time.

The break is just enough time to watch an episode of Knight Rider, but I don't have it here with me. Fawn and I will be watching all of the season one episodes together. It's nice to spend time with my wife, snuggled up on the couch, watching television from the '80s. I wish she was here now - not because I want to watch Knight Rider, of course, but because I love her and miss her.

Thinking about Knight Rider and how I came by my prize reminded me of something I wrote a little while back. You see, originally, I won first place in Megan's "Being David Hasselhoff" contest. First place was 24-hours of where I could post anything I wanted to her blog. If you don't read her blog, you should. It's a shine to the wonderfulness that is good grammar.

I really wanted second place (Season 1 of Knight Rider), so I sent Megan a copy of the following. Obviously, it worked.

Let me apologize in advance if reading it makes your brain hurt.

When badder English is gooder than good English. An Assay.
Its a raiser sharp lion betwixt yer goodness and yer gracious. I was gunnin' fir goodness to get yer number too Beaning David Kalashnikov pries (a lass, I wanted to season one of yer night riders), but ended up with gracious and got there in the first place. It coulda bean wurst, I wreckin', 'cause in steady yer knight riding, I get twenny-fore ours two rights on the snow covered hills.

Norma Lee I wood right on the snow covered hills in shades of yeller, but I dint wanna get my ol' mackytosh apple confuser wet. They don't like it when you use your floppy disk fir ta download inter the ram. Jest like on the farm.

In stud, this righting has bin dun bye pokin' a keyed board with m'digits and up-chucking it all through yer Inter-nuts. Its anime-zing world weir livin' in.

So what does a guy right-a-bout when he has unfluttered axis fir ta rite on a slog that emotes the use of good grammaticality? When I was younger than I am now, I was taught the queen's English - and thats pretty, good English if'n yer a queen. Butt I'm knot a queen and even dough I use her Royal Hiney's English olive the thyme, its knot gonna make me a queen gnome matter how much I try to be won. In stud, I decisive too jest letter loose and cellar-brake the use of the Farq's-own-English.

What's that, yer askin? You donut no what I mean, you says? What, the Farq? The Farq's-own-English?

We oh the Farq's-own-English too Charlie Farquharson. He's not reel, mind you, butt he's quite the character. He's deformed bye actor Don Harron; a man who's talents are hard too miss if'n you bean keepin' yer eyes open ovary ears.

He's a lot more than jest a peachy guy from some Dell Mountie adder-ties-mints. He was a nactor, a come median, and a leery cyst (He wrote the leer Ricks to "Annov Green Garbles the Moosie Call"). Now he's demoting mobility fer yer seniles (Click the lanky and watch yer first eppy-soda). Most impotently to me, dough, he was a nauther - won of those guise what rites yer friction and yer non-friction.

Charlie showed me that you can have yer absolutionly ambrosias grammaticabilities and still be anode worthy author. What's more, you can half only yer base sick reprehension of the English languish and still bee able two commune E. Kate some very impotent points.

Why? Bee cause insertioning malapropriatisms, in yer endos, and other watch-yer-Ma-called-its into yer righting makes people stop and think - and making people think is won of the hardest things we can doo.

But here's more meat fir yer jaw fir ta masturbate on. Charlie's first book of nun-fraction, "Histry of Canada" was about a sub-eject that most of us wood not touch, even in yer Halls of Yearning. Sew was his necks book, "Jogfree of Canada". Lurid bye his righting-style, I red them both from their fronts too there ends. Why? Because Charlie's fresh reproach took an old, dry tropic and made it inner-testing.

Sew, take a paige from good ol' Charlie Farquharson: He didn't care about his pelling or what yer grammerarians wood say. He didn't care where he put his colon or his catastrophes. He jest rote.

And you should right two, even if yer Gramma's kills are lacking. Doo knot lit yer Gramma Queens freightin' you aweigh. If you right and enjoin it, the rest will cum soon enough.

And chick out won of Charlie's books from yer lie berry well yer attic.

Opportunity.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 20:59:00 +0000

As you may recall, I drove down to Edmonton the other week for a conference. I didn't take a single picture on the way down, driving the entire way stopping only for food, fuel, and sleep. I was well on my way to doing the same for the return trip, but when I caught a feeling of sleepiness creeping in, I knew it was time to stop, stretch my legs, and get some fresh air. That would reinvigorate me. There were animals hiding behind hills and curves all along the road, necessitating frequent braking. I needed to be at my most alert - for their sakes and mine.

Hey! Isn't he that caribou from the quarter? (A question for those of my readers who use/have used Canadian currency.)

A luxurious winter coat.

The timing of my sleepiness couldn't have been better. I was near beautiful Muncho Lake in Northern BC. Every time I drive through this area, I look around and think I want to go hiking there! And there! And there!

Alas, I shall never have the time to do all the hiking I would like to do. Usually, I must resign myself to the fact that I have responsibilities and commitments that come first.

But now the opportunity to go for a hike presented itself so that I had no choice but to go and stretch my legs. It was a safety thing. For me and the animals.

I parked at a road-side pull-out at one of the larger alluvial fans along the lake. How many times have I longingly looked up the seemingly dry creek bed, wanting to explore its upper reaches? How many times have I pursed my lips and driven by, hoping to return another day? I've lost count.

View Larger Map

Opportunity is a funny thing. Conventional wisdom states that opportunity comes only once: You either seize it or miss it. I am learning, though, that when the timing isn't quite right, it pays to be patient and let the occasional opportunity slip away. By doing so, you're giving the opportunity the chance to present itself again when you're really ready (I get the feeling that opportunities don't like rejection). Preparedness is what makes the difference between a good opportunity and a great one.

And here I was, prepared to go for a hike, and therefore presented with a great opportunity. I would finally get to hike up a valley that I have long desired to explore.

An alluring alluvial fan.

The air was cool but the sun was warm. I began trotting across the fan towards the higher ground on the left side of the valley.

Sometimes, it's hard to get a sense of scale in the open places in mountain country. It's hard to gauge how big something is when you don't have a point of reference. Sure, there are trees, but just how big are those trees off in the distance? Having no sense of time contributes to this phenomenon. Knowing how long it takes to get from A to B gives us a sense of scale.

The walking was brisk and it felt like no time at all before I was across the fan, but I really have no idea how long it took. I wasn't wearing a watch and felt no sense of time. It's a wonderful feeling.

Looking back across the fan towards Muncho Lake, trying to get a sense of scale. Can you see my car? (Click to enlarge.)

There it is!

I was enjoying the sunshine and decided to follow the left fork up the valley, where the sun was shining the strongest. A creek was burbling down over the rocks, creating ice sculptures as it froze along the way. I didn't recall hearing or crossing a creek when I crossed the alluvial fan, so it must go deep under the rocks at some point. Although I was intrigued by the disappearing creek, I was more intrigued by the valley. I continued upwards.

During the summer, the creek would have been more difficult to cross - if not impossible - because of the melt-waters from the surrounding mountains. I knew I was lucky that this opportunity had come when it did.

Taking the left fork.

Freezing-up.

Looking further up where the valley narrowed, dark shadows cast a mysterious gloom. I could see some unusual shapes and wanted to investigate. The air went suddenly cold as I stepped out of the sunlight and into the shadow. A cold breeze drifted down the valley from the snow-capped peaks beyond. Out of the sun, I could now see that I was standing in the Valley of the Hoodoos.

Valley of the hoodoos.

It felt like I was stepping into a science fiction movie, lost on a dark, alien planet.

Alien structures.

Oyster mushroom hoodoos.

Like something out of Star Wars. Except for the trees. Those hoodoos are big!

Like the castle walls of an exotic empire

More to explore.

After skirting a small waterfall, I knew that I would soon have to turn back. The rocks were now covered with snow. This would not be a good place to injure myself, I reasoned. The narrowing valley presented another danger. Hearing a loud cracking sound, I looked up the large talus slope on the left side of the valley. A cloud of rock dust drifted from behind a large boulder as a watermelon-sized rock ricocheted off and flew down the slope. As it rolled, it knocked more rocks loose, each of which triggered more flying rocks. They were flying down the slope, leaping with high arcs. With the speed that they were flying, even the smallest of the rocks could cause serious harm.

While I was slightly higher than the projected course of the rocky missiles, I didn't want to take any chances. After I saw the first large stone, I started scrambling for higher ground. When I knew I was safe, I looked back. The rocks were flying across the creek bed and up the opposite slope - where I had been walking just minutes before.

I stared up the talus slope, looking for what might have triggered the first rock. Nothing moved.

Looking towards the upper reaches of the valley and suspecting that the risk of dangerous flying rock slides only increased, I saw the situation as an opportune time to start heading back. I turned around and carefully made my way back down the valley.

Time to turn around.

As I made my way back to the car, refreshed and invigorated, I thought about the valley, savouring the views and wanting to explore more. What did it look like over that last rise? Over the peak of the mountain at the end of the valley? What is it like to be up and among the hoodoos. I wondered, will I get the opportunity to go back?

I'll just have to wait and see. The opportunity may choose to present itself again - when the timing is right.

Waiting for the next opportunity.

The Northern Documentary - Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 06:33:00 +0000

The north's most prolific northern documentary production company has to be Igloolik Isuma Productions, based out of Igloolik, Nunavut. Remember the international sensation Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner? That was an Isuma production. Atanarjuat wasn't a documentary, but Isuma started as one and has since taught and inspired many other northerners to share their stories through documentary film-making. A quick check of their Wikipedia entry shows no less than eighteen documentaries credited to Isuma. I am certain there are many more.

Through film-making, Isuma has helped to preserve Inuit stories and culture and share that culture with the rest of the world. It has given northerners a voice, become a driver for economic development and, not surprisingly, become a source of local pride.

Isuma hasn't rested on its laurels. The launch of IsumaTV has given indigenous peoples from around the world a place to share their stories and their films. Think of it as an indigenous youtube, but with longer videos, often in the traditional language of the film-maker.

As film-making and video editing continues to become easier and more affordable, and with the emergence of sites like IsumaTV, where people can share their documentaries with the world, I have no doubt that the tradition of northern documentary film-making will continue to grow.

I, for one, am really looking forward to it.

The Northern Documentary - Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 05:53:00 +0000

The tradition of documentary film-making is thriving in the north. At the top of my list of northern-film-makers-to-watch is Dennis Allen. Dennis has his own production company, Mackenzie Delta Films.

I first met Dennis at a fiddle and drum dance. He was accompanying the fiddler on his guitar. I met him again at the 24-hour Play-writing Competition. He is a gifted story-teller and tells those stories through film. Firmly rooted in the north, he has the gift of sharing northern stories from a northern perspective. One of those stories, which I'm hoping to see soon, is about Fort MacPherson's radio station, CBQM.

Here's a synopsis:

Dennis Allen's feature-length documentary, CBQM, is about Fort McPherson, a Teetl'it Gwich'in community in the Northwest Territories, and its citizen-run radio station. A resilient expression of Aboriginal pride, CBQM serves a far-flung and loyal listenership – and plays the best damn country music in the Mackenzie Delta.

Click here to watch the trailer.

The Northern Documentary - Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 05:30:00 +0000

The art of feature-length documentary was born in Canada's North. It started with Robert J. Flaherty and his film Nanook of the North.

For a while now, I have been on the hunt for a shorter documentary-type film. Thanks to Neil Hartling of Nahanni River Adventures/Canadian River Expeditions, I was able to watch it this morning.

Here's a brief synopsis:

The short film, Nahanni, focuses on the legend of a lost gold mine and a river in the Northwest Territories that lured men to their doom. Albert Faille, an aging prospector, set out time and again to find hidden gold.

Having lived in the area, I was lucky enough to meet people who knew him. Some say he was kind and helpful, knew his stuff, and have nothing but high praise for him. Some say he was mean. Some say he was scary and some say he was crazy. Some say he wasn't really looking for gold; he just liked getting out on the land. Opinions of Albert Faille depend on who you ask, but that's how these things go; we all remember something different about the people we've meet. In many ways, though, Faille transcended the "I remember him" stories into the stuff of legend.

Watch the mini-documentary yourself and learn a little more about a character you won't soon forget.

I was David Hasselhoff.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 23:11:00 +0000

If you don't read Megan's blog, Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills, you might have missed her "Being David Hasselhoff" contest.

Well, when I saw that second prize was Season 1 of Knight Rider, I just had to go for second place!

I had my idea for a second-place-worthy entry almost right away. You can see my entry here, but don't do it if you're in a public place. Even with that warning, I recommend that you click the link before reading any further.

My entry wasn't easy to prepare. You see, at the time, I was in Vancouver for a conference. I was accessing the Internet at one of the millions of busy Starbucks. The layout of the coffee shop didn't provide an out-of-the-way spot for someone to do a Google search for "male buttocks". As uncomfortable as doing that search was, it was made even more uncomfortable when I realized that the "safe" feature on my Google search tool had been turned off.

The images popped up and, as I quickly scanned the, ahem, not-for-public-consumption pictures for one that I could use, my mind raced through all of the awful and embarrassing things that could happen to a guy who was inadvertently "looking" at gay porn in a busy Starbucks.

Jail! Lawsuits! Some guy seeing an opening and trying to pick me up! I could just imagine it:

"Hi," he would say, "Mind if I join you?"
"Um, actually, I'm a little busy right now," I would reply.
"So I see. What are you doing later?" he would ask.
"I'm married," I would counter.
"Oh! Lucky guy," he would continue.
"He's a she," I would explain.
"Oh! That must make things interesting..." he would reply.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before I found a creative commons image on Wikipedia. Good ol' Wikipedia. I photoshopped the picture back at my hotel room and uploaded it the next day (which was also quite embarrassing).

But was it all worth it? As it turned out, I didn't win second place. I got first place. But I wanted second!!!

Luckily for me, though, I was able to trade first place for second place and today I received Season 1 of Knight Rider. Yaaaaayyyyy!

Let the resurgence of childhood memories begin!

Thanks, Megan!

Seven.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 05:10:00 +0000

Although it wasn't always easy, year seven was much luckier than year six. Eight's an even luckier number, right?

I'm looking forward to spending it with you, dear.

Happy Anniversary.

The Cheap Motel School of Interior Design

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 05:04:00 +0000

I recently drove from Whitehorse to Edmonton (and back) for a conference. It's a 2,000 km drive each way so I needed to stop somewhere to get some sleep. Because I'm self-employed and "thrifty", I would normally save money by sleeping in the back of my car (one of the many advantages of owning a station wagon). This time, however, the back of the car was filled by a defective mattress that I was returning to the retailer. The mattress didn't leave any room for sleeping. How's that for irony?

My dad once told me that, if you want to find the inexpensive but good restaurants, look for the ones that have a bunch of old people in them. I owe a lot to the generation that lived through the Great Depression. Their frugality saved me a small fortune on bad and over-priced restaurant food. Too bad there aren't many of them dining at restaurants anymore.

I mention the restaurateurs because, after fifteen hours of driving, I needed to get some sleep. Having developed my own rule, I pulled into a motel that looked simultaneously busy and run-down. You can always count on an old, run-down motel if its parking lot is filled with work trucks. It will be both clean and inexpensive.

I really enjoy this type of motel for two reasons: Firstly, they're relatively inexpensive. Secondly, they're like the underdog of the overnight accommodations world and I love rooting for the underdog. Sure, you don't get the latest in hotel interior design. Sure, the furniture is old and maybe there are rust stains in the sink and bathtub. Sure, the carpet might be from the 1960s, but how much do you want to pay for a newer carpet if you're only staying for a night?

I enjoy the quirky near-antiqued interior design that I've never seen anywhere but a cheap motel. I also enjoy the (almost always) comfy bed and gushing shower, powerful enough to strip the enamel off of teeth should anyone be reckless enough to open their mouth under its fire-hose-like force.

But it's really the interior design that distinguishes the cheap motel. No graduate of interior design studies could possibly duplicate the interior of an inexpensive motel. It's because inexpensive motel rooms are continuously evolving works of art. It's because inexpensive motel rooms are like improvisational jazz. It's hard to match tiles from the 70s with lamps from the 80s with furniture from the 90s. You just can't just rush out to your local furnishing stores and get this stuff; it must be acquired over decades and added on the fly.

Want to see what I'm talking about? Take your first lesson from the Cheap Motel School of Interior Design and check this out:

Yellow wall tiles, clashing pink counter top, and non-matching brown and off-brown floor tiles. You won't find these colours together on any paint swatch!

Scratched-up yet still stylish clam-shell toilet seat.

The yellow on the wall tiles and pink on the counter top show up really nicely when paired with the greenish wallpaper strip on the door. Yes, there is a strip of wallpaper on the door.

White cement-block walls, a vase full of artificial flowers, large, pinkish lampshades, one of which is on a baby-blue lamp, and a maroon pleather chair in front of a plastic collapsible table that acts as a desk speaks of motel with class. In fact, when I checked in, the night manager told me through his thick Japanese accent, "Oh, you have the best room here. It has a desk!"

When you see a lampshade like this, what do you want to do more? Turn on the light? Or take of the lampshade and wear it like a dress?

The decor may not get the overhaul it needs, but priorities are priorities. How else could they afford such a sweet TV? Too bad the wiring was done in such a way that you had to choose between any two of the lamp, fridge, microwave, or TV.

I am SO in the Hallowe'en spirit now...

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 04:35:00 +0000

Looking forward to the day when my child becomes a cyborg.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 04:47:00 +0000

I was in Vancouver for two weeks, mostly for work-related activities. Near the end of my stay, Fawn flew down with Jade and Halia. Upon seeing them again, I marveled at how much kids can change in such a short amount of time. My jaw was constantly dropping because of the things that Jade was saying and the things she could do. After all the drug- and seizure-induced delays, we're really seeing progress now.

Halia, too, is as good as walking. She still chooses to scootch on her butt over long distances, but she's perfectly capable of doing it as a biped.

Fawn and the girls came down because it was, once again, time for Jade to get an EEG. We wanted to know: Will the EEG show any progress? Are the ongoing challenges and tribulations of the ketogenic diet worth it? Has removing her allergens improved the situation?

We sleep-deprived her and did the test.

Afterwards, we met with the epileptologist who told us the results. When she was sleeping, Jade's EEG showed that she's still having seizures and that the seizures are disrupting her sleep, effectively waking her up. Being woken up shortly after you fall asleep is not a good thing. We have more work to do.

On the bright side, Jade's EEG also showed that she had NO seizures during the waking portion of the test. None. Zero. Zippo.

Overall, it's a major improvement.

WOOHOO!!!

Now, we're weaning her off of the last of her medications, will likely do another ratio increase, find a substitute for her supplements (which contain an allergen), and will remove any newly discovered allergens once we get the expanded allergy test results.

In three months, we'll go back to BC Kids, but this time Jade won't have a short, sleep-deprivation EEG. Instead, we'll hook her up for eighteen hours wand let her sleep, eat (keto food), play, and live life like any normal kid with a dozen wires attached to her head.

She'll look like some kind of crazy discount-store cyborg and I, for one, am looking forward to it.

Vive la progrès!

Our first family sailing adventure...

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 05:02:00 +0000

I've got to say that the sailboat is the perfect blend of family-together-time and adventure.

Making the transition to a sailing family has been easy, thanks to the wisdom and expertise that has been shared by Scott. Scott has the same boat that we do, but with just about every creature comfort that you could imagine, including a furnace. Scott is the Commander of the Yukon Power and Sail Squadron, which Fawn and I will definitely be joining. They've got a lot of great courses, including the Pleasure Craft Operator Card (which you'd better get if you haven't already got).

Scott's MacGregor 26M, loaded with all the bells and whistles.

A beautiful day for a sail.

Although we mostly stayed around Richthofen Island there was no shortage of great scenery. As we savored the views, some tourists on the "Great River Journey" were doing the same.

Great River Journey's first vessel, "Shakat".

After beating to the north end of the island, we ran to the south end. The wind was strong and there were large, rolling waves. We were using only the genoa. We want some practice time without the kids on board before we run up the mainsail.

Running with just the genoa.

Looking north, sailing alongside Richthofen Island.

Eventually, we made our way into Jackfish Bay. I instantly fell in love with it. The sun was shining on the rocky outcrops, which made for a great harbour. We furled our sail, motored into a nice spot, and dropped anchor into the muddy-clay bottom.

Having fun in Jackfish Bay.

Cuddling in the cockpit.

Happy in the forward hatch.

Playing in the cabin.

After a meal and some snacks, we hoisted the anchor, made our way back to Deep Creek, and went home, planning to return the next day.

After some extensive preparations for our first night on board, we finally made it back to Lake Laberge. Fawn took care of meals and pajamas while I sailed and motored us back to Jackfish Bay. The wind was calm and evening pleasant. Waterfowl floated lazily as we made our way by.

Booktime before bedtime.

Just like when we go camping, it took a while for the kids to fall asleep. It was a cool night, but the boat stayed fairly warm, just from our body heat.

Evening out the "porthole".

Moonrise.

When I finally crawled into the rear berth and snuggled under the blankets, I fell into a deep sleep as the boat swung gently back and forth on the anchor.

The next morning, we were greeted with overcast skies, a little bit of rain, and a stunning rainbow. I got the boat underway while Fawn dealt with a cranky, teething baby and a temporarily jealous sister in the cabin. It wasn't the idyllic way that I was hoping to spend the day, but it was still better than being stuck at home.

Rainbow off Richthofen.

The plan was to sail to the north end of Laberge, but the south-wind that we were running with soon died off. I turned on the outboard, but started having mechanical issues. The nice thing about owning a boat that is driven by either power or sail is that, when one won't work, there's always a back-up. Instead of trying to get further down the lake, we played it safe and made our way back to Deep Creek, where the sun came out and we spent the rest of the afternoon aboard, napping, eating, and relaxing.

Tomorrow, I'll be taking the new outboard to the shop to see what's wrong. I hope they can fix it quickly - I really want to get out on the water this weekend!

I will return.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 22:36:00 +0000

There are some places that just get into your blood and you always feel a yearning to return. For me, the Nahanni is one of those places.

To get a glimpse of what the Nahanni country is like, check out this hour-long video of Environment Minister Jim Prentice's journey down the South Nahanni River.

You know it's gotta be an amazing place when a Minister can't find the words to describe it.

The most sought-after photo in Canada.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 00:10:00 +0000

Everybody loves a good-news story. But you know what people love even more? A good photo (or a bit of video) to go with that good-news story.

I have been receiving calls from media all day, seeking permission to use the pictures I took after the search that found a missing two-year-old boy on the North Canol Road. Some of the calls have been fair and sincere. Some have been slimy. There has actually been begging.

All of this put me in a bit of a moral dilemma. I am thinking about the family in question, here.

An experience like that is emotional to the extreme. Even though it had a successful outcome, it is no less traumatic.

On top of everything they've already been through, add to that the judgmental, ill-informed, and often mean-spirited opinions about the parents (and the previous owners of the dog) that have been posted to several news agency websites. What those commenters don't seem to realize is that they're talking about real people - real people they know nothing about - who may, one day, read what they have written. If you read through those comments, and they weren't true, and they were about you, how would you feel?

Right now, those family in question is nameless and faceless, and I imagine there might be some comfort in that anonymity. The media's job, however, is to tell a story and nothing tells a story like a good picture. Do I want to be responsible for giving a face to those judgmental commenters?

Right now, I don't. I think the family has been through enough.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I would rather err on the side of caution. For this reason, I have temporarily removed the image of the mother and her son. I have granted permission to one news outlet (which will be making a donation to the Whitehorse District Search and Rescue Society) for use in a national newspaper (where it's hard to leave judgemental comments).

I understand that the media are just trying to do their job: The people demand their images! I completely understand the curiosity that drives people to want to know more.

What I don't understand are the judgmental (and ill-informed) commenters. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, but you that doesn't mean you have to share it. For all website commenters out there: Please try to be more understanding (and better informed) before you judge others.

Lost.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 06:50:00 +0000

As a parent, I can think of few things more horrifying than losing your child.

Jade was always a bit of a wanderer. When she was two, she would wander off into the trees, investigating berries, spruce cones, and other woodland goodies. Of course, we had to keep a very close eye on her.

I mentioned this to Elsie Marcellais, an elder in Nahanni Butte. She told me that, when her kids were toddlers, she used to put a ring of spruce boughs, prickly-side-up, around her barefooted babes. Because the kiddies didn't want to walk on the prickly - but otherwise harmless - spruce boughs, she had created a cheap and effective playpen.

Yesterday, a vacationing family that was camped along the North Canol Road experienced the nightmare of losing a child first-hand. At around 18:00, their two-year-old child disappeared.

I will attempt to share the story as I heard and witnessed it. Please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong. It has been a long day.

The child's parents recruited some nearby campers to help with the search. The neighbouring campers were missing their dog. Could the two be together? They searched, but it proved to be fruitless.

I can only imagine what was going through the mother's mind at the time. The night was cold and wet and the terrain in the area is rough, covered in thick willow patches. Most adults wouldn't make it through the night before succumbing to hypothermia, let alone a two-year-old child.

That night, the mother drove to Ross River to alert the RCMP. The Search and Rescue system snapped into high gear. RCMP specialists, including a tracking dog, were flown in. Search and Rescue teams were mobilized. The Rangers and other Ross River residents provided support.

I was part of the third wave of Whitehorse District Search and Rescuers mobilized for the search. First we flew in the RCMP's Twin Otter from Whitehorse to Ross River. Then we were driven 75 kilometres up the highway to the search location.

By the time we arrived, the child had been missing for over 24 hours.

Within moments of our arrival, there was news. They had found the child.

He was fine.

One of the WDSAR team members had spotted a small but inconclusive footprint that looked like it might have been made by a child's boot. The search focused in on the new area. A helicopter equipped with FLIR picked up a heat signature (the dog), which focused the search even more. When one ground team finished searching a grid, a new team resumed the grid.

Ryan Martin, one of my teammates from the 2007 Yukon Adventure Challenge and a fellow WDSAR member, was driving down the North Canol on his way home from work when he learned about the search. Ryan was working near the end of the search line when he spotted a dog, outside of the search pattern. Soon after, he spotted the child and the news was radioed out to the search teams.

Laura, who had spotted the footprint and who had been a part of the exhausting search since the morning, was standing beside the mother when the news came through. She said the look on the mother's face made it all worthwhile.

Reunited. PHOTO TEMPORARILY REMOVED (SEE THIS POST EXPLAINING WHY).

Ryan Martin

The dog, who had to have some porcupine quills removed from his snout, was received with a hero's welcome. The child was well dressed, but some have suggested that the child and dog cuddled together to keep warm.

The dog's owners didn't take their dog back. Instead, they gave him to the child's family.

The dog.

Some of the WDSAR team made it back to Whitehorse tonight, while others are spending the night in Ross River, tired but happy.

As for me, it was my first WDSAR search: I travelled a great distance and never actually got to search. Am I disappointed? Not at all.

The child was found - alive - and that's what it's all about.

WDSAR Searchers

What can I say? The man loves snow-jobs.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 02:58:00 +0000

When I was campaigning for the Best Job in the World, one of my biggest supporters was Clare from The House and Other Arctic Musings. Heck, he volunteered to go swimming in the Arctic Ocean and even posted a video of his attempt.

Now, I'd like to return the favour.

I desperately, desperately, desperately want to go to Antarctica someday.

Desperately.

But as much as I want to go, I am refraining from entering the blogyourwaytoantarctica.com competition that's being hosted by Quark Expeditions. Instead, I am throwing my support behind Clare. Let's send this dedicated polar blogger from the Arctic to the Antarctic! Let's ship him from the land of ravens and snowy owls to the land of penguins and more penguins! Let's fly him from the land of glaciers and icebergs to the land of... glaciers and icebergs!

Register and vote today!

Search and Rescue

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:00:00 +0000

A good babysitter is hard to find. Add onto that a kid with special needs whose caregivers need special training, and a good babysitter gets even harder to find. Needless to say, Fawn and I don't get to go on many dates.

Enter the Rescue Squad. Our friend, Linda, has been generously donating her time to give Fawn and me an occasional break from the responsibilities of parenthood. Best of all, it really is a break. We know the kids are in good hands. Linda is a seasoned parent who raised two adventurous boys, so we know she's dealt with just about any kind of disaster imaginable (and the boys turned out well, which only enhances our peace of mind). Even better, she invites a friend over for tea, and they tag-team meals and bedtimes for the kids. Hence the moniker "Rescue Squad".

Last night, Fawn and I went for a sushi dinner. Unfortunately, our dinner was a little rushed because I had a training session with a rescue squad of a different sort. Over the summer, I signed up for the Whitehorse District Search and Rescue (WDSAR). I figured, if I'm out in the bush and something happens, I'd want someone looking for me, so why not do the same for someone else.

The training was on how to use the Side Scan Sonar (SSS), which is used to look for vehicles, boats, or, sadly, bodies on the bottom of lakes and rivers. We looked at parts of Schwatka Lake and then took the boat through Miles Canyon. I had no idea that the canyon was 40' deep (at current water levels). Along the way, we saw a few sites of interest.

Running a grid over Schwatka Lake.

Changing some settings to get a clearer viedw of the lake bed.

I've been planning on getting a similar system for the sailboat, so it was good to get the training. Maybe I'll be able to contribute a second sonar system to a search someday.

After the training, our date resumed. Thanks to Wendy (Hi Wendy!), we had tickets to the Frantic Follies (Man, there are some talented performers in that show). Later, we went to the Riverside Grocery for malts.

It's so nice to get out to spend some quality time with my wife, knowing that the kids were in capable hands. I look forward to doing it again soon!

Swimming through a sea of change...

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 06:53:00 +0000

No, I'm not swimming through a sea of change like Scrooge McDuck (although that would be very cool to try). The seas of change have brought with them:

A basement drain pipe that someone, somehow, somewhen drilled a hole into, necessitating a need to learn how to replace drywall.
A screwdriver that lanced itself seven inches into the rear left tire of the van, necessitating two new tires.
A small hole in the hull of the new boat, which was put there by professional boat system installers (and, with the exception of some cosmetic work that is still to come, has been repaired).
Lots of work on the new boat, getting it exactly the way we want it (stove installed, keel guard installed, bilge pump installed, outboard and fuel tanks installed, licensed, safety equipment equipped, etc.)
A new design for the blog which, according to the results of a statistically insignificant survey, has the popular support of my readers (with some modifications that I'll get around to eventually).
Fawn and I having an entire afternoon to ourselves, during which we went out in the boat for the first time ever!
Fawn, the kids, and I spending the better part of a day on Lake Laberge and going for our first sail as a family.

Fawn and I forgot to bring the camera for the family trip, but here are a few pictures from our entire afternoon together. Sorry, but you can't see much of the actual boat. Rest assured, there will be many, many boat pictures to come.

Fawn uses a steady hand to install the keel guard.

The car and trailer, back at the boat launch.

Skipper, but not that Skipper.

Fawn emerges from the cabin.

Ouch.

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 19:06:00 +0000

Back in May, Megan over at Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills posted about her review from Ask and Ye Shall Receive. AAYSR is a service that reviews blogs and makes suggestions for improvement.

I was curious, so I submitted my blog for a review. Yesterday, it finally happened.

With eagerness, I started reading. Inside, I started getting a feeling that can only be described as...

Ouch.

I admit, it was hard to read, but I agree with most of it.

My template was boring because, two weeks ago, for some inexplicable reason, the background photo stopped displaying in some browsers. The blog's title text didn't show properly in IE and it didn't link back to the main page (which it did in most other browsers). There was a lot of useless stuff along the sidebar. My posts stretched on forever, and I had too many posts showing on the home page. Some of my sentences are long and clunky.

The reviewer, Posol'stvo the Medved, likened my blog to looking at someone's vacation slideshow. Well, that's mostly what Michael's Meanderings is; a record of trips that I've taken and things that I've seen. In many ways, this blog has become a resource for people who are interested in that very thing.

Posol'stvo also isn't interested in reading about "other people's ailments", like our experiences dealing with my daughter's epilepsy (although there are readers who come here for that very topic). All of that is fine. The content on Posol'stvo's blog doesn't do anything for me, either.

The topics on Michael's Meanderings aren't going to change, but I think Posol'stvo brought up some excellent points about how I deliver that content. As a new reader, it must be painfully difficult to figure out what the heck has been going on here. If you're a long-time reader, you might have to scroll through a lot of "crap" to get at the subject you're interested in. In short, I can make Michael's Meanderings easier to navigate and easier to read.

I can do that by telling readers up-front what this blog is all about. I can provide better history and context. I can make it easier for readers to select the content they've come here for. I can be more selective in what I post, and I can make the content snappier and more engaging. (Sorry. I've been lazy on that front, lately. It's summer.)

All of that is good advice.

Because I care about you, dear reader, I am attempting to make some changes around here. As I do, I hope that you will provide some of your own feedback about what you like and don't like. Don't worry about hurting my feelings. If you've read Posol'stvo's review, you know I can take it.

Getting nautical...

noreply@blogger.com (Meandering Michael) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 21:00:00 +0000

I took a drive down to Skagway, Alaska yesterday.

View Larger Map

The road was teeming with tour buses and jeep caravans, so I knew the cruise ships were in port and that Skagway would be a busy place.

A rare patch of road without any tour buses. Photo taken near the Summit.

Cruise ship passengers flooded the streets, making Skagway look like a gold rush boom town all over again.

The patrons are packed in the hustlin', bustlin' Red Onion Saloon.

There was a bit of excitement in town when one of the WP&YR tracks got switched mid-car. The car tried to ride two sets of rails at once. A forklift was called in to get the car back on track and it resumed its journey up to the summit. I missed all of the excitement, though, because I was attending to another matter.

This one stayed on the right track.

You see, I didn't go to Skagway to learn about gold rush history or to watch throngs of tourists milling about the jewelery and trinket shops. I went to Skagway to get this:

The boat, not the van.

Why the heck did we buy a MacGregor 26M powersailer?

With two kids, but mostly because of Jade's ketogenic diet, it has become next to impossible to go on extended canoeing and hiking trips. It's just too risky if something goes wrong with Jade's food. Fawn suggested that we get a camper (we could use the 12V cooler in the car to keep Jade's food cold) but I don't enjoy that type of "camping". I wanted a way that we could get into the back country; a way that we could explore, far away from the roads.

Buying a sailboat is all part of a much bigger plan, one which many of you will be reading here for the first time.

After my attempt to get The Best Job in the World, I started thinking about all the places I'd like to go and how I could get there. I started thinking about how to share that experience with my wife and children. I started thinking about how we could afford to make a trip around the world, and I started thinking about sailing.

Then, I came up with the 7 to 10-year plan:

Buy a sailboat.
Spend a couple of years sailing the Southern Lakes, learning as much as possible.
Spend a couple of years sailing the West Coast, learning as much as possible.
See if we like it.
Buy a bigger boat.
Sail the Pacific and, maybe, the world.

Of course, there's more to the plan than that, but you get the idea. And so, a new adventure begins...

Clearing Customs at Fraser.