Sin Tour 2005 continues

Last month it was clubbing and warding off lounge sharks in Whistler, this month it was gambling and general debauchery at the new and lavish River Rock casino in Richmond. Not a place I would ever choose to go to on my own, but InformEd, the group of post-secondary communications professionals I belong to, was having its fall meeting there.

So another one-night pass away from the responsiblities of parenthood was negotiated, thanks to my benevolent husband, and it was off for a day of intense networking with colleagues and presentations by marketing suppliers. But before the professional development began, there was some fun at River Rock, the venue for our Don't Gamble with Your Marketing conference.

(Must comment on the impressive architecture. The lobby was like the 'great room' we're planning for our addition but three thousand times bigger!)


We emulated the Las Vegas lifestyle by first eating at the buffet. Then my new boss and I went to relax in the lounge, but you can't actually get there without going through the Den of Sin casino, so I figured I might as well try this gambling stuff and invested $10 in the slot machine. Five minutes later, money gone. Thought I'd try another $20 and five minutes later I had $28 to show for it. Not bad. Could see how this could get addictive, although it's also a very silly way to spend time and money.

So we retreated to the lounge for some getting to know each other better time, but our casual chat was drowned out by the Eagles tribute band, which had a pretty good Wednesday night gig going for themselves.

Both being mums on furlough, what we really valued was a room to ourselves for the night, so we retreated to our separate abodes. The standard room at the River Rock is a sweet suite, with a big bed and TV in one room, and couch and chair and TV in another. Was running a big hot luxurious bath for myself when I thought I should really live the high life and have a glass of wine from the minibar, so I removed the bottle, knowing I couldn't put it back (once you pick it up, you pay).

While my hot, steaming, bubbly, lavender bath was running, I tried and tried and tried to open this bottle with the cheap little corkscrew in the room. I knew it was completely counterlogical to ignore the relaxing bath and fight with the cork, but I'm stubborn, and don't like to be defeated by technology. I had visions of calling the front desk to ask for help, but realized I was naked and that it would be far more effort than was worth it to get dressed again to seek assistance. Tried turning the corkscrew with my teeth and realized it wasn't worth major dental work to have a glass of wine at 11 pm. But, I'm very persistent. So, after sort of getting the cork unscrewed, ended up just jabbing at it, using the corkscrew as a digging tool. It worked, but created a very messy cork mess. So yes, eventually got my relaxed-mum-escapist-hot-bath with glass of wine, then read in bed til 12:30 pm. A rare luxury.

Was happy family survived and thrived without me (had to leave a whole page of notes on the logistics of getting everyone to soccer, volleyball, gymnastics, swimming, daycare, and back. Reinforced my realization that my major value between the hours of 3 and 6 pm is that of chauffeur). Miles was hiding so he could scare me when I came in the door, but was laughing too hard, so blew his cover.

Back to routine now. I think there's some lego to pick up and laundry to put in! Thanks for the day-pass, family!

Notes from a too-busy life

Miles had another asthma episode over the Remembrance Day weekend, causing me to stay home from the Russell-women outing on Nov 12 to see Mom's the Word. We had him on Ventolin every two hours, and thought we might avoid hospital this time, but when he woke at 2:30 am and showed no signs of getting comfortable or sleeping, and was panting, we figured we'd better go in. I took him in the absolutely pouring rain lashing darkness through Chilliwack at 3:30 am, to Emerge, where we were seen fairly quickly, ahead of the guy with the bottle broken over his gangster-style skinhead (who was quite friendly!).

(I should note that when Miles overheard me talking to Molly about maybe having to take him to the hospital, he replied with a vehement, "Me! No! Hopital!" So you can't say little ones don't remember traumatic experiences!)

The doctor there was pretty non-interventionalist, Miles' oxygen level was okay, and all the beds were full, so he recommended oral steroids (decamethasone). The nurse, having not encountered us before, naively thought that he would just drink this from a cup with some apple juice. No way. So it was the kicking, screaming, restrained, full-force-of-two-year-old-resisting-with-all-his-might, spitting-the-syringeful-right-back-at-her-and-kicking-another-nurse-in-the-groin method. On the next try a friendly male orderly held him down while a burly security guy waved finger puppets at him. He was not impressed; he's seen it all. But, with the nurse's help they got it in him.

The doc said the med would take effect in the morning, and it did. Miles had a much better day on Sunday.

In soccer news, Coach Daryl continues to look for small victories as his silver-level team plays an assortment of gold and silver-level opponents, all to various degrees of non-winning results. Had a good game today; we held our own pretty well and scored our first-ever goal right near the end, but still lost 3-1, which caused Molly to declare "We suck. We're now officially in last place," to the rest of her teammates. She got a very stern talking to about sportsmanship and not being a poor loser from her mum. The good news is, after this week they're putting the worst bunch of teams into one group and the elite into another, so we won't get beaten quite so soundly all the time.

Ugly and gruesome crime has come to our neighbourhood this week. A badly burned female body was discovered in the field right across from the farm of our friends where Miles used to go for daycare. Kind of scary. The police aren't saying much, although that also means they aren't sounding an alert that they think we're all in imminent danger.

We had a very busy (too busy) weekend. I went with a group of women to the Rosedale middle school dinner and auction in support of their band trip. Ended up winning the bids on a night at a B&B in Vancouver on West 6th (payed $105 for $140 value), and on an uncooked organic dinner for six (roast beef, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and blueberries). On Saturday after a grocery morning, Molly and I rode our bikes to the middle school so I could vote, including for my friend who was running for school trustee. Then later Daryl and I went to Earl's using a card someone gave us to make up for forgetting to pick up their kid from soccer. After that we went to our friend's for a sad non-victory part as she placed last in the race. Came home at 11:30 to find the babysitter at the computer keyboard, saying Miles was still awake in the bedroom. We went in to check and he was gone! Daryl went downstairs to look for him, but I found him asleep on the kitchen floor. Must of snuck out to look for us!

Today it was up early for soccer in Abby, then quick lunch at home, and the girls and I went to a matinee of UCFV Theatre's latest production, the 18th century comedy She Stoops to Conquer. Then we picked up our 93-and-a-half-year-old friend Jean, and she enjoyed the organic dinner from the auction with us (which Daryl kindly cooked. It was delicious). Jean enjoys the family atmosphere at our house, although Miles was very cranky tonight and whipped a slice of turkey across the table at her.

Then the long process of getting him to sleep!

Well, ta-ta for now all! Hope to hear from you soon!

Cougars on the loose

Well, some of us were more like old mama bears than cougars, but we all had a wild good time reconnecting at a weekend in Whistler, thanks to Deb's generosity in sharing her family chalet for the weekend.

What do five 39-year-olds who haven't seen much of each other in 22 years get up to when reunited for 36 hours? Well, we all had our priorities. Anne was seeking fresh air, exercise, rest, reunion, relaxation, and conviviality, but wasn't opposed to a few martinis either. Kirsten and Deb are no strangers to the party scene, and wanted to make sure we experienced it. Michele and Colleen were looking forward to reconnecting with old friends and escaping the demands of small children (as we all were). And we all wanted to laugh together like we did when we were 12!


Anne, the fitness/nature freak of the bunch, insisted on a short hike to start the weekend before we got to more hedonistic activities, so good sports all, we loaded into the minivan and drove five minutes to the road leading to Cheakamus Lake, before immediately turning around when presented with a sign saying "Trail closed. Extreme bear warning!" -- Extreme bear warning! And some of us were menstruating! No thanks! Anne asked Colleen if her driving was safe enough for Colleen's mum, who had asked if she was a safe driver. "She would have really approved of the turning around at the bear sign!" Colleen replied.

So much for hiking. Back to the chalet to change to our first transition outfit, for the shopping part of the tour. ("Um, I was just planning to wear the same outfit all day," said Anne.) Our afternoon exercise was strolling the Village, going in and out of shops, and then traipsing a long way through the hotel district to the Four Seasons to a martini bar Kirsten had raved about.

Well, the martinis were $14 each, but they were worth it. We sampled various, with vanilla drop being popular. Anne tried an exotic passionfruit one, as well as an ice wine and 'chambord' combo. Very comfy/ritzy setting, living beyond our rational means temporarily.

We had planned to go for a nice dinner out, but something about three martinis before dinner makes you less inclined for fine dining, so it was back to the chalet, after a semi-inebriated stop at the liquor and grocery stores.

Then into the hot tub for some of us, for some refined wine drinking, although the partiers in the crew thought sambucca shooters were also apropo.

After this action-and-alcohol-packed afternoon, Anne was ready for bed or at least a night of relaxation, and changed into her Adidas to signify her intent to skip the "clubbing" part of the evening. As a long-long-longtime partnered woman, she had very little experience with the club scene and didn't feel she was missing it.

But the party girls insisted, so the homebodies dragged themselves off the couch, "just for a couple of drinks," after a quick dinner of pasta.

"Hey," said Anne. "Where are our priorities? We just spent $200 on cocktails and $10 on dinner."

"Welcome to my world!" said the single-and-loving-it Kirsten.

The club was loud, thumpy, crowded, and full of young women (24 but looking 12) celebrating various stagettes. As the night wore on men interested in these and other women started to appear. Colleen, Michele, and Anne stayed in the background, initially glued to their seats, being good sports and drinking but not "engaging in the total club experience".

Eventually we were scoped by a generous Greek fellow and his buddy, who thought some of us looked like fun and some of us really needed some loosening up. He bought us one round of shooters, which was a nice gesture, and naive Anne thought that would be the end of him. But no. He sensed a challenge in Anne, who owns no "club clothes", and was still wearing her fall cords and long-sleeved shirt from the day, her loafers, and her eye-glasses. He continued to order rounds, asking Anne, can I buy you another drink?

"You REALLY don't want to buy me a drink." (Subtext: there's no-one less appropriate in this club for your drink-buying generosity. I find all of this anthropologically fascinating but I'm really not a party girl, and I'm very happily married -- see that ring? -- and no, I won't be 'loosening up' and I'm only here as a good sport for my friends, etc etc but it was too loud to explain all that.) So it devolved into him gesturing "drink?" and me shrugging nonchalantly, and Michele laughing wildly at the odd scenario. Finally he sat next to us and it was way too loud for small talk and I didn't want to anyway, so when he asked, "Do you want me to go away?" I looked at him and said "Yes!" That worked! Although, I must say, he was the first man to EVER buy me a drink in a club so I guess he has a special place in my book of memories.

Of course we were all fairly wasted when we got back to the chalet, and had a good time rocking out for awhile. Kirsten retreated for her beauty sleep, wisely, and Deb and I went up to check on Colleen and Michele, who were sharing the master king-size bed. Well, I know when I'm too tired to keep partying, so I retreated to my basement nook pretty quickly.

To my surprise, in the morning I found that Deb had zonked out right between Colleen and Michele, who found it a tight squeeze all night but were too polite to wake their hostess. "It was just like home," said Colleen, "when my daughter climbs between my husband and I, but Deb was a lot bigger!"

Anne felt perhaps the best in the morning, having a strong capacity for drink despite not being a club person. "Why don't you feel as bad as me?" lamented (apparently not high-maintenance at all) Colleen. Michele was not well but was stoic about it, skipping breakfast so she'd be up for the extreme sport adventure of the afternoon. The rest of us enjoyed delicious fritattas prepared by Kirsten, and each others company, after a quick pyjama run to the store to buy eggs, as the ones we were supposed to use were home in Colleen's fridge.

Then it was time for Michele and Anne to "zip-trek" (see www.ziptrek.com). Colleen doesn't like extreme stuff and the other two had done it before, so we said our goodbyes, and headed off with our very hunky guides and fellow adventurers off into the forest, where we walked onto platforms suspended in tall trees, were attached by harness to pulleys, and sent zooming off on cables across raging Fitzimmons Creek. Very exhilarating -- five zips each in all -- a lot of fun, and a nice change from the daily routine.

After a post-trek chili dog, and a chatty drive home with Michele, the adventure ended.

We all still liked each other a quarter-century later, we all reverted to our roles of those days somewhat, but we had all grown up enough to indulge each others' quirks and interests. And we laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Thanks, fellow Coquitlamites. Let's do it again!

Anne