Life is a Highway...

I wanna ride all night long.















Ideally, while staying between the lines and rubber side down.

Actually, I find something very comforting about driving at night, especially somewhat late at night, with very little other traffic out there. There a peace to be found on the road at these times, a sense that I could just keep driving. For me it's a time of contemplation, where the journey is way more important than my ultimate destination, and it's just me and my out-of-tune CD sing-a-long. No worries, no cares. Some of the best trips have been these late night excusions - by myself, with friends, or a love. Whatever. These kind of moments are what I live for.

I love having the freedom to pull over on some side road and get out of the truck and watch the Northern Lights dance, like I did the night I wandered out into the middle of Highway 43 to take this picture. Driving with the light of a full moon rocks, too, with or without snow to reflect the cold fire of the moonlight.

I'm always just a little disappointed when I get where I'm going. Happy to get there safe, sad that the road ends. May all your journeys be this much fun.

All Things in Moderation

My new year's resolution was to lose weight, and to do this, I've joined Weightwatchers to help with the diet and Curves to help with the exercise. Thanks to the glorious rear-end collision in early March, the gym has been put on hold, but the diet is going.. well.. not strong, but still going.

I'm overweight, and the reason for that is simple mathematics. From 1998 to 2008 - a whole 10 years - I have eaten more calories than I have expended. The weight gain has been slow, and somewhat yo-yo like in the past couple years. I started out around 140 pounds, when I first moved to Edmonton in 1997. At my heaviest, in 2000, I was more than 280 (how much more, I don't know. I avoided the scale.)

My name is Robbi, and I am a chocaholic. I love food. This is partly nature and partly nuture. (No, Mom and Dad, I'm not blaming you. Read on.)

I am genetically hardwired to love food. And I am what is known as an "easy keeper". I can pack on weight just SMELLING French fries.

Growing up, food was both comfort and reward. A scraped knee might be treated with a band-aid and ice cream. A good report card could mean dinner at my favorite restaurant. My mom is a great cook, but her baking could tempt a saint. Mom makes butter tarts to die for. Her black forest cake is soaked in cherry whiskey and covered with real whipped cream and chocolate. Even her fruitcake is good!

Some of my fondest memories (even recent ones!) involve food. Each birthday meant a homemade shaped birthday cake with buttercream frosting - I recall Mickey Mouse, Holly Hobby, Garfield, a rainbow, a horseshoe (darned useful U-shaped pan, that one), a Smurf, and several others. Yummy!

Road trips meant toast and coffee on the road and usually lunch or dinner at a truck stop - I have never met truck stop food I didn't like. Camping meant smokies and smores over an open fire, and mac and cheese cooked in a pot on a Coleman gas stove somehow tastes better.

So, what to do? These days I'm still finding reward and comfort in food. I'm just making different choices - berries and yogurt soothe skinned knees just as well as a cookie, and my niece had an angelfood cake with strawberries for her birthday that was pretty tasty indeed. There will still be summer smokies over campfires, but I think I'll limit my intake.

I wouldn't trade those childhood memories of food for anything. Fighting the battle of the bulge might be easier if the war wasn't being waged on so many different fronts, but it also wouldn't be nearly as interesting.

Tag, I'm It

Amber tagged me with this.. sigh.. order to list 6 non-important things/habits/quirks about me. They are:

1. I'm a nail biter with no interest in quitting.

2. I have a phobia about bees/wasps/hornets. It's a deepseated thing from my childhood, but it's getting better.

3. I don't like olives. But I keep trying them in the hopes that might change some day.

4. I have at least two books that I'm at some point in reading. Always.

5. I once had a job as a tour guide in a pulp mill.

6. As a child, I liked mashed potatoes with dill pickles. I still do.

The Customer Is Always Right...

but the service is still the shits.


My friend Aaron once suggested to me that at least 5% of the population is unemployable. I actually think the number might be higher, say, 7 - 10 % of the popluation should not be working, for reasons such as mental or physical issues, poor attitude, chronic laziness, or simply dumb-as-a-rock. Now when the unemployment rate dips below this number, you can bet your ass that some of these unemployable folk have found themselves jobs.

Are businesses using "labor shortage" as an excuse for sub-standard service? I think so. Worse yet, we, the customers, are expected to just nod our heads and agree with these businesses, and accept that service is just going to be terrible. I disagree. I can accept that I might have to wait a little longer for staff to serve me as a result of staffing shortgages, but because a business is short staffed doesn't mean I am going to accept rude behavior or terrible service.

I'm not talking about the waitress-having-a-bad-day kind of poor service. My complaint is the glaringly obvious issues that come up each and every day.

For example, you will find two types of salespeople out there. Ask a salesperson a question they probably won't know the answer to, but valid to whatever you are thinking of buying. One type will say "Gee, I don't know, but let me ask someone who will". The other type will say "Duh... I dunno" and then stand there looking at you as though you should just forget about your question and move on with shelling out your hard-earned money.

I'm horrified at the number of employees who seem to think there is nothing wrong with wearing their Ipod while serving customers. Or the gum-chewing, bubble-blowing vacant-eyed folks who will be happy to assist you, as soon as they finish this one quick text message. Or the cashiers who ring through $150 worth of groceries without even acknowedging the customer, because they are too busy flirting with the pimply-faced stud bagging the groceries.

If my words strike a chord with you, I urge you to join me in open rebellion! Jaded customers of the world (or only Alberta), UNITE! My plan goes like this - if you experience a problem, report it to management. Do so politely, but firmly, and follow up with a phone call or email to the corporate office for the company.

If nothing else, you might get a discount on your next bad experience.

Just Call Me "Crash"

Okay, well, I've been roaming around all winter feeling like I've had a big target on my truck. You see, it's been more than 7 years since my last car accident, and the way people have been driving lately, I've had the feeling like they were aiming for me. I even took the time out to objectively evaluate my own driving habits, to see if maybe I'm the maniac behind the wheel. Nope, not me. I haven't been speeding, I've been obeying traffic signals, I shoulder-check.

So this past Sunday, I'm sitting in the turning lane on Calgary Trail South at 23rd Avenue (AKA Edmonton's worst intersection). There I am, minding my own business, and BAM! Some chick rear-ends me. No warning screech of brakes, nothing. She hit me hard enough to knock my foot of the brake. Good thing I paid attention to the lectures on following distance in drivers ed....

Well, I get out, look at the truck (now known as "The Tank"). There's a small crack in the rubber on the bumper step, and my wiring harness bracket for my tow package is bent and loose. Better get that checked.

Then I turn to the car that hit me. The driver is in front of her car, cursing and swearing. As for her car, the front bumper is broken completely in half, the hood is kind of peeled back, and I'd bet money on the frame being bent. And the driver is ranting about how unfair this all is. Yeah, I couldn’t agree more.

She explains to me that she just got this new puppy, and he bit her finger, and she looked down, and well, she's really sorry. Sorry? I've had a headache since Sunday. I can't turn my head to the left. She's sorry. She's a new-ish driver. Her car is only 3 months old, a 2008 Mitsubishi Lancer. Her mom cosigned and is on her insurance, too. She swears she's going to give up driving.

Here's my pet theory on drivers exams: Multi-task or fail. Make people take road tests in a car with a manual transmission. Put a cell phone in one hand and a burger in the other, a cup of coffee on the dash (remember License to Drive?). Have the spouse in the passenger seat to nag.. er.. I mean, provide directions, at least 2 screaming kids in the back seat of the car who are alternating between kicking the driver's seat and trying to cover the driver's eyes, and at least one small pet loose in the interior. And you have to change CDs at least twice while shifting. If you can't manage this, you don't get a license.

Until they introduce such a system, we'll keep giving drivers ed lessons and road tests in a quiet car so the driver can concentrate on what they are doing. Once they pass, we'll turn them loose with no restrictions on cell phone use or eating while driving. I'll bet the first thing a new driver does on the road home is call their friends to share the news.

Just call me "Crash".