Wild Weekend

I don't know about you guys, but I had a crazy week and weekend over the past ten days. My little guy got super sick with the stomach flu--so sick he vomited continually for two days and couldn't keep a single thing down. I wound up taking him to Emergency for treatment two days in, and spent 12 hours getting IV fluids into him just to get him rehydrated. One of my friends was working there as a nurse that night, so it made his stay a bit more comfortable. I took him home next morning, but had to bring him back two days later. Not fun, and the poor little guy didn't eat a thing for six days.

By Friday he was feeling better, so I reluctantly remade plans to go up to Vernon (in the Okanagan Valley) for my uncle's surprise 50th birthday. Uncle Kev's my favorite uncle, and he's in the dedication for Cover of Darkness. He's a battle Captain in the reserves, plays softball and loves history, on top of being a hell of a nice guy. Enough said. But as it turned out, since my hubby was staying home with Little Weasel, I had to take Big Weasel with me and thought I'd catch a ride up with my dad. Only he'd decided at the last minute they weren't going to drive. They were flying up in his new Bell 407 helicopter instead.

Oh dear God.

Big Weasel thought this was an awesome idea, and I kind of had no other choice so I went along with it. Besides, my characters fly in helos all the time, and they manage it without having panic attacks. And Devon (the heroine from Deadly Descent, who you'll meet this summer) even flies them, for crying out loud. I refused to wimp out. Suck it up, princess.

My dad flew us while his instructor played the role of co-pilot. I was crammed in the back with Big Weasel, my stepmom and the co-pilot's wife as we took off and cruised through the Fraser Valley on our way to the mountains. And I pretended to love every second of it, smiling despite my pounding heart and sweaty palms. Wheee!!! Listening to the radio contact with air traffic control was pretty cool, as were the conversations between my dad and the co-pilot discussing various aspects of the flight, controls, avionics, etc. More research for my next book :) I'm still seriously thinking of taking the ground school portion of flight school. It would sure come in handy for my writing, plus I find it fascinating. Here's the Bell 407, my dad's new baby:

What would have been a five hour drive only took us an hour and a quarter by air, so that part was good. But honestly, the turbulence got my heart going pretty good because in a helo you don't just move up and down and sideways. Oh no. You move sideways and in all kinds of funky new directions. Awesome. But we got there in one piece and that's all that counts, and we landed right on the 1st tee box of the hotel's golf course, with a group of our relatives watching. The party was a raving success, and next morning we had a nice brunch with everyone before packing up and getting ready to go home again. The pilot flew the helo from the airport to our hotel and picked us up (I felt like such a jet-setter!), and as I climbed in I shouted to my fave uncle waiting by the helipad, "See how much I love you?"

He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before walking a safe distance away while dad and the co-pilot started the pre-flight checklist and fired up the engines. We flew home through some pretty choppy turbulence through the mountains. We bounced around pretty good until I actually felt sick to my stomach. By the time Big Weasel and I arrived home I was still queasy and ready for some Gravol, but hubby announced we were having six people over for an early birthday dinner for me. A very sweet thought, despite my angry GI tract.

So there, I felt the fear and did it anyway, and my uncle now knows without a doubt how much he means to me. After all, nothing says love and devotion like facing your worst phobia for someone!

So here's a shot of Big Weasel and I strapped into the backseat. Don't I look calm and happy about being in there?

Best Hubby Ever

Well. Just had another humongous surprise sprung on me. Hubby and I celebrate our 10 year anniversary on October 7th. As far as I knew we had another ball game that night, but that was it. I thought we'd go for dinner or something on the weekend, maybe go overnight someplace in the next few weeks. Boy was I wrong.

Apparently we won't be at the ball park on our anniversary, because we'll be in the Big Easy all week long. Yeah, it was a bit of a shock for me too :)

I'm typing this at 4 pm on Saturday, and he just surprised me with the trip twenty minutes ago. We leave in the morning at 5:30 am.

Wow. At first I didn't know how to react. Panic was the first emotion of course. This involves flying I didn't voluntarily sign up for. A lot of it. My adrenal and sweat glands went into immediate action mode.

My next thought is going to make me look bad, but I want to be honest with you all. My critique partner, who I've never met in real life, lives a few hours from there. Right away I was already thinking about how I might be able to hook up with her sometime during the trip. Hubby wasn't exactly thrilled about my reaction, lol. Here he's secretly planned the trip and sprung it on me at the last possible moment so I'd have only minimal time to freak out about the flying, plus he's picked up some Ativan for us both to help calm our nerves. What a guy! I guess I should have made more of a fuss. I feel bad now! But really, he took me completely by surprise. (That's my only excuse, but I feel like I need to use it!)

Luckily my mom and her twin are still with us and will look after the weasels while we're gone. All that driving back and forth to school, swimming lessons, soccer practice, play dates and Beaver Scouts. Just a typical week here at our place. I'm sure they'll be thrilled.

Hubby's walking around the house right now wearing a very smug grin. He says, "I'm gonna look like a rock star on your blog!"

Yeah, he is, isn't he?

I'm starting to come out of my shocked state, which is kind of too bad because now the flying phobia is going to be in full swing until I land in New Orleans twenty-four hours from now. My heart's racing as I type this and my palms are all sweaty. But the kids are in good hands, my will is up to date and hubby will be with me. Besides, Dec, Ben, Rhys and Luke would get on the plane without batting an eyelash. Got to put on my big girl panties now. The last thing I want to do is spoil the trip and excitement for hubby by being a sweaty neurotic bitch for the whole next day. People fly all the time and get where they're going to safely. I don't see why my plane has to be the one in a million to go down. *slaps self* Okay, no more thinking like that.

So yeah, hubby's done it again. We're off on a romantic vacation for an entire week to someplace we've always talked about visiting. Once again I'm feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Wish me luck!

Oh, and what did I get him as a present? Thought you'd never ask. I got him new batting gloves and a pair of ball pants. Gee, aren't I the romantic one in this relationship?

I'm Still Alive

Yesterday was...interesting. It hasn't been all that long since I've flown last, but things have definitely changed. Maybe it's due to the Olympics a couple months back, but man, the security at Vancouver Int'l Airport is something else. We now have automated check-in where you have to scan your passport and enter all your info into a computer. I didn't know my step-sister's address, and you now can't enter the US without giving the address of your final destination, so they weren't going to allow me to check in. Trust me, after only an hour's sleep the night before, my stress levels were already pretty high.

With that crisis averted, I went through security. Three times. They scanned me, all my clothes and belongings in my carry-on, then put me in a body scan booth where they check for hidden images and explosive residue. Then they swabbed my hands and socks, shoes, laptop and bag to check for more residue. I even got patted down after all that.

Jeez, talk about overkill. On the plus side, I felt like they'd made a good effort at keeping any crazies off the plane, so that helped a fraction.

After filling out a declaration form (even though I hadn't gone anywhere yet), I finally cleared customs and an hour later got on my flight, took my little Ativan tablet and willed it to kick in. No sooner had the pill melted under my tongue than the pilot came on the intercom to say that we had a broken plane. Some sort of fuel gauge malfunction they were double-checking with maintenance.

What???

Turned out it wasn't a malfunction; the maintenance crew had shorted us a thousand gallons of jet fuel. Awesome. I'm feeling ever so secure strapped into my seat in this damn little tube.

Not only that, but our flight was delayed forty-five minutes, exactly the amount of time I had in Dallas/Fort Worth to get on my connecting flight. When we landed four hours later without incident, they let off eight of us trying to connect to Austin, and we all sprinted through the airport up to the trains to get to the terminal on the opposite side of the airport, then ran the whole way to the last gate. But no dice. They'd left without us. Bummer.

So they put us all on a later flight and we walked back to the other side of the terminal to wait, where I called my step-sis to tell her I'd be arriving late.

Only that plane was broken, too, and I was only too happy not to get on the thing.

They brought in another aircraft about an hour later, and once all those passengers disembarked and the plane was cleaned and fuelled (with the right amount), we finally got on. That flight was unpleasantly bumpy, but in my time sitting around DFW airport, I'd met some nice people that I wound up sitting with, and one of them is a huge Civil War buff :) So despite the turbulence I enjoyed her company, and Tina was waiting for me with baby Areia when I arrived in Austin.

We had a lovely Greek dinner (Tina's short for Athena, and she's half Greek) before driving to their beautiful new Spanish-style house. I met their two Great Danes and had the grand tour (OMG, if you could see the master walk-in closet, all you women out there would be pea-green with envy. I'll try to take pictures and post them later, but it's something else.). Today we're going to go into the city and do a little shopping and sight-seeing, and tomorrow I'm off to the ranch with Rhonda.

No flights for me for another four days! I'm so okay with that :)

Deep in the Heart of Texas

It's D-Day tomorrow. Departure day, that is. I'm headed to Austin, to visit my step-sis and her family, then I'm traveling with Rhonda Penders, editor-in-chief of the Wild Rose Press, down to a dude ranch outside of San Antonio for the weekend.

I signed up for this trip a year ago, while I was at Disneyland with my hubby and weasels. Remember? The trip we drove for twenty-plus hours each way because DH and I are terrified of flying? Yeah. How times have changed, because when I leave San Antonio on May 2nd, I'm flying into LA to meet my little family for a week in Disneyland. (I've figured out the only way to get hubby on a plane is to book a trip to a Disney park. So, someday I'm going to drag him across the pond to Paris! *evil laugh*)

Once the damn flying is over with (safely, I mean), I'm looking forward to the trip. I get to meet my editor with the Crimson Rose line of TWRP, so that will be cool. She's promised to go on a trail ride with me. I haven't been on a horse in years, but I grew up with them so I'm hoping it'll be just like riding a bike. I'll also get lots of uninterrupted writing time, and plan to revise my Civil War novel for the umpteenth time. If I get a good handle on those rewrites, I'll get cracking on Crash and Burn, the sequel to Turbulence. Currently, I'm 25% through the first draft.

So wish me luck, people! I'm feeling the fear but doing it anyway :)

Leaving On a Jet Plane. I think.

In a couple of weeks I leave on a great adventure. If my heart doesn't give out somewhere over the Atlantic, that is.

Those of you that read my posts know that I'm mortally afraid of flying, so a trip to Europe is going to test my nervous and circulatory systems to their limits. I've been mentally preparing myself to take this on, because I'd dearly love to just get on the damned plane like every other normal person and not be waiting to die every moment of the flight.

A pilot that I know suggested I think of something even more terrifying than getting on a plane. Think of that, he said, and that the moment the plane's door shuts and you take off, you're safe from it.

Huh, I thought. Not a bad idea. And nobody's got an imagination like mine. It's a curse of being a writer, I think. So far, I'm thinking of something apocalyptic like a nuclear or biological strike. That's sufficiently scary for me. As for getting on the plane, I already have my "routine" checklist that I do in my head. Brace yourselves before continuing to read.

Disaster management personnel and special ops soldiers are trained to prepare for catastrophes they might face by worst-casing everything. When something goes wrong, chances are they've already run through a similar scenario and have a plan of action in mind. If there's a job out there that focuses on worst-casing everything, I would be awesome. I do it constantly already, and that's all on my own without any training because I'm a control freak/alarmist, whatever. You get the picture.

Getting on a plane used to be pretty much the same as getting on a bus for me, but since a classmate in high school was the sole survivor of a fatal crash, I can't even think about stepping onto an aircraft without my heart pounding. When I get on a plane now, I look at every passenger to see if they looked sweaty or stressed. They could just be nervous fliers like me, but I've got my eye on them in case they're up to no good ;) Not on my plane, you don't!

That's step number one in my misguided attempt to be able to make myself safer when I'm locked in a metal tube 40,000 feet above the ground. 'Cuz yeah, that'll help.

Two, I memorize how many rows of seats it is to the nearest exit from where I'm sitting, both fore and aft. That way, if there's a fire while we're on the ground and I'm not dead yet, I can touch the rows of seats to count my way to the closest available exit since the smoke will be too thick and black to see anything. Plus, I'll only have seconds to get to the exit and I can't hold my breath for very long.

Three, I memorize how each of the exits nearest me needs to be opened by studying the safety manual. In case I'm the one that gets there first.

Four, I buckle up my belt and clench my sweaty hands together. And then don't talk to me. I'm concentrating on keeping the plane in the air with sheer mental force. So don't expect me to carry on a conversation for more than a few seconds.

In the unlikely event of a hijacking, I've still got a few ideas in mind. I do know some first aid and am pretty knowledgeable about the human body. If the pilots were incapacitated and no one else on board had any flight experience, I know that 121.5 is the emergency frequency on the radio. In a worst-case scenario, I could use this to contact someone (provided I remember my flight number) and get help. I even know what the yoke in the cockpit does and where the switch for the landing gear is. Then I'd pray the plane had the kind of autopilot that could land the aircraft all by itself.

Scared yet? Think I should be medicated all the time and not just when I fly? You might be right!

When we finally land (please God) I always keep my eyes peeled when there are crowds of people around, looking for anything suspicious. Like say, someone wearing a bulky jacket or vest when it's hot out. There's my author brain working, looking for a suicide bomber (your eyebrows are up under your hairline now, aren't they?). At the hotel when I finally arrive, I memorize where the emergency exits are from my room in case there's a fire so I already know which way to go if the power goes out and there's too much smoke to see. I know, freak, right? But I think about that sort of stuff all the time.

The blessing for this trip is that I won't be with my children, which already relieves my mind from having to protect them if anything should go wrong. Plus I'll be taking my laptop. Nothing better to distract me than working on a book, and I'll have at least ten hours on the long flights to accomplish something. Although, it might not be quality work since I plan to be very drugged on Ativan or some other sedative. Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

The last few days of September I'm meeting my dad and stepmom in Riga, Latvia, to continue their trek across Asia and Europe in The Great Cmolik Driving Adventure. You can check out their progress (and mine, until October 8th) here.

Aren't you glad you're not traveling with me? LOL. So everybody, please keep me in your thoughts in the last week of September and first two of October. Pray, flap your arms, whatever. I'd appreciate the help, because it's hell keeping a plane in the air all by myself.