We missed our flight.

OK, so that’s a cheap shot.  Kind of like saying, “Hey, look over here!”

But it’s true.  When we came home on the first of February,  we had booked a return flight on the 17th of August. 

Didn’t go back.

We talked about it, briefly.  But then realised, we’d then have to figure out how to get back here again.  Plus you know, there’s the hotels and a car rental and all that.  Been there, done that.

Travelling Companion could have very well booked a one way flight to get us to Canada,  but one way flights are quite a bit more expensive than return flights.  Even though the Company that Cannot be Named was paying, she wasn’t about to waste their money.  I’m certainly OK with that, why pay more than is needed?

Anyhoodle,  I guess I’ve had my nose to the grind stone or something over the last couple of days,  since I haven’t had much of a chance to come here and blather on.  Or, maybe just didn’t feel like it?

I’ve been busy.

Of course,  there’s always one last little bit of painting to be done,  and I had just enough paint to make it work.

The convector had been painted white before,  even though the paint in the room was some sort of burgundy.  Note the use of knee pads.  They help, but man of man, not as much as they used to.

HOWEVER, that wasn’t going to be the end of the changes.  

Before we went over seas, I had purchased a new set of taps for this room,  and basically forgot about them.  I try not to do that,  but it happens.  Found them over top of the bookcase that we moved a couple months back.  Maybe a good idea to move sh*t around once in a while? 

Never know what you might find.

 

That’s the “old” taps,  which work just peachy keen, except that muggins here got a little carried away with some cleaning products a few years back, and did a little number on the finish.  *ulp*  You can’t really tell from the photo, but it’s buggered up, trust me.

 

Hence the replacement:

 

Meanwhile, we had a bit of an overage in the banana department,  so *of course* I had to get that sorted out.

We have lots of freezer space,  thankfully.

We don’t provide a “musical interlude”,  so a loaf of banana bread will have to do.

 

So,  on with the show.

In order to put up the wall sconce,  I had to make some minor adjustments.  As I mentioned a few days ago,  they don’t use boxes in Europe,  and there’s just wires coming out of the wall.  You make your connections,  install the appropriate wall plugs and mount the fixture. 

I’m glad I bought those little European style connectors (see the white thing?) on one of my shopping trips to “Bauhaus” or “Baumax”.   They come in a strip,  and you break off whatever number you need.  I’m running out,  but whatever.  I always use Marrettes, but in this situation this type of connector takes up less room.

 

In order to put the thing where I wanted,  and have it mounted to the wall where there was NO BOX (horrors, won’t pass the electrical code!)  I had to add some wires. Blue is hot, brown is neutral and green is ground. 

That’s the only one that makes sense.

This is when having an assortment of “stuff” in little drawers does tend to come in handy.

See.  Stuff.

By the way,  when we first moved to Europe,  I was really missing my “stuff”,  and had to go out and actually buy things that I knew I already had….four thousand miles away.  Such a hardship.

 

Anyway,  I think I’m going to just skip ahead. 

There it is.

 

In behind it is a small mirror that I used to cover the existing box…

Not sure if you can make it out.

 

So now we just have to figure out what we’re going to put back in there. 

Next,  I’ll be putting the “old” set of taps in the bathroom downstairs.  (In the basement,  where most cast offs tend to end up)

 

 

Know anyone who could use some 220volt chandelier lamps?  I got a couple.  And soon there will be more…

I could be a real horse’s hind end and put them in the package that I bought from Home Despot and make a “return”.  Hey, they work!  They just happen to need 220.

That would be bad.  Not worth the five bucks.

I won’t do that, so never mind alerting the authorities.  

 

Not sure which project will be next.  I do cast an eye towards the ceiling in the dining room once in a while.  That’s where I’ll be putting up the “real” chandelier.   I’m not looking forward to it.

 

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

 

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There’s no getting frustrated at home.

See,  when we were in Europe and the internet would crap out,  we’d just figure that all would be right with the world once we moved back home. 

So now what?

The internet still craps out,  but I suppose at least the “technicians” speak English. 

No really,  not even with an accent.   I say “technicians”,  only because I suppose they only know what they need to know.  Not that I know any better,  but I’m pretty sure Son-in-law has more on the ball than half of them,  but I’m not going to bug him when I have some stupid little connectivity issue. 

Last night we not only didn’t have the net,  but no phone either.  So calling a “technician” wasn’t really all that great an option.  I mean,  both T.C. and I have cell phones,  but really?

Then this morning at least I had phone,  but only intermittent connection.  Turns out I was “off line”, and had to reset the modem.   This is the same device that was replaced last Wednesday, so let’s hope that’s not a bad omen. 

The thing too is,  since it has a battery back-up,  I had to hunt around for a paper clip to reset the thing. Can’t just unplug it.  Such a pleasure.  But really, how do we suddenly get “off line”?   Hm?

I just have to let it go.  

Annoyingly, Travelling Companion wanted to book our flights to Hawaii last night,  so she was getting a wee bit snippy.  Not necessarily with me,  but I had no desire to even be in the same room.  I ain’t that dumb.

Ok Ok,  I probably should have gone to the little box thingy and pressed a button or something.  Something?

Oh, right.  Forgot to mention that little detail. (The part before where I admitted I was too lazy last night to reset the modem?)

We’re going to Hawaii right after Christmas!   There’s going to be a gang of us.   It’s going to be Maui.  I’d have to sift through some papers or emails to come up with more details.  A niece is turning 40,  and decided she wanted to be in Hawaii when it happens. Not a bad idea, really.  So we figured, she’ll need someone there to since Happy Birthday.  Right?

All I want to know is,  how the heck did those years go by so fast?  Let’s not get all maudlin.

I had this thought yesterday that,  if I want to buy some new sandals,  I had better do it now,  since it’ll be wintertime in Hawaii,  and maybe I won’t find ‘summer wear’?  

Hey,  that’s what we discovered in Puerto Rico.   They put away the “summer”  wear and bring out the fall and winter fashions.  I’m telling ya,  it’s HOT all year around!   Just the same,  T.C. could NOT find a bathing suit in November!  

 

Anyway,  on with the pictorial part of our program.

I think I mentioned that we had steaks Saturday night?

T.C. bought an entire tenderloin (I tried not to look at the price, but my butt did clench for just a second there),  which I then sliced into nice thick portions.

I’m not a one for having lots of fat or bone left over,  so the tenderloin program totally works for me.   Even though I’m somewhat parsimonious.    (read “cheap”,  for those of you with only grade 12)

 

And yes,  they were just as good as they looked.

And now,  not that we’re having any renovating competitions or anything,  but I’m pressing on with the painting situation as well.  Different room,  different colour.

There are a few little details to be sorted out first,  since this room is going to be getting new windows,  so yesterday I very carefully removed the trim and window stools,  labelled them,  and set them aside.  Not the sills,  the sill is on the outside.  I’ll get to those in due time.

 

I also noticed where some of the wall paint ended up on the ceiling,  so I’ll need to touch that up too.  I think I have nobody to blame but myself,  since I was the one to paint this room the last time.  It’s just one little spot,  and it’s up there in the corner.  But I can see it.

There’s more to do before I even get started,  so I’d better do that.

 

Sticks.  Ice.  You know.

 

Thanks for looking.

It’s not the bank!

I have to suck it up here and admit that I jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding our issues with our bank, and wire transfers we’re expecting from the very smart people in Texas who are *allegedly* looking after our “Ex-Pat Expenses”.

First of all,  therein lies the good news.  Once we get all this crapola cleared up, Travelling Companion will no longer have to deal with these boffoons.  (Texas people,  not the bank people)  So,  if she has to fly out to Edmonton say (yes, that might just happen),  then The Company that Cannot be Named can pay her directly out of the Burlington office.  Directly into the bank,  just the way the very smart people in Texas are supposed to do.

Let’s not forget though,  that there was indeed some wrong information on a form provided to me by the bank earlier on,  but that’s not the issue any more.  Or it least it shouldn’t be.

Really and truly,  I should have had some sort of “tag” on all the posts over the last four years wherein I’ve ranted about these Texas dough heads.  There would be quite the string of posts,  trust me.   The thing is,  I never in my wildest dreams thought they would continue to be so stupid.  I mean,  T.C. was one of the first Ex-Pats in Austria,  so we chalked up their dough-headedness to inexperience.  Of course,  they do have an office in the U.K., so we never could figure out why we were dealing with an endless string of toothless wonders somewhere in Texas.  What would they possibly know about Europe? 

Not much,  it turns out. 

But that’s in the past. 

We’ve had that rather large bowel movement,  but the unfortunate thing is that there are a few little clumps of cr*p hanging around that just don’t want to fall into the bowl.   Best analogy I can come up with,  without using really,  really bad language.

It turns out that they have a knack for making up sh*t.

(like the theme?)

I’m just sticking with the excrement theme here for as long as possible.   You can work “sticking” in there somewhere too,  if you have a mind to.

 

A few days ago,  I soldered down to the local branch here and we made absolutely sure that we had all the correct information so that wire transfers would come through just tickety-boo.  I figured that was that.  They would now know just what an account number looks like,  and that our bank address is not “Scotia Plaza”.   Where they got that one from,  we have no idea.   “Scotia Plaza” is an office building in downtown Toronto.  Owned (presumably) by Scotiabank.  Nothing to do with day to day banking.  I’ve never been there.  We don’t live there.  There’s no bank there!

 

Well,  as of today still no money had come through.  *grumble*   This time around though,  I had the name of an actual contact person at the branch down the street here,  and lo and behold,  she answered her phone!  I was sitting down at the time.  Probably just as well.

Apparently the branch,  or at least those who were in the know,  were on some sort of ‘high alert’,  since she knew exactly what I was talking about (wha?)  and said there was indeed a wire transfer that had come through today, BUT that they STILL had the wrong information on the damned thing!  So, in spite of receiving the correct information from us,  (It was on a form.  I scanned it.  We sent it!) these twits in their twisted imperialistic type of thinking,  had discounted the information that had been provided,  and decided to just make up some shit on their own.  Because I mean,  they must know better than those simple Canadians.   Interesting to note though,  how our banks had no issues whatsoever in the “big crash” of 08-09,  but I’ll not offer any opinions on American style banking.  Because I mean,  they *know*,  right?

 

I don’t recall moving to “Scotia Plaza”.  That’s all.  Why would you put something back on a form when you have explicitly been told to leave it off?   Why oh why?   And the account number is 12 digits,  not seven.  Just write it in there,  would ya?

The latest is,  they wired us a couple hundred back on March 11th,  (I knew nothing of this until it was pointed out to me by T.C.) and apparently it went into an account.  Just not ours.   I can go on line.  I can see all the ins and outs of that account,  going back as far as my little heart desires.   It. ain’t. there. 

 

My new contact at the bank is now on the trail of this mysterious two hundred bucks.    All told,  we’re out about eight Gs though.

All I can say is,  it’s a damned good thing we don’t *need* this money right now,  or we’d be in deep,  you know,  excrement. 

 

********

 

 

 

Speaking of games I didn’t know I was playing….

(like that one?)

 

 

There’s nobody in there.  Just the cat.  Waiting for someone to walk by it seems.  (*he’s a bit nuts*)

 

 

 

Today’s offering.

 

Not that I need something to distract me from any perceived banking “issues” or anything,  but baking something never hurts.  It’s all I got.

I may very well be in a banana bread induced coma later today.   Just in case I never utter another peep.

Now you know.

 

Peace out.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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A little excitement.

I suppose I could have also said,  “Welcome to my nightmare”,  but it wasn’t too bad.  Really.

I’ll let some of the pictures speak.

 

These guys showed up at about 8:15.

Um, with an empty truck?

 

Within a few minutes it all started to make sense.

 

Transport Dude has to then cut off the seal that was put on in Hamburg.  So our stuff went from Vienna to Hamburg to Montreal to Burlington.  In case you were keeping score.

Then he backs the container right up to the back of the empty truck,  and the boys go at it.

I had previously tried to figure out where everything would go,  so as we were checking off the items,  it was all getting shoved here and there.   There were only a couple mystery items that ended up going wherever they would fit.   The list was 177 items long.

 

Kind of like an early morning “brain game”.

 

So…in the garage.

 

In the shed.

Yes,  that’s a shed.  Not a little house.

 

In the living room.

And in the upstairs hallway. 

No comment about the cat.  I ended up sequestering him in the bathroom.  He likes to be under foot.   The dog spent a couple hours in the kitchen on his bed.  He didn’t mind too much,  since he could at least see what was going on,  and there was no danger of him suddenly having the urge to bolt out the door. 

There were a couple bed thingies that I had the movers shove in the basement,  although I had no way of knowing if I got the right mattresses or not,  since they had bundled up some of the items after they had taken them out of the apartment.  So the boxes that the mattresses are in are all the same size!  I’ll sort it out eventually.

Speaking of sorting out.  One of the first things I wanted to check was the chandelier that we shipped over.  It didn’t do too badly.

The little links that hold up each individual ring on which all the shiny bits are hung got a little stretched in the jostling, so I spent some time checking it over very carefully.

It has to hang of course,  in order to do that,  which meant having to remove the cardboard cylinder that I had put on in Vienna.   I’ll put it back on before I take it in the house.

I had to devise some sort of Rube Goldberg arrangement to accomplish that little nightmare.  I’ll tell you right now,  I wouldn’t be able to do that for a living.  Either my fingers are too stubby,  my eyesight is too poor,  or my patience are too lacking.   If I had any more hair,  I probably would have pulled it out.

 

It looks rather fetching hanging there in the garage though, don’t you think?   Um…it’s not going to stay there.

OK so,  stuff to do.  I’m outta here.

 

Thanks for lookin’.   Keep those sticks….oh whatever.

 

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Home again, home again. Jiggity jig.

I think that’s the expression. Not totally sure.

We. be. here. 

It’s all good.

I suppose I could stop right there,  but that wouldn’t be quite fair,  would it?

The flight was OK,  really.  

A little bumpy somewhere this side of Greenland.  But the pilot had warned us.  Seems to me there was some nasty shit (that’s a meteorological term,  by the way)  that had passed through these parts earlier on,  and the remnants had to be flown through at some point.  By somebody.  It had to be us,  I suppose. 

Truth be told (and when have I ever not?) we’ve flown through way worse.  So bad in fact,  that you dared not raise your glass of red wine to your lips,  for fear of wearing it.   It never got that bad this time around.

We didn’t do the upgrade ‘cause it was just a wee bit too much money.  The configuration of the plane was a 2-3-2 arrangement,  and we nabbed two of the seats on the outside in row 19.  Like I said,  it was OK.

And I have to say this,  the food on Air Austria is actually pretty good.  Surprising,  I know.   I’m not sure how they manage it,  but it does surpass that of KLM,  even though the seating and such on KLM is better.   And really?  At this point I don’t give a rat’s tiny behind.   It’ll be a little while before we see the inside of another aircraft. 

I’m pretty sure of that.

 

 

There was something about this that simply made me want to take a picture.  Don’t judge me.  I have these thoughts once in a while.

 

Without looking at the sign above that says “Toronto”,  I somehow knew by the customers that Toronto was our destination.  You can draw your own conclusions.

Getting through customs was night and day compared to the last time.  There was actually little to no standing.  There were enough agents working,  and I’d estimate it took us no longer than 10 to 15 minutes to get up to a wicket.  At that point,  since we had ticked off the little box indicating that we had goods to follow,  we went off to the area where you would pay your customs duty if there is one.  Once again,  easy peasy.   Took a photocopy of our list of goods,  and said “Welcome Home”.  It was actually….pleasant.  

I did a double check just to make sure we were in Toronto.  Seriously.  There was no grumpiness,  or dumb-assed questions. 

 

 

Our view from the HOV lane. 

 

On certain highways here,  if you have more than two heads in your vehicle,  you can scoot along in the “High Occupancy Lane”.   It does make a huge difference,  especially when the other three lanes of traffic are parked.

 

The rest is self explanatory.

 

Travelling Companion has had her hair appointment today, we’ve figured out what we’re taking to the SuperBowl party tomorrow,  and life is good.

 

I’ll bore you a little bit tomorrow with my brief Enterprise adventure.  It turned out just fine,  so it’s not like I’ll be ranting about it or anything.  Although I could probably work it up to a bit of a lather if I really thought about it.

I’ll try not to disappoint.

 

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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If the snow keeps up.

We won’t be getting out of Dodge tomorrow,  that’s for sure.

I think I mentioned a plan to tool down to Slovenia for the weekend, but we’re supposed to get 40 cm today (that’s around 16 inches for you metrically challenged)  and my impression is that it’s going to continue….

 

I know it’s just a boring picture out our balcony door,  but that was at eight this morning.  Right after I got home from driving Travelling Companion to work.   We’re at opposite ends of the stress spectrum when it comes to driving in the snow.  She’d be nearly in tears by the time she got there if she drove,  whereas I’m more concerned with whether of not I might need to go to the bathroom.  The driving conditions are nowhere near the top of my list of “concerns”.

 

The traffic wasn’t all that bad, but then again we did head out at the crack of crazy time.  Something to do with someone waking up way too early?  It’s a gift.

We did encounter one slight mishap on the way,  where a hapless fellow was going a little too fast on one of the underpasses and pranged into the concrete barrier.   He started to skid out and managed to avoid hitting the right side,  but then went perpendicular and sort of wrinkled the front end of his Saab.  I think it was a Saab,  it was kind of covered in snow.

My guess is he didn’t have all the bells and whistles that some of the cars are equipped with,  since Travelling Companion mentioned how she nearly wiped out in that very spot one morning but,  “the car made some funny noises and I stopped skidding.”   The “funny noises”  were actually a combination of ABS and Traction Control.   Something that can easily be poo-pooed as unnecessary, until that one time when it saves yer ass.

Even after he extricated himself from his little dilemma,  which was a darned good thing too, as he was blocking the only way onto the highway,  he still managed to drive fast enough to disappear into the traffic ahead.

I just said to T.C. “Well,  you can’t fix stupid”.

We saw him parked at the side of the road not too far from the office of The Company that Cannot be Named,  and I was quite willing to take a photo for you on my return trip, except he was still in his car on the phone.  Didn’t think it was prudent. He was quite likely calling the cops to file a report.  Or maybe he was talking to his Mom.  

 

This is just outside the Museums Quartier,  not that you’d be able to tell.  I know that second word looks like French,  but it’s a German word that they borrowed, and so it’s pronounced ‘kwarteer’.  Rhymes with ‘steer’. My phonetic spelling is nonexistent, so that’s the best I can do.

You won’t see those streets looking like that in the brochures.

 

I actually did see someone on a bike this morning.  I suppose there’s some sort of thought process that sees riding in that stuff as a challenge.  It’s not a thought process I’m familiar with.

If it snowed that hard in the Netherlands,  where the bike was my primarily means of transportation,  I would either be driving somebody to work,  and would therefore have a fine set of German engineered wheels to tool around in if need be,  or I’d simply stay home.

 

The “story” that I was going to relate will have to wait for another day.   It was just something that I started spewing out a couple days ago,  and all I need do is check it over and hit “publish”.  It’s one of the reasons I kind of like this Live Writer program,  since I’m not really then dependant on having a working internet connection to blurt things out from the tips of my fingers.  Plus, all the spewing is saved right here on this computer.  Of course, it never hurts to hit the “save local draft” thingy once in a while,  as well as do regular back-ups of the whole shootin’ match.  Don’t ask.

 

I highly recommend it, and by that I mean the program,  but I may very well be preaching to the converted.  Oh,  and do the back up thing too.  So far so good on that front.

 

This is now at 10:00 o’clock. 

There’s a ball of bird seed under there somewhere.

OK, enough of that. 

 

Oh!   We do have a moving company.   It’s going to be Interdean,  and they’re the same bunch that moved us over the Atlantic back in 08.  I suppose as moving companies go,  they’re fine. 

Late yesterday afternoon Travelling Companion got a call from someone in Canada (quel suprise!)  going over the expectations.  It seems that the very smart people in Texas somehow thought we wanted out of here in the second last week of the month.  What?  Not sure where they got that idea.  I don’t want to talk about them any more. Just hurts my head. 

This time around we’re going to be doing an “Air Shipment” in addition to the regular move,  which has been an option for each of the moves over the years,  but one that we didn’t feel we had the need for.   We get something like 62 square feet.  At first I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

So this morning I’m trying to decipher what the heck they mean by “sixty-two square feet”,  and as near as I can figure,  they’re trying to say it’s a cubic metre.  That makes sense,  but maybe someone forgot (again) that we’re Canadian,  and we can in fact do that metric thing. 

OK, that sounds fine.  Enough room for some extra clothes, and maybe a sewing machine.  Not sure about the guitar.  It might have to go with the regular dog and pony show.

 

I realise I’m at that age where I still use feet and inches when it comes to building materials and such, but it never hurts to be bilingual on the measurement end of things.  If you’ve never tried it,  you should.  Measuring by TEN instead of 12 is so simple even I can do it.   It’s just something you learn and get used to.  Not unlike driving on the left in the UK. 

OK, maybe that’s a bad example. 

 

Once upon a time I had to install an entire kitchen that had been purchased at Ikea and of course it was all metric.  It took a couple goes with the tape measure to figure out what was what,  but it wasn’t too long before I knew exactly what a “70mm cabinet”  looked like,  for example. 

I think that’s the part about measuring in metric that seems to scare the bejeepers out of those unfamiliar.  “Twenty centimetres?  What’s that?”   Well, try this.  Hold your (reasonably normal sized) hand up and spread it out so your thumb and pinkie are as far apart as possible.  That’s close enough.   Can you measure out eight inches without looking at a ruler?  Maybe.  But maybe not.   So if the snow is going to pile up to 40 cm?   Well guess what?  You just figured it out.  See,  it’s not that hard.

End of lesson.

 

And….it’s….still….snowing.

 

Have a fine day. The jury is out on ours.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

.

Waiting for Hugo.

Of course I’m referring to Hugo Chávez,  and if you have to ask who that is,  I think you need to move along.

 

How’s this for a hint?

I know it’s German,  just keep reading.  It’s not that tough.

I figured that in the extremely unlikely event that one of Austrian’s Finest should come along and ask why I was parked there,  I’d just explain how I was waiting for Hugo.  Just kidding really, I’m only a smart-ass here in print.

The thing is though,  since Travelling Companion’s appointment was for six pm.,  you’re pretty much under the radar when it comes to temporarily hanging out in one of these coveted embassy type parking spots.  They’re all over the city.  We even have one just up the street from us for the Republic of Iran.  I think it’s Iran.  One of those God forsaken places.  Doesn’t matter.  If you’re Iranian and reading this,  this is for you…

كنت بحاجة للذهاب بعيدا.

Don’t worry,  nobody will be coming to my door to carry out a Jihad or anything,  it just say’s “go away”.   Google Translate can be awesome.  I can’t read what the hell it says,  so I’m hoping it’s close.  Maybe it says something about someone’s Mother!  Eeps.  Well let’s hope not, that would suck.

Boy,  that would be a nasty trick on the part of Google,  now wouldn’t it?

Anyhoodle,  all the Embassies around that area (this is across from the Belvedere, by the way) tend to roll up the welcome mat around five at the latest,  even though the sign across the street from this one indicated they were using the spot until 10:00 p.m.   Ya, right.  Not a soul in sight.  Makes for handy parking while waiting outside the Doctor’s office.  Best not to leave the car unattended just the same.  I ain’t that dumb.

 

So are you beginning to wonder how I’ve managed to go off on this mad little mental escapade?

Well,  as I was sitting there listening to a radio station out of the Czech Republic,  (actually, I just found it on the net,  it was Český rozhlas 2, out of Prague,  in case you’re wondering or perhaps in case you’d like to listen in on the web), trying to figure out the weather forecast, (Czech is tough,  trust me!)  I had this thought that,  the likelihood of Hugo Chávez needing to get into the parking spot I was occupying was probably on par with anything ever happening on the “moving home” front.  That’s pretty extreme  I know,  but that’s how my mind works. 

It’s sad, I’ll accept that.

And considering that poor ole Hugo is a tad under the weather,  I don’t think coming to Vienna is high on his “to do” list.  And really, I think in his case, it would be more like a “bucket list”?   Among other things,  the Dude has a lung infection, and they’re still thinking of swearing him in as President? Not sure about that line of thinking.

 

But let’s get back to me here,  shall we?

Like I said, this is just an example of my whacky thought process.  Really.  It turns out things are looking up in the “going home” department.  Travelling Companion did get a phone call later in the evening from some very smart person from across the pond,  and things are being put into motion. 

I’m still not too excited.  When the movers call,  I’ll let ya know.

There was no explanation why her voice mail message was still dated January third,  or why her “back up person” also wasn’t available. And this was after T.C. had sent several notes, and then had started calling every day.  So what, there’s only the two of them?  OK then.

This person’s explanation was along the lines of “Oh, I’ve been working behind the scenes!”,  whatever that means,  which did make me chuckle a little.

I think a good analogy would be when you ask your eight year old to go “clean their room”,  only to go in there an hour later to find the kid sitting in the midst of the disaster,  and very quickly offering that they,  “have been cleaning,  really!”,  when you can clearly see that there’s no evidence of any activity whatsoever.  There’s no point in getting upset right then,  since they must be doing something, you’re just not sure what.

 

You know, there have been many, many things that have been absolutely fabulous when it comes to the “Ex-Pat Experience”.   We’ve been living in Vienna,  for heaven’s sake!   But ya know,  having these somewhat regular moments of utter amazement when dealing with the very smart people way over yonder?  I can’t say I’m going to miss that part.  Nope, not a bit.

 

I sat here in utter wonderment listening to T.C. being nice as pie with this very smart person on the phone.  I honestly don’t know how she does it.  Her patience and understanding have no bounds. 

She lives with me after all.

 

I took a few minutes this morning and posted our washing machine on Vienna Expats.net,  so we’ll see if anyone is remotely interested in a slightly used washing machine.  Sure wish we could take it home.  Our fancy schmancy Whirlpool that I seem to think we bought some time in 2003 is on its last legs.   *grumble*

But I’m going to keep running that sucker until the bitter end.  I suspect the drum (it’s a front loader too)  will simply prolapse one fine day,  and that will be that.   Then fine, it’ll be off to Thompson Metals.   That’s what happened with the old top loader I pitched.  Did you know they strap a big freakin’ hunk of concrete in the bottom of those things?  Took that out and it was light as a feather.  Well, relatively speaking of course.   Much easier to get it up onto the back of a pick-up truck,  from which it then very unceremoniously got shoved off with all the other metal bits.  Oh ya,  I’ve been to Thompson Metals many times.

Even though we have 220 power at the house,  just like everyone else (hey, my table saw is 220)  and I could easily wire up something,  it’s a matter of phase and frequency.   I wouldn’t even want to attempt it,  so it has to go.

Oh,  and I just noticed on that Thompson Metals website,  they’re accepting “E-waste” like,  as in old computers and such?   Awesome! 

 

So there you go.  All is right in my little world.  I even found yet another place to get rid of some junk when we get home!    Can hardly wait.

 

The sun did briefly come out today,  so that was an added bonus.  Didn’t last long,  but every little bit helps.

At some point over the next few weeks there’s a plan afoot to make one last run down to Slovenia to visit the cousin.  Besides,  I’m coming up on the last of the Slovenian beer.    *gasp*   The horror!

 

 

Meh,  I think that’s it for today kids.  

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Bit of a crappy weekend.

Not for us, we’re fine.  Really.  I’m referring to the weather.  Gah!

Not sure I can convey this without using a harsh word or two, but it’s been raining pretty well steadily since Friday afternoon.   This morning the temperature dropped and it changed to snow.  That four letter word.  But it didn’t last long.  Now it’s just dark and dreary,  in that Northern, crawl back into bed sort of way. 

I tend to think I prefer it when it’s below freezing when something wet is coming out of the sky.  I underestimated the rain on Saturday morning and got kinda soaked.  Well,  not me,  but I had to hang my coat up in the shower when I got back.  I’d wear my waterproof yellow rain jacket,  but after seeing that homeless guy wearing the exact same thing a couple years back,  I’ve been somewhat hesitant. 

I know, I know,  it’s not a fashion show,  but a fellow has to have some sort of standards,  even though I usually have to wear a cap or toque so as not to look like one of the The Katzenjammer Kids.

Remember these guys? 

I don’t even know why we think of the Katzenjammer Kids,  since they were way before our time, (no really!) but I guess they’re just part of our family vocabulary.  Beats me.

This is one of the reasons I keep my hair really short by the way.  Has nothing to do with liking it like that,  and more to do with not getting the shock of my life when I look in the mirror.  Other than the normal morning thrill,  that is.   Let’s not go there.

 

I did get one little job out of the way on Sunday,  and that was to venture out and get yet another Vignette for the car windshield.  Do I need to go over this?   We have a “pay as you play” system here in Wienerland,  and in order to drive on the four lane highways,  you need this little sticker on your windshield.  Probably best to read this article here, wherein Austria is listed right at the top.  So no effort on your part.  Wouldn’t want to make it too difficult.

 

So for a mere €80, we have the privilege of driving on the Autobahn for the rest of 2013.  Actually, we won’t be doing that much more driving in Austria in 2013,  but it would be kind of cheesy on my part to only get one for a month.  That would be stupid.  It’s a company car,  and the Vignette is paid for by the company.  Me no pay.  Me like.

Tried to get a photo of it on the windshield, but that didn’t really fly.   Oh well.

I like to stick it up in behind the mirror,  so that it’s not one more thing to bug me on the windshield.  Wait, is that a pun? Never mind.

 

Of course,  it was raining like crazy,  but with the exception of getting to the parking garage I wasn’t really out in it much.  Besides,  there’s not a whole heck of a lot going on out on the main drag on a Sunday. 

 

Deadsville.

 

Did I ever show you this other little sticker that appeared after we had the snows put on by the BMW dealership?

Um ya, they’re reminding me that I shouldn’t exceed 210 k.p.h. with the snow tires on. You kidding me?  Feel free to talk amongst yourselves on that one. 

 

With all the rain that we had,  Travelling Companion very astutely suggested that I should venture down to the dungeon er, basement,  and see if we had any wetness. 

Whoops.  Just a little.  Yet another reason to get outta Dodge.  Getting tired of this kind of sh*t.  The very smart people who run this joint had some other very smart people in to “fix” this situation so that it would never happen again.  Good job there boys!

I realise they probably spent a fair amount of money,  and hey,  maybe the drainage arrangement has been working better than before,  but I expect dryness.  We’re more of less on high ground here,  so it’s mostly a matter of keeping the drains clear.  I’ve never seen or heard anyone down there getting them sorted out.  I know I yanked some cr*p out of the drain once,  but hey,  we pays our rent.  Not my deal man.

I sorted out our drainage issues back home with a small digger,  70 feet of weeping tile,  and about five yards of gravel.  OK, there were a few wheelbarrows and a handful of volunteers involved too,  just so you know.

“New and Shiny” is over there to the left with its sister,  along with the two less than fabulous bikes we shipped over from Canada.  They’ll be going home soon.

Speaking of which,  we’re hoping that there will be some word this week (today? maybe?) on when we can expect the movers.   Gotta have patience with these things.   When you get those smart people involved, well let me tell ya!  (insert sarcastic font,  thanks)

 

I need to start my countdown.  It’s just gnawing at me.  Such first world problems.

 

I suppose that’s about it for today’s excitement.  Could be it for most of the week too, I fear.

 

Keep it between the ditches,  and thanks for looking in.

 

 

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Will there be things we’ll miss?

Most definitely.

Awesome sunrises for one thing.  I do realise the sun comes up back home, but I’d have to hustle down to the lake to take in the sunrise I’m afraid.  Forget sunsets.

But this isn’t going to be a photo essay or anything close.  I mentioned that I was going to spill a bean or two,  so I guess I had better come up with something.

It was in March of 2008 when Travelling Companion came over to Europe to have a look around,  and we moved to the Netherlands in August of that year.  We were back and forth a couple times, both together and then separately (I wasn’t about to hang out in a hotel for several weeks waiting to see if we “got the house” or not)  so it’s been well over four years that we’ve been hanging around in Europe. 

Well, now it’s time to go home.*  

 

Last January,  T.C. told her boss that she wanted to retire. First he just about fell off his chair, but then asked if she’d “reconsider”.   Most times when you say you want to retire, you get the bum’s rush,  but that didn’t happen.  They wanted her to say long enough for them to find a replacement.   The replacement started in November,  and in the meanwhile job offers would trickle in,  but T.C. wasn’t about to bite.  No, she wants to be done.   Then a very smart person in the head office of The Company That Cannot be Named realised that,  if she stays outside of Canada for much longer,  her C.P.P. will be affected.   That would not be good.  So we have to get sent back.   Oh darn.  They still want her to work for a while,  but she’s eyeing July 2013 as the time for her swan song.   That’s why she’s been buying material in the four corners of Europe.  Now that piece of the puzzle makes sense.

 

That’s as many beans as I’m willing to spill at the moment.  Still waiting to hear when the movers will show up.  The word is that the contact person in the very smart relocation company (in TEXAS) is on vacation.  Don’t ask.   This is the same bunch of yobs who moved T.C.’s replacement.  They hired a moving company in France,  who hired a moving company in Germany,  who then hired a moving company in Poland.  So needless to say,  the driver of the truck was not there at 8:00 a.m. on moving day.   You just never know.  I actually think there was another moving company in there somewhere,  but then you’d think I was making it up.  I’m not.  No idea where they were moving from in France,  but the moving companies in Poland must be desperate if they’re willing to send a truck that far.

When we moved down from the Netherlands for example,  the truck and driver were from Slovakia.  At least it’s only an hour away from Vienna.  But Poland?? 

 

Not quite done with the jet lag,  and somebody woke up in the middle of the night and needed the TV on in order to go back to sleep.  I was then up until about five minutes before having to put on the coffee.  Vicious circle.

This is almost getting to be point form.  I’m sure you understand.

 

Over and out.

 

Thanks for looking.

 

 

*And no, I don’t feel like any particular Count.  Corsets don’t work for me.  It’s an obscure reference,  but somebody out there will get it.

Back to the land of wrinkled shirts.

…and leather pants.   Although I don’t own any leather pants,  but they’d probably be wrinkled too.

I can’t say I’m really recovered enough to think clearly, and considering what I had to work with before the jet lag, that’s not saying much.

I’m not sure what it is about sitting in a metal tube hurtling through the air at 1000 kph that makes a person feel like they’ve been hollowed out inside with a dull hoe,  but thankfully it will go away in a day or two.  Well, hopefully.

I actually started writing this yesterday,  and then just suddenly lost interest.  There was so little synaptic activity in my brain,  that I was operating in some sort of “default” mode, with barely any extra functioning ability for much else.  Kind of like when your computer is trying to run too many programs.  Everything just slows right down.  Well,  maybe I should only refer to “my” computer.

 

I did manage to jump in the car and run to a gas station for some fresh milk for the morning’s coffee without incident,  unless of course you count trying to pay for it with two Loonies that got slipped in with my Euro change.  They kind of look like Euro fifty cent pieces, but even that’s not much of an excuse.  I suppose I could have taken the time to fuel up the car and get it washed,  but the force was lacking in this one.

 

The car I ordered to take us to the airport New Year’s Eve showed up.  That was good.  He was a bit early actually,  so that was even better.

 

There comes a point in time when the luggage is by the door and I’m “ready”,  that I just want to get it over with,  so we were out of there by about 3:15 p.m. or so. 

We had no issues either on the way or at the airport, even though there was a huge throng of people waiting to check in.   It looks a bit overwhelming, but we weren’t worried.

If I show you the next couple pictures,  you’ll quickly figure out why that huge crowd wasn’t a problem for us.

 

Yes,  those are my feet, and below are the controls to my seat.  Did you figure it out?

Remember a while back I said how there were a couple different ways to get into First Class?   You can pay the big bucks up front to guarantee your spots,  or hope to get an upgrade at some point after you’ve booked if there are spots available,  or there’s also the chance that First Class is so under booked that there might be some sort of incentive.  Well OK,  I suppose there is a fourth way,  and that is when you get “bumped” to First Class, but we won’t talk about that.  It’s still a bit of a sore spot with T.C.   Old story.  Never mind.

 

When Travelling Companion emerged from having printed off our Boarding Passes,  she relayed the news that KLM had had a “deal” and we were now going back in First Class!  

“Awesome.”  That’s all I said.

 

It was something like under €300 a piece.  Trust me,  that’s a deal.

It also meant we got to hang out in the First Class lounge after we got to Pearson, (Toronto International Airport)  which was a good thing,  as I was by then getting a tad peckish.   The second leg from Amsterdam to Vienna wasn’t First Class,  but on the smaller aircraft,  that only means that the wait staff flight attendants hand you a newspaper and close off a curtain behind you after you’re in the air.  There’s very little extra space involved.  It’s an hour and a half flight.  We were all the way back in row five.  Big deal.

I took a picture of the aptly named “City Hopper” that we took to Vienna.  It was a balmy 9°C in Amsterdam, but raining like crazy.

If you desperately need to know, it’s an Embraer J-190, which is now rebadged as the E-190.  Whatever.

 

As much as it’s an enjoyable experience to fly First Class with KLM, (we were “upstairs” in a 747-400) I still have to give kudos to Air Austria in the food department.  It’s better and there’s more of it.  Yes yes,  I’ll admit it,  we’ve flown First Class with Air Austria too.  Now you know all our secrets.

 

Below, some sort of salmon pâté and salad.

The appetizers got a passing grade (even though you can get free beer back in steerage) but the main course that I selected was pretty dismal.

 

Some sort of “pan fried” chicken.  They called it “chicken breast”,  but it looked more like something I’d use for soup stock. 

Meh,  I was getting pretty full by then anyway.  

 

Just the same,  I thought I’d have a taste of desert.  Well, it was only a taste.

 

I chose the tiramisu, and it was good,  but I was hard pressed to divvy it up into more than one mouthful.  Again, with Air Austria,  they bring a whole freakin’ cart load of deserts by and you can chose as much as you’d like.  Not that I’d over indulge or anything.  Who me?

 

Anyhoodle,  we’re back.  There were some second thoughts about our choice of transportation to get back into the city though,  since I had prebooked “Airport Driver.at”   It was all fine and dandy when the old terminal was being used,  but they keep their cars in their old location,  so there was a considerable amount of walking involved to get there.   You have to leave terminal three and go back through terminal two.   No moving sidewalks either.

I thought we were just going to walk all the way back to Vienna.

There was no way I was going to keep up with our goofy driver,  since T.C. couldn’t go that fast.  I just let him go on ahead.  We could have taken the train and the subway and the amount of walking would have been about the same,  AND I wouldn’t have had to give detailed instructions as to how to get us to our door.  Multiple times.  I think he was “fresh off the boat” or something.   Actually,  over here I suppose it would be “fresh off the bus”,  since most of the cab drivers seem to come from parts East.  He was pleasant,  but a bit of a dummy.

 

Pretty soon we’ll be starting yet another count down.  It’ll be time to spill some beans I’m thinking.

 

Meanwhile,  keep it between the ditches and thanks for stopping by.

 

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