Oh, that’s right! I blog on occasion, don’t I? Every now and then? Sorry, but free time is lacking lately, and I was having too much fun exposing a different dynamic this weekend.

We signed the kids up for a four week ski-lesson package that occurs every Wednesday after they get out of school. This occurs at Canada Olympic Park, and I found it odd standing on the hill last Wednesday because I don’t actually remember ever going there when I live in Calgary prior to 1990. I may have gone to watch an Olympic event during the 88 winter games, but other than that, I don’t think I’ve ever stepped on the hill ever. I’m more of a Sunshine or Lake Louis type of guy. Well, I was, anyway.

The timing of the lessons wasn’t all that great since if Michelle doesn’t have a day off then the kids might be late to them if I have to take them. However, for the first two weeks it seems that Michelle has those days off, so I guess I needn’t worry. So the first Wednesday, last Wednesday, Michelle took the girls to the hill and I met them just as they were getting their names ticked off the list of registries.

Kristen took the route that she had already tried once which was skiing. Rylee decided that she was a snowboarder. Therefore, the two of them had to be in different spots with different instructors. When I arrived at COP I managed to find Michelle no problem as she stayed near the area where Rylee was, so I said a quick hello and followed Michelle’s directions to Kristen’s area.

What I saw when I arrived could only be described as a huge cell of people with the instructor being the nucleus. Everyone was gathered around this poor guy with the name sheet, and the other instructors didn’t seem to be helping with customer control. If they would have merely suggested a single line, chaos may have been avoided. Instead, this poor Australian guy was surrounded by hundreds of children under the age of 14 and their parents who insisted on their child being first. Let me tell you people, not all Calgarian’s are friendly. This would have been a perfect opportunity to study mob psychology.

I found Kristen right at the center of the cell directly beside the nucleus, er, ski instructor. This guy seemed to look right through Kristen when gathering names, and Kristen, who is mostly made of “shyness,” wasn’t speaking up for herself. She’s not shy all the time, mind you. But she is respectful, and you would never catch her butting in line ahead of anyone. However, lines aren’t usually a circular pulsing mass of people screaming that they were here first.

I greeted Kristen, and proceeded to stand beside her as the instructor ticked off more names; there didn’t seem to be any logic or pattern to how he was going about his task. He would turn around completely and only stop when someone mentioned the name of their son or daughter. Finally, after waiting for about ten minutes standing directly in front of him, I finally said Kristen’s name after he had ticked off his list. I guess my booming voice managed to attract his attention because he instantly went to Kristen’s name on the list.

A woman located at 9 o’clock said, “Weren’t you next?” to a woman at 10 o’clock who responded, “I guess not!” with the nastiest look on her face and a roll of the eyes.

“I guess it depends on what direction you’re coming from,” I responded, but this lady just glared. Sheesh!

Now, if I were nasty, and I’m not (at times), I would have said what I really wanted too: “I guess your child won’t be taking their lesson today since I butted in front of you, eh?”

See? Not that nasty, but it wasn’t said anyway. The statement wouldn’t have been true to begin with. I did not “butt” in front of her seeing as there wasn’t a line to begin with, and apparently courtesy was lacking as well. I can understand being protective of one’s child, but this woman looked at me as if she wanted to do me bodily harm for daring to be next. I guess we won’t be friends.

Michelle had a run-in with our anti-social neighbor. Lilly got out of our yard because someone, and I’m not naming names because I can’t prove who it was anyway, left the side gate open. Michelle went outside in her pajamas to retrieve our dog who decided to go over to our neighbor’s driveway and bark at him.

Lilly’s harmless and barks at anybody who comes near her domain. That is, until you pet her. Then she’ll give you all the jewelry and spare cash lying around the house in hopes that you’ll throw her ball for her. However, Mark isn’t social to us at all, so the chances of him petting our dog is about as remote as him inviting us over for tea.

Lilly just yapped at him until Michelle retrieved her. I can understand that it would be annoying; little dogs can be annoying. Michelle apologized profusely, standing outside in her pajamas, in the meekest and humblest of ways. It’s hard to be any more humbler than when you’re standing outside in your pajamas with your hair unkempt and holding your yappy dog. This has got to paint a picture of someone who is truly sorry.

“Next time this happens,” Mark said, not acknowledging the apology, “I’m calling the pound. It’s happened too many times.”

Ooh, the words I’d like to say about him would make my mom travel from Creston to wash my mouth out with soap in Calgary. Grrr.

The “many times” it has happened before is when we just moved in and tried to catch all the holes in the fence leading to his yard (he wrote a letter to my landlord’s lawyer for that one….one day after Michelle and the girls moved in), and that’s all that comes to mind.

Michelle phoned me at work, virtually in tears after this occurred. Why is he so antisocial towards us? What did we do to him? I’d love to know. Really!

I’m going to take the camera to this week’s ski/snowboard lessons, and Michelle and I are going to partake in a little evening downhill action as well. Wish us luck. Michelle’s only been on skis once since she was 14, and that was last year.