tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40238353247971588852024-02-19T02:55:17.534-04:00Ramona's Sisterramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.comBlogger371125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-18225097430699989972012-10-17T13:18:00.003-03:002012-10-17T13:18:51.474-03:00Juxtaposition Fail (or Win?) Depends On Your Religious Views I Guess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A perplexing building in Revelstoke, BC</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgu-0Q24sNiCLjYb7ZCXR_ij3GLi5DpWKIfc6pSdn38mJu9O6mAoaqZZk3ZGW1SF4urppfd2jSIHOEi2tiHiaOJ4d__Eyc7CqhlKK0HRHQOFLaW0cW9IhYUGjrGaQYIQYaJZ4foELjRk/s1600/IMG_7330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgu-0Q24sNiCLjYb7ZCXR_ij3GLi5DpWKIfc6pSdn38mJu9O6mAoaqZZk3ZGW1SF4urppfd2jSIHOEi2tiHiaOJ4d__Eyc7CqhlKK0HRHQOFLaW0cW9IhYUGjrGaQYIQYaJZ4foELjRk/s400/IMG_7330.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-75731162467359507892012-10-13T23:31:00.000-03:002012-10-13T23:31:49.440-03:00WOW - Words of Wisdom (just kidding, i'm being cheesy on purpose)But seriously, <br />
<br />
I'm reading a book lent to me by a girl on Site, called The Greatness Guide. A series of one or two page blurbs on the authors musings. (Robin Sharma)<br />
<br />
A line from one encouraging innovation in all parts of life says "not every risk you take and not everything you will try will work out as planned. Thats just life happening. Failure truly is essential to success. And the more you stretch, the more you reach .... Success and failure go hand in hand. They are business partners".<br />
<br />
I need this reminder when I'm feeling bummed about how many risks I've taken and how many of them have failed. And how the risk of moving to Alberta was just the door to the myriad of risks I was going to have to take to merely survive, let alone thrive. <br />
<br />
I have to remember that my deep, nearly bottomless, disappointment in where my life is right now, is life happening. I'm not a failure. Its just literally life happening. <br />
<br />
In this risk I call Alberta and the sometimes ridiculous perdiciments I find myself in, I've accumulated such amazing stories, experiences, friends, not friends, soul sisters, the list goes on. I also need this reminder that in all of this, I'm (brace yourselves, heres that dreaded word) blessed beyond measure in the good that has come out of all this.<br />
<br />
In the process of "life happening", I've learned to not be ashamed of who I am. I've learned to not absorb peoples unintentional (or intentional) jabs at my lifestyle. I've learned to stand up for myself and while not backing down; inwardly terrified of the outcome. I've learned to embrace this instability and the life skills that come along with it, and through the rubble, I feel empowered and strong and oddly satisified with my risks.<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm done. <br />
<br />
But another thing he says is "so just go to work everyday and refuse to do the same thing you did yesterday - just because its was what you did yesterday... shake things up"<br />
<br />
Errr .... hard to do when you're a spreadsheet data entry girl. Pretty hard to 'shake' that up. I suppose I could click on the copy button on the top left corner insteady of right clicking on the cell, but other than that .... I'm kinda stuck ... <br />
<br />
Buuuut .... I am not ashamed of what I do for work, its ... you guessed it ... life happening and it simply motivates me to get the h-e-double hockey sticks outta there. <br />
<br />
Buuut... then I'd miss the amazing friends I've made. <br />
<br />
See, its a constant dilemma - time to get innovative about it, I guess. That'd mean moving to Edmonton to be close to them on days off, and that ain't happening, I couldn't leave my Calgary girls. Then I'd have to become an Oilers fan and well.... I'm not <em>thaaat</em> innovative.<br />
<br />
Layter!<br />
LLM<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-61396153309733427162012-10-13T21:54:00.001-03:002012-10-13T21:54:42.129-03:00This Made Me LOL - Literally Laughing Out Loudmaybe i've had a more stressful day than i realize, but i howled laughing at these pictures - the (obviousy facitious) comments, i think, made the pictures funnier.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbellassai/27-reasons-why-kids-are-actually-the-worst-6z51">http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbellassai/27-reasons-why-kids-are-actually-the-worst-6z51</a>ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-22554004812594565812012-09-29T23:57:00.001-03:002012-09-29T23:57:33.262-03:00Wash Your Hair Tomorrowthats what my boss yelled out the window as he drove by me at the end of the day.<br />
<br />
this would be a follow up to this mornings "<em>(insert choice swear word here)</em> leanne, did you even brush your hair this morning?"<br />
<br />
my reply: "nope".<br />
<br />
pls note: hair was curly, on its third day and literally looked like i just rolled out of bed. (which, quite frankly, i had a mere 35 minutes ago) my face was fine, had lots of make up as per usual, my clothes were normal. but my hair. oh my hair. it was terrible. <br />
<br />
beautiful thing is i don't really care but to spare everyone around the true level of despair and dismay of my rats nest, i pulled it back into a bun on top of my head and it still looked rats nest-y but not as horrendous as earlier. <br />
<br />
bossman made his late-in-the-day comment as a joke. <br />
<br />
i think. <br />
<br />
he was smiiling when he said it. <br />
<br />
i tend to find bosses that make comments about my hair. <br />
<br />
i wonder why that is. i find it part funny and part turbo annoying.ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-24770683812885513692012-08-29T15:42:00.005-03:002012-08-29T15:42:58.598-03:00Ain't That The Truth!?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGpwe1GnpafRxM2rG-4Cn7Tg-joklzKrgreLSAoMUNSD9NtAsY1DgrMthw5nBcbw-bw6wLZd5X8wfPI2O6HCRAXCvoQg6HSEM1Bj8ZPwj_g7xVZL_hTRMdWdJ5KK4co9rnufpYziFBGs/s1600/1344844661267_5161204.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGpwe1GnpafRxM2rG-4Cn7Tg-joklzKrgreLSAoMUNSD9NtAsY1DgrMthw5nBcbw-bw6wLZd5X8wfPI2O6HCRAXCvoQg6HSEM1Bj8ZPwj_g7xVZL_hTRMdWdJ5KK4co9rnufpYziFBGs/s320/1344844661267_5161204.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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haha. so true. i'd be little miss sunshine <em>all </em>the time if i wasn't surrounded by morons.</div>
ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-24083035446167490992012-08-25T17:33:00.000-03:002012-08-25T17:33:20.717-03:00Who Needs Toenails Anyway?!Just registered for the Victoria Half Marathon Oct 7th! <br />
<br />
I needed a boost to get my butt in gear again and a friend texted me to see if I was 'still in' for the Race in Victoria<br />
<br />
Thats all I had to hear. <br />
<br />
Turbo training since its in less than 6 weeks. <br />
<br />
I'm already getting the same blisters as before; in all the very same spots and somehow the familiarity is comforting. <br />
<br />
It'll be kind of cool to do a half on each coast of Canada.<br />
<br />
Besides, that toenail is annoying me there in all its completeness and struggly little attempts to grow back to its full potential... :-).ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-34536484835930129552012-08-11T11:54:00.001-03:002012-08-11T11:54:29.937-03:00you know what really perplexes me?how my mother,<br />
<br />
a domestic goddess<br />
<br />
exceptional seamstress - made my clothes as a child, and you'd never have known the difference. smocked dresses for my baby sisters that stopped people with inquiries on the method and threads used.<br />
<br />
phenomenal cook - we, regardless of finanical upturn / downturn, ate like royalty. no hamburger helper in our house (well, sometimes and it was a glorious treat). she'd dress a salmon like it was going to medal in the food olympics. and she made a simple salad into an event, we'd stare in wonder as she magically turned lettuce and cukes and cherry tomatoes into something of a magazine worthy photo shoot. i don't know what she did when she made a tuna sandwich, but i've yet to find one of its equal.<br />
<br />
cross-stitcher extrodinaire - remember that crafty little craft? she was quite adept at the complicated little designs and perfecting all those pesky stitches. she taught me how (once), so i made a strawberry. it was proudly displayed on the wall in my parents ensuite. (read: at the furtherest corner of the house lol)<br />
<br />
the list goes on <br />
<br />
my point is: <br />
<br />
all these genes - why is it that i can't even successfully flip a pancake or omelette??<br />
<br />
i no unnastannn ..... <br />
<br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-60662787903877082562012-08-01T22:34:00.000-03:002012-08-01T22:34:33.295-03:00A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words - or Fifty Years<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/75-captivating-looking-into-the-past-pictures">http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/75-captivating-looking-into-the-past-pictures</a><br />
<br />
I have a weird facination with the past - it plays tricks with my mind - like how people made money, how little things cost, etc. <br />
<br />
When I found this today on my newest mini-addiction, I thought it was so cool and wanted to share it.<br />
<br />
Truthfully, I mainly wanted to post it so I wouldn't forget where to find it on <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/">www.buzzfeed.com</a>. <br />
<br />
But hope you like it just the same :-). <br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-65101625487680552452012-07-21T17:35:00.000-03:002012-07-21T19:20:01.200-03:00FYIin a recet, unintentional field study, i've discovered:<br />
<br />
if you're in leduc, alberta, travelling to st. albert (40 kms away) and you've already driven approx 250 km's from the most northern district of the city of calgary, drinking water and coffee out of boredom, and you have to pee .... <br />
<br />
stop in leduc and pee. <br />
<br />
just do it. <br />
<br />
i know its a crazy little ramp and its inconvenient and its a crappy little esso bathroom and its raining.<br />
<br />
but just do it. <br />
<br />
because, and just let me tell you first hand, why you should heed your bladders advice. <br />
<br />
because, my friend, you are going to drive to the next exit to use the facilities and that 'next exit' is a) further than you remember and b) you won't see that theres bathrooms and its not just an industrial park and / or residential until AFTER you've passed the exit, that there were, in fact, restrooms available.<br />
<br />
this will happen <span style="color: red;"><strong>twice</strong></span> and by then you're a) speeding <span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>(moreso than normal)</em></span> and b) considering options of relief that could be / would be termed as <em>illegal</em> and possibly <em>immoral.</em> <br />
<br />
and you're going to drive til what seems like a round trip to Calgary, and finally you're going to find St. Albert Trail and the light is going to turn red; too red to drive through. <br />
<br />
so you're going to sit at this red light for an extensive amount of time and its still going to be raining, you know one of the reasons you didn't stop in leduc; in fact, its going to be teeming rain at this point. <br />
<br />
the light will turn green and you will careen around the corner with overwhelming relief that a) you didn't pee on your drivers seat and b) the gas station is right ahead. <br />
<br />
well, if by right ahead, you mean after TWO more traffic lights. <br />
<br />
and yup, both lights WILL be red. <br />
<br />
small tears will trickle out of your eyes; some of panic, some of pain and some to represent regret at your prior lack of planning. <br />
<br />
eventually, both lights will turn green and you will mario-andretti-like make your way to the shell station. <br />
<br />
you will park, but just barely. <br />
<br />
you will run. read: sprint, into the gas station. ahhh ... you will be so relieved in about 20 seconds. <br />
<br />
you will slow down only because there is someone else walking (like a sane person) in the same door, at approximately 3.2 seconds ahead of you. <br />
<br />
enough time that he gets to the (only) washroom those same 3.2 seconds before you. <br />
<br />
yeahhhhh .... thats right.<br />
<br />
as you try to be classy (while pacing, try it sometime) and pretending to peruse the snack aisle, examining the chocolate covered raisins closer than necessary, you will curse your lazy streak, pray to the heavens, plead with your bladder to just hang on one more minute, or 6, in this case. <br />
<br />
the guy who stole your bathroom break timeslot will finish and you will practically bodyslam him in the narrow, cardboard box-filled hallway to make it to your safe haven in time. <br />
<br />
thats where i will end the detailed part of this <strike>actual event</strike> er, warning.<br />
<br />
all i'm saying folks, is, if you have to pee when you're in leduc, just go pee. <br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-16247295607826352252012-07-21T16:33:00.000-03:002012-07-21T16:33:06.183-03:00I think I'm Jaded<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(names have been changed to protect the <em><strike>patience challengers</strike></em> innocent)</span><br />
<br />
today at work, I say to one of the supervisors as he entered the trailer: <br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>me: </strong>John, I need your travel work order for july 11th. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>(we get paid to drive to work - its kind of groovy, though driving to work isn't always)</em></span><br />
<br />
<strong>him :</strong> *blank stare* <br />
<br />
<strong>still him:</strong> *stands in middle of office as though freeze-framed, gazing into his thoughts*<br />
<br />
<strong>annnnnd moments later, still him:</strong> oh, I didn't give you one?<br />
<br />
<strong>me:</strong> silence (to prevent the obvious answer of <em>"apparently not and i don't have time to sit here and try to convince you that you didn't hand it in"</em>)<br />
<br />
<strong>him:</strong> for the 11th? <br />
<br />
<strong>me:</strong> remaining quiet, while continuing to work <br />
<br />
<strong>him:</strong> hmmm.. weird, I thought I gave you one. <br />
<br />
<strong>me</strong> <strong>trying to dispel the new awkwardness in the air</strong>: nope. and i need Billy's too.<br />
<br />
<strong>him:</strong> oh, he didn't give you one either?<br />
<br />
<strong>me:</strong> (inside my head: its not april fools, i'm not joking, i'm not yanking your chain, i'm not joshin' ya. if i didn't need one, i'd not have initiated conversation regarding missing travel work orders)<br />
<br />
<strong>still me:</strong> silent, continuing in the quest to not have my actual, real-time, emotion show. though i do think my subsequent disbelieving glance made him say:<br />
<br />
i guess not, if you don't have it. <br />
<br />
<strong>me:</strong> in a narrow window of graciousness, and with a pleasant smile, "no problem, just as soon as you can would be great"<br />
<br />
<br />
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<strong>*DISCLAIMER* </strong></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
i realize i shouldn't be so impatient, but come on! </div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong>*DISCLAIMER 2* </strong></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
i know i do stupid and annoying things too - which just at <em>this </em>moment has led me to wonder:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
'just how many people have gone home at the end of their day and blogged / complained about something i did?'</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
just a thought.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-15802955092631378772012-06-16T02:30:00.000-03:002012-06-16T02:30:00.022-03:00Style Critics - They're Everywhere<strong>Point 1:</strong><br />
At Sobeys tonight buying inane things like grapes and gluten free muffins and my newest morning obsession - International Delight coffee cream in some mocha-nut-amazing-chocolate-something flavour. <br />
<br />
<strong>Point 2:</strong><br />
In an attempt to steer away from by normal Angelina Jolie-esque black ensembles, I've branched out this 'season' and have been convinced by the girls at Espy and the trending 80's comeback to wear color. <br />
<br />
Lots of color. All at once. Like grade 8 (think Far West jackets)<br />
<br />
Color blocking they call it. Well I've taken the first step and am wearing color. But just one or two at a time. <br />
<br />
Tonight in my travels, I decided on the coral silk sleeveless with coral flowers along one shoulder and with a tie around the waist. Very mature and modest, but with a punch of personality. <br />
<br />
<strong>(let's get back to Sobeys here)</strong><br />
<br />
I walk up to the cash and the sweet 17ish cashier says "your shirt is very bright".<br />
<br />
I chuckled at her lack of couth and asked if that was good or bad.<br />
<br />
"I don't know" she half said half giggled "I was just standing here half asleep and looked up and saw you and was like whoa thats a bright shirt". <br />
<br />
Fair enough I thought, shes entitled to her own thoughts, but maybe she should just keep them as that. Just thoughts.<br />
<br />
15 seconds later a woman joined the line up and said "thats a very pretty shirt you're wearing"<br />
<br />
I graciously thanked her (does the fact that I said I was gracious negate said graciousness?) and looked at the cashier. <br />
<br />
She looked at me with a little grin and said "I guess its good then".<br />
<br />
Such a funny little exchange within a 45 second period. <br />
<br />
My thought as she was ringing my order through was - thats another reason I'm entirely devastated that I likely won't have children. They're going to become teenagers and get a job at Sobeys and say stupid things to people who will go home and blog about them. <br />
<br />
And the underlying truth of that statement is that they'd be exactly like their mother. <br />
<br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-4189858470184961722012-06-05T12:43:00.001-03:002012-06-05T12:43:47.548-03:00Mini Lightbulb Moment<em><strong>"For some of us, the Gypsy years can go on forever, ... That isn't such a bad thing. When all is said and done, they're a lot of fun. The truth is, I liked being a Gypsy. It's who I was. And it's still a lot of who I am. Gypsy, it's a good word.”-</strong></em>Chita Rivera (Broadway actor)<br />
<br />
I saw this quote as someones Facebook status yesterday and it really hit home. <br />
<br />
I've had the opportunity recently to really 'be still' and do some pretty serious soul searching which included questions I didn't want to have to answer. <br />
<br />And this quote in a nutshell answered a lot of them in the 10 seconds it took to read it. It strangely gave me a glimpse of peace; this is who I am, and this is the life I'm living. I am not the typical 37 year old woman and I have to embrace that. I may not always be a gypsy, but really, who knows that? I might be, and if I'm am .... well thats not what I'd hoped for, but think of the stories I'll be able to tell! <br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-82682102663444061702012-06-05T12:41:00.000-03:002012-06-05T12:41:11.255-03:00EwI just put moisturizer on my face (not carefully or thoughtfully applied - just smeared and let to soak in like you see in old lady cartoons) <br />
<br />then ... <br />
<br />
I took a giant drink of coffee.<br />
<br />Since there was gunk on my lips, my mouth now has a nice mixture of Starbucks Blonde Roast and Aveeno.<br />
<br />I won't be suggesting this combo to their tasting lab ....ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-13552582965070076672012-05-25T17:39:00.001-03:002012-05-25T17:49:37.130-03:00DIY Cab RideMy flight to Calgary landed without incident ( my seatmate had run the half in 1:32! so we talked for over an hour) and my cab ride home was, lets say, unique.<br />
<br />
Dude had a GPS and fingers which was puzzling to me why the following conversation occured:<br />
<br />
ME:Hi, blah blah blah Crescent please<br />
HIM:Is that the Northeast?<br />
ME:Yes, well kind off, its more Northwest<br />
HIM:Okay, whats the street name again<br />
ME:Blah blah<br />
HIM:Where is that?<br />
ME:Off Country Hills<br />
(a few kms go by)<br />
HIM:So, where is it again?<br />
(me glancing up from my rabid texting - I'd been without for 5 hours you know)<br />
ME:Umm, its on the other side of the Deerfoot.<br />
HIM:So do I go left or right on Country Hills?<br />
(me silently exasperated)<br />
ME:Left, its on the <em>other</em> side of the Deerfoot<br />
a couple more kms go by and we're indeed on Country Hills Blvd where I thought the questions would surely cease.<br />
HIM:So where do I turn now?<br />
ME:Right at Burger King<br />
(head bent momentarily to finish off a text as I'm fully now in Do It Yourself Cab Driver mode)<br />
ME:now blah blah blah ... giving him directions to my doorstep .. <br />
<br />
Like, doubleyou-tea-eff - I don't understand people sometimes. He's a cabbie - shouldn't he know this stuff?? What if I was a stranger in the city ...?ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-45225595628440487632012-05-25T16:56:00.004-03:002012-05-25T17:00:02.579-03:00Post Race Shenanigans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Post Race:</strong></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19WL4YDbMqx15Hi3rEDppPwOUK6X_AK_ULXkR8KCQqzOIT8fpZCUGxWyym-IvCAQtGzoWJ0KF_0nCODNqxxLNW1uLLTGdMSKWp4Nik85Hcnhv_M7x8llcUEZN6pcal_GE5LX9L26O5NI/s1600/three+girls++cheesecake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19WL4YDbMqx15Hi3rEDppPwOUK6X_AK_ULXkR8KCQqzOIT8fpZCUGxWyym-IvCAQtGzoWJ0KF_0nCODNqxxLNW1uLLTGdMSKWp4Nik85Hcnhv_M7x8llcUEZN6pcal_GE5LX9L26O5NI/s640/three+girls++cheesecake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For a long-anticipated cheesecake at The Sweet Hereafter - our smiles hide our downtrodden hearts as it was Sunday and it was closed ... But Kenny adds levity by totally creeping .... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Day After: <span style="font-size: small;"><em>(no shenanigans reported - we were too tired and sore)</em></span></strong></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLrFXI_LBfjtRXbWAIT6zHvdV6OBhXmD58DSnXUjxEx76vfrf0nNeL2Do99Hu_ox1WDt0GID1VSX0OAI7p3CsD961tKZAyQ7yNpQcW2QiQU1q-nFYG-bNdcLrXj6iElNhJv_l3ltI5CA/s1600/me+n'+heid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLrFXI_LBfjtRXbWAIT6zHvdV6OBhXmD58DSnXUjxEx76vfrf0nNeL2Do99Hu_ox1WDt0GID1VSX0OAI7p3CsD961tKZAyQ7yNpQcW2QiQU1q-nFYG-bNdcLrXj6iElNhJv_l3ltI5CA/s640/me+n'+heid.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We look better than we feel. H is stressed because she had a board exam the next day, I was just sore. All over sore. My feet. My hips. My knees. My shouders. I walked like an old lady. But we had a lovely day in downtown Halifax.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzRv93MZ_puPLwTR8kANg4rPa_Nz6hNoGp6T864By1ht4xeXMWfzWwtMmnJK-ckH4T-sjbCvcwgEMMHTXWi8ZCQIIGn0nCOlbleEYGce6QQNZR2R8l_eaIu3EW12E2P8LiDJyWk3goro/s1600/IMG_7619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzRv93MZ_puPLwTR8kANg4rPa_Nz6hNoGp6T864By1ht4xeXMWfzWwtMmnJK-ckH4T-sjbCvcwgEMMHTXWi8ZCQIIGn0nCOlbleEYGce6QQNZR2R8l_eaIu3EW12E2P8LiDJyWk3goro/s640/IMG_7619.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holiday Monday lunch at The Argyle (their peanut chicken salad is recommended). The gal in the stripes had one of the largest diamonds rings I've seen on a person.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCV3FYczkqz1_ULqF-qXLp7usTEwqjok_LwCf7SJ68G3NEf1mDUtOddCSK17OdFzwPZ3-6hhUyvL_10LQCBmIwn_lX427Lo_z_MV26eeEJUV-4szrMtvI3Yl-IImeSdlGxarNSQR1G8U/s1600/IMG_7618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCV3FYczkqz1_ULqF-qXLp7usTEwqjok_LwCf7SJ68G3NEf1mDUtOddCSK17OdFzwPZ3-6hhUyvL_10LQCBmIwn_lX427Lo_z_MV26eeEJUV-4szrMtvI3Yl-IImeSdlGxarNSQR1G8U/s640/IMG_7618.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I won't tell you who this is. He'll be mad - well as mad as he ever gets ... The females of the group bullied him into this pose ...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-32473050966776338502012-05-25T16:44:00.001-03:002012-05-25T16:44:24.020-03:00Where Every Second Counts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>So the day arrived.</strong></span> </div>
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<strong>Sunday, May 20, 2012.</strong></div>
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That date that was the sole reason for sore joints, blood blisters, the occasional 3 day limp, bruised feet, iced knees, triumphant defeats of previously unimaginable hurdles, possibly a couple of choice words while eyeing the hill ahead or realizing an undesirable number of kilometers are left in a run, and non-jersey shore fist pumps when crashing through another 'longest distance ever ran by me' goal. </div>
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The date loomed as my many injuries / setbacks threatened my success. There was no possible way I could catch up to the training schedule after my snowboarding fall and doctors orders to stay off the treadmill and out of the gym until my immune system bounced back. </div>
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Through BBM and text messages / calls to Rachel and Heidi <em>(cousin and sister),</em> I mentioned that I was pulling out of this years race and all Rachel said was "you have to, you're the reason I'm doing this, you have to". She's my lil cuz, and I DID forcibly request that she do this with me ..... so I kept training. </div>
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And with that, I boarded a Halifax bound plane in Calgary, just happy to be able to do it and didn't really care what time I finished in .... just kidding. I'd been pissssed if I ran it slower than 2 hours after already doing it in a training run a month prior 1:59:47. But I WAS excited to be doing this in my 'hometown' and with two other women who through the miles and time zones, we encouraged each other and literally <em><u>ran</u></em> through barriers, fears, physical pain, injuries and doubts. </div>
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Heres some pics:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjSUt6tpCJ-JhyJY_bS2yD-UybucH3zPagj5odQthjkwohrBxgXXcDByj7bfNnMTbluNfKxL4zsJJe1iiB6Luzth7uGG0D-ZPXV4GJ_v8WJXUQTOmcS8bLZPbKyhvRL37fNV9X51RkYo/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjSUt6tpCJ-JhyJY_bS2yD-UybucH3zPagj5odQthjkwohrBxgXXcDByj7bfNnMTbluNfKxL4zsJJe1iiB6Luzth7uGG0D-ZPXV4GJ_v8WJXUQTOmcS8bLZPbKyhvRL37fNV9X51RkYo/s640/1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day before at the Expo at the Metro Centre, Rae hadn't arrived at this point, so Heidi and I were cruising around getting free stuff. Here we're documenting our target time. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dBK4SD8m-8Fww4h77yAeb0mTtbCS-rBup_NeuYCcpon5GnNqlXTMXiaT8FW0GgqPk2P4X0RpKiQKoy6e0beLwxCv8uq-vtrrFT5AwvbMc0jXxv-6IukG60405DINiiqGACUYhKzqfKY/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dBK4SD8m-8Fww4h77yAeb0mTtbCS-rBup_NeuYCcpon5GnNqlXTMXiaT8FW0GgqPk2P4X0RpKiQKoy6e0beLwxCv8uq-vtrrFT5AwvbMc0jXxv-6IukG60405DINiiqGACUYhKzqfKY/s640/5.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heidi, the champion half marathoner, yawning at the prospect of 7 kilometers, she doesn't get out of bed for that ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I7FfbVcY45iuPa_gpeSaDA0w9rC-csaiswJyflQSxSlgXqYsUyCTflwMi7QTckNcuvr2N1acPjFmlm3-BAoraz6mS1AiVGZgtc8G2MnVQZPCa5iEdjDXD4n8e1Xw8lB_gsxTp_FnoZc/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I7FfbVcY45iuPa_gpeSaDA0w9rC-csaiswJyflQSxSlgXqYsUyCTflwMi7QTckNcuvr2N1acPjFmlm3-BAoraz6mS1AiVGZgtc8G2MnVQZPCa5iEdjDXD4n8e1Xw8lB_gsxTp_FnoZc/s640/2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rae arrived!!! And we picked up our bibs as a group. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA0QfYMlTxlqGRht_P8LLYEPz-fpruWOCk2qqyUb-pBZJMOmFLkytQA9tVWmqOzv2n9x5g3aavvVb4z-27WeG1ScjJXM-K0F3LILmxj-mbDP_UAhTUvk9WdUs-0Jm8xcTJVeTKRLZqJQ/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA0QfYMlTxlqGRht_P8LLYEPz-fpruWOCk2qqyUb-pBZJMOmFLkytQA9tVWmqOzv2n9x5g3aavvVb4z-27WeG1ScjJXM-K0F3LILmxj-mbDP_UAhTUvk9WdUs-0Jm8xcTJVeTKRLZqJQ/s640/3.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rae and I - who through BBM, trained together. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yP5l-BdGudPsZypAPydGwt46l5tMxKvhSyB9A5hxcQnWfCt1sPXpMm1KsvdJRdC4tfBytr6nFAbFam0HLaElJWyCmyG1lwuoYUjMTuf0IC5zdgyo7h-piz4sUSOCv02HpNgb1MxE0pM/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yP5l-BdGudPsZypAPydGwt46l5tMxKvhSyB9A5hxcQnWfCt1sPXpMm1KsvdJRdC4tfBytr6nFAbFam0HLaElJWyCmyG1lwuoYUjMTuf0IC5zdgyo7h-piz4sUSOCv02HpNgb1MxE0pM/s640/4.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So ready to do this! And we all had 7's in our bib numbers :-)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZykNcwCcTJeXYx-vKULqyC0f8PoizZGg-YJ5lw3P3OWb-XLnFcltigPIoAAd9pn_hkh6HpjaFTFhcswLM7RH_bwCxK20an4ffadVWu-P2CeiqVMH7eTgPbaMmKnhb0SjduyXistc4lU/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZykNcwCcTJeXYx-vKULqyC0f8PoizZGg-YJ5lw3P3OWb-XLnFcltigPIoAAd9pn_hkh6HpjaFTFhcswLM7RH_bwCxK20an4ffadVWu-P2CeiqVMH7eTgPbaMmKnhb0SjduyXistc4lU/s640/6.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whilst waiting for Rachel to make the trek from CB that morning, we cruised around playing Bluenose Bingo - just for the chance at ... yeah ... free stuff. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDQYDAAQU4IY1eq7ZkU0BQYFy4oRadRsEcYh-CPZCYX4SJm_leG-k4LD8bDQy_8USGAct2xqASpplBE1O1ERWUcd2AC23padJ0mWuqZQuxhiNM-75YkEY4f3lGOTex7ktZfXnETk_vYM/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDQYDAAQU4IY1eq7ZkU0BQYFy4oRadRsEcYh-CPZCYX4SJm_leG-k4LD8bDQy_8USGAct2xqASpplBE1O1ERWUcd2AC23padJ0mWuqZQuxhiNM-75YkEY4f3lGOTex7ktZfXnETk_vYM/s640/7.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race day arrives!!! I was past nervous / anxious at this point and just wanted to get running. The anticipation in the air was almost palpable.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9ns1q3DwCV1C-qRQsnaisarZj02if36d0HLdWR5MK9Z6zM-CZPN4xtBo_gznxTEDrGN2HkBd6gG7-ZUrJYSUKftKqJaqGYrm73YC_I6XngBn0ndNAhy3lHtCzVH9kV9PBUqCrZWYKV0/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9ns1q3DwCV1C-qRQsnaisarZj02if36d0HLdWR5MK9Z6zM-CZPN4xtBo_gznxTEDrGN2HkBd6gG7-ZUrJYSUKftKqJaqGYrm73YC_I6XngBn0ndNAhy3lHtCzVH9kV9PBUqCrZWYKV0/s640/8.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ahhh .... if you're a runner - invest in a Garmin. Its like running with a friend. A friend who constantly reminds you that you need to run faster and harder to beat your last time. It literally spurred me on in my long runs. Best $150 ever spent. (I'm exaggerating - there was once this dress .... )</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY5QKWeWkaH6VY7Mvv-GEzFtBgtICVna0kQ_ZIn5o013wm5Y9cAb3UkCQSz3aO5Z_gZ4TmlwETaUexW7diLbqMJQlqKPnlUXwE-mIVlYqZRWLI8ZrWb3KdAPEW6fGo7Uj5QLQqbIEyKEM/s1600/9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY5QKWeWkaH6VY7Mvv-GEzFtBgtICVna0kQ_ZIn5o013wm5Y9cAb3UkCQSz3aO5Z_gZ4TmlwETaUexW7diLbqMJQlqKPnlUXwE-mIVlYqZRWLI8ZrWb3KdAPEW6fGo7Uj5QLQqbIEyKEM/s640/9.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start line. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCuUMRBxnp-01nIVhJ3YgVXWUWmQqKbMVc8cHfE-T27LBqZYyTMm3_-8L5DrqU0txh-0sFJVCHsH-SjB5Y0vqUVSYhPyh5xz7o4rD4NLVobfnhBWB3onD3n9l9nHgau3qB4pZ_t3s9SM/s1600/10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCuUMRBxnp-01nIVhJ3YgVXWUWmQqKbMVc8cHfE-T27LBqZYyTMm3_-8L5DrqU0txh-0sFJVCHsH-SjB5Y0vqUVSYhPyh5xz7o4rD4NLVobfnhBWB3onD3n9l9nHgau3qB4pZ_t3s9SM/s640/10.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AWESOME sign Kenny made for Heidi. Then I got fake insulted and he added Rachel and I to it ... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDw25pCKB34Fqts-bx4Q0RscclB27OatRzn8dn68C8iK28J-I0C21v27CAP29wlq6MR5u9QYKUCldEx_7zZ_RuW1a_04rQ27heB14WI3wmK6Wazgc2XLodat3UiYLqoPMaBMOxNph2sg/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDw25pCKB34Fqts-bx4Q0RscclB27OatRzn8dn68C8iK28J-I0C21v27CAP29wlq6MR5u9QYKUCldEx_7zZ_RuW1a_04rQ27heB14WI3wmK6Wazgc2XLodat3UiYLqoPMaBMOxNph2sg/s640/11.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off we goooooo!!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was such a cool spirit in the city. The streets all
along the route were lined with supporters of all ages and stages in life,
signs of encouragement ranging from the simple Go <insert name=""> Go to
cheeky messages like “Don’t stop now, people are watching”, “Don’t poop your
pants”, “Toenails are for sissies” and “If you’ve got stamina, call me”. <o:p></o:p></insert></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was strange to be running amongst all that pomp and
circumstance. I’m so used to just racing against the time of my last run, so to be
running with a couple thousand others was a really interesting experience. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvS5tAnbDBGUwv9LUGB4351OwR9nyY4MoODHAthwKLNwMTYs6yrMwjDQ3dduFL3ozSxYynbNVNC6MzVWIK27LO9U5_8kfDmtjk7jVr4WdDIEv7XqXpJIiI0NPwMxhgdjTN-8fAN_8k08/s1600/12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvS5tAnbDBGUwv9LUGB4351OwR9nyY4MoODHAthwKLNwMTYs6yrMwjDQ3dduFL3ozSxYynbNVNC6MzVWIK27LO9U5_8kfDmtjk7jVr4WdDIEv7XqXpJIiI0NPwMxhgdjTN-8fAN_8k08/s640/12.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The parental units all the way from Fort McMurray.... well, they were here anyway ... but still amazing to have them there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QlB-DkEwZCPSGCTsl6Qno_nVQzNi13TrIs70Vz9Om8XOFehNRciRjp97G9HzU011SJ_96bZf5mvTbsql2AcpKcW-MacqZdECQdnI0K8Mi-Gmn-UkmVOwTeeOS0Reomh9wiZqVl-4EBI/s1600/13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QlB-DkEwZCPSGCTsl6Qno_nVQzNi13TrIs70Vz9Om8XOFehNRciRjp97G9HzU011SJ_96bZf5mvTbsql2AcpKcW-MacqZdECQdnI0K8Mi-Gmn-UkmVOwTeeOS0Reomh9wiZqVl-4EBI/s640/13.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here comes lil Heid (bib 2437, ponytail swinging)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWRQZeA3UM22CCU9L6PEqgZ2F83pKGAjEc6DW9rwxFweDSkVfKRRrXq5tQEZ389FH-IxGgb6rb9Hrk_-M83bp-y10hnmHo8ErHqyJUBi1DIPj5ZvIAmXTVvHzFrZnx5L7eN4-r8jPLz8/s1600/14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWRQZeA3UM22CCU9L6PEqgZ2F83pKGAjEc6DW9rwxFweDSkVfKRRrXq5tQEZ389FH-IxGgb6rb9Hrk_-M83bp-y10hnmHo8ErHqyJUBi1DIPj5ZvIAmXTVvHzFrZnx5L7eN4-r8jPLz8/s640/14.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She sees Mom and Dad for the first time since October - love this picture. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXnhaV3_t1UG5ky7EemPN7NF7aFE2TfAJ_M7-QySJSGmkX5cey9JahlMhhXlHzzSh6aaiAi_Q7mN-AIAlYP7gPAqeVwcx4OHxQ47LoJOq6KJh_1ILOORM45vWKE5-CVgUjfbnntWx1qas/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXnhaV3_t1UG5ky7EemPN7NF7aFE2TfAJ_M7-QySJSGmkX5cey9JahlMhhXlHzzSh6aaiAi_Q7mN-AIAlYP7gPAqeVwcx4OHxQ47LoJOq6KJh_1ILOORM45vWKE5-CVgUjfbnntWx1qas/s640/15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute little thing she is! Hard to believe I used to babysit her and carry her around like I'd been given a live doll. Now she's all mature and stuff ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3njtmRZBlgTxYv29KA9NZpUTwW2TLtK8Td6Z_YgcRFlfvXsY8Rv_MaIeIj_0hs5ah8aY23cED3_kyTN3Zbloyx7Gp5pDyz47z-M9kX3Jkq4_BenTYvT-T2z1UqQC7QQ8tGTR2wek0ns/s1600/16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3njtmRZBlgTxYv29KA9NZpUTwW2TLtK8Td6Z_YgcRFlfvXsY8Rv_MaIeIj_0hs5ah8aY23cED3_kyTN3Zbloyx7Gp5pDyz47z-M9kX3Jkq4_BenTYvT-T2z1UqQC7QQ8tGTR2wek0ns/s640/16.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after thinking how weird it was to be amongst so many people and not know any of them, I saw Chole O'brien , of <a href="http://www.choleobrien.com/">www.choleobrien.com</a> fame, and Nate, then Kenny. Mom and Dad hadn't arrived yet (at least I didn't see them)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0zSJuA0e_26qwk9POwtHi0tSwql4qLqByZzk07L-flJaMaPk2g5bL-5cpdBcnw-OJqer5lziyGRtV489JqASheoU74aCqsdSmuDrwZLBULCvDCImsFee4JdKTdB4atSBGkTx9o6xOLs/s1600/17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0zSJuA0e_26qwk9POwtHi0tSwql4qLqByZzk07L-flJaMaPk2g5bL-5cpdBcnw-OJqer5lziyGRtV489JqASheoU74aCqsdSmuDrwZLBULCvDCImsFee4JdKTdB4atSBGkTx9o6xOLs/s640/17.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, pleasantries over ... back to business</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just as I was passing the Superstore on Barrington, I made a friend. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, a friend made me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I wasn’t having any of it. The Albertan in me came out in me as I pretended not to notice he was trying to strike up a conversation with me. I was on km … I don’t know, 13? I wasn’t in any shape to keep up random banter with someone I was essentially trying to beat in a <strike>race</strike>, er, <em>run</em>. But the trouble was, he was at my elbow. So close, that if I tried to do the chicken dance, I’d have hit him. And he was keeping pace with me, if I sped up, he did too, if I slowed down to let him ahead of me, he remained steadfast … <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m a middle kid, I’m used to people being in my space, but seriously, people in an elevator don’t stand this close … <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I finally got tired enough of him breathing down my neck, and in the park, I booked it for about half a km, just gave it my all and shed him. And I didn’t apologize. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How un-Canadian of me. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8N6-VhXeCz1fExG18eH6JxcX25MtvAg00TUylVfV7VXoMAaM-_njbXMK6DXT_5Buqw5u5mBcf-iT1HDoUtnJyjx8e8jewlzgw5axG67WxCcM3iblxql7PRtywdlUvE48UTr9TDX6EQc/s1600/18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8N6-VhXeCz1fExG18eH6JxcX25MtvAg00TUylVfV7VXoMAaM-_njbXMK6DXT_5Buqw5u5mBcf-iT1HDoUtnJyjx8e8jewlzgw5axG67WxCcM3iblxql7PRtywdlUvE48UTr9TDX6EQc/s640/18.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next sighting of Heidi is the finish line. I surely wasn't there yet ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I started the race behind the 2:00 pace bunny (pace bunnies wear little pink bunny ears with the time they are running on them) and I couldn’t see her, so I figured there was no way I was going to make my goal. And I kept checking my Garmin, but with my combo of being heinously terrible at anything mathematics, and trying to survive the heat and the hills of this run, I’d attempt to decipher the numbers blinking at me from the screen and scrunch my face in dismay and just keep running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then at kilometer 19, I saw the 1:55 pace bunny. What a happy surprise! I was going to do this in under 2 hrs, and now I had a new goal of making it under 1:55 because I was going to pass that man-bunny and race him to the finish line. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alas, kilometer 19 had a hill – who knew these roads I’d driven on for 9 years had hills?? (I now have a healthy respect for the hills of Halifax) Right beside the VG hospital, is in fact a hill. Go see for yourself. If you’d been running for 18+ kms, you’d really believe me. Anyway, I lost him. I could see him, but I I couldn’t catch him and his skinny running man legs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Surprisingly at km 20, I felt defeated. And for almost the rest of the race, I was pummeled with negative thoughts, very strange. And I wanted to give up and walk, my feet hurt, my knee was shooting pain, my hip flexor was screaming at me …. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I rounded the corner by the police station (my terrible memory is preventing me from including street names here) and the downhill was too steep for me to speed up, my legs were about to retire on me at this point, but when I rounded the corner and saw the crowd and the finish line, it was such a crazy feeling of accomplishment. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYWTll5LXMWfNG2ncSWNlYIFUhpc0SHXmXqT9EHxn0JiNH0mMhW_8hyVY-HrRaoSo_FMWXZu_K3JIlQcbMw0kqhllddJygItZ07l5ACLQtzApzXeyueIFUwcmGsXW1XjgFn-aiUvRcEA/s1600/finish+0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYWTll5LXMWfNG2ncSWNlYIFUhpc0SHXmXqT9EHxn0JiNH0mMhW_8hyVY-HrRaoSo_FMWXZu_K3JIlQcbMw0kqhllddJygItZ07l5ACLQtzApzXeyueIFUwcmGsXW1XjgFn-aiUvRcEA/s640/finish+0.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost 7 minutes later, I arrive in full sprint mode, completely unaware of anything but beating that clock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In retrospect, I’d have taken my earphones out and just enjoyed the noise of the crowd, but I had one focus, and that was just to simply finish. And as I got closer, I could see the time and gauged the distance, checked my Garmin and decided I’d do this in under 1:56 – and had to sprint to the end. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bJzYOACM717v2el4lHpiEh3p4n9eZou3TMcfvGcMil9m2cVCbqcimNx7EGpS1mU3ICaFkT-XI8e1cKypn-jBtfCo6bz4Y-fko4MkGbx4MN-KFXH_115mcdqWhGlp2X-o9uvT6VCEyTs/s1600/finish+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bJzYOACM717v2el4lHpiEh3p4n9eZou3TMcfvGcMil9m2cVCbqcimNx7EGpS1mU3ICaFkT-XI8e1cKypn-jBtfCo6bz4Y-fko4MkGbx4MN-KFXH_115mcdqWhGlp2X-o9uvT6VCEyTs/s640/finish+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haha- not going let some punk ass kid beat me! Actually didn't even see him ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5bLTMDm9NmYE30p_mJXDx18PjBmt021tRxW3cj61ku6pC1liqX6V8fhSfcJOo-Ii0VjHz8ApeFq3jTRCbHaui-MQj-lYis-koTahoDBVagifZZSFEu4NGDQooFWrAu-mglFWnSr0SPk/s1600/finish+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5bLTMDm9NmYE30p_mJXDx18PjBmt021tRxW3cj61ku6pC1liqX6V8fhSfcJOo-Ii0VjHz8ApeFq3jTRCbHaui-MQj-lYis-koTahoDBVagifZZSFEu4NGDQooFWrAu-mglFWnSr0SPk/s640/finish+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seconds are ticking ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrqLZK7zCZOwedO0B4TEqxXi2kJtDFKa8v1D2h1Q0lIZtCmQPcYx91pqdOZlh4H_qwnmS2VGOI7W_-O7h3c-SFCFb7_Hx0tsxfL1P7BAdezRLmFVuFQKsgW3x2zZMWh0CvqikEa12raI/s1600/finish3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrqLZK7zCZOwedO0B4TEqxXi2kJtDFKa8v1D2h1Q0lIZtCmQPcYx91pqdOZlh4H_qwnmS2VGOI7W_-O7h3c-SFCFb7_Hx0tsxfL1P7BAdezRLmFVuFQKsgW3x2zZMWh0CvqikEa12raI/s640/finish3.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last ditch attempt .... all the training since Feb down to this very moment. What a feeling!!! <br />
(picture by <a href="http://www.choleobrien.com/">www.choleobrien.com</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Very cool to hear your name over the loudspeaker. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgK9EO32wIFOLw8gAF0xf8EAIiU_1A3AMaLb5ydFE-PP1PJAlklyX1Xz3npx_nj9zftENqP_bg-WGX9JbiaCjitluwFS4O6L0keJM2sbYtX-bvE4URvxkOY8GwVHD7dvG6K0O1JEDWAME/s1600/20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgK9EO32wIFOLw8gAF0xf8EAIiU_1A3AMaLb5ydFE-PP1PJAlklyX1Xz3npx_nj9zftENqP_bg-WGX9JbiaCjitluwFS4O6L0keJM2sbYtX-bvE4URvxkOY8GwVHD7dvG6K0O1JEDWAME/s640/20.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race is over, re-united with parents. Rachel and Dad sharing a laugh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1JOtPK9I-tb3x7DfLrbK4mzJTm5dEkty4rnaTjPTmgjD22ddLa-jfCuodDHD3I0Fpxo1rZgikUp6d3qgx_jyIb64wmhzF7XPjXLZeaiNBDlh19ikravQVEB1GGlo0b5Z_Bmd94oFOws/s1600/23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1JOtPK9I-tb3x7DfLrbK4mzJTm5dEkty4rnaTjPTmgjD22ddLa-jfCuodDHD3I0Fpxo1rZgikUp6d3qgx_jyIb64wmhzF7XPjXLZeaiNBDlh19ikravQVEB1GGlo0b5Z_Bmd94oFOws/s640/23.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebratory phone call from Adam - well, more of a "its too busy downtown, drop by the house" call.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHV6WPR9Bed2yGkpCPEL55lQ56Mq16w1A19pgcQuNIxIIuchCXHwlOUd0iiOL-b7dNt1nGAK1SobrKkIXgqeKe6Qlzw9Ny1DJlSmGxGgWTjwwDOEIOBxoNX0v5sDz2loxaDSP-5QIZsh0/s1600/24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHV6WPR9Bed2yGkpCPEL55lQ56Mq16w1A19pgcQuNIxIIuchCXHwlOUd0iiOL-b7dNt1nGAK1SobrKkIXgqeKe6Qlzw9Ny1DJlSmGxGgWTjwwDOEIOBxoNX0v5sDz2loxaDSP-5QIZsh0/s640/24.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made a cheeky sign for Dad and Mom to hold. (<strong>go favorite daughter go</strong>)While we were in the photo shoot, someone walked by and said 'obviously, you only have one'. LOL - how far off was she??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmV01Xc7RKvTdW2tK7cf5Rab0pDAe-OTWndSQ5f-FsCJLQu_kHw7Y68GzChPcS2n9bDhh7QKAtPbPoESOq-dkCHSDrSzaohoxHwIXQwczMft3qxrlekW8jv3FWr0UlGUsbnPc4B6dL1U/s1600/26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmV01Xc7RKvTdW2tK7cf5Rab0pDAe-OTWndSQ5f-FsCJLQu_kHw7Y68GzChPcS2n9bDhh7QKAtPbPoESOq-dkCHSDrSzaohoxHwIXQwczMft3qxrlekW8jv3FWr0UlGUsbnPc4B6dL1U/s640/26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A job well done! So much fun and such a sense of unity to know we encouraged each other across the miles. I'd do it again in a heartbeat .... but next time, all sisters will be involved ... right?</td></tr>
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Next stop ... Vancouver Half next year ... ???</div>
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Thats all for now ... </div>
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Later, </div>
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Lee xoxo</div>ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-9847092781705991152012-05-03T22:14:00.000-03:002012-05-03T22:14:30.604-03:00Computer Geeks Come to LifeSo I had to call the I.T. department at work the other day. <br />
<br />
I asked my question.<br />
<br />
Followed by silence as the guy tried to figure out my problem. <br />
<br />
I could hear the other personnel in the background chattering. <br />
<br />
All I could make out was 'Battlestar Galactica'. <br />
<br />
More than once. <br />
<br />
If I hashtagged, I'd say #sonotsurprised or #hilariouslystereotypical<br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-34451861421929637972012-05-03T22:10:00.001-03:002012-05-03T22:10:12.156-03:00#tryingtoohardtobetrendyI'm probably going to eat my words, I always do, but I just need to say:<br />
<br />
I think hashtags are stooopid. Okay if you're tweeting (<em>I'm a twitter-er, but not very prolific</em>) because thats how it came about. <br />
<br />
But hashtagging anywhere else ... lay off the #tryingtobecool stuff guys. Cuz its not. <br />
<br />
That is all.ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-9574495857416044652012-04-26T18:36:00.004-03:002012-04-26T18:36:55.420-03:00Room With A View<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikfmz5_o79XxaMbgb6XKNI6-jB9Jk3BnVV0U3BaHJqem1gxrv-bVSobGsDijdq09_bZET062a1ScPOhCiLV1Kug2oiNkuFppAhCMVkLZ8xeLk3kGtQKXGYU-hiwWi-J19twXBWEK3RYxj/s1600/IMG_6004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikfmz5_o79XxaMbgb6XKNI6-jB9Jk3BnVV0U3BaHJqem1gxrv-bVSobGsDijdq09_bZET062a1ScPOhCiLV1Kug2oiNkuFppAhCMVkLZ8xeLk3kGtQKXGYU-hiwWi-J19twXBWEK3RYxj/s640/IMG_6004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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view from my house</div>ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-49950603489838118202012-04-25T19:52:00.001-03:002012-04-25T19:52:42.440-03:00Kearl Quotes - Part III(found three more quotes this am written in a notebook)<br />
<br />
<strong>Some background:</strong> <br />
<br />
A co-worker was describing a job he worked on in Africa where the camp, food, facilities etc were pretty primitive.<br />
<br />
After describing the camp itself and the lack of modern /clean / what-he-was-used-to comforts, he said:<br />
<br />
<em>"that was really the only shite part."</em><br />
<br />
paused, then said:<br />
<br />
<em>"besides the rest of it."</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Another one:</strong><br />
<br />
On our way over to see the bear that was captured, a co-worker says to me:<br />
<br />
<em>"Life sucks. Especially if you're a bear in a trap."</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Last one for today:</strong><br />
<br />
<em>"I don't fancy bears. Black or not, if they swipe at you, they'd leave a pretty big hole."</em><br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-71559074102015137542012-04-24T23:27:00.000-03:002012-04-24T23:27:18.567-03:00A Little Trip NorthI made a quick trip to Edmonton to see my dear friend Carol.<br />
<br />
First of all, its truly a miracle that I don't get speeding tickets on my way to Edmonton. Its a great, two lane, well kept highway that is crawling with police; RCMP hide away in regular looking vehicles, like pick up trucks and Escapes and such things. Sneaky sneaky. <br />
<br />
But I somehow always manage to escape unharmed. Though while I stopped in Red Deer to fuel up, I put make-up on just in case I did get stopped. I'm not kidding. I, personally, was happy enough with my bare face, but it ain't gonna get me out of a ticket, in fact might even get me one. So I applied some foundation and mascara and bronzer and practiced my widest eyes and most charming smile in the event my speed was clocked. Everyone on that road speeds, its just a luck of the draw situation ... <br />
<br />Three hours in car<br />
with me<br />
singing<br />
gets really tiring and boring so I gaze out the window and day dream daydreams. One of the day dreams I daydream about is triggered by the large and many horse pastures I drive past. Some day ... <br />
<br />
But the little tiny, itty bitty, can't really walk yet calves are one of the cutest things I've ever seen. I squealed in delight. <br />
<br />And then the little (really) old man in a Buick Regal, hands at 10 and 2, eyes straight ahead with his cowboy hat on. He got the same reaction the calves had. <br />
<br />
The Red Deer Starbucks girl gave me a free coffee. I love free. It makes me happy. It must've been my makeup and charming smile. jk<br />
<br />
When I stopped for fuel, I used the 'ladies room' at the Esso. Oh. Dear. Lets just say the term ladies room is overshooting the runway .... I convinced myself that the moisture on the floor was the result of a recent mopping and not what would be the seemingly obvious by-product of missed-toilet-whilst-urinating action.<br />
<br />
I had a wonderous time with Carol - shes a great hostess and with no pressure to do anything crazy, we stayed in, drank some wine and watched Big Bang Theory. Oh yeah, saw the movie The Lucky One and its surprisingly good. The little boy stole my heart with his giant blonde curls and little boy energy.<br />
<br />
On Sunday, I took my little buddies Haley and Faith out for lunch and to Walmart for some clothes. They are such special children who are a little more mature and just a little bit different every time I see them and it makes me happy (and exhausted) to hang out with them. <br />
<br />
It was a super weekend - very happy to have the people in my life that I do. <br />
<br />
<br />ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-72301870281696913172012-04-24T23:05:00.000-03:002012-04-24T23:05:06.347-03:00Strange Fact(about me - since I'm home and bored out of my mind)<br />
<br />
If someone were to describe me, lazy isn't one of the adjectives they could fairly use;<br />
<br />
However <br />
<br />
I will drive around a parking lot to find the absolute closest possible spot to the handicapped and mothers-to-be ... <br />
<br />
(strange)ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-62139216075318741092012-04-18T22:22:00.002-03:002012-04-18T22:22:43.017-03:00Speaking OfUnicorns .... <br />
<br />
The other night I was getting a cab from a friends house to the Trap and Gill (Newfie pub in town - most fun in the city) and I mentioned to Brit and her friend that to my utter surprise, the driver was white.<br />
<br />
'A white cab driver? Really? They're like unicorns, you hear about them, but you never see them." <br />
<br />
Also made me laugh.ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-56060957098294002492012-04-18T22:20:00.000-03:002012-04-18T22:20:06.177-03:00Unicorns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLkQ90R-BTjJAZ_6BrMyyXSVE0Wb_c7Ch3OcsnO2x6ARKK_hZ41U3VJxXNQeRbPDCoKr44VzoNpKpot60gcHIQt_MpPGlo7MFA9TsRVzDVQ720Js8-3GuMl5ww7fNjuiSgcraqjZb47Rj/s1600/unicorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLkQ90R-BTjJAZ_6BrMyyXSVE0Wb_c7Ch3OcsnO2x6ARKK_hZ41U3VJxXNQeRbPDCoKr44VzoNpKpot60gcHIQt_MpPGlo7MFA9TsRVzDVQ720Js8-3GuMl5ww7fNjuiSgcraqjZb47Rj/s320/unicorn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
On twitter today. <br />
<br />
Made me laugh.ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4023835324797158885.post-91618202418003475302012-04-10T23:56:00.000-03:002012-04-10T23:56:37.027-03:00Kearl Quotes - Part II I Think<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>The time has come to share some of the quotes gathered by The girls and I as we make our way through our days on this crazy, wild, ride we call a job</strong>. </div><br />
I thought there was more than there is, but the truth is, most of them can't be blogged. Too incriminating to ones character. ;-) . So, in true me fashion, I will protect the innocent. ie. me. <br />
<br />
Here goes: <br />
<br />
"I know way too much about my bosses bowel movements". <em>(said with a sigh after another bathroom break announcement)</em><br />
<br />
"We're going to wait for you to cross because you're not brutally bad looking" <em>(Tassie, as we stopped for pedestrians as we were taking a drive on Site to see the progress of construction)</em><br />
<br />
"Lets put our hardhats on so we look legit". <em>(Tassie, same drive on Site)</em><br />
<br />
"If its in the cat, its in the kittens " <em>(Cape Bretoner talking about weird people he grew up with who had equally weird parents)</em><br />
<br />
"No wonder you can't get a husband, look at the crap you eat". <em>(said to me whilst eating hemp hearts and chia seeds in cottage cheese)</em><br />
<br />
"Just because I'm pretty, doesn't mean you can talk to me".<em> (certain blonde who works with me, in regards to the male attention she received at camp)</em><br />
<br />
"Theres more meat in a butchers apron". <em>(same Cape Bretoner talking about a skinny girl)</em><br />
<br />
1st girl: "How'd you get him to do it?"<br />
2nd girl: <em>(after aquiring a coveted 'yes' from one of the managers)</em> "Wear a see through shirt, you get whatever you want".<br />
<br />
"If its status hes looking for, he needs a new haircut". <em>(in reference to a coworker who was upset with a shift in the organization which left him with a lesser title than he had prior to)</em><br />
<br />
"I'm a total swan now". <em>(stunning co-worker reflecting on her awkward, skater high school years)</em><br />
<br />
"uggghhh ... my invisible abs hurt". <em>(Tassie after a particulary hard workout the night before)</em><br />
<br />
"On a scale of 1-10, that looks 50% better". <em>(bossman to me after I'd tied my hair back into a sloppy (is there any other way) bun on a curly hair day)</em><br />
<br />
Two girls in a conversation about a strapping young man who has joined our team:<br />
1st girl: "Is he on facebo"?<br />
2nd girl: "Open profile"!<br />
<br />
And this is what makes my days better here. Clever people with personalities and quick wit who aren't afraid to use it. <br />
<br />
Thats it yo'ramonassisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11278711267341469361noreply@blogger.com0