I saw a post on Twitter recently, asking how many times people have talked themselves out of a ticket. Cop: do you know why I pulled you over Me: ugh I don’t like this game sir Cop: miss, do you know why I pulled you over Me: *sigh* speeding Cop: no Me: *turns to face him* Huh. Really? So, it is the same here as in Calgary? Cop: how so miss? Me: Well in Calgary you can actually go 12 over the limit without a ticket Cop: *chest puffs* no miss Me: *slouches* oh Cop: so do you know why I pulled you over Me: *throws hands in the air and let’s the fall onto the steering wheel, overly dramatic* Are we still playing this game. *I look at the cop who says nothing* no sir. I told you I don’t like this game Cop: *taking notes* I’ll give you a hint. Has to do with the stop sign Me: *frowns at him* what?! I counted to 3 Cop: but miss *he raises an eyebrow* you didn’t actually stop first. You need to come to a complete stop first. Me: *huffs* well in my defense there was no one around Cop: I was right behind you miss Me: *giggles* if you were right behind me sir, I surely would have known Cop: *trying not to laugh* no miss Me: no? Cop: *shakes his head* no, look out your back window *he points* Me: *turns around. I can’t see the window. I have too many boxes.* Oh *I breath in defeat* Cop: oh *writing stuff down* Me: soooo what is my ticket for Cop: *laughs* I’ll give you a warning this time Me: really *I screech* Cop: yes *chuckles* Me: so what are you writing down? Is that for me Cop: yes it’s my number Me: *smiles* oh really Cop: my badge number Me: *frowns* oh. why? Cop: because I don’t want to see you again Me: oh. *frowns* That’s sad Cop: *laughing handing me the folded paper* if you get pulled over again before you get to where you’re going, hand the officer this Me: ooookaaay Cop: and no more speeding Me: so no 12 km grace Cop: no Me: alright Cop walking away I lean my head out my window and yell thank you Cop: *turns around and smiles* You’re welcome Rachel. Just be safe ok? Me: always 2 blocks away Me: *looks at speedometer* shiiit Cop: do you know how fast you were going miss Me: yes 65 Cop: you know the speed limit is 50 Me: *screeches* no it isn’t Cop: yes actually it is Me: with all due respect sir but you are mistaken Cop: *chuckles* no I’m afraid not miss. It’s residential Me: *pointing* actually sir again you are mistaken Cop: *huffs* how do you think that miss Me: *points to the right* there’s a boulevard. The residential street is on the other side of it. I am on the main road which is 60 Cop: how fast were you going Me: shrugs 65 Cop: even if what you say is correct, which *he points his pen at me* you are not, you were still speeding Me: *pffft* your paper costs more money than the ticket you could write me for being over by 5 Cop: you know you are obstructing a police officer right*he raises an eyebrow at me* Me: *sighs* actually sorry sir but again you are incorrect Cop: *smirking* really? Me: yes. I am not stopping you from doing anything Cop: ok. Let me ask you this. Something you cannot dispute Me: ok Cop: what did the speed limit sign say that you passed a block ago Me: what speed limit sign Cop: see. *sounding proud* You were going too fast to even see it Me: *again pointing to the right* actually me not seeing it probably has more to do with the fact that all these trees are over grown Cop: *looks over my car and mutters something. He looks back in at me* My mom: you know, I think my daughter is right sir Cop: *steps away from my car and laughs then returns* Listen to me Me: ok I’m listening Cop: the speed limit here is 50 and I expect you to drive 50 on this road from now on. Not 51. 50. Do you understand me Me: yes I do. Thank you for that educational moment Cop: you are cheeky Me: *shrugs* cheeky can be cute Cop: *raises an eyebrow* how fast are you going to drive on this road Me: not 51 Cop: *nods* You ladies have a nice day Me: thank you. You too sir. My mom: you know one day that won’t work for you Me: well * I shrug my shoulders* That cop followed me until I turned off that road. 15 minutes later. I fluctuated between 50 and 55 But not once did I do 51. Both of these interactions are true and are not a reflection of my writing style or ability. They are however, a reflection of my humour so that, dear readers, can know me a little better.
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We all have dreams in life. Or, at least I believe we should. My dream since I can remember, is, was, to be a writer. Every essay I wrote in class, every book report, short stories based on dreams or fears. I have tried writing in every genre. I have even written some poetry. I remember my parents signing me up for a kids book club because they were tired of the countless trips to the library. My brother tired of having to help me carry my pile of books home. Trying to get my friends interested in reading, I made my own little library in my room. In the summer, my dad kicked me and my books out to the shed behind the garage. I remember coming home one day from the park because it was raining. I thought it would be nice to sit on my cushions in my shed to read. When I opened the door, I was heartbroken. The roof of the shed was not waterproof. I cried and ran with armfuls of books back and forth from the shed to the house until all of them were rescued and safely back in my room. I don't think my dad ever understood why I was crying. When I told my mom, she understood. A week later, her friends had sent her home with a box of books for me. When I got a little older, one of my dad's friends gave me The Sword of Shannara. He told me that when I finished it, if I liked it, he would give me the rest of the series. I overheard him tell my dad that I was too young. That I may not like it and that even if I did, it would likely take me a long time to read it. My dad scoffed at him. "You clearly don't know Rachel," he said. My dad was right. I read the book within two weeks and begged him to give me the other two before I left for summer vacation. I finished them before we came home and begged my dad to take me to a bookstore. I walked out of the book store with a copy of The Stand. Terry Brooks and Stephen King were the start for me. Two completely different genres, different styles. So much talent, pulled me in. I started reading all sorts of books. Absorbing talent every where I could. I remember reading that to be a great author you had to be a great reader. That you had to have an open mind and explore all styles. By the end of that summer I bought a notebook and had started writing snippets of my own story ideas. I carried that notebook with me everywhere I went and wrote in it every time I had an idea. I would wake up in the middle of the night to scribble in the dark. I was a word addict. I was far from being Terry Brooks or Stephen King. I knew I would never get there if I didn't continuously work on it. I held my notebook sacred and never shared it with anyone. Until my next summer vacation. Dad and I were on our way home from summer vacation when dad was ushered by police officers to pull over on the highway. He was told that the highways were closed due to forest fires and we would have to either find a hotel or a campground. Being we were travelling in a camper, dad opted for the campground across the highway. It was a nice, quaint spot. It wasn't busy, which my dad appreciated. We picked a spot close to the water, next to a small car. After settling in we took a walk to the water. There, we found a man playing fetch with his dog. This dog was amazing. He didn't want to play normal fetch. He wanted to dive in the water to fetch rocks from the bottom.
We introduced ourselves to the man who happened to be our camp neighbor in the car. My dad, being the generous man he is, invited this new friend, Richard, to join us in our camper. We were camped there for over a week. During that time Richard watched me constantly with my nose in a book. Either reading or writing in my notebook. Regardless of my dad's protests, I had brought five books with me on vacation then bought four more while I was in the city. Being so young, this intrigued Richard. One night as we sat around the fire, I pulled out my notebook and started writing frantically. When I finished, I looked into the fire, a satisfied smile on my face. “You write a lot,” Richard observed, “Is it a diary?” “Actually, they are poems and stories." “Is that so?” Richard raised an eyebrow. Afraid of my dreams being made fun of, I put my head down, “Umm hmm. It is,” I said quietly. “Well,” he said loudly, forcing me to look up, his smile was genuine. “I write too.” That night Richard asked me to read him a story I had written. I was scared. What if he thought my writing was silly? I read the story anyway. Hesitantly, I looked up when I was done and found him speechless. After that, Richard would take me for a soda once a week where we would share our writings. His limericks were insightful and funny. He insisted I enter one of my poems into a contest. Without giving it another thought, I did it. To my surprise, I was one of the runners up in the contest. My poem was published in an anthology and put on a plaque at a courthouse in Washington State. Sadly, i had no money to buy a copy of the book and I have never had the opportunity to see my poem on the wall. When I left home, Richard wrote me letters, always encouraging me to write. Even to this day, he still emails me. He shares with me his poetry and asks when he can buy my books. Stephen King and Terry Brooks are my inspiration. Richard is my push. What do you aspire in life? Who, or what, inspires you or is your "push"? Please leave a comment below or on my Twitter or my FaceBook. As always, thank you for your support. Seeing this, what appears to be a rose, all alone in front of a house in a neighborhood in which many of the homes resemble small castles, I thought of my favorite fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast.
There are many versions of Beauty and the Beast. However, the common theme is that a Prince is transformed into a Beast as punishment. In one version, even his castle looses its glamor so to not be attractive to others. The Beast must find someone to love him and to love them in return. He must do so before an enchanted rose he was given, dies. Belle, a plain but beautiful girl, always has her nose in a book. Her father, in one version, is an inventor. He gets lost in the woods and stumbles upon what appears to be a deserted castle where he seeks shelter to wait out a storm. There, he meets the Beast who holds him captive. Belle goes out in search of her father and finds the castle in which he is being held captive. For her fathers freedom, Belle offers herself as a prisoner instead. It does not take the Beast long to fall in love with the beautiful Belle. He offers her beautiful clothes, fabulous food, the company of his servants, and of course, a library of books. It is not horrible to be held captive in this massive castle. Overtime Belle gets homesick, missing her father. The Beast agrees to let her go home with her promise to return. When Belle returns, the hunter from the village who loves her, follows her. He hurts the Beast and Belle acknowledges her love for the Beast. Beast survives and not only is he transformed back into the handsome Prince, but the castle returns to its glamorous state. Belle and the Prince, or Beast, live happily ever after. Being one who grew up always with her nose in a book, who has always dreamed of living in a castle with a library, this fairy tale is naturally my favorite. My strength, and maybe sometimes also my weakness, is to always see the good in people. Just as Belle saw the good in the Beast. I asked on Twitter, what other fairy tales are favorites. One person said Beauty by Robin McKinley which is actually a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. And, another person said The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. I have added both of these to my Read list on GoodReads. What is your favorite fairytale? Please leave a comment below or on my Twitter or my FaceBook. As always, thank you for your support. This started back in 2010 for me (I think). Some friends of mine raved about this new shake they were having every day called a “Green Monster”. I looked into it and found "Oh She Glows". I dismissed it thinking it was just another crazy fad, like the grapefruit diet. Oh, or the cabbage soup diet! Granted, this woman was onto something. Since she first posted her idea her "Green Monster" has taken the world by storm! Furthermore, in 2011 my husband showed me a Joe Rogan podcast. In case you don’t know, Joe Rogan is a comedian, MMA Commentator, Fear Factor host, starred on the tv show News Radio… Anyways on this specific podcast Joe was talking about his kale shake and vitamins. He showed all of the vitamins he takes and showed off his vitamix blender. WAH! This looks so much better! And that was it for me. I was hooked! So, I did a bit more research looking for variations and such. I have a little bit of OCD , what can I say. I won a contest with North Coast Naturals that gave me Daily Greens, Hemp Protein and Chocolate Protein. The chocolate protein got used first! That stuff was the best with coconut milk and a banana! I recently bought a Magic Bullet. I love this thing! I should have bought it first instead of my blender. I wasn’t sure if it could handle my shakes because it was so small! But looks can be deceiving. Boy was I wrong! I have always heard to add chia seeds or flax seed or hemp seeds to the shake for their Omega-3 fatty acids. Okay, sounds great, but WHY? Well, omega-3 fatty acids improve your heart health and cholesterol levels, and can be helpful in losing weight. So I went out and bought some to add it in. I mean, Increase your heart health and control cholesterol levels? I'm not getting any younger! We got some blueberries on sale (yum!) and we have raspberry bushes (yummy!). So naturally they had to go in! I normally put in ½ a banana but not this time. Or, maybe ½ an apple or pear. Sometimes I will use kale and other times I use spinach. I should really add some other veggies like celery and carrots. But I will do that after I have finished with my Daily Greens. Of course, when I finished my shake and turned around I was faced with temptation. Back away slowly and go on with your day.
One thing I can say with 100% honesty is that I am consistent at not being consistent!
Today is the end of my 21 day habit forming period #1. I would say that I was about 80% consistent. Not bad. Right? Okay. So what is the next step? Well, onward and upward. Time to incorporate some strength training. I am one who prefers to workout at home. Simply because of time, or lack thereof. I really see the benefits of going to a gym. Going to a gym there is that sense of accountability. You get to know the people there and they come to expect to see you. So you might feel that responsibility to show up. Whereas at home, you are only accountable to yourself. This is where many of us fall short. Including myself. To help me, I look at my clothes. I am accountable to my closet. To prepare for the next 21 days, I have my routines written down and this weekend I am going to prepare my little room. I might post my routines up on the Health Whacko. If you would like to see them, please leave a comment below or on my Google+ or my FaceBook. Next week, I will post a picture of my room and let you know how my first week went! Stay tuned... Life has this way of throwing a wrench into things just when you have a nice, manageable flow. It seems that every time I have things worked out so that my time can be well balanced on things I need to be responsible for and things I want to do, something goes awry that makes me have to rethink everything. Really, in the big picture, I lead a simple life and so these fictitious wrenches really just create a small curve or bump in my road. Regardless, these curves and bumps cannot be ignored and need to be handled accordingly. As I said, I lead a pretty simple life and I like things to be consistent. As a mother of four children, I find this philosophy to be crucial in their development and temperament. Do you have any idea what life is like when a two year old misses their nap all because there was an awesome event happening at that time? And do you have any idea how it can affect the rest of the family. Believe me, when you have kids, you will want to keep your sanity by keeping a schedule. Of course there will always be times when you have to deviate from your routine, but I encourage you to be proactive and prepared. The same goes in my own life. I mean my life as an individual, not an extension of someone else. I spoke about previously that it takes 21 days to form a habit. You can read more on that here. This too falls in line with consistency. I completed my first 21 days with incorporating a routine of walking/jogging and am working on adding my strength workouts. But more about this on Friday when I post my usual #FitFriday. :) Life is just easier when you know what to expect and are prepared. I have a pretty consistent routine at work even. I check emails first thing in the morning as I enjoy my first cup of coffee. Being one of the first in the office has its benefits. I flag my action items and set to work on them for the duration of the day. Of course, there are random calls that come in, and my boss, that I need to assist during the day, but every day is much like the one before it and the day after will be as well. Except this week.
There are fires to the West and the East of me, ravishing British Columbia and Saskatchewan.
It is normal for the fires to be burning at this time of year. Some years, they are caught in time and kept under control. Sometimes, they spread to other areas before they are deemed out of control. This year, neither was the case. CBC News has some good coverage about the fires with satellite images. On Friday, Alberta's lovely Jasper National Park, was reported to have 5,000 hectares of burning forests. You can read more about that at The Sun and Global News. Saturday morning, we awoke to find our city blanketed with smoke. We have had smoke from fires in previous years, but I don't recall it being like this. There was an air quality advisory to keep those who suffered asthma and COPD inside with doors and windows closed. Having two young children with asthma myself, I knew to take heed. My children on the other hand, did not agree with this decision. It was a scorching hot weekend with temperatures hovering around 30 degrees Celsius. Perfect for running in the sprinkler or at the water park. I too was disappointed in the smoke. Last night as soon as we noticed the air clearing and the temperatures dropping, the windows were opened for the house to air out. What a relief it was. I think we all slept a little more sound! (c) Rachel Rennie As always, thank you for reading and your support. Feel free to leave a comment below or on my Google+ or my FaceBook. I once heard that our body is a sculpture. Or something like that. I thought it was an Arnold Schwarzenegger quote but I can’t seem to find it anywhere. That man has said a many great things when it comes to body building and strength. Even about determination and success. Here are some of my favorites: Today’s focus is body sculpting. Even though I couldn’t find the quote I was thinking of.
This week, I have had to learn the workings of my current body. It is not the same as it was when I was in my 20’s. Let’s be honest, it is not the same as it was even a year ago. Your body changes with each life change. For example: puberty, 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, etc., having a baby, menopause, quitting drinking/smoking, diseases and ailments such as cancer, diabetes, migraines, or fibromyalgia. And so on. You get the point. I have four children. That is eight times right there that my body has gone through changes. I am turning 40 this year; I am a woman and like all women, my hormones go to the amusement park every month; I quit smoking; I suffer migraines; I was in a car accident that left me coping with vertigo issues. I have experienced numerous changes and learning opportunities. My point is, to sculpt your body you must know your body. You need to take into consideration all of those changes and how they affect your body. You have to take keep in mind calorie intake versus your caloric usage. You have to know your limitations and how far you can push those limits. Right now, I am on a new learning curve. My accident was a year ago at the end of this month. Just a few months ago I was able to look up at the sky again without falling over. It was time for me to slowly get back into my active routine. And slow it is. It has only been a couple of weeks that I have been … let’s say … WJ meaning movement somewhere between walking and jogging. Okay. It has been two weeks that I have been dedicated to my 6am WJ route three times a week. To someone who trains, this is a joke. But to me, this is a big deal. Running was not my favorite thing to do to begin with. After the first week I was hit with a lovely migraine. Got a new prescription and it was dealt with. But, as soon as that was dealt with and out of the way, my body decided that I was strong enough to cope with more and I had another vertigo episode. At first I thought nothing of it. Maybe I sat up too fast. But when the second one happened as I was checking out a ceiling tile, I knew, my vertigo had returned. I went on my WJ regardless. I mean, I don’t have an episode while I am moving, so why not. I just can’t look up at the sky. Or Look at my feet. Or turn my head quickly. Or … Damn, this sucks! Okay. But I really feel I have no choice. Really. I am glad I can’t look down to be honest because that sight, not so pretty anymore. I am okay to look forward. Because forward is where I am going. This is my body and I am the sculptor. Only I can sculpt it to be the way I want it. The inner workings of my body may throw me curve balls, but I just need to learn from them and readjust my sails. (c) Rachel Rennie I grew up always wanting the fairytale life. The whole rags to riches story. The small town girl who moves away to the city to become some highly accomplished and respected woman. To live happily ever after. There were three things my dad did every night religiously when it was just the two of us. He would roll cigarettes, play cribbage and drink coffee. My dad is a very giving man and so, although it was just the two of us, there were always people staying with us. He had an open door policy to anyone who needed a little help, a stepping stone, while they got back on their feet. And, the coffee was always on for those who just needed to chat. At the time, my dad’s best friend, Jim, was our guest. Jim smoked cigars, drank hot chocolate and played crib with my dad every night. During the day, the two of them worked at the mines, just like most of the men in town did. I remember one night I had agreed to play crib with them before bed. It was a small town after all and there really was not anything better to be found for entertainment. I poured dad a coffee and Jim a hot chocolate. It didn’t take long for them to leave me in their dust. They teased me about being “skunked” yet again. The two of them were pretty good at their trash talk let me tell ya. But I took it with grace. Jim took a sip of his hot chocolate and then started to…chew. Dad raised one of his bushy eyebrows and peered at him. “Rach,” Jim said, “not only do you suck at crib, but we need to teach you how to stir.” “I did stir,” I said without looking up from my cards. I had to focus. I had a good hand, but if I didn’t play my cards right, Jim would win the game before I had a chance to count out and pass that dreaded line. “Jim,” my dad said, “What are you chewing on?” I looked up then. “Chocolate,” Jim said as he spit the chunk into the palm of his hand. “What type of hot chocolate is that?” my dad asked him. We all leaned in a little closer to inspect this partially chewed chunk of hot chocolate when Jim dropped it on the table and yelled. “I don’t think it’s chocolate,” I whispered. “The hell it’s not,” Jim yelled at me, “You brat. Why would you put that in my cup?” “Me?” I sat up straight, hand on my chest, insulted that he blamed me. Dad continued to stare at the ‘chocolate’ now on the table. He poked it to roll it over. “Hell,” dad bellowed with laughter, “that’s a mighty big fly Jim.” “No shit,” Jim was angry, “and your daughter put it in my cup.” “Why would she do that?” The amusement in my dad’s voice obvious. “Because,” Jim thought for a moment, “because she’s losing.” I laughed then. I couldn’t help it. “Well, I hadn’t planned on losing when I made you that cup.” Jim was furious. Dad patted Jim on the back, “My daughter is pretty talented old man, but I don’t think she snuck that fly into your cup.” That was the first time I saw a man pout and smile at the same time. Jim sat that way quietly until it was his turn. At the end of his turn he stared at me hard. “You,” he pointed his finger, “are skunked.” “At least I didn’t chew on a fly,” I said under my breath. Before I knew what was happening, Jim had jumped up from his seat and lunged at me. Thankfully my dad was in the way and I ran around the table. Me shrieking, dad laughing, and Jim grunting. I made it to my room safely and they taunted me to come out and play. But, I was happy to be the skunk for the night. I didn’t plant that fly in Jim’s cup. Karma did! (c) Rachel Rennie 2015 As always, thank you for reading and your support. You could hardly call it a run. Heck, you could hardly call it a jog. But there were a few moments when my body told me it was time to pick up the pace a little. My first “run” in two years. Yup, TWO years. I hadn’t realized how long it had been until I posted a comment to one of Mr. Crow’s posts. He wrote about how making a plan makes it easier to succeed. I read that post the day of my “run”. The day after I made my plan. The night before I got out my gear so that when I woke in the morning, I could just get ready and go, bleary eyed and all.
I had my music on quietly, because I was on day two of a migraine, and I listened to the thunder still rattling away in the distance. A few lightning bolts scared me, because I was on a trail in a field, but my instincts told me they were too far away to cause me harm, and I kept going. I took a few pictures on my trek that morning. The temperature was just right, it had been much too hot for a few days, the sun was just the right brightness, and the rain was rejuvenating! I couldn’t have been happier. The air even smelled good. No pollution like in the city. But, I have a LONG way to go. In 2013 I was running (jogging) a ten minute mile and this run was a fifteen minute mile. This run, my first in my new town, my first in two years, was a 1.5 mile run. And, overall, I felt pretty good. And, that was just one of the many trails right out my door. I have 25 kilometers of trails to explore! Now, excuse me while I go out for another trek! To pick up new migraine medicine! A shout out and a big thank you to a few people who inspired me to take this first step: My husband for telling me that I can do it, Jeremy Crow for his daily health tips and all around general encouragement and to Matthew Jones for posting on his blog, pictures of the sights on his run. |