Garage Sale-sman

It being the summer, lots of Garage Sales have started popping up, just about everywhere. I like taking a peek mostly because scrapbooking is the hobby for the extremely anal retentive and some people go out buying lots thinking its for them, soon to find out it's not. Then a couple years later they forget how much they spent on it, and try to unload it to make room. I love these people.

But why is it that I can't look at your junk in peace? Something about garage sales turns every man, woman and especially child into a salesperson. That's a spectacular idea to a child, the last person that rolled up gave me money for stuff I don't want or need anymore! All of a sudden you're a gazzel to a lion. And you're the only thing standing between that lion and their next favourite video game. Good luck!

But the parents are just as bad. They like to rattle off stats on their crap. "Those are $120, size 7, brand name jeans, and you can have them for the low price of $20!" I'm so tempted to ask if that's in five easy payments, or if I get a money back guarantee. But it doesn't. As soon as you hand over the cash and make it past the lemonade stand, you're the proud owner buster. With any luck you'll find a $20 in the zipper pocket and turn a profit.

All bottled up

Lately I've been taking in a couple of my friends pilled up bottles to help my fundraising for the Ride to Conquer Cancer. Thursday I had a whole carload to take in at 5:30pm when I finished work, and the place I was taking them to closed at 6pm. 

It was when I was wheeling all my bags in for sorting that at guy came up to me and asked if I needed help. I said no, and to be honest I recognized him and thought he worked there. He said, "Oh come on, I don't mind, I'm waiting for a friend anyhow" and started sorting them. It occurred to me that with his efficiency of sorting that this guy might actually come here a lot, and want some of the money from the bottle since he was helping. So I told him what the money was going to.

 As we're finishing, which took half as long, or less than it would have, he asked me for a favour. He'd put two flats of beer cans aside and asked me if he could have the money from them. Feeling guilty that he'd helped, I said yes. I left the bottle depot with $30 from the bottles and a bad taste in my mouth.

To be honest, the cans he took probably only got him $2, at most, but its the principle. I didn't like that I assumed he would ask me for money, and then that he proved my assumption right. I felt cheated. I wouldn't have wanted his help if he expected compensation for it, and I felt obligated since he had. Also, it wasn't like the money was going in my pocket either, he knew where the money was going, and he asked anyways. I talked to a few friends about it, a couple who agreed with me, and others said I need to let it go. Either way, I was still thinking about it two days later, and that made it blog worthy in my mind. 

Grammy's slippers

I love going to visit my Grammy Ivy at the old folks home she's staying at in Aldergrove. 

Starbucks is Grammy's favourite, so for a change of scenery, I often take her to get a cup. 

One time I took her, I didn't realize until we were getting out of the car, that Grammy just had her slippers on. We laughed and laughed. Maybe it's because I'm not a mom yet, but I didn't even check! I told Grammy that it's trending for girls to wear them out, and she was just fashionable. 

As proof, this is some random chick wearing her slippers in Timmies. Inside the mall. *sigh*
Grammy rocked it better than her. 

Ride on

On Father's Day, I registered for the 2015 Ride to Conquer Cancer. On the application I got to circle that I want my fundraising to go directly to Lymphoma. I also need to raise $2500 and train to ride 260km to Seattle in August 2015. Two months to the day after I lost my dad to cancer, I bought a bike second hand to reach my goal.

I can't ever say enough good things about the man, and how he made such a positive impact on my life and who I've become. I've always been a daddy's girl, and anyone who spends more than 10 minutes around me picks up on how much he meant to me.

I'm no where near coping with loosing him, and sometimes I wake up hoping it was all a bad dream, but my family and friends are helping me move upward and onward.

I keep taking on these runs, obstacle course races, and challenges thinking it'll be the time I bite off more than I can chew, but I keep surprising myself. So far I'm a Spartan, a Warrior, a Concrete Hero and a Mudder. I want to make it over this finish line too.

But I need your help. Donate. Post this to your wall. Share my story, not because it's unusual, but because it's far too common.

http://www.conquercancer.ca/site/TR/Events/Vancouver2015?px=3775976&pg=personal&fr_id=1524

Mid 20's life on the edge

I constantly marvel at how our perceptions change as we get older. Since realizing that I'm getting old and boring, I realized my daily excitement has also changed. No longer do I care about going shopping for new clothes, or staying up as late as possible, or going out to clubs. Lately some silly things give me that edge of excitement I crave, such as:

1. Putting off getting gas
Talk about playing a game of roulette! I used to fill up when I got to a quarter of a tank, but lately rolling in on fumes, and wondering slightly if I'll make it has it's thrill.

2. Walking away from grocery shopping cart
I used to guard the thing like they were already my possessions and everyone in the store was looking to steal them, but lately I walk away just for fun. Maybe someone will buy them, transport them, and put them away at my house with any luck.


3. When things go on sale
I seem to be the only one in my generation that knows what a raincheck is. Look into it. Seriously.

4. Book comes in at the library
I have exclaimed in excitement before, but this is severely jarring for the innocent, quiet library goers.

Yup. Pretty exciting :)

Bad fighters

I was getting into my car the other day when I heard the end of an argument between two of my neighbours about parking. I heard the one guy closest to me say, "Don't think I don't see what you're doing here, keep it up and I'll...well I'll...put a bunch of spare tires around your truck!" and I laughed. What a threat! How awful would that be to move those tires!



It made me realize I have an appreciation for bad fighters. Lets face it, good fighters, those people who get into altercations all the time and know how to handle themselves, they're just no fun.

Maybe it's because I definitely fit the bill of a bad fighter. I never usually end the sentence, "Yea, well do that and I'll..." with anything threatening. Something ridiculous comes stumbling out, and it's usually followed with my thinking, "gawd, that was stupid.." It's ok to laugh.

"Yea well, I'll stop doing your laundry then!!" Or I forget its a threat altogether and offer to do something nice. "Yea well, I'll just do your laundry for the rest of my life then!!"

By the way, when you google "verbal altercation" this picture of Justin Beiber comes up.



Way to go kid, you're making us proud to be Canadian. :P

It just got weird...

Sometimes I feel self conscious posting blog posts like my last one, "Likeness" because it wasn't funny. My regular readers might have been waiting for the punch line that never came, the part where I opened my mouth and screwed it all up in a funny way. But then I realized it got 50 page views, and lots weren't from my friends. Strange to think that strangers might be interested in what I have to say. And that opens me up to cyber stalkers! Can you imagine? How fun!