A Rural Rube

I know, I know

2011-06-17T19:47:00.000-07:00

Damn it, I sure picked the wrong week to fall off my blogging wagon. (I know, I know, it's been more like a few weeks....)
Consider it the start of my summer hiatus, where I drink coffee til noon and then move joyfully onto the booze.
And pray for the return of my energy and creative juices.
And an extra hour or two in the day.
Thankyouverymuch.

Ah Fuck

2011-06-16T07:48:00.000-07:00

Well, that ends that dream.
For this year anyway.
It's about time that hockey is over anyway, isn't it? Quite honestly, it's starting to cut into my schedule. Those 5 pm games are a killer in terms of getting anything done that night. And having to sedate myself or get drunk every couple of nights really cut into training and any possibilities of running that Scotiabank Half Marathon on the 26th. And, really, having gone without shaving for 2 whole months hasn't fared well for my intimate life either.

(Seriously, the loss for me was way overshadowed by the events that followed. Maybe that was my defense mechanism to protect myself against actually feeling the true pain of our loss. In any case, it worked.)

15 down and 1 to go!!!!

2011-06-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of the Stanley Cup finals, it's nice to see that the Canuck gals haven't lost their sexy appeal..... whilst keeping their shirts on at the same time!

(and really...this girl does not need to expose herself completely. They're beautiful just the way they are.)

Did Burrows bite Bergeron?

2011-06-01T21:38:00.000-07:00

Damn it, it sure looks like, doesn't it?
At the end of the first period, there's a pushing and shoving match between a few different players. And Bergeron is claiming that he was bitten by Burrows.
Why-oh-why would you take a undisciplined cheap shot like this one, Burrows, if in fact you did? In Game One of the Stanley Cup finals? It was a 5 pm game; a bit early for your liking. Did the hunger pangs set in?
You just know they're reviewing it this second and will be sending out the suspension shortly.

Or not...

With Burrows' hand up in front of his mouth like that, it's kinda hard to determine whether there's an actual biting that happens. And Burrows DID serve a 4 minute penalty for that scrum. In fact, in a game full of penalties, and no love lost, maybe we just move forward and see where the rest of the series takes us.
And quite likely, a little bite on the finger through a glove will be the least of the damage.

And I Believe in Him

2011-05-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

We're not a religious family. That's probably a bit of an understatement actually. When I first met B.Rube he often referred to me as "the anti-christ" due to my clear and decided opinion against Christianity. I am an atheist.

My girls are almost 7 and 5, and the discussion of God, church, religion or Jesus has not really come up yet. We talk a lot about our values of kindness, respect, understanding, love, patience, tolerance and acceptance, and have had to address the complicated issue of death. We've discussed things like 'doing unto others' and a belief in karma and fate.
Today on the way home from school, S.Rube read a church sign that we drove by, and asked what "Sunday School" was. Which led to a discussion about Christianity.

I gave them my brief, unbiased, and somewhat ignorant explanation of what Christianity was. (I'm certain that some of my good Christian friends are cringing at the thought of this.) I said that Christians believe that a few thousand years ago there was a man named Jesus who was a leader and who helped people. And Jesus died. And then he came back to Earth. And people believed in him and he believed in the people. And then he left again with a promise that he'd be back. And so today Christians believe that he'll come back at some point (not last Saturday!), and those that believe will get to go with him to Heaven and those who don't believe won't get to go. These people go to churches to pray together and they try to live by following Jesus' rules. Sunday School is where the kids go on Sunday mornings to learn more about Jesus and his beliefs. (Now, that wasn't too bad, was it??)

S.Rube then asked if I believed in Jesus and I told her: No, that I didn't believe in the whole story of Jesus, but that I didn't want to taint their beliefs with my own, and that when they were old enough to explore and understand it, they were always welcome to do so. I told her lots of people believe.

Little T.Rube jumped into the conversation then, pointedly deciding, "I definitely believe."
"Yup!", she says, "I believe in Jesus." And then she looked at S.Rube who was wearing her favourite pants and said, "But I don't believe in capris. Nope. I don't believe in capris one little bit because capris are not real. Jesus is real though. He is."

(Seriously. She may have a point about the capris.)

I sputtered a bit, trying not to laugh outright. Jesus and capris.

A couple of hours later, I overheard T.Rube explaining her new belief system to her dad.
"So, yeah, there was this man who lives on the moon. And he came to Earth and then he died. And he went back to the moon. And if you believe in him, you'll get to go to the moon too. But if you don't believe in him, you don't get to go."
"And I believe in him."
"But I don't believe in capris."

The Placenta Monologues

2011-05-25T13:38:00.000-07:00

So, that's Daisy giving birth on the right sidebar there. She's our Boer goat that had a set of twins at the end of April - a boy and a girl named Portland and Eugenia. I know seeing the video right there every time you visit makes a few of you gag. I am hoping to shock and educate all the young hockey fans who land at my site looking for the hot pierced boobs pressed up against the penalty box.
( you can see the boobs here.... http://aruralrube.blogspot.com/2011/05/canuck-fan-flashes-her-boobs-to-eager.html )

And, if you remember, a local college instructor had asked for the placenta for a nursing class on labour and delivery. That placenta was rinsed, bagged, and then frozen at the college for last week's class. You all didn't think that I'd forgotten about it did you? teeheeheee

How about running your fingers through some of this? (that's my good-sport friend, Yoli! Everyone say Hi to Yoli!!!)

Now, as if this isn't gross enough... I'm going to ask you to consider for a moment the act of eating the placenta. Most mammals in the animal kingdom do this. It has a name (which isn't cannibalism..) - placentophagy. Most humans do not practise this act, although there a number of midwives and doctors who proport that eating one's own placenta after birth can aid in issues of hemorrhaging and post-partum depression. The placenta is full of nutritional value, as well as large amounts of progesterone and smaller amounts of oxytocin; chock full of B vitamins and iron!
So, there is a trend out there to cook up and eat your placenta. It is not recommended to eat someone else's placenta due to potential blood illnesses. (Did you hear that?? You can not eat someone else's placenta! Just in case you were planning on it. Not a good idea. Even if you're good friends with the person. No sharing the placenta! Okay? You hear me! You just never know what's in that placenta....).

So, seriously though, if you're wanting to eat your own placenta...
Remember to remove the membranes and umbilical cord first. And then go ahead and cook it like you would any meat dish. You can cube it, bbq it, ground it up for patties, tenderize it, or even dehydrate it to make a placenta jerky. Yummmm

Probably of the most benefit (because nothing beats the nutritional value of eating raw foods), but something that even I can't tolerate the thought of.... a placenta smoothie. No amount of bananas could mask the taste or smell of that one.

And....if eating or drinking your own placenta doesn't excite you much, why not consider buying the teddy bear kit and making this incredible personalized sustainable toy?
( I only wish that I was making this shit up... )

The Sharks are dead on the dock

2011-05-25T07:26:00.000-07:00

I had this amazing dream last night that we were headed to the Stanley Cup!
And, after my first sip of coffee, I remembered it was real.

Holy shit, I'm sooooo friggin' excited.

Keepin' Portland Weird (and Nasty!!)

2011-05-23T11:05:00.000-07:00

Out of fairness to Portland, which I believe to be an awesome hip city, Brenda and I rolled in late in the day on a Sunday and were only staying one night. Clearly Sunday in Portland is the time to come down from your crazy weekend and not be looking to crank it back up! It was pretty damn quiet. This was unfortunate for Brenda and I, as we had just finished our half marathon in Eugene, had been refraining from alcohol for a while, and were looking forward to letting go a bit that night. I think to give the city's night life proper justice, a Friday and Saturday night would be key. Unless you're a beer lover, in which case the numerous micro-breweries on every other block would be right up your alley!

Just south of the city, right off the highway, we couldn't resist a stop at this class-A restaurant... Wanker's Corner ....all I could think of was the chef and his special sauce ingredient. Wanker's Corner? I don't want to know what happens in the wanker's corner. So, we drove on, despite our grumbling tummies.

We arrived in the downtown core a short time later and checked in to our very nice little boutique-style hotel in the Pearl District, also known as the Brewery District, which is very similar to Vancouver's Yaletown, we decided. The hotel is The Mark Spencer and has a few notable bonuses that include: a smokin' deal found through Living Social, a daily FREE WINE happy hour in the little atrium lobby, free Wi-Fi, is pet-friendly, and its full suites are furnished to make you comfortably feel as though you've stepped into your grandma's (or great-grandma's) little apartment.

So, after getting flushed and giggly on local wine (which took no time for our dehydrated bodies to absorb!), we set out to explore the little downtown area. It was a rare sunny warm evening and we walked to the water, which reminded us a lot of our hometown Vancouver. You could definitely feel the city's "cool factor"...it reeks of cool, even on a quiet Sunday night. One of the things that I LOVED and so wish that Vancouver would consider doing are the food carts! There are blocks of food carts all over the city. You can check out their website for the types of carts available and a map to their locations.

Portland prides itself on being weird and I totally dig that.

And then, added to the weird factor, things started to get nasty, as the sun started to set....
Hung Far Low chinese? What's hung far low? How low? Why am I getting visuals of my donkey's schlong dragging in the dirt?

Dirty Pie pizza? Why does it have to be dirty? What's wrong with Spicy Pie or Cheeky Pie. The only thing worse than Dirty might be Cheesy. Don't eat Cheesy Pie. ick.

Saucebox? Maybe they can hook up with Wanker's Corner and create the ultimate dip.

And then we finally found Oregon's pride and joy... Voodoo Doughnuts, where the magic is in the hole!!

Weird and nasty marketing campaign! ( you know I love it!!)
but slightly confusing....
I'm not sure that, especially coming from a pink box, VD is a good thing.
Not so completely appetizing.

But, hmmmmm and mmmmmm, look at their yummy strange doughnuts!
This is the famous maple bacon one.

And you can be sure to find a doughnut with your favourite cereal topping it off...here's a Froot Loop and a Cocoa Puffs, and I see a Skittles one back there. I would go for a Capt'n Crunch Berries one myself. (even though I know it's gonna cut the roof of my mouth to shit!)

So, being as we were in the city known for 1)being weird, 2)good coffee (what Pacific Northwest city doesn't pride themselves on their coffee?) and 3)microbreweries, we settled on a brewery to end our night.
Despite both being non-beer drinkers, we went to Deschutes Brewery for a bite to eat and to sample some beer.

We chose a Sampler, wrote down our choices, and opened our minds and tastebuds to the experience.
Brenda's face speaks for both of us.

Needless to say, we left our glasses almost full and decided that a tequila brewery is way more our style.
Tijuana, here we come!!!!
(there's gotta be a marathon there we can run, right??)

Damn

2011-05-21T16:41:00.000-07:00

So they're all still here???

Canuck Boob Girl has a Face...and a rough week

2011-05-21T11:36:00.000-07:00

Talk about consequences....

Our Canuck boob girl has a face.
(and a bit more of a belly than I expected, I must admit....She clearly has had children with abs like that. I wonder what her kids think of mom's cheeky demonstration.)

Without a doubt, her life has changed drastically in the past 3 days. I wonder if regret has inhabited her and whether the infamy will move her to new heights in the months to come making Wednesday night's decision worthwhile. Somehow I doubt it, but I suspect that she likely had a "I'll never drink again" moment on Thursday morning when she woke up in a jail cell, wiping that sweet smirky smile off her face.

Rumours are flying throughout Vancouver (and much of the continent!) about who this girl is and what has happened to her since being ejected from Rogers Arena on Wednesday night. Although unable to confirm any of this, I have been told that she was thrown into a jail cell on Wednesday night following the incident and is facing charges of up to $15000 for public indecent exposure and being drunk and disorderly. CBC may also be considering charges against her, as well as the Canuck organization banning her for life. She has deleted her Twitter and Facebook accounts in an attempt to avoid unwanted attention, and someone told me last night that she was actually fired from her job!

Whew! If that ain't a bad episode of Hangover, I don't know what is.

With charges like that stacked up against her, I bet it's only a matter of time before a fundraising Facebook group begins in an attempt to 'help finance the twins'!

You can watch the uncensored video right here.... http://aruralrube.blogspot.com/2011/05/canuck-fan-flashes-her-boobs-to-eager.html

(edited to add: This girl did lose her job the day following the incident. She worked as an insurance agent in North Vancouver (at Allwest Insurance) and was sitting in company seats when the flashing happened. It would appear that the company didn't take too kindly to her indiscriminate use of their corporate seating! Sucks to be you!)

The Day of Rapture OR The Man from Mars is Eating Cars

2011-05-19T20:19:00.000-07:00

You know we have less than 2 days left until Judgment Day, right? So what the fuck are you doing surfing the internet????

I wonder what time of day it will happen. Or what time zone it starts in. What country? or is it an instant global thing? I wonder if we'll know what has hit us when JC arrives? I wonder if all of the crazy people will just disappear from the Earth instantaneously? Natural combustion? or just POOF, into thin air? I can tell you that I'd have no problem with their vanishing act! The world would be a better place....

According to a large number of devout Christians, May 21st, 2011 has been declared Judgment Day, with the end of the world happening later in the year on October 11th, 2011.
Keep in mind, though, that this same group had declared March 21st, 2011 the original Judgment Day and after it came and went without mishap or the arrival of their saviour, they came up with the new date.

There's a house with a trailer out front that's all painted up on the road I travel to get to Bellingham in Washington State. For many months now, the trailer's message warns me that the Rapture is coming this week. Now the only Rapture I can remember hearing about (and it is a faint memory) was one that Blondie sang about 30 years ago. Although I do recall that the man from Mars was eating everything from bars to cars and they were warned to not move too slow cuz he was gonna eat them all. An analogy? Perhaps.
I checked out the website to learn more and educate myself further before simply pissing all over the idea, (google Family Radio if you're interested. I don't want to offer a direct link to their crazy thoughts...) which further confirmed for me that these believers are completely whacked out. So, piss away.

I keep having a flashback to 1993 with visions of a freaky cultish mass suicide pact a la Waco, Texas and the Branch Davidians. Or, maybe instead of killing themselves as the day arrives unceremoniously and without a peep from their Maker, they can just change the date again.

So, what the hell have you been doing with your time in order to prepare? Me? I've carried on with life as usual because I don't believe that crap. And if I'm wrong, I'll eat my sweaty running shorts. That is, if I haven't been shot straight to hell in a burning cannon.

I had to chuckle a couple of days ago as I passed by the home with the Raptured trailer out front. As I was approaching the house, I wondered what these people would be doing on these final days. Their website is advising them to pray. A lot. Instead, oddly enough, I saw the man out cutting his lawn despite the rainy weather. I guess even Jesus expects proper maintenance.

And then there are those of us who, even in our dying days, still just want to see boobs.

Canuck fan flashes her boobs to Eager in the Penalty Box - the video!

2011-05-18T23:14:00.000-07:00

It would appear that this fine Vancouver specimen took it upon herself to act in the role of the Green Guys in their absence at tonight's blow-out game.
No wonder Eager was so enthusiastic about getting his penalty minutes.

My friend at the game was wondering why the girl had got kicked out. Now you know.
The twins sure looked good up against the glass tonight, though, didn't they? ;o)

The Less Popular Parent

2011-05-13T16:40:00.000-07:00

I have long suspected that I was the less popular parent in this house. There were little signs before, like the girls' enthusiasm when B.Rube comes home, or them insisting that he tuck them in or read their bedtime story instead of me. I enjoyed seeing it, appreciated the bit of free time it sometimes gave me, and had never reflected it back upon myself....until this past week....when S. Rube actually made me cry.

I snuck off to the laundry room and fought back tears amidst the pile of whites, and tried not to inhale the stinky litter box fumes beside me. Damn it.

It went something like this:

J - So, Daddy and I are both going to your soccer games tonight and they're at the same time, so we'll each watch 1/2 of each of your games. I'll watch 1/2 of yours and then Daddy and I will switch, and I'll watch 1/2 of T.Rube's...

(before I could finish my sentence, S.Rube bursts energetically out with:)
S - I WANT DADDY TO WATCH MINE FIRST.

J - okay, well, I'll start with T and Dad can start with you.

S - No, I want Daddy to watch ALLLLLL of my game!

J - No, he can't. It's only fair if we split it up. And I really want to see you play too. And I'm sure that T wants Daddy to see her play.

(her now with an exaggerated pouty face that has never worked on me but still she tries:)
S - ohhhhhhh, but I want Daddy to watch the whole thing.

(now me with one eyebrow slightly raised and a bit of a snarky tone to my voice:)
J - Why?? Why don't you want me to watch you? Do you love him more than me or what??

(her without ANY hesitation or even a breath whatsoever:)
S - YESSSSSS!!!

(me with eyes wide and mouth agape:)
J - What??? Are you serious?? Did you really just say that?

(her with horror in her eyes as realization of what she said sinks in:)
S - well....well....well....

(her wheels are spinning as she tries quickly and desperately to undo what she has just said, thereby saving herself and me:)
S - .... well... just a little bit.

Oh my God, her honesty kills me.

All I can answer back with is a less-than-enthusiastic "wow" as I am already getting up to retreat to the laundry room and fighting back the blurriness that is quickly forming in my vision.

It's the truth, you know. In her limited understanding of love at this point in her game, it is the truth. Yeah, she loves me. Yeah, she misses me when I'm away. Of course she does. Because I'm the one she's always with, so it must just seem odd when I'm not here. But, she loves her time with her Dad more than she can appreciate her time with me.
And, for her, that equates love.

The longer I stood on the mound of dirty clothes, the more resentful I got. (and, yes, I'm quite certain that hormones were playing a bit of a role in this). The job I do here, the hours I put in, the stress of feeling like I'm planning, organizing, implementing and otherwise holding it all together for everyone, is TOTALLY taken for granted. I am just the nag, the cook, the laundress, the cleaner, the slave, the driver, the slavedriver... shit that mothers have long since known and complained about. The irony that I was standing in the laundry room did not escape me at this moment....

And then....wooohoooooooo....Dad comes in! DADDYYYYY!!!!! It's time for wrestling, movies, card games, tickles, and snuggles. FUN FUN FUN!!! Of course they 'love' him more. He's like the circus arriving to the boring small town on that hot July weekend every year. More fun than a whole fucking Mini stuffed with clowns. He might as well be bringing home cotton candy every time he walks in the door.

Blahhhhhhh

So, I reflected, felt a bit sorry for myself, reflected still, threw a load of laundry in and reflected some more. Then came up with a few goals.
1) That I spend more time away, and really make 'em miss me!
2) That I let B.Rube step up to do the dirty work waaaaaay more often than I expect him to now.
3) And, most importantly, that I nag less and play more, all whilst maintaining my fine balancing act with a smile on my face.

Go the Fuck to Sleep

2011-05-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

I've had a couple of friends share this book with me over the past weeks and I can't resist sharing it with you. You totally know that this is the kind of children's book I would write. In fact, I'm rather envious that it wasn't me who did.
Gives me a few ideas though.....

The book isn't even out for release until mid-June but you can pre-order a bunch of copies (or just one) through Amazon for just over $8.00 a book. What an amazing price for the best baby shower gift ever!!! Order yours by clicking right from here now.

Be prepared for a good fucking belly laugh!
(Click on each picture to open larger for viewing.)

How Empowering is that???

2011-05-10T11:45:00.000-07:00

See, the truth about running is that it's not much fun. And it really doesn't get funner either, the more you do it. I estimate that 99% of runs pretty much suck while you're actually running.
We're kinda out there chasing the dragon, like a heroin addict looking for that amazing feeling they once had when they shot up. Or the gambler plugged into the slot machine looking for that pay-off they once hit so long ago.

I also liken it to having a baby and enduring the tortures of labour and delivery, swearing that you would never want to do that again, only to find yourself cooing over the little bean, and planning another, forgetting all about how truly bad that experience was.
Or similar to getting a tattoo. While they're scraping away at your skin, you tell yourself "never again!" as you hold your breath each time the needle hits. Later that day, you're excitedly planning your next one.
The pay-off of the baby and the beautiful tattoo is worth more than the memory of the pain in getting there.

So, we had a great run once. We found that zone and it was incredible. And strong. And easy.
We feel so good after a run is over (because the friggin' run is over!) that we forget about how challenging it was, and we instantly start looking forward to tomorrow's run.

As I struggled through my run today, I contemplated the dynamics of Bikram Yoga. Being in the hot room for 90 minutes through a Bikram class without the real option of leaving is a mind game very similar to that of running. It is the mind that we must conquer. In the Bikram studio, in the 115 degree heat, if given the chance to be able to push a button to eject yourself from the room immediately or pull a cord to release a bucket of cold water onto your body, how often would you exercise the opportunity? (and how difficult would it be not to??). Fortunately, they take those options away from us, leaving us only to overcome the mind. (And anyone who has ever done Bikram knows that NOTHING feels better than the end of that class!!)

In running, our relief comes to us by walking; by stopping. And that option is right there! We could choose to stop at any moment.
And some days (okay, most days!), I have to tell my mind to fuck right off; that stopping isn't an option.
And (this is the kicker right here!) that I'm strong, and capable and amazing and can push on through and just keep going. I gotta believe.

I guess THAT'S why we run. Because how friggin' empowering is that???

Baring my Butt for all???

2011-05-09T15:46:00.000-07:00

I had a funny-not-so-funny thing happen to me the other day.

I took a couple of pictures in Portland with my phone and wanted to upload them to the computer so I could put together the Portland blog. It's a fairly new phone to me and I've never plugged it into my computer before, so wasn't entirely sure what I was doing.

So, I plug in the phone, find the first picture I want to upload and click on the menu options. "Upload" is one of my choices and I click on it. The picture uploads and then tells me that "the upload was successful". Cool. Super easy! So, I click on the second pic and repeat the above process. Upload successful.
Then I start scrolling through my 83 pictures currently on the phone and upload some here and there...ones of the farm, a few of the girls, a couple of BB, and a couple cute portraits of me.
Ahhh..... and then... the butt shot.

Now, I know they warn us about taking sexy pics of ourselves with our phones, but sometimes it's just warranted, right? Like when your guy is far away in Las Vegas and you want to make sure he's still thinking about you. That's seriously the perfect time for a sexy picture text.

So, I'm looking at my butt shot (and appreciating it for the beautiful thing it is), and I decide that I really want to keep this picture. I want to be able to see it when I'm 80, or 60, or probably even 50. It's a nice picture, okay??? I hit "Upload". It is successful and I turn to the computer to see my pics.
At about the same time that the text comes through.

"Thank You! Merci! We have successfully received your uploaded pictures at www.mytelusmobility.com. To view your pictures visit www.mytelusmobility.com"

WHAT????!!!!!

WHAT????!!!!!

Uploaded to WHERE?????!!!!!

OMG, this is not good. Not good at all. Instantly I am certain without a doubt that my ass is currently being shown across some flash on the top banner of some image site with the other most recently uploaded pictures, alongside the ones of my farm, my kids, my dog and my cute face. Shit.
My heart is pounding. I go to the computer. Sure enough, I can't find any uploaded picture file. I visit www.mytelusmobility.com and sign in there, search quickly and still can't find any pictures. I quickly dial my service provider's number and fortunately there's no wait to speak to a customer service rep.
I MUST FIND AND REMOVE THIS PICTURE INSTANTLY!!!

So, Manuel takes my call. I calmly explain that I had plugged my phone into my computer in order to upload some pics. I hit the "upload" option for a number of images and it told me that the uploads had been successful. I then calmly explain that I received a few text messages letting me know that my pictures had been received at mytelusmobility.com. I calmly let him know that I can not find my pictures on my computer and can only assume that they've been uploaded elsewhere. And then I calmly ask him where they might be.
To which Manuel says, " Alrighty, let's just take a look here."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I mean... no. No. No, you can't do that."
And I then sheepishly explain that there's a picture in that bunch that I don't want anybody to see; that nobody can see. And that's why I'm calling, and even though I might sound really calm, I'm freaking the fuck out.
Manuel responds professionally, even though I know he's giggling inside! (and probably trying to find my pictures before I do!). He assures me that the pics would only have been uploaded to my own pictures folder at mytelusmobility; that they would not be uploaded to any sort of public site.

Whew. I exhale deeply. For the first time in a few long long minutes.

Except that the pics weren't there. And Manuel couldn't explain why or where else they might be.
So, he forwarded me to someone above him. And made me explain all over again why I was calling; made me explain again that I had taken a sexy butt pic of myself that I was now worried was smeared all over the internet. This guy, too, reassures me that the pictures would not have been uploaded to a public forum or to my facebook wall; that they only would have gone into my private pictures folder. Except he, too, can't find them. And my digging around produces nothing either.

So, the pictures are missing. Uploaded somewhere successfully, as the text messages indicated, but nowhere to be found.
It's the Case of the Missing Butt Pic.
If found, PLEASE return promptly to owner.

It's our Day

2011-05-08T09:14:00.000-07:00

S.Rube has been trying desperately all morning to draw me and is getting more and more frustrated with each crumpled page. Her expectations are high and her ability...well...it's still in development.
So, we came to the computer for inspiration, and found a wide variety of Mom drawings.

And, finally.... my favourite...

Happy Mothers Day!

2011-05-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

Scoop it, Rinse it, Bag it, and Fridge it - the Baby Goats are Born!!

2011-05-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

I got a text Saturday morning while in Eugene from B.Rube saying "I just watched the first baby goat born." Of course, she would wait until I was out of town, after my anticipating it for the past 2 months.
My first text back was "You gotta save the placenta for me!! Scoop it, rinse it, bag it and fridge it."
He said he would try, but would have to leave for work in a few hours. I told him to do what he could, but only half expected that the placenta would come out of this intact in a bag.

Daisy had two babies. A girl was born first, then a boy about 10 minutes later. I've named them Eugenia and Portland.
Not only was B.Rube on hand to witness and assist, he also managed to pull out the best video of the first birth! Impressive.

While I sat in a bar in Eugene later that night with a table full of Vancouverites watching the Canucks (go on to lose in OT) a text message came through.
"The placenta is in the fridge."
I joyfully read it aloud to the group.... "The placenta is in the fridge."
Of course, Brenda was the only one who knew anything about what I was saying, so the conversation came to a dead halt. I told my story, and the guys around me were equally surprised and disgusted.

I must say that you all are very lucky that I wasn't home for this, because the following pictures would have been farrrr more detailed and graphic. Consider yourself spared.

Already scooped, rinsed and bagged...

Here you go...Enjoy!

Into the fridge next to the milk and the peanut butter. No mistaking this for Girl Guide Cookies!

And, into the freezer at the college...to be thawed and examined on Wednesday.

Race Pics are in

2011-05-05T20:02:00.000-07:00

The official race pictures were posted last night. I love getting them and seeing what I look like when I'm in that zone. I love examining my postures, and the differences that I see throughout the race. Mostly I think I look like I'm power walking. I noticed this in pictures from the Vegas race in December, and actually made changes to my running posture because of it. I now lift my knees higher and kick my feet back more, rather than shuffling along.

I love seeing the athlete in me; seeing myself look so strong. The culmination of all my effort.

It amazes me.

Here's the classic power walking posture I'm talking about:

One of the photographers managed to catch this series of photos at about Mile 11.0 which I have dubbed "Get outta my way, bitch". I think I just barely missed elbowing her as I pushed passed.... (You can click on it to see it bigger if you want.)

Here's a pic of me just after entering the stadium with the finish line in clear view. This is where I'm chanting "Just go. Just go. Just go. Just go. Just go. Just go." I love the picture because of my posture. Clearly I have turned it on and am sprinting to the finish line. I'm not shuffling or power walking. I'm fucking running!

And, finally.... I happily cross that line.

I hope you like tie-dye

2011-05-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

When you read about Eugene, Oregon, there are 6 things most often mentioned. The homeless, the rain, the University of Oregon Ducks, the tax-free shopping, the marijuana (best place to grow in the USA after Humboldt County, California) and the hippies.
Ahhhh, the hippies.

Now, I come from BC and have spent some time in places around the province where hippies are known to thrive - Whistler, Salt Spring Island, Nelson, Creston. I've even been called a hippie myself on occasion. Granted, I own a djembe or two, and used to frequent full moon drum circles back in the day. I wore birkenstocks for at least two solid straight years (with wool socks underneath during the winter season) and still go for long long (longer even than hockey playoff season) periods of time without shaving my legs or armpits. I even used to make picture frames and sell them at Saturday markets, alongside the devil sticks, jars of honey, homemade jewelry and tie-dyed wall hangings. And, in order to spare my poor parents who do read this blog, I am pleading the fifth on discussing any history of marijuana smoking.

But, nothing-oh-nothing, could have prepared me for our walk through the Eugene Saturday Market, located just outside the back door of the hotel. It was as if I'd been catapulted through a timewarp, landing in San Francisco in the late 60's amongst an entire commune of Deadheads, all either trying to make a living by dying clothing, or not trying to make a living at all.
In fact, these Grateful Dead originals are all mostly from California and are the original hippies. When San Francisco began to change, grow and develop, these hippies migrated north to a quieter Oregon to live in peace amongst the trees.

Here's a taste of the Eugene Saturday Market through my eyes.

For the hippie baby in your life...

You totally know she's going for Toby's Tofu Pate.

More tie-dye anyone?

The younger generation... the back of his jacket says something about his grass being naturally greener. These two REEKED of pot.

Let sleeping dogs lie? I'm afraid of the big bad wolf? More likely, you'll huff and you'll puff and you'll get really high.

Ohhh, more tie-dye. Anyone?

Right down to your knickers!
Tie-dye?

And, again, for the little one, in case you missed that last booth.....

Doing something a little different here....
Nahhh, not really. It's still tie-dye.

How about some tie-dye?

And, for a change....
(I think it's Jerry Garcia himself actually.)

It's such an esoteric world.

Kinda fun!

Kinda done....
(Yikes. That is the result of the collision of a couple of different worlds right there.)

The one entire corner of the block was devoted to the loiterers and their music. A large drum circle played on through the afternoon....

(And yet another odd combination of style. Look, are you a gang member or are you a hippie? Make up your mind. You can't be both.)

Unfortunately I had to stare straight at this. And had trouble concentrating on the soothing repetition of the drumming.
Ick. I wanted to say "Turn the hell around! Can't you feel your ass crack exposed to the wind? Can't you feel the tightness of your pants HALFWAY down your ass?"
Instead I took a picture and walked away.

And I'm soooo not a Harry Potter fan, but even I recognized a youthful Gandalf when I saw him!

Wow...makes you almost feel high just from the years of fumes blowing through this place, doesn't it??
I don't know about you, but all I can see behind these eyelids is this....
Tie-dye?

My Race Reward(s)

2011-05-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

So...yeah.... making decisions isn't my strong point.

Here's what I came home from the States with last night.

Eugene Half Marathon Recap (or I can't shit before a race)

2011-05-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

Part One (Eugene Half Marathon Recap)

I had a great race.
I beat my Vegas race time by 10 minutes. I beat my own record by a minute, achieving a new personal best of 2:19:31. I managed to pace myself nicely through the first half, although I still slowed up during the second portion of the race (remember one of my goals was to run slower during the first 10 km to preserve my energy for a faster ending).
The average time for this half marathon was 2:19:32. I am above average. If only by a second.

I made a last minute decision to not carry any water or liquids with me, as I didn't want to be weighed down by the big fuel belt. Instead, I purchased a nice little SPIbelt at the Expo on Saturday and just carried my gels on it. My plan to utilize every water/gatorade station along the way, whether I felt I really needed it or not, seemed to work well, and properly hydrated me to the end. I felt free without the water belt, and will definitely continue to race without it.

I enjoyed the run, was appreciative and grateful, and had fun. It was a beautiful sunny day. The route was fairly flat, but the few hills I encountered provided me with energy and motivation. There were lots of people throughout the course cheering and holding signs. The same people and the same signs kept popping up throughout the 2+ hours that I was out there. Most of them have the specific names of friends and family, helping to energize moms or dads, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons and friends. But some of them are more generic, like "There's tequila shots at the end." I can assure you that one didn't propel me faster (especially after my Palm Springs experience just a couple of short weeks ago...). One of them said "Quit reading this sign and get running." I found it kind of annoying and it made me want to punch her in the nose, not run faster. Another one just confused me: "Your donut looks tasty. Keep running." My donut? What the hell is she even talking about? If it was her goal to distract me from my running zone, she managed to do just that.

And then there was the sign that actually worked. The one that made me smile every time I saw it; that actually made me want to run harder. "I am so proud of you, complete stranger." I seriously teared up the first time I saw him. He was holding up that sign with such determination for every one of us, with the biggest smile on his face and I LOVED it.
I thank you, complete stranger! You moved me. (and my bowels...see Part Two)

The last small portion of the race happens on the legendary Hayward Field and enters into the stadium with the band playing and the bleachers full of fans cheering you on. I was in a fairly delirious state at that point, muttering "Just Go. Just Go. Just Go. Just Go." repeatedly to myself in a trance-like state - providing the perfect cadence to my pace. I removed the earphone from my right ear in order to experience the crowd and my crossing the finish line. The fans were screaming!! I was high as a kite.

It wasn't until I crossed the finish line that I realized that the marathon winner had entered the stadium just behind me, crossing the line at 2:22. The crowd was cheering for him, yet I had the good fortune of sharing in his moment. And despite the fact that he had just run exactly two of what I had done, I was pretty damn proud of myself.

Part Two ( I can't shit before a race )

The race may or may not have been better if I had managed to shit before the run, rather than during. I guess we'll never know. I mean, having to wait in line for the porta-potty and even getting to sit down for a minute or two (not once but twice!)...that's gotta have bought me some time, I figure; rested me up; and spurred me on. I'm sure I ran a little bit faster after the break, and after lightening my load.

Fortunately for me, and others around me really, the porta-potties were situated in plentiful and appropriate places and it wasn't a really distracting or negative experience. Only a few times did the need to clench my butt cheeks and avoid farting truly affect my run. Only a few times was I more focused on where the next potty was that I forgot I was even running. (which is something I strive for, right?) Only a few times did the feeling of touching cloth make me wonder if I was, in fact, going to lose this battle and shit my pants right there while I ran.

In any case, I lost some time because I can't shit before a race. I woke up at 4:30 am in order to exactly replicate my usual morning routine. Yet, still no success. The need to go hit me about the 4 mile mark and I waited until 7 miles in before accepting that the need to unload wasn't going to go away. I had to stop again at mile 12, knowing that I couldn't finish the last 1.1 miles unless I did. So I stood in potty lineups twice and probably lost at least 8 minutes combined. And I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing, even welcomed the break that it forced me to take. And, like I said, I bet I ran a faster race than I could have otherwise.

On race mornings, some people are business as usual, others' nerves and excitement make the job easy, and still others, like me, can't let the shit go if their lives depend on it. At least not until the horn has sounded and the body's motion starts to inspire a movement; while the clock is ticking away and lineups start to form at every pit stop.

I gotta figure this issue out. And I WON'T be getting up any earlier on race mornings to make it happen.

So much to fill you in on....

2011-05-01T23:43:00.000-07:00

Not only do I have three awesome blogs planned for this week when I return home from Oregon - 1) of course, the race itself (which was amazing!!!), 2) the tie-dyed hippie town of Eugene, and 3) the dirty signs of Portland along with our beer-tasting experience - but the goat babies were born yesterday morning too, so you can look forward to some more cute pics and maybe a bloody one or two... because.... get this...B.Rube managed to scoop up, bag and refrigerate the placenta for me. She had twins easily without assistance - one boy and one girl, and I can't wait to see them.

(and if anyone can help me to somehow post pics from my iPad to blogger, I would appreciate it. I have now officially resigned myself to the belief that it isn't possible and have stopped googling it to figure out how.)

Oregon Race Goals

2011-04-30T10:07:00.000-07:00

(I started this yesterday afternoon but am currently laying in my hotel room bed in Oregon!)...

As I sit here waiting for Brenda to pick me up for our road trip to Oregon, with my suitcase, cooler, pillow and running bag piled up beside me at the door, I am reflecting on Sunday's run. I have three goals for the race.

The first one, easy enough, is to run a personal best. I would hope to do this each time I run a half marathon race, at least for another few years, when I start to hobble rather than run. My Vegas race in December was a disappointing 2:29 minutes, which I attribute somewhat to a slower pace that the altitude difference enforced upon me. In the back of my mind, I would like to see a 2:15 on the clock. I've run it in 2:20 on a couple of occasions, so a 2:15 would give me the PB that I'm looking for.

The second goal is about pacing myself. I would like to see my first half split to be a slower pace than the second half. Ideally, I should be able to conserve my energy to turn it on in the second half. I think this is part of what went wrong in Vegas. I had so much energy and adrenaline, and just felt soooo good starting out that I ran through my first 10 km with speed and ease, and then burnt out in the last half. I will be making a concerted effort tomorrow to keep it nice and slow through the first 10 km.

And, finally.... I plan on having fun, soaking up the amazing energy that is present at races like this one, and reveling in my commitment and accomplishment!

Now, it's off to the Expo we go to pick up our race kit and lots of free goodies!