Bowling is fun... even when you lose

I suggested bowling as a fun filled activity to hang out with a few friends. Bowling is always a great time, you get to trash talk a little, lots of high five moments and let's not forget about the stylish bowling shoes you get to sport. I should have taken a hint from the first frame that things were not going to go my way. Two gutter balls, not one single pin would accept defeat and fall down from shear intimidation of the ball I had hurled at less than 20 km/h down the lane.

The others were having a great time, the former gentleman is king of the spares and the other male there was a master of the strike while his lady friend was keeping pace with them and performing very well. If it were not for the strike I pulled out of nowhere near the end of the game I would have cried a little on the inside, but at the end my poor score was only 60. That is by far the worst game I have ever bowled in my life. It was not pointed out until the second game that I was apparently the ball incorrectly by not using my two middle fingers in the holes while the other two guide the ball. Low and behold my second game improved. Still not ideal but I did finish with 87 and that is much more acceptable than 60.

The end of the first game brought on a reflection of my bowling days in the town I grew up in. There was not much to do and in middle school my mother had sent us to the bowling league after school. It was only 5 pin which I actually prefer now that I have been 10 pin so many times. I was never any good at bowling, let's just clarify that right off the bat. I am the bowler that got the "best improved bowler" badge at recognition night because I never hit 100 and they have to give everybody something. After all, these leagues cant tell middle school kids that they suck. I got the "heart and soul" in swim club to for much the same  reason. At least I now feel like I was always included.

In trying to find the image above I did stumble across some bowler etiquette that will help you in your next bowling game:
- If you and the bowler in the lane next to you go to bowl at the same time, the bowler on the left has the right of way.
- Pay attention and be ready to bowl when it is your turn (I would have done better than 87 but missed the last frame since the former gentleman was spaced out)
- Don't touch other peoples balls, it is disrespectful
- Don't make unnecessary ball jokes, it is distasteful apparently
- Be a good sport!

Happy bowling!

Shoulder Checks Are Not Safe

The previous blog about the upsetting demise of Sagllie brings me to this. A nice transition. I sat in my car the evening sun setting, it is beautiful, my stomach is full of steak, and Sagllie is about to die. I wrap the note around my key and drop it through the key hole at Meineke. The rain had stopped some time ago but the streets are still wet. I am only a few blocks from home which makes it a convenient location. Even more convenient for the events about to come.

I am a pedestrian on a regular basis as I walk to work because I am too cheap to pay for parking (that is a whole other rant on its own). When I first started sauntering to work I learned the value of shoulder checks before even stepping a toe into a crosswalk. I am pretty good at spotting the cars that are not going to stop or look or slow down. On top of being a regular pedestrian I am a croc flip flop wearer. If anyone knows anything about these sandals you know that they are extremely dangerous when wet. Earlier in the evening my mother was about to put them on to retrieve the steaks from the BBQ in the rain and I intervened possibly saving her life from the dangers of crocs+rain+stairs. I am a great daughter.

This brings me back to my tale of dropping my key off and wondering back to my apartment a mere few blocks away. I make it to the corner of x ave. and y st. with my apartment in sight. In general this corner is very busy and people take it very quickly. I see the puddle on the road and giggle a bit about how it has splashed onto the sidewalk wondering who got sprayed with that.

Shellie Moment: As I admire the puddle I turn my head to perform my safety shoulder check to ensure I will live through my walk across the street. As my head turns my left foot steps forward and it all goes down from there... literally. The next thing I feel is my butt on the ground in the puddle. Yes that is correct in the puddle. My bum is completely soaked and the only way to get out of this mess is to put my knee in more puddle to brace my self and get up. Luckily nothing was bruised other than my ego. I laugh even harder at the splash zone that now goes half way across the street. Thank goodness my apartment is 2 buildings away and I run into no other people who can witness the soaking wet style I am now sporting. I enter my apartment and that is the moment I realized this was not an ordinary puddle, it was a mud puddle. See picture. My entire butt covered in mud. There is even some mud in my underwear. TMI I know I know but funny none the less.

These particular croc sandals are now temporarily retired as I begin the healing of my very public fall in front of many motorists as x ave. is a very popular avenue.

Sagllie Cripten is dead

A few months ago I took my little blue Saturn in for an oil change. Previously I had gone to Mr. Lube paying over $60 for an oil change by boys named Blaze. Really? Blaze? I was tired of not only being called Ma'am but of constantly being up sold every 30 seconds plus over paying for a simple oil change. One night on my drive home, in the words of Ace of Base, I saw the sign. Meineke oil changes starting at $19.99. What a deal! Done! It was time for the next oil change and I called eagerly to book Margie in for her maintenance. Yes my car has a name.

The lady on the phone was very pleasant as I give my phone number, spell out my name and make my appointment. Let me re-iterate, I spell out my name letter by letter. I take Margie in first thing in the morning but the woman at the desk cannot find my name, I am still 98% certain it was the same woman I spelled my name out for on the phone the afternoon previously. I tell her it is the Saturn and that clears up the situation. She asks my name again and I again SPELL IT OUT.

This what I always imagined Sagllie to look like

I begin my trek to work and get a phone call later in the morning that Margie is ready to be picked up. I trek back after work, pay, take possession of my key, receive my receipt and am on my merry way. Later that evening I was enjoying some quality friend and Shellie time when friend noticed the name on the receipt: Sagllie Cripten. I cannot even described the amount and pitches of laughter that ensued. Sagllie Cripten, well it is close enough I guess but I spelled it out twice! This was the birth of Sagllie Cripten.

It was time for another oil change and I made another appointment, however, this time they only asked for my phone number so I could not correct my name. I went to visit my mother and decided to drop Margie off on my way home. I always have a pad of paper in my car and decided to leave a note with my key. "My name in your computer is Sagllie Cripten. I am not entirely sure how but my name is actually Shellie xxxx". I thought nothing of it other than whoever read it would get a good chuckle first thing in the morning.

I trek to work and trek back at the end of the day. I walk in and warmly greet a new woman at the front who was not the same as last time.

Shellie Moment: I let her know I was the proud owner of the little blue Saturn and after giving me crap about waiting 3,000 km to bring it in for an oil change she began to chuckle a little. I immediately knew that she had read the note. We talked about Sagllie for a moment when another staff member came round and asked if I was Sagllie. "I sure am" was my response. We all began to laugh. What gets even better is the third staff member that was there heard all this laughing and came to join us and there was no need to explain the situation. Apparently my note had made the rounds.

But it is with sadness and regret I inform my close friends and readers of this fine article that Sagllie Cripten is dead. She will always be remembered fondly.

Apples to Apples

Stampede has taken a toll on my insides. Apparently too much deep fried food and cotton candy are not good for ye old ticker. As I am house sitting at the moment I decided to do a mini grocery shop to tide me over for a couple days. I approached the Co-op walking with a bounce in my step, which is surprising because I had gone hiking again earlier in the day. The fact that anything was left in my step was ... a step.

The doors parted, the neon lights glowed and the vegetables excited my senses. Yes that's right, they excited my senses! I know I am as shocked as you are but after 3 bags of mini doughnuts, stick of cotton candy, fudge, burgers, potatoe on a stick and drinks my body was in shock and in desperate need of nutrition. I grabbed a bunch of carrots, a cucumber and 3 gleaming shining apples. You should know that I am picky about apples. They have to be pristine to be purchased. I am the person constantly picking up and putting down and picking up and putting down step back to do a full apple stand scan then picking up and putting down.

The quest for health continues gliding up the isles, some multigrain cheerios and milk for a complete breakfast. It is finally my turn for the self check-out terminal and I take a deep breathe, my experience with these things is not a spot free track record. Perhaps my purchases are too complex they need to think or secretly they are judging me for my poor health choices the last few months. This time there were a few moments but those can be totally blamed on the attendant this time. The final thing to be rung through were the apples.

Shellie Moment of the Story: Place apples on scanner. Hit no PLU button. Hit fruit button. Select apples... Oh crap what kind of apples did I buy. Why are there so many kinds of apples sold in one store? Well I know it is not the green ones. I know it's not the dark red ones. I know its not the yellowish/reddish ones. But do you know how many red apples there are? I select pink lady apples. That is a pretty name and these apples are very pretty. Yes, pink ladies it is.

I am satisfied with my selection and rush back to my temporary home to slice an apple and get some delicious fruit into my belly. You know what I discovered? They are spartan apples. Says so right on the sticker! Who would have thunk it. Spartan apples it is. manly, delicious, no six pack abs like the Spartans but I will make due. The curious side of me wanted to know just how many apple varieties there are, turns out a crap load. Just look: http://www.orangepippin.com/apples, a whole comprehensive guide.

I must be Canadian eh

I have worked in the tourism industry for two years non consecutively now and I always enjoy hearing the stereotypes of Canadians. The most common one is that we are always so nice and apologize for everything. Well the other day I had a very Canadian moment. Let me also say that dentists love me, I hate flossing and so I provide good business.

Tourism and dentists, are you confused yet? I recently experienced a toothache that did not like my usual approach of ignore the problem and it will go away. No no no, this one throbbed and was like the child who cannot be ignored. The tooth was there and it hurt. I even resorted to phoning my mommy and ended up being rescued to Cochrane for an evening with the parents and tylenol 3. An excellent combination. The day came and I admitted defeat making an appointment with my dentist. The solution... a root canal. Boo to that! Floss would not have fixed that one.

I made my way home from work brushed up and rinsed out with mouthwash to make sure my teeth were presentable for the dentisit. The same way we shave our legs before the doctor. I only live 5 blocks from the dentist and started hoofing it up the street about 12 minutes before my appointment. Last time I was early. This time I missed every single light and had to wait to safely proceed across the busy intersections of 17th Ave. The appointment was scheduled for 6 p.m. and I arrived at 5:59 with possibly 3 seconds to spare. As I opened the door and greeted the receptionist out it came, the most Canadian sentence I have uttered: "I am so sorry I am right on time". You know you are Canadian when... I am not late I am not early I am right on time and have not inconvenienced a single person and yet I apoliogize. I admit it I am Canadian and incredibly polite. Making my parents proud one day at a time.

Shellie Moment: Have you not figured it out yet? "I am so sorry I am right on time".

Shellie Moment #2: You are in for a treat there is a second Shellie Moment this time. When I was taking some tylenol 3 for the pain to get some sleep I was resting on the couch when I returned back home. My left leg was slightly outside the blanket and I noticed a black mark, natural reaction is to lick my thumb and wipe the mark off. It would not budge so a bit more moisture and get my nail into it so that it stood no chance. Well turns out that in my tylenol 3 state I had forgotten about the recent tattoo I had gotten on my left leg no matter how hard I scrubbed it is not coming off :).

Fullerton Loop - AKA "Holy crap I want to die

A little back story... This past Saturday evening the former gentleman and I (we have decided to be just friends) played a friendly game of mini golf. Even though he claimed that he has not played since he was 12 and was no good he still won. SHOCKER! I am going to claim distraction from the mosquito's that were eating me alive. Either way he won and as a prize when we got back to my place I made him homemade oatmeal cookie dough since we both love it.

Now for the real story... I was feeling bad that the last few times some friends from Cochrane have asked me to hang out I have had to say no so I decided to invite them out for an easy beginner level hike. I think I was drinking or delirious and pretending that I live a healthy active lifestyle now and again. The answer was yes and as the day approached I had convinced myself that even as a chunky lady I can do whatever those other people can do. Oooh boy. We met in Bragg Creek, in front of the candy store, which I think is appropriate.

The hike we decided on was Fullerton Loop in Kananaskis Country. A trail that was recommended by my friends mother who is an avid hiker and said it was a leisurely trail. Funny how we all define words differently. It all started poorly as none of us knew where the trail head was and after only 1 u-turn and a confusing adventure in the parking lot we finally consulted people with hiking sticks. People with hiking sticks are avid hikers and therefore know what they are doing unlike the three amateurs who clearly do not spend time out in Kananaskis as the one friend is wearing jeans.

After meeting at 11, 11:45 we make it to the trail. It starts flat enough. We are all walking together a little bridge here, a small creek there it is all charming. I was already afraid for  dear life as my friends were charging the way at a quick pace. My one friend was complaining at the beginning and that is it. As we approach the first incline it hits me that I am round and could just as easily roll down this hill as walk up it, possibly easier! After that first incline it was the ladies turn to complain as the male continued to walk ahead of us at all times. We were actually enjoying ourselves but it is funner to make joke and acknowledge our panting and huffing and puffing as the 60 year olds pass on the left. If you would like to know what we looked like I bring exhibit A. A short clip from Sword in the Stone, fast forward to 1minute 35 seconds. That is us.

The pay off arrives, we arrive near the top and past the half way point to a beautiful view and look out. Definitely worth the pain my body is certain to be feeling tomorrow. After a few quick photos and a few stupid photos of flowers we were on our descent. The only thing that made this hike better was realizing we went up the easy way. An hour and fifteen minutes later we were back in the parking lot and it was over.

As much as I kid it was really good to get out of the city, make my body work, and the scenery really was fantastic. I look forward to my next hike this summer, destination tbd.

Shellie Moment: I arrived back home and went to hydrate with some ice cold water in the fridge and there it is... leftover cookie dough, screaming my name. SHELLIE EAT ME I AM DELICIOUS! I close the fridge door and pretend like I have will power for about half an hour. Yes cookie dough talks to me, actually it yells at me. It is not as nice as it is tasty.