Star Wars Pinewood Derby Templates

When you wish upon a star

Often this summer, I traveled by bicycle as much for classes, races that job. Sometimes required course, but usually by choice: the bike is nicer and faster than the bus, cheaper and more rewarding than self. It's green, and it will format my calves. With any luck, it also allows me to tan. But cycling is not always an easy task. Out of work and coming home on two wheels at rush hour, so it's convenient, you can double all the cars, but then they happily slaloms on one side and the other, even with a nice aerodynamic helmet screwed on full ventilation coconut, we know that the slightest relaxation of vigilance can be fatal. Must have eyes in the back of the head (or, failing that, good mirrors). And the bike is fun on flat ground, on bike lanes carefully managed for our pleasure, but in real life when you live in the uptown area and we work in the lower town, even when you take the rue de la Pente Douce to go back to the house, c ' is cotton with legs and the heart that wriggles like a frog with epilepsy that finally puts the bike in the garage at 16:30 ...

BUT!

But

. There are cycling at night. And then, the movement is no longer a problem. Here, the slopes are more unpleasant. There, the sun and heat are no longer overwhelming. At this time, when I returned from a working evening or night out in Old Quebec, the bike takes on significance. The road is mine. The wind whistling around me is mine. The sky and its tiny urban stars are mine. Cold is an ally, it stirs the blood and mobilizes all the will of my exhausted body. My ears are numb beat to the rhythm of my heart, I whiz, I do not know if you can imagine how the fuck I am!

And all this just to talk about the stars, because they are beautiful. Because in town, sometimes you notice them, like tonight, biking in the streets that the city budget to be deleted from the list of those requiring streetlights, when the dark can see a moment, the Big Dipper or Small (there I just bluffing, because I recognize only the Great). A tiny flicker, a shy glance. You get used to the limit can not see them anymore. The lights of the cities are more exhilarating for some.

BUT!

But

. There are the stars of the campaign. I would say that it happened to me twice already, this shock stellar. The first time I lived in Paris for a little over a month. Paris, tell me a city like that, so dazzling as the stars appear embarrassed to show themselves, ashamed of their Lilliputian purity. Neither views nor known, I think if I lived in Paris all my life, I had not known the meaning of the word "star". Still: this time, this fall, I went to Britain for those who remember, history live two nights in the forest Broceliande, "alone in a strange man who lives in a chack wood on the edge of the forest of Merlin "in the words of Edith (" you're crazy! "she added). There I had my yurt to me (and chat), and I found the campaign for the first time in ages (it seemed). Shortly before going to bed the first night, I'm out of my yurt and I remained frozen, speechless, spellbound, hypnotized, under the influence of the strong lightning strike in my career as a woman. The sky was filled with stars. The sky is always filled with stars, but planning makes us believe otherwise. The neon lights are our stars. It is brainwash. But then, I received an electric shock which revived me. And I stayed frozen for long minutes, head to the sky, fireflies in the eyes. It was beautiful, the boys, it was BEAUTIFUL! You must live it is not even describable, a black sky, no light passes through or does not UFO disorder, studded (the word) of all these constellations, as an amazing tapestry.

I said that this finding shock happened to me twice. The second is tonight, I just experienced the opposite effect: I suddenly realized the poverty of the sky of Quebec, while only a few super-powerful manage to attract the eye briefly . Tonight, I felt a strong nostalgia for the rustic heaven so fine that does not have enough time to enjoy, and which we can only dream, when they are away.

Edith spoke of Mars as bright as the moon. Naive or not, I say it's okay, the important thing is to take the time to look up and watch a bit, the stars.

Sample Wedding Gifts 2010

Under the Sun of Quebec

In truth, it was a great day.

Jobe and Mike, on his way to ExpoQuébec, learn that for the last day of festivities and in honor of the 400th anniversary of Quebec, admission is free. Jobe calls me and invites me to join with Tom. We decide to drop the planned shopping spree (anyway, such a beautiful day, who would waste time air conditioning too angry to her reflection cons unsatisfactory?) and file to join them. Surprisingly, when I thought we just walked around from booth to booth, among the sellers of hot dogs and cows winners of various beauty contests, we have instead experimented with non-common stuff ... and exciting (flat stomach in a tent in the army, machine gun in the shoulder, we tested our skill at shooting, and I am proud to say that I have the best eye !)... and funny (the firing of the gun which took place in a man-ball, soaring spectacular type to land in a net, some 30 meters below) ... and fascinating (the ability of a language variable to detect the percentage of sugar and the influence of salt on the taste) ... and Country ("I really prefer the Jerseys" "No, Brown Swiss are the best!" "Look at his spots as they are funny" She is shaved, that's why "" Oh, she has burned the horns Poor little !")... and childish (test drive of three Chevrolet demonstration with me, Jobe and Mike turns at the wheel of these marvels of technology and ecology) ... etc.. But it was not amusement rides. No one likes it, we get r'virer stomach panel. We preferred go make faces at the mirror flag of the language. We had ben more fun!

Milena Velba Red Forum

long message for a short trip

That you happen to be just right? That way, no reason to be happy? I do. Tonight I went for a bike ride in Old Qc, and I came back slowly, enjoying the cool night air, smiling people who crossed my path. I feel good .... tanananananana

I'm back, oh yeah! Projecting, two months ago, leaving the capital for a bicycle trip alone to the Prince Edward Island, I develop my bike, bought myself some shoesclaques (?) and a bag of water (height of the rider cool), and I left Sunday night ... with my mom, and knowing full well that good, the bike will come out maybe not so often that it's rack. No matter: I just returned from the best week of my holiday life. My mom, me, sea, sun, sea, and no plan. Improvisationnons therefore our happiness, one day at a time.

Day One: Departure. We taxied to be tired, or until you find a place to sleep.

We finally opted, at the entrance of New Brunswick, for a camping Irving ... station-service/truck-stop an owl, Free, with toilets. Mom, not a fan of camping, improvised a camper in his Honda Fit. Unbelivable but true: a comfortable queen bed was occupied throughout the trip, the rear of the car. Was elected camp in the parking lot with trucks coming and going. We slept well.

Day two: one hour later in the Maritimes. It crosses the province from west to east by an incredible road (108) in the mountains and forest. No sign of life on three hundred kilometers. Only warning of the presence of moose. We have not seen. For the night, our vested pounces on Kuchibouguac National Park: beautiful woodlands, a setting enchanting, 500 meters from the sea I pitch my tent "for two" (two children or lovers of 90 pounds each on their honeymoon) and Dad set up his bed.

It goes to the beach, and I tell myself that well, it's the holidays, I throw myself into the water.

61 degrees ...... risked pneumonia to me though ...

was cool, cold, freezing. Amazing. On returning, I learned to fish for mussels, and 15 minutes, I caught a naive and got cut on a smarter. Failure, but I will take my revenge, jury!

Night: woke with a start at 3am. Noises in the rocks and foliage around my tent ...... sounds of four-legged and sniff-sniff of not-human. Fixed style pogo in my sleeping, trying to think about potential food (besides me) in my tent and this may attract Bebits ("I never had to make my dark chocolate with cherry accented with chili ...!!" ) a single image haunts my brain, the sign at the entrance to the park where we are: "Welcome to the land of the black bear!". Mamaaaaannnnnn ........

After only one thought: "I do not want to die camping ...!"

next morning gutted one thing: the bag garbage which remained some spaghetti sauce. I'm alive.

Day Three: mosquitoes. Upon awakening, number of bites that bite: 20. Benadryl, we love you! En route to Bouctouche, Mom and I stopped by chance near a fishing port, and we discover, again by chance, the most beautiful sandy beach nearby. Its main asset: its désertitude. There is only you-lâd'su. The beach is ours !!!... and jellyfish. Nice. We ate like kings on this little piece of paradise, thanks to the marvelous stove butane my dad and bought a bottle of wine the night before.

In the evening, stop at Shediac, Lobster Wharf, where we got paid a feast fit for a ... marine mussels in garlic sauce, jumbo shrimp, seafood chowder, moules frites ... Total happiness, enough to want to drop everything to buy a fishing boat or marry a surly type with one leg who has one boat. And who knows how to cook, preferably, or who has a mother who knows and is ready to divulge its secrets. In short: yum.

But then, after it rained a little, and we wanted to cross the IPE that evening, so we arrived in Linkletter Provincial Park at night, and I did not want to pitch my tent, then Mom and I were the queen but patented by opening the doors as little as possible to avoid getting sucked by the vampire p'tits criss-bzz bzztaient around self, and it was hot and we were tired and stiff and stuffed, and it was boring, and we had bawled, and it was our only hassle of travel. Then the next day it was forgotten.

Day Four: not on the island-treasure. Upon awakening, a revival of competition for "the one that best defends against the sucking adults. I win, with 33 bites "only", while Mom has 24 on his right leg and arm left.

Around noon, we arrive at Jacques Cartier Provincial Park, where Christ would at the very beginning put the first foot, so finding it beautiful. We agree, because the first thing we said was, discovering our campsite asked overlooking the sea is "Heaven exists." Then suddenly, we are happy, but happy! Understand: we have our wooded us with a hole in the middle to the tent, auto and picnic table, it is isolated from the rest of the world, and our clearing a space between shrubs gives di- rec-ly on the beautiful red sand beach and the ocean. Paradise, j'vous said! I've been lazy, I read on the sand at sunset after a ride with mom at the magic hour when the light is so golden, and I fell asleep lulled by the waves. I slept well.

Day Five: The Rising Sun and cycling. Our corner of paradise on the sea to the east. On uncontrollable romance, I decided I need to see the sun rise over the ocean. "Mom, what time he rises, the sun?" I asked the previous day. "Well ... at 4:30, 4:45 ..." So me, at 4:35, I'm sitting in the buttocks the cold sand, wrapped in two sweaters, a coat and a scarf, waiting to howl the ball. Anyway, I can say I've seen all the shades of dawn from black to blue through purple, yellow, green and orange. I had plenty of time to admire everything, because the sun, it appeared on the horizon at 5:53, approximately. I stayed on the beach until 6:05, when it became too blinding to look. What a beauty, this sunrise! But the least we can say is that he is poor, the annoying ...

At 9:30, Mom and I hopped on our bikes for a ride of thirty miles to North Cape, temperature perfect, superb ride. The return was more painful for my mom butt cozy by cons. At about 10 km from the park, she admitted defeat and had to sprint to the car to take taxis. Good. M'enfin: good effort, and great performance anyway!

Day Six: After rain or shine. Wake sullen, we pack up, we leave the little corner of paradise. It is said that since the weather is lousy, we're going to shop in Charlottetown. But once there, the sun comes, this vile tempter! It therefore incorporates the road at full speed (still lost after two hours of good weather in shops too touristy), we find ourselves in a national park in central North Island. Eager to drown my bad mood in the waves, I rush into the ocean, soon arrived, 45 minutes for a style "wave pool". Happiness! I have never been so good in the water, and never have I hated all the bikinis that are not done to hide anything in context of "jumping in the waves." I also hated the man who made me realize my sudden breast exposure (!) A look given particular .....

Day Seven: Kayak / we are in the woods. We struck camp early (6:15) to return to NB, Hopewell Rocks, Bay of Fundy's highest tides in the world (42 feet)! The water is rising at a breakneck speed! Mom and I decide to pay us a tour kayaking in the surreal landscape of rocks "flower pot"

(if someone could explain the significance of this comparison ...). Superb two-hour stroll where we paddled in caves and among the cliffs, then in big waves splashing. Cool!

In leaving, we head to Cape Enrage (as the song Zachary Richard), the tip of the end of the world. Insulation in a total genius: Following the modernization of the lighthouse keeper was no longer necessary since the site has fallen into disrepair. In 1992, six students decided to restore it, despite the ban the government who wanted her disappearance.

Six, they are now 21 high school and University Students, who maintain the site and make it an incredible site to discover, only the restaurant manager, shop facilities ... The view is outstanding, young people are too nice (Tumbes up the cute server contagious enthusiasm), and as a summer job, it's amazing: they stay together in this isolated area of the world, enlivening their free time kayaking, rappelling or fall "free" suspended from a pulley, cycling, walking, swimming ... wow.

In the evening we went to St. John's, sleeping in mom's cousin.

Day Eight: On the road again, sooner, and it runs through the NB to get Quebec to 18h. Back in the rain, fog and cold: it clearly demonstrates our sadness of seeing an end to these incredibly beautiful holiday.

- "MOM! Must do another trip like this every summer!

- Yeah but your dad will be jealous, he would like there ... it, too, travel ...

- Hum ... we have to tell him that it was a fiasco, and that we should resume next year! "

Yeah.

Oh! We crossed all NB, taking the roads the most and lost the most wetland to see one of those famous moose we warned the 452 signs on roads everywhere ... In the end, everything we have seen in NB, they are herds of moose ... quitos!