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He would pull into a gas station, struggle into his huge down coat, and pay a quarter for the gut-rot coffee on offer. With a big smile on his face he would come back to the Zephyr with a single styrofoam coffee cup which was barely visible in his large hand. Wendy would hold it.

Dad would pull out and get back onto the highway and only then would he take off his huge coat. Every time, while driving and with the three of us helping to get his coat off, narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Another time, we were at some diner in a tiny little town, for some lunch. Dad asked the server a question about her hometown, the very town she had lived in her whole life. The server answers but her answer is not what Dad was expecting.

You must have your facts mixed up. There was one thing about Dad. We trekked for about thirty days in the Himalayas doing the Annapurna Circuit, in an unconventional manner, which will come to light as the story unfolds. To get to the starting point of the trek, we bought a ticket for the bus. Not lucky enough to grab a seat each on the inside of the bus, Dean and I, with our hired guide, Naba, were seated on the roof of the bus.

This trek was sure to be interesting, if we could get there in one piece. That bus, that we were on top of, was not driving a straight, smooth roadway. Not to worry — the horn worked well and seemed to be the sole means of defensive driving techniques employed. We had flown into Kathmandu late and were immediately wooed by several touts wanting us to take his taxi. We picked one, told him our destination: We fell asleep and in the morning made our way to their breakfast room and ordered our first lassi of the trip which is a blend of yogurt, water, spices and fruit.

When we returned to the Guest House after a walk all over Kathmandu and through the fascinating market, the sight we saw was like something out of an old fashioned orphanage. All of the staff of the Guesthouse were in the main lobby. They were fast asleep, lying on straw mats and wrapped in wool blankets like toasty sausage rolls on a baking sheet. If one rolled over, so would they all. The next evening, we attended a slide show for a river rafting expedition that we thought was too expensive for our budget.

After eating several bowls of incredibly delicious, tallow-popped pop-corn and drinking a few of their complimentary rum drinks each, it seemed that we suddenly had enough money to go on this expedition. It was a great decision as we had a blast. We met several other fun and adventurous travelers on the trip too.

This is a group of children we met on the beach who were running and tumbling together. Suddenly, there was a whistle from their mom and off they ran, full tilt UP the mountain. Next we went trekking: Here I am on top of the bus enroute to the starting point of the big trek.

The trek was, of course, amazing. We did about 20 k per day, depending on weather and best stopping places and Tea Houses, which were known to our guide, Naba. We saw incredible beauty all around us. The trail was often quite rough and sometimes included donkey trains — which were tricky because you had to be sure to get to the inside of the donkey train. They could easily bump you off the trail. That would be bad.

We would see tiny women carrying huge loads of wood on their backs. We even saw a porter carrying an injured person in a chair strapped to his back. Heading to the hospital many tens of kilometers away. After a week or so, we got into the snow at elevation. This came with the obvious challenges due to the cold and wet and the need to be very careful about stepping properly so as not to slip off the trail or anything.

Being Canadian, we are naturally pretty good about understanding the slipperiness of snow, but we were meeting other travelers from non-snow countries, particularly Ozzies and South Americans who were having trouble with it. We finally made it to Thorung Phedi which sits at a cool 4, meters above sea level. This was the jumping off point for the Thorong La Pass with an elevation of 5, meters. There was a large group waiting for a clearing in the weather so as to safely set out for the pass.

As a group gathered in the smokey dining hall with large tin cans full of smoking coals to warm us under the tables, we decided to leave at 4 a. There were about a dozen of us: With headlamps blazing on some heads, we started up the mountain.

Step, breath, step, breath. It was slow and steady. Would we ever get there? After a couple of hours, my hands were frozen. Our guide gave me his mittens which were toasty warm. He just smiled at me gently. He had done this pass many, many times. We finally made it to a little shack which was at 5, meters. The wind blew colder and stronger. Then ice-pellet snow began to pelt us like tiny sharp knives. We could tell that our attempt at the pass was not going to work today. Even if we could make it over, there was no way we were going to drag these other folks with us, and besides, that, there was six more hours down the other side, before the next village.

The American woman with her state-of-the-art Arctic hiking gear and porter went on into the storm, but we turned back and headed down. A week later we met up with some of the folks from the snowy pass attempt. They told us they were waiting on us to decide about whether they would attempt the pass that day or not. So we trekked down to the bottom, re-grouped in Pokhara for a couple of days and then went back up the other side for another ten days.

I celebrated my thirtieth birthday in Tatopani. Dean arranged for the baking of a cake for me. I was very surprised and pleased. After trekking, we decided to head to the Royal Chitwan National Park for a week at sea level and with warmth and sunshine, plus the odd elephant or two. We met this hilarious traveler who behaved just like Jerry Seinfeld and knew all the funny lines too.

So, of course we spent time with him, walking about and telling stories, laughing and being silly. A comment on the people of Nepal. We have yet to meet a nicer culture, although Cuban would be close. The Nepalese are cheerful, gentle, kind, strong and thoughtful.

It was an honour to spend time in their exceptionally beautiful country. Yesterday I asked my friend Victoria if she wanted to get out for a mid-afternoon walk in a nearby Watershed Nature Preserve, just a few minutes from our Nova Scotian town. She had never been there she said as I explained where it is located. She asked if it would be a tough walk because she still had a sore leg from taking a tumble over a root while walking Cape Split the weekend before.

Into the woods we wandered, after taking a big swig of water. Our first stop was to look at the old Reservoir Lake, walk over the new small log bridge and then along the shore of the lake for a little bit. Then, a hard right into the woods again and it was there that I thought it would be a good idea to go on the Ravine Trail for a few minutes.

There was not a soul around and the trail was quite nicely marked with bright orange tape on trees the whole way. The problem being that my phone rang and so I was not really watching as we got further and further along the trail that I had previously thought we would just be on for 5 minutes or so.

We saw startlingly green ferns bathed in a beam of sunlight and stopped for a moment to admire them. Little creeks and small waterfalls. I was tempted to take a drink from the rushing water, but, thought better of it lest I give Victoria a heart attack. She is from a medical background. That you can just use the straw to drink from even stagnant water and it is totally safe. In fact our friend Daisy and her boys had used one in Australia on a hike there.

I had two LifeStraws at home. It takes days to die of dehydration, right? We forded a few boggy areas, stirring up many a biting bug: Victoria then showed me an angry red bump on her forearm and explained that she gets a bad reaction from black fly bites. Oh wait, let me dig out my emergency bug dope for you. We would have to hunker down and try to stay warm until morning and then just walk until we would come to a road. I was loathe to get hubby Dean to come look for us, should we then all be lost in the woods.

My imagination was getting the better of me. We had hours of daylight yet. For sure we would find civilization before dark. I said to Victoria: We both had army experience, mine Reg force, hers Reserve. An army radio is an army radio, is an army radio. We both knew that to be true.

Over another log bridge, a glimpse of a ruins of an ancient moss-covered stone bridge then squealing like school girls when a brown stick wriggled furiously away from our falling feet.

Next, up a soft pine-needle trail where the path split. One way went slightly down through a nicely cut trail into a sunny meadow, the other went slightly up and into a dim tangle of woods. We chose the downward sloping pathway and walked for about another forty minutes coming out at a country road. I smiled with relief. I knew exactly where we were. What a fabulous idea!

He could come get us. It all ended well. Our worst fears were not realized and we even had wine and then a cutie come pick us up and pay the bill. Forty K per day for four days over the rolling hills and through the city streets of Netherlands, in I did the International Nijmegen Marches with a military team….

In the summer of , while posted in Lahr, Germany, I was asked to join a marching team as the token female, to head to Holland for the four-day International Nijmegen Marches, which is the largest multi-day marching event in the world. It has happened every year since to promote sport and fitness. Military participants walk forty kilometers per day for four days in a row, in formation of soldier teams. Almost fifty thousand marchers now walk this walk every year.

To put it simply, I had a platoon of 30 soldiers who drove MAN ton trucks which would carry supplies: During peace time, we conducted training operations such as weapons use, field exercises and fitness competitions to improve morale, esprit-de-corps and to prepare for future deployments. As the Platoon Commander, I routinely conducted all manner of administrative duties, personnel evaluations and reports, test and inspection readiness, subordinate training, orders groups, equipment maintenance checks, and many other duties in accordance with my rank and position.

In a field unit, staying physically fit is one of the requirements of the job. Five days per week, we did physical training first thing at 7: Joining the Nijmegen March team covered the fitness requirement and provided an adventure and a trip to another country, all expenses paid. A month prior to the event, the march training began.

In combat boots and combat uniform, we would form up, two by two in lines and walk for eight to sixteen K out through the German countryside, along farmers fields, river-side pathways and over trails through small woods.

Marching in formation was a little bit like torture. Thankfully, there were a few songs we would sing for a while. It was only slightly annoying to listen to it after about the second time, but, well, what could be done? Sometimes being a female officer could be both isolating and awkward. It was tough to stay positive and pleasant but that became another litany. Stay positive and pleasant.

Just one more step. I chalked this training up to good discipline. One could never get enough discipline. We went to Nijmegen by bus. It took about six hours, due North, and when we arrived, there was already a tent city erected by the forward party and we were assigned to our tents and to our cots, within the tents. We were to begin Day 1 at The route for the four days formed somewhat of a clover leaf out and around the city of Nijmegen. The route wound its way through the Dutch countryside with its green pastures, cows grazing, chickens running, fences diminishing into the distance.

One time, a civilian marcher was playing the bagpipes and low and behold all the cows in the field got curious and began to trot toward the fence to more closely see the man. Thankfully, at the fence, the cows stopped and then just stood and stared, chewing their cud, looking bemused and fluttering their long eyelashes at the bagpiper.

Could it be that these ladies thought the bagpiper was a well-hung bull ready to service them? One will never know. We were well taken care of. There would be a menu of foods or snacks and drinks for us, including huge schnitzel sandwiches. We would sit on the grass with our plate and drink and rest for twenty minutes before beginning again.

While resting, we could also inspect our feet for the dreaded blisters. Fortunately, a friend had told me of the wonders of moleskin and how to wrap it over the heel in such a manner as to provide fool-proof protection against blisters. Secondly, Vaseline on and in-between the toes. I now pass this on to anyone I know going on a long walk. My friend Mary recently went for a big hike in Ireland. Her feet were fine due to the moleskin application. Blisters are nothing to sneeze at in a long, multiple day march, hike or walk.

Good feet are crucial to the success and comfort of the walk. Bad feet can be debilitating and very painful especially if they also become infected. On training at CFB Borden called Environmental Specialty Land, which I did just after Nijmegen, our final test of the course was to complete a night march from Stayner, Ontario to the back gate of the Base, about 30 K with packs and rifles.

We started at We were all very sleep deprived because we had been in and out of the field for weeks, up all night sometimes on missions, patrols and then duties and classes during the day and with no real time to recuperate. Myself, I was literally falling asleep as I walked, while carrying my rifle at the ready. There was this line that they would shout whenever someone was in danger of hitting the deck due to exhaustion: Anyway, the Captain of this officer training course was Airborne — an elite group of Infantry.

His feet turned to hamburger during this march. He had to get in the first aid truck and be driven to base. Myself, Dean and Nee sure did, and anyone else who cared to be prepared. I had just finished the Nijmegen marches a couple of months prior, so I was fully aware.

Back in Nijmegen, by the time we walked into the camp at the end of the forty K march, we were done. I would soak my feet in ice water for ten minutes, show the good doc the mysterious lump on the top of my foot which may or may not have been a stress fracture, he said. So, anytime we would come across large Dutch civilian marching groups, they would holler and cheer and sometimes sing a song for the Canadians.

We would all smile and wave bashfully and then take one more step. Everyday there would be at least one city to march through. There would be a lot to see and invariably young children would run along side our team for a bit. We would give out those tiny Canada flag pins and then receive a sweet smile, sometimes with missing front teeth. A few times, a tiny warm hand would slip into mine and we would walk together for a few minutes. While marching, there would often be other Canadian teams from other units unrelated to ours, except that they were also Canadian and also posted in Germany.

I remember that I so enjoyed when the French Canadian Teams would be near us. They would invariably be singing their old regimental songs which I found to be incredibly moving and haunting. They would often pass us singing these songs in their deep rich voices.

Sharp beret with dark-haired head tilted to the ground. Boots hitting the trail in perfect synchronicity. One song they sang which is about the building of the dam across the Manicouagan River in Quebec, was especially sorrowful. If I try hard, I can still hear their deep voices singing this incredible song by Georges Dor. It is a song of longing and boredom and homesickness. After the last day, there was a huge party in which a lot of Heineken were quaffed and then, the next morning, we boarded the bus back to Southern Germany.

Nowadays, there are so many folks wanting to participate in the Nijmegen Marches that they have set a limit of forty-seven thousand marchers per year. Doing this march was an honour and is a fond memory. Last summer an idea struck. How about I take summer seriously? How about I make a concerted effort to get out on our beautiful Nova Scotia beaches on as many nice days as possible.

I own my own business and can work flexible hours, so in keeping with the tides, I could arrange my work to allow for beach walks on nice days. Why in keeping with the tides? Well, in this part of Nova Scotia, at high tide, there is often no beach to walk on. Also, there is a danger of being trapped down the beach should the tide be coming back in. It happens to unsuspecting folks every year. Best to walk the beach knowing what the tides are doing.

Rainy days would be for catching up on office work. So, no waiting for weekends. I would take summer seriously. I just wanted to eat those beaches up. The second half of this was that I wanted a friend or two or a family member or two to accompany me on each said beach walk. I started asking around and several of my friends sounded interested.

First up was Blomidon Beach at low tide, once with my friend Lisa, then Jessie and dogs and then again with Victoria. Victoria was home for the summer holiday and as eager to walk the beaches as I. Blomidon Beach is a red, flat beach with red sheer cliffs hemming it in.

There are often tiny little avalanches of red stones coming down off those cliffs. All along the top of the cliffs there are nesting holes for the swifts that make their homes there.

The Big Blue, I like to call it. I would look at the houses and flapping colourful clotheslines and imagine the characters from that novel. Their tough but incredibly rich lives…all of it happening right there. The tide was way out. The floor of the ocean. Part of the time the grey mud was quite soft and deep. The temperature was perfect. The sun was high. It was warm but not hot and it was ideal.

We walked and walked, the only two souls on the vast, shimmering beach:. It was a good day. Homeward bound we stopped at Stirlings Farm Market for something to cook up for supper.

Feeling refreshed, kissed by the sun, salt, wind and sand, we had taken summer seriously. Another perfect weather day and off we went, walking way down the beach, marveling and exclaiming at the beauty all around us. There was so much to see, to examine, to show each other and to talk about. I told them about the time, years prior, that Daisy and I had been on this beach, eating a picnic lunch with our three boys when we saw a group approaching us.

I told them that I was curious about what they were doing. Turns out it was a famous scientist and his students and they had come a great long way to see this beach. He said it was world famous to geologists.

That it was once an inland sea and would have had a plethora of very large creatures and dinosaurs on it. The boys were quite impressed. I was just so thankful to have had the opportunity to glimpse them in action. Anyway, within no time we realized that three hours had slipped by. Another benefit of walking on beaches with friends is that sometimes surprising qualities and details about them and me emerge.

In my experience it has always been a positive and our friendship grows deeper as we admire the beauty, sometimes sharing stories and anecdotes and sometimes just walking silently bathing in the salty breeze, sometimes bending to help the other wash the tenacious mud from their feet or the troubles from their hearts. We savoured it all and it was magical. Returning to the parking lot, we sat at the hexagonal picnic table and each ate a Valley apple and drank fresh water from our water bottles.

The day had been perfect. We had taken summer seriously. Next it was Blue Beach with Rachel and Simon. I picked them up and off we drove on another very pretty day.

We parked and started the wee jaunt down the dirt road to the beach. Every time I walk down that dirt track, my mind is aflutter with memories of the previous walks on that beach. The time my step-sister was visiting with her family and her palpable anticipation of this fossil-riddled beach. She normally walks with a cane. She was just too excited and the adrenaline was rampant. She was almost skipping. Then, while she and hubby examined fossils, I spent time with their two children and Leo.

Skipping stones and doing handstands, running and tumbling, chasing and being chased and getting wet with furry, joyful Lady. Leo idolized his big cousins and it was sweet to watch. So, as it emerged, we could see the distinctly blue tinge of the rock and sand which forms this incredible beach. We all walked slowly and methodically, heads bowed to the rocky beach surface to notice its treasures, to bend and point and remark, three heads came together peering at marvels on the ocean floor.

At some point, hunger called us back to the car and away we swept to a close-by coffee shop for a snack and a drink. Betty and I did Medford Beach together, parking in the cul-de-sac and walking down the grassy slope, across the tiny bridge and carefully stepping down the eroded small cliff, onto the red sand, beside the fresh run-off stream.

The dogs were with us and into it full tilt. The chance to run free, smelling all the smells and swimming willy-nilly made their tails wag furiously happily. Following their lead, we kicked off our footwear, sinking our feet into the cool red sand.

Then we walked and walked and talked and talked solving all of the problems of the world. It was about a ten-km hike, partially over the windswept hills and then down along a boardwalk and onto a rocky beach.

As we approached the beach, we could see what looked like structures sticking up all over it. Turned out, to be many many inukshuks. They were everywhere and they lent a surreal quality to the remarkably pretty beach.

Leo immediately began to take photos of them and then to build one himself. From the rocky beach, we walked on a windy woodland trail and then out onto an incredible white-sand beach where we spent some time contemplating a swim. Make no bones about it, the water was, as always, freezing. Dean managed to submerge for a split second then rushed out to the warmth of the sand. It had been a lovely day and finished on a spectacular beach. In was a fantastic summer mission which also included Evangeline, Hirtles, Avonport, Crescent, Margartsville, Aylesford, Kingsport beaches, all with their various qualities ranging from fine white sand to pebble to rocky, red sand, blue sand, golden sand.

Near, far, remote, popular, unheard of, it was a grand summer full of wonder, family and friendship. And as your friend, I gotta be honest with you. She was a tiny cat, but she was mighty. We were living in Inuvik then and in the midnight sun of the summer, insects grow freakishly large.

Sahtu learned to hunt by catching the massive dragonflies in mid-flight. She would jump up and grab them in her two front paws. Then… she would eat them, turning her sweet head to one side and crunch as she used her chewing teeth to devour her catch. The first night she was with us, she slept on the fridge. She was tiny and she had never seen two big dogs before. Within a matter of days, however, she was completely in charge of the dogs. We had an old couch that the three of them would share.

Sahtu would put her two dainty paws on Delta. She would sometimes receive a nice big lick but never a growl. The odd time, not wanting her attentions, Delta or Grizz would quietly get up and vacate the couch to her.

The dogs just loved her. They were ten times bigger, and could kill her with one powerful shake, or one lazy bite, but they were mush in her green-eyed gaze.

We moved to Toronto after that, all five of us, and had this great three-story brick house at Birchmount and The Danforth. I am fond of saying that we were in the North Beaches, but those who know Toronto, know we were actually in Scarborough. There was a large, leafy shotgun fenced-in yard that the dogs would run the length of to chase their nemeses: Never, of course, catching them.

They should have recruited tiny Sahtu. She could catch anything. When Dean was studying and inevitably scrunching waste paper into balls, Sahtu would come a-running, the first time was out of curiosity at this new sound, the scrunching sound. Then Dean tossed the ball of paper high into the air and Sahtu executed a four foot high jump and twist to catch that ball of paper.

After that, it became a game to her and a marvel to see. She had one lithe, muscular little body. We had a little window over the kitchen sink that we would leave open for her to come and go. She was a happy little cat. We would put a bowl of food in a cupboard and we quickly taught her how to open the cupboard door. In she would go to eat in peace. Her food remained safe from the dogs. The next year we moved to Virginia. Sahtu would come walking and hiking with us sometimes.

My friend Nancy and her girls found it quite remarkable. We would be hiking through the woods and Sahtu would be following behind.

We had a little bell on her which helped us keep track of her. Her cool feline presence added to the experience of hiking in the woods. This one time, after we moved back from Virginia, to Milton, Ontario, we were living in an apartment out on highway 25 in the countryside.

Going away for a few days, with our little guy, Leo and the two dogs, we decided to leave Sahtu with the young guy who lived in the apartment beneath us. We told him that if he left the low door window open, Sahtu could come and go and to simply keep her food and water full. After our weekend away, we returned to find what looked like blood and guts everywhere in the large front entryway and on the walls up to about four feet high.

We found Buddy and asked what had happened, fearing the worst. She caught a rabbit, bigger than her, and she jumped through the door window with it in her jaws!

Another time, after we moved into our new house, we needed to have some electrical work done. My eldest brother Matt came over to do the work.

Downstairs we had this huge basement which had a workroom at one end, which was unfinished with an open ceiling and a utility room at the other end, which also was unfinished with an open ceiling. From time to time, we would notice little Sahtu going up into the space between the ceiling and the main floor.

Everyone can rest easy now. His story came to a halt. Maybe Sahtu can pull the wire. I tied a light-weight piece of cord onto her collar. We then put her up to the opening in the workroom ceiling and…in she went. Quickly, quickly, Dean, Matt and I then clambered through the rec room to the other open-ceiling room where we shook her food bowl, making the distinct sound that she knew and loved — we often shook her food bowl to entice her to come inside the house. Matt was very impressed and for a few moments we tossed around the idea of putting little Sahtu on the payroll and hiring her out to pull wire at other jobs.

Another testament to her hunting prowess was the time our old Army friend, Nee asked if we could bring her along to his cottage in Haliburton because it had become infested with mice. A split second later she came out with a wriggling mouse in her jaws and.. All but the tail and the gizzard. Such a delicate little thing. Pauline stood frozen with dainty fist pressed to her mouth, horrified. All night long she battled the infestation in that cottage.

There were minor crashes and thumps and bumps as she became the scourge of the Haliburton mice. A few years later, we sadly lost our Little Sahtu. Leave a comment, a like or a follow it is not necessary to put your name or email address in the form, to comment.

In we spent a year in a Northern Community. We had many good times but, there were at least three tragedies while we were there…. We had been driving for several hot and dusty days on the road across Canada, from Newfoundland to Alberta and then straight North. Her engine blew in Whitehorse and, on a deadline to get to the job, we sold her body to a small Franco mechanic with the longest, most gorgeous ringlet hair we had ever seen.

His dark ringlets reached way down his back. He saw me admiring it and said with a lop-sided grin: Such was their pride and fervor for their culture. Anyway, while in Whitehorse, we ate at a restaurant that is still there today: Interestingly and coincidentally, there is a very real chance we were served by my very good friend, Daisy , who lives and works in our current Nova Scotia town.

One day, decades later, Daisy and I came upon this nugget of truth while reminiscing about our Northern days. The houses were built on pilings that were anchored into the permafrost. There was a general store, an all-levels school, a gym, two churches, a health centre and a community office on a hill overlooking the confluence of two icy rivers.

The setting was incredibly beautiful. It felt like the final frontier. The first thing we did was attend a community feast. But, to call it a feast was a bit of a stretch. It was simply hot dogs, pop and chips, but, we were so pleased to finally be there and soon to be on a payroll again, after more than a year, that we were all smiles and best intentions.

The local children took our hands and tugged us along. Why does he have a name? What do you got? Selling because I bought new, pick up Middleton or able to deliver depending distance.

I have 2 of these since I have twins but they both dont fit properly in my car. They have never been used and need gone asap. Snap on car computer scanner Located in port george, 8 minutes outside of middleton. Two years worth of clothes. Everything from capris, shorts, jeans, leggings.

T-shirts, a few long sleeve a couple hoodies and undies. A dress or more. More will likely be added to the pile in an hour of posting.

Selling our awesome cradle n swing. Only used for a few months. Bought brand new this year from Babies R Us http: Great jumper, got a lot of use out of it and taken care of!! Ocean Zn will be open today in my driveway pm! Brand new tags still attached. Pick up in greenwood. Smoke free, pet friendly home. In brand new condition. My son doesn't like this set as much as his others. Can meet with in reason. Has comforter, sheet set and 2 pillow cases. Pick up Melvern Sqaure.

Standard Size, never used, new condition, Officially licensed minion Stuart costume fits a 42 to inch jacket size with up 34 to inch waist Womens brand new in box elegant two tone 10kt pink and white solid gold drop earrings.

Great for an evening out! Cross posted to other sites Feel free to message me for pics of other brand new women's and girl's diamond and other precious jewelry pieces.

Used but hardly ever worn. In brand new condition and cleaned professionally. Purchased last year brand new. Lights up and plays music for up to 30 min. Smoke and pet free home. Brand new my daughter was never interested.. Comes with certification papers.

Brand new irradiated genuine quarter carat bright blue diamond pendant. Pendant set in 14kt white gold, includes solid 10kt white gold Singapore style necklace in 16 inches long, 0. Also includes 1mm wide Singapore style solid 10kt white gold anklet and bracelet. All brand new never worn. Have many other gorgeous genuine pieces available far below retail, men women and little girls pieces.

Only wore 1 season. Smoke free home cross posted quick sale. Fit like a ladies 7. New with tags on. Always stored inside for winter. Upgraded propane tanks, upgraded awning over bump out, upgraded queen mattress.

Will be winterized and put in storage soon. Looking to buy a single din or double din radio that has USB port on it for my 6the gen accord will pick up coldbrook to new minas.

I need a flasher or what ever it's called for my 04 v6 tiburon the thing that controls my signals an hazards if you have one or parting a tib with a good one message me asap as I'll be driving my car after the weekend an kinda need working signals an hazards Closer to coldbrook or new minas the better.