December?

Is it really December?  What happened to 2010?  Maybe a drug induced coma recovering from a shattered femur bone....  But really, I definitely believe the premise that time goes faster as you grow older.  NOT that I'm OLD, of course!  In fact, I like to surround myself with people older than myself, to keep me younger.  Including Matt, older than me by 3 yrs and 3 mos.  (To be almost exact, because I know he'll catch me if I exaggerate).   He's definitely robbed the cradle!  LOL!  :-) 

But Christmas?  Really?  It seems like each one comes quicker than the last!  (Maybe because stores have Christmas stuff earlier each year.)  Anyway, now I really am dating myself... to match my cane: black metal with a puffy black handle, how comical is that?!  I'll stick with the crutches, thank you very much.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to watch Jamie at EnduroX.  In true Vegas fashion,, it was cold and windy and I needed something warm to drink.  I had to settle for Seattle's Best because Starbucks wasn't available close by (i.e. in the casino).   It was fun to watch Jamie race!  Awesome job, dude!  I wish I could've seen my man race a motorcycle.  But really he's fantastic, any way you look at it..  Back to coffee though, I must say that Starbucks really outdoes Seattle's Coffee on their cups.  Check it out, Seattle vs. Starbucks.  I think Starbucks has won more style points:

But if I can make a plug for local?  Check out Olive Avenue Market in Redlands.  Reopened and renovated; new inside seating and local products, too!  There's the coffee and tea, and better than anywhere Pumpkin Scones.  Sorry Starbucks, but they are way tastier! And I can't wait to try the Berry Scones, Cranberry Orange Scones, and Maple/Apple/Walnut Scones, not to mention the other sweets!  The ambiance is great, and the local feel and supporting local business couldn't be better!

Storybooks

When I was little, I loved stories.  Both of my parents love to read, and they instilled a love of reading in me.  My favorite books as a kid came in the form of Golden Books.  Like "The Pokey Little Puppy" or "The Saggy Baggy Elephant".  Those were my favorites!  Did you know that if you find one of these little books in an antique shop, that you might pay $5 per book (for a book that literally went for 29 cents at the time it was originally sold)?  Now you can find a new one on Amazon for upwards of $8.99 for the "Special Anniversary Edition".  But the best stories were the stories told.  I was reminded of this today when I picked up my Starbucks Extra Hot Nonfat Chai Latte.  Yum!  But it wasn't the chai that reminded me, but the sleeve on the cup that kept my hands from burning. 

My most beloved stories ever were of Johnny and Jenny Bullfrog as told by Grandpa F on tapes which he sent to us when we lived in Minnesota.  He had different "voices" for each character but his gruff "grandpa" voice still echoes in my mind.  I think my parents may have a few of these tapes still floating around.  Oh, what I wouldn't give to hear another one.  I know that my older brother now tells these timeless stories, probably in his own versions, to Caleb, Levi, and soon to little Aaron.  My dad, at one time, planned on writing them down (and I hope he still does).  Across the generations, kids love stories!  And stories inspire imagination, intelligence, and so much more in children too.  So keep reading and keep telling, there's so much more than Nintendo or Wii, believe me!

The hills are alive...

Today, I looked at the hills and I suddenly realized they were getting green.  Amazing what 9 days of rain, in a row no less, will do for the earth.  Fall is finally here!  I know some people, and one in particular, are disliking the suddenly cooler, if not downright cold, weather.  But I'm loving it.  Sorry baby!  And, in preparation for the annual winter trip to Michigan, my blood is even getting thicker from enduring the freezing interior of my house.  I must admit, though, that 9 days in a row of rain is a little bit excessive....

I got out one morning last week and took a few pictures of my flowers when the rain let up a bit.  Here are some of the results:

Off to the Gym

I've always hated the gym.  Being stuck inside.  Dirty, sticky equipment, that all kinds of sweaty people have touched.  And it doesn't take much activity to get drenched.  Do they do that on purpose?  Pump up the humidity and turn the air down so that by the time you finish your workout, you're drenched.  Just to make people feel like they've done a hard workout no matter how easy it is?

But the people watching at the gym is fantastic.  For instance, the 50-something guy last week, with long, graying black hair, wearing jean shorts with leather belt, white wife-beater tank, pulled up above his hairy belly (and no, he didn't have a 6 pack).  Or the short, Asian guy in sweatpants with shirt tucked in, sitting on one piece of weight equipment for long periods of time, staring at women.  Creepy!  Then there's this very fit African American chick, with arms I would love to have...

But, alas, I, too, have become a gym rat.  Well, sort of.  I can't do anything else.  It's my rehab.  Upper body strengthening, plus working on regaining mobility in my right hip and knee, and gaining some supportive strength around those joints.  I'm also making up for not using my 3 year prepaid membership more than a few times in the last 2 years.  Maybe after the next couple of months, I won't be able to get enough either.  Best case scenario, I'll gain some respect for gym-going and strength training, and I'll be ready to keep it up (a little) and hit the road in January.  I'm already planning my first race, the LA 5K or Half Marathon (wishful thinking) on January 16th.

Got the goods

I finally have gotten the goods and it has been coming in handy.  It didn't come without a little bit of a cost, namely waiting in line at the DMV -- everyone's favorite activity.  Seems like one could come up with a better system for the DMV, but no matter, that's not my point here.  Besides, due to my "gimp" status (Matt's description for me), I got to skip to the front of the line to get my number.  It still took 45 minutes of waiting before we got called to the front though, poor suckers at the back of the line.  (The line was already wrapped around to the back of the DMV by 8:15!)  We also waited at the laboratory, the pharmacy, and the disability office that morning.  Matt said we should have just hit the Social Security Office for good measure, while we were at it.  Anyway, so here it is:

Never thought I'd have one of these.  But let me tell you, I'm "loving" it, so to speak.  There is absolutely nothing good about crutches: if you are hopping around, your hands and arms start hurting; but if you stop and stand, your good leg and foot starts hurting.  There's no winning.  Now we park at the front, and save my hands from blisters and my left leg from aching.  It also cuts down on bitching and moaning (from all parties involved).  So, it may be a little drastic to go to such lengths to get my Handicap placard, but a gimp girl's gotta have some perks, right?

Mystery Solved

Well, the verdict is in.  And, yes, I am Osteopenic.  For those of you non-medi people out there, that means low bone density.  Doesn't mean I'm unhealthy, of course.  Because everyone is at risk of medical problems.  I just didn't realize I was particularly at risk for this one.  I feel a little silly, of course, being a doc and all.  But, then again, I'm not a Sports Med doc either.  A lesson learned.  And maybe I can ed-u-ma-cate others through all of this.

I've always prided myself on being in good physical fitness.  In most recent years, if I must say so myself, I've been in pretty tip-top shape.  Between marathons or hours of riding, I am an excerise fanatic.  No flabby here.  (Although, for all of you females out there, I still suffer from the same flashes of feeling "fat".)  Even with no exercise for 2 months, I haven't really gained much weight, although I have lost muscle mass, whatever that is worth.  But Matt is haggling me to get on the rehab road, so this week, I've gotten the bug back.

So, what makes me at risk?  Well, for one, Cycling.  As I've blogged before, 63% of cyclists are osteopenic.  That includes men and women.  At least part of this is from the lack of weight bearing exercise.  Obviously my 1 (or occasionally 2 to 3) days of running every week didn't cut it. (Oh for the days of 30-50 mile running weeks.)  The other is what is called the "Female Athlete Triad".  Including, low estrogen, low bone density, and energy low diet.  Women who exercise a lot, tend to turn normal body cycles off which leads to low estrogen.  That can have it's benefits, but... (you'll probably understand this if you are a woman).  They also tend to  be very food conscious - low fat diet all the way, baby!  Both of these (estrogen and diet) factor into low body fat.  Did you know that for a female althete, body fat content is considered to be less than 17%?  Well, the last time I was checked, I was in the 13% range.  Flabby, nope.  But so unfair, since some male athletes get to 2-3%, and they don't have such troubles.   And of course, the 2 former tendencies, can lead to lower bone-forming abilities.  Further, most "younger" women, don't think of taking calcium supplementation PLUS Vitamin D; that's for old women, right?

Well, this is my plug for all of you female athletes out there.  (And men too: it can't hurt.)  Take your Calcium: at least 500 mg/day, and 1000 mg is even better.  And definitely take your Vitamin D: 800-1000 mg/day for good measure (even if you do get sun exposure).

So, mystery solved: low bone density increases your risk of fracture.  So if you crash, you break, and in my case, you break into many pieces.  Lessoned learned and healing is in process.

To Tan or Not To Tan

Actually, in my case, that should maybe read: "To Burn."  But whatever.  Well past my childhood, I was determined to lay out enough to get tan.  It took me years to figure out that this was not to be.  I have 2 colors: transparent white and lobster red.  I well remember one of my first burns when I was maybe 8 or 9 (it may not be one of the first, but definitely one of the worst).  We went to Florida as a family, and I got FRIED.  I remember sitting in a bathtub of oatmeal, trying to feel better.  There was also the aloe treatments and apple cidar vinegar -- Yes, that's right, vinegar.  Even into Med School, Carolyn and I would spend hours by the pool studying for our classes -- especially 2nd year.  In fact, I probably spent more time doing that, than actually in class (i.e. I skipped a lot of class my 2nd year).  All of that to produce, a very red "tan" and possibly later: skin cancer.

Well, in more recent years, I have been fastidious about using sunscreen.  This year, it was pretty much all 30 and above.  But alas, this may all be part of my problem.  Over less than 3 years, I broke: ribs, a toe, ribs again, collarbone (shattered = surgery and hardware), and then my femur (shattered = more surgery and more hardware).  Is there a problem, doctor?  Turns out my Vitamin D is low.  This is the preliminary report.  Vitamin D helps with bone growth and strength.  My x-ray 2 weeks ago showed only minimal bone growth and a still unstable fracture, after 6 weeks!  Next week, I have a bone density test, so this will be the tell all test.  Now, I really feel old.  Not only did I break my femur in a place in which traditionally is found when old people break their "hip", but now I get to have a test that traditionally is reserved for older ladies above 60 years of age!  So what does this have to do with sunscreen?  Well, it blocks your body's natural ability to make Vitamin D.

What's more, after about mid-2005, most of my exercise has been non-weightbearing.  I pretty much stopped running (or ran minimally) and started cycling.  One study has shown that 63% of cyclists (yes, those younger than 60 y/o) have osteopenia (low bone density).  So if you cycle and fall and have low bone density, beware!  Other things that can contribute: alcohol and caffeine consumption.  Darn!  I love my coffee and wine.

So, all you cyclists out there, take your Calcium and Vitamin D!  If I've learned anything through all of this, it is to do just that.  And do some weightbearing exercise too, while you are at it.

Insomnia?

Wouldn't you think that "insomnia" means that you are sleeping?  "Somnia" equals sleep in Latin.  So shouldn't it be "in"-"sleep"?  But apparently in Latin, "in" means "not".  How does that make sense? But the Latin meaning is pretty much what I've been experiencing lately.  "Not sleep."  At the beginning of all of this broken leg stuff, I had these little things:

A little of this every 6 hours, a little of that every alternating 6 hours.  Some of that other thing every 8 hours.  Not to mention all those vitamins and minerals.  Phew!  I had a virtual pharmacy in my bedroom.  No wonder I was sleeping well!  Maybe I slept too much those first weeks... now that I don't have those little wonder pills, I have to do it all on my on.  My body is paying me back for all of the abuse and is making up for it.  So if you ever want to know what 3 a.m. is like, I got the down-low on that one.

On the verge...

You'd think these days that I'd be blogging like crazy.  Instead I'm experiencing another form of crazy.  Blogging requires something to blog about.  For me, I get these ideas from things I see, do, or hear about as I go through my day.  These days, though, this is my usual view:

And this is my usual mode of transportation:

And this is where I hang out all day, every day, those endlessssss hours:

It doesn't give me much to blog about; that is, unless, you want to hear about the latest news from "Good Morning America" (which, by the way, there's not a whole lot of news after 8:30 am, the time when I usually start watching), or the mundane humor from "Live! With Regis and Kelly", or the latest, supposedly, controversial gossip from "The View."  I'm hoping to get a phone call from Regis one of these days, and maybe I can win a trip to a resort in the Caribbean by answering a question about yesterday's show, since I'm up to date and all.  Can I get across the sand with a walker?  There's only so much you can surf the web, only so long you can read books, and only so many movies one can watch before the craziness sets in.  So if I end up in the mad house, you'll know why...

Flying the Unfriendly Skies

Airline travel used to be fun and exciting. I vaguely remember my first time flying; it was to Michigan with my mom when I was a toddler to see my Grandfather who was sick. All the little houses and cars that looked like ants. My next flying experience was when I was 16 and flew to Colorado for the Young Life Convention in Estes Park. Now I find it hard to believe that I experienced any sort of anticipation at getting on an airplane. After years of flying, countless flights between California and Michigan, and numerous long overseas flights for still exciting international travel, I experience more of a sense of extreme dread when it comes to an upcoming flight.


They say that all the changes the airlines have been making in the last couple of years, are to keep costs down in the face of looming jet fuel prices. Why then has the cost of my flights between Ontario and Grand Rapids tripled. Why I ask? Why? I always flew Northwest more than any other airline. My big brother used to call it "North-worst". But not so with my experience. I would fly through Minneapolis, home of the Mall of America, and spend my layovers smelling lotions at The Body Shop. I was a Northwest Frequent Flier member. I could walk through the "elite" line and bypass the poor suckers not smart enough to sign up for the free card. A few times I was even upgraded to First Class. Whoo hoo! And, most recently, I didn't have to pay for my baggage. But all of that is gone. Now Delta has taken over. Now I get to fly all the way over and east to Atlanta, before my next long flight to Grand Rapids (now does that make sense?). I pay for my baggage like everyone else. Long lines, late flights, and surly flight attendants is the norm. And upgrades? What's that?
Every time I fly lately, I say it was my worst experience ever. Could it possibly get worse? Here was my latest round trip:
I planned a timely red eye flight, leaving at 1:30am, in order to arrive Saturday morning in time for my nephew's 1st birthday. I envisioned an overnight flight with restful Ambien induced dreams. I should have known it was all downhill from the moment I arrived at the airport. As I walked up the empty Delta counter (except for the 3 check-in desk attendants) the thought went through my head of "How is this possible?" Silly me. I did my computer check in duty and then walked to the desk only to be asked "First class?" Nope, definitely not me. And as the lady gave me an exasperated frown: "You're on the wrong side." Only to realized that "hidden" behind the next wall was a very long line of disgruntled passengers with a mere 1 check-in attendant for them all. Thank you to the obnoxious guy near the front, who asked nearly everyone, including the cleaning guy, why there weren't more people to help.

25 dollars later for my baggage (and minus my water bottle, of course), I finally made it up to the gate. I sat down and waited for boarding. And waited. And waited. A little information sure would be helpful, oh airline gods. Apparently, a mechanical problem. Another plane was needed -- couldn't they have figured this out while the plane was sitting on the tarmac for 2 hours?
Ok, so we left "only" an hour and a half late. But of course, my layover was only 1:15 long in Nashville. We made up some time on the flight which involved only restless Ambien induced sleep. I ran to my next gate (literally), making it there just before the scheduled time, but the door was already closed. REALLY? Could they not have held the plane for a few minutes? So I spent the next 30 minutes trying to find Delta Customer Service which was "over there" according to the quite crabby gate attendant. Of course, there wasn't another available direct flight so I had to wait for a flight to Detroit, from which I could catch a flight to Grand Rapids (which was also ultimately late leaving from Detroit, by the way). Well Delta, I snatched one of your germ infested blankets to keep me warm in the airport while I snuggled up on one of your crappy waiting room chairs, so take that!

5 hours late and without my suitcase, I caught the very end of the 1st birthday party only because they waited for me to have cake (sorry Uncle Ben who had to leave before cake because they waited so long!). I was minus a gift (bad aunt!) because I was going to get one before the party. But I got to see this. Apparently, Levi likes to eat.

And sorry to my family who had to endure me wearing the same clothes, including underwear (too much info I know) for over 24 hours, even after a shower.

Well, you'd think it couldn't get worse. But I didn't fare any better on my flight back. With my two layovers, leaving late from O'Hare (no surprise there, it is O'Hare afterall), missing my next flight in Houston (partly because of the late flight and partly because it takes an eternity to go from one terminal to another, plus I had to check in with Continental and go through security AGAIN -- but a plus: my suitcase made my original flight though), and finally getting into LAX at midnight, still needing to take the shuttle to the garage for my car and drive home to Redlands.

And the airlines wonder why their satisfaction rates are down. Go figure.

This isn't the first time...

Yep, that's me with the cast from hip to toe.  So no, this isn't the first time I've broken my right leg.  I'm 6 years old in this picture, and, go figure, that break occurred because of a bike incident too.  Remember those little banana seat bikes that you had to pedal backwards to stop? 

Well, apparently that time, I forgot that and decided to use my foot as a brake after flying down a long gravel driveway.  Result?  Summer spent in a cast.  No fun! My favorite trip to the cottage wasn't spent on tubes, skis and disks behind the boat, but with a garbage bag over my leg floating around in a tube.  I guess I just haven't learned.  Pretty much all my broken bones have come while riding a bike (excluding the time I broke a toe by dropping a frozen water bottle on my foot), but I just keep getting back in the saddle.  Will I get back into the saddle this time?  Only time will tell.  But I'm definitely going to start running more.

For now, no flip flops

Matt beat me to the blogging punch by writing about our latest adventure.  Unfortunately, adventure sounds rather romantic, making it the wrong word to use, because it wasn't even close.  He said that he'd let me blog about my version of the story, but his is rather accurate, so I'll spare you a repeat of  the unfortunate details.  But, can I tell you that having the biggest long bone in your body (that's the femur) broken in two (or in my case 7) does not feel good when it is moved?  The pain goes beyond description, and even though I have never experienced it, I am quite sure it is worse than labor.  And since the emergency peeps had to carry me out, there was definitely a lot of movement.  And while I had the displeasure of experiencing the pain (which when all was said and done still hurt like hell after 30 mg of morphine), Matt got to experience my screams of pain which I'm quite sure were not pretty to listen to.  Thank you so much to my man for keeping calm, getting help, and providing what comfort was possible during those hours which seemed like an eternity.

After the accident, I got to spend 4 days in the hospital.  Much to my relief, I was transferred to Kaiser from Loma Linda, in the middle of the first night.  My frantic call to my orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Sean, at 1 am, expedited my transfer.  At LLU ER, I feared that every doc that came to my bedside was an overeager intern, ready to slice me open on the spot.  Of note: yes, I do have a personal orthopod who has placed extra metal in my body on two separate occasions now.  Everyone jokes that I am becoming the bionic woman; my question is, will that rod beep when I go through the airport security?   Most disturbing of my hospital stay?  Little old ladies were passing me when making hall rounds with our walkers.  There is definitely something wrong with that.

I was able to come home on Monday night.  Matt and I discovered that stairs were out of the question -- no lifting, supportive efforts, or walkers could help me traverse, without severe pain, the meer 3 stairs between bathroom/bedroom and living room/kitchen.  So I chose the lesser of the two evils, where rest and bed (which is about all I can do anyway) and easy access to my bathroom are available. So now, I have to rely on others to bring me food (and somehow I didn't relish the thought of using a commode anyway).

This morning, Dr. Sean did nothing to shed hope on how long this situation will last.  Non (or bare minimum) weightbearing for the first 8-12 weeks and crutches or a walker for at least 3 months.  Some may relish the excuse to become sedentary and fat, but not me.

So, thank you to all of my wonderful caregivers.  From the docs, nurses, and other hospital and emergency personnel who rescued me, answered my questions and my call light, and gave me those fabulous drugs.  To my dear friends and family who have sat at my bedside, kept me company, called, texted, emailed and facebooked, cooked, cleaned and helped me out in too many numerous ways to mention.  An extra special thank you to Matt for doing all of the above, and for staying by my side, caring about and for me, and for loving me.  There is nothing I can say that can express how glad I am that you are in my life.

California, at it again...

It seems California has forgotten that it has the second highest unemployment rate in the nation at 12.3%.  Being beat out only by my former state of Michigan which is at 13%.  Not only is the state of excess in excessive debt, but they now seek to rape their state residents of their hard earned (or unemployment earned) cash.  I know I can be dutch sometimes (actually, I'm always Dutch, but sometimes I'm "dutch" too; fortunately, Matt is of the same school of thought). 

Matt and I thought we'd go explore nature and ride mountain bikes down near the beach yesterday.  I think it cost us more to go places around Orange County, than it did to drive down there in fuel.  Did you know Toll Roads in Illinois cost anywhere between 30 cents and $2 at each toll booth (and $2 is unusual)?  Well, you're lucky if you pay $2 in California.  I thought the point of toll roads was to get people to use them and to help pay for the upkeep?!  Well, these roads are practically empty.  Why you ask?  Because most can't afford to take them.  The road to Laguna was backed up for miles, so we sought an alternative route.  Word to the wise: AVOID the 73.  Sure there was no one else on it, but it cost us $4.50 to go 1 mile.  Yes, 1 MILE!  And this was only one of the toll fees we paid.

Then we thought we'd hit a State Park.  Well, it now costs $15 to get into a State Park, whether this is for 2 hours or the whole day.  If you want an annual pass, it's $125.  Oh, and there are some state parks and state beaches that won't accept your $125 annual pass.  NO state is this much.  Tennessee and Missouri are free.  In Washington state, you can get in for a day for $5-7, or $70 annual.  Moab State Park in Utah, is a mere $7.  Have you ever been to Moab?  It's pretty sweet.  In Michigan, you can get an annual pass for 10 bucks if you're a resident (and $24 if you're out of state).  Montana State Parks cost $4 to get into daily.  And, to top it off, a National Parks Annual Pass is $80.  Well California, you can keep your annual pass.  All of these other places are so much cooler.  And as far as riding mountain bike in the State Park?  We went up the hill and parked at the city park for free, and rode our bikes straight into Crystal Cove State Park without paying a cent....

My Handyman

I've found a wonderful handyman,
What a lucky girl I am.

So much he can do,
And this is just some of it too:

A rat ran down the chimney;
Up the roof my man shimmied.

The racoons in the cellar;

He stopped the little fellers.

The kitchen sink got leaky;
Under the sink he fixed it neatly.

My new mailbox looks the best;
It put his cement-work to the test.

Dug, planted and watered my new avocado tree,
And all of this just for me!










How to open windows that high?
He's got a great creative eye.

Sprinkers, garage lights that fall,
He's a master of it all.

I love my MF.  Thank you, baby.

Going Postal (or not): Part 3

This is what my mail looks like lately. Do you see anything useful in here? I don't. More often than not, I walk directly to my recycle bin and dump most or all of it. I think the USPS is killing more trees than it is actually delivering mail. The famous inscription on the James A. Farley building, which is the main post office in New York City, says: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." Well, I'm afraid that prediction was a little premature; it's hard to complete rounds when there's nothing to complete. Apparently the US Post Office is a dying breed. They're losing more money than they're making: hence yet another increase in your postage stamp (the latest featuring Bart Simpson; boy, isn't our Federal Government displaying the intelligent side of our country). Don't get me wrong, it's nice to receive that personal letter or card in the mail (my mom is the only one who sends me these), but inspite of good intentions, I never use snail mail unless I have too. Yet another way our hard-earned tax dollars go down the toilet: delivering junk mail by the billions of dollars.

Watch out for the Pothole!

Redlands is known as the "Jewel of the Inland Empire." At one point, the Santa Fe Railroad even led an excursion train in a loop through the Redlands orange groves, Mentone, and over the Santa Ana River. What I don't get is why this "Jewel" has the absolute worst roads in the Inland Empire. Go anywhere else: Riverside, San Bernardino, Rialto, Loma Linda, Grand Terrace, even Fontana, and you'll find nicely resurfaced roads and constant upkeep. I think they resurfaced the roads 3 times during my years in Grand Terrace. Not so in Redlands, They fill the potholes, only to have them reappear 6 months later. The roads are cracked and rutted. All of this is especially noticable riding a little more in tune with the ground while on a road bike. My backside does not need a massage from rough road vibration, thank you very much. Maybe the City Council is trying to let Redlands get back to it's roots, and let the paved roads go back to dirt roads.  Except for this past week where they've decided to grate down and resurface roads that were actually decent. Don't get me wrong... I love living in Redlands. It is a beautiful city, with that down home comfortable feel. Beautiful and refreshing in a land of concrete and traffic. But let's get with the program people! I know I pay plenty of property taxes...

Uno

It's been 1 year. 1 year since my man wouldn't take no for an answer. Boy, am I glad he didn't! Our first "date" was Ride Around The Bear. Matt twisted my arm into riding it with him. He told me that he would come to my wine party that same night if I did the ride with him. I'm not sure it was a very fair trade off. 95 miles and more than 8000 feet of climbing. Or wine and gourmet food. Hummm... Dehydration and calorie deficit after riding that much made the wine tasting even more interesting. Well, it all has sure made for good memories and a fantastic year to follow. Today we rode to that same 8,443 foot peak, only from the opposite direction. And there's more memories to be made. It's good to be happy.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Go Reef

The summer heat has arrived and out come the flip flops.  I LOVE flip flops.  And in particular Reefs are the best.  I have 6 pairs of Reefs alone, and my oldest pair are 10 years old, well used, and still in good shape.  Reefs have taken me to Africa and Europe and beyond (Canada), and my feet are always happy.  Non-Reef flip flops are not recommended; those I have are much less used and much less durable than the Reefs.  Here are my very dirty feet at a mountain bike race last weekend.  Note to self: hiking around a mountain bike venue in flip flops was maybe not the best idea, but it worked...

Disclaimer:  I have no financial affiliation with the Reef Company, except for the money I have paid them to enjoy a little bit of their heaven....

Going Postal: Part 2

Speaking of going postal. The infamous ex-US Postal Cycling Team member Floyd Landis, seems to be digging himself a bigger hole. Not quite sure why it would seem like a good idea to admit to doping after you've sworn up and down for the last 4 years that you're innocent. Not only that, but that you doped, but 'I swear to God' not for the Tour de France. Yeah, we believe that... right. Oh, and don't forget everyone else was doing it too. A little desperate, don't you think? I believed with the best of them that he was innocent, but it's a little disheartening to find out that he lies like the best of them. But there seems to be a lot of that lately. It is a little hard to believe that people get bigger, stronger and faster than the last big, strong, fast guy without a little help; or even that they can compete with the newest biggest, strongest and fastest when you are well past your prime. Yet, I still have a little thread of sympathy for Floyd. I tend to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity (except when it slaps you in the face over and over as being otherwise). Maybe there is something purifying in coming clean. Who hasn't made mistakes? Well, now that you've hit bottom Floyd, the only way to go is up (unless you want to keep scraping the bottom, that is).

Stripped down to his skivies

Share the Road, People!

Bad idea.  Not only did I ride to Angeles Oaks, but I did so on a holiday weekend.  It was bad enough that I nearly choked from the exhaust of the passing cars.  If it weren't for the fact that my mother may read this, I'd use stronger descriptions for the drivers on the road.  Contrary to to what road ragers may think, the one foot "shoulder" littered with gravel, rocks, glass, and other [stuff], is not a good place to ride.  Sure, if you want me to hit a rock and bite it right in front of your passanger wheel, or flat and get thrown across your hood, it would be no problem; but there's a reason I ride the white line (or next to it), you arses.  And sharing the road does not mean driving 2 inches from my shoulder.  Not only does it scare the living bejesus out of me, but the draft may well push me into places you don't want me to be.  Between the "Nancy boys" in Jeeps, as Matt would put it (don't get him started on Jeeps and Harleys) and the crazies driving motorhomes, I think I used my nine lives.  Apparently, no one learned a lesson from Dr. Christopher Thompson who earned 5 years in prison for "assaulting" 2 cyclists by slamming on his brakes (purposefully) after passing them, or from Jeffrey Woods who earned 10 years in prison after running down and killing a cyclist while driving drunk .  You too may have cyclists around the world raising a toast to your imprisonment if you drive stupid.  Think about it next time you see a bike while driving.  I don't think it's worth it.

(Picture coutsesy of Wikimedia)

Going Postal: Part 1

 A teenager went a little postal this weekend and decided to take some of his teenage angst out on my mailbox.  I'd hate to see the havoc that my mailbox wreaked on his car.  Unfortunately, in the end, my mailbox suffered it's demise.  Here is the crime scene...

My poor mailbox.  It was almost an antique.  I lovingly buffed it last spring with steel wool, but the rust color returned.  It is probably for the best that the end came rather quickly, as it probably would have suffered replacement soon anyway.  Here are some possible candidates:

Anyone want to weigh in?

I feel like I'm in Michigan

Sunny, warm, and gloriously sweat-producing heat one day.  Suddenly, cloudy, rainy, and finger-numbing chill the next.  Is this Michigan?   Okay, so it isn't as bad as Michigan: 70 and shorts weather one week, and snowy, mitten weather the next.  But still, this weather is kind of schizophrenic lately.  Don't get me wrong.  I've enjoyed the cool winter weather with it's green hills and smogless crisp fresh air.  But, about this point I'm wishing it would chose one or the other.  I shouldn't complain.  We know what's coming: oven-like temperatures and brown mountains (oh wait, mountains?  what mountains? you can't see them through the smog).  So nevermind, I'll enjoy our rain today, knowing there's a brighter tomorrow around the corner.  This was last week:

Intelligent Conversation

We're solving very important questions on call today.  Have you ever wondered what the plural of a computer mouse is?  Is it mice?  Mouses? Or mouse devices?  Apparently all are acceptable to use because there's no consensus.  But, did you know that a computer mouse is actually a computer M.O.U.S.E.? An acronym for Manually Operated User Select Equipment.  But wait, that's not right either, because the creator, Douglas Englebart, really named it a mouse, not a m.o.u.s.e., because he thought it looked like a cute mouse with a really long tail, the acronym was coined later.  Now wasn't all of this enlightening?  Between this deep discussion and the picture of the fat man in the thong (from behind) which appeared on my desktop screen, we're getting some valuable work done...

Single Track

Matt beat me to the punch to blog about our mountain bike ride on Saturday.  He dragged me (quite willingly) to ride some "new to me" trails.  I've decided that I just might be able to conquer this mountain bike thing afterall.  Well, eventually that is.

We first rode through the Mentone Wash on some flat single track.  I'm finding that my control on the mountain bike is lacking, just a bit... Per Matt, I guess I can ride a straight line.  It's riding a not so straight line, that I need to practice.  Getting around the rocks quickly, and not putting on the brakes to skid to a stop when something looks especially challenging is what I need to work on.

Once we reached Greenspot Road, we headed up to Lower Workout Trail which is at the base of the mountains.  I huffed my way up a washed out road (huffing partly out of some kind of mild fear of biting it).  Lower Workout is a rolling climb along the side of the mountains.  I only freaked out a couple of times.  And although it was pretty overgrown in some places, it was beautiful with wild flowers.  Matt took some cheesy pics of me on the trail (which will remain unpublished) and I took some less cheesy pics of him. He, of course, accused me of taking multiple to get flowers in the picture, but I claim innocence.

We headed down to the wash, only to find out that the melting mountian has created a raging river there.  After several attempts to cross the river (which I unfortunately did not document on film) involving taking our shoes off (neither of us like riding in wet shoes) and attempting to wade through what we thought would be shallower spots (not the case), we finally gave up and rode toward Crafton along the levy.  Matt tricked me into riding up a "easy" single track to Zanja Peak.  After several near death experiences, I made it to the top.  By this time, my nerves were shot and after momentary consideration of riding down another single track, I opted to take the main WIDE trail to Crafton College.

I survived!  And, I must say, I rode the mountain bike three times last week, and the road bike only once.  I think I'm being converted.

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom

I have an amazing mom.  She's been there for me every step of the way.  She's held my hand through the worst and the best.  She's taught me about love and life.  So don't forget your mom this weekend.  A call, a hug, a card, a gift... Love you, Mom!

You to, my mother, read my rhymes

For the love of unforgotten times,

And you may chance to hear once more

The little feet along the floor.

Robert Louis Stevenson

May Day

Apparently today is May Day.  I'd never really heard about May Day until this year.  These days, May Day is associated with an International Worker's Day or a Labor Day.  Boring.  Demonstrations too.  No offense to those who do care, but I could really care less about the demonstrations.  Do people really think that is going to make a difference?  Really.  The government does what it wants, when it wants, and only does stuff for alterior motives.

Anyway, the traditional May Day is way more exciting.  The earliest May Day was the Festival of Flora who was the Roman goddess of flowers.  I'm down with that since I like flowers.  Then there's the tradition of dancing around the Maypole and the crowning of the Queen of May.  I could dance around a Maypole and you can crown me Queen of May too.  What do I get to do if I'm Queen of May?  But if I dance around the Maypole, is that kind of like pole dancing?  Hummm.  I've never tried that before. The May Pole in England was known for mixed gender dancing, drunkenness, and merry-making. Whoo hooo!  In Scotland, at dawn on May Day, there's a run into the sea, occasionally naked.  Ha!  This gets more fun as I go!  Avoid Crete though where May is considered the month of the dead, and getting married in May is unlucky, note to self. 

So Happy May Day to all!  May it involve much (May) pole dancing, drunkenness, and naked swimming; and avoid the demonstrations and getting married...

(Info courtesy of Wikipedia)

I still haven't learned

Of late, I have heard and/or been the object of many "conversations" about women with red hair.  That's me!  I was blessed with red hair by my dad, and I've never wanted to change it.  And apparently, men love red hair too.  Ok, so maybe not all men, but according to my boyfriend, male friends, and articles by men you find on the web, a large majority of men find red haired beauties to be hot.  Thanks guys!  And then there's all those women who try to be like us red heads -- emphasis on the word "try" -- with the likes of gorgeous reds like Nicole Kidman and Julianne Moore to follow.  Sorry ladies, dying your hair that purplish red just doesn't cut it.

Fortunately, or maybe not so much (sorry brother Nate), for those of you who know me well, I was also "blessed" with the temperment that goes along with the hair. There's a reason why a friend in med school dubbed me "Firey Fynewever", or one of my attendings called me "Dr. Firefly" in residency.  Good thing some of that has been tamed and channeled into other activities.  Unfortunately, along with the red hair comes the white skin.  I am a true red head -- no tan, just burn, and freckles, freckles, freckles.  You'd think that, after a lifetime of episodes of lobster-like skin, I would have learned.  And I thought I did, until this weekend when I was going to work in the yard "for just a bit" which turned into a couple of hours and a nice bright red line across my lower back.  Ouch!  Lesson learned.  Again.

I still wouldn't change anything, red hair, white skin, blue eyes and all;  I'll take it.

Spring is in the air!

Actually, come to think of it, spring is here.  At least for us.  Colorado seems to be behind the times with predictions of a foot of snow last night.  And, from the sounds of it, the North, Midwest, and East Coast aren't faring much better.  Too bad for them.  We are suffering here in Southern California with temperatures in the 70's and 80's.  And with those nice warm temps comes... what else?  Flowers!  My honey asked me yesterday when I was working on the computer what I was doing.  It went a little like this: 

Me:  Downloading pictures. 
Boyfriend: Of what? 
Me: Flowers. 
Boyfriend: Of Course.

Seeing as I've probably taken 200 pictures of flowers in the last few days with my new macro lens, it isn't too surprising.  Yep, I'm a girl.  And I like flowers.  You should too.

The H Word

I find it funny that, as a child, I looked at adults as having it all put together.  They'd been there, done that, figured out all the hard stuff, and now they were just on the ride for the rest of their lives.  I guess that probably wasn't true, although life really was more simple "back then", wasn't it?  Well, being an adult isn't so easy I'm finding out, now is it?  The more advanced we become, it seems that the more complicated life gets.  We have to grow up, go to school, become successful in life, relationships, marriage, job, kids etc.  Also, we have to be healthy, eat right, avoid all the toxins that seem to be added to what should be healthy foods, and exercise like maniacs to stay fit.  Then just exercising isn't enough, we have to be successful at the exercise we do.  Whether it's to run faster than the next girl, spin those peddles faster than that other biker chick, and win some races so that you can upgrade to the next level to do it all over again and work even harder.  Pick your fitness poison.  Then there's the cell phones, desk tops, lap tops, iBooks, iPods, iPhones, i.... what's next?  Facebook, twitter, blogger.... my head is spinning just writing about it.

Earlier this year, I took a hiatus from Facebook.  Suddenly, I had all kinds of time on my hands.  What to do?  Better question is, what did I do on Facebook all that time?  Then there's the bike.  For almost 4 years, I spent enormous amounts of time riding bike and racing.  It has been fun to test myself, improve my riding skills, overcome race anxiety, and maybe, just maybe, get a little bit good at it (in my amateurish way).  Then I crashed (or rather, someone took me out) and after surgery and 3 months of recovery later, I lost that passion to race.  I keep trying to regain it; I miss the feeling of being in that kind of fitness, of being able to keep up with the big boys on a training ride.  But I haven't been able to make myself do it.  I joined a new team, put the $$$ into the new kits, and keep thinking "I will start racing."  But I just missed my favorite race of the year.  I still ride some.  But, you know what?  I have more time.  Time for hobbies.  Yep, I said it.  Hobbies.  I got a new camera, and I'm trying my hand at photography.  Guess I want to be like my big sister.  And then I got this great yard, that needs a lot of work and I get to cut things down.  With the longer daylight hours.... watch out trees, you're getting trimmed!

I was struck by this tonight, as I was reading the latest issue of Sunset Magazine (April 2010).  I'd love to post the whole article, but I couldn't find a link so you'll just have to find it for yourself.  Anne Lamott writes:

"I begin with my core belief -- that there is nothing you can buy, achieve, own, or rent that can fill up that hunger inside for a sense of fulfillment and wonder.  But the good news is that creative expression, whether that means writing, dancing, bird-watching, or cooking, can give a person almost everything that he or she has been searching for: enlivenment, peace, meaning, and the incalculable weath of time spent quietly in beauty.  Then I bring up the bad news: You have to make time to do this.  This means you have to grasp that your manic forms of connectivity -- cell phone, email, text, Twitter -- steal most chances of lasting connection or amazement.  That multitasking can argue a wasted life.  That a close friendship is worth more than material success... I know how addictive busyness and mania are.  But I ask them whether, if their children grow up to become adults who spend this one precious life in a spin of multitasking, stress, and achievement, and then work out four times a week, will they be pleased that their kids also pursued this kind of whirlwind life?... If so, what manic or compulsive hours will they give up in trade for the equivalent time to write or meander?  Time is not free -- that's why it's so precious and worth fighting for...  At 80, will they be proud that they worked their fingers to the bone providing a high quality of life, but maybe accidentally forgot to be deeply and truly present for their kids, and now their grandchildren?..."

Ah, Life.  There's so much to do, places to go, people to meet.  But wait, take a moment, breath in deep, go on that run, and watch the sky as it turns from night into the dawn full of colors and light.  Go to that place far away, and don't just see it, but look at it, look in it's knooks and it's crannies.  Go to that friend, and don't just sit next to each other mute as you watch the newest chick flick, but sit in that coffee shop over a steamy hot cup and share all your knooks and your crannies.  Hobbies.  Whether it's friends, family, travel, garden or camera, enjoy each and every moment.  There may be quite a few of them, but they won't last forever.

Day off?

Not to be had.  But I need one.  After working approximately 80 hours last week, I am ready to take a break.  I have a mere 60 hours to work this week before I get a day off.  Apparently, the life expectancy of physicians is lower than the national average, especially for Ob/Gyns.  I wonder why?  I have a feeling that the Obestrician part is what lowers it the most.  Between the little babes coming in the wee hours of the night (they love to do that) and worry over a sue-happy population, it's no wonder that we tend to die earlier.  And just maybe, bringing each new life into the world, takes a minute or two off of ours?  Who knows.  What I'm hoping is that my genes overcome my job.  My mom's dad died at 92 and her mother at 94.  My dad's dad at 90 and mother at 86.  All 12 of my uncles and aunts, not to mention my parents, are (mostly) healthy, alive, and kicking.  Those are some pretty good odds.  Oh, and the news said this morning that women drinking 1 to 2 glasses of red wine a day, also increases their health, I'll toast to that.  So drink up!

Winter Girl

I've fallen in love with the California winter.  Blue skies and mild temperatures.  Occasional cloudy days and rain when you just want to snuggle under a blanket next to the fire with a good book.  Snow capped mountains and green hills.  It's positively fantastic.  I'm a winter girl now.  Forget the hazy blue skies, brown hills and mountians, and oven-like temperatures of August.  That being said, throw me into 3 feet of snow and the freezing temperatures of a Michigan winter, and I will deny any positive feelings toward winter at all.  But I'm not from Michigan anymore and after living in California for more than 10 years, I think I can call California my home.

Redlands is Rockin!

Redlands has been rocking lately.  Quite literally.  After 3 small earthquakes today, not to mention the 3 or 4 other ones in the last 2 weeks, it leaves one wondering what's to come.  Are these precursors to something bigger?  Hopefully, the earth is just getting the bigger one out in small amounts.  I'm trying to take comfort in the fact that the original structures of my house were built in the 1920s.  It had to have withstood a big earthquake or two in the past, right?  Bad foundation and all....

Flowers?

My blog is named for a couple of things I love.  But have I ever put either flowers or flip flops on this blog?  I'm not positive but I don't think so.

I"m a girl and I love flowers.  That may be a little generic, but it's true.  The other thing that's true is that I love to take pictures of flowers.  My wonderful man gave me a beautiful bouquet of tulips for Valentines Day.  Quite fitting, not only because I love flowers, but also because I'm Dutch.  And now, I'm in heaven. I have flowers, I have a camera, and I just got a brand new macro lens for my camera.  Here are the results of my first pics.

Needs a little work, but the potential is definitely there... More flowers to come...

My Mind is Rebelling

This year, I have been unable to get the new year into my head.  Every time I write the date, I write '09.  I was suddenly blown away to realize that New Year's Eve 1989 was now over 20 years ago.  Doesn't it seem like just yesterday that I was babysitting (yes, that was my exciting '89 New Year's Eve) for the DeMann's.  20 years?  Yikes!

As I advance in years, past my ripe old age of 33, it gets harder and harder to comprehend that I'm not 23 anymore.  I don't feel like 33.  And when I was young, 33 sounded absolutely ancient.  My profession doesn't make this any easier.  I am meerly 1 1/2 years away from being considered "Elderly."  Yes, all you women out there, if you deliver at 35 years old or more, we use terms like "Elderly Primigravida or Multigravida" and "Advanced Maternal Age" for you.  This is not helping my complex right now.  Fortunately, I have these lovely patients that ask me things like: "Are you old enough to do this?" and "You look like you're 18." or "How old are you anyway?"  I blushingly have to respond that I'm older than they think, but thank them profusely anyway.  Thanks to my patients for keeping me feeling young.  You are good for my bruised ego.

A winter day in Southern California doesn't get more beautiful than this.  Granted it took 5 days of pouring rain to get there; and yes, I mean pouring.  We're not talking about typical SoCal "pouring" as in: It's really just sprinkling outside.  But literally, downpour.  There was one day, where it seemed to stop... got us all excited.  I got my running stuff on (no riding -- too wet on the ground which would mean splatter, which would mean getting wet).  I stretched.  Put my shoes on, opened the door, and the downpour restarted!  The weather was teasing me.  It got so bad, I actually got on the trainer for the first time in nearly 2 years.  That is pure despiration.  Yours truly, was even driving a mere 50 mph on the freeway, with other cars passing ME.  Yes, I was getting passed on the freeway. 

Today, I rode my bike.  It was a tad chilly, but as you can see, quite beautiful.  Here in Southern California, people go to "see" the snow.  I started to see it about 5ish miles from home.  As I rode up Wildwood (with the best intentions to head up Oak Glen), I was passed by more cars than seemed usual.  The shoulder of the road became obliterated by snow, and apparently they forgot to plow the middle of the road (the double yellow was covered by snow a foot and a half high,with 2 lanes on either side).  Nearing the top of Wildwood, I began to see cars lining the already narrowed road and tons of people playing on the road side -- where there is snow, a Southern Californian will find a place to sled or make a snowman, or so it seems.  There was a line of 15-20 cars waiting to turn onto Oak Glen Road with more heading up from the opposite direction.  At this point, I decided that taking on the cars of crazy sledders was not the smartest thing I could do (plus, what a great excuse not to beat my way further up the hill!).  So back down the hill I went.

And back to Monday, we go.  How does that always come so quickly?

Going Green

There's a lot of talk about going green lately.  And while this usually refers to getting environmental (don't get me wrong, I'm a little of a tree hugger myself), that's not what I'm talking about here.  While the rest of the country goes white, we're going green, literally.  The hills are alive! with the sound of.... Wait that phrase doesn't work here, but anyway, we're growing grass.  We've entered the most beautiful season in Southern California, and one of my favorite.  I can actually say I like winter (in California that is, not Michigan).