Woman to Cycle Across America in Support of Military Spouses

This is from an organization I have worked with to help bring military spouses into the medical transcription industry. A very dedicated group of individuals with a noble cause.

Operation Life Transformed
For Immediate Release


Riding Across America for our military
HeadQuarters - WoodBridge, Virgina- June 19, 2009
Jeannie Benton, a 51 year old female from Bedford, NH, has chosen to seek pledges for Operation Life Transformed by pursuing her first cross country bike ride endeavor exceeding 3600 miles.

A dream that has sat at idle over 12 years to ride across America is becoming unveiled over the next 6 ½ weeks. Jeannie Benton, a 32 year resident of Bedford, NH, believed she would ride the distance one day, but she wanted to do it with purpose. It was at the health club about 12 years ago when she started getting involved in spinning and strength training classes that she realized her ability for endurance on the bike. Jeannie began doing one-day cycling events for fun and for charities and it was then that she started to dream about the idea of riding across America! She is a special education, Para Professional and mom of four grown children. Her ride will start June 21st from Astoria Oregon and will end on August 10th in Portsmouth, NH totaling 3625 miles across the Northern United States.

Operation Life Transformed, established in February of 2007, provides access to flexible accredited online certification programs that lead directly to virtual or portable career placement. These services are offered to military spouses and caregivers of the war wounded. We can also extend our assistance to the military sponsor including; active duty, reserve, National Guard and Veteran service members who have unmet needs due to injury, physical/mental disorders or deployment as a result of service in Iraq or Afghanistan. OLT is expecting to see over 200 students graduate with full job placement by August of 2009. In 2008, over 86% of all monies donated went directly to OLT’s program.
Please join us as we she embarks on her journey across America in support of our military spouses and caregivers of the war wounded around the world!

Learn more: http://www.operationlifetransformed.org/ra.html

Follow Jeannie’s Ride: http://twitter.com/LifeTransformed

Contacts: Operation Life Transformed
Jay Brethen, Grant Development and Fundraising 619-884-0518
Kristina Saul, National Outreach Program Manager 770-445-5286

BOOK REVIEW: Newfound Medical Thriller Author

I just finished the first of what I expect to be many great medical thrillers by Vancouver, BC, ER physician Daniel Kalla.  I found him while searching Barnes and Noble for medical thriller writers that I had not previously read.  I wanted to send some to my step-mom for Christmas.  By using the "Fans of this book also ordered..." feature, I found my way to Daniel Kalla and quickly scooped up 3 titles.  I shipped 2 to my step-mom and kept Rage Therapy for myself.  What caught my interest almost immediately about Daniel Kalla's books are that some are centered around Seattle, WA.  Who can resist a good thriller placed right in your own back yard?  

Rage Therapy is the story of a widowed psychiatrist (Joel Ashman) who consults with the Seattle Police Department doing criminal profiles.  When his ex-business partner, the esteemed psychiatrist Stanley Kolberg, is found brutally murdered in his office, Joel is called in to help solve the crime.  He soon learns that his ex-mentor was involved in a seedy world of S&M and surrounded himself with a host of shady characters.  When Kolberg's partner, Dr. Nichols, is also found murdered, Joel knows he is likely to be next.

Rage Therapy was a real page-turner.  The characters were engaging, the plot moved quickly, and there were enough twists and turns to keep my interest.  If you're looking for a quick read with a great story line - I recommend you run out and get this one!

For more information on Daniel Kalla, check out www.danielkalla.com 

Goodbye Common Sense

Got this in an email today and just had to share it.

An Obituary printed in the London Times

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old hewas, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessonsas:

Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
Why the early bird gets the worm;
Life isn't always fair; and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children,are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boycharged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from aburglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason. He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;

I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

Where Are The Critical Thinking Skills??

I'm working on a project for my job that has me really analyzing the skill set involved in critical thinking. Naturally, examples of critical thinking - or more often, not using critical thinking - seem to be popping up all around me.

Tonight we were on our way home from a run to the local Costco when we came upon some road work just getting started. We watched a police officer go to the traffic light control box and turn the traffic lights into flashing red lights. There were 2 cars in front of us - and no one moved. The police officer waved the first car through the intersection, but the second one just sat there. I think they were waiting for either the light to turn green or the cop to wave them through. Finally the cop made a hand motion to them - pointing to the light and showing that it was flashing red, and the car pulled forward. My husband was fit to be tied. He was yelling to no one in particular "flashing red means treat it like a 4-way stop!"

It made me realize how our society tends to wait to be told what to do. Where are the critical thinking skills? Why should we have to be reminded that flashing red lights mean stop and proceed in turns?

Which reminded me of a great You Tube video that was sent to me via email the other day. Another fine example of lack of critical thinking. Check it out if you need a good chuckle. Then consider the tragic nature of a country full of people who are incapable of thinking for themselves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S13LwVDJb0E

Two years already?

Today, May 22nd, marks 2 years since the open reduction/internal fixation (ORIF) procedure to correct my shattered ankle. Two whole years! I remember it like it was yesterday. As I prepare to turn in for the night, I can imagine exactly where I was at this time two years ago - in the hospital bed following surgery, complaining through 3 different nurse shifts about the numbing sensation that was working its way up from my ankle toward my kneecap. I remember persistently pushing the button on the PCA machine that administered my pain medication. I remember finally breaking down in tears just after midnight when the 3rd nurse took over for the night shift. I was starting to panic because the numbness was moving its way up my leg. I was having horrible thoughts of losing all feeling in my right leg and having to have it amputated. Imagine my surprise when the kind nurse who finally took time to listen to me (and had already changed my bed pan) turned on the overhead light and I realized she was a girl I went to high school with. Wow! Nothing humbles you quite like looking a childhood acquaintance in the eyes after she changed your bed pan and witnessed you having an emotional breakdown. Bless her heart - she listened to me. I told her that I thought the wrapping was too tight around my ankle and was causing me to lose feeling. She called the surgeon, explained the situation (and my self-diagnosis), and he gave her the okay to re-wrap the ankle. Ahhh...relief!

I can easily picture myself in the same spot two years ago where I now lie - then with my ankle resting atop a stack of pillows, heavily wrapped in postsurgical gauze, and my mind swimming in Vicodin and sleeping pills. I remember the early days well - the frustrating nights of uncomfortable sleep; flipping and flopping, trying to find a position that would allow me to sleep for more than a few minutes before having to move again. I spent the first several days home in a Vicodin-induced stupor. You know you're in a lot of pain when you can't think of anything else.

But flash forward 2 years - 24 months - and while the memories are still crystal clear, I feel almost normal again. Having the metal removed last October was absolutely the right decision. I only occasionally suffer from the painful aching when the weather is wet. I have a good amount of flexibility in the right ankle. It isn't perfect, but I'm managing. The scars are still ugly reminders of what I've been through, and I don't think I will ever be completely healed (physically, mentally, emotionally) - but I've certainly come a long way from where I was 2 years ago today.

There is Hope After all

I just read an article at CNNMoney.com about the upcoming tax rebates. There is a chance that we will get a rebate. Yippee!! I didn't realize that the rebates are based on "adjusted gross income" - which will help. The goal is to get our tax return done and filed so that I can put this one to bed. Not to mention, I need to do it in order to fill out the FAFSA forms for our 2 college boys. That's always a fun day. It takes hours to pull all of the information together and fill out the numerous pages - which usually results in a message stating that we can afford to pay $30,000 per year out of pocket for each kid's college tuition. Um...right. That's more than we pay for our mortgage at the end of the year - and yet somehow we're supposed to have that kind of disposable cash available. It's important to keep your sense of humor intact at times like this.

Yesterday I was telling a colleague at work that this entire week I have felt like I was running through mud. Expending lots and lots of energy, but not getting very far. I realized last night that I have felt "stuck" like this both at work and in my life outside of work. Lots of activity, but not a lot of progress. Definitely not much time for reflection or appreciation. And perhaps it is the busyness itself that has left me feeling stuck. I am motivated by production. I like to look back on a day at work and be able to say I got something done today! I like to feel that way at home too. Whether it's laundry, cleaning the kitchen, preparing a nice meal, or tackling a project. I feel better if I've accomplished something. I think where I get into trouble is when I lose focus. If I have an endless "to do" list but nothing is prioritized, I become overwhelmed. I really think I need to create a priority list and then approach each day with a single focused goal in mind. If I get that goal completed and manage to tackle others - BONUS!

Of course, there are days when I need to achieve NOTHING in order to feel good. Those are good days too. Sleep in, spend some time reading for pleasure, maybe watch a movie with my kids, go for a walk, work on a puzzle. No deadlines, no expectations. I NEED those days to recharge my batteries - and I think I have finally recognized this and embraced it.

I'm tackling the day today with a new perspective and a more focused plan for moving forward. There is, indeed, hope after all.

Political Rant - Brace Yourself!

Today our wonderful US House of Representatives passed the "stimulus package." The solution to the economic crisis in America. This is the plan that will provide tax rebates for individuals who really haven't paid much in taxes - but gives nothing to those hard-working Americans like my husband and I. We work hard to make ends meet and hand over a good portion of our earnings in the form of taxes - but we are literally ignored when it comes time for rebates. Once again, the government will take money we have worked hard to earn - and hand it over to those "less fortunate."

Don't get me wrong - I'm all for helping those in need. But I am struggling to understand how I can continue to teach my children to be self-sufficient, when our government continues to reward those that are not. My husband and I are currently paying for two kids in college. We were told we made too much money to qualify for any financial aid - so we have had to take out substantial educational loans. Consequently, I work a full-time job, plus a part-time job, and my husband works a full-time job. We will not qualify for the tax rebate. We get to continue to work endless hours every week to support our family, while others are offered financial aid for their children and will now also receive a tax rebate.

This came around in email today and was too perfect to not share here:

Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
The sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.

So, that's what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the > owner threw them a curve. 'Since you are all such good customers, he said, 'I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20. Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.

The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. But what about the other six men - the paying customers?How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?'

They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.

And so:
The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings).
The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings).
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings. 'I only got a dollar out of the $20,'declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man,' but he got $10!' 'Yeah, that's right,' exclaimed the fifth man. 'I only saved a dollar, too. It's unfair that he got ten times more than I!' 'That's true!!' shouted the seventh man. 'Why should he get $10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!' 'Wait a minute,' yelled the first four men in unison. 'We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!' The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.

David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics, University of Georgia

With gas prices well over $3 per gallon and costs going up everywhere I turn, what options are left for hard-working Americans?

81 days postop - the second time around

It's hard to believe that I'm almost 3 months postop from my ankle hardware removal on October 22nd. Nonetheless, I am happy to report that I am healing up nicely. The good news is that the persistent aching and stiffness I was having before the procedure has gotten much better. My ankle specialist warned me that I will likely suffer arthritis in the joint and may need another procedure at some point in the future to deal with that. But for now, I am enjoying the relief. My only gripe is the really ugly scars that I am left with. The scars from my initial surgery are still there, though faded some - but the second procedure added another 2, one that is thick and an angry red color about 5 inches in length. In the pictures below, taken about 10 days postop, you can see the incisions beneath the tape. The ones on the inner side are the new ones.






I still have some tingling along the incisions as well. Fortunately, it's the dead of winter. With any luck, these new scars will be faded before I'm tempted to wear shorts again!

Definitely on the mend

Postop day 3 and I'm feeling pretty good. I am able to walk in the boot relatively comfortably. It's clunky, but much less painful than 2 days ago. I'm having less aching at rest as well. I woke up this morning feeling really encouraged. I even went out to the kitchen and made myself a latte. Being upright for 15 minutes did bring on some throbbing, but it subsided once I put my foot back up. Definite improvement!

I took a bath last night too - which was a little slice of heaven. I put a crutch across the top of the tub and rested my bum leg on that. Getting in and out of the tub was a challenge, but it was definitely worth the effort. It was so rejuvenating.

Yesterday the hardware arrived in the mail. Someone in the surgical center was kind enough to sterilize it and seal it in an envelope for me. It's amazing to see it - it looks much smaller than what I imagined! I thought the metal plate was at least 8 to 10 inches long, but it's actually only 4 or 5 inches in length. Here's a picture!



I haven't had any Percocet since yesterday. I am pretty sure I'm done with that. I was hoping to make it through the day today without needing a nap, but I am starting to doubt it. I'm not going to push it - I want to heal properly and improve my chances of having a great recovery.

So far, so good.

Round Two: Exactly 17 months later

Today marks exactly 17 months since the surgery for my trimalleolar fracture of the right ankle. And today I again went "under the knife" to have the hardware removed from my ankle. I woke up with my typical stiffness and was anxious to have the procedure done. I believe it all went well - I was sedated through the surgery itself. I had a hard time waking up from anesthesia, and for some reason I struggled with a bad cough and low oxygen saturation rates for the first hour or two postop. They ended up putting me back on O2 by nasal cannula while I was in the recovery ward.

The surprising part for me was the pain. I didn't expect to be completely pain-free immediately after surgery, but I think I was surprised at just how much pain I did have. Dr. Chi told me he was going to give me an "ankle block" and that it probably wouldn't completely cover the pain - but I rated it as 7 out of 10 - with spikes into the 8 or 9 range. Two Percocets and a Vistaril helped take the edge off, but the pain has yet to completely subside. I have been taking 2 Percocets every 3 to 4 hours all day. I tried to take only 1 this last time around, and it's really as if I didn't take any at all. Lots of dull aching just lying still - with stabs of pain if I move it. And it's even worse if I have to get up and use the bathroom. Just the few minutes of being up sends the blood throbbing down into it. Ouchers.

I also haven't been able to fully feel my toes since coming out of anesthesia. I loosened the boot some to see if that would help. At least the numbness isn't moving like it did with my original surgery. I had lost feeling all the way up to my knee cap that time.

Bless my wonderful neighbor for fixing dinner for my family and me. That was very much appreciated. I believe hubby is staying home with me tomorrow, just to make sure I'm on the mend. I intend to spend the entire week in bed with my foot elevated - and work from my laptop. Though today I can't really focus much. The 2 Percocets at the same time leave me nodding in and out of sleep.

I'm really hoping tomorrow is a better day!! If there are a lot of typos in this entry - blame it on the medications.

Sweet dreams ~

Relief in Sight?

After months of aching and stiffness in my right ankle, I finally went back to my orthopedic surgeon. He did followup x-rays and said I had good alignment and nothing obviously troublesome showing up. We discussed the pros and cons of taking the hardware out from my trimalleolar fracture of 17 months ago. He told me there was no guarantee that removing the metal would improve my situation and that it could put me at risk for a future break. But he also admitted that he is a spine specialist. :) He referred me to an ankle specialist for a second opinion.

I saw Dr. Chi this past Monday. He said at least three times during the review of my x-rays, "That's a bad break!" Tell me about it.

Dr. Chi has recommended that I proceed with hardware removal, arthroscopic debridement, and posteromedial capsulotomy, and I'm scheduled for outpatient surgery on October 22nd. He told me that the likelihood of breaking it again is small - and that he feels the odds are in my favor for improvement with this procedure. He did caution me that I could have long-term arthritis issues, which is in line with what Dr. Price has previously said.

This morning I happened to read an article about arthritis and the effects on working (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071011/ap_on_he_me/arthritis_workplace). Since I work at home, I don't foresee a problem with arthritis impacting my ability to earn a living. I do, however, already struggle with driving, exercising, and just getting around. Some days, the stiffness is so bad that I have to go down the stairs sideways. Sometimes the swelling is so severe that I can't wear certain shoes. Driving long distances in my stick-shift car can aggravate my ankle too. More often than not, I wake up stiff and hobble around for the first 30 minutes or so of the morning. An ongoing issue is the lack of strength and stability I feel in the ankle, particularly when walking on uneven surfaces. And I still have flashbacks when I walk down a sloped surface - almost like post-traumatic stress disorder.

So I look forward to the procedure on the 22nd. Dr. Chi told me to expect heavy bleeding for the first several days. I will be on bed rest with my foot elevated during that phase - and then will be in a walking boot for 2 to 6 weeks. Unlike the original injury, I will be able to walk on it immediately. No crutches!! That's good news. Though I'm not sure I will be able to drive the stick-shift car with the boot on. :(

Nonetheless, it's a temporary set back that I hope will result in a better situation in the long run.

Grandpa's Legacy of Love

Eight days ago I got the call from my mom. My 85-year-old grandpa - her Daddy - had lost his nearly 3-year battle with lung and metastatic brain cancer.

My grandfather was a generous, loving, funny, humble man. He served in WWII with the United States Army. Growing up he told his grandchildren that he was a cook, and a drill sergeant, and a sniper in the army. To this day I don't know if any or all of these are true. He WAS an amazing cook. He made liver and onions palatable. He introduced me to little silver fish called smelt and shrimp cocktail. He made the best green beens and ham hocks and red potatoes. He would also line up my brother, sister, and me and recite a military cadence that I remember to this day.

Left. Left. Left, right, left. I left my wife and my 48 kids back in the states without any hamburgers left. Left. Left, right, left.



This is a picture of my grandpa and some of his army buddies. Grandpa is the handsome young devil kneeling down on the far right.


Grandpa was a real joker. He would show up for Easter Sunday with a frown and proceed to explain to us in his saddest tone about how the easter bunny jumped out in front of his car and he couldn't avoid hitting him. He gave us the same story on Christmas Eve - claiming to have run over Santa and his reindeer on his way over to our house.

These were some of the special stories that were shared by the pastor who presided over grandpa's funeral last Saturday. We had a small gathering of close family and friends at the grave site. Simple and intimate - just the way grandpa would have wanted it. When Pastor Dan related the story about the easter bunny and Santa, heads were bobbing up and down in silent agreement all around me.

Pastor Dan said if he had to choose one word to describe my grandfather it would be love. Grandpa was definitely loved, and he knew how to love in return. Before cancer took away his stamina, he would ride his Schwinn bike around his 55-and-over trailer park, with his Scottish Terrier Duffy in a basket on the front, stopping to visit with his neighbors. Within hours of his passing, a note was posted near the mailboxes in his park and people started stopping by his house to pay their respects.

This is what Pastor Dan referred to as leaving a legacy of love. His parting words for us as the funeral came to a close were a challenge of sorts. He encouraged each of us to create our own legacy - a legacy of love.

It didn't occur to me until a few days later that I had heard a similar message the night before the funeral from the famous Motown musician, Stevie Wonder. Kirk and I had tickets to see Stevie at the Ste. Michelle Winery near our home. We bought them weeks ago. Long before we knew grandpa would be gone. At the end of the amazing 2-hour show, Stevie also chose his parting words to be about love. He is touring only 11 cities this summer - but all in honor of his mother, whom he obviously loved with every ounce of his being. He talked about her regularly throughout his show. He shared stories about his mother and how she expressed love. He shared stories about his relationship with his own children and how much he loves them. And as he prepared to leave the stage, he reminded everyone in attendance that everything is possible through love.

Today has been a long day. The first day of school for my junior high girl, my high school girl, and one of my college boys. I made sure to give each of them some of my time today. I wanted to hear all about their first-day experiences. I wanted to start building my legacy of love.

Grandpa, you may be gone but you will never be forgotten. I love you.

Flashbacks

I was in Chicago earlier this week for an educator's conference and flew back home on a United flight. United Airlines primarily flies in and out of the North Satellite at Seatac Airport. It had been a long day, and a long flight, and I was tired and ready to get home when the plane pulled up to the gate at 8 pm last night. I gathered my things and found my way off the plane, chatting with my son on the cell phone to make arrangements to be picked up. As I hung up the phone and walked toward the escalators leading to the underground train and, eventually, baggage claim, I had an odd sensation come over me. Right in front of me was gate N10. I recognized it immediately as the gate where my accident happened just 14 months earlier.

I was literally stopped in my tracks. I have traveled dozens of times since that fateful trip last May, but I had never been this close to the scene of the accident. And, frankly, I was surprised at my own reaction all these months later. While I continue to deal with physical repercussions - the aching and stiffness in my ankle and the throbbing pain that wakes me on rainy nights - I had truly believed that the emotional trauma was over.

I have to travel again in another 12 days. I'm grateful that I am not flying United - which means chances are pretty good that I won't be flying out of the North Satellite. I obviously need a little more time to heal.

Three Strikes - you're back to the drawing board

I attended the Pacific Northwest Writer's conference in Seattle this weekend. I went for my first time about 8 years ago and found the experience to be very inspirational and exhilirating. This year I decided to register primarily because my good friend Pat had entered their writing contest and was a top-ten finalist. I wanted to be there to support her at the banquet in the event that she took home the blue ribbon.

While I have primarily been writing technical articles for work, I do continue to dabble in what I have come to refer to as "pleasure writing" from time to time. I have taken 2 writing courses in the past year, and I continue to devote some brain time to writing ideas and outlines. However, I did not go to the conference this year with a completed project in hand - and I really had no intention of meeting with agents or editors. But when my registration packet arrived with 2 appointment cards, one for an agent and one for an editor, it was hard to not take that as a "sign" and attend those appointments.

My first appointment was with an agent. She was a very nice woman who I would have been happy to have represent me - if I had a completed project. I opted to "pitch" the idea of my transplant memoir to her. I had circulated this idea at this same conference 8 years ago - talking to 3 agents at that meeting. None were intensely interested, but one did give me a referral to a friend of hers that she thought might be. I probably should have pursued it then. This year's agent told me that the idea was not marketable as a book because it didn't have enough "mass appeal." She suggested I condense it into a magazine article and try to sell that. Perhaps it was the fact that I accidentally mentioned that I have been working on this book for nearly 10 years now that turned her off? Ugh. Strike one.

My appointment with an editor wasn't much better. I sat at a round table with 5 other anxious authors, all taking turns pitching their story to this very nice agent who represented a publishing house in New York. It didn't seem to matter much that she was primarily looking for projects in the romance genre. We all carried on with our polished pitches as if we could somehow convince her that she couldn't leave town without our project (assuming we HAD one) in her briefcase.

Two people before my turn, a woman pitched her idea of a memoir centered around her grandfather who was a homesteader in Oregon. The editor suggested she try to sell the project to a local - more regional - publishing house. She went on to say that memoirs only work in the mass market if they are written by someone famous. Ugh.

When it was my turn, I launched into my pitch with a little bit of reservation based on what she had told the woman writing the homesteader memoir. Nonetheless, she heard me out and then smiled and said, "Have you seen an agent yet?" I shook my head yes. "I'll bet she told you to consider turning this into a magazine article..." WHAM. Once again, she reiterated that there is no mass market for this project. I wanted to argue - but it seemed futile at that point. Perhaps it was finally time to bury this idea. After all, I had lost my momentum somewhere around 8 years ago. Perhaps it was after that last writer's conference where the idea was met with lukewarm reception?? Strike two.

The very next session I attended at the conference was about women as influential writers. In the course of the presentation someone asked a question about copyright laws and quoting song lyrics. The other big project I have been working on for the last 2 years is my "Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned from Rock Music" book. This is a project I was truly excited about. I had nearly 100 one-line song lyrics saved on my laptop (the one that broke down last summer and I haven't had time to resurrect). Come to find out that you cannot quote song lyrics without first obtaining permission from ASCAP and the publisher of the song. The speaker said one small clip of lyrics in a book she represented once cost $300 just to obtain the rights to reprint the lyrics. I have nearly 100 clips saved! Suddenly this quaint, hip project has gotten very expensive. I asked if I could create a character that often quoted song lyrics as a form of communication (an idea I had for a protagonist in a mystery novel). The speaker said that water is simply too dangerous to tread in and quoting lyrics should be avoided if at all possible. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Strike three...you're...broken?

For a moment I felt completely defeated and hopeless. I had put a tremendous amount of time into the transplant book - even though it wasn't anywhere near complete. And I was so excited and fond of the song lyric book. It was like falling in love with a puppy and then being told I can't take it home. I was ready to throw in the towel and admit defeat. I even said to Pat, in a temporary moment of extreme self-pity, "Maybe this is a sign that I'm not meant to be a writer?"

Fortunately, I came to my senses. I have decided that while I didn't leave this years' conference feeling exhilirated and inspired - I did leave feeling more focused and deliberate about my work. So what if I don't have a primary project needling at my brain at the moment - at least I know where NOT to put my energy. That has to count for something.

Oh - and Pat didn't take home a blue ribbon. For now, she has to be happy with being a top-ten finalist in a contest that netted nearly 1000 applicants across 12 categories. In my opinion, that's pretty damned impressive. At least she had a completed project!

The Early Bird Catches the...OUCH!

I've been wide awake since about 5:30 am. This is unusual for me. It's not that I am well rested either. My eyes feel like they are lined with sand. But I flipped and flopped for about 45 minutes, and then finally got up to face the day. I figured I might actually get something done while the house is still quiet.

I did toy with the idea of going to the gym - but once I got out of bed and realized how stiff my ankle is today, I changed my mind. It's been nearly 11 months since the accident and I'm still hobbling. It's very frustrating.

I am fed up with my weight. I may have only gained 5 pounds over the last 11 months, but I really can't afford to gain much more. I am trying to be more active - but it seems to come at a cost. For example, I'll take a walk - a nice, steady pace. And then pay the price with a swollen, aching ankle for 2 days.

Last night the girls wanted to go swimming at the YMCA. I figured it would be a gentle form of exercise that would be good for my ankle - so I strapped on my suit (more like squeezed into it!) and off we went. It felt great to get in the water. I have to say, it's the one place where I don't feel fat! I swam laps - gentle, slow, easy laps. I also sat in the hot tub for a while. Very nice. I came home feeling really good. I slept solid (until 5:30 am!). I felt hopeful that I had finally found a form of exercise that might work. Until I got out of bed...

Maybe it's just sore because I haven't been swimming in a while. Maybe it's just sore because I need to stretch it more. Maybe it's just sore because I'm still healing.

Or maybe this is the way it will be for the rest of my life. What a depressing thought.

Waiting for the Swarming Locusts

It has been an insane few weeks for anyone living in Western Washington! Surely there are believers out there who are convinced that the Armageddon is upon us. In early November we were treated to record flooding. Only weeks later, a snow storm hit - followed closely by a deep freeze that blanketed the region in black ice. Then a major wind storm knocked out power to over 1 million homes - leaving some people without power for over a week. Yesterday we broke a temperature record (56 degrees) as well as record rainfall.

If the weather wasn't bad enough, we have had a host of home improvement problems crop up. Two weeks before the wind storm we discovered a leak from the water line going into our new refrigerator. Our son woke us up at 1 am to let us know there was water dripping from the ceiling in the downstairs family room. Hubby ripped out a large portion of the ceiling to diagnose the problem - and a plumber came out and replaced the cracked tubing running through the attic with copper pipe in the floor between the 2 stories of the house. That was an $800 repair job, not including the repair to the ceiling (which still needs to be fixed). We also noticed that the Pergo flooring in the dining room suffered some buckling from the leak.

The night of the wind storm, we discovered a leak in the roof when water was dripping from the dining room light fixture. Hubby was busy dismantling the light fixture when the same water savvy son came up to tell him that the laundry room and bathroom downstairs were flooded. Thinking it was a water pipe that may have broken during the deep freeze, hubby turned off the water main. But the water kept coming. On our way out the sliding glass door downstairs, we discovered that the carpet in the family room was completely saturated. We were in the midst of torrential rain fall at a rate of nearly 2 inches every hour - and it turns out that the rain water was pouring in from beneath the sliding glass door and then seeping down the edge of the house into the bathroom and laundry room. We dug a "moat" around our concrete patio out back to help pull the water away from the house and were in the process of sucking up the water out of the carpet with a wet vac when we lost power. We had used up all of our dry towels on the laundry room floor so I pulled out some flannel sheets and tried to mop up as much of the water as I could. Then the carpet sat wet for the 4+ days that we were without power. The first chance we got, we rented a commerical carpet blower and dried it out - but a moldy smell lingered.

We had a friend come over and help us seal off the gap below the sliding glass door. We also called Empire Today (you know the tune - 800-588-2300 Empire - TODAY!) and ordered new carpet for the family room. While we were at it, we decided to have the Pergo upstairs pulled up and replaced with hardwoods - along with the kitchen and stairs. The carpet installers arrived a few days later and began pulling up the old carpet. We then discovered that the leak from the night of the wind storm was not fixed. The floor was saturated again. ARGH! We had to send the carpet installers away while we diagnosed and repaired the leak. We're pretty sure the damage was coming from a faulty downspout that was literally pouring rain water directly onto the edge of the foundation. We extended the downspouts, put in some drains, and were satisfied enough with the repair job to have the carpet installers back out the next day to finish the job. (The carpet looks awesome, by the way!)

The next day the hardwood installers showed up and pulled up all of the Pergo, kitchen linoleum, and carpet off the stairs. Surprise, surprise. The leak from the refrigerator left a huge patch of damp plywood floor beneath the Pergo and linoleum. The hardwood guys couldn't finish the job until that dried out - so out came the fans. In the meantime, the entire contents of our dining room and kitchen were stacked in the living room, and there were boxes upon boxes of hardwood stacked in our narrow hallway leading to the bedrooms. We could barely move around on the top floor of the house. It took 2 days to get the wood dried out and get Empire to send out another crew to finish the job. (Thank you, Moses, for a job well done!)

Everything is done now and it all looks great. It started raining again yesterday. I have been running downstairs every few hours to check the downspout and make sure the new carpet is safe. So far, so good.

In a way, it seemed like a fitting way to end an otherwise horrific year. In 2006, I was in a car accident that left my BMW a total loss; I suffered a trimalleolar fracture of my right ankle and spent all summer in a cast and/or walking boot; my grandfather's lung cancer has moved from his left lung to his brain to his right lung and now back to his brain; my sister has completely self-destructed - starting with a DUI accident, then jail time, losing her job, a felony charge, more jail time, and now a problem with meth.

I'm ready for a new year - new beginnings. Either that, or the swarm of locusts that will signal the end of it all.

Day 19 and All is Quiet

The end of day 19 for Nanowrimo is rapidly approaching. I have written a pathetic 2788 words. My 11-year-old daughter is on page 28 of her story - I'm up to page 9. She's kicking my butt. But I'm not discouraged. I have always done my best work under pressure. The problem seems to be my inner critic. I realize that the goal of this project is to JUST WRITE, but I can't seem to stop reading and re-reading and editing every single word. I inherently know that this is absolutely contradictory to the plan. And yet...

So, with 11 days and 3 hours left, I am going to dive in for the next hour or two and see if I can actually get some words cranked out. I am using this blog as a pep talk to myself and my inner critic. Tonight's goal is word count. It's all about quantity and not necessarily about quality.

So cover me, I'm going in.

I Must Be NUTS

Halloween always marks the beginning of what I call "The Season of Eating." First there is all of that candy. Then just a few short weeks away we celebrate Thanksgiving with turkey and gravy and all of the fixings. Then comes the Christmas delights - plates of homemade cookies and candy from friends and relatives, followed by a big meal (usually prime rib) on Christmas Day. You would think that is the end - but then we have New Year's Eve with the drinking and snacking. I really don't consider the season over until after SuperBowl - another day of fabulous feasting.

During this very busy time of eating, I have decided to take the leap and finally try to write a book. I found out about something called NanoWrimo through a fiction writing class I just finished. The challenge is to write 50,000 words between Nov. 1st and Nov. 30th. To stay on track, you need to pen approximately 2,000 words per day. It's 3:40 pm and I haven't written a single word yet. Oy. Not starting out very well. But I'm not giving up! I have an outline, I have a plot and subplot, and I have a few characters sketched out. Now all I have to do is put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) and JUST DO IT.

5-1/2 Months and Limping

I can't believe how the time has been flying by since I was given the approval to drive and walk without my boot. I made a successful business trip to Denver earlier this month without incident. My ankle still swells up if I spend too much time on it. It still aches first thing in the morning and is stiff. But I am not nearly as handicapped as I was just 2 short months ago. That's progress.

I'm dealing with the physical reminders of the accident, but what really surprises me are the emotional issues I still have. When I went to board the plane out of Seattle to Denver this month, I was almost afraid to walk down the jetway. I walked very gingerly, holding onto the hand rail and taking small baby steps the entire length of the walkway. I'm sure the people behind me were annoyed - but I didn't care. Once while I was at my conference in Denver, I was carrying 2 cups of coffee, one in each hand, and walking down a carpeted hallway that had a slight decline to it. I had this terrible image of my ankle giving out and had to stop to calm myself down before continuing down the hallway. Any time that I walk down a ramp of any kind I feel like I'm back in the moment of the accident in May. I can picture my heel sliding forward and my ankle rolling. I relive it over and over again. I wonder how long I will continue to have these flashbacks? I wonder if other people who have had similar experiences also have flashbacks. Is this post traumatic stress disorder??

PT FREE!!

Today was my last physical therapy appointment! My PT said I have made excellent progress but should continue with my home exercise program. I'm still having some aching pain after being physically active, but she said that should start to lessen over time. By 6 months out, I shouldn't be having much pain.

It definitely feels like a major milestone in this unreal journey. I am now able to drive, though extended periods of driving does cause my ankle to ache. I can walk without crutches, though sometimes I hobble a bit. Most of my shoes fit, as long as I don't spend too much time on my feet. The biggest problem is the aching late in the day and throughout the night. I've been icing it in the late afternoon, and yesterday I took an Aleve because the pain was so bad. Slow but steady. My PT said it could take a year before I feel "back to normal." A year. A year of my life because of a steep jetway.