tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66459010821399338532024-03-13T10:37:56.628-07:00Best Day of LifeEvery Day After My Heart Transplant is the Best Day of LifeTxgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-52570321551571468952013-07-24T10:36:00.000-07:002013-07-24T10:37:36.458-07:00The Halfway Point - 52 New Albums in 2013I am a great believer in New Year's resolutions and each year starting in late December, my sister and I exchange strongly worded emails encouraging the other to get our goals down on paper. At the end of the year, we review. Typically, I accomplish at least 75-80% of my yearly goals.<br />
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What is my secret? It's pretty simple. I only make resolutions that are super awesome to fulfill. For example, this year I resolved to make more cakes and buy fancy bras. What's tough about that?<br />
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My favorite resolution so far has been my 52 Albums in 2013 project. The rules are simple - listen to 52 new-to-me albums with no duplicate artists on the list. I'm a little bit picky about who I select. I don't mind some familiarity - I know one or two songs from the radio perhaps, or I know of the artist, but their album is brand new. Several of these came from Colbert Report guests and others were just randomly picked based on the pretty album cover. After I listen, I choose one of my favorite songs from the album to represent on the list.<br />
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Here is a list of the first 27 weeks of the year. (Click <a href="http://rd.io/x/QW9N2jNAyzE/" target="_blank">here</a> if the embedded player doesn't work).<br />
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The best way to find new albums is to poll your friends. My Facebook peeps came back to me with a whopping 22 artists that fit my criteria. So if you made a suggestion, check back later and see if it makes into the second half of the year!Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-40924266032863997992013-05-08T13:00:00.000-07:002013-05-08T13:00:02.445-07:00Conversation with a Two Year Old, LimitsIt's no secret that two-year olds are awesome. Yes, there are fits, screaming, completely irrational arguments and irritating obsessions. But, they are also amazing creatures - tiny humans who pair bike helmets with pajamas and belts, who sit in bowls in the middle of the floor, who fall asleep at the dinner table.<br />
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Our two year old (and five year old) foster kids are now back with their mother, but there are stories galore. I'll be sharing a few of them here.<br />
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It was before work, and I was starting the scrambled eggs. K, our foster son, was eager to help. My egg cracking and stirring was quickly accompanied by the scrape of the chair across the kitchen floor. Soon, his tousled curly head was under my chin, asking to stir.<br />
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Enter distraction.<br />
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<i>What’s this? </i><br />Cupcakes, please don’t touch them.</blockquote>
Stirring the eggs, I notice that K is eyeing the box. Slowly, he reaches out and draws the box to him.<br />
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Hey buddy. What are you doing?<br /><i>Me just gonna look at them.</i><br />Okay, remember I said no touching.<br /><i>Me know.</i></blockquote>
At this point, I know that I should probably take the cupcakes away, but I am sort of interested to see how this is going to play out. As if on cue, I hear the sound of the clamshell cracking open.<br />
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Now, what are you doing? Remember what I said?<br /><i>Yeah, me know. Me just gonna smell them.</i><br />Really? This isn’t going to end well. </blockquote>
At this point, the eggs are demanding my attention. I turn back just in time to see a <i>small tongue touching the cupcake. </i><br />
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Dude! I gotta take these away now. </blockquote>
Fit ensues.<br />
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-73561757432997720402013-05-06T13:54:00.000-07:002013-05-06T13:54:11.491-07:00Around Here (late!)<br />
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Finally emptied, cleaned and despidered our sunroom. A thrift store truck pick up was needed plus multiple special trash dumps. Furniture has been Craigslisted. <i>I can breathe now in this room.</i><br />
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Had my best time ever in (of course) an untimed 5K. The Denver Graffiti Run had a fantastic concept - a fun, non-competitive 5K in which you received a healthy dose of colored powder in a highly mutated version of the Holi Festival of Colors. The colored powders were messy and enjoyable, but the race itself was a poorly organized disaster of no water stations, a barely marked course, no distance markers, and an inability effectively cope with the number of participants. Still, even an unofficial best race time is a victory.<br />
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Just in time for winter to...well, keep on going, new boot shelves for the collection. And to complete that thought - it dumped at least 8" on May Day. To put some perspective on this storm - schools are only less than three weeks away from summer vacation.<br />
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-14311653794551490912013-05-01T21:56:00.002-07:002013-05-01T21:57:30.142-07:00The Roar of BowserA couple of months ago, I posted this goal on Go Mighty (and here on this blog): <br />
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<a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2013/01/bowser-therapy.html" target="_blank">Make a Bowser Costume for My Foster Son Before He Leaves Us in March</a></blockquote>
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To be honest, I had hoped that J, our foster son, would forget the promise to create a Bowser costume. I had no idea how to even start and with limited time in trying to take care of two little ones plus befriend/mentor their very young mother, building a costume seemed impossible. Plus, I was struggling on how to translate the literal image of Bowser into fabric and felt.</div>
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As often happens, the deadlock was broken with a simple reminder. One of my quilting friends saw my blog post and dropped a quick email of ideas and advice. “Remember,” she wrote, “imagination can fill in a lot.”</div>
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All you parents out there may be shaking your heads by now, but for me, it was a revelation. Duh. I’d seen J use a vacuum attachment as a sword. And in our home, where we did not allow toy guns or even the word “gun”, J had quickly figured out how to build fancy “machines” out of Legos which shot out ice bombs or fire bombs. Imagination….<i>of course</i>.</div>
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Armed with that conviction, I sewed and cursed and sewed and finally cobbled together a semblance of a costume. My goal was his birthday in March and with several very late nights plus some hand sewing done in the office on conference calls (shhh), the costume was mostly done.</div>
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Unfortunately, between the mother, the grandmother and me, we can’t find any pictures of J in his costume, even though we know that they exist somewhere. Even if I had them, I couldn’t publish them anyway. So without further ado, the components of the Bowser costume:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy0BDyalnIA/UYHxFgYzvSI/AAAAAAAABVo/sQ3lRAWr8uE/s1600/Bowser+-+Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy0BDyalnIA/UYHxFgYzvSI/AAAAAAAABVo/sQ3lRAWr8uE/s400/Bowser+-+Front.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front + look at those adorable gloves!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That tail!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me modeling the hood</td></tr>
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It is hard to describe what it feels like when you *make* something and a newly five-year old boy’s eyes light up with joy. When he throws down his current toy, and immediately shucks off his clothes (that’s not too hard to imagine if you know little boys), struggles into the costume then runs off, tail swinging behind him, with a shout that he’s “GONNA GO SHOW CHRIS!!!!” </div>
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My heart exploded into a million pieces that even now, with the kids happily back with their mother, is not fully put back together.</div>
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Pattern: <a href="http://www.simplicity.com/p-7929-childs-and-dog-costumes.aspx" target="_blank">Simplicity 1765</a></div>
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Materials: Fleece, more fleece, fiberfill, felt, zipper</div>
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Missing: Fierce arm bands, a spiky shell</div>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-266547080868582052013-04-25T22:20:00.000-07:002013-04-25T22:20:53.856-07:00Soldiers, Mountains and Grants<br />
Some big news here at Best Day of Life....from my post over at <a href="http://gomighty.com/goal/9811/" target="_blank">Go Mighty.</a><br />
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<i>We are sometimes not a great judge of what’s possible.</i>- Maggie Mason<br />
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Sometimes all it takes is one phrase to jump start something. I know that this is nothing profound – the <a href="http://gomighty.com/" target="_blank">Go Mighty</a> community are a people who are sensitive to inspiration. A people for whom sometimes all it takes is one second of permission to change something good into something <i>oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing</i> awesome.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The drive to Glenwood Springs</td></tr>
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That’s how this goal started. In June 2010, I scribbled my life list in the car on a road trip to Glenwood Springs with my husband. We were spitballing – just throwing things out there like we do – when “climb a fourteener” made the list. It was a safe item – like “get a tattoo” (which I can’t do without risking the wrath of my stodgy transplant team…but we shall see) – because it would probably never happen.<br />
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And then it did. <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-rest-of-story.html" target="_blank">Twice</a>. And actually one more time in September 2012 which will come in a soon-to-be-written post.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the top of Mt. Democrat</td></tr>
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After taking an online course, I looked back at my list. Emboldened by <a href="http://mightygirl.com/" target="_blank">Maggie Mason's</a> suggestion that this be a living list, I crossed of ”climb a fourteener” and changed it to my secret, only discussed with my husband, life list item: <b>climb ALL the mountains!</b><br />
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And then I hit publish.<br />
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Never did I expect that this goal would make the front page of Go Mighty. Nor did I, in a million years, expect it to win a $1,000 grant! The morning I received the announcement email, I sleepily looked at my phone, put it down, rubbed my eyes and then pulled the covers over my head. <i>Overwhelmed.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FRONT PAGE!</td></tr>
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So what does one do with a grant for mountain climbing? Bagging local fourteeners, aside from gear (which can either be minimal (and unsafe) at tennis shoes, a Nalgene bottle and your dog or very high tech, all name-brand and fancy), is not a very expensive sport. I am fortunate to have inherited quite a bit of my gear secondhand from a friend who is a sponsored athlete for an outdoor clothing manufacturer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing in a cloud</td></tr>
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Well, as it turns out, my next climb is already on deck. And it’s a fundraiser. I am scheduled to participate in the “<a href="http://nobarriersusa.org/wye_co/" target="_blank">What’s Your Everest</a> ” climb to on June 1st to benefit <a href="http://nobarriersusa.org/#about-us" target="_blank">Soldiers to the Summit</a>. S2S is a group dedicated to using the mountain climbing experience as a metaphor for soldiers to start rebuilding their lives after physical or emotional injury post-combat. Even though I am not a soldier, the idea is everyone has an “Everest” - those things that seem too big to ever summit. For me, mountain climbing represents the ultimate in what I couldn’t do before and every time I tackle a mountain I have to face and conquer all those heart failure demons as I climb.<br />
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We will be tackling <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grays_Peak" target="_blank">Grays Peak</a> as a group under the expert leadership of several incredible climbers. Grays is typically done as a twofer with its neighbor, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torreys_Peak" target="_blank">Torreys Peak</a> I hear rumors that there will be a rogue group headed to the saddle to grab them both. I will be among that company if my snail’s pace allows it.<br />
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My grant is headed to this amazing organization, earmarked specifically for this fundraising climb. By doing so, I will be able to climb with my favorite partner and husband. We will be alongside men and women who have sacrificed so much for our country and are looking to overcome a real and present barrier – this 14,278 foot mountain.<br />
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We may not sometimes be the best judges of what is possible…indeed yes. I am thrilled and honored to be able to join with this team of wounded warriors to break through our own barriers of what we think possible.<br />
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Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-84956011729003431382013-04-23T23:10:00.000-07:002013-04-23T23:16:06.833-07:00The Rest of the StoryThe long awaited finish to the first Fourteener(s) saga. Here is part <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-list-5-on-top-of-world-part-1.html" target="_blank">one</a> and part <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-list-5-on-top-of-world-part-2.html" target="_blank">two</a>.<br />
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We had started the day at 5:00 am – too late to be considered an “alpine” start but not so late that it wasn’t still early at the summit of Mt. Democrat. As we headed back, climbing gingerly over the iciest damn rocks I have EVER SEEN, we began to mull the concept of actually continuing on. <i>What the what?</i><br />
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No joke, those are what the rocks looked like. It was hard on knees and balance to crawl down the rocks, and nauseous-terrifying for someone who is afraid to walk across an icy flat parking lot. At one point, my legs just stopped. I waited for a minute with the desperate hope that maybe someone would just pick me up? Just over this rock? Alas, that’s not how mountain climbing works. I dug deep, took a breath and moved. There was slipping and not a few moments where tears were close, but, since I’m sitting in my chair now, I’m assuming that I made it.<br />
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We reached the saddle. Now, Mt. Democrat sits in a trio of 14,000+ mountains. Actually, it sits in a quadrangle, but apparently there are rules about these things. Democrat’s sister mountains are Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Bross.<br />
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From this poorly illustrated picture, you can see that you take one trail up to the saddle. Go left and you are on Democrat. Go right and you head on over to Mt. Cameron and then over to Mt. Lincoln and Brosse. Typically, climbers efficiently try to hit all three (official) 14ers in one day.<br />
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A few gels and some water later, Mike, Brian and I headed out. Chris (my husband) had sadly twisted his knee and decided to wait this one out.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oMJQWwcqy_s/UXd2AjH3jqI/AAAAAAAABTk/ppKlaLFiy0w/s1600/Saddle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oMJQWwcqy_s/UXd2AjH3jqI/AAAAAAAABTk/ppKlaLFiy0w/s320/Saddle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We had stopped talking at this point. Breathing the frigid air, my only focus was my next step. It gets too overwhelming when you actually stop to think about how far you need to go…and your very inching progress.<br />
<br />
Suddenly we were at the top of something. I saw the handwritten sign surrounded by rocks. Hallelujah! My second fourteener of the day. OMG! My second!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-diKx5qF06lM/UXd2AN_sgVI/AAAAAAAABTs/8bFBjRcUklA/s1600/Mt+Cameron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-diKx5qF06lM/UXd2AN_sgVI/AAAAAAAABTs/8bFBjRcUklA/s320/Mt+Cameron.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As I prepared my high-fives, Brian shared the sad news. Not all fourteeners are official Fourteeners. Again, what the what? According to Wikipedia, a 14,000+ peak “must have at least 300 feet (91 m) of prominence to qualify.” Mt.Cameron, while a very nice mountain, did not fit the criteria. Alas, we took our pictures and moved on.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pt-482lpiC4/UXd2AbO68YI/AAAAAAAABTc/fMy-JhWSTj8/s1600/Saddle+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pt-482lpiC4/UXd2AbO68YI/AAAAAAAABTc/fMy-JhWSTj8/s320/Saddle+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Finally, there in the distance was the top of Mt. Lincoln – a tough chunk of rock sticking out of more rocks. A lot of scrambling, some pulling and a boost later and there we were. It was official – <strike>three</strike> two fourteeners in one day for this transplant. Overwhelming.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kB9iRm9jdA4/UXd2AIBEpLI/AAAAAAAABTg/Uoo2wG4SbM0/s1600/Mt+Lincoln.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kB9iRm9jdA4/UXd2AIBEpLI/AAAAAAAABTg/Uoo2wG4SbM0/s320/Mt+Lincoln.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There was a brief discussion of trying to bag Mt. Bross, but Mike wisely decided that I probably had enough. Plus, the biggest danger of Colorado 14ers was beginning to loom overhead – the clouds were breaking from ice to storm clouds. We judged it best to hightail it back to the car.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p61hJd78yf0/UXd2AEjU88I/AAAAAAAABTo/iTRbJOTEDlA/s1600/IMG_3693.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p61hJd78yf0/UXd2AEjU88I/AAAAAAAABTo/iTRbJOTEDlA/s320/IMG_3693.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We made it to the bottom. My legs were shivery shaky – I hadn’t sat down once all day. I remembered all the terrible days of my hospitalization – the time I coded, the time I arrested, the emergency surgery and then I looked at my husband and at my feet. Those feet, his heart and this amazing heart had gotten me up and back. I couldn’t wait to do more.Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-54578613416157106482013-03-24T13:15:00.000-07:002013-03-24T13:16:01.131-07:00Book Review: The Woodcutter<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9669543-the-woodcutter" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Woodcutter" border="0" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327877283m/9669543.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9669543-the-woodcutter">The Woodcutter</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4452712.Kate_Danley">Kate Danley</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/510581702">4 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
I've always been a fan of familiar things retold in new and innovative ways. Whether it be a reworking of two folk songs into one new piece or a re-envisioning of Shakespeare in a different era, I love tracing the new lines back to the original.<br />
<br />
This book did just that - combining the similar elements of several fairy tales and then creating a common link to tie everything together in a way that seems almost natural. The author would tease out each new character so you had to dig deep in your childhood memories to see if you could figure out which fairy tale would come next. <br />
<br />
Sure, this book was written a bit melodramatically, but overall, the style helped create atmosphere and the subject material lent itself well to the style. <br />
<br />
Very enjoyable for a fast read.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5776322-sarah">View all my reviews</a>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-12663215795413208102013-01-27T17:08:00.002-08:002013-01-27T17:09:25.955-08:00Book Review: Sea of Monsters<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28186.The_Sea_of_Monsters" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Sea of Monsters (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, #2)" border="0" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1331236518m/28186.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28186.The_Sea_of_Monsters">The Sea of Monsters</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15872.Rick_Riordan">Rick Riordan</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/509709378">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
I picked this series back up after despairing in the library one evening to the librarian on the lack of well written young adult series outside of Harry Potter, the Hunger Games and His Dark Materials. While I still don't think that the Olympians can hold a candle to any of those, Rick Riordan spins a charming, exciting and funny story which kept me entertained through a cold.<br />
<br />
I love the addition of Tyson to the gang, especially once his nifty talent was revealed. I love the idea of seeing more unique items in the future and hope that Riordan follows that character through.<br />
<br />
My biggest quibble is that almost every character has a Harry Potter equivalent. This does diminish a bit of the originality of the stories and takes them from being something really clever to sort of A been there, done that. Hopefully those parallels will also fade as the story arc and characters develop.<br />
<br />
All in all, a good read and an decent adventure that I will continue for at least another installment.
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5776322-sarah">View all my reviews</a>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-79646692341457761132013-01-12T13:33:00.001-08:002013-01-12T13:41:59.800-08:00Bowser Therapy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LqdVQIvh3JI/UPHUwqS7g3I/AAAAAAAABSE/k5PwQ3FgqD0/s1600/Bowser_SMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LqdVQIvh3JI/UPHUwqS7g3I/AAAAAAAABSE/k5PwQ3FgqD0/s320/Bowser_SMG.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bowser - just your basic dragon/turtle bad guy with penchant for mohawks and ships.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Bowser - the ubiquitous villain from Nintendo's Mario Brothers game is just your basic bad dragon/turtle hybrid guy. He enjoys roaring, throwing fireballs and most of all, kidnapping Princess Peach who by now I think pretty much digs it as revealed in this<a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/video/6386756/peach-and-zelda-catch-up" target="_blank"> hilarious video by College Humor</a>.<br />
<br />
<div>
Nonethess, when J, our foster son, joined us in October, he had never played video games before. It was our logical first step in the middle of the chaos of being placed with a stranger-to-us 5-year old. We had no toys, books or even a bed, but we <b>did </b>have Wii and <i>Mario Kart</i>.<br />
<br />
Turns out, in the aftermath of a traumatic separation, video games provided him the perfect outlet to release frustration and grief. There were tears and yelling – but it was aimed at the game and eventually, with enough determination and grit, he fought his way through levels and began collecting the coveted Mario Galaxy stars.<br />
<br />
Along the way, J (who cannot be pictured due to confidentiality issues), developed quite a fondness for Bowser, the ultimate Mario bad guy. Who knows why, but nothing Bowser threw ol’ Mario’s way could dissuade this love. When I jokingly suggested one day that I make him a Bowser costume, the idea stuck. And unlike the suggestions for eating vegetables or drinking milk, this one has been pursued with a vigor that has surprised us all. <br />
<br />
So I've added this to my Life Life (it has to be a quick one!) on <a href="http://gomighty.com/" target="_blank">GoMighty</a>.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="http://gomighty.com/goal/11375/" target="_blank">Make a Bowser Costume for My Foster Son Before He Leaves Us in March.</a></blockquote>
<br />
So, now it is off to Pinterest, Joann’s and crafting sites to figure out how in God’s name this costume is going come together. <br />
<br />
Sewers and crafters, your ideas and suggestions are welcome. In a rare instance to a foster case, this one will have a happy ending and I’d like to send him off with his costume.</div>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-88100627960773363982013-01-08T01:00:00.000-08:002013-01-08T01:00:15.263-08:00Book Review: Will Grayson, Will Grayson<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6567017-will-grayson-will-grayson" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Will Grayson, Will Grayson" border="0" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347192518m/6567017.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6567017-will-grayson-will-grayson">Will Grayson, Will Grayson</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1406384.John_Green">John Green</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/495761877">4 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
My very first thought upon finishing this book was where was John Green when I was in high school? Of course, if my math is correct, he was likely potty training, but nonetheless, I stand in awe of his <br />
brilliance. <br />
<br />
Green can capture the "everystudent" - the one who is not super concerned with being popular, but worries about grades, getting into college, finding a girlfriend/boyfriend - like no other. He writes about the kind of kid that I was - except now I just wish there was a female protagonist.<br />
<br />
The book is a fast read - a quick coming of "relationship" story since I feel all these characters are still behind on their actual "coming of age." Instead, the book traces the characters as they learn what it means to love, like, talk and just be. Everyone's life will be changed, but there is a realistic feel that these, after all, are just kids. And high school is but one phase on a long road of change. <br />
<br />
The back and forth chapter-by-chapter partnership of Green and David Levithan is terrific. Each Will Grayson has his own voice and the supplemental characters keep their individual voices even through the different author's eyes. The book is funny and moving and a great example of the "it gets better" campaign without ever once uttering that phrase.
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5776322-sarah">View all my reviews</a>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-85765847259633163292013-01-06T22:12:00.002-08:002013-01-06T22:12:43.074-08:00Life List #12: Ozark Pudding CakeOne of my Life List goals is to cook my way through an entire cookbook. I've started and stopped this so many times with so many different cookbooks that I almost just nixed it from the list. Clearly, something wasn't working.<br />
<br />
Then, on a random whim, I purchased <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1607741024" target="_blank">Vintage Cakes by Julie Richardson</a>. I'd seen it on a blog and suddenly I knew, there was my cookbook. I'll be posting the various recipes made from time to time here as well as on <a href="http://gomighty.com/txgrrl/ozark-pudding-cake-11222012/" target="_blank">Go Mighty</a>.<br />
<br />
We shall start with <b>Ozark Pudding Cake.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxplkazfnHI/UOpnKf1e63I/AAAAAAAABRg/cvpYcMTJwVE/s1600/IMG_20121122_165037_423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxplkazfnHI/UOpnKf1e63I/AAAAAAAABRg/cvpYcMTJwVE/s320/IMG_20121122_165037_423.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Please excuse the poor picture quality. Read the post for details.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thanksgiving 2012.<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. What’s not to love about a day dedicated to my favorite hobby and butter. But this year was different. This was the year that only five weeks earlier, we became foster parents to two brothers ages 2 and 4.5.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, we are not young. We are not old either, but we also don’t have any children of our own. These babes came with nothing but sweatsuits and socks. Still reeling from the shock of readjusting our entire state of being, along comes Thanksgiving, hosted at our house out of sheer sympathy for our new lives.<br />
<br />
I foolishly volunteered to do a side dish and dessert. Thanksgiving morning dawned and I realized, I had no lists, no timing plan, and not even a clean house. Underwear was strewn on the basement floor (what is up with that, mothers of boys?) and a barf-filled afghan had been dragged into the yard by our dog from the night before. Great.<br />
<br />
Out of desperation, I grabbed my new cookbook, took stock of my ingredients – pears, check! Dried cranberries, yes! Nuts – found buried deep in the freezer, jackpot!<br />
<br />
The cake came together quickly (in one bowl!) while my parents were setting out the food they brought. It baked while we ate. We had no ice cream or whipped cream or creme fraiche, but served warm and buttery from the cast iron pan, even the barfy child could not resist. It is neither a traditional cake, nor is it pudding. But it is pure comfort – the pears melting into moist vanilla-y cake spiked with the sweet tartness of cranberries.<br />
<br />
Did my luscious but humble cake save Thanksgiving? No, but maybe Thanksgiving doesn’t need saving from mess, noise and the unexpected. It was my parents looking bemusedly on the chaos, my sister and her boyfriend laughing about the “built-in birth control” and the two happy little boys snuggling and playing in the messy house…that’s what Thanksgiving really needs.<br />
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-31852252534897013152012-09-04T18:52:00.000-07:002012-09-04T21:10:17.887-07:00Book Review: Cloud Atlas<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49628.Cloud_Atlas" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Cloud Atlas" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1344305390m/49628.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49628.Cloud_Atlas">Cloud Atlas</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4565.David_Mitchell">David Mitchell</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/385350430">5 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
In the interests of keeping it real, I almost put this book down after the first three sections. The subject matter of the first story was challenging, the second story seemed a bit pointless (although the best of these three) and the third was simply annoying. But perseverance won the day and in the end, the story I liked the least became one of my favorites.<br />
<br />
Told linearly yet abstractly, if that is even possible, the book is divided into six stories connected by various threads. You get the first half of five of the stories, then the entire sixth story and then you cycle backwards through the second half of the five stories. Make sense? It does when you are reading, oddly enough. <br />
<br />
What makes this fascinating, besides the constant puzzle to figure out connections, is that each story is completely self-contained and a totally different genre than the others. I can only imagine the storyboarding that went into writing this thing.<br />
<br />
I would normally write a longer, more detailed review for my blog, but honestly, to reveal more would be a) too spoilerrific and b) plain confusing. To sort of get a feeling for the WTFness of this book, I highly recommend watching the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1371111/" target="_blank">film's trailer</a>. There have clearly been quite a few changes, but it gives a better summary than I can - and you will still be shaking your head at the end.<br />
<br />
I am looking forward to seeing how this is adapted when the movie comes out in October.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5776322-sarah">View all my reviews</a>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-70829822645530389692012-09-02T19:30:00.000-07:002012-09-02T19:30:40.801-07:00How to Fill 66 Jars in a DayIn the late 90s, I became a certified "Master Food Preserver" through my local county extension office. It sounds very fancy, but at the time, canning and food preservation was truly out of favor. I was undoubtedly the youngest person in my class of about a dozen people.<div>
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<div>
<div>
As Master Food Preservers, we were expected to field questions from county constituents contacting the understaffed extension offices as well as give demos and teach classes. In the entire time that I lived in Weld county, I never once got a question nor did I ever teach a class. I fulfilled my required hours mostly by helping out at the county fair and manning a little visited food preservation booth at various county functions.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fast forward to 2008, after a long time away from my canner, I decided to <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2008/07/lost-art.html" target="_blank">make some pickles</a>. I wrote this about the craft:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There is no doubt that canning is as laborious and useless a kitchen task as there currently is. But there are fewer culinary tasks more satisfying than seeing rows of your own (tastier) pickles lined up in the pantry. </blockquote>
<div>
And while that is still true, over the past three years, for whatever reason, canning has seen a resurgence. Whenever I mention my pickles, which is frequently as I am an unabashed canning evangelist, I inevitably get a request to "teach me how!" I started with a small class to a friend and her husband, then another much larger class to my church, and then my closest friend asked to learn. One hot August day, we put up our favorites: jams, pickled beets and bread and butters pickles. The Annual Cannual was born.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This year was the third Annual Cannual and every year we learn more. Canning is still useless, hot and laborious, but this is how you do it right.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>The Set Up</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Apparently, glass top stove manufacturers forbid canning using traditional ridged-bottom canners due to a combination of weight, pot size and the temperature fluctuations of the glass top stove. Knowing the volume of the Annual Cannual, I was unwilling to accept canning in my smaller flatbottomed canner. So we did this instead:</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--E9tS11S_WE/UEO4W17vvOI/AAAAAAAABM8/dEGfTcvYWok/s1600/IMG_3968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--E9tS11S_WE/UEO4W17vvOI/AAAAAAAABM8/dEGfTcvYWok/s320/IMG_3968.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, a propane-powered, dual-burnered camp stove with an output of 35,000 BTUs per burner. We kept two canners constantly going (even in the rain), the heat stayed outside and all four burners were available on the range inside for cooking. Also, spills? No problem.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>The Bounty</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tomatoes from fellow choristers, peaches from coworkers, cucumbers, onions and chiles from the local farmers markets and the rest from the uber gardeners, my parents. The fresher, the better.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xGyhKRGDhQA/UEO6wa2zlMI/AAAAAAAABNg/wThb-00k0E4/s1600/IMG_3944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xGyhKRGDhQA/UEO6wa2zlMI/AAAAAAAABNg/wThb-00k0E4/s320/IMG_3944.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>The Tribe</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Many hands make light work - never truer when you have pounds and pounds of produce to convert into pickles and jams. Everyone did prep work at home so on the morning of the Cannual, we only had about two hours of blanching, peeling, chopping and foodmilling left to do.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_wg9RdGnoiA/UEQK1Rz8yAI/AAAAAAAABN8/Z_X_QHp7bNw/s1600/IMG_3958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_wg9RdGnoiA/UEQK1Rz8yAI/AAAAAAAABN8/Z_X_QHp7bNw/s320/IMG_3958.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cilantro and tomatoes for salsa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-haIhIqf6-QQ/UEQPwz0JoBI/AAAAAAAABOw/W-vn4HuZdhM/s1600/IMG_3957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-haIhIqf6-QQ/UEQPwz0JoBI/AAAAAAAABOw/W-vn4HuZdhM/s320/IMG_3957.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apples for apple butter</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j2byPNsO6FA/UEQPL4Mp1uI/AAAAAAAABOU/xtMzJr7Psus/s1600/IMG_3954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j2byPNsO6FA/UEQPL4Mp1uI/AAAAAAAABOU/xtMzJr7Psus/s320/IMG_3954.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peaches and strawberries for jam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<b>The Yield</b></div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We started at 10:00 am and finished at about 8:30 pm. Plenty of time left for ice cream and consuming extra jam.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<li>7 pints of peach salsas</li>
<li>7 pints of tomato salsa</li>
<li>4 pints of pickled beets</li>
<li>7 pints of bread and butter pickles</li>
<li>10 half-pints of apple butter</li>
<li>17 half-pints of peach jam</li>
<li>9 half-pints of strawberry rhubarb jam</li>
<li>5 half-pints of plum preserves</li>
<li>10 half-pints of apple butter</li>
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Everything definitely has a season.</div>
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Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-39333390591837303022011-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:002011-11-17T21:40:34.434-08:00Life List #5 - On Top of the World, part 2(see part one of the story <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-list-5-on-top-of-world-part-1.html" target="_blank">here</a>)<br />
<br />
Chris and I spent the night before in Fairplay - arriving at nearly midnight and waking after a restless night at 3:30. I'd brought instant oatmeal which we ate liberally loaded with nuts and drank hot tea. I desperately hoped this would be enough to power us through the start of the day. We had a store's worth of REI gear on our persons. I'd bought anything and everything - I had no idea what to expect.<br />
<br />
<i>Was I actually going to climb a fourteener?</i><br />
<br />
At 5:00 am we met Mike (my boss) and our friend Brian at the Kite Lake trailhead. It was dark, and Chris and I were quickly outfitted with borrowed headlamps, gloves and poles. All of my extra weight had been redistributed among our crew. Adrenaline quickly replaced my knotted stomach and my four-hours of sleep addled anxiety.<br />
<br />
<i>OMG. I was going to climb a fourteener.</i><br />
<br />
The first thing that Mike told us was that we were going to go slow. Really really slow. Even slower than I thought I had ever gone before. So slow that we would be frustrated and want to go faster. That slow. Did we get it? Slow.<br />
<br />
The second thing was to remember to breathe. Breathe deeply and continuously. This might sound elementary but have you ever noticed when exercising that you sometimes forget to breathe? It is key as you start gaining vertical feet.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2MV7FhiQ350/Tmri2YIM1zI/AAAAAAAAA4I/YDMpGQ5rOK8/s1600/100_3338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2MV7FhiQ350/Tmri2YIM1zI/AAAAAAAAA4I/YDMpGQ5rOK8/s320/100_3338.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admiring the ice crystals that were everywhere.</td></tr>
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As we started getting closer to the ascent part (the trail was very long), I began to notice something particularly troubling. Everything was coated with a thin sheet of ice. By everything, I mean the trail had turned from dirt to rocks. And the rocks were solid black ice. Yikes.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8asitIoYnJw/TsSb8vFh9cI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/-qyk5eQlJOk/s1600/327604_2397396613986_1223101242_2924820_2003366953_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8asitIoYnJw/TsSb8vFh9cI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/-qyk5eQlJOk/s320/327604_2397396613986_1223101242_2924820_2003366953_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ping pong goodness</td></tr>
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The darkness finally eased into light and someone commented that it was like being inside a ping-pong ball. We were in a cloud of fog - or maybe just a cloud - we were already at about 12,000 feet.<br />
<br />
<i>Um, hello. I was freakin' climbing a fourteener!</i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3GWtrHs_E_k/TmvsJocLkeI/AAAAAAAAA6g/sDsB6MwLdhk/s1600/IMG_3646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3GWtrHs_E_k/TmvsJocLkeI/AAAAAAAAA6g/sDsB6MwLdhk/s320/IMG_3646.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the ice coating my hair. My hairsicles. It was everywhere.</td></tr>
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We stopped at 13,000 feet to check pulse ox rates. Mine had slipped to 85. Breathe, I was told. Don't talk, just breathe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tpkEpCEbGoo/TmrjAJeN-JI/AAAAAAAAA4o/WmDIfdGhzgI/s1600/100_3346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tpkEpCEbGoo/TmrjAJeN-JI/AAAAAAAAA4o/WmDIfdGhzgI/s320/100_3346.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nanuk of the Mosquito Range</td></tr>
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We powered up with electrolyte gels and water as we hit 14,000 feet. Another check of the pulse ox showed mine back up to 95. It never fell below 94 for the remainder of the climb.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_U1iLhSSUh8/TmrjC3pEd9I/AAAAAAAAA4w/I6HpTYXTHko/s1600/100_3348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_U1iLhSSUh8/TmrjC3pEd9I/AAAAAAAAA4w/I6HpTYXTHko/s320/100_3348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't be fooled by the sun. These rocks were icy.</td></tr>
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One foot after another and all of a sudden, we were there. We were at the top of Mt. Democrat at 14,155 ft. We'd climbed two miles and 2,300 vertical feet. That's a 20% grade. My pulse ox was 95, my heart rate was about 145.</div>
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<b><i>I had just climbed a fourteener!</i></b></div>
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But wait! There's more...Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-63734716773152198142011-11-16T20:24:00.001-08:002011-11-16T21:03:50.989-08:00Life List #5 - On Top of the World, part 1In August of 2008, my Sunday night small group spontaneously decided to try to climb <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2008/08/defying-gravity.html" target="_blank">Mt. Bierstadt</a>. A noble attempt, but we were sadly turned away from the summit - or even close to the summit - by rain and snow. In August.<br />
<br />
A September climb of Mt. Elbert yielded similar results - hail stopping us only 100 feet higher than on Bierstadt. Mountain climbing was hard. I was painfully slow, struggled with the heart rate in my nerveless heart, and it seemed as though the weather was always against us. I decided then and there that mountain climbing was not for me. Long hikes, yes. Vertical feet? No.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to September 2011. My boss calls me into his office. <i>What's your work out regimen,</i> he asked. <i>You in good shape?</i><br />
<br />
Not particularly phased by the question - we are a fit office and workout routines are a common conversation topic - I launch into a litany of my cardio and strength training regimen. Sometime over the spring I'd amped up my fitness schedule so I was excited to talk about it. Something just clicked into place with me and exercise over the past several months, but that is a topic for another post. <br />
<br />
<i>Great,</i> he said. <i>How about on Thursday we climb a fourteener?</i><br />
<br />
<i>Say what?!? </i><br />
<br />
My initial reaction was no. No. NO. I had a heart transplant a mere five years prior. Had this been forgotten? And what about all this business about my speed? I was slow...way slow... excruciatingly slow. Oh, and my heart rate is cray-zee. Like interval training - it would speed up to the top of my target range while climbing and then I would need to slow down until it hit the bottom before starting the process all over again. It took at least an hour for it to settle at a steady rate. I was a hot mess on a mountain plus, most importantly, I had never even been over 12,000 feet outside of a car.<br />
<br />
So of course I said yes.<br />
<br />
(to be continued...)Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-40623694185827991252011-11-11T20:15:00.001-08:002011-11-11T21:21:13.537-08:00Link Round Up: Head ExplosionsI am on instant message all day at work. Occasionally Chris likes to brighten my day by sending me the most adorable pictures he can find. A smattering of what was sent this week.<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/5s1gt.jpg" target="_blank">Puppies!</a></div>
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/UEfPX.jpg" target="_blank">Kittens befriending birds!</a></div>
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<a href="http://cuteoverload.com/2011/10/24/and-now-a-dog-playing-with-himself/" target="_blank">Dogs being clever!</a></div>
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/UefHq.jpg" target="_blank">Look at HIS PAWS!!!</a></div>
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/H4Z9P.jpg" target="_blank">Little one who was saved</a></div>
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And the winner...oh yes... the absolute winner...</div>
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/0itKT.jpg" target="_blank">Tigers and piggies - WITH BOWS!</a></div>
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Excuse me while I go pick up pieces of my brain.</div>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-69339762711674113242011-11-10T22:39:00.001-08:002011-11-10T22:42:33.531-08:00The Story of a Window<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G99Hdwu6blA/Try-Xupw0II/AAAAAAAAA70/4vBp-driODE/s1600/DSC_0102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G99Hdwu6blA/Try-Xupw0II/AAAAAAAAA70/4vBp-driODE/s320/DSC_0102.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ordinary casement window...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEkMLC2iIUA/Try9wFC8e3I/AAAAAAAAA7k/BCVQ4B1JwMM/s1600/2011-11-09+13.20.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEkMLC2iIUA/Try9wFC8e3I/AAAAAAAAA7k/BCVQ4B1JwMM/s320/2011-11-09+13.20.03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meets a very large saw.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yG-DyzA4_gQ/Try9mzmqeRI/AAAAAAAAA7c/PpLijinxIRM/s1600/2011-11-10+08.01.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yG-DyzA4_gQ/Try9mzmqeRI/AAAAAAAAA7c/PpLijinxIRM/s320/2011-11-10+08.01.31.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big hole in the wall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RsF3yAy9o6E/Try9dYqyU5I/AAAAAAAAA7U/TGEOgmHQoBg/s1600/2011-11-10+08.31.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RsF3yAy9o6E/Try9dYqyU5I/AAAAAAAAA7U/TGEOgmHQoBg/s320/2011-11-10+08.31.36.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big hole in the ground.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-feFGq6vzqAg/Try95K51mSI/AAAAAAAAA8A/yN90APscf3E/s1600/2011-11-10%2525252023.15.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-feFGq6vzqAg/Try95K51mSI/AAAAAAAAA8A/yN90APscf3E/s320/2011-11-10%2525252023.15.36.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ordinary window...now a lovely escape window!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-80091911300836690472011-11-09T13:09:00.000-08:002011-11-09T13:09:05.737-08:00A MurmurationI have seen the pigeons in downtown Boulder swoop and fly from building to building in packs. I know that pigeons are germ infested city rats, but you can't help but see the joy in their aerial tumblings. But this takes the cake. Absolutely stunning.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="320" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/31158841?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/31158841">Murmuration</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3069761">Sophie Windsor Clive</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-27329455277175039372011-11-07T22:56:00.000-08:002011-11-08T08:17:26.472-08:00On Not Going Gently<div>
<i>So, what happened in there, the night of my biVAD surgery?</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
I was sitting with my surgeon, Dr. Awesome, almost a year after my transplant. He was late to the appointment by almost 90 minutes - his last of the day - but had called ahead to his nurse to ask if I would mind waiting. We were there, ostensibly, to talk about my wiring.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My chest wires to be specific. The ones that sort of look like twist ties wrapping around my sternum were poking me from the inside. None of the options were worth the inconvenience of living with being poked so we continued on to other subjects. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I actually knew full well what had happened on the night of November 7, 2006. I'd managed to get my hands on my medical records and had pored over them with the help of Google to translate the medical terminology. I'd read the timeline of events and frankly, there in the stark black and white of the doctors' messy handwriting, it hadn't seemed nearly as dire as I had heard. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He told me the surgery had started out well, especially for someone who was hanging by a thread, in multiple organ failure and on a balloon pump with a heart beat that was as steady as a popcorn machine. Once the biVAD was in, by all accounts, the operation was a success. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And that's when something bad happened. My blood wouldn't clot. I wouldn't stop bleeding. They did everything, he said. I was loaded with as many clotting agents as probably exist. They talked about just leaving me open to monitor, but in the end decided to close me up and hope for the best. All in all, I received enough transfusions to replace my body's blood at least three times over. He stopped talking for a second. It was out of our hands, he finally said.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<i>It was your will to live</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Even now, I still have a hard time finding the words to describe what happened that day. The day where everything bad that can happen to a heart happened. The day that my family (and friends) pulled together around me like a sweater. The day that God did something that I can never deny.</div>
<div>
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<i>When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; <br /> and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. <br /> When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.<br /> - Isaiah 43:2 (NIV)</i>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-34802678412741446142011-11-05T22:55:00.000-07:002011-11-08T08:16:11.452-08:00Link Round Up - Crafty GoodnessOh, for an extra hour in the day! There would be no limit to what us crafty types would accomplish!<br />
<br />
Of course, sleep is always a terrific option too :-)<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>For those of you like Chris and me who think the crust is the best part, these <a href="http://www.notmartha.org/archives/2011/09/07/styled-magazine/" target="_blank">lattice cookies</a> look to die for.</li>
<li>Can art be practical? Yes! Especially if you have tons of thread laying around. Make them beautiful with this <a href="http://greylustergirl.blogspot.com/2011/05/framed-thread-holder-tutorial.html" target="_blank">framed spool holder</a>.</li>
<li>Just what I need...another afghan to make. But this <a href="http://www.ohdeedoh.com/ohdeedoh/diy/diy-missoni-for-target-inspired-crochet-blanket-vickie-howell-155863" target="_blank">Missoni pattern and the colors</a> have already spurred me to look through my yarn stash.</li>
<li>Once we figure out how to bring more light into the hallway, these <a href="http://www.notjustahousewife.net/2011/08/mason-jar-wall-planter.html" target="_blank">herb planters</a> are going up. It's not like we don't have plenty of <a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2008/07/lost-art.html" target="_blank">mason jars</a>.</li>
<li>This <a href="http://eliseblaha.typepad.com/golden/2011/09/project-12-of-26-a-pinwheel-painting.html" target="_blank">painting</a> is definitely going to be made for the new office. I planned it even before I picked the office colors.</li>
</ul>
I can tell I am going to be busy when the choir season ends.Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-826749869571259452011-11-05T22:34:00.000-07:002011-11-08T08:17:52.700-08:00Book Review: The Diamond AgeI was one of those kids whose nose was always in a book. Summer vacations were heaven - Lisa and I would check out books by the dozen and plow through them book after book in the heat of the day. Even on vacation to visit my grandparents in Illinois, we would borrow my uncle's library card to feed our voracious book appetites.<br />
<br />
I sort of fell away from reading for many years. I don't know why...perhaps it was time or access or maybe I was burnt out after college. But sometime a few years ago, I decided to get back into books by reading one book a month. It was a success and I was re-hooked.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MgXKhBr9Eqo/TrYOw2V2SOI/AAAAAAAAA7I/cp2Tphfou9Y/s1600/Diamond+Age.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MgXKhBr9Eqo/TrYOw2V2SOI/AAAAAAAAA7I/cp2Tphfou9Y/s320/Diamond+Age.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>
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This was my first Neal Stephenson book. Chris is a huge fan and always engrossed in one of his many ginormous trilogies - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Diamond-Age-Illustrated-Primer-Spectra/dp/0553380966/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320554958&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Diamond Age</a> had the benefit of being a standalone novel and definitely not as long as the others. The only other cyberpunk novel I've read was <i>Neuromancer</i> by William Gibson which I enjoyed but found confusing. I was hoping that the somewhat simpler sounding premise would prove a bit more accessible.</div>
<br />
Since I want to get on with my review, rather than wasting time trying to summarize this intricate novel, I will just borrow from the very simplistic book description on Amazon:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Set in twenty-first century Shanghai, it is the story of what happens when a state-of-the-art interactive device falls in the hands of a street urchin named Nell. Her life—and the entire future of humanity—is about to be decoded and reprogrammed…</blockquote>
Stephenson is a world builder. He drops you into what feels like a story already in progress and uses this structure to guide the reader through the intricate society of this 21st century future. There is lots of technology - most of it nanotechnology which is as common as germs are today. Actually, the nanotechnology has replaced the germs. There is also seemingly magical sounding technology - like paper that automatically populates with your newspaper and/or media choices. Hrm. Sounds sort of familiar already.<br />
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There is so much world and major character building happening I found the story starting with a bang only to be bogged down in the mire of description. But through all this, Stephenson is laying the foundation so he can effortlessly take the reader through his world when the action starts. Once Nell finds the Primer (the interactive device referenced in the book description), both she and the story begin to come to life.<br />
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The book pleasantly (even if the developments themselves are harsh) meanders its way through what seem to be unrelated events and after a time, I found myself completely engrossed in this world. I was excited to see the next chapter of Nell's life and also how the other young girls of her age reacted to their own copies of the Primer.<br />
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However, somewhere along the line, it seems as though Stephenson forgot that along with this crazy world of nanosites, Source Feeds and mysterious hive mind societies that live under the ocean, there is also a plot happening. Somewhere towards the end, he brings into the picture a conflict in the making that (to me) had no foundation laid - nothing like what he had been doing up until that point. In (literally) 50 pages he introduces these new characters, Nell's pivotal moment and also wraps up the whole story. Without spoiling it, a little bit of background on the Fists would've been nice and also would've helped build the tension since apparently Nell's situation was quite dangerous, unbeknownst to this reader. After 450 pages of details and progressive tension, this quick finish felt flat to me. Even the tone changed to sort of a third party objective tone and while the ending is somewhat tidy, I still turned the page expecting a new chapter.<br />
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All in all, I would give the book 4/5 stars for great world building and character development and for an original exciting plot. It loses the final star for the sort of haphazardly thrown together ending.<br />
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<i>Previous book: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Book-Thief-Markus-Zusak/dp/0375831002" target="_blank">The Book Thief </a> by Marcus Zusak [not reviewed].</i><br />
<i>Current book: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Left-Neglected-Lisa-Genova/dp/1439164630" target="_blank">Left Neglected</a> by Lisa Genova</i>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-16436491157878469842011-11-03T22:45:00.000-07:002011-11-03T22:45:40.183-07:00Some Random Sentences on a Thursday Night<div>
Sitting down at 11:30 and expecting brilliance in a blog post is a huge disappointment. But it is the whole point of NaBloPoMo. Just write!</div>
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For the third time in an hour, my dog has randomly started barking at something only she can hear. Shut up, dog.</div>
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So glad that we moved from the stuffy rehearsal room to the choir loft at the church for Sine Nomine practice. Instant morale boost - you can't help but sound terrific in that space.</div>
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Airing our dirty laundry - there is clean laundry all over the house. The couch is covered with towels and the bedroom has three overflowing baskets of clothes. If we had more baskets, we would never fold clothes.</div>
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I am about ready to finish<i> The Diamond Age</i> by Neal Stephenson. Look for a review here soon. I have nine books to read by the end of the year to make my goal. I am looking for recommendations on short interesting books. Leave 'em if you got 'em.</div>
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Really ready for the weekend. Anyone else?</div>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-29362297324179571982011-11-02T23:02:00.000-07:002011-11-02T23:15:10.399-07:00Life List #30 - My Hair<div>"Your hair is so long!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, I know. I call it my Second Chance Hair."</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3dyaowDCOU/TrIuyZXa-8I/AAAAAAAAA7A/8L0WN2ZdbPU/s1600/Waist%2B2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3dyaowDCOU/TrIuyZXa-8I/AAAAAAAAA7A/8L0WN2ZdbPU/s320/Waist%2B2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670646324150336450" /></a><div><br /></div><div>What is second chance hair? Simply put, it is the hair you get after a traumatic medical event has taken your original(ish) hair. When I left the hospital in 2006, be it the combination of terrible eating, intense stress, lots and lots of new drugs and lack of sleep, I lost a ton of hair. I remember staying to my transplant coordinator - "how can I be growing hair everywhere else and losing it on my head. I am turning into a man!!!" </div><div><br /></div><div><i>I was really hopped up on steroids at the time</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>My heart failure hair was thin and dry. It was long in my youth but after a while, shorter became the obvious (and much better) way of keeping it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I had it cut super super short in the hospital. It was a great cut, and far easier to keep it out of the blood and the ick and the lack of washing. In the final six weeks I was in the hospital, my hair was washed a whopping 3-4 times. And that included two open heart surgeries. Yikes.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then it started growing back - darker, curlier and thicker than before. Everyone had an opinion, but it was always...</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Hey look at your second chance hair.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Mothers told me that their hair after pregnancy was different. Cancer survivors said the same after chemo. My hair was a visible reminder of the beauty of my heart. Was it increased blood flow? Cyclosporin? Or a secret gift?</div><div><br /></div><div>#30 - Grow my hair to my waist.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiXGg4xCAiU/TrIurVoMapI/AAAAAAAAA60/ixZP5sSIKQU/s1600/Waist%2Bhair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiXGg4xCAiU/TrIurVoMapI/AAAAAAAAA60/ixZP5sSIKQU/s320/Waist%2Bhair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670646202887858834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Check.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-85619656279271881392011-11-01T21:01:00.000-07:002011-11-01T21:07:06.696-07:00NaBloPoMo - Day OneHey look! I have a blog! And wow, no updates since June 2010? Tsk, tsk...for shame, Hassell.<div><br /></div><div>So for some reason, November in the interwebs tends to be a "National To Something Every Day" month. There is Gratitude Months (a fine idea, I might add), NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which I seriously considered) and then NaBloPoMo. Writing a blog post a day sounded less daunting than writing the 1600 words per day required to get a novel done and slightly more challenging than writing one thing per day for which I am grateful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not that I am not grateful. As a matter of fact, several of these blog posts over the month of November will probably be brimming with gratitude. Cuz it is November and that's how I roll, people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, welcome back to Best Day of Life. Let's see where this all goes.</div>Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6645901082139933853.post-71590433299787699632010-06-08T21:58:00.000-07:002013-01-06T22:04:46.403-08:00My Life List (part the first)When I first read <a href="http://mightygirl.com/">Maggie Mason's Mighty List project</a>, I was intrigued. Her theory is that the act of writing such a list is in and of itself transformative and secondly, if you put what makes you happy on the list, then doing the items on your list will contribute to a happier life. It's basically a bucket list, but without the whole "kicking the bucket" aspect - something which I, a detester of "over the hill" parties and the like - certainly appreciated. <br />
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I played around a bit with some of the things that I would put on my own list, making vague notes here and there, and when she finally posted <a href="http://mightygirl.com/2010/05/19/how-to-write-your-life-list-10-simple-tips-for-a-better-life/">this</a>, I was inspired enough to write my own. </div>
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So without further ado, here is the first part of my own Life List...I plan on blogging about the good stuff (which, because of its virtue of being a Life List, is all of it.)</div>
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<ol>
<li>Read the entire Bible - <b><span style="color: #38761d;">CHECK</span></b></li>
<li>Visit five Colorado landmarks (Royal Gorge, Dinosaur National Park, etc)</li>
<li>Take the train to Glenwood Springs</li>
<li>Taste 100 cocktails</li>
<li><a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-list-5-on-top-of-world-part-1.html" target="_blank">Climb a 14er</a> - <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>CHECK</b></span></li>
<li>Visit ten Colorado museums</li>
<li>Visit ten national museums</li>
<li>Scrapbook my Life List</li>
<li>Sew something that I actually wear</li>
<li>Visit <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadrian's_Wall">Hadrians Wall</a></li>
<li>Eat pho in Saigon</li>
<li>Cook my way through an entire cookbook</li>
<li>Visit all 50 states (continuing from where I am at now)</li>
<li>Design and create a font</li>
<li>Go on a girls-only trip with my best girlfriends - <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>CHECK</b></span></li>
<li>Taste 100 unique desserts</li>
<li>Attend a taping of The Daily Show or the Colbert Report</li>
<li>Write my freakin' book</li>
<li>Go a full week eating all my food made from scratch (by me)</li>
<li>If it isn't beautiful or useful, get it out of my house</li>
<li>Submit a funny picture to<a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/"> I Can Haz Cheeseburger</a></li>
<li>Host a really swanky dinner party</li>
<li>Read the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml">Big Read</a> 100 books as ranked by the BBC</li>
<li>Leave a secret in a Post Secret book</li>
<li>Get a tattoo to honor my heart donor</li>
<li>See the glaciers in Patagonia before they disappear</li>
<li>Read Entertainment Weekly's list of<a href="http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20207076_20207387_20207349,00.html"> new classics</a></li>
<li>Dine at the French Laundry</li>
<li>Learn how to alter/tailor my own clothes</li>
<li><a href="http://bestdayoflife.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-list-30-my-hair.html" target="_blank">Grow my hair to my waist</a> - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b>CHECK</b></span></li>
<li>Volunteer for Meals on Wheels</li>
<li>Learn how to knit and make scarves and handwarmers - <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>CHECK</b></span></li>
<li>Learn how to use my DSLR on its manual settings</li>
<li>Get in the habit of grand loving gestures</li>
<li>Create family archive scrapbooks</li>
<li>Get paid to write</li>
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There you go! The first 36!</div>
Txgrrlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13940600052880352754noreply@blogger.com3