My Dog Shoba

Off to a Good Start

2012-01-25T14:41:00.000-06:00

Well, this year is starting out much better than last year. Not only have I avoided diverticulitis, but last year's hospital stay will - in a weird way - help us out at tax time. And I have been far more productive in the shop than all of last year combined. It started off with finishing a couple of stained glass transoms for a couple in town.

Which was fun, because I've never done a piece as big as the one above their front door.

Then I dove in headfirst into making a go of the Bluefeather business, and ordered a slew of knife parts, bow parts and other stuff. For a few days it was like Christmas around here for me. Boxes arriving from afar filled with fun things for me to build in the shop.

I cranked out my first knife of the year...

A nice 440C steel blade with mammoth tooth scales and brass bolsters.

And I built a test bow out of hickory...

The reason it is a test bow is
1. I've never built anything out of hickory, and different species of wood have different working qualities.

2. I was using a build method that I got from an e-book from the good folks at Rudderbows, and wanted to make sure I could do the process from start to finish for when I go down to Mom and Dads in March. I'm going to be teaching Dad and my nephew Harrison, and maybe his mom and dad, how to build bows of various styles.

3. I've never built a reflex/deflex bow before and tillering them is a little different from tillering a straight bow.

As for the testing...
1. Hickory is pretty amazing stuff. It is very dense and makes a fine bow. I was able to make the limbs of the bow thinner than I thought and still make the bow pull at 45 lbs. at 28 inches, which is over what you'd need to hunt with, if you do that sort of thing. The hickory grain comes off in little strings almost, that can develop into big chunks of wood, so fine sanding is a must. Overall I would use this again for bows. It is good stuff!

2. The bow form in the e-book worked great. As did their instructions. Though the book is on how to make a bamboo backed ipe bow, I figured the theory was the same. It was, and I am confident that my next few bows will be even better using that method.

3. The tiller could have come out a little bit better, as the top limb bends a little less than the bottom, and usually you want that the other way around. I could have corrected it, but the weight would have dropped and it seems to shoot just fine anyway.

I used bloodwood for trim and tips, and oak for the top of the riser (handle). Next time, I'll replace that with hickory.

All told, it is a very powerful bow, and I'm pretty pleased with it. I'm going to take it up to the Footed Shaft next week some time and let them shoot it to tell me what they think, and to recommend what arrows to shoot off of it. Should be fun.

So. I've got a pretty good start on 2012. I'm going to continue to attack these days and fill them with as much as I can. I've still got projects for a few people to get done, and until I puzzle out how to do some of them, I'll keep making knives and bows. I've got parts for five more knives and six or seven bows. That'll keep me busy!

More Later

Greetings 2012

2012-01-01T11:04:00.001-06:00

The year is new once more. Anyone who reads this blog, and that might be just me, will notice that December is devoid of posts. It's not that nothing noteworthy happened in the last month of 2011, but rather that 2011 was not such a fun year, and I was ignoring it for all I was worth until it was over.

I was also planning how to attack this new year of 2012. With the help and support of my beautiful Wife, I am taking this year to chase after my dreams and goals like never before. In fact, I'll be focusing on just one thing this year...

Finding a balance in my passions. Shop time, triathlon time, and most importantly, family time.

In the shop, I'll be spending January finishing up Bluefeather projects I didn't finish last year. Clearing the books, you might say. Then I'll be gearing up to create things. The primary focus will be on my knives and on archery bows. But I'll still do some glass and other projects if they come up. My goal is to at least match my income from being a medic (using last year as the baseline.) it will be lots of fun, hard work. But I believe I can do it.

In the area of triathlons, I am going to create and maintain a workout schedule that allows me to train for at least two triathlons and an open water swim. I'm registered for the Pigman Sprint Tri in June, and as soon as I post this I'm heading back to their website to register for the first Pigman Olympic distance Tri. That is in August, and is essentially twice the distance of a sprint, except the swim part that is three times a sprint swim. The only part that worries me about this plan is the 6.2 mile run that finishes the race. I'm not yet much of a runner. It will be lots of fun, hard work. But I believe I can do it.

As for my family, I will continue to try and be a better husband, father, son and sibling to all those I love. I would be nothing without their support, encouragement and love. We are starting a new program for the Boyo in place of Cub Scouts this year. Our scout troop is sort of a disorganized mess, and rather than try to jump in and fix it, the Wife thought of a plan whereby our family of four takes a couple of days each month to do some adventuring. Trips to the Science Museum in the Cities, or to the zoo, planetarium, and other places to learn and explore will replace the pack meetings. And den meetings will be replaced with a day of doing something fun and cool at or near home. Science projects, gardening projects, shop projects, camping, canoeing, and basically adventuring! It will be lots of fun, hard work. But I believe we can do it.

And if at the end of this year I have found a way to balance this three legged stool, you will find a supremely happy and content me sitting there with my goofy grin.

To start things off, I will change my perspective on the year 2011, right before your eyes. While it is true that we came close to losing both of my parents, and I had my first hospital stay, as did my little Sweet Pea, and there were some issues in other parts of my life that were extremely stressful, in all it could have been worse. Mom and/or Dad could have died. I could have needed surgery for my diverticulitis instead of just heavy antibiotics. And I shudder to think what could have been with Sweet Pea ingesting Grammy's Meds at a time when so much was so dark anyway. Yes, the year sucked. But I was extremely blessed that things turned out the way they did. It made the celebrations at the end of the year that much more special.

So, bring on the challenges, failures and triumphs of 2012. I think I am actually, finally ready for them. This is my year to go big or go home. It will be lots of fun, hard work. But I believe.

I believe.

More later

Call Me Fletcher

2011-11-16T20:35:00.000-06:00

It's time for yet another installment of "John's New Skill of the Day!" That's right, I'm learning something new. Shocked, aren't you!?!

So here's what I had. When I shot the new arrows I bought a couple of weeks ago I noticed that they wobbled a lot before hitting the target. Not terrible, and I could still kill the pumpkins from 10 to 20 yards out pretty regularly. But I couldn't figure out what was causing the wobble.

For those of you out there (like me) who are not as fluent in Archery as the pros, there are a few things that make a difference in arrow flight. Things like spine weight, what points you use and how many grains those are, whether the arrow is wood, carbon, aluminum, what sort of fletching, left wing or right wing feathers... it truly boggles the mind. So I googled the problem and thought perhaps I was using field points that were too light. (Those are the pointy things on the front, but not the razor like broadheads used for hunting) I visited the gun and archery shop across the road for the first time since we've lived here, and met a very friendly guy who knows loads more about archery than I. I described the problem and he told me that the solution was in the fletching, or feathers, on the back of the arrow. My arrows were using plastic feathers, which apparently when shot from a wooden bow like mine will bounce off the arrow shelf and cause the arrow to wobble when it flies. He suggested I re-fletch my arrows with 5 1/2" real feathers as a solution. Then he directed me to a traditional archery shop across town to get what I needed, as they would have more choices and gear for a traditional archer (that's me).

That he didn't try and sell me something I didn't need and even directed me to another store has earned them my business! They have an indoor range there, and I will happily go there a few times this winter to thank them for the help!

Anyway, I headed to the traditional archery store later in the day, and was like a kid in a candy store. Bows everywhere. And not those metal hunting bows, but wooden works of art. Arrows and materials for all sorts of building of archery stuff. It was awesome! I bought a fletching jig, which was a little spendy, but worth it. And picked out some colors for my arrows.

New toys in tow, I headed home and learned to fletch arrows. With the jig it is not as hard as I thought, and I'm looking forward to a return visit to the store to get supplies to make the entire arrow!

Before...

After...

How do the new arrows work? Well, after I finished a couple, I took them out to give them a try. Wobble - gone. They flew as straight as... well, you know. And I was drilling the pumpkins within an inch of my aim point. I've got four more to do, then I'm going to re-fletch the Boyo's arrows as well since his vanes are plastic and his arrows are also a bit wobbly.

It is a delightful way to spend an evening, and will add a new dimension to my budding bowyer skills.

More Later

Time to Go Oly

2011-11-14T22:49:00.001-06:00

I'm kicking around the idea of doing an olympic length triathlon at the end of next season. That's the next step up from the sprint tri. Just to refresh your memory, a sprint tri has a swim of around 500 yards, a bike of around 15 miles, and a 5K run - 3.1 miles. Olympic distance is a 1.5K swim, which is around a mile, a 40K bike - around 25 miles, and a 10K run - 6.2 miles. It's double the run, which will be the toughest part for me, and three times the swim, which may just work in my favor! I know I can do a 25 mile bike, as I've done a few in training for the sprints.

Tonight I went for a swim. When I arrived at the pool, both were completely empty and as I had my choice of the two, I decided to warm up in the warmer pool. I swam the first hundred, adjusted the goggles, and started out again. 300 yards later I was feeling quite warm and decided that after another hundred (completing a 500) I'd shift over to the other pool and do a couple more 500's.
I hopped into the cooler pool, took note of the time clock and started at the top of the nearest minute. About 400 yards in I felt pretty good, and decided I'd shoot for a full mile and see what my time would be. I kept waiting for the weary to set in, but I kept a solid, comfortable pace and felt good through the entire swim! As I finished the 1650, I did a time check. 28:50. Not speedy, but not too bad. The best part was I felt that I could keep on swimming. But since this was my third time in the water since August, I decided to leave it at a mile and work up from here.
28:50 is about 1:45 per 100 yards. Not too shabby. Not too shabby. My race pace for the sprint tri's is around 1:30, so I have some room for improvement. But I now have a baseline time to work with and the confidence that I can swim pretty much indefinitely should the need arise. And I am a solid third of the way to doing an olympic length tri. Now if I can bike 40K and run 10K, and do all three together... everything will be peachy! So, yeah. I think I can be ready for an "Oly" sometime next season.
More Later

Happy Elevensday

2011-11-11T23:11:00.003-06:00

It's the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the eleventh year of our century. I'm posting this at 11:11 pm. For the nano-second it takes to pass through 11:11:11:11 to the billionth power, not much can be done. But it's cool to think that it's the last all binary date we'll have in our lifetimes.

It's also Veterans Day. The continuation of Armistice Day, which for those of you non history types was the end of The Great War to End All Wars. Or WWI, as we call it these days. They stopped that war on November 11th, and 11:11 in the year 1918. Unfortunately it did not End All Wars. So we celebrate Veterans Day. Celebrate and remember all those who served this country in uniform. Those like me, who served mostly in peace time and never in a foreign war, right through to those who gave the last full measure, like my USMC brother SSgt. P. We thank those that are still around to thank, and keep in our hearts the memories of those that aren't.

Freedom was never free. It has cost us dearly throughout the decades. Thank you to all who served and were willing to do what they could for their country. It's not perfect, but it's pretty darn good.

Oh, and Happy Elevensday as well.

More Later

I'm All a Quiver

2011-11-11T21:25:00.002-06:00

So, a couple of years ago I traded a knife repair for a tanned deer hide. As I put a new handle on the knife (buffalo horn, turned out pretty nice!) I was imagining all of the things I could do with a tanned deer hide. Leggings, maybe. No, no! A shirt! Yeah a buckskin shirt would be fun! Maybe some knife sheaths, too.

So when the hide arrived, I was a little taken aback when it had the hair still on it. It was nicely tanned, but had a few too many holes to make clothes out of. I'm not too sure what a hair on shirt would have looked like anyway. I had no idea what to do with it, so I folded it up and stored it until an idea would come.

Fast forward a year and as I was driving home after a night shift, I saw a little red fox that had been hit by a car and was quite deceased laying half in and half out of the road. I stopped to toss it into the ditch so no other critters who might want to dine on it would meet the same fate, and noticed that it was still warm and not too damaged. I have a friend at work who tans skins of all sorts and thought he might like a nice fresh fox, so I went home, grabbed some trash bags and went back to collect the fox. I called my friend, who gave me advice for keeping it on ice until I could get it to him, and worked out a deal to trade a knife that I built for the tanned fox hide. This time I knew the hair would be on, and when the fox skin arrived, it was really quite pretty. But I again had no idea what I would use a fox skin for. A hat maybe? I even tossed around the idea of a sporran for my kilt. But the fox got rolled up and put with the deer hide...

Fast forward to this fall. The Boyo has taken to archery, and we've had about a half dozen good afternoons of ploinking away at the Halloween pumpkins with our bows.

The one on the left is my oak longbow, the one on the right is my first laminated recurve bow that I built as a test. It only has a draw weight of about 15 pounds, so I gave it to the Boyo to use. It shoots pretty well, and he seems to like it a lot!

So after our first few times shooting my old Boy Scout Arrow of Light arrows, I went and bought us each new arrows so I could retire the AoL's. On the plus side, we now had more arrows to shoot at the pumpkins! On the down side, we had nothing to carry them in. I sat down a few nights ago thinking 'If only I had some leather or something that I could whip up a couple of quivers with.'

It seemed that finally I had a notion of what to do with those tanned hides! So after some fussing and measuring and research and tinkering, I built myself a quiver from the deer hide. It has a broken arrow inside as a stiffener that also serves as a place to attach a carabiner to make it a hip quiver...

And I built the Boyo a quiver out of the fox...

Originally it had the legs and head attached, but it looked like a dead fox hanging from his back. I clipped those off, but left the tail. I think the look is much better. He insisted in having a back quiver, because that's how Robin Hood does it, and he is convinced that is how the Lakota used to do it, too when they hunted deer and buffalo. So we ran over to Fleet Farm and he picked out a belt, and I made it into a back quiver for him. It can be easily converted to a hip quiver when he gets older if he wants.

Anyway, we've been out shooting with them twice now, and they seem to work very well. I'm going to add a few embellishments to mine, but overall I'm quite pleased with the results!

More Later

Happy Birthday Devil Dogs!

2011-11-10T13:19:00.001-06:00

236 years ago, the United States Marine Corps was born, leading to some of the most awe inspiring, horrific, incredible, frightening, mundane, spectacular, funny and tragic war stories ever told.

I served in my beloved Marine Corps from 1991 to 1999, and loved a great many minutes of it. Some I could have done without, but every experience helped shape me into the man I am today. From my short time in, I have stories in every genre listed above.

So Happy Birthday, Marines. I thank you for your honor, courage and commitment, for your Esprit de Corps, and for your brotherhood.

Semper Fi.

More Later

Spoiled Training

2011-11-09T22:27:00.000-06:00

So I joined a gym. Actually it's the Dan Abraham Healthy Living Center at Mayo. All the cool kids just call it "The Dan". The Wife is a member and I thought I'd check it out, since they have a pool and all.

Honestly, I was fully ready to get a winter membership to the rec center, since I am familiar with their pool and policies and such, but after tonight I may never go back to the rec center!

I started my first workout heading for the 2012 Triathlon Season with a fifteen minute session on something called a 'hydro-bed'. Basically a water bed with jets inside that run up and down your body giving a water massage. After some fiddling with pressure, speed and which areas to jet water onto, I was settled in and had my back and neck muscles pleasantly pummeled with hot water... all while staying perfectly dry! It was delightful.

Then I staggered sleepily into the pool area for my swim, a 600 yard jaunt, just to get the old body reacquainted with the freestyle stroke. That felt good. They have two pools there, a four lane lap pool and a four-ish lane exercise pool. Both saltwater/chlorine, so a little different than I'm used to. But the topper of the evening was a 10 minute soak in the whirlpool after the swim.

That's right. From the pool the the hot tub. Incredibly relaxing!

I am now a spoiled athlete! The Mayo health facility is really spectacular, and pretty reasonably priced. And if I go 15 times in the next three months they lower the price. 30 times and it's almost half off! They are open way too early and stay open well past my bedtime, and the lap pool is always a lap pool! So any free time I can get there to swim, I can swim! They also have an indoor running track, and a bunch of stationary bikes, and a spin class that I'll have to look into doing. So eventually I can do entire triathlons indoors!

I now have no reason not to improve on next year's races. No reason not to go exercise. No reason not to get in better shape.

I envision much hard work and sweat and yes, even some pain in the future... but the hydro-bed and whirlpool are a nice treat! (They also have massage therapists on staff, $25 for a half hour. I'm already planning on how to justify that expense occasionally!)

More Later

The Secret to Weight Loss Revealed!!!

2011-11-06T23:10:00.000-06:00

So the triathlon thing is looking like it will be a permanent part of my adult life. As such, I have finally, finally decided to lose the third grader I've been carrying around my waist for the past decade. In my USMC days I was considered "overweight", weighing in at around 200 pounds. 203 was the maximum weight allowed for a guy my height, and I struggled to keep my weight under that number. For the last year I was in, the roller coaster gains and losses really started to oscillate dramatically, and every month I would gain more back and have to lose it before the next month's weigh in. This led to gaining and losing 10 to 20 pounds each month, and by the last six months I would be losing sometimes 15 pounds in a couple of days to stay under. It was a brutal, vicious cycle that only those who have been in it can really understand.

My last official weigh in for the Marines was in October of my last year in, and the NCO in charge of it was... well... there's no way to say it nicely. He was an ass. Rather than help those Marines who were over with some guidance or at the very least offer encouragement, he declared that he was happy to kick anybody out who was over by even a pound. And he seemed sadistically pleased to see people fail at their weigh ins, and taunted them with how many months they had left until he could kick them out.

By the end of my stint in the Corps, I had learned how to push the boundaries on what could and really could not be said to a superior without some serious repercussions, and I lent my considerable vocabulary to mocking and insulting this NCO for his blatant disrespect for his fellow Marines. Without going too far, of course.

He knew I was insulting him, but he wasn't sure exactly what I was saying, so he really developed a dislike of me pretty quick. The feeling was mutual. Now a few things about the weight rules for the USMC...

In those days, if you weighed over your max, you were put on "weight control" and had a few months of weigh ins to determine if this was a temporary thing or a permanent one. After a certain number of months of weighing over and getting reprimands, you could be discharged. But if you stayed under for six months, you would be taken off weight control. Unfortunately the Navy Corpsman was usually responsible for the weigh ins and such, and we switched corpsman a few times and for whatever reason the record keeping was pretty sporadic. Which at first was no big deal, because though I was near the top end of my limit, I could usually come in within a few pounds of it, at first. Then a couple of years went by with no weight control oversight at all, and I had an unfortunate knee injury, stopped running, and really ballooned up. So when it started up again in the last few years of my service, I had a real struggle getting back under and staying there.

So - I had been riding the 203 line for about nine months when Ssgt Butthead took over and made it his personal mission to kick out every fatbody from his beloved Marine Corps. (Those were his actual words to those of us who were on weight control. And one of those guys was a big Iowa farm boy with a skinny waist and a huge chest and muscular arms, but he was "overweight" so on weight control... ridiculous.) I did fine for the first four months he was in charge, but I weighed 205 one morning in September. My section chief, Ssgt Carlson, arranged for me to weigh in again before lunch for my "official" weight and sent me out to run the weight off. He was a good leader, and knew that I had been struggling with the weight since the resumption of weight control. And that I had been under for the past four months after a year and a half of starts and stops with the program. And I like to believe that he thought I was good enough at my job to keep around. So he was willing to cut me some slack. After a five mile run I weighed in at 202.9. Ssgt Butthead was not pleased. He told me that if I was an ounce over in October he was going to get me discharged. I told him that perhaps he'd be less of a bitter little man if he could have intimate relations with something other than a bovine. Did I mention that he didn't like me much?

By this point on the monthly weight roller coaster I was usually ballooning up to around 220 - 230 for the two weeks after drill, then losing it again before the next month's drill. but it was getting harder and harder to lose the weight, and easier and easier to gain it. For some reason that September I went up to just over of 240. A week before October's drill I was still 225. I stopped eating five days before weigh in. I drank water, but only two pints a day, because I remembered my wrestler friend Matt telling me "a pint's a pound the world around." And I had to lose the weight. I ran three miles in the morning and evening with five days to go. From four days on I went 2 miles, but I did that 4 or 5 times each day. The last two days I wore a garbage bag suit to lose more water weight, and the night before weigh in I did four 2 mile runs in the suit, and in between was an hour spent under several heavy blankets and a sleeping bag to keep the heat up and the sweat going.

The morning of the weigh in I could barely walk, but went to formation and did all that I could to stay upright. Weigh in was about an hour after the start of drill... after breakfast. So while the rest of the battery ate what to me smelled like it had been catered by the gods, I jogged in place in a bathroom and prayed. The night before - during what I have come to know as my own private hell night - I went from 215 to 204, so there was no guarantee that I would be under this morning. I tried to remove the rest of the extra weight, but I couldn't pee, let alone have a BM. I didn't have enough moisture to even spit. In hindsight, this was not a good state to be in.

I remember vividly the look on Ssgt Buttheads face as I approached the scale in my boxers. I remember the smirk and the hatred beaming from his eyes. I remember his words as I stepped up on the scale.

"I am going to love throwing your fat ass out of my Marine Corps."

My max weight was 203 pounds.
I was 202.8.

He frowned and had me step off. He re-zeroed the scale (many others were present, including an officer, so he couldn't fudge it.) and weighed someone else. Then I stepped up again. I think if he could have stabbed me in the face right there with a Ka-Bar, he would not have hesitated. Again the weights on the scale slid around.

202.6

The officer read out the number to another NCO who recorded it. The smirk left Ssgt Buttheads face, replaced with pure hatred. I will never forget my parting words to him, either.

"It's MY Marine Corps, too. Now go frak a squirrel, you arrogant little ass."

Of course I said something a bit more salty than "frak". Did I mention I didn't like him much, either.

The officer told me to watch my mouth, and I promptly apologized to said officer for my offensive language. I did not apologize to Ssgt Butthead. Then the officer congratulated me and said I was no longer on weight control. I was too dizzy and nauseous to even smile.

Then I went and ate breakfast, which I promptly threw up because I had not eaten anything for five days. Interestingly I never saw Ssgt Butthead again. He developed testicular cancer and left the unit before November's drill.

In those days I thought nothing of losing 5, 10 or 15 pounds in a week. Knowing what I know now, I shudder to think of what might have happened had I continued in that cycle.

I tell you all of that to tell you this. I'm tired of hauling around this extra fifty pound tire. And I've discovered a magical secret to losing weight! Wanna know what it is? It really is profound!!!

Lean in close, I'm going to whisper it because it is so revolutionary!

Here it is... eat fewer calories than you expend each day!

Mind blowing, isn't it! My friend Matt - mentioned above and in many other posts - has been telling me since I started doing tri's that this was the big secret of weight loss. Heck, I've known that secret for a dozen years myself.

Wanna know another big secret to losing weight and getting fit?

Regular exercise.

That's right. Calories and exercise. Common sense that everybody knows and denies.

So I stopped the little voice in my head that kept saying "It is so hard to count calories. Why bother? Just try and eat right."

Did you read that? "Hard, why, try." And it is so easy to listen to that voice. But I am making different choices now. The first day of this month I ate and snacked as I normally do, and found a nifty website called Calorie Count where I could plug in foods and see how many calories I was eating. I could also plug in activities, and see how the calorie to activity balance was.

It was shocking. SHOCKING, I tell you.

I discovered that I was happily eating about 1000 calories more each day than my body needed just to maintain my weight. No wonder it has been so "hard" to shed pounds! So I set some goals and crunched some numbers on the site, and committed to a plan that would cut my daily caloric intake almost in half.

At first I was very concerned that I would be hungry all of the time. Less food means more hungry, right? But you know what? This week I have not been hungry at all. I've been within a hundred calories of my target each day, and a couple of days were even well under, and I have not been hungry. I have also not been denying myself foods that I like. I've just been controlling the portions quite a bit more. Tomorrow will be day six of this new project, and I'm somewhat surprised to say that in the first five days I lost 11 pounds.

You read that right, eleven pounds.

Now, I realize this is VERY fast weight loss, and that proper weight loss is two to three pounds a week. I promised myself that if I felt too hungry, I would increase the daily caloric intake. But I have not been hungry, and I've lost 11 pounds!

I've also not been exercising like I want. Mostly due to getting over pneumonia, which really drained my energy. This week I'm following the Wife's example and joining her gym, which has a bazillion very cool programs to help me on this journey, and a really nice pool to swim in, and a hot tub to soak in, and massage spa to relax in, etc. etc. etc.

So the tri training will begin again this week, along with continued calorie counting, with the goal of dropping 50 pounds before my first tri next season, which will probably be the Pigman again in early June. If that goes well I'll aim to see that 203 line again by tri season of 2013. Wish me luck!

This is a very long post. If you've read this far, thanks for sticking with me. If you are trying to lose weight, there is no big secret. Proper eating and exercise. Insert fewer calories into your system. Go for a walk. Be the Captain of your own life. If I can do it, anybody can.

More Later

Calendar

2011-11-04T22:04:00.000-05:00

I like plans. I like days when there are plans in place and I can follow the plans. Or at least have a plan to attempt to follow for the day.

Life at our place has been just on the shy side of chaotic. This is not new. Life became chaotic, and wonderfully so, when I first started dating the woman that would become my wife. At first it was subtle. Joint decisions on where to eat, what movie to see, where to take a vacation for the weekend, who got Ben for the week. That sort of thing. Then came marriage, that beautiful arrangement whereby we are now legally obligated to be with each other all the time. That increased the chaos.

Just when we were getting used to that arrangement, the Boyo magically appeared. OK, not so much magic as basic biology. But still it threw our world once again off its axis and spinning wildly and giddily out of control. The second offspring, Sweet Pea, knocked whatever sense of balance we had right out the window.

And as the children grow and create a chaotic bubble / wall of noise, another phenomenon occurred. Somehow both sets of parents, mine and my Wife's, are unbelievably getting older! It shouldn't be surprising, as I know I am getting older, and my kids are getting older. Even the bananas on the counter are getting older. So it makes sense that they are getting older, too. What this means though, is increased medical problems. And I am torn, torn, torn between my duty to the Wife and Kiddos, and my duty to be with my parents as they age. Chaos multiplied.

So, somehow we fell into the pattern of living day to day, getting the bills paid, the kids to their obligations (school, scouts, and lots of other stuff) and not really having a plan for any of it.

We have a family calendar that has on it all of the things we must do. Job schedules, school schedules, extracurricular activities, medical appointments, and the like. It is crammed full on most days.

There is also a list or two or three of "things to do" in other areas of life. Triathlon training, yardwork and housework, various projects for various people. But the things on those lists are thrown in as time allows, and sometimes time doesn't allow.

Result? Chaos.

So the Wife and I sat down with our calendars again today and started plotting out everything, and I do mean nearly everything, for the next few weeks. On our calendars right now are work schedules, kids schedules her exercise schedule and my exercise schedule (I'm not waiting until next year to re-train for my triathlons). What we will be adding to the calendars are specific tasks from the "to do" lists, so that we can get those things on an actual schedule so we can have a plan to do them on a specific day. Or at least a plan to attempt to get them done on a certain day.

We are hoping that by scheduling everything but bowel movements we can regain some sense of balance in our chaos riddled world. We're even doing menu planning weeks in advance so we can avoid the nuisance of having to decide what to have for dinner each night. That shouldn't feel like a chaotic decision, but somehow it all adds up.

We are pretty flexible with the schedule, and have promised each other that we will not panic if the day doesn't go as planned. It's hard to fluster a nurse and a medic with unexpected events, so we shouldn't have a problem there!

So, a calendar project to try and bring some order to the chaos. Life is chaos, and beautiful. We endeavour to make some sense of the chaos every day. If nothing else it gives us a goal to shoot for. Wish us luck!

More Later

Remains of the Day

2011-11-03T19:50:00.000-05:00

So we brought Ben home the other day. We had him cremated individually, and the vet called to tell us that his ashes were back. My first experience with this was with Rascal. Prior to his death, all of my pets had been buried in the back yard at my parents house. But when Rascal died, we decided to have him cremated because we weren't sure if the house we are in is going to be the house we are in when we die. So the week after Rascal died, we got a call from the vet and went to pick up the little cardboard box that held the plastic bag that held the ashes of our pup.

Then Shoba died not a month later, and we had her cremated too. A week later we got her box back, too. It was a little larger than Rascals box. In our hall closet we have a hanging sweater organizer thingy that we used to store our boots, hats, mittens and such. The bottom two shelves were cleared and used to store the remains of our two dogs.

Ben spent the next few weeks looking very nervous and wondering where the heck his two pals went and what they had done to disappear and he always looked like he was promising us that he would behave as long as he could stick around. Eventually he settled in to being the only dog, but after a few months he started looking mopey. A couple months after that he was downright sad. I had been feeling the loss of Rascal and especially Shoba, too. So I knew how he felt. That's when we started looking around for a friend for Ben and eventually came to adopt Holly Bedudah.

Now here we are, three years down the road, and the vet has called again to let us know that a little cardboard box was waiting to be picked up.

My EMS gallows humor kicked in to soften the blow a little, as I joked with my wife that I could pick him up before heading to run some errands, because he could stay in the car with no worries now.

But we went to pick him up together and once again I was gut punched by how little was left of him now. We brought him home and cleared another shelf in the hall closet for his remains.

When the first two died, we thought it would be nice to take them up to the Island and inter the remains there. It is a place that I will keep visiting until I'm unable to paddle a canoe anymore. And it is a place that all three of them loved. In my memories of those three dogs, I can vividly picture each one at the Island, a look of supreme contentment on their faces. So we wanted to take Shoba and Rascal up there. But for some reason or another, we were never able to get to the Island in the three years since they died.

When Ben got sick again and it looked like he wouldn't pull through this time, the Wife mentioned that perhaps the reason we never got the other two to the Island was because they were waiting for Ben so they could all go up together. It would be in keeping with the bond that the three of them had. So as I placed Ben's ashes on the shelf with Shoba and Rascal, they were finally ready to head to the Island.

I however, am not ready. So we'll plan a trip for next summer sometime and take the Big Three up along with Holly and introduce her to the Island, and finally lay the Big Three to rest.

More Later

Halloween

2011-10-30T21:03:00.001-05:00

It's been a bit of a gloomy week. Mostly for the wife and me, I think. The Boyo was very upset about Ben at first, and still has some booful moments from time to time, but seems to be coping quite well by playing even more with Holly Bedudah, who is reveling in all of the extra attention. Sweet Pea is non-plussed as usual, and joyful sings her way through almost anything.

Even though I am still gloomy, Halloween is just around the corner. So tonight we got the table cleared off and covered in newspaper for the annual carving of the pumpkins. Or as I call it, "This will be an hour long project that will see much weeping at having to clean out pumpkins, perhaps some gagging at that part as well, lots of drawing on the pumpkins to let Daddy know where to cut, bitterness that if you are under the age of ten then cutting the pumpkins with the huge carving knife is left to an adult, and in the end the parents get to clean up the mess anyway, and by then the kiddos will be running around wild with buckets on their heads attacking each other and/or any imaginary foes that may arrive."

It's loads of fun.

I actually like carving pumpkins, and I never know quite what mine will look like until it is well underway. I try to plan it out, but it never goes according to plan. I'm always the last one at the table as well, which is fine, since I like the carving and the pumpkin guts and all that.

But first things first. And first one done went this year to the Wife, who found a little help at Wal-Mart and actually claims this year as her favorite pumpkin carving night ever.

Behold, her creation...

Next to finish was the Boyo, who will be dressed as a pirate tomorrow night, and liked Mommy's potato head pirate so much that he wanted a pirate carved in his. So with the instructions to draw out the parts he wanted cut, he set right to work...

I've been given specific instructions by my son, but we are going to work on it a little more tomorrow to get it done.

Sweet Pea was the next to leave the table. Though to be fair she started after the Boyo was done, and would have been perfectly content to color her pumpkin until the marker ran dry...

I have no clue where I am going to be cutting on this one.

Last up was me. I was going for a "sexy Marilyn Monroe" face...

Nailed it!

So, we did have a little fun tonight. Some laughs. Some tears. But overall I think we are ready for Halloween.

More Later

Last of the Big Three

2011-10-25T23:12:00.000-05:00

We had to put our beloved dog Ben to sleep yesterday. He was the last of the "Big Three". Rascal and Shoba being the other members of that club.

From left to right, that's Ben, Shoba and Rascal relaxing on the Island.

The Big Three were our dogs before marriage. Rascal was the Wife's dog, Shoba was mine, and Ben was technically Rascal's, but the Wife and I shared custody of him while we lived in separate places, and we would swap Ben back and forth as we met for dates and such.

We met Ben when the Wife was running a B&B in Decorah, Ia. We were fostering dogs at that time. People would find dogs and bring them to us, or the dogs would find us. We always had a few extras running around. We'd get them their shots and train them a little, then place them with good families. We must have fostered a couple dozen dogs in those days. The only one who didn't find a home right away was Ben. A friend found him galloping along the side of a road somewhere and dropped him at the B&B. At that time I was renting the basement of the B&B and driving a semi over the road for a couple of weeks at a stretch.

When I personally met Ben, he did not wag his tail or seem happy to see me at all. In fact, he was as close to wild as a dog can get, and did not care for leashes, collars, being checked by a vet, or any fingers too near him. Not a dog we could just send off with a family and hope for the best. Also, he was a barker. We had kennels out in the garage that the dogs stayed in at night. Ben stayed in his a lot because he was so wild, and he voiced his opposition to this by barking non-stop. We even got a visit from the police to ask us to keep the barking down.

Nobody who came to look at dogs wanted Ben. He was too wild and unpredictable. I thought that if we trained him a little, perhaps someone would take him.

It did not go well at first. I managed to convince him by sheer force that I was the Alpha Male of the pack. I can count on one finger the number of dogs I've had to actually get physical with. By "physical" I mean keeping their mouths clamped with my hand so they don't bite and holding them down firmly but gently, much as an Alpha Male would in a wolf pack to assert my authority. It took a little time, but soon he recognized me as the Alpha and wouldn't try to take my hand off. I got a collar on him without much fuss. But then came the leash...

Swordfish have put up less of a fight. Sled dogs have less pull. Tornados twist less than that dog did when attached to a cable. He became 40 pounds of Tasmanian Devil. A black, spinning blur. For the only time in my entire time training dogs, I actually had to use a spike collar to get things started, he was that wild. We had to have him on a leash to let him go potty, as the yard was not fenced, so things were a bit dicey at first.

Eventually though, he got to a point where he would just pull for all he was worth until he got to where he wanted to go. After weeks of working with him, this seemed like the best it was going to get.

But Ben surprised us. Gradually he let the leash go slack from time to time. He seemed to be understanding the boundaries of the yard. He even started getting along with the other dogs instead of trying to attack the bigger ones and eat the smaller ones. He lulled us into a sense of security so that one fine day we decided to try him off leash.

Now, we had been working with him for weeks getting him to know his name and come when called and all that. He had been coming along very nicely and even had "sit" and "stay" down.

So I had him sitting at my feet, and the Wife was ten feet down the sidewalk ready to call him. I removed the leash and she called. He took a few steps, then his ears perked up as he realized he couldn't feel the leash.

Then, like a rocket, he departed the yard, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, big grin on his face, us calling him and calling him.

We looked all over on foot and by car for a good long time. Even when the rain started and night fell and lightning crashed all around. But it seemed that Ben had taken his freedom and escaped.

When we returned home and parked the car, what did we find hiding under a pine tree in the yard? A very wet, very happy puppy. I growled at him and he spent the night in his kennel, barking and drying out from his adventure.

I went on the road again, but the Wife kept working with him while I was driving. She even tried him off leash some more. At first he made like a cheetah and bolted. But what we learned was that he always ran to the same place by the same route. A park many blocks away was his destination, and some of the neighbors would call us when they saw him run by to let us know where he was heading.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Ben bolted less and less and hung out with the other dogs in the yard more and more. I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point he decided to keep us and became a good off leash dog. As long as no squirrels or rabbits darted by.

As our days fostering dogs came to an end, and the Wife and I decided to get married and travel our road together, we had worked with Ben so much that we decided to keep him off the market. But whose dog would he be? I had Shoba, the Wife had Rascal. I asked Shoba if she wanted a dog, but she only wanted to be with me. Fortunately, Rascal was a good soul, and took Ben on as his own. So began his "joint custody". And when we got married and moved in together, Ben became "our" dog at last.

I'll be posting more about Ben in the next few days. In the end, he turned into a really, really good dog. I already miss him a ton. Holly, our remaining dog, has never been to the Island. But we are going to go next summer. This picture -

kind of sums things up. My Wife, my best friend Matt, and the Big Three all at the Island. I know those three canines are already there, waiting for the rest of us to join them one day. Someday when we three humans are gone, my kids can look at this picture and know that this is heaven for me. The loss of Ben has hit me hard. I feel like I've lost Rascal and especially Shoba all over again. I'm missing thier ears and tails and coats and the souls that those bodies contained. Such good, good dogs.

OK, my throat is getting all lumpy, so I'm going to bed now.

More Later

Space Shots

2011-10-15T10:31:00.000-05:00

Last night the moon was near full and floating beautifully above our house, so I decided to go out and try to take some pictures of it. I've done this before, of course, usually ending up with shots that look like a light bulb in a dark room. So I read up a little on how to "shoot the moon" and headed out.

Of course, everything I read suggested a lens with at least a 300mm zoom. But as I only have the two lenses for my D60, and I can only zoom up to 200mm, I just wanted to get the best shots I could.

So after some test shots, I ended up with these...

That I cropped and enlarged into these...

Jupiter, meanwhile, was hovering just south of the moon. Although I knew full well that my little 200mm lens wouldn't be able to shoot the great storm on Jupiter, I thought I'd snap a few shots and see what came up. When I zoomed in while still outside, I saw this...

I thought I might be getting some sort of weird contamination from the house, so I moved away a little and re-shot...

OK, maybe the lens was dirty. Clean that off and re-shoot again...

Alright. Something is there, but I can't hold the camera still enough freehand, so I got the tripod and shot again...

I wondered if they were stars beyond Jupiter or maybe UFO's. I know there are moons around Jupiter, and these certainly looked like sunlight reflecting off of planets. But could my camera actually get pictures of Jupiter's moons???

Apparently the answer is YES! Those four little splotches of light are - from left to right - Ganymede, Calypso, Io and Europa! I, of course, was totally geeked about this find, and am hoping one day to get a bigger lens!

I'm such a nerd.

More Later

Celebrations

2011-10-14T15:20:00.000-05:00

Today, 40 years ago, my best friend was born. That we both survived some of the things we've done is, in itself, pretty miraculous. That we have been friends for the better part of that 40 years is simply delightful.

Time may pass between our visits or our chats. But I know I can always count on him as I can a brother. That sort of friendship is highly valued in my world. So I celebrate the day of his birth and am so very glad he was born.

Today, 7 years ago, my Marine Corps brother Staff Sgt. P was killed half a world away. His family is still hurting, and yet through all of the postings I read on his obit sites, they celebrate the life he led and the years they spent with him. So although I grieve for his loss, I celebrate his life more, short as it was.

Both of these things falling on the same day reminds me again to celebrate my own life. That I am generally happy, relatively healthy, with food in the cupboards, clothes in the closets and a roof over solid walls. I am a lucky, lucky man. And in honor of my two friends, I celebrate today.

More Later.

Under Studied Much?

2011-10-05T23:06:00.001-05:00

Seriously.

The Wife worked a night shift last night, so to keep the house quiet so she could sleep, I took the kiddos out for a little dragonfly hunt after picking the Boyo up from school. I didn't expect to find much, since last week was all frosty. But we've had a run of a few days of temperatures in the 80's, and I had seen a couple of Odes buzzing about yet.

So we headed out on a trail that runs next to the river that goes through town and found a lovely, grassy spot on the flood plain to do some searching.

Lots of bugs, but few dragonflies. The ones we saw were distant, the sun glistening off their wings. No more than two or three in the sky, though.

Then one cruised right over us and settled into some weeds. We stalked it and it took off and flew to another weed clump farther on. We stalked it again with the same results. On the third stalk I was able to get within 10 feet and snap a couple of shots. Only one was in focus...

I knew it was a Darner of some sort, and I knew it would be helpful to get a shot of the stripes on the side for ease of ID. But as I stepped off to get a side view, it took off into the sky and flew right down the river until it was out of sight.

I posted my find to the MOSP group on facebook after poring over my dragonfly ID book and deciding that it was perhaps a Lance-tipped Darner.

To my delight, the pros agreed with my assessment. So I've submitted it to Odonata Central. If confirmed, it will be our 8th county record for the year! What great fun!

(Update 10/7/11: It was confirmed! Woohoo!)
I hope that the kiddos still want to go dragonflying with me when the county records taper off. Well... we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Getting county records almost every time we go hunting made me think, though. Our county holds a decent sized city and lots and lots of good Odonate habitat, yet it would seem that it is pretty under studied. It is pretty common knowledge that Odonates are understudied everywhere. So if you want to contribute something to science and be a "citizen-scientist", or if you want a fun activity with your kids, or you just want to learn more about dragonflies, I implore you to head out with a camera and get some pictures.

Of course, I'll be imploring again at the start of next season. This season is coming to a close.

More Later

October Goals, and Bye Bye Dragonfly

2011-10-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

Dragonfly Season is coming to a close. We had a frosty morning today, and I doubt I'll see many more this year. It kinda bums me out, but I am really looking forward to getting out next season.

Speaking of next season. I was terribly lazy in the month of September pertaining to triathlon training. I went for a couple of runs, did a couple swims, and did some good test driving of the new bike. But nothing too serious.

Last year I didn't start training again until January, and all heck broke loose shortly after. So I'm setting some new goals for the year, and I'm going to do them month by month.

October is now my starting point for doing some events next season. That gives me a good nine months until the Pigman tri, seven or eight until Ode Hunting Season starts up. My goal for this month is to bike 100 miles total and run 30 miles total for the month. This may not seem like much, but it is a good starting point for goals and a good baseline for training. Besides, this is probably the last month for being on the bike for awhile. Then I'll switch to hitting some heavy swimming goals and figure out an indoor training program.

By Spring I hope to be a bit more svelte, faster in the water, on the bike and on my feet, and ready for some fun in the warmer weather.

There are also a few other changes coming down the pike. Not sure where I'm being led, or what exactly I'm supposed to do with it all, but the potential is exciting and a little overwhelming. I'll keep you posted.

More Later

Seven

2011-09-25T22:26:00.002-05:00

The summer flew by quickly due to a great many things. It seems like just a few days ago that the Boyo came home from his last day of first grade, now he's a seasoned second grader. Mom was just here rehabbing at Mayo, and it seems like Dad should be coming through the door at any time, back from visiting Mom.

I got just about nothing done from the list of things I wanted to accomplish over the summer. And since all of my September blogs are Odo-centric, I will say that one of the things I wanted to do this summer was to spend many, many days with the kiddos going dragonfly hunting. I imagined long hours spent outside wandering to and fro, netting and photographing and studying.

The reality was that we went on only four or five "hunts", and those usually lasted around a half hour or less. No nets, just a camera and some sharp eyed kids. The other pictures were taken during fortuitous encounters in the front yard or out shooting rockets. Not actually on dedicated hunts.

I knew that odonates were pretty understudied, and that we may find an unrecorded species or two. What I was unprepared for was that on nearly every short walk, we discovered a county record. Even when we went a county over, we managed to get two records on the same day.

Today was no different. After church, I invited a friend and his daughter to come on a hunt with us at a local nature preserve. She is about the Boyo's age, and is quite the little spitfire. The last time I went to this spot, I only saw Widow Skimmers, Eastern Forktails and some sort of Meadowhawk that I couldn't get close to.

Today we saw a couple of Eastern Forktails, and then I got some shots of these...

sitting on a leaf...

Paired up for mating...

Mating wheel...

I knew they were Meadowhawks, but they were so skittish I couldn't get close enough for really good shots. When I got home, I checked them out in my Dragonfly ID book and it seems that they are pictures of Autumn Meadowhawks (Sympetrum vicinum). I submitted them to the Odonata Central website and they have been confirmed! That makes County Record number Seven!

So, to recap -
#1 - Band-winged Meadowhawk...

was our first find. The boyo spotted her right in our garden in our front yard! That was on July 31st.

#2 - Eastern Forktail...

a very common species, but strangely not yet recorded here. We added it to the list on August 11th.

#3 - Black Saddlebags...

Another visitor to the front yard garden, and starting off a very busy September on the 6th of that month.

#4 - Tule Bluet...

On a walk with my Sweet Pea the next day, September 7th, when she noticed this little sapphire in the bushes.

#5 - Black Saddlebags...

again. But this time in a different county. September 12th, visiting a playground with the Sweet Pea.

#6 - Eastern Forktail...

Same day, September 12th. There were quite a few other species there that day, but I couldn't get close enough to get good shots of them.

#7 - Autumn Meadowhawk...

Just today.

The season may not be over yet, either. I don't know if we'll find other county records this year. But I sure am motivated to get out next spring and see what we can find around here!

Of interest to me was the rediscovery of this picture...

I don't know what kind it is, a clubtail of some sort obviously. But it does stand as my first picture of a dragonfly that I took. This picture was taken in China almost exactly a year ago, on September 20th, 2010. Who knew that a few days over a year later we would have seven county records to our name! Fun stuff.

More Later

Old Friends

2011-09-13T22:13:00.001-05:00

After dropping the Boyo off at school the yesterday, Sweet Pea and I went to a playground/park we've been to once or twice before that isn't too far from home, and has the added benefit of being in a very under surveyed county as far as Odes go.

We didn't have long, but we didn't need much time. There were dragonflies and damselflies all over. Most were busy on their morning hunt, but I did get an OK shot of an Eastern Forktail fellow...

and saw many, many other mature females and males of that species.

We got some shots of this guy...

A Meadowhawk of some sort based on size and markings, but I couldn't catch her to tell.

We saw a mating pair of something flying around. Shots not quite clear enough to ID, though.

Sweet Pea and I chased a few others around waiting for them to land, which didn't happen. Then I saw a Black saddlebags fly over. He circled me three times, then landed a few feet away and watched as I took a few dozen shots of him. This is my favorite.

The Black saddlebags dragonflies are quickly becoming my favorites.

Almost a decade ago, Dad and I took a trip down the mighty Mississippi from Itasca down to St. Louis. Not surprisingly, there were many, many dragonflies to see. It was the first time I became aware that there were so many different kinds of dragonflies. Upon reflection it was completely logical. There are different species of cows after all. And chickens. That sort of thing. Why not dragonflies, too?

So I started watching them. I called damselflies "flutterbugs", after their flight characteristics. But dragonflies stayed dragonflies. As I watched them, I gave each different species names.

Darners all looked similar enough that I called them "Tigers". Green Tigers, Blue Tigers, Yellow Tigers, depending on what color the stripes were. "Green Eyed Monsters" I later found out were Common Green Darners. There were "Golden Snitches", fast little golden odes that I saw very rarely. Probably meadowhawks of some sort.

Then there were the "Black Mambas". The "biker gang" of the dragonfly world. They never got close enough for me to really study them, but I called them Black Mambas because they were pretty much all black, and the two black patches on their hind wings looked menacing. I'll give you one guess as to what Black Mambas are really called. I liked them because they always seemed to patrol right off my bow and snatch deer flies and other annoying insects out of the air and away from me.

One day I saw a "Green Tiger" splashing around in the water. It couldn't seem to get airborne and I figured it would probably die out there. So I paddled over, dipped it out of the river with my paddle and set it on the towel/tent that was shading my dog Shoba. (That's Shoba's picture at the top of the blog) It lay there for a long time, not moving. After about a half hour I figured it had expired, so I reached down to toss it overboard. But it walked a few steps away from my hand. Over the next couple of hours I watched it go from a pale yellow color, to a black with green stripes color. The eyes brightened up as well, going from that deathly pale yellow to vibrant green. It preened it's wings and head and basked in the sun during that time. Then it fluttered it's wings for a few minutes, as if making sure they still worked. Then without even a goodbye, it took off and zoomed away!

I felt like I had done my good deed for the day, and decided to one day learn more about dragonflies. Now, this next part requires a little faith. In what, I am not sure. But even to me it sounds a little far fetched. If it had not happened to me, I don't know that I would believe it. For the first time that I can remember, a dragonfly landed on me. Right on my chest, right above my heart. It was the same "Green Tiger" that I had just rescued. Or one very similar to it. I looked down at it and it looked up at me. It fluttered it's wings twice, cocked it's head twice, and flew off.

That in itself was odd for me. But what happened next was really... well... decide for yourself.

A couple of days later we were paddling in an area packed with biting deer flies. I had a couple of "Black Mambas" making runs across the bow of my boat, but there were still four or five deer flies circling me and swooping in to chomp on my neck and ears. I killed a half dozen, but they kept coming. Dad had DEET all over him and wasn't being bothered much, but my skin doesn't like DEET, so I was suffering. After another bite on the neck (and another one killed) I yelled in my head that I couldn't take much more of this and something would have to change!

From the shore came two "Green Tigers". One landed on the towel/tent. The other landed on my chest in the same place that the other had a couple of days before. As the deer flies circled, the Tigers tracked them with their big eyes. It was really cool to watch. Then, like lighting, they zoomed up, one right after the other, and snatched a deer fly each from the air right in front of my face! One landed on my paddle and proceeded to dine. The other dropped the dead fly, took up his perch on my chest again, and did it again. And again. And again. Maybe five or six times in all, until there were no more deer flies circling me. Then it grabbed one off my lap and flew off to eat. I tossed the other dead flies on the towel to see if they would return for a meal.

It was almost as it they had spread the word among the "Green Tigers" that I was an OK human and worthy of helping out. Sort of a 'thank you' for saving one of their own, it seemed. Of course, I realized I was anthropomorphizing them. But a strange thing happened. On the rest of the trip, around 800 or 900 miles of river, whenever I had insect troubles I also had "Green Tigers" and "Black Mambas" around taking care of the problem for me. I didn't use any bug spray for the rest of the trip, but had no more bites either.

Knowing what I know now, there were probably several species of Darners hunting around me. But at the time I journaled that they all looked like the one I had rescued. Green stripes, blue/greenish and black tails, greenish eyes. But I'm pretty certain that the "Black Mambas" were Black saddlebags. And they always seemed to appear when the pests were bothering me. It's the only time they ever landed on me as well. It seemed...harmonious.

So, of all of the species that we saw yesterday, the only one that landed long enough for me to photograph was my old friend the "Black Mamba". The same species that came to visit me in my garden when I first got pictures of them.

I had many, many other interesting things happen relating to dragonflies on that trip. It was a pretty great trip. And a pretty great day with the Sweet Pea yesterday. I think the two species we got are also county records for that county, too. So that's fun!

Now you know my connection to Odes.

More Later

The Seedy Side of Nature

2011-09-10T22:42:00.002-05:00

The Boyo and I went for a quick walk around the yard today, just to see what we could see. With his excellent sight, he spotted this guy...

cruising around by our marshy area. He buzzed around for a bit and let us get some shots. He should be easy to find again, as his front starboard (right)wing looks a little injured. Did I mention that I love my camera? It turns this...

into this...

We were just about to head in when this flew past and landed in the tall grass...

I think it's a Common Green Darner, and is huge for a dragonfly. Three inches long.

I'm also pretty sure it's a male, though I only have a few reference photos to go by, and very few look like this one.
As for our red friend, it could be a Cherry-faced Meadowhawk or a Ruby Meadowhawk. My new friends over at MOSP inform me that the only way to be sure of the ID is to catch it and look at its genitalia. That's right. I gotta check his junk. Fortunately one of the pros sent me some diagrams of what to look for to ID them. Odonata porn as it were.

Now I just have to figure out a way to catch the little sucker. He is FAST!

And yes, I am going for an entire month of posts focusing only on dragonflies.

More Later

Dragonflies on the Brain

2011-09-08T21:09:00.000-05:00

It's been a busy week of dragonfly hunting around the Shaffer house. I am totally addicted, as my loving and patient wife can attest, and the kiddos seem to enjoy it as well.

The Tule Bluet that the Sweet Pea found the other day was confirmed by Odonata Central, thus bringing us to four county records! Which I am pretty geeked about and the Boyo thinks is awesome. Sweet Pea is pretty indifferent to the excitement of her county record, but is convinced that the Tule Bluet is her own personal damselfly.

Today the Boyo had a good day at school, so as a reward we headed to the lake for another 30 minute blitz. We once again saw a multitude of Eastern Forktails...

And I got some pretty good shots of male Widow Skimmers zooming across the lake...

Then we came upon the "seedy side" of the natural world.

DISCLAIMER: If you will be scarred or scared by the sight of death and sex, READ NO FURTHER!!!

We found an unfortunate Widow Skimmer becoming a meal for a big, ugly spider.

The Boyo was ready to valiantly rescue the Skimmer and be his friend. But I convinced him that it was way too late for a rescue, and we had a talk about the whole circle of life thing. He was ok with it after a while, and thought that at least the spider wouldn't be hungry over the winter. We'll save the freezing death part of nature for another talk on another day.

As we walked around the lake, we spotted two dragonflies zooming over the lake, joined tail to head. I tried getting a shot of them in flight...

but they were just too fast.(see the two reddish blurs in the middle of the other blur) After a little more hunting, and spotting another male Widow Skimmer...

And mature female Eastern Forktails...

We started back for the car, and these two landed on a twig a couple of feet over my head.

I took pictures by holding the camera up and firing away, hoping, hoping, hoping for something usable.

Over 300 shots later, the mating duo got tired of being photographed and zoomed away...

So far on all of our hunts, we have seen a species we have not seen before. I'm putting together a little picture list of the ones we've seen and when/where/what time we saw them. Eventually I am certain we will go hunting and just see the same ones we've seen before. When that happens I guess we'll have to go to another county and start scouting there!

Many thanks to the Wife, and to those of you still reading, for your patience with this latest obsession.

More Later

Dragonfly Blitz

2011-09-07T11:29:00.003-05:00

One of the guys at MOSP goes on "blitzes" where he goes to a location for a short time, 30 - 60 minutes, and finds as many odes as he can. After Sweet Pea and I dropped the Boyo off at school this morning, we headed over to Foster Arends park to do our first 30 minute blitz. Turns out she has a great eye for tiny little dragonflies and damselflies. As we walked along the shore she suddenly stopped and pointed at a plant and said "Look Daddy! A bwoo dwagonfly!"
I looked, but saw nothing at first. I was about to move on when I saw this guy landing on a leaf right where she was pointing.

I'm not sure what it is, but it isn't on the list for our county, so if I can get it ID'd then it will be another county record!
UPDATE: This guy is now awaiting confirmation from the Odonata Central website as a Tule Bluet.
She also spotted a whole swarm of other little damselflies. Some I could ID as male Eastern Forktails...

I got some help ID'ing these as immature female Eastern Forktails...

And a mature Eastern Forktail female...

Then we spotted this one...

That I think is a female widow skimmer, since it lacks the white spots on the wings that would ID it as a male. But the only reference picture I have of a female has a black and yellow abdomen - or "tail".
UPDATE: Kurt Mead from MOSP wrote this: "This one is a bit of an anomaly. The female does not get the pruinosity on the abdomen, but this male does not have the extensive white patches distal to the black on the wings. The dark patches on the wingtips are unusual, but not unheard of. Despite the oddities, you got it to species!"

In other words, I got a picture of a weird MALE Widow Skimmer.

I have feelers out to people who know much more than me to help me ID the ones I'm not sure of. Like this last one...

that we saw as we were walking to the car.
UPDATE: Another MOSP member tells me that this is a White faced Meadowhawk. I acutally suspected that and am glad I am starting to be able to ID them a little!
Sweet Pea is an excellent Ode hunter! She even tried to catch them with her hat. I'm looking forward to getting ID's on these, and even more so to going out hunting with the Boyo after school!

More Later

Improvement Comes Slowly

2011-09-05T19:36:00.001-05:00

Like most Americans... most people really...I want things to happen quickly. If it were at all possible, many of the things I want to improve would happen like in the movies. Inspirational music would play, there would be shots of me doing whatever it is poorly, but persevering and shot by shot I would improve and learn and pretty soon, mere seconds really, the song would end and I'd be great. Triathlons would go from clumsy and slow to sleek and fast. Weight would be shed with a few dramatic shots of me jumping rope, running, biking and sweating a lot. And photos of dragonflies would be National Geographic perfect with every click of the shutter.

Sadly, in real life the improvement never comes in such leaps and bounds. As evidenced by my Odonata Pictures from today. The Kiddos and I went for a walk to hunt the little critters and give the Wife a chance to catch a very short nap. We saw many Ode's, and of almost 400 pictures snapped, I like the following...

I'm not sure what this is.

But it's shadow looks like stained glass to me!

I'm hoping one of the ode experts can help identify it from my blurry shots.

UPDATE: This is indeed a Band-winged Meadowhawk.

Not long after shooting that little ode, this female Common Whitetail made an appearance. This is the first Common Whitetail we've seen!

Demonstrating how well her camouflage works.

But then she posed for a couple of glamour shots on the curb.

The guy above I think is our friend the Band-Winged Meadowhawk. It was actually in the same pictures as the Common Whitetail...

Can you see both of them? I left in the stained glass shadow, too.

The shots aren't the greatest. My camera is more than adequate for taking good shots of these, I just need to become a better photographer! And if that means taking the kiddos on walks to go hunting for dragonflies... well, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

More Later

My New Ride

2011-08-31T22:58:00.000-05:00

Upgrades, baby. Sometimes they come at the weirdest times. I missed summer this year. Between Dad's adventures in Cardiology and exploring the afterlife, and Mom's adventures in Brain Injuries and regaining her life, and what seemed like hours at the various hospitals that were actually days and weeks... well, the summer flew by.

Today, after about a year of learning all about bikes and doing some serious comparison shopping for months, a brand new Motobecane Nemisis showed up on my doorstep with my name on it!

(NM)

It is a tri-specific bike, and rather than bore you with the myriad of details, I will say this... It is ten or twelve pounds lighter than my Big Yellow Beast, with rail thin tires about two thirds the width of the BYB tires. All of this to say it should be a rocket! I'm pretty pumped up to take it for a spin. Maybe tomorrow when the Wife returns from work.

I am a little giddy at how light it is. Giddy, I tell you. I'll let you know how it all turns out.

More Later.

Photography can be HARD

2011-08-29T19:49:00.000-05:00

As we were driving home tonight, we passed a small field with a great number of dragonflies flying around, feeding. We raced home, grabbed a few cameras and headed back to see if we could get a few shots.

Turns out it is REALLY hard to get good pictures of dragonflies while they are zooming around and eating. I shot well over 200 pictures in about thirty minutes. Thank goodness for digital cameras! Of those, these are the ones that were the best...

I think this one is a Canada darner.

Common Green Darner?

Another Common Green?

No idea, but I liked how the sun was flashing off the wings.

Turn and burn, dragonfly style.

Maybe a Common green, but with red eyes?

I wish this last one was in focus, it would have been awesome. If you look closely you can just make out the dragonflies legs extending towards it's meal.

I'll keep practicing and practicing. Those little suckers are FAST!

More Later

Hickory Grove Triathlon (Duathlon) - 8/28/11

2011-08-28T19:31:00.002-05:00

It was a beautiful day for an outdoor event, but we'll get to that in a minute.

A couple of days ago we got an e-mail from the organizer of the HGT saying...
"The DNR requires signs warning the public of ecoli levels in two situations. One if the 30 day average rises above 126 ecoli colonies per 100ml of water. Two if any single reading rises above 235 ecoli colonies per 100ml of water.
The latest water test for Hickory Grove is 790 ecoli colonies per 100ml of water."

The high levels were caused by goose poop. Lots and lots of goose poop. They cancelled the swim portion of the race and changed it into a duathlon. Instead of starting with a nice 500 yard swim, it would start with a 1.1 mile run, then the normal 15.5 mile bike, and finish up with a 2 mile run. I was a little bummed because the swim is my strong event. But there was nothing for the swimmer in me today. I've never run before a bike, so at least it would be a new experience.

One interesting side effect of this was that I had very few nerves before the race. I was all psyched up to compete against last year me, and when the swim was eliminated, all the stress of beating last year me went right out the window. I didn't have to worry about where I would leave my glasses for the swim, or anything!

So I pondered how a run before a bike followed by a run would be. Honestly, I was a little interested to see if I could even do that! I hastily made some new goals for the race. I wanted to run the first leg without stopping to walk. I wanted to improve my bike time from the year before. And I wanted to finish the race. With these goals in mind I got ready to race. Mom, Dad, the Wife and the Kiddos all attended and cheered my friend Matt and me on. Lots of people seemed thrown off by the change in plans. I had no worries though, I just wanted to do the best I could. I was hoping to finish around 1:45, preferably faster rather than slower than that mark.

Run leg 1 - 1.1 miles, 11:26

We were to start in our swim waves, but on the road instead of the beach. At 8:20 my group started. I was in the middle off the pack, but was quickly passed by just about everybody.
(picture by the Wife)

Group Start... that's me in the blue, about to get passed by nearly everyone behind me.

Did I mention that the run is my very weakest thing? While I am improving with every run, I still have sore knees and bothersome shin splints. Not to mention carrying a bit too much extra weight around. I was able to keep running through the entire mile, and even ran through the transition area to my bike, and later ran my bike out of transition! First goal accomplished! I was feeling pretty good!

T1- 2:11 Out of my running shorts and into my bike shorts. And of course trying to catch my breath as much as possible.

Bike 15.5 miles (though both Matt and I had 15.7 miles on our bike computers) - 55:26

(picture by the Wife)

Look at me... running my bike out of T1 like a real triathlete!

I had a lot of fun on the bike. Not just because I maintained a higher speed than I ever have before, (16.8 mph at 15.5 miles or 17 mph for the 15.7 I had recorded!) but I actually passed quite a few people! Including a guy on a really expensive tri bike with a teardrop helmet. The course went three laps, and although the wind kicked up a bit when I was on my third lap, I was able to stay in almost my highest gear for most of the ride. I say almost the highest gear because when I tried to shift into the top two, the chain would skip and jump on and off the sprockets. Not the best thing to mess with on race day. So I left it a couple of gears below the top gear as much as possible and really pushed as much as I could.

(picture by the Wife)

One more time on my Big Yellow Beast

In short, it was a very good ride for me. And since my new tri bike is on it's way here, this was the last race for my Big Yellow Beast. It held up like a champ, but now it is time to put it out to pasture. The best part of the bike was passing the viewing area and hearing my little ones cheering me on!

I raced right up to the dismount area where Mom and Dad were located, and hopped off the bike and into T2.

T2 - 2:22 Out of the bike shorts and back into the running shorts. Tired, jelly legs and my right leg started feeling... twingy.

Run leg 2, 2 miles - 28:52

(picture by the Wife)

Heading out.
VERY small stride,
Fighting a cramp in the leg.

I knew I was in trouble when I started running out of the transition area. The twinge in my right calf muscle seemed to be preparing to knot into a very painful cramp. I have had zero trouble with cramps in this 13 months of tri training, and can only remember two other times in my life when my legs cramped up. Once in a high school swim practice, and once during a run in boot camp. I remembered the pain very well and was more than worried that my calf would turn into a rubber pretzel and stop me completely. I hobble/ran as far as I could past the crowds, willing myself to keep jogging and try to appear as if all was well. My stride felt more like a short shuffle as I ran past my Wife and Kids again who cheered me wildly. The Wife later said that I looked like I was hurting when I went past, and indeed I was. So much for my acting skills. I went about a third of a mile before the calf threats turned extra painful and I needed to stop to stretch that pesky muscle. I walked and shook my leg and stretched the calf, and jogged a bit again. To no avail for the whole first half of the run. Finally by the turn around, my leg relaxed and I felt like I could run again. So while I spent the first mile limping along and walking more than I would have liked, I spent the great majority of the second mile actually running!
(picture by the Wife)

feeling MUCH better! I'm actually running with a little speed.

As I approached the finish, I saw the Wife and my kiddos cheering me on, my parents and friend Matt cheering me on, and I turned on the speed! ... Seriously, I have GOT to work on my run. I had NO speed left, so I kept up my jogging pace and finished with my hands in the air and a smile on my face.

1:40:19 was my finish time. When I compare it to last years performance it comes out a little like this. Matt and I decided that adding 10 minutes for a swim portion would be fair, as the swim itself would be faster, but the extra time would account for transition and energy lost during the swim. So adding 10 mikes to my time would be around 1:50. That's a full 13 minutes faster than last year! More directly, if we compare the two bike portions, I went from 1:03:00, or 14.7 MPH, to a 55:26, or 16.8 mph! That is a huge improvement from last year! I also shaved a few minutes off my run time, but probably because it was broken into the two sections.
(picture by Mom)

Matt and I in our spiffy new HGT shirts.

I can't compare these two years very well. But I did have a very fun day with friends and family in a beautiful location. This was my last tri of the season. Soon I will be posting some goals for the next season. I am hooked on this tri thing!

More Later

Lessons from the Odonata Files

2011-08-15T10:43:00.001-05:00

Being new to something can lead to making a few mistakes. A lack of knowledge in a subject leads to dependence on those with more knowledge. And sometimes there is plain old being clueless to blame.

The Boyo and I have been learning a great many thing about the world of Odonates, or Dragonflies, as I've posted before. I've been working on my photography skills by shooting them for posterity when they cooperate. The Boyo has been spotting them, and pointing them out to me.

Such was the case in our garden at the end of July when we saw this pretty girl...

My initial reaction was that it was a Ruby Meadowhawk. Why? Because if you go to the Odonata Central website, they have really friendly lists of dragonflies and damselflies found in your specific county! Our list had 18 species. The Boyo and I added the 19th, species last week, much to our excitement. Then I saw that most of the records in our county were from the DOT project done back in 2004, so I decided to add my recent finds to our list as well.

I submitted the Widow Skimmer...

The Halloween Pennant...

And the Ruby Meadowhawk. Well, the Widow and the Halloween Pennant were both confirmed, but the Ruby was still pending a few days later. In the mean time, I had found the Minnesota Odonata Survey Project, and they have a facebook page, so I joined it to ask what they thought of my Ruby Meadowhawk. They have some wicked knowledgable folks there and they gently corrected my ID and said that I had recorded a Band-winged Meadowhawk instead.

I looked up a picture of the Band-winged, compared it to mine and a picture of the Ruby, and sure enough there were little differences that I had missed, indeed making it a picture of a Band-winged Meadowhawk, and our SECOND county record!

Now, to be fair, it seems that getting county records is pretty common due to the lack of recording of odonates in most areas. But for the Boyo and I, having two of our four recorded odonates be county records is pretty exciting! He wants to keep hunting them and find a brand new species that we can name. I'll admit that sounds pretty cool to me, too. However unlikely.

My mistake was in comparing my photo to the known species list, and choosing the one that most closely resembled it. The lesson learned was to take my time in ID'ing my pictures, and keep an open mind as to what I have found. There are literally hundreds of varieties of dragonflies and damselflies, and they are kind of under studied. So my new goal is to keep on hunting with the kiddos, keep recording, keep learning, and keep an open mind.

I encourage you to get out there with your cameras and get some shots. You never know what you might find!

Special thanks to The folks at Odonata Central for their fantastic website, and the good people of MOSP for helping out a newbie like me!

More Later

Remembering SSGT P

2011-08-12T23:59:00.001-05:00

Today I heard through facebook that a man I served with in Delta Battery was killed in Iraq back in October of 2004.

John A. Pinsonneault was a "civilian contractor" when he was killed in the Green Zone of Baghdad. From what I can piece together, it seems he had finished lunch with members of his security team and they were leaving the dining hall when a suicide bomber detonated next to them, killing John and three others. He was 39 years old. When we served together in Delta Battery, I just called him P.

We had served together for a few years and when my enlistment was up, he did the paperwork and talked to me about re-enlisting. I remember the conversation vividly, and have thought about it often. What if I had re-upped? Where would I be now and what would be different? I had decided to let my enlistment run out because I wanted to explore new avenues of what life had to offer. Jason and I had released our first album and were going on tour with it. I had broken up with girlfriends because I did not want to commit while I was in the USMC and could be called up to go to war if there was one. I wanted to be committed to being the best FDC I could. When I left the Marines, I felt it was time to commit to seeing if a woman would actually want to spend her life with me and have kids and such.

When P asked me one last time if I would reconsider, I paused for almost a full minute. Because I loved being a Marine. I loved the unit I was with and the men and women I served with. It was hard to leave behind. But I had been thinking about it for the better part of my last year in, and stuck by my choice to end my Marine Corps career. I told him that joining the Marines had saved my life. I had grown up a great deal and learned that if I argued for my limitations, I would have them. But if I set my mind to something and hit it with Marine Corps intensity, well, then I could do almost anything. I signed the papers and he shook my hand and said, "Well, Shaf dog..." (This is pronounced "Shayeef - dog" and was a nickname given me by Sgt Slickers - Slick - who gave about everybody their nicknames.) "Well, Shaf dog... We're going to miss you. You're a good Marine and a good man."
Then he smiled at me and said,
"Good luck with everything in the future, John. You can do anything you put your mind to... Marine."

It was a brief conversation, but memorable to me because of the "what if's" I've considered over the years.

I turned 40 less than a week ago. P will eternally be 39. It is hard for me to get my head around his death. Because it happened almost seven years ago. Because so much has happened in that time. Because in those youthful days as a Marine, we were immortal and untouchable. Confident in our ability to improvise, adapt and overcome in any situation. Those days, a decade or two back, still seem fresh in my mind. The faces of my brother Marines will always be youthful and immortal in my mind, even though I grow older. And while I suspect he will not be the last of my Marine brothers I will not see again in this lifetime, he is the first I have lost. I lost the opportunity to reconnect. To thank him for the time we served together. I grieve that loss.

This news also brings the war closer to home for me. Don't get me wrong. I fly my flags every day for those who are serving and those who won't come home. We had a local Marine funeral at our church a time ago, and it was hard for me to see. Though I knew him not at all, we were still joined by the common bond of the Corps, and his loss got to me a little.

But I knew P. I laughed with him and worked with him. We trained for war together. Broke bread together. Celebrated more than a few USMC birthdays together. And while we were not best friends, I considered him one of my "Marine Corps Buddies".

I lost touch with the Marines I served with after I got out. Facebook has provided an opportunity to reconnect with many of them, though only passively. They all have their lives and their close friends. I occasionally chat with them through FB. Comment on a status or "like" something. But I suspect if I stopped those interactions, their lives would continue with nary a blip on their radar. Just as I've lived the last seven years without the faintest notion that P was dead.

But once, long ago-but not too long ago, we all served together in a Marine artillery unit, as a band of brothers. There is a bond there that even I don't understand at times. The common bond of service, good times and bad times, training to fight and kill and win and serve. It's a strange phenomenon. But there exists a brotherhood of Marines. I believe if any of them contacted me with a request, I would go to the ends of the earth to fulfill it for them.

And so, though I had not talked to P more than a half dozen times after I was out, and was not even aware of his death now six and a half years past, I grieve as if I had seen him only last week. Both of us in our cammies, shooting the poo as Marines are wont to do. I am in shock at his death, and my heart is just a little broken for his family and for the loss of my Marine brother.

It sucks, because I can hear P telling me to just get over it and get on with life. He had a philosophy that tough times don't last, but tough people do. And he lived his life as such. When the war started, he jumped back in as a security specialist. At that time I was being courted by the Navy to go back in as a medic attached to a Marine unit. I was a newly minted EMT heading for Paramedic status, and they were very aware that combat medics would be in demand when the war heated up. P went in, even though he had a wife and kids. I was engaged and just ready to start Family Life, which was a sticking point for me. I didn't want to go off and die somewhere and leave a wife and kids behind. So I chose to get married and start my family and serve my communities as a medic instead. (The Navy also wanted me to do their boot camp again, which seemed a little silly after having been through USMC boot. And at the time they wouldn't give me a promotion. They did call again two years later though, about six months after P died, ready to sign me up with a promotion to E-6 and send me off with the Marines. But I had a one year old son. I just couldn't do it.)

In that sense, P was a much stronger patriot than I. He was willing to sacrifice the future with his wife, kids, grand kids, family, to serve in the war however he could and fight for those who needed fighting for. He had a true warrior spirit, and was an honorable man. I wonder what he would have accomplished had he turned 40 and gone on living to a ripe old age. I wonder what I can do to honor his life and his sacrifice. To earn the freedom that he served to provide.

I did some time in the Marine Corps. Almost a decade. I gave the government a "blank check" to spend as they saw fit. Willing at the time to give my all, even my life, to serve this country. But that check expired. Though I serve still in very small ways, others have taken my place and the US has cashed their checks. Some giving the last full measure. Like P did. His check had no expiration date, and it cost him and his family a future of wondrous possibilities.

It will take me some time to get my head around not only his loss, but what I can do to honor him. I will start by remembering his last words to me as a Marine. That I can do anything I put my mind to. And remembering him with his own words to me...

Goodbye P. We're going to miss you. You're a good Marine and a good man.

More Later

Sintifick Draginfly Reserch

2011-08-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

You may remember this post from late last year, wherein the Boyo was upset when he learned the meaning of extinct and that we would in fact, not be getting a baby triceratops to raise in our yard. He brightened up when he learned that dragonflies were descended from dino-dragonflies, and that we could learn about them, study them, and maybe even see some up close!

We learned that there are 18 known species in our area, and studied pictures of them with the hope that we could find some when the weather got warmer and get some pictures of our own. The Boyo asked for a three ring binder and we got to work making a notebook full of pictures off the Internet and any info we could find on said Odonata. He made a cover page titled "Sintifick Draginfly Reserch" or (Scientific Dragonfly Research). We want to fill it with all we can find and photograph regarding our local critters of the Dragonfly variety.

So far this summer we have pictures of...

The male Twelve Spotted Skimmer...

The female Ruby Faced Meadowhawk...

Which you've seen in previous posts.
We also got some nice shots of the beautiful Halloween Pennant...

And just today I got some shots of the male Widow Skimmer...

at the lake I train in. The Boyo and I were sneaking through the muck and mire looking for other dragonflies, when we noticed this one...

male above, I think a female below

which we could not place. With wings folded back like that it is a damselfly, but there are only two recorded species in our area... the River Jewelwing...

NM
and the Ebony Jewelwing...

NM
And this new guy was not like either. After we got home, I scoured the Odonata Central website to try and figure out who he is, and I think he is the Eastern Forktail ( Ischnura verticalis). I submitted my photos to the Odonata Central website for verification, and if it is verified, I'm hoping that the Boyo and I will have added not only to our book, but we will have upped the local Odonata count to 19!

I'm totally geeked about it, of course. And the Boyo is ready to go dragonfly hunting again all day every day.

So, in our quest to find the 18 locals, we may have found #19! Good Times... Good Times!

More Later

On Turning 40

2011-08-10T10:06:00.000-05:00

Things have been a little crazy around here. The last few weeks have been some of the longest months ever.

On July 8th, Mom was finally transferred up to Mayo. My brother and I had discussed the possibility of hospice and end of life care if Mayo couldn't find or fix whatever was ailing her. But within a few days they had discovered the root of the problem, and fortunately it was reversible. And after briefly getting a little worse, they turned her around and now she is on the rehab unit getting stronger and training to go home!

Lots of people come to Mayo hoping for the "Mayo Miracle". Mom was one of the many lucky ones who got it!

Oh. Also, I turned 40 a few days ago. The "Big 4-oh". I had expected to have a lot more angst or be more disturbed at turning 40. But really... not so much. The birthday itself was excellent. After church the four of us met Mom and Dad over at the rehab courtyard for a Chinese lunch with way too much food. Followed by a yummy spice cake with cream cheese frosting thanks to my lovely and talented wife.

I got two presents, too. A new fiberglass guitar case from my folks to replace the wooden one that got wet and moldy several years ago. I'm VERY excited to be able to travel with my guitar again! And from the Wife and Kiddos I get to pick out a new bike for the triathlons! There is a budget for that of course, as a top end tri-bike could cost what a new car does. But I'm shopping around and learning more about bikes than I ever thought I would need to know.

Brands aside, there are a dozen things to look at. Components like the front and rear derailleurs, brakes, shifters, cassettes, pedals, wheels... it's a little overwhelming. And since I don't want to buy another bike after this one, it has to be a bike that will last, and will not be too much or too little bike for me now and in the future. It's complicated. Now, if anybody wants to sponsor a middle to back of the pack triathlete and donate towards the new bike, I'd be happy to paint your logo or name on the bike when I get it! :)

With the rest of the day, we relaxed and went for supper at the Olive Garden, where I was going to get the soup and salad to make up for the gigantor lunch, but ended up getting a very good mushroom ravioli with shrimp. So all in all, a very fun day and gifts more generous than I could have imagined.

More than a few people told me that after turning 40, it was all downhill. Maybe it is... Maybe it is. But I know that gravity is a good friend on the downhills during triathlons. And something has sparked some amazing workouts in the past couple of days.

On Monday the 8th, the day after my birthday, I went for my first bike ride as a 40 year old on my hilly course. Imagine my delight when I finished the 15.5 mile ride in 59:25! Keeping a 15.5 mph average on the course that usually holds me to 12 to 13 mph. I hopped off the bike and did a very slow 2 mile jog/walk to stretch my legs a little and start getting some bricks in. Then that evening, Dad and I went for a swim at the lake. I did 600 yards and felt pretty good. Dad loaned me his fins and I did another 200 fast.

I feel like I am outgrowing my big yellow beast of a bike, and that I am actually finally worthy of an upgrade. So choosing a new one will be great!

Then yesterday I was scheduled for a 3 mile run, which I got to in the evening after eating leftovers from the past couple days, including more birthday cake. I thought I'd be regretting the second slice that I had eaten when I started running. My goal was to run over a mile when I got going. At the one mile mark I felt pretty good and decided to shoot for the mile and a half mark. When I reached that I let out a healthy USMC "OOH-RAH!" and kept on running. Passing the two mile mark I was thinking that if I made it that far, I should be able to reach 2.5. At 2.5 I was motivated to do the whole 3! As I rounded the corner and faced the hill between me and the finish line I had a pang of doubt. I rarely run up this hill, because it's kind of steep. But as I got started on it, I got pumped. I did not just run 2.75 miles to quit on the hill this close to the finish. So I pushed hard and RAN UP THAT HILL!

Crossing the finish was nearly as satisfying as finishing my first triathlon. I have not run a solid 3 miles since my USMC days. And though my time was 36:04, which is great for me right now, it is nowhere near the 21:00 I could do coming out of boot camp. My knees have aged and I don't expect I'll ever get back to the 21:00 time. But I do want to get under 30 minutes sometime, and have a goal of breaking 30 in a triathlon by the end of next season.

14 months ago when I started this triathlon training, I couldn't swim fifty yards without stopping to breathe and rest. Now I'm swimming 500 - 1000 yards straight and at a pace 15-20 seconds faster per 100 than my race time from HGT 2010. Last year my first bike ride was less than 5 miles in 45 minutes and ended with me nearly passed out on my front deck. Now I'm holding 15.5 mph on a pretty hilly course, faster by a couple mph than race day last year. Last year I couldn't run from one telephone pole to the next without feeling like my heart would burst and my lungs seize up. Now I can do a 36:04 5K without stopping to walk, and fully expect to improve on it. Now I just need to bring them all together for the Hickory Grove Tri.

Turning 40 really wasn't too bad. My health is improving. I have both parents still around, and it was questionable at times this year whether either would be alive on my birthday. I have a wonderful, beautiful, kind, caring and thoughtful Wife that loves me and supports me. I have VERY energetic and strong willed children, which can be challenging, but is also wonderful to see them developing into such delightful human beings. And hearing "Daddy... I love you very much." just never gets old. I have good friends who love and support me, too. I am a lucky, lucky man.

I may be getting older, but I'm also getting better.

More Later

Dragonfly Journal

2011-07-31T16:52:00.004-05:00

Today, after running hills with the Boyo, we played a bit in the sprinkler and watched dragonflies buzzing about in the 100 degree day.

We've been seeing lots and lots of twelve spotted skimmers, but today we saw this gal flitting around the garden and had enough time to get my camera, let it acclimate to the humidity and heat, and snap off a few shots.

Behold, the very lovely female Ruby Faced Meadowhawk ...

A male Ruby Faced Meadowhawk has a red body. This one is a pretty amber color so I'm pretty sure it's a girl.
I think I'm going to hunt down all of the 18 species that reside in our area and see how many we can find this season!

More Later

Tour de Kirkwood

2011-07-25T10:29:00.001-05:00

Or - my first DNF. That's right, Did Not Finish.

I'm sure there are many reasons for my first DNF. Lack of training for the past couple of weeks as I've been sitting with Mom at Mayo, the ease with which I could go to bed and not do my workouts on those days. Maybe it was the 90 degree weather with the heat index of 102 and the humidity of a sauna that I had not prepared for. Maybe I really was hit by a super heated metal bar as I felt...

Here's the "race report", judge for yourself, but don't be too harsh, I'm pretty disappointed.

Tour de Kirkwood, Kirkwood, MO (suburb of St. Louis)
I woke at 5am, ready to face the day. As I headed out the door of my brothers house, the heat/humidity physically slapped me in the face. But it's been hot up north, and I did do a couple of runs and bikes in the early morning heat back home - though pretty short.

As we loaded up the bikes and headed for the venue, I felt as ready as I could be. Mom had come to Mayo a day over two weeks ago, and I've spent most of that time with Dad at the hospital. I missed many, many of the workouts I had planned, but did do a few. I wasn't too worried, as the bike was 12 miles and the swim was a pool swim of 400 yards. I've done more than those distances before, so I had no stress about the distances.

We were nearly the first ones there, and literally the first to park in the competitor area, so my brother Jason wisely parked under a tree and we got excellent transition spots very near both the bike in and out and run out areas. After setting up our transition areas we headed up to check out the pool. After a while they opened up the pool to warm up should anyone desire. And I did!

I hopped in and was shocked, SHOCKED, at how warm the water was. It was like a hot tub with no bubbles. The air had become warm and humid, and I thought a quick swim would be just the thing to cool down, but the water was so hot that it actually felt better getting out of the water. I have only swam in that warm of water once before, at a high school swim meet in Rock Island twenty years ago. And it was slow, slow water. So warm that everybody had times slower than ever. The water today was too warm from a week of solar heating at 110 degrees, and I thought it would be slow. Jason had beat me by 8 seconds during our practice swims, so he would be in front of me to start. I decided to keep up with him as best I could.

There was no timing mat between the swim and T1, which was strange, so the whole swim/T1 time would be mixed into one. We would have to hustle through T1 to get a decent time, but our transition spots were really close to the timing mat on the bike out.

Jason's wife and kiddos came out around 7:15, along with Dad, who was there to cheer on his boys. He was registered to do the TdK, but the heart attack in March was a bit of a deterrent, and while he held out hope that maybe he'd do the swim and walk today, it was so stinking hot and humid, that he wisely decided to just watch and cheer.

To be honest, as the morning progressed, I wondered how I would do with the heat. I knew I'd need to go a little slower than usual and be careful. So noted in my head, the National Anthem was sung and we all headed for the pool to line up by time for the start. Jason and I blended in to the six minute group, noting that there were a few people lined up in front of us that we had seen warming up in the pool that were apparently wildly optimistic about their swim times. Jason told me his goal for the day was to break six minutes on the swim. I jokingly told him that my goal was to pass him and the person in front of him! As the race started and the six minute clump formed into a line, a couple of push guys decided they would out swim us and got in front of us. No big deal, as Jason had an excellent idea. Since time did not start until we crossed the timing mat as we jumped (feet first) into the pool, when the timer told us to go, we would wait a few extra seconds to give those in front of us a little more time to swim, so perhaps we wouldn't have to pass. Then we could just swim and go as fast as the water would allow.

Jason got the go ahead from the timing official and after a few seconds was on his way. I noted that he looked strong and fluid in the water. He'd be hard to catch. Then the official told me to go. I took a few extra breaths and jumped. The hot water greeted me like a nice bath, but it was time to swim.

I usually count my strokes while I swim in a pool by counting each time I breathe. In training, it has taken seven and a half or eight strokes to cross the pool once. This time I was pleasantly surprised to find myself starting my flip turn at six! I was so happy that as I counted on the way back I hit six, looked up at the wall (which seemed to be just a shade farther away this time) and did my flip turn. And completely missed the wall. I sheepishly stood up and went back to touch the wall, hoping that nobody saw me, but pretty sure there were snickers and guffaws all around. GRR!

Now I was mad at myself (and a bit embarrassed) so I focused on my stroke and my turns with laser like attention. The swim was going swimmingly. Pretty soon I looked up and saw that Jason was right in front of me. I had a brief thought of just drafting behind him for the rest of the swim, but since he bikes as well as, if not faster than me, and he can out run me any day and twice on Sunday (which this was), then I'd better get as far past him as I could! I tapped his foot to let him know I'd be passing, and on the next turn he took an extra breath as I went around. It was great to pass him, but only because he knew how to be passed (by waiting an extra second or two at the end) rather than making me pass him in the middle of the lane.

There were only a few lengths left, but I noticed that ahead of Jason were two or three people starting to clump together as the faster swimmers caught the optimistic, but slower swimmers. As I started the final length, I could see at least three people in the lane ahead of me and pushed a bit to try and catch them. Much to my delight, I was able to finish right next to one of them as two others were splashing their way out of the pool.

I jumped out of the pool with Jason about two seconds behind me, trotted over to grab my glasses on the thoughtfully provided table, and jogged into the transition area. I walked the last fifty feet to my bike to catch my breath a little. It was much more humid than I was accustomed to, and I decided then and there that I wouldn't worry about keeping up with Jason because this heat and humidity would be dangerous to me if I pushed it too hard. There was just no way to prepare for these conditions up north without training in a sauna. But I was determined to do the best that I could.

My transition was very smooth, and I was out before Jason by a few seconds. I hopped on my bike and headed out, keenly aware of the heat. The course was well marked and lots of volunteers ensured our safety. I kept it in a lower gear and at a lower speed than normal for me, but I still felt strong. I was having a little trouble catching my breath, as every inhalation was like sucking in a hot mist.

After the first half mile my legs felt pretty good again, and I knew I was getting into the groove. Jason passed me at some point, but I could keep pace with him OK, and my plan became to try and keep him in view. There was a steep hill where I sped up to over 30 MPH, which felt great! After a turn at the end of the hill, we headed up a long, medium steep hill. I could feel my body heating up, and took a drink. I could also feel my head heating up, so I dumped a little water into my helmet to cool off a bit. Nearing the top of the hill, my head felt really hot. There was a right turn and another shorter, steeper hill to climb before a nice level spot. I decided to gear up a little and push up the short hill, then rest on the long flat area. But I couldn't seem to get the shifters to work. It was very frustrating. I felt like my hand was just slipping on the sweat and I couldn't get the traction to crank the shifters. I got very agitated and started cursing at the shifters. At the time this didn't seem odd to yell at my shifters, but it is very unlike me when I ride. Also in hindsight I don't think the shifters were too wet to turn, I think my hands lacked the strength to squeeze the grips tight enough to turn them.

As I reached the top of the hill, my head felt like it was on fire. Suddenly I got very, very dizzy. As if I had been spun around too many times, like that dizzy izzy game where you put your forehead on one end of a baseball bat with the other end on the ground, spin around a dozen times and try to run a straight line. Very funny on foot, not so much on a bike. I blinked a few times to try and clear my head, and noted that I was getting a mighty powerful headache. I had not eaten much for breakfast, just the usual Clif bar, energy gel and lots of water, but felt like at any moment I would be throwing them up as I rode. I blinked a few more times, and when I opened my eyes again found myself in a strange way. I was sitting on the grass in the shade of a tree, my bike in the grass next to me, and my helmet on the grass on the other side off me.

It was very confusing. Very confusing. I had just been on my bike. Then I blinked and here I was relaxing on the grass. Several passing bikers asked me if I was OK. "Yes" I answered, still a bit confused. I wasn't scraped up or hurting anywhere, so I don't think I fell of my bike. My head was pounding and hot, so I knew I wasn't dreaming. I poured half of my water bottle over my head and felt a little refreshed. I also knew that if I sat here much longer, some well meaning triathlete would tell an official, who would send an ambulance, who would probably pull me from the race. If I wanted to finish, I had to get going. As I stood, my legs felt a little shaky, but I got on my trusty yellow beast and pedaled slowly on.

There were a few gentle hills ahead, and I decided that if I still felt dizzy and weak after those, I'd consider dropping from the race. It was not an option I particularly cared to consider, but as my head cleared a little more, I realized that blacking out would not be too helpful during the race either. But as I entered the shallow rollers on the downhill, I was feeling not too bad. Then came the uphill. With the slightest effort cranking the wheels around I got really dizzy and nauseous again and my headache throbbed. By the second little uphill, my head was feeling really, really hot again, and I knew what I had to do.

The hills led back to the park again, and I saw an official waving people into the second lap. The debate in my head seemed to go on for a lot longer than it actually did, because I really wanted to at least finish. But the paramedic in me was yelling that if I picked up a person in my condition I would strongly advise them to get some place cool, drink plenty of fluids and rest and recover. Not to mention the voice of my wife calmly telling me that if I had a heat stroke, she would not be pleased with my decision making abilities.

I stopped at the official and she sent me over to a driveway leading back around the pool to the transition area. Dad just happened to be stationed right at the driveway to get shots of us going past. I rode over to him and told him what was going on. Then started walking my bike back to the transition area, trying to get my head around what I had just done.

I was soaked to the bone, but my skin and especially my head felt as hot as a griddle. Maybe I should just sit for a few minutes and get back out there, I thought. But when I turned my head to look back at the course, a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over me. I went back and racked my bike, changed into my running shorts and sandals and called it a day. If I sat in the shade I felt OK, and had many, many second thoughts that I was just being a wuss and needed to get back on the course. So I'd stand up to get going again and get dizzy and nauseous. It was very, very frustrating.

When I could stand without feeling like I would fall over, I started making my way back to Dad along the bike route. I saw Jason coming in to finish and cheered for him, taking him completely by surprise as evidenced by the look on his face. He was soaked to the bone, too, but still going strong. I decided that if he could keep going, I should keep going. So I turned around and started to jog back to the transition area to get back on the bike. My time would suck, but I could finish. I got two steps before I stumbled and dropped. Yeah, I was done.

I entered the transition area as Jason was jogging out. All he had left was the 5K. I was so proud of him and disappointed with myself. I saw Dad coming around the other end of the pool, and we got me a chair from the van and we set up right next to the finish line. It took another twenty minutes of sitting before the dizziness finally went away, and as I cheered the people finishing, I noted very few smiles, and nobody cheered for their finish. Most looked downright miserable and a few went right to the medical tent to lie down.

Jason came across the uphill finish strong, the only one I saw raising his arms in victory, and shouting "I am a magnificent beast!" He was doing OK until he stopped and the guy grabbed his ankle to take of his timing chip. Then he got dizzy and nauseous too, and we headed him over to the medical tent for some cooling and rehydration.

It had been a brutal race for everybody, and I was kicking myself for wimping out because of the heat. Jenny, Dad and the kiddos headed for home, and Jason and I packed up our gear and followed. As we drove back to Jason's house, I told him what had happened. He was confused as to where I had stopped, because I told him that I remembered reaching a landmark at the top of the hill before I started feeling crappy, but was describing a place a couple miles down the road as the place where I was lounging on the grass. It took me a little while to believe what he was saying, but it slowly dawned on me that I had no memory of riding a couple of miles past the top of that hill, including past a fire station, and an entire high school campus. It was a little scary to think that my body had been on autopilot for that long, especially since there was a spot in there where we bikers had to merge into what little traffic there was to cross a street. I'd describe it better, but you see, I can't remember it.

I spent the rest of the day, the entire trip back to Minnesota, and much of the next day racking my brain to remember anything I could about those two miles which probably lasted around ten or twenty minutes. I have a snippet of a memory of a little kid, or maybe two kids, in a stroller waving at me, and my front tire bumped the curb a few times, which when I remember it I think at the time I thought it was supremely funny. I must have stopped at some point to climb off my bike, as I had no scrapes or bruises, though I have no recollection of that.

The decision to stop had been the right choice. The smart choice. Even though I had agonized over it at the time, and still do to some extent. To continue would have been to court a hospital stay or worse. It was very disappointing to have to stop, but I have to keep reminding myself that it was a good call. Sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest, and this was one of those cases.

Jason and Jenny called last night as Dad and I were driving back to my house to tell us they had found time stamps on the pictures Jenny took of our swim. According to those time stamps, Jason swam a 6:12. Not bad considering he had to wait a few second for me to pass him. I had a very nice swim of around 5:55! A new PB for me and one happy thing I can take from the TdK. That is one of the most difficult things to grasp over this whole thing. Up until the heat got me, I was having a pretty decent race. GRRR.

So. My first DNF in a triathlon. Hopefully my last. In the future I will try to be more aware of the weather conditions at the venue, though I don't know how I could train for uncomfortably high humidity and temperatures.

My final triathlon this year is in five weeks. The Hickory Grove Triathlon. I'll be training hard for it, as it will be the first time I race against myself from a previous triathlon. I won't let the TdK worry me too much, but I don't want another DNF... Ever.

More Later

Independence Day

2011-07-04T17:43:00.001-05:00

Today, while getting some pictures of my cute kiddos outside on the back hill next to some delightful daisies, the Boyo spotted a dragonfly and I gave chase to try and get a photo. I didn't get too close though, and this was the best shot of it I got.

Fortunately, it was good enough to identify, and fortunately as well, it was one of the eighteen varieties that we were still able to identify, as we are really out of practice. But we were able to tell that it is a male Twelve Spotted Skimmer! One of the easiest to remember because of all of the spots on its wings. If it had the black spots without the white, it would be a female.

Along with this delightful First Identified Dragonfly, it is also the birthday of my mother in law, and we celebrate her birth along with the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence! And while she was indeed born on this date a few years ago, the Declaration was passed on July 2nd, and signed by the majority of the delegates on August 2nd. But the fourth is as good a day as any to celebrate!

So we are rotisserie grilling a whole chicken, some corn on the cob, and some other yummy treats for supper, then it will be off to the fireworks that begin past bedtime! Hooray! Happy 4th of July! Be safe and have fun!

More Later.

Rochesterfest Triathlon 6/19/11

2011-06-20T08:02:00.003-05:00

Father's Day 2011. Rochester, MN. My friend Matt Russell joined me for the 4th annual Rochesterfest Triathlon. It was a cool, overcast day. Temps in the low 70's. It was an excellent day for the race! I was not nearly as anxious or nervous about this one as I have been in the past. Perhaps because I'm gaining experience. It was going to be a tough race, because I didn't get much sleep the night before. The Boyo slept in the bed with the Wife and I and he sleeps like an octopus - arms and legs all over the place. With Mom having a stroke a week ago and I developing a juicy sinus infection and ear infection, and the blooming allergies, well... I just didn't get much training done between the Pigman and today. Two runs, 4.5 miles. That was it! The last time I had been for a swim was the Pigman. Same with the biking. I figured that I'd just do the best I could, try to keep breathing, and avoid the DNF.

The Olympic distance athletes went first. They waited to start the sprint folks until the last wave of Oly's had done a lap. The Wife and Kiddos had come to watch along with a friend of ours, and I had given my glasses to them to hold. Turns out I did that way early. I was standing at the start line a good twenty minutes before I got to go, relying on my goggles to see. Turns out this is not such a great thing, and I was a little dizzy when they told us we had five minutes to the start of our wave.

My wave had the Clydesdales and Athenas (Those of us over 200 lbs) along with the team swimmers and the elite athletes. Quite a mix of body types and skill levels all entering the water at once. I was talking with another guy as we stood there. It was his first Rochesterfest, too. Then it was tie for the group start.

Swim - 6:46 29/243 overall, 21/127 mens, 2/16 Division

I think I like group starts better than time trials like we did at the Pigman. As our group of thirty or so splashed out and people started diving and swimming, I kept running through the water until I was chest deep and not too far behind a clump of swimmers. I was waiting to see if there would be a good opening. Sure enough, there was, and I dove for a space between two bodies and within a few strokes had passed the clump. As I did my spy-hopping to spot out in front of me, I saw perhaps ten other people ahead of me. The course was laid out to favor those who breathed on the right side, and I didn't need to spot too often because I kept myself about fifteen feet from the markers. This kept me out of the pack trying to swim close to them, and allowed me to relax into my stroke and get some good glide! This was the first race in which I didn't collide with anyone, which was awfully nice! Though I did stop once to flip my wetsuit zipper pull back behind me, because I thought that was important for some reason. The swim was going smoothly, though I was having some breathing troubles from allergies and the sinus infection. But I felt very comfortable and relaxed. Perhaps too relaxed. As I turned the last pylon and headed for the beach I stopped, literally stopped, to look for the Wife and Kiddos on shore to wave to them. I had been thinking that it would be really cool to wave to them from the water, as if I needed to prove that I really was way out in the middle of the lake! After a few seconds it dawned on me that perhaps since this was race day I should put my face down and get going. I mentally kicked myself for the delay, but figured it was no big deal, since I still had a bike and a run to go before I was finished.

As I came out of the water I tried to unzip my wetsuit, but it was stuck for some reason. I spent much of the morning zipping and unzipping it to practice, and now it was stuck! Fortunately, there was my family, cheering me on! They handed me my glasses and helped with the zipper and I was on my way to the transition. Turns out that if I had swam just a little harder, I would have been 1st in my swim division. The guy who beat me crossed the timing mat literally a step ahead of me. Our times are both 6:46, his a few hundredths of a second above mine. Ah well. It was off to T-1!

T-1 5:15
This has been my slowest transition to date. There were several factors, the main one being that I just could not seem to breathe! As I entered the transition area, my chest felt clogged and junky, as if I had cotton in my lungs. Thanks allergies! So I walked the transition area, took my time stripping off the wetsuit and getting on the bike gear. I had planned on sucking down a gel and some water too, but didn't feel like I should block my mouth too much and inhibit my already wheezy breathing any more. I gave a brief thought to just stopping. Really. My hands were resting on my bike saddle and I thought "What if I just call it a day now? I just finished my good event and can't breathe. What will the bike and run be like?" Then I figured that I could take the bike easy and just treat today like a big brick workout if nothing else. If I felt too lousy I'd just come on home and call it a day. So I walked my bike out to the timing mat and jogged it up to the mount up line. It was time to ride.

Bike - 10 miles, 41:39 201/234 Overall, 123/127 Mens, 15/16 Division
The bike path is pretty interesting. A five mile series of mostly going uphill, but then five miles of coming mostly downhill! The five miles out was painfully slow for me, as I was going slower than I normally would just to give my lungs a break. By the turn around I was still pretty wheezy, and was thinking that unless I could breathe better by T-2. that 5K was going to be a walk instead of any running. Thankfully the long slow and steady uphills went the other way and I was cruising along at top speed for much of the way home. I even passed a couple of people. But mostly spent the ride getting passed. I noted a serious difference between my $99 Denali and the much higher priced tri bikes out there. On the stretches that were pretty flat but with a slight downhill trend, I could get my bike up to its highest gear and be pedalling furiously until there was no way to add power to the speed. My max speed is 25 mph like that. As I was doing this on one stretch, I was passed by a VERY fast biker. I noted that his pedals were rotating much slower than mine, so he could still add power to his speed. I just couldn't. I'm not sure Lance Armstrong could get my bike much past 25 mph. The gearing just isn't there. So I may have to do some upgrading on the bike next season, or when my fitness level warrants a speedier bike!

As I approached the dismount, I saw my family cheering me on again. It was very fun and motivating to see them smiling and encouraging me to keep going. So I jogged my bike most of the way back to my transition spot and got ready for my run.

T-2 2:25
As I pulled off my bike shorts and slipped on my run shorts I took stock of my lungs. Still cottony, and a deep breath triggered a coughing jag that brought up globs of goo. But I was only a 5K away from finishing. Heck, I can WALK a 5K if I have too! I tore open the vanilla gel I had meant to eat before my bike and swallowed most of it, followed by water and Gatorade. It was time to get running.

Run - 42:02 220/234 Overall, 115/127 Men, 14/16 Division
As I jogged over the timing mat, I saw my happy, cheering faces again and that boosted me quite a bit. I ran out of the park. I ran down the street. I ran much farther than I thought I could! Then I realized that I was inhaling and exhaling with every stride. Way too fast, and it sounded way too wheezy. So I slowed to a walk and wheezed for a minute until my respiratory rate was below 50 breaths per minute again. It was going to be a LONG 5K! Once my breathing was somewhat better, I took off again. Interestingly, my jelly legs were not my greatest concern, as I was keeping close tabs on y breathing! By mile 1 though, I was starting to feel OK, and jogged more than I walked for the second mile. At the turn around I saw a medic that I had worked with at Zumbrota Ambulance cheering people on. It was fun to hear him cheering me on by name! Then everybody around me knew just who they were passing!

I usually try to walk the water stations, but I was feeling good in my jog and didn't want to stop. In fact, for over a half mile in that second mile, I actually felt good and able to keep on going. I wasn't thinking about anything about controlling my breathing, and when I realized that I had run probably 3/4 mile I suddenly wanted to remember what I was thinking about or doing or whatever that let me just keep going. This of course led me to focus on my stride, breathing, lungs, hips, shinsplints, and I was soon walking again. I split the remaining mile into jogs and walks, sure that I was going to be crossing the finish around two hours anyway and mostly just wanting to be able to breathe when I did it. As I approached the corner that led to the park I decided to just run and see how far I could get. Turns out I could get all the way to the finish.

About 50 yards from that beautiful inflatable arch I decided to "turn on the speed" and sprint to the finish line! My brain called for full speed ahead. My body went no faster. A little voice came back from wherever the engineering room is in my body, speaking with a Scottish accent. "We're givin' it all we've got, Ca'ptin!" Meh. So this was my top speed. OK, so be it. I saw my beautiful wife and kids cheering for me and my smile got even bigger! I crossed the finish line in 1:38:06, smiling and breathing!
I improved my swim time from the Pigman (based on time to swim 100 yards, I went from 1:37 per 100 yds, to 1:32 per 100 today.) And I actually shaved 42 seconds off of my run! Improvement in two of the disciplines!

I am pleased with my time, as I had been wanting to be around 1:45:00. And considering the allergies and the illness, it was a pretty good performance. A fun race, well worth doing again next year!

More Later

Tri Through the Sick

2011-06-16T11:39:00.001-05:00

The Rochesterfest Tri is coming up in a few days. I have done little to train for it in the two weeks that separate it from the Pigman. I went on a short run, 1.5 miles a couple of days ago.

During and after the Pigman, my allergies decided to activate. Leaving me in a constant state of wheezing for air and watery, itchy eyes, nose and throat. Allergies are a joy I tell you. Last week I also started coughing and according to the Wife, I looked more like I was experiencing a sinus infection rather than just battling allergies. So after a few more days of trying to convince myself that I was just recovering from the Pigman and fighting allergy symptoms, I gave in an went to see the doc. Sure enough, the Wife was correct again, and I had not only a sinus infection, but an ear infection and "something funky going on" in my throat. Nothing a high dose of antibiotics wouldn't clear up in ten days or so, said the doc.

Then I mentioned that I had a triathlon to do in nine days.

"Well," she said. "See how you feel."

It's three and a wake up to the tri. I am still hacking globs of yellow goo from my lungs. I have not been in the water or on my bike since the Pigman. Time to concede defeat and drop out of this next one?

I don't think so. Now before you get all judgey and tsk-tskey, hear me out.

The swim and bike portions are short. A 440 yard swim and a 10 mile bike. I should be able to do those no problem. The run is another 5K or 3.1 miles. I have no illusions that I will miraculously RUN the whole thing. But I can self ambulate for a 5K. Besides, I am feeling a little better, and hopefully the next few days will see even more improvement. I'm not expecting to win anyway, so avoiding the DNF moniker is my main goal. (That's Did Not Finish, in case you are interested.)

So. I will compete in the Rochesterfest Tri this weekend, because I like doing them, and because I don't want something like a sinus infection to keep me from it. I'll do tri's in sickness or in health! Hopefully more in health... Besides, I've already paid for it!

More Later

The Pigman Triathlon 6/5/11

2011-06-07T12:33:00.002-05:00

The day started like my first triathlon. I woke well before my alarm and got ready to head to the venue. I showered, put my swim suit on and did a final check of my gear. The new wetsuit I bought the day before was the last thing packed and I was glad to have it. A swim in the lake where I usually train a few days before had been so bone chilling that I actually had to stop and get out, feeling dizzy and getting hit with waves of nausea. I practiced for a grand total of around 300 yards with the wetsuit on Saturday, but was hit with that nausea and dizziness again. The wetsuit did raise my hips and legs farther out of the water, and I practiced running out of the lake and getting out of the suit a few times, just to get the feel of it.

I headed out from my folks new house, which sits only a few blocks away from the road leading to Palo, Iowa. I had to wait for a line of cars, almost all of which had bikes attached to them, and squeezed into a gap in the parade. As I turned onto the road leading to the park, I was able to look in my rear view mirror and see the line of cars behind me stretching nearly to the horizon, all headed this way. It was awesome!

For whatever reason, I lucked out and got a parking space in the row next to the transition area. I unloaded my bike, checked the tire pressure, and set my two bags of gear next to it. Heading for the transition entrance, I was greeted by an army of race volunteers, one of whom marked my arms and legs for the race. Lucky number 431! I walked my bike up to a table that held the timing chips and was given mine. Entering the transition area I noted that each wave had it's own rack section. If I had been racing in the individual 40-45 division, I would have been in the last wave, wave 10, like my friend Matt. But I figured if I had to carry around this extra weight, I may as well race this season in the Clydesdale division. As a bonus, the Clydesdale/Athena division was in wave 3! I got a nice spot five rows from the entrance and set up my gear. A good friend from high school found me as I was setting up and we had a nice chat. He had been a Warrior Swimmer too and did the 500 free like I did. An injury was keeping him out of today's event. As I finished setting up, Matt arrived and hiked up to the end of the transition area where wave 10 was camped.

It was shaping up to be a perfect day for a triathlon. Temperature was in the low 80's with little humidity. A patchy cloud cover kept the sun off of us until the run, and the wind was just enough for a cool, refreshing breeze, but left the water like glass and the bike and run resistance free.

I met Matt again at the long line leading to the port-a-potties and after evacuating all remaining excess weight, we headed for the start to scout it out. It was a pretty long run from the beach to the bikes, and I wondered what I should do with my glasses while I swam. We headed back to the transition area for a final check and to get into our wetsuits. I slid mine on to my waist and met Matt again down on the beach. We went for a swim and I toyed with the idea of swimming with my glasses in my wetsuit. The experiment worked somewhat, but I was a bit hesitant. The solution to my problem presented itself moments later as my brother Jason came down to get some pictures of us. He would station himself along the course up to the transition area and hand me my glasses as I passed. My Dad was set up across the beach ready to cheer me on and get pictures. As Matt and I stood ankle deep in the water, and Jason waited on the shore, the Elite triathletes started their waves. We watched and clapped as the men headed out, then the women. Then the team swimmers left. I was still standing there when Matt pointed out that the triathletes entering the water next were the Clydesdale/Athena division.

Whoops! I handed my glasses to Jason, who headed for his spot, and jogged up to the line, squeezing my way into the back of the Clydesdale/Athena section. It was a time trial start, with a racer leaving every two or three seconds, so I actually had plenty of time. But my dilly dallying meant I was fourth from the last Clydesdale to start.

As the line moved up, I was anxious about the swim. How would the wetsuit work? Would I get nauseated and dizzy like my last two swims? Could I get out of this seal skin fast enough for a good transition? Soon I was standing at the starting mat.

"431....GO!" I was off.

Swim: 8:55 106/648 overall, 81/387 men, 7/66 Clydesdale

I ran out and dove into the water. Within seconds I was passing the guy who started just before me. A few seconds later I passed a couple more. Immediately evident was that the wetsuit held my hips and legs much higher in the water than I was used to. As a result, my head was a little lower in the water, and it took a few strokes to realize I had to rotate more to get a breath. Of course, I was motivated by missing three of the first four breaths I tried to take and choking back some of the water I had sucked in instead. I adapted quickly to the new breathing style and felt pretty good until I got to a spot where one of the boats patrolling the course was stationed. They had their engine idling and the surface of the water was covered with exhaust fumes. That made me gag and swim faster to try and escape the fumes. I had to stop twice to fix my goggles. For whatever reaeson the left side was leaking. After a firm jab to the eye to keep it in place, I had no more troubles with it. I was tracking pretty well when an unusual thing happened. Some guy had decided to roll onto his back to float for a bit, leaving only his face breaking the surface. When I lifted my head to spot, I failed to notice his little nose poking up. Suddenly I swam right onto him like a landing craft hits a beach. We pushed away from each other with a few "sorries" and "are you ok?" As I took off again I wondered why he would choose to float so close to the buoys where everyone was swimming. Apparently that is how breaks are taken at the Pigman, because no sooner had I left him behind than I landed on another back floater! I spent the rest of the swim dodging floaters and passing other swimmers. The wave behind mine was full of 18-24 year olds, but I wasn't passed by too many of them. I finished the swim strong and ran out of the water grasping at the zipper cord for my wetsuit. Jason was right where he said he would be and I grabbed my glasses as he cheered me on. I peeled of my swim cap and started extricating myself from the neoprene.

T1 4:48

By the time I entered the transition area I had the wetsuit down to my thighs. It came off with no problem. I found that I was only a little dizzy and had hardly any nausea. But I took the transition slowly and methodically to let my head clear as much as I could before I peddled off. Jason appeared at the transition edge to get more pictures and cheer me on. After dressing, I grabbed my trusty yellow $99 Wal-Mart special and headed for the exit. I planned on jogging out and made it half way there, but the dizziness returned a bit and I decided that finishing was more important than running my bike out! But no problems in the transition other than being a bit slow.

Bike 1:01:55 595/648 overall, 376/387 men, 63/66 Clydesdale

The bike started out with a nice ride through the park, a small hill to climb and a few little rollers in the park. As we exited the park, the road led down a long hill heading for the town of Palo. As I was exiting, someone yelled "ON YOUR LEFT! ON YOUR LEFT!" in a very shrill voice. Now, it was a right turn out of the park, and she was passing as we took the turn. I had slowed slightly so as not to shoot out to the left on the turn, but she chose that moment to pass. She was about 90 pounds soaking wet and was pedaling furiously as she passed me. She then cut right in front of me, forcing me to hit the brakes or hit her. Then we came to the hill. "She has no concept of physics," I thought to myself as I started gaining speed. She was still pedaling comically for all she was worth, and I was coasting, but I was still gaining on her pretty quickly. So as I approached I called out "On your left!" and steered that way to pass her. I saw her look into her little rear view mirror and then... SHE MOVED LEFT AND CUT ME OFF! I hit the brakes and fell back, a little stunned that she had done that. I pedaled a little to regain my speed and once again caught up with her. "ON YOUR LEFT!" I yelled, thinking that perhaps she didn't see me. But again she looked into her mirror, made eye contact and saw it was me and veered left to cut me off. I braked again. Now I was a little peeved. Amazed by her rudeness I tried one last time to pass her, and as she veered left I veered right to try and cut around her but she whipped her bike to the right to cut me off again. Finally we were at the bottom of the hill and I thought for sure that she would pull away from me and I could be rid of her. No such luck though. She continued to pedal at top speed, but it just wasn't my top speed. So after being passed by a few speedier bikers, I veered wide to the left and moved on by her. The urge to teach her a lesson in physics by making my mass bounce into her mass and observe the results was brief, but satisfying. I didn't see her again for the rest of the race.

After the big downhill, the course became as flat as a pancake, and I felt pretty good pedaling into and around Palo and heading back to the hill. From a distance the hill looks long and steep. It is not an optical illusion though, and even up close it looks long and steep. Some people were walking their bikes up, and I had a brief pang of fear about having to stop and walk. But I downshifted and powered through it. I think I averaged about 5 or 6 MPH climbing that hill, but I did it! Then it was another long, steep downhill on the other side. Ahhh, gravity! My bike, in it's top gear with me pedalling as hard and fast as I can tops out around 25 MPH, so I was coasting at well over 30 MPH in no time. After the steep descent there was a long shallow downhill followed by more very flat road. I felt like I was making really great time, and had hopes of breaking an hour. Then we turned around and in no time that long shallow downhill became a long shallow uphill, and that excellent steep, long descent became just the opposite. Ahhh, gravity... you heartless wench. My speed dropped drastically, but I did manage to pedal that entire hill also. Heading back into the park, I was wiped out. My legs were achy and tired, and I knew that the run would be grim. I passed Dad and Jason, who cheered me on loudly and bolstered my courage for what was about to come.

As I approached the transition area, they announced my name and mentioned that this was my second triathlon ever. That got a little cheer from the crowd, which boosted my spirits even more.

T2 2:08

I racked my bike and patted her seat, thanking her for staying in one piece for the ride. After quickly stripping out of my bike shorts and helmet and into my running shorts, I was off. I skipped the gel experience this time. I hobbled up the hill that was the transition area and headed for the open road.

Run 42:44 634/648 overall, 383/387 men, 62/66, Clydesdale

As expected, my legs revolted before the first turn onto the long street leading across the dam. It was sheer willpower that kept me jogging past Dad and Jason and around the corner, but then they gave up the ghost. I just about collapsed, and slowed to a walk. The sun was shining brightly now, and the temperature was climbing. But almost everyone else was running, so I figured I'd better get to it. The run course was hilly and all on pavement. I have been running on flat land, so the hills were the challenge. I'd run up as far as I could get, walk to the top, and run on the downhills. My calves felt like tennis balls and my quads were burning through the whole thing. My friend Matt passed me just after the turn around, on his way to a 1:29:10 finish 214/648 overall. And I kept on going. At the water station I grabbed a cup and walked a bit. As I emptied the cup over my head, my foot found the edge of the blacktop and I went down hard, scraping my hand a little. Embarrassment brought me to my feet in an instant, and I walked off the turned ankle, shaking my head. I passed Dad somewhere along the final stretch but was so focused on getting to the finish that I missed him. Finally that big red inflatable arch came into view, and it was literally downhill to the finish! I picked up the pace as much as I could, which wasn't much, and finished as hard as I could go.

I did not make my goal of breaking the 2 hour mark. Missed it by :30 seconds. But the race was very well organized, and I felt like I did the best that I could on this day. Considering the interruptions to my training that I've had, with Dad's heart attack, Mom being in the hospital, and life in general, I was pleased with the results. I got personal bests in every event. I finished the longest triathlon I will do this season. I am motivated to continue my training. And I got to hang out with some excellent people!

Rochesterfest Triathlon is in two weeks. I'm going to try and shed a dozen pounds by then, and work on my biking and running and the transition from one to the next. My swim is pretty dang strong for a guy my size. Now I need to improve those other two.

All in all, a fun race that I will do again next year!

Adventures in Shoe Shopping

2011-05-18T13:16:00.001-05:00

I needed new shoes. That wasn't in question. My old shoes were purchased to train for my first triathlon last year, and while they were not top of the line, they served me quite well. After all, when I started I ran from one telephone pole to the next and nearly passed out. So footwear built for mileage was not all that important.

Fast forward to this year. I'm running farther and faster than I have in over a decade, and my old "go fasters" as they called them in boot camp, are just not cutting the mustard. They are stretched out a bit, which has led to some growing concerns about foot and shin problems. And worst of all, they stink to high heaven! There are at least three full locker rooms of smell in each shoe, which makes peeling them off my feet at the end of a run rather noxious. So yes, they must be retired.

I've done lots of reading on buying running shoes, talked to some runners for suggestions, and today went out to take the plunge. I stopped at a couple of places to try on shoes by myself, but after a dozen different shoes in two stores, I was befuddled about what to get.

I decided to bite the bullet and go to our local running/walking store. I knew they would analyze my stride and be able to tell me what shoes I should get, but I was gun shy about the prices they would no doubt charge. From the moment I walked in I saw the guy watching my feet. Sure enough he instructed me to take my shoes of and walk across the floor a few times. After he gave me the diagnosis, he took the time to explain it to me, and he asked a dozen questions about my running, stretching, any pain in my legs or back. He really did an amazing job of getting to know me before he even went to the back for a pair of shoes!

He brought out a half dozen pairs of shoes for me to try, and we compared one to another until we had it narrowed down to just the right pair. Perfectly comfortable, and built not only for mileage, but for my foot problems (they are a little flat). Then I asked about the price and was more than pleasantly surprised to find they were really not that much more than the other places I had been looking! And for the service I received, it was well worth the extra $20!

I also asked him what could be done for the pain in my shins, which I am sure are the beginnings of shin splints. He ran me through a few stretches and recommended a foam roller for my calves. I am anxious to try it all out so that I can actually feel good while I run! I am certain that my old skids are the cause of my current leg problems. So I am hopeful, hopeful, hopeful that my experience in shoe shopping today will alleviate those problems and help me train.

Mostly I wanted to post about what a wonderful experience it was going to a locally owned store for my shoes. Their friendly attitude and professional knowledge made me feel very comfortable with my purchase, and I feel like they have earned my patronage in the future! I'd also recommend it to my friends.

For those of you out there toying with the idea of a triathlon (or some other sport) I'd encourage you to go to a locally owned store and get their expert help. It was well worth it for me!

More Later

Many Happy Returns

2011-05-13T23:33:00.001-05:00

Many many moons ago, my wife and I were wondering what to do for a gift for her grandparents. They were both in their nineties, and needed nothing, so shopping for something was pretty much out of the question. Both of us agreed that our fondest memories of time spent with Gram and Grandpa S were when we played cards with them. Specifically the game of Gin. They were brutally good at Gin. Grandpa had a habit of flipping over that last card for Gin and singing out a hearty "DIXIE BELL!" that had a joyous, mocking tone. They were hard to beat, but so much fun to play!

Anyway, we settled upon the idea of making a stained glass piece that reflected our shared love of the cards. We gave it to them and it was put in a prominent window where we could see it while we played Gin.

A few years back, Grandpa S passed away. Gram has since moved in with her daughter and son-in-law in Ohio. As such she has had to pare down her things. When we heard that she had moved, I wondered what had happened to that piece. I guessed that someone had acquired it, probably someone who loved playing cards with them as much as us. Or perhaps Gram had gifted it to one of her card playing friends. She's pretty generous that way. Either way I never thought I'd see it again.

The Wife's folks came for a visit this week and brought a box of stuff to go through, and much to my surprise, it reappeared in our lives! I was moved nearly to tears. It was so unexpected to see it again, and I was very happy to have it back at our house. It will continue to remind me of those Gin games and "Dixie Bell's" and the fun we have had with Gram and Grandpa S through the years.

Speaking of things going out and returning much later... I finally completed my first 5K run of the season. To be fair, I ran the first 1.5 miles and did sprint drills on the way back - that is to say, I run as fast as I can from one telephone pole to the next, then walk to the next, then run... etc. etc. etc. Until I get back to where I started from. But it is an improvement, and I cannot complain about the small steps taken to reach my goal. I'm sure hoping that sometime in the future I'll be writing about running the first three miles before I head back. Time will tell.

It has been a long and emotional day, (week? year?) so I am off to bed.

More Later

Bye Bye Beardy

2011-05-04T22:58:00.000-05:00

When I first heard the news of the demise of bin Laden, I was... well... pleased. Yeah. Pleased would sum it up. I was not elated. I wasn't giddy. My first thought was literally "Oh!?! OK then. That's great. What will I do for breakfast tomorrow, I wonder?"

Don't get me wrong. I'm immensely impressed with everyone involved in that mission, from President Obama making the call to send them in, to the men who went in and accomplished the mission. Immensely impressed. I could go on for pages about the mission and all involved. I have been avidly keeping up with what happened on the mission, because it IS an historical event. Akin to the death of Hitler, or of Caesar. It will be in the history books. But as a major history buff, that's about the extent of my interest.

And I am pleased that the religious zealot that started this whole mess is dead and gone. But there are others who will keep the fires of hatred for us burning brightly. The wars won't end because he is gone. I worry about the next attack that is done in his name. Hatred just breeds more hatred. Just look at our own countries white supremacists.

Which brings me to the biggest stomach turner of them all for me. The footage of so many Americans dancing in the streets and celebrating and acting as if their team had just won the world cup, or some other random championship that doesn't really matter in the scheme of things. I saw the coverage of that and was taken back to 9/11. The pictures of Palestinians dancing in the street and celebrating the destruction of the towers. Those scenes made me sick. How could people celebrate at a time like that? The whole world knew that a war was beginning. Untold numbers would be killed and maimed. Lives would be thrown to the wind like chaff. And these people had the nerve to celebrate? I remember the fury with which many Americans reacted.

I'm guessing a great many of those same Americans were dancing in the streets at the death of bin Laden. Was he a terrible, horrid excuse for a human being? Yes. Did he deserve the end he brought upon himself? Without question. Do we lower and debase ourselves by reacting the same way as those revelers did on 9/11? Indeed. Our obvious hatred of the man and his cause will only serve to inspire those that hate us to continue to do so. It is foolish and naive to believe otherwise. No matter how badass the SEAL's were that took him out, no matter how amazing the warriors are in Afghanistan and Iraq who fight day to day for us back here, no matter how persistent we are at hunting them down and exterminating them, they will not suddenly shrink in fear at our might. They will hate us more for it. And the violence will continue. Probably past the time when my own children are old enough to serve should they choose to do so.

And if my son or daughter gets killed over there, a bit of that blame will go to those who danced in front of the White House. A bit more to those who partied in Times Square like it was the New Year. Nobody wins because bin Laden is dead. Hatred breeds hatred. It is time we start to learn to bury the hatchet and learn to live with each other, the whole stinking planet. Because if we don't, there will always be an Us vs. Them fight. I don't believe that is worth the price of my son or daughter.

So Bye bye, bin Laden. You will not be missed over here. I pray that the hatred of those we don't agree with died with you, in your people and in mine, and that there can one day be peace. Oh, and thanks for feeding the fish.

More Later

Irrelevant Things

2011-04-29T16:18:00.001-05:00

So the goggles worked even better than I had hoped! It was so nice to be able to actually see in the water and to swim without getting a headache after the first 500 yards, or feeling nauseous after 7 or 800 yards, that I ended up swimming 2200 yards over the course of the hour that I swam!

That's right! An entire hour! And when I got out of the pool I felt just as good as when I got in! The time has come to give serious consideration to a new tri bike...

In other news, we are replacing our dishwasher. Finally. After almost a year of the fritzing of our old one. The last time we looked at dishwashers, it apparently upset my bowels so much that they went ahead and ruptured a diverticulum and put me in the hospital. So it was with a little trepidation that we went out again, picked one out and set up a delivery date for it. But all seems to be well for now.

And while we were out, the Wife and I picked out a new grill that will be delivered the same day. It is an anniversary gift from her to me, and I couldn't be more excited! First meal is going to be comprised of chicken and steak and grilled asparagus and maybe a kebob of veggies... and something seared, too. As the grill has an extra stove like burner so that I can pan sear outside and not have to worry as much about the messy splatters that so plague me when I sear inside!

Now we can cook tasty, healthy food outside and have an effective way to clean up after inside! Upgrades, people... upgrades. Little by little, step by step. But it can be done!

More Later

Wednesday's Sandwich Test

2011-04-27T16:28:00.000-05:00

So I started a blog called Seven Days recently, and challenged myself and others to come up with seven day ideas to fill the blog... sort of week long photo essays. Check it out HERE for more details.

Below is a test entry of sorts... My first project is seven days of sandwiches. I started with this one, and was looking for some feedback on it. What would you like to see in a photo essay about sandwiches? Is it too long? Too much or too little information? Remember there will be six other sandwiches in the mix. Let me know what you think! And - thanks.

"Today I wanted something filling, but not too heavy. The Wife suggested a Chicken sandwich of some sort, and I was thinking maybe a BLT. So we combined our ideas and came up with this...

Lime Grilled Chicken BLT on a multigrain Cibatta roll with Guacamole spread.

After my father had his heart attack, our whole family changed eating habits a bit. So in gathering the fixins' for this sandwich, I chose low sodium turkey bacon and low sodium Provolone cheese.

I also used pre-grilled chicken, because we don't have a grill yet. When we do get our grill, I'm going to make this again and marinade the chicken in a lemon/lime and garlic mixture overnight before I pound them flat and grill them. Fresh chicken breasts will have less sodium than the frozen as well. Another bonus.

This sandwich as prepared scored just above 700 mg of sodium. Mostly from the frozen chicken, and surprisingly, the cibatta. Replace the frozen chicken with fresh, and the sodium drops to just under 500mg. Calorie-wise, it came in at 450 Calories! Low enough for calorie counters to enjoy and not feel like they were starving afterwards!

As for taste, in this configuration it was rather refreshing. I squeezed the lime on the chicken while it cooked which gave it a cleansing tanginess. The guacamole has avacado, lime and garlic in it which really enhances the fresh flavor of the sandwich more than plain mayo would. I am certain that this sandwich would be even more phenomenal with smoked maple pork bacon instead of the turkey bacon, but for a little healthier alternative the turkey wasn't bad!

The best part was that it did not sit heavy in my gut after the meal. I felt like after an hour or so, I could go for a swim or bike or run without fear of seeing the meal again. But it was filling and kept me satisfied until supper! An excellent choice for a quick, satisfying sandwich that won't make you feel bloaty afterwards."

More Later

Swim Boy, Swim

2011-04-25T20:35:00.003-05:00

Triathlons aren't cheap. At least, if you really wanna get the cool gear, you'll have to spend some coin. For example, a good pair of running shoes can set you back $60 - $80. But then you'll need the running togs as well... a couple of shirts, shorts, and sweats if you plan on running in the cold - like here in Minnesota. So maybe $150 - $200 for running stuff. I wanted to do my first tri using as little dinero as possible, so I got an OK pair of running shoes for $30 and used the shorts and shirts I had. I did splurge close to race day and bought myself a couple of $16 "exercise shirts".

Biking is where the real money goes. After the padded diper like bike shorts to protect the "boys" and the running tights that I use for biking and a helmet, I can upgrade to clipless pedals and add accessories that will increase the value of the bike to that of a two door car. That's without even purchasing the bike itself! Google triathlon bikes and you'll find a dizzying array of techno-bikes for the triathlete. Most are between $700 and $2000. Though I did find one once for a mere $12,000. Again I did not feel like dropping a few months worth of food budget on a bike, so I headed to Wal Mart and got a road bike for $99. It is heavy and a little slow, but so am I, so I didn't mind too much. It was rated as a 21 speed and is geared for it, though really it is good for around 16 or 18 and that was plenty for me. The only upgrade it can accomodate is a different water bottle, so options are limited. Now that I am a little better and faster, I have given some thought to upgrading this season to a Tri-specific bike that I found for $500. That would be a lighter and therefore faster bike for triathlons and have aero bars and such. But... well... read on.

Swimming shouldn't be too bad, right? Just a suit and some goggles and a towel. My racing suit cost me $30. Goggles were $20. And I have towels galore. So $50 all together. The trouble is, I wear glasses. Right now I have a pair of Speedo Vanquisher goggles that I love. But they are not, nor can they be, prescription. So after about twenty minutes of wearing them I get a good headache going and develop quite a bit of nausea. Now I like feeling pukey in the pool as much as the next guy. But I would really like to be able to swim for an hour or so without losing my lunch. Not to mention that there is a great deal of standing around before the start of a triathlon and after the transition area closes. I could leave my glasses in the transition area, but spending a half hour to 45 minutes without glasses would ensure nausea and headache before I even enter the water. Not a great way to do triathlons. I was fortunate to be able to leave my glasses next to the water exit during my first tri, but even then I spent a good fifteen minutes without them, and had the headache and nausea when the horn blared. I may not be so lucky at all of the triathlons.

So I looked into prescription goggles. There are some called step diopters, but those are for people with really weak prescriptions. Unfortunately my astigmatism is such that step diopters are not an option. So custom prescriptions it would have to be. The closest thing to racing goggles are made by Barracuda, and will cost me $290. Now, for me to spend almost $300 on goggles and another $500 on a bike... well. I just can't bring myself to drop that much in one season, especially after I've already racked up a few hundred bucks in race fees.

I ordered the prescription goggles without a prescription in them to see if I liked them or not. They came today and it turns out that I don't. They have foam around the eyes, which is comfortable, but I've never had luck keeping the foam attached to the goggle. Not only that, the goggles and the foam are so big that it looks like I have neon white glasses from the 80's on while I swim. It would be a sure thing for my fans to see me in the water from the shore if I wear them. I'm just not sure I want to go all Elton John while I'm swimming.

Even Elton is shocked ...SHOCKED by the whiteness.

It was while I was adjusting the nose piece of these goggles that I had an idea.

A couple of years ago when I got my glasses, I got an extra pair for the shop made of safety plastic. I have worn them three times since then, and they were gathering dust in the shop waiting for my next trip to the optometrist to donate them. I decided that I had nothing to lose by popping the lenses out and grinding them to fit my well loved Vanquishers.

Well, after a little grinding and fitting and grinding and fitting and just a dab of glue... Behold -

Prescription Vanquishers! I actually bought a brand new pair to mount the lenses in, and will use my old goggles as a back up. Total cost - $20! And you know what that means... I won't feel nearly as bad while I consider investing $500 on a new bike!

I'm off to the pool on Wednesday to test them out and see if they will work. If they do, the new bike just might become a reality!

More Later

Happy Easter

2011-04-23T19:47:00.002-05:00

Happy Easter, World.

Special thanks to the Boyo for the idea.

More Later

Ugrades

2011-04-18T22:46:00.000-05:00

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. I can't describe it. Not yet. But there is a feeling in the air in our house that something is up. A change is coming.

In a way, I hate times like these. The anticipation of waiting for something amorphous and ambiguous is maddening. And I am not one for patience.

The best part of these times are most often the doing of the Wife. Whenever things change, whenever these times occur, it always seems that we are upgrading life in a sense. The changes usually make living a little better. More time with the kiddos, dreams being followed, that sort of thing. And these times of change are always talked about, pros and cons, for days and days and sometimes weeks. But she has a Midas touch, and things generally work out for the better. I'm a lucky man to be paired with such a gem.

But isn't that what life is about? Upgrading when you can to a better way of life? Sometimes compromises have to happen. Cut back in hours at work means less money, but more time with the kiddos. Spend money on a vacation instead of a new appliance means living with the old appliance, but having some quality memory making times with the family. I am thankful to live where I do and as who I am, as my day to day challenges are not that bad compared to others on the planet. Some day to day challenges are literally a matter of life and death. That's my job, but not my life. And for that I am very thankful. I want to spend most of my life enjoying my family. And it is looking like that may be our reality.

So. Changes are a-comin'. Could be. Who knows? It will probably be upgrades. And life is too short not to upgrade when you get the chance.

More Later

The Week in Portraits of Me

2011-04-14T11:19:00.001-05:00

After reading a post by my friend Wendy - http://wendolonia.com/blog/2011/03/30/portrait-of-the-artist-with-pneumonia/ - I accepted her challenge to take a picture of myself every day for a week. I had intended to start the day that I read her post, but decided to kick it off on Tartan Day instead, as I was taking a picture of myself in my Clan Wallace kilt anyway. I finished the project a couple of days ago, but was dealing with the Hives of Doom on my Sweet Pea and sorta forgot that I was going to post them. She is doing MUCH better by the way, and after full nights of sleep last night for both of us, I am ready to put these portraits out there.

Day 1: 4/6/11

Tartan Day! I celebrated by wearing my kilt for a good majority of the morning, including dropping the Boyo off at school. This was also my first full day home after being at Mom and Dad's for two weeks. Seemed a good time to start the picture project.

Day 2: 4/7/11

Home after a swim, and remembering that I needed a picture before midnight. The smirk was because my camera is set for taking rapid pictures and I now have a series of me going from serious to smirk in just seconds!

Day 3: 4/8/11

Day 2's picture made me realize that I needed a haircut and a beard trim. So a before shot seemed appropriate.

Day 4: 4/9/11

The day after the haircut and beard trim. I've done my own hair since my Marine days... 19 years now. I wonder how much I've saved on haircuts and beard trims since then?

Day 5: 4/10/11

Watching the Sweet Pea watch the Mickey Mouse Club when I realized I needed a shot. It's hard to remember to do this some days. Later this evening, my Sweet Pea would develop the hives that broke my heart to see. But she's a toughie and even while all itchy and miserable still snuggled up to me and giggled sometimes.

Day 6: 4/11/11

At work in the shop. I'm in the middle of several projects. Stained glass, sheaths for knives, knives. But not a lot of time to be in the shop. In fact, this is a pretty staged shot, as I was out there to pick up a screwdriver for a project inside, and shortly after this shot I went back inside to tend to my hivey daughter.

Day 7: 4/12/11

After a good run. Men in my family tend to sweat just standing around, so the damp brow is nothing special. But I had just run a solid 1.5 miles and walked a half mile. And I got that first mile in 12 minutes. Slowly working my way towards being able to actually run my 5K's in the triathlons I've entered. With a goal of sub 10 minute miles. I may print out this picture to put on my training calender as a reminder to not give up and not backslide! It is so much harder getting back in shape than it is actually staying in shape!

So there you have it. Seven days in the life of me. I would have done this project at a time when not so much was going on, but I have been learning that as life goes on, something is ALWAYS going on. No time like the present.

More Later

I am Not Fond of 2011 - A Rant

2011-04-13T02:38:00.000-05:00

2011. Thus far I must present to you my middle finger. I had such high hopes when you first began. But then came the diverticulitis. Abominable abdominal pain like I've never had. My first hospitalization and all the fun that goes with that. A giant suck in the first month. OK, I thought, Worst part of the year is over.

But then came nearly two solid months of various illnesses, and at one point all four of us on antibiotics. That was a new and wholly unappreciated smack in the face. And just as we seemed to be recovering from that, you throw Dad's massive heart attack our way. A new and crappy worst part of the year. The very next day after that is our scare with Sweet Pea finding some of Grammy's meds, another ER visit, another hospitalization, and I can't even function because of the overwhelming emotional drain that has already occurred.

Dad lived, and Sweet Pea recovered. Surely, I thought, we've had our fill of crapola for a while. But no. Still in the first quarter of this year, and my little Sweet Pea has a reaction to the meds she gets for yet ANOTHER ear infection, and will now spend several days with skin that looks worse than this from head to toe...

(not her skin, I got this from a medical website, hers has purplish blotches inside the blotches)
She is more hive than skin right now, and itchy over every inch, and feeling too miserable to sleep more than an hour or so at a time. And you know, it's not the sleep deprivation that I mind in this, it's the fact that I can't do a damn thing to alleviate her suffering without overdosing her on antihistamines and anti-itch creams. One of the most intolerable and gut wrenching things in existance is having to watch your child suffer. I do not care for this.

And frankly, 2011. You'd better lay off now. For I am tired of this crap. And my middle finger is tired of being flown in your general direction. We've got three quarters of a year yet to spend together, so you'd better shape up and start bringing some better memory making activities. You have been warned.

More Later

From the Halls of Montezuma

2011-04-10T13:32:00.001-05:00

It was 19 years ago today that I graduated from Marine Corps boot camp. Such an adventure that was. Good people that I served with and amazing times that were had. Most fun, some...not so much. But with the passing of time, the hardships are lessened and the fond memories strengthened. Such is the way of all adventures I think.

I spent the better part of the 1990's in the Corps. And while I know I had a life of twenty years before it, I can't remember a time when I was not a Marine. The influence from that has been paramount to who I have become. I wish some of the lessons learned would have stuck a little more, but on the whole I cannot complain.

So Semper Fi to my brothers and sisters in the Corps, both past, present and future. It was an honor to serve.

More Later

Run Boy, Run

2011-04-09T22:57:00.001-05:00

My Nana was quite a card. Sometimes as we watched movies and as a chase scene ensued, she would root for the pursued by saying "Run boy! Run!"

Tomorrow my little brother is running a long, long way. He's doing a half marathon down in St. Louis. That's right. 13.1 miles. Uff Da. I can hear Nana saying Run boy! Run! although with any luck, he will not be pursued by any bad guys.

I will more than likely NEVER run that far all at once, unless there is a zombie apocalypse and that's how far the nearest car dealership or gun store is. I am toying with the idea of doing an Olympic distance triathlon next summer. That would be a 6.2 mile run. After a mile swim and a 25 mile bike. That seems possible somehow. Perhaps I'm delusional, but if I can do all four sprint triathlons this season without injury or burning out, then I think an Oly is in the cards for next year. Maybe bracketed by a couple of sprints.

What has me all hyped about this? Well, as you may know, last year I did a sprint tri. All through training and even the event itself I wasn't able to run solid for the three miles. I trained for 9 weeks and the longest stretch I did was one mile before I stopped to walk and catch my breath.

A few nights ago I went for a swim and had planned to do some 200 yard swims to train. On my first 200 I felt pretty good on the last 25 and decided to ignore that little voice in my head that was saying to just do a bunch of short swims and keep going. I kept going until I did an entire 500. I followed it up with another 1000 of 100's and 50's. A couple nights later I did the same thing. The 500's felt pretty good. Tonight I went for a run. Instead of doing the usual X minutes running and X minutes walking, I decided to just suck it up and run as far as I could. After my warm up walk I started. I ran out to just shy of the 0.7 mark when the thunderstorm that had been threatening gave me a final warning with an amazing lightning show and subsequent rolling thunder wave. I took this as a warning that I should head back home before it started in earnest and ran all the way back to where I started. That almost 1.4 mile run is no biggie to my brother, who warms up with that. But for me it was huge. If the lightning had not turned me around, I may have run to the 1 mile mark. Or maybe the 1.5 mile mark. Any way I slice it though, I think I'll be running all of the runs in my triathlons this season.

That whole Just Do It thing really does hold true. No excuses. No whining. I just did it. And it was a good start. I could almost hear Nana saying Run boy! Run!

More Later

Shoba

2011-04-07T01:00:00.002-05:00

The third anniversary of the death of my very favorite animal ever happened on the 24th of March. It was three days after my Dad had his heart event. Bad things tend to happen on the third day after an insult like Dad took to his heart. And after surgeries, too. The irony of the possibility of Dad dying on the day the Shoba died did not escape me. I spent the day nauseated and surly with the anticipation of what might be. I was elated that they had removed his breathing tube. But nervous that he would code again and need the tube. His time awake was spent hallucinating that he was dreaming, that we were in his dreams. He also had nightmares, and spoke of horrific things. He said some things to me that I am sure he would not have if he were not drugged. Nothing terrible or hurtful, but very raw. I held his hand and prayed that he and Shoba would not share an expiration day.

I was awake when midnight rolled around, and I felt a wave of relief. Followed by a wave of sadness and grief once again for Shoba. Oh how I miss that dog. The comforting look in her eyes and her unwavering love for me. And I mourned again that night for that wonderful dog. Three years. Still hurts.

More Later

Home Again

2011-04-06T10:11:00.000-05:00

I'm home now. In my own domicile. Wondering about the fallacy of normalcy. What is normal? Before Dad had his death and resurrection I could define normal pretty well. But since then I am made more aware that there really is no such thing as a "normal" day. March 21st was a normal day. Then it wasn't.

Perhaps following a routine is normal. Wake up, shower, work, eat, TV, whatever. If the routine goes as it usually has, then the day is normal. Anything throwing that routine out of balance just ruins the "normal".

The thing is, I don't think I want normal days anymore. Don't get me wrong, I don't want Dad or anybody else having major medical emergencies just so my days don't get routine. But I think I am going to be starting a new lifestyle where "routine" and "normal" become obsolete. I'll try to have an adventure one day, then create something beautiful the next. Throw in triathlon training, playing with the kiddos, and a new found desire to be cooking, and my days will follow no real pattern.

Of course, if every day is filled with some routine and some random things, will that become the "normal routine"?

All I know right now, is that some things are changing. The sky is a little different each day, but is still the sky. The river almost always flows the same way, but is changing a little every day too. Perhaps those are the models to follow.

More Later

One Hour

2011-04-02T17:49:00.000-05:00

At 4:15 on Monday the twenty first of March, I heard that my father was dead. Pulseless. Not breathing. CPR in progress. Medications on board. Headed for the emergency department. Every report was that Dad was not going to make it. My paramedic brain was recalling percentages and screaming that this was not survivable. As we packed rapidly, I couldn’t get hold of anyone but my friend Matt. He headed for the hospital to find out what he could. I spent the time knowing that as each minute passed, his chances of survival dropped. I called the hospital, but they had no information. Mom wasn’t answering her cell phone. Finally we left for Cedar Rapids. When we stopped for gas, I glanced at the time again. It was 5:15. One hour after I first heard. I finally got through to the emergency room nurse, she put me on hold to get my mother on the phone. My heart sank and I had to walk over to a wide open space with plenty of sky. I was certain that they were getting mom on the phone to tell me that he had died.

When I first heard the news of his cardiac arrest, my paramedic mind took over. With the information I was given, I knew that he was gone. It would take a miracle to even get a rhythm back. And even if they did, his brain would probably be irreparably damaged. I imagined what life without Dad would be like. Camping at the Island would be hard, as we had gone there together since I was a child. Canoeing would be a reminder of him. So many memories of things we did. Amazing, routine, simple, involved things that now raced through my mind. It was like the end of a really great book where I can think of a thousand other things that could happen after that last page, but there were no more pages now.

My kiddos had birthdays approaching, and would not have their Grampa to celebrate with. The Boyo and I had been planning a rocket launch with Grampa using the rocket kit he had given us. My little Sweet Pea would have only the most vague memories of him, and they love each other so much right now. What hurt my heart the most was the thought of not being able to call him and share my latest crazy idea, or show him my latest creation. I have never questioned how my Dad feels about me. I know he loves me and is proud of me. I just couldn’t get my head around a world where he was not around to keep showing me that. His greatest gift to me was the desire to show my own children how much I love them and how proud of them I am.
While I waited for someone to speak on the other end, I thought that perhaps we should go home and get clothes for a funeral and close down the house a little better. There would be no rush if he was dead.

When Mom got on the phone, she was pretty incoherent which did not give me any relief. She handed the phone to another nurse who proceeded to tell me what had happened. At some point I interrupted her and asked if he was still alive.

“Oh. Yes. He’s going to the cath lab soon.”

I didn’t hear anything else of the conversation. Dad was alive. He had literally come back from the dead. He was not out of the woods. But he was alive, and I could drive safely. He was alive and I could breathe again. He was still very, very sick, and very, very critical. But he was alive after being dead for one hour.

In the whole of my life, it was probably the worst hour I’ve ever spent. I know the day will come when that one hour will extend to the rest of my life, because in the natural order of things a child should outlive their parents. For one hour I got a taste of what that will be like. It scares me and saddens me, and I pray it will not come again for a great many years. Until it does though, I will relish every day, every week, all the time I have remaining in this, my father’s second life. I have long appreciated what I have. The people in my life. The blessings I’ve been given. I will relish the memories that will still be made. This event has given me a new drive to create and enjoy. Create new memories with those I love, and enjoy every minute I spend on this side of the grass.

For one hour I was living in a world without my Dad. It gave me new respect for my friends who have lost their fathers. I felt like I was lost in a terrible fog. Dad isn’t just my father. He’s my best friend. The one who was always up for an adventure, no matter how seemingly crazy. Blacksmithing classes, flight school, paddling the Mississippi River. Dad was always in. For one hour, I believed that all of my future adventures would not include my dad, and that loss broke my heart.
For one hour, my world was devastatingly different, and while I know I would have eventually transitioned into a new world without Dad, I am thankful that this time it was only for one hour.

Welcome Back, Dad.

More Later

The Week

2011-04-02T17:12:00.000-05:00

They tried to extubate Dad on Wednesday. That is, he was to have the tube removed from his throat that had been keeping him breathing. Unfortunately for that first attempt he was not following instructions well enough to take the tube out.
I had been holding his hand during that first try, and as the propofol wore off and Dad started coming around, he was frantic in that "I'm too stoned to know what is happening, but I know it's scary" mode. He will fortunately not remember any of it. I will never forget it. But once, I asked him to squeeze my hand, and he did. I was elated and so hopeful. Then I told him to give Mom's had a squeeze on the other side and he did that! But that was about all we could get him to do.
Nobody was around early Thursday morning when they did take the tube out. My friend Matt walked into the room and found Dad awake but not oriented. Nobody was in the room and nobody was in the waiting room. Matt asked Dad how he was doing. All Dad could do was issue a deep, guttural grunt. Matt called me immediately. I was in Mom and Dad's living room, explaining to my Mom that sometimes they had to try two or three times before the tube finally came out, and to try and not worry too much. Needless to say, I was very excited to hear it was out.

Over the course of the next week, Dad slowly but surely regained his brain. The first few days he brought everyone into his hallucinogenic world. It was scary and trippy, and again he won't remember much or any of it. But I will not forget. He said a great many very funny things, and his vocabulary grew by leaps and bounds. But he also said a great many disturbing things as his brain imagined and dreamt of nightmarish things. Horses with no heads would have freaked me out. But he also found the dream of coal falling into a hole terrifying, and envisioned a herd of blue horses that melted into each other from all quarters.

Pretty soon Monday rolled around again. Just a week before Dad had died and come back. Now he was lucid, joking with the caretakers and visitors, and getting back to just being Dad again. During that second week, Dad continued to improve and the complaints about his sore chest and throat faded into mainly being so very tired. With more rest and healing Dad was finally released from the hospital on Friday the 1st of April. He is home now, enjoying his kids and grandkids. Getting sleep in his own bed. Gradually recovering his stamina. His is a long road back, and with proper care he will not be too much the worse for wear. His story is unbelievably miraculous, and I am unbelievably thankful to those who saved his life.

More Later

Terrible Tuesday, or Sweet Pea's ED Adventure

2011-03-27T10:12:00.000-05:00

We stayed late at the hospital. Finally the the Wife took the kiddos back to Mom and Dads house to get them tucked in. I stayed around for a little while longer. My brother arrived from St. Louis. There was talking and wondering and worrying. I honestly don't remember much of it.

I do remember thinking about what the next few days might hold. There would be trying to get him off the vent and extubated. If he woke up, there would be tests to see how much his mental status had been changed. It could very well be that he would be a vegetable. They had him on the hypothermia protocol. Which means they had put a cooling blanket on him and were lowering him to around 33 degrees Celsius, or about 91 degrees Fahrenheit. This was to help give his brain the best chance at survival.

I wondered how good the CPR had been. Whether it had been enough. I had more questions than answers, and all I could do was wait. At some point I went and joined my wife and kids to get some sleep. It did not come easy, nor was it of any quality.

The next morning as we were getting ready, our little Sweet Pea approached us and proudly said that she had taken her medicine. This was slightly alarming since she was not on any medicine. I asked her to show me where the medicine was. She marched right into Grammy's room and handed me Grammy's morning pill box.  OK. A little more alarming. I had mom go through her meds and tell me if any were missing.  Everything was there, except for the Sunday section. She couldn't remember if there was Clonadine or Bystolic in that part or not. With this being unknown, the decision to take her to the ED for a check was not a hard one to make.

Honestly, I was not too concerned. The kid won't chew anything that doesn't taste like chocolate, cheese or chicken.  Those pills would not have had that flavor. But about half way to the hospital, she became very lethargic and sleepy, and sounded quite drunk when she talked. I hit the hazard lights and ran the red lights the rest of the way there.

The doctor in the ED was the same one that had been on when Dad the Code came in yesterday, and our nurse was a high school classmate of mine.  After a brief check, it was decided to admit us to the children's floor for observation.  The medicines she may or may not have taken were for lowering blood pressure and heart rate. So she spent the day sleeping and being drowsy. But everything turned out well. We had a room to crash in and still could go visit Dad. He spent the day sedated and tubed and literally chilling.

I can't say that everything was rosy that day. My father was still in rough shape, and I worried about losing him. My daughter had taken Grammy's meds, and I was stressed about her. By noon I was emotionally empty.  I rarely spend time thinking about what might have been, but now I was numb from the thoughts of "what if". What if Dad had died. What if Sweet Pea had taken more of those meds and coded or died. The possibilities were miserable to think about, and I was too tired to shut them off.

My sister in law had mentioned to my brother that I seemed to be holding up really well. I love her for thinking that, as I was apparently able to function. In truth, in my head I was just in an endless fog where every turn led to unimaginable and horrific outcomes. I was on autopilot, just hoping not to crash.

I don't even really remember the end to the day, other than Sweet Pea was fine and they were going to try a "weaning trial" with Dad in the morning. They started by stopping the paralytic that was stopping his breathing so the vent could do it, and re-warming him to human temperature. Later they would cut the sedative and see how he was when he "woke up". We stayed until they stopped the Versed, a long acting sedative, and started him on propofol, which is much shorter acting. They decided to keep him sedated until the morning to give him time to get the Versed out of his system, thereby making the wake up period a bit shorter. I went back to the house and crashed, thankful that everyone had survived Tuesday.

More Later

The Day

2011-03-25T00:27:00.000-05:00

Monday, March 21. It was around 4 in the afternoon. I was sitting on the living room floor, playing catch with Sweet Pea and the Wife. Laughing and having a good time. We had this day and Tuesday off all together and were talking about things to do on our free day Tuesday. The phone rang. I was sitting on the floor and didn't feel like getting up. The Wife was in the chair and sitting comfortably, but she had worked a night shift the night before and was darn near exhaustion, so she didn't feel like jumping up to answer either. Until we heard my sisters voice.

Usually when people leave a message, it is a little breezy. Not so this one. We could tell by her tone that something was terribly wrong and she commanded us to call her immediately when we got this message. Of course by then we were both up and to the phone.

My first thought was something had happened with my mom, as she has been having health problems this last year with her kidneys and dialysis and such.

"I'm on my way to pick mom up from dialysis. Dad apparently had a heart attack and is headed for the hospital."

Everything sped up and slowed down at the same time. With only that information I thought perhaps he had some chest pains and someone called 911. I've picked up symptomatic people before. Maybe it wasn't too bad. Still we started packing up for a rushed trip to Cedar Rapids, three hours away. I got online and found the phone number for the ED down there and gave them a call. There was no answer. That seemed strange, as even in my hospital there is always somebody around to answer a phone. Within ten minutes my sister called back.

She had talked to a fire medic that had been on scene and been working with the medics on Dad. The information passed to me was that he had dropped mom off at dialysis and gone to the cardiac rehab gym to do some exercising when he collapsed. All the fire medic could tell her was that CPR had been started, the medics arrived in just under ten minutes. CPR was continued. Dad had been in ventricular fibrillation, or V-fib, and a shock was administered. One round of epinephrine and amioderone were administered along with a second shock. An endotracheal tube, or ET tube, was placed down his throat and into his lungs to help him breath. He was loaded and transported with CPR still in progress. The fire medic was not too optimistic about his chances.

With that information, the kiddos were loaded in the car, along with the dogs and some hastily packed bags, and we headed out.

As a paramedic, I have been on calls like this. We get someplace with CPR in progress, work the patient and do what we can. If we transport at all, we have usually regained some organized heart rhythm, or seen something that makes us think perhaps they have a chance of survival. But if we've administered the drugs and the shocks and nothing is working, we usually call it in twenty or thirty minutes or so. ten minutes of CPR before the medics arrived. They had worked him for another ten to fifteen on scene, and CPR was being continued on the way to the ED. I was starting to try and wrap my mind around the world without my father in it.

We stopped at a gas station about twenty minutes down the road. I stepped outside and got hold of the ED. Mom gave them permission to tell me everything. My own heart was heavy, as I knew that by this time he was either alive or he wasn't. And from what I had heard, I did not think he would be alive.

Much to my relief, they had a rhythm back. He was critical but stable and headed for the cath lab to find the problem and fix it.

When we arrived in CR, we headed straight for the cardiac intensive care unit. Dad's room looked like a movie set. All of the various life support paraphernalia was there, and there was my father. He was pale. The vent was pulsing rhythmically, keeping him breathing. The vitals looked OK. He was heavily sedated and unnaturally still. And my heart broke. It is cliche to say it seemed like a bad dream. But there is no other way to describe it.

As the day went on, we heard more of the story. He had collapsed while on the exercise bike. CPR was started within a minute. Much of the staff at the dialysis center worked on Dad, doing good quality CPR. The medics did everything just right. The ED nurses and doctors did everything just right. It was a textbook case. A textbook save for a sudden cardiac arrest event. The medic in me was proud and thrilled that all had gone well. But the medic in me also knew that just because we get a pulse back doesn't mean everything will be all right. The brain dies pretty quickly without oxygen, and sometimes even with good CPR the end result is a person who loses some of their mental faculties.

I will be forever grateful to those that saved my dad so that I could make it to his side in time to say goodbye if that was the case. And now it was a waiting game to see if he would wake up, and if he would be close to the same man he was before the day.

More Later

Training Days

2011-03-16T10:11:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I went for a run outside. First outside run this year! Temp was almost 50 degrees and there was a little breeze blowing. In all a very pleasant run! It rained later in the day, so I was thankful to get the run in at all. Otherwise it would have meant the treadmill.

And as I ran, I thought about the treadmill. I don't like to run on the treadmill. I think it is because my running pace is not that perfectly constant that I can just set a speed and go. I end up running too fast or too slow for the spinning belt, and spend a great deal of time futzing with the speed controls to try and avoid running into the control bar, or worse yet, sliding right off the end like those idiots you see on YouTube all the time.

But outside I can run as randomly as I want without worry. And I tend to go farther and faster than I do on the treadmill. Perhaps because I like being outside so much. With 81 days until my first triathlon of the year (or roughly 1900 hours) I've still got a lot of training to do. But I feel like I'm much farther along than I was training for my first tri last year. And I have extra weeks this year to train!

I found a place to swim indoors that doesn't cost an arm and a leg, which is good, because swimming with only one arm and one leg would be much more challenging. It is our local Rec center, with an Olympic sized pool broken down into two 25 yard/8 lane pools. Plenty of space, and open late for family guys like me! It felt good to be in the water again. I think for this next year I'm not going to stop training between seasons. It is so draining to "get back into it". So I have a place to swim over the winter months. I'll have to come up with some ideas for the running and biking in the cold though... Hmmm....

As for the bike, if the weather is reasonable, I might go for a ride this Friday! Just a short six or seven miler to see how it feels. But I am looking forward to getting back into training mode, and even more so to making it a part of year round life instead of just being seasonal.

More Later

Snowing

2011-03-13T09:08:00.000-05:00

Again. With the snow. And the cold that comes with it. Seems that spring is far, far away. Even the dogs are tired of the cold and snow. Holly used to frolic. Now she goes out, does her thing, and races back in. Often with a leg or two raised away from the cold. But I know spring is on the way. I'm just impatient for it to get here.

I hope it gets here soon. Triathlon training is so much more fun outside than on the treadmill.

More Later

Lenten Miracle

2011-03-10T10:54:00.000-06:00

My biggest goal for this Lenten season was to try and purge myself of sitting around and doing nothing. So I decided that the Kitchen and Living Room would both be clean before I went to bed every night for the next 40 days... at least.

I am happy to report that I am off to a great start! The Wife just finished three night shifts in a row, and that really takes it out of you. So I want her to wake up to a clean house.

I am also up and exercising again. Not exactly easy when you are coughing up a lung. But I struggled through it. And will again today. I am in the process of compiling a list of Things To Do for this season. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will take longer/last longer than 40 days. So, while I am list making and pondering and planning, I am also very aware that the habits I have that are good, I need to keep at and find motivation and encouragement to keep going. The bad habits I need to change. Slowly but surely for some, and just cold turkey for others. Wish me luck!

More Later

Skinny Wednesday is Tomorrow

2011-03-08T17:56:00.000-06:00

I've never been big into Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, that whole scene. Not that I have anything against those who do celebrate, of course. My brother and his family seem to do it up right. But those just weren't traditions I grew up with. The Wife didn't either, although she did acquire a taste for giving things up for Lent some time ago.

Today she asked me what I'd be giving up tomorrow. It got me to thinking. What could I give up?

Now, I'm no saint. But there isn't much for me to actually give up. Some people give up swearing, but with two kiddos under six, I don't have the opportunity to swear much anyway. Stop drinking or smoking? I don't do those. What about caffeine? Some people give up pop. I had a root beer a couple weeks ago. Nothing carbonated since.

Finally it dawned on me. We've been fighting the crud that's been going around here for the past few weeks. This has led to an extreme case of frustration with not being able to do much of anything but cough, wipe noses, administer medications, and cough some more. So for Lent tomorrow I'm giving up sitting around and not doing anything. Tonight I am putting together a list of forty projects. Each should only take an hour or two. Some more complicated ones, like working on stained glass or knives, will be timed portions. But I am going to get up, get showered and DO SOMETHING every day for forty days. My days will also include some sort of physical fitness, since I've got 89 days until the Pigman Triathlon, my first tri this season.

So... gotta go. I've got lots to plan tonight. And starting tomorrow, I'm giving up living by default because I don't feel good. Time to get some stuff done! Exercise and projects! I'll bet I'll be losing weight along the way, too. So Skinny Wednesday starts in the morning. I'll let you know how it goes.

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Close Encounters

2011-03-07T15:17:00.000-06:00

We've been talking as a family about what kind of vacations to take this year. One of the places I'd like to take my family is the Mt. Rushmore area. And by area, I mean including such places as the Badlands, Custer state park, Crazy Horse Monument, and Devils Tower in Wyoming.

The Boyo had no idea what Devils Tower is, so we looked at some pictures and told him the legend, and he agreed that we should go there some time.

That night we had our favorite Mexican food for dinner. During this, our little Sweet Pea channeled her inner Richard Dryfus and started piling her beans and rice into a little mound...

The Wife and I were amused as it was right on the heels of talking about Devils Tower. But since we haven't watched Close Encounters as a family, and have never told the kiddos about that scene, we were amazed when we asked her what she was doing and she said, "Making a picture." I guess we have to go to the Tower now, just to meet the visitors!

In other news, last week the Boyo and I went out in a new fallen snow and built a snowman. The Boyo thought he looked lonely, and decided he needed a snow friend and a dog. The Boyo built the friend, and I threw together a little dog, too.

Fun in the snow.

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Pinewood Derby

2011-02-19T18:03:00.001-06:00

The Boyo had his first ever Pinewood Derby today! It is much different these days than it was when I raced my little cars lo those many years ago. The track is aluminum and eight lanes instead of wood and four lanes. There is high tech computer software to track heats and races and on and on and on...

His car raced eight times against other cars from the pack. He got third place three times, second place three times and won two of his heats! Best of all he was a gracious winner and a gracious loser. Always cheering for his car, but sincerely congratulating the guys who beat him. Not many other kids did that. And none were as enthusiastic about their car. I was a very proud Daddy.

As for building the car... We worked as a team. I cut the parts and did some shaping, then he glued it up, sanded it and painted most of it. I did the eyes and smile at his request. We both worked on the wheels and he even did most of the wheel installation. He did a great job! So here is his car... Lightning McQueen!

It was a bit of a challenge, but I got off lucky. His first design choice was the dragon from 'How to Tame Your Dragon'. I love that kid, he is such a good sport!

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Supper

2011-02-14T10:29:00.000-06:00

For Valentines Day, my sweetheart got me a new pan and silicone spatula to pan sear some supper.

A couple of nights ago, I made seared chicken with cashew and feta. It was OK, but didn't sear really well in the non-stick pan. So the new pan is conventional and sears VERY well!

To break it in, I made the recipe that I had made in class. This time I got a picture!

Behold, Turkey Tenderloins with Bacon and Spinach!

Sauce made with chicken broth, cooking sherry, a little cream, some butter and roasted garlic. And the bacon and blanched baby spinach, of course. The Wife inspired me to make JUST the sauce to spread on toast. That's a project for today! Tasty stuff.

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Epicurian Adventures

2011-02-11T08:25:00.000-06:00

Last night I attended my very first culinary class. It was a community education class - not the start of a new career. Eighteen people had gathered at one of the local high schools very nice home ec. departments to learn to pan sear meat and make pan sauces.

The chef was from the Cities and has a little restaurant up there. He brought six recipes and all the food required to make them. We listened carefully to him as he demonstrated a few things we'd need to know to make our dishes. He also broke us into six teams of three and each team was assigned a dish to make. I was on the team making pan seared turkey tenderloin with spinach and bacon.

He also gave us a general recipe for pan searing consisting of seven steps, that use four categories of foodstuffs and covers a wide range of meals. It is really quite simple.

Make a list of meats, a list of liquids, a list of chunky stuff, and a list of herbs, spices, butters and such. Liquids are such things as chicken or beef broth, cooking wines or sherrys, cream, fruit juices, vinegars... that sort of thing. Chunky stuff is fruits and veggies, dried or otherwise.

Then you just choose a meat, a couple of chunky things, some liquids and some herbs and such and follow the seven steps to searing and saucing!

We used Conventional frying pans, the NON non-stick kind, and he was big into silicone spatulas, though we used a wooden spoon and our sauce turned out yummy.

I did learn a few interesting things that I didn't know. Patting meat dry to remove the wet protein coating helps it not stick as much to the conventional pan. Better ways to peel ginger and how to butcher an artichoke.

One of the three team members on our turkey team decided he would rather do the steak recipe, and so right off the bat it was just me and one other person. We had our hands full, but managed to make a pretty tasty bird dish! When all was said and done, we got to cook and sample the following dishes...

Boneless Pork Chops with Dried Cranberries and Mustard
Chicken Breast with Roasted Tomatoes, Black Olive and Goat Cheese
Chicken with Braised Artichoke
Rosemary Mushroom Steak
Salmon with Curried Leeks
and of course, the Turkey Tenderloin.

It was gastronomically delightful! I even liked the artichoke, which I have not had that much of.

Now I am prepared to sear and sauce for my family, who will reap the rewards of my adventures in cooking class!

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Triathatraining

2011-02-05T09:27:00.001-06:00

So I've signed up for three sprint triathlons for this summer. That's right... three. Pigman near Palo, Ia. Rochesterfest, here in my town. Hickory Grove, which was my very first one last year. I'll also be signing up to do the Tour de Kirkwood down where my brother lives. He is signing up too. And I think my Dad may be joining us for that one as well.

After the intestinal troubles I've been having, I am realizing just how lucky I am to be able to do these sprint tri's. And also how much work is involved in training for them! My gut set my training back by a couple of weeks, and now I'm playing catch up - trying to get my running miles up to where they should have been by now.

Of course, I'm also being cautious, because I don't want to push myself into injury. My gut is still a little twingy too, and that has cut a run or two short.

But I am still super motivated to do these tri's. Mostly because of how great I felt after the first one I ran. I knew I was not anywhere close to my USMC fitness levels. Back then I was running 7 minute miles for the 3 mile runs. But I felt much better than I had in months. Maybe years. And the training was a lot of fun!

This year my goal is weight loss and building up those old muscles again. Times are a close second. Most of all, I want to improve my running. So I will be doing more running than last year. Hopefully by the end of the season I will not only have met and exceeded my goals, but will still be alive to enjoy the rewards!

So if I can train for four triathlons this year... almost anyone can. What's your excuse for not doing something like this? :)

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Transitions

2011-02-01T08:38:00.000-06:00

Today the boyo is having his first ever hot lunch at school. He is so excited and is even willing to miss out on peanut butter and jelly to eat the school offering. Trying to get him to eat anything but PBJ's for lunch has been a challenge, and even when we ask him what he'd like for supper his answer is often PBJ's.

So this morning I have a little time to write that would ordinarily be spent fixing a lunch.

I reflected on how the recent medical fun could have gone for me. Surgery, colostomy bag, more surgery, long hospital stays, maybe even (extreme, I know) death. It could have been so much worse. On my return visit to the doc, he told me there is a 1 in 5 chance that this will happen again. And if it does happen sooner rather than later, I'll probably have to have the surgery and all the rest. Except the death, I hope. I'd really like to avoid that. I could have elective surgery that would take the risk down to 3- 5%. But that would require surgery, which I really want to avoid. So I'm hoping to be one of the 4 out of 5 people that it does NOT happen to again!

I thought about the interesting notion of transitioning from a health care worker to being a patient. Just the sort of patient that I have sometimes picked up and transported. And for the briefest moment I was a little saddened by the prospect. But then I remembered I am also transitioning from calling myself a Paramedic as a job, to calling myself a Knifemaker, or an Artist, for a job. Switching vocations, learning new things. Watching my kiddos grow up.

Life is full of transitions. Some pretty lousy. But many more very exciting and fun. I suppose the lesson I need to learn is to accept the transitions and be able to appreciate the experience of each one.

Still, I'm a little sad sending my little boy to school without a packed lunch.

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Other Side of the... Bleh

2011-01-24T09:38:00.000-06:00

So I'm recovering nicely from the event. But I have no desire to write about it much.

Here's the short version.

11 hours in the ED. CT scan showed a ruptured diverticulum. IV antibiotics and a hospital stay. Morphine for the first time. Did not like. I'm not geared to be a druggie. Kept pushing for fewer pain meds in the three days I was there. Finally released with follow up visits planned. Was visited in hospital by Dad, our friend JM, one of my pastors, and of course the Wife and Kiddos.

In short, I feel pretty good now. But I also feel like a ticking time bomb. Every little twinge or grumble in my abdomen punches my anxiety up a notch. Another episode so close on the heels of this one means surgery is likely. And not just a quick go in for a pat down of the gut. They're talking removal of part of the colon, probably a colostomy bag placed to drain poo while my colon rests and heals before they reattach the two ends. A longer hospital stay. I shudder at the prospect.

Mostly though, I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. This too shall pass.

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The Other Side of the Coin

2011-01-21T17:27:00.000-06:00

As a medic, it is not uncommon for me to pick patients up and take them to the hospital for treatment of what ails them. But now I find myself admitted to the hospital with a perforated diverticulum, and I gotta say, being a patient is no fun.

It all started on Sunday with a little tummy ache. No big deal, I had eaten some fast food crud, and I figured this was just payback from my body.

Monday I awoke all gassy, but again - payback is a bear sometimes. By suppertime on Monday My GI tract was hurting pretty good. After supper and kiddos going to bed, I curled up on the couch and watched some TV, all the time the gassy feeling getting more intense. The Wife became concerned and I made a deal with her that I would call our family physician in the morning if it did not clear up. Of course, I thought that perhaps it really was just gas.

I fell into a restless sleep around midnight. Next thing I was aware of was an intense pain in my gut, like someone had just stabbed me with a fire poker. As I woke up, I heard some idiot scream in pain nearby and thought "Hey dummy. If we are being attacked the screaming won't help."

Then I realized the voice was mine. That's a discouraging thing at two in the morning! Per the Wife's instructions. I rechecked my temperature. It had spiked to 101.7. Four more times that night I was awakened to my own grunts of pain. Throughout the next day the Wife became more and more resolute about getting me to a doctor. Finally I relented and called my local Doc. She was full up, but scheduled me with another doctor because my "condition" sounded serious.

On the way to the doc, I did a little self assessment. Pain... lower left quadrant and lower center line. Pain level...6-8 out of 10 depending on the bumpiness of the road. Fever. Chills. Nausea. If I were a medic with a patient like that I would suspect they were rather sick. But in my head I was still denying that anything was wrong.

The doctor I saw did a few tests and fond two significant things. One was a White blood Cell count up around 15.5. Normal is 10. So I had a BUNCH of extra white blood cells running around, fighting infection. The second finding was upon palpating, or poking my right lower quadrant. So painful was it that my knees shot up to the fetal position.

We both immediately suspected appendicitis with that one. Though I told hi it really did hurt more in the lower left and middle. He referred me to the Emergency Department to do a CTscan to rule out the appi. What else could it be? I asked him.

"Well, you're a pretty young guy. But it could be Diverticulitis. I'm almost sure it is one of those things."

So off I went to the ED, to find out what was going on.

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Friday Ramblings

2011-01-14T21:11:00.001-06:00

I've been pretty busy this year so far. I've got three knives in progress in the shop... no four. I've got two stained glass transoms to build. Sheaths for all of the knives. So much to do and it seems I've been going and going and going.

On top of this, I signed up for the Pigman Triathlon down in Palo, Ia - near my hometown of Cedar Rapids. So I started training in earnest again. Oh, I've been doing a little on the treadmill, an occasional push up or some crunches. But June 5th will sneak up on me awfully fast unless I get my rear in gear.

So it's off to the races again!

I turn 40 this year. 40. Twenty years ago that seemed so old! So far away. But now that I'm here it doesn't seem that bad. I'm creakier than I once was, and more than a few pounds heavier. But in all I don't feel old. Although I do get stressed about time when I think that I'm probably more than half way to the finish line in this life. I was not nice to my body while in the Corps, and I have not been so good to it since. So I think my lifespan will fall short of where my parents get. Mostly those thoughts are as follows...

If I can make it to 70... that means I only have 30 gardens left to plant! That's really not too many to try out the several hundred varieties of tomato that I want to try. If I am only making 20 to 40 knives a year, that's only six or seven hundred that I will make in my lifetime! So much to do! So much to do! Maybe I should up that number to 10 - 20 knives a month. Maybe that will help.

And thirty years really doesn't seem like that long. Especially since I've already gone ten years past that.

But then I think about all of the things I've done in forty years. The list is literally HUGE! Someday I'm actually going to compile a list. I did a ton of stuff up through high school. From then to now I've done things like paddling the Mississippi river from Itasca to St. Louis. I was a Marine for about a decade. I've travelled all over the world. I got married, had kids, bought a house and a couple of cars. Somewhere between Boot Camp and Bluefeather, I became a grown up.

That has been hard to get my head wrapped around. Because when I was a kid, grown ups had jobs and bills and worries that I never wanted. Worst of all, most grown ups never seemed to have any fun. Thank God I had the parents that I did! Role models for keeping a kid-like attitude even as a grown up.

Mom loved family nights watching the Hawks win or lose, and Sunday night suppers were a treat with fudge and popcorn. I don't think I had a toy that Dad didn't play with too. I can remember launching little foam F4U corsairs off of a huge plastic aircraft carrier with him.

And so when the Boyo saved up enough of his allowance to buy his very own indoor remote controlled helicopter, I had to have one too!
The Boyo got a yellow one that he named Fireworks because of the red and blue flashing led on the nose...

I got a red one. The Boyo wanted to call it Fireworks Two, but I told him it's name was Dragonfly because that's what Grammy said they looked like...

As busy as I get in the shop, and as much as I have on my plate as a grown up that is still adding years onto this body, I guess I'll always be a kid in my heart.

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New Year with the Boyo

2011-01-01T20:41:00.000-06:00

My son the precocious six year old, has always been a bit of a ham. Knowingly or not. Today, whilst wrestling with his mommy, they were laughing and giggling, when he suddenly yelled out...
"PARENTS WHO LOVE THEIR CHILDREN DO NOT SIT ON THEM!"

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a few strong opinions. Also understood is I seldom have trouble expressing those opinions. One such thing that sticks in my craw is the use of the term "phy ed" for physical education.

Growing up in Iowa, it was called "phys ed" or more simply "gym". Leaving the 's' off of the 'phy' is just plain annoying. It isn't called PHYICAL education. It is PHYSICAL education. For some reason, in Minnesota they call it PHY ed. Grr. How are kids supposed to know what the 'phy' stands for after all?

So it was with no small sense of amusement and vindication that today, while asking the Boyo where he learned a chant he does while doing jumping jacks (TWIG! TREE! TWIG! TREE!) he enthusiastically replied...
"I learned it in phyeducal education!"

Yup... phyeducal.

I love that kid. He is hilarious!

Happy New Year everyone!

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Resolved

2010-12-31T09:25:00.000-06:00

2011 is here. Well... almost anyway.

Next year I resolve to do the following, in no particular order...

I will finish blogging about China.

I will participate in another triathlon or three.

I will spend more time in the shop making knives and glass and other things.

I will spend more time playing with my kiddos than I do in the shop.

I will try to do more for the Wife who has supported me in this crazy adventure.

I will try to laugh more often, love more freely, forgive and let go.

I will do the best I can and not fear falling short.

I will look at the world through the eyes of my children to regain the wonder that is always there.

I will try to be more proactive than reactive.

I will wake earlier, to chase my goals and dreams with intensity.

I will live each day on purpose.

2010 is gone now, these days never to be regained. Today I will spend considering the what ifs of the year. Tomorrow I will let it go and move on.

Happy New Year to you all! May it be filled with more joy than sorrow. More dreams than tedium. More love than ever before.

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Of Dinosaur Things and Dragonfly Wings

2010-12-21T08:03:00.001-06:00

Today the Boyo has an extra couple of hours to prepare for the school day, thanks to the snows of last night. Also thanks to the snow, I missed the lunar eclipse. Unfortunate, because I love space sort of stuff (I'm starting to plan for the big Venusian transit in 2012) and because had it been clear, I would have taken the Wife and Boyo out to see it. She likes space stuff too, and he is interested in everything!

For example. As we entered a big box store last week looking for printer ink, he was telling me all of the wonderful things about dinosaurs he had learned that day in school.

"There is a big one called a T Rex that eats other ones! And there is one with three horns called a trip... tram... uh..."
"Triceratops?" I asked.
"Yeah! That one is cool! And you know what Daddy? I think we should raise a couple as pets for the yard! We could get little baby ones and they would be our friends!"
"Umm... buddy? Did they tell you that dinosaurs are extinct?" I asked.
"Yeah!" says he excitedly.
"Do you know what extinct means?"
"No!" just as excited.

So I explained it to him gently. But still he was weeping as we walked through the front door, genuinely grieving for animals that have not walked on the planed for millenia. Sad that we could not even go to a zoo to see them. So we talked a bit about critters that have been around since dinosaur times. Sharks are pretty much unchanged for example.
"Oooh! Let's get some of those!" He said, brightening instantly.
"Umm... No."
Crocodiles, too, are pretty much the same. Again I shot down the adoption idea for that critter also.
Dragonflies used to be the size of crows, and they have not changed in 300 million years! He warmed greatly to that, and so we started learning about dragonflies. More specifically, we started learning about the eighteen species that for sure live in our neck of the woods. There may well be others, but since dragonflies are shockingly under studied nobody knows for sure.

But for now, the Boyo and I have learned to identify the 18 in our area, both the male and female of the species, too. It is very fun to hold up the flashcards I made - like this one...

and hear him say "Oooh! That's the male Twelve Spotted Skimmer!" or...

"That's the female River Jewelwing, and she's a Damselfly, not a dragonfly!"

He can rattle off the names of the Widow Skimmer, Common Green Darner, Halloween Pennant, Ruby Meadowhawk, Common Whitetail, Ebony Jewelwing, Common Pondhawk, Canada Darner, Proghorn Clubtail, Saffron Winged Meadowhawk, Four Spotted Skimmer, Eastern Amberwing, White Faced Meadowhawk, Cherry Faced Meadowhawk, and his personal favorite, the Dot Tailed Whiteface, seen here showing why it is called what it is called!

I've even changed the pictures on the cards to make sure we are learning to identify the dragonfly and not the picture. We look at wing patterns, body, face and tail markings, and even how they hold their wings to identify them. It is really fun!

He's incredibly gifted with his recall ability. I made 24 cards initially, with male and female of some species. Within a couple of days he knew all 24. Come this spring and summer, we'll be ready to go hunt our dinosaur dragonflies and maybe, just maybe, find one not on the list that is common to the area as well. Who knows? If we are really lucky and diligent, maybe we'll even discover a new species!

Want to know more about dragonflies in your area? Check out http://www.odonatacentral.org/. If you live in the US, you can go to the checklist part and find which species have been recorded in your county!

Eastern Amberwing - male

It is a fun bonding project for him and me. I think we will have some serious fun when the weather warms up!

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Day 9 - Shanghai

2010-12-15T10:55:00.001-06:00

As shocking as it may seem, we once again awoke to a gray and cloudy day. Today's agenda was pretty simple. A trip to visit the Pearl Tower to get a view of the city, then some shopping, then a night at the theater to watch the acrobats of Shanghai.

Jimmy told us that it was the start of the Moon Festival. This is an annual pilgrimage home for people all over the country. As such, it also meant that the locals would be out and about seeing the sights too. So when he told us that we would have to wait for hours at the Pearl Tower to go up, and that there were a couple other tall buildings we could go up sooner instead, we jumped at the chance.

We ended up going to the observation deck of the Jin Mao Tower. It was a nice view, though a bit overcast. We did get to see the Pearl Tower.

And there was a view down the middle of the building as well.

We also got to pose with Haibo, the World Expo mascot. Some thought he looked like Gumby.

I thought he looked more like a sworl of toothpaste.

The building next to the Jin Mao Tower is locally known as the bottle opener because of the shape. But it is really called the Shanghai World Financial Center. It is currently the tallest building in Shanghai, but will be surpassed soon by the under construction Shanghai Tower being built a couple of blocks away.

Of course, there were a few things that seemed out of place in Shanghai China...

But overall it is a very lovely city.

We visited the Bund area next. With views of modern and ever changing Shanghai...

Right across the river from the European inspired architecture of the old world.

Dad, naturally, was a source off picture taking frenzy by the locals...

We then went to a huge shopping area, where we all scored some nice swag at excellent prices. I have no pictures of this because I had planned on doing most of my souvenier shopping here, and we were given a grand total of about 45 minutes to do it. No time for photos.

That night we saw the Shanghai Acrobats, a thouroughly enjoyable troupe. My favorite were the "Hat Guys" Seen here stacked on each other doing their thing.

They each had three hats. One hat was on a head and the other two were in the air somewhere. It was good fun. There was also this 8 year old kid who did the old stack-the-chairs-really-high-and-wave-from-the-top thing.

It was a good show, and a great way to spend our last night in China.

This shot is for my sister. She told me before we left that she had heard that Chinese toddlers didn't use diapers, they just had slits in thier pants and their parents cleaned up after them.

Sure enough, most of the toddlers we saw had the open backed pants! This little guy was squatting to pick up and put down that water bottle, so we didn't see him "in action". Which really was OK.

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Day 8 - Off the Boat and On to Shanghai

2010-12-05T13:45:00.001-06:00

During the night the ship passed through the locks at the Three Gorges Dam. Dad, Jason and I sat in the rain to witness the first lock. But as midnight turned into almost two, we opted to sleep for the remainder of the locks.

Dad and I had lots of locking experiences from the Mississippi River expedition of 2002, but it was Jason's first.

In the morning, it was time to take a bus over and tour the dam itself. Along the way, we saw many a street worker in this creative headgear.

When we reached the dam, the visibility was great, though the sky remained grey.

Our local guide mentioned that the skies were this clear only about 80 days of the year. It was a great view of the dam and surrounding area.

The dam was interesting, and the Chinese were rightfully proud of it. But I preferred the natural and ancient wonders to the modern big cement plug we now saw.

Back on the river, it seemed like a very short time until the ship was docking in Yichang where we would depart. We got a photo with our friends in the dining room. They were very cool and taught us a lot of useful Mandarin, most of which I wrote in my little book so I would not forget.

Jason, Theresa, Me, Peter and Ben.

We said our goodbyes and debarked the ship. The drive to the airport held exotic vistas and was very beautiful.

In Shanghai, we checked into our hotel and were once again greeted by luxurious Western style accommodations.

Complete with excellent views.

Jason found out about some of the extra amenities of the hotel, including "skeet shooting" in the virtual shooting range in the hotel. All three of us partook of that, and great fun was had by all.

Tomorrow in Shanghai we would be visiting a tall building, driving past the Worlds Fair, and seeing the Bund area. To be honest, I was least looking forward to this part. But since we were having so much fun, there was no pressure to "see" things. which was nice!

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We Gather Together

2010-11-26T09:48:00.000-06:00

Ahhhh, Turkey. a list of side dishes that rivals a restaurant. Pies made from home grown pumpkin. And good friends joining us for the meal. Could it get better?

We had Thanksgiving proper here at the house and had a couple of friends come over to help us eat all of the food!

I was in charge of the bird, the sweet potatoes, the pies, the gravy and just for fun, I added a plate of deviled eggs. After our shopping prep, we had no room for more eggs, so the leftovers got boiled, deviled and consumed not too long after our guests arrived! the turkey came out golden and juicy.

In the morning when I awoke, I got busy butchering pumpkins for the pies. I had lots of pumpkin and doubled the batch, giving us these two pies...

And a couple of 9x9 pans with crust less pumpkin pie.

We were all concerned about the timing a little, with so many things to cook and only the one stove. But everything was done precisely on time! A Thanksgiving miracle!

Soon after dinner, I fell into a pleasant turkey coma while the kiddos watched How to Tame Your Dragon.

Now we get to have one more at the Hotel with my folks!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

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Day 7 - Three Gorges and Sampan Rides

2010-11-23T12:12:00.001-06:00

After the sauna that was the day before, it was nice to wake up to moderate temperatures and relatively clear skies. Of course, the haze set in after breakfast, making everything look mystical and magical to those of an optimistic nature, and smoggy and polluted to those who were not quite so. The boat made a brief stop at Baidicheng before entering the Qutang Gorge, the first of the Three Gorges. Our cruise director said that the Baidicheng stop was mostly for Chinese tourists, and since it cost extra we decided not to go ashore. I later regretted this, as Baidicheng would have been interesting to see!

Instead we stayed on the ship and took pictures of the entrance of the gorge.

The sheer cliffs and size of the gorge was amazing to be sure. What fascinated me was the gale force wind that hit us as we entered the gorge! It was so strong that it made my eyes dry out instantly, and water copiously for the duration of the gorge!

As we sat there enjoying the view and the air, we remembered that we had hung clothes out to dry on the little patio just off the rooms! I had a pair of shorts, some socks, and a few pair of underwear draped about on the chairs and such. Remarkably none of us lost an article of clothing! We brought our clothes in for the next two gorges!

Since we were heading downstream, it seemed right to have me in my red shirt on the left, and Jason in his green shirt on the right!

Along the gorge, there were smaller streams joining up with the river, making little gorges of their own.

We left the first gorge and went up to lunch. During this we made our next port of call. From here we took smaller boats...

Festively decorated to look like huge dragon boat/tow boat hybrids.

Along the way we saw fields of sesame, complete with bundles being dried prior to harvesting the seeds we love so much on our hamburger buns.

We also got to see one of the famous 'Hanging coffins' of the gorge.

See it?

For a long time, the Chinese suffered from a serious lack of curiosity about the coffins. They knew they were old, but nobody really knew how old or why they were there. Within the last twenty years or so, someone decided to check one out and see how old they were. They were expecting to find something a few hundred years old. But when they opened the coffin, they discovered that the person had been buried with artifacts dating back two thousand years!

We took the dragon boats up a smaller tributary to get on sampans and tour the Lesser Three Gorges.

This was a series of high cliffs and hills rising up from the narrow tributary we travelled, giving amazing views and scenery. I'll let the pictures speak for our experience...

The sampan driver showed us what used to be traditional garb for them.

Fashionable rain cape and hat woven from Yak hair. Traditionally, they only wore a loincloth otherwise, and the boats were powered by long bamboo poles. Now they had the blue pajamas and outboard motors. Our driver was also quite the singer, and regaled us with a song about working hard and missing his love. Jason tried on the rain gear too, but didn't sing a song for us.

All along the way, the hills got steeper and steeper, prettier and prettier, and... well...

You get the picture.

This guy was playing a horn of some sort.

Which the guide said he did all day every day, playing for tips. Of course, nobody ever did tell us how he gets the tips!

Then it was back on the dragon boats...

and back to the ship.

Rather dramatically, I might add!

Back on the ship, we headed into the second gorge, The Wu Gorge. At 45 KM, it is the second longest. There were amazing views.

And of course - the wind!

We passed by Goddess Peak, where if you look closely, you can see what looks like a figure standing on the mountain. This is the River Goddess who brings luck to all who pass here.

See her yet?

Here you go!

We saw a great variety of boats, including the very rocket ship like hydrofoils that cruised up and down past us.

There were many caves.

Enough for any spelunker to stay busy for years.

There were also on board classes and shopping and such, but we mostly just stayed on the top deck and watched the scenery roll by!

As the sun set, we passed the city of Badong. The whole city was relocated (along with a great many others) to high ground after the Three Gorges Dam was finished and the water level rose 176 meters. (About 577 feet, or a bit less than two football fields.)

The crew did a show again that night, sort of a talent show. It was fun. One of the highlights was a Szechuan Mask dance that one of the guys did. I didn't take my camera, but I think Dad got it on video, so I'll re post this if I can get it. The mask dance is a part of Szechuan Opera, and I would have loved to see that! I also didn't get pictures of the food on the ship. By this point in the tour, it was obvious that the food we got would be pretty safe, western style Chinese food. Although the food on board was some of the best we had on the trip!

Tomorrow we would see the dam in all its glory, and we would also get off the boat and head for Shanghai.

More Later