I'm one of those crazy people that really likes to push myself and be challenged.

For instance, I remember back in the days when I was hitting the gym twice a day.  Before work I would run on the track.  After work I would do weight training, working a different muscle group each day.  My normal routine in the morning was to run for 1/2 hour.  But if I was late, I did a 12 minute routine called Guerilla Cardio.  This workout called for a 4 minute warm up jog, 4 minutes of interval sprinting, and a 4 minute cool down jog.  The interval sprinting is 20 seconds of full on sprinting followed by 10 seconds of rest.  Eight sets and you have done your 4 minutes.  It may not sound like a big deal, but according to Muscle Media:


Before you get too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the prospect of doing “only” four minutes of cardio a day, I need to warn you—this ain’t as easy as it seems. In fact, Dr. Tabata notes that even the  Japanese speed skaters—who, remember, are Olympic caliber athletes—had to “lay down on the floor after the training.”

The first time I did it, it literally brought tears to my eyes!  That was back in the day when I took my vacation at what was then called Red Mountain Adventure Spa in St. George, Utah.

Posted in: Insanity, Memory Lane on Saturday, April 3, 2010 at at 4:00 AM 2 comments    

What a great ride!  I got to know several police officers during my ownership of Rosie, ha!  


I have to tell you about one in particular.  One morning I was driving to the gym before work.  I had to be at work at seven which meant I had to be up at the crack of REM to get in a half hour run, a shower and still make it to work on time.  Translation: nobody out on the roads yet.  


Being Phoenix, the weather was warm even before the sun comes up, so the top was down and I was likely rocking out to Third Day or Zoey Girl. (Zoey Girl was great driving music and what I was listening to when I did the 1/4 mile drag strip at the Firebird Raceway in 13.8 seconds at 102 mph, my best time ever as I was banned from the track after that run... something about some silly rules requiring a roll bar on convertibles running the track in less than 14 seconds... but I digress)


I was sitting at a red light, which was really one of my favorite things with Rosie, because a red light means that I get to GO when it turns green. :)  And I did.  I always took off like a horse released from the gate at the race track...but I did carefully monitor my speed and hit the cruise control when I reached the speed limit, which was 40mph on this particular road.  It was enough to make the car payments, insurance payments, and registration payments without adding speeding tickets to the mix.


Anyway, I had taken off and I noticed that there were headlights approaching rapidly from behind me.  Turns out it was a cop, but I wasn't worried because I hadn't squealed my tires or gone over the speed limit, so I just ignored him.  The cop had come up right behind me, then pulled into the right lane and came alongside Rosie.  The police intercom clicks on and I am sitting there in that split second before he speaks wondering just what is going on, then the officer says, "Wanna race?"  I was stunned.  He shoots me a big smile and peals out.  


And, no, I didn't race him!

Posted in: camaro, Memory Lane on Wednesday, March 17, 2010 at at 4:00 AM 0 comments    

His name is Michael-Leon Wooley, but we all affectionately called him Wooley Bear.  Why?  Because he is a big, sweet guy -  like a big teddy bear. :)

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a horrible memory.  Recalling hilarious highschool stories just isn't my forte' because I simply don't remember much.  But I do actually remember one infamous night that involved Wooley Bear.


It was the summer after I graduated from highschool.  I was 18 and (I'm sorry to say) had just discovered alcohol.  At that time, eighteen was the legal drinking age in Washington D.C. and I lived in the suburbs.  So getting something to drink was just a quick trip across state lines.

So one fine night, myself, Wooley Bear and my friend Cindy got ahold of some liquor and headed over to Foxhill Park to drink.  I seem to recall a 6-pack of Mt. Dew (my fav!) so Cindy and I were probably making some disgusting version of a wine cooler with the soda as a base. (gag!)  But when you are eighteen and unsophisticated, it just doesn't matter, eh?  Wooley Bear, older and a bit more sophisticated, was drinking something harder for sure - not our pansy little Mt. Dew coolers.

Anyway, we had set ourselves down on a bench next to one of the baseball fields and were drinking and talking and laughing.  We noticed a cop pull into the parking lot of the park.  Now we hadn't been foolish enough to park there because the park is closed at dark.  We parked at the highschool next to the park and walked over.  But, someone else had parked in the lot and the cop put it's big floodlights on it.  Apparently, whoever had parked there had moseyed off to some other area of the park and the cop decided to try and find them.  To our horror, the cop car started driving around the perimeter of the far baseball field and then started our direction.

"Run!!"

We couldn't carry all our sodas and drinks so we shoved them under the park bench and headed for the nearby woods.  Now you have to remember, it's night, and there are no lights.  I started running through the woods, in the direction of the school.  I seem to remember losing my shoe at one point and then suddenly, a massive sticker bush was blocking my escape.

I didn't have much time to figure out a way out of this predicament as Wooley Bear was right behind me.  He started pushing me forward yelling, "Go! Go! Go! Go!"  You have to remember, he is a big guy!  He literally just used me as a human shield to tear through the sticker bush.

I finally managed to peep out, "stickers!"

I don't actually remember extricating myself, or what happened with the cop car.  (I don't think it ended up coming all the way down to the end where we were)  What I do remember was standing under the lightpost in the school parking lot and looking down at myself.  I was covered with little bloody scratches all over my arms and legs.  I looked like a victim of a bad piranha movie.

I also remember going home to get cleaned up and Cindy running in to tell mom, "She's really okay, it just looks bad!"

So there is my fond memory of Wooley Bear.  Okay, fellow thespians from Bowie Highschool, what is your favorite memory of Wooley Bear?

Posted in: highschool, Memory Lane, Princess and the Frog on Thursday, December 17, 2009 at at 7:00 AM 6 comments    

I found the link to the picture book I put together after Angelina was born.  So it is time for a trip down memory lane!
(warning: there is a little bit of blood in a few pics, so if you are squeamish at all, you probably should just skip this post)

It was September 20th, a Wednesday morning.  My due date of Sept. 3rd had come and gone like a faint memory.  My mom had flown in, oh about a week and a half before, in anticipation of Angelina's impending arrival.  I had decided to invite all my mom's to be at the birth this time around.

Wednesday's meant a trip to see my midwife, Carol Denny and her daughter, and then intern, Mary Gibbons.  These ladies are just fantastic and if anyone is considering having a home birth in the Phoenix Metropolitan area, you should definitely give them a call.


I got up at 5am while the rest of the house slept.  Since the baby was well past the due date, even if we were wrong with our calculations, we felt it was time to do what we could to help get the baby out.  Carol was planning on stripping the membranes at our appointment that afternoon, as that often is an effective means to start labor.  But I was hoping to avoid that procedure.  I decided to try doing my own natural labor induction, nipple stimulation, to see if labor would start.  I did 20 minutes on, 10 minutes off, twice.  Good strong contractions started after the first 20 minutes.  But I had to keep up with the nipple stimulation in order for the contractions to stay in the "active" range - one every 5 minutes lasting for at least 1 minute.  I called Carol a little before 8am to let her know what was going on.   She said to stop doing any stimulation and see if they would continue on their own over the next 2-3 hours.

Okay.... now what?  Being the restless and impatient mom-to-be, I decided we should all go for a walk in the cool of the morning.  (remember, this was in Phoenix, so it was still plenty hot!)  I wasn't going to sit down and let the moment pass.  I wanted to at least be waddling as briskly as I could to help encourage labor to begin in earnest. :)  We put Trinity in the stroller and David, grandma and myself all headed down the street.  We only made it five houses away from home and my water broke.  Woo-hoo, we were in business!

I called Carol back and let her know my water had broken and she said they would be over soon.  I actually tried to talk her out of it because I knew it was her one office day and she would probably be booked with appointments.  (not to mention that this was the second time I had my baby on her office day!)  I figured we could always call her when things were more progressed.  But you just don't know what is going to happen with a pregnancy, so it was probably better that they came on over.

We had quite the houseful for the event:

• Barbara - my mom, we set her up with the task of recording the contractions
• Carol - David's mom, we tasked her with taking pictures  
• Mary Jeanette - my step mom, who would have been tasked with taking video, but the camera decided not to work that day.  (maybe for the best!?)  
• Carol - midwife
• Mary - midwife, she just officially passed her testing and is now a full fledged midwife - Congratulations Mary!
• Elsie - Mary's daughter that she was still nursing
• Amy - Mary's sister also came to assist with childcare as needed
• Trinity 
• David   

I did most of my laboring on the ball.  I would walk around between contractions, then get on the ball during the contraction to help drop the baby.

My first check had me at 4cm.  The second check was at 1pm and I was at 5cm and 75% effaced.  Good progress.  The third check was at 3:30 and I was at 7cm.  It was sometime after that third check that I decided that we should order Chinese food.  I knew that if I waited much longer I would hit transition and wouldn't care about anything anymore.  Eating would be good.  It would give me the energy I was going to need to finish up this labor.

So Mary Jeanette got everyone's order and picked up the food.  It was such a cozy environment in which to labor.  A table full of Chinese take out cartons, a bunch of women chattering away around the dining room table, as I continued to walk my circular path around and around, carrying my plate and eating my food along the way.  This was definitely one of those moments when I was glad I was having my baby at home and not at the hospital.  No food allowed in the hospital - think "ice chips." *shudder*

Meanwhile, the birthing tub was up and filled and just beckoning to me.  Unfortunately, my contractions continued to be irregular without the nipple stimulation and Carol was concerned that we would lose momentum if I got in the pool.  The warm, relaxing waters are the home-birth equivalent of getting an epidural.  You do initially lose some of the intensity.... a good thing when you are in labor!  At 5pm I was checked again and had reached 8cm.  Carol gave me the go ahead for the tub and I was definitely ready!


David was making me smile with some joke between contractions.  It was a welcome relief from the very powerful transition contractions.  You gotta love a man who can make you smile, however weak it is, during transition!


I was feeling a lot of pressure and feeling like I needed to push, but it wasn't overwhelming yet.  Carol had me do a practice push and checked my dilation to see if I would go to a full 10cm.  No such luck - I stayed at 9cm.

Since I wasn't getting full dilation, Carol suggested another tactic.  I moved to the bathroom and sat on the toilet through some contractions to really get gravity on our side, help get the baby down, and hopefully get a stronger urge to push.

It only took a few contractions and then I really needed to push! (man, those midwives are sooo smart!)


I was given the option of going back to the tub or getting into bed.  I opted for my bed because I didn't want the soothing water of the tub to slow things down at all.  (most likely wouldn't have, but when you are ready to push, you are ready to push!  hmmm...go all the way down the hall to the tub or walk a few paces and get into bed.... bed wins!)  This was at 7pm when I was getting in bed because I remember seeing Trinity walk by the bedroom door with Grandma Barbara as it was her bedtime.  Had I been in my right mind and not a woman literally about to birth a child, I would have had her stay up the extra 15 minutes to see her baby sister born.  But she probably wouldn't have remembered it anyway, so no great loss.

Let the pushing begin!
Thanks to the cropping, what you don't see in this picture is Angelina's little head just starting to crown.



A little breather as the head is fully birthed.  I was catching my breath but I wasn't given much time.  Carol instructed me to push one more time.  I remember thinking, "Don't I get a break?  My contraction is over!" (for those of you who haven't been through this, normally, you only push during the contractions and rest in between)


What I didn't know was that the baby's heart rate had dropped so she wanted to get her out.  One more push and here she was... the whole slimy, bloody, screaming, beautiful little thing that she was!

All in all, less than ten minutes of pushing. (a big THANK YOU to Jesus!)

Posted in: home birth, Memory Lane on Sunday, December 6, 2009 at at 9:00 AM 2 comments    

....So, I picked up that little paperback Bible I had bought at the beginning of the year and started reading it, so I could show him how wrong it was.


But that wasn't the only reading I was doing.  I also read The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck and then his sequel to that one, Further Along the Road Less Traveled.  It was the second one that really made an impact on me.  I remember this one section of the book in particular.  He outlined different levels of spirituality, kind of like a ladder.  On the bottom you have the people who need to have the structure of formal religious meetings and texts, and as you work your way up the ladder you arrive at a place that most closely depicted new age philosophy.  So naturally I could see that I was at the top of the spiritual ladder. (very easy to accept that you are so wise and advanced compared to others!)


What this did though was allow my mind to relate to Christians.  Before I just thought they were all ignorant hypocrites.  Now I was able to see that I was just more advanced than those Christians that had to believe in the Bible and go to church.  Up until now I was taking the good I found in the world's religions and accepting it into my life - but not Christianity.  That night I realized that I could also accept the good in Christianity.  After all, I did believe that Jesus was the Son of God and that he had died on the cross and rose again.  That was the nuts and bolts of being a Christian.  So I decided to "reclaim Christianity" into my life.  That was December 18, 1997.  


I talked to a couple of my good friends that night about my decision and my other best girlfriends by the next night.  Not being very familiar with scripture, what I didn't realize is that I had literally fulfilled Romans 10:9 "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."  I had believed and confessed.


That night I had an amazing dream:


I was living in a house.  It was a big house and it was filled with many people.  The house belonged to the devil, and though we were not locked in, we could not leave.  It was our own fear that kept us trapped in the house.  I tried sneaking out a back door once, but I got out into the woods and thought, "This is useless.  He will find me - what's the point of trying?"  Dejectedly I headed around to the front of the house to go back in.  The devil was out front and just laughing at me - a horrid, sinister laugh.


Then I found myself in a group of people and we had escaped from the devil's house.  We were making our way down a very steep and rocky path, full of switchbacks.  At one point, I saw a witch coming up the path.  My first reaction was of fear, thinking "Oh no!  She belongs to the devil.  We'll be caught!"  Then I calmed down and thought, "No.  We have come too far.  We are safe."  Sure enough - she passed right on by us.


Our group made it down the path and found ourselves at the ocean.  To our east was a castle on a cliff and as we approached, trumpets sounded, the gates opened, and out came Jesus, wearing royal robes.  Everyone ran to see him, but not me.  I went and hid by an embankment and cried because I thought surely He had forgotten me while I was gone.


I quickly put aside my tears though.  There was a beautiful stream of fresh water flowing down from the mountains.  I had to go immerse myself in it, rolling around, reveling in it.  


Then I heard one of my group call my name.  I stood up, turned around, and there was Jesus.  I walked over to him with my head hung low as I was a mucky, wet mess.  Once I stood in front of him, He put a crown on my head and a ring on my finger, and asked me to marry him.  I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, and the feeling of love was beyond description.  It was as if though everything was permeated with a love so strong that you could feel nothing else.  Even the air was thick with love.


What I didn't know then, but learned later as I started studying the Bible, is that the church is called the bride of Christ.  The Jewish marriage tradition is a symbol of our relationship to Jesus in scriptures.  So while it may have seemed strange to dream of Jesus proposing, it is actually quite scriptural.


Well, I spent the next two weeks reading through the entire New Testament.  I couldn't get enough.  It was amazing to me what I found in the Bible.  I would sometimes literally just shut the book, and look at it and wonder how I could not have read in there before what I was reading now.  I was reading some of the same verses that I read when I was wanting to find stuff to prove how wrong it was - only now those verses were, well.... alive.  There was depth and meaning and they touched my heart.  Before it was just black ink on paper, lifeless, practically meaningless.  Now, I could hardly read without my heart just bursting and my mind reeling.  


Then I remembered the words from the hymn we sang in the Baptist church I grew up in - Amazing Grace - "I once was blind, but now I see."  Boy, did I ever understand that now!  My intention had been to just incorporate Christianity into my hodge podge of beliefs.  But now that the Holy Spirit had opened my eyes to the truth of God's word, I also saw how everything else being offered to man was a lie.  I spent hours on my knees praying, thanking God for what He had done.  I literally couldn't help myself.  I would get overwhelmed by God's goodness and mercy and just have to drop to my knees and pray and worship.




This brings us to New Year's Eve.  I went to a church instead of a bar - ha!  There's a first time for everything! ;)  There was nowhere else I wanted to be that night, than in God's presence, worshiping him.  During the worship, at the end of some of the songs they would just carry on with some music to allow for a time of prayer.  After one song, I was silently praying while the music continued to play softly.  I suddenly was stricken with a thought that grieved me to the core.  I thought, "I want to do your will God, but I have been doing my own will for 30 years!  How am I going to be able to do your will???  I can't do this!"


Just then, a man in the front of the church began speaking in tongues. (and since I had plowed through the New Testament already, I fortunately knew about this phenomenon!)  I believe he was speaking in Hebrew, but I obviously will never know for sure.  But the first time I heard Hebrew I recognized it as sounding like what this man had spoken. 


Anyway, I digress.  


So the man starts speaking in tongues and the pastor interprets.  He says, "Prepare a place for me in your heart and do not worry about my will for you.  I will guide your feet upon the right path."  There was more after that, but I don't remember it.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I knew that was the answer to my hearts agony.  God answered the cry of my heart within seconds of its anguish.  I knew God could answer prayer, I just hadn't expected it to be so literal!


Well, I was a smitten kitten.  Who wouldn't be in love with a God who cares so much for one so insignificant and unworthy as myself?  His grace and mercy are truly unending.

In writing this, I can recall other times that God has revealed himself to me in very undeniable ways.  And I think about how as an unbeliever I was so skeptical.  It was like I wanted the proof first and then I would believe.  This is of course the exact opposite way it usually works with God.  


First you step out in faith and believe.  
Then God will prove himself over and over and over to you.


"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2

Posted in: God Lane, Memory Lane on Monday, November 16, 2009 at at 11:28 AM 1 comments    

This is the story of how I went from being a Christian, to not being a Christian, to being a Christian again.  I have been wanting to record this for awhile, and, well, no time like the present.

I was raised in a Christian home and went to church regularly as a child.  I accepted Jesus at the tender age of seven and was baptized.  But unfortunately, that was the extent of my understanding about church - a child's understanding.  By the time 1983 rolled around and Darth Vadar said, "You underestimate the power of the dark side," I was 16 years old, my parents had just divorced, and I was already struggling with my faith.  If all you know is the story of Adam and Eve, Noah's Ark, and Daniel in the Lion's Den, you don't have very sure footing on the shifting sands of life.  (okay, I knew a little more than that, but not much)

At the age of 18, I lost my virginity to date rape.  I was really confused.  I had planned on waiting until I was married and this situation threw a monkey wrench into that plan.  Hmmmm... how do I reconcile all this with what I had been taught in church?  My initial reaction was that I had to marry the guy.  I continued to date him for quite awhile.  But he was into drugs and I was decidedly not.  His college housemate was a cocaine dealer and I can remember how people would show up at all hours of the night.  Then, apparently drug etiquette is that you cut some lines and share with everyone at the house.  They all liked me because I wouldn't touch the stuff, so less they had to share.  This was soooo not what I wanted for my life!  I eventually broke up with him, but this left me feeling like I was in some sort of religious limbo.  Could I still be a Christian now that I hadn't married him?

Two years later, now 20 years old, I was raped again.  If you are a rape survivor, then you can probably empathize with how weird it is for me to put that in black and white.  I hauntingly remembered the anniversary of that event for many, many years.  That was the breaking point for me.  It was at this time that I completely walked away from the faith of my childhood and embraced New Age teachings.  I needed to find some way to work out what had happened to me in the big picture of the meaning of life.  I became a big fan of pretty much anything other than Christianity, and I quickly echoed all the typical rationalizations for why the Bible is just a book like any other and not something to base your life on.  When I went back to college, I even got an A+ on a research paper in which I trashed religions.

I was "spiritual" not religious.

I can remember on Sunday mornings when I was in college, I would hike out and sit on the edge of a rock cliff and commune with nature.  I called that going to church.

Fast forward to the year 1997.  I was getting ready to turn 30 in May that year and I became pretty reflective about life, the universe and everything. The first decision I made was to quit smoking since I couldn't pass it off as a childish phase anymore.  I gave up drinking too, as alcohol would make me want cigarettes.  The next decision was to see for myself what the religions of the world had to offer. (vs. just accepting what other people had said)

I went to the book store and purchased a Koran, the Bhagavad Gita, The Compassionate Teachings of Buddha, and just to be fair, I picked up a small, paperback Bible.  Although, honestly, while I read the other texts, I didn't read the Bible.

At least not until that fall.

I took a road trip from New Mexico to Maryland to visit my mom.  Me and my dog, A.T., cruising route 40 across the country in my Jeep Wrangler.  I timed my travels on the way back so that I would end up in Nashville on a Saturday night.  This was during my country dancing phase.  I went dancing all the time in Albuquerque, mostly at The Caravan and Boot Scoots.  Twice I had been asked to partner up and go professional, but I was afraid it wouldn't be fun anymore if I went competitive.  So, now I had a chance to dance in the famous Wild Horse Saloon.  At the time it was where you would see them dancing on one of the country cable shows.  I left my dog in the Jeep, put on my cowboy hat, and headed in to my destiny.

Once inside, I got a soda and hung out watching the dancers.  Soon a very tall, handsome young man came over and asked me to dance.  I said yes, of course, and he whisked me out on the dance floor.  He was a great dancer and we were having a lot of fun.  We took a break to get a drink and he asked me if I wanted to know why he had asked me to dance.

"Sure."  This should be interesting.

"I saw that you are the only other person in this bar besides me that isn't smoking or drinking alcohol." (you have to read that with a twangy southern accent)

Wow.  He was pretty observant.  And he was right - we were definitely a minority in the bar scene.  He didn't smoke or drink because he was a Christian.  But he didn't seem put off by my profession of being spiritual, not religious.  So, we danced and talked all evening and by the time we had to call it a night, we were exchanging phone numbers and addresses with promises to stay in touch.  And we did stay in touch, even when circumstances tried to prevent it. (loooooong story on that one, involving my Jeep being broken into in Oklahoma City on the way home and his number being stolen along with a lot of other stuff)  We carried on a long distance relationship for several months.

But one thing just bugged the heck out of me.  He had a pure and simple faith in the Bible that drove me crazy!  How could he expect me to believe the Bible?  I was educated and well traveled.  I wasn't just believing that stuff because I was born in a Christian nation and raised in a Christian home.

So, I picked up that little paperback Bible I had bought at the beginning of the year and started reading it, so I could show him how wrong it was.

to be continued...

Posted in: God Lane, Memory Lane on Sunday, November 15, 2009 at at 10:13 PM 1 comments