Saturday encore ~ Half a lifetime ago

Back in August 2012, I was watching alot of the London Olympics, 

and I wrote the post below just after Kayla Harrison won her first gold medal in judo. 

Dang if she didn't do it again in Rio. Anyway, here's the explanation of why I care about judo. 

***

Have you been watching the Olympics this week? I have. Big time. I set the DVR to record the primetime coverage, then start watching it a few hours later so I can skip through the commercials and the inane interviews at poolside. Where does NBC get these commentators?

Anyway, even though synchronized diving and beach volleyball aren't exactly iconic Olympic sports, I really enjoy watching these two events. In my mind, diving is the scariest sport ever. How those guys miss hitting their heads on the platform never ceases to amaze me, nor does the fact that their Speedos stay on when they hit the water. And every time I watch Misti May and Kerri make another dig or kill, I'm inspired to run out in the corral for a pick-up game with the boys.

I was ecstatic yesterday when Kayla Harrison won the first Olympic gold medal ever for the U.S. in judo. Yeah, I'm weird. Judo is one of those obscure sports that nobody cares about, even during the Olympics. But I used to care about it very much – some would say too much.

Way back in 1980, my then husband and I decided we needed to find a hobby we could share, so we looked in the local recreation center catalogue for a class that might pique our interest. We signed up for Beginning Judo. He dropped out after the first week and switched to Chinese Cooking, but I was hooked. I would study judo three nights a week while he went to cooking class, then come home and eat his homework. Win win!

The teacher of my class, Jim Takemori, happened to be the coach of the U.S. women's judo team at the time, and he had four daughters who were all champions. They became my training partners, and the next thing I knew, I was traveling with them all over the country to compete. Everyone I knew thought I was nuts, particularly my coworkers, who would see the black eyes and the bruises on my legs and think my husband was beating the crap out of me. But I didn't care; I was having too much fun, literally tossing people around.

I was 29 in this picture, at my fighting weight of 63 kg. That was the part about judo that sucked – you had to make weight before every competition. But I loved everything else about it – the discipline required to master a throw, the strength and stamina needed to outlast an opponent, and the confidence it gave me to take on anything or anyone. I lived and breathed the sport for six years before an injury got in the way and I gave it up, but I carry its lessons with me to this day.

So, Kayla Harrison, I salute you. I'm sure your friends and coworkers probably think you should have devoted your life to a more lucrative sport, but some of us most of us weren't built for gymnastics.

Saturday encore ~ April 19, 1993

I'm not one for celebrating birthdays or anniversaries in a big way – they're just days on the calendar for the most part. 

Except for this day, and particularly this year. 

I will celebrate today, April 19, as I always do: re-reading my favorite book, 

with a shit-eating grin  great big smile on my face that won't quit until I reach the end.
It will take several hours, and there may be a glass of wine...or two...involved, and I will savor every word.

This is the book. I have no idea what the title on the sleeve is. If anybody out there reads Japanese, maybe you can clue me in.
The book was given to me by a business associate from Japan.

At the time, it was full of blank pages, but I wrote in it from March 15 through August 20 of 1993 and almost filled it up. 

It's part diary, part journal, part to-do list ... sort of like a blog minus the computer. 

Anyway, it's got a pretty good plot and a very happy ending.

What's that thing called that's sort of like a tassle and sewn into the spine and can be used to mark a special page? 

Surely not a bookmarker – that's way too common. 

Well, whatever that thing is, I use it to mark off the page called April 19.

It's the day I walked into my boss's office and resigned from my job and life as I knew it, to move to New Mexico 

and be the person I'm quite sure I was meant to be. That was 20 years ago today. 

We'll pause for a moment now to let my parents gasp and say, "20 YEARS! Where has the time gone?!"

(If you're not familiar with the whole story, go to the About tab at the top of this page to find the links 

to the four-part synopsis I call "My fairy tale but it's true.") 

Last night while Smooch and I were on our walk, I started wondering what my life would be like today

if I hadn't done what I did on April 19, 1993. Where would I be living? What would I be doing? 

I have no freakin' clue. In my heart and soul, this life right here, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere New Mexico 

in the company of animals, is the one I am meant to be living. And I consider myself one of the luckiest people on earth 

to have been able to figure that out twenty years ago.

(Update: When this post was published originally, commenter Shanna shared that
the title on the book sleeve translates to "Freedom Diary." )

The view from normal

Now where do you think I was when I took this picture?

Back in the saddle where I belong. Lucy's just as out of shape as I am at this point

so we didn't stay out for too long, but it was definitely one of our best rides ever.

Funny how Lucy's saddle seems to have gained about 20 pounds since the last time I threw it on her.

Lucy: You might want to put this hat back on your head until that haircut grows out.

On the way back to normal

It's been six weeks and one day since Smooch's and my world turned temporarily upside-down and inside-out.

Smooch has thrived on having an extra person in the house, and much to my surprise, so have I. 

You have no idea how happy I get when somebody besides me takes out the trash.

My surgeon told me yesterday that I can resume my normal activities, as long as they don't cause any pain. 

He also said I have to keep packing the ever-shrinking hole in my gut for another two weeks – 

not the news I had hoped for, but it's got to close up eventually.

Sooner or later, we'll be back to normal.

There's a new horse in town

I don't often succumb to promotional emails and deals of the day, 

but when an ad for this item popped up in my in box, I could not resist. 

I've never looked so good.

Good thing Ethel was around to participate in the silliness.

She took pictures as I introduced myself to the herd.

Ethel as my witness, Hank bent his head over to mine and nickered in my nostrils.

Then he went right back to eating. You can fool some of the horses some of the time,

but you can't fool Hank.

Lucy: Careful there with that fresh green stuff. We wouldn't want you to colic again.

Lucy: Were you always this weird ...

...or shall we just blame the meds?

Alan: You dress like her and you talk like her but something's not quite right.

Alan: I think I'll make my exit, just to be on the safe side.

George: These pictures would be funnier if you had longer ears.

Me: Oh, come on, be a sport.

Me: I could use a new photo for my facebook profile.

Girls just gotta have fun

I'll be really glad when I can crawl around in the dirt taking pictures of the animals and the subject matter 

of this blog returns to its normal fare. In the meantime, all I've got for you is the mundane daily chronicle 

of what's going on inside the house. Today's episode features Ranchsitter #4 instructing Ranchsitter #5

in the fine art of wound packing. Instead of closing my eyes as I usually do, 

I stuck the camera in front of my face, which is the next best thing.

They donned their surgical masks and threatened to hurt me if I took any unflattering pictures.

The honey seems to be doing its magic and the hole gets smaller every day.

I still think honey belongs on a sopaipilla and not my stomach, but who am I to argue?

This is Danni measuring the right amount of packing strip.

The lengths we bloggers go to for blog fodder...

I try not to think about where it's all going.

I was telling Danni and Joey how funny they looked at this angle.

They were telling me how funny I looked with a camera on my forehead.

When all was said and done, my nurses did a happy dance 

and the sterile cotton tip wand was passed from Danni to Joey.

Ethel, I hope you're watching this...you're next!

Good things come in tall packages

Ranchsitter #4 went into town yesterday to pick up Ranchsitter #5 and do a few errands for me.

Good thing the list of errands wasn't any longer. The truck was overflowing by the time they got back to the ranch.

Meet Ranchsitter #5 – Joey, who came all the way from Alaska! Joey and her husband, Brownie, 

were my neighbors in Alexandria, Virginia, a lifetime ago. We haven't seen each other in 15 years, 

but this is a friendship that has stood the test of time.

Joey wasn't the only gift stuffed into the back of the truck.

There was also this box from the UPS man. What could be inside?

It took awhile to figure it out.

Isn't he handsome?

I had to make sure I could wrangle him, though, just in case he ever gets out of control.

Thank you, Anne! I couldn't love him more, and he will have a place of honor in the sunroom.

Things my ranchsitter taught me #1

My ranchsitters are not only taking care of my every need, they're teaching me all sorts of cool stuff.

This tip is courtesy of Ranchsitter #3, CeeCee. It is incredibly useful for people with gut wounds and/or

people who might have one too many helpings of mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving.

The infamous gut wound happens to be directly behind the button on my jeans, so the last thing I want to do

is fasten the button and put pressure on it. However, I also don't want my jeans to fall down.

Enter the elastic ponytail holder, although a rubber band would also work.

Loop it over the button and through the buttonhole...

...and there you have it – an extra inch of waistband and no arrests for public indecency.

Thanks for the t-shirt, Mikey!

The Dark Side of Ranchsitting, a.k.a. As the Stomach Turns

In addition to animal feeding, hay moving, and general ranch chores, the 7MSN Ranchsitter job description includes 

"accompanying Carson to doctor appointments and paying attention and looking at gross stuff so she doesn't have to."

Ranchsitter #4 hauled me to a follow-up appointment with the surgeon on Friday and, of course, 

exceeded all expectations in her assigned duties. She let me use her iPad in the waiting room

so I could read all your comments/hugs on the blog.

The medical group staff could tell they were dealing with a couple of bad-ass cowgirls by the caked-on mud on our boots. 

We tried not to leave a trail. Anyway, the appointment went very well; the infected wound is healing nicely,

and we should be able to stop packing it in another three weeks.

I haven't told you this before because it's so gross, but when I was readmitted to the hospital

with the mysterious infection, the doctors sliced open about 2" of the original healed-over incision to let the infection out. Basically I have this gaping hole in my gut that now needs to heal from the inside out. The hole needs to be repacked daily with a very long piece of gauze (think 1 inch wide by 3 feet long). Just before I left the hospital, the nurses showed me the proper packing technique and I was able to do it myself. However, I am so grossed out by the process that I've shown Ranchsitters #3 and #4 how to do it so I can just close my eyes and pretend it's not happening. 

After the appointment, we rewarded ourselves with burritos at a dive in Albuquerque's South Valley.

I'm certain Walter White and Jesse Pinkman once sat at this very table. Danni had something spicy and scrumptious; 

I stuck with the mashed potato burrito. All of which is to say I'm working my way up to real food 

and all systems are working just fine.

The rest of this post is not for the squeamish, as I will attempt to demonstrate what goes on during 

the daily wound repacking sessions. (Ranchsitters #5 and #6, this is what you've got to look forward to.)

First we close Smooch out of the room, which she does not appreciate one bit

but we don't want her to hop on the bed and assist during "the procedure."

Then the ranchsitter prepares all the necessary equipment.

I take my place on the bed and peel off the sticky tape and 4x4 gauze covering the wound.

Then I close my eyes very, very tightly because this next part is beyond gross.

The ranchsitter removes the packing tape from the hole, inch by inch by inch.

It doesn't hurt a stinkin' bit, but Danni mentioned it looks like a giant tapeworm, and ever since then 

I just pretend I'm somewhere else. 

What comes out must go back in, so then another 3 feet of packing tape gets stuffed back in the hole,

layer by layer with a sterile cotton swab. But first a teaspoon of honey goes in the hole. Go figure! 

It's supposed to make the wound close up faster. Then the hole gets covered with a couple of 4x4 gauze pads 

and lots of sticky tape. 

Then I return from my out-of-body experience, safe in the knowledge that I've got another 24 hours

before having to go through this again. Mercifully, Ranchsitters #3 and #4 have been creepily fascinated by the whole process and seem to enjoy it. Now that I've described it in such detail, I can only hope Ranchsitters #5 and #6 don't cancel their plane reservations.

George teaches me proper resting behavior

Nothing like a herd of apple-snacking equines to put a smile on a girl's face.

George: Excuse me, but I'm supposed to be the center of attention in this crowd.

George: You need to rest more, mom. Let me show you how.

George: It helps to have a lower pillow.

Thanks for taking these photos, Danni!

A DIY project to look forward to

I am home. Think I'll pause right there to take in just how good it feels to be able to write that.

The trip home wasn't nearly as tortuous as I had expected, except for the hour inside Walmart filling prescriptions and shopping for jello. The animals were all very happy to see me. I have no pictures of the reunions; hugging was more important than focusing.

Frankly, I'm shocked by how good I feel and how much I am able to do. I know what you're saying. Stop shaking your heads. 

I will listen to my body and follow doctor's orders. Within reason. They trust me to do the right things,

as long as those things don't include any heavy lifting for the next five weeks. They even gave me 

my very own staple remover so that I don't have to make any unnecessary trips to town.

Let the DIY project begin!

Postcards from Pres Hospital

A monumental day ... I graduated from jello to yogurt!

Have I mentioned that Presbyterian Hospital is not only my current residence but also my employer? The staff takes special care of everyone, but I think I may be getting a few extra perks...not counting the weekend power failure. All systems are back to normal now, except for mine.

The surgeon was just here for a visit and says I can probably go home tomorrow. I will spend the remainder of the day taking steps to ensure that happens. Not sure what I'll have up my sleeve, but I just streamed last night's episode of Breaking Bad and have a few ideas.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, there was a big storm last night (of course) and the electric fence appears to have blown a fuse. My sister will now be able to add "herding cows" to her résumé, as they are always the first to figure out when the fence is not on. I think it will be in everyone's best interest that I get out of here tomorrow.

Primary colors

Jello comes in red, yellow, and green. I think I prefer yellow. Yesterday's milestones included drinking the ginger ale I was craving, taking the shower I was craving, and being a patient in a hospital in the throes of a massive power failure. Apparently there was some vandalism in the neighborhood involving copper theft, which caused a great big power surge that melted the hospital's back-up generators, which sounds suspiciously like a plot thread from Breaking Bad, which I will not be able to watch tonight so don't tell me what happens. I have to wait for the streaming version tomorrow. Anyway, the hospital staff is doing an awesome job of holding the place together. Rumor has it that visitors might be let in today to the critical care areas. See the advantages of being in the icu? Yep, still here, but I'm the healthiest person on the unit. I walk a lot of laps and get to check out  my neighbors the cute doctors.

This is me celebrating a bowl of yellow jello a few minutes ago. Please note the hair is still very bad but at least it's clean.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, sister has everything under control. There's a flurry of emails in the air as she lines up replacement ranchsitters for the next six weeks. She sent me the picture below and let me know that Lucy has captured her heart. Yesterday city-girl sister was trying to put on Lucy's grazing muzzle and just couldn't figure it out. She tried and tried and Lucy patiently waited. Finally, the buckle was buckled, sister heaved a sigh of relief... there may have been a few tears involved... then Lucy draped her head across sister's shoulder and gave her a hug. Yes, we will all find a way to get through this. Thank you again for your kindness and concern.