Being called

10/26/15 Perhaps my choice of seating at church this Sunday is a precursor to my future physical abilities.  The second row on the left front is informally reserved for a group of senior ladies, some of which have health issues.   That's where I sat, right there in the second pew with these longtime matrons of the church.  At first I did not notice my location included me with the group.  But it did.  I tried to stand taller, to appear to not belong as time and illness has decreased their stature.    I tried to look strong and indepentdent as I noticed how they helped each other with sweaters and coats, reaching for hymnals and getting a Kleenex from a purse on the floor. These ladies also assist each other in getting to and into the church. These women have no men left in their lives to assist them I guess.  And where is my man? He is up on the alter assisting the priest.  So I am seated right where I belong. With the women who have been lifelong friends and care for each other.

Today the scripture teaches us  about Jesus healing yet another blind man.  But in this reading, and the only time in the Gospels, we learn his name.  Of all the people Jesus comes in contact with, why do we get to learn this blind man's name.   It is because  Jesus calls to him. Bartimeus.

 I used to think that it was pure luck when I was in the right place at the right time for something good to happen to me. So much good happened in my life.  I was a self proclaimed "Golden Girl".   Over a short period of time the plans I had for my future changed  dramatically.   I know now what I should have then. It's all  a part of the Master's plan.   Bartimeus was there because it was in the plan for him to answer when Jesus called. The bonus for him was he could now see.

The scripture passage told us he stood up and flung away his cloak

The cloak is as significant to this story as learning his name is Bartimeus.  He could hide in that cloak, covering himself, protected from the world. And the world was protected from seeing him.

It's hard to look at a person with a disability. It takes love, kindness, compassion, understanding.  Some of these traits are inborn, some learned and sometimes never learned.   I have a hard time even looking at my own body.  Media represents the human body as perfect, without deformity or blemish. It's just not that way for me. When my skin crawls and I want nothing more than to crawl out of it, I want to hide. When my hand or leg tremors uncontrollably I want to hide.  Once upon a time I was a lean and muscular athlete. I could run very fast.  Now I am chubby and flabby and slow. I want to hide. Dyskinesia are setting in and my body wiggles and twists.  I want to hide. 

It wasn't that hard to sit with the ladies of the church after all. Although their souls exist in worn out bodies, most people can look at them. They have thrown off their cloaks. They do not hide.  There have been times when individuals have sat in front or in row two on the left and it hasn't been easy to look at them. As I sat in the second row I decided it was time to throw off my cloak. 

I have Parkinson's Disease.  I cannot hide it anymore. I don't want to. Jesus called me out of the crowd.  My crowd included  successful beautiful hardworking peoplle.  Jesus granted me the courage to have this disease. That's a weird thought, being granted courage to have a disease.   After my diagnosis  I did not get angry for awhile.  When  God the Father told me to do something good with it I didn't rebel. My anger let loose a few years later, on the Camino de Santiago. It was 15 days into the walk when my soul reached this desolate spot.  I stood out on the Meseta on the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain in over 100 degree heat and screamed at God,  letting loose my anger until it took me to my knees. He listened.  God listened.  He said to me "Carol look where you are. Look what you are doing". I stopped my wailing. i took a look around.  Blue sky.   Miles and miles of wide open vistas.  I realized that while most of my friends may be home right now ... on summer break ...lounging in their air conditioned house... reading novels and eating Bon Bons I was walking 500 miles across Spain.  I saw in myself a new strength and a new courage. I could do this thing called El Camino.  And I knew then that I would be ok with this disease  Do something good with this. God the father said. 

So I did.  And I do. 

I have thrown off the cloak.  Now, you can see me. I am visible to you in my strength and in my physical challenges.  

 In a way, they are the same thing.

What to keep and what to let go

What to keep and what to let go....

This afternoon I spent a little time in the disastrous "South Room" of our house.  Once upon a time it was a lovely room with wicker furniture and thriving plants.  Currently it is inhabited by piles of paperbacks, shelves of speech materials most ancient but some new, mountains of empty bins and containers, dresser drawers with notecards and paper, craft items in bags and boxes.  It's hard to walk through there.  Scooting some boxes aside I made room to plop myself on the floor.  I emptied two boxes of papers which went into three piles.   To the recycler: Sure there is good stuff in there. Papers and articles presented by professional colleagues from around the country.  I was drawn to read them, to glean the information and use it in my practice. Oh, yeah, I don't have a practice. Recycle.

To keep for awhile:  some of my best work or best lessons that I can't draw myself to part with.  Not today, but soon they will go to the recycler.

To give: worksheets and articulation drill books and story mapping outlines and my unit on humor for the middle school kids. Am I fooling  myself? Will someone actually use this stuff?

As I sat there in the middle of 35 years of professional life I came to a decision about what else I will let go.  My licenses and certifications.  I am not going to renew.   Oregon Teaching License with Speech Impaired endorsement.  Oregon School Administrators  license.  Oregon Board of Examiners Speech Pathology License.  American Speech-Language and Hearing Association Certificate of Clinical Competence.  I am going to let them go.

My college classmate, professional colleague and dear friend, Dana Wood and I used to have long conversations about what we were going to be when we grew up.  I saw her a couple weeks at her retirement party.   " We are now grown up" I said.  "What are we going to be?" Dana may be still pondering the question.  But I know.  Now that I am grown up I am going to be me.   Not the me that is defined by career or professional affiliations.  

I am going to be me.  Just Carol.  I am getting rid of everything else: The framed papers hanging on the wall that tell the world it's ok to use my God given skills, the papers in the boxes and the books on the shelves. keeping me tho.  😉

The Last Entry....home

Portland International Airport passport control and immigration were a puzzle to me.   Of course the confusion contributed to my anxiety level as I had a limited amount of time to get to my Seaport air flight home.   We disembarked at the International flight terminal and walked into a large room where all passengers from all incoming flights were lined to scan their passports into a machine.  With 400 people inline, 6 of 8 machines were functioning. Two attendants were available for assistance and one was fixing machines while the other was directing passengers to the immigration officers.   My turn to scan my passport and answer the list of questions and then have my photo taken, resulted in a successful first attempt.  At the next station the officer looked over my scanned photo, passport and declaration card and then sent me to the another officer who stamped my passport.  Then I ran the hallways to the baggage claim area where I found my pack intact and was directed upstairs to my connecting flight.  I did not expect another security check and I had a knife, liquids and my trekking poles in my pack.  The backpack made it through the scanner just fine.   My day pack got examined as well as my body!  I forgot I had placed a bottle  of water in the pack.  The scanner  did not like my ankles or belly so the woman officer did a pat down to check things out.  Quickly , I got my shoes on, my pack went on my back, I held the day pack and I ran.  Sorta, well jogged, well kinda.  Anyway, my ambulation was much faster than my usual pace.  Coming down the stairs to the Final E gate  I heard the Seaport employee call my name.  There was a quick visit to the bathroom and I walked to the familiar Cessna 9 caravan. With three other passengers on board, the rattling plane gave us smooth and beautiful ride to Pendleton.  Luke and Charlie were at the Pendleton airport, with roses in hand to greet me. It was so very glad to see them I about squeezed the stuffings out of them.

So ends the travel log of my most recent adventures in Spain.  I have not posted to my blog so there will be new stories and pictures coming as I reflect on the events since Sept. 4, 2015.

Buen Camino

Acknowledgements

Bikers (as in motorcyclists) acknowledge each other in passing.  You see the subtle wave between the oncoming biker and the one you are following in your car.  There is a  connection between those who are out on the road, feeling that engine roar or purr (depending on the bike) beneath them.

Cyclist (as in bicyclists) also share a camaraderie.  Pedaling my way between Stanfield and Hermiston on 395 I was stunned by the sudden presence very very close to me.  "On your left" I heard the deep voice say. I knew exactly what to expect and that he expected me to hold my line so he could safely pass. The someone passing me was a tall lanky cyclist. He looked back and said "hope you are having a great ride" as he distanced me.  Coming down the hill by the water tower (yes the one responsible for many letters to the editor. You know... the trade mark watermelon replaced by "Watch Hermiston Grow") I saw another riding pedaling up.  My speed was picking up and I hardly ever remove my hands from the handle bars.  The rider looked up and acknowledged me with a nod and a wave.  I manged to  return these friendly gestures.  There is an understanding between riders. And we acknowledge that with these greetings

When Anne and I first started riding together, I was very slow.  I am slow now so you can imagine what it must have been like for Anne to ride with me then  We planned to meet at the Mormon church (in contrast to my meet up spot with Nancy, the Last Chance Tavern).  I watched for Anne and when I spotted her, I  spotted another rider with her.  Anne must have acknowledged the rider coming in as she was headed out.  The rider turned  around to join her.  The very fit 60 something gentleman saw two women who looked like they were "riders" and decided to take another spin. We can really look the part wearing our bike shorts and jerseys, don't ya know!  We  slowly pedaled out to Space Age and gentleman rider (GR) left us in his dust. We stopped to use the bathroom and hydrate.  After our defueling and fueling break, GR  pulled up.  "Where have you ladies been?" Um, well we had gotten there  in our own time, that was for sure.  We crossed the  highway and  rode out Echo Meadows . GR started commenting on Anne's bike and giving riding advice.  His manner was not too appealing to Anne (she lets her thoughts be known) and  before too long he was at my shoulder offering cycling tips.  Not wanting to lose my balance, I ever so slightly turned my head to him and said "Look, its enough for me to stay upright on these skinny tires.  I don't need your help right now!!". I don't make a habit of being rude to other cyclists, or really to anyone. It must have become obvious that neither Anne nor I were interested in improving our riding under GR's tutelage that fine day. Another rider turned onto the road heading our direction.  GR acknowledged him, and was acknowledged back.  "See you girls, I am going to ride back to town".  Off he went.  Harmless.  GR gave us alot to talk about in rides to come.

About 10 years ago I offered to help a young deacon with some accent reduction so he might be better understood by the congregation. Last fall he returned to our church as a priest. After the long passage of  time and the thousands of people he must have met in numerous churches he served in, he remembered my name! WOW I was impressed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out my business card.  He said "I called you but they didn't know you there". (How quickly one can be forgotten by some but remembers by others)  I saw him again on ASH Wednesday, the first day of Lent,  You know...the reason behind Mardi Gras?  I went to a midday service to receive the ashes, the symbol reminding us to repent and be saved...that we came from the d

ust of the earth and shall return there.  I ended up in line to receive the ashes from him.  He very seriously dispensed the ashes, reciting the brief prayer. And then it came, the acknowledgement, the  wink, a quick smile and twinkling eyes.  We shared a memory of a pleasant time long ago working together. 

A wink, a wave, a nod, a smile,  catching an eye across the room... in that split second of acknowledgement we understand each other. In this world on misunderstanding its a good place to be. Pray for more understanding.  Pray for more connections in this unconnected world. 

When Your Pants Fall Down ( winter Spring 2015)

I rode the single out today. It was 60 degrees with a mild wind. I spent some time at the bike store wondering if I am ready for an upgrade. The nearby high school was letting out for the day and traffic was picking up so I pedaled on with dreams of disc brakes and composite tubing. Riding the familiar routes around town I noticed I kept slipping off the saddle. I adjusted myself back up and realized it was the nylon pants I had put on over my bike shorts. They were too big and too slippery. This was a pleasant problem, having lost enough weight that the pants kept sliding down, but the sliding off the seat,,,not good. I managed well until just about home. Whenever I turn right out of the driveway I have to face THE WEIRD INTERSECTION. I am sure every town has one. You know, the one where newcomers don't know what to do. Free right turn here. Sign that says "Traffic coming from left does not stop" there. And giant trucks full of onions or potatoes looming down and almost cutting across your front tire as you hustle toward the traffic island for safety. So if I have gone right out of my driveway, I usually meet up with THE INTERSECTION coming home. Up to this point in time I have maneuvered THE INTERSECTION a hundred times without incident. Today I waited my turn to go and got only a pedal turn or two, enough to get in the middle of the right of way for those cars that don't need to stop and I slipped right off the seat, lost my pedals and standing upright, also lost those slippery pants off my waist. Don't worry I had shorts underneath and they didn't go far, but it was a predicament .I quickly regained control of the pedals and forgot about the pants and got myself out of that intersection,,, I know there were no less than four drivers who were going to have a story for dinnertime conversation. Time to buy some nice tights I do believe.

Who assembled this group?

There are four women staying at this house.  I am 20 years older than the oldest.  Their life experiences reach far beyond mine.   When I first arrived there was a woman from Seattle, a Washington State Patrol Officer.  Merka had most recently lived in Bend.  Gwen called Portland her hometown.  Gwen's uncle once taught art at Hermiston High and her parents live in Goldendale.  To break up the monotony of  Pacific Northwest Americans there was Alise from Latvia.

Each of these women has had many different careers whereas I had the same employer for 31 years.  They have journied much further in seeking peace iñ their lives...and in fact still search that route daily.  I came to grips with that life journey long ago.  I listened and shared as I can and lifted them up in prayer and thanksgiving.   

Alise had several pages of "questions" for discussion after dinner.  Those around the table went from nearly strangers to close friends as the questions and answers  opened up the stories of our lives.

The State Patrol Officer left in the morning.  Alise, Gwen and I decided to walk to the Costa da Morte to see the lighthouse.  It was a delightful time I will treasure. We walked through the eucalyptus forest and I learned these trees were not it native to Spain.  

The Rio Grande is a lovely river.

  

 When we reached the estuary the white sand beach was covered with millions of tiny scallop shells.  

We took the long way which took us off the highway.  We were tired and stopped to eat at a family owned bar.  After a big meal and 12 km I was ready to call a taxi.  So we went on four wheels the rest of the way.  The lighthouse and coast line were well worth the effort. 

Today we walked a country path to a neighbouring village for groceries.   Then we said our goodbyes to our Latvian.  She insisted on  buying us coffee before she parted with us.  It's funny how in just a few short days you feel so close, like someone you had gone to school with from first grade on.  She is so alive and so beautiful and fighting so many demons.  She loves lighthouses and the ocean and mapped her course to Lisbon so she could see more. My last words to her were "love yourself".   It will be quieter around the dinner table tonight but we will all carry memories of these past few days in our hearts.

Carol, Gwen and Merka 

Alise, Gwen and Carol hiking to the lighthouse

The Little Fox House

Are you wondering what I am up to today?   I awoke before the alarm from a dream about chasing pigs off  Maryhelen Peterson 's porch.   After a luxurious hot shower  I headed to the bus station for tranporttation to a place  where I would still need to walk 18 km.   Just by chance the information office was open at that early hour.  I asked there and found an afternoon bus to the exact location I needed.  (Or so I thought). Now what to do with my time!    I went to a bar where I was served a cafe con leche grande, a small honey covered croissant and a shot of OJ.   It cost 1 Euro! !!!  I walked about 4 blocks from the bus station to the Camino...About 10:30 who should I see but Carol Lundeen and Ann on a fast pace to the Catherdral.  There was a quick exchange of greetings and well wishes and we promised to meet up  Friday.     Now I wait for a bus!.  Ease dropping on the women sitting behind me I heard a variety of American accents.  Southern, Western, Minnesotan.  I inquired if they were headed home.  As we talked I checked out their hiking boots. The condition of one's boots tell a lot.  These boots looked in good shape, almost new.   The woman nearest me explained they had met up in Lisbon for a reunion of Peace Corps workers and decided to walk a little on the Portuguese  route. The conversation was cut short by their bus arriving.  One thing for sure, they had enjoyed shopping.  They juggled  several bags along with their packs. I longed for some non pilgrim clothes..

The bus driver nodded yes when I showed him the name of the town where I thought I needed to be....I had written it on my hand for lack of paper.  I sat right in the front so I could see the countryside and get off at the proper place. It s very nice of the Spanish to have a sign to identify the town when you enter and exit. I did not recognize any of these names.  

The bus  carried workers and people who had been grocery shopping.  No other pilgrim looking person was on board.  One woman had 10 plastic grocery bags of items she had selected from the store. The ride became quite curvy as we wound our way through river valleys and over passes, occasionally stopping alongside the highway when someone flagged the bus down, or pulled the cord to tell the driver they wanted to get off.  Soon the bus was empty of all passengers except me.  The driver glanced at me with twinkly eyes and a grin and cranked up the radio.  We boogied along as if the big bus was actually a sports car. He slowed and stopped near the entrance of a town.  "Vimezeo" he said.  That sounded Italian.  Was this the wrong Bus?  If so it was really really wrong. I had to trust.   Two women sat in the small park  near the bus stop.  I showed them the address of The Little Fox House, thinking I was in the correct town.   They shook their heads and gestured "far far away". Ahah!  I asked if a taxi was necessary and the older woman nodded yes.    Across the street someone's grandmother was standing in a doorway.  She stared gesturing to me. And as I understood it she was telling  me " go down this street and take the first right ." I followed her gestured directions and I entered  a bar.  It made perfect sense to find the taxi driver in a bar. Yikes! Actually  It was siesta time the mentoring nearby  hung out and the women went home to prepare lunch for the children . I walked in the bar in full pack with my walking sticks.  I must admit I was confused when all the men looked at my boots. We're the checking to see how many miles. I walked?  We're they embarrassed for me? "Taxi?" I asked sheepishly.  "Is there a taxi driver here?"  The bartender came around the corner just then and told me to go back to the bus stop where the taxis were parked.   He assured me that a driver would be along soon. I walked out the door and back up the street.  I gave the grandmotherly woman across the street a thumbs up and she smiled.   Soon enough a man appeared at the taxi stand.  While he was taking the sun visor off the windshield I tried to ask in Spanish but I could not think or the word for "fox" and all I could think of was Casa de Ratone.    "Casa de Tracey Saunders?" I asked.  In perfect English he responded "The Little Fox House".  "Yes. Across from the white church". "Of course"  he responded and off we went to a tiny hamlet about 7 km away.  After a short drive I arrived!   Arriving where you are supposed to arrive is a good feeling.  It was especially nice to arrive at this place.

Backyard fences

 Growing up on Berney Drive in Walla Walla I learned a lot about fences.  The man who built our house, Ralph Bramlet, brought a load of lodge pole from his land in Dixie, Idaho.  I was given the job of peeling bark and painting a sealant and holding the poles while we built the lodge pole corral at my folk's house.  Over my backyard fence, pastured by the lodge poles was a big Quarter Horse Thoroughbred cross named Shawna Alate.  She was my first backyard fence connection. We spent all of my free time together.

The fence around the house was woven cedar boards.  My mom stained it red.  Every few years she would don old clothes and a shower cap to protect her hair and paint. I was supposed to help but ended up spilling a lot of expensive stain. What did I care.  For me,  it was fun to go to Van Patten's Lumberyard to purchase more stain.  I had a haircut just like the little kid on the Dutchboy paint can. I pretended it was me.

On the other side of Shawna's pasture was the Fazzari's. They had a short white fence so I had to keep a hot wire up so Shawna would not eat the petunias growing along the their fenceline.  I played a lot with the two younger boys, Greg and Rod.  As we grew up, all four boys and their mom Marie worked at my parents's drive-in, the Ice Burg.

Greg and I developed this saying:

"Meet you at the fence at midnight"

"I'll bring the wine"

"I'll bring the glasses"

And once,  after high school, we actually met at the fence at midnight. 

No one believes I was a rascally kid, but I was.  There are lots of stories about me sneaking into the school on weekends and even one about me escaping out the second floor drama room window and breaking the fall on the awning over the door of the Ala Room and falling into the flower bed...but believe what you will..this next story is true.

My friend in shenanigans was none other than Dawn Adams.  Imagine that.  We loved sneeking around. I think it started at 4-H camp.  One night I snuck over the backyard fences of all the neighbors on one side of her street.   She watched.  I was good! No one switched on lights. Only a few dogs barked. I thought I had a great future ahead  as a climber of fences.  But I was told to keep my day job.

Walking along the French way of the Camino de Santiago in Spain, there were many types of fences.   We also met animals that roamed without any fences.  A few fences come to my mind...and these thoughts have nothing to do with shenanigans, Dutch boy paint or meeting at the fence at midnight.These fences brought special meaning to the walk.

It was another spectacular day on the Camino.  We left Astorga as soon as we could see the yellow arrows painted on pavement, signs and curbs to guide us out of the city. I have  walked this way before and I remembered these places..

We passed the modern church and wondered why the woman holding the chalice and host in one hand  is blindfolded. We visited the small road side chapel and well of "living water"  where the drowning boy was saved by his mother's  pleas to Jesus. We walked across the countryside and farm land and into the rolling hills and then into the mountains. I walked quietly. I listened to the stories around me, the stories of heartaches, infidelity, abuse, alcoholism,   divorce,   addictions,  loss of children and parents and siblings...I carried all this for awhile until I could listen no more and I pushed ahead by myself.  I entered an oak forest. A fence ran alongside the trail. Woven into the fence were crosses....big and little.  I wanted to place my own cross there, but there were so many crosses there was no room to add new ones.  I wanted to build a new fence so I could make more crosses. With no materials available I  hung the sorrows  I heard on the crosses that were already there.    Then I thought of all of my friends at home who have followed my journey with Parkinson's.  I said their (your) names and saw their (your) faces and hung their (your) sorrows on those crosses.

As the trail joined the highway I said  goodbye to the sorrows. It was good to leave all the pain behind. Out in the sunshine now I turned my thoughts to the joys and celebrations and births and graduations and anniversaries. I thought of how much I love  Charlie and Luke  and Loren and Maryhelen  and Laura  and her beautiful Mariska and how much I miss my dad  and my mom.  I was sobbing in joy and relief when I walked into Rabinal with Karen.  Janet and Mary Jo and Deb and  other friends I met along the way were  there to greet  me.   It was a most amazing day.
 I wrote on the Facebook note  "I am spent and full and  empty all at once."

Fences keep things in.  Fences keep things out.  But not me.  I can climb over. 

C minus (almost) 3 but who is counting...why am I posting ridiculous things about Maryhelen?

My  friend  Maryhelen has posted some unusual happenings as of late. A skunk attack while she was hiking, an uninvited bear visit to the community of Fossil. These give me fodder for fun. You see,  Maryhelen and have shared some interesting and challenging  life events. And we have a mutual history  going back to our childhood  that was not identified until we were adults.  Some of the history of our friendship has been based in deeply spiritual encounters, and some has been etched into our lives as  pure mischievous, practical jokes and play, not to exclude water fights and a pink bunny squirt gun.

When I saw the Facebook picture of the "league of adventurous women" my imagination started running wild. The fodder became fuel.   I remember a card Maryhelen sent me picturing a woman trick rider at a rodeo in maybe the 1920's.  From that time on I thought of us as the "Godmothers of the Rodeo." There was a trip to Seaside when, upon  discovering the bar at the Shilo Inn was closed because of a special visitor, a  certain Tricia did a sheik imitation and Maryhelen and I were her bodyguards.  Flying out of Rome in first class on Air Aitalia we chose to rewrite the script to the "Three Musketeers" movie and annoy the passengers who paid for first class with our hysterical storyline.  

Life connections come  through many different avenues. I had just met Maryhelen through Diosesean church activities when we saw each other at her "aunt" and my "godmothers " funeral in Walla Walla. Loretta often mentioned taking me to Fossil to ride Arabian horses with her nieces. So it took me until October 1994 to trailer my paint horse to the Dusty Saddle Ranch and ride with Maryhelen, mounted on a grey Arabian, probably a descendent of the horses she and her sisters rode as kids.

Sitting on the steps outside the church in Medjugorje, Bosnia-Herzegovina, the church of St James, we shared deep personal stories of giving, receiving and letting go. We joined thousands of people from around the world kneeling in prayer so powerful that some souls were physically overcome as Satan left them kicking and screaming in the losing battle against the Holy Spirit. 

We walked daily from our lodging in a visionary's home to the church of St James, praying and playing.

And in a few days we will walk on another path, west towards the Cathedral of St James. We will walk as far as Maryhelen has time.  And then, another year she will return to sit on the steps of church of St James. Santiago de Compostela.

I laughed hysterically looking for the pictures of the wing walking women. It took my mind away from wondering which clothes to discard in order to make my pack lighter or if i calculated the correct amount of medications I would need for the trip. Or if I was going to really catch the commuter flight into Pendleton after flying  Madrid to Frankfurt to Portland and going through customs and passport control.  

Laughter is so good for the soul. It washes away anxieties and fears and worries of our ineptness. Thanks Maryhelen for allowing me to poke some fun at you.  It's all pure fun. You know I'm not actually a crazed lunatic setting you up to do rolls in a crop duster. And I know that if I ever was to reach a breaking point, you would put me back together with duct tape and bailing string and all would be well.

Wednesday Thursday and then Friday we fly.

C minus 6 But who is counting.

The last couple of weeks I have met many new Camino friends.  Women who set out solo or in pairs to walk the same path of the Camino Frances in early September have made connections with each other through Buddy System on the Camino,  APOC and the Portlandia Chapter of APOC.   Interesting how you can start online conversations trying to figure out which train to take because none seem to go where you want to go, or you make a post on  someones question about toe socks and end up feeling like life long friends.  I wonder if I will come across the walkers I've met online. They hail from Victoria BC, Saint Paul, MN, Vancouver, WA, Portland, OR, Australia and places I have forgotten.  Who will I meet in Paris,  Bayonne, Saint Jean Pied de Port, Ronscesvailles, Pamplona or other points along the way. The people, that is what the Camino has become for me.Their stories.  What they will carry.  What they will leave at  home.  What they will leave on the Camino,  And what makes their hearts beat.

A friend I actually met on the Camino in 2012 is  walking this fall.  ,,, Jennifer de la Riva.... a different path.  In response to her blog post tonight I wrote this...

The pilgrim paths I tread have felt the pounding of millions of heart beats. From ancient times to present days the rhythms remain unchanged.  Fast heartbeats when the path leads to acceleration and quick change and heavy heartbeats when the path leads to slow discernment.   The heartbeats  intertwine and murmur their secrets until they are known by all the Ways to Santiago.   Your Way knows mine.  My Way knows yours.   We walk different paths yet share the same Way,,, heartbeats of the Camino de Santiago.  I will carry your intentions in my heart.

I will carry you all in my heart.


My designated walking buddies are:
Maryhelen
Carol
Ann

I will try to interview them for their perspectives on walking the Camino de Santiago.

C minus 9 but who is counting Are you prepared to walk the camino?

Its so quiet in the house right now.  Luke and I stopped at Starbucks on the way to his first day as a junior in high school.  We parked the big pickup in the far parking lot and I watched him walk away, his University of Oregon backpack hanging squarely on  his broad shoulders and his head down, eyes lost in his phone, looking for the right music to keep calm. He was very nervous this morning.  About 4 inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than he walked out the high school doors last spring...he looks like a grown man, yet he is just  a big kid.  I said the usual momma prayers, keep him safe from all evil, help him focus and let  him be a strong and righteous young man...send him to good teachers who connect with him.  Let security and safety prevail over this school building....

Earlier, I got up and went to morning mass.   Luke was awake and getting dressed.  I said "Luke, I am going to Mass this morning to honor my mom.  She died 25 years ago today."  He looked up at me and sincerely said "oh. I am sorry mom".  Those who know Luke will realize what a breakthrough statement he just made. My heart is still crying.

The house will be quiet when I am gone to Spain.  Luke will go to school each day.  Charlie will start his day with morning Mass and then go about his community service work and the small jobs he does to make extra change. I wonder, do  houses get lonely? 

In this quiet I am thinking about the Camino.  9 days until Paris.  All the tickets are bought, reservations made up to Pamplona.  I have everything ready in my pack.  I could walk out the door right now.

What I am pondering now is another kind of preparation.  Beyond the physical planning, the purchasing of clothing, weighing the pack, scheduling, hiking, weightlifting, trying on different shoes...

Am I spiritually ready?  I am emotionally prepared?  Am I mentally toughened?  Do I have personal discipline to follow through?

Walking for hours on end...some of that time is spent talking and singing.  There is also alot of quiet time.  Time that is not filled with all the noise that fills your  head at home. You will think about alot of "things".  Those things that need to be kept will be kept.  Those things that need to be left behind will be left.  They will be trodden into the Camino by thousands, maybe millions of footsteps, just as you walk now  on the sorrows, pains, tragedies left behind by the thousands, maybe millions of pilgrims who have walked before you.

I first walked the Camino Frances 4 years after my diagnosis with Parkinson's Disease.  It was on the Meseta, on a very hot day, on our 25 wedding anniversary, that I yelled at God and let my anger loose for giving me this disease. And God yelled back.  "Look where you are!  Look what you are doing."  And I left the anger there for other Pilgrims to trod so deeply into that soil that it will never return.  And God has allowed me to keep walking, and cycling and moving.

Such a range of emotions.
 I copied this from someones blog, and I am sorry I don't remember who to give them credit.

Prepare for the unpreparable-for. You will cry and scream and shout and hate people, things and trees.  You will rail against the world, yourself, your shoes and your pack (but never your stick).  You'll be jealous, petty, hungry, thirsty, furious, ecstatic, joyful, silly, sick, stupid, inane and perfect.  You'll be intensely involved with the intricate workings and changes in your own body and you'll be thrown up against a wide variety of people from all over the world.  You'll essentially be given a crash course in what it means to be human. Enjoy the hell out of it.

You can't be prepared for everything.  But you can be open.  Keep and leave.  Give, and be willing to receive.

Novena in honor of the Holy Feet of Jesus

Novena in Honor of the Holy Feet of Jesus

Day One – With Mary and Joseph we adore the Infant Feet of Jesus (Lk. 2: 8-19)

Beloved Jesus, your infant feet, cared for and adored by Mary and Joseph, were a visible sign of your innocence and purity. May we strive always to imitate your innocence and purity. As we adore your Holy Feet, may your merits win for us the requests we make to the Father in your name. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Two – The Holy Feet of Jesus bridge Heaven and Earth (Jn. 1: 14)

Beloved Jesus, your Holy Feet were the living bridge between Heaven and Earth. Each step you took sanctified and cleansed the world you came to save. May we be filled with unending gratitude for this amazing grace. We adore your Holy Feet as we make our requests with confidence in your saving love. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Three – The Holy Feet of Jesus carry the Good News to the poor (Mt. 11: 4-5)

Beloved Jesus, how your Holy Feet suffered as they trod the hot and dusty roads of the Holy Land to bring the Good News to the poor. May we imitate your untiring devotion in spreading the Gospel message. As we adore your Holy Feet, so battered for our sake, may you look with kindness upon our requests. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Four – Jairus falls at the Holy Feet of Jesus to make his request (Mk. 5: 22-43)

Beloved Jesus, you had mercy on Jairus who fell at your Holy Feet and made supplication to you for the life and health of his daughter. In your mercy you rewarded his faith and answered his prayer. May you look with mercy on us also as we fall at your Holy Feet to make our requests in faith and trust. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Five – Mary sits at the Holy Feet of Jesus listening to him (Lk. 10: 38-42)

Beloved Jesus, you told Martha that her sister Mary had chosen the “better part” in choosing to sit at your feet and listen to you. Like Mary, may we always choose the better part. As we sit at your Holy Feet to listen to you and worship you, may you look on our requests with love and compassion. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Six – A woman kisses the Holy Feet of Jesus (Lk. 7: 36-50)

Beloved Jesus, this woman bathed your Holy Feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. She covered your feet with kisses and anointed them with costly oil. May we also show you great love in gratitude for all we have been given and forgiven. With confidence and trust in your great love for us, we humbly make our requests to you today. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Seven – The Holy Feet of Jesus are nailed to the cross (Mk. 15: 25)

Beloved Jesus, you allowed your Holy Feet to be nailed to the cross out of love for us. You allowed your precious blood to spill to the earth from the wounds made by the nails. Give us the courage we need to stand at the foot of the cross–with our Blessed Mother and St. John–and kiss your Holy Feet. May the precious blood shed from your Holy Feet win for us the requests we humbly make today. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Eight – The disciples embrace the Holy Feet of the risen Lord (Mt. 28: 1-10)

Beloved Jesus, you met the disciples on the road after you had risen from the dead. In love and joy they embraced your Holy Feet and paid you homage. May we also worship you as Lord and Savior, embracing your Holy Feet. In your infinite mercy, please take our requests to the Father whose glory you share. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Day Nine – God puts all things under the Holy Feet of Jesus (1 Co. 15: 25)

Beloved Jesus, your reign will last until you have placed all your enemies under your Holy Feet. May our prayers and sacrifices hasten the day of your coming in glory. Risen Lord, merciful King, look with favor on our requests and grant them according to your holy will. (Make requests here.)

Holy Feet of Jesus we kiss you and adore you. 

(Pray the Our Father ten times.)

Not even Nemo. Reposted from June

Not even Nemo could keep me inside the MRI.  I was snug in the narrow MRI tube.  Under my knees was a pillow.  A wedge kept my lower back and pelvis in a comfortable position. Soft blocks held my shoulders in the tray. My head was enclosed in a cage that reminded me of a Lacrosse helmet.  A handsome young man, Sam, was at the controls. "Ramp up the air, Sam".  Full blast was not enough!  I watched the beginning of "Finding Nemo" through a mirror strategically arranged to catch the projection of the movie from Sam's laptop. The beginning of Nemo is quite sad. Tears started slipping from the corners of my eyes. "Breath  Carol Breathe" I chanted to myself.  "Soon you and Dorie will be swimming with the turtles".  Then, a cramp in my back.  Tears came harder.  I realized I was not going to make it through 70 minutes of this brain scan.   #2  scan completed its pinging and banging sounds. Thank God it was quiet for a second.  "Sam ?" "Yeah Carol. Ready for the next scan?"  I choked on my words.  I didn't have the courage to stay in and didn't have the courage to tell Sam I wanted out. "Carol, what's going on? Carol?" "Get me out Sam!". Sam must have run from the control room because he was right there when the tray slid me out.  

Some months ago I was contacted by a research assistant in the Gait and Balance lab at Oregon  Health Sciences University.  He described a study that fit me perfectly, except for one part.......15 scans of my brain in an enclosed MRI with  no PD meds and no ingestion of a calming agent of any kind.  The study was looking for correlations between balance and cognitive skills.  I had already completed three hours of cognitive testing without much break before I was lead over to the OHSU hospital for the MRI. I was tired , a little weepy over poor Nemo's Dad losing his wife and kids. Except for little left uneaten Nemo, Dad Clownfish was alone in the world. I felt alone...in the busy hospital, with caring researchers and my husband of 33 years nearby...I felt alone.

We PWP can feel alone sometimes.  We can feel unwanted because we are different, or uncertain because of the physical and mental challenges we face. Left behind because we can't keep up.   Nemo followed the "skippers" away from the "school" was drawn by the big blue sea. For awhile he was lost and alone. There were lots of scary things "out there".  Things that wanted to eat him up, or misguide him, or sweep him away.  Although getting caught up in the big net can be such a bummer, Nemo and PWP survive by following Dorie's advice to "Just keep swimming swimming swimming."

They let me come back the next day. This time we traveled to Beaverton. The research team had identified some value in the data I provided.  So the wiring began at 9:15 am.  I walked fast, walked slow, turned right, turned left, spun around, walked a tight rope,  stood on foam cushions with and without eyes open. These activities were simple enough until I had to double task; balance and walking and spinning while counting backwards from 297 by threes or naming every other  letter of the alphabet.  After a  couple hours of this rodeo, I was whisked off to Dr Dan's office where more cognitive tests were administered.  One test I had to name as many words beginning with "f" as I could.  Made me wonder what some people say cuz I was in such a mood by then that the "f" word almost snuck out. Hungry, tired and craving meds we got on MAX and snoozed to the Lloyd center for food and fellowship with an old friend.

I saw my friend Brandi today.  She asked if I received compensation for my time.  I told her I was given lunch money. She asked me how I felt about being a research subject.  I feel, as I have from the very day I was diagnosed.  I have to find some good in this miserable disease.  If my experiences as a research subject will one day make another PWP's life easier, than by golly its worth any bit of inconvenience its caused me.

I think I will watch the rest of Nemo now.

I put on my boots today updated Aug 23, 2015

I put on my boots today updated Aug 23, 2015

Reaching into my closet with my good arm while  the rest of my body was squeezed between the rocking chair and the closet door may not have been the greatest idea. I was stiff and hurting if not from the Parkinsons Disease which is progressing  through  my body, then the 30 minutes on the bicycle trainer at 80 rpm or higher.  I wanted my boots, my hiking boots. But I was getting myself stuck. I put them on once a few months ago then hid them away where I could not see them, under the  sweaters and blouses hung there in hopes I will be able to fit in them again.  The boots called to me, "Come wear me". "Walk me over hills, through vineyards and on the hard pavement and cracked sidewalks of city streets." The insides felt so familiar to my feet.  I needed to be reminded of that comfortable supportive feeling.  The smoothness of the custom orthotics took away the tingling in the bottoms of my feet.  So thats where they had been,those orthotics, hiding with my boots. These nice Keen boots that had protected my feet while  walking on the GR 65, the Chemin le Puy from Montcuq, France to Ronscevailes Spain in the spring of 2013.  I had very few blisters wearing these Keens.   Do they have another go round left in them?  Do I ?

It turns out that the old friends are too worn.  They helped my body get through all that mud on GR 65 in 2013 and the wonderful mud, as (facial mudd is supposed to do,) closed up the pores (in this case the breathability pores in the boot membranes). I need to move on to a new pair.  
Will the new blue made in USA Keens be the ones? Will they provide as good as  "understanding" as the old ones.  Will they reveal to me their heart and sole?  Will they say "Don't tread on me" when someone with large feet gets too close. My boots need to commit to my feet.  

 Boots are such a personal thing...you can't go out and buy them for another person.  The new blue Keens and I are dating.  If they dont work out in some training hikes they can be returned. 

My Update:The new blue Keens have a place in my life. Not sure when I will turn to them again.  Due to a number of reasons I now sweat like crazy.  My feet were coming out of those Keens  feeling like I just stepped out of a bucket of water.  So I revisited REI and found these HOKAs. They feel cushy and they allow my feet to breath so that the toe sock liners wick the moisture away to the next layer, my thin to medium weight hiking socks!   Hurray.  I am set!! WillHurray.  I am set!!

C minus 14 but who is counting...trying my stuff out.

When I was a little girl, coming home from shopping meant trying everything on again to show dad. Today was my  "try it on day".  So, Dad what do you think?

It's important to me to know what Dad thinks. Shortly before he passed away in December Dad reminded me. "Carol do what you want to do while you can.  Don't wait and then have regrets".  

I take those words to heart and put them into action. Glad for his blessing  I keep dreaming, planning, adventuring.  In this race against time I am a head in front of Mr Parkinsons.  Coming down the backstretch I hope to beat him by lengths.

Trying stuff out.  

Everything I take on the Camino has to be tried and true. So there has been need to replace some of my travel gear.  Shopping online is such fun!! Waiting for the goods is not.

The woman who delivers the mail has been bringing me lots of packages.  She makes me happy. I've excitedly met her at the door or in the driveway or I have even scrambled out to greet her at the road. 

    

I gleefully take the package and sing " it's Christmas again it's Christmas again."  She is a friendly person and smiles and laughs with me but probably wonders. Today I happened  to be out by the mailbox when she pulled in with the package from Amazon. Retuning  from my practice hike  I am wearing  new clothes, my full  pack, with trekking poles in hand and dripping sweat.  She doesn't eask.  Do postal workers have a code of ethics?  Are they sworn to secrecy.? Did they take a vow  of a confidentiality?   Yesterday I missed her delivery of my daily package. Stuffed iin the mailbox was an REI envelope containing  bargains  from the outlet: A new Sahara shirt and a base layer top  Oh do I love new things.   Thank you postal worker .

A little about today's walk

My clothes from my pack were spread all over. On the Camino I will need to be better about keeping things in their place.   The items were easily stuffed  back  inside and maybe ended up where they actually belong.  Socks and boots are no question  for me.  I am set there.  Yet I need to consider how long it takes to do any taping and get the toe socks on. No issues with my trekking poles.  I decided to try out a selfie stick.  though I  not sure I'm going to take it. It was kind of fun to figure it out. I filled a big water bottle and stuck it in the proper pocket and didn't even make me off balance ( which tells me something  else is off balance in my pack.)  

Off I went across the street, down the sidewalk, past the hospital and up the Butte.  The Butte is the only hill around here.  Inside ithe basalt dome is the city's water tank.  It's more if asthetic  now that ithey took the ugly reservoir off the top and buried it there in the basalt. The Butte is covered with trails. some with  pretty steep pitches and others are just gentle grades. Today I walked over as fast as I could and took several of the grades up and down especially "down" where I realized I haven't been doing enough down because going down my knees started a litany of complaints. Ignoring the pain,   I hauled back home quite fast. 

I'm sprawled out on my bedroom floor again, resting. This time I'm not leaving a huge puddle outlining my sweaty body. Immediately upon entering the house my boots were removed.  Sweaty hiking clothes were peeled off.  I walked directly into the shower.  Clean and cool now it feels good to be sprawled out.  

My mom once told me the world is the biggest classroom. Travel and learn.  My dad encouraged me to go now when I can, while  I am physically and mentally able.  

Travel enriches me on so many different levels.  But what about the Parkinson's?  What about the back pain.?  

 I can and do have the same issues wherever I am in the world.  So why not travel? 

Two weeks from today I will fly to Paris!

C minus 17, but who is counting

Getting up off the bedroom floor and looking down at the carpet I see the complete shape of my body. It's an outline left from my sweat. I would have drowned in that pool if the carpet had not  been there to soak it up!

Just a few minutes before,  I came in from the walk and plopped down on the couch.  Both hands were tremoring.  And I mean TREMORING!  I called to Charlie.  "Come here, you have got to see this!"  He took a look and said "Oh yeah. Look at that.  Remember you have just put a big strain on your body.  It was really hot out there. Cool off and rest". I managed to remove my boots and socks and stagger a few steps before collapsing on the bedroom floor. The walk was the fastest I've walked 5 miles, I am sure of  it.  I didn't have my backpack on thank goodness!   It was enough to be out in the almost 90° weather walking  on sidewalks, roads and a paved path. I learned from bicycling that  heat  generates up from black top. In addition to the 90° air temperature that makes over  hundred degrees walking. Add to that,  I woke up this morning with a terrific headache. Charlie and I talked about being able to have the discipline to keep moving toward our goals in adverse conditions and today's walk was a great example of it. I am TOUGH!

About three years ago I joined the pilgrims of the Portlandia chapter of the American Pilgrims on the Camino for one of their Sundays strolls. Even with my trekking poles I was so slow  that I fell way behind the entire group.  Pilgrim Robin had the "sweep up" role on the hike.  She and I visited about our camino experiences as the dust settled from the other pilgrims ahead of us.   I was slow, uncoordinated and in pain.

This past  Sunday my friend  Carol and I joined the Portlandia group for the third Sunday stroll and the "shells ceremony". This lovely tradition is a  blessing from past pilgrims to the new pilgrims who will be walking the Camino within the next month. Two things were especially meaningful to me as I shared this experience with the 60 plus pilgrims gathered. First,  to be able to walk unassisted with a strong pace near the front of the group while carrying on a conversation amazed me.  For two miles I easily navigated speedy straightaways,  tight switchbacks, traverses up and down  steep creek-bed banks. Wow! I'm sure that no one else  could understand what it meant to me to be able to move with such agility.The ear to ear grin may have been seen yet not questioned.  At first  I held this other picture in my mind, the one of the slow pilgrim disabled by Parkinson's Disease. This walk greatly diminished that image.
Secondly,  I was touched to receive a blessing from people who have walked before us  and who will be walking with us on the Camino in their hearts.I will carry the new shell for them.

As Charlie and I left the driveway of  our  house this morning I recalled the time  I just started to walk again.  I walked out the front door  to the mailbox and back.  Next time I walked out door, I made it across the street. Then  I made it to the sidewalk and down to the next driveway, out  the corner of the street, to the hospital and back around the hospital and back of the Butte. And before too long I was up and down the Butte three times in a row.

There's no putting a price tag on these experiences.  There is no measure of  my gratefulness.

Charlie and I talked more about discipline. The discipline to walk when you have a splitting headache. The disciple to walk when recovering from an injury. The disciplie to walk when your body is frozen with Parkinson's Disease. The discipline to walk even if that means slowly putting 1 foot in front of the other.  Discipline to keep moving. Keep Moving. Keep moving. keep moving. Discipline  and the spirit of determination to fight Parkinson's as it tries to gain  controll   That's what keeps us going in life.   You  have to put one foot in front of the other when your heart is broken when your spirit is shattered when you have lost a loved one when your job sucks. Take one little positive action,  one little step at a time, moving forward. Soon the miles are covered, the hardship is overcome and you come to that  place of peace and where you can rest for a while.

 C minus 17 days. The countdown has begun. 

a late night post to Buddy System on the Camino

Hi girls I am a middle aged woman with Parkinson's Disease. I move slowly but steadily. I have traveled in various parts of Europe but have loved no adventure more than my Camino experiences. There is no better feeling than to know you have the courage and skills to travel independently. The Camino is all about meeting fellow pilgrims who become your family while you walk. Please do not travel in fear. Be alert and cautious but not fearful. I offer you these general suggestions, some you have read about and others may be new to you. Please feel free to comment and add. Here is my random thought flow…
Leave jewelry and anything more than basic make-up at home.
After you arrive in Europe rest and acclimatize. Jet lag can cause you to be groggy and you should be rested and alert when you start.
If you walk in shorts you are likely to get the Camino rash from your ankles to your knees. Its a mystery rash that goes away. Also be prepared for some chaffing between your legs. And most important is foot care! Walking 500 miles fighting blisters is not fun.
Its very fun to have wine or beer with friends in the evening. Walking back to your albergue with a buzz on and tripping and getting hurt is not fun. And beware of Camino Casinovas.
Having cash is fun. Get your money from an ATM just inside the doors of an open bank. If you have trouble with card or the machine eats it help is nearby. Keep your cash,cards and passport on you at all times.And always have a couple days of cash in small bills on hand. Take your important stuff and money in the shower in a plastic bag.
Listen for bicyclists coming up behind you on the narrow trails. They are supposed to ring their bike bell or call a warning but many dont, or you may have your music up too loud to hear them. Be alert so you dont collide
The water in the fountains along the WAY is good to drink unless otherwise marked. This is not to say you wont have a tummy ache, bout of diarrhea or catch a cold. Have a few tablets of whatever you use at home and then visit or send a friend to the farmacia to get more. Email pictures of your bottled prescriptions and travel documents to yourself so that they can be viewed from a computer in town even if you lose your cell phone. The farmacia was able to fill my lost Parkinson's meds without a question.
. Remember that you can always get a taxi and almost always ride a bus. The bus is cheap and modern and can catch you up to friends if you need to rest a day. Luggage can be sent ahead so a small string bag with your rain jacket and water bottle may be all you need to carry.Weight makes a big difference, especially when you are not at your best.
You may walk quite a ways before finding a bar with a bathroom. Know "how to go" outside. Carry a little tp and a plastic bag. You are going to be appalled at where people "go" so dont contribute to the mess.
When you find your albergue for the night... request a bottom bunk if you are one of our older sisters or have trouble climbing ladders. I hang my sarong ,towel and jacket around my bottom bunk to create a visual barrier between myself and that 30 year old guy from Holland snoring three feet from my head. Don’t get anxious about finding a bunk for the night just because you are slow like me. There are many more options than albergues. Private albergues take reservations. Casa Rurales are lovely option bed and breakfast lodging and there are often rooms connected with bars. Keep asking.
Dogs have been watching people walk the Camino for centuries. They will not trouble you unless you step inside their barn to pee! Just a warning.
You will come across herds of beautiful horses, sheep and cows on open range and will meet up with those being herded. They, like the dogs, have “pilgrim watching” bred into them. But have one spook as you try to pet it may result in a camino ending kick bunt or bite. Record their beauty with your camera.
I personally see no reason to walk in the dark. And those headlamps you wear to find your way to the bathroom in the albergue shine wherever you look, which could be right in my eyes. A tiny flashlight is fine.
I hope these other "health and "safety" issues are useful. I will be landing in Madrid Sept 9 and taking the train to Pamplona. I will be walking until I fly home on Oct.6. If you want to walk with me be prepared to pray, sing, tell stories, eat ice cream at least three times a day and laugh a lot. At my slow pace there is plenty of time for these activities. I always wear a pink cap and I have a blue pack with camino patches
Buen Camino peregrinas. Carol, the Pilgrim with Parkinsons

Lik

Don't Beat your Bike with a Rock...

the desired effects may not be obtained

Just a short distance from my house my bike decided to tip over. The poor Bianchi hurt itself into an un-ridable condition.  I, on the other hand, had a nice conversation with the lady in the car my bike was intending to avoid when it fell over. For the first time in my life I beat my bike with a rock trying  to bend the bent up parts back to where they should have been so I could finish the ride home. No such luck.  I should have known that when you take a big rock to your bike it does not make matters any better.  It did make me feel a little better,tho. I cried the obligatory tear of humility. I let one or two slip when I have to walk my bike home because it has been bad.  The bike is repairable and I was not in need of repair (for once)  The husband showed up to pick me up about 100 feet from the house.  I loved his comment "Ya want me to try to fix it so you can finish your ride?" Then he looks it over. "I think it needs to go to the shop" He says.  I didn't tell him that was probably more  due

to my beating it with a big rock than the actual crash.

Tomorrow I am riding in the car!