Getting my arms back after my accident: Things I can't wait to do

Eight weeks ago, I somersaulted over the handlebars of an all-terrain vehicle and broke both my wrists. For the past two months, I've had casts and/or splints on both arms, which has kept me home from work and seriously cramped my adventurous spirit.

Here are some things I can't wait to do when I finally regain the full use of my arms and hands:

1. Paddling a dragon boat with the Mighty Women.

2. Playing my djembe drum again--especially around a campfire.

 

3. Hiking and backpacking adventures.

4. Alpine skiing! I took my first solo runs last winter, and hoped to improve this year. My orthopedic doctor gently suggested skiing might have to wait a year. But maybe x-country skiing or snow shoeing?

5. Paddling kayaks and canoes.

 

6. Regaining my arm strength to shoot my bow.

 

7. Riding a zip line with my daughter, Kate. We had a blast zipping last summer.

8. Spelunking! Looking forward to exploring more caves.

9. Dancing! I'm itching to get back to country swing, contra dancing with pal Brenda Cartino and take another belly dancing lesson with girlfriends.

   

10. Driving--and be independent! I miss taking solo trips to have adventures in the mountains, on rivers, to the beach. It is hard for a woman who is paddling her own canoe to be dependent on others for transportation.

11. Manipulating zippers and buttons so I can wear jeans, shirts with sleeves, coats, jackets and sweaters. And lace-up shoes rather than slip-ons. This week with cooler weather and rain, I bought a cape at Goodwill. Flamboyant? Yes. Practical? Absolutely. I can't get my cast in coat sleeves.

12. I can't believe the tomboy in me is putting this on my list, but here goes:Giving myself pedicures so I feel pretty and pampered. Wear earrings and necklaces. Wear a little make up again once in awhile. Make a pony tail in my hair.

!3. Working! Type with both hands. Write quickly--and drive to schools all over Clark County to write stories. I miss my newsroom peeps! I typed this post with one hand--and it took far too long.

Conquering old fears: Leaving the bunny hill behind

Last weekend, I experienced the exhilaration of conquering a three-decade fear
when I left the bunny hill behind, rode the chair lift and skied down a big hill.
Yes, I fell. Multiple times. But I got up again and kept going.

Has a terrifying experience while trying something new paralyzed you from getting "back on the horse?"

At age 19, I had a frightening first experience on a ski slope that kept me from alpine skiing for 34 years. Apparently, I'm not the first woman who has been dragged up a ski lift by a well-meaning boyfriend without first having a lesson on the basics. I didn't know how to turn, slow down or stop.

However, I did know how to scream at a decibel level that registered in the next county. After nearly tumbling off the ski lift, I fell all the way down the mountain, screaming in terror. My sister, Judy, was working outside in the ski resort's restaurant that day and recognized my scream echoing from the top of the mountain all the way down to the lodge.

That horrific experience kept me from the slopes for 34 years.

Last winter, Kirby, a certified ski instructor and my significant other, taught me to snowplow, turn, stop, control my speed. On the itty-bitty hill, he skied backward in front of me, coaxing me down the hill. On the way back up, I rode the magic carpet lift with the other beginners, all younger than me by decades.

Next, I rode up the handle tow and snowplowed slowly down the bunny hill. Again, Kirby skied backward in front of me, encouraging me all the way down. After several runs, he asked if I was ready for the chair lift, but I wasn't. That fear of falling still gripped me. I skied the bunny hill all weekend.

This ski season, I was determined to conquer my fear. Kirby told me people don't fall off the chair lift. But I'm accomplished at falling. If anyone could fall off the chair lift, it would be me.

After I made two successful runs down the bunny hill, Kirby asked if I was ready for the chair lift. I gulped, but nodded. I knew I had to face my fear. As we skied toward the chair lift, I boosted my confidence with positive self-talk: "You are a Mighty Woman dragon boat paddler. You've done zip lining, stand up paddle board and belly dancing. You can do this."

Kirby coached me on how to hold my poles in one hand, grab the chair lift with the other hand and sit down. I had a klutzy nanosecond and accidentally dropped one of my poles. But the snowboarder behind us picked up my pole and took it to the top of the lift for me.

As we approached the point to get off the chair lift, Kirby calmly coached me again: "Stand up, go into a snowplow and ski to the right."

Although my heart was beating wildly, I did it--and I didn't fall!

Kirby took me down the easiest run, coaching me down the mountain. For the most part, I did OK, snowplowing extremely slowly in a wide zig-zag. But when skiers and snowboarders began zipping around me, I panicked, lost my nerve and fell. Multiple times. I became an expert at getting up.

But then I reminded myself: "You've got this! You're the girl with the dragon tattoo! You can do this."

That positive self-talk--and knowing how to control my skis--made all the difference. So did Kirby's calm encouragement. On the second day, I even did some parallel turns.

Then my legs got tired and I started falling again. On my last run of the weekend, we went down a hill that ended with a fast, straight stretch all the way down to the lodge.

In reality, I wasn't skiing that fast, but to me, it seemed I was zooming down the mountain. The best part was that I felt in complete control--and I didn't scream or fall. But I'm sure I smiled.

Next year, I'm going to parallel ski all the way down the mountain.

Resolutions: Dreaming great dreams for 2014

What New Year's resolutions did you make last year? Did you keep them? Last year, I made a complicated list of resolutions with short-term and long-term goals. I didn't fulfill any of them.

If I learned anything in 2013, it's the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Here are my 2014 resolutions, which will be much easier to keep:

• Get more exercise.
• Eat healthier food.
• Spend more time with family and friends.
• Don't sweat the small stuff.
• Don't let the past prevent me from living fully in the present.
• Have more fun.

2013 adventures I don't want to repeat: moving three times in three months and downsizing to 540 square feet with no bathroom, kitchen or heat. Despite those challenges, I had an amazing year.

Here are highlights of my 2013 adventures:

Getting a tattoo--a paddling dragon!
Now I carry my dragon boat paddle everywhere!

 

Facing a wall of mirrors in a belly dancing studio,
 and enjoying learning to move my body--
and to love my body.

Pushing myself to my physical limits while
paddling a dragon boat with the Mighty Women.





Trying downhill skiing again after age 50.
My only other experience, at age 19,
was scary and a disastrous blow to my confidence.

Learning to shoot a bow like Katniss of "The Hunger Games."





Paddling a handmade skin-on-frame kayak with Kirby and
other paddlers on the Colville River near where I grew up.

Sleeping in a teepee!

Convincing fellow Columbian reporters to paddle with me in
dragon boat races on Vancouver Lake. 

Having adventures with my daughter, Katie, including meeting
Spock, Kirk and tribbles at Trek in the Park with Holly and Charlie.
 





Playing an African djembe drum in many gatherings, including
around a campfire and under a full moon with other musicians. 

Learning to swing dance with Kirby at a crowded pub,
We were the only couple dancing--and people applauded!





 

Paddling a kayak on a blue-sky day
with my pal Patty Ingraham.



Shooting a bow like Katniss Everdeen

Katniss Everdeen of "The Hunger Games" is an expert bow hunter

What's on your bucket list? Is there a skill, experience or adventure you've long dreamed about? What steps can you take toward making your dream a reality?

For many years, I'd wanted to learn to shoot a bow. I'd read The Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit. In the LOTR movies, Legolas made shooting a bow seem effortless.

My daughter got me hooked on reading The Hunger Games trilogy whose heroine, Katniss Everdeen, is smart, spunky, confident and an expert at shooting a bow. She's not the kind of girl waiting around for some guy to rescue her.

Before I had the opportunity to shoot a bow, I met Heather Phillips, a world-class atlatl thrower. I'd heard of this primitive hunting weapon, but I'd never seen one. Last summer at the Echoes in Time primitive skills gathering, Heather taught me to throw an atlatl. She had recently tied for second in the world during an ISAAC (International Standard Atlatl Accuracy Competition).



Heather Phillips, a world-class atlatl thrower, showing how it's done.

Heather's first-grade daughter, Ryleigh, and her freshman stepdaughter, Kachira, also gave me pointers. They've been throwing atlatl for years. I'm just a beginner. But I'm eager to learn more from Heather and the girls next year.

About a month after Heather's atlatl lesson, Kirby taught me to shoot a bow. Not only has Kirby been shooting a bow since he was eight years old, but he also makes his own bows, arrow shafts and arrowheads. He's successfully hunted deer, elk, bear and moose with a bow.

Kirby the bow hunter in his element.

Pulling the bowstring and aiming is much more difficult than it looks. And I was using the easy one that Kirby used when he was in elementary school. Here I thought I had these amazing dragon boating biceps, but pulling the bowstring used different muscles. It also took concentration. During my first lesson, I was aiming for a certain sage brush. At first, it took coordination to prevent the arrow from falling off the string before I made my shot. When Kirby and I searched for my arrows, many were nowhere near the "target" sage brush.

Unlike Katniss, I am a beginner. Here I am during my first
bow lesson last summer. Yikes! My right arm seems way too high.

By my second bow lesson with Kirby, my accuracy improved with each shot. After several attempts, I shot three of my four arrows into my target--an empty milk jug weighted with gravel. Archery is just as fun as I imagined it would be. But it's much more difficult. I have much to learn and look forward to my next lesson!

Next week, the second Hunger Games movie, Catching Fire, will be released in theaters. I'm looking forward to seeing Katniss shoot her bow. Maybe I can pick up some pointers.

If I, a middle-aged and still overweight woman, can paddle a dragon boat, belly dance, throw an atlatl and shoot a bow, imagine what new skill you could do. The first step is believing in yourself so that you're not afraid to try. Be brave. Go for it!



By my second lesson, my accuracy improved. After several attempts,
I shot three of my four arrows into my target--an empty milk jug weighted with gravel.

Be bold--and don't lose your nerve

Last weekend, I found myself careening downhill on skis -- going too fast and out of control. I lost my nerve and fell on my back. Hard.  

It was a flashback to my first skiing experience 34 years earlier as a teenager. I hadn't skiied again since then.

In 1979, my boyfriend at the time, an experienced skier, dropped me off at the bunny hill and left to ski the big hill. I watched the little kids around me and tried to figure out how to ski. I was at least a decade older than all of them. Later, my boyfriend returned and insisted I was ready for the big hill.

I didn't know how to turn. Or stop. Stopping seemed important. After nearly falling off the chair lift, I kind of fell all the way down the mountain. That one ski run was such a scary experience that I never skied downhill again.

Until last weekend.

In the past year, I've tried dragon boating, stand up paddle board, kayaking, snowshoeing, ziplining, contra dancing and swing dancing. Plus online dating, the scariest of all. Downhill skiing seemed like the next progression on my bucket list of adventures.

I was determined to have a fun experience and to not lose my nerve on the slopes as I had more than three decades earlier.

My first step was getting a private lesson with a professional ski instructor who is calm and ever so patient. I chose Kirby Records, who spends his weekends teaching 3-year-olds and adults to control their skis while having fun on the slopes. He's also my boyfriend. But he's very different from my high school boyfriend.

Before I tackled the bunny hill, Kirby taught me to snowplow slowly down the slightest incline, the pre-bunny hill. He skied backward, right in front of me.

"Just ski toward me," he said. "I'll catch you if you start to fall."

I knew he would. I summoned my courage, eased forward and followed him down the hill. I did it! And I didn't fall!

At the bottom of the hill I got in line to ride the magic carpet lift, a sort of conveyor belt that transports beginning skiers to the top of the tiniest hill. Not only was I the only person over four feet tall riding the magic carpet lift, I also was four or five decades older than all of them. Many likely still drank from sippy cups.

The sippy cup gang on the magic carpet lift.

                                  

With Kirby's coaching, I gained confidence and control by skiing the itty bitty hill half a dozen times.

"Ready for the bunny hill?" he asked.

"Yes! Let's go!"

Kirby showed me how to grab the handle tow to ride to the top of the bunny hill. So far, so good. Again, he skied backward in front of me, zigging and zagging down the bunny hill. I followed him all the way to the bottom. And I didn't fall!

Soon I was skiing the bunny hill without Kirby skiing in front of me. He left for his next lesson, and said he'd return later to see if I was ready for the chair lift and a bigger hill. But no pressure.

I continued skiing down the bunny hill. Shortly after he left, I fell. It was a soft fall. I wasn't hurt, but I flailed around in the snow trying to stand up. Finally, I removed a ski, stood up, put my ski back on and continued down the hill.

I fell again. And I got up again.

"You can do this," I repeated the mantra I tell myself when I feel myself losing my nerve.

On several more runs down the bunny hill, I tightened my turns and practiced slowing and stopping. I was gaining confidence. But I was getting tired.

So there I was, careening out of control down the bunny hill. Now, for an experienced skier watching me, I'm sure my speed wouldn't qualify as "careening," but to this novice skier, I was careening. I was almost at the bottom and needed to stop, but instead of calmly doing what Kirby had taught me, I freaked out, lost my nerve and fell. Hard. Right on my back.

Until 30 seconds earlier, I'd had an excellent time skiing. I was exhausted and thought I'd quit while I still thought skiing was fun. So I removed my skis, stood up and walked to the lodge to warm up, read my book and wait for Kirby.

Last weekend, I conquered my three-decade fear of skiing downhill--and I had a great time. True, I took one nasty spill, but that was because I lost my nerve and forgot to be bold. I won't make that mistake again.

Kirby and I are planning many adventures together: hiking, backpacking, kayaking. He's teaching me to swing dance too.

This morning, I paddled a dragon boat with the Mighty Women. Tonight, my paddling teammate Wendy has agreed to join me for my next adventure: belly dancing!

After all, I am a Mighty Woman.

Finding your muse in unexpected places

Have you ever found your muse in the most unexpected place?

Two weeks ago, I left newsroom deadlines far behind me as I drove solo the 375 miles to Dad's in Spokane. With my favorite music providing a soundtrack to my journey, I had the luxury of an entire day to myself and my thoughts.

In the flat land about 20-30 miles north of the Tri Cities on Highway 395, a sign to an obscure road caught my eye: Muse Road.

It struck me as ironic because The Columbia Basin landscape of flat, treeless desert stretched onward as far as I could see. And even though I'm a country girl who appreciates the beauty in nature, Muse Road seemed to be in the middle of uninspiring scenery.

Muse Road! Really? How could anyone fine her muse here, in this stark landscape?

I'd considered pulling over to take a photo of the Muse Road sign surrounded by miles of desert, but I didn't want to lose any time.

Later, I commented to my friend, Kirby Records, that the desolate landscape around Connell, Washington seemed an unlikely place to find one's muse. Kirby is a man who chooses to venture off the beaten path to see what adventures might be hidden from view. His response made me realize that as I zipped along 395, I'd missed missed an opportunity to see what was just beyond my peripheral vision.

"Up above Connell along 395 is a deep canyon along the side of the freeway," Kirby started his story. He often starts with a story.

"And all these little draws lead down into it. The freeway has been leveled so people driving on the freeway don't really notice the draws and only get a glimpse of the canyon once in awhile," he said.

"I see wonderful places to explore in these rocky-edged draws," he continued. He went on to tell me stories of finding amazing surprises in the desert: spending the night in a cave, finding a hot springs and a hidden campsite on top of a cliff.

Kirby's words made me think about how I sometimes prevent myself from being open to an experience because I've already made up my mind about something--such as thinking inspiration is incongruous with a desert landscape. And not having the vision to notice a breathtaking canyon just beyond my view.

I also was reminded of the words of Jane Kirkpatrick, my dear friend and an accomplished, published writer. Jane often speaks of being open to allowing ourselves new experiences, rather than to let preconceived ideas determine our response to what we're seeing.

Instead of speeding through the desert landscape and labeling it "boring" and "uninspiring," I should have opened my eyes and noticed the spectrum of colors painted across the sky and the undulating desert floor.

Now I'm wishing I had stopped to take that photo of Muse Road surrounded by desert.The next time I come upon something that on first glance seems uninspired, I will take the time to reconsider my point of view.

Below, courtesy of Kirby, is a photo he took of an inspiring landscape hidden from view of the main road in the Eastern Oregon desert. Now, after hearing his stories, I'm ready to explore desert landscape and see what stories it might inspire me to write.

The following link is another writer's blog post about identifying and caring for your muse.
 http://www4.uwsp.edu/education/lwilson/creativ/muse/idmus2.htm/.