Uh-oh! Elbow x-ray

Have you ever whacked your elbow so hard that you almost cried? 

I did exactly that recently. For two weeks, the pain persisted, but I sucked it up. I kept telling myself, "It's nothing. The pain will go away." 

But one morning I awoke to find my fingers tingling and going numb. Even lifting an empty coffee cup was excruciating. So I went to the doctor to get an x-ray. 

Here's the ridiculous part: My injury was not the result of some extraordinary adventure. 

I didn't hurt my elbow while riding a four-wheeler across a scary bridge. (Although I've done that.)

I didn't get hurt while skating in "fresh meat" roller derby tryouts. (Although I've done that too.)

It wasn't the result of a falling while skiing, and then sliding on my back, headfirst, careening down the mountain. (Yes, I absolutely did that once.)

The cause of my injury is embarrassingly mundane: While I was showering, I accidentally whacked my elbow against the shower wall. Really, really hard. 

The good news from my x-rays: "No acute fracture."

Hooray. No broken bones. Relief!

The bad news from my x-rays: "Bone remodeling/enthesopathy at the lateral humeral epicondyle, correlate for evidence of lateral epicondylitis."

I had to Google to get the layman's definition: Tennis elbow.

It's a disorder involving the attachment of a tendon to the bone. It's caused by repetitve motion of the forearm muscles, which attach to the outside of the elbow. The muscles and tendons become sore from excessive strain. My titanium wrists seem weaker than usual, as do my hands and fingers.

Most likely the injury is even more boring. It's likely from typing on my computer hours on end. Writer's injury, then.

And somehow, whacking my elbow against the shower wall aggravated it. Klutz's injury also.

It still hurts a lot to lift even a cup of coffee, but it's a relief to know I didn't break any bones. 

Spring will soon be here. I'm already dreaming about paddling my kayak on lakes and rivers around the Northwest. To do that, I'll need two good arms.

Last stummer I paddled in Dugualla Bay on Whidbey Island. 
Can't wait to return this summer!

So I'm resting it, icing it, taking anti-inflammatories. I'm taking breaks from my keyboard.

And I'm being extra careful while showering. When I get out of the shower and see a glimpse of my tattoo, a dragon holding a dragon boat paddle, I remind myself: "You're a Mighty Woman. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo! You'll be okay."

My dragon tattoo--when it was new and a bit irritated.

I know I will. I've been through so much worse. I can do this. 

Paddle on!

Copyright-free photos from Pixabay.

For the first time since my ATV accident, I went skiing

Today for the first time since my horrible ATV accident, I got back on alpine skis. And much to my mother’s relief as well as my own, I didn’t break any bones. 

It’s been two years since I last skied. I was a beginner who had just taken my first solo ski runs—and my first solo chair lift rides. When I first started skiing at age 54, the chair lift was the most traumatizing part of skiing (due to an unfortunate chair lift episode when I was 19). The Mountain Man had assured me that skiers do not fall off the chair lift. But trust me, if anyone could fall off the chair lift, it would be me. The klutz.

My saving grace is that I’m an adventurous klutz. So even though I had been terrified of falling off the chair lift, I wanted to learn to ski. So I forced myself to sit down on that chair lift seat and ride it to the top of the mountain. It wasn’t technically good skiing or confident skiing. I fell multiple times. And I was so slow that when I watched a video of one of my runs that first year, I seemed to be skiing in slow motion as other skiers flew past me. Despite my lack of speed, it was fun.

Then the fun ended 18 months ago when I crashed a four-wheeler while crossing a bridge. Despite the fact that people had crossed that bridge on ATVs for decades, I was the first person to ever crash on that bridge. But leave it to me, on my maiden voyage driving an ATV, to crash spectacularly on that bridge. I crushed both wrists. Now I have titanium plates holding my wrists together. I’m the Bionic Woman. Well, maybe the Klutzy Bionic Woman.

After my accident, my orthopedic surgeon and physical therapist sidelined me for an entire ski season while I continued healing and regaining my fine motor skills. My surgeon said I could eventually return to skiing and other adventurous pursuits. He said my titanium wrists would be fine—as long as I didn’t take another forceful fall rivaling my spectacular somersault over the ATV handlebars.

Still, I was nervous about skiing. Last night when I laid out my ski clothes and gear, I worried that I might get hurt. I imagine myself falling so hard that the titanium plates would poke out of my skin.

I awoke in the middle of the night and my mind started playing the “what if” game. What if my wrists weren’t capable of holding myself up on the handle tow? What if my now-arthritic left wrist and thumb couldn’t hold the ski pole firmly? What if I fell off the chair lift? What if I fell on the mountain and wasn’t strong enough to get back up again?

But here’s the question that was at the forefront of my mind: What if my accident had so paralyzed me that I’d lost sight of the adventurous woman who had given me so much confidence and transformed me in midlife? I didn’t want my fear to paralyze me.

Sometimes, when I begin to doubt myself, my old, bitter soccer mom persona pays a visit just to taunt me and throw doubt on my self-confidence. Last night, uninvited, she threw open my door and made me question myself, my abilities, and my existence. In her sarcastic voice she asked: “What makes you think you can ski again? You broke your body. You are 57 years old. Maybe it’s time to take up knitting from a rocking chair. What makes you think you can do this?”

Wow. That woman loves stealing my joy. 

But I won’t let her do it anymore. I’ve learned to shush her quickly and put her in her place—far away from my Adventure Woman ears. Now I am the Dragon Diva. The Woman with the Dragon Tattoo. Yes, I also happened to have a klutzy, horrific accident that crushed both wrists and sidelined me for many months. But now I have two titanium wrists. They are strong. And so am I.

I thumbed my nose at Soccer Mom and told myself: “You can do this. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

Then I climbed back into bed and slept soundly.

Thankfully, the Mountain Man is not only a ski instructor, but a calm man who inspires calmness and confidence in me. First, he gave me a quick beginner’s lesson to remind me of the basics: turning, controlling my speed, stopping. Then we skied down a small hill and headed for the handle tow to take a couple of turns on the bunny hill. Would my once-broken wrists be strong enough to hold myself up? Would I fall? Would I get hurt again?

But here’s a fact: My wrists are titanium. They were strong enough to hold myself up on the handle tow. We made two runs down the bunny hill. My body and my mind remembered how to ski. The Mountain Man asked if I wanted to make another bunny hill run.

“No. Let’s get on the chair lift and go skiing up on top!” I said.

So we did. The chair lift wasn’t as scary as it had been before. On my first run, I fell once, almost right after we started down the hill. But it wasn’t a spectacular fall. I wasn’t hurt. No broken bones. I didn’t have titanium poking out of my skin.

But I did need to take control of my self-talk. Although skiing is very physical, it’s also a mental sport. You must believe that you can maneuver your way down the mountain—or you won’t be able to do it. Sprawled on my back in the snow, I tried to get up by pushing myself up with my ski poles, but my arms didn’t have the strength to do it. So with my ski pole, I released my right ski and stood up, and snapped my ski back into the binding.

“You can do this,” I told myself. “You’re the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. The Dragon Diva.”

Then I skied down the mountain—and I didn’t fall again. I had fun. Although my 57-year-old body is exhausted and my legs feel as wobbly as Jell-o, I am glowing. I conquered my fear, and I experienced joy at 8,000 feet. 

Confident that I will return to the ski hill next weekend and the weekend after that and the weekend after that, I bought a season pass that’s good for the rest of this ski season and all of next ski season.

Dragon Diva has returned! 

Tiny living secrets

Here's my cozy writing/reading/daydreaming spot: our little couch topped
 with a beautiful quilt made by my dear friend, Kathleen Brown.
Out this window is an amazing view of the Elkhorn Mountains and the lake.

Sitting on the diminutive couch in our tiny living room, my stocking feet are curled against an electric heater. My fingers, also seeking warmth, are wrapped around my coffee mug. I’m wearing three layers of clothing, including an old cashmere sweater and a thick flannel shirt lined with fleece. We've had weeks of sub-freezing weather, and even sub-zero weather. After six months of living tiny in the Eastern Oregon high desert, my body is still adjusting to the colder temperatures.

Four years ago, after some unsuccessful and mostly depressing attempts at online dating, I’d sworn off men and any hope of a romantic relationship. Instead, I concentrated on becoming an adventurous, joyful woman. But then—so very unexpectedly—I fell in love with an adventure-seeking Mountain Man who lived 300 miles away. Tired of cultivating our long-distance relationship, we decided to bridge the gap between us.


At the end of last summer, I left my newspaper reporter job and my old life in the city. Now I’m settling into my new life: living large in 323 square feet in the foothills of the Elkhorn Mountains in Eastern Oregon with the Mountain Man. 

Living in a small space fits who we are now. Both of us have owned houses requiring hefty mortgage payments and endless maintenance and yard work. We are both at the point in our lives that we don’t want to be tied down by possessions or lengthy to-do lists. We’ve decided to live simply while enjoying a bountiful life rich in experiences rather than material things.

We’re well on our way to succeeding. In the six months I’ve lived here, we’ve soaked in a hot springs, performed as the musical entertainment at Anthony Lakes Mountain Resort, hiked in the Elkhorn Mountains, had a picnic while perched on a log on the banks of an alpine lake and then did some fly fishing, paddled kayaks, danced to live music at Ten Depot in La Grande, dined at the Barley Browne’s in Baker City, visited the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center in Baker, and much more.

We’ve also spent a lot of time editing possessions and determining what's essential and what isn't. What do we really need for our comfort in our tiny space? As I write, my laptop rests on the tiny red table I found at an estate sale more than a decade ago. It takes up little floor space, but is useful for holding a laptop computer, a cup of coffee or a bowl of popcorn. In my old apartment, I had an antique desk for my laptop, but truthfully, I usually write curled up on the couch. So the little worn table with chipped red paint fits perfectly into our tiny space.

Tiny home tip: Use floor space sparingly. Use tiny furniture with multiple uses.

 

Here are some tiny kitchen tips we've gleaned after living tiny for six months. 

Tiny home tip: Size--and numbers--matter. Four mugs. When you live tiny, you must scrutinize every item you bring into the house and justify it taking up precious space. We have space for four mugs. When I painted this lace-covered leaf mug at a fun ceramic shop in Gig Harbor recently, I had to give the boot to my cracked Star Trek Jean-Luc Picard mug. But I couldn't completely give up Jean-Luc. He's in storage.

If you had cupboard space for only four mugs, which mugs would you choose?

Tiny home tip: Use smaller dessert plates rather than larger dinner plates. We use my dessert-size English Spode plates as dinner plates. They fit in the narrow cupboard better and it's harder to overeat. The larger dinner plates didn’t fit in the cupboard, so we are storing them.

Tiny home tip: Use vertical space to double the number of spices in the spice rack. We could fit only nine spice bottles in our tiny home’s built-in spice rack, so the Mountain Man took the built-in spice rack to his wood shop and built a second tier, essentially doubling the number of spices it holds without increasing its footprint on the counter. It allows us to keep our essential, every-day spices at hand. The rest we store in a box in an overhead cabinet in our living/dining/kitchen.

The Mountain Man took the spice rack to the wood shop
and doubled the vertical space.  Notice my kitchen towel
embellished by friend Rhona. Even in a tiny space, display
favorite, beautiful, useful things.

Tiny home tip: Edit your appliances to the essential. We use our hotpot daily to make coffee and tea. It's the only appliance that gets real estate on the tiny kitchen counter. I donated my bread machine and toaster and am storing our crock pot and blender. But lately, I’ve been hankering for one of my childhood comfort foods: cinnamon toast. Do I find a tiny toaster or toaster oven? If so, where would we store it when we aren't using it? Or do I forgo toast altogether?

Essential appliances:our hot pot plus microwave, propane range
and  oven and refrigerator. I can live without a dishwasher, but
I can't live without my morning coffee.

Tiny home tip: Tuck the cutting board away when not in use. To eliminate counter top clutter, the Mountain Man built a holder for our cutting board. When we aren’t using our 12 x 12 cutting board, it’s neatly tucked below a kitchen cabinet.

Tiny home tip: Hang the broom on the wall. We have no broom closet, so the Mountain Man built a wooden holder to hang a broom high on the wall near the ceiling. It’s out of the way, but easy to reach.

Tiny home tip:  Place the dish drainer over one side of the double sink. And wash dishes as you get them dirty. Even if you're just eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, wash up after yourself. Keep your tiny counters uncluttered and ready to use. We have no dishwasher, but I don't mind hand-washing dishes.

Our tiny kitchen has a double sink. We found a stainless steel
dish drainer that fits perfectly in one sink. 

 Tiny home tip: Keep clutter off kitchen counters so you have space for cooking and meal prep--even  if it's just making a simple peanut butter sandwich. 

A bigger view of our tiny kitchen. 

 Tiny home tip: Unbreakable dishes that stack are practical and help stretch your cupboard space further.

Vintage and practical: our 1950s Italian Bascal aluminum cups and
tiny bowls stack neatly in the cupboard and take up a tiny footprint
 in our tiny kitchen.  I snagged them at an estate sale years ago.

Tiny home tip: Keep your silverware drawer neat by keeping only six knives, forks and spoons. Even though tiny home drawers are--well--tiny--measure them to find silverware trays to organize your drawers. Our trays are individual plastic trays that snap together. My standard silverware tray was much too large for our new drawers.

A bare bones silverware drawer: six forks, knives and spoons. 

Tiny home tip: Extend vertical space in cupboards with rubber-coated stackable shelving.

Two narrow shelves hold most of our dishes, including
our Spode plates and Fiestaware bowls.

Tiny home tip: Consider it a treasure hunt. Find tiny items that also are beautiful and inspiring. While browsing in Bella Main Street Market, a fantastic kitchen shop in downtown Baker City, I found these lovely little bowls hand painted in Tunisia. They were on sale, and I got three for $6. These stackable bowls are perfect for sauces, yogurt, applesauce or tomato soup.They're not dishwasher safe. No problem. No dishwasher.

Tiny home tip: Where possible, incorporate whimsy--and your personality--in practical tools.

R2-D2 egg timer at the ready in an old enamel bowl above the sink.
The droid egg timer was a gift from the Mountain Man,
I also display a Millennium Falcon serving platter.

New chapter: Living tiny with the Mountain Man in Eastern Oregon's high desert

Last week I took a doozy of a leap toward my next chapter. I gave my two-weeks' notice at The Columbian, the newspaper where I've been a reporter for 4 1/2 years. Leaving Vancouver and Clark County is bittersweet. It's been my home for three decades, but it's time to begin again in a new home.

In the past five years, I've gained a reputation as the diva of downsizing. With each move, I've cut my footprint in half: 2,400 square feet to 1,100 square feet to my current 600 square feet. Now I'm doing it again. I'll be living in 323 square feet and will fulfill my dream of living in a tiny house.

I'm moving 300 miles to the high desert of Eastern Oregon. I'll be living in a 34-foot fifth wheel RV with a view of the Elkhorn Mountains (sometimes called Little Alps) to the west, the Wallowa Mountains to the east and a reservoir just below us. It's about 22 miles south of La Grande and 22 miles north of Baker City.

Here's the very best part of my new life: the Mountain Man and I finally will be together. Every day! I'm giddy thinking about our future together and the many adventures awaiting us. We can be kayaking on the reservoir in minutes. Hiking, backpacking and fishing are close by in the Elkhorns. Skiing at Anthony Lakes Mountain Resort is only 45 minutes away. We'll go Western swing dancing, camping in the tipi and playing music around the campfire. How fortunate that we found each other after age 50!

Two weeks ago, I emptied my storage unit, had a yard sale and took yet another a carload of stuff to the Goodwill. Now everything I own fits into my little apartment, my sweet home at the edge of the woods. It's crunch time. I'm editing my belongings one more time and getting rid of stuff that's no longer essential.

I'll find work in either La Grande or Baker after I arrive. I can supplement my income with freelance writing gigs and consulting contracts. I've reinvented my career before. I can do it again. I've started a book marketing business and worked for a Random House imprint, created and hosted events for an independent bookstore and became a newspaper reporter at age 52.

The hardest part is leaving my young adult children. But I'll be back to visit them, other family and friends. My roots are deep here.

Here is what will remain the same in my life. I will always be a Mighty Woman. I will keep paddling my own canoe. I am not afraid to try new things. I will continue writing stories. I am excited to start a new life with the Mountain Man, my best friend. Who knows what adventures and opportunities await just around the bend in the river?

This morning, I walked along a trail at the edge of the woods, picked blackberries for my breakfast and expressed gratitude for my sweet time in this home. I've been serenaded by owls and coyotes and have broken bread with my dear housemates, Michael and Kathleen, many times. Even after a series of unfortunate events, I've been incredibly fortunate.

Three weeks from today, I'll step into my new life. I'll gaze at the breathtaking mountains and high desert while holding the hand of the man I love. Who knew life could be this sweet?

Passing confidence and joy on to my daughter

Yesterday, my talented, amazing daughter, Katie, and I celebrated her 27th birthday by trying SUP--stand-up paddle boarding. I'm all about giving her an empowering experience to celebrate her special day rather than buying a trinket that would soon be forgotten. She'd mentioned she wanted to try SUP. I was happy to provide this adventure.

In the past few years, I've arranged several mother-daughter adventures that bond us together. These experiences have made us stronger, more confident women, too. And we always have fun!

One Mother's Day a couple of years ago, I took Katie to an archery range and taught her to shoot a bow. She's become a very good shot.

On the archery range for Mother's Day

We've gone hiking in the Columbia River Gorge multiple times. 

Kate hiking in the Columbia River Gorge

Last summer we rode a zip line at a family reunion. 

Kate ready to ride a zip line last summer.

Yesterday I was not surprised that Katie was a natural on the stand-up paddling board. With her years of dance experience and the muscles she's developed as a baker for Salt & Straw, she stood up with ease. When I was still summoning the nerve to try standing up, she was already paddling with confidence. That made me smile. 

A couple of years ago, I'd tried SUP twice, and it was easy. Then I was strong and balanced easily on the wide board. My dragon boating and kayaking instincts took over. I didn't have any fear. I was the Mighty Woman who reinvented myself at age 50 and went on one fearless adventure after another. Along the way, as I changed and grew, I modeled strength, courage and resilience for my daughter.

But yesterday on the paddle board, it was different. I was different. Although Katie and her boyfriend, Keegan stood up effortlessly and paddled along the lake, I still was kneeling on my board. I had to dig deep within myself to find the courage to stand up. 

It was the first time I'd tried SUP since crushing both my wrists 10 months ago. I knew I've lost strength and agility. I was prepared for that. But what I hadn't realized until I climbed onto the board is that I've also lost my Dragon Diva dose of confidence. My fearlessness. Preparing to stand up, I moved from kneeling on the board to crouching with my feet placed so they were perfectly balanced. At that point, the old me would have stood up and started paddling. But I couldn't. Irrational fear gripped me. Instead, I had to give myself my go-to pep talk: "You're a Mighty Woman. You're the woman with the dragon tattoo. You can do this!"

After breathing deeply to calm myself, I tried to stand up, but the board wobbled and I quickly knelt back down. I tried again, and again. At one point, I stood, started paddling, but lost my balance and fell hard on my my hands--and therefore, my wrists. That scared me. I have permanent titanium plates in both wrists. My surgeon said it would take quite a force to damage my wrists again. But falling so hard on my wrists made me even more tentative. When I finally stood up, my legs felt like Jell-o. The paddling part was easy. The balancing part? Not as easy. But I did it!

After I stood up and was paddling, I looked over at my daughter. She'd fallen off her board into the lake. Immediately she climbed back on and stood up again. Just like that! I smiled at my beautiful, courageous daughter, who has climbed some pretty tough mountains the past couple of years. She's a survivor, that daughter of mine. Just like her mama. With the sun shining on the lake, she paddled with a strong stroke--and grinned. Standing on wobbly legs, I paddled strong strokes too. We are Mighty Women, after all.

Kate and me after stand-up paddle boarding on Lacamas Lake.
 I didn't take any  photos of her paddle boarding because 
I was busy trying to stand up on my own board.

This weekend I gave my daughter another gift: my purple bike named Joy. I bought the sturdy, fat-tired Schwinn at a neighborhood estate sale years ago. I named my bike Joy because at the time, I hungered for joy in my life. Together, Joy and I explored the neighborhood and the Columbia River waterfront. Riding Joy gave me the courage to face the unhappiness in my life and to reach toward the hope of a joyful future. I've certainly found a joyful life. But I hadn't ridden Joy much in the past couple of years because my life was so full with dragon boating, kayaking, hiking, learning to swing dance and having many other adventures.

Last week when Katie mentioned that she'd like a bike with a basket to ride to the grocery store and around the neighborhood, I replied: "I'll give you Joy!"

"Really? I've always loved Joy!" she beamed.

When we unloaded the bike at Katie's house, I told her: "I am giving you Joy. Remember that Joy now lives in your house. You can ride her around the neighborhood whenever you need a dose of Joy."

Passing the torch of Joy to my daughter felt so right.Now she will be filled with joy and confidence, too--and ready for her next adventure.

My purple bike named Joy on a ride to the Columbia River.

Passing Joy, my purple garage-sale bike, on to my daughter.

Surviving a tough week: Work layoffs and hanging up my dragon boat paddle

The Mighty Women paddle a dragon boat!
This week, I had to hang up my paddle. 

Have you ever had a week that knocks the wind out of you? Last week, the daily newspaper where I work announced it was laying off 10 percent of the staff. Although I was not laid off, that news sent me reeling.

Here's why: It opened wounds from five years ago when I was newly divorced and was laid off. I had to sell my house in the lowest housing market in decades. In weeks, I emptied a four-bedroom house and gave away much of my possessions.

Because I was unemployed, the only apartment I could afford had homeless people scavenging in the garbage bin right outside my door at all hours. I didn't feel safe. I had a hard time sleeping. My life had turned upside down. Overnight, my status changed from secure, middle-class soccer mom to unemployed woman living on the edge.

Five years later, I'm a different woman. I'm stronger--and not not just physically stronger. After having endured hard things, I've learned that I'm emotionally, mentally and spiritually stronger too. I am grateful for the hardships because they have molded me into the woman I am today.

But that doesn't mean I'm requesting an encore in hardship. When the news of layoffs came last week, they dredged up those past hardships and the panic--of feeling that I couldn't control what was happening in my life. I started thinking about what would happen if I were laid off too. I don't have a house to lose anymore. That's already happened.

I do have a wonderful place I call "home." For more than two years, I have been housemates with my retired minister and his wife. I pay below-market rent for their mother-in-law suite, which has the perks of a view of the woods, a hot tub, and fresh raspberries, blueberries and strawberries just steps outside my door. I've also forged a friendship with this long-married couple. It's been good for me to witness a healthy, long-time marriage. If I were laid off, I likely wouldn't lose my home. I wouldn't be homeless. That was a relief, yet I still worried about the "what ifs."

As much as I'd like to avoid further hardship, life has a way of flinging it our way. Last week, I also had to come to grips with this hard fact: It's time to hang up my dragon boat paddle. It's been nine months since I crushed both wrists in my four-wheeler accident. After surgery and months of physical therapy, this spring I returned to the Mighty Women's dragon boat and paddled with my team. I even paddled during the races in Tacoma. That homecoming was sweet.

But paddling a dragon boat takes a lot of strength, not to mention arm range of motion and wrist mobility. After every paddling practice, my left wrist was in pain. I have to listen to my body and give up the sport--and the team that changed my life. So I reluctantly told the news to Jeanie, my coach who has pushed me, molded me into a Mighty Woman.

In the meantime, I'm continuing to work on my physical therapy on my own. I am determined to get more range of motion, more mobility, more strength. I may not be able to paddle a dragon boat, but I'm confident that soon I'll be able to leisurely paddle a kayak on flat water. I can strap on my backpack and take a hike. I have already done a little swing dancing--another activity that requires lots of arm movement. And while wearing my buckskin skirt, I beat my drum around a campfire while surrounded by friends. My transformation from soccer mom to hippie chick is complete.

My transformation from middle-class soccer mom to hippie chick is complete!

Yesterday, after a week of panic, I reminded myself of this truth: The only thing in life I can control is my attitude. If further layoffs come, let them come. I can handle it. After all, I am the woman with the dragon tattoo. I am confident I will always be a Mighty Woman.

I'm the woman with the dragon tattoo!
I can handle anything.

Back on the dragon boat: The return of the Mighty Woman!

The Mighty Women on the Willamette River.
I'm in the back of the boat, port (left) side  and waving my paddle
with my bench partner, Joan Sanford, who encouraged me with every stroke.

This morning, I became a Mighty Woman again.

Seven months after crushing both my wrists in an ATV accident, I climbed back into a dragon boat with my team mates and paddled the Willamette River on a sunny Saturday morning. It felt glorious. Empowering. The river sparkled. I am quite sure I was glowing. And it felt as if I'd come full circle.

The last time I paddled a dragon boat was a Thursday night, Sept. 3. That night our paddling practice seemed magical. It happened to be the night of the Oregon Symphony's annual Waterfront Concert at Tom McCall Waterfront Park overlooking the Willamette River. So as Coach Jeanie Zinn led us through grueling race starts to prepare for races just a week away, we were serenaded by the symphony playing Mozart and Bach and had an audience of almost 20,000 spectators.

After our practice, I had lingered at the park so I could enjoy a free classical concert under the stars. Gripping my paddle, I ordered a slice of pizza from a vendor and struck up a conversation with a couple visiting from Australia. They asked many questions about dragon boating. I told them the sport had changed my life--and that I was a Mighty Woman. I saw the way they looked at me--as if I was a strong, adventurous woman. It was a night I'll always remember.

Less than 48 hours later, I was flying over an ATV's handlebars, somersaulting through the air and slamming to the ground. I recall gingerly sitting up and noticing the ATV had crashed just a foot from my body. And then I felt pain. That's also a day I'll never forget.

In the days, weeks and months that followed my accident, I did not feel strong, adventurous, or mighty. With both arms in casts and unable to do much of anything for myself, I felt people looking at me, sizing up my broken body, and feeling pity for me. But with grit and the help of many family members, friends, and medical professionals, I healed.

A few days ago, I went to my last physical therapy appointment. Carol, my therapist, had cheered me on for months. I had brought my paddle to my last session so that she could see the movement of my body when I held my paddle. She hugged me.

"I release you from therapy," she said. "But keep doing your exercises on your own. And please be careful in the dragon boat. Don't push yourself. If it hurts, stop."

When I told my newsroom colleagues I was going to try dragon boating again, many looked concerned. "Be careful," several people told me. "Don't push yourself."

I texted my coach and told her I planned to join the team on the boat Saturday morning, but I was concerned that I may not have the strength to hold onto my paddle to keep up with the team. She was excited I was coming back to the boat.

"Just do your best. Paddle ten strokes and rest ten strokes," she advised me.

I met my friend, Patty for dinner and told her the good news that I'd had my last therapy appointment. That first week after my accident when I needed so much help, Patty had been my caregiver. During the four months I couldn't drive, she drove me to countless doctor appointments and cheered me on.

When I told her I was going to try paddling the next morning, she again cheered me on: "Go, Mighty Woman!"

I smiled. And I hoped I'd have the range of motion and strength to paddle again. I really missed being a Mighty Woman.

Last night I was so excited that I placed my paddle and life jacket by my front door. This morning I awoke early. Too excited to stay in bed any longer, I ate breakfast and dressed quickly in my paddling clothes.

Before I left for practice, I texted the Mountain Man: "Excited but nervous about getting on dragon boat."

Knowing how competitive I am, he texted back: "You can do this. Just go as far as you think you should. Don't let competition or peer pressure make you go too far."

When I arrived at the waterfront, I was greeted with cheers, hugs, and smiles from my team mates. We did our warm-up exercises, then walked down to the dock, and climbed into the boat.

Coach Jeanie placed me on bench ten, the rear bench, with Joan, who also is recovering from an injury and surgery. Both Jeanie and Joan encouraged me to pay attention to what my body was telling me.

Would it hurt? Would I injure myself? Would I fail miserably and have to give up dragon boat paddling and the camaraderie of the Mighty Women? I hoped not. That thought has hounded me all these months as I've been doing physical therapy and recovering.

My first stroke was tentative--and wimpy. At first, I did paddle ten strokes, rest ten, and then paddle ten more. But toward the end of practice, as we raced from under the Marquam Bridge and back to the dock, I paddled with each stroke with every ounce of strength I had left. I did it!

The sun was shining as we pulled up to the dock. I was sitting on starboard side, so grabbed the dock while Shane, our tiller, secured our boat. The dock was busy with activity. Many paddlers from other teams were finding their way to their dragon boats.

A man holding the hand of a very tiny preschool girl walked slowly past us. I looked at them, smiled, and said: "You should come paddle with us sometime. We're the Mighty Women!"

The little girl smiled shyly at me. I grinned back.

The morning was golden. I am a Mighty Woman again. And I'm still smiling.

Starting the new year with an attitude of gratitude

Once my arms heal, I'll be back on the trail!

I love early January when we start a new year  brimming with possibilities. I'm starting 2016 with an attitude of gratitude, despite the hardships I've faced in the past five years:

• I got divorced at age 50
• I was laid off at work during the Recession when jobs were scarce and was unemployed for some months
• I had to sell my house in the worst real estate market in decades
• I quickly downsized from 2,400 to 600 square feet--and gave away most of my possessions
• I moved five times in two years because rentals are so expensive
• I lived for three months in a backyard shed with no heat, water or toilet (because I needed to save money for car repairs)
• I broke both wrists in an ATV accident, needed two surgeries, missed three months of work and incurred lots of medical bills

Some people might shake their heads and ask me: "Are you crazy? How can you be grateful after so many hard things?

My answer is: "How can I be anything but grateful? Isn't gratitude a better response than being depressed, angry, and wallowing in despair and misery?"

The biggest lesson I've learned through hardship is that the only thing I can control is my attitude. I can either brush myself off and be grateful, or I can become a sour, unhappy person. I choose gratitude and joy.

I have myriad reasons to be grateful. Among them:

• I reinvented myself at age 50. I joined a dragon boat team and found the joyful, adventurous woman inside of me. 
• At age 52 I started a new career as a newspaper reporter. I enjoy my work, and I've become a much better writer.
• I lost 40 pounds and have kept it off for four years. Once I get my last cast removed, I'll lose another 30 pounds.
• For more than two years, I've rented the 600 square-foot mother-in-law suite in the home of dear friends. At last, I am home. 
• After giving away so many possessions, I'm content with my lifestyle of simplicity and finding joy in simple pleasures.
• After living without heat, water, a kitchen--and especially a bathroom--I am grateful that on this snowy day, I don't have to walk outside 37 steps to the facilities.
• After my ATV accident, I am grateful for life itself. I am alive and planning great adventures in the coming year.

When hard things come your way--and they come to us all eventually--will you wallow in despair or will you adopt an attitude of gratitude? It's your choice.

5 reasons for gratitude after my accident

It's been three months since I crushed both wrists in an ATV accident. After two surgeries, multiple casts, dozens of x-rays and hours of physical therapy, I am on the mend. Here are five reasons I am grateful.

1. I am grateful my disability is temporary. I was not crushed by the ATV. I could be dead, paralyzed or have a brain injury. Soon I will be free of casts, splints and pain.

2. I am grateful for my job as a newspaper reporter at The Columbian. After 11 weeks on disability, I returned to work part time before Thanksgiving. Last week I returned full time. I am typing with a cast on my left hand, so it's a clumsy, slow process. It's challenging to write under deadline pressure, but I'm doing it. The people at work have been welcoming and supportive. I am riding to schools with our photographers because I still can't drive. The Mountain Man even crafted a leather strap that fits over my cast and holds my reporter's notebook when I.m out on assignment.

3. I am grateful for my medical insurance through my job. The most recent medical statement totaled services rendered so far as almost equal to my annual income. Thankfully, that's not what I have to pay.

4. I am grateful for people willing to help me. A long list of co-workers, friends and family have been driving me to my doctor appointments, to work, to get groceries and run other errands. I am grateful for friends who have picked me up and taken me to their home for dinner or out to eat. Three months without driving has meant way too much time home alone. It's a treat to be among people again.

5. I am grateful for the progress I am making each day. In the first few weeks, I needed help with eating, dressing, washing my hair, opening doors, putting on a seat belt, turning the water faucet on and off, cutting my food and so much more. I live alone, so it's been crucial for me to regain use of my arms/wrists/hands so I can take care of myself.

Three months later, I am still not driving, but I prepare my meals, do my laundry and take care of myself. This week I opened a zip-loc baggy with my right hand--instead of with my teeth! With my shorter, below-elbow cast, I can put my arm into the sleeve of my winter coat, Today I zipped a zipper on my vest. Perhaps I'll be able to wear dress slacks and jeans again soon instead of elastic-waist pants. Progress!

I appreciate everything now. May I never again take the little things in life for granted.

Although I don't get a ski season this year, I plan to be back on the dragon boat next spring paddling with the Mighty Women. Two broken wrists are a temporary setback. I can't wait for my next adventure.

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.