Sad Spelling Pep

As you ALL know, I am an awful speller. And now that my "spell checker" is broken on blogger, and I simply don't have the patience to write up my entries on a Word document, spell check, and THEN transfer it over to blogger - well, please accept my sincerest apologies.

Yes, I am educated. I graduated from UW-Madison with a BA in History (focus on East Europe and the former Czechoslovakia)... but alas - my spelling still suffered.

No where has it been more apparent than a few minutes ago when I took my third glorious shower since The Crash.

I was pouting. My back hurt. My butt was asleep. And I'm constipated. YOU would be crabby too, my friends. But Nathaniel is being a Saint, doing simply a marvelous job at putting up with my mood swings (today really WAS a great day. He tried falafel and loved it.... we met a wolf named Nicky, who's ower was 94 years-young and walking at a fast clip along the hill bluffs above the Pacific... we talked to a couple who had JUST gotten engaged... we drove up Mt. Soledad - wow, what a climb! - and generally had a great day together).

Tonight was different. Around 9:30 pm, I was "partied out". And I got emotional.

Great.

After a few tears, I decided to take a shower. A real treat for me at this point - the coconut shampoo and body conditioner is great, and the hot water feels fantastic against my skin. And besides - it was either the hot shower or continue being sad with Nathaniel... so I opted for the shower.

And Nathaniel was very happy.

QUICK NOTE: I haven't taken any pain meds in about 10 hours... So there is NO REASON why my spelling IN THE SHOWER should have been that OFF. And another point... pain meds and showers don't really get along. Especially if you're a self-professed klutz like me. Very good stuff.

So in the shower, in an effort to cheer myself up, I started thinking of acronyms for the word SAD.

Here's my list...

Silly Emotional Drama

Stupid Emotions Downloaded

Sorry Enough Done!

Snapple Eggplant Dried (fill-in-the-blank)

Stop Exit Delete

Stuff emotions down

And after a few minutes it hit me...

Everything I was spelling was S-E-D, not S-A-D.

And that was enough to make me giggle.

And then, I decided I was probably a saftey hazard in the shower. So I got out, dried off, applied plenty of coconut body cream, threw my clothes on (which takes about 10 minutes), and voila - here I am.

So in essence, I cheered myself up.

I know that there will be plenty more of these UP and DOWN days. That's only natural. It's part of the process, part of what I'm going through. And that's okay. I've accepted that fact.

I just never thought I could cheer myself up by so horribly misspelling the word SAD. Then again, life is full of surprises. You never know what's around the next hill.

So keep going! (Said Sad Spelling Sed! Now 5X fast!)

The Butt Scoot

(Mira: 4, 13 hours ;) Thanks for asking!)

Today, I butt-scooted down a Mountain. Well, it wasn't really a mountain. And no, I certainly didn't butt scoot all the way. Just part of the way.

You know - butt scoot.

The thing our House Monster does when she's got an unmentionable stuck in her rear end.

The first time Nathaniel saw Tabbitha butt scoot was in North Carolina. He was amazed, had no clue that a creature of any sort would do such a thing. We were still living in our first apartment on Cherry Point, MCAS (we moved into a house on base after nearly 2 years in the apartment, only to leave for Florida 9 months later. We were told by the housing office to move...another story). Tabbitha had just dropped a bomb of sorts in her box, and front-paw-pull after front-paw-pull, was powerfully dragging her butt across the floor - towards our bedroom - while giving Nathaniel a blank stare.

He claims that she was giving him the most innocent, nonchalant of looks. A look that clearly stated, "I know I'm up to no good. But I'm so cute that you'll let me do anything."

Determinted Tabbitha, was just beyond the door, a mere foot or two from our beautiful 5 X 7 Oriental rug...

At the time, I was in the bedroom, relaxing and reading on our antique wooden bed. The only carpet in our airy apartment was said Oriental rug next to the bed.

Suddenly Nathaniel, while standing at the end of the bed exclaims, "What is she doing?"

I looked up, momentarilly paralyzed by what I saw, and felt my heart nearly stop beating. I swear. Scouts honor. There was Tabbitha, her pressed hams (Nathaniel's term for her butt - another being "hamhocks") pressed firmly on the floor, happily butt scooting her way towards our precious Orientla Rug. The ONLY rug in our sparsley furnished/decorated apartment. She was literally one or two determined pulls away from achieving nirvana at the expense of our red, yellow, brown, and green rug.

Ass-dragging, skidded bliss. Our Oriental Rug was about to have a little more brown added to its color pallate.

I saw the cat. Saw the bewildered look on Nathaniel face. And realized in an instant what was about to happen.

"NO!" I yelled. "Don't let her get to the Rug! STOP HER!"

Nathaniel was even more startled than Tabbitha. The poor guy - he jumped at the sound of my voice. Our determined cat, however, continued on her path towards kitty bliss.

Sensing the urgency of my voice, and watching in amazement as I lept out of bed towards Tabbitha, Nathaniel lunged towards our butt-scooting cat, and managed to save our beautiful Oriental Rug from Tabbitha's cat-rear. Tabbitha, a mere paw's length away from making her very own deposit, was forced to abandon the transaction, and fled in the direction of the kitty box.

But we did notice a few turd marks and skids on the vinyl floor. Which was a lot easier to clean than the alternative, poopey carpet. Trust me.

So yes, that was Nathaniel's first encounter with the butt scoot. And it was a close, close call.

Today was his second. And it was at my expense. And no worries - I didn't have any unmentionables stuck in my rear. That, my friends, had already been taken care of earlier, thank-you-very-much.

Because we're staying at the Best Western Stratford Inn in Del Mar, CA (sounds beautiful, doesen't it. It is, I promise!) we're a mere stone's throw away from the sparkling Pacific. We can see the water from our suite - and it's beautiful. So we decided to head out towards the beach, for a hand-in-hand walk along the crashing surf. The tide was out, our timing was perfect, and after a quick jaunt down a block through a friendly neighbor's backyard and past some beautiful houses, Nathaniel and I found ourselves at the edges of Del Mar's cliffs.

Well - first we had to head down a steep, short, rocky hill...

And then - we had to cross (carefully!) the railroad tracks, used by Amtrak and the Pacific Coaster... (no trains - hooray!)

Finally - we were walking hand-in-hand along the beach.

One small, teeny, weeny, insignificant little detail - we were about 50 feet or so above the ocean, up on the Del Mar cliffs.

NOT the surf-side stroll we had in mind, but the path was nice (next to the train tracks), the day was loveley, sky the same sparkling blue as the ocean, and we were willing to walk along the path as long as it took until we found a break in the cliffs.

Only other small, teeny, weeny, insignificant little detail - the sandy cliffs extended a long way in both directions.

Sigh.

Brilliant.

And then, as though sensing our slight bewilderment, a surfing diva appeared from behind us. Her wetsuit was rolled halfway down to her waist, her feet covered in the same material as the suit. Her black sports bra was the same color as her wetsuit, and very carefully, she balanced her ivory-white surfboard ontop of her head.

We greeted her Hello! - and watched, impressed with her balance as she continued her way along the path.

Even balancing a surfboard on her head, this chick was faster than me. Then again, I had back surgery less than a week ago, was sporting a catheter and folley under my capris (YES YES YES - I GOT INTO MY FAVORITE CAPRIS TODAY FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! No - my body isn't back to normal - yet - but at least this was a promising sign. The khaki capris were a lot more snug than I like. But the poit is, my friends, is that they fit! Huu-ray!), flimsy flip-flops on my feet. Oh well - she really wanted to surf.

And I don't blame her one bit.

If I was a surfer, today would have been a beautiful day to ride the waves. Yes - they were little. But the swell looked amazing, and there were surfers dotted along the coast in both directions. It was wonderful - watching them hop on their boards and ride the waves. Just like a dance.

All of a sudden, our white-surfer-board friend paused, looked over the cliff, and proceeded to walk down the cliff towards the water - white surf board on her head the entire time.

Nathaniel and I paused, awestruck by her balance and dexterity. The surfboard was now mere inches above the cliff top, rapidly descending behind a flowering shrub of some sort. Quickly Nathaniel and I made our way towards our wetsuit-clad friend, and peeped over the edge. Navigating a rough trail cut into the sandy cliffs, this girl was making her way effortlessly down the path, surfboard still expertly balanced on her head.

Wow.

What great a great core! What great balance! Spectacular stability!

Then again - she IS a surfer...

Nathaniel and I looked down. And then looked at each other, simultaneously sizing up the cliff and sizing up each other. I just know... I've know the guy for nearly 8 years. I can tell what kind of look he's giving me...

"Can we do it? Can you get down with your thingy? Will you be okay?" The questions tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

I just gave him "the look" (The look of incredulity.) My "thingy"??

Ok-ay.

"Of course!" I replied, cheerfully trying to calm my sweating palms. "I'll just butt scoot down the hill and everything will be okay."

It had gone from being a "cliff" to a "hill".

It's all about perspective, right?

Then again, I looked down and felt myself internally squirm. The cliff, er hill, was steep. And it was sand. And unstable. And there was a long drop to the sand and ocean below. And I had just had surgery... And I was carrying a "thingy" around (Folley - thank you very much!). And my flip flops weren't exactly the most appropriate of footwear for the terrain.

But I really wanted to be at the water's edge...

And my surfboard-toting friend had made it down just fine, surf board balance on her head the entire time.

Let's face it - how bad could it really be?

But still... I thought of my humorless, stern spine/neurosurgeon. He wouldn't approve. I thought about my parents. They definiteley wouldn't approve. I thought of my coach. And she - moreso than all of the others - would kill me if I made myself worse...

But my determination won out, and carefully I made my way down the cliff, er hill.

Butt scooting on my ass the entire time.

It was sandy, and I felt my shoes slip a bit. And firmly on my butt I sat. Legs would extend out, feet would plant as firmly as they could, hands would support my torso and butt, and gingerly I scooted forward. Foot-by-foot. Down the cliff - er hill - down, down, down. Very much the embodiment of Tabbitha. Like I said before, no deposits were left. Even though the sand was of a similar consistency to kitty litter...

I don't really remember how many switchbacks I crossed - perhaps 4 - but kept going. Feet extend, heels dig in, hands plant under my butt, butt moves forward, legs bend, and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. I don't really think I could have gone back up, quite truthfully... I let Nathaniel pass me towards the end, and remained firmly planted on my derriere, even as he jumped the final 6 feet to the sand. I could feel his impact.

The final 10 feet were the worst. I slowed my scooting (I was quite efficient at this point) as I neared the edge. To my dismay, there was nothing but empty air the final 5 feet between the edge of the cliff bottom and the sand. And newsflash: I'm a bit over 5 feet. A loveley 5'4, thank-you-very much! I thought briefly of jumping into Nathaniel's arms - how romantic! But that thought was soon squashed away by the fear of our impact together. The thought of me, catheter, folley, body-post-surgery all falling-like-a-stone into Nathaniel's open arms was simply too much.

Knowing me, I would probably squash the poor guy. He would be a body imprint, 18 inches below the sand. And me - with my catheter and folley - would lay spread eagle and moaning. Just my luck. We would take each other out by our foolish fantasy. Yeah. Not so much.

Don't cue the romantic music. Don't think of the couple - locked in embrase at surf's edge. We would both be hospitalized. Nathaniel for injuries sustained by his wife's impact. Me for insanity, for making the leap in the first place.

And ever so briefly, while the fantasy played through my mind, I was overcome by a fit of giggles.

If we had actually attempted this leap, I'm positive Coach Jen would have REALLY killed me. Dr Leary would give me another stern lecture. And my parents would swear that they weren't related.

Imagine that conversation: "Hi Jen - I made it down the cliff intact, but it was my stupid attempt at fulfilling a romantic fantasy of jumping into my husband's open arms at the water's edge that did me in."

It makes me sick just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Nathaniel managed to point out a few well placed foot ledges that had been carved out of the sandy rock. Whatta Man!

And after a few more minutes of turning off of my butt, placing my feet in the proper spots, I found myself on the soft Pacific Sand. And a mere 50 meters away from the crashing surf.

Safe, sound, intact. (Cue the romantic music!)

Needless to say - we walked 2 miles down to the public beach in Del Mar, and then slowly (and safely) made our way back up the hill side community, through the town and past the quaint shops of Del Mar, and eventually found ourselves back at the hotel.

It was a wonderful day, a great adventure for Nathaniel and myself. Even if I had to butt scoot down a cliff - er hill - to do so.

Blasted Speed Bump Sh*t (BS BS)

Dear California Parking Lot Speed Bump Association:

My name is Marit Chrislock-Lauterbach. I am an elite triathlete, and have a high pain threshold. Until today, when I encountered NO LESS THAN 35 SPEED BUMPS IN 2 PARKING LOTS! Here is my story.

5 days ago, I underwent back surgery to repair my S-1, or a broken Sacral bone and severe nerve damage in my spine. After a record recovery, I was released from the hospital a mere 4 days after my surgery. All things being equal, my doctors, nurses, and the medical community in general was impressed with my recovery.

Today, in an effort to bring some semblance of normalcy to my life, my loving husband of nearly 5 years and I headed out to the local grocery store, in effort to pick up a few delectable goodies for our prolongued stay in California. Strawberries, Greek yogurt (thanks Liz!), peanut butter, fiber-enriched bread, red peppers, sushi, and leftover Easter candy (giant Peanut Butter Bunnies!) were on our list.

Spirits were high as we drove smoothly along the beautiful California road towards the grocery store.

However, the mood within our rented Toyota Corolla changed for the worse the minute Nathaniel and I entered the parking lot of the VONS.

After crossing over 10 speed bumps in our FIRST parking lot, we backtracked OUT of the lot, disgusted by the incredibly high numbers of speed bumps. Unfortunately on our way OUT, we hit THE SAME 10 THAT WE WENT OVER ON THE WAY IN.

Both passengers in our car were disgruntled, unhappy, and slightly worse for the wear. Me - the back surgery patient - worse off than my unhappy husband. WE had simply had enough. Then and there, we decided that VONS - inspite of their wonderful sheet cake - would not get our buisness.

First grocery store down.

A few blocks up one of the Carmel Roadways (it could have been Carmel Creek, Carmel Drive, or Carmel Roadway - who knows. It sounded delicious), we encounted another small shopping center, which to our delight, included a Ralphs, along with a few quaint restaurants, a movie theatre, a chocoletier, Einsteins, Barnes & Noble, and a few other stores.

AND, unfortunateley, and ENDLESS AMOUNT OF SPEEDBUMPS.

There were so many, Nathaniel and I lost count. We hit at least 7 in on the way to the grocery store. And the same number on the way out. At least.

All I know, is that somewhere along the way, I felt a tug and pull in my lower back, let out a few zingers of curse words (Bloody Effing Hell! Being the tamest of the bunch), and experienced a slight tear in my recent closed up stitches.

And all from the speed bumps in the parking lot.

Fact: Nathaniel was going no more than 1 mph over the speed bumps

Fact: Marit was unhappy after 5 bumps. Imagine how she felt after 20. 30. 35...

Fact: When Marit is unhappy, Nathaniel is unhappy.

Fact: California parking lots DO NOT NEED 10 SPEED BUMPS PER STORE. AND IF SO, DRIVERS NEED TO BE RE-EDUCATED. PARKING AND SPEED ENFORCEMENT SHOULD BE PUT IN PLACE OF THE ZILLIONS OF SPEED BUMPS. PARKING LOTS IN CA SHOULD COME WITH A WARNING FOR PEOPLE WHO RECENTLY UNDERWENT ANY KIND OF SURGERY.

Fact: Marit and Nathaniel will NOT be shopping at stores that have more than 5 speed bumps in their parking lot.

We - and my doctors - would appreciete any help or suggestions you could make in order to solve this problem. The number of speed bumps are out of control. And, quite frankly, it shocks me, after all - there are Plastic Surgery Centers on nearly every other corner. One would think that for the amount of plastic surgery, the gazillions of patients would complain. Let's be honest: stitches for back surgery can't be all that different from stitched from a boob job, right?

And, torn stitches are still torn stitches, both ways you look at it.

Anything you could to to remedy this problem would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you for your time and attention to this matter,

Marit Chrislock-Lauterbach

Saturday Observations

Hey there Sportsfans!

As usual, time has slipped away, and I find myself stuffed full of chocolate cake, sleepy, SORE, and happy that Dad and Nathaniel are such good company. All we need are Mom and Karyna, and the family would be complete. Throw in Tabbitha, and you've got a really full hose. However - given Tabbitha's attack-like disposition, combined with the fact that I don't want anyone else injured, Tabbitha would have to stay home.

If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times: "Tabbitha - we don't attack our friends and family!"

But she never listens.

She just blinks, knowingly at me, and then lashes out at Nathaniel. Poor guy.

And our other friends.

(SORRY!)

FYI: Keep Caroline in your prayers this week - she's watching our House Monster while Nathaniel is keeping me company and playing a big role in my recovery.

Okay - where was I? Good question. Who knows? Not I. So proceed on, I will.

Great.

(Don't be alarmed - I talk to myself quite frequently. I find that for the most part, I make good company. Go figure. I think it explains a lot.)

Okay - I've been keeping a lot of mental observations over the past few days. On the drive home from the restaurant tonight (Dad took us out to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse - wonderful!) I started to tally up as many as I could remember.

Enjoy!

-Make sure you wear some sort of nipple protection with your hospital gowns. Ladies - a sports bra or regular bra works great. Guys - you're on your own. Unlesss you want to give the busten-halter look a try. Otherwise, bandaids would help a lot as well. The cotton of the robes isn't quite as forgiving as the fabric I'm accustomed to.

-While we're on the subject of hospital gowns: make sure that yours is properly fastened in the back. Yeah. Good stuff. Otherwise you might find yourself walking down the hallway to rounds of applause after you pass. Not that this happened to me - just something I thought about before requesting a second robe to wear front-to-back. All I'm saying is cover all your bases! And keep your bases covered.

-Wow. There sure are a lot of speed bumps in California. Quite a pain in the you-know-what. Especially if you just had surgery on your you-know-what you-know-where.

-Be aware that nothing that you show the nurses will surprise them. It doesen't matter if your apologize in advance, or give them fair warning. Which I did all last week. Hopefully with YOU, nothing will be new either. (But it doesen't hurt to apologize. How would YOU like to poke around someone's rear end?) Wait. Don't answer that. Sorry I asked.

-No shark sightings yet. But it doesen't mean I haven't spent plenty of time looking. I know that they're there...

-It's funny to see non-triathlon people (Dad and Nathaniel) react to the Pacific Ocean temperature (currently, a balmy 57 degrees). They jump and yelp in surprise. I smile and wade further into the surf.

-Post surgery and post accident, my body has decided to swell. Literally, it is swollen. I no longer have cankeles: hooray! Instead, everything from about mid-thigh level through my waist is thicker, solid, swollen. For the first time in recent memory, I look as thought I've got "back". "Baby Got Back" could be aptly applied to me, at this point. Go figure. Just fall of your bike, have major surgery - and voila! The perfect Brazilian Butt Lift!

-My clothes no longer fit. Yoga pants, SOFT cotton shirts, and sandals it is. Yippee! Nothing tight or constrained. And if anyone says anything to me about my appearance, I'll just spray them with my folley. hee hee hee. Because I can!

-Speaking of plastic surgery: wow - there's a lot that I've seen. Not all that great for a Midwestern-girl-at-heart-currently-living-in-Florida, who looks 20-30 pounds heavier, and walks around (to quote Bridget Jones!) "like she's got a giant gherkin thrust up her backside." Not the most fantastic time to look/feel bloated and slow. Oh well. My real body is just hiding, lying in wait until the perfect opportunity to emerge and reign supreme.

Did I just say that outloud?

:)

-The waiters and waitstaff at really nice restaurants look as though they're part of an intricate dance: one moves to the left bearing a tray of chocolate desserts, while the other moves to the right, balancing two trays of wine and water. Brilliant (although, we were hoping for a crash... would have thrown some drama into the evening. Alas, nothing happened.)

-When you're a nice patient on a tough hospital ward, the nurses will fight over which one gets to work with you. AND - if they really like you, they'll bring you extra cherry and strawberry jello. My nurses - especially Pam and Suzanne, were fantastic, and I will forever remember them. They brought me jello AND helped conduct a super-secret covert operation on my behalf.

Wednesday night, around 10:10 pm, I found myself being moved from one double room, to a private room. Quickly and quietly, Pam, Suzanne, and the floor assistant Carmelita, stealthily transferred me (on my bed), my drawers, bags, flowers, IVs, and other items across the 4th Floor West Ward. The mission was to give me a private room, so that Nathaniel could sleep in a cot beside my bed. I had been rooming in a double - which was scheduled to get an additional patient sometime in the middle of the night. So, operating under super secrecty (this was very unconventional, and my move wasn't approved by anyone else...a big no-no at this particular hospital), Camelita, Pam, and Suzanne moved me (strapped to the bed and slightly bewildered) into a different room.)

They were GREAT!

Morale of the story: be nice to your nurses!

-Now that I'm recovering, I'm beginning to itch. A lot. The road rash is NOT fun, and I woke up last night - not to the pain in my rear - but from my elbow road rash cracking open from putting the slightest amount of pressure on it. Go figure. Neosporin should be part of a race kit, if you ask me.

-This is the WRONG time to have it be "my time of the month." Which it now is. The good news: is that the sensory nerves that are in control of THAT particular bodily function are all in working order. Most excellent.

-Do not make comments on other people's blogs after taking pain medication. You might not follow your own train of thought. Something that I only do half the time, anyway.

-I feel other people's pain: while watching a player go down during the NCAA basketball tournament, I felt my butt involuntarily twitch. Not a pleasant experience, but great because THAT sensory nerve is working and accounted for.

-I am becoming a super stud at chaning out the overnight folley to the daytime folley. Simple! Down to 7 or 8 minutes from 20 (yesterday).

-Make sure that when you make any slightly or potentially embarassing statements over the phone, that you're not on speaker phone. Like I was. I thought I was talking to my Mother-In-Law, who used to work as a nurse. So there I went - chatting away about my medical issues, the good, the bad, the ugly - thinking that at least SHE would understand. Lo and behold, the entire Lauterbach family is now aware of my medical issues. The good, the bad, AND yes - even the ugly. They tried to understand, but I think they were more grossed out than anything else.

-People who are on speaker phone should be warned!

-I can still maintain my sense of humor and zest for life a few days after my accident. Sure, I"ve had a few down spots, but I've also had a few up times as well. That's life.

-You gotta roll with the punches!

Holy Emails Batman!

Wow.

This will be quick - because I have got a LOT of work to do...

I just opened my email for the first time since the accident, and it seems that my email box is literally bursting at the seams.

And now, I am tearing up - just at the thought of all the well wishes and emails...

I intend to answer them all... it may take a while. But I just wanted to let you know... thank you.

Sob.

(But I'm smiling!)

Thank you.