Ride the East 2010

Mike and I just completed day seven of the Ride the East Tour with America by Bicycle. We are riding 1,675 miles from Maine to Florida over 25 days. There are ten riders and four support people who are taking great care of us. A typical day consists of an early breakfast, then we're in our saddles from roughly 7am until about 2:30-5:00pm depending on how many miles, how big the hills are, and how many times I get distracted to go check out something cool. Also, mixed in are two SAG stops (Supplies and Gear, or the term I prefer Snacks and Gabbing.)

Today's ride was from Pottstown, Pennsylvania to Lancaster, Pennsylvania-- 64 miles, 4,275 feet of climbing.

The regular road was closed, so we had to take a detour on a dirt road through the forest. Steve from Chicago used his GPS to save the day.

A very nice couple who gave us directions.

Very high laundry on a pulley attached to the house.

More Pennsylvania farmland. I love the silos. Somehow they are very peaceful to me.

I was having problems with my computer, but I think now they're fixed. Another rider is also posting photos. He's done a great job. Go here and search Carl Groch.

Welcome Aboard the USNS Mercy

See this ship? Isn't she beautiful? Her name is Mercy, and I called her home for a while. Seriously. I got to take part in Pacific Partnership 2010---a partnership between the US Navy and several NGO's (Non-Governmental Organizations---think charities.) Before she returns home to San Diego, Miss Mercy will have set port in Guam, Vietnam, Cambodia, Singapore, Jakarta, Timor Leste, Indonesia, and Australia.  It's a humanitarian ship, basically a floating hospital. I was chosen (with about 80 other LDS folks) to represent Latter Day Saint Charities. Among us were all manner of medical people: from anesthesiologist to veterinarian. (My apologies if there were any medical people in the w-x-y-z category.) I left home on June 12th and returned July 1st.

Maybe the photo above will give you a better idea of Mercy's size. See that little, tiny boat in the lower right-hand corner? It's called a band-aid boat, and holds about 40 people. That was our shuttle service from ship to shore---about a 20-minute or so ride. Now, with the band-aid boat in mind, look again at the first photo of Madame Mercy. She's BIG, huh?

Check back for more details and photos of my adventure.

Christmas at the Dicou's---2009 Home Tour

Before I take down the Christmas decorations, I'm taking you on a little tour of the Dicou home front. We had three Christmas events at our house this year:  the All About Pets Christmas party, the Dicou Family Party, and I hosted our Bookclub Luncheon. So I had to have all of the decorating done by December 8th. Note to Self: Get done early again next year. Christmas was so much more enjoyable that way. It removed a TON of the guilt and anxiety. I actually felt on top of things. Ok, here we go.

First stop---The Fireplace

I love snowmen. They're so happy. Over the years I've collected a bunch. What's great about using snowmen to decorate is I can leave them up until Memorial Day, believe me--- we'll still have snow.

Here's a close-up.

And another.

Next up---The Christmas Trees

Each tree had it's own theme. The tallest is decorated in tourquoise, magenta, lime green, and red. The middle one had mostly poofy-felt/fabric ornaments, and the baby tree had our Hallmark ornaments that we've been collecting since 1980.

I made a felt circle garland for the tallest tree that I discovered here on Anna Maria Horner's blog. She made a great tutorial with easy to follow instructions. I chose the colors of the felt, then pretty much built the rest of the tree around it. I did the stitching while watching Jazz games on tv, or on a flight to New York, or while in the car (I wasn't doing the driving). Each circle took about five minutes.

Moving along we come to---The Nativity Scene

I've, also, been collecting Nativity scenes on our travels. In this one, I love that there's a bunny sitting in the manger with baby Jesus, and how many times do you get to see a gray tabby cat among the mix of sheep and cattle in Bethlehem?

Let's slip into the kitchen and see---Our First EVER Gingerbread House

We were invited by the Skousens and the Ferres to join them in one of their Christmas traditions. So, we made our very first gingerbread house. I think it turned out absolutely adorable. Our snowman salt and pepper shakers look like they're about ready to step inside.

Last stop---Our Christmas Card Photo

I was tickled with our photo.  Taken on Thanksgiving Day we had just finished eating, so with full tummies I dragged the gang out to the porch. I was given five minutes (it was really, really cold) to set up the tripod, set the self-timer, jump into the photo, suck in my belly, and look relaxed. And I found a cute frame at Target that matched perfectly.

That's it until next year.

Happy 2010!

It's gonna be a good one.

What Santa Claws brought Murray

Keeps you warm and your paws free.

Merry Christmas to All!

No, Virginia....

Me. Santa. 1962.

When I was about 8-years old, my friend, Jo Maxfield told me that my dad, a Texaco owner, was Santa.

I remember thinking something like, "You mean the gas station is just a front?"

No.... She said that her dad was Santa, too.

Then she told me about sex.

So...dear blog reader, how did You find out?

 About Santa, that is.

Moaning and groaning.

The emergency room.

So there he is, minding his own business, vacuuming.

Next thing I know Mike's laying on the bed in fetal position gasping, "There's something bad going on inside of me," and moaning. Moaning and groaning.

He wants to shower. Less than a minute later he's lying on the bathroom floor. In fetal position. Moaning.

He'd been sick earlier in the week with an upset stomach and other gastro-intestinal symptoms.

The moaning continues.

We decide a trip to the emergency room is in order. He heads for the truck. I scramble to find my shoes, purse, and car keys. I'm 30 seconds behind him. Next thing I know he's laying in the driveway. Moaning and clutching his abdomen.

We head down the hill with him alternating between telling me to hurry and telling me to quit driving so crazy. Laying in the backseat, every turn jars him and increases the throbbing pain.

We arrive at the E.R. with my shoes still sitting in the passenger seat. Hunched over he stumbles into the waiting room, still moaning. They grab him, rush him to a bed, and begin trying to hit a vein to place a catheter. He ran 10 miles that morning so he's dehydrated and they need a port to be able to give him pain medication.

The nurse asks on a scale from one to ten what level is your pain. "TEN!"

From the second we walked in, the doctors and nurses were suspecting kidney stones.

A CT scan confirmed the diagnosis. He had a kidney stone the size of a tomato seed lodged at the junction between his ureter and his bladder. (The ureters connect the kidneys to the bladder, the urethra connects the bladder to the outside world.)

For the next six hours Nadine is his new best friend. She has the morphine.

Finally, sweet relief. At least the pain level is now a "seven".

We are given a few options. One involves running a tube up the "channel" (the doctor's words) and placing a stent to provide an opening to let the backed up urine flow into the bladder. The other option involves running a basket up the "channel" and retrieving the offending stone. Hmmm.... not wanting anything in his "channel" we take option three: loading up on intravenous fluids, to see if we can flush the thing out, and Flomax to help the smooth muscle of the ureter to relax it's grasp on the stone. And a request to keep the morphine handy.

Thankfully, with the pain somewhat controlled---now at level 5---he was sent "upstairs" to the regular part of the hospital.

The plan worked. He made it through the night with only two more shots of morphine. In the morning, the pain level was about a two.

Apparently, the ureter had spit the stone into Mike's bladder.

The doctor sent him home with a paper filter that resembled a snowcone cup, and instructions to strain his urine and watch for the stone.

Sure enough, on Sunday evening Mike became the proud owner of a dark-brown-tomato-seed sized kidney stone.

Mike does not want to repeat this experience. Ever.

Are you kidding me?

It's only September 30th! September! 30th!
I think I'm going to go cry for a little while now.