According to this chart...

I just returned from an appointment with my doctor, a family practitioner I selected after my primary care physician retired, for a blood pressure check. It's required to renew my prescription for medication and has to be checked and verified every 6 months.
BP is borderline. Not perfect but it's always higher sitting in the office after the 15 minute drive in morning traffic, navigating the parking lot that's often clogged with people waiting for the spot nearest the door to open up because God forbid they should have to walk 10 feet. They're usually still sitting there with the engine running after I find a spot and walk the 50 yards to the door.
Next comes check-in, paper work (all the legal mumbo jumbo no one ever reads) and the dreaded weigh in - always fun, especially with a full bladder.
The assistant comes in to take my BP reading, collect my updated paper work and says the doctor will be right in and she is. She's usually prompt and always smiling.
Not surprisingly, my BP is a tad high but nothing to be alarmed about. White Coat Syndrome, I think they call it.
She asks about my winter in Florida, how the wrist I broke in September was healing, exercise goals, blah, blah, blah.
We discuss my lack of exercise. She asks if I walk when I play golf.
"Not in the 98 degree heat", I reply. She laughs.
She asks if I've thought about swimming. Great exercise, non-impact. Won't hurt the knees.
I say, "Sure, but you have to get into a bathing suit to do that, right?"
At this point, I'm convinced she has absolutely no idea who I am or what a self-depracating sense of humor is because she immediately and quite sincerely asks if I have "Body Image Issues" and if I would like to see a counselor to deal with them.
"Oh hell no!" I replied. "I don't know many 63 year old post menopausal mothers of three who actually like squeezing into a bathing suit and flaunting their cellulite riddled bodies around a public pool."
Now in all fairness, this small boned woman, late thirties I'm guessing, about 5'3", 100 lbs. max, zero body fat, probably can't relate to the issues I'm dealing with at 63. She's obviously swimming in a different gene pool.
As a family practitioner, her practice includes prenatal care and delivery, infants, children, adolescents (Aha! Body Image Issues) and adults.
I divulge I'm often tired and try to catch a 15 minute power nap in the afternoon if I can.
I tell her about my aching knees (a problem for years) ankles, left shoulder. All things my peers, even the skinny ones, complain of too.
She suggests a metabolic panel to check my thyroid, hormone and vitamin B and D levels.
She asks me to fast before the blood draw and return in two weeks with BP readings taken at home.
Now, for the duration of this appointment, she's also typing like madwoman on her computer, explicit details of our conversation.
This, in the medical profession is called, CYA. (Cover Your Ass for those reading who were born yesterday)
As we say our goodbyes and I walk to the elevator (No, I didn't walk up or down four flights of stairs!)
I start reading her printed report, detailing our visit, diagnoses and patient plan.
It's thorough and details everything we discussed although she paraphrased my comments about getting into a bathing suit. She was sure to include that I chose to wait on increasing my BP meds and nixed the suggestion of counseling for my Body Image Issues.
And then I noticed that in her Assessment/Plan, item #1 was a Diagnosis of "Obesity," followed by a code number.

Obesity? Really?
During my physical last fall she said she wasn't worried so much about weight as long as all my other vitals and tests (Triglycerides) were good, and they were. Overall, I'm extraordinarily healthy and always have been.
I've never been in denial that I'm overweight but I've also never eaten more healthy than I do now.
I've also never been skinny, lean or small boned.
At 63 I've accepted the fact that I'll never look 25 again.
But obese?
By whose standards? Eileen Ford?
Some standardized chart, put out there by medical professionals who do not take into account age, body type, injuries, pregnancies, family history and numerous other factors says I'm obese? I guess it's based on a height to weight ratio.
I joke with the sweet medical assistant who happens to be built like a defensive lineman, that something like that may be enough to put another person on suicide watch but not me, I just bought a lot of new clothes!
I make sure she understands I really am joking, lest she inform the doctor she should try again to push counseling for body image issues.
I like my doctor. I do. I think she's competent and sincere.
But I think it may be time to search for one with a better understanding of age related issues; one who is less concerned with documenting every word exchanged lest a claim of medical malpractice be filed down the road. To be sure, I do understand the need for accurate records should something arise in the future but I've decided this CYA mentality gets in the way of a doctor-patient relationship.
And I blame the insurance companies and legal profession for ruining American healthcare.

Memorial Day - Get It Right!

It's been nearly two years since I last blogged - so long that I forgot how to post one as things have changed on the web site.
I usually try to keep my mouth shut unless I have something significant to say but today I feel the overwhelming urge to speak out.
With Memorial Day looming, I'd like to set the record straight for those of you who are confused as to the meaning of this holiday.

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, originated after the Civil War as a way to commemorate all soldiers who had died in that conflict. It was later expanded to commemorate all Americans who died while serving in the military.
It's inappropriate to use the phrase "Happy Memorial Day". There is nothing happy about a day set aside to honor our war dead. It is a somber occasion.



Veterans Day, celebrates the service of all U.S. military who have served and is not to be confused with Memorial Day, which commemorates and honors those who have died.

And to the individual who on Labor Day posted her "thanks to all the hero soldiers who have served"...
You're an idiot!

Too Much Stuff!

We're moving in two weeks!

After 25 extremely happy years in this home we have loved, we found the perfect empty nester home near the majority of our friends and walking distance to the golf course!

It's a home we considered 9 years ago but passed on due to the fact that our youngest had just started high school, the majority of her friends were within walking distance and we were close to downtown Boulder and her school. 

So we stayed and have never once regretted that decision.

Though we were not house hunting and in fact had decided we would be happy to stay in this home forever, the majority of our close neighbors had sold in recent months and with the exception of one dear friend across the road, the neighborhood dynamic had changed.

Recently, that same house came back on the market so we jumped! We quickly called our amazing realtor who scheduled a refresher showing and we submitted our offer contingent upon our selling our house in 60 days. While the seller was willing to accept the dollar amount, she would not accept the contingency so we sat back to reassess. This was the only house we wanted but we didn't want to tip our hand so after a week or so of silence, with fingers crossed, we listed our house. If the one we hoped to buy sold, as we were afraid it would when she dropped her price, we would just take ours off the market and be content that it was simply not meant to be.

Within hours of our home hitting MLS, we had our first showing and barely 36 hours later, our realtor presented us with four offers! Our heads were spinning! 

Take that bitch!

So, we got the home we wanted under contract and then signed the deal on ours.

Now comes the hard part!

Though I never watch reality television shows, I'm told there is actually a series called "Hoarders".

And while I'm certainly not a hoarder and have never considered myself to be a pack rat, I had no idea we had accumulated so much stuff over the course of the last 25 years!

My perception was that as each child moved out, they took not only their own belongings but that which I also offered to help them set up dorm rooms, apartments, etc. While that was mostly true, I had quietly been amassing a stockpile of my own that was discreetly hidden behind closet and cabinet doors.

With all the showings, negotiations, pre-closing details, appraisals, inspections and whatnot out of the way, I began in earnest this week the purging and packing process that comes before every move. And the timing is good as I had surgery on Monday to remove skin cancer from my nose and am sporting a bandage that looks like a Kotex Pad for Minnie Mouse! Who wants to venture out in public looking like that? It's the perfect time to hide out at home so I've been hitting it hard.

OH MY GOD!

We need our own private landfill!

We could set up our very own thrift shop!

This task is monumental!

With time of the essence, we immediately nixed the idea of a garage sale. Too much work for too little reward and the majority of the items end up donated anyway so The Humane Society of Boulder County Thrift Store has been the recipient of almost all of our extremely usable items.

We have delivered a gazillion carloads of clothing (some never worn!), artwork, dishes, small appliances, picture frames (okay, so maybe I am a little bit of a hoarder), tools, luggage, pet supplies, electronics, etc. Their thrift shop has such a familiar look to it. It just feels like home!

So the clock is ticking, the purging and packing continues and deep down inside I know it will all get done.

We are so very excited about this next chapter in our lives and settling in to our new home.

And lest anyone think we can take our time unpacking following the move...think again!

Our first house guests, my sister and brother-in-law who we invited long ago to join us for a golf tournament, arrive a week later!

Remembering 9/11

Everyone has their story. This is mine.
That beautiful September morning began as almost any other.
After feeding her breakfast and packing her lunch, with coffee cup in hand I walked Molly to the school bus and returned home to feed the dogs prior to heading out for my regular Tuesday round of golf. As it is every weekday morning, our little TV in the kitchen was tuned to The Today Show with Matt Lauer and Katie Couric who announced they had some breaking news. As I stood there watching the thick, black smoke pouring from the World Trade Center, wondering along with everyone else what exactly was happening, Katie Couric said something about a small plane hitting the tower. My first thought was that there was no way a small plane could have caused that kind of damage, there had to be jet fuel involved.
Then the second plane hit.
And at that very moment, I just knew.
"Terrorists!"
The word tumbled off my tongue as if there were someone there to hear besides the dogs. In somewhat of a daze, I instinctively went to the front hall closet, retrieved our American flag, unfurled it and placed it in the bracket on our front porch.

My next thought of course was of my family, particularly my son Billy, who was assigned to The USS Vella Gulf, a guided missile cruiser based in Norfolk, VA where they were in the final stages of preparation for a regularly scheduled 6 month deployment. He had enlisted in the US Navy and left for The Great Lakes Naval Training Center on January 3rd of that year, completed boot camp in March followed by 'A' School where he trained to become an Operations Specialist. He married in May and had just moved to Norfolk with his bride of barely three months.
Not knowing how to reach him on board the ship, I immediately called my daughter-in-law who was unaware of what was happening in New York. She turned on her TV, tried unsuccessfully to call Billy and called me back in near hysterics after learning that every ship in Norfolk had left the base for God-knows-where.
I assured her it was probably a precaution to avoid another Pearl Harbor type scenario, but there was no consoling her and I certainly understood her tears and fears.
I also understood the world as we knew it would be forever changed.
Though it was days before I was able to hear the sound of my son's voice, we soon learned that his ship left immediately for New York City where they were told to be prepared to shoot down civilian aircraft if it came to that. Billy said the guys on the screens in the Operations Center were sweating bullets but thankfully never had to execute any such horrifying order. They spent four days in the waters off New York before returning to Norfolk and leaving for the deployment the likes of which none of them ever anticipated.
One day they were looking forward to cruising the Mediterranean and the next, as Billy, with his voice cracking so sadly stated, "It's off to war we go."
And so it was for the remainder of his 4 year enlistment.

It's been impossible to turn on the TV this week and avoid any reference to today's 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, The Pentagon and had it not been for those brave souls on Flight 93, an unknown target in Washington, D.C.

As I've watched the extensive coverage of the memorials at Ground Zero, that ghostly field in Shanksville, PA and the Pentagon, I'll admit to the shedding of tears. The stories that have surfaced in the last ten years are at the very least, mesmerizing. I'm grateful to both the media for their excellent coverage and the survivors who were willing to speak. There is much to be learned from their insufferable losses and their experiences of recovery.

Is it possible to watch the child of anyone killed on that day speak and not tear up at their pain? On Friday, Matt Lauer played a clip from his 2001 interview with a young boy who'd lost his firefighter father on that awful day and as I watched this child choking back his tears, trying to be as brave as his father surely was, I could not control the flood of tear drops that cascaded down my cheeks into my morning coffee. 

I'm thinking that if I still feel this way after 10 years, I'll probably react that same way in another 5, 10 or even 20 years if I'm still around and even can remember!

Thousands were lost that sad September day and thousands more in the years since as our military fights to prevent such terror attacks from occurring again on our soil. My high school classmate Paula lost her beloved husband, Bob Minara. He was a firefighter, just doing his job, doing what heroes always do - running toward danger while everyone else runs away from it. Although I never met Bob, I think of them both constantly.

And I'll admit to being very proud that my son, though he never wanted to go to war, played a small part in our efforts to go after those responsible for the horror that was inflicted on our country 10 years ago.

Remember?

Always!

Back to School

Unlike the swallows returning to the San Juan Capistrano mission in California, the 26,000+ undergrads rolling into Boulder each August don't all arrive on the same day but they are just as predictable.
Having lived in this beautiful college town at the foot of the Rocky Mountains for over 35 years, I'm always energized by the annual influx of excited freshmen and their nervous yet proud parents.
Returning upperclassmen arrive happy to trade their small and restrictive dorm rooms for the freedom of a new apartment or house.
Our streets are clogged with cars bearing out of state plates but local stores and restaurants are packed. Business is booming all over town.
Football season is just around the corner.
The nights are growing cooler. One can feel fall in the air.
It's a great time to be in Boulder!

********************************

Today is the first day of school for the nearly 29,000 students in the Boulder Valley School District and I'm thinking of one very excited first year teacher fulfilling her lifelong dream.
Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall in her classroom today!
Such lucky students to have my daughter Molly as their 4th grade teacher!
You go girl!

********************************

Lastly, a friend posted the message below on his Facebook wall today and I think it bears repeating.
It's a message that should not only apply to students, but one that everyone should consider when dealing with co-workers, neighbors, restaurant servers or store clerks. Be kind to everyone!

To all you kids returning to school: If you see someone who is struggling to make friends or being bullied because they don't have many friends or because they are shy or not as pretty..PLEASE step up! Say hi or at least smile at them in the hallway. You never know what that person might be facing outside of school. Your kindness might just make a BIG difference in someone's life! PARENTS & Grandparents SHOULD REPOST THIS! And kids, study hard, play hard and please have fun this new school year!

Trying To Be Reasonable About Reasonable Doubt

Initially, I was probably as shocked as anyone else when a verdict in the Casey Anthony capital murder trial came down. And after only eleven hours of deliberation it was clear that the jury was probably unanimous in their findings early in the process.

We were 25 minutes from DIA aboard a Frontier Airlines jet when CNN announced the jury had reached a verdict and were at baggage claim when it was read in open court. I watched and listened on my iPhone in disbelief as Jim searched for our bags. (Priority Handling my ass!)

Like any newshound, I followed this trial via newspapers and CNN's daily recap and often wondered how defense attorney Jose Baez made it through high school, much less law school.

I served on a jury once and at the end of the day, we could not find the defendant guilty (an assault that resulted in the victim losing a testicle) for the simple reason that the prosecution could not prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt - "reasonable" being the key word here.

The victim had crashed a party at the defendant's residence, was drunk and belligerent, asked to leave and refused to do so. A scuffle ensued, ending with a swift kick to the groin of the victim. I'll spare you the gory details.

There were plenty of witnesses, the defendant admitted to the kick in his effort to get the victim off his property and his back, but said he never intended for the victim (who was 8" taller and outweighed the defendant by 65 pounds) to ultimately lose his testicle. The prosecution failed to prove he intended to injure the man so seriously and we could not, in all good conscience, convict this guy.

In our country, the burden of proof is on the prosecution to "prove beyond a reasonable doubt" that a crime occurred and someone is responsible for it. It's a very high, if not impossible, standard to meet which is why it's referred to as a "burden".
The Casey Anthony case was based largely on circumstantial evidence which is always going to generate some degree of doubt and no jury should ever take a capital murder case lightly.
Scott Peterson's conviction in the murder of his pregnant wife Lacey was also based largely on circumstantial evidence proving that sometimes, even circumstantial evidence is compelling enough for a conviction. But that simply wasn't the case in the Anthony trial.
In recent years, DNA evidence has freed many sitting on death row who were wrongly convicted and we also know there are plenty of innocent people still sitting in jails.

It happens.

New York lawyer Susan Moss said when referring to the Casey Anthony trial, "Apparently, they found the only 12 people who still think the world is flat". But we can't blame the jury.

Is she guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt, of the murder of her daughter Caylee?

After three years of investigations, legal maneuvering, lab tests, sworn statements, and a lengthy trial, the jury agreed the prosecution did not prove that she was. 

Due to the decomposition of her little body, authorities could not even determine the cause of death.
But is Casey Anthony innocent?
Of course not! And the jury never said she was but it's clear they had doubts about much of what the prosecution presented as evidence.
As for me? The fact that Caylee was missing for 31 days before Casey said a word is evidence enough, and I believe she's guilty as sin, but what I think or believe doesn't matter.

More than likely, Casey Anthony will walk out of jail tomorrow a free woman after being sentenced to time served for lying to the cops. She'll disappear for a while, get a makeover, a new wardrobe and reappear on a book tour in the not too distant future because she's no doubt going to go after the money and fame.

We won't ever know the truth because no matter what she says, no one could or should believe a word that comes out of her mouth.
It's a sad commentary indeed.

Politicians, Penises and Prostitutes, Oh My!

So it was just announced that Rep. Anthony Weiner has (finally!) decided to resign, as well he should.

Ever since the former President William Jefferson Clinton sat at his desk, pointed his fat finger at us and lied, "I did not have sex with that woman..." things have completely gone to hell! 

Despite the minor inconvenience of that little impeachment issue which was later dropped, Clinton got away with it. 

Completely. 

He's too smug to even be bothered by it today. He's far too busy earning his six figure speaking engagement fees. People pay a lot of money to hear this guy blabber and pontificate! 

Or maybe they just really want to thank him for teaching our children all about oral sex and that it's okay for the President to lie so it must be alright for everyone else to lie too, right?

I almost barfed when I read that Clinton was "angry" at Anthony Weiner (they're friends, Clinton officiated at his recent wedding to his now pregnant wife who also happens to work for Hillary) and was reportedly refusing to take his calls after the scandal broke. Well isn't that a case of the pot calling the kettle black? 

A tad self righteous, aren't we? 

Look what you started, Bill!

There's a long list of politicians who since Clinton's scandal, seem to think they too can get away with this type of behavior:

*Sen. John Edwards - liar, had affair with campaign aide who later gave birth to his child as his wife battled cancer.

*Gov. Arnold Schwartzenegger - liar, had affair with maid who later gave birth to his child as wife Maria staunchly defended him against rumors of groping and unacceptable behavior.

*Rep. Mark Foley - liar, sends texts of explicit sexual nature to young, male Senate pages.

*Gov. Elliot Spitzer - liar, patronized high priced call girls (prostitutes).

*Sen. Larry Craig - liar, gets caught trying to pick up men in airport restrooms.

*Gov. Mark Sanford - liar, boinking his Argentinian soulmate while everyone thought he was hiking the Appalachian Trail.

*Rep. Christopher Lee - liar, sends online pics of his pecs while looking for love in all the wrong places.

*Gov. James McGreevey - liar, having affair with another man. (Not totally unexpected when someone's had to live in a closet their entire life. It's got to be easier to be openly gay)

*Rep. Anthony Weiner - liar, well...you know the rest. I hope there's not more.

These guys all have families, wives, children!

What are they thinking?

What are they thinking with? Their little heads, of course!

Had enough? Me too!

We need more women running for public office!

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/12/weekinreview/12women.html?_r=2&src=twrhp

Given a choice, I'd probably vote for a woman over a man every time!

Well, any woman except Sarah Palin!