Seriously...why do you count calories??

I've been getting this question a lot lately and I have to admit, it's really starting to drive me nuts! Although, when I reflect on why people ask me this, I realize that they really don't understand the disorder I have.

I mean, from an outsiders perspective I am a vegan, I exercise 6-7 days a week and I maintain a pretty healthy lifestyle. So, why would I need to pay such close attention to calories? Why wouldn't I just eat when I'm hungry and not worry about it? I would probably ask the same questions if I didn't know any better.

I have an eating disorder. That is not hard for me to say anymore. Growing up obese and being obese up until my thirties, I never really acknowledged that I had an eating disorder. I knew I was fat, but that's all it was to me. I'm fat and I just have to deal with being fat. I didn't really admit to what it was until I turned 30. An eating disorder, just like any other disorder or addiction, is not something you're ever cured of...it's a lifelong illness/disease that needs to be managed and controlled.

For the rest of my life I will always have to think about what I eat, think about the choices I make, and work hard to maintain the balance I've found. I've been told that it's obsessive and unhealthy to think so carefully about how much I eat and to punish myself when I "splurge". I've thought about that a lot. I do understand that point of view. Food shouldn't be something we obsess about, it's just fuel after all. We shouldn't hate ourselves because we had half a cup of ice cream, when that is not what we eat everyday all the time. I get it. I get that it might be considered an unhealthy attitude towards food....but do you get what happens to me when I have that half a cup of ice cream, when I have that one cookie, when I go out to eat and allow myself that one special entree? If you haven't had an eating disorder, you don't. That one cookie triggers that addiction and sends me into a spiral that is very hard to get out of...I want another cookie. Then I have one more and I decide that I've already "cheated" so I can have another and another and another. The regret is almost immediate, the pain is not far behind (my system can't handle that kind of eating anymore)...and the emotional damage is unrepairable. Seem a bit extreme to you? I can see that. Yet, that's my life. That's what happens to me on a daily basis.

Don't get me wrong, I don't suffer every day. I don't hate my life. I don't deny myself the things I enjoy. I've found a balance in my life that allows me to eat the foods I enjoy and maintain the healthy body that I've come to cherish. I never want to go back to the way I was. I was truly unhealthy and had one foot in the grave. It's not a good way to live. I love my life the way it is today...but that means counting calories and talking about food and thinking about food each and every day.

Why am I writing this? Because, I wanted to provide some perspective to those of you that have never experienced this kind of disorder. When you see me counting out my pistachios and weighing my eggplant or measuring my hummus down to the tablespoon...don't laugh at me. Don't tell me that it's stupid or ridiculous. It may seem absurd to you, but it's a huge part of my life. It's what keeps me in control. It's what allows me to live and love life. Would you tell an alcoholic that it's okay to have one beer now and then? No. So, why would you tell me it's okay to just eat when I'm hungry and not worry about the calories? Or to have that one indulgence?

Now, I'm going to have that one lifesaver I saved for and go to bed. Yes, I'm serious...one lifesaver (10 calories btw)!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Shady Trust Fund Baby - The Untold Story

If you've been following my life at all for the last few months, you all know about STFB - Shady Trust Fund Baby. He was originally known under the affectionate nicknames of Hot Neighbor, Brown Box Stalker, and Hot Trust Fund Baby. However, he has earned the Shady in his name and this is the untold story!

When I first met STFB, he was just my neighbor and to be honest a little bit of eye candy. I looked forward to the times we would pull in to the garage together (his spot was right next to mine), but our interactions were limited and even as I did talk to him more and more, I just assumed he was way out of my league. I never anticipated ending up where we did. If you've been following my blog, you already know the story of the Brown Box Stalker. It was the most unusual and kind of disturbing way a guy has ever asked me out. Yet, it also intrigued me. This guy was a little different and was definitely a thrill seeker like me. I had my reservations about him because of the "strange" occurrences that had taken place during the time we were neighbors...but, hey, don't they say a little mystery is good??

Our initial dates were adventuresome and definitely dangerous for an accident prone victim like myself. Before we even had our first date we got into a motorcycle accident together and I ended up skidding across the street and slamming my head (in helmet luckily!) into a parking meter. Although, his injury did surpass mine, which is rarely the case! After that incident we still risked it and went out on our first date. Due to the sustained injuries from our pre-date, the plans were changed, and he took me out on his yacht instead of the "adventure" date he had planned (but didn't share with me). My first impression was that this guy was fun, exciting and muy caliente!

As we continued on our dates, I noticed a theme, which seemed to indicate he was trying to kill me. Each and every date was like amazing race or something! We climbed cliffs and burrowed through caves, we went rock climbing (or for me...rock slamming), we road and raced quads, roller bladed, and numerous other death defying activities. It seemed to me he was trying each time to come up with something more dangerous in the hopes it would finally do me in. Either that or he really did just love my enthusiastic nature and adventurist spirit! I warned my friends that if I ended up dead, that he should be the prime suspect.

As much as the thought weighed on my mind that he was trying to kill me, I kind of liked it. We had fun and he made me laugh all the time! I liked that he was a little aloof and a hard nut to crack. Although, the mystery of it all was starting to frustrate me, and it was killing me to find out what it was that he wasn't telling me!

It started to get weirder and weirder and more and more questions arose with no answers. This is when he earned the name Shady instead of Hot.

There were numerous incidents where we would be out to eat or at an event and he would get a phone call and just disappear and leave for hours, days and sometimes weeks. I would never get an explanation and it was always sudden and ominous. Once we went together to the Guacamole Bowl and 30 minutes into the event he gets a phone call, says he'll be right back, and then disappears just leaving me there all by myself. He called 8 hours later and said he had to leave town unexpectedly. Who does that?! When questioned why he had to leave town, he just gave vague answers like "something came up" or "just business". These phone calls happened often and he would always disappear to take the call and each time led to him leaving town. I theorized he was either a drug dealer, C.I.A., in the Witness Protection Program, or most likely had a secret family complete with a wife and kids in another town. I was almost positive it was the latter. I would joke about it with him all the time, and thinking back, he never really did deny it. He just played along with the joke.

He wouldn't let anyone take his picture and would get aggressive and angry when someone would try after he said no. When asked why, he just said "why does anyone need my picture, you've seen me, isn't that enough?" He claimed that having your picture taken was vain and he didn't understand the purpose. Yet, he owned a really nice and professional camera. What's the point if you find pictures to be vain?? Plus, he had absolutely nothing personal in his home. No photos, no albums, nothing but sterile furniture and a few dishes. It seemed to be just a place you would go when you are passing through town, which only furthered my suspicion about the secret family!

I never met any of his friends and the only people that ever seemed to come around always showed up at like 3am and were extremely shady characters themselves. When we were just neighbors, they would accidentally knock on my door all the time. I have to tell you, I was scared a few times! He could never explain it though. Just said he had "eccentric" friends. Although, once I saw what seemed to be a normal looking gentleman that was presumably a "friend". We were walking down the street and from across the street a guy yelled "Sean! Hey, Sean! Dude!" (yes, now you know his real name). STFB just smiled and waved, but kept on walking. I was like "do you know him?" and his response was "I waved, we're good." WTH?? I waved, we're good?! What was he avoiding? Clearly the guy wanted to say "hi" and was trying very hard to get his attention. So weird.

When it came time for my birthday we had made big plans to celebrate together and I was really looking forward to it. Then he just calls me out of the blue right before my birthday and says "I have to go out of town for a few weeks"...no apologies about my birthday, no reason, no nothing. That was becoming the common theme. Just disappear and never offer an explanation, and it was becoming frequent. Yet, when I planned a road trip without him and withheld the details of my trip, he got all bent out of shape and childish. He said if I was going on some secret getaway he was going to leave town too. I said "shocking, what else is new??"

He also had a crazy killer instinct! We went hiking one day and he diverted off the trail into an area we shouldn't have been (the signs said so!) and a snake bit me...of course! He grabbed the snake and crushed it's head and flung it away like crocodile dundee or some crap. I was not happy about his murdering instinct. After all we were intruding on the snakes territory. He was starting to scare me a bit.

Despite all these things, he still made me laugh all the time, and his mystery provided me with a source of entertainment. Then things started to shift and his shadiness turned to asshole real quick! He had once been supportive of my vegan lifestyle and for the first couple of months we dated he went out to vegan restaurants with me and enjoyed eating some of the same food. However, once I started eating out less and cooking more at home, he began to throw fits about eating "the green tofu shit". Most of the time, he showed up at my house uninvited, and then had the nerve to complain about the food I had cooked, even though I generously offered to share it with him. He would leave and go across the street to McDonald's or Porkyland and bring back pulled pork sandwiches, Big Macs, fake molded "chicken" nuggets. I told him repeatedly I didn't appreciate him bringing meat into my house and that if that's what he wanted to eat he should do it on his own time. He never listened, never showed any respect for my values. He continually would call me or text me that he was coming over and when I replied "no" the doorbell would ring 2 seconds later. It was so annoying!

On Easter he showed up at my place and brought a giant ham and asked me to cook it up. When I told him that he wasn't bringing that thing into my house, he accused me of "ruining his Easter". I don't know if he honestly thought I would just stop being vegan because he wanted to eat meat or if he was just an incredible asshole (I now know the answer!).

Beyond his shadiness, he started to show signs of stalker behavior as well. Obviously, given my past, I now look for these signs and I'm wary to say the least. He had come over one night (uninvited of course) and I had dinner plans. I told him this and forced him to leave. When I got home that evening (after 11pm) I came into my house and switched on the light and was startled and scared out of my mind when I saw someone sitting on my couch. It was STFB! I had never given him my key and he was out of my house when I left. He knew my stalker history, yet he saw nothing wrong with his actions and refused to tell me how he got in. I can only assume at some point he took my spare keys and had a copy made. That's just creepy!

The last straw came when I invited him hiking with me. Hiking is my release, I usually go alone and clear my head and really enjoy the time on the mountain. I wanted to invite him so he could share in something I really enjoyed. I was actually really happy when he accepted. When we got to the summit, I engaged in conversation with some fellow hikers. One of them was a guy that said "you look really fit, what else do you do besides hiking?"...to which I was excitedly prepared to answer and tell him all about kettlebells when STFB pipes in and says "don't be fooled bro, she carries it well, but she's storing a little something extra for winter." Could he be any more insulting? He knew how far I've come in my weight loss journey and that I still harbor some sensitivity around that area. The guy was awesome though and retorted that STFB was a dick, which I appreciated. Oh and prior to that gem he had once said to me "you are the most interesting, intelligent and exciting person I know. I could have easily chosen to date a super model type, but I chose you instead." I feel so special.

Sadly, I still gave him another opportunity to make it up to me...and what did that get me?? A bigger asshole! I got sick and my stomach was really upset. STFB called and asked if he could come over and I told him I really didn't feel up to it. Of course, two seconds later 'ding dong'. He comes in carrying a bowl of chicken soup and says "your lifestyle is what's making you sick, you need to just eat this soup, and go back to being normal." Really, go back to being normal? What's normal about slaughtering animals for your own consumption and inhumane treatment of defenseless creatures? That was the last straw. It was evident to me that he had zero respect for my beliefs and the things that were important to me.

I did get a little revenge when he showed up uninvited yet again, even though I had already broken things off, and I vomited all over him (projectile baby!). I thought it was well deserved. My body couldn't have planned it any better.

I thought the saga was over and the story ended there, but it doesn't. I guess with a character like STFB that would be too simple. After the deed was done and I said "no more!" he kind of unraveled a little and peeled back the layers. It wasn't pretty what was underneath.

First he admitted to me that he did have a kid! He has a son that is 2 years old and a baby mama that live in Northern California. Then he dropped the bomb on me that he had a drug addiction and has been in and out of rehab! So two of my theories were true! Only he wasn't the dealer, he was the user! He was going out of town all the time, because his parents (who control how much money he gets from his trust) required him to have a drug test almost on a weekly basis. When he failed (which was apparently almost all the time) they forced him to check himself into rehab again. Sometimes he would stay only a few days and sometimes weeks. The calls he would get were his parents threatening to cut him off. The guy he saw on the street and only "waved" at was in narcotics anonymous with him! Part of his agreement with his parents was to go to NA meetings. Good grief! Why do I always gravitate to the real winners?

It gets better though, when he told me this about himself, this is what he had to say "You weren't entirely wrong, I do have a secret. I have a 2 year old and a drug addiction. Those things don't define me though! Why does it matter? You're a vegan and that's baggage to me, but I'm willing to get past it, shouldn't you?" He is comparing hiding a child, a baby mama, and a drug addiction to me being a vegan?! Um, that boy is one fry short of a happy meal!

He then asked me if I would stand by him as he tried to kick his addiction and rebuild his life. I asked him how long he has had this addiction and how long he has been clean. He said he's been addicted for the last 10 years and he's been clean for about 6 hours. This guy gets a Darwin award. In 10 years of rehab, NA, and the support of his parents he has only managed to stay clean a record 6 hours?? Yes, I missed that part. He said that's the longest he's been able to stay clean. Even when he was in rehab he said he was sneaking drugs in all the time and he would get kicked out. He said his parents are about to cutoff the trust and he's going to have nothing unless he changes. I asked him if he wanted to change and he said "my life is good and you don't fix what ain't broken, now do you?" Wow, just wow.

Thus ends another chapter in the dating life of Debbie. Can't wait to see what the next guy has to offer.

Dear STFB - here's hoping you make it to 7 hours!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Are these people for real?? Am I being punk'd?!

So, my recent job endeavor has come to an end and I couldn't be happier. This was the most insane place I've ever worked and the people that owned the company were the two most ridiculous people I've ever encountered. I thought they might have been normal people that just ran their company badly and didn't know how to manage people...but no, I think they may very well suffer from mental illnesses.

From the first day I walked into that place, I thought "what the hell did I get myself into?" It was such a shady beginning. I interviewed for a full time job and their job description (if that's what you want to call it) was posted on employeebenefitjobs.com as an Account Executive. My first clue that this company wasn't quite right was the fact that they had no ability to apply for a job online and when I clicked on apply, an email was generated from the aforementioned job site and clumped my resume into a bunch of run on sentences. I got a call from the "recruiter"...I put that in quotations, because later I found out that the "recruiter" is also the payroll manager, the HR manager, the compliance manager, and a bunch of other crap that she was not qualified to be. The interviews were awkward with her and she talked in a very dull and monotone voice and was reluctant to tell me too much information about the company, but I pushed to get more info. I learned that the owners were married and reading between the lines it seemed that wasn't a good situation. When I first met them for an in person interview they had me interview in a conference room in an office suite, but I didn't see their actual "office". I thought they seemed like nice people and energetic, so that put to ease my concerns of the previous phone interviews.

Upon meeting with them the second time in person, they finally showed me this so called "office". Again, I put this in quotations, because what they called an office was a tiny little room that was half the size of my single dorm room in college. Yet, they had four people work in it!! One of them had a desk, the other had a couch, and the analyst had a tiny little desk shoved in the corner by the window. I was the fourth and I got to sit on a hard plastic cafeteria chair on the other side of my managers desk. She was always territorial with her precious desk and I never felt comfortable working there. I had to go to the chiropractor each week because they were killing me with that chair!

But, wait, I jumped ahead of myself. The job offer...this is a doozy. So, I interviewed for a full time job and they filled me with all these ideas in the interview process that they were growing so much as a company and they were going to get all this new business and really needed someone to own that process. Sounded exciting to me, I thrive in a busy environment and they seemed to really need my knowledge. So, after I get through the last interview (and wasn't entirely scared off by the dorm room office) I get a call on Saturday (my interview was the day before on Friday) from the "recruiter" offering me this shady deal in lieu of a full time job offer. She told me that they were still trying to get through interviews (as if they had SO many people knocking down their door) and that they didn't know if they were going to hire one or two people, but they needed someone to step in right away and handle some things while the owners traveled. So, as a "temporary" solution to allow them to get through the interview process they offered me a part-time position working roughly 30 hours or more a week until they got through some meetings in Vegas and could determine what new business they would sign. She asked me to make my decision that day and start on Monday. I should have known this place was going to be a disaster just from that alone. Stupid me...I agreed. Hindsight is 20/20 people....

This "temporary" position lasted from September to January and they avoided discussing the full time job that should have been offered to me months before. The job description changed on a daily basis and it was clear they had no clue what they even needed and they certainly weren't getting new business. Their processes were insane and made zero sense, yet they shut out any feedback on a better way to do things. It was their way or the highway pretty much. Their way was getting them nowhere fast!

Anyway, once I started I observed that they fought all the time and would yell about ridiculous stuff. I seriously thought that at any minute Ashton Kutcher would jump out and tell me I was being punk'd! My one manager had to put the phone on mute during conference calls so that her husband/partner could have a tantrum...and that's seriously what it was most times. I've never met a nearly 50 year old child before. I don't think I actually ever saw him do any work, I'm still not clear what value he had to the company, other than attempting to call people all the time that had no interest in talking to him. I'm surprised some people didn't get restraining orders on him...actually, maybe they did. Did I mention he picked his nose non-stop every time he was in the office?? OMG, he was the most disgusting male specimen. His hair never seemed clean...he never seemed clean. He always wore the saddest clothes, that looked like they should have been thrown out years ago, or that he picked them out of the trash. He left stains on the couch where he worked. I never wanted to touch anything he touched.

My other manager was completely neurotic, but that might be because she was on a million different medications (or so it seemed) desperate to have a baby. She would take like 2o vitamins at a time and chug them down with water. Um...sorry, but no amount of vitamins makes up for shitty nutrition. I never saw her eat anything healthy. I think it's God's way of telling her that her husband should not reproduce anymore. I never met his children, but I heard plenty of stories about them and how rotten they were. Oh...oh..oh...ya, all the stories about his ex-wife. It was insane! There was a time once when my manager was working at home and my other manager was in the office and we were on a conference call and she freaked out thinking his ex-wife had broken into the house and was going to kill her. It was drama all the time!

They created rules as they went along and their favorite responses when you questioned the rules were "it's my company and it's never ok to talk to me that way", "no other company gives their employees time off", "no other company lets you listen to your iPod", "you have to trust me I know what I'm doing". I question whether or not either of them ever worked for a legitimate company before starting this business, because they had no concept of what real companies were like.

This blog could go on and on and on because that's how much insanity existed at this place. It was awful. In the last weeks I was actually working in the office, I commiserated with the analyst that worked with me and that was the only sanity I had. I feel bad for that kid and I hope he gets out of that place fast! He has no concept of what a real company is like and when I would tell him stories of what a legitimate corporation was like, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Poor thing.

At any rate, I am finally free from the drama and insanity and I am saved from having to have the expense of getting a therapist to sooth the mental trauma of it all!

Although, I'm not completely free of the drama, because the morons have actually tried to fight my unemployment claim. The unemployment specialist I worked with debunked all their stupid claims and said they had nothing to block my claim from going forward. I can't believe they even tried. Pathetic people I tell ya.

I'm yet again enjoying some free time and taking full advantage of living life! Hiking, biking, exploring, writing....ah good times. I have some really good prospects right now and I think when one door closes (especially a door on a white padded room) a window opens.

I do wish them good mental health and I hope they get treatment soon. I do have sympathy for the mentally disturbed.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Final Destination: Debbie vs. Pitchfork

I've watched the Final Destination movies a lot, and I always think when I watch them how reasonable it is that some of those things that happened, could actually happen! I mean it's not that far fetched that a series of random events can occur and lead to one's death. Then again, maybe it just seems reasonable to me, because random acts happen in my life almost on a daily basis...food for thought.

Speaking of which, this leads me to my own personal Final Destination moment I had the other day. I was driving in to work along Interstate 5, and it was an unusually blustery day in San Diego. My car was swaying all over the road and there was debris flying around all over. I found myself behind a large truck that had a lot of equipment in the back and what looked like a lot of yard tools. I did think for a moment that it would be bad if anything flew out of his truck, but it all looked secure to me. I wasn't tailgating him, in fact, I kept a reasonable distance because on that stretch of the 5, traffic tends to come to sudden halts all the time.

I was maybe 10 minutes from work, still behind the yard tool truck, and there was a sudden gust of wind that really shook my car....and then before I knew it there was a loud smash and a pitchfork grazed by my head just short of piercing through my face. I had no view out my front window and I suddenly panicked by the whole event, and lost control of my car. I was in the far left lane, and I still had sense enough to swerve to the left to avoid colliding with any traffic in the lanes next to me. I slammed on my breaks and skidded off the side of the road and came to a stop. My heart was racing, I thought I may have even peed my pants, and I couldn't move. I was frozen like a deer in headlights. I couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened. I very slowly tried to glance to the right to see if that really was what I thought it was...being very careful not to move an inch, because I had no idea what the status of this "thing" was, I moved my eyes to the right and made out the sharp piercing prongs of a pitchfork right next to my head. I couldn't help but think "really?? could this possibly happen to anyone else but me?!" Sometimes, even I have a hard time believing this stuff really happens to me. I mean, c'mon, near death by pitchfork?!

The truck that had lost the pitchfork saw me lose control of my car and realized what had happened. He pulled over not far ahead of where I stopped and came back to see if I was ok. There also happened to be a cop car that was only 3 cars behind me and had already pulled over at this point. I was trying to calm myself because my heart was racing out of control. The cop came up to me and tried to open my door, but my doors were locked. He knocked on the window and told me to open the door. I opened the door and he was like "holy hell, is that a pitchfork??" I jumped out of the car at this point, just wanting to get away from it, before it really became a Final Destination scene and I ended up with a pitchfork through my head. That's really not what I want on my obituary. Sure, I don't really want the boring "died of natural causes", but I'd rather have something exciting like plunging to my death off a cliff rather than a pitchfork through the head.

Anyway, the cop was writing up the incident and then they pulled the pitchfork out of the windshield and called for a tow truck, since I couldn't drive my car without being able to see out the front! I debated sending an email to my managers explaining why I was going to be a little late that morning, but I didn't. I don't think they fully understand the random acts of debbie, and the few incidents I have had to share (swallowing my tooth, crashing on the motorcycle) they have found ridiculous, so having a pitchfork nearly kill me would probably not be something they could handle or believe. So, I had the car towed to work, and said nothing to my co-worker or my managers about the incident, and called the windshield repair people to come out and fix her up!

I'm a little traumatized driving behind any vehicle that has anything in the back now. I had a truck cut me off yesterday that had plywood in the back and all I could envision was one of those sliding out the back and decapitating me. So, I took an early exit just to get away from it. I think it will take time before I stop seeing everything as a Final Destination scene!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Why are my pants wet...was that pee?!

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like a dark cloud is following you wherever you go and anything that could go bad does? I had one of those yesterday.

I started the day with the complete inability to get out of bed. I felt sluggish and despite sleeping for 8 hours, felt like all I wanted to do was sleep. It took some major mental battling to convince myself to get in the shower and start my day.

First incident of the day began there. I was so out of it in the shower that when I reached for the shampoo I got the body wash instead. Ya, that doesn't wash your hair so well. Then, I completely forgot that I had removed the rug in front of my shower because it had been drenched from my flooding wash machine the night before...so when I stepped out I slipped on floor and hit my head on the toilet. No better way to say good morning than with a slight concussion.

I ventured off for work, trying to remain optimistic that my day could only improve, after all I did make it through breakfast and down the garage stairs successfully! Then I hit the freeway and nothing but gridlock. I felt like I was living the movie Office Space, because I would be sitting still in my lane watching the lane next to me zoom along. Naturally, I jumped into the zooming lane only for it to come to a dead stop and my original lane began to zoom. I'd like to say I'm smart, but I did this hop several more times with the same result.

I made it to work just in the nick of time for my 9am conference call and then I was stuck from 9 until Noon on nothing but conference calls, not even a minute to breath in between each one. All I had in my head were visions of a bed and a pillow...heck, who am I kidding, the floor in the office was appealing to me at that point.

The highlight of my day was when the clock struck 3 and I was able to leave for the day. All I wanted to do was get home and take a little nap before walking to my kettlebell workout that evening.

I got home only to find my bathroom flooded yet again and had to whip out the shamwow to start sopping up the water. Although, I have to say this was another highlight, because I finally got to use the shamwow my mom gave me. This made her very happy, despite the circumstances in which I was using it.

By the time I finished the shamwow clean up project it was time to go to make it to my workout. The walk to the studio is about 3.5 miles, and is usually no problem for me at all. However, right from the start my feet were hurting, I felt like I was 80 because everything ached, and I was hungry. I walked miserably for 40 minutes until I got to Evolution (vegan fast food) and all I wanted was a date nut ball. It was the only thing I had thought about for the last 40 minutes. I went to the shelf where it normally is and nothing, they were all gone...all that was left was a apricot jewel cookie (definitely not my fave). I needed something, there was no way I would finish the walk or have energy to workout without some kick. I bought the stupid apricot cookie. As I walked out I spotted a woman sitting out front eating a date nut ball. It took everything I had not to pounce on her and take my date ball!! That was meant for me!!

Continuing on my walk to Hillcrest, I became more and more sluggish and then just as I was trying to give myself another pep talk that I could make it...I heard buzzing. Then I felt something on my back. I quickly realized a bee had made its way under my jacket and my shirt and got trapped buzzing around under there. I flipped out, because that's what I do, and I was kind of flailing and doing a retarded bee dance, when I felt the sting. Well, at least that resolved the bee issue, but ouch!! Luckily (which is never the case for me), I am not allergic to bees. I pulled the stinger out of my back and carried on with my walk.

Once I got to the studio to workout, I was greeted with a smile and the upbeat attitude of Farrah! Yay! I figured I would put all my woes behind me and get excited for my workout! However, I still felt like poo. I tried to power through the workout, I really did want to do my best, but from the start everything seemed a million times harder than normal. The turkish get-ups felt like torture. Every roll to the side felt like someone was crushing all my bones. The bee sting was still throbbing a bit. Towards the end I felt that apricot cookie making its way up and I fought to keep it down. I made it through the workout, but was enormously disappointed in myself.

I left feeling a bit defeated and dreading the 3.5 mile walk home. It might as well have been 100 miles. I didn't make it far when the apricot cookie started to make its way up the esophagus again. Only this time I couldn't keep it down. I leaned against a mailbox in front of a wienerschnitzel and up it came. Blah! Then I realized there was an entire table of people at wienerschnitzel eating chili dogs. I think I probably ruined their appetite. Very sorry!

I paused for a minute, regained my composure, and trudged along. As I approached Balboa park, I was starting to feel beyond terrible. My stomach was making insane noises. My head was pounding. My legs felt like jello and I had no will to keep walking. I thought maybe if I just sat down for a second I would be ok. I spotted the playground and the swings. I headed over to them to sit and rest for a second on a swing. It was dark by this time and there weren't really any lights on the playground. I made my way to swing and leaned back to sit. As soon as I made contact my pants started to feel wet. I knew it hadn't rained lately, so what could have possibly been wet on the swing?! I sat up and then I leaned down and sniffed the seat to see if I could identify what it might have been. That's when I smelled what could only be described as pee. I sat in kid pee!!! Ugh, this is why I will not change my mind about having kids! Now I had to walk 2 more miles home soaked in kid pee...do you know how disgusting that is???

I went home, bathed to get the kid pee off of me, skipped dinner entirely, and just laid on the bed like a lump. At this point I felt like I couldn't even move. Plus, my head was still pounding and I swear to you my stomach was making noises that were not human. I should have recorded it, because I probably could have sold it to some production company for a horror film.

Since I isolated myself to being a lump on the bed, I pretty much limited any further injury for the evening, although I contemplated a trip to urgent care to investigate what was ailing me...but I thought I would hedge my bets and stay put. With the day I had, I could only imagine what tragedy awaited me outside the confines of my bed.

I wish I could say today was better, but the highlights of my day were work emergencies, plumbers bursting pipes in my bathroom and sending water gushing all over my house, water extraction teams dragging copious amounts of equipment into my house, and appliance technicians with plumbers crack and passing gas more than any human should...it's just a day in the life of Debbie.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

nom..nom..nom...crap! was that my tooth?!

I recently went to the dentist to have a crown put on one of my molars. They had placed a temporary crown in my mouth while the permanent one was being created, which was going to take 2 weeks. However, that was a week before I was leaving for Portland for the holidays. I was going to be gone for over 2 weeks and I really didn't want to go through Christmas and New Years with a temporary crown in my mouth. So, they put a rush job on the permanent crown to get it in time before I left.

I was leaving on Friday and I got a call on Thursday that the crown was in and I could come in Friday afternoon to have it put in. That was perfect! Just in time! Lucky...or so I thought.

The dentist was not gentle in the least yanking the temporary crown off and then, even though I told him the tooth was still VERY sensitive, he kept spraying cold water directly on it and then blowing air on it to dry the area. I was in some serious pain! I just kept thinking "it's almost over and then I'll be going home!" When he was finished the tooth felt very strange to me, definitely didn't feel natural like other crowns I got and I was throbbing in pain...but I had more important things to do, like pack and catch my flight!

I went home and headed for the airport where I was catching my flight to SFO and then connecting on to PDX...yay! Well, not so yay, because there was fog that day. Damn you fog! Due to this fact, our plane was forced to circle and circle and circle before landing in SFO. By the time we landed, I missed my connecting flight and then all flights after that shut down going to Portland. Boo! I was stuck in SFO for the night. The point of me sharing this?? The tooth was killing me the whole time! I had nothing to ease the pain, until finally a very kind lady that overheard me sobbing on the phone to my mom, gave me an excedrin. Relief!

So, I managed through my two plus weeks at home with this so-called permanent crown. Everything I ate hurt, flossing hurt, brushing hurt. It was awful. When I got back to San Diego, I had planned to call the dentist to get an appointment and have him look at why it was bothering me so much. However, I came back sick as a dog and I was down and out for over a week. During that time, the tooth seemed to calm down, so I thought I was in the clear and my dental trauma was behind me. I was wrong....

I decided since the tooth was feeling better, I would go ahead and enjoy a piece of gum. I hadn't had gum in nearly a month because of my tooth misery. I was chewing happily for all of a minute and then I was like "what the heck?!" and I realized quickly that my PERMANENT crown had just popped off with my gum. That's not supposed to happen! I have 3 permanent crowns in my mouth and NONE of them ever popped off in the last decade with gum, taffy, are anything else.

I managed to pop the tooth back into place and it seemed to stay in there pretty secure. I called the dentist the next day to inform them it had popped off and that I needed to come in and have it re-cemented. They made an appointment for me two days later to come in. Seemed like the end was near for this saga...but again...no.

The next night I made a potato dish with veggies and spices and as I was eating it, the crown popped off and then I managed to choke and down it went! Yup, that's right, I swallowed my tooth! What was I going to do now?!

I went to my scheduled dental appointment the next day, I did not call ahead to tell them I swallowed the tooth. When I got there, the receptionist greeted me kindly and said "this should be quick, Debra!" Then, I said "maybe not....I..ugh...swallowed the crown". I thought she would find this shocking, but she seemed to think it was quite normal. I'm beginning to doubt this dentist's ability to secure crowns in people's mouth. Anyway, prior to the dentist coming out to talk to me, I asked the receptionist what the cost impact would be and if I was financially responsible for a new crown, since it fell out. She then explained to me that I could "recover" the crown I swallowed and bring it in and they would "clean" it for me and place it back in my mouth. Um, hello?! You want me to "extract" the tooth that I have now digested...which in itself is a disgusting thought...but then you want to put the poop tooth back in my mouth?? EW!! No way I would ever go for that. Luckily, as I was gagging at the thought of what she was describing and my face showed utter disgust, the dentist came out and was briefed on "the swallowing incident" and said they still had my temporary and would order a NEW crown. Thank goodness! He then confessed they only used temporary cement and it was their fault. Good grief!

So, here it is a week and a half later and my temporary is still holding strong, but no news on the permanent. I'm hoping this happened for a reason and the dentist has a chance to redeem himself and do this crown right! I'm just thankful I didn't have to "recover" the crown.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

No..you cannot have my shoes or my dinner!

I was walking home from my kettlebell workout last week and it was already dark when I left the studio in Hillcrest. I had about 3.5 miles to go to get home. Normally, when it is dark outside, I stick to more well lit areas. Balboa park along 6th is usually the safest bet. However, on this evening I was tired and just wanting to get home, so I just kept going down 5th avenue. It's not that 5th is unsafe, but there is a section of seedy bars and dark desolate areas scattered along the route.

I had stopped at Evolution to get dinner, since it was so late, and I wouldn't have time to fix anything when I got home. I was carrying it in a brown paper bag. As I was walking, I saw a couple blocks in front of me a man that was stumbling and shouting out at nothing. He was clearly homeless and clearly drunk. I would usually try to avoid these types of characters and change direction, but I was at a point where there was really no other direction to go. I moved forward and as we met along the sidewalk he moved in front of me, I moved to the side, and he moved to the side. Then he said "I want your shoes and what's in the bag!" I pushed past him to continue on my walk and he grabbed my arm and tried to take the bag out of my hand. I gave him the palm thrust to the nose and broke it! Then I said "you can't have my shoes or my dinner!" I'm pretty protective of my shape-ups and my sweet potato fries!!

I felt really good that I had protected myself, but then I felt pretty bad that I broke a homeless guys nose. I probably could have just pulled myself out of his grip, he was drunk after all. I guess I can just add beating up homeless people next to beating up and tasering children on my list of things that are sending me straight to hell :)

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Brown Box Stalker

I arrived home one night and there was a package at my door. It was a plain brown box and it had my name written across the top "for Debbie". There was no sign the box had come through the mail, so my only assumption was that someone left this at my door in person. Of course, given my history with stalkers and just crazy people in general, my instant reaction was that this box was dangerous.

I cautiously took the box inside my house and I promptly placed it on the balcony. I figured if it was explosive, that was the safest bet! I contemplated opening it, but given the circumstances of how it just appeared at my door with no note or information, I couldn't bring myself to do it. The next day when I arrived home from work there was another brown box with no note or shipping labels. I brought it inside and sat it with the other box. I saw my neighbor (affectionately known as hot neighbor) in the hall and I asked him if he had seen anyone leaving those boxes at my door. He said no, but that he had seen a tall dark haired guy lingering around the hallway earlier in the day, but he wasn't familiar. This set my mind at ease a little that it wasn't my previous stalker - Daniel (also known as number one), because hot neighbor knew what Daniel looked like.

The curiosity was getting the best of me, I had to know what was in these boxes. Taking a risk (which is what we Aries do!) I opened the first box. I found it filled with fruit - apples, pears, and oranges. I scoured the box to find a note, card, anything. Nothing but fruit. Was the fruit poisoned? Maybe it would be arsenic poisoning again! I sat it aside. I opened the second box and found it contained a pink hoodie. Pink? Really? Who did I know that thought I liked pink? Although, I did kind of like it, and I love hoodies. I was left baffled...fruit and a hoodie. What could these two things possibly mean and why was there no note??

I put those presents aside, hesitant to eat the fruit or to wear the hoodie. The next day when I came home there was another brown box. I now affectionately referred to the person leaving this box as the brown box stalker. Given the fact the other two boxes didn't explode, I went ahead and opened this one right away. It was a scarf. Hmm. It had been unreasonably chilly in San Diego and I am always cold as it is, so it was thoughtful. However, I was still incredibly confused as to what these presents meant and who was giving them to me!

The next day, like clockwork, there was another box! This time it was vegan belgian chocolates. A clue! The person knew I was a vegan. That means it had to be someone that knew me or knew me through someone else. Then again, it could just be someone stalking me that noticed I eat at Evolution at lot! Given my luck, I figured it was the latter. I hesitated to eat a chocolate, but they did look incredibly delicious! I risked it and ate one. I didn't get ill or die, so I was beginning to think this was a friendly stalker.

Not to my surprise I found another brown box the next day. This one was large. When I opened it up I found the following:

Large blanket
Feather pillow
Bottle of wine
Scrabble Flash
Rock'em Sock'em Robots
Just Dance WII Game

Guitar Hero WII Game
Despicable Me DVD

Admittedly, most of these items were cool and I was excited, but this seemed to be strange (not to mention expensive!). I really had no clue who it was. I did get a little concerned it might be my ex from Michigan, because he used to own a Rock'em Sock'em Robot game and we played with it all the time. I thought it was an odd gift for anyone to give to a person unless they really knew you and knew you liked it. I was dreading that it could be him, because I really wanted nothing to do with him and thought I had successfully eliminated him from my life.

I engaged the help of hot neighbor, because he was home a lot during the day and I figured he could kind of play spy for me. He said he would keep an eye out and then he remembered he had this spy cam thing that was a white elephant gift he received. We rigged it up so that it was on his door and pointing to my door. I was working from home in the afternoon that Friday and was hoping I might catch the stalker in the act. With me at home and the spy cam on, we thought for sure we'd catch him!

Unfortunately, nothing occurred up to the point I had to leave for my trainer that evening and hot neighbor said he had to leave at 6. Darnit! I went off to my personal training session and contemplated the brown box stalker. I wondered if I would have a new box when I got home that evening.

When I got back that night I found a note on my door. It was from hot neighbor and it just said "I have your box at my place, come by and get it". He wasn't home that night, so I figured I would go by in the morning, which is what I did. He wasn't answering the door. A little later that day, I got a text message from hot neighbor that said "you can come by and get your box now". I went next door and knocked. He answered and he was wearing this sandwich board contraption that looked like a brown box. On the front it said "for Debbie". It didn't sink in right away, so I stood there kind of confused and he said "I'm your next brown box!" HOLY CRAP!! Hot neighbor was my brown box stalker!! What?!

He said he wanted to be creative in how he asked me out, because he knows that I'm adventurous and I like excitement. He told me the content of the last box was meant to be items to help us plan a date. Ha! Too funny! I was beyond shocked. I was always attracted to hot neighbor (obviously, since I call him hot neighbor!), but I didn't think he liked me like that at all! Although, I was a tiny bit hesitant because 1) he was a neighbor and we all know my background dating neighbors and 2) he was a bit mysterious and shady. However, that didn't stop me. I agreed to go on a date with him!

Our first date was planned for Friday, but prior to that on Thursday I came home early from work and ran into hot neighbor in the parking garage. He said he was about to take out his motorcycle for a ride in OB. He asked me if I wanted to go along and he offered to let me drive it if we found an obscure place. Yay! I should have known, though, that me getting on a motorcycle was probably a bad idea! I went anyway. We headed to OB and we were riding along and a cat jumped out into the street. Hot neighbor, being an animal lover, swerved to avoid the cat but he did it too quickly and too sharp and it caused me to fly off the back and roll across the street and slam into a parking meter...ouch! The bike fell over onto hot neighbor. We both had to go to urgent care. My wounds were minor and consisted of just some contusions and scrapes. Hot neighbor had 3 bruised ribs. Bruised ribs are no fun!

Despite our accident, we agreed to still go out for our Friday date! I was stiff and sore and he hurt when he took a breath, we were quite the pair! Before our accident he had planned a surprise date, but he said with our injuries (more his than mine), it would probably be a challenge (I'm curious what it was!). The date was still a surprise, I had no idea where we were going or what we were doing. We drove to the marina and he led me to a boat. I love boats! Turns out he owns one...nice! He drove us out on the boat and then surprised me with an entire vegan meal that he had personally prepared just for me! It was pretty romantic and we had a really great time. He said next week we will go on the date he originally planned. I can't wait to see what that is!

I don't know how this will turn out, but if I'm anything, it's optimistic! I have to say it was the most creative way anyone has ever asked me out, so if nothing else it makes for a great story!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Stop licking me!!

I was in San Francisco last week for a work meeting. I chose to use BART as my method of transportation, because let's face it, having a car in San Francisco can be a pain in the ass. I had client meetings all day and had ventured out in between to Berkeley to have lunch with Charlie. So, I had been on the BART a lot already. By the time I was wrapping up my day and getting back on the BART to head for the airport I was tuckered!

I got on the BART at Powell Street and settled in for my ride to the airport. I put my headphones on and entertained myself with a little Lady Gaga. Despite the fact that I ate a lot at lunch and had half a cinnamon roll, I was feeling a little hungry. So, I took out a clif bar from my backpack and started nibbling at it. I had my backpack next to me and it was looking rather comfortable for me to lean my head on, so I did. I hadn't finished eating my clif bar, I was still holding it in my hand.

I remember nothing after this until the event I'm about to describe, because I apparently went straight to sleep once my head hit that backpack. I told you I was tuckered!

I probably wouldn't have woken up for a quite a while and most likely would have missed my flight, had the disgusting and foul individual on the BART not done what happened next. What was that you ask? Well, let me paint you a picture of what had happened when I fell asleep. I leaned my head on the backpack and was still nibbling on the clif bar. Then I fell asleep and the clif bar ended up sticking to my cheek. A homeless individual (or I'm assuming homeless based on his look and smell) was sitting across from me and saw me fall asleep with the clif bar. He came over to where I was sitting and was licking my cheek where the clif bar was. I awoke instantly and was completely stunned and dazed by what was happening. I sat up quickly and was like "what are you doing?! Stop licking me!!" I had drool dripping down one side of my face and clif bar still stuck to the other side, now covered in homeless slobber. The homeless man just scoffed and said "I was hungry and you wasn't eatin' it!" Ew, ew, ew!! I was searching desperately at this point for anything to wipe my face...hand sanitizer, wet nap, anything! Why did he have to lick me, he couldn't just pull it off my cheek??

I flung the clif bar off my cheek and it hit the floor. The homeless man promptly picked it up and said "thanks, it's easier to eat this way." An older lady sitting two rows behind me and noticing my suffering quickly offered up a wet one antibacterial wipe and I frantically cleansed my face.

I do have to thank the homeless licker for waking me up in time to make my flight, but I am still disturbed by the event and may have trauma if I try to ride the BART again. Lesson to myself and to all...don't fall asleep on the BART, and if you do, make sure you don't have sticky food attached to your face.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

That's what you get for scaring me you little brat! But, I'm sorry...

I just had a very intense moment in the stairwell of my building that has left me feeling bad but justified at the same time. I don't really know why I continue to take the stairs when I have a propensity to fall, so I take some partial blame for even being in the stairwell. However, this time I did not fall, I beat up a kid accidentally!

So, the stairwell is equipped with those automatic sensor lights that are supposed to turn on when it detects motion. Well, they must be on the fritz, because when I walked into the stairwell starting on the 3rd floor it was pitch black. I was going down the stairs to the lowest level to get to my car in the garage. So, it only got darker as I descended.

As I was rounding one level to the next, someone jumped out of the shadows behind me and made a screaming sound. Now, if you know my history with my stalker, you'll know that this instantly terrified me and I thought for sure it was him (since he was released from jail last month). It was my natural reaction to defend myself and I instantly turned and kneed the person and then tasered him (yes, I have a taser that I got for self-defense and of course I bring it with me going to the garage!). It was still really dark, but I was quickly realizing the slight outline of the person I just kneed really hard and tasered was that of a very small person. Then I heard sobbing. I wasn't sure what to do, as it was becoming quite clear this person wasn't my stalker, but I still didn't know who it was or why they were screaming at me in a dark stairwell. The only thing I could think to do was to go up to the next level and see if I could prop the door open to get some light in. The only thing I had to wedge in the door was my flip flops, so I did that (leaving me barefoot...ew). Once I got the door open and went back down to see what I could see, I realized it was a small child. Here is where I feel bad. I just beat and tasered a child. It was not intentional and he shouldn't have been in a stairwell scaring people like that! He had crumpled himself up in somewhat of a fetal position against the wall and wouldn't stop crying.

I asked him if he lived there and where, so I could go get his parents or someone to help him. He sniffed a little and said "no, I'll get in trouble". I told him if he was hurt, he needed the help of his parents. Then it gets worse. He said "I peed my pants and I don't want my dad to know." Ugh, feeling really low at this point. He finally squeaked out what unit he lived in and I went to get him help. Luckily, his mom answered the door and I talked to her in the hallway and she came alone to get him. So, at least he didn't have to face his dad with the wet pants.

I feel bad about the fact he was a kid and wet himself, but maybe this will teach him a lesson that you just can't do that! There are some people that may have shot him, stabbed him, or something much worse than tasering him.

This is why I will never have children. They are not worth the trouble they cause!! Ok, well maybe they are, but not for me!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

It's true...you never forget how to ride a bike, but....

Was it always this dangerous?!? When I was younger, one of my favorite activities was riding my bike. Granted, I never really got to go far with it. I think the furthest my mom let us ride our bikes was to the Beavercreek Store (it was this little store about 2 miles from my house), but every bike ride seemed like an adventure to me!

Recently, I traded in the spin bike at the gym for some good old fashioned regular biking again. Mostly, because I acquired a bike when my friend Charlie moved away and gave me his! This was probably the best and the worst thing to happen to me....because soon came the many bike misadventures that have led me to my home away from home - urgent care.

Now, I remember the occasional spill as a kid on my bike. A few scraped knees and elbows and some minor head injuries, but I never remember near death experiences! The worst I can remember was once coming home from the dentist with my mouth all numb and drooly from a filling and I was riding my bike and hit the breaks to avoid our dog (Ruffles) and I slid in some gravel. The gravel was the little pebbly kind and it embedded into my knee. My mom had to use tweezers to get the gravel bits out. In hindsight, she probably should have taken me to the doctor to get that cleaned up. I still have a little oval scar from that. Again, it was no near death experience.

Now fast forward to my adult bike riding adventures in San Diego....and the craziness begins! I don't know if it's because I'm rusty on the bike or if it's the city streets I'm not used to, but every bike excursion (which is daily) seems to end in some "incident" that is much more than some gravel bits in the knee.

First was the hammer dropping on my head, which really wasn't an issue with my biking skill, and more related to my unfortunate luck. My first couple rides were nice. I remembered what it was like as a kid and the old adage was true "you never forget how to ride a bike." My confidence may have been prematurely high. On about my third bike ride, I ventured a little further out into unknown territory. I wasn't quite comfortable riding on all the streets yet, so I stuck to the sidewalks. I was biking along feeling all happy and then WHAM! It happened so fast, I was laying there a little scraped and stunned, and wasn't really sure what just occurred. Then I looked down at the sidewalk, which was anything but flat...and realized I ran into a very raised portion of the sidewalk and flipped right off my bike. That's when I learned lesson #1 - pay attention to where I'm riding! That crash didn't really send me to urgent care though, I self diagnosed and tended to my own wounds :)

After that I got a little bolder and decided I really should be riding on the streets. That and people were always yelling at me for being on the sidewalk, apparently it is bad bike etiquette. So, I went on a ride to the mall. I actually had done the ride a couple times before, but usually during the week when it was uneventful (not a lot of people on the road) and both times had been via the sidewalk. This time I was riding on the street like I was supposed to, I guess. However, there was some kind of convention going on and there were cars in droves and people everywhere. This one Jeep was creeping up on me as I rode along and clearly was trying to send me the message he did not want me on the road and was going to do what he could to get me off of it. I was feeling really uncomfortable with him approaching me the way he was, so I went to get off the street and back onto the sidewalk. Somehow as I went to go on the sidewalk I managed to line my front tire up parallel to the lip on the driveway I was riding onto and it was just enough to fling me over and slam me onto the concrete, with the bike landing on top of me. As I landed my head hit hard on the concrete, but thankfully I had my helmet on. My elbow was bleeding a little and my leg hurt, but it seemed I had survived with minimal injury...or so I thought. I had been on my way to the movie theater, so I continued since I thought I was ok. As I was sitting watching the movie, my leg was hurting more and more, and I could see it swelling before my eyes. The bike ride home was unbearable. By the time I got home my leg was twice the size it should be and every part of my body hurt. Plus, I was visibly crooked. My right side was actually a few inches forward of my left. When I went to the chiropractor, she told me she had seen people in horrific car accidents that were in better shape. It took some time to heal from that one! Lesson #2 - approach sidewalks head on or stay off entirely!

I could write an entire novel about the incidents I've had, but in summary I've had a bird fly in my face and cause me to crash, I've hit a tree limb that knocked me right off the bike, I've passed out on the bike and rode right into a building, I got my jacket (tied around my waste) caught in the tire and flung off the rear of the bike, I've been hit by a car, I hit a car.....and those are the highlights of about the first month of biking.

I think the most embarrassing of the incidents was riding into a persons car door. I was riding along 6th street heading into Hillcrest and I was riding on the street, because that section of sidewalk is too small to handle bicyclist and pedestrians. I had always kind of feared someone might open their door in my path, but I hadn't seen it happen to anyone else, so I figured I was safe. The problem is that the street is fairly narrow, so as a rider you try to stay pretty close to the parked cars so you are not impeding traffic, but then that puts you at risk if someone does happen to open their door and not see you you coming. That's what happened to me! That section of road is actually downhill, so I was going a pretty decent speed. I always look to see if there are break lights or any signs someone may have just parked, and I didn't observe that in this case. I think the guy had been sitting in his car for a bit. Anyway, as I approached the door opened and I was right in the path to hit it and couldn't swerve out because there was a oncoming car right along my side that would have hit me if I swerved. So, I ended up slamming right into the guys car door. I actually didn't really get that hurt. Yes, I did crash the bike, but I think I had some magic fairy dust that day, because I managed to land well...that never happens! I thought the guy would be concerned about me, but he was just really pissed. It wasn't my fault though, that is a designated bike area and he should have been looking! At leas that's what the cop said :) Lesson #3 - keep my distance from parked cars!

Until recently, the only accident that caused me severe injury was the "curb" incident. However, in true Debbie fashion, I had to outdo myself and go for the gold. The other night I was riding home from a long ride and I was on the street not the sidewalk. There were cars parked all along me on the right side and then on the other side of the cars was sidewalk, so I didn't have visibility really to what was happening on the sidewalk side of things. As I biked along, all of a sudden this other bike came out of nowhere in between two cars coming off the sidewalk and jumping out in front of me cutting me off. I had no time to divert and crashed right into him. I landed in such an odd way (of course!) that my leg actually landed on the pedal of his bicycle and the pedal embedded itself into my upper leg. It was in there so deep, everyone said not to even try to pull it out, because I could start bleeding out. It hurt so bad! One of the bystanders that saw what happened called the police and the EMT's. They had to pry the bike pedal out of my leg and then they wrapped my leg up and I went to urgent care. I had to get stitches, about 15 of them (not so bad). Of course, being as stubborn as I am, I didn't listen to the doctors orders of not riding my bike for at least a week or two and went out the very next day. I popped a stitch...oops! Although, I think it was a good thing, because after they fixed me back up and I went home my wound was throbbing and burning, which I didn't think was normal. I returned to urgent care (my 3rd visit in 3 days...a record!) and found out that a piece of the bike pedal had actually broken off in my leg and the doctors stitched over it. So, maybe popping the stitch was the best thing I could have done :) Lesson #4 - be a defensive rider!

So, needless to say, it has been very adventurous on the bike thus far, and I've only had it for about 4 months or less. Yes, all these things happened in 4 months!! Nothing keeps me from getting right back in the saddle though. I do have trauma every time I get on the bike, I see visions of me crashing, I fear doors opening, and now I'm always looking in all directions just waiting for that random pop-out...which makes me lose my concentration and crash anyway. Despite the trauma, there is no greater feeling than coasting down a long hill with the wind in my face or pushing myself to get up a steep hill and feeling very accomplished when I get to the top. I love my bike and even though it has caused me pain and suffering, I will never abandon it!

I am hoping to enhance it soon with a bell, basket, and side view mirrors! It'll be very "special".

This post is dedicated to Charlie, for whom I owe all my many bike adventures, and without whom I would have never become the mayor of Kaiser Vandever Medical Offices (urgent care). Thank you, Charlie!

Happy riding!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!