Natural Disasters

It's nearing the end of August.  There's a fearsome hurricane forming in the Atlantic Ocean and a freakish earthquake recently shook the east coast of the USA.  Watching too much news coverage of these events has forced me into reminiscing/recalling/remembering the tumultuous disasters that we (me and the hubby) have been associated with.

The strongest tornado ever recorded happened in the OKC metro area on May 3, 1999.  My sister's house was completely wiped out.  As she frantically held the wrists of my nieces while crouched in the bathtub, my brother-in-law covered his girls with a mattress.  It's horrific to think what could have happened to them.  They lost their neighborhood, home, vehicles, photo albums, keep sakes, clothes and sense of security.  For the first 18 years of my life, I was fully aware that I lived in a severe weather prone area, but I never thought that it could truly affect me.  And it was with only one degree of separation that I was forever changed by this powerful, swirling wind.

The calm before the storm:
Brooke and the pups waiting for the hurricane to arrive

The hubby and I moved to Houston during the winter of 2007.  Category 3 Hurricane Ike bulls-eyed the city that following summer.  We lived far enough away from the coast that we were told by authorities to not evacuate and to just ride out the storm in our house.  Which we did.  Which was very scary. Which ended up being just fine.  Which resulted in 2 weeks without electricity.  The dogs and I were refugees with family in OKC while we waited for the power = a/c to bring relief from the Houston heat.  Meanwhile, the hubby flew to the Middle East for work.  He always misses the good stuff.

After Ike:  clean up of our once beautiful pergola

In Denver, we didn't encounter a per se defined natural disaster.  But, the amount of snow that we received our first (and only) October was overwhelming.  Feet and feet of the dreaded white stuff.  While shoveling the driveway, I wondered, "where am I supposed to put all of this?"  Denver is not for the fair-weathered or thin-blooded.   

Kyle and the pups play in the Denver snow

Kyle and Brooke at the top of Kok Tobe in Almaty,
a mountainous region of the count

Both Almaty, Kazakhstan, and Baku, Azerbaijan, are located in high seismic activity areas.  A fact that we did not share with our families until we were safely back in the USA.  We kept an earthquake preparedness bag next to the front door.  It was stocked with first aid supplies, flashlights, bottled water, etc.  But, of course, as life goes, being prepared really didn't help out Kyle when he was in the Almaty airport, waiting in the customs line, when the world trembled.  He looked around at his fellow passengers and figured that the local Kazaks would know what to do, so he followed them outside and stood around for a bit.  His plane later took off without much to-do.  Later, we found out that the quake that Kyle felt was the first of several magnitude 6.0+ to hit the area over the next few days.

Variety is the spice of life.  Apparently, for us, that includes a multitude of environmental occurrences.

Home Sick

I grew up in Oklahoma City, went to college in Stillwater, Oklahoma, started my professional career in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and didn't move out of the state until I had been married for 4 years.  Many moons later, we're living back in red dirt country again.  So, it may be odd that I am home sick for some place(s) else.

If home is where the heart is, I apparently have many homes.  I made my first "grown up" friend in Houston.  You know the kind - the first person who you are friends with not because you go to the same school or work at the same place or are related to.  We chose to be friends.  We clicked thanks to a passion for kickboxing, but found out that was only the beginning.  It's still one of my most rewarding friendships.  I miss our gym dates, lunch dates, pool dates and couple dates.

Denver was idyllic.  With all of the fresh air, mountain bike trails, un-ending scenery, I mean, our master bedroom had a mountain view for crying out loud.  It was almost perfect.  The dang snow just got in the way.  But out of all the places that we've lived, this neighborhood was absolutely storybook delightful.  All young, fit couples, walking dogs, starting families, living "the life".  Our next-door neighbors were a once-in-a-lifetime find.  With short, picket fences between the houses, there was no one else I'd rather see when standing on the back porch in my pajamas.  Or shoveling the driveway.  Or sharing a fantastic home cooked meal.  Neighbors who became cherished friends.

And of all of the least likely places to make lasting bonds, there was Baku, Azerbaijan.  All of us English-speakers were clumped together simply because of a shared language, but once you started shifting through the "Westerners" there were some true gems.  Strangely, it was because the country was so difficult to live in, that we drew closer together.  There was something reassuring in knowing that other people were struggling too.  Misery loves company, so we took our pity party out for cocktails and then to Germany and Thailand.  Traveling and indulging with these friends created lasting memories and filled my photo albums.

Lesli and Brooke before the Kenny Chesney concert in Houston

On many nights, my dreams are filled with all of these friends and the experiences we shared.  I wake up sad for the past.  We can always be friends, but the circumstances will never quite be the same.  I knew I was extremely fortunate at the time to be making such good friends, but it's only in retrospect that it can wholly be appreciated.

Tulips bloomed in our Denver backyard just before we moved

Brooke and Adriana enjoying Thailand

Diversity

I love diversity.  I think it's good for all of us.  I was thrilled that the 2 valedictorians at my niece's high school graduation were Vietnamese first generation Americans.  Not to do a disservice to my niece, she did graduate 7 out of 400+ kids, because I was certainly proud of her.  But to see those 2 atypical Americans on stage, made me proud of our country.

One of the best things about living internationally was the opportunity to have candid conversations with other nationalities.  Granted, most were either British or Australian, so they really aren't all that different from us Yankees.  But, I think about 50% of our conversations were about the subtle oddities in our cultures.  From the various pronunciations of herbs to which holidays were celebrated to how public education and healthcare worked, the diversity was what made everything interesting.  I was  like the Riddler when I starting hanging out with a close friend who is Russian Kazak.  I couldn't get the questions out fast enough.  And then I had the chance to quiz another amendable friend who is Russian Turkmen.  I was captivated with her her experiences of growing up in the USSR. 

And it's time for me to declare loud and proud my endorsement for the television show "Glee".  Don't be a hater.  It's the best thing to happen to teenage-themed television since they did away with the after school special.  The singing is great, the story lines, on occasion, can be witty, but most importantly, it strives to promote tolerance of diversity.  Makes me a happy camper.

And back to the real world, I admire diversity and its unique perspective because you just never know about people.  It's the abundance of one-of-a-kind experiences that make it worth asking about.

I "Tried"

My first triathlon...I came, I saw, I did not quite conquer but, I did have a great time.

I trained for 8 weeks, but I was still slightly concerned that I might drown during the 500 meter swim.  It was a pool swim with participants being put in every 15 seconds.  I have one race pace - slow and steady - which doesn't bode well for me when I only have seconds before the next swimmer is tapping on my ankles, wanting to pass me.  I was passed by 6 people during the swim and each time, it gave me more anxiety and left me gasping for air.  I actually had to doggie paddle for a few seconds just to get my bearings.  I would be embarrassed by my antics, but with burning lungs, it was the only thing I could think of to keep shear panic at bay. 

Thankfully, my legs were still strong for the bike ride around Lake Hefner.  The ride was mostly uneventful, but in retrospect, I probably could have pushed a little harder.  I was just enjoying the uncharacteristically cloudy morning and the 80 degree temperature that was accompanying it - in the midst of a severe drought and record-breaking temps, it was a welcome reprieve.

Lastly, the run.  Got that in the bag.  Except for that I'm still slow and steady.  Never been a hare and I wasn't about to start now.  Finding my groove came easy.  On my way out the chute, I passed the hubby, who was finishing up.  He was about 25 minutes ahead of me.  He didn't even train for the tri.  That's what happens when you have mental fortitude, which I struggle with.  Nonetheless, I crossed the finish line in 1:41.  A Gatorade and banana to refuel and then a few minutes sitting on the pavement.  Whew!  What a morning, and it was only 9 a.m.!

I'm proud of my accomplishment, even if it wasn't anything spectacular.  I will definitely tri again.

Sentimental

I've tried to explain it to my niece, but she just doesn't get it.  Not yet at least.  It will happen to her too some day.  How do I know?  Because I too was once young and naive.  I remember watching tv as a child and my mom tearing up during a Hallmark commercial.  I would roll my eyes and chuckle.  Little did I know that my time was coming.  Mom would also get choked up during the national anthem or reading a birthday card.  "Geez, mom, why do you always cry?"

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.  I can barely see a person in military uniform without getting a knot in my throat.  And at my niece's high school graduation, with my hand over my heart, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, the tears were falling.  I would have been embarrassed, but I looked over at mom, and her mascara was streaked as well.

In Azerbaijan, all young men had to serve in the military, unless they were able to bribe their way out.  We would routinely see Soviet-era infantry trucks transporting the young troops - very young.  I doubt many of them even needed to shave yet, but there they sat, bumping along the road, with machine guns slung over their shoulders.  I remember saying out loud, "I can't believe those boys are given guns."  And Kyle responded with, "Maybe it's the innocence of youth that makes them hungry for a fight."

And I think that might be true for all of us.  When we are young, we can't yet appreciate the fragility of life.  Maybe it's only with added years that we have grown emotionally enough to be sentimental.  So, it's something  you have to experience and live.  Get your kleenex out youngins', because if video games and reality tv doesn't desensitize you, you too will earn the honor of crying at the next Lifetime movie.

Keeping Up with the Joneses

We've all gone mad.

I thought I had officially "arrived" with the purchase of a stainless steel refrigerator.  But apparently, they were created solely to push border-line OCD people over the edge.  The fingerprints never stop.  Not to sound ungrateful and incredibly spoiled, but can't I go back to a black fridge?  It's hanging out in the garage, keeping the beer cold.  I'm sure it would be happy to get a promotion to the house.

And when did it become vogue to stain concrete?  I thought it would be enough to own a great house in a cool neighborhood.  But, I look out my front windows and we're about the only house without a stained driveway.  The anxiety level is rising.

While I'm ranting, the packaging of irrelevant items has gotten out of control.  At first, it was CDs that took a pair of scissors, teeth and a sharp fingernail to open.  It seems that everything has gone that same route.  It took me 5 minutes to free my eye drops from their box and safety seal.  My dry contacts had plum fallen out of my eyes by then.

We've become a society of ridiculous appliances and overly-processed, shrink wrapped groceries.  And, I still heart it more than Azerbaijan.

It's a Bike Thing

It could have been worse.  Much worse.  Thankfully, I only ended up with a strawberry on my chin, scrapes on my knee, ankle and palm and a very sore elbow.  We had been riding our road bikes for almost 2 hours through the Badlands National Park in South Dakota, when my brain drifted off to la-la land and consequently, my bike drifted off the pavement onto small pebbles.  Road bike tires are extremely skinny, and the bumpy surface made the bike slide right out from under me.  I skidded to a stop, chin first.  The hubby was quite a distance ahead of me, so instead of bursting into tears, like I really wanted to do, I had to get back on and keep riding - total of 34 miles.

We've rode bikes (although not always as vigorously as in the Badlands) all over the world.  One of our first indulgent purchases after college were mountain bikes and all of the accompanying gear - special pedals that special shoes clip in to, hydration packs, helmets, gloves, padded shorts and brightly-colored shirts.  After honing our skills on trails at several state parks in Oklahoma - Thunderbird, Draper, Roman Nose, Hefner - we rode true terrain in Canmore, Canada, and then Crested Butte, Colorado.

The mountain bikes were hung in the garage while we lived in Houston, as I was teaching several indoor cycling classes and just didn't have the energy to fight the oppressive outdoor humidity.  But the mountain bikes were granted a reprieve when we moved to Denver.  Those bad boys were never given a weekend off until the snow was too deep to pedal through.  They floated on the Atlantic to Kazakhstan and by train to Azerbaijan, but sadly, never made it on any foreign trails.

Brooke and Kyle in Munich

We did however rent bikes for a relaxing tour of Munich, Germany, before partaking in Oktoberfest.  We also explored the island of Corfu, Greece, on bikes.  And I ventured out solo along the mangrove swamps of Marathon Island in the Florida Keys.  It's a great way to take in all of the sights, smells and feeling emitting from a town and it's surrounding nature.  My family teases me, "Look!  There's a bike rental place.  We better drop Brooke off now!"  I think I'm addicted to the sweating, wind in the face, rhythmic pedaling and obtainable challenges that a bike can offer.

Brooke in Corfu, Greece

Brooke with a "townie bike" in the Florida Keys (love the basket!)

Happy Brooke, before the fall, in the Badlands of South Dakota

Spurred mostly by my sudden entry into a triathlon, we recently splurged on road bikes.  Until we left for South Dakota, we were toughening up our saddles on the country hills east of OKC.  And before my asphalt face-plant, the worst I had encountered was a chain caught between gears and a flat tire 2 blocks from home.  The hubby got wicked poison ivy on two separate occasions, but I think there's a saying (or at least there should be), you can't keep a good cyclist down.