Still, Always, Pro-choice

Last night I was breezing through Facebook and discovered that anti-choice groups are posting photos of miscarried fetuses as a means to fight women's right to choose. As a woman who thirty-one years ago miscarried at eighteen weeks, I find this deeply disturbing. To use such sad images for political gain is mean-spirited and illogical. 

Let me tell you the history of my stance on abortion:

When I was in grade school and Washington State was voting to legalize abortion, I already understood that a woman should have control over her own body.

In my early twenties when I struggled with infertility, I knew that my desire for a baby would never mean other women should be forced to give birth.

When I was thrilled that I finally was pregnant, I became even more pro-choice. I was absolutely aware that motherhood is the ultimate commitment, and it shouldn't be forced on any woman. 

After a heartbreaking mid-pregnancy miscarriage, I began the adoption process and became the lucky mom of two amazing children. While I am grateful every day to my children's birth moms, I will still fight for the right of all women to choose whether to give birth or not. 

After this three-decade journey that has now brought me the joy of becoming a grandmother, I'm still the same sixth grade girl who was standing up for abortion rights on the school playground, and I am appalled to those who are posting photos of miscarried fetuses under the banner of "stop funding Planned Parenthood!"

What to say

As I have struggled through a few major health crises in my life, I have been fortunate to have friends and family who have loved and supported me in countless ways. I also have heard a few annoying comments countless times. If you are wondering what to say when you encounter someone with an illness, here are a few reminders and suggestions:

Don't say "But you look so good."  It feels like you might think I am lying about my pain or that my appearance makes a difference in my illness. Do say "I love your earrings" or "your biceps are awesome" or "where did you find those cute shoes?" These are things I can control, and I appreciate you noticing them.

If you hear about my multiple prescriptions, don't say "I NEVER take any medications." Trust me, I would be darn happy to never take any either, and I will be thrilled for you if you never have to. You might just say you are grateful to be currently healthy and sorry I am dealing with health issues.

Don't ask "Have you tried...?" I have probably tried it, or I heard about it and decided not to. While I know you are just trying to help, I have to trust my doctors and own research or I will lose my mind.

Do say (if you truly want to know) "tell me about your illness." I am happy to share my journey, especially if it can help others to learn or help someone else through their struggles.

I have a few suggestions that always work: 

Hit me with some good gossip. I would far rather talk about people we know than about my problems. 

Look me straight in the eye and ask me how I am. If you are genuinely interested, I will tell you the truth. 

Or if you don't know what else to do, give me a huge hug and tell me you love me. That always makes me feel better! 

Walla Walla Weekend

I had the pleasure of accompanying my wonderful friend Angie to Walla Walla for a weekend vacation that she won in a Washington Bikes raffle. I had never been there, so it was all a great adventure for me; all the vendors who donated prizes made for a perfect visit.

First we checked into the Inn At Blackberry Creek, a gorgeous old house with a creek running nearby, situated near bike lanes in a quiet neighborhood. Our room had an enormous king size bed, large bathroom, closet that could be a small bedroom, and several windows overlooking gardens and the creek. Coffee, cookies, and fruit were available anytime and there was plenty of outside and inside seating. I also saw several bikes available to guests.

After relaxing a bit in the Inn, we walked along Main Street to check out gift shops and wineries before dining at the Saffron Mediterranean Kitchen. This small restaurant requires a credit card number when making a reservation, so we were careful to be on time. For an appetizer we shared a grilled Walla Walla sweet onion that was cooked with braised pork, toasted walnuts, and smoked olive oil and enjoyed a main dish of grilled steak and fingerling potatoes. All the food was prepared perfectly.

While the desserts at Saffron looked lovely, we wanted to enjoy more of the warm evening, so we walked down the street to the Dolci Rosa Bakery (full disclosure, this was my second trip there of the day; I had peanut butter gelato on my way into town!) where Angie had a luscious lemon tart and I indulged in a chai, french-style macaroon. 

After a cozy evening of girl-talk, we awoke to a delightful breakfast. The Inn has a breakfast menu with several choices, so I had oatmeal and a glorious assortment of fruit while Angie had a dish of fruit and a cheese and veggie fritatta. We jumped onto our bikes and rode six blocks to a park to begin the Ann Weatherill Cycling Classic. The ride gave options of 30, 50, or 100 mile routes that all look challenging and fun, but after checking in, we rode the route for two miles and then veered off for our own adventure. We found the Mill Creek Recreational Trail to be a perfect way to chat, bike, and enjoy the view. The trail is about fifteen miles, some paved and some packed gravel. Here's Angie on her road bike bravely climbing a gravel hill.

It couldn't have been more perfect weather for selfies and vistas.

After the ride, we returned to the park and joined many other cyclists for a catered lunch of pasta with home made sauce, Caesar and tossed salads, and cookies. The organizers of the ride explained that the entry fees go toward bike lanes and other cycling infrastructure. It was a well-run event for a very good cause.


I am so fortunate to have be able to spend time in this cute town with one of my best friends and am grateful to the Walla Walla businesses that donated to Washington Bikes for this raffle. I would certainly recommend Walla Walla as a bike destination.

Don't Give Me Gluten-Grief

I have seen several Facebook posts lately announcing that there is no reason to avoid gluten; there appears to be a backlash directed toward those who chose to follow a gluten-free diet. I wanted to put a face on this discussion. Eight years ago, I began having terrible abdominal pain. After several tests, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease—an autoimmune condition that causes chronic inflammation of the digestive system. I spent two horrible years taking many expensive drugs, enduring disgusting tests, and undergoing two surgeries. I weighed less than one hundred pounds, had no appetite, rarely slept, and worried constantly about whether I would ever feel healthy again. This chronic illness consumed all of my time and thoughts.

When no treatments eased my pain, my GI began talking to me about a third surgery. Before I would consider that, I went to a naturopath and took a series of food sensitivity tests. He came to the conclusion that I had difficult time digesting gluten. Soon after, my GI and family doctor both suggested I try a gluten free diet. Furthermore, I read of several studies that found that giving up gluten appeared to help patients with autoimmune disorders. I truly had nothing to lose, so I gave it a try.

For three weeks nothing changed, and then one day I woke up feeling better. My appetite returned, I gained back my lost weight, and returned to my normal, happy self. Six years later, I still have no sign of Crohn’s and I am a healthy, gluten-free woman.

I have read Facebook posts that claim that gluten-intolerance is all in one’s head. Perhaps that is true, but if my head was so easily swayed, I wonder why thousands of dollars in drugs and two surgeries didn’t convince it that I was actually healthy. Moreover, if it is just in my head and only a choice, what difference does that make to anyone, anyway? Vegetarianism is a choice for many thoughtful people; I don’t see it mocked in social media. I suspect some of this backlash is because there are people demanding gluten-free foods who are annoying in restaurants, but I am also pretty sure those people are just annoying—please don’t confuse my dietary needs with the reality that there are jerks in every crowd.

I am grateful every day for my health, and it is hurtful to see posts claiming that I am uneducated or silly when I don’t eat that wedding cake or doughnut. I hope before people ridicule this diet, they think of me and others like me and respect our desire to be healthy.

Why Complete Streets Are For All Of Us

I am a cyclist and a walker, and I also drive a car. I have always been in favor of complete streets in Spokane, but today I realized how important they really are. 

I had back surgery two days ago, and it is important for my physical healing (and mental health) that I walk a mile or so each day. My husband, Steve, and I walked the few blocks from our house to the post office and grocery store. I am not yet allowed to drive and sitting in a car is uncomfortable, so my only option is to walk. When we were ready to cross Grand Ave at thirty second, there were no lines on the street, but we were on a corner with cut-outs for wheel chairs, which seemed like a safe place to cross. We slowly began to enter the street and there was plenty of time for the on-coming cars to see us and stop. In the first lane, a huge car would not slow down, and while Steve stood in front of it with his arms outstretched, the driver tried to swerve around him and drove off calling Steve several obscenities. In the next lane, a car rolled slowly toward us and never did make a complete stop as we tried to hurry enough to make it across.

So why are complete streets vital? Because I am in a place today that all of us will encounter someday. I can’t go fast, can’t jump out the way, and can’t turn and run back to where I started. I am fortunate as I will be walking fast and biking again very soon, but there are many elderly and disabled citizens who have to endure this treatment every day. Without an emphasis on complete streets, we are asking them to either stay home for fear of cars, or venture out and say a little prayer each time they need to cross a busy street.

Those Soul-Sucking Robo-Calls

Last night I answered the phone, and it was a robo-call from Mike Huckabee. I didn't pay much attention to what the recording was saying, but heard something about "stopping those frightening Freedom From Religion advocates". When we receive these calls, I like to stay on the line and wait for the real human can come on and hear what the call is really about.

Soon a woman came on the line and said "Do you want our schools to teach the history of gays and not allow prayer?" and I answered "of course." Hoping for a passionate, "of course NOT" she then said, "let me repeat that" and then repeated her question, and I answered "absolutely!" She stuttered, mumbled, and then said"goodbye" and hung up.

As I walked away from that conversation, I felt sick inside that her question would most likely raise funds and interest for her candidate. Where is the discussion about health insurance, school funding, unemployment, the war? Can't we use our brains to solve problems in our country instead of silly, emotional debates?

NIMBY--Comstock version

I am excited for Spokane's Summer Parkways to begin, so I was surprised when I went to their website this morning and found that several folks who live in my neighborhood, where there is a ride scheduled for June 22, were quite angry about the scheduling of the event. I added the following comments in hopes that they will relax a little.

I am thrilled to live one house away from the route and surprised to see that a few neighbors are unhappy about this event. Think of those who live in Browne’s and endure days of Art Fest; our streets are never busy, and three hours of folks enjoying our lovely area and having fun certainly is worth a bit of thinking ahead. I urge you all to jump on a bike for the evening–all is well when you are on a bike!

Furthermore, I am sure that 29th will not be closed, but monitored by volunteers, so those who need to get home will be able to get there. You might have to park a block away, but it shouldn’t be much trouble. As for vendors, I welcome them as businesses who wish to support active, outdoor fun.

Finally, even if you feel put-out by this event, remember the organizers are volunteers and are working hard to find the best ways to make these events possible. As a very involved community volunteer, I know that criticism is defeating. Rather than complain, agree to volunteer for the evening or grab a lawn chair and wave as we pass your house. Make Spokane a place we all want to live.

My Mind in Yoga

At the Shala, my lovely home away from home, I am often surrounded by the most dedicated, serious, talented yogis in town. While those practicing around me appear to have it all together, here is my confession—I am often a pathetic yogi! While it might look like I know what I am doing, let me share some of what goes on in my head during practice.

For the first fifteen minutes on my mat, I am generally thinking about how sore I am. I find myself wondering if my muscles can hold me up, soften, twist, or do whatever it is they are supposed to be doing. I am sure the folds I could do the day before didn’t happen, the arm balance I attempted was a fluke, and I will never reach my toes again. I push myself to just keep moving and breathing.

My concerns during the middle of practice are broad and embarrassing. While trying to focus on the postures, I am wondering how much longer the class will last, will I make it through hand-to-big-toe balance, do I need a pedicure, is my mat getting smelly, will I have to do headstand, and did I turn off my cell phone ringer.

As we work our way toward close-out, my attention shifts to wondering if we have ice cream at home or do I need to pick some up on the way home. That’s it: ice cream.

After all of this scattered, monkey-brained thinking, I finally come to savasana. When I was new to yoga, corpse pose was the greatest challenge of all. I heard that I should be quieting my brain, but for years, thoughts continued to zip around. I recently learned that having a consistent meditation is the one thing that quiets my mind, and have settled on a three steps I do each day in corpse pose.

First, I decide what was the best part of the past twenty four hours and focus on that with a sense of gratitude and joy.

Second, I determine what I really, really want from my life to find an intention for where I put my energy once I leave my mat.

Finally, I choose my mantra—a positive message that I need to repeat to myself to counter any anxiety that might bubble up during my day.

Calming my mind will always be the greatest struggle of my practice. But like all of you, I will keep doing my practice knowing all is coming. So try not to laugh the next time you see me in shoulder stand, even though you can assume one thing: I am thinking about ice cream.

Nice Guys

Of course I am crazy about my husband, son, and stepsons, but I want to comment on some young men who I didn't know, but who impressed me this week.

Last Monday I drove my car to the Bike to Work Week breakfast (so sue me; it was raining buckets), and when I started to parallel park, a young guy in the space beside me honked at me. I wondered what I had done wrong, but he yelled to me that there were forty minutes left on his meter and to take his spot when he pulled out...nice!

Then a couple days later, when I was biking to my volunteer gig at Odyssey Youth Center, I pulled over to see if I could decipher a rattle coming from my bike. A young man on a motorcycle rode by, pulled a U-turn, and came back to see if I was okay. There was nothing he could do, but his concern was such a nice gesture.

Finally, this week Steve had some heavy yard work to be done, and he hired a twenty year old who was going door to door looking for work to save money to start school in the fall. He spent the weekend digging holes with Steve, and between the two of them have begun to transform our backyard. No handouts for this guy; he is doing all he can to make his dreams for the future come true.

When I hear people of my generation complaining about those in their twenties, I always tell them about my amazing kids and students, but the young men I met this week demonstrate what I believe: we have many great youth in this town. We must trust them, smile at them and be kind to them. Keeping them in Spokane is a gift to us all.

Spanked by Bob Apple

Yesterday morning, I sent a very polite note to our mayor and city council members asking that the bike lanes on SE Blvd be swept, as they were full of rocks and pine needles. A few hours later while I was riding home, I saw they were being cleaned, so I quickly wrote them again to thank them. I assumed the issue was done until late last night when I received the following from Bob Apple:


Try and talk to your bicycling friends to always be safety conscious and courteous because I'm receiving far to many complaints about arrogant and rude bicyclists who use hand language and literally cut in front of traffic. Knowing that about 2% of our residents ride bicycle casually or more and receiving so many complaints means a very few are creating a disservice to all riders. It is also a disservice to have public battles, regarding the placement of bike lanes on major arterials and truck routes wher they do not belong like 2nd and 3rd Avenues downtown and though that will not be happening, many on either side of the argument are still unhappy.


Betsy again--while cyclists' worst enemies might be other cyclists who don't follow rules and give us all a bad name, in my email I presented myself as a law-abiding adult and didn't warrant this response. I realize there are a few angry drivers out there, but am sorry to hear from an angry councilman. What do you think??

Hurray--Bike to Work Month

My neck is getting better and the sun is shining--both just in time for Bike To Work Month. I am passionate about BTW events; without them I would have never tried to commute by bike.

Today I was short on time, and rather than my usual, lovely, Centennial Trail route, I biked home up Napa, across Sprague, and straight up SE Blvd. I spend a good part of the ride with trucks in front, beside, and behind me, and ended up with road grit in my nose and dirt on my face. I rode past loose pit bulls, boarded up businesses, and an interesting looking business deal, and I loved every minute of it. Biking to work is challenging, fun, and healthy.

Bike to Work Month is happening now. Register at www.spokanebikes.org and send me a note if you want advice on how you can join me in the fun.

The Toughest Girl in Spokane

Today after a few years of pain and many months of alternative treatments, I took a major step, and in doing so was dubbed by the doctor "the toughest girl in Spokane!"

Through a recent ct scan, I was diagnosed with several sites of both moderate and severe degeneration, calcification, stenosis, and arthritis in my neck. I do all the right things--exercise, eat well, yoga--but it seems that holding up my big heavy brain was too much for my little tiny vertebrae. When all else failed, I chose to try to stop the pain.

I had a rhizotomy, or nerve burning, procedure. After a few bad experiences with sedation in the past, I refused to have any medication. I figured if women can breathe and have a baby, I could breathe and have fire-needles shoved into my spine. The nurses and doctor told me many times that everyone has a sedative, and even then are very uncomfortable; however, I held firm and here's how it went.

They inserted shots of Novocaine into three places in my neck, going deeper and deeper until they hit bone. They scraped needles around on the bones, trying to find the correct nerve, and I breathed. We perversely discussed 127 Hours and the nerve scene while they tested to make sure they had the right nerve. First they hit it with a current that made it jump, another that made my hand thump, and then some really bad stuff that just made it hurt. When my arm started twitching, they moved the needles around, hitting more bones and nerves, and then found the correct placement. All the while, I breathed and talked about movies.

Once they found the right spot, they searched and poked for three different places on the nerve to burn--each burn took about 90 seconds. Each time the needles moved deeper, they offered me meds; I said "No. This feels interesting" and breathed and, yes, talked about movies.

Once the burning was done, they sat me up and it was over. They were amazed that I made it through, and I was delighted that my day wouldn't be ruined by nausea and fatigue. The nerve will take a couple weeks to stop its fussing, and will probably get worse before it gets better (tough little buggers, those nerves), so I will see what happens next. In the meantime, I will breathe, talk about movies, and delight in being the toughest girl in Spokane.

Preaching to the Choir

Yesterday I helped put on an Alternative Transportation Fair at Spokane Community College. A colleague and I were scheduled to speak at two sessions on bike commuting. The first session had about ten attendees; the second had one. However, I didn't mind at all. From the start of our planning, I said that at least our co-workers would see our names and if they had questions someday about biking, they would know who to call. In the meantime, I learned a few things and was video taped, so I got to wear a microphone and feel like a celeb.

So instead of worrying about those who weren't there, I happily chatted with the cool folks who brought booths (Two-Wheel Transit, Bicycle Hub, and Pedals to People, to name a few) and decided sometimes preaching to the choir is a great way to spend my time.

South Hill Can Really Get Wicked

On my ride to work today, I decided I really should get back to this blog, so thanks to a student's comment to me today, I have a place to start. I love love love teaching summer school. During the rest of the year, I get crabby when a cell phone rings; today when a song erupted from a backpack I broke out dancing and heard a young male student exclaim "South Hill can really get wicked." Such a cool phrase for so many reasons. I think I want it for a tattoo.

What rocks about summer school? I work from about 9-12 and then leap over my students ala Jack Black in School of Rock as he runs out the door with a brief "catch you on the flip flop." Office hours? No: Meetings? No. It's all the fun of teaching without all the grief.

yet another account to manage

I love signing up for on-line sites: twitter, facebook, myspace, google...I am everywhere. The problem is that I rarely go back to any of them. (I probably have several messages waiting for me from when I was on-line dating six years ago; I hope the gentlemen have given up on a reply by now.)

so here I am, blogging. I have plenty to say about movies, school, yoga, and life and perhaps I will find the time and focus to do just that, here. or perhaps I will forget my password, decide to finally figure out why I would want to twitter, and watch yet another episode of 30 Rock--only time will tell.