I logged into my email this morning, not thinking anything was different in my life, and BAM!  I find out that I'm a millionaire!!!  That's right, Rolf Hoffman died, and left me over 12 million dollars!

Wait, who's Rolf Hoffman???  The only Rolf I know is a muppet. Hmm. Could this be a scam?!?  Noooooo... no one would try to get you to give out your information on the internet by telling you you've inherited a bunch of cash... would they?

Here's the email in all it's *ahem* Official Looking glory:

Maureen E. O'Brien <obrienme@sunysccc.edu> Wed, Feb 29, 2012 at 3:51 AM

I wish to notify you that late Mr. Rolf Hoffmann made you the sum of
($12,030,000.00) in his WILL. Reply to 
lawfirm.andrew01@yahoo.com 
I await your prompt response.
Yours in Service,
Andrew Tidbury Esq

Hmm... I guess I'm not going to be sitting in the lap of luxury today... Bummer.

-Papa Bear
 
 
A friend of mine on Facebook posed that question. Basically "it's after midnight and I'm hungry.  Should I eat?"

Immediately my odd mind jumped to Hamlet, and the following flowed out; which I used as my response to his question:

To eat or not to eat; that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to the gut to suffer the pangs and growls of an empty stomach, or to take up food; and by ingesting, end them. To eat… to hunger, no more.

-PB
 
 
Borrowed from Bike Snob NYC:

"...I find myself wondering stuff like: What is the big deal about LeBron James riding a bike to work?

This story has been all over the news, and it's a perfect example of what's wrong with America. Where else would the sports media marvel over the fact that a professional athlete in peak physical condition was able to survive a bicycle ride of just over half an hour?

The ride took 40 minutes and he safely arrived at the arena with plenty of time to spare.

I'm not sure if they're amazed he was able to do something a typical Dutch grandmother does on a daily basis, or that he didn't get run over by a car, or both, but in any case it's a sad reminder of just how developmentally challenged our relationship with cycling is..."

It's true, isn't it?  I constantly have people saying to me "You didn't ride your bike all the way here, did you?" or "Surely you didn't ride today". 

Why not?  It takes me just under an hour to commute to work by bike, and yet if I take the train, it takes me 1.25-1.5 hours.  At the same time, I am burning calories as well as saving on fuel and upkeep for a car.

Yes, there are times/days where I don't feel like riding, so you know what... I don't.  Simple as that. 

I ride my bike because I enjoy it. Yes, it saves money and helps with decreasing pollution and dependence on petrolium products, but for the most part... I enjoy doing it. It's fun.  Maybe if more people are seen out on their bikes enjoying themselves, it will become less of a shocker when someone famous does it. Then again... maybe not.

-Papa Bear
 
 
On our way home from Park City last night, my cast-mates from Poison Ivy Mysteries show "Club Mystique" and I were headding across the valley on I-215. Suddenly, the car to our left changes lanes into us, forcing Jim to quickly react and swerve off of the freeway onto the shoulder (and, thankfully, right back on to the road).

I was sitting in the back seat when this happened - just talking, and not paying a whole lot of attention to the other cars - and as a result my head whipped side to side and I smacked my head on the door frame. Today, my neck and back are killing me, and I have the headache from hell. You just gotta love whiplash.

We were all really lucky that Jim acted so quickly and didn't lose control of the vehicle!  I'm just wondering if anyone else is as sore as I am today.

-Papa Bear
 
 
Well, I now know what it feels like to have a heart attack.  NOT FUN.

Ok, It ended up not being an MI (myocardio infarction - or heart attack for the non-medical), but I was told that's what they feel like.  Here's the story...

On Monday, Dec 12 2011, I was at work putting a patient on dialysys when my chest started to hurt.  In the past two weeks I had had a few instances of a short-sharp pain in my chest, and I thought my pleuricy was coming back, so I ignored them and they went away.  On Monday, it didn't.  While I was putting the needles in my patient, I started hurting so badly, I had a hard time breathing. 

When I finally got my patient hooked up, I was panting for breath, sweating profusely, and hurt so bad in my left chest and shoulder I was afraid to try to walk.  I asked my patient to press the call button for help, and a coworker came in to see what was the matter (thanks, Reggie!).

I told her I thought I was having a heart attack, and she sprung into action. She grabbed an oxygen tank an mask and sent someone else for a wheelchair. Within 5 minutes, she had gotten me ready and personally wheeled me down to the emergency room.

Once in the ER, Janna and Matt took care of me. They started an IV, drew blood, got a chest x-ray and EKG.  I was in the ER getting tests done until noon when I was transferred to IMC Hospital to the Cardiac Outpatient Center where I underwent a nuclear stress test.

After another couple of hours of testing and waiting, I was told that my heart looks fine and it wasn't an MI. I have costochondritis - which is an inflammation of the cartillage between the ribs and breast bone. I am now on massive doses of anti-inflammatories to try to combat the pain and swelling. I am told it should resolve itself within a few days, but for now I feel like I keep getting kicked in the chest by a mule!

I'm just glad it wasn't my heart!  I'm way to young for that kind of crap!  Shut up, JC... I am too young!  ;-)

-Papa Bear
 
 

This post was borrowed from a Facebook

  • Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
  • He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
  • Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
  • From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
  • John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
  • She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
  • The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
  • He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
  • Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
  • She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
  • The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
  • The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
  • McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
  • His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
  • He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at asolar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
  • Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
  • Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
  • The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
  • Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
  • The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
  • They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
  • He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
  • Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it hadrusted shut.
  • He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
  • She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
  • She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
  • The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
  • The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
  • “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
  • It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
  • It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
  • He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
  • The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
  • Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
  • Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
  • The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
  • The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
  • She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
  • Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
  • Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
  • They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
  • Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
  • The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
  • He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
  • The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
  • Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
  • The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless they pay him lots of drachmas.
  • I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
  • She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
  • Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
  • It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
  • Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
  • You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
  • The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
  • Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
  • The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.
 
 
I had an old co-worker from the Beanry (Wow, that was a looooooong time ago) who couldn't remember me. :( 

Just kidding with the frown, because I only remember a couple of names from that time as well!  It's been like 25 years or so, too many names and faces have gone through my life to remember them all.

Please don't feel bad if you don't remember me, because unless I see a picture of you at that age, I probably won't remember you either. That's life, I guess.

On that note, here is a picture of me at age 17 (which is about when I worked at the beanry.

Wow, what a geek!
 
 
I'm feeling a lot better since my surgery a month and a half ago. The constant pain is gone, and I'm back riding my bike! I'm still not back to my old 30-50 miles a day yet, but I'm putting in about 50 a week.

I'm hoping to get fully back into shape before Thanksgiving. I still plan on making my annual ride to American Fork before Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm hoping LeAnn will join me! 

LeAnn and I have started a new cycling club called "Missing Link Cycling", and I'm hoping to get a few local riders to join us on some weekend rides.

 
 
Chris·tian [kris-chuhn]
Adjective
- of, pertaining to, believing in, or belonging to the religion based on the teachings of Jesus Christ
Noun
- a person who believes in Jesus Christ
... - a person who exemplifies in his or her life the teachings of Christ

I am tired of being told I am not a Christian because I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints aka the Mormons. I accept Jesus Christ as my savior and redeemer. I know that it is by His grace that I will one day be able to return to my Father in heaven. I am not perfect. I am flawed. This is why I seek to follow His teachings that through Jesus Christ I can shed my flaws and be perfected.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints - A Mormon. And I'm PROUD of it!

-Papa Bear
 
 
My dad was goofing around at our annual October "Christmas" party (I call it hallowthanksgivesmas). Here is the picture: