Biker chick

Well after years of wanting to be able to drive a motorcycle, I finally made it through to the end and believe it or not...I'm officially endorsed by the state of washington. There were 10 ladies that started the class with me, we lost one after day one. We lost two more on day two and of the final 8 (including myself) 5 of us passed the driving test on day 3. My biggest enemy is myself for being too hard on myself and expecting perfection. As for the course, the back to back U turns killed me. I'm still trying to get the counter weight thing down. One of the instructors told me I was a natural born cornerer. High praise if you ask me.

Anyway, now I'm trying to save up for a bike so I can keep riding and learning and growing the skills that I learned this weekend into real world application. Thank you to the Washington motorcycle training folks for being so supportive and patient. I had a great time and learned so much. Now...I just wanna ride!

The end of a genetic line

Every time I'm invited over to visit or have dinner with my extended family I'm faced with a horrible yet unavoidable truth...I am the only and last of my mother and fathers genetic line. I remember when I was in my very early teens my grandfather said to me one day, "Debra don't you let your branch of the family tree die, you're responsible for passing your moms side of the Carlsen name on." I recall feeling a mixture of emotions crash over me...pride in my family name and heritage, a sense of great burden and guilt if I were to let my mothers memory fade. These days I don't worry so much about passing the Carlsen name on as there are many others in the family that carry it. But the guilt and sadness that pulls at me over being the genetic end to my mothers memory is sometimes more than I can take. With respect to my fathers genetic markers...I again am the lone carrier. There are nights this understanding breaks me and I cry myself to sleep, but I don't want to have a child. And I don't want to raise a child in the kind of world we live in. It would almost be a punishment to sentence a child to such sorrow. So I feel stuck trying to figure out a way to make sure the world does not forget my mother and father...so that their existence has ongoing meaning even after they have moved on to a better place and time.

For now, until I find a more effective way to share my genetic memories of my mother and father, I will start trying to share more photos and memories of my childhood...not for me, I'm not sure if I care much about people remembering me, but I do care about my mother and father.

 This is a young photo of my dad, Dwight.

 This is a my father and my mother while they were dating.

 This is my mother, Marsha.

 Just me, my first 8 track tape was the smurfs sing along. 

 My mother and father on their wedding day.

 This is my first best friend, Coco. Some of my earliest memories are of riding him.

 Wedding cake.

 My second best friend, Tigger. She slept with and/or on me until I was 11 or so.

 Bath time with dad.

 I showed mom this picture and she laughed about how big her glasses were.

 This sums up a lot of my childhood, guns and horses. Why not?

Dad's mustache kind of creeps me out. I will have to find photos from his "amish" days.

Happy Mother's Day

My Dearest Mother,

No mere words could ever convey how much I love you or even come close to letting you know how thankful I am every single day that God saw fit to allow me in your life. No amount of money could I ever have access to that would enable me to pay you back for all the time, resources, energy and money you spent raising me. No award or prize in existence worthy enough to carry your name. I am woefully ill suited to pay proper reverence to you and yet here I try. You have always been there for me, loving me, advising me and when left to make my mistakes you have always helped me pick up the pieces. You make up my earliest memories, you taught me to walk, talk and show compassion for a world that wasn't always nice to me. You raised me on your own while going to school part time and still working a full time job...if when I die, I am half the woman you are...there will have been meaning in my life. There were so many times we could have become a disaster but by showing respect for me and my feelings and teaching me the same for you we were able to compromise and avoid the many pitfalls of my teenage angst. At the beginning of every quarter I would call you crying that I wasn't going to be able to pass one or more classes, and that I just wasn't smart enough. And every quarter you would tell me the same thing..."don't look at the end of the book, look at the front. You eat an elephant one spoonful at a time. You will do fine, you always do." By the time my college years finished I guess I ate a lot of elephants, passed a lot of classes and the one constant in my life has always been you. I can count on one hand the amount of times you have yelled at me or been cross with me...you have shown great patience with a daughter that well, let's be honest...gave you every grey hair you have. When I have been in doubt, you have taught me that a mother's love is forever. And every time I went out to a party you always reminded me "remember who you are." I always did remember...a child of God, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but more important than any of those...I was your daughter. No greater title or fellowship could I be part of then to be called your daughter. And I thank God every day that he blessed me with you not only as my mother, but my best friend too.

 Mom teaching me to crawl.

 Mom always whispering words of advice.

 Mom always teaching me to laugh.

 Mom always teaching me caring and compassion for other living things.

 Mom always comforting me.

 Mom always has my back.

 Mom teaching me all about being pretty.

 Mom always beautiful.

I love you so much mom, happy Mother's Day from your ever adoring daughter. 

Nobody's hero

Sometimes we have the best intentions when we do or say things and they get messed up somewhere in translation. Sometimes people support you in the beginning, only to back down when any signs of trouble start up. Sometimes people aren't what we think...for better or worse. And sometimes we aren't what we think we are.

Every day brings us the chance to do good...or bad, and even with the best of intentions we cannot control the way others interpret our actions or words. I have posted on my laptop at work the statement "always be mindful" as a reminder to myself. Sometimes I remember and sometimes I don't. All I want in this life is to leave it a better place than I found it. And honestly, I work under the assumption that other people have the same mindset.

I'm just a person, I make mistakes. I do good deeds, and mess up. I am only human and only have control over my actions. I am not the owner of others ideas, concepts or interpretations. My intent is true, even if the end result is skewed.

Don't look up to me. I'm nothing special. Don't think I'm perfect. I'm still learning, I'm still struggling and don't want to be any ones hero. So take what you want, and leave the rest. But don't assign more to me than is really mine. The cross I carry is heavy enough with just my actions. I'm tired. I'm weak. If you can't accept all of me...I can't change to make you happy. No one is required to be in my life. Right now, and quite often...I don't even want to be in my life.

My girls bout...

I finally had a chance to finish up editing the pics from my girlfriends last bout, where by the way, she and my other friends won. They are all undefeated...woohoo. This is the first bout where the two teams split into four because there are so many people involved in the league now. I have friends on all the teams and take great pleasure in seeing them grow as skaters and athletes. A year ago, I never would have guessed the mad skillz that so many of them are showing now. So here are some pictures from the bout and major congratulations go out to all my derby girls for doing something so amazing. But mostly for overcoming their fears and doing something that so many others just wish they could do.

 Gear Checks...

 Jeni pivot, Smaxxx jammer...

 My little Risa has decided to let her bird fly...

 Getting stoked up for the bout to come...

 Zombrie warming up to kick ass...

Smaxxx getting her game face on...

 My girl laying the smack down on the other teams pivot...

 Thank you Sarah A-f for taking this awesome picture of my girl...

Post bout yummies at Red Robin with my beautiful girlfriend Smokin' Guns.

I had an amazing time, got peeved about some plays I was not too happy about but overall enjoyed being just a fan. I am so proud of so many of the girls. But mostly my Lisa...who has overcome so many mind traps to become an amazing blocker who other skaters hate to play against. Viva La derby.

Her Beautiful Eyes...

Looking at her you would never guess the complexities that swirl behind her eyes and her nerdy glasses…well; they only serve to accent those very eyes. Those beautiful eyes, which upon first glance appear light brown, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take another look. Those beautiful eyes that dance the color wheel and make my soul take flight. Depending on her mood their colors can change while always remaining consistent in their design. Some days they are heavy with a fair amount of burnt orange with small flicks of light green and streaks of gold with a backdrop of light brown…like wheat. Other days they drip with honey, inlaid with bamboo stalks of green and sunbursts of yellow and light orange. If the light hits her eyes just right you can see the peaks and valleys in the fibrous tissue that make up her amazing iris, you can see the lakes that create the most intricate shadows and freckles but you don’t always need the light to see. Those beautiful eyes, beyond description…I’m blessed to say, dance for me.


So I sit here looking at her from across the room…me in my chair, she in my bed. Those beautiful eyes intently reading the screen she holds and then she realizes I’m looking at her, tilts her head slightly, smiles that smile that melts me and says, “what?” Her voice so smooth and full of love, I feel my heart warm. I slightly shake my head and say, “nothing” and turn my gaze back to the TV. What a contrast between her and what flashes on the monitor I glance to. A cage in the shape of an octagon, two men each bloodied by the other, punching, jabbing, kicking at their opponent in the hope of dominating the man across from them…the one they view as their foe. I look down at my computer screen, reading friends status updates and various posts about this, that, and the other. I get a reminder buzz on my phone of the derby bout I am helping to officiate tomorrow night…that of course I totally forgot about. I seem to be forgetting about everything these days. Whether it be old age or stress or a little of both, I hate it. Then suddenly a burst of warmth spreads through my body, starting with the very muscle that gives me life…my heart beats slightly faster as I remember that my girlfriend is not only in my room with me, but laying in my bed.

I can close my eyes and still see her…hair tussled, nerdy glasses on, a super soft, light blue Superman shirt and grey sweats on. I open my eyes and turn my head to look at her, our eyes meet and I smile innocently as I realize she was watching me. I quietly inquire, “baby how’s your knee doing?” Under the covers I see the shape of her legs and she flexes her knee saying, “it’s doing okay.” I think to myself, derby is a harsh mistress, rather I suppose one could view it more like a quarter…two different sides that make up one thing. It provides community, love, support, athleticism, responsibility, team work, problem solving and brings people together that otherwise would never have crossed paths. But at the same time derby provides fodder for gossip mongers’, an almost sinister level of competition, drama by the ton, and plenty of chances to injure yourself. So my dear girlfriend was forced to relent to my alter ego ‘doctor deb’ and now she lays in my bed with pain patches strategically placed around her knee covered with a brace, pillow underneath for support. I even kissed her sexy, injured knee to try and make it feel better. If love was a cure, she would be healed.

The time we have together is few and far between, so when I finished my shower the TV was silenced, the laptop put away, the alarm clock on the phone activated and I crawled under the covers to cuddle with the most beautiful woman in the world, with skin like velvet, smelling of warmth and safety. She pulled me close, my head on her chest…one of my most favorite places to be. Her breathing slow and steady I could hear, her heart humming along as if dancing to its own private beat. I’ve always hated steady sounds (like clocks) but there’s just something about listening to her heart beat that calms me, centers me and grounds me. I close my eyes, cuddle in closer and I can hear a quiet moan of contentment go through her as she grips me tighter. I can think of nowhere else in the world I would rather be right now than in her arms. Accepted. Loved. Cherished. Protected.