SANTA ROSA BURNED: rebuild we will

Sunday October 8^th, 2017 was a very good day. My wife had been visiting family and friends in Sweden for a couple of weeks and would finally return Monday. I’d shopped groceries, cleaned house, found some nice flowers and was ready for her arrival, for us being together again. I function well by myself, but with my wife around, I do function a lot better; that’s how it should be, don’t you agree? I went to bed around 9pm feeling very good and was looking forward to that initial hug & kiss, picking her up in Oakland International Airport. At least, that was the plan…

Around 1:00am I was awoken by stuff on our deck tumbling around loudly. First I thought somebody was out there, but then a realized it was the wind; I had never heard it so violent before - ever. I grabbed a flashlight and opened the door to the backyard. The wind was hurling around in a horrendous way – and then I smelled the intense smoke; but from where?

I went outside the front of the house. The streetlights were off; very weird. Looking around the cloud-covered sky, I saw a reddish hue when looking north-east. Then I realized that it was not reflecting on low clouds, it was reflecting against a thick layer of smoke – what was going on?

Back in the house, I woke up our son, who is staying with us for the time being and gave a short estimation of what was going on. Then my wife called unexpected; it was now around 1:30. She was sitting in the airport near Stockholm, waiting to board her flight home. With a shaky voice she told me that she had just gotten an emergency message on her mobile that said that our neighborhood and a larger part of Santa Rosa was being evacuated and we were all asked to leave immediately, ‘due to fire’. It stunned me, as the thought of ever being evacuated for anything other than a possible earthquake, was so foreign; the ignorant ‘never here / never us’ syndrome. Then the phone went dead, as well as all the lights and everything else electrical – total darkness.

Besides the vicious sounding wind, the sirens of many emergency vehicles came through; so many loud explosions in the horizon, which I guessed would be propane-tanks, perhaps – what a war-zone would sound like, I could only imagine. It smelled like, looked like, felt like and sounded like parts of Santa Rosa and beyond was burning. It was not just a terrible nightmare or a bad movie, as it all too quickly became an extreme reality.
   

With a flashlight I walked down to the corner and one of our neighbors came out. “What the hell is happening?” we both asked. Then we continued to one of the major roads going through our neighborhood. Cars in long lines were heading west, away from what we guessed was a fire – but how big, how vast, how devastating? We didn’t know, but later it was clear that this was some unreal, surreal, horrendous and horrific disaster – so unimaginable.

I hurried back to the house, packed a few essentials, grabbed my mobile and charger, wallet as well as documents and passports from our (so-called) fire-safe. My son ran around and did the same; we stuffed the dog and the cat into the car – the cat was not cooperating very well. We both gave the house a last look, still totally in a daze and confused, as we had no idea what was really going on. The only thing we knew for sure was that this was all eerie and utterly surreal.

We backed out of the driveway and took off, acknowledging neighbors evacuating as well. We waved and called out: ‘we are going to be okay…’ more as a feeble wish and hope, having absolutely no idea what the next many hours and days would bring.

We slowly made it to Fulton Road and found it overloaded with traffic heading south; side by side on a one lane road; everybody fleeing the reddish hue in the sky. Nothing was heading north. We decided to park in front of our local super-market about a mile from home, facing north-east. The big parking-lot filled up fast. Were we far enough away from whatever it was that was burning?

It was around 2:30am by now. My son and the pets were in the backseat, with the pets finally settling down; I had yet to settle down, as I kept staring at the sky that got more and more red. I listened to some of the conversations going on around the cars parked next to us: ‘Many fires in the Coffey Park area… Fountaingrove is gone…’ both just a few miles from our house. ‘We saw a lot of houses burning as we fled…’, ‘I’m not sure our house will make it…’

I rolled up the windows and tried desperately to grasp the reality of all this – could it really be or what was going on? I kept staring at the red sky. After a couple of hours I thought it was becoming less red, or was it just something I imagined, something I hoped for?

At around 7:30am my anxieties got the better of me and told my son that we’d head home. I wanted to know if our house was standing or not. As we turned into our neighborhood I realized the masses of ashes, large pieces of burnt paper and debris falling from the sky. It was still eerily dark, utterly windy and the streets were empty and smoky, very smoky. Only a few cars were left behind by fleeing evacuees. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or not; finally, our house seemed okay.

Down the street two of our neighbors were talking; one of them, a retired fire-chief. ‘You didn’t evacuate?’ He shook his head and explained several things about what he saw in the reddish sky, what he could hear and the kind of neighborhood we live in - the firefighters view. He also told me that most evacuations are not mandatory. I felt slightly better, but still in a daze. ‘If things turn bad, would you come and knock on our door, please?’  He nodded and I went home. Before I went inside, I turned the car around, just in case we needed a fast get-away.

No electricity and no gas, there were not many things to do. I tried reading, but it didn’t work – my thoughts were elsewhere. Then I figured that there could still be some hot water left in the water heater, so I took a shower; weird, but I did. Not that it made me feel much better.

From the very start of this horrific morning, we communicated with friends and family, here and in Europe. Our younger son and his wife, living near Sacramento, were following all they could from continuous TV broadcasts. ‘We are okay’ was our message and told them where and what. Our daughter-in-law’s parents lived in Coffey Park and I had texted them earlier. Now they answered that they did not think their house had survived – their home of 29 years burned to the ground that morning, Monday October 9, 2017. It was one of so many many hundreds of homes that went up in flames in Coffey Park and in Fountaingrove, the two hardest hit areas around Santa Rosa. Thousands of other homes and structures in our county (Sonoma) and in several neighboring counties were ravaged by this incredibly devastating fire-storm.

PS: As of today 3,963 residents/homes were lost in Sonoma. 7,776 were partial losses or damaged; estimated total loss around $3 billion. All fires (14 or so) are by today at 100% containment; an incredible job by all first responders.

At noon I left for the airport to pick up my wife. I left in good time, because we had learned, that it was not only the north-east part of Santa Rosa that was burning. Many other areas around our city had been hit and the firefighting was fierce and the many fires were totally out of control as the winds constantly changed direction. I figured a lot of traffic going south so I left early.

My wife had boarded the plane in Sweden, not knowing what was going on, with us, the city, the county and the fire; sitting on the plane for 11 hours of anxiety ridden confusion and angst. When we finally reunited, it was with relief, which quickly turned into sadness as soon as I brought her up to date with what was going on, what was happening to our friends and family. We acknowledged that at least we were safe for now; but that turned utterly unimportant, fast…

Sure we have all been affected by this horrific devastation, this unbelievable wild firestorm, but not to any degree as the thousands of people who lost their homes and business’; something that will take a very long time to deal with.

Our daughter-in-law’s childhood home, her parent’s house burnt to the ground; her grandparent’s house gone. A friend of mine built a beautiful home himself 30 some years ago; burnt down in less than an hour. When my wife went back to work the following Wednesday after she returned from Sweden, she was told that over 120 of her colleagues had lost their homes – and the many stories have no end.

In all fires 41 have died and many more were missing at some point; the ‘missing’ number is now down to 19 - but still.

I cannot comprehend the devastation; cannot fathom the realism of this unbelievable loss. I had to see some of it myself. I tried to understand why I wanted to see it. No, it was not by morbid curiosity, but to better grasp what the hell it is, what it was and then what? It affected me stronger than anything I have faced before in my life. What the hell happened?

My wife called me from work early Wednesday and though I felt safe in our home, still no electricity or gas (who would have the audacity to even care, all compared?) she wanted our son and me to evacuate, yet again – and fast. That’s what she would feel comfortable with, so that’s what we did. We packed up and drove down to friends south of San Francisco, pets and all. After a couple of workdays at the hospital, staying with friends in a safer part of Santa Rosa for sleep and shower, my wife finally joined us.

Friday evening we received a message that we were allowed back into our neighborhood, this time ‘legally’. I told everybody that I wanted to leave early Saturday morning – I felt an urge to get home; I needed to get back – perhaps I could help, whatever... 

REBUILD WE WILL 

Our story is just one of thousands. We were so lucky that we were not hit. Our story is so insignificant compared to the thousands of people who were not that lucky. I feel ‘survivors-guilt’, as in: why not us? I’m told that it’s rather normal to feel that way – never-the-less.

Driving around Santa Rosa today, constant reminders of this nightmare is seen in burned down structures, charred grass and road-blocks everywhere. We also see huge signs hanging off the freeway bridges: ‘The love in the air is thicker than the smoke’, ‘Thanks to all the first-responders – you are our heroes’, ‘From the ashes we will rise’, ‘Sonoma Strong’... Have we already started to adjust, started to repair, already moved forward to rebuild? I truly trust that we have and that we do.

I have always had the greatest confidence in our ability to adjust to any and most situations of hardship and change. Looking around today, I acknowledge that my trust had not been broken. There is a sense floating around that we will not let this fire-storm win, as it seems to me that it has become very personal, however silly that might sound.

A friend I had communicated with during all this (his house barely escaped) called me Thursday morning; he’s a retired contractor. We have worked together on a couple of major projects on our house, me being the grunt-worker. We had a lot of fun, besides being very efficient with the work we did. He had already received several calls from former clients who had lost their homes – requests for rebuilding; bringing him out of retirement, because he felt that he could not sit there with all his knowledge, his skills and experience, when so many homes had vanished. I signed up immediately as a possible grunt-worker, as I felt that perhaps in some minuscule (naïve) way I could help Santa Rosa get back on its feet, back to the new normal.

Again, my story is just one in thousands – and we were part of the lucky ones. Contemplating the horrific days and nights of this horrendous fire-storm and the devastation it brought along to so many thousands of people, I try to find some reality and a bit of sense to it all. But for the most part I draw blanks, though a few things have come out of this, at least for me.

I have never been one to take things for granted. I have always acknowledged how lucky I have been in life, in the past and present. But I have now realized more than ever that I have slacked concerning the ‘taking for granted’ thing. I had become arrogant, expecting things this and that. But this devastation underlined, that taking things for granted in such a blasé way, is not cool at all; so I am even more thankful now than I’ve ever been.

The rebuilding has begun. People are gathering around, all behind moving forward. Donations of all sorts poured in immediately and soon signs of ‘no more donations, please’ showed up. As of today, approximately 25,000 individuals have donated about $16 million to the victims of the fire. Santa Rosa City has set up programs to help out. The State of California will clean up the debris and hazardous materials from the burnt down structures at no cost; clean up that must be done before rebuilding can begin; and the list is very long.

The human spirit is unique, as we seem to have the urge to move forward, to adjust, after dealing with life-changing events. I think that is one of our most valuable traits. We don’t just sit there and accept defeat; no, we get up and fight back. Of course this is all easy for me to say – now sitting in my home, just feeling some ‘survivor’s guilt’, but I am very ready to help rebuilding when called upon.

Again, all this is not about me to any extent – it’s all about the many thousands who do not sit at home, the thousands of families who now have to adjust and rebuild. I have no idea how they are feeling – but I know that Santa Rosa will rebuild, no doubts about that; have already started. Perhaps becoming an even stronger community? That wouldn’t surprise me at all. 

SANTA ROSA: REBUILDING WE ARE 

PS: To get some kind of sense of the enormity of the destruction around Santa Rosa, our county and the affected surrounding counties, here is a link that marks all the homes and structures burned to the ground as well as the structures that were damaged. You can move the map around, zoom in and out by scrolling; you get the idea. Studying this map, you quickly acknowledge the atrociousness of this fire-storm.   Under ‘Bookmarks’ you can go to specific areas and fires (by name)… It’s an eerie map to look at – as it is all too real, every single dot telling a horrific story…

Click here: MAP

FAILURE – a big part of success

We all fear failure; it’s a basic human emotion. But we really shouldn’t. Sure we don’t like to screw-up or make mistakes, as it deflates our self-esteem, inflates our insecurities and even more importantly, embarrass the heck out of us. But we really shouldn’t be afraid to fail, as failure is actually a really big part of success and progress – it truly is. So when we do fail, we should not respond with: ‘Oh crap, how stupid was that (failure)’ while trying to crawl under the nearest rock. Instead we must respond with: ‘Now what can I learn from this, so I never do it again, ever.’ That’s the only positive way to handle failures, which makes them into something that helps us progress in life, instead of dragging us down and holding us back; it really is a big part of our way to success.

When you ask yourself if you learn more from the success you have, or from the failures you encounter, I’m positive that you’ll find that much more knowledge and experience is gained from what you did wrong, than from what you did right. And please remember, that the embarrassment we do feel when we fail should be made extremely brief, as our minds must now fully concentrate on what we have just learned, and how we can apply that new-found knowledge to moving forward.

To help us along, let’s be clear of one very important point: For the most part we fail by being ignorant, from not knowing any better. This is neither a derogatory nor a demeaning statement, as most of our failures are based on the fact that we simply had no idea of what would happen, what the outcome would be, if we did this or that.

So when we stuck a finger into the burning candle, we weren’t aware that it would hurt like hell, no matter how many times mom told us it would – a lot. We just ignorantly did it anyway and quickly, rather painfully so, learned something valuable and that was that we should (probably?) never do that again. We had learned with the help of pain and mom repeating: ‘but I told you so’, strapping band aid on your finger, while rolling her eyes.

As our two boys grew up and had their mishaps, I rarely got angry when that happened, as they were kids and they were just learning the basics – the same way their parents had. So when the ‘proverbial’ vase hit the floor, I asked them if they had done it on purpose, and the ‘proverbial’ answer was always ‘no’ (duh). Of course we talked about how it had happened, as to learn not to make that happen again – learning from their failures.

For the most part we don’t try to fail on purpose, we really don’t. It’s more like: ‘oh crap, that was stupid’. We know what we did wrong and just as quickly we write a mental note never to do it that way again – we have learned something positive, burned fingers and hurt egos.

Ignorant failures or failures stemming from ignorance are kind of acceptable, but of course somewhat depending on the gravity of the situation. Failures from stupidity, as in ‘I know this might not work, based on blah, blah, blah… but I’ll try it anyway’, is not the smartest thing to do. In those cases, we are quickly being judged by our surroundings as being, well ‘stupid’. Some of those stupidities do have giggle factors when we tell ourselves that I am NOT EVER going to do that again – how could I? But perhaps we end up doing it again anyway, which is ignorance at its very best.

Most failures or actions marked ‘failure’, also comes from lack of anticipation. We don’t expect anything bad to happen if we do this or that; the old law of thinking before doing. It’s like being naïve crossing the freeway with our eyes closed, hoping nothing bad will happen. This applies to the perception of our actions: do we fully understand what the result might be if we do this or that?

When I started being utterly interested in girls back in the days (14, I think), and I wanted to chat with Jytte, as she was about as hot as could be (and I was not), I totally feared failure in my pursuit of her. Before Jytte even knew I existed, I had already accepted defeat, so why even bother, why even try – a solid strategy, huh? Well, it was solid for this kid with no experience in these matters; no failures and no successes, because I had never even tried.

This was of course before I acknowledged that it was not a disaster to fail, this attitude in spite of my sweet mother’s advice, that when we fall down, it’s only bad, if we don’t get up. But I only saw horrific embarrassment and the ridicule from my peers, marking me for the rest of my miserable life – and perhaps longer.

The perception of sure-fire failure was etched into my forehead for all to see. If Jytte had at least acknowledged I was alive, would have brought me much closer to heaven. So I looked at all the angles concerning any form of communication with her, while sweating in really weird places, stuttering animal like sounds, whenever Jytte was in the same postal area, but nothing came up; and then, all of a sudden things changed.

The teacher assigned pairs of students to do whatever task; can’t remember. What would the odds be for Jytte & Peter? About 1 in 60 trillion, and that being on a good day, but it was Jytte & Peter. We walked down the hall to do whatever, all silent and with me profusely nervous, while my throat tied a complicated knot, eliminating any form of speech possibilities.

  

“So what’s wrong with you, Peter?” I was stunned; she actually knew my name. The knot was in the way, of course, so I couldn’t answer. “I always wondered why you haven’t talked to me. You have been circling around me for so long, stalking me; but never talked to me…don’t you like me?”

Jytte and I was an item for two wonderful years. We were inseparable; she was intelligent, utterly funny and rather sophisticated for someone at age 14. When she moved to another part of Denmark, we lost contact. I often thought about what my life would have been like if Jytte hadn’t moved.

After Jytte, I chanced ‘failure’ with a much better attitude; if I didn’t at least try, I would never know – would I? Sure, some crappy things happened down the road of life, but I had learned that I should never fear to fail, and I can truly say that it has been a blessing ever since. If we don’t take chances we will not move forward; sure, taking chances open up possibilities of failing, part of the process – but have no fear, please… it’s worth it when we find that it’s okay to fall down, as long as we pop up again.

At times results from failures can of course be gruesome and horrific; that’s when we really dig in and try, because we must, to acknowledge what went so terribly wrong, as we must learn, repair and adjust. 

Thinking before doing is of course always recommended, because when we patiently do so, we find that the volume of the more serious screw-ups diminishes and due to that, we actually progress even faster – no kidding and no fear.

PERFECTION – be careful what you wish for

I don’t want to be perfect or even be called perfect, because I consider it disturbing. Not that I have ever been called ‘perfect’ (like never), but if you, in a moment of obvious insanity suddenly saw perfection in me, I would feel sad and distraught. The reason being, that I find perfection boring, because where’s the challenge if we are perfect? – I don’t want to feel bored by not being challenged - so would you like to be called perfect? My advice, be careful what you wish for… 

Of course, perfection to me might be an utter mess of imperfections to you, as many impressions and opinions about perfection are personal choices and individual taste; and of course, that’s how it should be.

The young skater did a bang up routine. She nailed all the jumps and landings, the flow was wow, and the sheer energy, her huge smile and positive attitude underlined her superb performance. She got a score of 10, which in the world of skating is the Holy Grail and all you can get: sheer perfection. But of course, that was just the opinion of 8 judges, okay skating experts, but did you agree? You saw the same thing they saw, but from your point of view concerning skating perfection, you might only have given her a 9.7 – and I seriously think she would have been happier with that score; I’ll explain a bit further down.

We tend to use the term “perfect” a lot, but I am sure we really don’t mean it like that. But when your girlfriend swirl around in that new dress with matching shoes and glossy lipstick, you do not say ‘near perfect’, because that would be taken wrong, huh? No, you jump out in the deep end and say ‘perfect’, as in ‘it can’t get any better than this’ – and that might actually be precisely what you see – that very moment.

Okay so I play around with this a bit, but when you think about it, perfection can only be applied in rare situations. My thoughts about this is, as deep as they go, that as human beings we have this utter vast sense of curiosity; we have always had this unreserved driven force to find out what’s around the next corner, and we were driven like that, even before corners were invented, seriously. If curiosity had not been a part of who we are and who we were from the very start, we would still be living in caves and so totally without Wi-Fi, for sure.

But driven by curiosity, we have come a long way on most levels, though not that far on others. Still driven by the urge to learn more, advance further, do better, be smarter, etc. we constantly turn new corners, finding exciting new challenges and that keeps us going; we have already done so for thousands of years.

So I question how perfect anything can be beyond those ‘perfect’ moments, as new ones will appear and be even more perfect. But in everyday language it’s just a fluffy and casually used word for ‘really nice’ or something like that. You see, perfection would end whatever it is that we deem cannot be improved upon– it has nowhere to go and has been stretched to its utmost – and that’s a pity, sadly so.

Of course our skater girl is thrilled for her perfect 10 – her very best ever; but haven’t we in some way told her that she cannot get any better? Haven’t we killed her curiosity, the challenge for her to improve even more, her drive to work even harder to find out what’s around that next corner? How do I get a ten? And then she scored one, but now what? You can see why I’m not thrilled being called ‘perfect’ – yeah, like that will happen; but just in case it does, I am both mentally and emotionally ready (ha ha).

What I’m concerned, the softer, gentler version of perfection is more my kind of deal. I look at my wife and at times I see perfection. It’s not the physical aspect, a mental and/or emotional mood, it’s really nothing specific. It’s much more so the ‘whole’ experience at that very moment – and that moment only. It’s when it all comes together and I utter or think (with a smile) ‘wow’, as in ‘how perfect was that?’ Luckily it happens often when I look at her.

We must acknowledge that perfection comes in many colors, sizes and packages. There is no law or manual that puts perfection in a box or crams it into a mold as the only one kind of thing. That is really what’s fascinating about perfection, the many ways we can experience it – and that is actually rather cool.

I’m a strong advocate and believer in the fact, my fact at least, that we can always improve; we can always do better, which is somewhat contrary to the above. Our skater-girl is not a lost soul, because her new challenge, her turn of the next corner is to continue to get 10s, and that is actually a lot harder than getting that first 10. I coached soccer many years and found that winning one game was easy compared to winning ten games in a row. When the winning streaks continued, each game got tougher to win – a lot tougher. But those are the challenges we thrive under, challenges we need to face to move forward. Yes, we can always improve… and for the most part we do.

I don’t like it when people call my writing perfect, my (good) looks, my charm, intelligence, humbleness and that biting wit of mine. But if you absolutely have to address these attributes associated with me, please be kind and use the term ‘near perfect’; I’m totally okay with that, as it leaves me with some room to wriggle and improve – and we all need that challenge to find many more corners to turn – don’t you think so? I knew you would… Perfect! 

FITBIT – an additional conscience

Up front, let me assure you that this is not an advertisement for Fitbit or any similar products (they should be that lucky, huh?) It’s more so a metaphor for what I want to tell you. It’s like using a product name we have accepted as a term for common things we do. When tears and noses are running, we more so ask for a Kleenex, than using its real name: paper tissue; if you ask me, ‘paper tissue’ sounds kind of wimpy, doesn’t it? But on with the ‘additional conscience’ bit…

Though I’m already up to my armpits with daily reminders, using a multitude of calendars, notices, alarms, aide memoire and surely way too many gadgets on top of that, I have fully accepted that if it helps me achieve what I want to achieve by this kind of planning, scheduling and settings, it’s heading in the right direction; I’m so on it – neither shame nor embarrassment involved.

We have had a family dog for over 21+ years. No, not the same dog, duh…; two, if you really need to know - one at a time. As we are good dog-owners, we have always walked these lovely pets twice daily, come rain or come shine (how poetic). These days it’s Tess, just about the most loving pet anybody could be lucky enough to have around – seriously.

As I’m retired, but obviously still a swell guy, I can of course take the time walking Tess. My wife is working three days weekly, so I get to do both runs those days and of course more during the additional days. I do 8am and 4pm walks, approximately. At times I’m too busy with other stuff or not really in the mood to walk her, but that’s when the gadget stuff sets in and helps out.

I haven’t figured it out yet, and perhaps I never will, but how the heck does the dog know when it’s time to walk? She shows up in front of me wherever I’ll be and start staring me down at 8am and at 4pm. When the sweetest dog ever is looking at you with those big brown eyes and her ears half-cocked, your heart melts and you quickly grab the leash, iPod, sunglasses, keys and off we go.

At times I have a bunch of stuff on my daily duties, things that must be accomplished, that I cheat Tess with a much shorter walk. I seriously believe that she notices, but she never complaints. I do make sure that one of those blue pooh-pooh plastic-bags (Yuk) is filled before we head home, I mean, fair is fair - and then I met Fitbit…

A friend of ours showed up one day with this ‘thing’ in her pocket, telling us that she was following her steps, the daily distances she walked; the results also available on her smart-phone. Of course I immediately discarded it as stupid; I’m very good and utterly effective condemning a lot of ‘new’ things before I know anything about them – saves time. But seriously, why the heck would I like to know how many steps I take every day?

But then I got to think (another dizzying experience). Perhaps it would be cool to know how far I walked daily, especially with the dog. I mean, I’ve always marked down how many walks I did with Tess, so why not mark down the distances as well?

So I got one of the cheaper models (yes, it was a Fitbit) and started to keep an eye on how far I walked daily, weekly, monthly and altogether. It was eye-opening information, because I had never known – at all. Rather quickly I became a lot more serious about pursuing and tracking my walking and running (nah, just walking – I still hate running).

During the approximately two years plus I have kept track so far, I have done 6,182,157 steps (so of course I’m tired) which translates into 2,960 miles or    4,736 kilometers; not too bad, huh? But wait, there’s more…

A couple of month ago I looked at the newest Fitbit gadget thing and bought it. The old one had spent all its time in my left pocket, but this new model is worn around my left wrist, except when I shower (which is once a week, but only if needed – ha ha), otherwise all the time. It not only register my steps and distances, but advises me of my heart-rate, exercise and sleep patterns, stuff that I thought would be silly to acknowledge – but now I don’t think is silly at all, really. I also get ‘vibrations’ when I receive SMS’, emails and phone-calls, so I fully know who I’m ignoring, as I am not one to carry my mobile phone around all the time – far from. Last but certainly not least, it also gives out sharp and painful vibrating warning when my bladder is ¾ full and it’s time to go pee-pee… Nah, only kidding – but it would be very convenient, don’t you think?

But here’s where this gadget thing comes in even more appropriate. As I am somewhat a slave of and dependent on my scheduled daily tasks, I find that the additional encouragement I get from the step-goals I have set at 8,000 steps daily, is a huge help concerning getting my ass in gear, out of the seat and get them legs pumping, if I feel like it or not. So it’s not only the dog staring me down anymore, but my raw determination to at least reach those 8,000 steps – and it’s working.

I have even arrived at the point where I want to beat previous ‘records’ and as long as it doesn’t kill me (duh) it’s rather fun. Fitbit emails the past week’s results and that also encourage me to do even better. I’m up to about 30-33 miles a week, which of course explains why the dog looks so utterly exhausted. Perhaps Tess will end up begging me not to take her with me every bloody time I grab the leash – could happen; nah, she lives for our walkie-walkies…

At times I dread exercising, doing that daily fitness thing with weights and stuff, as I also at times dread doing the walking thing. But I have yet again come to the conclusion that of course it’s good for me (and the dog). While walking the dog, I ‘arrange’ my day and know in what order to do things by the time we return home. I also listen to music on my iPod, yes, still using some big old head-phones for the best bass quality sound, of course – a bit of an old-fashioned look , but I’m 71, utterly happy, so give me a darn break, please.

No matter how strong and disciplined we think we are, we all need to be notched along at times, encouraged and pushed a bit from the outside world. It’s a lot easier ‘not to do’ than it is ‘to do’, so that’s where we especially need and should accept help, some additional conscience. Also remember, that ‘to do’ is in most cases a heck of a lot funner… the minute we get going with it…

I have a thing around my left wrist that is helping in that department and helping extremely well, more than I ever expected it would. Of course I’m still waiting for the advanced model that will vibrate a ‘your-bladder-is-nearly-full’ warning – it would be a relief to get one of those; if you have a bladder, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Sorry, gotta run, actually walk – the dog is staring me down yet again and I need another 1,700 steps to reach 8,000 today, according to the additional conscience on my left wrist…