tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19734994492745791472024-03-05T16:05:15.738-07:00A Colorado Bubbadrbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-70196084370736122402012-07-07T13:55:00.000-06:002012-07-07T13:55:15.539-06:00July 4th and Jarrod<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is Jarrod (left) and Justin preparing for our 4th of July front yard picnic this year. The backyard is so dry that we didn't want to risk starting a fire, so me moved to the front driveway. Lexie (youngest daughter) wanted to also camp out in the front yard, but we thought our great neighbors might complain with a tent pitched next to the driveway. Every family member got shirts with United States flags on them thanks to $21 and Wal-Mart.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6ttFjB_pXpKJrqacQoZCoXXZDjHTX6FlZ5dz9YDlgVDg4tYxwqZKmJpX3DMbWzhlEQzjb7fJXoP3bd2KJTLILQPOaIEq-ixCpIpuS_AOot__XbE3bHa3IWHV-zLRuoPgdt4y0TNElWw/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6ttFjB_pXpKJrqacQoZCoXXZDjHTX6FlZ5dz9YDlgVDg4tYxwqZKmJpX3DMbWzhlEQzjb7fJXoP3bd2KJTLILQPOaIEq-ixCpIpuS_AOot__XbE3bHa3IWHV-zLRuoPgdt4y0TNElWw/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Justin and Jarrod were also playing with their water cannons. After a while, I convinced them to try and shoot birds with water when the birds dived down towards the grill. After missing bird after bird, Jarrod gave up, and Justin decided to try and throw the whole bucket of water on the bird. Soooo, the bird flew down, Justin threw the water straight up, and was soaked from head to toe when the water came back down on his head. And he looked surprised. Sir Isaac Newton he ain't.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAQ_C8lSEJCHvq-tstNfOHXESMn3q6gLztttDUZSD6uqBKnhcIUYr5r4XQG19daRTRlOOICD0mU3LK2gGJDWwPLEbulapljTGmprEdoDwoRA7IAd6-5Uz_ujKucn8Pz-EuUvCVnoDeZI/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAQ_C8lSEJCHvq-tstNfOHXESMn3q6gLztttDUZSD6uqBKnhcIUYr5r4XQG19daRTRlOOICD0mU3LK2gGJDWwPLEbulapljTGmprEdoDwoRA7IAd6-5Uz_ujKucn8Pz-EuUvCVnoDeZI/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After feasting on breasts, grilled chicken breast that is, I changed the music to some funk, which made the girls start dancing. That's Deborah, Miranda, and Lexie in the middle of the picture. Justin is over at the side dancing like I dance, which is never pretty. The girls, on the other hand, have a different gear in their hips or something.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyf7xqX1m17pA8LTqDv0zGGCUI1NZxGCq9He_S7i-VerX_i3zUsKzsrorWZnXQLPzKMbYzcu8EWVagOsZCNBj9XR-vu2kSg5B450BOR5jfxXzdOg-OOORy4X4VPNCgDkHjo7jYRqiA1A/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyf7xqX1m17pA8LTqDv0zGGCUI1NZxGCq9He_S7i-VerX_i3zUsKzsrorWZnXQLPzKMbYzcu8EWVagOsZCNBj9XR-vu2kSg5B450BOR5jfxXzdOg-OOORy4X4VPNCgDkHjo7jYRqiA1A/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Changing the subject, but Jarrod has always had a very difficult time in school. When he started kindergarten, his teacher pulled me to the side and said, "he's not going to be ready for 1st grade next year. He's just not ready." So, we tried 1st grade for about a week before moving him back to kindergarten again. After repeating kindergarten, he did a little better, but still struggled. His 1st grade teacher completed an ADD diagnostic survey for our pediatrician, and Jarrod began ADD meds.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Still, school didn't get any easier, and during 3rd grade this year, we realized that Jarrod was going to need professional help to stay at grade level. After multiple testings, we settled on a program through Huntington Learning Centers, which he started this summer. You would think a kid wouldn't want to go to summer school, but Jarrod really likes it. This week, Jarrod got his name on the wall at Huntington for doing good work, and he was so proud he asked me to come inside and look at it. I took a picture because I know how hard it's been for Jarrod to learn, so it's very exciting to see him happy about learning.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyEjTrI1aREAfDxtJP8djdfA0bgijhk-poZS0YeQjApaiYrPSbcfgkLggjzJviIRIGzIy1uhpUTOQ8zggEykvQEIdQU8BJsnwYVCNp-ngnHBuAVZL5V1MT8GKH3PjuDRji_ttvZ1PVMQ/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyEjTrI1aREAfDxtJP8djdfA0bgijhk-poZS0YeQjApaiYrPSbcfgkLggjzJviIRIGzIy1uhpUTOQ8zggEykvQEIdQU8BJsnwYVCNp-ngnHBuAVZL5V1MT8GKH3PjuDRji_ttvZ1PVMQ/s320/017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-66965408700657896702012-06-20T21:31:00.000-06:002012-06-20T21:31:43.661-06:00Musical TasteTo each his own.<br />
<br />
Right?<br />
<br />
The following are on my iPod...and you might be offended by listening to the first one.<br />
<br />
KoRn "Y'all Want A Single" (NSF Kids, or adults for that matter)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/to1D0XiZzBU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
tool "Forty Six & 2"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/Tja6_h4lT6A/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tja6_h4lT6A&fs=1&source=uds" />
<param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" />
<param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" />
<embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tja6_h4lT6A&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
Michael Crawford "The Phantom of the Opera -- The Music of the Night"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/SEi93kVXVD0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Deborah is not in any way shape or form a fan of KoRn or tool. On the other hand, I think she loves the music from the Phantom of the Opera as much as I do. I'm a huge fan of progressive rock, which includes the groups Rush and tool, and when I'm working or working out, I love very heavy music. However, Andrew Lloyd Webber and cast touched me with the Phantom of the Opera. I could listen to the music from Phantom of the Opera every day, and it never gets old. Weird, huh?</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-14865059005634473972012-05-20T16:39:00.001-06:002012-05-20T16:39:15.779-06:00Ketchup & Catch Up<div align="center">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I took Deborah to Las Vegas to see Garth Brooks and to celebrate her birthday in April. Deborah's a big Garth fan. I, on the other hand, am anything but a country and western music fan, but I gotta tell ya, it was the best concert I've ever seen. And that's saying a lot since I spent about 2-1/2 years on the road doing concert lighting and sound, which means that I've been part of and seen hundreds of concerts.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If you ever get the chance, please go see Garth Brooks at The Wynn Las Vegas. It's worth every penny of the ticket price.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While killing some time one afternoon, I took a walk past The Riviera Hotel & Casino where I observed the Crazy Girls bronze statue.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuzSe4_6dgCxPgbl-vVy3oDLeiFsOkH8YSsthyH9DLGizPNu_1Gp6rCbQB912vuoAGh2dUy2TDSKZjJuBDOF9SjWMcpSaStumHakW_5vjJgBFAzslbSwytnKS8SpgtSA6FUD2In5KQz4/s1600/136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuzSe4_6dgCxPgbl-vVy3oDLeiFsOkH8YSsthyH9DLGizPNu_1Gp6rCbQB912vuoAGh2dUy2TDSKZjJuBDOF9SjWMcpSaStumHakW_5vjJgBFAzslbSwytnKS8SpgtSA6FUD2In5KQz4/s320/136.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My immediate response was... </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uSb8aUA11NorhblWsVILtcQiTvpzwo2Apoaz4ejD2UQ4-6Q_QpX4aHNJ8Xd4fTowZECl14DoZZThT7r-XldZJstslN5iuuQw0TWJf5-o1Mnjk3g1whi281zEEozqhetaYEosBo8FNpI/s1600/128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uSb8aUA11NorhblWsVILtcQiTvpzwo2Apoaz4ejD2UQ4-6Q_QpX4aHNJ8Xd4fTowZECl14DoZZThT7r-XldZJstslN5iuuQw0TWJf5-o1Mnjk3g1whi281zEEozqhetaYEosBo8FNpI/s320/128.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just kidding. I ended up rubbing their asses like every other juvenile middle-aged male tourist since about 1980.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Remember, I went with my beautiful wife Deborah to celebrate her birthday,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJRCjgr-h1X1L6zQmAWAH-t9M1IFYQD6cKuP7kNHCZrYkFa5jJekXiHJEsNSK_Bc8kTZr_8M_suQ-C59gkDllChZHb6PMW8xb38O6czfA-5cRre5fE5eGqMJtPLJZ_n96eFx_ZP7NyuI/s1600/141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJRCjgr-h1X1L6zQmAWAH-t9M1IFYQD6cKuP7kNHCZrYkFa5jJekXiHJEsNSK_Bc8kTZr_8M_suQ-C59gkDllChZHb6PMW8xb38O6czfA-5cRre5fE5eGqMJtPLJZ_n96eFx_ZP7NyuI/s320/141.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
so the picture of me with my tongue hanging out was taken by Deborah as I chased her on my hands and knees around our suite. But, chasing her with my tongue hanging out didn't work out the way I wanted, and it isn't really very romantic as I've learned. Soooooo, instead of looking a Deborah's beautiful body, I was told to look out our suite window at the adult pool at The Wynn. Now, if you look carefully at the picture, you will see one topless lady sunning by herself in the center of the picture. When you zoom in, like I did, you'll realize that either she needs bigger tits, or I need a better camera.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7GL7Pe3QRrH0apPX7wsjwNpWjgvr_qgdk-L7aBTN_WOnzPrj2uKdajtnIJt-daNGIdK7XgpTDuND_ppHuSD1zhoOLlbCT5z32bPDNkAyUqQbbShyphenhyphen_XfXOY0UhjnXx2N28XNcgEcNZ6E/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7GL7Pe3QRrH0apPX7wsjwNpWjgvr_qgdk-L7aBTN_WOnzPrj2uKdajtnIJt-daNGIdK7XgpTDuND_ppHuSD1zhoOLlbCT5z32bPDNkAyUqQbbShyphenhyphen_XfXOY0UhjnXx2N28XNcgEcNZ6E/s320/138.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I can't write too much good stuff about The Wynn like I did <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/10/1st-anniversary-celebration-part-ii.html" target="_blank">The Venetian last September</a>. Although we had a comparable 2-room suite and dined at the finest restaurants, the experience wasn't close to The Venetian. Sorry Steve Wynn, but the suites aren't better, and the food ain't all that. We did, however, bring 5 miniature bottles of Heinz tomato ketchup home with us from different room service meals. Judging by the price of room service, they must be collectibles, which I'm thinking one of the kids can sell on ebay for big bucks.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCZlc2OCX95b91321ofk_sdz2jBmDbkPPuVLKvKThyphenhyphen4_EQIaBwSPPEueflAF_jJ73RQS8L6wqEXk4MveomN-YOOfuCJaQXHdmKlCpTPWDgHm6Aaa0MUx8Pfl8Kt7asPV0MRtRw3C7I9s/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCZlc2OCX95b91321ofk_sdz2jBmDbkPPuVLKvKThyphenhyphen4_EQIaBwSPPEueflAF_jJ73RQS8L6wqEXk4MveomN-YOOfuCJaQXHdmKlCpTPWDgHm6Aaa0MUx8Pfl8Kt7asPV0MRtRw3C7I9s/s320/002.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
The only picture we got of the both of us during the trip was our flight back to Denver. When we arrived back home, the official birthday celebration began with the family. I had a cake created with Deborah jerking a barbell and her three kids--Dillon, Lexie, and Miranda--over her head. Except for Deborah's boobs, the likeness of the caricatures to the pictures I submitted to the bakery sucked. <a href="http://www.carlosbakery.com/" target="_blank">Cake Boss</a> they ain't. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ0mk2fOkSDYMfDJvjSIudpMpE3RXMacUNpiZxl-Ijyf4leLCttv6HSj-7zypy9DXWKSeCxPoUacru7845RH3KRYXji4Zi961tEgy0m5jOeoBxaGoPwfdFRKzMQGb5raUsshQDanFevQ/s1600/156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ0mk2fOkSDYMfDJvjSIudpMpE3RXMacUNpiZxl-Ijyf4leLCttv6HSj-7zypy9DXWKSeCxPoUacru7845RH3KRYXji4Zi961tEgy0m5jOeoBxaGoPwfdFRKzMQGb5raUsshQDanFevQ/s320/156.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
But, Deborah did have a pretty good haul of fun gifts...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5slXnNR01I4E2jmlwDUbZ4SXVjI5M0rUr_vE5Q1CezFHI5SK0276Ps2l-VOXI2FoDbaXcNDXxvzYNbZs8J-JYLggE4Jwhu8YDhTySBRYBYfSgCACfVXnUj1YSqmYc4Ni9XxwKvupCFtU/s1600/162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5slXnNR01I4E2jmlwDUbZ4SXVjI5M0rUr_vE5Q1CezFHI5SK0276Ps2l-VOXI2FoDbaXcNDXxvzYNbZs8J-JYLggE4Jwhu8YDhTySBRYBYfSgCACfVXnUj1YSqmYc4Ni9XxwKvupCFtU/s320/162.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
however, she still hasn't forgiven me for getting her age incorrect. The way I understand it now, her age asymptotically approached "50," but never actually reached 50 until it started decreasing and we began counting down. I think it has something to do with Einstein's relativity and traveling at or near the speed of light. Or something. Anyway, Deborah is NOT now, nor has she ever been, 50.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And if you could see her ass, you'd agree with her too.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy belated-blog birthday to my beautiful wife, Deborah. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love you.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-69414088505464291582012-05-07T10:37:00.001-06:002012-05-07T10:37:30.175-06:00Day 5 -- CongratsI love Deborah because...<br />
<br />
Of the way she dances with Miranda in the kitchen, in the toy section, and next to the fresh cucumbers at King Soopers.<br />
______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Congratulations to the Colorado Marathon finishers. I wish I could have been there doing my part.<br />
______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Short today because I have to finish some projects for work.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-22376959061848164562012-05-05T12:40:00.000-06:002012-05-05T12:40:05.024-06:00Day 4 -- 2 + 2I love Deborah because...<br />
<br />
She has an amazing sense of humor.<br />
_________________________________________________<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry baby, I didn't put two and two together."<br />
<br />
"Oh God honey. You're a mathematician. How can you <u>not</u> put two and two together?!"drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-27258545877573286202012-05-03T10:08:00.000-06:002012-05-03T10:08:51.007-06:00Day 3 -- The NannyI love Deborah because...<br />
<br />
She listens and asks questions.<br />
____________________________________________________<br />
<br />
We made a huge leap a few months ago by hiring a nanny. Gwen has worked for us on a part-time basis since last summer, and we finally brought her on full-time.<br />
<br />
My best friend and his wife have a nanny, Yolita. Yolita couldn't drive, clean, or cook, but she was there to watch TV with the kids and go on vacations with the family. As Tom said, "I should have just adopted her."<br />
<br />
Gwen is NOT like Yolita. She drives the kids everywhere, and cooks them meals. She also can crack a homework whip, and she's a therapist to boot, which means she's there to listen and counsel when we're all f_cked up. At least one of us is f_cked up on any given day, so Gwen definitely earns her pay.<br />
<br />
Tom was right about one thing though. The nanny, Gwen in our case, works their way into a family, and it's kinka like we added an oldest daughter to the crew. Of course, that's meant in a very loving way, as in, anybody that messes with Gwen, messes with us. One might be able to get away with messing with me, but Deborah can, and will, kick some serious ass.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-74543146900583581092012-05-02T08:36:00.000-06:002012-05-02T08:36:02.323-06:00Day Two -- Bone FailureI love Deborah because...<br />
<br />
She is a prolific reader, sometimes reading 3 or 4 books at a time. By seeing the pleasure she derives from reading, not to mention the smarts she acquires, it got me reading for relaxation again.<br />
<br />
___________________________________________________<br />
<br />
I was supposed to be running the Colorado Marathon this weekend. As my long runs during training exceeded 14 miles, my left leg started to fail again. After several weeks of pushing through the pain, I gave in to the pain again and took a month off from running. Now I have to find a new race and start over.<br />
<br />
Like last time, failure doesn't occur until my long runs start to exceed two hours, but it's not the time or distance that creates the problem.<br />
<br />
It's my weight.<br />
<br />
The only way that I'll be able to finish another marathon is if I can get my weight down to 230 lbs, which means that I have to drop about 40 lbs. I've done it before, so I'll get it done. I really enjoyed working with my coach during the training, and it's certainly not his fault that I couldn't get below 250 lbs. He encouraged me to run faster, and had me racing at a 9 minute pace, which I never thought that I would see again. As my weight starts to fall off, I'll be working with David Clark again.<br />
<br />
While I'm referring to David Clark, I should note that his non-profit <a href="http://thesupermanproject.org/" target="_blank">Superman Project</a> is about to start its 300 mile Recovery Run. David will run across the state of Colorado to raise awareness for recovering alcoholics and addicts. If you can, visit the website and chip in a few bucks to support the run.<br />
<br />
There's also a new documentary called <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/1Hundred/159299844124967" target="_blank">1Hundred</a> that features David Clark as he ran the 2011 Leadville 100 trail race. I've never embedded a video before, but here's the trailer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QqmJDT-C4gE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-27809952417496911592012-05-01T11:27:00.001-06:002012-05-01T11:27:43.929-06:00Day OneI love Deborah because...<br />
<br />
In spite of all of my imperfections, she truly loves me.<br />
<br />
____________________________________________<br />
<br />
Whoa. What happened?<br />
<br />
I was posting somewhat regularly, then whomp, nothing. We's got a lot of catchin up to do over the next few weeks. A birthday, a vacation, some fragile bones, some jugs. I mean there's a lot to write about. And I got pictures too, including the jugs.<br />
<br />
Today is Day One, tomorrow is Day Two.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-52300582716478810152012-02-12T21:31:00.000-07:002012-02-12T21:31:40.077-07:00Conservative Pumpkin Chunkin, (Wo)Men In Black, and Sweet Sixteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcXK34yrGYP-fp8nvzuUvbkP0aki2ZL3R1etKbyV8B4o8kPGQWxV6G-YRyskKEgvKhKs8oOMutpxVDbCddwUKtAoELP5cBgNVftjyFqnCAPFAW5FPsabFJ2cUoXSrlj0tEUHuGUm2auE/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcXK34yrGYP-fp8nvzuUvbkP0aki2ZL3R1etKbyV8B4o8kPGQWxV6G-YRyskKEgvKhKs8oOMutpxVDbCddwUKtAoELP5cBgNVftjyFqnCAPFAW5FPsabFJ2cUoXSrlj0tEUHuGUm2auE/s320/002.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I noted on my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/acoloradobubba" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> that Justin, Jarrod, and I attended and voted in our first Republican Presidential Caucus. I voted for Rick Santorum, and I even donated to his campaign. It was great to get the boys involved in the democratic process, but what was even cooler was the guy sitting in the background in the denim jacket.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">His name is Greg Wolfe, and as I was seated next to him, I noticed he was wearing a cap that said, "1st Place Pumpkin Chunkin," so I asked him about it. Come to find out he was the 2011 national champion and he lives right down the street from me. I thought this way cool. Deborah wasn't as impressed. His winning chunkin is on <a href="http://science.discovery.com/tv/punkin-chunkin/" target="_blank">The Discovery Channel</a>, and <a href="http://www.inertia2.com/" target="_blank">his team</a> chuncked a pumpkin 2,033 feet--that's almost 1/2 a mile!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27-Zr5MwBcSQx-T7Zy1MwPV8uSTW08z4r3YZk7Bwt5ehIFpCOAcXXSOHiJvCv-d3_I0uxWqvGg-KvB5cQrcuyh7ubvETrF1n9S-2gSpIljRp7frvnqielfIJ4eYPGDHM6P6id8k3HNWM/s1600/Greg+Wolfe+2011+Pumpkin+Chunkin+Trophy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27-Zr5MwBcSQx-T7Zy1MwPV8uSTW08z4r3YZk7Bwt5ehIFpCOAcXXSOHiJvCv-d3_I0uxWqvGg-KvB5cQrcuyh7ubvETrF1n9S-2gSpIljRp7frvnqielfIJ4eYPGDHM6P6id8k3HNWM/s1600/Greg+Wolfe+2011+Pumpkin+Chunkin+Trophy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">___________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I took Miranda to get her haircut, and after walking the mall for an hour, I turned on my iPod and started people watching. Occasionally, some girl would walk by and I would get a knock-me-over whiff of perfume. It kept happening over and over, and I kept thinking damn beotches, back away from the pump. Then I looked across from me at a table of 5 people all wearing black. At first I thought it was a morticians business meeting because of all the black clothing, but finally, I saw them passing a bottle of something from person to person and letting each person spray until they absorbed the scent.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pe7QyUKRAX1Vub1JdL5wdaB2G2bGUwOUNUDIzPjMZMB2ntZIY8DT6bZxyi-5otG_ijgQRxKSAIp_j_fb3nTyzFf07myD493RKL1YPFoxCcM9z-Wry9YCU21XiuFZcfbtgFxMLs2jH0g/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pe7QyUKRAX1Vub1JdL5wdaB2G2bGUwOUNUDIzPjMZMB2ntZIY8DT6bZxyi-5otG_ijgQRxKSAIp_j_fb3nTyzFf07myD493RKL1YPFoxCcM9z-Wry9YCU21XiuFZcfbtgFxMLs2jH0g/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, if you were one of the women that walked by while I was thinking you were wearing too much perfume, I apologize. It was really the (wo)men in black crew testing alien exterminating sprays. Luckily, I survived...barely.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">________________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwkwsXSe4IkGs7ETQNeFOwuhVHlZAh5jiCpWOTeskmOA-wn1h1Lk7tBL_o9pJsfqL5uF7piVi8i6kzz5UEakqvR2dsgBLinX0d1y2xRssdh-pzmoOgODQrWXXak49BKhKLQq4fM0rlFU/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwkwsXSe4IkGs7ETQNeFOwuhVHlZAh5jiCpWOTeskmOA-wn1h1Lk7tBL_o9pJsfqL5uF7piVi8i6kzz5UEakqvR2dsgBLinX0d1y2xRssdh-pzmoOgODQrWXXak49BKhKLQq4fM0rlFU/s320/008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Miranda is sweet 16 now. Here she is with Deborah and Lexie. Mom told her to stick her boobs out for the picture. All you Mountain Range dudes that read my blog better know that the boobs are not for closer examination or consumption until Deborah says so. So admire Miranda from down the hall, and talk to her or hug her when you meet, but keep your hands on your own junk until further notice.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">___________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm still preparing for the Colorado Marathon. Today, I managed a 12 mile long run on the treadmill, and I was actually really proud of myself. 2 hours on a treadmill takes quite a bit of discipline. My record is 18 miles on a treadmill, and I promise that won't happen again any time soon. My coach ran 24 hours on a treadmill one day last year -- almost 100 miles. Of course, he is a little nuts.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-50541034696149771772012-02-06T12:34:00.000-07:002012-02-06T12:34:55.065-07:00Frame of Reference<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRjQ_jyDbwuuxBJPkk1rtALH6ZM_AKOnFEd95ZqCUEntdJW1bDMnWiVdKjKeN5X0annVuow8ei6bNGOrwoDd6ae3QB6HssYOdPUsp1qtiWYSKAFOiNovSI5mrkleNpNQ1ZSOqMZ_Rbl8/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRjQ_jyDbwuuxBJPkk1rtALH6ZM_AKOnFEd95ZqCUEntdJW1bDMnWiVdKjKeN5X0annVuow8ei6bNGOrwoDd6ae3QB6HssYOdPUsp1qtiWYSKAFOiNovSI5mrkleNpNQ1ZSOqMZ_Rbl8/s320/008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">You know, little kids sometimes have accidents during the night as they sleep, which means the sheets have to be changed and washed until the next time. So, when Lexie walked out of her room on Saturday and saw Deborah changing the sheets on her bed, Lexie just naturally asked, "Mommy, did you pee in the bed?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Lexie that sleeping on clean sheets is another reason to change sheets on a bed that doesn't involve pee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">___________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Deborah was on a roll on Saturday after changing the sheets, and she decided to tidy up some books on the bookshelf and get rid of some old paperwork. We(!) like our house and lifestyles, and although some nosey relatives might think the house has a "lived in" disheveled look, we think it's just fine. In other words, it doesn't really bother us that toys are scattered everywhere most days, or that my office is organized in stacks of papers and file folders.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So when Miranda walked into the master bedroom on Saturday and saw neatness, she naturally inquired as if it's never happened before, "Mom, did you clean something?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Miranda that walking through a room without breaking a toe on a stack of books is another reason to tidy things up occasionally.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">__________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So I'm lying in bed with Deborah this morning talking about stuff. I started to kiss her and she said, "I've been getting these strange headaches." So, I stopped, got off her, and replied, "It's probably me."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Deborah said, "No. If it was you, on our wedding day I would have had a headache."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I responded, "You were just too busy throwing up to have a headache I guess."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Deborah said, "Well...yeah...but you weren't causing headaches."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"Uh huh. Probably not your best anecdotal response."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"No, it probably wasn't, but I haven't had my coffee yet."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"Nice boobs."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"Now, I've got a headache." "A <em>bad</em> headache."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">_______________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Congratulations to my coach, <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2012/02/supermans-rocky-raccoon-100-miler.html" target="_blank">David Clark</a>, who endured constant rain and muddy trails in Texas to finish the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler in a little over 20 hours. He's an animal, and definitely walks-the-walk.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">He was kind enough to send me my interval workout for today via text message. Thanks coach, but shouldn't <em>we</em> take a day off or so to recover? I didn't think so.</div><div align="justify"></div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-69728120607260336902012-02-01T19:38:00.000-07:002012-02-01T19:38:19.730-07:00Superman's Rocky Raccoon 100 Miler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4yncSuduenMAkNNyToerlHmtQSTvcx8uFtDOCezMGiOirZ4Q1urAwzV_RufscjMEnVO6OXeO_ChsBPHe0VNpw6GN-j_U4PclN5fGYXS6uuWHqJ3N92vQ41pkTcz-8ztfCYbdR5bCg-E/s1600/rr100mile_ultra_marathon_rocky_raccoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4yncSuduenMAkNNyToerlHmtQSTvcx8uFtDOCezMGiOirZ4Q1urAwzV_RufscjMEnVO6OXeO_ChsBPHe0VNpw6GN-j_U4PclN5fGYXS6uuWHqJ3N92vQ41pkTcz-8ztfCYbdR5bCg-E/s320/rr100mile_ultra_marathon_rocky_raccoon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFgw3Y39MeARVWCv21_T3C1rIhrLPqLKxIXhPfa3hpD9R2AVugOa_dWRaO8NQqKTCtItcGKWpNZAdh4GBw4INEUWbRFTUmatZhWBQ699R4y8dDd1wf0TqwfyVEuaW-_K-8p4acewxSgU/s1600/david+clark+100+mile+run.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFgw3Y39MeARVWCv21_T3C1rIhrLPqLKxIXhPfa3hpD9R2AVugOa_dWRaO8NQqKTCtItcGKWpNZAdh4GBw4INEUWbRFTUmatZhWBQ699R4y8dDd1wf0TqwfyVEuaW-_K-8p4acewxSgU/s400/david+clark+100+mile+run.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's my coach, David Clark, and as I've noted before, Dave is an ultramarathoner. This weekend Dave will be running the Rocky Raccoon 100 mile race in Huntsville, Texas. As he ran me through my speed intervals today, Dave told me that his goal is to break 20 hours.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Dave's 41st birthday is also on Sunday, so if he finishes in exactly 20 hours, which will be at midnight, he will also get to celebrate his birthday at the finish line.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
He also told me to keep this secret, and given my readership it'll probably remain a secret, but he's really targeting 100 miles in less than 18 hours. So, all you running readers out there, please go to <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/supermanproject" target="_blank">Dave's page</a>, and send runner's love for the big race.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">_________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I saw that the record is like 12 hours. TWELVE HOURS(!) to run 100 miles. Forgive my math skills, but I think 100 miles is like 4 marathons. So, this dude, Ian Sharman, ran 12:44:33 last year. That's like running 3:11 marathons back to back to back to back.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm speechless...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">and, fat, old, and slow.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-85838799524388219952012-01-23T10:17:00.000-07:002012-01-23T10:17:22.324-07:00Frosty's Sweating<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLUIh17wPTfAhFL8G-IJR_kvP5MkQivYUOYGQ_qVX2FrgVZIgEc1F5Jo2Wv1kMR3e6pWaoiOT1pZ1x2hbRUnsYGQ6nZqHTCb5ftzDHe1JYokgqDnR43xe-5k9Yg4Fk0bdtZ-bjSE-tUs/s1600/eventpictures_6838608_fullsize_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLUIh17wPTfAhFL8G-IJR_kvP5MkQivYUOYGQ_qVX2FrgVZIgEc1F5Jo2Wv1kMR3e6pWaoiOT1pZ1x2hbRUnsYGQ6nZqHTCb5ftzDHe1JYokgqDnR43xe-5k9Yg4Fk0bdtZ-bjSE-tUs/s320/eventpictures_6838608_fullsize_original.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Frosty's <strike>Frozen</strike> Sweaty and Melting 10 mile race was completed on Saturday, and my goal was 1:45:00 (10:30/mile pace). I finished in 1:45:36 over a measured distance of 10.06 miles, which resulted in a 10:29/mile pace. I considered it a win and goal accomplished. Below is a breakdown of my pace during the race.<br />
<br />
Mile 1: 9:51<br />
Mile 2: 9:57<br />
Mile 3: 10:06<br />
Mile 4: 10:15<br />
Mile 5: 10:20<br />
Mile 6: 10:31<br />
Mile 7: 10:45<br />
Mile 8: 10:54<br />
Mile 9: 11:00<br />
Mile 10: 11:15<br />
Last 338.42 ft: 10:54<br />
<br />
Obviously, I haven't conquered the negative split concept.<br />
<br />
Believe it or not, I was happy with Saturday's race. I basically achieved my goal, and Deborah was there to greet me at the finish line with a big hug, even though I was soaked sweaty and my face was covered in salt. That's love.<br />
<br />
Deborah was wearing her new Texas A&M University hooded sweatshirt, which made me proud and happy, but because we haven't worked out <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/11/turkey-day-with-trot.html" target="_blank">quick boob access</a>, she didn't flash me her victory boobs. Too bad.<br />
<br />
My coach tells me it's time to begin increasing mileage, and I'm ready. Ready in the sense that my mind is ready to begin increasing mileage. My fat ass, on the other hand, may require more convincing. At this point, I'm at a loss as to why weight isn't falling off my frame. I've been watching my intake and I've working out hard. It seems like I should be down by about 20 lbs by now, but I'm still hovering around 260 lbs, which is obvious in the picture. I was going to see if I plateaued in 2007 at about the same weight, but I can't find my log book.<br />
<br />
I'm going to use Deborah's advice and incorporate some weight training and spinning on non-running days to keep the calorie burn up. Hopefully, I can drop 20 or 30 lbs by May. If I don't, a sub 4 hour <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/09/its-on.html" target="_blank">Colorado Marathon</a> simply will not happen.<br />
<br />
_______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Running and Conversing<br />
<br />
During Rudolph's Revenge 10k and Frosty's Frozen 10 mile, I was behind girls that were chatting like they were on the phone. Not just a few words here or there, but detailed descriptions of Sally's new boyfriend's <em>(blank</em>)<em>...</em>and why Jen's skin can be so soft at 40...and how the the room's decor was calming during the 18 <strong>day</strong> labor before little Ulysses blessed her life.<br />
<br />
It was so frickin annoying. Can't they at least <em>act</em> like this is hard? "Did you get water or Gatorade at the last aid station? Oh, me too. I like fruit-punch flavored unless it's made from a powder, but the lemon-lime is okay. The water tasted funky and had a little aftertaste. The volunteers were very friendly though, and did you see that girl's engagement ring? I could never wear those hair ties in the wind. Just too many tangles..."<br />
<br />
In 2007, I ran with Carrie in the mountains, and she talked every step of the run. The best I could do was a few "yeah," "uh huh," and "uh uhs." I think it was <a href="http://strongerdaybyday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">stronger's</a> way of letting me know where I stood on the conditioning ladder.<br />
<br />
Before Christmas, I ran with a group from Life Time Fitness to look at Christmas Lights. My coach said, "you should come out. We have runner's of all abilities, and it will be fun." Only 7 runners showed up: two Ironman competitors, two ultramarathoners, two marathoners, and me. It was like a tempo run from hell keeping up, and I swear they weren't just talking during the run, they were <strong>singing frickin Christmas Carols.</strong><br />
<br />
I told Deborah that I'm buying an ipod.<br />
<br />
_______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Bucko<br />
<br />
I've been called Bubba all my life, but Deborah has taken to calling me "Bucko," as in "you think you know the answer, Bucko, but you don't have a clue," or "could you at least have printed out directions, Bucko?"<br />
<br />
I kind of like being Bucko, so I'm officially changing my nickname to Bucko.<br />
<br />
That's DrBucko to you, though.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-71224115304151916512012-01-11T09:42:00.000-07:002012-01-11T09:42:31.993-07:00Estes Christmas and Prostitution<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFT_JDKLSFSW7ZOu5SML0LtKDWtuejF1rO58u65NR2Nrn7j_O6EQVqPIL_YQ29NmhdWSBvhnSRFaw6HhU0regRkblwF6xoGb7K2xJs7zQD_nHRdl7y1z4QN1X9CM3f3Upm2gg4j9QZzM/s1600/Deborah%2527s+Camera+388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFT_JDKLSFSW7ZOu5SML0LtKDWtuejF1rO58u65NR2Nrn7j_O6EQVqPIL_YQ29NmhdWSBvhnSRFaw6HhU0regRkblwF6xoGb7K2xJs7zQD_nHRdl7y1z4QN1X9CM3f3Upm2gg4j9QZzM/s320/Deborah%2527s+Camera+388.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I ask you, is this a runner's physique? Or, a middle-aged well-fed runner-in-my-dreams bod? 4 hour marathon my ass. I'll be lucky not to crack the asphalt during the Colorado Marathon. I recently meet some industry colleagues, and I was introduced as a "marathoner." Both of the colleagues were runners, and, in fact, both of my colleagues looked like distance runners. The expression on their face was priceless when they looked at me and thought about marathoning, and all I could say was, "I'm a Clydesdale," as if they couldn't tell. Onward...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxwJhr_N2XhnULVfhNuIYYjANDmWdfJJMDYaQlSYIZEoR_1FnpNwLPlbXlN0IwXGJJMVabN1XAWcOiFxRxDPe9kbnL1robZ3SEVuGwZVj4NRGoQbj6DT3PIqMQD8JIaNiMYWovBeEA0/s1600/Deborah%2527s+Camera+501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxwJhr_N2XhnULVfhNuIYYjANDmWdfJJMDYaQlSYIZEoR_1FnpNwLPlbXlN0IwXGJJMVabN1XAWcOiFxRxDPe9kbnL1robZ3SEVuGwZVj4NRGoQbj6DT3PIqMQD8JIaNiMYWovBeEA0/s320/Deborah%2527s+Camera+501.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">The family spent Christmas in Estes Park. The girls--Lexie, Deborah, and Miranda--went a week before Christmas to enjoy time without the boys. Lexie is on the left, Deborah in the middle looking gorgeous, and Miranda on the right. They look happy, huh? After we arrived--"we" being the boys and I--there was a noticeable tension and change of expression in the house.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before leaving for Estes Park, I stopped at Target to get a travel size shampoo. Everyday, I would get cleaned up, including shampooing my flowing locks of hair, and everyday, I would see my reflection in the mirror and wonder why my hair looked like it needed an oil change. After about 5 days, I looked at the bottle and realized that I had bought a travel size conditioner.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2oEueABtJab3jVViDtkKZvo5vpearsZe-7RzlprTHjn2LaVqqXCuN7B9WSmruC53pjxgSxI-ZIVh31jJ684dMfgWyM5bu0eVpYgUrz24r30M9L1vni0qaWQPI1YG22hhG_ydLRNY-zw/s1600/Deborah%2527s+Camera+527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2oEueABtJab3jVViDtkKZvo5vpearsZe-7RzlprTHjn2LaVqqXCuN7B9WSmruC53pjxgSxI-ZIVh31jJ684dMfgWyM5bu0eVpYgUrz24r30M9L1vni0qaWQPI1YG22hhG_ydLRNY-zw/s320/Deborah%2527s+Camera+527.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is what I look like when Deborah calls my name.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The deer made several appearances at the house while we were in Estes Park. They would walk up to the back patio and look into the house. Deborah told me that the girls had walked around naked before we got to Estes, so I just assumed the deer wanted to check out the human female body while the girls lounged in their glass enclosed habitat. One morning, I got the nerve to open the back door and walk out on the patio.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwgGqko5npT_iJil56niddtZqrd5tZhliuj22jCc8VRYvrND3MW-VAWuNLEQMAeHnjMB76svakGQXPcAxomfbv7lkeA3RTokuYBOGi0xMdKkNUBa-45R3FBlVQlpcm7toa9cqN3Y15nA/s1600/Deborah%2527s+Camera+537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwgGqko5npT_iJil56niddtZqrd5tZhliuj22jCc8VRYvrND3MW-VAWuNLEQMAeHnjMB76svakGQXPcAxomfbv7lkeA3RTokuYBOGi0xMdKkNUBa-45R3FBlVQlpcm7toa9cqN3Y15nA/s320/Deborah%2527s+Camera+537.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One little deer came up and nibbled on my fingers. She must have thought that I looked grain-fed, so I could have some leftovers on my fingers. Either that or they thought I was Santa Claus. You know, bearded, fat, jolly, greasy hair, and all that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Obviously, deer won't walk up and nibble human fingers unless someone has been feeding them, which is a big no-no. It was very difficult to resist throwing some corn out behind the house especially since at least one of the females looked pregnant. In Deborah's words, "Cold, pregnant, and hungry. My motherly instincts are telling me to feed them." Fortunately, we resisted temptation, which was incredibly difficult, and the deer wandered off. I ended up eating the corn.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After Christmas we returned to Denver, and on a quiet New Year's Eve night, Deborah and I watched a show on Showtime called "<a href="http://www.sho.com/site/gigolos/home.sho" target="_blank">Gigolos</a>." Neither of us were that impressed with the show, or the gigolos for that matter, but we keep watching episode after episode until midnight. During this, our conversation turned into a discussion of which of the two of us could make a living as a prostitute.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It put me in a bad spot cause ya don't want to tell your wife that she ain't got it goin on at 49, but on the other hand, you don't want to tell your wife that she would be a great ho. Looking at the pictures posted in this blog, it's pretty easy to conclude that Deborah would be the bread-winning prostitute between the two of us, and I would take care of her at home. I can hear it now, "I cooked a great dinner for you baby, and let me rub your feet after a long day at work. Or, would you rather I get you a nice warm douche?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We digress into the weirdest conversations sometimes, but at least we're always laughing. Well, almost always.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happy New Year!</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-40103967106771217292011-12-20T16:52:00.000-07:002011-12-20T16:52:11.480-07:00Running (Slowly) Towards AgingSo I'm shopping for Christmas gifts, and I see Justin Bieber's Christmas CD. Miranda <3 Justin Bieber.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRk9RTa8HbXzVRvzdUVUZZKTmv_oqVUoGapqhd4EMULHcxsaLLe6ez1Pd5ZmQF_d9jqvx03-u7z5Foeo0vGwUmN_reqXEBRrDn7rAOZn79CegTcOpFCUbZaYkKOQMnPkYRmpCzM27sL0/s1600/justin-bieber-christmas-album-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRk9RTa8HbXzVRvzdUVUZZKTmv_oqVUoGapqhd4EMULHcxsaLLe6ez1Pd5ZmQF_d9jqvx03-u7z5Foeo0vGwUmN_reqXEBRrDn7rAOZn79CegTcOpFCUbZaYkKOQMnPkYRmpCzM27sL0/s1600/justin-bieber-christmas-album-cover.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Under the Mistletoe." Hmm. The picture kind of looks like he got caught doing something under the mistletoe. Anyway, I began to wonder how many photos they took to get the "Under the Mistletoe" cover look that Justin Bieber and Miranda wanted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Which brings me back to me. I went racing last weekend, and ran Colorado Runner's Rudolph's Revenge 10k in a slow 1:02:48. It was actually 6.28 miles, so my watch had me averaging 9:59/mile. Finally, after years of trying, I got back to the 9 minute miles. Barely.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was all happy and stuff, but yesterday, I say the picture from the race. That's what I look like? OMG, it's scary. I bet Justin Bieber, like any other girl, would never post a picture that, let's say, makes them look normal, bad, or in my case, old and scary.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, here is DrBubba running his latest 10k in Littleton, Colorado on Saturday, December 17, 2011.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTkG7yHtftUSAxE1yPftyhGKdX8eIWwUs4lk70CkLiMR8Ho3UpEF5DQRD7qrAvSzozWCYjEYyHGY1_QlHYjdsmEYKSx3nsL8uQPGf2ZVHMQN8n2mgL6HZe1u4AFO-GGGYPqjhvUF2xcw/s1600/2011+Rudolphs+Revenge+10k+1hr+2m+48s+17+DEC+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTkG7yHtftUSAxE1yPftyhGKdX8eIWwUs4lk70CkLiMR8Ho3UpEF5DQRD7qrAvSzozWCYjEYyHGY1_QlHYjdsmEYKSx3nsL8uQPGf2ZVHMQN8n2mgL6HZe1u4AFO-GGGYPqjhvUF2xcw/s320/2011+Rudolphs+Revenge+10k+1hr+2m+48s+17+DEC+11.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm huge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I'm old.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Look at that loose skin under my chin. I look like my dad except that he never had a beard. What's really bad is that I look like this <strong>after</strong> losing 20 lbs since October. No wonder Deborah (wife) wanted me to stop groping her. Ewww.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The weight I can continue to do something about, but the hound-dog skin around my face looks permanent. From here on out, I'm gonna have to start photoshopping my photos. I definitely don't want my wife to see me like this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">_______________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next month on January, 21, 2012, I'll be running <a href="http://www.winterdistanceseries.com/Frosty/">Colorado Runner's Frosty Frozen</a> 10 mile race as part of my preparation for the Colorado Marathon in May. Let's hope I look smaller and more handsome in January. Either that or I'm getting my personal photographer to run along backwards in front of me and shoot 100 photos/mile. Out of 1000 pics, there has to one that makes me look Biesirable.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-71557300692788778672011-12-09T10:53:00.000-07:002011-12-09T10:53:08.055-07:00Daddy/Daughter Bonding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtsWuIhlZ8e2l5AdSfzjC2DULXVxRpjEAT-Om3bHnChMc_cby5KqyqhdpuBTnruxITw7UWnec7YhKwiTt9Wf7tmrl8fyNvYm3oT-J3RuOcnjjuPf-wGGSK8ysp25V4oK0Jy2LAh1Ycgg/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtsWuIhlZ8e2l5AdSfzjC2DULXVxRpjEAT-Om3bHnChMc_cby5KqyqhdpuBTnruxITw7UWnec7YhKwiTt9Wf7tmrl8fyNvYm3oT-J3RuOcnjjuPf-wGGSK8ysp25V4oK0Jy2LAh1Ycgg/s320/020.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Although periodically I'm reminded that she's really my stepdaughter, I consider Lexie to be my daughter, and I treat her exactly the same as Justin and Jarrod. This morning Lexie was finishing her breakfast, and I held out my arms out for a big hug. Lexie looked at me with that "oh, no" look and said, "What?!"</div><br />
I told her, "Lexie, I wanted to give you a hug and a kiss."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">With that she turned to me, closed her eyes, held her head back, and opened up her arms, which granted me her consent to proceed with the kissing thing. I picked her up, gave her a big smooch on the forehead, and set her back down.</div><br />
As she turned to walk back to her Lucky Charms, Lexie concluded, "I think moms give better kisses than dads."drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-60539720064763657522011-12-08T21:21:00.000-07:002011-12-08T21:21:25.567-07:00Laughing Tube<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYqKDYR8LHBrsEpPnvCu9lbUjJJgqO4pwECAor0QSefvZeRq7Co5_DM7jCQ4BkrPI5ux2R8jaimrm_m3_gbV-FgDqleVgzvntYMQd85HJxLHOn40qEV_M4tOjK9ee5-ti4p7UoEfLFKQ/s1600/Ken+and+Nancy+-+Thanksgiving+2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYqKDYR8LHBrsEpPnvCu9lbUjJJgqO4pwECAor0QSefvZeRq7Co5_DM7jCQ4BkrPI5ux2R8jaimrm_m3_gbV-FgDqleVgzvntYMQd85HJxLHOn40qEV_M4tOjK9ee5-ti4p7UoEfLFKQ/s320/Ken+and+Nancy+-+Thanksgiving+2008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">That's Deborah's mom and dad, Nancy and Ken Griswold, when they visited our house for Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. This year, Nancy was called away to see a very sick friend in Massachusetts that was Deborah's godmother. After traveling to Massachusetts and spending a few days, Nancy began to feel sick. After another day, Nancy was in the hospital in Greenfield with a breathing tube and double pneumonia. She was very sick.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Fortunately, the antibiotics began to work, and although she remained in intensive care, she began improving. When we could finally call, we learned that Nancy could not speak--she could write on a pad and Deborah's sister, Donna, would read the notes back to us. Donna had told us that Nancy was able to get up and walk a little earlier in the day, and as the phone call began, I thought what Nancy needed was a little laughter to make her feel better.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Nancy, "mom," is a free spirit like her daughter Deborah. After our wedding ceremony last year, the DJ was spinning records, and Nancy wanted to dance with me. During a particularly slow song, when I was trying to keep my dancing space at a respectable distance, Nancy pulled me tight and grabbed both cheeks of my ass, as in, I got seriously felt-up. By my mother-in-law. We still laugh about mom checking Deborah's merchandise.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Anyway, I knew Nancy could appreciate my humor. So Deborah talked to her mom for a few minutes, and her mom responded by writing a couple of notes, which Donna read to Deborah. When Deborah handed me the phone I said, "Nancy it's great to hear that you're doing better, and we sure do miss you. I heard that you were able to get up and walk around a little today. Was that gown you're wearing open in the back?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nancy almost choked on the breathing tube trying to laugh. Apparently, it's not easy to laugh after a tracheotomy and breathing tube are inserted with double pneumonia. After a second, Nancy wrote, "yes, my ass was hanging out," which Donna read over the phone. I wish I'd seen that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nancy is slowly recovering now and was finally discharged from the hospital after a 10 day stay. They had a very low key Thanksgiving in Massachusetts, but we all were very thankful that Nancy is on the mend and never lost her sense of humor.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nancy, if you're reading, I want you to know that Deborah's got me looking for Salsa dancing lessons to work on my Latin dance moves. Don't be surprised when I see you next if we do a little dirty dancing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDg_Zd-szhIycUKBs8RRDcIQOyOmuJUOR-Ps5L8Iyqh6zrVshIxQ50WN4v4eti7D2nulkhiJEFQT_LN7eNVXB4PUkcU8lqEznyQgfIYmvdnr-C6iFEJddXOcXYH354q7B6H8AYSgfPFw/s1600/seattle_salsa_dancers_johnny_bravo_dancers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDg_Zd-szhIycUKBs8RRDcIQOyOmuJUOR-Ps5L8Iyqh6zrVshIxQ50WN4v4eti7D2nulkhiJEFQT_LN7eNVXB4PUkcU8lqEznyQgfIYmvdnr-C6iFEJddXOcXYH354q7B6H8AYSgfPFw/s320/seattle_salsa_dancers_johnny_bravo_dancers.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the other hand, I've already seen you do some of those moves after a couple glasses of Cabernet. Or was it with Chuck E Cheese?</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-41033742732291652052011-11-27T20:42:00.000-07:002011-11-27T20:42:41.399-07:00Turkey Day With A Trot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6YDfBPM9I3BNnjb5tkARXbPO7Di5cc9Bd87mpEGXnyRh6XIlKa_mrz1WoPpFiiJmdOTSfgDmGl5tYJ57LrBVIB8x6QehArJISN2QUMFU1AGS0naZdtX8dkRixdcLQm97MM7zhz6HgMU/s1600/imagesCA2OWFQC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6YDfBPM9I3BNnjb5tkARXbPO7Di5cc9Bd87mpEGXnyRh6XIlKa_mrz1WoPpFiiJmdOTSfgDmGl5tYJ57LrBVIB8x6QehArJISN2QUMFU1AGS0naZdtX8dkRixdcLQm97MM7zhz6HgMU/s1600/imagesCA2OWFQC.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/11/balls-and-turkey-trot.html">My coach said he needed a hard 5k time</a>, and I decided that I wanted to break 30 minutes in the 5k. But, my coach also said I could run a 28 minute 5k. Well coach, I ran hard, and I achieved my goal, that is, I ran the Anthem Turkey Day 5k in 29:44. Yea! It wasn't as fast as he wanted, but achieving my goal was a win for my Colorado Marathon training program.<br />
<br />
I finished 13 out of 30 in the 50-59 age group, which for me is pretty good; however, I was outrun by a 7-, 8-, and three 10 year old boys; four men over 60, and a 70 year old man. Clearly, I still have a lot of work to do.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcCvCbsdHcrDh_HweudMmEgluxJfDoJ3x6wbG9mRSd-sS3qdb7CFFUD8DV20HnudC7ZktolQCKHxDefppbwbDWBEUVATcb50M1ljyF_AcI9mG2t6K5jQ1ylhSTuJ5pfDx1vr23eOdQUw/s1600/screenshot062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcCvCbsdHcrDh_HweudMmEgluxJfDoJ3x6wbG9mRSd-sS3qdb7CFFUD8DV20HnudC7ZktolQCKHxDefppbwbDWBEUVATcb50M1ljyF_AcI9mG2t6K5jQ1ylhSTuJ5pfDx1vr23eOdQUw/s320/screenshot062.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br />
My wife, best supporter, and Turkey Day boob flasher, Deborah, was with me at the trot taking pictures. She was up on a small atoll with a view of the start and finish. At the start, I was waving to her so she could pick me out of the crowd of 9 minute milers, but something in the grass caught Deborah's attention and she was looking down. So, no start pictures, which is really a good thing because I didn't have to suck in my gut at the start <em>and</em> finish.<br />
<br />
As I made the final turn, Deborah was on me and started snapping pictures. Normally, finishing a race would have earned a boob flash, but Deborah was dressed in about 16 layers, and it was impossible to unleash the perky girls in such a short period of time. Not to mention we didn't want to get arrested before preparing the feast for the kids.<br />
<br />
We talked about it afterwards and decided for future winter races, we should create undergarments with boob cut-outs...like so<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLaFCw-aZo6KowJsSz_4JPf7mE24WVbCeJt6jzqhHEy2zATQZSnubLJuvZZTYIr-VJQOzj4-dUldE0ijak17jxb36-ZslIpGqRRQ3LUdeEOEoLaWY9gqTgwSQqV9nBvnrxqnf_M_LkvY/s1600/skinies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLaFCw-aZo6KowJsSz_4JPf7mE24WVbCeJt6jzqhHEy2zATQZSnubLJuvZZTYIr-VJQOzj4-dUldE0ijak17jxb36-ZslIpGqRRQ3LUdeEOEoLaWY9gqTgwSQqV9nBvnrxqnf_M_LkvY/s1600/skinies.jpg" /></a></div>Deborah will simply have to open her outerwear to flash me the victory sign. I know this may sound juvenile, but really guys, are you motivated by a finishers medal or perfect breasts. I got medals, and they're nice, but I'll never see enough of my wife's boobs. On my deathbed, with my last gasp of air, I hope I ask Deborah if I can see her boobs just one more time. But I digress...<br />
<br />
After the trot, we had a wonderful pre-prepared turkey dinner that I purchased. It's not that I'm too lazy to cook, it's just that our oven electronics burnt up for the second time. It cost $1500 to fix it the first time, and I'm not paying for a third set of electronics with a design flaw. We've managed to get by without the oven by using the heck out of our microwave, which is Whirlpool's equivalent of a Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven. Anyway, without an oven and since it takes 6 years to cook a turkey in the Whirlpool Easy Bake Oven, we purchased our dinner this year.<br />
<br />
By the end of the day, Deborah and I had attended and run a 5k race. We applauded a 5 year old girl that finished the 5k in about 36 minutes, and we applauded an 81 year old woman that finished in 39 minutes. We bought about 300 meals for Americans going hungry, and we thanked God for our family and the life we've earned. Thursday, 24 NOV 2011, was truly a happy thanksgiving.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-54874513982411233462011-11-21T10:15:00.000-07:002011-11-21T10:15:31.256-07:00Balls and Turkey TrotBalls...<br />
<br />
It's the new '<em>word'</em> around the house.<br />
<br />
"Did you see the <em>balls</em> on that table?"<br />
<br />
"That sucks <em>balls</em>."<br />
<br />
"And his <em>ball-handling</em> skills are excellent."<br />
<br />
<em>'Balls'</em> started with our 15 year old sophomore, Miranda, and now she and Deborah giggle nonstop about <em>'ball</em>' this<em> </em>or '<em>ball</em>' that. It's hard not to chuckle because they are laughing.<br />
<br />
Deborah recently told me that she wanted a medicine ball to help with her ab workouts. I said that we would go to Dick's Sporting Goods to get one, and, of course, she replied, "I would like to feel Dick's <em>balls</em> before I buy them."<br />
<br />
After buying them, I told her she would have to carry the "<em>ball</em>-sack."<br />
<br />
When we got home, Deborah asked Miranda, "Would you like to see Dick's <em>balls</em>?"<br />
<br />
____________________________________________________<br />
<br />
It's Turkey Trot time again. As noted <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2010/11/turkey-trot-x-5.html">last year</a>, I've completed personal turkey trots each of the last 5 years, so this year marks my 6th year trotting before putting on the feed bag.<br />
<br />
However, this year is different. My coach wants a competitive timed 5k trot, so I registered for the Anthem Turkey Day 5k - 10k. I said I wanted to break 30 minutes, and he said I could run 28 minutes. I told him I don't know how to run a 5k. He said warm up a little and start running.<br />
<br />
I'm more nervous about the 5k than I was for the <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/06/24009-im-finisher-again.html">Estes Park 1/2</a> this past summer. So nervous that I was just going to sneak out Thanksgiving morning and run a race before anyone knew I was gone. Deborah said, "No way. I want to see you run. It's been a long time since I've seen you run a race."<br />
<br />
So, I relented, and Deborah is going with me.<br />
<br />
"Besides," Deborah added, "I'd rather watch you run than watch the boys play with their <em>balls</em> while you are out having fun."<br />
<br />
Miranda chimed in, "Now that it's getting colder, the boys have squishy <em>balls</em>? Can you make their <em>balls</em> harder?"<br />
<br />
And Lexie concluded, "Sure. DB can fix <em>balls</em>. He can fix anything."<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="background-color: #b45f06; color: white; font-size: x-large;">Happy Thanksgiving Everybody!</span></strong>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-26325805725671199002011-11-09T13:17:00.000-07:002011-11-09T13:17:20.555-07:00Mom's A BADASS, Mom's Little Girl, and An IMPORTANT Message<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGkiJ35ha9y5tGGeH0GJtoANTiVuQ4HtFJVEHG0wlgaAJab8d_gWhd43KQohuxX4zUelSNj_0_SP5FhSp_5KNk6CVp352wGlTMU76o__mUdh5q969K41_XTvob1wvkI9AD2m_GW2AqyE/s1600/deadliftmusclechart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGkiJ35ha9y5tGGeH0GJtoANTiVuQ4HtFJVEHG0wlgaAJab8d_gWhd43KQohuxX4zUelSNj_0_SP5FhSp_5KNk6CVp352wGlTMU76o__mUdh5q969K41_XTvob1wvkI9AD2m_GW2AqyE/s320/deadliftmusclechart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.healthline.com/hlbook/strt-conventional-deadlift">The Deadlift</a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday, I did my normal Tuesday base run, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. After the run, I went over to sit with Deborah while she deadlifted. When I get over to the deadlift platform, she has 185 lbs on the bar, which she easily deadlifts twice. So she says, "I've been feeling really strong. I should try to do 200 lbs. So that's 5 lbs and 2-1/2 lbs plates added to each side, right?"</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I agreed, and we bumped the bar up to 200 lbs. After telling me not to look at her--she's afraid I'll make her laugh or pee or something--she moves me to a viewing spot out of the way. Deborah then wraps her lifting-straps around the bar and smoothly dead-lifts 200 lbs.</div><br />
Holy Shizzzz!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">How many other petite less-than-50-but-close year olds can dead-lift 200 lbs. Not very damn many is the answer.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">If they're in the gym at all, they're thinking of 10, 2, and 4 chocolate bon-bons while gliding on an elliptical for 6 minutes before walking around the gym twice to look at the other weird machines and free weights, which they avoid like the plague because in the words of <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/fred_stoller">Fred Stoller</a> (I think), "I tried lifting weights, but they're sooo heavy."</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">It's no wonder all the gym rats stare at Deborah while she's working out. It's rare to see girls lifting, rarer still to see girls lifting well, and rarest of all to see a built beautiful babe lifting more than the duds...er...dudes.</div><br />
It's either that or her perky nipples.<br />
_________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Lexie is in 1st grade.<br />
<br />
She reads like at least a 3rd grader.<br />
<br />
Deborah is studying for the GRE so that she can enter a Masters degree program.<br />
<br />
So...last night, Lexie picks up Deborah's review words and starts reading them,<br />
<br />
"remunerate,"<br />
<br />
"heterogeneous,"<br />
<br />
"autonomous,"<br />
<br />
"commensurate..."<br />
<br />
Deborah and I were looking at each other like WTF? <br />
She's in 1st grade.<br />
<br />
After more words, Lexie says, "I could quit school and take the test for you mommy."<br />
<br />
________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://msn.foxsports.com/collegefootball/story/Joe-Paterno-Penn-State-pressure-mounts-as-tension-boils-in-Happy-Valley-110811" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPFax2bdqAgfibT16aKS8QyW1US3wXGJOiHKaZKt9qoY4mCg8Jt5l72wi3VIFXDXITOcY5MV-Yrz6A5WqNbJ-p2fMsQ_p_vYMqoBVUy0B6fMKBVJPhDVYKWw2jVcmaUkWGPUmN9o9ujU/s320/signinside_20111108232613341_0_0_Penn+State.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://msn.foxsports.com/collegefootball/story/Joe-Paterno-Penn-State-pressure-mounts-as-tension-boils-in-Happy-Valley-110811">Protesters at Penn State</a>.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The masses at Penn State protested to save Joe Paterno. A single family protested at Penn State to save victims. Think about it.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-57034991512504084272011-11-04T11:06:00.000-06:002011-11-04T11:06:27.581-06:00ThoughtsSo I went to Dick's Sporting Goods the other day and saw this...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTvc1anH2Alu08X-p80k2mYRoiTLU5zgRFVXq7gSrssAYwPohZ9YPLnsODtC49McHJkjXdRQVi4m-uF-HgAlzrZ_hhRTRPeaagqTrbK5iXd1qduPuAr4iX-hxaUHgzefI7KyLyF2-9Ag/s1600/Dicks+neked+lady.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTvc1anH2Alu08X-p80k2mYRoiTLU5zgRFVXq7gSrssAYwPohZ9YPLnsODtC49McHJkjXdRQVi4m-uF-HgAlzrZ_hhRTRPeaagqTrbK5iXd1qduPuAr4iX-hxaUHgzefI7KyLyF2-9Ag/s320/Dicks+neked+lady.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
My first thought was I want one, but then the sales guy saw me taking a picture and said that they were taking inventory. I looked up and said, "Ok, two boobs and no head. Just thought I'd help."<br />
<br />
_______________________________________<br />
<br />
Deborah came into my office after a very trying week with the men in her life and said, "boys must be stupid(!) until..." At this point she looked me in the eyes, realized what she was saying, and added, "...well...until...I don't know when."<br />
<br />
I got the feeling by the gist of the conversation that she included all males at least 50 and under.<br />
<br />
_______________________________________<br />
<br />
Did I mention I'm running the Colorado Marathon next spring? I'll be 50.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-91014929275440805132011-10-19T17:12:00.000-06:002011-10-19T17:12:07.064-06:00Long Run for an UltramarathonerI asked my coach what he considers a long run for an ultramarathoner. He said that as he prepares for a 100 miler, he will always get in at least a couple 50 mile runs. And he added his workouts during the week are about the same as a marathoner, but on weekends, he'll run two long runs. The long runs are in terms of hours instead of miles, for example, 5 hours on Saturday followed by 3 or 4 hours on Sunday would be considered 2 long runs.<br />
<br />
Makes my feet hurt thinking about it.<br />
<br />
My bucket-with-holes-in-the-bottom list held the following.<br />
1. Jumping from an airplane.<br />
2. Climbing an 8000 m peak. (I'd still like to trek to base camp.)<br />
3. Completing an ultramarathon.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, those 3 have leaked out of the bucket and I don't have to consider doing them. My other bucket list remains quite full, including a sub 4:00:00 marathon on May 6, 2012.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-45103383280823807402011-10-17T16:20:00.000-06:002011-10-17T16:20:14.141-06:00My Coach Wins Boulder 12 Hour RunMy coach, David Clark, was the first male finisher in the Boulder 12-hour run yesterday. Officially, he ran 64.26 miles in 12 hours, but he made another loop that finished 2 minutes beyond the 12 hour limit, that is, he ran 71.4 miles in 12 hours and 2 minutes. Sheeeeeitttt! I'm impressed.<br />
<br />
He told me today that he hadn't done a l-o-n-g run since the Leadville 100, so he felt really strong.<br />
<br />
(What's a long run to an ultramarathoner? I need to ask that on Wednesday)<br />
<br />
And as if nothing happened, he showed up for workout today and put me through my fat-ass paces. I only thought I was embarrassed by running a slow 5.05 miles over the weekend. Today, I was really embarrassed that I can even think tired after my coach did that yesterday and just seems his normal self today.<br />
<br />
He did say his core was a little tight. His core is tight? Yeah, right. They'd still be scrapping my dead big-ass core off the 7.14 mile loop today if I tried that.<br />
<br />
It's good to know my coach can run-the-run and not just talk-the-talk.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-5996792473421621162011-10-16T20:10:00.000-06:002011-10-16T20:10:05.243-06:00Walk. Run. Stumble. RepeatI'm back <a href="http://acoloradobubba.blogspot.com/2011/08/craigs-square-life-wheels.html">here</a>. God dammit!<br />
<br />
___________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<div align="justify">I hired a coach to help me prepare for the Colorado Marathon. His name is <a href="http://www.drivehumanperformance.com/Home_Page.html">David Clark,</a> and I think he would consider himself an ultramarathoner. I just finished my first week following David's plan, which included a strength and core workout and interval training.</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">INTERVAL training.</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">DrBubba?</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">The two have never mixed before this week, but I did it. I've been working out for years, including running, stair climbing, and weight training, but I was so sore after David's strength and core workout that it reminded of two-a-days when I played football. I could barely walk down the stairs at home much less run.</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">On Friday, I completed my Metabolic testing, so now I know my training zones. Apparently, I have trained my body to not burn fat, which is a very bad thing for a big Clydesdale-sized runner. I think David is going to retrain my body to be an efficient fat-burning machine. Meanwhile, I had to complete a Zone 2, 5 mile, long-slow-distance run yesterday. There was nothing "long" about a 5 mile run, but slow, yeah, it was s-l-o-w distance. OMG, it was so embarrassing. Over an hour to go 5.05 miles while not letting my heart rate increase above 130 bpm. This training plan better damn sure work cause I'm going to follow it to the letter. Even if people do laugh. Grrr.</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">_________________________________________________</div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify">Nothing funny happened this week. There were some laughs, but easily negated by other issues. God, I want things to change.</div>drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-12089000879935283242011-10-10T08:49:00.000-06:002011-10-10T08:49:05.156-06:00Wiener JuiceDeborah is doing laundry yesterday, and throws a pair of my clean underwear at Lexie, but tells Lexie that they're dirty. Lexie is running away doing the usual "ew yuk" stuff when Deborah asks whats wrong with dirty underwear?<br />
<br />
Lexie says, "They're full of wiener juice."<br />
<br />
WTF?! She's only seven. Where the hell did she hear that?<br />
<br />
Ends up she put "wiener" and "juice" together herself. Smart girl.<br />
<br />
And damn funny.drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1973499449274579147.post-32169580982594016082011-10-10T08:37:00.000-06:002011-10-10T08:37:12.900-06:001st Anniversary Celebration: Part III - Aw Hail No And Finale<div style="text-align: justify;">After such a wonderful Saturday evening and sleeping in, Deborah suggested that we head down to the pool on Sunday afternoon. Deborah and I had stayed together at the Venetian in 2007 while I was in town to run the St. George Marathon, and on Sunday morning after the marathon, we went out to enjoy the Venetian pools without any other people around. We had a gigantic jacuzzi all to ourselves before Deborah headed in to get a massage. I think we both wanted to repeat that experience.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bKVFW1gSBmLB5I1mRmAu4heFWrryvL52WklgssxhCwgAjpmn6cS-P5dGMJe2YJbmAxVWG98Oz27hyphenhyphenJvhkrgPaZy9MTduHYTtluBhVXiNwTYkp6eGZtB6FgAljfgCbLZ5G4b-HMrqn4E/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bKVFW1gSBmLB5I1mRmAu4heFWrryvL52WklgssxhCwgAjpmn6cS-P5dGMJe2YJbmAxVWG98Oz27hyphenhyphenJvhkrgPaZy9MTduHYTtluBhVXiNwTYkp6eGZtB6FgAljfgCbLZ5G4b-HMrqn4E/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKAVqwhkkES-eGBoxd3YuZsXdesFtbZn3_KWaWbcw13eQB9oPvuRv3dlG7OEKb_7bnvl7AaytbJQRBi1ivtDWuVE2N1Qjg8YPzbwgr4bkWl_Te5bLAadopgMcZmjmKNoGVhychaIRAAQ/s1600/Rotation+of+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKAVqwhkkES-eGBoxd3YuZsXdesFtbZn3_KWaWbcw13eQB9oPvuRv3dlG7OEKb_7bnvl7AaytbJQRBi1ivtDWuVE2N1Qjg8YPzbwgr4bkWl_Te5bLAadopgMcZmjmKNoGVhychaIRAAQ/s320/Rotation+of+007.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">It was a beautiful day, that is, not too hot, and many people were enjoying the Venetian pools. Deborah and I walked over to the same jacuzzi we had relaxed in during our 2007 trip, and amazingly, there wasn't a soul in or around the pool. So, we make ourselves comfortable and jump in. Within 5 minutes, people start arriving from every direction, and our little pool starts to get crowded...then we heard thunder.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I'm thinking Las Vegas is in a desert, right? So at most we might get a few sprinkles followed by wonderful sunshine. It starts with sprinkles. Then, a little thunder, and heavier rain. At this point, all the girls with their boobs hanging out of their bikini tops began to worry about their hair. The lightening and the real possibility of being electrocuted in a pool didn't seem to bother anyone as much as the thought of their hair getting messed up. BUT, nobody moved to get out of the pool, including us.</div><br />
A little heavier rain, and then the hail started--pea-sized, or maybe a little bigger.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvVRxfYC3k8OoM_MqsLy8qfaqgxFOWFmCL5gKivDpdIg7nyt7e06SgyrRv7qxK4uwlja1jr0iHWLnsxxBufyNlpccbavAngsC3nEmJvXgp1bf9f-jE0VsFTa0rx9mfDKI5paGYTOTCF8/s1600/15436777_BG1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvVRxfYC3k8OoM_MqsLy8qfaqgxFOWFmCL5gKivDpdIg7nyt7e06SgyrRv7qxK4uwlja1jr0iHWLnsxxBufyNlpccbavAngsC3nEmJvXgp1bf9f-jE0VsFTa0rx9mfDKI5paGYTOTCF8/s320/15436777_BG1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Still, nobody moved. It was all so ridiculous. No one was willing to give up their place in the pool, so we all waited out a hailstorm. After a few minutes of hail and a little more rain, it all stopped. As expected, the sun came out and it was a beautiful day again.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">So we're all still sitting in the pool, and a Venetian employee comes out and tells us that we have to get out of the pool. The Venetian decided that in order to protect our safety they needed to close the pool <u>after</u> the storm had passed. Needless to say, our pool experience in 2011 wasn't quite the same as 2007. Everything we took outside with us was soaked, but we gathered it up and went back to the room. Ah, memories.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">After attending Zumanity that evening, we retired to our suite for another fine meal and a movie. It was so good, I can't even remember the name of the movie.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">On Monday morning, we were up and packed to return to Denver. Before leaving, we decided to go to the Venetian shops to get gifts for the kids. As we're walking through the shops, Deborah notices a statue in the middle of the walkway. I had walked past the same statue at least a 1/2 dozen times, and every time, people are laying money on the pedestal. I'm thinking...Italian...Catholicism...people must be donating to the church. Then one time when I was walking by, I noticed that the statue moved. Holy shit, it's a dude. So, I tell Deborah that it's a guy and not a statue, and she has to go back for another look.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxeIoYX59TZFpwVkkREabbyCtHn_DqLVGFSFyO2kztKzyir_SxenfCTqVOHP5KQz5GjLrSlSykliEQKd7U7_GTFYlvI9zfD-5YaOPEJF2Z4G2bt3f4XMqpCRH_BYfnrIcYj_36SuiyCY/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxeIoYX59TZFpwVkkREabbyCtHn_DqLVGFSFyO2kztKzyir_SxenfCTqVOHP5KQz5GjLrSlSykliEQKd7U7_GTFYlvI9zfD-5YaOPEJF2Z4G2bt3f4XMqpCRH_BYfnrIcYj_36SuiyCY/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Like everyone else, we had to leave some cash for the statue too. Way cool.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">So that was it. Our 1st Anniversary Celebration came to a close, and we both realized that it was the best weekend of our lives. Seriously.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">By the time we hit the ground in Denver, we were getting reports about the kids, schedules that had to be maintained, doctor's appointments, punishments, money, stress, ...</div><br />
Deborah looked at me and said, "Can we go back?"drbubbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16063692725669760264noreply@blogger.com0