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Pictures are worth a 1000 words

Wow, it has been a while. I’ll give everyone a quick update and hopefully that will explain why I haven’t been blogging lately. I bought the dental practice in May. I have been working there for two years, and finally made the deal to buy the entire practice. I am now the proud owner of a small business. That should be enough for everyone to understand why I haven’t written anything.

More importantly, the other reason I haven’t updated this is because I have been spending the rest of my free time with Wendy. We met at the end of April at a Single Adult Conference in California. She lives an hour away in South Denver so my car has been getting more frequent oil changes.

Since pictures say a 1000 words and there is no way I can explain what I have been doing for six months, I’m posting some pictures.

Wendy convinced me to run the Boulder Boulder. It is a 10K run that is fairly famous around here. She is the runner of the group, and I am the goof ball.

We both like to cycle, which is one of our most enjoyable activities to do together. It is nice to see the amazing landscapes of Colorado by bicycle. In the early summer, we drove up to Estes Park and went exploring.

For Pioneer day, we drove to her house in Alamosa Colorado. We watched a few parades, enjoyed a demolition derby, sat underneath some fireworks, went dancing in a barn by ourselves (almost), and just relaxed. We drove up to the sand dunes and found a waterfall.

In August, my mom came into town and we got up real early to go to the balloon festival. Some amazing colors bouncing off of these brilliant balloons.

Over the Labor Day weekend, we flew to Portland and spent the weekend with my family at the beach. Wendy served her mission in Portland and it was the first time she had been back.

We are heading back to Portland for Thanksgiving. So that is the summary. The two W's in my life right now. Work and Wendy and Writing isn't one of them. I'm going to try and do better.

Yellow Jersey

In cycling, the yellow jersey is worn by the leader of the race. The jersey makes it very obvious who is the leader of the pack because it stands out so well.

Yesterday I went into a war zone. Last week a tornado ripped through a small town less than an hour away from Longmont. A good friend of mine lives in the town and fortunately was not seriously effected by the storm. However, several homes belonging to members of his ward were completely destroyed.

I decided I needed to drive up to help out for a few hours. Ground zero had been closed off to everyone for several days after the storm so that inspectors could enter the homes and determine if they were safe. The neighborhood had only been open for a few hours when I arrived. Hundreds of people with trucks and trailers where there to empty out the houses and get them ready for demolition. At some homes, there was a very obvious common thread...the yellow T-shirt proclaiming, “Mormon Helping Hands.” I couldn’t help think of the yellow jersey.

Open mouth, insert...

Our dental office is located very near a small airport where there is a parachute school. From our office we can watch the parachuters jump from the plane and dive. Our office has very large windows and it is very fun to watch them fall from the sky and then glide to earth. Often, they do tricks while falling.

Each morning during our morning huddle I share a joke with the staff. Yesterday I shared the following.

Four people are in an airplane, the pilot, the smartest man in the world, the richest man in the world, and a punk teenager. The airplane experiences some difficulties, and the pilot informs the three passengers that the plane is going to crash, and there are only three parachutes on the plane. The richest man in the world takes one, because he says that his lawyers will sue everyone else on the plane if he doesn't survive. The smartest man in the world takes a parachute, because he thinks that the world would be a worse place without him. The pilot says to the punk "There's only one parachute left, I'll fight you for it." "That won't be necessary," said the punk, "The smartest man in the world took my backpack."

I thought it was a funny joke. About half of the staff chuckled. The other half had a weird look on their face. Timing is everything and it pays to read the newspaper. The day before there was a man killed at the nearby airport because his chute didn’t open. Not so funny when good intentions go bad.

$4.57 in pocket change

There has been a movement lately to get rid of the penny. Today ol’ Lincoln saved the day. I was driving to Denver for a meeting and realized I was low on gas. I was half way to my meeting when I also realized I left my wallet at home. That is not a good combination. To make matters worse, I was starving and was planning on grabbing a bite to eat before the meeting. Not to worry...my car console was full of pocket change I have been collecting for the last year. I counted out $2.50 in quarters and few bucks in pennies. Thank goodness for the dollar menu at Burger King. Two Wopper Jr. paid with pennies and on the way back I added .714 gallons of gas to the tank to barely make it home without being stranded on the road. And the look on the attendants face...priceless. I guess cash really is king. I think I’m going to stash $20 bucks in the jockey box for another emergency...so at least I can get the fries.

More Guatemala Stuff

Here are some of the videos from our zip line adventure in Guatemala.
Its a bird...

Its a plane...

Its ...Superman??

There was a 70-75 year old couple that joined us for the canopy tour. After the third platform the gentleman bashfully admitted to his wife that when he signed them up for the canopy tour he thought they were going to be on a walking tour. Oops. Little did they know they would be joined by three rambunctious men.

And a few more pictures too.

Guatemala

Last week I traveled to Guatemala with a friend from dental school (Mike Lindman) and a friend from his ward (Jeff Newton) to provide dental services to an orphanage. We mixed the trip with a bit of business and a bit of pleasure. I wish I could tell you all of the things that occurred, but the following is a brief travel-log. (More photos and videos will come after I get them from Mike and Jeff. My camera broke after the third day)

Saturday February 23
Arrived Saturday evening to Guatemala City and stayed at a Holiday Inn.

Sunday morning we went to the local LDS church only to find it was Stake Conference. We got on the bus with the rest of the members of the ward to travel together to the conference. After the conference we checked out of the hotel and drove to Panajachel, which is a two hour drive west of Guatemala City and sits on a beautiful lake surrounded by volcanoes. See map below. After arriving and setting up the dental clinic in a one room LDS church, we visited the orphanage for the first time. We were instant heroes as Jeff had brought soccer balls and soccer shoes for the kids.

View Larger Map

Sunday night we slept at the branch presidents house. It reminded me of my days in Brazil while serving a mission. Early Monday morning we started working on the orphan children. Each one of them laid on our make-shift chair (a round table covered with a sheet and pillow) while we examined their mouth. We fixed the teeth that could be fixed and extracted the teeth that couldn't. Jeff did a great job jumping back and forth to translate for us and assist where he could. The process was slow, which made me really grateful for my trained assistant back home. We were able to see most all of the orphan kids on Monday. On Tuesday we opened our services up to the members of the branch and the community. We had a manageable steady flow all day.

It was interesting to me that the condition of the teeth between the orphans and the public. When we opened the clinic up to the public on Tuesday, we saw significantly more decay and tooth problems. It was immediately apparent and obvious that one segment of the population had access to sugar and the other segment did not. The orphan kids had relatively good oral health. They also didn't have access to candy and sweets like the other kids did. Many of the kids outside the orphanage would beg and cry until they could get candy, or the parents would use candy as a mechanism to control behavior. "If you stop crying...or if you are good...you can have some candy." The question really is; who is controlling the behavior of who?

We packed up late Tuesday afternoon and drove back to Guatemala City. We had to "get out of Dodge" before it became dark because the road we were traveling was pretty dangerous. There had been many roadside blockades while thieves stop the cars and steal everything. When we got into Guatemala City we went out to a nice restaurant to celebrate the work we had accomplished. 58 patients, and 170+ procedures: Not bad for two dentists, two days, a headlamp, a make shift dental clinic, and no trained assistant.

It was at dinner when we had one of the more funny experiences of the trip. After we ordered our meal, three singers came to our table and began to sing to us. We enjoyed their performance and tipped them accordingly. When they looked at the tip, they got very angry and said that the cost for three songs was $10. (Interesting that they didn't tell us before they started singing). After a few very awkward and tense moments, we satisfied their request and then mentioned the scam to our waiter. A few minutes later we saw the three amigos arguing with the manager as he kicked them out of the restaurant. We later found out he fired them from all three of his restaurants in town. Apparently, the singers had been warned before for their questionable business practices and that night they got the boot. We were afraid we were going to get jumped and beaten with a guitar as we left the restaurant.

We spent Tuesday night at the hotel and got up the next morning to catch a flight to Tikal. We arrived in Tikal Wednesday afternoon and went on a zip-line adventure before entering the park. You can see in the video that we had a rambunctious time. We walked around the ruins and climbed on the ancient temples. The next morning we awoke at 4:30 a.m. to go on a tour of the park and sit and watch the sunrise while listening to the monkeys and other wildlife wake up. It was a beautiful sight and sound. We finished walking though the park and then that night we flew back to Guatemala City.

Friday we took a taxi to the Guatemala City LDS temple and went through a session before we caught our flight back home. It was interesting to me the oasis the temple provided. The city was dirty, rough, dangerous, busy, and uncaring. As we entered the grounds of the temple a feeling of safety was palpable. What a blessing the temple provides to the members of the church to have a place to go and remove themselves from the struggles of life. Though I've had those feelings before, the safety the temple provided was even more apparent in an environment where safety was not the norm. God bless the USA.

Summoned

I think I have a love hate relationship with mail. I love opening my mailbox to find a letter from a friend, a package from mom, or an item that I have ordered from Amazon. There is always a bit of energy in the air as I thumb through it to see what I got that day. Then there are always letters that I immediately get a bad feeling about; Excel Energy, Chase Credit Cards, Allstate. The list could go on, but I know before I open them that money is going to be involved. Letters from the state dental board always get me a little nervous too (don’t anyone worry, they have all been informational letters.)

This week I got a letter from Boulder County. I’ve been summoned for Jury Duty! What?!@ I don’t want to be on Jury Duty. Luckily the date I am supposed to appear was during the week I will be out of the country. (topic of another blog in the near future.) I had to send them an explanation stating my excuse, but I had to include dates that I would be available. So it looks like I will only be able to postpone the inevitable, rather than evade it.

I’m looking for advise for when they interview me to make it clear I wouldn’t be a very good juror. I could pretend I’m a bigot of some sort, or maybe just bring my Bible and hold it under my arm the entire time. If I have to serve I will, but I’m going to make it clear that I will be kicking and screaming the entire time. I’ve got enough drama in my life right now and certainly don’t need more.

Reboot

I’m no expert in computers but I have found that 9 times out of 10, when my computer crashes, if I just re-boot it, the problem seems to resolve itself. (One more reason I am considering moving to an Apple). This week Microsoft taught me a lesson in car repair.

My car has been burning oil fairly quickly the past few years and the check engine light has been on ever since I bought it. A few years ago, I jimmy-rigged the computer in the car to spit out a code for the warning light without taking it to a mechanic. The code that came back was a faulty oxygen sensor. I certainly wasn’t going to worry about that.

This week I was driving down the freeway and the oil pressure light started to flash. I took the nearest exit which was two to three miles away and stopped at the gas station to buy some oil. Since I am due for an oil change in less than two-hundred miles, I just bought two quarts of oil and put them in the engine.

As I left the gas station, the car seemed to hiccup around 2500 RPM. It would sputter and cough and only allowed me to rev the engine to about 3000 RPM even if I continued pushing on the gas. The symptoms occurred even in neutral. So I quickly turned around and headed back to the gas station. I was ready to call a tow truck.

Microsoft saved the day. I turned off the car, waited ten seconds, and turned it back on. The engine light went off for the first time in six years and the car was running without any problems. I drove away contemplating that now might be the perfect time to sell the car. With that thought, the engine light came back on, but the car kept on moving. I guess I won’t be able to bamboozle anyone.

So now I’m asking all the car experts out there what just happened. If I don’t get a legitimate answer, you may hear me on the Car Talk Radio Show.

You know you are going crazy when...

The list could be quite long if I really put some thought to it, but the events of tonight were noteworthy. By sharing this with the world I imagine I am only advancing the argument that I am going crazy.

I came home from work starving after a long day. It was 8:30 and I was really excited about dinner. Last night I bought some frozen dinners from Supper Solutions. I thought I would try it out. I know this is blasphemy to the purest cooks out there, but I was tired of supporting the local fast food economy. I figured I could at least eat healthy even if I didn’t want to cook. And only an idiot can mess up these meals.

I set the oven to 350 degrees just as the instructions said. I got out the defrosted meal, put my Chicken Cord-on-Blue in an oven safe dish, and poured the sauce over the food. Then I set the timer for 38 minutes...Easy enough. I went to my office and started working. Checking my email, paying bills, etc. I think my stomach was carefully keeping track of the minutes because my internal clock was perfect. I walked back into the kitchen with a forty seconds left on the timer and opened the oven. It was empty. Details, details. My dish was still sitting on the counter.

But wait there's more. I reset the timer and put the dish in the oven. Then back to the office to finish my work and watch a little TV. I was salivating by this time. Thirty-eight minutes later, the oven door opened again ready to dig in to my "supper solution". It looked a little wet, and not thoroughly cooked...just a little warm. Apparently the oven turned off when I canceled the last forty seconds of my first attempt.

So my "solution" to my "supper" is left-over pizza from last night and some Wheat Thins.

iMovie

I’ve never been overweight in all my life, but tonight I felt like the PC guy on the new Apple Computer commercials. Check them out to see what I mean. I’ve been a devoted PC man for all my life. My sister Nicole just got an Apple Macbook for her birthday and brought it home with her. We have been playing with the computer all evening with the goal of creating a video to send to my other missionary sister Katie.

It took us only a few hours to create and edit a four minute movie complete with music, text, and transitions. Two rowdy nephews and some obnoxious siblings (we all are pretty obnoxious when we get together) make video footage come easy. The Macbook made the editing ridiculously simple.

So here I sit on my PC doing “real” work using my word processor to write this blog, while everyone else giggles and laughs while they finish our family Christmas DVD. Who needs to write your life story when you can share it with iMovie.

Stuff

Humans have an interesting and irrational fascination with “stuff”.

While I was home for Christmas I was helping my mom put her basement back together. Last October, the basement flooded and everything had to be moved from the basement to the second floor while the carpet dried out and the basement was re-done. Finally after living in a construction zone for three months, it was time to put life back in order.

To add another dimension of human behavior and emotion to the mix, not only were we trying to reorganize the basement, but at the same time sort out much of my deceased grandmother’s personal items to determine what would be done with them. Grandma had been living in the basement after we remodeled it for her with a personal kitchen and bedroom. She passed a

way on year ago, but the basement remained untouched since the flood.

I believe I am the least nostalgic person in our family which makes me the best person for this job from a practical standpoint, but the worst man for the job from an emotional standpoint. As I was helping mom, I couldn’t keep myself from suggesting that we sell much of the “stuff” or give it to Goodwill. No matter how hard I tried to employ empathy and concern, I think I still sounded heartless when I continually asked, “Why don’t we get rid of this.” I was walking on eggshells and my mom was being patient.

I found myself on multiple occasions getting frustrated that we were cramming nick nacks back into the closet that had been previously hidden for 15 years and never retrieved. At one point I came to four small ceramic pots that I had left with my mom two years ago. I made them in ceramics class and had left them for my mom to enjoy. They weren’t really gifts, just something I really didn’t have a place for in my apartment. “What do you want to do with these?” I asked. “We can give them to Goodwill,” responded my mother.

I found myself wrapping them in newspaper and putting them in my suitcase to take to my apartment. I guess I haven’t completely let go of them yet. I imagine they will sit on my apartment table never to be used. At some point, I will then gain the courage to throw them out. Perhaps I’m more nostalgic than I care to admit.

Politics anyone?

Yesterday I officially entered into a political arena. I went to a caucus training meeting for Mitt Romney. Essentially I learned how we elect a republican nominee for president. I think I learned in one hour what my sixth grade social studies class should have taught me. Or maybe I just wasn't paying attention in class. Anyway, mark February 5 on your calender and get out and vote.

Just for the record, when I first heard he was running for president, I was a bit skeptical. I don't want a Mormon president. I just didn't want people to get confused about what is church policy and what is national policy. I didn't want him to be a spokesman for the church. But a few months ago I went to his website and watched the video clips of him for several hours. I've been watching the debates since then and now I'm sold. He is the best man for the job. And I think his speech about the Faith in America was excellent. I would encourage you to check out his website too.

The Hunt

It is all about the hunt. Yesterday afternoon we piled into the car and drove out to the nearby Christmas tree farm to cut down our tree. Cutting down your tree is much more fun than going to the local grocery store parking lot to claim your tree. In our family, the Noble Fur is the only acceptable Christmas tree available and even Super Wal-Mart doesn’t carry them. You have to get your shoes muddy.

I’ve finally accepted the fact that looking for a Christmas tree has little to do with finding the perfect tree. If finding the right tree was based solely on measurable parameters, we would have been done in five minutes. The first tree we came across was just as good as the tree we finally cut down. In fact if you were to put them side by side you wouldn’t be able to recognize the difference. But, the hunt has to last at least 40 minutes. This gives ample time for everyone to process the validity of their own irrational parameters and get tired of defending their requirements against the requirements of others. After 40 minutes, every tree looks good and everyone is ready to cut.

The exercise sounded something like this. “Oh this tree looks good. Come take a look.” Everyone agreed the tree would do, but for some reason, people walked away with the hope that something better was in store. “Come over here. I think this one will do.” The same realization was made with tree number two, and three, and four, and so on. Sure they all had their subtle differences, but if given the chance, no one could articulate why the search needed to continue. We just hadn’t spent enough time. The first tree that was suggested after 40 minutes rolled around got the saw.

Once again timing is everything. And when we finally dragged the tree inside and placed it in the stand, I have to admit, it was the perfect tree. At least we had a great time roaming the field getting muddy. I believe that story illustrates a lesson in life, but I think I will keep that commentary to my personal journal.

The Days Before Cell Phones

My sister Amie works for T-Mobile. She gave my other sister Janeen a cell phone to give to her children so that when they are at football practice, soccer practice and the like, they can get a hold of her to come pick them up. (The phone is to be used strictly for inter-family communication) Gone are the days when I used Morris code to signal my mom that I was finished with practice. I would call my mom on a pay phone without depositing a coin. Mom would answer and I would flip the receiver handle five or six times or hit the numbers so that a sound would be made on the other end. Since I never deposited a coin, she could not hear me, but could understand our pre-determined signal that I was finished. Then I would wait outside until she arrived. Lots of thinking time and a savings of 25 cents a day.

Home for the Holidays

There is something very artistic about carving a turkey and trying to get the slice of meat as large as you can without it falling apart. You have to be really gentle as your left hand balances the slice of meat on a fork and the right hand cuts it from the rest of the turkey; then ever so carefully, placing it on the serving plate. It was beautiful. What is not so romantic is pulling the stuffing from the turkey’s…

Thanksgiving has to be one of my favorite holidays. Lets just get together and eat…and count our many blessings. It was the first time in about five or six years that I have been home for Thanksgiving. I have been so far from home in previous years that flying home for such a short time didn’t seem worth it. What was I thinking?

This year I shared with my family a few emails from the daughter of the man that was killed in a car accident I was involved in on Thanksgiving Day in 1992. Every Thanksgiving I think about the accident. It is a long story, so I won’t go into detail, but essentially what was an extremely traumatic experience in my life, 15 years later serves as another testimony of the reality of the gospel and the atonement. I am thankful for forgiveness.

One thing I look forward to every time I come home is playing board games with the family. Last night we were up until Midnight playing Settlers and Ticket to Ride. Tonight looks like no exception. Got to go beat up on them.

8lbs. 10oz.

Life goes full circle. In more ways than one, but I’m not going to elaborate. I mainly just wanted to announce to everyone that life has just begun for Reygan Brett Kristina Lee. Chelle and Mark had child number four yesterday morning at 11:31 am. This little ball of girl weighed 8lbs 10oz and was 20 inches long. But only after a day changes can be seen. We think she is a few extra ounces and one or two millimeters longer. Aren’t you glad you aren’t introduced to people by your weight and height? “This is my friend Andrew. He is 5’9” and weighs not much more than ______. You can be creative.

I went and visited Mark and Chelle at the hospital this morning. Everyone was healthy and happy. Even Mark (6’3” and 200 lbs?) was all smiles after a tough night sleeping on the love sofa (as seen in the picture.) I asked Chelle (5’8” and just a little baby fat) if Reygan had anything to say to her when she arrived, but I couldn’t get a direct quote...but apparently she was very vocal.

I got a picture for documentation. Mom, I don't want to hear about it. First thing is first. I could have stolen a grandchild for you, but I decided against it. I found out babies now have ankle bracelets that they wear to track the babies every move. If they get up and try walking out, or even get near an elevator, an alarm goes off. No baby snatching for me. Anyway, it was fun to see life begin.

OUR Farm

I had two experiences this week that made me reflect on the value of service. On Wednesday morning I volunteered at the “OUR Center” in Longmont. The OUR Center is a community resource center (Outreach United Resource Center) that helps people get back on their feet. Basically, the citizens of Longmont donate their time and resources to help other citizens who need assistance move toward self-sufficiency. The center provides financial counselors, food, shelter, day care, and a clothing bank. I believe it is set up very similarly to the LDS Bishop’s storehouse.

When I showed up to volunteer they put me to work in the food center. I was first asked to stop by the local Safeway and pick up food surplus from the back of the store. I then returned to the center and assembled boxes of basic groceries for people. I would shout out a number and a person would then pick up their box of food that corresponded to the predetermined list of groceries.

I could only work for a couple of hours in the morning. When it came time for me to leave, I told the other volunteer that I had to go and she looked at me with a gaze that said, “You can’t leave, there is still work to do, and now I am left alone to do it.” Her eyes begged me to return next week.

I can’t understand why I am so blessed. It is easy to look at others that are less fortunate and think it was brought about by their own poor decisions...addictions, crime, dishonesty, etc. I don’t dispute that poor decisions bring about heartache, but I think the temptation to believe that many of my blessings are a result of my own doing is based on a false premise. Certainly the decisions of my ancestors had a direct consequence on my life. The values my grandparents instilled into my parents that were then taught to me have made a measurable difference. The difference was palpable at the OUR Center. So why was I fortunate enough to be taught the values that create prosperity?

The value of education, of a strong work ethic, honesty, accountability, charity, etc., have all somehow influenced the way I make decisions. (Or at least I would like to believe they influence me) These values were somehow all passed down from parents and grandparents in small increments, and in moments that seemed incidental and inconsequential, when I didn’t even know it. And thank goodness for a church that makes up the difference and fills in the gaps where parents lack...and I am counting on to help me do the same.

Which brings me to my second experience. My grandparents and dad grew up on a farm...a turkey farm, but a farm nonetheless. I can’t think of a better schoolhouse than a farm to teach the value of work, the law of the harvest, and the meaning of “by the sweat of thy brow.” On Saturday, I went out to the Church Farm for a young single adult service project to help get things ready for winter. We moved pipe for the irrigation system and then painted a barn.

The Church farm is an interesting entity. I don’t think efficiency is a primary objective of the church farm...which I am OK with. I take the painting of the barn as a prime (not primer) example. There were at least 25 people that scraped off the old paint of the barn to get it ready for a new coat. Then another 20+ people followed using hand held brushes to whitewash the barn. It took 40+ people two hours to paint the lowest six feet (as far was we could reach) of a barn that could be argued didn’t need painting. And if it did need painting, it could have been done with two people with a power washer and spray painter in the same amount of time.

But if you think the objective was to paint the barn, I think you missed the point. (Or maybe I’m completely off in left field) I think the objective was to get people together working side by side, learning the value of work, the value of service, and the value of sacrifice. The barn was only the vehicle to build a sense of accomplishment, self-esteem, and hopefully get a few young single adults to talk to each other.

I think this was even more clearly illustrated a few months ago at a Regional Stake Church Farm assignment. Over 600 people showed up from all over Colorado and Wyoming to pick weeds. We were all transported to different locations and walked up and down the rows picking weeds from an immaculately kept farm. I saw husbands and wives together with their four- and five-year-old children spending time together and working in the dirt. I saw teenagers working and having fun; doing things they would never experience or even participate in for any home backyard garden. I saw older men with canes working a little slower, but with just as much enthusiasm.

I believe it was President Eyring that shared a similar experience of his ailing father at a church farm. (I don’t remember exactly which talk) When his father was encouraged not to work and to rest, his father replied something to the effect, “I’m not here for the weeds.”

I have to correct what I said earlier. I have no doubt the church farm is run efficiently. If it didn’t it wouldn’t exist. But I believe the farm assignments and work projects are more for our benefit rather than the farms...even if not by design. So in a day and age where my children most likely won’t grow up on a farm to learn these values, the church provides a farm that we can come and visit. The Lord is one smart dude.

A gift that keeps on giving

Over the past year, three people have given me a plant as a gift. Last Christmas, I was given a miniature Christmas tree that fit in a small pot and was intended to live throughout the year. It slowly turned brown and now sits on my deck waiting to be thrown out. Last spring a close friend gave me three plants that were offshoots of her existing plants. Two of them died. Thankfully the third is a more hardy plant and has endured my inexperienced botany skills. I have often joked with friends, “How am I ever going to raise children if I can’t take care of a plant?” Just recently, Mary, the lady that cleans our office each evening gave me a large lime tree. That’s right a lime tree.

Over the past year and a half there have been several evenings when I was working late and Mary has come to clean the office. I have come to understand that there are people in my life that watch over me and take care of me. Mary is one of those people. Whenever I see her, she is always so positive and goes out of her way to compliment me. I have really appreciated her enthusiasm for life. When I don’t see her she frequently leaves me a little note on my desk with a word of encouragement.

A few weeks ago, there was a lime tree left in one of the operatories with this note. “Dr. Kelson, I bought this tree for your space. Thought maybe you’d like a plant. If you want it here, I can leave it, but if you and Dr. McCarty say no, I can take it home. PS: I got it at a yard sale for $5. My son (an arborist) had to trim it.”

There are only a few spaces in the office close to a window where there is room for the tree. We were all jostling about where it should go. I was very close to just taking it home so we didn’t argue about it, but after considering my success with the two previous plants, I elected to keep the plant at the office so everyone could enjoy it and give it a better chance for survival. The smells are absolutely wonderful and there were three ripe limes on the tree that were ready to be picked.

Two or three weeks ago Mary came in for a dental exam. For the past year I have been inviting her to come in, but for whatever reason she has been hesitant to take me up on the offer. I insisted that she not worry about it and that I would take care of the costs. During the exam, I was telling her how excited I was about the lime tree, but I was nervous because I didn’t want to kill it. I related my previous experiences with living gifts. How much water should I give it? How much sun does it need? Does it ever need to be replanted? She sat in my chair and almost in tears, she said, “Dr. Kelson, I’ve had that tree for almost a year. I’ll take care of it. I’ll water it when I clean at night.” I could tell the gift she gave me meant a lot to her. It now means even more to me.

On Monday she left a note on the receptionist’s desk. I quote:
“Dear whoever waters the plants, You don’t need to ever water Dr. Kelson’s tree. I will. I watered it Friday from the bottom. So if it looks dry – its not. Sorry to say it’s (spoiled) used to rain water so I bring it from home...”

I’ve decided Mary’s lime tree is a symbol of the many people around me that have taken me in and cared for me, given me water, showed me some light, and not forgotten me. (Perhaps a bit sappy, but I can’t help but smile every time I walk past it.) Thanks Mary.

Gold Nuggets of Denver

I love Denver. We’ve got everything anyone would ever want. I went to a Denver Nuggets game on Halloween night and was reminded of all the cool things one can do in Denver. We’ve got every major sporting event, a performing arts center that is top-notch, the sun shines 300+ days a year, the mountains are beautiful, a major airport that can get you anywhere non-stop, the church has a strong membership base, some of the best skiing in the country, and we have Walgreen’s on every corner...I could go on and on.

On Tuesday, I got an email from the guy that sold me my malpractice insurance offering tickets to the game. Sweet deal. Anyway, it was the first Nuggets game I’ve been to and it reminded me of when my dad and I would go to the Trailblazer games. Professional sports have turned into a complete entertainment industry and it was interesting seeing the change of focus from the game to the “experience.” Since it was Halloween, a lot of people dressed up, and gave me cool ideas for costumes next year (HaHa. See previous entry about Halloween)

I’m starting to complete the Denver sporting experience. I’ve been to several Rockies games (and they’ve given me a reason to cheer), an Avalanche hockey game (an up-and-coming force on the ice...maybe) and now a Nuggets basketball game (at the beginning of the game one of the players spoke into the microphone and promised an NBA title). I still need to go see the Broncos play football, the Rapids play soccer, and the Outlaws play Lacrosse to complete the circle. (Yes, Denver even has a professional Lacrosse team. What more can you ask for?)

I'm posting some photos of some of the costumes. (I still need to figure out how to do a slide show) I swear that is a real police officer with his real hair...And as you can see, even Allen Iverson dressed up as a gangster.