Srappy

I know we just bought a house and have been blogging slackers and this is not the post most of you are expecting, but life happens sometimes and this post is dedicated to my dog Scrappy. He joined our family when I was a Sophmore in High School. My dad was a Foreman on his construction site and noticed a little dog hanging around begging for food, winter was on its way and he quickly became the site mascot. He ate anything and everything given to him so he was named Scrappy. My dad was adamant that we would not be adding another pet to our collection, but it was getting cold and it became more and more apparent that no one was claiming this dog. He did some checking and found out that his owners lived down the road and wanted nothing to do with him, they told my dad that Scrappy was good for nothing and stupid. My dad was so furious that someone would just abandon a dog and he decided to rescue him and bring him home. We were so excited when he came through the door for the first time. I don't think he had any clue what he was in for when he joined our wacky family, but he fit in so perfectly and recieved so much love he would hide from me mostly beause I would love him to death and he didn't know what to do about it :) I mean he was so small he would just give up and take it and then when given the chance scamper off as fast as his little leggs would carry him.

He was there for all the good times and the bad I think the memories I will remember most about Scrappy is that he would nip at our heels when we would fight- he hated contention and he always knew who started it. He would beg like no other dog he would take one paw and tap our leg with it to let us know he was there and when that would fail he would nudge us with his nose until he got his table scraps.

He bacame a member of our family in so many ways, infact he picked up on our obsessive compulsive behaviors and HATED it when anyone would touch his paws he would roll his eyes and then begin licking them like we were unclean and had just infected him with germs. He was our watch dog. He was a cross between a weener dog and a beagle and he acted like he was as big as a great dane.

If anyone shady came around our house he would bark and nip at their heels until they left his home. He was in charge and would jump on our beds and nestle into our covers and lay his head down on our pillow and sleep. When he got hungry and mom had put him on another failed attempt of a diet he would just trot down the street to our neighbor Betty's house and pick up one of her styrofoam bowls full of cat food and bring it home to our lawn. Every time we would leave to go somewhere it didn't matter Scrappy was the first one out of the gate. He would wait until we backed our car out of the driveway and then proceed to trot in front of our car escorting us off of the cul-de-sac safely driving 10 miles an hour as all the neighbors laughed and watched. When we were not home he would go visit our other neighbors and get love from them..and food i'm sure :)

Scrappy was diagnosed with Cancer a year and a half ago and showed no signs of quitting. He was the same old scrappy even though his body was full of tumors. We kept waiting for him to go down hill but he never did until this fall and then sadly today was the day. It was time we all felt it, but Scrappy didn't want to go even when my parents took him in to the vet to be put down he knew and tried to nip at my dads hands to let him go. He has fought for so long to stay in our family and for a good reason. We have needed that dog way more than he needed us. He was an old soul very wise and very kind. His chocolate brown eyes held all the love you could ever want in the world and when he was playing with you in the yard nothing else exsisted. There will never be another dog in the world like him, but I'm convinced that we have pets for a reason. I think this would be a very lonely world without the love of pets and relationships to keep us sane when the world seems like a very unstable place a pets love never wavers and is a constant in a world of change.

I know this a long post for just a dog, but I will miss Scrappy with all my heart all the love he gave me and all he funny things he did that made me laugh. I know he was in my life for a reason and I can't wait to see him again and hope he will continue to be my watch dog in Heaven.

Last Christmas with Scrappy

Dad and Scrappy playing

Scrappy Thuggin'

Sometimes I think technology has become too much like an umbilical cord. It's with us wherever we go. Sometimes attached to our hips or in our pockets, but always at our fingertips. And if it does not work properly we fill like we are going to die or that some kind of injustice is being heaped upon us.

Some people at my work just upgraded their iPhone, and instead of marveling in the new features, like GPS and voice activation, they were complaining that they were not receiving their emails at the very same moment that the emails arrived in their inbox on the computer! First of all, who actual checks that! Second, if our biggest problem is not having our emails sync up correctly, then I say we got it pretty darn good.

I heard a good idea at a MonaVie event. This couple wanted to spend some quality time with their children when they visited. But ever time they did, their kids would be talking on their cell phone, texting, Twitting, or looking up box scores. So they created a basket and put it at the front door. Everytime they came to visit they had to put their phones in the basket and leave them their until they left. I love that idea :-)

Sometimes You Just Gotta Shake It!

These are not my kids...but you bet that I'm gonna teach them to shake it like this!! And if they're lucky I just might teach them some of my own sweet dance moves. Guaranteed to break a hip or a knee cap!

The Cake Heard 'Round Da Hood

FYI...

The cake is completely gluten-free, so our stomachs didn't toss and turn after a slice.

The middle is filled with a raspberry cream.

And everything on the cake is edible. From the buttons to the spools of thread to the scissors.
Go fondant!

Who would of thought a tomato pin-cushion would taste so good?

Happy Button Birthday!

May 31--Jodi's Birthday!

This hot, not-yet-a-mama turned 28.

Her b-day was filled with one surprise after another.

She got to eat at the best Sushi place in Happy Valley, Yamato.

It's owned by one of our favorite people in the world. There she was sung to in broken English, and with some Korean mixed in.

On Friday, she received her first gift--a HealthMaster mixer by Montel Williams. The mixer is comparable to the Vita-Mix blenders, but way cheaper. We immediately tried it out by making a shorbet that night and then a Peanut Butter Cup Soy Ice Cream the next day.

Yummy. Naughty.

But there was one thing Jodi wanted more than anything else in the world. A birthday cake.

But Saturday went by...no cake.

Sunday started to grow late...yet still no cake. Not even a sniff of one was in the air.

Then it arrived. The most beautiful cake in the world, made by an awesome friend of ours.

Best cake we've ever seen!

"Better than our wedding cake!"

No Joke!

And if you know anything about Jodi's button fetish, and her love for sewing, than you can see why this cake made her glow like a Tiki Torch.

Jodi On The Mend

Well most of you have heard by now. IN CASE you haven't, Jodi fell down and went BOOM. And her knee cap did something that some doctors say they have NEVER seen before. We are not talking a eetsy, betsy hairline fracture here or a simple crack. Nope, Jodi decided to BREAK :) new ground.


She broke her knee cap in two. The top half crawled up into her lower thigh. The other half of the knee cap sank a tad into her tibia. Both pieces were several centimeters apart. To the doctors it seemed liked a gulf larger than the Panama Canal.


She'll be laid up and on crutches for some time. But we have hope (gained through lots of prayer and blessings) that things will work themselves out.


The doctor that pinned her back together is pretty pumped about his handi work, though. When Jodi went in for a checkup, he said "DANG, I did a good job." Whether he is full of himself or not we don't care as long as he gets it right.

Now a list of comments and wise cracks Jodi has made while on prescribed pain medicine or in a lot of pain:

1. "What are you doing to me!? Why is this thing squeezing my arm!?" (The nurse was taking her blood pressure).


2. Nurse: "Just going to give you a little shot for pain." Jodi: "No, you're wrong! It's not a small needle! I know it's big!" (She was right!)


3. "What did you do to my hand!? I can't feel my hand!" (Once again, a nurse taking her blood pressure.)


4. "I swear it's water and not pee." (She slipped on a puddle)


5. "I'm so sorry. I haven't shaved my legs in days. I look so gross." (Well, nobody looked so good in a hospital gown.)


6. "I'll be good. I'll be good. You don't have to punish me." (When the second shot was coming.)


7. "I can't lift my arms! YOU did this to me. WHY!? Now they can abuse me, and I can't do anything about it." (Jodi telling off the nurse who administered the shots.)


8. "What's taking so long?" (To ambulance worker putting in IV, who then made a funny face.) "What's wrong with your face? Why do you look like that? Did you mess up or WHAT!?"


9. "They cut up my big girl pants; I mean my favorite scrub pants."


10. MY FAVORITE: "Thanks for putting up with my s#*%." (After a very successful and terrible bowl movement at the hospital.)

Greatest Place on Earth in the Rain!

By the time the gates opened the rain was coming down in sheets! But nothing could damper Eric's first visit to the ultimate playground. We threw on some ugly duckling yellow rain ponchos (at least we could always spot each other!) and skipped off to Tomorrowland and Fantasy World!

With so few people in the park, we hit up nearly every ride. The rain reduced and then quit about noon, but it kept people away. The longest we had to wait in line for a ride was 20 minutes. We got right into some of the bigger rides. We even hit up the BUZZ LIGHTYEAR.

Nothing like a game of shooting up Emperor Zurg's lemmings to help the beloved Space Ranger save the universe! In fact, it reminded Eric of his days of toy gun fights in southwest Denver. Obviously, what it means to be a kid to him is a little bit different than a lot of other people's background. I think he out beat me by like a 1,000 points or something! He is still a sharp shooter.

Eric loved the Indiana Jones ride. His excited face looked so cute as we shimmied and shake through tunnels. His face looked like the kid on the "Christmas Story" when he unwrapped his BB gun rifle. I only wish I had a picture of it.

Of course, we couldn't leave without hitting up Jodi's favorite ride--The Matterhorn. It was one of the first on our list. Jodi loves the swiftness of it and the red-eyed abominable snowman at the very end.

My own King Arthur is heaving and hoing to free the sword and rescue the princess on the calming carousal. And if he doesn't happen to get it free, at least my man looks good trying to save the day.

Here's our ride list with our favorites highlighted and how many times we hit up each. With so few people around, we hit up the whole park in one day as well as California Adventures.

1) Space Mountain (4 times)

2) Thunder Mountain (2)

3) Indiana Jones (2)

4) Soaring California (2)

5) Splash Mountain (2)

I have a fright of elevators, tracing back to when I had repeated nightmares about being stuck in them when I was kid. But Eric just had to ride it. I figured I do it and maybe face some fears. Turns out I came out worse. Throughout the whole ride I was screaming at Eric "I hate you! I hate you!" Of course, he was laughing his head off. It was the worst ride in the park! I do not recommend it. But Eric says it is "A, No. 1."

On our second trip down Splash Moutnain we ran into the Brer Bear! We got to hug the big guy and take a picture with one of the few characters that decided to brave the light drizzle. Of course when you go down Splash Mountain a rain poncho comes in pretty handy.

Eric Hits 29 (a belated post, coming 22 days later)

My birthday came on time (Jan. 31) and so did the presents and cake, but this blog is never on time.

Ha, ha. Eric had to add that little tid bit!! The rest of this post belongs to the wife:)

I just wanted to let my husband, and the rest of the world, know how grateful I am for him. I wanted to post some incriminating photos of my love, but I guess that will have to wait for another day!! Eric is the best husband and my best friend. I am definitely lucky to be married to him. Let me count the ways:

1) He is the patient part of this duo.
2) He is always to loving and kind to me and countless others.
3) He spends countless hours thinking of others and how he can serve them better.
4) He is a quiet and mellow man who never seems to need anything, which made birthday shopping fun. I mean seriously! Ask me and I could write a huge list in five seconds flat !! I am definatly lucky to be married to him
5) He has taught me to laugh, to not take life so seriously, and to be a little kinder and patient. 6) He is his own person, and regardless of his laid back manner, he definitely has his own views about things. Such as how to do the dishes right or how to dress himself.

And now just a little bit of Eric Trivia:
*Some of his closest friends refer to him as "Arnold",
*He is allergic to gleuten,
*Loves basketball, sushi (only at Jackie Chan's of course), and Disneyland,
*He is a recent graduate of BYU with a masters degree in Communications,
*He is a glutten for punishment and wants to go back for more to get a PHD,
*Eric is a very very good cook, better than Jodi will ever be,
*He served his mission in the Santa Rosa Mission (where his fate alligned with my family and changed ours forever),
*He is addicted to ESPN (even though we don't get that channel),
*Loves to run and work out,
*Can't get enough of Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road ice cream,
*Loves kids and they adore him,
*Loves the temple and the church,
*Is the best budgeter,
*Ate a package or Oreo cookies a week when he was a kid, and no one was looking,
*Got gang banged at age 11 (jumped and thrown into a lake for wearing orange and blue....do ask!),
*Favorite childhood game was "Bloods and Crips" (ya their ghetto twist of cops and robbers).

So you can see a little flavor of why he is the best man in my life.
Happy birthday honey I love you!!

Oh So Vain!

I am not one who likes to get caught up in grooming, but there are some things that make my skin crawl. Like back hair, and hair creeping out of noses and ears! (I don't know how the latter happens, but I have seen old people with some pretty bushes inner lobes. Could also explain hearing loss.)

So instead of plucking out those annoying nose hairs one by one, Jodi suggested to get a nose waxing. At first this sounded crazy. It also did not sound manly. Even my mom was against it.

But after some convincing I tried it out.

And you know what? It works so much better.

Clear all those suckers out in one swoop. Way easier than the grab-pull-and-wince method.
Jodi wanted to keep the stick with my nose hair sticking straight up like a reed on the harden wax as an artifact or for future bribery or something. What a sick sick girl.

Good thing the ladies at Bon Losee denied her request.

A Close Buzz

You can never guess what is going on inside our household, but we are always trying to expand our talents to save some money. So instead of heading to the barber for a over-the-top $15 price tag, Jodi decided to break out the clippers and give it a BUZZ. And boy did she!

She started with a No. 1 on the sides and back, and did a No. 6 on the top. She was doing good until she tried to blend the lengths together. Notice how things got uneven and a couple of gashes without the guard on. WAS SHE TRYING TO ETCH OUT MY INITIALS OR WHAT!?The furrowed borrow says it all.




Luckily our neighbors Rich, Kellie, and Macy came to the rescue! Daaa DaDa Daaa!

Rich's years of experience in coiffing came in handy. Jodi may have started it, but the finished product belongs to Rich.

A History Lesson on MLK Day

Martin Luther King, Jr. remains the most respected and well-known civil rights activist in this nation's history. Along with him we cannot forget Thurgood Marshall and his battle to desegrate schools in 1954 or Booker T. Washington's intellect and boot-strapping philosophy that hard work, perservance, and good attitudes would pay off for African Americans. Tomorrow Barack Obama will take his place as the first U.S. African American president. His "never give up" attitude has instilled hope into all Americans for a brighter future. It will truly be a historical day--a day you can retell your children and grandchildren.

But there are days that we have missed, in which we were not there to account for the social, cultural, and political significance of an event. Yet, these roots should never be forgotten. Roots that take us back to the days of slavery, when blacks began to become athletes and the progress of those athletes open doors of equal competition, social tolerance, and equal rights. Evidence of black slaves playing baseball is well documented. It was a game they invested in and taught there children. However, the first African American ball players, John "Bud" Fowler and Moses Fleetwood Walker, quickly found out that despite their ability, the color of their skin was against them. A gentlemen's agreement amongst white team owners and players kept blacks away from the game dubbed as the National Pastime for decades.

Blacks continued the game on their own, though. Rube Foster formalized the Negro Leagues in 1920 at a YMCA in the 18th and Vine district of Kansas City, Missouri. Teams like the Kansas City Monarchs and the Chicago American Giants were formed, along with the Washington Grays, Birmingham Black Barons, Pittsburgh Crawfords, New York Black Yankees, the Newark Eagles, and many others. In between league games, these teams barnstormed the country with a game built on speed, agression, and passion. Players stole home regularly at the games. They turned signals into doubles. Pitchers, like Hilton Smith and Satchel Paige, threw complete games often on back to back nights.

This type of play attracted both white and black spectators, who came to the ballpark dressed in fashionable attire. In fact, in towns like Kansas City church would get out early so people could attend the games. Men dressed in suits, ties, and fedoras. Women preened with polished jewelry and prom-like dresses. In fact, one black Kansas City sports writer stated that the Monarchs did more to break down the social barriers than any other organization in the state. While the Kansas City Blues, a Yankee minor league affiliate, had segregated seating at their games, the Monarchs allowed whites and blacks to sit next to each other.Negro League All-Star games at Comiskey Park drew more than 40,000 fans. Owners of the Monarchs invented night baseball in the Negro Leagues, years before the Major Leagues decided to do so. Legendary players like Paige, Josh Gibson, Buck Leonard, and "Cool Papa" Bell played in the Negro Leagues and caught the eye of Major League scouts, especially with they way they regularly pummeled white all-star teams in the off-season.

But it wasn't until the fall of 1945, when Jackie Robinson, after playing one year with the Monarchs, signed an offer from Branch Rickey to become the first modern black baseball player to play professionally. In the minor leagues for the Montreal Royals, Robinson proved himself by leading the farm team to a championship, making his appearance on the Major League stage in 1947 a practical certainity. Much like Obama, Robinson carried the hopes and dreams of millions of African Americans, who were looking to him to make good as a Major League player. Robinson shined immediately, helping the Dodgers reach the World Series in his first season and being voted Rookie of the Year.

Robinson's success opened the doors for other great African American athletes to follow, and opened the eyes to all Americans that no matter the skin color, all human beings are capable of greatness. Even before Robinson there was Jesse Owens and Jackie's brother, Mack, winning gold and silver medals, respectfully, at the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games. Of course we can't forget Joe Louis, a.k.a. "The Brown Bomber," who has held the heavyweight title longer than any person before or after him.

These athletes not only changed the landscape of their sport, but they were catalysts for social and culture change in America. These athletes, especially those in the Negro Leagues, played a major role in leading to the civil rights movement and leading up to the moment of a black president. Civil leaders pointed to the success of Robinson as a example of how blacks and whites can exist and succeed together--in fact do more together than apart. This was a change we so desparetly needed. Today will do well to remember this portion of our past. The times of segregation were not that long ago. Each of us may have grandparents who remember those times of struggle, tension, and conflict.

I myself became interested in this topic when I came across Byron Johnson, a former Negro League all-star, in Denver. I was finishing up my bachelor's degree in journalism at the time when I came across the 92-year-old man through a history professor. I found his story fascinating and reported on him for a our weekly college paper. I remember walking into his apartment, which was really part of a retirement home, and feeling a sense of nostaglia wash over me. He had a glass case of Negro League baseball souvenirs. His daughter was sporting a Kansas City Monarchs jersey at the time. Johnson had played for the Monarchs and the Satchel Paige All-Star's from 1937-1940 before being drafted. He was The Wizard (see Ozzie Smith) of his day. A nimble fielder with unmatchable range to both sides and a bullwhip arm that can gun a runner down at first from deep in the hole. In the two hours I interviewed him, I learned about the hardships of black baseball players. How they were denied access from restaurants and hotels by the same white fans who watched them play and cheered them on. Johnson remembers not being able to buy a baseball because of the color of his skin, so he used a Coke bottle cap or a crushed can instead. He retold tales of separate schools, bathrooms, and how the "black only" drinking fountain gurgled and spit out water laced with the rust from pipes, while the white fountain flowed pure and clean. He told of his military days during WWII, when captured enemy troops were fed in mess halls, while blacks received there food out back. As a boy, he swam in creeks, rivers, lakes, while whites swam in chlorinated pools. Despite all this he had no regrets. For baseball winched him through the segregation period. During those nine innings he forgot about color. All he saw was a baseball and he had to hit it, dive for it, and rip it across the diamond to gun down a runner at first base.

I have since visited the 18th and Vine district in Kansas City, Missouri, and the Negro League Baseball Museum now located there. I've stood in front of the YMCA where the formal Negro Leagues began. From that point, baseball players and black sportwriters fought for equality to exist on the playing field. And as impartiality dispearsed across playing fields, the equality stretched across athletic boundaries and spilled into social and politcal landscapes. The experience of African American athletes have woven important threads in America's tapestry.

So Martin Luther King, Jr. Day isn't a day about one man. It is a day about a race defying odds and expectations. It is a day to glance back to put modern history into perspective. Tomorrow America will appear more democractic, but we have always been brothers and sisters, every connected despite the divisions--now generally personal divisions--that we have put up. We may be seperate as fingers are separate, because we each have different backgrounds, but we are one just as a hand is not complete without the inidividual fingers.