Greg sent me an old pic today! Check it out.

Who wants to live forever, anyway? Oh me I do. Ya think I'd ever tire of being young and studly and best friends with a John Trovolta look alike, piano playing, babe magnet. Soon we'll have dentures, canes and artificial hip and shoulder joints. I can't wait to see if we're as studly then as we are now!

Collages

I've been doing collages for a while now. The other day I noticed with the picture I did of Heather and I that the result was pretty cool, so I did another one as a collage with a similar design. This is a collage of when Todd and I went to Greece. This was already over 10 years ago! Time freakin flies!

Sacramento Zoo

Here kity kitty!

Meow!

Here kitty kitty kitty!

I saw this baby kitten walking around in the street in front of our house. I wanted to see how the dog would react to the little thing. My wife was like, "What are you doing, bringing a cat in here!?" Well the kitty wasn't too troubled by the dog, surprisingly. The dog was very excited. She wanted to sniff the kitty and play jump on the kitty. Heather protected the adorable little kitty from the vicious dog! The kitty, my wife didn't want in the house a few minutes prior, was suddenly part of her adoption plan. Well we went around the neighborhood, but no owner. So we kept the kitty overnight. The next day still no owner, so we went to petsmart to get kitty stuff. We were in the process of adopting a little kittie that suckered us in with his cute playful little antics. Somewhere in the back of my head I was dreading the additional expense of another pet and was hoping the dog would eat the kitty while we were out. Unfortunately the dog likes the kitty too. So we got this little addition to our family. I actually would have prefered the cat to the dog in the first place, but both? Well I guess it's all my fault. I did bring the cat in the house in the first place. Even if it was just a joke for Lucy's entertainment.

Yes this is the saw that took my left pointer finger. I just told Greg and Liza the story when I was at their house and I discovered that I enjoyed telling the story so much that now I'm going to blog about it.
I was working as the service manager for a home improvement company in Sacramento, CA. My territory was quite large extending from Reno, NV, all the way down to San Jose, CA. On this particular day I was asked to install two nail on windows in Santa Rosa,CA. There are two types of window installations, popular in California. The nail on style installation basically means you're going to have a much longer work day. I had mixed feelings about the job I was scheduled to do. On the one hand I loved construction, tearing down and rebuilding structures was very satisfying. On the other I would be working alone, which was very lonely! Especially when working on larger projects. I worked out the process of installing the windows in my head on the way down to the job. The Job site was almost a two hour drive from Sacramento. Santa Rosa is on the far side of Napa Valley and Sonoma. It is a beautiful drive, however I was long burnt out on the frequency of trips I made to the area. I wanted to get there, do the job and get home. I arrived at the jobsite around 10AM. The house was a one story, with two large windows side by side in front. It had wood plywood siding with 2X6 wood trim around the windows. I was so relieved to see it! The installation style was difficult no matter what scenario, however this was way better than what I had expected. Most houses in California are Stucco. So first I had to get the 2X6 wood trim off. No problem. I got my razor knife and cut the paint and caulking all around the edges of the wood trim. Then I hammered the flat end of my prybar in behind the trim. It was extremelly tight so I worked at it for a while. I was trying not to damage the wood because I would be putting it back up after the windows were installed. Never mind it was a bigger problem than I had anticipated. I got the big fat max crow bar out of my truck! With it, and my big fat max hammer, I was able to slowly pry away the 2X6 exterior trim from the house. It turned out the wood was holding a lot of moisture and had swollen tight. Not only was it relentlessly gripping onto the house it was completely rotted in several areas. The homeowner who was very interested in my labor watched like an injured student as I struggled with his installation. I showed him the issues with the trim and explained to him where the wood should and should not be caulked. The siding behind the trim had areas of rot as well. I told him that it looked like he was safe from any rot to the stucture of the house and since I was cutting out the siding around the window, we would be able to remove all the existing rot and replace it with new wood and trim as part of the new window installation. Already the job was taking much longer than I had expected. I pulled my circular saw from the truck. Switched out the stucco/masonary blade, for a wood blade. I then measused a 3/4 inch blade depth, penciled a cut line around the windows and began to cut. I started on the far right, top side of the window. I had my little four step ladder, 'A' frame open over the bushes in front of the window. I lifted the saw up to the top right side. The saw was facing downward so instead of using my pointer finger to pull the trigger I was using my pinky. I rolled the saw up into the siding and cut smoothly all the way down the side of the window. As soon I was done with the cut I let go of the trigger, stepped down off the ladder turned to the homeowner who was standing right behind me and continued the explanation I was giving him about the process of intalling a nail on window. I don't remember what I was telling him, but apparently it involved hand gestures, because my left hand was up in the air. I was looking directly into the man's eyes when I dropped my left hand down next to the saw. 'Kkke kke' I heard the sound, but I didn't know what it was. I don't remember dropping the saw. I has holding my right hand over the top of my left finger squeezing as tight as I could. I had somehow touched the blade, which apparently hadn't finished winding down, with my left pointer finger. I knew I had touched it because I felt the sensation of touching something that was spinning very fast. It could have been a dull spinning wheel that I touched, because there was no pain to indicate injury. I possibly just barely, barely, touched the blade and maybe I didn't need stitches. I was hoping I wouldn't need stitches, because that would seriously mess up my whole day and I probably wouldn't get the job done.
"Ah man," I said to david. (the homeowner), "I think I might need stiches" As all this was going through my head I began to get very worried. Slowly I was realizing something was seriously wrong here. My right hand gripping over the top of my left finger was choked up further than it should be. The bone from my left finger was stabbing into the palm of my right hand. What did all this mean? I was too afraid to look! I stood there, like it was my first time going off a really high diving board and I was afraid to jump. I knew I had to, so quickly, without completely letting go, I opened up my right hand and looked inside. I closed my hand back up tight. It was worse than I thought. The end of my finger was completely gone. It was exactly what my right hand was feeling but my brain hadn't been listening. Now my eyes confirmed what my hand felt, but my brain was still in denial. I forced myself to look again!
"It's gone!" I said. "It's gone!" I said again.
I turned to the right, and looked at the ground. No nothing there. I turned to the left and looked at the ground. No nothing there either. What was I looking for? I didn't know. What was I doing? I didn't know! It was like the feeling of drowning in a nightmare. Suddenly I went into autopilot. It was like someone inside of me saw the struggling and stepped in.
"Okay, I need you to help!" I said to Dave. "Can you look up inside my saw and see if you can find the end of my finger" I'm going to get something for my hand. I ran to the truck. There were heavy duty, blue, Home Depot paper towels in the back of the truck. I stabbed my bleeding finger into my stomac as I grabbed the paper towels with my right hand and hurled off several sheets with a long tug.
I called back to David, "Is it there?"
"I see something," he called back!
As I was walking back toward the house, David was pulling the dead end of my cut off finger out of the saw. He had the tip of his fingers reluctantly holding my desecrated finger, his inside elbow of the opposite arm over his mouth and nose as if warding off the stench. He turned and dropped it into the plastic storage box for my circular saw.
"What are you doing?", I thought, as I quickly hurried to rescue my finger from the filthy box "That's my finger!".
David was wheezing and caughing as he quickly moved toward the house. "I'm going to get ice", he said. I had to push my finger, now wrapped in several blue paper towels, back into my stomach as I used my right hand to gently pick my detached finger up with a paper towel. There it was, the entire finger nail, unscathed, just lying there, still perfectly connected to my detached finger. It was surreal. I picked up the finger and wrapped it up in the paper towel. David returned with a bag of ice and I put the paper towel inside. David was still caughing and wheezing. I've joked about it several times since, because I was the one with the injury, but I was asking David, who 'appeared' to be more of the victim, if he was alright. He had the keys to his truck and we were on our way to the hospital within minutes of the accident. We parked right in front and went in. Traffic in the hospital was light. I walked straight up to the girl at the check in and put my bag of ice on the counter.
Soon I was on a hospital bed with an iv in my arm. I had an xray wheeled to my side and was immediately put on something similar to, but more powerful than morphine. An ambulance was ordered, and I was on the 101 highway to San Franscisco with sirens blazing, enjoying the view out the back window as we zoomed past traffic. My phone rang. It was my brother Mike. "Hey, whatcha doin," he said.
"Oh nothing, just riding in the back of an ambulance to the hospital. Hoping to get my finger put back on."
It turns out the Hospital in San Franscisco has several surgeons that specialize in reattaching body parts. They looked at my insignificant little loss and said, "You know it's your non-dominant hand, you can easily adapt to using your middle finger, You really don't need it!"
I said, "Well, you know I really would like to have it put back on"
"Okay." the surgeon said.







I realized several weeks after the accident that what happened was, I was subconsciously passing the saw from my right hand to my left hand. I was blindly reaching to grab the black nose on the saw with my left hand. Something I had done a thousand times before. The only problem was I had been sawing upside down and I was holding the handle with the trigger in my hand backwards. So when I swung the saw up to grab the nose with my left hand I was actually swinging the bottom of the saw face up into my left hand and my left pointer finger hit perfectly into the hole right in front of the blade.

These are few pics on my phone. Kylee and Kobe are in the same class at school. Kylee is a child super model. She is in several magazines and as a result of her and Kobe being friends Kobe has been in a couple magazines himself. A couple months ago they were on the back cover of a magazine that featured high end childrens clothing. I'll get a pic up when I'm at the computer.

Week off

Sorry friends but i will be in Atlanta for a week of sales training. I hate sales more than any other profession, but don't tell my boss! So this means any posts to my blog will be from my phone. Don't worry though, short it may be, i will try to get something sweet for your entertainment.

I put this pic up for Heather to remind her. We used to live downtown in Atlanta before we got married and this is one of the places we loved to eat.

Scene from Olympia High School - 1988

One of the saddest moments of my life was the day the Wonnacotts moved from Rochester, NY to Westchester, PA.  I actually cried on the way home after saying goodbye.  I loved the whole Wonnacott family and knew how much we'd miss them.  Their home was the most exciting place to be -- with kids coming from or going to various adventures.  Paul was able to spend a half-day with me at school (we attended different high schools) just before, or maybe it was just after they moved.  I believe this was in 1988, during my senior year at Greece Olympia High School.  We were eating lunch in the cafeteria, when Paul noticed that one of the stoners was making fun of me.  I had the typical skater hair style of the 80's at that time, with extremely long hair in the front, and almost shaved in the back.  It was a gorgeous new wave look, but largely unappreciated in my high school.  Olympia was not a preppy or new wave school -- sweat pants were more fitting than paisley.  So, a new wave haircut was grounds for constant ridicule and I had basically gotten used to it.  Well, Paul found this mocking completely unacceptable and decided to take action.  What he did next was the sort of thing I dreamed about doing many times, but never had the courage.  He stood on his chair and began a beautiful rant.  He pointed to the stoner, and said to the rest of the cafeteria, "This druggie scum is laughing at my best friend and that is pathetic.  Look at him, he's a complete loser.  He'll be pumping my friend's gas at Exxon in a few years.  We shouldn't sit around and let these stoners make us feel bad for being smart, dressing well, and trying.  They're scum, so let's say it to their faces."  After he finished and sat down, students actually started applauding.  It was right out of a Revenge of the Nerds movie or something.  I always knew Paul was fearless, but this took the cake.  You could not ask for a more loyal friend

Ehren

Summer of '93 I fell into a marketing campaign to draw college students to California to sell pest control. We were scammed into believing that we could make a bunch of money for college! Well the catch was you had to work, and you had to save the money you earned when you did work. What a load of crap! They never said anything about saving money! I mean I did make money. They say I made 10,000 dollars that summer! They, meaning the IRS! I don't know where that information comes from! I ended up back in Utah with nothing left. Still it was a summer I wouldn't trade for any other summer of my life! It was the summer my homosexual, best friend would introduce me to my future wife!

The job began with a couple introductory seminars, 24 hour crash course in pest control, and a 6 hour drive to LA, for a 700 question, state mandated test. I passed with the highest score of the group. You'd think I could pick anywhere I wanted to go after that, I would have chosen anywhere between LA and San Diego, but I didn't have a car. I had to be paired up with someone who owned a car. It turned out I would be teaming up with this guy I barely knew and we would be working out of San Ramon (45 min outside San Francisco). I drove out to CA in a van full of car-less students all of us being disbursed to locations throughout the state. We dropped off a few sales reps in LA, Orange County, Bakersfield, and finally San Francisco. I had never been to San Francisco before and after leaving Bakerfield I was beginning to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into. After leaving LA, where the ocean literally lingers in the air, you should have seen the looks of desperate violated betrayal on the faces of the guys we left in the desert! I was seriously worried! Was San Francisco another treeless flat wasteland? I began to ask the driver 100 questions about what San Francisco was like. After telling me how great it was I began to seriously doubt he was telling the truth! Despite my worries the drive was unlike anything I'd seen in my life.

I had driven from NY to Utah, visited half the states in the U.S. I had never seen a landscape so beautiful! California's colors were so vibrant I felt as if I might have lived my entire past in black and white. When we finally arrived in San Ramon, relief flooded my brain. The poor saps we left in Bakersfield were like kittens bagged and drowned in the river and I just wanted to forget them. This place was beautiful!
Our apartment complex had a pool and hot tub. It was awesome! 5 apartments were dedicated to 20 new Terminex sales reps. Ehren was by far the friendliest, most outgoing, social aspect of our sales force. He was like a kid who had never experienced defeat. He had no sense of self consciousness, he had his hands in and on everything, he controlled all conversations, and like a child with A.D.D. couldn't sit still for two seconds. It was remarkable to me that as soon as we met he wanted to go explore a neighboring town because it was the home of super model, Christy Turlington. I had no problem with that! It was really nice, the trees and landscape of the town were fantastical, the roads were narrow, the canopy created glimmering lines of sun light. We were in Danville. We found an outdoor cafe and had lunch. It was great, our chemistry was electric, I was so glad my new roommate and friend was normal!
"I'm gay," he said.
"What!" I replied
I realized he had been trying to tell me this for a while but had taken forever to get to it! And there it was! We had been having lunch, the weather was perfect, the atmosphere was great, I wasn't going to let him ruin what to this point had been a great day!
"Since we're going to be sharing a room together I thought you should know that I'm gay."
He went on to try and assure me that he wasn't interested in me, blah, blah, blah!
I didn't give a shit if my new roommate was gay! I didn't even care that he shared a bedroom with me. All I cared about was that he didn't tell any one else! I wasn't homophobic, I was homophobaphobic. I was afraid of the guys who were going to freak when they found out! So we made a deal. If I was going to be his roommate he couldn't tell anyone that he was gay! Okay, Good!
"You are so freakin lucky, I'm your roommate!" I said after that. At the time we were working with 100% all return mormon missionaries. Ehren was the only non-mormon of the group, and I was probably the only one who wouldn't care. It was like a jew in Nazi-Germany asking a soldier for a good hiding spot.
Ehren wasn't gay with that lispy gay limp hand feminine crap, he was just eccentric with a lightning style compulsive personality, but you would never know he was gay, just from talking to him. So I actually enjoyed being his friend!
It wasn't long before Ehren and I were the top sales associates of our area. We began to really enjoy our position within the company. We became very close friends with several of the sales reps. This led to all kinds of great contacts! We had a friends with relatives in Santa Cruz. Well that wasn't so great. We went down late one night without telling them we were coming. They wern't home so a couple of us tried to sleep in the hot tub and a couple slept in the car and a few slept on the ground. It was raining! One guy's girlfriend had parents that owned a marina at Yuba lake. We took an inboard boat out, where we all took turns driving, skiing, wake-boarding. We discovered you could literally flip around 180 degrees on this boat going 50 miles an hour. We only did it once! It was painful! We ditched the boat on what i think was an island. The wide mouth to a creek with cliffs on either side, was perfect for rock climbing. The rocks were straight vertical and if you fell 20-30 feet you fell in the water. We eventually ditched the boat and followed the creek up a worn canyon 1/4 mile coming upon a 30 foot waterfall, which emptied into a beautiful deep pool. It's like a mystical place in my memory, diving off that waterfall, pulling 1 and 1/2 perfect dives from higher up than the tallest high dive at BYU. Ehren was with us on all our adventures, he was a joker, a stud, a player, he flirted effectively with all the girls, and everyone liked him, or envied him! No one had a clue!

There is a place in San Francisco called The Castro. If you've never heard of it then you are definitely not gay. One day Ehren dragged me down there, despite my complete and utter disinterest in the idea of hanging out in an all gay mecca. If we were going to go somewhere I wanted to go where there would be lots of beautiful, straight, topless women, who wanted me! Well that was unrealistic so we went to the gay mecca. Actually it wasn't so bad. Quite the contrary, The Castro was alive! It was buzzing and exotic! Almost like a freak show at the circus, I was wandering around mesmorized by the strange sights. Right there in public: lesbian couples, gay male couples, black and white lesbian couples, an asian and black male couple, lone single gay male walking down the street wearing only g-string and sneakers (No match for you buddy, even the gay people think you're a freak!) This place was fantastic. I had no idea what made a gay person gay nor did I care! To me it was like walking through a town full of midgets! I was at a carnival and it was fun! Ehren was having a blast too, but I doubt to him it was a town full of little people. To him this wasn't a carnival, either. To him this was potential! Pure exhilarating potential! This was a place he might find love. Turns out it was a place for finding love. Just not for him.
We entered Marcello's pizza (pic on the right). The pizza probably looked good. The pizza probably tasted fantastic, but It wasn't this time or the next or the next that I would make that connection. I wasn't actually interested in the pizza. All I cared about was the girl behind the counter. Was she gay? I didn't think she was. Lesbian girls typically look lesbian.
I watched her perform her job with purpose. She was in control of that counter, she had no interest in the clientelle, she had no interest in me, give me your money, here's your pizza, now fuck off, and I loved her! She was so young, right here in the heart of a gigantic city, independent, working, beautiful! I was so impressed! Despite all the experience my friends in Utah had given me, I failed, I couldn't talk to her! Not so intimidated I couldn't go on and on about her with Ehren! A week later Ehren wanted to go back to the Castro. "Umm, no, it's all you this time buddy! I'll just stay here!"
I mean I liked Ehren, hanging out with him, working with him, going out to eat, having an occasional margarita at the taco bell. (God damn!, the little taquerias in California were so good! I hated cilantro before this summer..), but I just wasn't interested in following him around while he looked for a potential boyfriend! Yes, I was selfish, but everyone else in the world hated his kind so I didn't feel too bad! Well he came back late that night really, really, excited! It was like someone telling you, they had just won a 10 thousand dollar lottery! "I got a date with the girl at the pizza place!" How had this happened? My gay friend was going on a date with the girl that I was fantasizing about! Okay, I see where he's going. He obviously was trying to help hook me up on a date with this girl, that's great, but she doesn't remember me! She's accepted to go out with Ehren, the pretty boy, conversational wonder, who can use his gay magic to sweep any pretty girl off of her feet. What if she thinks I'm ugly? Forget that! This is freakin awesome! It's a chance to go on a date with her, and that's always better than not a chance!
The very next night we were flying down highway 24 on a motorcyle.
I was driving, and Ehren, sitting behind me, delighted,(I imagine) had his hands around my waist. I didn't care, he was worth it! The air was hot, the motorcyle was intoxicating, the tunnel was a hot intoxicating dream and we awoke on the other side the crisp cool air of San Francisco was a spectacular contrast to the hot dry heat over the mountain. We sailed passed Berkeley, in and over the bay bridge, Ehren singing Simon and Garfunkle at the top of his lungs, passed the heart of the city, down to the sodom and gomorah of our country, where my future bride await. It was late! Already 1 AM. She was still working! I walked in and introduced myself. I explained to her the situation, we had a motorcyle. She didn't have a car. She wanted to go out with us but we had to make a plan. Ehren wandered off hoping to meet someone while I waited for the girl to get off work. She seemed happy that I was waiting for her and I was really happy that she was. When she was all finished closing up the pizza place the plan was, I would take her back to her place so she could get changed/showered, then I would ride back, pick up Ehren and take him to her apartment. Then we would either walk somewhere, or do the ride drop one person off then get the other! It turned out taking the motorcycle, though fun, was not convenient. She got on the back of the motorcycle. It was exhilarating! My hand on the throttle told her how I was feeling! I pulled that baby back, jetting ferociously forward down the street. The gears switched rapidly I was 0 - 60 and back to 0 down one block. We turned right and then left and right again. There he was. We told him the plan. I turned around back to Castro street, at the bottom of the hill the street was empty. At the top of the hill the light was green. I gunned it! We took off shift shift shift, SHIT!, the car at the light was still sitting there. The light was green it had been green but the car at the light was not going to go. I slammed on the break, I had time to lean and go right around passed this car, but I didn't know how. Half of my experience learning to ride a motorcylce was learned on the ride down. I was speeding straight toward doom and the only thing I could do was pray it would stop in time. I held the break hard, I skidded straight the whole way! One second before impact I turned the handle bar 90 degrees for a spectacular near miss escape, however the bike ignored me and continued persistantly on its fateful path! Crash!!! The bike stopped abruptly. We were still seated on the back of the bike, alive! I couldn't hold the bike up, I was hurt! My groin had jammed staight into the perpendicular handlebar that I just previously turned into me. I had to lay the bike down and crawl away from it. Fortunately she wasn't hurt. This poor girl a victim of my carelessness, thank god was not hurt. It happened directly in front of the pizza shop as if telling her she should never have left. The police came.
"Have you been doing any drugs?"
"No officer."
"Has he been doing any drugs tonight?" The police officer turns to the girl.
"Umm? I don't know? I don't really know him?"
Oh that's great! She totally thinks I'm on drugs!
"No," I tell them, "No," I tell her.
The hospital is only a couple of blocks away. The ambulance takes me there alone! My chance with the girl is blown! All I can hope for now is that I don't lose my penis. In fact that whole area was in excrutiating pain. My pain exagerated by the loss of a potentially wonderful night. Not to be softened by the fact that my junk would be physically examined by an obviously gay doctor. After a couple of hours in the hospital, suddenly it didn't matter, nothing mattered! The girl and Ehren magically appeared in the hallway looking for me! I was alive! My penis was attached! (just slightly bruised) and she was back! Like an overdose of morphine the pain was gone! Soon, my injuries determined to be minor, I was released. We left the hospital and walked just a short couple blocks to her house. We talked. Her name was Heather. Her middle name was Sabrina. She told me she was very picky when it came to dating guys. I told her I was picky too. We argued over who was pickier! It was like a ridiculous attempt to rationalize something, but here we were knowing nothing of each other! I liked her a lot. I think she liked me too. While I lay deserted in a hospital bed, she had traipsed alone through the city streets in the middle of the night, searching for a guy she had met only once. Finally upturning Ehren, in some gay make out park, they turned to searching hospitals for me, finally hours later finding me in a hospital bed, the hallway of the gay village emergency room! What followed was a whirlwind romance that couldn't have had a better first date story ever to be told. A story-romance that all my friends are obviously, extremely, jealous of!





"mmm mmm mmmm"

"Oooo baby"

Was I right?

I was pretty sure about the Jeanine post? Not sure about Chris though. I don't know if she would say "what the hell!" I think she'd be more like, "what the fuck!" Just kidding. I read somewhere you shouldn't joke in text messages because it's impossible to decipher the persons tone and it can get you in trouble. Oh well, it's not like I really like you guys anymore. Ha Ha! Right, I'm not supposed to do that! Well I hope you like your pics. I definitely like mine. Damn I'm sexy! Anyway please put your name at the end of your email so we know who's doing the posting. Oh shit with all of us posting I guess I have to put my name down too.

George Micheal

P.S. this is the real George Micheal not the fake Greg, George Micheal. Oh wait, maybe it's not cool to be George Micheal anymore. Shit, damn you George for being a pervert!
P.S.S. This is really Paul. I'm just not cool with impersonating George anymore. Greg can still be Micheal Jackson, though. Remember that, Greg? You were seriously a rising star when you did the whole glove and moonwalk in the Olympia Auditorium, freshman year. Remember the girls going ballistic. Why was I there? Damn our parents for not having well documented albums of this stuff.

Wireless headphones

If you've never listened to me before, listen to me now! Go get yourself some good quality wireless headphones. If you can not afford them then figure out a payment plan or something. You don't know how much you need them! After you get your headphones use the playlist.com pop up stand alone player. I walk all over my house with my headphones on stereo quality streaming music in my ears feeling like a heroin addict! They're on right now actually and I'm about to get up and go cook lunch some curry chicken with sauteed onions,peppers, etc. mmmmm and yes the headphones are commin with me! I have many hours worth of music in that playlist right there on the right! When the police break down the door, find my wife in the corner with the headphones on, me with a knife in my back, you will all know what the fight was over! And when I see her in hell I'll probably say, "no worries hunny, I totally understand! Did they at least let you take the headphones to prison?" Yup, it's that good!

These are the same headphones we still use. As you can see we've had them for a while. Kobe is 8 years old now! We really need to get another pair!

I did this today, for my old friends!

Beth's Wedding

So I finally got this collage I've been putting together for my sister ordered to be printed. It is a 2ft by 4 ft poster that I hope they will enjoy. I started the collage several months ago and just kind of forgot about it. I looked at it again today and I was surprised, I was like this picture is freakin cool. If you were at the wedding then chances are you are somewhere in this collage. No absolute guarantees of course. What I like is you can basically look through an entire wedding photo album just by looking at this one picture.

It's begun! I'm really excited now. I was on myspace and that was cool and all but this is so much better. I'm not sure if I'm really doing this right because you know I haven't really looked at anyone else's blogs, but really who the fuck cares, right. I am so excited to have a place to just rant and put up pictures and now I'm even thinking about getting some video up on here. Hell I have a camcorder. I feel like such a lame ass for not getting video of Kobe playing soccer. He scored 3 goals in his first ever soccer game. Yes it was at the park, me and kobe and another 10 year old neighborhood girl, against her two younger sisters and her auntie that played goalie. So it was perfect actually, really it was a milestone. The little girl probably about 5 or 6 on the opposite team was agressive enough and Kobe although he's a boy and he's 8 was panic sticken when she'd come charging toward him. After about 15 minutes Kobe finally realized he could play at their level and really got into it. Now I'm thinking about getting him signed up for a soccer team. The only thing that worries me is he won't be playing girls that are two years younger than him. We've tried to get him in sports before and he really hates it. He's very nervous about being embarrased or getting hurt. And if he sees blood, forget it, it's a psychological meltdown. We got him roller bades...no good, we got him a bike... he hates it, we got him a scateboard... I left it at the park intentionally for someone else to have it. He does love his xbox360, though. Despite all this, his performance at the park gives me a glimmer of hope. I have been going to the park playing soccer with Kobe every day for the last couple weeks and he really is getting better. He has no problem charging me and trying to kick the ball away from me. Now he just needs to be able to do that against strangers.

Hello friends, family, world, I am now beginning what maybe the only diary I will ever keep. Yes my diary is personal and private so if you're reading this then shame on you! It is spring, a beautiful Sunday, April 27th, I just got home from my brother Mike's house. He's a dentist and spent most of this beautiful day at the office making dentures, while I sat on his couch, browsed online with his computer and chatted randomly with Courtney, his wife. Meanwhile my son,

Kobe played cautiously in the back yard. I think it would be misleading to say that he played heartily, or carelessly, for he is not that kind of a kid. Complete opposite of his thrill seeking father. Anyway he was having fun and that's all that counts. So while I was hanging out with Courtney she showed me her blog and I thought you know I need to do this. I left Kobe there and I am home now beginning what will, I hope, become a picture filled, exciting, and perhaps careless, blog that adequately entertains any who may unwelcomingly steal insight into this personal journal (Just Kidding) that I have now begun.