Trespassing... Not for the Weary.

My parents are home for the next week and a half on like their some sort of spring break which is basically just them coming to fix all the things the roommate and I have ruined since their departure.

Nonstop chores, errands, yard work, and waking up at 8am.

Nelson was home for the weekend so the pool got all fixed, my tires are now rotated and the pond is completely cleaned out... every nook and cranny. We even caught the fish before we began the cleansing process and that has never been done before. Although it is definitely much easier considering it went from somewhere around fifty to now three... ou know, the bobcats and what not.

This is what the pond usually looks like, all the green has been eliminated and it is the perfect ecosystem for out three veteran fish.... and the new dozen we just got from Petsmart. Because if history has showed us anything... its that this pond can definitely house (and keep alive) a multitude of fish. False, but my dad will not accept it. 

The yard guys came and worked a little bit today but mostly all tomorrow so I am sure I will get some good material out of that excursion to the backyard.

Switching to something more hilarious... My dad and I were going to get in the hot tub this afternoon since we had been running around all day at Lowes, Home Depot and the like. So I am about to get in when I notice a car drive behind our house on the road that is not maintained by the city and isn't even a through road. Two teenage boys get out of the car and I quickly realize they are planning on getting into our gated community to long board down to the pool, hop the fence, and go swimming. I know this because I saw some kids park back there before and go up to sit on the golf course one night. 

Now I don't like this because 1) its right behind our house and I can see them. 2) I don't want anyone just waltzing into out community. and 3) because I can see this kid changing into his swim suit... in broad daylight. Well of course my dad is ticked so he walks out the front of our house (so the kids don't know where he is coing from) and is going to go talk to them as soon as they enter the community. I wait for him to get back and meanwhile I notice the guys getting back into the car and speed off. Now I know something was said. 

Dad causally walks back to the backyard where I am anxiously awaiting to hear what just went down and am also secretly praying the "Holiday Inn Express" line was not used in the quarrel. Apparently dad sat out of sight and completely motionless and unnoticed to the boys until they crossed into our development. As soon as that happend, dad quickly went over and told them that they were trespassing and they had five minutes to get them and the car out of there before he was going to call to have the car towed. Then he looks at the other kid who has his chin in his hands resting on his long board and asks him "You planning on going swimming?" to which the kid mumbles in reply, "Not anymore". And they leave. Hoodlums. 

Alls I know is come the next Home Owners Association meeting I am going to have a few words to say about keeping the street kids outta the neighborhood. Boom. Posted. 

Ankles and Arches.

I was reminded today about an experience I endured back in Utah when I was a competitive gymnast. The story goes a little something like this:

It was a dark and dreary morning. My neck was cranked from sleeping with sponge curlers in my hair all night. This usually resulted in a Shirley Temple type arrangement that, even with my 16 years of life experience, I had decided looked amazing in a ponytail for all my meets. Regardless, I insisted that I have 'better' hair than better sleep and I was now even more grouchy than I would be at 6 o'cock in the morning. My family was driving to Colorado Junction where the meet was being held the day of and then we were intending to spend two nights up there and check out the national parks. I moved past the crankiness (well probably not) and went straight to the car to sleep for the whole drive up there. We arrived just in time for warm up and I was feeling good. It was only the second meet of the season and I had the majority of major elements all in order and was ready to do well. First event: vault. Front handspring front tuck and nailed the landing for the first time in a meet. Second event: bars. Bars is my best event and I had a literally perfect routine: kip, jump to high bar, straddleback to handstand, free hip, toe-shoot to high bar, giant, giant, toe-shoot front tuck off.......... break my ankle on impact. Shattered into a million little pieces. Pain like I never felt before in my life. Muster up the strength like Kerri Strug in the '96 Olympics and salute to the judges before I die altogether.

Okay, okay.. so I didn't actually break my ankle into a million little pieces, or even at all. I just severely sprained it (which they say can hurt worse!!) and could not compete the rest of the meet which bummed me out totally. My dad cannot comprehend that I could be 'that hurt' but finally is convinced and we speed away from the meet like I have never seen my family run faster. We go straight to the hotel where I wallow in self pity because I could not finish my meet and my ankle is swelling to the size of a college standard soft ball. Need I remind you that we are supposed to now be on vacation for the rest of the trip and hike around the Arches National Park and Moab but I am completely encompasitated and now an utter burden on my family. Exhibit A:

...and exhibit B. Pretty pitiful. I could not walk on my foot at all and this was supposed to be a trip centered around hiking. Oh and the best part was, I didn't even get to see the most famous natural arch that is on the Utah license plate because I couldn't hike and the boys were tired of carrying me... I got to, instead, wait in the car for 2 hours in the 100 degree summer heat. Best. Vacation. Ever.




Another time I sprained my ankle was when I attempted to play basketball my last year semester of high school for the first time ever. I had never played before, didn't know the rules (or that you couldn't verbally antagonize the other team) or barely even how to dribble, but some how I was needed (our team was THAT good). It was fun and all but I fouled out almost ever game.... and I had no idea what I was doing. I think I averaged about 2 points a game. One game in the middle of the season, I was jumping up to rebound the ball and as I landed this fairly larger girl landed on top of my ankle practically crushing it into a million little pieces. I was done right then and there. Here is what that one looked like:

That was pretty bad, too. And it happened right before the dance I was supposed to go to with Blake at his school... I never got to go. :(

I have had some fairly rough injuries over these past 22 years. None of them were ultra serious and no broken bones... which was a miracle. Now I just have plenty of scars to segway into the stories. Like the one on my wrist from where I was trying to slice up some cheese and got my wrist meat instead... That'll make your knees turn to jelly...Boom. Posted.