Leapin Lizards

Had our fundraiser golf tournament on Monday morning, and it was a learning experience.
#1. Golf tournaments are EASY. The only hard part is getting people to commit in advance.
#2. Golf tournaments are EASY.

We had a very small turnout, but we still ended up making money and the participants all had a blast. At the end of the play, which was about noon, everyone gathered at the golf course clubhouse for lunch and drinks.
Here's a view from the clubhouse:


I am already planning another golf tournament, this one will be at night in July.
I guess I gotta find some glow-in-the-dark golf balls.

Well Hello Old Friend

Thanks once again to Classmates.com, for hooking me up with someone I would have NEVER found on my own. Only thing is, Scott doesn't remember me much at all.
His brother David, who played endlessly with me each weekend and summer in rural Iowa, remembers me though. We had war games, missions, exploratory expeditions, and we rode miles and miles on our bicycles thru the paths we carved in the nearby woods. We had our convenience store Rambo knives that were on our belts at all times. David was a good buddy and we had great times together.
Scott, though, was a different story. I had such a crush on him, my poor 12 year old heart couldn't take it. He was 15 or 16, I think.
He moved away from home when he was 17, and it crushed me.
That emotion didn't last long, because my dad died shortly after that and I ended up moving out of the area to live at mom's.
I never gave Scott or my buddy David another thought, with everything going on in my life.
It was when I was browsing around on Classmates that I saw Scott's name and I was just floored. After a few messages thru there, I got him to remember me somewhat, and he also passed my email along to his brother David. It's weird, reconnecting with someone from so long ago when they have very little memory of you. It's not like catching up on old times, it's more like making a new friend. Scott and I email each other once a day or so, and I truly look forward to what he writes because it just feels really good to know he's doing well and he's happy. David is serving in the Army in Germany, and after I heard from him earlier this week I was elated.
I don't know, I guess it kind of feels like a childhood lost when you can't even guess where your good friends went. Knowing that these two are okay and living happy lives makes me feel a little more complete. It doesn't even bother me that my first "love" has very little memory of me. Why would I care, Steve has my heart and I'm certainly content.

It's a Situation

Shay took his cell phone with him when he went to dad's, and that's a very good thing. He called me, in tears, asking to be picked up because his dad's girlfriend was picking on him and yelling.
Normally I get him to calm down and I tell him to go talk to his dad about it. Which, really, is the right thing to do.
But this time he was sobbing and I couldn't get him to stop. So, I hopped in my car and went straight over there.
It was ON. His dad's girlfriend was belligerant, loud, unreasonable, and it didn't matter what I said she wasn't listening. Basically I laid it out: I'm mom, dad is dad, we make the rules and we don't want some other person bossing Shay around.
She has forbid him from going to play with his cousins next door, because she doesn't get along with them. I say, too bad. He should be immune from her drama problems.
She has also decided that she doesn't have to get him up so he can get ready for school. (she hasn't driven him to school all year, because of a DUI she lost her license. so I pick him up and take him, even when he's over at dad's)
Last week I picked him up for school and he hadn't eaten, showered, or brushed his teeth.
He didn't have an alarm clock in his room, and he overslept. But his dad's girlfriend was down the hall gossiping with someone on the phone. Too busy to wake him up.

When I explained my side of things, without raising my voice or using a curse word, she responded by yelling obscenities. When I told her that my son is stressed out from all the drama and problems over at their house, she said, "Fine, Shay, get your shit, get out, and don't come back!" His dad just stood there. I could tell he was just wore out from all the fighting that goes on with this woman, so I certainly didn't pick on him anymore. I left with this, "That is your son crying in my car, and these huge fights are what he's going to remember about his childhood with his dad. How can you stand to hear him cry over something your girlfriend started??"

I'm not making ultimatums about whether or not Shay can go back to dad's house, but I'm definitely going to make sure he doesn't go back until things are fixed over there.

Five minutes with me, and Shay was already better. But then he got to my house and discovered his new Super Mario game had come in the mail. Suddenly, dad and his girlfriend didn't exist.

Nice Stack

Steve asked me today what my schedule was, as he was walking out the front door.
"Well, if I could get that stack of paperwork done over there, I'd be FREEEEE!"

The stack is literally 1 foot tall, and it's from putting off some things that I really shouldn't have.
Besides doing the billing for the two huge events we just did, I need to pay a month's worth of bills for our office and also for my boss. He pays me to take care of his house expenses. He has six mortgages, which is two for each house. That includes two rental houses that he has never seen in person.

I've been sleeping so well, lately, so it was a surprise to be jolted out of slumber at midnight, with the freight train sound of very high winds hitting the house.
I put on my robe and headed outside to see what damage I could avert, like moving patio furniture to safety and making sure there weren't garbage cans flying around the neighborhood. I knew the wind was coming, but I didn't know it would be a friggin hurricane. I looked at the weather channel out of curiosity, and it said 35 mph winds all the way thru Tuesday night. So one thing I don't need to worry about is my hair!!

HaPPy MoTHers DaY

Well mine went very nice. I got eggs benedict for breakfast and a lovely card. Quite unexpected!!

Yesterday we accomplished an event that was actually very challenging. I can't say it was a pain in the ass, because really it all went according to plan and there were no fatalities....but it was challenging.

It was a boat regatta for a manufacturer that is very quirky to say the least. They are not a very outgoing bunch, and they are picky about certain things. Pair that up with a venue that is sometimes difficult to work with, and several changes to the schedule that people have come to get very acquainted with, and you have a big stress mountain.

Part of every event is the helicopter photos. Boats line up for their chance to get a professional photo taken of them racing down the lake in their boat. The photos are taken from the helicopter, and the starting point is a boat with me standing on it instructing them with a megaphone. (pictured below, I'm in the cowboy hat)


We usually do about 60 to 70 boats like that, then we rush to the next portion of the event. This is me, on the way to the next venue:


We had an article in a southern california newspaper last year, talking about how we conduct these regattas with a minimum of five different venues. Set up, tear down. Set up, tear down. A lot of times I'm jumping from boat to boat, then from boat to dock to get to where I'm needed. Run on the beach, pick up a few things, then dash off to the next thing on the schedule. Gee, I wonder how come my feet hurt....

One of the magazines that we do some work with is owned by a guy named Chris Davidson. He's a huge guy, big red-headed goof who gives the impression that he's not very saavy. I love and hate those kind of business people. They act like they don't know what they're doing and fool you into believing they're just a 'dude' that is lucky in life. But really, he has his money and his magazine because he knows just what the hell he's doing. He is not only a publisher. He's an Elvis Presley fanatic. He collected Elvis stuff for many many years, and eventually opened an Elvis museum in Vegas. When he tired of that, he sold a lot of the Elvis stuff to Graceland and made several million dollars from it. He didn't sell it all; he still has quite a collection, and it's stuff like jewelry, watches, pendants, clothing, etc. My boss has been to his office, and there are days where there'll be a big gawdy watch sitting on his desk--Chris says, "Try it on, that's an original Elvis piece."
Whoa. Touching something like that would be like touching an artifact from the pyramids in Egypt. But apparently Chris wears this stuff like it's nothing.
Yesterday Chris was on the boat with me, and I noticed a big "EP" pendant around his neck. I got to touch it and take a picture:



So that made my day, for the moment. As soon as I got off the boat I hit the ground running so I could get the banquet hall set up.

Peace....And....Love

I'm with someone who has mom issues. I know this now, after several years of living together.
I remember the first Mother's Day after we'd moved in together, I expected a nice breakfast waiting for me. Nope. Not even a card. Not even a cup of coffee. Not even a "Happy Mother's Day." Nobody in the house said a word. I got a bit irritated by it because really all I wanted was breakfast. Steve pretty much avoided me all day, working out in the garage and doing his own thing. I kept wondering what I did wrong--I went about things as usual and hoped he'd say something.
He ended up getting mad at me because I pushed the subject a little. He never explained himself; he just sent his daughter down to the Rip Off Store (the overpriced clothing store) to get me a gift certificate.
I don't think he spoke to me much the rest of the day.
And since I make a big deal out of Father's Day, no matter WHAT father or grandfather happens to be around, I didn't understand the anticlimatic reaction to Mother's Day that I got. I was extremely close to my father and as of this summer he will have been gone for 20 years. But I don't let that turn every Father's Day into a miserable reminder that he's gone. I just choose to celebrate the good Fathers who are still here.

But then I got to know Steve a little better, and realized that he still misses his mom terribly.
He really respected and looked up to his mom, and she died of cancer after a terrible fight with it in 1996. Honestly, after I heard Steve talk about his mom's last days--it left quite an impression on me. I could hear in his voice the sadness when he described all the different desperate efforts to keep her alive, once her cancer started to really take over. We have a lot of people come and go in our lives but I could see that her loss had still weighed very heavily on him.

So, when I was asked to help with the American Cancer Society, the first thought that came to my mind was Steve's mom. Of course I've lost many to cancer but none of those losses have affected me like hers did with him. I wanted to do something for him. And her.

I don't know when I finally realized that my wishes to have a nice Mother's Day breakfast cooked for me were probably never going to come true--but eventually I came to that conclusion. A card would be nice--but we'll see.

Oh Brandeeeeeee....

As much as I like to be in sandals or barefoot, I found out this weekend that neither are good for my feet. For years, I've had what I now know is called Plantar Fascitis. I don't think that's the right spelling but that's the idea. It's when you go to get up out of bed and your feet feel like pins and needles for about the first 5 minutes of the day.
I try to always wear sandals or shoes that have pretty good support, but Friday I wore some new ones that felt great at first. But then they felt like spikes strapped to my feet. Couldn't do anything about it because we were super busy with the boat regatta and I had no way of leaving until after 11pm. Soooooo.....
Here's me trying to look happy during the Hot Wheels racing:



The next morning I got up and got going at the crack of dawn, and as soon as I got down on the beach to get to work I noticed my feet felt like I was walking on those spikes again. I struggled thru the day, which included running the event at five different venues and coordinating the helicopter photos. I set up the banquet.
I limped around and took ungodly amounts of ibuprofen to help manage. Luckily, I had two staff members who helped with the banquet because I was pretty much done by then. When I changed my clothes into my banquet dress and high heels, suddenly my feet felt a lot better. Not perfect, but manageable. Turns out, it was because the shape of the shoes were stretching out the tendons that were screwed up.

The banquet and awards stuff lasted a few hours, then we broke down all the equipment and loaded up. Sometime after midnight I finally sat down and I couldn't get back up. The high heel remedy had run out.

The next day, the pain was about 3 times worse. I layed around as much as I could, but it's just not logically possible to have a family, and all that, and lay down all day when you've been gone for several days. I looked up the type of pain I was having--thanks Google-- and I found the explanation. The tendons in my arch are inflamed, have been for years, and now this really bad pain is likely an irritation from arthritis or a bone spur. Wearing shoes that aren't supportive and going barefoot are ways to make it worse. When I read that, I first thought of Brandy and her mission to remain barefoot when possible. I wanna be barefoot too!!!!!!

I will be seeing the foot doctor this week, but until then I have to rest and keep the bottoms of my feet on ice. The ice apparently helps with the inflammation. It does feel better when I ice them down, waaay better than what ibuprofen does.

At least I don't have broken feet like I initially thought. I began to dread getting older. "I'm getting so old I break bones by just walking too much!!"
We'll see if the genius doctor can make things better.