Back By Popular Demand

So of all the things that have happened in my life, to date, this one definitely ranks somewhere in the Top 3. So to all that have heard the story before, I'm sure you won't mind hearing it again. And to those who haven't, well, you're welcome. :) Here's to you, Ashley... 

Ever since I can remember, my Dad has had season tickets to the Angels games. Field level, first base side. Perfect seats for night games, but a day game in those seats, is a guaranteed farmer's tan and a possible heat stroke. I fully believe Angels Stadium is where I fell in love with the male tush. Having unobstructed views of J.T. Snow's gluteus maximus for how ever many years he was on the team, well, I believe Jesse from Full House said it best, "Have Mercy!" When I think of that stadium and the players, I have so many fond memories! Meeting Tim Salmon, chatting with Figgins about my Grandma on plenty of occasions, Game 6 of the World Series, the list goes on! But June 18, 2008 will always hold a place in my heart.. or, better yet, maybe my leg. :) 

Here's what happened..

When my Dad gives me tickets to the game, I'm pretty much the last possible person on the list. He's asked everyone, probably even the gardener, and when they decline its always me who gets them. No hard feelings, Dad. I love going to the game, but finding people to come with is usually the hard part. And then typically the day after the game, you get all these calls saying "Oh, I totally would've gone!" And so on this particular game, Angels vs. Mets, no one could go. I finally thought I had talked my cousin into going. But it turned out it would just be me, my cousin's boyfriend Dan, and his son, Dillon. Not awkward at all. Me on a date with my cousin's boyfriend and his kid. I should've known it was going to be an interesting night from that point on. 

So on our way to the game, we were talking about the guy in this picture below. Please notice where the ball is headed, and by the look on his face, I'm sure its not hard to see. But for all those that weren't so good at Where's Waldo.. its headed right to his crotch.

So we're now at the game and its late in the innings. Game is entertaining, but nothing too exciting. Then good ol' Vladmir Guerrero steps up to the plate. He's such a strong hitter, that its always exciting when he's at bat. So my eyes are locked on the field. Here comes the pitch, crack of the bat, and then it all goes into slo-mo.. Suddenly its like I'm in a scene out of Matrix. The crowd parts like Neo dodging bullets, crazy back bends, it was unreal. And then I see it. The little white missile which looks like its heading in my direction. But it can't be. There were rows and aisles of people in between me and that ball just seconds ago. But here I was, in a face-off. Me and a line-drive ball with my name on it. Karma, coming straight at me. I kinda sat there, for what seemed like forever, trying to make a deal with this ball. I didn't have a plan, shoot, I didn't even have a mitt. I'd learned after years of letdowns, that even though our seats were in the zone, actually taking home a foul ball was like finding a unicorn. So I told myself its not you. And then, in a last ditch effort, I curled into the fetal position and prepared for the worst. I'm almost positive, "Mama, No!" may have been screamed. Can't really recall. All I remember is the feeling of that ball attempting to murder my shin. The moments after that are kinda fuzzy. I just remember hugging my leg and trying with all my might not to cry. Everyone knows there's no crying in baseball. And then it hit me, where's the ball?? And that's when I heard the chants... Give her the ball, give her the ball.. I was confused, where did the ball go? I checked my leg to see if it had in fact been embedded into it, luckily it wasn't. But where did it go? And that's when I realized where the ball went. 

The old, grumpy man sitting directly next to me had it. The same guy who hadn't watched a single moment of the game, because he was on his cell phone the entire time. The same guy who let his 7-yr old son wander off by himself for over an hour and never once looked up from his text messages with a look of concern that his son hadn't come back. That guy had my ball. Of all the people, that guy. Seriously! So in between the stabs of pain and the fighting back of tears, I completely missed what was going on around me. I looked up to find around 300 people on my side, rooting for me, and my ball. No one was watching the game. The crowd around section 127 were all standing up and screaming at this guy. That guy. "Give her the ball, give her the ball, give her the ball..." People I had never met, people who probably couldn't even see what was going on, all joining together to cheer for me. Taking videos and pictures of him, threatening him, "We're gonna put you on YouTube!" I felt like a celebrity. And that guy?? Well, he just sat there and ignored everything. At first I was mad, and said, "Seriously, give me the ball!" But then I decided to go the other route. Kill him with kindness, or at least be the bigger person. That's about the time the Usher came with some ice, and I was really feeling the pain. Knots were already forming and you could see the bump beginning to raise. The chants went on for about 20 minutes before the Usher came back down to give me a ball. Clearly not my ball, but a ball to quiet the crowd. 

And then the crowd really went nuts. I stood up, feeling like Kerry Strug in the Olympics. Trying to stand straight, but hopping because it hurt too much. Dan & Dillon were in awe, and pointed out that I was on the JumboTron. Twice! Some random guy came and took our picture. It was the coolest thing I'd ever experienced. And then "That Guy" leans over and tells me, "That was nice of them to give you a ball." Seriously!? I wanted to kill him. I wanted to send a message with my mind to Guerrero that next time you need to aim one seat to the left, and put a little heat in it this time. But no such luck. And that's when the crowd began to chant again.. "Give her the real ball.." It was hilarious!  Eventually the guy's kid came back, and everyone realized he wasn't going to give the ball up, and went back to watching the game. Or maybe they felt weird throwing peanuts at a guy with a kid. But every so often you'd hear an occasional "Give her the ball!" and I'd smile all over again. 

Mr. Guerrero really did a number on my leg. Some were telling me to get my leg signed, others were telling me to sue. But I was pretty content with the way things were. Mostly because of all the days to not shave my legs, I chose this one. But what if he had just given me the ball? There would have been no JumboTron, no chanting, and no 15 minutes of fame at the Angels Stadium. I just wish it wasn't "That Guy" who got the ball. I tried to be the better person, but when he left with his kid and bent down to tell me, "That looks like it really hurts.." I couldn't resist. With what sign language I knew, I told him he was #1 and then said some unladylike things that I will choose to withhold. The entire crowd booed him as he was walking up the aisle and I wondered what kind of lesson he thought he was teaching his son. 

In the end, it doesn't matter anyway. Everyone probably forget about that moment already, and I'm pretty sure that guy's kid lost the baseball the very next day. But not me. The bruise spread over the entire length of my lower leg and stayed there for over a month. And the knot took a couple months to work itself out. But I will always remember that moment, and everytime Vladi steps up to the plate, I feel a tingle in my leg. And I smile. I truly believe baseball is America's favorite past time. Now let's sing everybody:

    "Now its one, two, three strikes you're out at the ooooolldd.. balllll.. gaaaaaame!" 

Circle of Life

So, on Wednesday my brother became a proud little daddy. Nathan James graced us with his presence around 12:30 pm, weighing in at 7 lbs. 11 oz and 21 inches long. Great betting numbers! It was so great to see the excitement in everyone's faces as we anticipated meeting the little spud. My dad had zero patience and was the one pacing back and forth. Even though we were supposed to be waiting in the lobby for the news, my Dad kept sneaking back to get updates and was the first to break the news. It was so great to see my Dad so excited. If anyone knows this man, kids are not his cup of tea. He loves his grandkids, there's no question about that, but he just wishes they were like little mannequins to look at, instead of rambunctious little hyenas with messy hands. But he was the first to arrive at the hospital, and the one most likely to page the nurses. He was finally getting his legacy.. little Nathan to carry on the family name, and I'm sure the family business too.  

Little Nathan, or as I call him, Nater Potater, is THE sweetest baby ever. I love kids, love love them! But newborns always scare me. They seem so fragile and I don't wanna wake them in case they cry. But not this one. I am so addicted to this little baby. He is such a great baby! I can't put him down. The nurses were so sad to see him go. They just loved our little spud! And Chris is so stinkin' cute with him. I always knew my brother would be a great Dad, but I have tears in my eyes right now thinking about the two of those kids together. My brother tries to be so tough, and then he puts this baby in his arms, and you just see him melt right before your eyes. Life is seriously such a beautiful thing! 

But life has its ebbs and flows. With life comes death. And I got the news today that my Great-Grandma passed away this morning. Although my heart is broken, it is also so full. This woman lived such an amazing life. She lived it to the fullest, topping out at 107 years old. I can't say that this is something that we weren't prepared for, but it still came as a surprise. Twice a year, the family meets in Laughlin. Once to celebrate her birthday in March, and the other to celebrate her son's, or my Uncle Donny, in October. My Uncle Donny passed away a couple months ago and so this was going to be a big celebration. One last hoorah for Donny at the Craps table. And we'd always say whenever Grandma was slowing down, "Just make it to Laughlin..." and she would. But unfortunately, Grandma missed the trip by two weeks. Everyone is still planning on going and celebrating these two amazing lives, but its just bittersweet. It just isn't the same without our Jackpot Mary.

I found myself being kinda selfish. Wanting her to live forever because she was such a rare jewel and I didn't want to let go. But at the same time, she's been living for forever. I mean, she was born in 1901.. she has lived through everything! I don't read history books, I just talk to her. Its way more accurate and entertaining. But as much as she loved her family, I know she was tired. She would say, "I'm ready to go home. You know, Bill isn't going to wait for me for  forever..." And that always put things into perspective for me. Even though I knew he would. 

My Grandpa passed away when I was a baby, but I love looking at pictures of the two of them. They just look like this classic couple. The two of them probably had no clue what their love could create. They were this cute, little family of four, which later turned into 11 grandchildren, 22 great-grandchildren, and 11 great-great-grandchildren. 

I feel so honored to be a part of this family. To not only have loved this woman, but to have been loved by this woman. She was always so excited to see everyone even when she was achy and tired. And even when she was weak, she would still hold your hand with her tight grip, look you straight in the face, smile and say "It's so good to see you." And it made it all worth it. The early morning alarm clock on saturday, the traffic, the long drive.. that one moment. I'm sure going to miss that. 

I thank her for making me the "tough ol' swede" that I am today. I thank her for teaching me the importance of family. I thank her for teaching me that sometimes you just need to get away and hit the slots. I thank her for teaching me about the simple things. That life is just as rich living in a tiny one-bedroom house in Santa Monica than in any penthouse or ocean-front property. But most of all, I thank her for her love. 

I'll miss you, Grandma! If I'm anything like you, I guess I'll see you in 80 years.. Love you! 

I'm a big kid now...

So, I think there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who hate doctors and only go visit them when they are on their death bed. And those that just realize its a fact of life, and suck it up and go. I am the death bed type. I've never even had a bad experience with them.. well, that I can remember at least. But then again, when I was a kid I did crack my head open twice in one week and also got a pencil stuck in my eye. Sorry, Mom. I now know that pencils go on paper, and foreheads don't belong on toilet seats. But those events happened so long ago, I have absolutely no recollection. I always figured I hated doctors because doctors give shots, and I hate needles. Then I became a woman, and I have remembered the real reason why... all you ladies should relate, and I doubt any guys are reading this. I apologize in advance if you are. 

About a month ago, I got some results back from my doctor that there were some cells of "undetermined significance". I always thought that was my problem in life.. undetermined significance. But I guess it was on a deeper level. Anyways, my Mom had cervical cancer when she was my age, and ended up having a hysterectomy a couple years later so she freaked out. Which in turn, freaked me out. I was trying to stay positive. But due to the fact my Mom has worked in the medical field for over 20 years, she had diagnosed me completely. But she wanted me to go see her doctor, cause he was a specialist in cancer. The only catch is he only sees patients with/or recovering from Cancer. So I'm hoping he doesn't want to see me cause that means I'm A-Ok. And then I got a call confirming an appointment. Crap. Next thing I know I'm hearing how I should freeze my eggs cause my cervix isn't going to be strong enough to hold a child. I'm totally imagining an episode of my future cooking show.. I go into the freezer to get some peas and almost grab my frozen eggs instead, and say, "Oops, don't wanna use those little guys. They're for when I wanna make 'cutie pies' not 'pot pies'.. completely different recipe!" My Mom has me totally freaked out, but I try to remain calm. The Secret is in full effect. Power of positive thinking, yet I'm also thinking I need to start checking things off my "Bucket List".. First thing, of course, to finish watching Bucket List. I have tried three times.

So the day of my appointment I'm pretty calm. I don't really know what to expect, so I don't know what to be nervous about. I just didn't want any blood to be taken. Hate those things. There's just gotta be an easier way to get that stuff. But then its time to go back. Luckily I had my Mom with me to ask and answer all the right questions. They do all the basics... check my blood pressure, pulse, weight and height (By the way, I'm shrinking! I used to be 5'3"..now I'm  5' 1 1/2".. I don't need to get married cause my clock is ticking, I need to get married before I become a little person! No hard feelings to all the mini's out there..) and then this young guy walks in the room. I was a little taken back because I was under the impression my doctor was older. And then he mentioned he was an intern and would be just asking me a couple questions. I was relieved. So far, so good. This appointment is a breeze. Next thing I know I'm in "the position", where I'm pretty sure I feel like I'm dialated to a 10 and ready to push. Baby's head is crowning.. and I'm in a room with like way too many people in it. Literally, everyone and my mother. 

I'm so incredibly uncomfortable that the only thing I can think of is to tell jokes. I start with, "So, Mom... how are yooouuuu?" "You always said you wanted me under a spotlight.. guess you didn't mean one like this.." I'm fighting the urge to whistle the "Jeapordy" think music.. or asking my Mom to hand me my crossword puzzle to finish. Then the doctor says, "Everything looks great! Nothing to worry about.." so I'm totally relieved. Then I hear the scariest six words of my life. He looks at the intern and says, "Do you wanna have a look?" Seriously?! I mean, I know what an intern is, I watch Grey's Anatomy. But, seriously! His response, "Oh yes, of course!" I wanted to ask them if any other people would like to "take a look" while I'm here.. maybe my mom, any other interns, nurses, complete strangers, and of course, their mothers. But I kept my mouth closed. I was mortified. In case there is any confusion, this exact moment is the reason I avoid the doctor's office. 

But afterwards my Mom praised me on how composed I was. Had I known I had the option to freak out, I would have. But I didn't get that memo when I signed in. Maybe next time. All I know is I'm pretty sure this is the moment where I became a grown-up. As I was getting dressed, I was singing the song from the Pull-ups commercial...

"Mommy, Wow! I'm a big kid now, bum bum!! 

Hats off to all my friends with babies, I'm sure this sounds like a cake walk compared to what you've all been through... can't wait. :)