Lifted

60 feet on a crane.

Rocky Point 2005

There are different trips that I have gone on  one was in 2005 which has been my most eventful year for traveling around.  I have had the pleasure of going down to Rocky Point, Choya Bay, Mexico a few times this past year.  Each time I have gone down with different friends but my main hook up has been Kim Eaton who years ago became friends with a Doug Pulsifer, who is the uncle of some crazy girl that Kim dated (aren’t they all)  Actually this one really is crazy and I believe I will have a scar on my back for the rest of my life from where that very girl bit me on the back because I was getting a kick out of making her angry, which was easy to do as witnessed by those who saw her attack me for not giving her blanket to her ending in a vicious bite on my back which drew blood….yes, crazy girl.  Anyway moving past the numerous types of crazy woman that Kim seems to get involved with and our tie into how we met Mr. Pulsifer who owns a beach front home in Choya Bay and recently gave us a set of keys and permission to stay down there whenever with the agreement that we would make some construction improvements on the home.  Well, we still have yet to make any of those improvements but it sure has been fun to go down there.  We have had experiences that have ranged from playing live music on the corner of some of those street malls to running from the cops on our quads.  Let’s start by explaining those two.  It is tradition it seems each time we go down there now to throw a performance while walking down one of the main slummy street malls were people just set up shop however possible and try to sell all of there wonderful Mexican inventory and knock-off merchandise.  There is always a chop that carries the cheap miniature guitar, bongo drums, mariachis, plastic trumpets, and supply everybody’s favorite the oversized sombrero.  The stage is always set perfect as the street mall is across the street from several restaurants that are on the second floor looking down.  I don’t know how but I always seem to be the leader of the band to lead us in LaBamba, Eye, yeigh, yeigh, eye!, and our favorite, Parle me Gasolina!! Which I am not even sure what the real words are but they play that gasoline song on every corner we go.  Of course we always get cheers and on cords…well we don’t really get the on cords but you can bet we give it to them.  You always have to be careful of the crooked cops that aren’t there to uphold the law, they are there to just scare you and take whatever money you have on hand and if that is not enough they will just take your quad or car….seems fair to me.  I should start a collections company and hire the Mexican Policia cause they would be cheap labor and they are use to just taking peoples cars and houses away from them.  One night we were riding our quads around, I believe this was the same night that we were mistaken for being drunk at a higher end restaurant in downtown Mexico.  That seems to occur quite often, I don’t know what it is that makes people think that you can’t have fun like we do without any alcohol…well without very much alcohol….no just kidding, yes without any alcohol.  Who says you can’t become friendly with the table of 12 students from Tucson through friendly conversation and then once you have warmed up to them you progress the friendship by leading them in song while standing on top of their table and leading the Meriachi band with a huge Margarita glass in one hand that really is just full of virgin pina colada…which I believe is the secret ingredient to getting the runs for 3-4days.  We had that restaurant popping and laughing while we would periodically start the “pass it on” game. Don’t know how it goes?  It’s easy you just pick a absolute stranger (well not so much a stranger after you warmed them up to you) preferably cute and preferably the opposite sex and just lean in to their personal space and give a gentle squeeze to the outer check’as nalgas then whisper in their ear “Pass it On”.  It’s loads of fun and most people love playing along…and those that don’t pear pressure always gets them and causes more fun for those that get to watch them squirm.  Anyway we were out riding one night and you are not allowed to ride on the main streets with your quad at night so we took some back routes.  Somehow we ended up on one of only two golf courses with in 500 miles of us and yes we are riding on the greens with our quads.  Not only do I think they would have taken our quads if we got caught but I believe we would have spend some quality time playing pass it on with the ploicia as they walked by our cells.  Yes, we did get chased by some federal’es and had to make a quick escape by forcing a small hole in the fence barrier into a much larger opening so our quads could fit through.  Oh, yes good times.  Later that night we did get pulled over because we had to drive on the main street to get home because it was the only way we knew to get back cause I just told you that there were unhappy people waiting for us the way we came.  Yes I was very worried because we weren’t sure if the feds had caught on that radio existed yet and had used it to call ahead about our bogy on the 10^th hole.  I was pushed up against my quad and frisked heavily.  They made us worry quite a bit and were very unhappy that we only had 15 dollars on us.  They did let us go and said they pulled us over for speeding ad that we needed to get off the main road.  Oh, yes..good times.  There are plenty of other stories that will have to wait like the time we jumped on one of those banana boats that they pull people around by some crappy fishing boat out in the ocean….our favorite thing to do is wait till they get us way out there in the ocean and then fall off an outrageous amount of times…they allow you only 3 falls but we end up getting about 8 or 9 out of it and a very unhappy driver by the end that just left us out there once we were close enough to swim in after falling off….we still were way out there…he was just fed up. And yes good times..we laughed the whole way through and even when our friend next to us was chocking on the salt water he swallowed from laughing. 

8th Grade

Some of what I remember about my 8th Grade year.

I was very uncomfortable taking showers due to my "late bloom" and some how was also a part of the "de-pantsing" (both victim and victimizing) and also grabbed the backside of a girl only to be severely embarrassed that if you get aggressive enough with your butt grab you end up grabbing more than just butt.

Kids were starting fires in the plastic garbage cans that were inside the pebble stone concrete shell that held the garbage can in various places on campus outside of the buildings.  I am proud to say that although I am known for being a piro I never did start a fire but my worst moment in 8th grade was when I thought I was doing something good and when asked by my old soccer coach and at the time Head Janitor for the school Ramon, who was starting the fire he asked me, I turned them in because they were the type of guys that I didn't really like anyways because they were the supposed "cool guys" that I thought were jack-asses.  It turns out that those that I turned in started turning each other in for a lesser punishment and Gabe Power, who was definitely cool but not an ass, ended up being one of the names reported and he was kicked off the Wrestling team because of it.  Yeah, he still brings that up every now and again. :) 

I also had my run in with learning how to get the soda machine to give away free sodas that year and remember getting detention for having someone boost me up to the windows that looked into the girls locker room.  I couldn't see anything because it's the kind of glass that you can't see through and we knew that. Our purpose was to have the girls see the shape of a head at the window and freak them out.  Well we were successful as Katie Holland saw my head and threw her softball glove at the window and shattered it, upon which I got detention as did she which was awesome. We also ditched wrestling practice and put wigs on and dresses and tons of makeup and went to girls basketball try-outs.  That was funny but we got in trouble for that.  Not to mention my Wrestling coach was also my Math teacher and a stickler for behavior reports and suspended me from wrestling against Gilbert Jr. High for a minor infraction not to mention kicking me off the team for not being able to decide whether I was going to go to State or go with the team to Regionals since for some dumb reason that year they were scheduled the same day.  After being kicked off the team I would walk/run to Gilbert High Old Gym and practice with the little big guys.  That was when I learned my father aspired to be a private eye as he taped every conversation he had with the assistant principle and my coach regarding the matter. I know he had fun with them.

It was the first year I held hands with a girl for real.  That relationship lasted I believe 3 days before I got a note that said "I don't want to go out anymore"...her name was Devery Day...that Bi*@#! Laugh....just kidding.  Although others considered me popular (received 5 awards that year in the year book - Funniest, Class Clown etc. etc.) I did not hang out with the popular crowd because I did not feel cool.  Instead I played wall ball in morning before school started and during lunch rather than hang out in the main area where all the other kids were...we did pull a crowd of kids closer to the end of the year.  The game involved throwing the racquet ball at the backside of the person that messed up...when you got a good hit on them it hurt bad.

Yep - 8th grade was awesome.

Testimony of the Worn Shoe

Preston and I have made a goal to get to the temple together each month and it has really been great for us.  This past year I have felt the need to make it to the temple without Preston a few times, and it has been a really cool experience to have that time just for myself.  One of the days in particular was on September 23, I had decided to go to the temple early that morning it works out if I go early because I can slip out of the house before anyone is awake and get back before Preston leaves for work.  So this particular morning I had woken up and couldn't get my body to rush.  I had gotten ready slower than I had planned and got in the car not feeling rushed but totally content with when I would arrive at the temple.  It was a noticeable calm while I was driving, that I was where I should be at the time.  I arrived at the temple a few minutes before 6 am I walked into the dressing room and the lady looked at me and then looked at her watch and then kind of gave me a funny look.  It was now 6 and the next session didn’t start until 7 and initiatories didn’t open until 7 as well.  The woman didn’t look very hopeful for me but I still had a calm.  Then she said, “You may check with the sealing office and see if they need any help.”  So before getting dressed I started down the hall toward the sealing office as I walked up I saw a man who was almost frantic, he turned to another worker in the hall.  I overheard him say, “If there is anyone shows up please send them to the sealing office.”  Right as I came to meet them in the hall I asked if I could help.  He seemed to give a sigh of relief and told me to get dressed as fast as I could to be able to help.

Once I was dressed, I stepped into the sealing office and I immediately saw the patriarch from my Harmony Ward, when we lived by Mesa High, Brother Ashcroft.  He was the first one I served in that ward, and then after that I probably feed him and his daughter about every month.  I grew to really love and care about Brother Ashcroft and it was so wonderful to see him there at the temple.  As I sat down I saw a group that seemed to know each other all waiting together in the office.  I learned that they were there at 6 am every Thursday morning to do sealing together.  I also found out that one of the wives was missing and it would have made it very difficult to get through all of the sealings without another woman which I was able to fill in for.  The sealer that was in charge of the group kept turning to me and saying that I was an answer to prayers, and that they were so lucky to have me with them.  Though I felt it was the other way around.  Just to see this group so faithfully serving in the temple was so wonderful and I was really blessed to be in their company.  I was amazed that this group of elderly people chose to do sealings in the early morning each week.  When it was completely noticeable that they couldn’t get up and down easily, and that kneeling might have even been hard for them, one of them couldn’t even kneel and was given a chair, but they were there by choice serving the Lord.  To see their willingness to serve made me love them and strengthened by them. 

As we continued with the sealings I looked down toward the floor my eyes stopped on the feet the sweet lady who was kneeling at the alter and I noticed a small hole in one of her slippers.  I could tell by the style of the slipper that it was a newer pair; they looked just the same as mine in fact.  Except there was a hole.  I sat and studied the hole; it had to have come from lots and lot of use.  I remember thinking that I want a hole in my slipper just like her.  It was a symbol of her service and it was a silent testimony to me.

"SAVE THE DAY, OR AT LEAST THE DOG"

            One afternoon about the month of November, when the weather starts to become nice and the doors and windows can finally be opened, I was in my room putting on my shoes.  I was about seven years old.  It was Saturday, it was my day off of school, and I was going outside to play.  I slid my second shoe on and began to tie the bow.  Suddenly, I heard the sound of the screen door open and then shut, bouncing as it hit the door jam indicating that it wasn't fully closed.  I then heard the sound repeat, a faint squeaking as it opened and then the hush sound as it closed and bounced on the door jam once again.  The next sound alarmed me; I heard four little paws tapping across the concrete of the front porch.  I immediately jumped to my feet and ran to the door.  I saw my dog, Buster, running down the street after another dog that looked like a big mutt of some sort. It was black, gray, and white.  At that time he probably came up to my hip.

            Now, Buster wasn't the smartest dog ever.  Just by the looks of him one could tell this simple fact.  He was an overgrown Shih-Tzu, so instead of being a small dog, he was a fairly good size, just below the knee and a little over weight.  His hair was shaggy and usually hung in front of his eyes.  His coloring varied a bit, he was a light brown in the middle and on either end he was mostly white.  His head and neck, unfortunately, were the exact same size.  Consequently there was not a collar that would fit.  He also loved to run as fast as he could when he stepped outside the front door.  And since he wasn't the brightest dog, Buster didn't know how to get back home.  This made things a little risky letting him out of sight when he was in the front yard. 

            I ran down the hall and to the front door, I pushed the screen open, and sprinted after him.  I began yelling as loud as I could for my dog to halt.  He didn't even hesitate or even slow down.  He continued on as fast as he could down the street.  I tried everything to get him to stop. 

"Buster, do you want a doggy biscuit?  You come back here right now!  Buster, I mean it, STOP!"  I screamed at the top of my lungs waving my skinny arms franticly through the air.

Now that was a sight; one large dog followed by a small dog, and that followed by a lanky child, running down the street I lived on and around the corner.  The first dog jetted across a busy street to the other side, right behind him, Buster flung across.  As for me, I saw the big white truck coming down the street.  I slowed down, and stood on the corner of the block.  I was in such a dilemma I didn't want to lose my dog, but, on the other hand, I didn't want to be flattened to the pavement.  I stopped on the corner, frantically calling out my dog's name, demanding for him to stop.  The driver of the big white truck had probably seen the distress on my face and kindly let me cross.  I darted past, where I resumed my chase.    I couldn't figure out why the big dumb mutt, that was leading the rest, was running in the first place.  I just wanted him to stop, and stop sometime soon.  We passed house after house I thought we were never going to stop.  I had gained some ground on Buster but I was still pretty far behind.  We had run about a quarter of a mile, and I just wanted to slow down.  I had grown tired from the physical and emotional strain, but the chase went on.  I knew I couldn’t stop for fear I’d lose my dog forever.  About four blocks down the road, the dog stopped in front of a house.  I assumed it was his own.  I thought, "Wow, a dog that knows how to get home!"  I only wished that Buster knew where home was and then I wouldn’t have had to worry about him.  But Buster didn’t know how to get home, and that's exactly why I stayed on his tail. 

I grabbed Buster, picked him up and started back home.  I didn't trust him to walk with me, so I carried him.  I must have been a tough little girl because Buster wasn't light.  I bet he weighed at least 25 pounds.  On the way home, I had to stop and catch my breath a few times.  The school was about half way between my house and where the chase ended.  By the time I reached the school, I was so tired.  I plopped Buster down in the grass.  He was laying there on his back looking straight up at me.  I put my fists down right next to his long ears, and leaned over him.  I looked him straight in his puppy dog face I said,

"Do you see what you make me do?  Don't you ever do this again!"  I scolded him as if he understood.  Once I caught my breath I hoisted him back into my arms and finished the journey home. 

            When I finally arrived home I walked in, and set Buster down.  I then set out to find someone to tell my exciting story.  I went to my sister, who had a friend over, but they didn't seem as thrilled as I thought they should be.  At least my sister should have understood that if it wasn't for me our dog would have been long gone.  I mean, I didn't necessarily want to boast but come on; I had saved the day, or at least just the dog.  I was proud of my accomplishment anyway.  I had learned that I was a strong little girl and that I could persevere through a lot.  I could keep running after something I really wanted and go through the hardships of carrying it home.  

Catch Up!

            I was reflecting on some of the times that I felt the most amazed at myself.  I was reflecting on my track days.  There was a particular time that stands out to me. 

We were running against Red Mountain.  I was running in the last race, the 4x4.  I was also the last leg, like always.  I over heard the Red Mountain team talking.  The girl that was running against me was really nervous.  She didn’t know if she would be able to take the pressure of being last leg and win the race.  This made me a little proud, because if I was running against me I would be nervous too.  The race started.  

 As I stood waiting for my turn I watch my team fall further and further behind.  The nervous girl on the other team began to be at ease.  But my stomach tightened.  I had already decided that I was going to win.  So no matter how far in front of me she was I was still going to win.  By the time my teammate got to me, Red Mt. had already rounded the first turn.  This meant I had to make up 100 meters.  It was pretty much impossible.  But when I got the baton the thought of impossible had never crossed my mind.  I push as hard as I could.  I did catch up to her.  By the finish line, we were neck and neck.  I leaned into the finish line and fell to the ground.  My team jumped up and down like we had won.  I looked up from my back and asked my coach if we had won.  He looked down at me in amazement, but then said “Close, but no!”

Just One of the Boys

I’ve always been just one of the boys,

I wouldn’t be caught dead playing with girly toys.

Ha, I’d rather be outside in the dirt--

Scrapes, bruises, and getting hurt.

Three flies up, beast, and smear the queer,

We didn’t know the meaning of fear.

Bulldozer on the tramp, ‘til we’d throw up,

We’d roll around to make our hair stand up.

Our big adventures were incredible,

We were straight from Mission Impossible,

Double 0 agents with important stuff to do,

We really had badges, passports and code names too.

Basketball courts fit for the pros to play,

“Oh, no no no, girls don’t play here,” I’d say,

“Me?  Oh I belong here,”

“You?  You’re looking for the hopscotch, it’s over there.”

Dolls and Barbie’s I ignored,

Hoops and hockey sticks are what I adored.

So that’s about it you see,

Just one of the boys is what I’ll be.