Day 1: Dansie = Lou Brock

Shooting this video was like capturing lightning in a bottle. It reminded me of that video of Den-Den getting thrown out at first base, and by the time he made his way back to the dugout, he had a pulled hammie. Dansie did the exact same thing.


About 2 seconds after this picture was taken, Griffey slammed a line-drive foul ball off of Dansie's palm, nearly breaking his thumb. We got the ball, though. All-in-all, day 1 was a success.

Did Tim Donaghy ref Game 6 of the '98 Finals?

On December 1, 2006, after a horribly reffed, nationally televised Jazz blowout at the hands of Kobe Bryant -- who scored 30 points in the 3rd quarter alone, 15 of them free throws -- I (Paul) wrote the following email to my friend, Dansie:

"I stayed up until 1:30 watching it [the game]. So disappointing. I think it would be easy to be an NBA ref. Just blow the whistle anytime a Jazz player comes within 2 feet of Kobe. I hope David Stern enjoys spirit prison."

I know, the tone of the email is a bit harsh, but recent revelations about the state of NBA reffing back up my ire. Turns out, at least one NBA ref has been throwing games to satisfy his gambling habits and mob ties, and I'd be surprised if he's the last to be outed. I just feel bad for the kids out there (my nephew Andrew, to name one) who keep hopelessly rooting for their Jazz. It's an impossible uphill battle. We simply don't have the resources to pay off the Joey Crawford's of the world.

That being said, "It's Our Year!" next year.

P.S. I hate to ruin the surprise, but Lindsay is now a beautiful brunette. I give her 6 months until she's back to being a beautiful blond.

Keys Please!

Paul is always getting after me for losing my keys. I'm a little air-headed when it comes to putting my keys, cell phone, purse, etc. away in the same place. This morning I was headed out to a stake primary meeting and was looking all over for my keys. I kept saying, "Paul, where did you hide my keys?" and "Have you seen my keys anywhere?" Just as I was about to grab Paul's keys and head out the door, Sabrina turned the corner, and handed my keys to me. She was also holding her own keys in the other hand. What can I say? She's already taking care of her mother.

Thank you Craig!

Paul and I are really getting anxious to come home. We are currently eating at a card table (thank you Kyle and Noelle) and staring at blank walls because almost all our stuff has been sold on craigslist. I don't know Mr. Craig (the one who started the list...not the creepy physics teacher at AFHS), but I do know that we owe him a big thank you! Moving will be a lot better this time because there is hardly anything to move.

In related news, we found a tiny 2 bedroom house in Pleasant Grove (near the temple) to rent for less than half of what we pay here...we are going to love not hauling groceries up to the 7th floor anymore.

Also, we have been catching up with the rest of the world by watching the first season of Lost (or as I like to call it "Felicity on an Island"... some of the story lines are strangely similar... that J.J. Abrams is a one-trick pony). I have been enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would but knowing the Abrams model all too well, I am guessing that Kate ends up with Sawyer instead of Jack.

Happy Fourth of July!

We'd like to say that our 4th was totally exciting, but Sabrina got sick (flu) and we had to cancel most of our plans. We did manage (being the patriots that we are) to go to the Civil War battle sight at Bull Run though and walk around a little bit. We also had a delicious BBQ at Kyle and Noelle's, followed by some killer fireworks at home.

Golf at your own risk ...

So Kyle and I (Paul) went golfing yesterday at Langston Golf Course, a municipal course in N.E. Washington -- i.e. the scary part of town. About halfway through the round, we got stuck behind an extremely slow moving twosome. Kyle politely asked if we could play through, to which they responded with a terse "No." We thought, "Okay, let's take the high road, and just let it go." For the last nine holes of the round, we patiently waited at every tee box while the hacks ahead of us turtled along. Finally, when we reached hole #18 (nearly five hours into our round, mind you) the fairway seemed to be clear. Kyle and our third playing partner, Sabino, teed off first. Then me. I smashed a booming drive, and as I watched it sail down the middle of the fairway, I realized that it was heading straight for the two clowns in front of us. We hadn't seen them hacking away in the bushes. Luckily, I hit it well enough that it flew over their heads. But I could tell by their gestures that they weren't happy with me.


They waited for us, and when we reached them they unloaded a litany of expletives on me. One of them, a self-proclaimed convicted felon who was just released from the slammer for murder, said that he'd happily go back for killing someone who hit into him on the golf course. I apologized. He wouldn't hear it and continued with his expletive laden tirade. My favorite part came when, as they drove away in their cart, one of them looked back and screamed, "What did you say?!" I threw my hands up and said, "Nothing." He mockingly retorted, "That's right!" I bet he laughed himself to sleep last night.