I’m practically eating pain killers like they were candy. And by practically, I mean I’ve only taken them once, but they’ve been on my mind ever since I awoke this morning. My muscles are throbbing with soreness even though my body isn’t moving. A massage is no relief because of the pink burned skin. I’ve been in a constant state of “ow” since I rolled over in bed, cursing the habitual nature of our universe that it was morning again.

Then again, spending the weekend launching the wakeboard off the wakes and lounging in the Lake Don Pedro sun with old and new friends ain’t too shabby. Oh it hurts so good.

Photos to follow…

What do you call the combination of ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, relish, syrup, ice water, beer and Emily?

An Emily BBQ Sundae? No.

The new summer thriller, “When drunken condiments attack?” Close, but not quite.

It marks the official makings of a veteran Las Positas Ultimate Frisbee player. A couple years overdue, and funny since I never once had to do something “because I was a rookie,” but congrats to me! I now have the right to tell rookies to carry the disc bag, pick up garbage and massage my feet after a hard day on the field.

I’ve just witnessed the most thrilling feat of raw athleticism, sheer determination and impeccable endurance. No I’m not talking about the March Madness finals. That was at the other end of the spectrum–a depressing display that left me with $40 instead of $140. (Although even more depressing would be that if I hadn’t have picked the Stanford upset in round 1, I would have split the pot based on points. Sigh.)

Being completely honest, the money doesn’t mean a thing after I witnessed the finest sporting event ever. The name of the game? Basket Brawl: Two kiddie basketball hoops, a slick ball, and one main rule: one knee on the ground at all times. The rest of the “rules” include no below the belt, no goal tending and duct tape anything that’s bleeding. And oh, was there blood.

The first match up was only a 30 minute meeting, with a highly disproportionate team weight. Ernst was a fighter as Keith was rendered utterly useless as anything but a rag doll. Clayton and Kurt sailed to a fairly easy win. I filmed the game and will link to YouTube videos sometime soon.

Yet the main event began in the third point of the second game–precisely as my camera ran out of card space and battery. Coming from seasoned bbrawl vets and newbies alike, what followed was the most epic battle in the history of the game. Siblings Ernst and Elise teamed up against the man known as Robot and Elise’s lightweight boyfriend. They duked it out in what some could describe as a combination of grappling, basketball and pure insanity.

Elise held her own and the fire in her eyes kept sparking at opportune times. They were down and won the universe point during about the 70th minute. I’m worn out simply from uncontrolled cheering and jumping fits. Even though the glory began as the 1 GB card ran out, cheesy as it may sound, those moments will live on in our hearts and memories forever.

Around the same time we went to Wildwood, our church youth group went on a backpacking trip. We went up to the little lake near our camp and were served a challenge: jump off a 35- to 40-foot ledge into the waters below.

I was the first to take the plunge–only because I wanted the bragging rights. We were instructed to keep a pencil-like posture until we were underwater. But my body was impatient. I can just remember my mind being impatient and telling my body that it already hit the water. In actuality, I was about 10 feet away. So I bent my legs and hit the water square with my behind. Let’s just say when I climbed back up, the brusies had already formed. And just when I finished thinking “I’m glad I’ll never have to do that again,” my brother informed me that he didn’t get the picture and I had to do it again. So I present to you, my second attempt at pretending to be brave and having fun:

As my mom alluded to in my last post, I have recently finished round two of finally unpacking from the June move. And among the old backpacks, picture frames and textbooks was a CD case of old pictures. Looking at them brought me back to a time where I felt I had it all together–fresh faced and college bound, nothing was going to get in my way.

One of the CDs was named Wildwood, after the camp I went to right after high school graduation. Each day we did a different modest task like a 10-mile hike, a 14-mile mountain bike ride, and clearing a wooded area for a mountain bike ramp. There were no walls to our cabins and no electricity. And after the eating (a lot of) best camp food I’ve ever had, they gave us huge pieces of chocolate cake (cake, frosting and sprinkles–all chocolate). Needless to say, it was one of the best weeks of my life. (Being in the best shape of my life may have helped, too.)

I think I was going through a phase where I actually liked country music. I’m glad that didn’t hold too long. Another thing that didn’t stick too long, unfortuately, was my love for cross country running. The first picture was one of the greatest moments of my life, but was very short-lived. The second–the best pajama pants/workout/everyday pants ever. I still have them, though the seat needs a lot of patching. I guess it’s proof that I do much more TV watching than running these days…

One of my greatest accomplishments has been convincing Matt’s family to get a dog. It began by asking about their old dog, Sammy. Matt’s dad would laugh before telling me the story I’d heard several times before. That was fine with me, you see, because with each telling a yearning for a four-legged family member was growing.

Months went by and Matt’s dad searched all over for the right dog. Then in late December, a momma dog and her two young dogs came to a shelter. They had been accused of killing a sheep, though no evidence or hostile behavior would prove this story. Matt’s dad pleaded for a second chance because he wanted to have the female puppy. In a second investigation, Debbie passed the test, but turned out to be a Duke. On a second visit, its brother caught Matt’s dad’s eye. And so “Ben” joined the family.

While we all love this dog, we can’t decide on a name. Matt and I like Brut, as in champange. His mom like Spreckles, while his dad likes Harley. Initially he was convinced Sir Barks A Lot aka Barky would be it. But he doesn’t really bark. He’s a fiesty little fuzz ball who loves to greet (read: tackle) you with hugs and kisses.

My suggestions include: Tucker, Wild Wild (West), Ninja. Can you tell I never had a dog before?

Or Hammy. If there was such a thing as America’s Next Top Model Dog, he’d be the winner. He gave me solid pose after pose.

One thing’s for sure, though. He’s definitely a Frisbee dog in the making!

So do you have any name suggestions for this fella? For more inspiration, check out my photo gallery.

DE LA SALLE HAS BEEN DETHRONED!

I’m so happy the football bullies have been put in their place. Thank you, Canyon!

This weekend was the huge sale at the Patagonia outlet. While I am not a gearaholic like these guys, I am addicted to great deals. Especially deals that mean I don’t have to wear an oversized rain jacket that belongs to Matt or my dad. I walked out of the store with a $400 jacket that only cost me $109. Oh, and cute beanie found its way (legally!) into my bag as well.

And just so you can fully appreciate my new Chute to Thrill jacket:

Battling adverse California weather conditions:

Spin cycle:

And the beanie that won my heart:

There’s no clever or easy way to say it. Although, at the moment, a steady stream of obscenities would nicely sum up the way I feel at the moment.

What is so wrong with Oakland, huh? [National record homicides, crime, ghettoness…] That’s right–nothing! SO WHY ARE THE A’S MOVING? The team I’ve grown up with is moving to Silicon Valley. Fremont A’s. Silicon Valley A’s. YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING! The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim sounds better than those other options. Instead of fierce ghetto athletes, we’ll have glasses-wearing nerds who can’t fill out the tight pants!

And to make it even worse, the 49ers may move to Santa Clara! WTF! No more Battles of the Bay? I’m crushed. Absolutely crushed. Get your own teams, quit stealing ours. I guess Silicon Valley can’t stand having so much money with nothing to spend it on. If I throw down the racism card, would that get Oakland rallied up to stand up against the oppressive rich crazies?

I feel a boycott coming on. I love my A’s, but that may push it too far.

Almost a week ago, we traveled up to La Grange, California to bask in the wonderfulness that is Don Pedro Lake. Lake Don Pedro? Whatever. I’ve been trying to think of a blog-worthy description of the outing but can only think of the phrases “hurts so good” and “yeah, the bruise is from water.” Robot thrashed us on the tube, you see, and oddly enough we kept asking for more! I moved around like an octogenarian for three days thereafter.

Last night a bunch of us went through the pictures (mine are in the gallery, but I’m adding Matt’s soon). We marveled again at Matt’s five-foot, board-grabbing jumps. Sara cleared the wake. Christine smiled as she tubed and looked fierce when she was wakeboarding. Spencer and Sean, well, they always look cool. Spencer even wakeskated (wakeboarding without bindings, like a skateboard)!

As for me, there were nothing but laughs when I was shown. A trip to Don Pedro and I learned that there is no possible way for me to look cute on a boat, in extreme weather or during watersports.

Well, maybe it’s not entirely impossible … as long as I have these two with me.