My Boddy

There's one, maybe two people who prior to reading this entry know that "boddy", is not a typo. Way back many eons ago, when friends used to write notes to each other in class instead of texting, I received a note that I thought was signed "your boddy" instead of your buddy. My friend and I got a good laugh, but from that day on, we always signed our notes "your boddy". She, Kellie White, now Conde, became my best friend.

We played basketball together in Junior High and High School, created only minor mischief together and about a month ago, I got to go back to San Ramon and visit her.

You know you have a true friend when you've fallen in and out of contact over the last fifteen years (when my family moved to Denver), for real lost contact for four of those years, and yet when you get together it feels like yesterday.

Kellie is one of those friends for me. We always have a good time together. My only regret about my most recent trip . . . I went to Great America without her. Next time.

Thanks Kellie, for always being a best friend.

The reason for the maddness, Denver Third Installment

But back in May I embarked on an endless journey, 1700 miles . . . one way, to drive myself and four small children (all five and under) to Denver so that I could "indulge" by doing none other than running 6.2 miles. I think somewhere a bolt or two has come loose.

However, running a 10K (the Bolder Boulder) with your mom, dad, sister and brother is priceless and therefore obviously worth the bolt or two lost along the way. (Not my fastest race time coming in at 58:45, but like every good person, I'm sure I can blame that on someone else!)

This is me and dad after the race and getting ready to watch the pros do it, my dad did awesome and finished the race in just under 51 minutes! not his goal, but wow, he's FAST in my book!

Popcorn and Popsicles, Denver Second Installment

Popcorn first. You should have seen the "fun" these two had together. If only we could see Lisa's little boy Carter more often.

If your reading this entry and a Bown, you will at least understand the second half of this title. Apparently, the love of popsicles is genetic; going back at least three generations, and therefore cannot be helped. Ruston's grandpa loved them, his dad, I'm sure at least enjoys them, Ruston is addicted and MUST always be able to find them in the freezer or will immediately remedy the problem, and as you can see, the kids . . . obsessed. (I'm a little concerned, Ruston, elated.)

Denver, First Installment

Since I'm soooo far behind in blogging this is going to take a couple of entries. I finally made it home after being away for about two years. We came so that I could run with the fam in the Bolder Boulder (I'll have to tell about that later!). I love going home, and wish I didn't live so far away. Here are some pics from our trip.

This is taken from my mom's kitchen window. I love that they get deer in their backyard and yet the grocery store is still just a block away!

Brooke and Josh is Lisa's hammock, we had a good time there.

Brooke experiencing what we called "extreme swinging".

If you think this is nuts, just imagine when we used to do it on the most broken down old wood ladder, and really you were more worried that the ladder would break than you were about swinging or jumping from so high. You can see the old ladder in the background.

I love it. It's so much fun!