My Grandfather

My grandfather had magical eyes. They were this amazing blueish green with a sparkle of mischief. He always had a joke to tell, he always could make one smile.

I had the luxury of my grandparents living down the street. When I was two I escaped from my parents watchful eye. Luckily I knew where I was wondering to, my grandparents. My grandma looked out her dining room window and saw me waking down the street towards their home. Knowing grandma, my parents heard an earful.

That home was my second home. When I was a child my biggest fear was losing my grandpa and grandma. I had to carry pictures of them with me to school. I would pull them out of the special pocket and look at them while the others ran out to recess. I couldn't wait for the bell, to get home, to get to them. I spent almost every day after school there, I slept over on weekends. I played dress up in housecoats, would sew outfits for my dolls out of grandma's pink sewing basket, watch grandpa build models. We would watch "Price is Right" summer mornings, that's when grandma would sit on the couch on put on her makeup....she is so beautiful, she never has needed it.

My grandparents were the managers of the mobile home community we lived in. Even though they worked, we still got to be around them. My grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, mom and dad all took shifts "watching" the pool. We spent many hours gathered around that table. Hot summer days, warm summer nights, amazing memories. That went on into my late teens when I would even "watch" the pool. We lived at that pool, swimming or chatting into the evening.

I never thought it was uncool to hang with adults. I went to the mall more with my grandparents and aunt than I did friends. I had fun, I loved every minute of it.

I always loved listning to my grandpa tell stories of when he and grandma were dating. He would have you rolling on the floor. He was a card. Priceless stories.

My grandpa and I had alot of fun razzing each other. He used to say, "If I didn't tease you, you'd think I didn't love you." Sometimes he'd call me at work and say, "Working hard or hardly working?" We just had fun. So much fun.

When he started to become very ill. I became very withdrawn. I was scared. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to cope. I thought that if I stayed away it would be easier somehow, I don't get the logic now that I saw then.

I was in Bountiful in a meeting when I got the call to get to the hospital. It was grandpa's 83rd birthday. I cursed, screamed and cried all the way to Salt Lake. That was the longest drive of my life.

Arriving at the hospital you know it's bad when they let the whole family into ICU. When I saw him, I couldn't speak. I held his hand and cried, I couldn't get a word out. He asked me "Why all the tears? It's going to be okay." Like always, my grandpa comforting me. I did get to tell him I loved him before he died. I never thought I would watch someone take their last breath. I was there to send my grandpa off into his next jouney.

One year later, I sit here on what would be his 84th birthday and I think of the good times. I start to realize that with him, I didn't have any bad times.

I regret not going over there every spare moment I had. Just to sit in his presence, to hear him talk, to hug him. I would give the world to fall at his feet and pour my soul out to him on how much I love him, miss him. The impact he has on my life still. The values he taught me.

I just want to be that little girl again with her grandpa. I want to hold his hand. I want to go back.

Happy Birthday Grandpa. I love you more than ever.

A Lesson From Honey

Today at work I was rubbing my temples while looking over the list of things to do when Glenn, one of the maintenance men walks in with leash in hand and announces that he found a dog lying on a porch of one of our homes for sale. Because of the way my desk is angled I could not even see the dog. Deep breath, not what I need at the moment...or was it.
Glenn takes a seat and proceeds to tell me that it is a Pit Bull. We don't even allow them in our communities because they are considered an aggressive breed.

I think of Pit Bulls as Troy thinks of Manatees....Godless killing machines.

I call animal control. No help, they will not pick up dogs on Saturday's unless they are being aggressive. I was thinking, Hello it's a Pit Bull, isn't that enough??
She then tells me that I have a few options; let it go, take it home until Monday or drop it off at the Salt lake County shelter. All bad for me. I will not turn it loose, I WILL NOT TAKE IT HOME and I really don't want to drive it to the animal shelter...it would have to sit right by me. It could tear up my beautiful, flawless face.

I finally decide to peek over the desk and take a look at my nemesis for the day. What will I have to face?? I slowly peek over the desk and there she is. Staring right at me were the most beautiful golden eyes. Although Glenn told me she was a puppy, he failed to mention that she was a 40+ pound puppy. I slowly walked around the desk and let her smell my hand. I was still hesitant, and than I remembered the only thing that "Jerry McGuire" taught me. Dogs and bees can smell fear.

So I shake it off compose myself and walk out to the car open my door and Glenn puts her in the passenger seat. She looks terrified. She barely can fit sitting on the seat.
I get in the car and she gets right to my face and licks my ear. I start to pet her head and neck as she rests her head on my shoulder. I start to drive and she stays on my shoulder.

We spent a 35 minutes in the car together. I talked to her, she kissed my ear some more and laid her her head to my shoulder several more times. I make it to the shelter alive, in one piece and in love with a Pit Bull.

I check her in and find out that she is 6 months old and her name is Honey. As the attendant radioed for a staff member to come and get a stray dog, I got down on my knees to say goodbye she snuggled into my neck and I hugged her. I got up, got back down and hugged her again. She kissed me several times on the cheek before my new friend and I parted. I watched her go down the hall and I teared up. Oh how I was wrong. So wrong with my snap judgement on what Honey "should" have been like.
I actually wish I could have taken her home.
Thank you Honey.

Growing Up

Children flood my office every day in hopes that I have made it to the store and replenished my candy bowl that they will devour within that very day. They stop by on the way home from school and sporadically thru Saturday. Usually if the candy bowl is off the desk they just look thru the glass and walk by.

Today I had two small girls come in equipped with purses, cell phones, small dog and a 2 year old. "Oh this silly dog I have keeps trying to run away!" I tell her that she needs to get a leash. Rolls eyes, "I have one in my purse..I just need to get to it." Okay, fair enough, I lose stuff in my purse all the time. I tell them that I like their purses and the phones. "They are old ones that really don't work, we just pretend. We act like we are grown ups." That's not fun.....or is it?

I remember as a child I loved to dress up in my grandma's housecoats and put on makeup. I also would take my grandpa's receipt book and "fill" out receipts. I liked to play like I was a librarian from time to time. I would scan the book bar code with a flash light. I'd play on type writers (not allot of computers at the time) I played grown up.

Now that my age tells me that I am one, and legally have been for 11 years. I like to think that when I was a child I acted grown up and now I act like a child, a semi-responsible one.

When I was a teen I told my parents that I was going to travel the country, be a Gypsy and the queen of New Orleans. I was a strange one. I still remember Tami and I mapping out the way we would drive the country, in a beat up old mail truck that we wanted to buy. I can still find the house in downtown Salt Lake were it was for sale.

Ignorance is bliss. Bills, Health Care, car payments, rent, groceries and a full time job never crossed my mind. Sometimes I wish I could go back and feel free of the burden that troubles us adults at times.

I always have been a little pessimistic. Enter Troy. The most optimistic person I know. He gives me balance. I know that even though I have gotten older and have responsibilities that I still can have fun. Allot of fun.

I never drove the country in a mail truck. I have had amazing vacations and journeys. I have been a Gypsy for Halloween. I may still one day become the Queen of New Orleans.

For right now I am happy as happy gets being the wife to Troy and the queen of Holladay, Utah.

Farkle is becoming more than just a dice game

I really love playing Farkle online against strangers from around the world. To the right side of the screen you have a little chat box. I am not a fan of those who want to chat, however, I feel that if I close the chat I look rude. I'm just there to play a mean game of Farkle. I don't mind the quick chat to simply say, "Good luck." I also don't mind when little old people ask you where your from....actually old people can do pretty much what they want. They are adorable.
Anywho. My problem lately has been with teen boys. I wear a St. Christopher around my neck. One boy asked, "What a pretty necklace, who is it?" I was like, oh I have to reply to that. Bad idea. I tell him to which he says to me,"I bet he likes staring at your boobs as much as I do." Hey we are taking about a saint for crying out loud you little pervert. I get allot of, "Hey good looking you single?" I ignored these for awhile, until I responded once, "Happily married and 29" He left the game right away, thus leaving me the winning chips and point. This has become my new strategy. A win is a win, right?
Sidenote. My blogs will be all over the place. Just a heads up!

My 5 year old nephew, the salesman

Yesterday afternoon I stopped in at my parents house for my lunch break. I see Noah standing about one foot away from the T.V, I assume that something REALLY great must be on. Wrong. It was an infomercial. I walk over and start playing with his mop of curly hair as his eyes stay glued to what appears to be a brush for dogs that acts like a vacuum. Noah says to me, "Oh, Chewy watch this part, it can comb curly dogs. Oh and that dog....are you watching Chewy?" I was, it was a pretty nifty tool. "I am Noah that's pretty cool."
Now he makes his pitch to what he thinks I should buy.
"Chewy you need to buy the brush with the curler to straighten your hair, it doesn't burn your hair."
This child knows me all to well. I straighten my hair with a Chi (best product ever) and smoke will come off my hair....not good, I know. So does Noah.
He's a smart cookie. Adorable as well.

What is Choy?

I know your all dying to know who or what Choy is, well your in luck. I will tell you. My sister Jamie has always had a nickname for me. I have been called Pooh Bear, Chubs (my mom put a stop to that one, silly thing I was a really skinny child) Chewbacha (strange as we were not Star Wars fans) finally shortened to Chewy. We always joked that her kids would never know my real name, they'd only know Me as Chewy. Jamie had Noah in June of 2005. I have been Aunt Chewy, Chew Chew, Chew. Noah never calls me by Mandi. He often forgets what my real name is. Goal accomplished.
When I married Troy, my baby sister Lisa shortened our name as a couple to Choy. Long story for such a short answer. I am a personal fan of my nicknames.
Kudos Jamie and Lisa.
On a side note...how do you spell Chewbacha???
If Troy reads this he will be on his way to the lawyers to file for divorce. Sorry honey.