Why I Love March Madness

Growing up, I would have been considered the sports fanatic in my family -- and that's not saying much. I went to a few spring training games with friends, I tried to catch the big U of A vs. ASU rivalry game every November, and because I was in the school band, I saw all of our football and basketball games by default.

However, the one sporting event I have truly loved since I was young is March Madness. And, thanks to names like Sean Elliot, Steve Kerr, and of course, Lute Olson, Arizona became my team. And while I will always cheer on the Wildcats, I just love the tournament in general. Why?

1. It's something that my husband and I share and enjoy together. In 1997 when the Cats won the championship, it was the single greatest moment of my NCAA-lovin' life. The next year, when Utah took out Arizona in the Sweet 16, it was the greatest moment of Dan's Ute-lovin' life. Every year, we fill out our brackets, and there have been several times that I've done much better than him. And it's paid off. I've won new shoes, massages, and a month's worth of him making the bed. Let's just not talk about this year's brackets, okay?

2. It's just plain fun to walk into various places of business and see all the little brackets posted on the walls. It makes me laugh. It reminds me that we all need a little escape, that tournament brackets, whether you follow the teams or not, are something in which we can all participate. I mean, who would have predicted anything about Harvard this year?

3. Beyond that, March Madness is a good metaphor for life. Not everyone is invited to the party, and not everyone gets a trophy. Sometimes (and this was tough) not even Arizona is invited. Some people show up who have rich and/or famous dads (yeah, Tim Hardaway, Jr.). It's messy and it's sloppy. One moment it's all going your way and the next moment everyone seems to be ganging up on you. It can get ugly -- people lose teeth and break legs. In slow motion, some plays are absolutely beautiful. There are buzzer beaters that take your breath away and you find yourself holding out hope until the very. last. possible. second. And then Cinderella shows up and you HAVE to cheer for the underdog, because what kind of a monster would you be if you always cheered for Duke the #1 seeds? The best, of course, is when your own team is the Cinderella team. And honestly, how can you not love a white kid named Spike who comes into the championship averaging 2 points per game and then scores 17 points in 17 minutes of play? To quote Luther Vandross, he got his "One Shining Moment."

Finally, when you win, it's pure elation. When you lose, you pick yourself up and try again the next year. And THAT'S why I love March Madness. See you next year, boys.

Happy Things

When I was a little kid, we lived in Heber City, Utah, which is where I currently work. One of my favorite things to do was to make the five-minute drive to Midway (which is where I currently live) and go to the Timp Freeze for an ice cream cone. The reason I loved their ice cream cones was because they always gave you a little toy surprise in the cone. Sometimes it was a sword. Other times it was a dinosaur. When we moved to Midway three years ago, I was a little disappointed to see that the Timp Freeze was nothing but a shell of a once great ice cream stand.

But then... there was a glimmer of hope. The Timp Freeze got a fresh coat of paint. Someone hung up a sign that said "Opening Soon." Well, "Soon" happened today. I took my daughter down the hill and we stepped into the shiny new place. I have to admit, my heart fluttered a little. If I ordered an ice cream cone, would it come with a toy? I was too chicken to ask. I just wanted to be surprised. I just wanted to feel like a kid for a minute. So I ordered a cone. My daughter was too overcome by the scent of cheeseburgers on the grill to think about ice cream, but me? I just wanted a cone. And with any luck, I'd get one with a toy. Thirty seconds later, the girl behind the counter handed me this:

Life is good.

14-Year Spin

Once upon a time, in a tiny desert town, a school teacher and a physical therapist met. They went out for tacos, played some tennis, and fell in love. In that order. They got married 14 years ago today.

Here are some of the highlights:

Trips to San Diego, Chicago, New York and D.C. (Hey, they were DINKS and could do that sorta thing). He tried to teach her to golf, with no success. Then her appendix went nuclear and she took a 10-day trip to the hospital. (Year One)

Then came a move to a city in the mountains where the teaching and the therapy continued. They added a Jeep and several friends to their family. After a while they decided it was time to add a kid or two or four to their family so they moved again, to a cute brick house in a little green grove... in Texas. The kid was in a hurry, so the teacher went on bed rest and the therapist worried. The teacher managed to hold onto the kid with only two weeks to go, and then they both got thrown for a loop as they learned how to be Mom and Dad. She left her kids at school to take care of her kid at home. They had three bucks left at the end of the month. But the bills were paid and life was good. The big trips morphed into day trips, discovering the Texas Hill Country. They tried to add a few more babies but Heaven needed them more. Eventually the little family took a trip back to the mountains to see the Olympics. And then an even bigger trip to Japan, because, well, they saved their 3 leftover dollars each month. And then finally, a little boy came along, who brought a piece of Heaven with him. (Years Two - Nine)

So they took care of their kiddos, gave a couple more back to Heaven, and moved back to the desert. I guess they're nomads, that way. They hiked and water skied and saw some cool things. She finally took up golf, which thrilled him to no end. They built a new house, which thrilled her to no end. But when it came time to close, the bubble was just beginning to burst, so they walked away rather than taking on TWO mortgages. After all, Faithful and Fearless was there motto. Then came a quarter-life crisis for the physical therapist, who didn't want to be a therapist anymore. So he developed a 5-year exit plan which lasted exactly 8 months before he made his actual exit. He became a salesman, which required a move back to the mountains. Somewhere in there they squeezed in a trip to Fiji, and now they live on a green hillside where their kids roam without a care. Where the mom is a teacher again. Where the dad finally has his dream job of playing golf for business. (Years Ten - Fourteen)

When compared to Forever, fourteen years is hardly a speck. But what a ride that speck has been so far. One of my favorite quotes is this: "Love shared is love multiplied" (Jeffrey R. Holland). In other words, the more you love, the more love you have to give. And notice how I mentioned all our trips? And all of our moves? They say that home is where you hang your hat. I've hung my hat in lots of places; stuffed it in a backpack on an airplane, laid it on a bed on a cruise ship, worn it when mopping different floors in different houses... in different states. So I guess I'm at home no matter where I am, as long as I'm with my taco-eating, golf-loving Dan.