Day Fifteen Hundred and Seventy-Four

The Fresh Cut Grass

We finally got to see Dada throw!

Last time was maybe a month ago when he about took off my shins.

After Coach Pete came, this Mama was too scared to catch anything Dad threw! 

And that's a very good thing, considering I've been Adam's catch partner for a better portion of three offseasons and never really feared too much catching him! Now, forget it. Too hard. Too fast. Too low. Thanks, but I'll keep my shins.

We sure had fun watching him though!

Well, at least I did. Amelia was pretty into her bucket of toys.

Can't blame the girl - she's got some pretty sweet ones now!

Our tank top day was just the perfect one for cameras and pictures. Amelia's already working on her selfie game, clearly. That doesn't make Mama happy. Say NO to vanity, Millie! Ha ;)

Day Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seven

The 4th Annual Trunk-or-Treat

It's that time of year again. The Jupiter air is cozy. The fake pumpkin patches are busy. The costumed kids look cutsie. And the Family Church trunks have lots and lots of candy.

But this year, ours didn't.

Halloween is different for us now. And forever, it will be. Because attached to the holiday is the anniversary of my Dad's passing. 

I think one of the most horrifying and vivid memories that I carry from that time, a year ago, was walking into my dad's house on November 1st, and finding the bowl of trick-or-treat candy sitting on the table. Untouched. It was eerie and tore at my heart. My dad loved Halloween. Mostly because it was a reasonable excuse for him to buy - and then eat - all sorts of chocolate candies that maybe he wouldn't have necessarily purchased in bulk. Dad did love his treats. And to see the bowl sitting on the table like it was...like a project left unintentionally unfinished...was just hard for me to comprehend. It still is. 

So far, I've handled the approach of this date well. The reality that it's already been a year hasn't choked my words or stabbed my heart. At least not yet. And for that reason, I didn't feel comfortable pushing my emotions any more than necessary. So this year, no trunk for us...

 So instead of handing out candy from our trunk, we decided to help our church's biggest community outreach for Jesus by serving the hundreds of costumed children with freshly twirled, free cotton candy. 

And clearly, this was not Adam's idea of service. Rather, his idea of torture. I just kept reminding him - as the sugary mess flew into his eyes, melted on his arms, and crusted into his hair - that we were doing this for Jesus. That's right. I bribed him with Jesus. A good bribe, I say. A true one too! Eventually, he accepted his two-hour fate and twirled that candy like a pro. I even saw him crack a smile once or twice.

What I learned

Four things:

1) Always remember to thank your local cotton-candy slave...I mean twirler. 

2) He doesn't cut it as a scout.

3) She doesn't cut it as a player.

4) Adam should have been an architect?! 

(He made that out of cardboard in 45 minutes!)

Day Five Hundred and Fifty-Two

The Facelifts

My little business got a facelift yesterday!

I went out and purchased some items for my Origami Owl jewelry bar parties that I'll eventually be hosting!! I'm so excited! I especially love the owl necklace stand! Too sweet!

The grassy field next to Roger Dean Stadium is also in the process of getting a facelift.

They broke ground on this a few days ago, and eventually, it'll be home to beautiful hotel for all the Spring Training fans to stay in! Our little neighborhood is about to get a lot busier!

Day Five Hundred and Thirty-Seven

The Big League Clydesdales

Adam played the Cardinal's "B" team yesterday on the Cardinal side of the complex. Unlike the Marlin's setup for pre-game bullpens (Day 529), the Cardinals use this little side field for warm-ups. I think I like our side better, but their dirt road made for a neat photo.

Ok, so not the picture I'd normally take of Adam pitching in a game, right? Right. But when I tell you that both the President of Operations and the General Manager of the Miami Marlins are sitting in that golf cart watching my man, your feelings change, right? Right! :) 

This was really a sweet sight for me to see. These two men are quite powerful in the realm of Adam's career and watching them watch my husband was a really neat experience. Fingers crossed that they liked what they saw! ;)

Adam threw one inning yesterday, striking out the first. The second guy flew out and the third hit a bloop single. Then the fourth ripped a double and Adam walked the fifth. Finally, the sixth hitter grounded out. Adam touched 96 MPH on the chilly February outing.

Look who I found in the Cardinal's parking lot!!!!

THE BUDWEISER CLYDESDALES! 

*Gasp!*

This was the real thing...complete with the two coachmen and that sweet Dalmation (and some random guy...ok, he's probably not random)! 

The Clydesdales trotted around the warning track before yesterday's Spring Training game between the Marlins and the Cardinals. And true to Budweiser fashion, the huge animals showed up in style...yes, that's THREE 18-wheelers parked in the Cardinal's lot. Four horses per semi and one for the carriage and pup. These beautiful beasts travel like kings!

Day Three Hundred and Fifty-Seven

The Hoarders of Roger Dean

Believe it or not, this picture was taken at 8:00 AM this morning! Whoa! Go us! I can't remember the last time I hit snooze to such an early alarm, but truth be told, I really enjoyed the extra four hours added to my day! Roger Dean Stadium (where Adam has home games) held a neighborhood-wide garage sale this morning, and Alejandra and I weren't going to miss it for the world! We both woke up especially excited...only to be horribly let down an hour later. Given the kind of money that exists down here, we figured that this sale was going to be something along the lines of a glorified Goodwill. Not close. Imagine, instead, a hoarders house. That's what we decided it was like. A bunch of hoarders got together and tried to sell a lot of their least favorite, unusable, dirty, gross items. Booo. Alejandra is posing with the $200 she took out to go to this event. Thinking that she might find some gently used furniture for her new apartment, she had her cash stash ready and looking to spend. She ended up spending $2. Ha!

Adam even thought that I'd find some good stuff, so while I was out with Alejandra with only $30 in my possession, he snuck off to the store and took out some more moneys for me...just in case. Then, he left me this note and went back to sleep. I never used a penny of it. But the note made up for the garage sale letdown. He's so sweet.

Channing showed up to our apartment just minutes after Ale and I returned from our devastated walk from the stadium. Originally, I had it planned that I'd go twice to the sale: once with Ale, and then another time with Channing after we completed a 2-mile run together. Well, the run happened. Oh, you bet it did! And I even got Alejandra to go with us! But we never went back to Roger Dean. No thank you. 

This is a bad attempt at capturing our sweatiness after the jog. It was so hot. So muggy! We all completed the 2 miles, but I mostly hated every second of it. It still amazes me, to this day, how it's possible that I was a Division I track athlete who hated to run. Nothing's changed. Adam's convinced that if I just keep doing it, I'll learn to like it. I think he's wrong, but in secret, sometimes I think, maybe he's right.

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Seven

The Taste of Progress

After what seemed like 58 bajillion hours of desperate real estate hunting, we finally have our living situation nailed down. The only problem is that we still don't have a home until July 1st. That's next Saturday. A week. But that, we can handle. When the news came in of our future living arrangements, we smiled briefly and then quickly moved on to the next problem lurking beyond. Our current hotel room. Check out was at noon today and it wasn't until 11:30 that we realized it. Leaving the real estate office (with a lady that did her best to make our morning even tougher), we rushed to the hotel, packed our stuff, and moved it all into Jose and Alejandra's room (while the boys are gone for work, the two of us girls will share a room to cut down on the expense of hotel living). Next? Our stuff. The U Haul. It was noon by the time we rearranged rooms and finally got an idea of what to do with the rest of our things, but only had an hour before Adam had to be at work. So, we called our old friends, The Rickards (remember?!), and they offered us space in their second bedroom!!! We rushed to their apartment, gave out big huge hugs, and unpacked the U Haul in a hurry. I don't know how we could have done it without them...they made today every bit of a success. And saved Adam his head. I didn't end up biting it off after all! Haha. We certainly owe them! By the time we finished unpacking, Adam had a few minutes to get to the field. We jumped in the truck and headed straight for Roger Dean Stadium. With only our bed remaining in the U Haul, the drive went much faster. Arriving at the back of the complex with a few minutes to spare, Adam unloaded our bed into the garage of the Hammerhead clubhouse, where it will stay until we get our keys on the 1st. Whew. We said our sweaty goodbyes, and then, I took that U Haul straight to its home and never ever want to see it again. Ok, that's not true. I'm fine with the U Haul only if Jacksonville or Miami are apart of our destination ;) Exhale.

With the stress levels slowly inching their way down into human range, I took some time to myself at the hotel before wandering into the dream of Roger Dean. Well, it was at least a dream the last time I saw it. This time, not so much. Sprinkling the stadium were probably 200 fans and almost no crowd noise. No Guilford the Grasshopper. No Spaz. No Babe the Dog. No Spectacular Saturday or Thirsty Thursday. Deep breath. This is what they told us would happen and exactly why they sent us to Greensboro in the first place. There, the Grasshoppers are mini-celebrities with a crowd of 7,000 every single night. Here, the scene is different, and though the league is better, the life of the game isn't comparable to anything that the big leagues might be like someday. Not to worry, we love baseball. All the extra stuff just makes it that much more enjoyable. We're so thankful for his promotion and once everything settles down, will be able to thoroughly take in everything that this new experience has to offer. Slowly, but surely, I'll return back to normal, unstressed Kendall...I just need one day at Family Church and 6 more days of nomadic living. I think I can handle that! 

-AND-

HAPPY 46TH BIRTHDAY DADDY!!

Gosh, you're an old man! And praise God for that! It wasn't but 10 years ago that Dad was staring into the watery eyes of a little girl, explaining to her that he might never see her again. I remember the day he and Mom left for San Francisco quite vividly. I wrote about it in many classes growing up, and how it so uniquely changed my life forever. He said to me, "Don't worry, 'bout a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright." I went to my room crying, listening, as Bob Marley sang to me, wondering if the cancer in his brain would take him away from me forever. His words were spot on though. It was almost like he knew he'd be back. And back he's been now, for far longer than any doctor imagined. And maybe it's because he never seemed to worry about what lay ahead of him. He couldn't change anything anyways. Only his attitude. And that's exactly what he chose to focus his energy on. I have a lot to learn from my father in that way. I've always been a worrier, and really, it never gets me very far. But him, he just lets it all roll off his back, and that's a characteristic I greatly admire. I look forward to the years ahead of us, Dad, as I continue learning from your example. I am so proud of your fight and the strength it's taken to come this far. Keep on keeping on. And please, don't worry, 'bout a thing.

Happy birthday, King.

Love, Rascal.

Day One Hundred and Eighty-One

The Marlins Win 3-0!

This is what a Spring Training night in Jupiter (sorta) looks like (there's thousands of people in the stands that you can't see). Roger Dean Stadium is literally a one minute walk from our cozy apartment; even with all our doors closed, we can still hear the mega speaker project over the lively crowd. Adam receives free tickets to the Big League games, and so far, we've sat through 2 of them. I could get used to this! Tonight, the Marlins were host to the Washington Nationals. Yes, that means Stephen Strasburg. And for just an inning, with a few of the guys, we were front and center. Row ONE! Right behind Home plate! Strausburg was impressive, despite Tommy John surgery. He threw his fastball in the mid to upper 90s during his entire outing and we even saw one flash at an alleged 103 MPH. Adam's turn? I think so! 

The inning was short lived, and when the ticket holders came to claim their seats, we were re-located. The six of us got up, walked up the steps, and were in the midst of deciding where to sit next, when a man came up to one of the players. He was asking where he could find Adam Conley...Adam turned to the man, introduced himself, and was met with a pen and a page of players. On that page, Adam's picture was printed on the bottom right, just waiting to be signed. So, he signed it! 

I've never seen this side of my husband. When I saw him autograph that man's page, something clicked. I think I'm starting to come to terms with just how good Adam really is. Whenever I think of my boy, baseball doesn't cross my mind. To others, that's exactly what crosses their mind. I heard one man tell his little girl tonight that someday, Adam's going to be famous. That was weird. I never thought of him that way. When I met Adam, over our first conversation, he told me that someday, he'll be pitching in the Big Leagues. I laughed. Typical one-liner out of a baseball player. I thought he was just trying to impress me. Fast forward (almost) two years, and I'm realizing that he might've actually been telling me the truth that night. Still, nothing's really sunk in yet. Adam leaves for workout, I leave for mine. When he gets home, I grill him about practice: who saw what, who did what, who said what. He tells me, I (usually) get excited, and then it's over. The rest of the day is ours. That's the part I like the most, regardless of how hard his left arm can throw a 5 ounce baseball. 

Oh and the bottom left photo is Miami's 3rd baseman, Hanley Ramirez, hitting against Washington's Strausburg. (They're both studs, basically. Haha)