An EVEN MORE perfect proposal

About a month ago, Mark said he wanted to go to the beach. We looked ahead in our calendar and picked the weekend of July 21st. Last weekend, my parents went down to the beach house to clean it for our out of town family. On the drive home, my mom called to tell us that the beach house was clean and closed to any more visits. Mark began to sweat. As I was talking on the phone with my mom, he was yelling from the other room, "Tell her we really want to go!" And then, the strangest thing happened. My mom said we could use the beach house one more time before the out of town family arrives. (I found out after all was said and done, that my dad may have urged my mom to change her mind).

We drove down bright and early Saturday morning. We decided to hike Cascade Head, which is a beautiful hike just north of my parents beach house. I had done this hike a million times when I was younger, but never as an adult.

Mark was soooo excited and SUPER chatty. He was driving the small talk, which is a first in our relationship! Usually I'm the talker of the two of us.

We started trekking through forest.

We took corny pictures.

 

The scenery was breath-taking!

Our favorite part were the bridges along the way.

Why are walking bridges so freakin cool?! I just love them!

Finally we emerge from the forest and are rewarded with a spectacular view.

The Salmon River.

The Pacific Ocean

More corny pictures ;)

Me and my boyfriend.

What I'm pretending to think: Wow, what a gorgeous view. This is spectacular

What I'm actually thinking: OH MY GOD! Could this be it?! What's going to happen when I turn around. Play it cool. Play it cool.

Well, I turned around, and we proceeded to eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the grass. There was some more small talk. Then he asked me to stand up. Okay. More talking, some hugging. Then he said, let's sit back down. Oooo-kay. More talking. He kept commenting on how many people were on the hiking trail. Then he said, let's stand back up. Ooooo-kkkkaaayyy.

Then, he began to tell me how much he loved. Sooo much, in fact, that he would climb to the top of a mountain and shout it to everyone who could hear. He dropped to one knee, and my vision started to blur. I'm pretty sure he said "Will you marry me?" and I'm pretty sure I was frozen. So frozen that he had to ask me a second time! "Oh yes! Of course yes!" He then asked if he could put the ring on my finger. My blurry vision then somehow was able to focus on the ring. It was PERFECT! I dropped to my knees, frantically took off the claddagh, and slipped on a one-of-a-kind 1940's engagement ring!

Isn't it beautiful!?

Me and my future husband!

Engaged!

I couldn't focus on the hike back down! Thank goodness we took pictures along the way!

My fiance, a glass of champagne and my gorgeous engagement ring. I couldn't be happier!

Paws for a Cause

For those who don't know, I am a physician assistant at the Parkinson Center of Oregon at Oregon Health & Science University. There's so much I love about my job: the coworkers, the patients, the science and research, the fundraising, the educating. I could go on. One of the more successful (and fun!) ways that all these areas intersect is through a fundraising event called Paws for a Cause. Paws for a Cause is a community dog walk and fair that raises money and awareness for Parkinson's disease. Here are some of my favorite pictures from the event.

Event MC and husband of a patient Larry brought is 1933 Ford for the event

Complete with Paws for a Cause sign of course!

Kelly, Charlie and Delaney

Ahna and the firemen. Hot!

Julie poses with "Hunter Dog" - poor Hunter

The Parkinson Rebels dance to MJ's Thriller

Charlie was very attentive during the FireDog demonstration

She's SUCH a good dog! Auntie Shannon loves you Char!

      

I tried to get Charlie and Bailey to model the Paws for a Cause Doggie Fashion Line, but they kept sniffing each other. Clearly they need to watch more ANTM.

Equipment Manager

From "How Stuff Works" on Football Equipment Managers:

The role of equipment manager has become an extremely important one for every NFL team. The equipment manager has two big areas of responsibility:

• Protecting the players - First and foremost, an equipment manager's job is to fit each player on the team with a customized array of equipment that will provide maximum protection against injury.
• Managing the logistics - The equipment manager must handle the tons of equipment the team uses on a daily basis, keep all of it repaired and in stock and move it around for all of the road games.

These twin responsibilities have made equipment management both a science and an incredibly demanding role on any NFL team.

                                                                          *****

Now lets edit this to apply to my family:

The role of DAD has become an extremely important one for every Donovan daughter. The Dad has two big areas of responsibility:

• Protecting the family - First and foremost, the dad's job is to provide each daughter in the family with a customized array of opportunities that will provide maximum protection against the challenges of life.
• Managing the logistics - The dad must handle the tons of equipment the daughters use on a daily basis, keep all of it repaired and in stock and move it around for all of the road games.

These twin responsibilities have made fatherhood both a science and an incredibly demanding role in any family.

                                                                         *****

For as long as I can remember, my sister, mom and I have always referred to my dad as "Equipment Manger." On the morning of a soccer game, my sister and I would have our soccer bags packed, water jugs filled, and scrambled eggs and toast already made up on the breakfast table. When the family was trying to get out of the house to catch a flight, Dad would set multiple alarms on his watch to make sure we were right on schedule. He'd have the tickets printed and filed in a travel folio. The bags would be perfectly stacked tetris style in the back of the Dono-van.

Take all this at face value, and you may draw the conclusion that we were spoiled little brats and our dad did everything for us (which actually...is a true statement). But I'd like to take this a little bit further to give you a little insight into the character of the most amazing dad there ever was.

My dad is the definition of selfless. He daily makes personal sacrifices so that his family can be happy. He arrives at the office at 5:30am so that he can leave by 4pm and pick Kelly and I up from soccer practice. He passed over multiple opportunities for prestigious promotions because he didn't want to uproot our family during those formative middle school years. He worked hard...man did he work hard...to be the best lumber salesman anyone has ever seen so that my sister and I could have the opportunity to pick our college based on the right fit - not the right price tag.

More than all this, he NEVER, not once, asked for anything in return. I'm not exaggerating. Ask my sister or my mom. He loves loving us. He legitimately felt joy when I scored a goal. You would think that he ran a personal best 400m in the state qualifying track meet because he was so happy watching me cross that finish line 2 seconds faster than I had ever run before. No one would have guessed that he wasn't in Boston when the Red Sox finally won the world series because you could hear his cries of joy from coast to coast. My sister and I were extensions of him. When we laughed, he laughed. When we cried, he cried. When we succeeded, he succeeded. No matter where Kelly and I are be it Boston, Eugene, or the next room over, whether we're 3 years old or 30, we can always talk to my dad and know that he'll instantly react, triage, advise, and execute the way a trustworthy Equipment Manager would.

I love you Dad! Happy Father's Day!

New Year's Eve with the best date ever.

Jack Jr and Jack Sr (aka the original awesome dad) 

Supporting the Red Sox at Safeco (we won the game).

"The Rarr"

Jack's cedar plank grilled salmon is legend...wait for it...dary!

Mary Ann's - the local BC bar. It may have been 2005, but we partied like 1975!



 And like a champ, Dad rallied for tailgaiting the next morning in the mods with Mr. Bourque and Mr. Pierson...two other top notch dads!

Equipment Manager does a final bag check before sending me away to his alma mater. Notice how many carry-on's I have. Clearly this pic was taken pre 9/11 (by about 2 weeks).



Mom makes the most amazing Christmas lasagna. Usually the lasagna wins, but this particular Christmas, Dad and Kelly were determined to finish. Please note Kelly's unbuttoned jeans and the closest thing you'll ever see to a pot belly on Dad.

The Perfect Proposal

Many of you have probably seen Isaac Lamb's lip dub proposal by now. If not, here's a link to the video. I guarantee it'll put a smile on your face.

http://youtu.be/BKtNtsrs6go

I'm extremely excited about this video because Isaac is a fellow Jesuit High School alum. He graduated a couple years ahead of me, so I only knew him from afar. Seeing this video, however, brought me right back to high school.

Freshman year, Spring 1997. My girlfriends and I were sitting at a round table in the cafeteria. We were no doubt gossiping about the freshmen in our class who had been asked to the junior/senior prom aka the popular kids aka not us. All the sudden, we hear a chorus of male voices...

"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips.
And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips.
You're trying hard not to show it, baby.
But baby, baby I know it.

You've lost that lovin feelin
Whoa that lovin feelin
You've lost that lovin feelin
Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh-oh-oh"

By now, we and the rest of the cafeteria had located the origin of the song. Alex, the male half of one of those "staple" high school couples, had gathered his buddies to serenade his girlfriend, Adrienne, in the middle of the cafeteria. After the boys finished their tune, Alex got on one knee and asked, "Adrienne, will you go to prom with me?" The whole prepubescent audience waited with baited breath. "Of course!" Applause erupt!

Shortly after, the girls and the boys were called into an assembly. The boys were in one gym, the girls were in another. I don't remember what the girls' assembly was about, but I definitely remember what the boys were told. The administration instructed the boys that they were forbidded to ask girls to dances in a public manner because it was sexual harassment. In other words, by asking a girl out in public forces her to say 'yes' and is therefore against the law.

In the words of Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers, really?

Luckily, as is the case when "the man" tells students that they can't do something, the boys at my school completely rebelled. It became their mission to ask girls to dances in the most creative, over-the-top way as possible without getting caught by adminstration. And let me tell you, this led to some of my favorite memories in high school.

High school is a time when teenagers go through the most dramatic changes in an extremely short period of time. Changing hormones, changing bodies, changing goals and aspirations, changing morals. I absolutely believe that it's the role of our educators to help gently guide teenagers through this transition. Key word there: gently. Yes, it's important to teach our young men how to treat a lady. But is it not also a life skill to teach young women how to say, "no" despite the circumstances under which they were asked? Part of what I learned in high school was how to interact with boys - a skill that has not only helped me socially, but also professionally.

I applaud you Isaac, for taking the time to show the world how much your fiance means to you!

Kelly's Bridal Shower

This weekend, 3 of my mom's best friends hosted a couple's shower for my sister and her fiance Nick. Since a) I'm totally cheap and b) I have two more showers of hers to go to, I decided to make them a gift. Heck, I've been pinning away on my pinterest boards. Might as well have something to show for it.

This was my inspiration.

Step 1: Get the maps. Kelly and Nick met at the University of Oregon even though they didn't start dating until they were both living in Portland working for Fred Meyer. They plan on marrying in a small chapel in Sisters, Oregon with their reception at Black Butte Ranch. And they live with their adorable Boston Terrier Charlie in Portland.

Julie D at work graciously let me use her color printer even though it was for personal reasons. (Really had to pull her arm to help me out with this project on a slow Friday with everyone else out of the office on various summer vacations!)

I thought the hearts were a little corny, so I decided to use circles instead.

Unfortunately, when I lined the three circles up, it looked like a stoplight. Luckily, Mark's cousin, Lauren was visiting. Lauren's an art history major and a wonderful artist in her own right. Her recommendation of placing a line of pink down the center pretty much saved the project.

I then shamelessly recruited Lauren to do the "handwriting" part of the project since my handwriting looks like an ADHD first grader after a pixie stick party.

And of course she did a magnificent job.

And here's the finished product! FYI Kelly and Nick's colors are pink and navy. Unfortunately, I spent so much time creating the present that I didn't realize that all I had to wrap it was an old towel and some leftover Christmas wrapping paper. All those pinterest DIY'ers would be so horrified ;)

Moment of truth! I think they like it. Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, I made them re-enact opening the present because I totally forgot to get a picture of their reaction. Hence, M's "are you kidding me," face in the background. 









Paddy Whacked

Ever since I was reading chapter books, my favorite genre to read was historically based writing. Fiction or non-fiction - it didn't matter to me. My love of history and story-telling comes directly from my father, and his love was passed to him by his father.

Last year, my family visited Pop and Nana Donovan in sunny Marco Island, Florida. We LOVE Marco Island. My sister and I instantly take on our geriatric alter egos. We get up at 7am, go for a jog (well, she does - I usually help Pop with the daily crossword), eat lunch at 11:30, lay by the pool, catch up on the condo gossip, hit up the grocery store, family dinner at 5:00 with jazz playing in the background, bed by 9pm, rinse, repeat. Heaven on earth.

One thing I can count on is that Pop will always have an amazing book suggestion for me, and this last trip did not disappoint. Pop suggested the book Paddy Whacked by TJ Engligh to my sister and me. The book is the story of the Irish mob in America starting in New York and South Boston, migrating south to New Orleans, and then west to Chicago. The book is written in such a way that you find yourself identifying with the gangster characters during prohibition. You're in the garage with Whitey Bulger as he's dealing with the Italians in the North End. However - none of these stories, no matter how well-written they are, can compare with the story Pop told us one night while drinking cabernet after dinner. The story is one of his childhood inspired by a passage he read in Paddy Whacked. As he was reading, his eyes were opened to a world that his boyish naivete did not see at the time. I hope I do it justice.

It was the 1930's in Boston. Jack (Pop) and his buddy (we'll call him Sully, not because that's his name, but because I want to) were hanging out on a sunny Friday after school. Sully reaches into his cotton-twead pockets disappointed at how empty they are.

"Hey Jackie, we gotta make some dough."
"How we gonna do that Sully?"
"Well, I sees these guys down by the docks. Maybe we can get some work there."

The next morning, bright and early before the roosters have begun to stir, Jack and Sully head down to the docks. They see a mob of men (pun intended) fighting for the foreman's attention praying to the Virgin that they get selected to work that day so that they can feed their wife and brood of ginger kids. Sully and Jack work their way up front.

"We'd like to work, Sir." The foreman looks the two scrawny pre-pubescent boys up and down. "Oh you do, do you. Do you know what you're getting yerselves into, Boyle?" "Yes sir. We are hard workers. Whatever you need." Sully does all the talking. Jack's knees and teeth are chattering. "Alright, go over there on the ship and report to Murph."

The boys head over in the direction to which the foreman gestured. They were given two extremely large, extremely sharp hooks. They were then ordered to stand on the platform; the platform was going to lower them down into the cargo hull. Once there, they were to load up the platform with the merchandise down below so that it could be unloaded for sale to their vendors. At the end of the day, they'd send the platform back down and they could go home.

The boys do as they're told without asking questions. They nervously step on the platform, and the platform begins to descend. Almost instantly, a vile stench consumes their nostrils. The boys hold back gags and dry heaves. The ship was from South America. The cargo: cow hides. There was no way out. They were stuck with the rotting hides until the platform was sent down at the end of the day...twelve hours later. The boys worked - back breaking work - hour after hour in silence trying not to inhale lest they pass out from the pungent rotting odor. At the end of the day, the two ascended out of the hull like Lazarus rising from the dead.

The boys walked over to the foreman. Sully tapped him on the back. "Scuse me sir. Can we collect our pay." The foreman laughed. "You boys are still here? Well whatdoyouknow. Of course, here's your cut." He hands them each a dime. "You know, you boys are okay. If you come back tomorrow, you got yerselves another day of work." Sully looks up at the foreman. "But sir, tomorrow's Sunday. We gotta go to church." The foreman's jaw drops to the ground, and then he errupts in painful, sidespitting, uproarious laughter.

On the way home, the boys continue their self-imposed vow of silence. Jack walks into his home past his mother shreaking after him, "Where have you been all day? Jackie! Jackie!" He strips off his clothes, goes to the yard, grabs a barrel and burns them. The next day, the boys went to church - like good, Catholic, non-mob affliated Irish boys should.



****



Pop didn't know at the time that this day was his brush with the Irish mob. And to be honest, after reading Paddy Whacked, I bet it wasn't the last. "Those guys" were your neighbor, your best friend, the grocery store manager, the guy down the street. In order to get money to support your family, you needed to work. In order to get selected, you had to have connections - and many times those connections needed to be through organized crime. It was a way of life, a way to survive in a country that didn't want them. If hindsight is 20/20, what does that make looking back 70 years later through the eyes of an expose on your culture?

Trip to Albany

Last weekend, M and I visited his sister and her family in Albany, New York to meet his new adorable nephew, Everett James Berry. We had an absolutely AMAZING time filled with delicious food, wonderful conversation, and lots of adult beverages. Oh, and there were more than a few parenting lessons thrown in there too. Bottom line, M and I have a LOT to learn.

Example: Charlotte is 2 going on 25. She recently started potty-training. For those who don't know, she is one independent chick. She came down to our room and announced that she needed to use the potty...by herself. She marched into the bathroom, un-did her jammies and diaper, and plopped her little tush on the pot. M and I were sitting on the bed, facing her, waiting and watching like total creepers. Charlotte then announced, "Close Door!" Sounds natural. I get stage fright in public restrooms, and I don't have people staring at me to perform. So we obliged.

From the other side of the closed door, we hear "1, 2, 3 GO Abcdefghijlooooopqrstuvwxyz." By the third alphabet, we can't take it anymore. "Everything in there okay, honey?" And then we try the door knob. It's locked. Parenting FAIL! M starts scanning the key hole to see if we can pick the lock, but apparently there was something jammed into it so that wasn't an option. Then we started scanning the door hinges to see if those could be removed. No go there as well. I start talking to Charlotte to turn the little knob instead of the big knob to unlock the door. After probably the longest 60 seconds of my life, I hear a little click and she comes waltzing out, walks up the stairs and continues playing with her toys. M and I, however, have to change our shorts. Ugh!

Here are some of my favorite pictures from the weekend.

M playing tea party with his niece and nephew.

Everett contemplating how to take over the world.

Charlotte leads a difficult life but someone's gotta do it.

Charlotte, M and I painted flower pots. This turned out to be more an activity for the adults than it was for the toddler.

Possibly the most perfect picture in oh so many ways. 

Nike's next ad campaign. Is there anything more adorable than mini-sized shoes?! Flippin' adorable!