The fat man and a tough little girl

The last two days I have been thinking over what was sure to be a good blog post. It involved me working with the Mavs and helping them turn the series around; beating the Heat, to win the NBA Championship. In order to make the post work, I planned to use some photos of me with Dirk and Mark Cuban at the 2001 Dallas All Sports Association banquet.

Yesterday, when the photos were found, I didn't look anything like I do today. In the picture was a chubby guy with only a slight resemblance to the me of today. There I was, less than shoulder high to Dirk and as wide as Mark. The result? Neither the photos nor the story will make this blog.

Following the disappointing photo find, the kids and I headed to my office to pick up a few items. When we arrived, the parking lot was nearly empty and Savanna jumped out of the car all fired up. I walked around to the other side of the car to get Beckett. As I opened the back door, Savanna, doing her best Chinese Fire Drill, ran right into the edge of the door. She immediately began crying. I told her to watch where she was going and bent over to take a look at the damage. It was WAY worse than I expected. The blood was already running through her fingers and beginning to drip on the ground.

My first thought was doctor or hospital. Then I remebered we had a first aid kit in the office. I can do anything a doctor could right? We dashed into the building up the elevator and into the bathroom. Savanna, by this time, was already telling me how tough she was and that the blood didn't bother her. I cleaned it up with a wet papertowel then treated it with an alchol swab (she did not enjoy this) and finally a nice bandage. All better. The kid can take a lick.