tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77402277956332557332024-03-04T21:30:48.910-08:00The DishHeather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-91924045164446376472011-01-16T19:22:00.000-08:002011-01-16T19:23:05.795-08:00Priceless.Earlier this week I heard something heart breaking. Fellow Olympian and Olympic Water Polo player, Merrill Moses, had the most unique symbol of his athletic career taken from him. His Olympic Silver medal was taken from his parents house while they were away on vacation. (Story <a href="http://www.recordnet.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110111/A_NEWS/101110315/-1/A_NEWS06">here</a>.)As, with anything that gets stolen from you, I can imagine he (and his family for their losses) feel violated and helpless to recover these precious items.<br />
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When I heard, I went and got my own medals. I had a need to feel their weight in my hands. As I looked at them, like always, I am flooded with memories. Not necessarily only of water polo games. But of training and traveling with my teammates. Laughing, crying and being deliriously tired. It is like each one has its own story. Its own soul. Because, each one represents a journey that lasted years not just the hour of the final match.<br />
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So someone out there stole Merrill's medal and in a way I feel like that medal was severed from its soul. For an Olympic medal has only one true owner. The person whose neck it is placed around after they rightfully competed for it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo25ut8m3I4K7qb3kV6RkGsCA0hfTcpqiGecIbBbuZhMeOTwT4hb5liYAwKX-bd4RnrLmTJ6O8oIrTsUuof3HIsU2l-G_CHoHQN7d5Me9lL1_HtvEbzgK1RZDa53yDyPiu4cQnyVvCSc/s1600/medals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo25ut8m3I4K7qb3kV6RkGsCA0hfTcpqiGecIbBbuZhMeOTwT4hb5liYAwKX-bd4RnrLmTJ6O8oIrTsUuof3HIsU2l-G_CHoHQN7d5Me9lL1_HtvEbzgK1RZDa53yDyPiu4cQnyVvCSc/s200/medals.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>While holding them I also realized that I have very rarely seen an Olympic medal without the athlete who had won it. There is only one time I saw a medal on display in a showcase and while I knew the story of the athlete that it belonged to, it didn't seem quite as special as the ones I was introduced to with their rightful owners.<br />
(The gold and bronze medal pictured with mine are of a female and male rower.)<br />
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So I want to know who out there is going to buy this stolen medal? And for how much?<br />
How can you put a price on all of Merrill's memories? The symbol of HIS journey? How could it ever be as special to anyone else as it is to him?<br />
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I hope with all my heart that his medal is found or returned. Or maybe that someone reading this can help that occur.Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-74824590901955875262010-11-01T16:24:00.000-07:002010-11-01T16:30:12.488-07:00A love of sports.I grew up and went to college in Northern California. As a kid, if the 49ers were playing, that is what would be on tv. My mom yelled at the television so much, Joe Montana and Jerry Rice were household names. I had a box full of Mother's Cookies Oakland A's baseball cards, including Mark McGwire and Jose Canseco when they were the <i>Bash Brothers</i>, having acquired them while sitting in the bleacher seats with my swim team eating hot dogs and getting a "farmers tan". Most recently, I was invited to throw out the first pitch at a Giants game, upon returning from the Olympics in 04' & 08' at Pac Bell Park. So I have come to hold a very special place in my heart for the professional sports teams of the Bay Area.<br />
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Living in LA off and on for the last 10 years has helped me appreciate many a Southern California team as well. The Lakers, Sparks, Dogers, Angels, and Ducks to name a few. But none warm my heart quite like hearing about the teams of my childhood. Now, with the World Series upon us, I have had a longing to be home right now. (Thoughts of the holidays could be contributing to that as well but lets just stick to sports for now....) To be caught up in the hoopla and shenanigans that follow the pride of supporting one's team. While I sat on the couch watching Game #2, I came across this <a href="http://www.rocket-shoes.com/a-love-letter-to-the-san-francisco-giants/">blog</a> post on Facebook. And it made me smile.<br />
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Because I found that I knew EXACTLY what he was talking about. Only applied to my life I guess it is sort of on a global scale. The World Series is bringing San Francisco and many of us displaced natives together right now, as it does every year for baseball fans in two cities. Every four years, the Olympics bring together countries of people. And in the host city of the quadrennial the feeling of the visitors is much like Drew describes in his blog. People who might normally argue, have different political viewpoints and nothing in common, DO coexist and joyfully at that! The feeling is exactly one that you wish you may bottle up for use later when all hope seems lost. I LOVE sports for this and feel blessed to live every day in pursuit of excellence in them.<br />
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As I have said to every family member, friend and random person I meet. If you have the chance to go to the Olympics DO it. It will be well worth the trip just to experience the aura of such an event. But if that is too ambitious an adventure, it is satisfying to think that you can obtain the same feelings being part of a World Series, a Super Bowl, a World Cup, your University's next football game, your High School's next soccer game......at any level the key is just to enjoy the ride.<br />
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Perfectly shown by two water polo alumni of my high school, Miramonte in Orinda, who splashed around in McCovey Cove outside AT&T park during Game #1 of the Series. Fans of the Giants and water polo!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrD3WbZpRWyBzt-7UJh0gYSJOAKPLpf7Ojoo4EWOPfETlamfOer8tbCv070ccawBF71ivNXh0BB2Pxa7HOF-IjLoxlOI4tnMrvAGpi4bZobsBTXKo3EZjnljbPVfc1LQshBMlR1XmSoo8/s1600/McCovey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrD3WbZpRWyBzt-7UJh0gYSJOAKPLpf7Ojoo4EWOPfETlamfOer8tbCv070ccawBF71ivNXh0BB2Pxa7HOF-IjLoxlOI4tnMrvAGpi4bZobsBTXKo3EZjnljbPVfc1LQshBMlR1XmSoo8/s400/McCovey.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-25771297522154370522010-10-20T22:07:00.000-07:002010-10-20T22:07:01.494-07:00ESPN COVER PHOTO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUZpQ7PIbLJ5jlMJjpmSXwwqLp6CDKzmnIBkbH9TZz5Ludxp34yriLMrYBk44JYzR6v8Ji-kg175xE3KBNVCii3oY8kNb9nBkHNfe2aPKsK4B_Xb0QZ3Kf58aw94VOwxhlBya5teF-UY/s1600/ESPN_MagFull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUZpQ7PIbLJ5jlMJjpmSXwwqLp6CDKzmnIBkbH9TZz5Ludxp34yriLMrYBk44JYzR6v8Ji-kg175xE3KBNVCii3oY8kNb9nBkHNfe2aPKsK4B_Xb0QZ3Kf58aw94VOwxhlBya5teF-UY/s320/ESPN_MagFull.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">ESPN Body Issue Cover Photo: members of the USA Water Polo Team</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">The 2nd Annual issue of ESPN's Body Issue hit news stands last week. The copy you will find for sale has WNBA star Diana Taurasi on it. BUT if you are a fan of water polo, my team mates and I were featured on one of the covers delivered to subscribers of ESPN the magazine.(ABOVE) You can not find our version in stores. (If you DO want a copy with us on the cover, call <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">1-800-309-7655</span> to purchase one. Specify you want the water polo cover. ~$7) There are also two more pictures of our team on the inside, as well as loads of other incredible photos of your favorite athletes. Like Soccer Goalie Tim Howard, Surfer Kelly Slater, New York Knicks Amar'e Stoudemire, and many more.......</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">You know you want a copy! </div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-39327758786140784442010-09-16T11:45:00.000-07:002010-09-16T11:45:44.881-07:00Hope to see you at the pool Ray!<object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/NzH2VydmX3w/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NzH2VydmX3w?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NzH2VydmX3w?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-51331345486075913922010-09-14T15:05:00.000-07:002010-09-14T15:06:58.694-07:00"Water Polo is......"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">How would you finish that sentence???</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The first thing that comes to my mind is <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">NOT</span></span></span></b> "easy". But apparently, Baltimore Raven's linebacker Ray Lewis is under the impression that of all the sports out there, water polo is easy in comparison to football.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In a pre-game media session Lewis gave this quote about their upcoming game against The Jets:</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"But we don't need no hope. Y'all can keep your hope because we've got enough hope over here. We're packing our bags, and we're not packing our bags to come play water polo."</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Well, Ray, in light of this lovely trash talking you were doing, I am glad that you and your team were victorious last night in a defensive battle that ended 10-9. You seem to be leading the charge there on defense. So you are, at least, backing up all the talk. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But, next time when you choose to talk a little smack, maybe do so with a little more information. Water polo would probably not be the first sport to come to my mind in the easy category, but that is because I play it. I know exactly what it takes to play a game. Swimming back and forth for an hour. Playing both offense and defense. Wrestling, sprinting, jumping, blocking, getting kicked, pulled and punched. All while not standing on anything. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Despite how hard it is, I play because I love it and it is fun. Which is probably exactly how Ray feels about football. (The multi-million dollar contracts have nothing to do with it.) Our sport is so small not too many people know what it is really like. So, Ray, if you want to do any cross training in the off season, grab your speedo (or trunks, although you are going to want to create the least amount of drag as possible) and come on over to the pool! After you have given it a whirl, then you can, by all means, speak your mind about water polo. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Oh and Ray, thank you for mentioning water polo during that press conference. It is nice to see water polo in the headlines sometimes. :) An <a href="http://fifthdown.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/13/ray-lewis-doesnt-know-water-polo/">article about it landed in the NY Times</a>. Creating awareness for our difficult, yet awesome sport is always a great thing.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div></span></span>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-81711457032693637762010-07-13T11:19:00.000-07:002010-07-13T11:20:12.410-07:00Visual sampling of our final match!<div><br />
</div><div>If you want a visual recap of our win at the World League Super Final here is a little hight light video!</div><div><br />
</div><object height="295" style="background-image: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/Mg4zrRojXjI/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mg4zrRojXjI&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mg4zrRojXjI&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-4782432506812036192010-07-12T19:39:00.000-07:002010-07-12T20:49:12.939-07:00On top AT HOME!If you were to ask a Hungarian what their favorite sport was, I guarantee that a majority of them would respond with..... water polo. Yes. You read that right. Water Polo. That is because water polo is their national sport. It is televised regularly on TV and the athletes land in the tabloids as often as Hollywood celeb-utants. I'd say..... just about the equivalent of the NBA, MLB and NFL here in the States. Ok, our basketball, baseball and football players make quite a bit more money than any water polo player on the planet, so we are strictly dealing in terms of familiarity here.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhV4Uvk-s8Z2GvqHUDxE0hBXQKHQCeKF0K45SCjcCAWJS0Xer04aJRAK-8e-YkjQqasTzwoZZQbEP9r6J3eJd5EV277cfav4ZbqiIN1jvOlUy6OZcpO_QKA-YoLAo6zomoKEAy0rghEhQ/s1600/IMG_3257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhV4Uvk-s8Z2GvqHUDxE0hBXQKHQCeKF0K45SCjcCAWJS0Xer04aJRAK-8e-YkjQqasTzwoZZQbEP9r6J3eJd5EV277cfav4ZbqiIN1jvOlUy6OZcpO_QKA-YoLAo6zomoKEAy0rghEhQ/s200/IMG_3257.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Hungarians aren't the only ones enthusiastic about our sport. I played for a Greek team this past year during their professional season. At one point we traveled outside of Greece to compete in European Champions Cup games. On the way home, we arrived at the Athens airport and headed to find our bags. I didn't have a car and my family and friends were an ocean away. There would be no curb side pick up or a welcome home hug for me. I was thinking this would be a quiet uneventful exit of the airport. I was wrong.<br />
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As we neared the luggage carousel, right in front of the sliding doors leading to the awaiting forms of transportation, we started to hear the beat of a huge drum. Chants, cheers and clapping. What the heck was that? My team mates started smiling. For us? We walked out of the terminal to a sea of waiting people. All making noise, celebrating our return. Families, friends, supporters, reporters, media. My favorite was the group of young polo players that had been loudly beating the drum and chanting the name of our club. Seeing that kind of enthusiasm for our sport was inspiring and made me want to see that in America, for the US team.<br />
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So because of our sport's popularity in Europe and our own Nation's lack of an organized professional league, it is rare that people at home get to see us play. Maybe once a year may the opportunity arise.<br />
And that occasion was the World League Super Final last week in La Jolla, California. The top eight teams in the world came to us to compete! In front of OUR families, friends and fans!<br />
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And we did not disapoint! In or out of the pool!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdELcFK0SaSaWiNdRRlj3EM5SR3Vd0BWd1KLHaaHYV-msp3pjqxGmvOYv_bMTNSg4oTuqmFIAuoD53ve8x0y76BEmZb0FO6IwbPqHgzeAh0XEorzKF58pbOwmuKe4RVo4ix-cVraos4xY/s1600/closeupbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdELcFK0SaSaWiNdRRlj3EM5SR3Vd0BWd1KLHaaHYV-msp3pjqxGmvOYv_bMTNSg4oTuqmFIAuoD53ve8x0y76BEmZb0FO6IwbPqHgzeAh0XEorzKF58pbOwmuKe4RVo4ix-cVraos4xY/s320/closeupbanner.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRG6MKkuSxmVUdIxY3VRftBi45UXfuL9DjXxVq7IaVmoeZrQWrqGCVy2Cqbwl3ZoyISLWwzH7NkJkxvZCi1FqwUjetQ1xGl6Dmem_OTNOuO57mRI935xI-VDaHNGykter36bKZTTWcoc/s1600/welcomebanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdELcFK0SaSaWiNdRRlj3EM5SR3Vd0BWd1KLHaaHYV-msp3pjqxGmvOYv_bMTNSg4oTuqmFIAuoD53ve8x0y76BEmZb0FO6IwbPqHgzeAh0XEorzKF58pbOwmuKe4RVo4ix-cVraos4xY/s1600/closeupbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRG6MKkuSxmVUdIxY3VRftBi45UXfuL9DjXxVq7IaVmoeZrQWrqGCVy2Cqbwl3ZoyISLWwzH7NkJkxvZCi1FqwUjetQ1xGl6Dmem_OTNOuO57mRI935xI-VDaHNGykter36bKZTTWcoc/s1600/welcomebanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;">On the first day of competition when we pulled up to the pool we were greeted by huge USA Water Polo banners.....with our faces on them! I was so proud to see these awesome shots of my team mates and I drawing people in to watch. :) People started telling me that is what my Avatar would look like. I would love to see an Avatar play water polo!</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRG6MKkuSxmVUdIxY3VRftBi45UXfuL9DjXxVq7IaVmoeZrQWrqGCVy2Cqbwl3ZoyISLWwzH7NkJkxvZCi1FqwUjetQ1xGl6Dmem_OTNOuO57mRI935xI-VDaHNGykter36bKZTTWcoc/s1600/welcomebanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRG6MKkuSxmVUdIxY3VRftBi45UXfuL9DjXxVq7IaVmoeZrQWrqGCVy2Cqbwl3ZoyISLWwzH7NkJkxvZCi1FqwUjetQ1xGl6Dmem_OTNOuO57mRI935xI-VDaHNGykter36bKZTTWcoc/s320/welcomebanner.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjXkJQUrIpfuUPuufHfJbj_VWgu-_GEgNMM-4MYBPqQ7X8nsxkrFfmCiFDSybtTNxZgn6JvjEUTncKLCBh07qgL696nNOmrIXhyphenhyphenVlOXpmS9dZ8iGo-0qGpPpJWWbMxEuL0df3P8QgZI0/s1600/shieldy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjXkJQUrIpfuUPuufHfJbj_VWgu-_GEgNMM-4MYBPqQ7X8nsxkrFfmCiFDSybtTNxZgn6JvjEUTncKLCBh07qgL696nNOmrIXhyphenhyphenVlOXpmS9dZ8iGo-0qGpPpJWWbMxEuL0df3P8QgZI0/s320/shieldy.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Our new water polo mascot "Shiedly" also chose this tournament to make his debut! Coming to the pool deck to interact with kids, fans and athletes!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsvt4va_-Ui54HDWlZQu1WU2GEKBFmOUXP0xlsenYpRSfBsJVvQSYpdFv0jDnSAs3gRFwqjlYndLDTWELvWkP-MowR2fF15Em1mk_6TuoXdX7FOPshQuFUZ2K3RiDF4ctBCApWfSTjQro/s1600/blockbets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsvt4va_-Ui54HDWlZQu1WU2GEKBFmOUXP0xlsenYpRSfBsJVvQSYpdFv0jDnSAs3gRFwqjlYndLDTWELvWkP-MowR2fF15Em1mk_6TuoXdX7FOPshQuFUZ2K3RiDF4ctBCApWfSTjQro/s200/blockbets.jpg" width="200" /></a>We were also proud to pose with him, after six days of intense games, we came out victorious in the tournament beating the Aussies in a shoot-out! Our goalie, Betsey Armstrong, came up with a huge block against one of Australia's best shooter to put us one point ahead!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8B8ErD4yKnVjHjnAtjCev0M_Njp07NH5NnFA7ePVm-2tZmgIuUXvcjIFtYvIdeYXQJa-oBg7dx9tiJSzXPP_v4wKrYJuxc7gFalX5lfRts1lbbF_CVU4Kwizx8pcbqcc4Y40yQ7zTIY/s1600/winners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8B8ErD4yKnVjHjnAtjCev0M_Njp07NH5NnFA7ePVm-2tZmgIuUXvcjIFtYvIdeYXQJa-oBg7dx9tiJSzXPP_v4wKrYJuxc7gFalX5lfRts1lbbF_CVU4Kwizx8pcbqcc4Y40yQ7zTIY/s400/winners.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-14936088005545433952010-06-25T21:43:00.000-07:002010-06-25T21:43:57.661-07:00World League Super FinalWho wants to watch a little water polo???? I know you do! Here is your chance. The top 8 teams in the WORLD will be arriving in San Diego, California tomorrow to compete in this years most competitive tournament. If you want to catch the games in person, come on down to the <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Crogan</span> Aquatic Center at La <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Jolla</span> High School, Monday June 28th- Saturday July 3rd. (USA will usually have the 7pm game time.) Enjoy the crowd, meet the players and have some fun cheering us on!!!<br />
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And if you are a little far to join us......<a href="http://waterpolo.teamusa.org/live">check us out live on the web</a>!!!!<br />
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GO USA!!!!!Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-69422129367769869772010-01-17T09:19:00.000-08:002010-03-05T00:11:24.164-08:00Love to travel. Hate to pack.Have you ever found yourself sitting in your bedroom, travel bag open on the floor, empty. Plane leaves in a few hours?<br />
<br />
A few articles of clothing are neatly folded on the bed ready to go. Those are the ones you are SURE about. The rest still happily reside in the closet or in drawers. Ok, maybe there are some things in the hamper or draped over the chair in the corner. Thing is, eventually they all need to get into that bag.<br />
<br />
(Here is where I wish we had one of those machines, in the Jetsons, so I could put the bag on the conveyor belt and it would pop out on the other side all packed.)<br />
<br />
I love to travel. I don't mind the waiting in airports, long flights, turbulence and any destination seems exciting to me. But it's getting my bag packed that I just want nothing to do with. Especially when I am leaving for longer periods of time.<br />
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I am headed to Greece to play for a professional team there. How am I going to know what the weather will be like in 4 weeks, let alone 4 months? Do I need any nice clothes or just mainly for working out? And shoes! Hardest thing to pack. High heels have weird shapes. Tennis shoes are bulky. Uggs are worse.... but SO necessary in the cold after an outdoor night practice in the rain. (Sometimes I wish aquatic sports only practiced in warm locations. Hawaii or the South Pacific would do great. Thanks.) I always make sure to lay the swim suits, goggles and caps on the bed first. If I left without those....well, why am I going in the first place? (Because, while I will be living in a foreign country it is NOT just for a vacation. I do have to "work" er, workout rather.) Then there are toiletries and make-up......it is nice to not look like a drown rat ALL of the time.<br />
<br />
Ok, so just one bag?!? Thanks to all the new travel restrictions, there are those pesky weight and checked bag limits.<br />
<br />
TOO MANY things to consider. Can I hire someone to do this for me?<br />
<br />
The one very important travel tip I picked after traveling with the National Team for a few years was the use of a small roller bag as a carry-on instead of a backpack. Most of the veteran players on the team used them when I first started. I never really thought about it. I was all excited to sport the team gear and get to where we were going. Until we arrived, some 20 hours later, got in a bus and headed straight to the pool for a training session. Not only were my legs swollen from the flight, but my back and shoulders hated me every stroke I took from shlepping that backpack, with "all the comforts of home" in it, across the world.<br />
<br />
So, while my bag was not packed. The carry-on was. That is the easy stuff.<br />
<br />
<ul><li> A few books (Having a little english around will be nice when the Greek letters get too much for me.) </li>
<li>Computer</li>
<li>I-pod</li>
<li>Various charging cords (These take up a surprising amount of room.)</li>
<li>Surge protector box (Life saver! Frying the life out of your precious electronics is not fun when so far from home!)</li>
<li>15 pounds of Valentine's Day candy intended to spread some American love to my teammates</li>
<li>My new water bottle</li>
</ul><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJppOJvdQjZQ92xt8pYU23H_gQsPekFhPZ5rmc3nPmLvzF7KtSLY9CGfONewNg6UWq8i4_kFdxClCzOxvVBeJ-y0sylQE9Qvc5ACB0DeYI9gviwW4rGdSoRiqhKObRm7grF-MigjK3mtE/s1600-h/IMG_0398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJppOJvdQjZQ92xt8pYU23H_gQsPekFhPZ5rmc3nPmLvzF7KtSLY9CGfONewNg6UWq8i4_kFdxClCzOxvVBeJ-y0sylQE9Qvc5ACB0DeYI9gviwW4rGdSoRiqhKObRm7grF-MigjK3mtE/s320/IMG_0398.JPG" /></a></div>The water bottle was actually the first thing I put into the carry-on. Drinking water is my New Year's resolution. Mostly because without a regular workout routine I forget to drink anything. Very bad for an athlete. I didn't want to buy plastic bottles anymore and I figured with a bottle like this, I would pay more attention to my drinking habits.<br />
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Once packed and at the airport my lovely new bottle had me paying attention to many other things. Like the fact that it is metal and looks a little like a bomb. Great. That can't go in my carry-on. Security would have me red flagged in two-seconds.<br />
<br />
So now, standing in the check-in line with bottle in hand, when I thought all my packing issues were behind me and the worst hiccup was just this bottle, came the best travel challenge of all.<br />
<br />
Man at Check-In Counter: "Hello Ms. Where are you headed?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Greece"<br />
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MaCIC: "Please place your carry-on on the scale."<br />
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Me (in my head): "Carry-on? I have never had my carry-on weighed before. Just as long as it fits in the little overhead thing they seem to wave you on by. ON NO. IT IS HEAVY!"<br />
<br />
<i>I placed it on the scale..... </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
MaCIC: "Ms. your bag weighs 18kg. We only allow 8kg for our carry-on items."<br />
<br />
Me: "Oh no." (in my head) "Where exactly am I going to put 20 pounds of stuff, when my other bag is packed so tight it is about to explode out of the new purple straps I bought to keep it together on the journey?!"<br />
<br />
MaCIC: "Yes Ms. Only 8kg."<br />
<br />
Thanks buddy. I heard you the first time. This is how I came to find out that the candy I was bringing over to the team weighed about 15 pounds. When I put it on the little scale he had, it weighed 8kg by itself. Perfect. I also come to find out the roller bag itself weighed 7kg. HOW was this going to work????<br />
And how in over 10 years of international travel had this never happened to me before?<br />
<br />
I never wanted to be that passenger that has to open up her bags, right there in the check-in line and begin the rearrangement dance of all my worldly belongings in front of a line of my fellow passengers. But that was me.<br />
<br />
I believe by the end, everyone knew that my favorite brand of underwear is Victoria Secret, I read love stories and adventure novels, most of my clothes are blue and purple and I may have a serious sweet tooth. That is enough for the person behind me in line, to make me a profile on Match.com. And next to me, I now had two travel bags. One still bulging, being held together by purple straps. And the other- a heavy duty plastic bag, duct taped so well you couldn't really tell what was inside it. Both with airline stickers. Destination- Athens, Greece. Thank god the packing part is over.Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-29455794833330690852009-12-11T17:15:00.000-08:002009-12-11T17:17:08.277-08:00Are you on Facebook?If you are a part of the wonderful time sucking social networking extravaganza, we know and love as Facebook, then I have a challenge for you!<br />
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Most sports in this country, the ones you all know and love, and will find on television almost every week of the year, have incredible monetary backing. And the athletes are taking home paychecks in one year that could finance my training for my entire carreer. As small sport like water polo, that finds its sporting stage once every four years at the Oylmpic Games, we are entirely dependent on the funding we get from the United States Olympic Committee and our sports National Governing Body, the non-profit organization, United States Water Polo Inc. Without this, my team and I would not be able to train, or travel and participate in, competitions to get us ready to represent our country.<br />
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So when I heard about the Chase Community Giving page on Facebook I realized, this opportunity may be the easiest way for anyone to give back this holiday season and give a huge boost to our sport!!<br />
<br />
Simply go to the Chase Community Giving page and cast your vote for us. Then Chase will give money to the charities that have the most votes.....and the deadline is TOMORROW!!!! With a few clicks of your mouse you could be giving my team an incredible gift. A chance to continue our journey towards GOLD in the 2012 London Olympic Games!!!!<br />
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I have included a link below to direct you to the page! And if you are not a member of Facebook.....this is a fantastic reason to join!!!<br />
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<a href="http://apps.facebook.com/chasecommunitygiving/charities/1054105?src=embed"><img src="http://a2.chase.contextoptional.com/images/vote_for_us.jpg?1260568377" /></a><br />
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<br />
THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOU WHO VOTE FOR US!!!!!<br />
In Olympic Spirit.......Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-23996265895399008952009-12-07T13:43:00.000-08:002009-12-07T13:43:39.835-08:00Annual Tournament in Southern California!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Come Watch Us Play!!!!</span></span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMIziyd2udeVKiKfHAlbWKLK60_hE3DxlZQfhnVta7-wtIXnmDErHwddY6to2Fc75WZiBeOswjT_VfWFLOMW3L1VTfpsAOFO8ayRbwdKYREfQVlD17dpwF_9-IIAXrInkpb-bCJKcIJA/s1600-h/Holiday+Cup+Poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMIziyd2udeVKiKfHAlbWKLK60_hE3DxlZQfhnVta7-wtIXnmDErHwddY6to2Fc75WZiBeOswjT_VfWFLOMW3L1VTfpsAOFO8ayRbwdKYREfQVlD17dpwF_9-IIAXrInkpb-bCJKcIJA/s400/Holiday+Cup+Poster.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-81648119075191588182009-12-06T20:09:00.000-08:002009-12-06T20:11:09.548-08:0011 Weeks?!?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeSb0-kQR-5LFVPfO0rh_osp4aGmjcNAD2HHv8J8o_7KFp77CvyziUeVgUwoMnPvoFxeMKPiDIn-SPDZ_mEnKPE72VxdM7IcRWLwb1osqkMR30EjL9EwNzYeO5XTF5mFqSYfV0UMaEy8/s1600-h/CIMG5859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeSb0-kQR-5LFVPfO0rh_osp4aGmjcNAD2HHv8J8o_7KFp77CvyziUeVgUwoMnPvoFxeMKPiDIn-SPDZ_mEnKPE72VxdM7IcRWLwb1osqkMR30EjL9EwNzYeO5XTF5mFqSYfV0UMaEy8/s200/CIMG5859.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>When I found out I needed surgery the first question I had was... "What is the recovery time?"<br />
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Of course soon follows the standard "4-6 weeks" response. (Oh, I am tottaly going to be that 4 week part of the standard deviaton.) The surgeon, the therapists and doctors all saying the same thing: "You will be up and moving around right after the surgery, and back doing what you do in no time!" As an athlete, 4-6 weeks was already too long. This theory of "no" time was going to be interesting.<br />
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I hit the 6 week anniversary of the operation and had a follow up appointment with the surgeon. He told me at this point the incisions and tissues in my knee were healed. I still had a bit of swelling and I would now be in a battle with scar tissue for range of motion. With 5 1/2 weeks of therapy, I could walk normally, I could do all minor strengthening excersices, and from what I could see (photo) I had lost a LOT of muscle in my leg. (How hard it is to build up the muscle and how fast it departs!)<br />
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So began the battle. Playing water polo requires a rather awkward rotating motion we do with our legs. "Eggbeater" had never seemed stange to me. I could do it for hours, maybe days. Supporting myself in the water was as easy as breathing. Yet the scar tissue on either side of my patella tendon and through my capsule was creating a loud"pop" doing even the simplest of things. Like bending me knee from a straightened postion. Wait, that happens when you walk. Yup, not too comfortable with normal linear motions. So doing anything even close to water polo was not going to happen. Yet.<br />
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It became quite clear that what I was going to struggle with most at that point was maintaining a positive outlook with my (what I feel is WAY TOO SLOW) progress back to an athletic level I think is satisfactory for playing on the National Team again.<br />
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I know everyone is different. Our bodies heal at their own rate. And I am quite frequesntly reminded I am no spring chicken anymore. (I'm not? Age is a number....I guess until you try and heal something and realize, yes, you really are 31. Boo.) But, I think my lifestyle- staying fit and active and absorbed in this pursuit of something I am passionate about, has made me feel a bit invincible. I attack things thinking I can achieve anything if I just try hard enough. And I still believe that to be true....it just might take a little longer than I previously envisioned. I was not leaping around after 4 weeks, or 6.....not even 10. Uggh.<br />
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Now in the 11th week I have seen the most progress. I think I have clawed my way up the mountain I had in front of me. Breaking holes in the sheets of ice, slipping back down a few times, but finally nearing the summit. And what kept me going, besides the images and sensations of future practices and games floating through my head, were appreciating the small moments of joy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QUeE3prxdPGgX1E-vYCaDED_v4dsjJlq7AVwdS9b8m41rMkxm-UY3_UrTnKoRRuEFcylB3uZ1cTzxeyMu2Rit4BHVs2wcWeccEmdDQgSL3UBmsipdxxWfcV2sOXRjUw4WOGCd33B7a8/s1600-h/IMG_0303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QUeE3prxdPGgX1E-vYCaDED_v4dsjJlq7AVwdS9b8m41rMkxm-UY3_UrTnKoRRuEFcylB3uZ1cTzxeyMu2Rit4BHVs2wcWeccEmdDQgSL3UBmsipdxxWfcV2sOXRjUw4WOGCd33B7a8/s320/IMG_0303.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
</div><br />
Like dressing up for Halloween at the therapy clinic. I broke out my tutu from my ballerina costume two years ago. And our trainer Lance, sported an amazing Spiderman costume. :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WedSC-_Rtra8hiWGRem8IkIjdlQpx9Dcs4CXXcdLhNedtJg68ytttY9jIssRUYtITZ9y-LlRyWiHzDg6ZhrSs_3QLp4ZVNZ9SiU43SKBFQZlRFyIXrc5wTnYpQ1MSJSdeUKjIDa07dQ/s1600-h/IMG_0296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WedSC-_Rtra8hiWGRem8IkIjdlQpx9Dcs4CXXcdLhNedtJg68ytttY9jIssRUYtITZ9y-LlRyWiHzDg6ZhrSs_3QLp4ZVNZ9SiU43SKBFQZlRFyIXrc5wTnYpQ1MSJSdeUKjIDa07dQ/s320/IMG_0296.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Or making a trek up to LA to see Joshua Radin in concert for the first time. I got Joshua's CD <i>Simple Times</i> from a friend last year. It was about the same time I was trying to decide what path I should set out on post Olympics. And for some reason the sound of his voice was really calming to me. I would listen to his music as I walked around Greece, or when I was reading or hanging out at home and it would help me think. When I found out about his show I had to see him live. And again, those songs helped to calm my anxiety about the healing process and focus me back on the good.<br />
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And of course taking more pictures......<br />
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Black Friday getting brighter as Christmas lights start to come on!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wiCOiLBCwRLIa0o7Bdaz8XQUWr2iliSzOgfZxbcuMiPyyBgInwvHkEMYwhYXJW1u9h23TRLCtCEah1h3PUazK7DdMkUoFHNVbV5JQ30Ywu4nrLDAauMRABOJbUEbpq6St7fv8Jg7whU/s1600-h/IMG_6295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wiCOiLBCwRLIa0o7Bdaz8XQUWr2iliSzOgfZxbcuMiPyyBgInwvHkEMYwhYXJW1u9h23TRLCtCEah1h3PUazK7DdMkUoFHNVbV5JQ30Ywu4nrLDAauMRABOJbUEbpq6St7fv8Jg7whU/s400/IMG_6295.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-72772084423163919822009-10-22T20:12:00.001-07:002009-10-22T20:50:44.117-07:00Photo(s) of The DayMy life's pursuit, as of now, is what many others would call a hobby. Cultivating another hobby has never been high on my list. I have always loved to take photos. My little "point and shoot" camera has served me well, documenting my adventures and travels. But.....if I could make a job out of one of my passions, could I do the same with another? Why not give it a try. <div><br /></div><div>I have a new "more complicated" camera. And with the extra time I have while recovering from surgery I think I will learn more about photography, how to properly use this camera, experiment with taking photos and dream up ways in which to use my photos in the future. </div><div><br /></div><div>You never know what can come of your dreams once you put them out in the universe. :)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5buFOs1Kaubp9hGWk22CNmhQFrQ0cQSONJ_wEFwC9OMq1m86FUYCwMg0875FxsGxVlvLkJ9OtY32tnEoyftOtFLOdobxOW63aIC53ZSnqaCh4ZjDKIowEJJk82Br7FhCfM4_DS0KNsH8/s1600-h/IMG_5759.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5buFOs1Kaubp9hGWk22CNmhQFrQ0cQSONJ_wEFwC9OMq1m86FUYCwMg0875FxsGxVlvLkJ9OtY32tnEoyftOtFLOdobxOW63aIC53ZSnqaCh4ZjDKIowEJJk82Br7FhCfM4_DS0KNsH8/s400/IMG_5759.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395629441455261554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZi_M1vJPMZzMRlw3d7Bb0QE5BtG8diMShlKQsIqnhUah5M2pRlT8KV0OJpQf1NfGcXdEAJnJCxbnBHnxMKQLKl1F8oIhwXqdt731guTB8RQCHISFVygisVmaiudvcCBQ8kXS1KgKO-bs/s1600-h/IMG_5754.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZi_M1vJPMZzMRlw3d7Bb0QE5BtG8diMShlKQsIqnhUah5M2pRlT8KV0OJpQf1NfGcXdEAJnJCxbnBHnxMKQLKl1F8oIhwXqdt731guTB8RQCHISFVygisVmaiudvcCBQ8kXS1KgKO-bs/s200/IMG_5754.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395633878018787986" /></a>These were the first photos I took this morning with the new camera. This kitty lounges on this car every day and seems to be in a perpetual battle to try and keep her coat clean. Always licking and preening. It is no wonder, with how dirty this car is. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMS1RqmSREA9zomitSi7ACQkGsc1xF_1Gsks2_QMV1CgPGRbmj7Qxz9R62VbHTNP4Pq8qiNfk7cc9y_9PiI1f949LSP8jcSbUyU9qcJ5Y9swD-_7XU_GBbraiuBMCNgeL0ksEEmmCA3qA/s1600-h/IMG_5755.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMS1RqmSREA9zomitSi7ACQkGsc1xF_1Gsks2_QMV1CgPGRbmj7Qxz9R62VbHTNP4Pq8qiNfk7cc9y_9PiI1f949LSP8jcSbUyU9qcJ5Y9swD-_7XU_GBbraiuBMCNgeL0ksEEmmCA3qA/s320/IMG_5755.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395635744961320130" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was only going to post one photo, every day, from the batch I take. But it is so hard to choose. And I like it when groups of photos can tell a story. Maybe as I get better I will be able to narrow it down. We shall see.</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-46819726845817753842009-09-25T12:51:00.000-07:002009-10-16T17:26:57.475-07:00All cleaned up!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoblagHpOt3ptnyBsSqhp1Ru8yf1sAxFmhmraIoRnm4uHOgSsdOEY2nrdEGsSN6-GC14NBY8mMr_W-ewGCq3uFNiIjEM8TTEFSXmrKqQwsdT2oJoNQJDm99eBWuEsS31FnVXBnhkzqB4Q/s1600-h/IMG_0256.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoblagHpOt3ptnyBsSqhp1Ru8yf1sAxFmhmraIoRnm4uHOgSsdOEY2nrdEGsSN6-GC14NBY8mMr_W-ewGCq3uFNiIjEM8TTEFSXmrKqQwsdT2oJoNQJDm99eBWuEsS31FnVXBnhkzqB4Q/s320/IMG_0256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393351431440821730" /></a><div>Ravishing Designer Blue Cap- $5</div><div><br /></div><div>Exquisite Red Plastic ID Band- $10</div><div><br /></div><div>Warm 6000 Count Cotton Blanket- $15</div><div><br /></div><div>Limited Edition Sticky Thermometer Gauge (on my forehead) - $25</div><div>(Or is that a bar code to scan me in at the supermarket?)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1 Un-Swollen, Pain-Free, Non-Popping Knee- PRICELESS</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_e47ne8XAlaFD6XumrDM3vx16hJOssZnu1IYg-aRaXcxrXZI95XLqqqS10Jc4z1ZC_Bq90JwkjrrBMWxKsX6WQKm1I68MKjbCv2RiA-AEQll83u6QqMOA-WikBQ6-I4TLg5eMJBuAZk/s1600-h/IMG_0257.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_e47ne8XAlaFD6XumrDM3vx16hJOssZnu1IYg-aRaXcxrXZI95XLqqqS10Jc4z1ZC_Bq90JwkjrrBMWxKsX6WQKm1I68MKjbCv2RiA-AEQll83u6QqMOA-WikBQ6-I4TLg5eMJBuAZk/s320/IMG_0257.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393355411192259442" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The surgery before mine took a little bit longer than scheduled. As I lay there I began to get a little anxious. Incredible teammate and friend, Ericka Lorenz, had driven me to the appointment and was trying to distract me from thinking about what was coming. She blew up a surgical glove and we drew on it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Something so simple. Made me smile and head to surgery with less stress. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Dr. Scott Graham did a splendid job.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now it is up to me to get the joint back up and running.</div><div><br /></div><div>Rest, Ice, Elevation and lots of therapy!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOi_7TR1wYt7crrEMp5Wifp03ISVQ3tkLtBg6MR0cm3cxH_ibMhkBdsWVZuQxq0olvTUNO86rpC9buOd8GNBUk0pu_-RR3e0rxqfNO85xESfhWuhmALUhhBmFwUIRc2HHbXqcz-z0ma0/s1600-h/IMG_0258.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOi_7TR1wYt7crrEMp5Wifp03ISVQ3tkLtBg6MR0cm3cxH_ibMhkBdsWVZuQxq0olvTUNO86rpC9buOd8GNBUk0pu_-RR3e0rxqfNO85xESfhWuhmALUhhBmFwUIRc2HHbXqcz-z0ma0/s400/IMG_0258.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393356632890329826" /></a></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-62559481845435373082009-09-22T14:14:00.000-07:002009-11-02T23:05:26.779-08:00Detour in the intended path.Books are curiously fascinating to me. I love to read and often go into Barnes and Noble, Borders or Target to just look over the new books. On occasion, I am impulsive and just buy a plethora of new material to have at home when the opportunity arises. A quite moment. A need for escape. <div><br /></div><div>Rarely do I actually think of why I end up with the books I adopt. Some have covers that intrigue me. (I have been successful with that technique and also have had very disastrous outcomes.) Or I will read the back to see if the summary will move me. Sometime I will open the book and read a random passage. If I like the writing style or the excerpt I read, I will make the purchase. A drive-by of my previously trusty authors is always a must. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also really appreciate a gifted read. Knowing that my friend probably deems this work something that will reach me in some way. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last year, I got the same book from two people. Maybe that should have been a wake up call to begin reading asap. But with the upcoming Olympics, training and traveling, I never got to it/them. One got packed away in my boxes, heading to storage, during the post-Olympic move. The other, tossed in a bag that ended up piled in the corner of the guest room at my parents house, where I stayed at the beginning of the year. </div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't until I was heading to Greece to play that I found it and thought maybe I should include it in my travel bag. It was called <b><i><a href="http://www.andyandrews.com/store/bestsellers/product/the-travelers-gift/?gclid=CJWi0obDwp0CFSYoawodqGeNrw">The Traveler's Gift</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Fitting, no?!</span></span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I had been going through this wrestling match in my head before deciding to play in Greece. The time off had given me a chance to analyse the way I felt about playing. Was I doing it because I loved it? Or just because I have been doing it for the last 9 years? Was there something else I wanted to pursue? Deciding to play in Greece I felt gave me this new opportunity to play in a different atmosphere. New country. New teammates. Different goal. Preparing to go over there, I was training a lot on my own. Swimming, lifting, spinning. Not exciting, but do-able. When I got a chance to play "pick-up" polo with men's club and high school teams.....I would leave giddy. Unable to wipe the smile off my face. At least I knew the polo was still the fun part. That was a step in the right direction. </div><div><br /></div><div>One night in Greece, before we played for the Cup, I was reading late at night. I came across this passage:</div><div><br /></div><div> "Success requires the emotional balance of a committed heart. When confronted with a challenge, the committed heart will search for a solution." </div><div><br /></div><div>It was the first time since college, which was a long time ago, that I found a pen and underlined that section. For days I thought about that. And I committed. Playing water polo was what I wanted to do. It makes me happy. And I will see it through for as long as possible. </div><div><br />And this week I found out the path will have a bit of a detour. I slipped on the wall this summer during a swim set. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Torquing</span> my knee a bit. I had hoped a bit of rest would eventually help the pain, swelling, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">popping</span> to go away. No such luck. An MRI confirmed that I had tears in the back of my knee cap. So some minor arthroscopic surgery will clean it up and I will be back at it again!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-44181776953345196272009-08-02T22:42:00.000-07:002009-11-02T23:10:21.827-08:00Bella!A closer look at <b>OUR</b> beautiful gold medal!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0DVBSy50I3LFi2xUrdaWlWYY9eJgUYkAow1LygAxHB20OtYp8RnZnBsEKLsc1324dpg5Qqbzca9MRkztVZa95GdfbIP9PD24zzWiRlitX1qkOhghsYV0Y5tAWExHv2PlyY6UI25tywE/s1600-h/CIMG5111.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0DVBSy50I3LFi2xUrdaWlWYY9eJgUYkAow1LygAxHB20OtYp8RnZnBsEKLsc1324dpg5Qqbzca9MRkztVZa95GdfbIP9PD24zzWiRlitX1qkOhghsYV0Y5tAWExHv2PlyY6UI25tywE/s320/CIMG5111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397524679428676818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofwW8k7LcMktkVp4AT5HD43VdYVIdmxAgLU9aZ2n7mCBHhD1fCJt5Pp2YdOTkpJkH6gA0d246RpNJV3DkFNh4ftzsgyeXg8iiA8vh1vyYU9HiPia2rqlyJCbC3icp4xHmUpyBAwezQW8/s1600-h/CIMG5097.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofwW8k7LcMktkVp4AT5HD43VdYVIdmxAgLU9aZ2n7mCBHhD1fCJt5Pp2YdOTkpJkH6gA0d246RpNJV3DkFNh4ftzsgyeXg8iiA8vh1vyYU9HiPia2rqlyJCbC3icp4xHmUpyBAwezQW8/s400/CIMG5097.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397523812688976738" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMAsSi0XfK55ewHIl9swZ04AECk-huo92XGQiJZ_4Wr3HIEQdGu-YZMC6e4Ghj5OIgFf_gZDCN-Gjw3F9Rx6eCWCql88auqg2J4eMH3j7V72VKB4LJn7ffhX4OZT8qeT-YaEfsy1iAQs/s1600-h/CIMG5110.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMAsSi0XfK55ewHIl9swZ04AECk-huo92XGQiJZ_4Wr3HIEQdGu-YZMC6e4Ghj5OIgFf_gZDCN-Gjw3F9Rx6eCWCql88auqg2J4eMH3j7V72VKB4LJn7ffhX4OZT8qeT-YaEfsy1iAQs/s200/CIMG5110.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397525171695968994" /></a>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-22114097406917871492009-07-31T22:41:00.000-07:002009-11-02T23:09:52.384-08:00To have won or....not?!We play a game. The time runs out. The USA has one more goal than our opponent. A win, right?<div><br /></div><div>I had the ball in my possession as the time ran out. I looked at the ball. Then the ref. Then the scoreboard. Yes....WE WON!!!! At which point, I realized I was at about half tank in the pool because I was trying to swim the ball up the field of play to run out the clock. I turned to my left, towards the center of the pool and tried to look back at our bench. I came face to face with my teammate Brenda. Behind her, the fuzzy shapes of the rest of the team and coaching staff, jumping, screaming, flying into the pool, splashing, hugging....celebrating. Brenda said to me...."Petie. We have done it!!! Again!" (Brenda and I have been on the team together since 2000....winning World Championship gold medals in 2003, and 2007.) Realization was setting in. And soon followed the perma-smile. Inner dialogue: "Oh my god. Oh my god. We did it. WE DID IT! OMG. OMG!!!!" </div><div><br /></div><div>I think from a spectators point of view, our celebrating may look like we are trying to drown each other. A dog pile in a pool can become a precarious situation if you are in the middle, getting kicked and hung on. For our coaches and staff, who have all their clothes on, I know it can't be easy to stay afloat. But with the kind of adrenaline that is coursing though your body, it seems like the best place in the world to be. The tournament staff tried their darndest, to herd us out of the pool and into the locker room to change for the medal ceremony, in a timely fashion.....they were speaking Italian, so it was easy to pretend not to hear them and soak up the moment for just a little longer. ;)</div><div><br /></div><div>Receiving a medal is an incredible experience. The receiving ceremony, seeing your flag, and if you are on the top tier- a chance to hear your National Anthem. It is enough to make your heart burst.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBP2WN4_x3A-6OenR6UJOTRmAafp2YJQ0P4eNfUoIHQc0Prl8wi5JksZuDeYhVQUE1m7Aq8EDIpjCxYCxAkLq6QQDPiyuOBpqm1lOotRFY1TkFraldv9nndpEGgvtpOSjBVCe6nngqCK0/s1600-h/GoldMedal2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBP2WN4_x3A-6OenR6UJOTRmAafp2YJQ0P4eNfUoIHQc0Prl8wi5JksZuDeYhVQUE1m7Aq8EDIpjCxYCxAkLq6QQDPiyuOBpqm1lOotRFY1TkFraldv9nndpEGgvtpOSjBVCe6nngqCK0/s400/GoldMedal2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398564258226775522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ztt3IZSpWQq2WLFTmxv4PjYC9AGsQqnTjFo5fmdq4VlBf7NgNQQjrD0q5Vu7DwPqthqlC2AQiWY1LDtUMLj0SAG36Il0a5KNZIH-vIjSf7lrDSCKXH2ar65Qa7KDaTrkLR7g2EkmwgM/s1600-h/6536_117949296267_558456267_2848419_7536017_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ztt3IZSpWQq2WLFTmxv4PjYC9AGsQqnTjFo5fmdq4VlBf7NgNQQjrD0q5Vu7DwPqthqlC2AQiWY1LDtUMLj0SAG36Il0a5KNZIH-vIjSf7lrDSCKXH2ar65Qa7KDaTrkLR7g2EkmwgM/s320/6536_117949296267_558456267_2848419_7536017_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398557213850993906" /></a> But for me this year was that much more special. Four years ago, I had come to Italy to play for a professional club in Florence. It was my first experience living abroad and I did not know one bit of Italian. There were twins on my team. Not the tallest girls (OK, most of the high school girls I coached were bigger as freshman than these two), but I soon found that they had gigantic hearts. They taught me Italian, drove me around, welcomed me into their home, and took care of me as if I was their sister. I broke my nose when I was playing there, which was so bad I needed to have nasal surgery to fix it. Their mother sat with me in the hospital, went to the pharmacy and got all my drugs and then doted on me, as all moms do, for the next two weeks while I stayed with them. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qpQVmgOhgtGfZCGKinDwBRuZbPSxNnLA2sDz3fRlpyn5GDQrCyEVU76pDwGIBcwavE8f5c61ls51QgJqAk9LG3jtjy2_PDrb0Rhdv5EWBj5cIjdlD8eXg47lnr9D_k7YmbtvgRkTtEI/s1600-h/6536_117949326267_558456267_2848424_7897575_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qpQVmgOhgtGfZCGKinDwBRuZbPSxNnLA2sDz3fRlpyn5GDQrCyEVU76pDwGIBcwavE8f5c61ls51QgJqAk9LG3jtjy2_PDrb0Rhdv5EWBj5cIjdlD8eXg47lnr9D_k7YmbtvgRkTtEI/s320/6536_117949326267_558456267_2848424_7897575_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398565658996140898" /></a>Coming back home after that season, they visited America once but we have kept in touch mostly over the Internet. I had not seen them in three years....but they made the quick trip to Rome to cheer for us during the entire tournament. They are true water polo lovers and incredible supporters of my water polo adventures. They made the sign above and hung it in the stands. Their seats were positioned directly behind the poles holding the medal winning countries flags. So as I stood atop the podium, heavy medal around my neck, sweet national anthem singing to us....I could clearly see their smiling faces and the jubilant waving of a homemade flag as well. It was an amazing thing to get to share with them.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div>Then after all this, Canada (our final game opponents) protested the result of the game. They thought there had been a portion of the game that should have been handled differently by the referees. So they put in a formal request of protest, meaning after ALL that.... the celebration, the medals, the hugs from supporters, the adrenaline and joy....we were told we had to wait until 10:30 the next morning to find out if we were, in fact, the winners. I felt like my body was a balloon and someone had just stuck me with a pin. SERIOUSLY?!?</div><div><br /></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-874208999965650132009-04-21T15:57:00.000-07:002009-10-16T04:03:01.343-07:00We won Champions Cup!Traveling to Russia for the Finals, playing, having fun, and the aftermath!<br /><br /><br /><div><embed src="http://widget-c5.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=3098476543664221125&site=widget-c5.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3098476543664221125&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-c5.slide.com/p1/3098476543664221125/bb_t047_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3098476543664221125&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-c5.slide.com/p2/3098476543664221125/bb_t047_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3098476543664221125&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-c5.slide.com/p4/3098476543664221125/bb_t047_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-12982294886624564122009-04-13T13:41:00.000-07:002009-10-18T22:23:35.529-07:00Playing professionally.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsSSXUdNN3DNceCw_zJttxrrl_Vy6UOBxFV03LSI1PFkIURZvCQo36m4p7vaiG-oQCObaFJufdjFq-YQ9tqMlvbO7U5RAMcPNQqPoSjbL62iJSQ3ZIW5rkMtNWhJmgv1BIdwTAADa3Us/s1600-h/CIMG4218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsSSXUdNN3DNceCw_zJttxrrl_Vy6UOBxFV03LSI1PFkIURZvCQo36m4p7vaiG-oQCObaFJufdjFq-YQ9tqMlvbO7U5RAMcPNQqPoSjbL62iJSQ3ZIW5rkMtNWhJmgv1BIdwTAADa3Us/s400/CIMG4218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393115629848427266" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Vouliagmeni Nautical Club</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have come to Greece to play for a club team, just outside Athens. It is in the small town of Vouliagmeni. The picture above is standing at the club, looking out over the small bay, back at the town. "N.O.B" is the abbreviation for the club. Because I can not understand one bit of Greek, I can not tell you how that translates into Vouliagmeni Nautical Club. But I assure it does, because it is all over our gear, swimsuits, and caps. Either that, or they are REALLY making fun of the foreign kid. Because I trust most everything they tell me. Fending for myself is really hard when the letters are a completely different alphabet. I can't even TRY to sort it out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyYwx8aKUwXgoN1t0i_a6XugEuI-cuZtxwUWTT_XS8_gngb45zscl2h9fURAOKt2C3tCWj7S6XCKlcRuG-8VkbGEXLxctpNYwwmjQXLGdmj5BuEsthBEofLBGg95RoZSf1JNniUr-vDM/s1600-h/CIMG4220.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyYwx8aKUwXgoN1t0i_a6XugEuI-cuZtxwUWTT_XS8_gngb45zscl2h9fURAOKt2C3tCWj7S6XCKlcRuG-8VkbGEXLxctpNYwwmjQXLGdmj5BuEsthBEofLBGg95RoZSf1JNniUr-vDM/s200/CIMG4220.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393118064237803426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am sure this tells me where the gym is. Better bet is to just follow everyone else. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Luckily, most everyone here does speak English, so I can ask for a translation. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Our coach will give us a swim set in Greek and I wait until she is finished, turn to the girl who swims next to me, and quickly get the English cliff notes. I am one of the two fastest swimmers on the team. So usually I am out in front of the other girls on swim sets. I can not rely on my usual tactic of hanging back to just watch and figuring it out as I go. I learned really quick that the other fast girl is a little jokester. When I think we are doing 5 laps at a time...... I flip for my last lap, push off and look back to see everyone else stop. I pop my head up, and find my translator laughing her head off. That was the day I began auditorially memorizing the water polo terms I would need to get through practice. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Typically, foreigners are asked to come and play for teams for their National League seasons. Each team is allowed two foreign players. One from a fellow European country and one from the Americas or Oceanic/Asian region. The season lasts about 7 months, where each team will play against each other twice, at which point you are placed in post season games until there is a winner. I am not here for that. Our team already has a Spanish goalie, and they picked up my fellow American team mate, center, Moriah van Norman. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">During the regular season, the top two teams from the previous years season, play in a European Cup, against the top two teams from the rest of the European professional teams. For the "Champions Cup", teams can bring in additional foreigners. Enter, ME!!!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I will only be in Greece for about two months. To help the team in the semi-final, and hopefully final games of the Cup!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4cubZqeTQf7yXjx0VW-ZrVSaAdSEthb7n3t4abfHUI5VYD0Saf-_wmdt5lBm5EPZqXcZsisdoZg7RWYVg_j6c_zR1Mbku-lffpuZWQWoDgcA-G9Lxh6p7Y-Q9AKvYcpzaAGRGls8hgE/s1600-h/CIMG4230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4cubZqeTQf7yXjx0VW-ZrVSaAdSEthb7n3t4abfHUI5VYD0Saf-_wmdt5lBm5EPZqXcZsisdoZg7RWYVg_j6c_zR1Mbku-lffpuZWQWoDgcA-G9Lxh6p7Y-Q9AKvYcpzaAGRGls8hgE/s320/CIMG4230.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393126934989723730" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here is another look, from the end of the peninsula, back at the bay and the town of Vouliagmeni. Our pool (it is hard to see) sits on the left side of the bay, just beyond the docked sail boats. Very beautiful place to be playing and practicing!</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-69226954796682595632009-04-10T14:35:00.000-07:002009-10-16T01:40:33.908-07:00The downfall of my blog.So much for resolutions. <div><br /></div><div>Reasons for not posting regularly:</div><div><br /></div><div><ol><li><b>Lack of Internet.</b> </li></ol><div>I decided to come play water polo in Greece. I got a contract playing for a professional club in a town outside of Athens.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8V3EdvZ_Z7u9aUPXH6ENDa15T1_CSNNiaGzbGOobc261go3QWUBuQOv_d2gfSwRa68Vzq0Z4iJou8UDdG6Le9wjOQgjwMJqIxTP117WqPffCAZEwITJYtPPBVGVgupcO77qtxZCekNto/s1600-h/CIMG4214.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8V3EdvZ_Z7u9aUPXH6ENDa15T1_CSNNiaGzbGOobc261go3QWUBuQOv_d2gfSwRa68Vzq0Z4iJou8UDdG6Le9wjOQgjwMJqIxTP117WqPffCAZEwITJYtPPBVGVgupcO77qtxZCekNto/s200/CIMG4214.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393105063608759858" /></a> I live in an apartment (with a fellow American National Team Member- who also plays for the club) and we are stealing Internet from someone in our building. I believe it is the office below us. And because EVERYTHING here is made of stone and marble, going through that kind of material, the connection is jankety at best. Most of the time the only place we can get good reception is sitting on her bed, in her bedroom. It must be positioned directly above the wireless router. And while we are friends and teammates, I do not think she really wants me hanging out in her bed all the time. Space bubbles need to stay intact. So instead of blogging and sharing my stories.....I read and listen to music. Or go out with my new Greek teammates for coffee. (Which I have come to learn is mandatory, daily.)</div><div><br /></div><div>If I do want to get a strong and reliable porthole to the web, I have to pre-arrange a visit to a teammates house, because I am living overseas sans car. I am completely dependent on my new Greek friends for transport. Due to the fact that most of my creative moments are just before bed, while I am calming down from the days festivities, not having the Internet readily available at home really puts a damper on my posts. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2. <b>FACEBOOK.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The universal black hole of time has sucked me right in. I resisted joining Facebook for a long time. Mostly because it was something that started after I graduated from college. (Yeah, I'm old. ;) Hahaha.) Originally, being just a network for college students with educational email addresses, I couldn't gain access and scoffed at such a segregational institution. Then I caved and joined so I could see some pictures posted of a teammate, by a person I didn't know, who had tagged her, so if I were on Facebook, I could add her, and see her photos. Simple, right?!</div><div><br /></div><div>Now it is so easy, when I just have a 15 minute window, to just hop on FB, post a status change (My parents love those so they know what I am doing half a world away and I haven't called. I know....BAD DAUGHTER!) check my wall and briefly stalk my friends to see that they are all doing well. If I add a photo or 12, my friends can take a visual tour of my adventures and comment as they wish. Quick and easy.</div><div><br /></div><div>But let's be honest. Blogging is way more fun. My Facebook friends are not getting my random inner narrative, unless I can fit it into a one line sentence. (Which happens on occasion, I guess.)</div><div>Blogging is just far more time consuming. Which brings me back to my point.....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-40266106218649176382009-01-19T07:24:00.000-08:002009-10-16T00:41:48.271-07:00Recapitulations and Resolutions.<span style="color:#cc0000;">NOTE: This post was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">written</span> in the beginning of the year. But my life, being very unconventional these days, has run away with me and I never posted it. I am sorry to my readers and will get on top of my posting. (Thank you Tim for giving me a kick in the pants.)</span><br /><br />I love getting/sending snail mail. So come the holiday season it is time to:<br /><div><ol><br /><li>Make a list of folks to send cards to. In hopes that,with it in writing, I will not forget anyone. (There is always that possibility- So, sorry, if my brain blanked on you this year. Plus it is imperative that I have your address for you to get a card.)</li><br /><li>Check and see how many 1,2, & 3 cent stamps I need. (Every year as long as I can remember, Santa has deposited a fresh roll of stamps in my stocking. With the rate at which the price of stamps has increased in the recent years, I have so many random priced stamps collecting dust. It is time they get out in the world and travel.)</li><br /><li>Dig out the holiday cards I bought last year on discount. (It really is a great way to save money. And the love sent is still the same.)</li><br /><li>(If time will not allow an old fashion card) Devise some sort of home-made holiday hello to send to people.....preferably with pictures because I agree with the notion that 1 picture can say 1000 words. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">eHoliday</span></span></span> card was utilized a few years ago....but I think nothing will ever compare to a real card.<br /></li></ol><div>That done, the real question is.... "What do you put in your card?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I think if you order those photo cards from Costco or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wallmart</span></span></span> or something... Putting the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">right </span>photo in your card is key. Because then all you have to do is sign it. Nothing else is needed. A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ponient</span></span></span> shot of the whole family changing a flat tire on your cross country road trip or maybe a surprised shot of the new baby vomiting all over Daddy's new work shirt. Now that would be a great holiday card. :) I particularly liked the card I got with my nephew <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Conor's</span></span></span> photo on it. Right in the center is one of him all naked on a blanket! Cute little baby butt! It was the most adorable thing. I may save it, and show him when he is about 16. Wonder what he will think when he realizes how many people have seen his bum!?!</div><br /><div><br /></div><div>And if there are no photos and you are sending just a normal old card.........Will just a signature do then?</div><br /><div>I believe that it is special just to receive mail in this day and age. But I am not going to lie, this year when I read a few cards, after reading the signature I found myself longing for more. What was happening in these peoples lives? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Cuz</span></span></span> lets face it.....most of the cards you get at the holidays are from people you do not see very often. Pondering life scenarios in my head I then realized that what these cards did was reconnect them in my head and heart. Weather there was a note or not they still wanted me to know that they were out there somewhere. And now it was up to me to find out more if I want.</div><br /><div></div><div>My cards were really just an extended holiday hello. Maybe a random thought here and there. Because (if I were posting more regularly) all of my friends and family can find out what I am doing with myself right here on my blog. Pictures included with my random inner <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">narrative</span>. So while I sat there as I wrote my cards and ran through the entire year in my head, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">recapping</span> my adventures and revisiting the emotions of my memories, I realized that most of them were posted here. Not all of them.....my post-Olympic posts are not created yet.........<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>Which lead me to start formulating my list of resolutions for the New Year. Near the top of my list was posting more. Dang it. I have already let that one slide. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ooops</span></span>. </div><br /><div></div><div>But instead of letting my resolution slide into oblivion. I will turn it around today. Catch it before six months pass and half the year is gone. Baby steps!<br /></div><div> </div></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-10665931441350203942008-12-25T12:00:00.000-08:002008-12-27T13:40:24.026-08:00CHRISTMAS 2008<div><embed src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=3026418949595327532&site=widget-2c.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:400px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3026418949595327532&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p1/3026418949595327532/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3026418949595327532&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p2/3026418949595327532/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=3026418949595327532&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p4/3026418949595327532/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-58472183964958083052008-12-24T15:06:00.000-08:002008-12-25T00:58:10.417-08:00Deck the halls.I love to decorate.<br /><br />The $1 section at Target is a place that I should avoid during all holidays. Individually- "Oh, its only a dollar." When you realize that there are 40 of those dollar specials in the cart already- "Ooops." Last year I adorned my whole apartment with little things from target. My favorite item being the sticky jelly-like window decorations. I stuck them to everything. The window on the front door. The mirror in the bathroom. Fabulous little things.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRy5DQ1XUiSipGKlwQgA_0OX47sJ46fXx5iwy_Bc5su4SR49KPcVm1GDkibtEgPoEeKnVKouwyiPOxPoOkgSDY_0BYXdxoroGY1tkgWS5-3gxa6bFPRPsjGgFfsHldOqln9Ww8lPfD-Y/s1600-h/IMG_0600.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRy5DQ1XUiSipGKlwQgA_0OX47sJ46fXx5iwy_Bc5su4SR49KPcVm1GDkibtEgPoEeKnVKouwyiPOxPoOkgSDY_0BYXdxoroGY1tkgWS5-3gxa6bFPRPsjGgFfsHldOqln9Ww8lPfD-Y/s200/IMG_0600.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283638340485112098" /></a>I even got my tree from Target. It was a great tree. But this year Brandon & Sus (my brother and his wife) introduced me to a far more interactive way to pick out a tree. We cut it down ourselves! (I am not sure where I would have been able to do that when I was living in the Los Angeles area?!? OK, I couldn't have. Unless I cut if out of someone's yard. And I bet I would have been thrown in jail for that.)<br /><br />When we got to the farm and got out of the car, a man handed us a saw and pointed to the forest. Have at it! We trudged off through the snow in search of OUR tree. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">EUREKA!!!!</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguleTQ22YJctScCbxKVlWfaHgfDnyqeEABYFSdW3WXkn-7ZR4-7vp9g9wRVCMNcbCjWeVQF0qXDK5msZY6U-aRBnmk95hXVdbVTRAgrHQeTnacLlHdyrG5Gk_qZtEpKRISd-EkonzOg04/s1600-h/IMG_0608.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguleTQ22YJctScCbxKVlWfaHgfDnyqeEABYFSdW3WXkn-7ZR4-7vp9g9wRVCMNcbCjWeVQF0qXDK5msZY6U-aRBnmk95hXVdbVTRAgrHQeTnacLlHdyrG5Gk_qZtEpKRISd-EkonzOg04/s320/IMG_0608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283639119437651602" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq95KZRsX9OGD3qI5ERX-xWbxN91LSb6z0IMQLZuw_XMIehfzkwaoyhvpxJMpinlxye0jd2jMcfguhQdSNzLmgatPszZJcVYbDWa4IpcwLbwXO8d6KdDoBa9z5OLwfyHp0zoyus5UbiWQ/s1600-h/IMG_0611.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq95KZRsX9OGD3qI5ERX-xWbxN91LSb6z0IMQLZuw_XMIehfzkwaoyhvpxJMpinlxye0jd2jMcfguhQdSNzLmgatPszZJcVYbDWa4IpcwLbwXO8d6KdDoBa9z5OLwfyHp0zoyus5UbiWQ/s200/IMG_0611.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283640636270603266" /></a><br />My job was to hold the little tree while my brother chopped it down. The gloves he brought came in quite handy. Those fresh trees threaten you with copious amounts of sap. Maybe they are crying because they are getting cut down. This tree didn't know how good it would look when I was done with it. :)<br />Conor seemed to be happy with our selection. But maybe happier to get back to the barn where the owners of the farm had set up heating lamps and all the popcorn you could eat. Then we strapped it to the roof of the car and took it home where I put my skills to use. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6L7wXbbjQNtUK4l5AHdDwsGk-yzdbBgBlr0ijWxCtJs8Q163D8Ltd7jKh7x9QgZRX0Iw8HiaSQ7Rp_jUf7_7-SFNWfOinQlr0fScJBZcOzQNseb01PwoV_ykyDpdLGttA3ARvi7SLIE/s1600-h/IMG_0631.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6L7wXbbjQNtUK4l5AHdDwsGk-yzdbBgBlr0ijWxCtJs8Q163D8Ltd7jKh7x9QgZRX0Iw8HiaSQ7Rp_jUf7_7-SFNWfOinQlr0fScJBZcOzQNseb01PwoV_ykyDpdLGttA3ARvi7SLIE/s200/IMG_0631.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283645595427231810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFFqe9981g1D3RIc1w-h7g1Sk-Lk_uoN8mLRt04nJ0JEzX8F4qoJkFayy_a1Mi3I7DIBIlxDhT-OYmlD-pMkchKTZMkSYdjPCVEeQ-r-j7BHZG-lLWaY0Mm2Eu8RMmCF0kHTTPXVPQY8/s1600-h/IMG_0623.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFFqe9981g1D3RIc1w-h7g1Sk-Lk_uoN8mLRt04nJ0JEzX8F4qoJkFayy_a1Mi3I7DIBIlxDhT-OYmlD-pMkchKTZMkSYdjPCVEeQ-r-j7BHZG-lLWaY0Mm2Eu8RMmCF0kHTTPXVPQY8/s200/IMG_0623.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283643271268886018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr_5qFyKWHPyurQ29W7wtL4BwUrjPhX1s3KdYTI41WA0EgrcFvq94nW3fr4oXLjDdZlPiLGt9-NrtCG_dLgCJsN5PiZO38ty6NaDQud66tQ2cvsBIaP9YJBjBjVqLAgRlwB1C0QScl0o/s1600-h/IMG_0612.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr_5qFyKWHPyurQ29W7wtL4BwUrjPhX1s3KdYTI41WA0EgrcFvq94nW3fr4oXLjDdZlPiLGt9-NrtCG_dLgCJsN5PiZO38ty6NaDQud66tQ2cvsBIaP9YJBjBjVqLAgRlwB1C0QScl0o/s200/IMG_0612.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283642566384319490" /></a><br />I also love listening to Christmas songs. I have collected quite a library of songs over the years. (My playlist on i-tunes says I could listen to Christmas music for 10.6 hours. Overkill? I think not. No two songs are the same. And the variety allows for everyone to find something they enjoy. My favorite album right now is: Celtic Christmas. LOVE the bagpipes.) <div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBO-WlPd87tYXvOjnjF2lp2gGwtdv7F_KrRs7oYOlZvodo3kUgblevFabuWmpFmj_tLE65TQ41oSS2FjgTrcQRDsYL7zrPuB0BxWPcedG2ochDU_AVMfMhJz7JT5_FnyVvIJK48-ord9M/s1600-h/CIMG3461.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBO-WlPd87tYXvOjnjF2lp2gGwtdv7F_KrRs7oYOlZvodo3kUgblevFabuWmpFmj_tLE65TQ41oSS2FjgTrcQRDsYL7zrPuB0BxWPcedG2ochDU_AVMfMhJz7JT5_FnyVvIJK48-ord9M/s200/CIMG3461.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283648793539677122" /></a><br /></div><div>The endless stream of audio holiday cheer only served to invigorate my decorating juices. So I bundled up and headed outside in the snow to hang lights on the house. Using a ladder in the snow is not dangerous. That is what I told myself. I am not the kind of person who would sue the ladder manufacturer for not having the warning label big enough. If I fell it would be my own over-zealous holiday stupidity! Injury avoided. Joy spread!</div><div><br /></div><div>We are ready for Santa!!!</div>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-55779205694421256422008-12-24T13:30:00.000-08:002008-12-24T13:35:57.575-08:00Here comes Santa Claus....I can't believe that Christmas is tomorrow!!!<br />My nephew is really excited about it!<br />(And so cute in his little hat!)<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzYacmLYpFWNE2Ppl9AAqXjCHLFu_9N0qT3MZaEllqjIrTvWWWXo1PdAzPbfS65KsxweQ_JLGKQE6C4sQ5wkQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7740227795633255733.post-91114760715879356752008-12-20T09:56:00.000-08:002008-12-24T13:28:34.130-08:00Snow Days.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbJQNwggHcIiiw9vVcPRf-gvim8WQr_PIN4swTHNptlJbugpfhfOpkClBrbECqXitzIG5ghuZPQjkhMj7F-7MgtlD_-MdGzBXPPD1_tjoo0EX4mlwRU6S35RSEj6cVlCt4ZZYeswi-x8/s1600-h/CIMG3598.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbJQNwggHcIiiw9vVcPRf-gvim8WQr_PIN4swTHNptlJbugpfhfOpkClBrbECqXitzIG5ghuZPQjkhMj7F-7MgtlD_-MdGzBXPPD1_tjoo0EX4mlwRU6S35RSEj6cVlCt4ZZYeswi-x8/s400/CIMG3598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283421098919618594" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">All bundled up and ready to play!<br /><br /></span></span></span></div><div>I think the last time I went skiing was almost 10 years ago. Which was about the same time I began training with the national team and realized that if I focused my energy, dreams may be within reach. What used to be a staple on my winter activity list, got sidelined until further notice. Logging hours of training in the pool became my top priority and going to play in the snow happened less and less often. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was not the only one who didn't want all that effort to go to waste. Without fail, just before winter break in college, came the suggestions from the coaches to "be safe" and "to get your rest" during the time off because the last thing they wanted was an unnecessary injury. Later when I was playing professionally in Italy, my team went on a trip to the Alps. I was forbidden, by the club I played for, to do anything other than make a snowman and drink hot beverages in the lodges. (But I was in the most beautiful mountains, with perfect snow for skiing!!! Alas, receiving my salary every month trumped my urge to fly down the slopes.) It is hard to be in a winter wonderland when you can't do anything in it. Especially when skiing was something that I did every year growing up.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div>For the last two weeks I have been spending time in Seattle with my brother and his family. I had no idea I would find myself in the ultimate winter wonderland....and I think (if the foot of snow outside does not disappear in 24 hours) my first white Christmas! :)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>There still has been no skiing....but the abundance of powdery white has offered many other forms of entertainment. And I am certainly not afraid to frolic like we all did when we were 5!<br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxzpfOSr_84hTG9BS7lGk7AzecPMCsBODOGDhFLEJTiqyXshfoFaiBLSj7-jbUyeaS3gcOvJnz6lCUunuU72A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz3Kjm5DxWuHpXRSDVljaM3LJCpfRnrOsIsVbKPZPywepQQdSsJeDCoycBti5-u1N6hPS2l5Jh5FYDz5_0I' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIjU2qtMwbTnQ1xRbQVxp2-Lshgb1yc5Bg_x3k9K5MO8NbGM303io99-W16qayeZAY5_2gV3bEzlLuUUdRjTEJyvSx7c7sAMuf4ZsTElFYmWF6yx1Tj_RNx3On6Xx6AF-EOMWBeNSu2w/s1600-h/CIMG3600.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIjU2qtMwbTnQ1xRbQVxp2-Lshgb1yc5Bg_x3k9K5MO8NbGM303io99-W16qayeZAY5_2gV3bEzlLuUUdRjTEJyvSx7c7sAMuf4ZsTElFYmWF6yx1Tj_RNx3On6Xx6AF-EOMWBeNSu2w/s400/CIMG3600.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283464289765000386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We took a long trek through the neighborhood...threw a few snow balls at each other. Made our angels. Enjoyed the way the whole world lay quiet with the blanket of snow covering it. No better way to experience your first snow than from a baby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bjorn</span>. My nephew, Conor, was trying to figure out exactly what all this white stuff was. Big round eyes taking it all in.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKCBQyz_djGUCn6L3vJoOeYSNSJdYWvlmIhd4-HguG4OajlbJuFt7TEIsBCuElwt3r6ob5kUpyGyM8N5oQ_J3H7ivjWPuTvUVh78HBVjYUNq8hWdd4VwHfpLQsSwCBj7kRjobfMvlm-k/s1600-h/CIMG3621.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKCBQyz_djGUCn6L3vJoOeYSNSJdYWvlmIhd4-HguG4OajlbJuFt7TEIsBCuElwt3r6ob5kUpyGyM8N5oQ_J3H7ivjWPuTvUVh78HBVjYUNq8hWdd4VwHfpLQsSwCBj7kRjobfMvlm-k/s200/CIMG3621.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283463022701998306" border="0" /></a>When we got back to the house, my friend Monkey and I, shoveled the driveway to uncover the cars and then made a snowman! (No, we were not confused as to what holiday is coming up. But why let a festive decoration go to waste?)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSh5LR3LiBU6tCg268Njt-KcPLPc6CtCUfK6ACx3uqgCM9uHYQ90-CYaTqH6SxpZwuHvvPf2gJVQMdB0z0fKL_9aQEc9qt1FdRB2FgsYB7J53wrugOLBbYISUfrW11Uj9kG4HO35zww0/s1600-h/CIMG3629.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSh5LR3LiBU6tCg268Njt-KcPLPc6CtCUfK6ACx3uqgCM9uHYQ90-CYaTqH6SxpZwuHvvPf2gJVQMdB0z0fKL_9aQEc9qt1FdRB2FgsYB7J53wrugOLBbYISUfrW11Uj9kG4HO35zww0/s320/CIMG3629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283466763207596370" border="0" /></a>That was two days ago....it kept snowing and now.....SO MUCH SNOW!!!!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWQH-z-4YJ4oN68HZkjnRRxFp2VFxccdvo9lds-G1-c-Tq7lIZQZl-cVsdEb3zaP47k-7GDe-pzvg_EBHUV1pG5iNl4NOvUwHOh2E2Y4p8VQpS2jWwVyQcyaR9DWSC0_CE6zgyt31LCc/s1600-h/CIMG3635.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWQH-z-4YJ4oN68HZkjnRRxFp2VFxccdvo9lds-G1-c-Tq7lIZQZl-cVsdEb3zaP47k-7GDe-pzvg_EBHUV1pG5iNl4NOvUwHOh2E2Y4p8VQpS2jWwVyQcyaR9DWSC0_CE6zgyt31LCc/s320/CIMG3635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283471151773248674" border="0" /></a>Heather Petrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565314129664987949noreply@blogger.com3