My Dad.

I was asked to write a short bio about my dad for his upcoming role in a film. I have been constantly compared to him my entire life - for better or for worse. I thought I'd share with all of us how I see my papa:

Anthony Chang, son of an influential army officer, was born in the Chinese Hubei province and spent his first six years of life with hundreds of surrogate uncles who were under his father’s command.

A gifted writer and speaker, Anthony enjoyed the spotlight of being an articulate political science scholar and drama club member at the National Chenchi (political science) University.

Anthony immigrated to the US in the late 70s with his family and set aside his love for acting for twenty years, until an opportunity was presented to him to step in as producer and host of the first-ever LIVE phone-in talk show on Chinese cable television. Anthony has not only shared his talents on many radio shows, commercials, and films, but is a gifted storyteller and poet.

60 Seconds of Scavz Fun!

As we step closer to our official website launch, all the kinks, tweaks, improvements, feedbacks cannot slow down what Scavz.com is all about - freebies and fun!

Here is a glimpse into some of the pre-launch Scavz Hunts we've had throughout SoCal.

Thanks for LIKING us on Facebook (if you haven't, do to facebook.com/scavz and click LIKE) and stay tuned for great things to come!

I am Not a Masochist

One of the definitions for masochist in Dictionary.com is gratification gained from pain. After a day of rest from BAR, I found myself looking forward to the pain as I headed to class with my friend Carolyn. Does this make me a masochist? Heck no!! How am I so sure? Well because about 6 minutes into my morning class, I found myself completely and utterly ungratified!

Today marks the third class of my 30-day adventure into the Bar Method, and I have to say, today was the most depressing day of the three. I think it was the combination of looking forward to the class, optimism of it being a bit easier to "get," and experiencing a mother of a back spasm about 20 minutes into the class. Whatever the reason, I find myself blogging with a gloom cloud over my head. They talk about a "runner's high." I wonder if today would be considered a "barrer's low?"

I'm still going to tough through it, take lots of ibuprofen (that's for you Sarah J!), and go to class tomorrow. Oh, by the way, if you want a free pass to try this out, let me know. Comment with your email or FB me!

COACH...Jennie?!

My husband Johnny is a basketball coach. I didn't know it at the time when I dated him, but he is a born coach. He's got all the fundamentals and skills, and he's got a coach's heart - he loves seeing players thrive and work hard, and he loves to drill, drill, drill!

Johnny coached a high school basketball team from 1999-2001. He took this team, which played in CYC & JAO (Japanese leagues) and took them from last place to first in just a year. And while he was doing that, I paced back and forth in the bleachers, with Micah in a Bjorn, cheering and jeering at the top of my voice. See, I knew my role...I was the wife of the coach, the screaming voice behind the man. Yep, I knew my role - I was Mrs. Coach and I was happy.

Fast forward 10 years later. It's around 7:30pm on a nippy Tuesday night - the first night of Micah's bball practice at PazNaz (our church), which runs a program with an organization called Upward. Practice was winding down, and as I waited for Micah, our youth pastor Nicole Johnson (who is a big major sweetheart), approached me to tell me that she hasn't been able to locate the gentleman who had volunteered to coach my son's team. I was just about to ask her if she wanted me to keep trying his number when she said these words, "Um...I was wondering if you could coach since you know basketball?!"

The "ME" 10 years ago would have jumped at the chance to save the day. Talk first then think about it and try to back out. But the 40-year-old me of today simply nodded in support and played the husband card - "Let me talk to Johnny and see how it'll fit into our schedule."

I was actually hoping Johnny might volunteer and then we'd be done. But when I spoke to him, he smiled and said that it would be good for me and that I'd have fun with it.

OK, so the hubby gave it a thumbs up, and I was interested, but I really felt unqualified and unequipped to step onto the court to teach anything.

Then I consulted another coach - the Wizard of Westwood, John Wooden - and this is what I read: "Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."

So after chatting it up with God and the youth pastor and the guy in charge of the coaches, I believe that I will now add "coach" onto my life's resume. However, this is how I'd define what a coach is:

Coach - (n.) - someone blessed enough to be in a position to train one or a group of followers who are open to receiving what you have to say and instruct. Someone who is humble enough to realize the delicate position they have been given. Someone who has lots of people praying for her!

Pain is in the Mind...and in my A**

There is a series of exercises in the Bar Method where we are asked to stand parallel to the bar (think ballerina), stand on our tippie-toes, place a rubber ball between our thighs, and squeeze - all the while maintaining a straight back, with our navel tucked in, our knees soft, and core strong. So in this tip-toe position we squeeze, and hold, and squeeze, and hold...and then we tuck and hold, and tuck and hold. Finally, we squeeze and tuck, squeeze and tuck...and then we h--o--l--d (while squeezing and tucking).

On the first day, this exercise series was tough. On the second day, this exercise series was hell! That's right, I'm not ashamed to admit that I almost passed out from the pain. I tried to use that mind-over-matter thing, but no image of my hard, strong, bikini body could mask the excrutiating pain ripping through my hamstrings. Passing out would have been a release but all twelve students stood their ground - stood in their tip-toes, with every muscle tucked, squeezed, and held.

Carolyn and I waddled to our cars after class, cracking up at the amount of breathing we did, comparing the inhales and exhales to our experiences with Lamaze. We struggled to walk straight and sort of leaned against each other while walking as a form of mutual support in body and spirit.

We are welcoming the rest day we have tomorrow, and then it's back to the gym for more tucking, squeezing and holding. We invite you to join...just remember to be clear on why you're coming...because you're gonna need the distraction!

The BAR Method

While the college student or the newly-employed Yuppie may define the BAR Method as an age-old technique in picking up a date at the local pub; for the forty-year-old in search of her thirty-year-old body, the BAR Method is a form of exercise that puts the posing for senior portraits to shame - now tuck here, tilt there, a little shift to the left, point your chin to the right a little more... The BAR Method combines a ballerina's dance bar, a rubber ball, a mat, and your tippy toes to make you hurt in areas you never thought possible.

I am what my husband calls, "a social exerciser." I exercise for the social aspects. Thus, classes with friends are the best way for me to get up off my bootie. So at this time, I want to give a shout out to my friend Carolyn. I agreed to go to the class for a month as a way to celebrate her birthday. She wanted a stronger body, and well, I just wanted to find my body. In fact, the answer I wrote in on the questionnaire at class which asked, "are there any limitations that would prevent you from properly completing your exercises in class?" was "the rolls around my waist may keep me from bending forward completely."

So after completing the questionnaire, handing over my coupon for a free class, and hanging from a bar for 30 seconds (it's required before starting class), I allowed a peppy yet strong instructor named Jen guide me in breaking down muscles in my legs, calves, abs, ass, and arms for 60 minutes. For an hour, I felt like a ballerina, an old lady, and the new spokesperson for Jello Jigglers! But apparently, a shakey leg is a good thing in this class because it shows off the fact that we are now working muscles we've never worked before!

Before the class started, my inspired girlfriend alerted me that her goal was to come 5 days a week! 5-days-straight-a-week!!! Being a good friend, I nodded in agreement while thinking, "yeah, girl, 5-days-a-week... by yourself!"

During the class, all I could say in between my labored breathing was, "Seriously?! 5 days a week?!"

After the class, my still-inspired girlfriend raised her hand and asked the instructor in her oh-so-amazingly-composed-voice, "how many times a week would you suggest we exercise each week?"

So for now, we will attend two days on, one day off for the next month. The girls in the online success stories all testify that transformation happens in a month. Well, I think I'm overachieving cuz I've already been transformed! This morning, I was able to lift my legs. Now, after the workout, I no longer can ANYTHING!

Well, I'll keep you posted...oh! You are free to join me anytime!!