Jachin is home sick today. He has a cold/sunburn combo compliments of Friday’s family skiing adventure. But we wore green anyway… and stayed inside today, organizing and cleaning, iPod playing peppy music throughout the house. He worked a little on his new animation program. I helped him with his first video blog. It’s up over at Jachin’s blog… go take a look-see. And now that he knows how to take video of himself and upload it, well… there’s no telling what family footage could turn up on YouTube. (But our chances of running for government office may have just gone out the window.)

And now, giving in to the odd, anal-retentive organization sensation that has struck me today, I’m off to organize the books in the playroom by reading level…

…what?

Take the Quiz here!

Recently I’ve started writing my tell-all memoir about my childhood and teen years. Yes, seriously. Because it is a funny, sad, but mostly just rather weird story. I think a handful of people would read it. (And I mean a small handful, like, Zoe’s hand. Not a large hand.)

For some reason, whenever I’ve told different members of my family that I’ve started writing a memoir, they’ve all said, “Oh, no…”, like it will be a book mainly about them and how they are total jerks to me. Like I will recall every time I was slighted, or spanked, or had my hair pulled unjustly, or was forced to wear the bright blue, hideous, and incredibly painful orthodontic head gear. (Okay, the head gear may get a small blurb…) In truth, though, the main person to be embarrassed by the whole thing is me. Which is why I completely intend to write it under a fake name. I’ve decided that although it is a great story in need of telling (and this is all assuming it ever gets published), I don’t need everyone in my neighborhood, or every person in my acquaintance to know the sad, nasty undercurrent of every embarrassing (yet interesting) part of my life.

I have decided that, in addition to changing my name, I will also change the names of the people in my life… to protect the identities of the innocent and the crud-ball alike. So if you are reading this, and you knew me as a kid or young adult, and you are fearful of being fingered as the person who once made me cry because you threw dog poop at me or some other such nonsense, this is your chance to go into hiding. Ever wanted to change your name anyway? This is your shot. I’m taking “Moniker Requests”. You can choose the name for yourself in my tell-all memoir.   It can be your middle name, or your stripper name, or your dog’s name… Whatever.

(Many of you, sweet readers, didn’t know me before this blog came to fruition, and therefor you will probably not be included in this particular book. You should really be thanking your lucky stars that our paths never crossed before the internet came about. But you can tell me what you’d change your name to, anyway.)

The 5k is finished, and yes, I finished it! And in a respectable time, for my first race. Not any record-breaking, medal-winning time, mind you. But respectable: 33:16

I discovered that (for me) the trick to running faster is to run with someone beside you; someone who will shame you into running faster and longer. I ran beside my sister-in-law, Kim. And while my training had consisted of alternating between one minute of running and one minute of walking, Kim just runs. And although this was also her first 5k, well, the girl runs better and longer than me. So there I was, running beside her, thinking man, I don’t want to be the one to stop and walk first… But of course I was the one who stopped and walked first, but not before running the longest stretch of my life. I found out that trying to keep up with a pack makes me faster and better. I finished a good 10 minutes ahead of what I was afraid I’d finish.

Jon (who finished in 20 minutes and a few odd seconds, and placed 11th overall) crossed the finish line, got his bottle of water, and then ran back to find me… with camera in hand. I tried to smile and act like it wasn’t such a big deal, that my legs weren’t just moving back and forth of their own accord… but, well, they were. I was pretty tired. But he clicked some pictures of me running my first race. (So there are some really unattractive, sweaty pics of me up on flickr, if you really want to look.  I discovered during this, my first race, that I am a very unattractive person when working out.)

I may be hooked on this whole 5k thing. I loved the whole goodie bag perk with the race tshirt, which I can now wear around like I am a totally serious runner person.  I loved the free breakfast afterward, with the orange slices and raffle prizes. It’s a really fun atmosphere. And though I will never in a million years “place”, staying in decent enough shape to run three miles every few weekends seems like a good thing to me.  There are supposed to be official pics of the race posted here in the near future. I know there is at least one of me and Jon warming up, pre-race (before it got really ugly).

I think it’s important to note here that my hubby was robbed. Somehow, they did not get his age entered in properly, so he wasn’t included in his age bracket results. He should have placed 2nd in the 25-34 Men’s group… but he will have to go to the grave without his just prize! (I think the prize for second place was Jazz tickets, and he has season tickets anyway… but still. I felt bad that he didn’t get the recognition.)  Complete race results are here.  You will have to scroll faaaaaar down to find me… and you probably have better things to do with your time.

Thanks to all of those who wished me happy birthday wishes. It was a good day. And I didn’t die, so sorry… none of you can have any of my stuff yet. (Sorry Kate, I’m keeping my bike for now… and I even got a new basket for it for my birthday!)

A couple of my uncles are in town for their annual ski trip to Utah. They come dang near every year right around the time of my birthday. They. Are. Sweethearts. Seriously, I love those guys. And while I intend to sit and write a proper post in the next few days about my adoration for my uncles, for now I will just chronicle the ski outing of this afternoon.

I hadn’t been skiing in 8 years. I’d pretty much sworn it off. I’m not good at it. It doesn’t seem to come naturally to me like it does for others in my family (and for Jon, even!). But my sweet uncle Matt told me that he would treat me to skiing for my birthday, and how on Earth could I say no to that? I can’t say no, is the answer. The uncles were only here for four days, and if I wanted to spend any time with them, it would have to be on the slopes. Breaking bones. Acquiring concussions. And so I went.

And so did my kids.

Here is where you learn what a bad mommy I am… we live in Utah (frickin UTAH!) and my children — ages 8 and 6 — had never been skiing before this afternoon. I know, what the crap, right? But today was the day. Today I would take them up there and spend $3,000 on rentals and half-day passes, and then force my screaming children onto ski lifts, and then force them down the bunny hill, whacking them coercively with a ski pole, until they were bloody… but skiing! At least this is how I imagined it would go. Because I’m a total pessimist. Because I always imagine the worse possible circumstances before going into an adventurous outing like this. But guess what? Go on, guess!!

Well, my kids are flippin’ awesome. They ski like they mean it. They ski like it’s sort of in their blood. They ski like they are totally NOT related to me. There wasn’t a single tear. Not a single whine. Not a single outcry of frustration. Nothing. They loved it. They owned the bunny slope, people.

Uncle Beezer (no, not his given name) took Jachin, and Uncle Matt took Zoe, and off they went.

They were skiing by themselves by the end of the first run. It was insane. They were giggling and grinning with pride as everyone cheered them on. They were unstoppable.

(It is important to note here that Zoe credits much of her skiing success to the fact that she rented some SWEET pink Barbie skis. Regular dumb skis would not have produced the same level of skiing awesomeness.)

Since the day was spend completely on the bunny slope, I incurred no serious injuries. I handled myself well. No one was cheering for me, mind you, but a day on the slopes ending without full body traction is a good day, indeed. Here’s the gang, chilling out in the lodge afterward, taking in some hot cocoa and stories:

Front to back: Jachin, me, Uncle Beezer, Paige (who is totally faking being asleep), Zoe, Jeff, my mom, and Uncle Matt. Bless us all and our aching old bones… what a great day.

more pics up on flickr.

I have a secret that I want to share. Actually, I’m not I sure want to share, but I will anyway.

I’ve never done a day of college in my life. Ever. I never even took the SAT’s. (Though I did take the PSAT’s my sophomore year… but those don’t count.) I’d never applied to any school, anywhere, ever.

Until a couple of weeks ago…

This fall I will be a freshman at Utah Valley State College (although this fall it will actually be Utah Valley University, which sounds even cooler). I sent in my application a couple of weeks ago and then anxiously waited by the mailbox for my acceptance letter. Because every person who applies is accepted. Snoopy — if properly documented — would be accepted. But did that squash any of my excitement when I got that letter?? Nope. It was my first acceptance letter ever.

I wanted to party like it was 1999 (… which is actually the year when I should have graduated from college…) I have been accepted in the English program. Though I may change that to Fine Arts with emphasis in creative writing and photography. We’ll have to see… because, as you may know, I haven’t actually decided what I want to be when I grow up.

And later this month at UVSC? It’s the Forum on Children’s Literature, which I am so excited about I could do actually do a backflip. Well, I mean, if I actually could do a backflip, which I can’t. But in my mind I’m doing one.

Three cheers for higher education. Maybe my Christmas newsletter this year will actually be a little better written. Or at least type-o free.

Next up: getting a copy of my high school transcripts. I wonder how far back that archive goes…?

My nice blogger friend Leslie asked me to write a article for her monthly “This is Motherhood” column on her site. I am March’s spotlighted mom blogger! Woo Hoo!

So check out my very first contributing article, or go to her blog to read the question and answer interview wherein I liken my blog to mashed potatoes with Pop Rocks on top. Oh, come on… you know you want to.

Bad Mom put up this fun Movie Quiz, and I — being the big, fat, follower that I am — totally copied it. Well, I mean, not word for word, or using the same movies, because that would be dumb and not fun. You: Play along!! The rules are as follows:

For the blogger:

• Pick fifteen of your favorite movies.
• Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
• Post them on your blog for everyone to guess.
• Fill in the film title once it’s guessed, along with the name of the smarty-pants guesser.

This part is for the reader (y’know, you):

• No Googling or using IMDB search functions. No cheaters, please.
• Leave your answer(s) in the comments.

Keep your hands and legs inside the blog at all times. Here we go:

1) Ok. Orphans! Listen to Ignacio. I know it is fun to wrestle. A nice piledrive to the face… or a punch to the face… but you cannot do it. Because, it is in the Bible not to wrestle your neighbour (Nacho Libre, by Stu)
2) You should’ve gone to China, you know, ’cause I hear they give away babies like free iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events. (Juno, by Stu… again)

3) Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it. (Waitress, by my bff Diana)

4) You know my girlfriend is dead. She fell off a cliff and died on impact.  (Happy Gilmore, yay Bill! I was starting to think no one would get it…)

5) Before Judith, our fun level was at an all time high. Ninety-three, it is now an eight. (Saving Silverman, by Leslie)

6) Get off of me, don’t you touch me. It is over between us, Kate. Nobody makes me bleed my own blood - nobody! (Dodgeball, by Leslie)

7) Bastian made many other wishes, and had many other amazing adventures - before he finally returned to the ordinary world. But that’s… another story. (The Never Ending Story, by Nerak)

8 ) Assimilate this! (Star Trek: First Contact, by Nerak… she didn’t get the exact title, but I don’t think anyone else would.)

9) You hear that Mr. Anderson?… That is the sound of inevitability… It is the sound of your death… Goodbye, Mr. Anderson… (The Matrix, by Stu)

10) Look at you, you have a baby… In a bar. (Sweet Home Alabama, by Nerak)

11) Oh, nonsense. This is nothing compared to the twig of ‘93. (A Bug’s Life, by Diana)

12) You all wanna be looking very intently at your own belly buttons. I see a head start to rise, violence is going to ensue. Probably guessed we mean to be thieving here but what we’re after is not yours. So, let’s have no undue fussing. (Serenity… my favorite movie… by Diana)

13) Witness Exhibit A: My 8th Grade science project - a working rain forest. Mike Dexter threw it out a third story window. It rains here no more. Witness Exhibit B: An eye patch I wore for a month after Mike beaned me with a raisin in home ec. My parents took me to a 3D film. I saw no third dimension. And of course, how could I forget the pudding incident? I know no one else has. Well gentlemen, tonight, Mike Dexter will know humiliation. Tonight Mike Dexter will know ridicule. Tonight is the night we fight back. Tonight is our independence night.

14) I flunk English, I’m outta here. I gotta get a job, and you know what that means. That’s right, they start me at the drive-up window and I gradually work my way up from shakes to burgers, and then one day my lucky break comes: the french fry guy dies and they offer me the job. But the day I’m supposed to start some men come by in a black Lincoln Continental and tell me I can make a quick 300 just for driving a van back from Mexico. When I get out of jail I’m 36 years old. Living in a flop house. No job. No home. No upward mobility. Very few teeth. And then one day they find me, face down in the gutter, clutching a bottle of paint thinner and why? Because you wouldn’t help me in English. (The Sure Thing, by Sam)

15) The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe you’re either (a) not at home, (b) home but don’t want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy. If it’s either (a) or (c), please call me back. (When Harry Met Sally, by Stu… who apparently likes many of the same movies I do.)

Though there are movies from a few genres, most are comedies… since I do love the zippy one-liners.

Good luck, and guess away!

You may recall me mentioning something about my husband getting a new job a few weeks ago. What I haven’t mentioned yet is that they are working him like a dog. (Albeit a decently-paid dog.) All last week, my husband stayed late. Today (Saturday) he decided that he needed to go in again. So he ran to work. Like, with his feet. He called me — panting — when he got there to tell me that he’d forgotten his badge to get into the building. So I packed up the kids and took him his badge and some non-sweaty clothes to change into.

Upon entering the building, the kids were enthralled. We happened to come in through the break room door. Well, one of the break rooms. The building has several of them. And they’re pimped out. Omniture is one of those places that thinks that if they pay you well, and feed you, and give you cool places to hang out, you will live there and never go home. And it sort of works, because Jon really likes it there.

I took some stealthy video of the break area and the “Guitar Hero Loft”. Check it out.

You’ll notice that I repeatedly voice my concerns over the amount of “productive work being done each day”. It would seem that this really bothers me, even though I don’t really think it does. I think it’s kind of hilarious that Jon came home the other night and told me that he is now officially the Guitar Hero champion in the office. So amid all of the “productive work” being done, there is also a bracket system scribbled on a white board in someone’s cubical with my husband listed as the reigning champion; the man to beat.

There’s also a network gaming room decorated like a dungeon with torches and a large gun turret thingy mounted to the ceiling. I didn’t get to video that today. I was kind of afraid of getting shut in behind the huge dungeon door.

Oh, and the big Omniture Conference next month is going to be sweet. Lance Armstrong is one of the keynote speakers, and Flight of the Conchords is the entertainment act. Tickets are $3000 a pair, and there’s no real reason for the company to send Jon, so the chances of me being able to go aren’t looking good. *sigh* Even though I’m the mother flippin’…

For the company, it’s all about whatever keeps employees motivated, I guess. If they ever put in employee spa services with pedicures and massages, I’m applying to Omniture as a software engineer as well.