Zoe loves to make drawings for people. She is constantly handing me her homemade cards and pictures and paintings. They almost always have “To: Mom, From: Zoe” written somewhere on them. Here is one she gave me the other day. It’s of the Mystery Inc. Gang.

It’s a good likeness, right? I mean, right down to Velma’s sweet orange knee highs. There are several things about this picture that I love:

1) Daphne is more “apple” shaped than Velma, which is refreshing. Velma was always getting the shaft, being the “brainy” one instead of the “hot” one. Velma’s even showing a little more leg than usual in this picture. You go, girl.

2) There is no denying the “stoned” look in Shaggy’s eyes… I mean, they actually look like groovy disco balls. After thirty-five years, there is no longer any question about why he always had the munchies. And it even looks like after several decades of this sort of bodily abuse, his metabolism is finally slowing down. I see an intervention in his future, and it may involve Dr. Drew.

3) Scooby looks surprisingly happy and excited about the current creepy mystery, instead of looking like a frightened pansy. And there aren’t even any Scooby-Snacks in sight! Way to grow a pair, Scoob.

4) Fred looks kind of tiny and wimpy, without a trace of barrel-chested manliness. In fact, it looks like Daphne could crush him with one large, puffy, orange hand. Maybe Daphne can save Fred this time around, because — honestly — I was really getting sick of his know-it-all, macho crap.

It’s the children of today who will continue fixing the crap we poorly threw together yesterday. Constantly making things better. And I’ll continue blogging it for posterity.

Take the Quiz here!

Yesterday I got an email from my BFF, Diana, telling me that it was “$2 Tuesday” up at Classic Skating. So yesterday afternoon the kids and I headed up to Salt Lake to do some roller skating with our sweet friends. Having hung out at “StarLand” skating rink in Hagerstown, MD. for years as a kid, I was excited to show my kids my mad skillz on skates. Little did I know that roller skating is NOT like riding a bicycle, in that if you forget how to skate, the knowledge doesn’t necessarily come flooding back just because you lace on a pair of skates 20 years later. I laced ‘em up, stood up, and almost took out the picnic table (which, thankfully, turned out to be bolted to the floor) and the Skee Ball machine (which, thankfully, turned out to weigh just a tad more than my flailing body).

I rented the kids some fluorescent skates at the rental counter. Zoe got a nice pair of flame orange skates and practiced going around in circles on the carpet. She did pretty alright, and looked super cute trying.

Jachin took one look at his four-wheeled nerdy skates and said, “What. Are. These?”

“What?” I asked. “They’re skates.”

“I am not wearing these things. I want roller blades… like Byron has.”

“Well, Byron has skated on roller blades before. You’ve never skated.”

“Mom, come on. I can do it.”

“Whatever…”

I checked my wallet for our current health insurance card (just in case…) and swapped the skates. He put on the roller blades and took off, never looking back. And while he did fall several times, he got back up immediately and kept on keepin’ on. He was a maniac… (reminiscent of him on skis last week…) After an hour or so, he discovered that there was a ramp on the skate track on the other side of the building.

“Mom,” he said, “there’s a ramp over there. I’m going to go jump it.”

“Huh? Whaaa…?” I put the phone number from the insurance card into the speed dial on my cell phone, and then booked it over to the ramp with my camera in hand… to film either his first sweet jump, or his first broken bone. Either way, it was worth capturing.

His first try was okay, but he was lacking speed. He got half way up the ramp and then started rolling backwards back down the ramp… He decided to try it again, with a little more speed:

No broken bones, no drama. Just a kid who will try just about anything. And he doesn’t give up easily when it’s something that he really wants. There are a lot of “$2 Tuesday”s left in the year. He’ll get it sooner or later.

Now roller blades are on his birthday wish list, along with the usual list of video games. I kept the insurance number on speed dial, just in case. But honestly it’s more for me than the kids. Because the kids aren’t the ones who almost took out half of the tables and arcade games while just trying to stand up…

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!)

Tomorrow, my 32nd birthday, may in fact be my last day alive upon this Earth.

For tomorrow morning I am running my first 5k.

And I haven’t really trained so much, except that I try to flex my abs while doing normal daily tasks (like drinking a glass of milk, or doing laundry)… to try to maintain some core strength.

And I tend to be sort of all-around lazy… like even when I write I use a lot of ellipses to show that I’m too lazy to finish a thought…

Plus, also,  been known to hit what runners call “the wall” while covering the distance between my bedroom and the garage door. And my house isn’t even all that big…

So good bye, friends.  I have already bequeathed my Star Trek Movie collection to my bff Diana, in the event that it seriously only takes 3.1 miles for me to kick the bucket. The rest of you can fight over my stuff by sending lots of inquiries and requests to Jon. He’ll like that. He’ll appreciate the correspondence in my absence. If you could make your letters really sarcastic and obnoxious — which is how I would write a letter — he’d probably really like that, too.

hugs and kisses,

Suz

xoxoxoxo

ps- In the event that I don’t die, I’ll post tomorrow with pics and maps and all sorts of fun stuff. Maybe. Or maybe not… cuz it IS my birthday, after all, and hopefully I’ll be out doing something fun. And being not dead.

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.