Ever look at your wedding picture and think “Wow, was I ever that young and thin? And when did I get all the grey hairs?”

It seems like only yesterday our sweet baby was in Kindergarten. It’s hard to believe time goes by so fast.

More pics from our day at the Modern in Fort Worth.

Just registered my baby for high school. I’m having difficulty processing this.

I’ve been avoiding this too long. So, I’m bulleting. Get over it.

• I did P90X for about 2 weeks and then went on vacation to Indiana.
• In Lafayette, Indiana the plan was that Amy and I would do P90 every day.
• Um, that didn’t happen.
• What did happen was a whole lot of drinking margaritas or mojitos in the pool.
• Or both.
• And maybe some wine.
• And hot dog eating
• And playing dress up.
• And baseball games.
• And legos.
• We musn’t forget the legos.
• I love being Aunt Suzie.
• And there was bison and wolves.
• And sushi consumption with friends.
• And Kim remembers me doing cartwheels in the street.
• In heels.
• And, perhaps, some falling on my ass.
• Then I went to Indianapolis to visit my parents.
• No P90 there – only weeding and gardening.
• Seriously, my mom has neglected the weeds for what seemed like 40 million years.
• Don’t tell her I said that.
• But I’m a good daughter. I weed. I mulch. I dig. That’s what I do.
• Which I really didn’t mind because I brought back 3 garbage bags worth of plants for my garden.
• Which really don’t grow well in Texas.
• But I pretend.
• I’m back in Texas for 2 days and we have the mother of all hail storms.
• Followed my a massive plague of grasshoppers.
• Good thing I’m an atheist.
• Those 3 bags of plants?
• Um, for the most part, not so much plants anymore.
• Disastrous, monstrous storm clean-up takes place.
• Turns out the mother of all hail storms was actually a tornado.
• Ever clean a tree out of a pool?
• With a hot flash?
• Fun times.
• And we have to get a new roof. I’m seriously not happy about this.
• For 3 weeks, massive landscape clean-up was my P90X workout.
• Then something cool happened.
• My friend Peggy said she would train for a marathon with me.
• Woo-Hoo! A running partner.
• We’ve been running like rock stars and we are up to 7 miles.
• Then I planned a ShaleTest fundraiser.
• I baked a load of cookies.
• And I forgot to take pictures when everyone arrived.
• But it was awesome.
• Then I got a sinus infection.
• And didn’t do anything for 5 days.
• I blame global warming for the sinus infection. And, of course, gas drilling.
• Didn’t think I’d leave that out, did you?
• Now, I’m feeling better.
• But I still have hot flashes.
• Go antibiotics!
• Oh, and go new fall shoes that I can’t wear yet.
• Shhh, don’t tell Chef.
• But P90 hasn’t been on my schedule for a while.
• I know you all have been wanting to know how it’s going.
• Now you know.
• So, I’m thinking . . .
• Do I start P90X up on my non-run days?
• Or do I do it in addition with the run days?
• I really like the 4 day run weeks.
• A lot.
• But my big surgeryfied-belly says I need more.
• Sigh.
• Being old sucks.

So that’s it. Now I can get back to regular posting. Guilt free. Sort of.

My parents brought a few things that belonged my Grandmother during this past visit. One of the things I was looking forward to the most were her beautiful strawberry dishes.  I have such fond memories of these dishes and I can’t remember a time when these weren’t on the table.

Among the boxes of knickknacks I found an unexpected tin, one I remember fondly, but had not thought about in so many years. My paper dolls. This morning, I took them out and played a little.

When I was young, my Grandma and I would play with these dolls for hours and hours. And when they ripped, she carefully taped them back together. She kept these dolls in a special place on a top shelf of her entry closet, and when the sentiment hit me that these had been on her shelf for over 37 years, I was a little overwhelmed.

I hope someday I’ll have a granddaughter who can play with and love these dolls as much as I did.

Miss you, Grandma. XXOO

It’s hard to believe our sweet little baby girl turned fourteen yesterday. She’s growing up to be an amazing young woman. We were lucky enough to have Grandma and Grandpa here for the celebration this year. They got her a fishing pole. We got her clothes.

She’s already mastered texting while fishing

and super modeling

It’s hard to believe not long ago she was just our sweet little Pillow Queen.

My Grandmother died on January 26th – almost two weeks after I arrived in Indiana to be with her. Watching her die was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it was an honor to with her until the end. Rest in peace, Grandma. I will miss you.

It was terribly cold and snowy in Indiana. I was away from my family and home for over two weeks; two weeks doesn’t seem like long until you are away from your family and home. In the snow. And single degree temperature cold. Sitting in a hospital room nearly 24-hours a day. Missing marathon workouts and eating Midwestern-style food – you know the tasty kind of food that is full of starch and fat that makes your heart sing sweet lullabies to your cardiologist? And then deposits six pounds of blubber or back side while you aren’t looking.

Then, when you come home to Texas. Warm, warm Texas. It snows. And ices. And you are trapped inside the house for another week because sunny and warm Texas isn’t equipped for snow and ice. At least this time had my family with me. And my treadmill.

I’ve lost 4.8 of those 6 pounds. Now, I only have 15.2 more to go. I call that additional 15.2 pounds, my gas fat. That is what I’ve gained since fighting the gas drilling development in our community. It isn’t pretty, but somebody had to gain it. It’s a sacrifice I made for the good of all humankind. You can thank me later. Then buy me a bikini when I take over the world.

Now. Let’s get back to business. Nearly three weeks of Cowtown training and three crucial long runs went bye-bye. I can’t make up for that loss, so I’m picking up where I left off. We will see what happens.

In the meantime, while we yearn for warmth and open-toed shoe season, take a look at what Runner Shoesan purchased. Yeah, they’re tall, but how else do you expect me to keep up with Kenza?

I’ve spent the past week sitting in the hospital with my Grandmother, keeping her company as she dies.  The family is taking turns coming in and out, but my sister and I have spent the majority of our time by her side, sleeping in the room with her at night and holding her hand during the day. She is no longer conscious but we are insistent that she doesn’t die alone. It’s a very sad thing to do – to sit and wait and watch someone you love slip away. She is 89, closer to 90, but her will is strong, so she still holds on. But it will be soon.

I haven’t had many losses in my life and I’ve spent even less time watching and waiting. I’ve had a lot questions for the nurses about the process of dying. Is it painful? Can she hear us? How will we know when it’s time? And they all answer kindly but none of the answers take away the uneasiness. Or the sadness. I asked one nurse if it would be scary. Her reply was simple “Honey, we are all born and we all die, there is nothing scary about that.” She is right, but it is still unfair.

I’m completely and totally exhausted – physically and emotionally – to the point of tears at times. I’ve missed about a week of marathon training, although I feel confident that my training will pick back up easily when I return. After all this sitting, I am already anxious to get moving again. But back in Texas – because here in Indiana it’s 1F and everything is covered with a thick blanket of snow. Only crazy people run outside in these conditions.

Besides, my Grandmother always worried about my running. “Girls shouldn’t try and be sportsmen” she would say, because she was convinced running jiggled the brain around too much and would cause long term brain damage. There is still some family debate about whether or not brain damage has set in, but I can guarantee you – there is plenty of jiggle, unfortunately just not of the brain.

To say 2010 was an eventful year, would be an understatement. It was full of emotions that I never even knew existed. Somehow, we all survived. I ran a few races. I biked some and swam less. Michael won even more races. Kenza continues to get the #1 spot as best daughter in the world. We watched bad romances and dirty money soap-operas from our very own backyard. We got some bad gas. Our world turned upside down for a while. Donkey got cancer. We met people in our community – a few Warriors and a few Pretenders. And even a few who you know will be friends for a lifetime. Sumy Designs skipped a few steps and moved into a new Internet dimension. I turned 40. And Master Rowdy continues to amaze us with his cat-like nine lives.

My blog took a drastic reduction in visitors in 2010. I’d reckon the absence of running would answer that question. I can’t promise blogging will get any better in 2011, I can only hope . . . the same of which I will repeat for my running career.

My goals for 2011 are simple, to keep my body moving in a forward direction and my mind living in the moment so I can allow myself to focus on the things that are really important in life.

Happy New Year, Friends.

Many years ago I remember standing by my Grandparent’s small Christmas tree and studying a particular scary-looking elf ornament.  My grandfather noticed me staring and commented it was Spanking Elf, and if you weren’t good girl or boy, Spanking Elf would come to your house instead of Santa. I wasn’t really sure if he was serious or not, but being the age when one still believed in mythical creatures such as Santa, the possibility of a Spanking Elf was terrifying.  I vividly remember laying in bed on that Christmas Eve, and when all the other kids were worried about getting coal in their stocking, I worried if Spanking Elf was going to make a stop at our house.

Every year Kenza mocks Spanking Elf and she laughs as we decorate the tree – and the funniest part of the story for her, is that kids back “in the old days” actually got “real-life” spankings.

Every now and then, scattered about the science fiction novel that is our life, there are a few good days – and today was one of them. It’s a great time in life when our babies are finally old enough to run the races with us. Today, Kenza and I ran, swam, clawed and climbed our way through the Run the Jailbreak Adventure race.

And adventurous it was – by the time we got to the course the announcers were already shouting warnings because there had already been one broken arm, one broken leg and one serious accident.

When did broken bones stop counting as serious?

With that in mind, Kenza and I had a plan – stick together. Of course one mudslide and a waterfall later stick together turned into leave slow, old Mom in the mud and wait for her at the finish line. That’s my baby girl.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love that baby girl?

Who knew a 25 cent gumball machine mustache could provide hours of entertainment for the two of us? This photo is the perfect reminder of why I work so hard everyday to make our space in the world safe.

While Kenza is out and about vacationing in the Dominican Republic, we get to babysit for Fishy. Does this make us fish grandparents?

I feel so old.

It makes my heart sink a little – my baby is officially a teenager. The most perfect and beautiful teenager in the entire world. I don’t know a better way to celebrate than chocolate birthday cake (and texting) for breakfast! Happy Birthday, Baby Girl.