Lurking in my drafts folder

I clicked on my Drafts folder today and was surprised to see quite a few half-way written entries.

Including this one. Snort.

Ok, so this photo is (obviously) from my wedding day and I have no idea who half of these celebrities are.

JLo? Hmmm. I wish.  Judy Garland? Total compliment.

Florence Henderson? Whaat?

My cool celebrity look-alike collage from


It looks like this website now still has this feature as an app. It may be interesting to see who I look like now.



40. Wow. It really is a milestone and I am shocked that it got here this fast.

Most people know that on your birthday, your friends and family provide a day-long love fest via Facebook. There really isn’t anything better. Texts, emails, phone calls, flowers, and Facebook messages galore. Heck, even the guy who checks people in at the gym wished me a happy birthday!

One of my friends commented about how we spent my 30th birthday together. Was that really 10 years ago?

It made me think about other momentous birthday’s.

In 2003, I celebrated being 30 and single! with a group of friends at one of my favorite neighborhood pubs. I also really regretted living on the 3rd floor of an apartment building.

In 2007, I interviewed for (and later was offered) a job.

In 2001, I spent my birthday in Paris. Ooh, la, la.

In 1994, I drove to Key West with a great group of friends for Spring Break.

Now, in 2013, I am very content to eat dinner with my loves (little and big), hopefully enjoy a glass of vino, and some cake. I know that a party is being planned for me this weekend, but I have been told to butt out and let someone else plan it.


bday pic


Not the best picture of us, but sometimes being with the ones you love & that love you back is more important.

A comparison of childbirth and marathon training

Two seemingly different events, but somehow feel eerily similar to me right now.

1. I think I want to have a baby/run a marathon. Feelings: excited, nervous, scared,  and possibly unprepared. You receive “atta boys” from friends and comments like “Why in the world would you want to do something like that!?” You may question if you’ll be a good parent or could possibly run 26.2 miles.

2. The training/gestation can be a lengthy process. 9 months, 18 weeks … it’s all a long time. I think people even say during pregnancy, it’s a marathon; not a sprint.

3. Your body changes, aches, and you realize that certain body parts may never be the same again. I have accepted that my stomach will never look the same after having twins. I am also coming to realize that my toes may never feel or look the same again either.

4. You buy a lot of gear. My Mom always tells me that she didn’t have half of what we have when she had a baby. According to her, all you needed were a few blankets, bottles, and cloth diapers. There is a rumor that I slept in a drawer for a while. I used to think the same about running. All you really need are good shoes, but somehow find yourself in a garmincompressiongusweatybandrunningskirtfoamrollerspecialsocksheadlampinserts  induced shopping event. I did the same thing at Babies R Us, but it was blanketsbibsstrollersbreastpumpslingcribsbouncyseatsbathtubboardbooks.

5. Both cause strange dreams, anxiety, planning, schedules, charts, lists, and reading of books.  Dreams of leaving your baby on a school bus, dreams of never ending hills, or leaving your running shoes at home on race day. I knew how far along I was and I know how many weeks I’ve been training. There is a lot of talk of what it will be like, how I will feel, preparing for what could happen. I used to spend a lot of time on seeing what size fruit the baby was compared to this week. Ooh, look – an english cucumber! Now, I’m google searching for “how to run a 4:30 marathon” and over-analyzing race recaps.

6. You get a lot of unsolicited advice. It feels like every week I hear, “My Aunt’s cousin’s friend ran a marathon. You better buy a lot of Body Glide.”  or “My brother’s co-workers Uncle has twins. You better start saving for college.”

7. It’s going to hurt before it’s all over.  No matter how strong you are, how high of a pain threshold you have, it hurts. Natural birth, C-section, home birth. There are definitely times of discomfort. Running for 26.2 miles, I expect that it’s not going to feel like a stroll in the park. I will be proud of both scars ~ visible or not.

8. I eat like a man. While pregnant, it was nothing for me to “out-eat” my husband. Until closer to the end when I ran out of room. It was depressing to be able to eat what I wanted and not care and after a few bites, I felt full. So sad. Ice cream wants to be eaten. Training for a marathon = I’m hungry. All the time. Carb loading? Heck, yeah! Bring on the bread!

9. Pregnancy and marathon training may both cause strange sleep patterns. Night sweats, multiple bathroom visits, stacks of pillow, and middle of the night acrobatics all caused me to sleep in short bursts. This also caused my husband to move to the spare room/sofa by my third trimester. During marathon training, it has been super early alarm clocks for training runs, sore or restless legs, and the constant threat of “I have to get up early … don’t wake me up!” Spouses of pregnant women or those running marathons deserve medals too.

10. The rewards are plentiful. Ok, so no medal or race shirt is ever going to top my beautiful daughters. I do think that both experiences have given me more than I would have ever thought. Both have pushed me, made me stronger, more humble, and a better person. I love the challenge and seeing first hand that the human body is an amazing machine.

guilty pleasures

This week’s guilty pleasures include:

Listening to “Bro Fro, I Wanna Know” on my drive to work. The premise is a person who suspects their significant other is cheating calls into the radio station. The DJ calls the “cheater” and claims they have won some kind of trip, typically romantic and asks who they would like to invite. Lately, the “cheater” keeps picking someone other than their significant other. It is mindless, Jerry Springer-ish, but I can’t get enough.

2-ingredient or actually 4-ingredient pumpkin muffinsI kept seeing a recipe that was cake mix and pumpkin. Sounded easy enough. I used spice cake mix, pumpkin, dark chocolate chips, and water. Delish. I brought them to work for a birthday celebration and the fam has been enjoying them too.

Wake up coffee. I have been so thankful that several mornings, C has brought up a cup of coffee and left it on my nightstand so I can have a few sips to wake up a little before getting out of a warm bed.

Best Mom ever comments from Maddy and Libby. Fist-pump!

The light turned green

When I pick up Maddy and Libby from their school, we typically have to stop at a traffic light on a main street that leads to our house.

On Friday’s, there is often a woman or man standing at the corner.

Usually they have a sign and try desperately to make eye contact with all of the drivers.

We live in a mid-size city, and have our share of homeless people. Normally, I don’t pay a lot of attention as I find myself preoccupied with the girls, turned around trying to fetch a lost shoe or cup of water. A few times, I was so close that I could have held a conversation.

I’m not sure why seeing these people stings so much. Maybe because one Friday, a woman was standing there. Her face was weathered and she looked tired. I would suspect that she was my age. Her sign said that she had escaped domestic violence. Our windows were down, the radio on, enjoying a sunny afternoon.

I felt guilty. Driving my SUV, wearing nice clothes, going home to a loving husband to enjoy dinner together.

Maddy waved at her and the woman waved back then held her hand on her chest and said, “They have the sweetest spirit.”

The light turned green. I wished her good luck and we were on our way home.

This afternoon, a tall man in a white tee shirt and jeans stood in her spot. His sign was smaller and I was further back in the line of cars. He walked down the sidewalk towards our car and Maddy rolled down her window and waved. She showed him her princess sticker book. Libby asked what his sign said. He laughed and said, “It says that I need help. I’m trying to get home.”

Once again, the light turned green, I exhaled and we turned for home.

Good morning, Saturday


So, the alarm still goes off at an ungodly hour. I get up because I know there is coffee.

No rain yet, but I hear a few rumblings of thunder. Give it a few minutes and it’s a downpour complete with lightning. That’s when the phone starts blowing up and you quickly realize your long run is off postponed.

It’s nice to have this quiet time that just belongs to me and my 2nd big mug of coffee while everyone else in the house is still sleeping.


I’m going to preface this by saying that  this original post has been in my drafts since Feb. 2011. I still don’t have the answer and it’s nearly 2 years later.

This past Sunday, we had a similar conversation at church in our small group aka Sunday School class. We all have different names, wear different titles, but who are we at our core, who is our authentic self. How do we learn how to just be ourselves.

This topic really weighed on me throughout the day and I guess I feel like I should know the answer. I know the titles that I wear: Mom, wife, daughter, sister, employee, volunteer, friend, etc. You could even add things like southerner and runner. But I feel like those are all just titles, or things that I do. Am I really different than any other Mom/Sister/Wife/Friend? We may do things differently, but that title certainly doesn’t make me unique.

Now, at nearly 40 (gulp), shouldn’t I know who I am? I will say, it was refreshing to see that others felt the same way, or that they had a hard time being themselves. I think from early on, we are taught what is “right” and “wrong” or “different” or “weird.” It’s very hard to find yourself as a 13-year-old and figure out that you are different. You just want to fit in, be liked, have approval of whomever is important to you. It’s probably much the same for 40 year olds comparing ourselves to others with the requisite house, 2.5 kids, minivan, a dog, a cat, and swim club membership.

Crap, and I still don’t have that other .5 of a kid.

Original post – 

I attended a Junior League women’s leadership training earlier this week with two friends. I love their company and I was glad that they agreed to go with me.
The speaker’s session was titled “Imagine You, Leading” and one of the first things she had us do was fill out/draw information about yourself. I wonder if anyone else heard the audible “ugggh” that came out of my chair.
I did agree with her statement about that we are all leaders … in our work, homes, churches, volunteer groups, social groups, etc.
But, I had the hardest time coming up with my list and found it easier to not take it too seriously.
What am I good at? I did say diaper changing and one of my friends said pumping. I can say that she really is good at pumping and I’m probably just OK at diaper changes.
How do I enjoy spending my free time? Ummm, reading, running, and drinking wine?
What is my life’s vision? Silence.
Can you answer this question?
I’ve never been one of those people who always knew what they wanted to be. Throughout my life, I can remember wanting to be a Veternarian, Fashion Designer, Artist, Writer, Public Relations Guru for Nike, Calligrapher, Stationery Store Owner, Stay at Home Mom, and a vagabond that works at Yellowstone National Park in the Summer and Jackson Hole all winter.
Do I know what I want to be? Is it crazy that I am almost 38(!) years old and I can’t answer this question?
This question spurred another conversation about who is the authentic Susan. Hell if I know.
So, I ask you, do you know who is the authentic you? If so, was it an aha moment, or just something that you have always known? I really hope this isn’t a mid-life crisis coming upon me.
Just wanted to post this to see if there are others out there that feel this way ~ I really didn’t mean to get all Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy on a Tuesday night.
I promise I will get back to tales of marathon training blisters, what flavor Gu is the best, how two four-year-olds can trash a house in .2 seconds, and what Zoe has pilfered off the counter this week.

doesn’t it feel good

To file/delete 10,000 emails and clean out your inbox to a mere 26?

Unsubscribe from about the same amount of emails?

Clutter tends to overtake me – my house, car, desk, bedroom floor and I constantly find myself overwhelmed and ignoring the pile.

Today, I had a few extra minutes so I finally tackled the piles of paper on our kitchen counters. Pre K information, catalogs, bills, junk mail. It just make me feel so much better.

I have some friends who clean a room in their house every night, or those who won’t go to bed unless everything is put away, pillows fluffed, sink shining. I commend you. I wish I were you, but sometimes the power of my bed, or the thought of a 4:30 alarm clock is too great and the papers, baby dolls, dog hair tumbleweeds win.

But for now, I am happy with my relatively clean counters and inbox.


So, we are only 4 days into September and already I have witnessed the following Facebook status updates/ads/notices of fall:

1. Pumpkins are available at the local grocery store!
2. Bought by first pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks!
3. An ad popped up showing tall wedge boots that had me on Zappos to see if I can finally find a pair I love this year.
4. Target is making room for their Halloween merchandise!

I am ready. I love fall.

I want to wear my most favorite Gap blue jean jacket, wrap a scarf around my neck, watch the leaves turn shades of gold, and sip a mug of hot coffee (sorry, pumpkin spice lattes doesn’t do it for me), however, I will take that pumpkin chocolate chip muffin/bread/scone/cake, please.

I want to decorate glass containers with mini pumpkins and gourds.

I want to drink red wine with friends on a patio with a fire pit blazing. Oh, who am I kidding. I want to drink red wine with friends on a patio pretty much any season, but it’s even more perfect in the fall.

I want to snooze on the sofa with a book while football blares in the background.

I want to make a big pot of chili with a side of fritos, sour cream, and cheddar cheese.

I want to eat grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup.

I want to have a real reason to buy bags of miniature-sized candy.

I want to run in long sleeve shirts.

However, our pool is still open for a few more weekends, my shoulders are still tan, my daughters are still wearing sundresses, I really don’t want to put away my white jeans and Bonannos, plus it’s still 80+ degrees with 80%+ humidity.

So what’s a girl to do?

Question …

I’m sure that most of you have seen those magnets on cars with various numbers: 13.1, 26.2, 70.3, 140.6

No, they aren’t bible verses, they are distances.

Half marathon = 13.1 miles, marathon = 26.2 miles, half IronMan = 70.3 miles, IronMan = 140.6 miles

And, yes, we will tell you that the .2 matters.

Last night while on a run, one of my running buddies mentioned that she had placed her 26.2 magnet on her car and her husband was giving her a hard time about it.

We haven’t actually completed the 26.2 yet.

She said it doesn’t matter, that she’s training for it.

So, what are your thoughts on the matter? Is it ok? Bad luck? Does it need an extra “in training” magnet to go with it?

Would you 26.2 before you 26.2’d?