Stagnation and Progress

Effort is hard, y’all.

Ever since I got back from my half marathon, it has been a struggle to get out the door in my running shoes.

In my mind and on my training calendar, I was going to be back running 11+ mile runs starting the week I returned. That didn’t happen, nor was it probably realistic to imagine that it would happen. I’ve been consistent enough with running and I ran a killer 5-mile race last month, but I need to step it up because I have a 20-mile race scheduled for September 18.

That said, in addition to all the little aches and pains and the worthless right knee that I have, I have developed what seems to be a groin pull. And, in case you’re wondering, if you want to get treatment for a groin pull, you have to both say the word “groin” too many times to too many different people and point to your crotchal region about the same number of times. It’s not fun.

Much to my surprise, however, I did those things. I was concerned that if I pulled a Stimey and ignored it and assumed it would get better that it might, in fact, NOT get better, which would be surprising because isn’t that how these things work? Like I unplug and replug in my groin area and it’s better, right?

Regardless, I decided that even if the pain isn’t a problem for me on most days, I should deal with it now rather than run on it until I am completely immobilized and can’t do my 20-miler.

Happily and coincidentally, I happened to have a med check appointment with my doctor last week, which I turned into a Groin Pull Appointment, which in turn led to today’s evaluation at the physical therapist’s office.

Also, henceforth, my groin pull will be referred to as my Painful Situation, because I have met my lifetime quota for saying the word “groin” to virtual strangers.

The therapist did a full evaluation on my right leg and my right arm (because I offhandedly mentioned an upper arm/shoulder situation that I have been assuming would just get better for a couple of months now and he didn’t seem to think that was the proper course of treatment) and came up with a much nicer way of telling me that the right side of my body is all kinds of jacked up from toe to shoulder.

You guys, physical therapists are like magical mystery workers. He, like, tapped my foot and was all, “Do you have any toe pain?” and I was like, “YES! I haven’t told anyone because, you know, toe pain…that should probably resolve on its own right?…but I’ve been having stabbing pain radiating out from that very spot you are pointing at.”

Magical mystery workers.

Also, probably science and years of training. But mostly magic.

So, the dude has a plan that involves things like better posture and exercises at home and frequent visits to his office, but happily not things like surgery or mysterious toe pain for the rest of my life.

He asked if I had any questions and all I wanted to know was if I could run while treatment was ongoing. Joyously, the answer is yes. I’m allowed to run as long as it doesn’t hurt. I nodded, smiled, and gave two vigorous thumbs up at which time he added sternly, “It can’t hurt after you run either.”

*insert less vigorous thumbs up here along with a questioning face because doesn’t everyone hurt after running*

Long story short, I will likely have a month of easy, shortish, slow runs ahead of me. Not so bad really. So far, physical therapy is kind of awesome.

Cake: Point and Counterpoint

Two of my kids have May birthdays, which is great because we get to eat a lot of cake. Jack comes first and he’s easy. This year he said, “I want a chocolate cake with white frosting.” Perfect. I went to the party store, bought some Mario decorations, went to the grocery store to place an order, and we had a cake!

Photo of Jack taking decorations off of a colorful birthday cake.

The grocery store makes delicious cakes with lots of frosting. Jack was delighted.

Quinn though. Quinn was all, “Will you make me a cake?” and how could I say no? (Side note: By “making a cake,” I mean, “purchase boxes of cake mix and cans of frosting and assemble them according to instructions.”) So I said yes and then one night he came downstairs after we’d put him to bed and he gave me these elaborate blueprints for the cake he wanted.

Pencil drawing of a cake with detailed instructions, listed below.

There is so much amazeballs in this diagram. I can’t even.

Let’s get to work dissecting this.

Point: He has VERY specific measurement requirements. Unfortunately, I don’t have a round 12-inch cake pan. I’m not sure anyone does.

Counterpoint: I can make either two normal size round layers that might not be big enough to decorate properly or I can make two rectangular layers that will basically be two cakes, one stacked on top of the other.

Conclusion: Two cakes it is! Quinn quickly agreed.

****

Point: Quinn doesn’t know that the cake part of cake is called cake.

Counterpoint: Aw.

Conclusion: He is adorable.

****

Point: Quinn wants white not brown “bread.”

Counterpoint: I want both, especially if there are two cakes.

Conclusion: Quinn agrees rapidly to brown AND white bread, although I actually bought yellow cake instead of white cake because it tastes better and it was unlikely that Quinn would catch me in that little white (or yellow) lie.

Photo of two uncooked cakes, one yellow, one chocolate, with frosting supplies behind them.

I also bought extra supplies because I thought it was likely that I would fuck up at least one of Quinn’s details. I did not.

****

Point: The layers should be stacked on top of each other.

Counterpoint: What? Was I going to lay them out horizontally?

Conclusion: Agreement on vertical stacking.

****

Point: The white frosting from between the layers should jut out “from that crack in between.”

Counterpoint: That seems difficult.

Conclusion: I will put white frosting between the layers and then I will frost the entire cake in chocolate then I will improvise a piping bag with a Ziploc and draw a white line around the cake where that crack would be.

Photo of a chocolate-frosted cake with my hand beginning to pipe a white line around the middle.

Okay, so it’s a little haphazard—but it was still delicious.

****

Point: The cake should say “Happy 11th Quinn!!”

Counterpoint: That is waaaaaaaaay too hard to do with my fine motor skills and a Ziploc bag, so instead I will draw a shaky “Q” and two straight lines that can be interpreted as an “11.”

Writing on the cake as described above.

I am almost stupid good at decorating cakes, aren’t I?

Conclusion: I don’t tell Quinn about this part before he sees the cake so there is no opportunity for prior restraint.

****

Point: There is some sort of question about…an arrow? Or…something else?

Detail from Quinn's plans that shows an arrow with a question mark next to it.

?????

Counterpoint: I don’t want to ask because I am concerned that the answer will just mean more work for me.

Conclusion: Let’s just ignore that.

****

Point: Quinn wants a plastic cow on top.

Counterpoint: Let’s see how many different kinds of plastic cows that Target sells.

Conclusion: Imma put SIX plastic cows on top.

Photo of six different plastic cows.

Target sold a surprising number of plastic cows.

****

Point:

Pencil drawing of a cake with detailed instructions, listed below.

The plans

Counterpoint:

Photo of a cake with chocolate frosting. There is white frosting around the middle of the sides and a white frosting Q 11 on top. There is green frosting with sugar flowers on top. There are four plastic cows on top and three standing next to it.

Boo. Ya.

Conclusion:

Photo of Quinn with a huge grin on his face. He's also wearing a green hat.

This is him seeing the cake for the first time. He’s also wearing the green fedora he asked for for his birthday.

Quinn says the cake was the best cake he’d ever tasted. The only mistake I made was doing a good job and now he keeps telling me that he wants me to make a cake for him every year. Rookie mistake.

Memories, No Remembering Required

Over the years I’ve had a lot of different reasons why I write this here blog. The one that has remained constant, however, is that writing it preserves memories of my family and our lives that would be lost completely if they weren’t written down.

That is why every year I print out all of my posts and put them in binders so someday it will be easy for me to reread them—or even better, for my kids to read them.

Since I’ve been on Facebook though, I’ve put so many of those perfect little moments that capture my kids and their personalities there instead of on my blog. I’ve been trying to think of a good way to capture all of that. It turns out it is really easy.

I looked around online and found My Social Book. (This isn’t, by the way, a sponsored post. My Social Book knows nothing about me.) This service will take your timeline and put everything posted onto it into a book and then ship it to you in a few days. The way I use Facebook, this was perfect for me. I tend to mostly post photos and anecdotes about my kids, so these will function kind of like scrapbooks without me having to remember everything and put it in an album by myself.

I ordered books for my personal profile and also for my Stimeyland page. They came in the mail this week and they are the greatest things I have ever seen.

Two photos of books. One is orange and says Jean Stimey Winegardner on it. The others are purple and say Stimeyland on them.

They are so pretty. I love them.

Each book can only be a maximum of 500 pages, so I had to split both my profile and my Stimeyland pages into two books each. Now that I have up through 2015 done, I plan to make one for each year from here on out until I stop caring.

They include posts, photos, photo albums and captions. If someone say, posts a photo of you on their timeline and tags you in it, it won’t be printed. But if someone posts something on your timeline, it will get printed, which means I have lots of posts featuring that tiny hamster in that tiny sweater that people keep sharing with me. (It’s super cute, btw.) It also features just a few happy birthday wishes from each year. You can choose to include comments or not and you can choose a maximum number of comments to display if you want to. There is also a QR code for each link you’ve posted, so you can see the content of those links on your phone.

The books are nicely bound and printed on nice paper. The photo quality generally seemed pretty good, but not fantastic. Some of them I couldn’t tell if the quality was the photo’s fault or the book. But since I am making photo books of my actual photos, I don’t need the photos in this book to be perfect. The comments are also sometimes not in the right order and it looks like some of them are missing. So the books aren’t perfection, but for what I wanted them for, they are exactly what I hoped they would be.

They’re super easy to make too. You just put in the name of the page or timeline, specify the years and what photo albums, etc that you want to include and it compiles it for you.

Okay. That’s all done. Now you know about the books. But you don’t KNOW about the books.

Photo of an interior spread of one of my books.

There are so many memories on this page alone.

You guys, it has been amazing to read these books. I’d forgotten so much. Like how I took Algernon to jury duty and how Quinn calmly told me he hated me in an elevator full of people when I was praising him on being brave enough to go up to the top of the Empire State Building and, oh my God, how did we forget about that time we accidentally caught a feral cat in our van?

Not everything is stuff I need to remember, but there are enough precious memories in there to make everything else not matter.

The thing I didn’t expect to rock me were the comments. I started reading my timeline book and skimming the comments and found Susan in there. What a gift.

I love these books. I’m really happy I bought them. I’m still not done looking through them and I’ve already found so much gold in there that they’re worth every penny. Frankly, remembering how I used to be funny and prolific makes me want to write a lot more.

Just thought you might want to know. Now you can consider preserving your own memories while I go relive mine.

 

Race Report: Pittsburgh Half Marathon

Alternatively titled: Weekend Report: Pittsburgh and My Friends Are Awesome

I’m not going to keep you in suspense.

Photo of me after the race standing in front of a "2016 Finisher" backdrop holding my medal and wrapped in a space blanket.

I finished the Pittsburgh Half Marathon!

Thanks for waiting so patiently for me to write my race report, seeing as how the race was May 1. I hope you waited appropriately.

My friend and I clearly waiting in front of a sign that says, "Please do not wait in this area."

My friend Bec and I are brazen scofflaws.

I arrived on Friday afternoon for the Sunday race and checked into the tiniest, cutest little hotel room in Pittsburgh. I mean, first I walked in little circles in front of a confused check-in clerk because I’d patted my jacket pocket for my wallet, panicked when I didn’t find it, come to the conclusion that it was still in the car, started off to retrieve it, then found it in my pocket—the very pocket I’d originally patted.

Things turned around though when I got to said adorable room. I took a selfie and then texted Alex to tell him I was never coming home. I was on the 12th floor and had the best view from the hotel. All my friends were on the 11th floor and had views of roofs and walls and other hotel rooms.

Selfie of me in front of my window overlooking a park in Pittsburgh.

Let’s just get this out of the way right now. There are going to be SO MANY photos of me in this post. I am sorry.

My friends Lyda, Bob, and Heather were also running the half marathon and Heather brought her whole family, which was fun. Plus! My friend Bec and her kids were in town, which was totally delightful because even though neither of us lives in Pittsburgh, we got to hang out in Pittsburgh.

Friday night I went out to dinner with Lyda and Bob and we shared this amazing poutine tots dish that changed my entire world view about tater tots.

Photo of my beer next to a plate of tater tots, cheese, BBQ meat and some other delicious stuff.

Hey, look! I’m not in this photo!

Maybe the best thing about going out of town and having your very own hotel room is that after dinner you get to go to your room (alone) and lie in your bed (alone) and surf the internet (alone) and maybe watch some Hulu (alone) and then eventually fall asleep (alone).

But as day follows night and naps follow parenting, people follow solitude. Saturday morning I met up with my running people and we walked several blocks to find a packed bagel restaurant with a line out the door and stood there for 30 minutes to order bagels even though there was another location of that very same bagel restaurant literally in our hotel lobby. I did get to hang out with my friends though and the restaurant refilled my soda for free, so it really worked out fine.

After breakfast, I got to hang out with my buddy Bec and her kids. Because I was running a half marathon the next day, we decided to wander aimlessly all over Pittsburgh on foot. We visited all of the major sites, like the ticket booth for the incline and the little dinosaur ride in the weird empty mall and also that intersection where I made that fucking amazing u-turn the last time she and I were in Pittsburgh together.

Photo of a sign that reads "PAT employees permit parking only," but because of the window it looks like it says "FAT employees"

No one was parked in this spot outside the incline ticket booth (even though I think that first letter is supposed to be a “P” for “Pittsburgh”).

Photo of me in a yellow dinosaur kid ride.

Bec took this photo on a prior trip to Pittsburgh. The dinosaur has since been moved, but we were able to find it nonetheless. Our detective skills are fucking impressive.

Photo of me pointing at an intersection.

The scene of my u-turn triumph.

Yeah, for real, those are the things we went to see. We are not exciting people. I suppose that is what happens when two people not from Pittsburgh try to go sightseeing in Pittsburgh. We also went to a CVS pharmacy and told the store clerk that Bec had come all the way from Australia to go to the CVS. I’m starting to think it might actually be true.

From there, I rejoined my runner friends and related hangers on and we headed over to the runners expo to pick up our bibs and swag.

Photo of Bob, me, Lyda, and Heather posing in front of a pretend bridge labelled "Pittsburgh Marathon."

See us? See how ready to run we are?

The expo was like a more frustrating Easter egg hunt where there is only one egg and it is in the form of a headband that doesn’t cost thirty dollars and doesn’t have a joke about running for beer on it. (Hint: It will be at the last booth you visit.) Also, I made everyone go to t-shirt pickup first when we were required to go to bib pickup before we could get our shirts and they were on total opposite sides of the giant expo. That was me, paying it forward, making my friends walk a lot the day before a half marathon as well.

We also took in the view of Pittsburgh, which is way prettier than a city with “pit” in the name should be.

Photo of the river in Pittsburgh and a yellow bridge.

I don’t know if we ran over this particular bridge, but I do know that the half marathon sent us over a bunch of them. At one point, I didn’t even know which side of the damn water I was on.

After all of that, I went back to the hotel and took a nap. Because I needed to regain my strength before I headed back out to eat more food with my running people.

Now, I could tell you all about the delicious spaghetti I ate at dinner or how looooooong it took the valet to let me trade my car for that little piece of paper they give you, but I think instead I will tell you about the balloons.

Because we had two delightful young women with us, the roaming balloon animal artist (let’s just gloss over the fact that this restaurant apparently has a balloon animal artist for dinner service) approached our table. One of Heather’s daughters asked for a rabbit and the other one asked for (wait for it…) a snake.

But, and this is the important part, someone asked him to make me a mouse. Because these people know me. Sadly, one of the other balloon animals was a natural predator.

Photo of a small balloon animal mouse being vaguely threatened by a fancy balloon animal snake.

If I’d made a balloon animal snake, it would have been a straight balloon with dots Sharpied on the end for eyes. It probably wouldn’t have had eyebrows.

I saved him though.

Then I went back to my hotel room (alone) and slept some more. It was lovely.

In fact, Saturday was such a nice day that I almost forgot I had to run 13.1 miles the next day.

I was up early on Sunday morning so I could choke down my pre-race food, which includes chicken salad that I’d brought along from home. If you’re ever looking for something unappetizing, stare down chicken salad at 5:45 in the morning. But that is my pre-run food and it works for me and I wasn’t about to change it up before a half marathon. So choke it down I did.

It was supposed to rain, but at least it was warm, so it could have been worse. We walked toward the start line where Heather peeled off for her faster people starting corral and I headed to the back corral, which was NOT close to the start line.

Photo of the back of Bob and Lyda's heads. The start line is waaaay off in the distance.

There are Bob and Lyda in the foreground and there is the yellow start line arch waaaaaaaay off in the distance. We’d already come a fair distance from Corral D by that point.

It started to rain right before the race started, but it didn’t rain long and the air remained the perfect temperature. Honestly, we couldn’t have asked for better weather. What I could have asked for is a third porta potty break before I started running, because I spent the first EIGHT MILES thinking about how I wanted to pee but I didn’t want to stand in line.

I finally stopped after about 8 miles and waited in line for nearly ten minutes. It KILLED me. Up to that point, I had been making really good time. Frankly, I am still pissed that I stopped when I did and for that long. Practically instantly after I had gotten back on course, I started seeing rows of unoccupied porta potties with no lines.

Seriously. Still mad.

I gotta tell you though, training properly for a race is the shizz. I felt so good running that damn race. I really enjoyed it.

Photo of me smiling mid-stride.

Also notice my headband on my wrist. Thank God I purchased it at the expo.

I can understand how people get addicted to half marathons. Although, to be fair, I did take a substantial break while I waited for that porta potty, so I’m sure that didn’t hurt my stamina.

The Pittsburgh Half Marathon course is largely flat, which is awesome, but there is a hill at mile 11.5. I had been thinking about that hill for MONTHS while I was training. I purposely ran up and down a gajillion hills on training runs so that I’d be prepared for this one hill. In my mind, I was all, “This hill is hard, but it’s nothing like what that hill will be like at mile 11.5 in Pittsburgh.”

I may have overprepared.

I was aware of the hill, but I ran up that motherfucker—past, I might add, a LOT of people walking up it. (I also walked past the bystanders offering cups of beer to runners because, really? They wanted me to barf right there?) Now, when I say, “I ran,” what I mean is, “I ran reeeeeaaaalllllly slowly,” but I ran. Yay, me.

Then there was a downhill stretch to the finish line, which was killer, especially when I saw Heather’s family cheering from the sideline and I was able to run over and give them high fives. (Except I missed your hand, A, and I apologize for my terrible aim.) There is no better motivator than seeing someone you know on the course cheering just for you. Thank you, Team P! It was the perfect way to end the race.

The crowd support in Pittsburgh was really wonderful throughout the race. I don’t think there was anywhere that didn’t really have people cheering. And the support stations were fantastic, well spaced, and stocked with really cool people.

But. There was something that happened right around mile nine that eclipsed all of that. Remember Bec? She had told me she was going to come down and cheer me on and I knew she was going to be right around mile nine, which is one of the hardest miles because (a) you’ve run nine miles but (b) you still have to run a long way. I started scanning the crowds for her because I didn’t want to miss her if she’d come all the way out of her hotel just for a 30-second moment with me.

Dudes. I couldn’t have missed her.

And you have no idea. Just no fucking idea.

Photo of two people in full-body chipmunk costumes. They are each holding a sign. One says, "ROYGB!" and the other says, "FULL FORCE STIMEY!"

There are so many inside jokes in this photo that I couldn’t even begin to explain them to you.

That is Bec and her friend Dawn, who I don’t know, but who was delightful enough to answer yes when Bec asked her if she wanted to dress up as a chipmunk for the race and cheer on someone she’d never met.

When I saw them, I think I jumped three feet in the air, started screaming, and then ran directly toward them. I don’t think I tripped anyone but I don’t know for sure because I kind of blacked out from wonder for a second. After that, I had to give them hugs, even Dawn, who introduced herself as I wrapped my smelly, smelly, sweaty body around hers. Sorry about that, new friend.

I still can’t believe I didn’t have the presence of mind to take a photo with them. I so wish I had one. If anyone is planning to go support a friend at a race, you might as well give up now because it’s already been done and done better. I smiled about them and their ninja chipmunk outfits all the way to that hill at mile 11.5. Thank you so much, Bec and Dawn. I hope you had as much fun out there as I did when I saw you. You rock.

I think that is about it. My official finish time was 2:45:07, which still makes me so mad. (Stupid bathroom line.) I think if I hadn’t stopped, it would have been about 2:37:00 or so, which is by no means light speed, but makes me happy. According to my Garmin, my moving time was 2:35:28, which is an 11:40 min/mile pace. Fuck you, bladder. And lesson learned.

Said lesson: Even if you just peed six minutes ago, if you start to wonder just before you cross the start line if you should go again, YOU SHOULD. Okay, no more excuses, no more bitching. I ran a half marathon in 2:45:07 only walking through water stops and I am damn proud of myself.

Photo of me with my medal.

This is so not the most flattering photo of me, but it captures my happy just after the finish line and I love it.

Now, after finishing a half marathon, you don’t get to immediately sit down. You have to walk through a long finisher’s chute where you are handed things like bananas and water and a space blanket. I shuffled through there feeling pretty good and headed over to the spot where I knew my friends Bob and Lyda were meeting up.

Me wrapped in a space blanket

I was always skeptical that space blankets really helped keep people warm. I kinda thought it was a big hoax perpetuated by the space blanket industry and runners who were afraid to speak out against them. Turns out, they really do make a difference. I’m a fan.

Shortly after I took this photo, all the micro injuries and soreness that I hadn’t felt yet started to kick in. I located my friends and then we hobbled back toward our hotel.

I was staying through Monday morning, but Heather and her family and Lyda and Bob were leaving after the race, so we had a post-race shower fest in my room and said our goodbyes. My friends departed to slowly cramp up in their cars, while I stretched out on my bed for a nap. I definitely made the right decision.

I had made this decision so I could see Bec and her family again, which was also the right decision.

I left the next morning to drive home by myself, taking with me happy memories, a sore knee, a heart big with love for my friends, and encouraging signs that now live in my office to remind me of my friends and my achievements. All I left behind in Pittsburgh was a tip for the maid and a small balloon mouse.

Team Stimey Classic

Well, friends, the sickness I skated around the edge of for the past two weeks finally got me. I have a cold. It’s kind of a perfect time for me to be sick, so, yay, I guess, but I’m going to bed early, so my Pittsburgh race report is going to have to wait. In lieu of that however, I will tell you about the Cheetah-thon.

Remember a few years ago when every time Team Stimey left the house, we had some sort of disaster? Well, this year’s Cheetah-thon was kind of a throwback to the good ol’ days.

First of all, I would like to state that the event was fantastic. The organizers did an amazing job. It was really nice to see everyone. The Cheetahs raised a lot of money. (And thank you so much to my mom for her donation. You are awesome.)

All that said, the Cheetah-thon did not go as planned for Team Stimey. To begin with, Quinn was adamantly against attending, so that was fun. (<—sarcasm) Then, disastrously, when we got there, I got Jack rental figure skates instead of rental hockey skates.

To make a long, really sad story short, the toe picks took Jack out. Twice.

The first fall took out his major joints and after he pulled it together and went back out, his second fall left him with a tiny but painful cut on the middle finger of his right hand. (Jack: “How am I going to show disrespect now?”)

That’s when it occurred to me that he was wearing the wrong type of skates. Sadly, he was Done with a capital “d.”

We did get to catch up with some of his coaches and friends though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Selfie of Jack and I smiling. Sam is hiding behind a pretzel behind us.

Joy between falls.

Quinn, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

See, while I was trying to stem the flow of tears, Alex and Quinn had been winning everything the Cheetah-thon raffle had to offer. Suffice it to say, Quinn will never argue against attending a Cheetah-thon ever again.

Photo of Quinn holding a huge basket of Girl Scout cookies.

Things turned around for him once he won the GIANT BASKET OF COOKIES.

Even though this much-looked-forward-to event didn’t go quite as hoped, we did walk out of there with a basket of wine that we won in the raffle, so, you know, silver linings.

Much as with our past outings that didn’t go as planned though, Team Stimey doesn’t give up. We’ll be back to the Cheetah-thon next year and maybe we’ll even hit an open skate (in HOCKEY skates this time) before then.

Oreo’s Demands

I am endlessly entertained by my children, so when Quinn directed me to check the mailbox before we walked to the school bus stop earlier this week, I was delighted to find a letter.

A demand letter.

A demand letter from Oreo.

This is Oreo:

Photo of Oreo the cat.

How did I know it was from Oreo?

Well, it had her photograph on it and it was FULL of telltale LOL cat misspellings.

Photo of an envelope. On the left is says, "Quan da swan Maze:" with a straight line for a maze. In the middle is a picture of Oreo taped to the envelope. On the right it says, "What am I: I make milk and chew cud" In the very bottom right it says "Oreo"

If you don’t live with Quinn, you might not know that “Quan da swan” refers to Quinn.

She did try to throw me off by pretending to be a cow that makes milk and chews cud. Really, though, she mostly just makes easy mazes.

There were two papers inside. The first established the origin of the letter.

A drawing of Jupiter, labelled as "Joopitor." There is an arrow pointing to it with the words, "I live here:"

And the thing got here without even a stamp.

The second paper finally got to the point and outlined Oreo’s demands.

Letter that says, ""Quinn is pawesome. give him all da chocol8 so he can eet it. Can u ples do dis one thing? —Ananymous —Oreo"

How could I refuse?

Quinn tells me to expect ransom notes from the other cats soon. I wonder what it is like to be kidnapped by a cat. I bet it is delightful.

Cheetah-thons Aren’t Just For Cheetahs!

The Montgomery Cheetahs logo

Remember the Cheetahs? Remember how Jack played on the team for years? Remember the magic of special hockey? Remember how your baby is my baby?

Jack didn’t play for the Cheetahs this year, but we still have a deep love for them and want to support them. Their big annual fundraising event is this Saturday and I would like you to take part.

First, I would like to invite you to skate with the Cheetahs at their Cheetah-thon this Saturday from 6:15 to 8:15 pm at the Rockville Ice Arena. Team Stimey will be there and we’d love to see you. Even those who don’t have a connection to the Cheetahs are welcome. Your family can skate for free—don’t forget to bring a helmet! (Bike helmets are good if you don’t have a hockey helmet.)

There are raffles with great prizes and you are encouraged but not required to donate when you are there. It is all around a really fun event. I hope if you can come that you will. It’s all kinds of fun.

But! If you can’t come to the actual Cheetah-thon, you can donate online like I did. I know the people who run this organization and they are really good people working hard solely for the benefit of the athletes on the team.

I hope to see you at the Cheetah-thon!

*****

p.s. My half marathon was GREAT! Trust me, you’ll hear lots more about it later this week.