Everybody's doing it!

Well, I decided that it was time I started my own blog. Everyone who's anyone has one, and I absolutely love reading other people's blogs, and I figured it must be just as much fun to write them, so here it is: The Life and Times of Susan Vilate.
I will begin by telling a little about myself, not that anyone who doesn't already know me will be reading this. First, the name. My name is actually Clarissa Chamberlain, but I have many nicknames, Susan Vilate being the most commonly used. When I was little and learning to walk my family thought I looked like I was drunk, and the name Woosey was quickly attached. Woosey rhymes with Suzie. Suzie Woosey evolved to Susan Woosan, which shortened to just Susan. Then my parents went through a genealogy-doing craze and discovered that I had a great- great-grandmother named Susan Vilate Spilsbury Kleinman. The rest is history.
I was born and raised in the tiny town of Toquerville, Utah. I am actually the 6th generation of my family to live in Toquerville. I live right next door to my grandparents, which has both advantages and disadvantages. My room is on the side that faces their back door, so my entire family always knows when I go to sleep, but grandma has amazing toast and sharp cheese. Everything just tastes better at grandma's.
I'm a senior at Hurricane High School who is suffering from major senioritis. In fact, right at this moment I should be writing a three-page paper on a book I haven't read yet, that's due tomorrow. Oh well.
I have the most amazing family imaginable, and I'm counting my in-laws in that. There are five kids in my family, 3 boys and 2 girls. I'm the baby. My brother that's just older than me is on a mission in Eugene, Oregon, and he comes home in 2 months and 1 day! I'm not excited or anything.
Today I had a disastrous blonde moment (which are starting to come more and more often. Senior moments? I am a senior in high school, after all...). They had the annual blood drive at school, and I was in a particularly charitable mood, so I decided to donate. Afterwards I was feeling understandibly light headed (hello, they just took a pound of blood from my arm!). My mother, bless her heart, asked me to come to the library where she works after school and pick up a stack of letters with our Christmas cards in them, put return addresses and stamps on them, and take them to the post office. I happily did as she told, and my best friend Kimber called me on the way to my car. The reason I tell you all of these details is so that I can somehow justify my stupidity. When I got the my car my hands were full (cell phone, purse, backpack, letters), so I put the letters on the top of my car so I would have a free hand to open the door and toss my junk in. Well, I tossed my stuff in, got in, and drove off, all the while carrying on a steady conversation with Kimber. When I got home I gathered up my stuff quickly, since the mail was leaving soon, and realized that I had left the letters on top of the car. I felt horrible! My parents had spent hours the night before making, printing, cutting, and addressing those blasted envelopes! I drove back to Hurricane (going slightly over the speed limit), looking for a bundle of white around the road. I regret to inform you that my tale doesn't have a happy ending. I never found them. Maybe the Spirit of Christmas will inspire whoever finds them to complete the process that I, through my own stupidity, was unable to.