There's No Place Like Home

The thing is, growing up, I didn't have much of a home in the traditional sense.

I don't have a lot of warm and fuzzy memories of living at 7822 Buckeye Crescent. My fondest memories are of times spent with friends, of living vicariously through observing/participating in memory-making activities at their homes.

I have no physical house to go home to in Cincy anymore...hence, just the term "going home" takes on a whole different meaning for me.

It's all about the people. My historical friends. The folks who knew me when. The girls I grew up with. Their moms. Their dads. Their brothers and sisters.

They are my home. Their faces, their smiles, their laughs, their embraces, are the relaxing front porch and the cozy kitchen that I miss, that I long for, that I "come home" to.

As my other Cincy friends who now live elsewhere will tell you, there is also a longing for the traditional Cincy "delicacies", if you will...Skyline Chili, Graeter's Ice Cream, White Castle sliders, Frisch's tartar sauce...treats that you just can't anywhere else...foods that, like the songs of my youth, evoke profound and emotionally palatable memories...

I have no memories of my mother preparing my fave foods, or sending me college survival kits consisting of dozens of her best homemade cookies since she died when I was in junior high. So for me, that first taste of a Skyline cheese coney or of Frisch's tartar sauce on a french fry is like sitting down once more to a plate of a mother's homemade meatloaf.

There is nothing else like it in the world. Not for me, anyway. I savor every bite. I close my eyes. I moan. It's weird. But I can't help myself.

This trip home, I have had the honor of being part of a very special wedding...

I have known Michelle Ludy -- now Michelle Schneider -- since she was a baby, really...I have -- albeit via mostly long distance -- watched Michelle, her older brother Chris, and their younger sister (my nakesake) Natalie Ann, grow up seemingly overnight. Thanks to the unending generosity of Linda and her husband, Michael, I have been able to fly home to Cincy here and there over the past many years and observe/participate in some of their family's Kodak moments.

I gotta tell ya, Michelle was the most stunning, beautiful bride I have ever seen.

"You're not as talkative as usual," Linda's dad, Marvin, said to me during the post-wedding brunch this morning.

Indeed, unlike most trips to Cincy where I am akin to a non-stop Chatty Cathy on constant caffeine, I am, I admit, noticeably -- and uncharacteristically -- more quiet than usual. Contemplative, perhaps. Sedate, one might even say.

Sure, I danced like a wild woman at the reception when the DJ played Love Shack. But for the most part, I just sat and watched and breathed it all in...beautiful Michelle and the handsome love of her life, Eric, as they celebrated their perfect wedding day...

Youth. Love. Life. Death. Friendship.

I thought about how 33 years ago I sat and watched Linda and Mike celebrate their perfect wedding day, and how I kept telling Linda's mom, Ruby, what a beautiful, stunning bride Linda was...

I thought about what a bittersweet occasion Michelle's wedding day was for the family after Ruby's passing last fall, and after Linda's brother, Randy's passing several years ago.

Yes, the whole Circle of Life thing was swirling about my brain...the tears began to well for the 50th time that day...

Of course, I had to chuckle a bit as well as I remembered my antics after Linda's reception back in the day...how, after having one too many cocktails at their reception, I threw up in my friend's Cindy's mother's car on the way home, and how my friends not only took the car but ME to the local carwash...yep...they sprayed me down with the power washer, good dress, high heels and all...

I also remembered how, after my friends dropped me off after the car wash episode, I had to sheeplishly slink past my friend Holly's dad (I was living with Holly and her family that summer) trying to act nonchalant...as if walking in soaking wet after a wedding reception was the norm...

I then thought about how absolutely awesome it is that Holly and Linda and I are still friends after all these many years and across the many miles that separate us...how absolutely miraculous it is that, even after all the trials and tribulations of our individual lives, we were still laughing and singing and dancing the night away at Linda's daughter's wedding...

And now, the rest of my week at home looms ahead...

So many people I want and need to see, so little time.

So many memories. So many emotions.

It's great to be home. Again.

Dorothy was right.

There is no place like home.

And you CAN go home again.

It just gets harder and harder to leave each time...

If You Knew Sushi...

Like I know sushi...

Edemame.

California Roll.

Caterpillar.

Vegas Roll.

Not just pretty words, my friends.

I went to a sushi bar in Uptown Minneapolis for the first time ever in my life. Tonight.

Me. Liz. Sis.

Stylin. Oh, yeah.

Sushi! Yum!

Who knew that raw fish and soy bean pods could be so freaking tasty!

Certainly not me!

My idea of heaven: The massage chair from Oceans Spa and Nail salon planted smack dab in the middle of Sushi Tango... a Li'l Flirtin Prairie martini ( Prairie Vodka, Prosecco, and Pineapple Juice) in one hand, a ticket to the Brave New Workshop's "How To Make Love To A Minnesotan" in the other.

OMG! Love those soy bean pods! Ate rolls of sushi! Hailed a cab! A glass or two of pinot grigio. Front row side seats at BNW. Coffee pots! "Doesn't amount to a hill of beans!"

(Sherri, my cheeks hurt -- where are you? You should be HERE!)

"If they can do it in Iowa, why, oh, why, can't we do it HERE?"

Punking Kulty.

From a sushi bar?

Peru A Ruby. Perfect color. No more mauve.

Caterpillar. No caterpillars were harmed in the making of this sushi roll. Promise. Yum!

Big hair is out. Who knew?

"This IS oomph, 2009, Auntie Ann."

Bangs? Me?

"At a time when the world financial markets are in turmoil, North Korea is launching missiles, and Britney Spears is once again on tour, people look for comfort in the familiar. And what is familiar to everyone? The answer" being driven completey insane by relationships."

So the 40-something gal in the massage chair next to me was giddy over her old college boyfriend "friending" her on Facebook.

"Beware old acquaintences bearing Facebook greetings," I offered, with a wink.

OMG. BNW is the BEST!

"In the midst of the chaos that has gripped the world, people have distracted themselves by laughing at the more contained, personal chaos of trying to co-exist with another human being. It seems that everyone can relate to the utter despair, frustration, rage and occasional nausea that are inflicted upon us by the people we love."

Dr. Fireman. Oh, yeah! Pots and Pans cycle.

LOL

God, I love my sis and my niece. I love Minneapolis.

Goodbye Uptown. Hello Mill District!

It's all good! It's all good!

Just A Little Somethin' From Johnny...

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Johnny Depp

Time Flies When You're Snarfing Cheesecake in A Jar

Has it really been just a week?

Seems like a year since I arrived in Rockford with the Boeke Bunch, even longer since Sherri arrived and I greeted her with a big hug and wearing my "surprise" garage sale outfit -- I know, I know -- the polyester salt-and-pepper shaker blouse was to die for...

Vicki and Sherri and I cruised about Rockford for a bit...saw Swedish American Hospital where I was born...Calvin Park South where we lived when I was but a toddler before we moved to Melrose Park...

Then Vicki treated us to cosmos at the nearby Fridays...and then it was off to Wisconsin to Sherri's...

Sherri's husband, Dave - I have since dubbed him The Martini Maestro -- prepared a delicious meal and accompanying martinis as we gabbed and laughed...

I am sure at some point poor Dave was wondering "What in the world was I thinking when I agreed to this?" Especially when we called Beth in Dayton, OH (at 11 p.m. OH time) and were laughing and yelling into the phone, sure that Beth would be absolutely THRILLED to find out that indeed, her two old pals were actually together in Wisconsin. I mean, WE were thrilled...wasn't everybody?

Sunday was  SO much fun -- mimosas at breakfast, drinks at Lake Geneva...and whoever created Cheesecake In A Jar!  My hat is off to you! We sample tasted our way through The Global Gourmet...which is where I discovered Margaritas in a Box...

Then another scrumptious meal prepared by Dave -- yes, Sherri set the table and made an exquisite tomato dish, to go along with the grilled salmon and asparagus...

Oh, wait!  I forgot to mention that we watched the movie Office Space -- OMG!  How hilarious! So THAT'S where "pieces of flair" came from!  I am, apparently, the last person on earth to have seen this movie...

Well, what do you expect for someone who lives in town that does not support the freaking technology that is required to operate a Trac phone with picture-taking capabilities?  I know!  Whodathunk!  But I digress...

The Rockford Reunion was everything that we could have expected and more!  

Of course, parting is always such sweet sorrow...

But the good news is, we have made a solemn vow to not allow another 34 years to pass before we see each other again! Like we have that many years at our disposal to begin with!

Facebook....it's just full of surprises!

Facebook Kismet: Christmas in May

I can't stop giggling!

In just a few days, my old/new friend Sherri Frank Zimmerman  and I will meet each other again/for the first time. We haven't seen each other for, oh, at least 34 years since I graduated from high school.

 I live in Iowa, she lives in Wisconsin, yet we have "seen" each other practically every day for the past two months.

And it's all thanks to a little thing I like to call Facebook Kismet.

What?

OK, so the term "Facebook Kismet" doesn't exactly roll off one's tongue. But what better way to describe the totally-random-yet-seemingly-predestined reunion of two old high school acquaintances on Facebook, that wacky electronic friendship generator to which so many of us aging Boomers are now addicted...

I mean, two months ago, Sherri and I were just two 50-something former Cincinnati Kids, both dying from boredom and the emotionally crippling effects of enduring one too many soul-killing winters in our respective, charming-but-out-in-the-middle-of-freaking-nowhere small towns, located in always-rousing cheese-and-corn country. 

Then, apparently, sometime in early to mid-March, both of us -- each horribly desperate for human connection and conversation --  discovered Facebook. We each decided to give it a whirl. We each stalked, er, searched for old high school friends. 

Sherri, a graduate of  Madeira High School Class of 1976, and I, a graduate of  Madeira High School Class of 1975, had socialized somewhat within the same high school circles. Both of us were members of that clique, er, clandestine high school sorority Sigma Tau Omega. But we were never what today one would call "peeps." We didn't really hang out together...

Until now.

Sherri and I, as it turned out, began with  two mutual friends on FB -- Nancy and Beth. Sherri saw my name and picture, remembered me -- vaguely -- and she decided, what the heck, to friend me.  I remembered Sherri -- vaguely -- and confirmed her as a friend.

And the rest is  Facebook Kismet history!

We started chatting daily on FB, commiserating, laughing, crying -- basically picked right up where we never left off -- as if we had been close pals back at good ol' Madeira High. Twins separated at birth. Mary and Rhoda.

I know exactly what she means by "life behind the cheese curtain." It can be equally as spirit squelching as "life in the tall corn state". And she gets that. We both know all too well why the caged tiger paces. 

Oddly enough, we can't remember clearly one social event that we attended together back in high school. We can't even say for sure that we remember ever being in the same room...

Nevertheless, talking and laughing together felt so warmly familiar. Immediately. Kindred Facebook spirits.

It is so weird...

Two totally separate lives, yet our common thread-- self-inflicted social isolation (hey, no one forced us to trade Cincinnati for Green Acres)  seems to have sewn a tight seam.

One Saturday, after chatting for an hour on FB, we dared to take it to the next level - we actually talked on the landline! I'd recognize her voice anywhere! And she, mine. Yet we don't recall any one-on-one gabfests back in high school...

And come this weekend, we will actually, finally  see each other. Again. And yet, in some ways, for the first time.

We can't wait!

I will be riding along with my friend, Jess, as she and her family haul a trailer of goods for a giant neighborhood garage sale at Jess' grandmother's in Rockford -- the town were Jess' mom, Vicki, and I were both born (and on the same day, no less -- but that is fodder for another kismet post). Sherri lives less than an hour from Rockford, and will meet me there.

It's all good!  And serendipitous! It's spontaneous! Just what the psychiatrist ordered.  

So to those who think FB is just a waste of time and energy, or who are too busy to stay connected via the electronic friendship generator, I say, Bah! Humbug!  I have found it to be quite a blessing...and I know Sherri concurs.

"A friend is a present you give yourself," the old saying goes.

And this weekend, thanks to Facebook Kismet, it's going to be Christmas in May. 

Pomp, Circumstance, and Sheep Lice

The very first thing writer Anne Lamott tells her new students on the first day of a workshop is this:

"Good writing is about telling the truth. We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason they write so very little." 

I am beginning to fear I may be part sheep lice.

While I long to understand who I really am, and what THE TRUTH really is, I've been writing very little. There is no way I will ever fully understand who I am and what THE TRUTH really is unless I write more. I know that. But, like with everything else in my life right now, I feel totally overwhelmed. I don't know where to start...

I suppose I could write about high school graduation parties, and how I think they have gone beyond practicality and reason...that no one really wants to look at 18 years' worth of someone else's child's memorabilia and pictures...that less is probably more, especially when it comes to potato salad, cake and mints...

But come time for DJ's graduation two years from now, I, too, will feel compelled to adorn every available wall space with HIS stuff...from that lock of hair from his first haircut at three months to his final track meet medal his senior year...

That's what parents DO nowadays come graduation time. I surmise that come May 2011, I will get all wacked out over Daniel's graduation, not just because my one and only son -- the freaking apple of my eye -- will be graduating from high school, but because my mother died when I was in junior high and my  father, who lived in Michigan ( I lived in Ohio) barely made it to my graduation ceremony. In fact, he may not have made it at all...I truly don't remember...

Or maybe he made it to my high school graduation, albeit late, but he didn't make it to my wedding...

Whatever.

The truth is, I will, no doubt, be going beyond  practicality and reason, doing whatever it takes, to give Daniel everything I didn't have when I graduated from high school...and that most likely will include a blow-out party with too many pictures, too much potato salad, and far too many mints. And I will fret over how the table cloth is hanging on the main table, and if his track medals are  displayed properly...and if there is enough butter, or too much butter on the sandwich buns...

I am also certain I will have a Valium drip going during the graduation ceremony itself...Pomp and Circumstance...just the words bring tears to my eyes...

And therein lies THE TRUTH about high school graduation...

No matter one's circumstances, ya gotta have pomp. Ya just gotta.

Sheep lice do not understand this concept, which is one reason their graduation parties are so lame. 

Congratulations to the CR-B Class of 2009!

For Leeeeeeeeesa!

v

Happy Mother's Day!

My Latest Brush With Fame -- Lady Antebellum at The Well!

I know.

My friend Leesa could have scribbled that mess on my Kenny Chesney concert ticket... cannot make heads nor tails of that handwriting....

But trust me, those really are Lady A autographs!

I stood in line for some time, and was just about to hand them my ticket stub to sign only to have Lady A leave their autograph table as  Kenny was beginning his descent into Wells Fargo Arena via ski lift, or whatever...

WHAT? Just where do they think they're going?

Never one to take rejection by the famous lightly, however, I thought fast and  tagged along with two young women who had caught the eye of that adorable Lady A lead singer, Charles Kelley -- he had beckoned them in to where the group was signing a few last autographs for the security staff.   Security had other ideas, however, and they wouldn't let us get near Lady A., but one of them graciously took my ticket and a couple of Lady A pics those other two gals had, and handed them to the group, and I watched as Hillary Scott , Charles and Dave Haywood all signed my ticket...

And then, Hillary came over to us and handed us our autographs and smiled...and thanked us...

I thanked her and said, "Thanks so much!  I love you guys!"

LOL. I can be such an autograph geek...

Kenny Chesney was AWESOME! Loved all the KC wannabes in the crowd...you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a cowboy hat, of course.

Note to self:   Learn more KC songs before the next KC concert...apparently he has sung many a great song since "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy". 

Leesa and I  rode in perfect Thelma and Louise style to the concert (in Des Moines) in her convertible, top down, tunes blaring...And we enjoyed a lovely meal at Spaghetti Works before the concert, I might add.  Later, we split a small  bag of  Strawberry Peanut Butter M&Ms on the way home while grooving to -- what else but -- Lady A -- and a little bit of Rascal and Toby...

What a great night!

Woo-Hoo!

Sometimes The Best Things In Life Are Unseen

FOR THOSE INEXPLICABLE TIMES, WHEN LIFE IS GRAND

Trixinity.net

May Day! May Day!

May Day has always been a bit of a mystery to me.

Growing up in Madeira, OH, we never had May baskets. I do not recall one time when someone showed up at my door with a Styrofoam cup full of popcorn and candy on May 1.

When we first lived in Iowa, however, my friends and their little darlings blessed Daniel and me with many a treat on May 1...

Today, my office co-workers gave me a cup full of popcorn, sprinkled with blue M&Ms only, and on the cup it said, "Not a blue martini, but this will due for now."

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

NEW rocks!

Too Funny

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN

That has been my motto since, well, since Cindy Lauper first came out with her hit song back in the 80s.

It struck a deep chord within me,  summed up my attitude toward how I wanted to live my life. How else to explain my obsession with class reunions, my love of laughter, my need to connect with friends and, well, have fun?

I come from a long line of fun-loving women, as evidenced by the picture posted here -- a glimpse of a day long ago in the life of my dear, departed Grandma Danna (she's the one in the middle in the stylin' yellow hat). I believe she and her pals at the assisted living facility where she resided are enjoying Kentucky Derby Day in this photo. They donned their special Derby Day hats on their way to the recreation room, and had a few cocktails while watching the race on TV.

I have oodles of old black and white pictures of my mom at class reunions and dances and various and sundry get togethers with her smiling, laughing friends. My sister is a big fan of dressing up in ornate costumes for Halloween. 

As for me, fun is hanging out with my girlfriends who have known me forever and love me anyway, laughing so hard your cheeks hurt. I'm up for a slumber part any time, at any age.

Fun for me is deciding on the spur of the moment to take off for Barnes and Noble in Des Moines on a weeknight, grabbing my favorite cuppa Starbucks, and perusing the shelves for hours...not necessarily buying anything.

Fun is making plans for a mini-class reunion in between official reunion years because, well, just because it's a good excuse to chuckle over old times with classmates I don't get to see every day since I live 750 (freaking) miles from my hometown. 

"Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide them away from the rest of the world. I want to be the one who walks in the sun!  Oh, girls, they wanna have fun. Girls just wanna have fun."

(Sherri, if you are reading this, you KNOW what I'm talkin' about. Dave and John aren't exactly  HIDING us away from the rest of the world, but somedays...)

Fun for me is blasting my favorite tunes from the CD player in my sister's convertible on a warm fall day on our way to visit my niece, Liz,  in Uptown, MN. It's drinking margaritas atop Stella's in Uptown, or having a pretty blue raspberry martini with my work pals at the Old School Pub in Coon Rapids after a long week's work.

Fun is spontaneous.

But fun is also planning getaways down the road -- like my upcoming trip to Cincinnati...the anticipation alone as the day for my departure draws near can carry me high above the fluffy white clouds of happiness for weeks!

"I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right..."

Of course, as one gets older, coming home in the morning light isn't always a wise option. So fun needs to be had earlier...perhaps a night of Bunco or Majong...or just hanging out on a friend's front porch and gabbing...

And what about Facebook? FUN!

"What in the world do you DO for hours at a time on Facebook," John asked me the other night.

"I talk to people, mostly, take stupid quizzes that tell me what TV mom I am, and post old pictures of friends," I said.

It don't get any better than that, boyfriend. 

John, of course, is not the only one one in my life who does not understand my fascination with FB. Unless you have lived in a small Iowa town for nearly 20 years, and survived a couple of soul-killing winters, spending hours ad nauseam on FB  may be hard to fathom.

It's all about connecting. On a daily basis. Laughing...Sharing...seizing the day as it presents itself. 

My Grandma Danna would be proud.

Normal Is Just A Setting On the Dryer

So Daniel says to me, he says, his voice dripping with aggravation, "Why can't you be a normal mom and not be on Facebook?" 

Normal? Moi?  

Daniel,  honey, I don't know how to break this to you at the tender age of 16, but...

Your Mumsy Dearest  has been called a lot of things over the long and winding course of her life -- colorful, obsessive, over-the-top, crazy, silly, intense, overly sensitive, obsessive, stubborn, strong-willed, opinionated, obsessive, moody, talkative, spunky, bubbly, hormonally challenged, obsessive -- but I've rarely, if ever, been described as normal.  

Especially when it comes to being a mom.

"You're no June Cleaver!" your father proclaimed many moons ago in a bit of a sarcastic huff.

(Oooh. Snap.)

I say,  thank God I'm not. 

That 50s TV mom icon had to be a closet drinker otherwise she would not have been dusting the tops of her doorways and polishing the chrome on her stove while wearing a dress, heels and pearls. That wasn't and isn't the norm. At least not for the moms I chillax with.

However, my darling son, when it comes to Facebook, more and more folks my age and even older are hopping on the FB train as a fun, quick, easy way to stay in touch with family, and reconnect with long lost friends and other interesting acquaintances. (No, Daniel, I did not stalk 70s rock icon Peter Frampton...I merely caused him an outpouring of FB friend requests. There's a difference.)

My point -- and I do have one -- is that although I may seem to you to be a bit too long in the tooth to be taking FB quizzes , updating my status, adding songs to my Lyrics Domain, and chatting on line with my peeps, vying with their teenage kids for FB time on the computer is actually becoming more and more the norm for seemingly old-fart rents like me.

I know...it was a lot easier - and certainly less painful --  when I was merely scolding you for spending too much time on Facebook and not pushing you out of your computer chair in my nightly frenzied rush to sign in.  And I realize it seems just a tad hypocritical that I did all that scolding only to turn around and practically live on FB myself.

Well, Daniel, I am going to share with you the same insightful 1960s advice my parents once  shared with me when I caught them talking out both sides of their mouths:

Do as I say, not as I do.

(That also comes in as a handy parental axiom for a mom such as myself who came of age in the 70s...but I digress, and please don't ask me to explain...)

Anyway, honey, I know it hasn't been easy living with a colorful, obsessive, over-the-top, crazy, silly, intense, overly sensitive, obsessive, stubborn, strong-willed, opinionated, obsessive, moody, talkative, spunky, bubbly, hormonally challenged, obsessive mom. 

I remember how you cringed when I played zany Madam Zelda the Fortune Teller at your first PTO spring carnival back in grade school. And then, of course, there was the weekend I out-of-the-blue hopped that bus to Washington, DC, to protest the war in Iraq, and then later dragged you to that anti-war war prayer vigil at the Carroll County courthouse.  You really took to that. And let's not forget how you bemoaned (while I swooned over) my giant Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow poster I once plastered across the wall of our then computer room.  And now, heavens to Betsy, I'm on freaking Facebook?  That's your teenage turf. Or so you thought. 

It's gotta be tough. 

But the good news is, you are not alone. Daniel, there are lots of moms and dads out there in FB land these days. Maybe they're not all taking "What's Your Barbie Doll Name" or "What Is My Easter Bunny Name" quizzes and posting the results on their FB wall, or sending Worthless Gifts For Newsprint Veterans" to their old newsroom pals. But they are out there on FB every day.

 Trust me. It's OK.

What's "normal" anyway, but just a setting on the dryer?

Hey, it could be worse. 

I could chaperone your prom someday...

You know how this aging disco diva still loves to bust a move...

Happy Easter !

Proof Again That Age Is Just A Number...

The New Phone Books Are Here!

Woo-Hoo!

The new Raccoon Valley Regional Phone Book has arrived!

I am somebody! (The Jerk, Steve Martin, 1980)

Sadly, with the onset of Google, and Whitepages.com and Facebook -- my beloved FB -- the arrival of the new phonebook just isn't the rush that it used to be.

Yawn.

It's like everything else that has gone the way of McInformation -- we gotta know it NOW. And we CAN know it now.

We leave nothing to chance, nothing to surprise.

Thanks to ultra sound, we know the sex of our unborn child months before he or she arrives.

Thanks to caller ID, we always know EXACTLY who is calling us at any given time.

We pick and choose who we talk to...we know what color to pain the baby's room before he or she is fully developed in the womb.

So much for the serendipitous nature of life...we have pretty much killed that off.

Does anyone even use a phonebook anymore? Landlines are going by the wayside daily...

Well, just out of a sense of tradition,I looked up my name and celebrated the fact that I, indeed, am in the new phonebook.

That's what we do in Podunk.

We celebrate the simple things...right Sherri?

He Be Drivin' Now...

Dear God.

Daniel just left for work.  Driving our car. Driving alone.

Yes, after waiting a month from the day he turned 16, Daniel John has his driver's license.

Amazingly, I am not crumbling into pieces, or gnashing my teeth.  I've been doing THAT, actually, since the day he was born and I imagined how SOME DAY he would be getting his driver's license...

It's all over but the increased worrying.

I am surprisingly OK with it. Today. After all, he is only driving 6 blocks to work. 

The first night we allowed him to ride with a friend to a basketball game an hour and half away, I cried for three hours, certain I would never see him alive again.

Of course, I cried for three hours after we dropped him and his date off at his Homecoming dance his freshman year, too.  Drank wine and called my sister and bawled.  Oh, I knew I'd see him alive and well at the end of the evening because every moment of his evening was planned and there was plenty of adult supervision. I cried because he looked so grown up and well, you know...he's my BABY....

"Mom, you don't have to tell everybody we see now that I just got my license," he whined at me, after I regaled some friends with the story at the local hardware store this a.m..

"Mom, you don't have to take pictures before Homecoming," he whined at me prior to this year's gala event. (And no, I did not cry this year, thank you very much....I'm growing up, too, apparently.) I am sure he was just worried that dear ol' mumsy might break down and wail again -- only this time it would be in front of his date...

LOL.  Poor kid. It can't be easy being my one and only child.

Good Lord.  Daniel John  got his driver's license today.

Maybe if I say it enough it will eventually sink in...

Oops.  It just did....

Chocolate martini, anyone?

Maybe He Didn't Love Our Way

If you've been counting the days till we have Peter Frampton Drink Night down at the new Old School Pub here in Coon, you might want to find something else to set your dreams upon.

Yeah, sorry to say, Peter Frampton -- it appears -- has deactivated his Facebook account. 

He is no longer one of my 50-plus friends. Nor am I one of his 2,000 FB pals.

Sniff.

I think I may have ruined the whole FB experience for PF. And my apologies to not only Peter, but also to those who were so excited to join The Unofficial Unauthorized Iowa Chapter of the Peter Frampton Fan Club. All four of us, or whatever.

We had high hopes of scoring some backstage passes during PF's Iowa State Fair performance slated for this August...

Alas, it looks like we are stuck in the cheap seats.

And I accept the blame.  I blogged about how Peter accepted everyone as a friend on FB, and well,, not to brag, but....

Some folks from all over the globe who apparently were Googling "Peter Frampton" for whatever reason stumbled upon my blog a few weeks ago, and well...I suspect that PF was deluged with FB friend requests...(I have this nifty way of logging where blog visitors are from...it is amazing!)

OR

Maybe PF actually read my blog himself and decided, "That's it, Annie...bad enough you fell asleep at the OU concert back in the 70s, and now THIS? I just wanted to be a regular FB guy...but NOOOOOOOOO."

Sorry PF.

My friend, Sherri, is not to happy with me right now, either. She was groovin' on the whole "PF is my friend" thing (she is from Wisconsin, but we were letting her join the club anyway...). And Melissa -- she was crestfallen today at work when I told her of the disappointing turn of events.

"Aw, we can still have PF drink night at The Pub, can't we?" she cried.

"Of course....there, there," I consoled her. 

But I dunno...it may be too soon. The shock has not yet worn off.

(Come to find out, Melissa is a Moody Blues fan like me...so I'm thinkin', what's wrong with Justin Hayward Drink Night at The Pub? OK, so Mr. "I Know You're Out There Somewhere" is starting to look a tad long in the tooth, HOWEVER....he still has such a haunting voice...but back to PF....)

We all just have to move on, one day without PF as a friend at a time.

My nephew, Aaron, in Des Moines, however, is fine with the whole PF deactivation news.

"If I can be honest," he recently told me, "'Baby I Love Your Way' gets on my nerves. And he abuses his talk box."

I  agreed (just to keep peace in the family), but I had no freaking clue what a talk box was...slang for telephone?  PF talks too much on the telephone? What?

Come to find out its some kind of guitar device or something (hey, I know nothing of guitars...I play the comb, an occasional set of spoons, maybe, and only if I am in the mood).

So, to all Iowa and Wisconsin (and beyond) fans of PF who were sort of thinking it was pretty darn cool to see PF on their FB friend list...my sincere apologies. Diane, I hope this doesn't cause a stir in your neighborhood (they really ARE neighbors).

Yup. I  -- apparently -- nuked Peter Frampton.

There oughtta be a law...

Tribute

ENCOURAGING WORDS

"My heroes are the ones 

who survived doing it wrong, 

who made mistakes, 

but recovered from them."

~ Bono~

(no, I was not about to kiss him, though it looks that way...LOL)

MAKE NEW FRIENDS, BUT KEEP THE OLD...

One is silver and the other?  Well, the other mightpost incriminating photos of you from back in theday on Facebook...or as we who are adoringly addicted refer to it, FB.

"Mom!  When are ya gettin' off the computer?" Daniel asks every night.

"Soon!" I whine, all the while sneaking another old photo onto my scanner, chuckling madly all the way. "Wait till the ol' gang sees THIS!" I giggle.

Oh, yeah.  Good times, good times.

And, I have to say, other than having to wrestle the computer away  from me for FB time, Daniel seems to be handling my newfound passion fairly well. And, while I so get it why kids flocked to FB, I don't really think they fully appreciate what this particular technology means to us aging Baby Boomers...I mean, how could they?

They know nothing of  fashioning a "phone" out of  two cans and a connecting string just to hear a couple of peeps out of their pal standing but a few feet away. Sure, my best friend Valli and I thought we'd struck pay dirt when I got battery-operated walkie talkies for my 12th birthday...but imagine our disappointment when we could barely hear each other's voices and we only lived two houses apart. And remember pen pals? Remember that excruciatingly looooooong wait for a snail mail letter from that friend you made at summer camp, or from your best buddy who had moved far away? 

Granted, there is still something mighty special about getting a card or a "real" letter in your mailbox written in a friend's familiar handwriting. And yes,we had telephones back in the day, as I tell Daniel. But our parents would never have DREAMED of allowing us to talk endlessly on the phone locally, let alone gabby-gab long distance.

I remember thinking Google was pretty cool...and I tracked down a few former acquaintances -- much to their surprise -- once I got the hang of that. And Classmates.com seemed like the perfect friend finder at first -- until I realized that the only way I could email those old classmates was to pay a monthly fee...and something about CM.com just seemed so, so cumbersome...I dunno.

Furthermore, with cell phones so prolific , it's harder to use Information to find people's numbers cuz so many folks just aren't listed any more. In fact, I had to track down my buddies Fran and Beck-mo via their daughters whom I discovered after pouring over FB.

OK, so my house is a shambles, and I'm a few days late getting that car payment in the mail. And Daniel is off to Wal-Mart buying socks because, well, I'm a tad behind in the laundry department...but what price talking every night to your favorite peeps, some of whom you have not seen or talked to since you were a 26-year-old cub reporter (as in the above photo)?

"I've come to the dark side," my dear high school chum Beth jokingly wrote on someone's wall the other day. Beth's daughter, Missy, bless her heart, got her set up on FB at the urging of Beth's old high school chum, Sherri. 

Dark side, indeed!  There are a million and one other things one should be doing besides listing their five favorite movies or sending an Athens Block to an old college roommate or a Piece of Flair (FB verbiage for a funny button) to a dozen friends. But in this crazy, mixed-up, recession-fraught world, FB is the perfect way to reach out and touch friends, old and new, inexpensively and often.

Now, if I would just get off my FB behind and pull  those old, moldy Rubbermaid totes out of the basement, I am sure I would harvest a healthy handful or three more  of "incriminating" pictures from yesteryear to post on  my wall...it's just so much FUN!

Yesterme. Yesteryou. Yesterday. Today.

Facebook's impact on my life thus far? In a word?

Inexplicable!

SO, I SAYS TO PETER FRAMPTON, I SAYS...

I am such a squirrel...

I went out on a Facebook limb a few days ago and --  since we have a mutual friend in Cincinnati - I sent a friend request to Peter Frampton...yes, THE Peter Frampton (he lives in Cinci)...

And in my message I  offered the 70s' rock legend an early "Welcome to Iowa" since he will be performing at the Iowa State Fair this summer...

Imagine  my complete and utter surprise when I checked my email tonight and Peter had actually confirmed me as a friend -- me and 28 other "friends", of course -- but it's a friend confirmation nonetheless...

So what if the guy has almost 2,000 friends on his friends' list...

"Ann Heise Kult is friends with Peter Frampton"... it says so right on my Facebook wall, plain as the nose on your face. Whodathunk?

Nevermind that I fell asleep at the Peter Frampton/Gary Wright concert at Ohio University back in...when was that anyway...'76? '77?  We're buds now, and that's all that matters....

LOL

"Oh, sure, now you won't be coming for Michelle's wedding this summer, you'll be coming to see Peter Frampton!" my friend, Linda (mother of the bride-to-be), said, feigning a sniff, when I called to tell her of my Facebook news.

Now, anyone who know me knows I am never one to let my brushes with the famous go to my head...

Ted Kennedy...Michael McDonald...Jessica Lange...the late John Ritter...Robert Kennedy, Jr. ...Bono...

I could go on, but I don't want to BORE you...oh, well, all right, what the heck...

"I remember you...you were that girl with the camera!" an exasperated Michael McDonald said to me after I managed to dodge secruity and make my way to the stage following  a Doobie Brothers concert at OU in the late 70s. (I had been backstage at a concert on the river in Davenport the summer before and had my picture taken with him a couple of  dozen times.)

"I take presents but I don't talk to people,'" Jessica Lange chortled (yes, I tell you, the woman chortled )  as she waltzed past me after I had waited for an hour outside her trailer on the Waterloo, IA set where they originally filmed "Country" in the early 80s...I was there on assignment and had hoped against hope for an interview...

I was sort of but not quite related to actor John Ritter, actually, seeing as he was married to actress Amy Yasbeck,my step-sister's ex sister-in-law...what a wonderfully warm, funny man he was.  I only met him once back in the early 90s...

Robert Kennedy, Jr., made my day at the National Hog Summit held in Clear Lake, IA back in 2001 when he personally thanked me for an investigative piece I'd done on some corporate hog confinement shenanigans that had taken place in Stuart, IA. He even referred to my article in his keynote address...

And I am sure Bono will never forget our meeting/interview at the Iowa Harvest Restaurant in Stuart during his quick stop on his way to Iowa City for an AIDS awareness concert in 2002...

But through it all, I've never forgotten the little people...

Did I mention I went to college with that Today Show hunk, Matt Lauer? And Peter King, of Sports Illustrated fame?

Well, ta-ta for now, my dahlings!  Please, I beg you...Don't hate me because rockstar Peter Frampton has confirmed me  as one of his 2,000 closest Facebook peeps... 

Hollywood Kult signing off.

Kisses.

MUSIC TO FACEBOOK BY

Harry Chapin Sings Circle Live via Noolmusic.com


I have to be brutally honest here....Facebook has taken over my life.

I have a kitchen full of dirty dishes, a living room full of, I dunno, dust and empty Gatorade bottles...and laundry strewn about begging for hangers...and still I sit here, glass of wine in hand, glued to Facebook.

I just finished chatting with Ned, my Cedar Falls Record photog co-hort -- I still can't believe he is freaking 45 years old -- he was like 17 or 18 the last time I saw him...he remembers my laugh...

Utmo, the former Newsday newshound-turned-pastor, is back in my life -- she always made me feel like I belonged at the OU Post -- even thought I couldn't edit my way out of a paper bag...thanks, Utmo!

Angie D., the daughter of my friend Frannie from my Cedar Falls days....she added me as a friend. The last time I saw her she was like, seven. She's all grown up.

Michelle L. is getting married in June -- she says as long as I have the right shoes, the pink potato sack I will be wearing to the Big Event (I am a reader) should be fine...LOL. We chatted for some time...I know her mom thinks I'm nuts for being on FB -- but clearly, I am hooked.

Granted, Celmo and I haven't exactly adorned each others' walls with notes of mutual adoration -- all these many years later...I am truly sorry about that COPE T-shirt, bud -- blame it on hormones...thankfully, I am so not the person I was back at OU...

I often think he only added me as a friend because he remembers my past inability to deal rationally with rejection...and he was afraid to NOT add me...LOL.

My fave way to read my FB page is to music....I added Lyrics Domain...on the left sidebar... find lyrics domain...click "video" and, voila!  The Moody Blues (still hunky Justin Hayward) belts out "I Know You're Out There Somehwere" -- is that not the perfect Facebook search song? LOL...

I have also downloaded -- or uploaded -- The Beatles "In My Life" -- another PERFECT Facebook song....

There are places I remember

All my life, though some have changed...

Some forever not for better

Some have gone and some remain...

All these places have their moments;

With lovers and friends, I still can recall;

Some are dead and some are living...

In my life I've loved them all...

Now, you can also click on my Facebook badge on my blog, and my blog playlist will start -- that's got some great tunes to read my Facebook by -- the always popular Mister Softee song... Bob Seger's "Accompany Me"...Neil Diamond's "Hello'"...

I know. I am supposed to be cleaning...

I have done some cleaning. Some.

It's just that I can't help but marvel over modern technology...

It seems like I've been here before;

I can't remember when;

But I have this funny feeling

That we'll all be together again...

Oh, there are a few folks out there who might not want to "friend" me at this point -- Tipper, Miguelito...I haven't always been the perfect friend...I admit it. I am far from perfect. I've made mistakes. 

I called Mrs.W. tonight -- it's her 84th birthday...she was the mom I always wanted but never had.. I have been HORRIBLE about keeping in touch -- life happens. But she still loves me. 

Nancy W. and I were thick as thieves...God, those were good times... a simpler time...

Life is soooooo short...I am not the same person I was back in college -- thank God - nor am I the same person I was 20 minutes ago...

Ned remembers my laugh..

I know you're out there somewhere

Somewhere, somewhere...

I know you're out there somewhere

Somewhere you can hear my voice...

I know I'll find you somehow

Somehow, somehow...

And somehow I'll return again to you.

This is just too awesome...

FRIEND ME, BABY!

I know. I know.

I didn't bash Barbie on her 50th birthday...an event like that SCREAMS for a blog post...

I mean I have ridiculed that pathetic plastic fashion doll diva off and on for almost 30 years...and then I go and MISS her 50th birthday? What was I thinking? I mean, people like my sister have come to rely on me to provide them with some sort of anti-Barbie humor on such special occasions. Admittedly,  I've let my sis and others down.

All I can say is, hey, I've been busy.

Well, not busy exactly.

I've been "friending".  You, know...on Facebook.

Yes, for six fun-filled hours Monday night, I  scoured Facebook, searching for just about everyone I used to know, work with, go to high school/college with, passed in a crosswalk at some point in my life who might have a Facebook account -- and then  I "requested" their friendship, and had to be "accepted" before officially "adding" them to my official list of friends.

I mean, I was obsessed!

(And that is sooooo unlike me, I know.)

The really cool thing is, without leaving my living room, I was successful in reconnecting with just about everyone I used to know,work with, go to high school/college with, passed in a crosswalk at some point in my life who has a Facebook account.

"Don't you dare friend me!" my now-16-year-old son verily hissed at me...

Oh, don't worry, darling...I realize that would not be cool. I'm also hip to the fact that Facebook isn't supposed to be for old farts like me and my 50-something friends. But guess what, dog? Facebook, I've discovered,  is up to its photo tags with folks my age...

And it's because it is so much fun!  In a matter of minutes, I can -- providing no one "ignores" my friendship request -- connect with old friends and co-workers I haven't talked to for two or three decades! How cool is that? And it's like once they confirm me as a friend, or vice versa, and we've posted comments  and pictures on each others "walls", well...heck schmeck, it's like they're right there in my living room with me!  And it feels as if  we just saw each other yesterday!

It's a virtual friend-in!

Let's face it: for a reunion addict like me, Facebook is  a dream come true!  And to think I used to scoff!

At one point, I had just about my whole ol' gang from my Waterloo Courier/Cedar Falls News Bureau days on Facebook at the same time...Saul, RC, R, A, PK, Raff...

And then there was my old college pal, Anne Kenney (not to be a name dropper, but she is an accomplished and very talented TV writer/executive producer in LA...) We dropped off each other's Christmas card list eons ago...but you would never have known it...

I, of course, asked my  25-year-old niece, Liz, to friend me, and we chatted (OK, I held her hostage) on Facebook till rather late....

"Step away from Facebook, Auntie Ann!" she coaxed, as the clock struck midnight. "And remember, Auntie Ann, do not update your status more than once -- at most, twice -- a day."

Okay, so maybe I was a tad giddy, typing out (what I thought were) witty  "Ann is blah, blah, blah" status updates like they were Morse Code...and yes, I changed my profile pic three times.

But I just could not help myself!  It was like one giant "This Is Your Life Meets Classmates.com" only better!  My gosh!  Imagine what MY teenage and college years might have been like had we had Facebook! And cell phones! And texting! 

Why, I -- and a couple of  guys I dated in high school, I am sure -- shudder to think!

The only bad thing to come of my new obsession with Facebook is that I have, apparently -- after spending six hours perched on the end of my chair,  shoulders hunkered over the computer -- strained muscles in my shoulder, neck and arms to the point where my entire upper torso is stiff and sore. And my tailbone is ready to pop...

A nominal price to pay, however, for reconnecting and reminiscing with all those folks who knew me when...and for  keeping in touch who those I know and love now...like my dear sister, who (hint, hint) has yet to confirm me as her friend....ahem.

Of course, nothing beats seeing my historical/lifelong compadres in real life, in real time. But I gotta tell ya, Facebook is the next best thing to actually being at a reunion.

Ann is way past her prime, er, bedtime but too excited to sleep.

I haven't had this much fun since my CB addiction days...breaker, breaker.  But that's fodder for another blog...

Nite.

THE HOKEY POKEY KING HAS DIED

I received word late last night that one of my childhood TV icons, Uncle Al, died over the weekend.

My Iowanian friends grew up with Duane and Floppy.  Cincinnati kiddies grew up with our beloved Uncle Al...

"Put your toys away, don't delay, then when you want them you can find them right away; Put your toys away, don't delay, help your Mommy have a happy day!"

"You put your right hand in, you take your right hand out; you put your right hand in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around, and that's what it's all about!"

Actually,  truth be known, my favorite part of the show was when Captain Windy (Al's wife, Wanda) would (literally) fly in and entertain the kids. She was my flying mentor, which, I believe, eventually led me to my obsessive yearning to be able to fly, which eventually led me to my childhood love, Peter Pan (which certainly explains many of my later relationships with men, but I digress).

I was never on the show, unlike several of my friends. My mother, I hate to say, was not fond of the man. I never knew why, but she preferred that I watch Captain Kangaroo. Rebel that I have always been, I watched Uncle Al anyway.

"Stop (knock, knock), Refresh with Barq's..."

I just can't believe it -- another piece of our childhood, gone. 

Uncle Al, the Kiddies' Pal. 

"Thank you for the birds that sing, thank you, God, for everything."

Uncle Al was 84.

SIXTEEN CANDLES AND A BOTTLE OF DREFT

Sixteen years ago today my tummy was as big as a house -- or so it seemed -- and I was a day past my due date...

There was no way to know that FINALLY, come March 2, 1993, I would, thankfully, give birth to Daniel John, our healthy, adorable, 9-pound baby boy.

I had cleaned and nested till I could clean and nest no more -- one could literally,  if one chose to, eat off my kitchen floor. The baby's room was ready and then some, I had all but alphabetized the onesies and sleepers, and our house reeked of Dreft. I was practically dabbing the stuff on my wrists. To this day, I sometimes sneak a sniff at the grocery store and I swoon, I tell ya, I swoon...

Yes, one whiff of Dreft and it all comes rushing back -- the excitement...the anticipation...

And, of course, there were the endless questions...

What would labor REALLY be like?  Would Daniel have all his fingers and toes? Would he have lots of hair? No hair? What kind of parents would we be? Should I have taken infant CPR? Was it too late to take infant CPR? How would I know if its REALLY time to go to the hospital? How bad would the pain REALLY be?

Sixteen years later I don't truly recall what I did the last few days before Daniel was born...

I'd read all the books, we had all the clothes, bottles, diapers, etc., we could possibly have ready for Our New Arrival...just bring on the baby! There was,of course, no turning back...I finally accepted the fact that what would be, would be. A small voice inside me whispered calmly, "one day at a time, Annie. One day at a time."

Now, the thought that someday our Sweet Little Bundle of Joy would be, of all scary things, a TEENAGER (YIKES-A-RONI), did cross my mind. But it seemed soooooo  many days in the distance...I told myself that it would be a very long time before all the parental worries that go along with the teenage years and beyond would arrive at our doorstep...

Well, I was wrong. 

Dear God, the years between Sweet Little Bundle of Joy and TEENAGER (YIKES-A-RONI) freaking FLEW by in a New York minute!

One day John and I are painstakingly following the directions to make THE perfect Elmo first birthday birthday cake while Our Little Darling is napping,and the next day Daniel is telling me as he runs out the door to an air soft skirmish to skip the  birthday cake this year, for crying out loud, he's going to be 16 not two.

Well, excuuuuse me.

Actually,  the cake NOT being a big deal is a bit of a relief -- I still remember his sixth birthday when I went through two botched box mix cakes before I threw in the proverbial June Cleaver apron,  bought an ice cream cake an hour before the party started, and called it good.

That was also the year we had the party in the church fellowship hall, played Pin The Tail on The Donkey, Drop The Clothespin in the Milk Bottle, and -- if my memory serves me correctly -- I also introduced Daniel and his little buddies to the thrills and chills of the 60s' birthday party fave, the Potato on Your Shoe race.

Later came the birthdays that were Everything Harry Potter, pizza, and remote control cars.

Of course, two days before his 16th birthday and the only kind of car Daniel is remotely interested in is one that he can actually drive, by himself, hither and yon, sans mother in tow.

Oy.

As I sort the laundry, I catch a whiff of Old Spice "After Hours" on Daniel's shirt. And it all comes rushing in...the excitement, the anticipation, and, once again, the endless questions...

Omigosh!  Daniel is turning 16!  What kind of a driver will Daniel REALLY be? Will he live to see 17? What does he REALLY want to  do when he graduates from high school? Have we done the best we could so far as parents to instill all those values and virtues that we want him to have? And even if we have, all kids test the waters...what will the next few years REALLY be like as Daniel quickly matures into manhood and we slowly but surely melt into old age? Will he find the right woman to marry? Will he have children? Will they be healthy? Will I live to not only see my grandchildren,  but REALLY know them and love them? Will they love me?

Will they haul me away, lock me up, and tether me if they catch me sniffing bottles of Dreft at the grocery store?

Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset.

Swiftly fly 16 years, indeed...

I race to the grocery store, making a bee line for the laundry aisle.

Suddenly, a small  voice inside me whispers, calmly, "One day at a time, Annie. One day at a time. That's how you got him to 16, remember? Step away from the Dreft."

Damn it, it's just so hard to let go.

WHO'S JOHNNY DEPP?

HE'S GOT HIS MOTHER'S MOVES

WHAT'S A FORMER KOOL-AID MOM TO DO?

Frankly,  the teenage years are driving me batty.

I know, short drive, hang a left.

But seriously...

Nobody tells you how many times mothers of teenage boys can have their feelings hurt in the course of a week.

"Want to run to Wal-Mart with me and Dad?" I ask, cheerfully.

"Raincheck' he replies in that bored-teenager-monotone-grunt-like utterance that has become his typically-teenage trademark.

OK, so I set myself up for that one. 

Obviously, no  15 9/10-year-old guy only weeks away from getting his license would jump up at down at the thought of spending a couple hours schlepping around Wally World with the rents when he could, instead, be playing Call of Duty 5 for the umpteenth time on the computer, or shooting his friends with air-soft pellets down at the fairgrounds.

Hey, you can't blame a mom for tryin'.

"Can I challenge you to a quick round of pick up sticks?" I asked -- again, cheerfully --  last night.

Without even looking away from Facebook for a nano-second, he replied in his trademark  bored-teenager-monotone-grunt-like utterance, "Tomorrow". 

Confession: I didn't really expect him to reply in the affirmative, but what the hell..hope springs eternal...

(Right here is where Harry Chapin should be singing that line from Cats In The Cradle...you know the one, ""I'd love to (Mom) if I could find the time..."

But the thing is, I WAS the proverbial Kool-Aid mom. I played games and made forts and went to the playground and drew pictures and colored in coloring books and read books and played grocery store and let him play in the sink and...well, you get the picture. I was ALWAYS there for him as a small child. I was a dedicated Stay-at-Home Kool-Aid Mom for Pete's sake.

Ah, those were the good old days...

At this point, Dr. Phil would point out that Daniel, at this stage of his life, HAS to push away from his parents or he will never strike out into  this big cold cruel world  on his own. I suppose it's even more difficult for an only child, so perhaps he has to be twice as coldhearted, er, independent.

I've read where it usually more difficult for the mother than the father when the teenager begins to really exert his independence...I suppose that's because fathers recall what jerks they were to their mothers from time to time when they were teenagers.

My wise ol' Sis says boys do come back around and act humanely toward their parents sometime down the road of life, that this is, indeed, all normal teenage attitude -- God's way, she says, of making parents WANT to let go when the time comes that they HAVE to let go.

"Would you really want Daniel living in your pocket when he's 40?' a friend asked me the other day.

"Yeah, if he's nice and he'll play a game of pick-up sticks with me now and then," I quipped.

Hey, I kid, I kid. 

I really do want him to be an independent, successful adult some day. And I know this is all perfectly normal...but it hurts, damn it.  Not to mention that the whole Teenage Attitude period  is downright annoying and irritating.  Of course, I wasn't a pain in the patootie when I was a teenager...(Yeah, right, my Sis says. And she would know.)

Oh, well. 

Teenagers, I've read, are somewhat like toddlers at the playground at this stage in that they run off  to hang with their friends, but they come back to touch base, so to speak,to make sure you're still there when they need you. They just need to know you're there...

Like when Daniel needs a shirt ironed or the back of his hair trimmed. Or he's hungry. (Of course, when he's hungry, he goes to Dad for a decent meal -- I'm usually good for take-out pizza or bowling alley food).

And he gladly accepted the M&Ms I gave him on Valentine's Day...

I'll love him forever.

I'll like him for always.

As long as I'm living

My baby he'll be.

Heavy sigh.

Maybe it's because I never had any parents to push away and I had to exert my independence long before I should have had to just to survive adolescence and my teenage years...maybe that's why this is so hard for me...I would have given my eyeteeth to have had my mom alive and bugging me to play pick-up sticks with her.

"Just be glad that you can afford him the opportunity to be a perfectly normal teenager," another wise ol' friend offered the other day. "That's an opportunity you and I never had."

Ouch. Talk about some stinging insight...

OK, I'll quit with the pick-up stick baiting...instead I will learn to be  happy with  Danny Boy actually sitting in the same room with me watching Law & Order, SVU,  late on Saturday nights after he comes home from chillaxing over a game or five of Call Of Duty with his friends.

I guess it's time for this former Kool-Aid Mom to realize that, such as they are, these are the new good ol' days. So I will enjoy them...while they last.

I LIKE MY POPCORN LIKE I LIKE MY MEN...

Smokin' hot.

Just ask my co-workers who had to endure the wafts of burned popcorn hanging heavily throughout our building this morning...

OK, so maybe I AM the last person on earth to realize that you don't REALLY heat microwave popcorn according to the directions on the bag...

I blame it on the microwave in our breakroom -- it doesn't have a "popcorn" button. So when the bag said "three minutes on high", I unknowingly obliged.

Holy 2-alarm fire, Batman!

The smoke poured out of the bag as I pulled apart the corners, and I  dashed up the steps and out the door and tossed it in the trash. But too late -- the smoky smell permeated clothes, hair, hallways...

I quickly sent out an email to all:  "Yes, that is burned popcorn you smell. The building is not on fire. Hence, the card on my bulletin board that proclaims, "Domestically Disabled". From now on, I am sticking to apples, yogurt and celery on break. I promise."

Luckily, I work with a forgiving, fun-loving group, and we all had a good chuckle...

Happy Friday!