As The Tan Lines Fade...

And the nail polish peels...and my face breaks out from stress...That's when it is officially official. Yup.

I've been back from my Cincy vacay for one week.

Happens every time. Like Cinderella at midnight. Poof! Turned back into a pumpkin. A pumpkin called "Reality."

That's just what happens after vacay, no matter where you go, or who you are...at some point - be it one week, two weeks, three weeks -- you have to get back to your real life, your regular routine.

The emotionally disturbed jackrat terrier...the cat that projectile erps her food everytime she eats...the 16-year-old son who somehow always forgets how to tell time while out on a date...the yard that needs mowed...the laundry that needs washed, and folded AND put away...bills to pay...blah, blah, blah...

It's not NEARLY as bad, though, as it was two years ago when I returned from Cincy, and for that I am thankful. Dear God, I re-read those blog posts and I think, "Geezle, Ann, we get it. You miss Cincy. You miss your Cincy friends. The Cincy 'life'. Get a grip, girl!"

Bottom line is, Cincy is not my life. THIS is my life. And despite my whining of late, it's a good life. I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, a good paying job with bennies, have yet to miss a meal, and most of all, I have wonderful friends and family HERE, just like in Cincy.

I am fortunate beyond belief.

My longtime friend Nancy H. once gave me a pillow she made that says, "If friends were money, you'd be the richest person in Coon Rapids."

Thanks, again, Nance, for that pillow. Sometimes, I lose sight of that message. I am very blessed with friends, indeed. Here. There. Everywhere I have lived. Friends have always been my extended-and-then-some family.

It is, as the saying goes, a wonderful life.

Truth is, everybody has to come back from vacay. You can only vacate your real life for so long...well, yes, OK...Thelma and Louise decided to NOT come back from what was supposed to be their weekend vacay at a fishing cabin. But the whole cliff thing? Ouch. Not a good idea...

Today is a family dinner out at the farm. John's brother, Tom, and his wife, Barb, and her mother will be here for a few days as they move Barb's mom from Rockford, IL to Prescott, AZ. Hence, a big Kult Family Dinner is the plan for today...

We've got fresh green beans and peas and potatoes from John's garden, homemade ice cream, ChiChi's Margaritas...pulled pork sandwiches, homemade carrot cake...the weather is GREAT!.

I think the late, great John Denver said it best:

"Hey, it's good to be back home again. Sometimes this old farm feels like a long-lost friend. And hey, it's good to be back home again..."

Ed. Farrah. MJ. And Dave.

Surreal.

Was still trying to get my head around the horrible, senseless murder of Applington-Parkersburg (IA) Coach Ed thomas (gunned down by a former player in the high school weight room earlier this week) when I learned of Farrah Fawcett's passing from anal cancer. I was quietly contemplating Farrah's demise when Daniel hits me with, "Michael Jackson just died."

What? WHAT? Surely he was mistaken...

Turned to CNN, and there it was...

Only at that time, they were saying that he was hospitalized....cardiac arrest... in a coma...

Obviously, didn't look good for the King of Pop, but maybe, just maybe...

Despite my friend Ned's insistance that MJ was, indeed, dead, I refused to believe it...until CNN reported that the LA Times confirmed it.

Michael Jackson. Dead at 50.

Many an afternoon during my early adolescence I spent dancing in front of our huge living room mirror to The Jackson Five's "ABC". Michael was so cute...what a voice! What moves for a kid!

ABC, 1,2,3 baby, you and me...

Many a Saturday night during my post-college Disco Diva days I spent dancing to MJ's "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough". I never really knew the words, but man, could I dance to it...

"Billy Jean" was a fave as well. "Thriller" not so much. Yes, I am probably the only one in the world who wasn't thrilled with "Thriller".

And then poor MJ just plain went weird and I have spent the last many years just feeling sorry for the guy...

And now he's dead. The King of Pop, a music icon from my youth, gone. Just like that.

Athough, it wasn't really "just like that." MJ was not on a healthy road for a very long time. Mentally or physically. Damn those addictive prescription meds. There is some pain that pills just can't take away...

And let's not forget poor Farrah -- though once MJ's demise hit the airwaves, her death from anal cancer but hours before was truly treated like "oh, yeah...and in other news..."

Many a male college student in my co-ed dorm during my junior year at Ohio University had that famous Farrah poster slapped up on their wall...good ol' Kent Whatshisname was one of them...I can still see that poster. I had my picture taken in front of it -- my hair a mess, my face slathered in zit cream, clowning some kind of flashy "Farrah Wannabe" smile...

A few years later, after I was married, my hubby secretly dug out that picture from the Ann Heise Photo Album Collection and ran that picture in the Carroll Daily Times Herald for my 25th birthday...

What young woman back in the day didn't wish she had Farrah's face, hair and smile? Farrah was the beginning of Big Hair. And she was romantically involved for 17 years with one of my earliest Hollywood crushes...Ryan O'Neal. Love Story.

Love Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry.

OK, so THAT'S a crock of crap...but I digress...

As sad as the deaths of Farrah and MJ are, the worst news this past week was that of the senseless murder of longtime Applington-Parkersburg (IA) High School Football Coach Ed Thomas...beloved coach and family man who was gunned down by a former player in the high school weight room.

A couple thousand of Thomas' grieving family, friends and former football players gathered for a candlelight vigil the night of his murder...

This is small town Iowa, folks. This isn't supposed to happen here. Even though we all know it can and it does. And it never makes sense. Anywhere.

I am also saddened this week by the news of the death of my grocery store pal, Dave M., 50, who had a heart attack after mowing the lawn. He used to scare me, frankly. Worked construction. Kind of a gruff, tough guy. Until I started joking around with him as I checked and bagged his groceries back when I worked at The Fro (our local grocery store). He had a great sense of humor. Dave led a tough life, but was looking forward to a better, brighter future. Alas, that future was cut short.

Last time I saw Dave was before I left for Cincy...was getting a few things at The Fro...had not seen Dave for a long time...

"Well, looked who the cat dragged in," I joked. He smiled and asked how I'd been doing...

And just like that, he's gone.

Ed. Farrah, MJ. And Dave.

May each rest in peace.

IF ONLY IT WAS THIS EASY TO GET BACK TO CINCY...

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...

Click Here For Myspace Graphics at GraphicsHunt.com  
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...