I KNOW I USED TO BE CRAZY....

Not really.

As my sister lovingly likes to point out to me, I was indeed, a nerd.

A goody goody.

Well OK, back up... I did my fair share of questionable shit, BUT, I just managed to NEVER GET CAUGHT!  Oh, and I was an honor student.  And I didn't smoke.  So yeah, revert back to "goody goody".

I loved school- I mean Jesus (capitalized as if I'm speaking to Him and not being blasphemous), instead of getting a job my senior year of high school, I would fill any "void" periods with "office aid" shit.  I LOVED being there? (I can feel it.. you are all team "my sister" at this point ).  I participated in clubs, ran copies, etc... I even remember helping the school secretary clean out an old storage closet!

Do I have any regrets? NO.  No I do not.  It was who I was at that time in my life.  We all try at some moment in time of our life journey to "change to please others", but all in all, I've just always been "me".  Love me, hate me, find me to be annoying, love the shit out of me... yeah.  

Fast forward to well, NOW.

I'm an eclectic lover of music.  I mean ANY AND ALL MUSIC!  I've been spoiled the last few years ever since St D lovingly bought me a 2017 Honda CRV, complete with a "free" subscription to Sirius, which then turned into "Hey, continue your free subscription for only $2.99 for the next 90 days" to "Hey dipshit, you're hooked aint ya?  LOOK AT ME NUMB NUTS... WE ARE THE CAPTAIN NOW... PAY US WHAT WE WANT".  I run the gambit on "70s on 7" and "Mosaic", then getting in the mood for Neil Sedaka and Connie Francis on "50's on 5".  I go from belting out "American Woman" to "9 to 5" to "Chains and Things" to "In Case You Didn't Know".  

So with all of that mumbo jumbo said, I'm really out of touch with what is actually the "here and now" in local hits.  Yet I find them.  Oh yea, Sirius DOES have normal modern era music- I HAVE HEARD of Olivia Rodrigo, and SZA.  I was impressed with my "modern day music knowledge" when Abs converted St D and myself into old, "kinda" Swifties, and Miley Cyrus' "Flowers" was my JAM!  And by the looks of her performance of said song on the Grammys this year, EVERYONE UNDER THE SUN finds "Flowers" to be THEIR JAM too.  

I then noticed Sirius playing a lot of her follow up hit "Used to be Young", so I finally took a break from the Guess Who and Suzie Quatro and "stumbled in" (hehe) to listen.  OH MILEY!  I mean I've never been a huge mega fan, even when a young Abigail lived and breathed Hannah Montana. (eh, maybe not that crazy, but she watched it.. moving on....)  But her voice, her talent!  It's a letter to herself- to those that keep telling her that "she's changed" and "whatever happened to the girl that...".

I know I used to be crazy

I know I used to fun

I know I used to be wild

That's cus I used to be young

I found myself drawn to it.  Loving it.  "Feeling it".  

But WHY?

Scroll back up to my era of NERD-DOM.

I was never crazy- I was fun but in a dork kinda way.  I wouldn't call going to see Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Neon movies at midnight every Saturday with St D and my crew as necessarily "wild". 

But, I used to be young.

And I revel in the memories.

I smile thinking of my "past".  I smile even more at my PRESENT.  And I look forward everyday to my FUTURE.

 

I know I used to be nerdy

Straight A's but GOD was it fun

I know I used to be normal

That's cus I used to be young.

 BREATHE, BREATHE IN THE AIR...DONT BE AFRAID TO CARE...

I gotta be honest- I really wasn't much into the countdown, the constant yammering, of the solar eclipse. I went into yesterday without even (PARISH THE THOUGHT) possessing a pair of eclipse glasses!  (yeah, I know!)  My news family on Newscenter 7 were counting down for the last 3 months,  and although the idea of the economy being boosted by something other than Taylor Swift was encouraging, I approached April 8th like well... I didn't.

I tend to be one of those people that get uber excited about 3 minutes before the "event"- New Years Eve is just a fun, end of the year ritual, complete with celebrating the birthday of our great friend, prepping to drink like I was going to the chair, and THEN, about 90 seconds before the ball drops in Time Square, my inebriated heart starts to race a bit.

So all of that said, yesterday was just a normal Monday, complete with pondering my life decisions as I hopelessly got ready for work.  By about 12:30 pm, I was the sole survivor in the office, considering my lack luster attitude about the eclipse must have telekinetically been transposed to my boss, because not once was I told "Hey, get on outta here around 1 and go enjoy the eclipse at home!"  I sat here ticky tappin away on my keyboard, working, scowling...

Then, as I was eye rolling life... I noticed.  It was about 1:32pm.  Hmmmm.. wonder what's goin down outside?  I walked out and looked directly at the sun (yeah) and thought ok, I dont see shit!? (other than the start of retinal burn) I thought it was going to start around now?  My daughter shortly after texted and said "The sun is halfway covered, it's actually pretty cool looking".  OK.... my blessed eldest nugget usually doesn't get too excited about this crap either, so for her to relay this information to us, I started feeling it.  That "90 seconds before the ball drops".  I saw the guy from across the hall out smoking and asked if he had any extra glasses, and said he has one pair and they are on his desk and "have at".  I found said glasses and walked back outside and looked up (properly) and saw it- the moon was beginning to blanket our sun!  Amazing that the solar eclipse glasses um, actually WORKED?
I then found myself stepping out (like Joe Jackson told us to do back in the 80s) about every 15 min, eye spyin (properly) and being in awe of I don't know.. our universe?  I started noticing more and more of the fine employees of building 228 going out back to the parking lot and one of them asked me if I needed glasses because "she has a ton of them".  I thanked her and saundered outside.  It was about 2:50pm. 
And then it happened.
I was again amongst the finest people that I don't know- I see some of the gals in the potty from time to time- nice "good morning" smiles are shared in the lobby.  And yet me and this merry band of 228 office building goons were about to experience BEAUTY that none of us will ever see again in these here parts.  I booted up "Dark Side of the Moon" on my phone- some nameless guy sitting on the concrete wall said "Hell yeah!", and started singing.  Another guy said he was going to go and lay in the grass.  I found myself chuckling with some of the ladies, laughing how the news had to "inform people" NOT TO DRIVE with the glasses on- UM, I was blinder than Stevie Wonder?  NO SHIT!  We kept looking up and every now and then mentioning "ONLY A SLIVER LEFT".
Soon after, TOTAL ECLIPSE!  We all marveled at the drop in temperature.  The sky went to dusk.  I LITERALLY heard crickets!  We marveled at the beauty in front of us as we all dropped our glasses to our hands.  We felt spiritual.  We were, if only for a few brief minutes, a "family"?  No "pleasant" smiles in a lobby.  No "flushing of toilets" to interrupt restroom small talk.  We were experiencing one of natures most spectacular phenomenons- together.  We laughed.  We stood looking at Heaven in awe.  Suddenly the world didn't exist around us except for what was placed in front of us.
Then we all smiled, nodded, and walked back into reality.
I said last week in my first blog in 914 years that I find beauty in the ordinary.
I found PEACE in the extraordinary.

 EWWWWWW THAT SMELL!

 

My sister and I were never raised to put "hammer to nail" so to speak. 

 Dont get me wrong- lil sis and I had great childhoods!  But my father was never really "hands on" when it came to home improvement- and the lovely Linda Marie had the most kick ass father in allll the land (at least the 45416), so Grandpa was always our knight in shining tool belt!

I suppose this is why we barely knew what a wrench was, let alone how to build a fence.  I recall the first time I knew the difference between a flat head and Philips head screwdriver (which wasn't all THAT long ago), and all of the sudden thought I was Bob freakin Villa!

But slowly over adulthood, and being married with a mortgage, St. D and I realized that it was much cheaper to LEARN and DIY than to hire someone to do it for us.  It was around that era that I started to first experience my first interactions with...well..."those places".  Again, I never grew up with home improvement projects being thrust upon me and if it wasn't Kmart, Rinks, Gold Circle, or Salem Mall, I just didn't SHOP THERE!  I could tell you where Funway Freeway was in said mall, but couldn't tell you what "drywall" was.  Learners, Elder Beerman, J C Penney, and Sears were my meccas, but NEVER the "Black and Decker" section of Mr. Robuck.

Those places.  Quotation makes adorned those two words, so ya just KNEW I'd explain.

I'm talking about... (pause, whew... just... the feels coming over me just THINKING about them)... HOME IMPROVEMENT STORES!

Lowes. Menards.  Possibly Home Depot (dont really hit that one much but I'm sure it would give me the same awesome sense of euphoria).  A few years back, my girlfriend and I talked of our love... our love of the the smell of walking into a Lowes- and knowing that shit was about to get REALLLLL special!  The smell hits you in the face like a brick of pesticide- MMMMMMMM my GOODNESS TAKE THAT SHIT IN!  

Whether it's a major room renovation, or needing light bulbs- "Hi I need a mega bottle of Downy Unstoppables", or "Hey um, the dog crapped on our brand new Burber, can ya point me in the direction to Floor Coverings, and the nearest pet cemetery", these utopias of blue collar just hit me where I live!  The aroma tantalizes your senses the second you walk in to find a cart... or a pallet...and I feel more alive than I normally do on a lazy Saturday.

As I was mowing our lawn this morning, (with our new self propelled Toro Mower, purchased at yea... LOWES), I began dreaming of a reason to go after I was finished.  MULCH!  BLACK MULCH FOR THE BACK GARDEN!  Once my task was complete, I knew all that I had to do was wash the sweat off of my face and run a brush through my weave to relieve it of any lawn/bush debris.  I texted Abs to let her know that I was "GOING TO LOWES"... her reply "OOOF, how embarrasing", and OFF I WENT!

As I saundered into the Lawn and Garden section, I realized that this wasn't going to be a quick "Hi I need 4 bags of Premium Black Mulch" kinda visit.  No.  I was by myself.  With a Lowes card (well ok, St D has it but ya throw them your license and they will find ya.. oh yeah,... they will).  I walked into my Graceland, and began lovingly gazing at patio furniture.  Then lawn gnomes.  I found myself eyeballing "pond fountain pumps", even though I don't own a fountain.  Or a pond.  I dreamed of gutting our kitchen (again) and replacing everything with stainless steel appliances...I ran my lawn work stained hands over PVC piping like Ralphie did the Leg Lamp in A Christmas Story.  Why?  Cus I could.

Why was I looking at Clorox Pool tablets?  Do I really need another pair of garden gloves?  (Considering I dont wear them anyways- revert back to "lawn work stained hands")  I walked down aisles looking at light fixtures, Valspar paint, and storage bins.  I breathed in the smell of ceramic floor tile, and almost did one of those Julie Andrew twirls as I got to (man..oh man..) LUMBER!  I was in my paradise.  I was in my Heaven.  Like MacLemore in a Thrift Shop, I'da bought a broken keyboard, if it smelled like Miracle Grow.

I ended up buying my 4 bags of mulch and a bottle of Dasani water- $11.08 cash.  My mental tab by the time if was all said and done? Around $93,768.14.

Ponds aint cheap.

 OHHH what's 12, 13 years....

BLOGGER!  OH how I have missed thee!  Well ok, truth be told I haven't thought much about blabbing my inner most thoughts for some time- again, laziness, age, mortgages, adult children, small godchildren, kinda, sorta take up a lot of time, ya dig?

I used to be able to come up with plithy dribble at the drop of a hat.  I'd be drifting off to sleep, wondering why my thoughts were racing, and instead of counting sheep, I would get up, boot the old "Gateway" desktop (sitting next to our bed), and write a half hour diatribe about insomnia and stupid shit entering my nighttime thought process ("did I pay the DP&L bill, why is an olive floating in my brain).  I would see a commercial for "E-Harmony" and immediately write a damn Lifetime in my head- complete with names and weirdo scenarios.

Then eh, again, who knows what happened?  I always blame shit on "getting older", but I honestly think my new passions in the evenings were no bra, PJs, and any game that I could download onto my phone.  Dont get me wrong, those are STILL my PASSIONS (I will be playing that shit sans 8:42pm later this evening), but something lately has just rejuvinated my want.. no, my NEED to write?  If only for those that know me to read and begin compiling "evidence" for my commitment hearings down the road.

It possibly began this past Sunday.  It was Easter Sunday to be exact.  We just got done having an amazing family get together at my daughter and son in law's house, and because I can't leave any dish "unwashed", I stayed behind to help them with K-P detail.  My sister and her family went to the cemetery to visit my dad, nephew, and grandparents, and once I was done, and since St D and Abs drove home separately, I ventured to said cemetery on my own to pay my respects.

I used to love cemeteries.  I mean I would go on my lunch break (when I took them) and walk around, visiting "older" relatives, enjoying the peace.  The tranquility if you will.  Sunday was a gorgeous day- sunny, not super chilly... I found myself kneeling over my nephew and my dad, picking a few weeds around their stones... apologizing for stepping on them.  I then drove to the back of said cemetery and talked smack with my bestie's daughter... 

Then I realized- I was weeding my nephews tombstone.  I was talking smack to my best friend's daughter... laughing with my dad at how I hoped I wasn't stepping on his nutsack.

I realized- fucking life got in the way.

It smacks you in the face like an anvil.  It takes those that you love with every ounce of your soul without even asking permission.  

I've been absent from writing for some time, but I can guaran-freakin-tee you, the last 7 years, I've had no joy in regailing anything in writing.  We as a family and close knit friend community trudge on- we god damn HAVE TO!  And life in general is glorious.  Redd in Shawshank said it best-"get busy living, or get busy dying".  LIFE took that away from those we have lost.  WE have a choice.  So we get busy LIVING every. Damn. Day.  And I find beauty in the most ordinary things.

But sometimes, I'm reminded that "some birds aren't meant to be caged, their feathers are just too bright.  And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice, but still the place that you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone.  I guess I just miss my friend." 

I need to stop being afraid to write.  I need to laugh at the ridiculous.  I need to take my insomnia and turn it into an imaginary story of the ants I saw in my bathroom one night and their sad stories of their anthill condos being destroyed by leaf blowers.. and how Chris and Stephanie now have to find subsidized housing...

I wanna get back to silly.

PROUD PARENT OF SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER 221-53......

PROUD PARENT OF SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER 221-53......

It's been way too long.

And all that shit....blah fuckity blah blah.

Not that there has been a "lack" of anything inspiring, comical, uplifting, or shocking in my recent life- I just think my brain goes into "sleep" mode more often than it used to. I mean in the last year, I have moved my oldest daughter into an apartment (better than our own damn house) and she is now attending (and loving) mortuary school in Cincinnati. My youngest has her temporary permit, and, although she seems to drive quite well, shows no real motivation for it, which translates into my continuation as "taxi service", well into 2013 at this pace. St. D is doing grand; our jobs are, well, we still HAVE them...So all in all, we are doin' just fine....

Which leaves me time to notice the little annoying SHIT around me. :)

Ever since I became a parent, I have OOZED with pride over my children. Ask me about them, as if you really want to know, and I can talk your ear off for an hour without stopping for air. In my eyes my girls are the most beautiful, smartest, and enriching goofballs that a sperm and egg could have ever created!

But ONLY if you ask me about them. (and ONLY if you really seem to want to know).

Don't get me wrong- immediate family, grandparents, aunts, etc... they will get the 411 ALWAYS! Close family friends too. It's just part of the "deal" we make with all of the above. I won't even bat an eye if my close girlfriend gets out the latest school pictures of her brood, and will proudly show off said pics on my hallway wall and fridge. And whereas there is nothing WRONG with being proud of our children, and WANTING to talk non-stop about their first bowel movements, the goal they scored in youth soccer, and the B & E wrap that they beat in court, as a society, we have to start realizing that not EVERYONE cares. To be honest, MOST DONT! When I see "Karen" in Walmart in the checkout line, and she casually makes small talk and asks how "the girls" are doing- I know to keep it to a quick "Oh GREAT! I couldn't be prouder!..And your kids? How are they?" Karen and I both have ice cream, milk, Vodka, and Ring Dings that need checked out and taken home QUICKLY.... so WRAP UP THE NICETIES!!

So it still, to this day, amazes me how much our society LOVES to place our moppets on some God-forsaken pedastal, to the tune of creating an unsafe situation. I see it EVERYDAY I drive to and from work- when I park at the grocery. I know that the red Windstar van that seems to travel my same root in the mornings is so fucking proud of "Kellen" (#32, Northmont Green 3rd grade Pee Wee Football) and "Kylie" (7th grade cheer- Northmont Middle School), that said "proud parent" is willing to PLASTER this shit on the rear window... most likely fucking up the rear defrost mechanism...for not just me, but I'm sure the area pedophile, to see.

To study.

To remember.

Whereas I find it more annoying than anything, I'm sure "Walter", the registered sex offender, knows now that if he attends the Northmont "Green" 3rd grade Pee Wee football game in the fall to "scope" out, that #32's name is "Kellen"....hoping that "Kellen"'s proud mamma and pop aren't watching when he follows...

And before you think I swiped this from Season 4 of Showtimes "Dexter", I make no claim to coming up with this horrific scenario myself- "Dexter"'s creators seem to also be annoyed by the same bullshit. The unassuming beige van with the "sticker family" on the back (another one of my all time "favorites") depicts "Mom", "Dad", "Kyle" and lil' sister "Emma" (can't remember the exact names, fuck it, be happy I'm penning this blog- don't feel like researching the correct names... moving on....). "Trinity", the Season 4 serial killer (played BRILLIANTLY by John Lithgow) lurks a few spaces down to see a young girl (too young to be the mother, most likely the sitter), getting young "Emma" out of her car seat while an older, maybe 9-10 year old KYLE gets out and waits. Upon entering the "arcade", he sees "Kyle" all alone.. playing a game. "Kyle"? (Trinity asks the young, unsuspecting boy)... "Yea? How did you know my name"? "I'm a police officer Kyle- I have already informed your sitter and she has Emma out by my police car- your parents have been in an accident and you need to come with me right away...."

Do I need to go on?

"Yea, well my kid isn't stupid enough to fall for this... we have told them that...."

Are ya sure? I'm not stupid enough to blast my kid's names and accomplishments on my rear view window either, in some attempt to PROVE that they are WONDERFUL and that I'm PROUD OF THEM to the entire world! I pretty much tell them all the time in the privacy of my own home, without the "Trinitys" and "Walters" watching.. and waiting.

By the way, the #32 "Kellen" and "Kylie" are made up. The Windstar Van is made up. Even I know better than to print the ACTUAL minivan and the children's names and jersey numbers on a blog. But the vehicle does exist. Actually there are about three that I see everyday... license numbers in view as well as the prodigal children and their amazing extra curricular activites.

However, I wish "Walter" was a figment of our nightmares.

But he's out there.

So what does this all mean? I guess it's just my ranting and annoyance (remember, my blog, my opinion, you don't have to agree). But it would be nice to be able to teach our children that we love them, are proud of them, and what not without always having to have their name in print on the back of our 2002 Chevy Blazer. You can be a great athlete, captain of the cheer squad, and class president without always having the "printed notoriety".

After all, isn't that what teaching humility is all about?

A time for new beginnings, and all of that horseshit....

I feel jipped.

I mean, being a Buckeye gal born and raised, the one thing I can truly say that I love about livin in the midwest is that we get to experience all four seasons in their purest form. Granted the Spring and Fall can bring confusing times of "heat" in the car in the morning that turns to "AC" by quittin time, causing the sinuses to throw a coniption fit, but all in all, I've come to enjoy the fab four growin up in SW Ahia.

There's nuttin like that first "jacket weather" morning somewhere in late September that leads to the slight color changes in the trees- the smell of someone in the neighborhood hosting a bonfire (or committing arson, never quite sure), the sounds of NFL Sundays on the boob tube, and our local vendors selling pumpkins and haystacks. These all inevitably flow into putting the jacket away for your winter coat because Jamie Simpson on Newscenter 7 tells us that "we might see our first bout of that "white stuff" during the rush hour evening drive, so bundle up Miami Valley". We kick on the furnace, always to that initial smell of something burning in the ducts. The pumpkins, now rotted from sitting out on the lawn for 2 months, make way for anything made of pine. Little twinkling lights adorn most homes (unless you are one of our Jewish neighbors, then it's a blow up lawn Menora), and Lite 94.9 starts their 24 hours of Christmas music. Eventually, once we ring in the New Year, schools are inevitably delayed or closed from ice storms, Winter's fury. St. D and myself rev up the snowblower, and clear a small one foot path down the sidewalk and driveway. We go sledding in West Milton down the "sledding hill", and walk through the Englewood Reserve's natural "winter wonderland"; admiring the ice coated branches and veils of white that surround the trails.

By March, we are usually ready for the blanket to melt, and for a tinge of "jacket" weather to begin. By the beginning of Spring, it's a welcoming sound to hear birds chirping outside of our window, being able to open up the windows "a crack". By early April, the sight of the first daffodils blooming, that first scent of lawn chemicals polluting yards.... Lowes and Home Depot hit the airwaves reminding us to get our lawns ready for a busy summer, and by May, I'm ready to spend Abbey's college education fund on flowers and mulch... preparing ourselves for the hazy lazy days of Summer. Days become longer. The window air conditioner units are "in place", making Uncle Dayton Power and Light Co. "very happy".

But again, we were jipped.

I grew weary and tired of hearing folks chime "My GOD, I can't believe what WONDERFUL WEATHER we are having"!!! I would go out and stroke our snow blower, who by this time, started filling out paperwork for unemployment benefits. I found myself having to scramble to get my capris and summer clothes washed and ready- my pasty white girl legs, still realing from not seeing much "light" in the last few months, blinding me in the mirror.

But I did what I had to do. I tried to go out and walk, and enjoy the early Spring that God, the Devil, or Lex Luther managed to bestow upon us. A few days ago, I found myself walking around our neighborhood with our smiling pup, and got my first tinge of excitement when I began to smell beautiful spring flowers and bushes. As I smiled, the sun beaming down on my pasty pale face, I began digging the beautifully mild temperatures through the majesty of smell. Suddenly, I got a whiff of my dog's "shit" bag that we take along to pick up her crap, and it suddenly became an epiphany of my mood for again, being jipped outta my winter.


I truly did need an attitude adjustment. I mean it's no one's fault that I was jilted by Mother Nature, unless you wanna blame Al Gore and all of his "global warming" bullshit. (yea, let's just blame Al, just cus we can). I did our weekly grocery shopping with my Lil Abs at our local Walmart last night, and as I sweated profusely from the 82 degree evening, I began she and I's weekly ritual of grocery shopping. Her reminder to me that she is in need of a new bathing suit shifted me to the mindset of "JESUS... a BATHING SUIT! Isn't it only February?" But alas, again, I was snapped back to the reality that it was indeed March, and the first day of Spring. She picked out a very pretty purple bikini, reminding me too that my baby is 15, and yea, wearing (quite perfectly) a bikini.

Then it happened.

God was growing quite weary of my "mental bitching".

Truly a sign from above.

As swimsuit model Abbey and I got to the car, I began loading the back with the 514 plastic grocery sacks, I heard a commotion underneath a mini van parked a few spaces over.

It was a bird, in some sort of distress.

As I kept loading the family truckster up with our purchases, I began to have a feeling of dread. I absolutely HATE to hear anything in distress.. but ESPECIALLY an animal! I did a quick peek under the mini van, and it appeared that this little wren had a broken wing... now honestly I couldn't tell, but the poor little guy definitely was having a rough time. The squalking was unnerving, and I could feel a lump in my throat. I figured maybe that unfortunately when the mini van pulled into the parking space, maybe it clipped the birds wing? It's cries were deafening, and I found myself just wanting to get the car loaded and leave.

Suddenly, the calvary came... IN DROVES!

I couldn't help but watch it as it unfolded in front of me.

At least a dozen birds came swooping in from the sky, and surrounded the mini van. One little bird seemed to be talking to his distressed friend, quite the conversation it sounded. I began wondering what he was saying... "It's ok Paul... ITS OK!!!! We heard your cries and we are here buddy, hang in there!" Even as I walked by the mini van to put my empty cart back in the nearest "corral", the birds NEVER left.

I noticed on my way back over to my car, that SOMEHOW, the heroic friend was able to SCOOT the distressed bird out to the open lot... the distressed bird's cry now silent. Suddenly, without warning, BOTH birds spread their little bird wings and FLEW AWAY, followed by the entourage.

Now at this point, I had NOOOO idea what was initially "wrong" with the distressed little bird under the mini van- I must have been incorrect about it's wing since it managed to fly away. I wondered if maybe he had been stuck in something?

But what I did know is that I witnessed a beautiful occurance in nature. A band of tiny little warriors, hearing the sound of a fellow species in need, and came to the calling. I remember thinking initially that, even if this little distressed bird is dying, he wasn't going to die alone. He would have his posse there to guide him to the light. But the fact that somehow Baby Wren MD was schooled in the art of "wing" repair, what I thought would be a terrible end to my day turned out to be the awakening that I needed!

First day of Spring indeed! I'm suddenly enjoying the beauty that is the cherry blossom trees in my fair city. The smells of grass and flowers. The beautiful sights of young children riding their bikes and playing hopscotch in front of their homes.

Now watch it fucking snow.

How Long Has it Been??!!! 14 Minutes???

    

And no, the title of this blog doesn't have a DAMN thing to do with my absence. Yea I know.. it's been an oogle of months since I've put the petal to the medal and "created", but holy hell I just don't have the juice when I need it! It used to be that if a really good blog idea popped into my cranium, I'd stop everything that I was doing, whether that meant interrupting work, wiping my butt, pulling over to the side of the highway, or waking from half a foggy sleep and logging onto a computer.. SOMEWHERE... and just start clickity-clackin away! As of late, when they come, I giggle to myself, put another Cheetoh in my gullet, and check to see what that night's episode of Little House on the Prairie might be, and whether or not it's worth my time.

 

But there comes a time in one's life that you just have to let shit happen. This one has been kind of stuck deep within, and I really feel the need to just let it all out.

Last month was my high school 25 year reunion. OH YEA! TWENTY FIVE enchiladas... the "big" one... well ok, one of the "big" ones. Five years ago I went to my 20 year reunion and honestly, had a lot of fun. I saw a lot of my old classmates at our alma mater's football game, then had a great family BBQ the next afternoon. I came away with a lot of memories and everyone I saw looked great and seemed to be doing well in life. Keep in mind I didn't get any kind of formal invite in the mail, nor did I receive a phone call or hell, even a damn text message from someone saying "Hey Terri... guess what... the big 2-5 is comin up, wanna help us organize, or hell, just show up?" Honestly I would have never known we were HAVING one had it not been for my beloved St. D having a.. well yea, you know what I'm about to say...

A Facebook Account.

Ok. I've made it abundantly clear in past blogs my feelings about the entire FB taking over the world issue- killing what was once my and the entire Western Civilizations "love" of "Myspace". And no, I still to this minute do NOT have a Facebook account nor will I in the future. I mean sure, St. D lets me get on his account to browse pictures and "laugh-stalk" with my sister from time to time, but honestly, I have no desire to get one of my own. As I've stated in the past, my affliction lies mainly with the entire social genre of modern age that "once you love something, watch out.. cus eventually something cooler and better will come along". EASILY FUCKING DISPOSABLE SOCIETY! And to my knowledge, I do not recall a time when I heard "Well if you dont have a Myspace account.. you wont get information, you wont receive copies of photos, you dont get SHIT sucka!" Folks would just say "Oh ok no problem.. what is your email address and I can ship all of that to you toot sweet!" Or better yet, I can mail you this info via good ol fashioned regular US mail! Now-a-days there is this attitude of "Well if you have Facebook great! if you dont, tough shit sucka!"

 

But I HAVE come to peace with the fact that my beloved Myspace is pretty much dead (although this mutha fuckin blog WILL be posted on it.. OH YES IT WILL) and that Facebook and it's whore second cousin "Twitter" is pretty much here to stay, so since this is a fact... and since it's tough "bein on top" sometimes... Facebook gets fingered for the blame in what I'm about to say... (hehehehe.. I said "fingered"... moving on...)

In July, St. D was Facebooking and happened to announce to me, while I sat watching reruns of Seinfeld, Cheetoe-less, that MY HS graduating class was "getting together" in August for my 25th reunion. "Oh really, when?" was all I could muster up at the time. "Ummmm looks like it's the weekend of Aug 5-7". I believe it was about this time that I was thinking "shitty weekend" because a) we had my daughter's college visit on the morning of the 6th and b) her birthday was the 7th. I kept wondering to myself that even though those ARE INDEED two very important issues, why we couldn't go to the get together on Friday night, and still make the broo-ha-ha on the evening of the 6th since her visit was in the morning.

Then it hit me.

I really didn't CARE to go.

But why?

I mean, there isn't one single person that I graduated with that I didn't like. I loved high school.. was popular and all that horse shit. There wasn't some "dude" that I didn't want to "run into" since I married and share a mortgage with my high school sweetie. I pretty much look butt-assed the same as I did not only at the 20 year, but also IN HIGH SCHOOL- plus a few extra pounds, so who cares? I just couldn't understand my sudden "blase" feeling about the entire issue.

And then... "it" hit me again (not sure what the fuck "it" is.. but damn.. kept gittin me...)

 

There truly is no more "magic" to high school reunions anymore. (again, my blog, my opinion, dont like it? suck it!)

Back "in the day", you always kept in touch with maybe a few very close friends from high school. These were the chosen few that you continued to get drunk with at parties, were a bridesmaid or usher in their wedding, made "god parent" at baptisms, met up with on Sundays for tailgates and BBQ's. These were and still are to this day true friends. Could be just one, maybe ten. But they never needed to know what your mutha fuckin Twitter account was cus if they wanted to "tweet" your sorry ass.. they would drive over and walk in your front door and do it in person!

Then, there was "the rest". Not necessarily folks that you didn't like in school per say, but just folks that were "friends back then", and you just drifted off after school. You didn't wish them any ill will, but just really didn't lose much sleep over "losing touch". Some folks had a choice few that they maybe wished dead, and if they never saw their triflin asses again, life would be that much better.

But when it came time for the "reunions"... there was always a little bit of "pomp and circumstance" involved. Maybe you lost 50 lbs since high school (or the last reunion), got VP of sales at the new job, and bleached ya grill. Maybe you are newly divorced, and HOPE that the hot basketball captain's wifey-poo from the last reunion aint in the picture anymore! Maybe you just want the food and booze and to see who your class has tragically lost since the last shin-dig.

But with the majesty of Facebook, where's the mystery? Even if you loathed some fucker back in the day, it seems like the more friends you have on the "book", the better life is, so hell yea you "friend request" said fucker, and some how make amends via the world wide web. Your goal is to have everyone in the class of ---- from ------------------ HS on your friends list. I mean jesus, there are freakin "groups" you can join, "clubs" you can start up, making sure that you NEVER lose touch with ANYONE ever again!

Your entire graduating class, former teachers, and Lou the custodian knows you lost 50 lbs cus you have 318 pics posted of your new wardrobe. Mr. Basketball now looks like a coked out homeless douchebag, so you have no desire to even TRY to claw him away from "Alice" his boo... and considering "Alice" is still thinner than you, and has a better hairstyle (you know this from Basketball Douche's photos), then why bother?

And "whose who on the death list"- NO WORRIES! Cus I'm sure every other day on SOMEONE'S WALL from __________ High School class of _______ , is a "In Memory of _______________ tragically cut down this morning in an unfortunate zebra mauling accident off the coast of Australia..." Forty-two comments of "OMG.. in our prayers" later, a FB memorial site is fired up.

No longer are there questions of "Oh wow Margie! It's been YEARS!!!! Do you have any children?"

Now it's "Oh wow Margie, since I last read your status this morning, how is little Natalie's infected ass boil, and did she cry when you had to have it lanced?"

Replace "MY GOD JOSIE, YOU LOOK WONDERFUL!" with "DAYUM JOSIE GIRL... that extensive gastric bypass surgery for which you had to argue for 10 months with Blue Cross and Blue Shield to allow you to have, resulting in a horrific bowel obstruction HAS MADE A DIFFERENCE! I'm glad to have read that you passed a turd this morning at 8:17am!"

 

So yea.. I dunno...

Social networking has taken a lot of the compelling and often times "fun" "wondering" out of reunions. If I already know what the fuck you are wearing cus you posted 10 pics (from your Droid) on your page announcing to your 718 friends that "this is what I'm wearing to the formal dinner at my reunion tonight!", then what's the point?