Alive in Wonderland

Mom Bloggers are the new rock stars

Need proof you say? Check out me and five other OC Mom Bloggers dorking it out in this lip dub.

*******

Sheesh! Mom bloggers are sure getting a beating in the traditional media and online world lately. With articles like this one from the New York Times and the following comment and commentary bloodbath that followed, you'd think we are advocating tossing our children into a rushing river, instead of simply reaching for our dreams and expressing ourselves--in small and big ways--through our blogs. Who knew creative, smart, driven women could be so divisive? (Said with sarcasm, naturally.) 

I believe in the power of the mom blogger. I think blogging is revolutionary for women. I honestly do. It's radically extended the reach of some women who before blogging, didn't have much of a voice. I'm proud as all get up to be a mom blogger, because I've seen first hand how it's transformed the lives of women--in a positive way. In an empowering way. Again, sometimes in little ways, like giving her a creative outlet or building a community of support, and sometimes in larger ways, like leading to a new career. It's all good stuff and all equally important in my opinion.

Here's the thing, as moms we have more things in common than we have differences. I try to embrace the differences and then get all giddy and syrupy when I meet (read) a mom who has the same struggles, triumphs and burns with the same hatred for laundry as me.  Blogs can function as a conduit for these connections.  

So, now you know my stand on mom bloggers and you've been properly primed for this video. Six OC mom bloggers, including moi, dorking it up in a lip dub we made to "Our Lips Are Sealed." Because whenever a PR person or brand representative asks me, what's the best way to reach moms, I always tell them the same thing: '80s music.

The bloggers in the lip dub are:

 

Andrea from the blog Hip Moms Who Work.

 

Marcy from The Glamorous Life Association and Publications.

 

Beckey from Hippo Brigade.

 

Roxanne from Me and My Monster.

 

Kara-Noel from Eli's Lids.

 

Me from here...and here.

**disclaimer: 

These bloggers may or may not share my ernest opinion of mom bloggers.

Bob's Big Boy: Reunited and it feels so good

For some reason, most of my fondest memories of being a kid are associated either with food or music. Along with the AM radio,  Bob's Big Boy played a major roll in the first 15 or so years of my life. 

There used to be a Big Boy right down the street from where I grew-up. As a little girl it was a place to go on special occasions or for a special treat to get milk shakes, brownie sundaes, and fried shrimp dinners. 

In High School, Bob's was the meeting spot after concerts, dances, and parties.  We'd hang out in the parking lot, climb on the back of Bob to get our picture taken, and sneak cigarettes from the machine in the lobby. It was THE place to fraternize with your friend over french fries, kind of like Arnold's, but without Leather Tuscadero.

After too long an exile, Bob is back in Orange County and I couldn't wait to bring my kids and Larry (who knew it as Shoney's Big Boy on the East Coast). I ordered usual, which is the same now as when I was an eight-year old, the child's grilled cheese, fries, and a strawberry silver goblet shake.  I'm a little surprised and probably disproportionally happy to report that it was just as good as I remember.  

I don't know why exactly, but watching my daughter enjoy her own shake and kid's chili spaghetti (accompanied by the traditional garlic toast) and then declare it "the .best. spaghetti. ever!" gave me a thrill. Like I knew some sort of pop culture mythos was going to live on.  

Now, here is the big question that has torn Bob's Big Boy enthusiasts apart for decades, pitting traditionalists against progressives: Do you dip your fries in your shake or not?  

Personally, I'm a french fry shake dipper.  I love it. So does my daughter, but the act never fails to produce cringes and shudders from the male side of the table. If you have an opinion, please, by all means, weigh in on the matter. 

I give the return of Bob's Big Boy a big thumbs-up accompanied by a Fonzie-style "Aaayyy."  Now, if only we can get Naugles, Pup-n-Taco, and the lunch counter at Buffum's to come back to OC, then I'd be in retro '70s heaven. 

 We missed you too big guy. We missed you, too.

✻✻✻✻✻✻

Read my story about Bob's Big Boy's strawberry silver goblet shake: 

...and I never cried again. Not really.

✻

You can go to my Blip.Fm channel to listen to Peaches and Herb's 

Reunited. 

RIP John Hughes. We won't forget about you.

When I heard the news (on Twitter) that legendary writer and director John Hughes had died I immediately went on YouTube to watch clips and montages from the enormous amount of movies he is responsible for making. 

I laughed as I watched them and I began to realize the impact his creative genius has had on my life from a young age – Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Pretty in Pink- and on through adulthood — Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Mr. Mom, She’s Having a Baby. Hughes’ list of classic movies is as long as your brother’s mullet in high school, and each is, if this is even possible, even more entertaining.

Starting with the perilous and often nauseating genre of teen movies, he was able to show us everything that was right about being a teenager. Everything that was fun, painful, weird, but ultimately good. Ultimately hopeful. His movies made us feel it was OK to be who we were because we saw a little bit of ourselves and our friends in his characters. 

From The Breakfast Club: Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us ... In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case,a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club. 

Hughes mastered the nearly impossible task of writing for teenagers without coming across like, "Hey, kids, look at me. I'm 'Cool' just like you." Like in high school when your mom said you should buy a dress because it was "funky." (OK, thanks Mom, but "funky?" Nice try.) He never resorted to frat house raunchiness or lewd pranks, but frankly portrayed the undeniable truth that teenagers think and talk about, and sometimes even have, sex. 

His movies felt authentic. From the dialogue ( "I'm not THAT pristine." "You mess with the bull you'll get the horns.") to the wardrobe (Judd Nelson's trench coat and gloves; Anthony Hall's yellow button-down shirt) to the music (Simple Minds, Kate Bush, Psychedelic Furs), it all felt real and spoke to us as teenagers. 

In Hughes' movies that traipsed around the land of grown-ups, he continued to glint sweet little moments of life as he took on adult lives with the same honesty. Optimistic and funny, he had a knack for telling stories about people who were far from perfect, but find their way to happiness -- usually in a "What I was looking for was right here in front of me the whole time" epiphany. 

One of my favorite scenes ever, is from the movie "Planes, Trains and Automobiles." The tension, humor, and hostility in it makes it almost uncomfortable to watch. I love John Candy, and his portrayal of Del, the (secretly) widowed shower

curtain ring salesman is heartbreaking and inspiring all at the same time -- not an easy feat to write.

   

(This video is from one of my YouTube Channels. I copied it and uploaded it last year a few times because it is one of my favorites, but Paramount keeps taking it down. Watch it while you can.)

Now, looking back on the spectrum of his work, I feel a surprising loss personally , but I also feel a great gratitude to have been the generation he shined his brilliant, hopeful light on. We won't forget about you, John Hughes.

Other things out there written about John Hughes:

"We'll know when we get there" wrote "Sincerely, John Hughes."

Dan Taylor wrote this on his blog.

This is a quick montage of his movies: John Hughes "Teenage Wasteland."

Music critic Ben Wener about his impact on pop.

1982: Don't stop believin'

(Lori, Christine, Suzie (me), and Bridgett) 

I can't even tell you how much I love this picture.  It's my friends and me graduating from 8th grade in 1982. 

I know some are going to hate me for saying this, but I loved Jr. High.  I loved the music, the roller skating, my friends, 7-up Lip Smakers, the boys, my teachers, my pets, and the new freedom being a little old brought me.  

Just thinking about this time in my life brings me a small, warm feeling deep inside my heart.  I'm fortunate to have had that kind of experience as a young girl.  I am so grateful I did. 

I wanted to bring you back to that time with me, so I made you this mixed tape with some of my favorite songs of 1982.  

(You can just click through it to hear a little bit of each song.) 

✼✼✼✼✼✼✼✼✼✼  

 

This is my entry for Marcy's "Fro Me To You."   

I'd like to thank Facebook for the following story

 

Remember my friend Carol from this '80s classic photo? She was the one with the Aquanet and the wall plastered with band posters?  She and I reconnected on the all mighty Facebook and actually had a face to face at The Sugar Shack in Huntington Beach on Saturday morning. 

What's it called when you have two very distinctly opposite feelings at exactly the same time?  A paradox of emotions, I guess.  That is what it was like.  At once I felt very young again, like we were 13-years old and laughing about something Simon Le Bon said, and then also very old, wondering how it was possible that so many years had gone by.  

As kids we were bonded together by our love of music and were a good pair because she loved to laugh and I loved to make her laugh. We always had fun together and we were still feeling that, we both wanted some more time to catch up. So after breakfast we wandered around downtown Huntington Beach and then stopped for a coffee at Starbucks to talk a little more.  

How can it be that Carol knew what Starbucks was? How could she have on a hoodie?  How could she talk about her marriage to some guy named Richie, when she is going to marry Richard Butler from the Psychedelic Furs?  Was that a pink cell phone she had?  How was this possible when she is just a freshman in high school?  

But, one thing was the same. We still laughed--a lot.  I told her some stories and she threw her head back and laughed and laughed--right there in Starbucks! Starbucks with Carol!  I'm still shaking my head.

*************

Of course, I'm listening to "Heaven" by The Psychedelic Furs.  

Who still rock, just like Carol.

                                                                              

"Boys" by 13-year-old-me

(Park View Elementary, Huntington Beach, 1981)

This is a page from my eighth-grade, homemade scrapbook. I simply titled it "Boys." This is everything I knew about boys at 13-years-old. This is how I saw them.

They rightly fell into seven straightforward categories; funny, nice, sweet, shy, cute, weird, and the ultimate pre-teen compliment, neat hair.

If I would have made one of these in my late teens/early twenties these would have been the seven categories; ominous, broke, promising, smoker, disapproving, commitment-phobe and, neat hair.

In my late twenties/early thirties the seven categories would have been; employed, clever, pliable, pre-approved, audacious, well-read, and, neat hair.

The funny thing is, when looking for a husband, the seven categories were (roughly); funny, nice, sweet, shy, cute, weird, and neat hair.

For more Junior High fun read:
"I think you're a total babe...wait, no I don't."
"These were the best of time" or at least Styx told us they were.
"'Stay Sweet'" and other well-wishes from Jr. High."

"Everything's drawn and super '80s"

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you have probably caught-on that I am a child of the '70s and a teenager of the '80s and a wandering, waitress soul of the '90s...and I mercilessly drag you through every Love's-Baby-Soft, day-glo, did-you-see-Friends-last-night minute of it...see here...and here...rats! and here for clarification.

My friend Pete, who HAS been reading me since the began (thanks Pete), sent me this from Wil Wheaton's Blog. Wil is equally and appropriately distracted by his childhood/teenage/wandering days.

Here is the literal version of the song, "Take me on," by A-Ha.

Look at that, I wrote about the "Take Me On" couple briefly here. Okay, that was the last time I am going to link to myself.

...here.

Back when I was a runway model...

I attended charm school at the vanguard of all things classy and charming in the '70s: Montgomery Wards. When I was ten-years old I went every Wednesday night to charm school classes in a tiny, windowless room you accessed by walking through the girl's dressing room on the lower floor.

It wasn't that I was interested in charm and all the perks the come with being incredibly charming (because you only realize its power as an adult). My motivation? I wanted to be a model and at the end of the Montgomery Wards charm school, if you passed and had the charm of Dinah Shore, you took part in a runway show out in the mall (Huntington Center) in front of friends, family, and hapless shoppers.

The classes were standard charm school fare; walking with a book on your head, sitting in a skirt, eating with a knife, sneezing in a tissue, and accepting party invitations. Really, all the training needed for a flawless, professional fashion show.

This was WAY before the supermodel furor of the '80s. I believe my drive was purely the idea of everyone looking at me...on a hastily assembled stage...in new clothes....from Montgomery Wards.

We could choose ANYTHING from MONTGOMERY WARDS to model, but for reasons only known to 10-year-old me I wore a nightgown and a bikini in my two strolls down the catwalk. I remember people laughing because I waved and smiled as I made my way down and back, breaking the important aesthetic theory of "suspension of disbelief"...in the middle of a mall...at a fashion show...for Montgomery Wards.

A brief performance of "The Hustle" was also part of the "show." We all wore the same green and yellow jumper and danced to the song played from an eight-track player with a microphone propped up next to it.

These were probably the only guys around my age in attendance, by intimidation and the promise of new OP t-shirt (I'm guessing), my brother, Randall, and two cousins.

They look really into it. They were huge fans of my early work...for Montgomery Wards.

Another awkward and tediously revealing post for "Sincerely 'fro me to you" at "We are THAT family." Thanks Kristen!

"I think you are a total babe!" Wait, no I don't

I was looking through my seventh grade yearbook and came across this inscription from James.

From the looks of it, he originally thought he was writing in Wendy's yearbook.

When he realized his mistake, he quite resourcefully crossed out her name and replaced it with mine ...then he crossed out that whole "I think you are a total BABE!" bit.

He could have made a tad more of an effort. At least he still wanted me to have a "rad summer!"

Go to "Sincerely 'Fro Me to You!" at We are THAT Family, where bloggers can post their (preferably embarrassing) stories from the past.

The ghost in me...she really don't fade

On Thursday, Larry, Chris, his friend Stacey, Lisa and her husband, Joe, went to see the Psychedelic Furs (Yaz was the headlining band) at the Pacific Amphitheater. It was a beautiful night, perfect for sitting outside and taking in some nostalga.

When the first song began, Richard Butler came bouncing (seriously, bouncing) on to the stage and started to belt out, President Gas, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Like the feeling you get when your weird uncle has had too much wine and starts to talk about "the meaning of love" or "Bill O'Reily"--it's going to be a long night. Butler's voice was rough, I can only suspect from years of smoking and screeching out lyrics like "inside you the time moves and she don't fade the ghost in you she don't fade" (Ghost in you) with heartfelt passion.

It was awkward. I almost had to turn away? I held my breath. Then came the next song and the next and with each one, Butler's, zeal and downright perkiness began to charm me. He sounded better on the sweeter songs (Heaven and Sister Europe), more melodic. The concert just got better as the songs piled up.

Then it happened: I was lost for a moment during the song Heartbreak Beat. It was the breeze of a summer from my teen days blowing through the air. It wasn't a particular memory or person that came to mind--I was just there--1987. The melody and sound of a voice as familiar as a friends was lulling me into another time, briefly.

Then it was over.

Someone said something or I looked up to see an ad for some product that didn't exist then or I looked down and saw my iPhone, something jolted me back. (Just like when Christopher Reeve saw that cursed penny in "Somewhere in Time." **deep sigh at the thought of that movie**)

The Furs were still good. They looked old, man did they ever look old. But taking a hard look at the audience, to be honest, we all have packed on the years. It was fun. I had worried that maybe the only redeeming thing a band like The Psychedelic Furs had to offer me was a link to my past--maybe that was it. But their music is enduring. It is still alive and meaningful.

I wish I could say the same for Yaz--yikes!

Psychedelic Furs tomorrow night

I am starting to get excited about the Pschedelic Furs tomorrow night. I am going to see them at the OC Fair with Larry, Chris from Dharma Bum, Lisa Mertins and he husband.

The Furs were one of my top five bands in high school. Even though Richard Butler wasn't one of MY "High School Husbands" he was my friend Carol's. (Read "Hair You Can See From Space.")

Carol would spend countless hours in class writing out the lyrics to Psychedelic Furs songs on white ruled paper from her notebook. She'd then sign it "Mrs. Bulter," kiss it with her big red lips and pass it to me in the hall between classes. Being the stellar student I was, I would read each one from top to bottom and then write my rebuttal in the form of the lyrics to a Split Enz song. This is how we got through history (or whatever) and probably why we had to repeat more than one class.

She loved The Furs and so did I--still do. I'm starting to get psyched: downloading songs, looking through old pictures, and watching videos on YouTube. Here is one of my favorites. (Though my absolute fav is the song "She is Mine." Hope they play it tomorrow night.)

(And so what if I'm going to wear pink and pretend Richard is singing to me? It's not like I'm wearing a raspberry beret to a Prince concert or anything...but, equally tragic.)

One thing leads to another

The FIXX was right, "One thing (really does) lead to another." I posted the picture of high school-me on The Mom Blog at ocregister.com and I told Jenny -Grey Hairs and Teddy Bears- Angelici I would give her $5 to post a picture from her Madonna days, and she did! -- This is my fierce look.

I know, flippin' awesome!

Then I double dog dared Theresa -Blog on Board- -Walker, the editor of the Mom Blog (among other things) to do the same. She too, did it!

K- the 70's weren't nearly as brutal as the 80's as far as regret goes...

All of this 80's/high school talk got my friend Lisa Mertins nostalgic for times gone-by and she posted this on her site -- Lisa Mertins' Life Illustrated.

Doesn't she look very jet-set-ish and sophisticated?

Please come and "Take On Me" and post a picture of yourself from high school/the 80's. It won't be the "Bitterest Pilll," but "I Confess," it does hurt a little.

Tips On Baking And Getting Really Big 80's Hair: My Interview with Andrea Charroin

My high school friend, Andrea Charroin, has made the leap into the cyber-writer world and has her own column: Here.

About Andrea: She had the coveted job in high school of working at Camel Records in Huntington Beach, she had a bitchen' handmade "Sixty Eight Gun" jacket, she walked down the aisle at her wedding to the tune of "Girl U Want by Devo," and she named her boys Dexter and Felix (possibly the best name combos ever).

She is a dear old friend and here is my "interview" with her:

SB: What kind of background do you have in baking?

AC: I attended a pastry program in San Francisco and then did my stints in kitchens all over the city. I worked in some fancy-smanchy restaurants and a mom and pop bakery. I got married, had a baby and left SF for glamorous Redding, CA. I had my own bakery in Redding, it was in need of a great local place, and I was going to fill that niche. I had quite the little spot, but closed my doors in November 2006.

SB: How did your sister get her hair so big in high school?
(Here is her sister, Kristy, or Krispy, in 1986.)

AC: Do you think NOW is the time to out Krispy? Well, the secret needs to get out. The '80's are back
after all. I remember a lot of experimenting with egg-whites and sugar (ooh! a meringue!) and excessive
amounts of aerosol mousse. What I remember working most effectively was shaving cream and aqua-net hair spray. We affectionately called aqua-net AQUA-GLUE. I do believe that the blue can was more difficult to find and was of course more desired. I wonder if we need to buy back some emission credits from Al Gore with all the damage we did!

You Know You Were a Teenager In Orange County In The 80's If...

You broke up with your 11th grade boyfriend once you saw him in his Farrell's uniform.

You smoked cloves at Old World on Saturday nights listening to OMD.

You were forbidden from saying "whatever" to your mom.

You could relate to the plight of "Julie" in the movie.

You and your friend ditched school the day the Golden Bear was torn down--and cried.

You couldn't decide: Was The Poor Man a poser?

You were banned from using the family washing machine to acid wash your jeans-- following a tragic incident with your brother's OP shorts.

You went to see "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence" and said it was great, purely because David Bowie was in it.

You spent most of your time at Safari Sam's seeing bands like 10,000 Maniacs, The Meat Puppets, Jane's Addiction and The Hags until your mom found out you were spending most of your time at Safari Sam's seeing bands like 10,000 Maniacs, The Meat Puppets, Jane's Addiction and The Hags.

You thought Olivia Newton John's hairstyle (with braided headband) in the video "Physical" was not only awsome, but worth replicating.

Your dad wore a rust colored Members Only Jacket--and you didn't care.

You thought The cartoon Ziggy was hilarious.

The summer MTV launched, you and your friends never left the house.

You held the erroneous belief that combat boots went with everything.

You refused to take your little sister to the Orange Street Fair unless she changed out of her "Cats" sweatshirt.

You pondered the eternal question: Should I let my boyfriend wear his bolo tie to prom?

You were embarassed for Bruce Springsteen when he did his "little dance" in the video "Dancing in the Dark" but, understandably, not for Molly Ringwald when she did the same dance in "The Breakfast Club."

Friday Five: Why Can't It Be 1986? Why?

1) Darth Vader being a jerk: Now this Star Wars I WANT to see.

2) Only 80's Retro Page.

3) Square Pegs: The quintessential 80's teen TV show. This clip has Richard Blade and...and an explanation between Punk and New Wave...Devo...and...

4) Macintosh Commercial 1984

5) From the very funny Evany Thomas for McSweeney's List

'80s Lineups That Read Like Tabloid Headlines.

BY EVANY THOMAS - - - -

Lords of the New Church Fear Afterlife

Starship Sparks Crowded House

Chicago, Boston, Berlin, Asia: Damned

The Waitresses Squeeze the Specials

Pet Shop Boys Fixx Stray Cats, Toto

Flock of Seagulls Jam the Tubes

Sisters of Mercy Cure Television

Scorpions Sting Tracey Ullman

Police Poison Loverboy Cult

The English Beat New Kids on the Block

Scandal, Madness, Germs

Yes, the Smiths Heart Everything But the Girl

Gene Loves Jezebel

"Stay Sweet" and other well wishes from Jr. High

I went to Junior High School at the now defunct Park View Elementary in Huntington Beach. I recently pulled out my old yearbooks and found I was drawn more to all the inscriptions and signatures of my friends, than to who was voted "Class Flirt."

While reading them, the thing that popped out at me was the call for me to "Stay Sweet." This was written over and over again-- "Suzanne, stay sweet. See you at the beach." So, either my friends thought I was in dire danger or crossing over to utter wickedness or it was just a filler comment like "Have a rad summer," which also habitually appears.

(Click on images to get a better look.)

Yep, Chip did say I was the prettiest girl in 7th grade but, I found out later, mine wasn't the only yearbook where he made this claim.

Paul Frank Sunich, of Paul Frank...you know...the monkey...yes... you've got it, wanted me to have a "rad summer," which I think he truly meant.

I started to wonder what kids who weren't from California wrote in their yearbooks if they didn't have a beach to reunite on in the summer. My husband is from rural New York. I asked him, he said, "We didn't get to have yearbooks." Hmmm, I think this is just another installment in his never-ending quest to prove his childhood was worse then mine...

Some of the comments were touching and sweet, reading them now, I wish I would have known more about what was going on behind the Varneys of my Van-tennis-shoe-wearing contemperaries. In some of them, little stories peek through and remind me how important even the most fleeting relationship can be when you are young.

** side note** the references to not seeing me anymore comes from the decision we had to make as 8th graders--Ocean View High School or Marina. Our graduating class split in two directions***

This is me, wings and all, in 7th grade. I cringe at the thought of what I might have written in yearbooks and what words I butchered with my marginal spelling.

Written for my column at The Orange County Register. Click here to get there.

Something Small, But Sweet

I miss bench seats in cars. To me, it is romantic when a couple can sit knee to knee next to each other while they drive. I suppose some trucks still have them, but I am talking about the old station wagons and sedans our parents drove.

I remember my mom and dad picking me up from the Holiday Roller Skating Rink, my mom in her bathrobe, cozied right up next to my dad. It made me feel happy and comforted that my mom wanted to be close to him.

Cars meant something different back then (excuse me for sounding like an old bitty.) My Dad was a Chevy man. Everyone over the age of 35 had a dad who was either a Chevy man or Ford man. Once, a boyfriend picked me up in his beautiful 1967 powder blue Ford Mustang. My Dad looked out the window at the Ford in the driveway and said to my brother, "I wonder if he pees sitting down?" (Apparently, this is a HUGE insult to a male.)

I think we all have an old picture of our dad and his car-- crouched down in front next to the wheel, leaning on the hood or with one leg up on the running board-- mugging for the camera. It wasn't just a status symbol to them; they were proud. Not in a look-how-much-money-I-have-so-I-can-drive-this-car kind of way, but proud to have been able to work hard enough to own their own car.

Anyways, I miss bench seats. Its just a little thing, something small, but sweet.

(My Dad took this picture of me with my beloved VW Bug in 1986. It didn't have bench seats, but I am striking the quintessential "Dad" pose.)

"I Might Be Old But I'm Someone New"

Here it is-- my 40th birthday. I knew it was coming. I braced myself for its swift arrival, and now, it isn't so bad. I don't feel any different then I did yesterday morning.

Here is a list of good things about being 40 years old:

1.) Everything you liked about your teenage years is now considered "retro" and you can relive it again at a Las Vegas show or at any "Justice" store.

2.) The lead singer of that band you loved in High School would probably date you now.

3.) You can officially start to lie about your age.

4.) The next big age marker is ten years away (50 years old). So, you don't have to go through the trauma of everyone asking you, "So when is the big 5- 0?" for another nine years.

5.) At forty, you can admit that you are cold. From the age 17 through 35 you would wear things that were less then climate appropriate to show off your (umm) best features. Now, breakout the turtlenecks, you've been freezing since 10th grade.

6.) You can now justify spending $100 on night cream.

7.) Your immaturity is now thought of as “youthful” and “refreshing’ instead of “irresponsible” and “annoying.” Yeah!

8.) Most of your friends have now known you long enough to tell if you are having a bad day by just one “hello” on the telephone.

9.) The stupid things you did in your youth are now at a safe enough distance away to tell your parents about without any fear of disciplinary action. You'll just get the standard, "I'm glad I didn't know about that," or the thinly veiled threat, "Just wait until your kids are teenagers."

10.) You can afford to "Fall into the Gap" and buy anything you want. (Unfortunately, you hate the way the Gap’s clothes fit your "new" body shape.)

I am sure there are more, but I can’t think of any right now. I have decided to be positive about this nonsense.

One of my favorite lyrics of a Neil Finn songs says, “I might be old but, I'm someone new.” I like that. I am going with that.

Five Things My Mom Never Said To Me In High School

1) I really like those combat boots with that dress.

2) What's the band called? The Meat Puppets? Sure, here are the car keys.

3) School, schmool. Let's go see a Molly Ringwald movie.

4) You have exceptional taste in boyfriends. Any one of them will make you blissfully happy for the rest of your life.

5) They were out of Benson and Hedges, Camels okay?

My High School Husbands

The more I dive into the paraphernalia of my high school years, the more I realize, surprisingly, how much fun my friends and I had. It makes me feel a little guilty when I hear most people talk of the utter agony those years were for them. It's as if there were only so many spots open for people to have fun in high school and I took one.

In high school we were obsessed with MTV. It launched the summer I was going to start seventh grade, 1981, and we spent that summer, emotionally tethered to the TV, memorizing words, copping dance moves and choosing our favorite bands.

I often wonder how my life would have turned out if MTV didn't enter when it did-- if I would have spent my time more productively. Maybe studying or practicing a sport, like tennis, instead of trying in vain to reproduce Bananarama's look.

By high school, we were well versed in all things MTV and had sworn our unwavering devotion to our favorite bands. These became our signature bands; the lead singer, our future husband, their names appearing only on OUR Pee-Chee folders. You wouldn't ever choose the same signature band as your friend, that would be a complete betrayal.

So, for instance, my signature bands in high school were, U2, The Split Enz and Aztec Camera. Carol's, The Psychedelic Furs, The Jam and The Talking Heads. Andrea's, Simple Minds and The Alarm. (She showed her faithfulness by hand-making a "Sixty Eight Guns" jean jacket that was coveted by every 11th grader at Marina High School.)

This borderline fanatical behavior was best demonstrated in our note writing. We were prolific writers, mostly in class when we should have been paying attention. Again, what would have become of me if...

All notes were addressed to us in our appropriate "married" names. Here is an example for you, a note I triumphantly found last weekend in a box in my garage. Hint: Keli's signature band was Elvis Costello and the Attractions.

Oh, Keli was clever, she took it a step further tailoring our addresses. Another letter was devoted to the discussion of whether a certain boy in our class looked more like John Taylor (Duran Duran) or Michael Hutchence (INXS). I mean pages and pages comparing eye color, hair texture and eyeliner application. The conclusion, he looked like neither-- just a "poser."
(note to self...love that word, poser, should use it more often.)

I wrote many, many a note to: Carol Butler, Andrea Peters, Louise George (Boy George). I received countless addressed to Suzie Finn, or Mrs. Frame.

Here is a very uncomfortable situation for the adolescent me, my two high school husbands singing together...

(Neil Finn, Roddy Frame and for some reason the guy from 10cc.)