The Big Yellow Joint

I'm not sure why I finally succumbed to the pressure of trying to maintain my own blog spot. Or is it blogspot? Anyway, here it is. My inaugural blog. The inaug-blog, if you will. [think Pomp and Circumstance here or at least a cool drum roll]. What's the deal here? And can I ever take stuff off? Obviously, I didn't read the terms of the agreement when I signed on. I would hate to find myself in the curious position of telling someone, i.e., my sister, for example, that I LOVE something, oh, say turkey bacon and cheddar wraps from Arby's, for another example, only to have her say, "Well, in your blog on such and such a date you expressly LAMBASTED the very notion of the Arby's turkey bacon and cheddar wraps." Seriously, she said LAMBASTED today, as a matter of fact. So then I'm stuck realizing that I AM growing more and more like my mother. Which, my husband told me over and over after my sister and I had a strange argument at my birthday party where we both argued over who was more like my DAD, was not a bad thing. The argument wasn't over who was more like dad, it was simply who wasn't like mom, because the card she gave me had some joke on it about turning into my mom.

Anyway, I digress. The point is my mom was always one of the cooler moms while I was growing up. My friends often confided things to my mother they never would tell their mothers and even some of their friends. BUT, along with aging gracefully, I've discovered, comes some not so graceful parts: getting up from the couch, getting out of bed, realizing you are one or more of your parents, you get the picture.

I got my dad's forgetfulness. I find I can no longer tell jokes because it takes too long to think of the word I want. I also got his knees. When I exercise even moderately you can seriously hear my knees crunch crunch as I walk across the room. I got some of his obsessiveness, about certain things, not nearly as bad and my sister or brother. My mother, I can say that at least my husband thinks I am cool like my mother. He told me he wouldn't have married me if I wasn't. So that's good. I actually had one of my daughter's soccer buddies tell me I was cool because I was so funny. My mom, my sister and I seem to regularly screw up with hair coloring and we all seem to say, What the hell, it's sort of funny. My sister, of course, has to take it a step further and have one of her eyebrows waxed off before MY birthday party, so of course, everyone is paying all this attention to her.

So this is blogging, huh? Just start typing, and if you can type really fast, lord only knows where you'll end up...