Stranger Danger Online

When I got home tonight the kid had left the computer on while logged into her e-mail.  I sat down and before I could log her off I did a cursory scan of the subject lines of the emails looking for red flags, sex, drugs, and general teenage stupidity.  I saw something about a hotel and of course clicked it.

Aunt Lauren was inviting the kid and 15 other people to stay all at the same hotel for the wedding last spring.  And then Harvey invited the kid and a bunch of other relatives to Easter dinner. Next was a bunch about Esther's 90th birthday and who was going to fly in for that? Lastly there was a bunch of e-mails containing corny jokes about electricians from cousin Eric. I rolled the mouse back through a couple of years of correspondence from people I've never heard of.

Let me be clear, we are not related to an Aunt Laren, Harvey, Esther or Eric.

I called the kid downstairs to explain.

"Do you have a second family you've been hiding? Who are these people? Do you have a Grandma Esther I don't know about?"

"No!  I don't know who these people are but they keep sending me emails and photos! I don't even read my e-mail unless I see it's from myself!"

Apparently this is how she moves artwork from one account to the desktop computer but her account has been infiltrated by a very nice family who would like us to know that Shirl's baby is getting baptized and Uncle Carl had a very nice time at the Lake. I clicked though a few more and they're sent from people's work complete with job titles and companies and phone numbers to perfectly normal occupations, so I think it checks out.  It's not some weird roll playing fan fiction world the kid and her hipster pals are playing where peach jello molds, mom jeans and ridiculously boring puns are all of a sudden cool.

I'm not even sure how to feel about this. It occurs to me that the family might think that one cousin who never replies is a "real wet rag". I'm pretty sure that's how they'd say it in hushed tones.

We Are Not Singing This Year

Photo has nothing to do with story, I just liked it.

I always mean to make a great Christmas post but it doesn't happen.  The season is going so fast with such twists and turns that it's all I can do to keep from getting whiplash much less pausing to carefully write my thoughts on the season.  Just when the Holidays wrap up, it's my eldest's birthday which I always go to extra efforts to observe lest it be overshadowed by the above mentioned festivities.

This year we considered a sledding party until the actual snow came.  It was accompanied by negative temperatures and meaner wind-chill factors.  We opted for a good old fashioned house party.  We are in fact inviting boys to this one.  No biggie, they just happen to be friends that are also boys.  We also are not having cake... well, maybe cup cakes but they're going to be cool NOT cute. We aren't singing any happy birthday songs and mostly we'll just be hanging out and maybe playing some music.  Maybe we'll make a play list, and have some dub step, and maybe Uncle Joe will bring over his laser music light show and a black light and a disco ball, just in case anyone feels like dancing or something or whatever.

By February, I'll be officially ready for a couple chocolate hearts chased with a green beer.

No, I like LIKE you.

Standing in the front hallway of my parents house I threatened Chris Gravano "I am totally going to kiss you."  We were waiting for his mom to come pick him up.  We'd be going together for a whole week, which started with a carefully brokered agreement through our mutual agent Tim Raymer, who ultimately employed the time tested checking of a yes or no box as a legally binding contract.  This was followed by sitting together in the lunch room discussing our mutual love of AC/DC and hate of Mrs. Beard's Social Studies class, four ridiculously quiet phone calls, lots of blushing and one awkward afternoon sitting on the couch in my parents living room.  It was the perfect.  Finally his mom pulled up in front of my house.  I leaned in and kissed Chris so hard he fell off his crutches and into the hall tree.  I happily helped him back up and out to his mom's car.  Our mutual "like-LIKE" wouldn't last the length of his broken leg.