Three strikes

My friend Matt is going sailing on an overnight trip to the Channel Islands this weekend with his neighbor dude. He was telling Rachel and me about it at lunch.

Matt: We're taking the camping stuff in my truck because it won't fit in his Corvette.
Me: Sailboat. Corvette. How old is this guy?
Matt: I guess you'd say he's middle aged.
Me: He has a Harley, too, huh?
Matt: (Snort) You guessed it.
Me: What IS it with middle aged guys? Do they get some kind of postcard that gives them an appointment where they have to go to pick up their Harleys and Hawaiian shirts and Jimmy Buffett tickets?

Seriously, people. I don't know if YOU have looked at any online personals ads for middle aged men lately, but it seems 90 percent of them have Harleys. Personally, I got over Harleys in my 20s, when my boyfriend spent all of his waking hours either fixing his Harley or buying parts for his Harley or, very occasionally, riding his Harley.

And now when I see a man with a Harley, my first thought is NOT "Ooh, how sexy and macho!" It is "I wonder what his comb-over will look like when he takes that helmet off."

You take the good you take the bad

I have been so lucky with neighbors for the past 2 1/2 years.

Jay in the front house mows my lawn. Nice neighbor John got me drunk as often as I would let him until he passed away, and recently a lovely couple has moved into his house. The lady across the street gave me Halloween candy when I ran out, and those Navy pilots in the cute white house are pretty easy on the eyes.

I fear my luck has run out, though. The house behind me has become the Young Adult Party House.

You know the place - you probably had one. When you still live at home but your that first friend gets the crappy rental and everyone converges over there and doesn't give a crap because, hey, they don't live there and they have never lived anywhere or had to get up for work early because their mall jobs don't start until the stores open at 10 a.m.

The place where you stand around the driveway and drink and listen to the huge car stereo pumping with the doors open and yell at each other because everyone is drunk and talking at the same time.

Yeah, that house. Shoot me now.

Better and better

I was just commenting to Heather B on how far we have come since 2006 when she and I were attending our first BlogHer and making miserable, disjointed awkward conversation around the San Jose Marriott bar.

Somehow we knew even then, in the midst of our biggest spasm of self-consciousness, that we were kindred spirits. We spent our time together at BlogHer 2007 trying to reconcile a huge dinner bill that almost made us weep with its hugeness (as Heather said "It had a comma.")

And this year, we are to appear onstage together at the BlogHer Community Keynote. This is a brilliant idea - instead of having a speech, bloggers will be reading 2-3 minute posts they have written. BlogHer invited bloggers to submit their favorite posts in four categories (rants, parenting, blogging about blogging and humor). Then they chose 16 of us to represent. Gulp!

Some of my other favorite bloggers will be there, including Mom 101, Moosh in Indy, Joy Unexpected, Schmutzie, Deb on the Rocks, and Fluid Pudding.

We will all be reading some sort of blog post. Mine prominently features one of my fellow Keynoters, though I am sworn to secrecy about which post I am reading. Hee!

I'm just proud that in 3 short years, we have come from being the geekiest kids at the bar to being the geekiest kids on stage. THAT is progress.

Suddenly it all made sense

My friend Ish is about my age. He has the energy and enthusiasm of a kid, but on some things he is kind of old school.

"I have a hard time telling my mom I love her," he said. "Maybe it's a guy thing. It's just hard for me. Instead of saying 'I love you' I say 'Drive safely.'"

I thought of all the times I wished my dad could say "I love you." And all the times he has said "Drive safe. Be careful."

Now I know what he was really saying. It feels really good to have that translation.

Because you can never have enough Goldie

...and because my last post was/is grossing me out.

She was hot, it was a summer day, and the coolth of the red passion vine looked appealing...