I'm Not Afraid to Admit That...

...Bossy visited SE Michigan, slept in my guestroom, and I didn't take a single photo.

I laughed and talked and drank wine with her. I drove with her to a local brew-pub and laughed and talked and drank beer with her, alongside a whole group of other great women. I even got to ride in (Harrison) Ford; he was dreamy.

Here's what I can share about hanging with Bossy: she is incredibly nice, prone to strong hugs for both "hello" and "goodbye" (a good thing in my book, since I grew up in a family of serious huggers), and--if there were justice in the world--ought to be my neighbor. Also, she takes better photos that include herself than I can take of other people. I don't know how, but that's the miracle of Bossy.

(Photo borrowed from Bossy, and containing the lovely MomZombie.)

Also, somehow, Bossy after umpteen hours of roadtrip will look fresher and more awake than I do in any photo containing us both. Again I say: the miracle of Bossy.


...I have never read any Twilight books, didn't see the first movie, watched New Moon last night just because it was there rather than because I'd been pining away to see it, thought it was on the hokey end of "fine, if that's what's on and it's a rainy evening, and you're exhausted from work and in your jammies and snuggled up on the couch with your cozy husband," and generally don't see what all the fuss is about (though I'll probably watch the sequel just to see how that 18-married-to-109 thing goes).

Sure, it's completely, 100% crystal clear to me why 15 year old girls are swooning in the aisles. The heart-wrenching angst of teenaged love is pitch perfect. There's not a single note in my high school memory box that couldn't be worked into that script, nary a page in my high school diary that isn't captured with brilliant precision. In all its heart-broken, aching-poetry-writing, self-involved-love-story-longing, this perfectly captures high school.

Which I, for one, would never want to relive again.

So can someone please explain to me why otherwise grown-up, intelligent 30- and 40-something women are swooning right alongside their teenaged daughters?


...I don't understand how Justin Bieber gets his hair to stay like that. The brushed forward, tousled emo look is nothing short of miraculously impressive.

I have a student with hair like that. He tousles it himself at least ten times during each class period. It always falls perfectly forward, framing his eyes in a moody-yet-styled way.

Even Usher would be impressed.


What are you not afraid to admit?