I missed my Blogiversary! And a "by request" story.

Wow. Time flies. My blog celebrated a big milestone 2 days ago and I totally missed it. I could not, for the life of me, recall how many years it has been, but then I checked my profile and lo and behold...August 2007. It's been 3 years.

Writing this blog and reading your blogs has enriched my life, so much more than I ever anticipated. I have "virtually" met so many funny, sweet, thoughtful and special people through this little hobby. You are all great.

I want to thank those who commented on my last post. I don't usually write much about my children, I'm not sure why, but for some reason, I feel a little weird about doing it...like I'm invading their privacy or something.

Anyway, I'm glad I shared some of my concerns with you, because your input was VERY helpful to me.

My mother thinks I anticipate trouble before it starts, so I am going to try to practice the art of Zen and let things be for awhile.

Thank you again for your advice.

And now, as requested by my friend Dr. Zibbs, (a fellow West Chester, PA native) I will tell you a typical night in West Chester Pennsylvania, when I was 16 years old. Zibbs asked that I include some West Chester landmarks, which I have made bold for easy reference.)

Things would usually start and end with a lie. I would tell my parents that I was going to see the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" or going to the the Chester County Library. (Those were the days before the Internet, so in order to write a report I truly DID have to go to the library, where I would usually check out a few reference books, change a few key words around and plagiarize my "work.")

I would pack up all my books to make my story look good and then I would get picked up by my friend Suzanne in her electric blue TR-7. (A gift from her Dad who wasn't around very much.)

We would then meet up with some of our college aged guy friends who liked to hang out with high school girls. Sometimes we would drive to The Courtyard Inn to get some beer and then we would cruise to the reservoir on Airport Road to drink beers, crank tunes and be complete derelicts.

Some nights we would mix things up and use our fake I.D.s to get into The Rat, or go over to Rams Gate Apartments for parties thrown by West Chester University students. (That was always fun, because we would usually run into one or two of our student teachers, which was SUCH a thrill!!!)

After that we would cruise into downtown West Chester to pick up some Chicken McNuggets at the McDonald's drive-thru on Gay Street. After that I would make them take me to the 7-11 on Boot Road to pick up some gum and Visine.

Sometimes I made it home by curfew. Usually I didn't.

My parents would grill me about where I'd been, they would smell my breath and look at my pupils to see if they were dilated. Sometimes I would get the all clear to go to bed, other times I would get screamed at and grounded.

It all depended on how much beer we drank at the reservoir or The Rat.

So there you have it Zibbs. Now it's your turn. I have lots of stories to tell, but I'm too tired and and only a small portion of my audience has any idea where West Chester is.

The other problem is that my parents read this blog and stories like this tend to upset them.

At least now you know why I get stressed out about my daughter getting older. If she turns out like me, I'm going to have to take Xanax morning, noon, and night.

Thank goodness I got that out of my system when I was a youngster.

There will be no mid-life crisis for me. I got my ya-yas out way back when, sitting by the reservoir with my derelict friends, who, by the grace of god, also turned out to be responsible adults. I'll bet their parents agonized over their children's behavior just like I do and like I know my parents did.

It's a curse.

The curse of parenthood.

The toughest job you'll ever love.


R. J. said...

I loved reading that. You're talking about my neighborhood--West Chester, Chester County, Boot Road. You're in good company because I always try to anticipate trouble which drives my family crazy just as it did when I grew up watching my father do the same thing. I have become like my father and it drives my son crazy.

Anonymous said...

God I am such a wimp! The only thing on your list I actually did was go to the reservoir. I tried to go to the Rat on a date when I was in freakin' college and couldn't get served!! My date had to order an extra beer for me. WTF!

Dr Zibbs said...

Sweeeet. I'm tweeting this link!

And if I knew you back then we would have been making out.

Yup. It's true.

Dr Zibbs said...

And ironically - as I just tweeted - my son just went to the bowling palace because I told him to meet girls he has to go to other places. Maybe he'll meet some Downingtown girls.

But the crazy thing is, that's the palce we'd use as an excuse when we were going out to drink. My one friend would say years later,
"I can't believe that my parents did't ask if I was trying out for the US Olympic Bowling team because we "bowled" there so much.

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