Tag, you’re...it?

Remember when tag was the game you would play running around in the yard trying not to be “it”? Or even better...freeze tag? That rocked. Why don’t we play tag anymore? You don’t need any equipment, just a yard or a park and some friends...we all have that. I’d probably actually be better at tag now that I’m not in that awkward stage waiting to shed my “baby fat” as I was most of my childhood years. What’s scary is kids have such an altered state of reality – well I guess adults too. I thought I was a really chunky kid, but in pictures I really wasn’t at all. And Trisha and I were the same size until we graduated from high school and then she somehow lost 3 sizes and never found them back. But all the time growing up I thought she was so much cuter with her dark long hair and pig tails.

A few weeks ago I was in Chicago and we passed this woman in pigtails. Trisha said this woman was too old for pony tails. True. Which launched this whole confusing discussion about how it’s one pony tail and 2 pig tails. I asked if Trisha never wore a pony tail because she thought she was too old and she said yes – and I was too old too. What? If have way through the day I couldn’t throw this hair up in a clip or use the ever present “long haired girl’s bracelet” which is the pony tail holder we all wear around our wrist (look for it...it’s true)...I’d just have to chop it all off. So hours later we’re at dinner with Randy and I say...Do you mean I’m too old for pig tails (2) or just a pony tail (1)...pig tails she says. Of course, I say and was completely relieved. You would have thought I was asking her for the combination to a safe in case something happened to her and I needed to retrieve a secret antidote. But it really matters to me what she thinks....Lord knows we don’t always agree...but I always want to know. Later on I did have to explain to Randy that she and I had full 2 days of discussing politics, world event, important things and honestly by the time he had gotten to dinner we were talked out.

Trisha and I usually get along really well, but last weekend when she was in town, we both were hungry and had an “episode” in the car because suddenly there was traffic and I had to quickly slow down. She yelled like I was supposed to know the stand still was coming, which then elicited such remarks from me like....how was I supposed to know? I’m not psychic! She who never drives shouldn’t criticize. Fine! You’re all time driver from now on! (this whole time she’s yelling back at me) until I finally say to my mother who is in the back seat...Mom, tell her to shut the F up. I did really say this to my mother....it was just the height of an irrational hungry sibling fight. I’m not sure who was more shocked. My mom responds...well I think you’ve both said everything you needed to. Three seconds later we had totally forgotten about it and were talking about something else and when we stopped for dinner my mom said she could hear us laughing across the room together. She told our father that the day was fine, but she witnessed a melt down...I don’t know if she was more stunned by the outburst or that 5 minutes later we were laughing as if it never happened.

So I was at the winery yesterday on this gorgeous weekend with some good friends that it had been too long since I’d seen and some new very interesting friends that I hopefully will be seeing more of. During a group photo someone said “everyone tag your pictures” that’s how this whole tag thing stuck in my head. Tag – meaning go to facebook, post and identify everyone. So easy. This facebook thing is bizarre. I’m now getting request from people who I have no idea who they are by name, but once I do some investigating I realize it’s some friend from high school who has gotten married...I’m not asking you to hyphenate with your maiden name, I’m just asking you not to assume I know your new one since we haven’t spoken in 15 years.