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Smells Like Teen Spirit I think I got a glimmer of what it's like to have teenage daughters. Oh my. Yesterday two of my sisters and their friends came down to have a slumber party at my house. They peeled into the driveway and piled out of the car like a bunch of sleeping-bag bearing clowns. And I waved from the window with a faint, vacant smile, wondering what I gotten myself into.

There was squealing and yelling and jumping and then with the more squealing. I can't believe how much energy these girls had. I bet if you bottled it up you could give power to the entire world for at least a day and a half.

So there I was, miss chauffeur-lope for the day. They wanted to go to the mall. So off we went. Then it was trying on 10 basquillion things, upsetting dressing room attendants and store clerks alike. Shoes were ogled. Wraps were wrapped. Purses were modeled. (All squeal- worthy, of course). A brief fruit-smoothie rest was had and then back to shopping.

Then it was over and they squished back into my car just in time for rush hour traffic. Turning the music up for them I wondered what was next. And then they revealed their evening plans: to dress up all glamous-like and go out to a fancy-schmancy, yet not over-priced dining establishment. And did I have any recommendations?

Sushi. (please sushi...that'd be great)

We don't like sushi.

Oh. Okay. Um. Upscale chinese?

Okay (squealing!)

Arriving home, jeans were tossed aside for black dresses and shawls. Ponytails were forced into updo's. Makeup was flung and scattered throughout the house (glad I swept before they came). Fuses were blown because of 7 curling irons of different widths being plugged in at the same time.

Why wasn't I dressed? I didn't realized I was supposed to sit with them. I was the totally uncool old lady...I'd already packed my purely-for-enjoyment novel into my bag. So, I slid my vintage dress over my jeans and said I was ready when they were.

After being seated at the table in the agreed-upon-suitable dressy restaurant and harassing the waiter, deemed as cute, they settled in for story swapping. I sipped my cherry coke and make little laughing noises when appropriate, trying hard not to feel like I was grandma-lope.

Dinner was done. Checks were begrudgingly paid. The car's capacity was abused once more. And we were home. Then came the sundaes with sprinkles and whipped cream and chocolate and caramel. Sticky dishes left to my cats who decided slumber parties were well worth it. Then of course, the face masks and nail painting ensued.

I went to bed after popping "Garden State" in for them. I got up at 2 when I heard screaming, thinking they'd lit the house on fire. (It was just a controversial part in the next movie, "Ghost World", they chose.)

This morning they packed up their things and drove away smiling, thanking me for the awesome time they had. I said they were welcome and closed the door. Ah, quiet....

I haven't been downstairs yet to the movie room in question. I think I'll do that tomorrow. At least I got a yummy sundae and some lack of sleep out of the deal. :)

p.s. To all you with teenage daughters: I commend you. You are something to be marveled at.