Adventures in Facebook

About a year ago, I joined Facebook. A friend of mine who is a supreme networker convinced me to climb on board. At first I did the minimum, posting a picture and setting up my profile. I was bashful about inviting friends because I really have this deep seated fear that I've been invisible most of my life. We moved frequently when I was a kid and I had this feeling people forgot me after having known me only a short period of time. To my surprise people remembered me. People from 3rd grade remembered me.

I've become a more advanced user lately, again mostly due to this Facebook master friend that I have. She invited me to join a thread with about 5 other people, all from high school. One of the guys is in Costa Rica so I've been asking him about surf schools. I think we're all around the same age give or take.

This thread has been going on for about two weeks now. Someone will post a photo or make a comment and others respond. When I stopped responding for a few days my friends threatened to bounce me. So I had to jump back in. I'm finding I can't keep up. They've all kept their wits about them and mine are in the garage I think.

The thread is hard to describe. We've gone from the profane to the profound. One guy is forbidden to access the thread at work. One of the women got the boot from Facebook. Apparently Facebook, like Google and the FBI and cell phone makers, is watching us. Without giving it all away--because I think there is a code of honor or cone of silence connected to the thread--we've mocked people from their high school yearbook photo, slandered former teachers, tapped into other friends' photo albums to slake them and outed a few people who are not currently out.

Some of the better comments include:

• I think he's featured on the NAMBLA website
• I don't own any applebottom jeans and boots with the fur
• I once called shotgun on a motorcyle but my legs got tired before we crashed

But the thing that's struck me and the reason I'm writing this blog, is that at some point I realized the difference for us forty-somethings on Facebook versus those kids I hear use it. At some point, real life intervenes.

Two of the threaders are brother and sister. The brother sent his kids up to visit his sister. When they went back home, she wrote, "I think they each left with a third of my heart."

Yesterday we had this comment from one of the men working in Hilton Head. "Sorry kids, I can't play today. I have to go lay off a couple of really nice guys. Draconian projections for the resort."

Last night we got another Facebook warning, something about contains content that was removed by Facebook. No doubt we'll go back to obscene photographs, mocking yearbook inscriptions and making fun of old boyfriends and girlfriends. Just like the youngsters on Facebook. But from time to time we're faced with real life, being forty and all that entails.

Adventures in Babysitting

On Monday I babysat my nephew Even who is 10 months old. His mom and dad left while he was still sleeping so when he woke up to find me in place of his beloved parents, there was a moment when I thought this could be a disaster.

But he settled down in a few minutes, turned his binky over to me and got down on the floor to play. I took off my hiking boots so as not to step on the little guy with my tire tread soles. He seized on the boots, in particular the soles and started gnawing. I tried to take the boot away but he didn't look happy. So I thought fine, chew the boot. What's a little dirt going to do? Then I pictured him breaking off a baby tooth and decided I'd have to be firm about the boots. "Sorry Even but you've got to turn those over to me," I said firmly. Actually I just swiped them when he was distracted.

Before leaving, Even's dad told me the dog probably had a bladder infection and would need to go to the bathroom multiple times. He showed me a leash attached to the back porch and told me to put her on the leash if she needed to go outside.

About 30 minutes into our playdate, the dog began whining like she has to go outside. So I attached her to the leash as directed and left her to her own devices. When I came back to check on her I noticed the leash was under the porch. There are two entrances to the porch and she'd gone to the one on the far right when she should've gone back to the left. I pulled on the leash to get her to come back around. I called her name, "Delphi, come over here." Nothing. I thought to myself this is one stupid dog. I checked and Even was still safely behind the baby gate so I walked onto the porch and let the dog off the leash to come inside. She ran away. Like a shot she was in the neighbor's backyard in a matter of seconds. Oh no I thought. This is not good.

Checked Even again. Still behind baby gate. Put on slobbery hiking boots and ran after the dog, yelling back toward the house, "It's okay Even I'll be right back." I ran to the neighbor's yard and as I did, Delphi ran past me toward the street. She had her eye on a fuel delivery truck parked about two houses down the road.

See Delphi is a sweetheart but she's a priss. She's a labradoodle but she's mainly poodle. A large white poodle born and raised in Southern California and now trying to find her way in the marshes and waterfront of Old Saybrook, Connecticut. I don't know if you've ever seen your average fuel delivery guy but they're kind of "rough around the edges' is probably the nice way to put it. I'm imagining Delphi running to greet this guy in her "hey how's it hangin'" California style and the guy bats her away with the back of his glove.

I run back in the house frantically looking for a leash. I ran to pick up Even because at this point he was beginning to notice my absence. I wasn't mom or dad but I was someone to talk to at least.

I put Even in his high chair thinking I could call for the dog from the back porch and Even could see me from his seat in the kitchen. I couldn't figure out the tray. It's one of those newfangled Italian made high chairs. I had the prototype but it's been ten years since I needed a high chair. At a loss and in panic mode, I tied Even into his high chair using the shoulder straps in the chair. Then I took a look out the backdoor to see if I could see the dog. Nope no dog.

I untied shoulder straps and put the baby in the stroller. Again very high tech stroller. Luckily it had a built-in blankie so I zipped him in and wheeled him outside. We ran down the street to capture the dog. And there she was in all her glory giving me that "what did I do" look.

The three of us headed back to the house. The sun was shining and all in all not a bad February day for Connecticut. I thought we could kill some time by taking a walk. We went back to the house, I tied the dog to the leash and put the brake on the stroller. I went inside to find outerwear for Even but I couldn't find anything except a hoodie jacket. I put the hoodie jacket and a pair of booties on him. Not enough head coverage I thought. I went back inside and found a hat and gloves belonging to Even's mom. Kind of a cool Banana Republic Haight Ashbury looking hat. Both ridiculously oversized but they would have to do.

Off we went on our little walk. I didn't want to get lost to further complicate matters so I basically kept going in a big square. Walk to the beach, walk back to the house. Repeat. After he settled in Even seemed quite happy just talking to himself. He'd get aggravated occasionally when the hat would slide down and cover his eyes. But he generally enjoyed himself and got some nice color in his cheeks.

I was thinking as we headed inside that his parents were going to be wondering what exactly went on here. The hat and gloves were out of place. The stroller is in a different position. The dog has sticks in her furr. It's that same feeling I'd get when I came home and my mom had been babysitting or my brother.

I'd get these calls from my mom. "Are you sure he has to be in a car seat?"

"Yes mom. It's a law now. You can't throw garbage out your window either. The 70's are over."

One time I came home and my brother had been watching Will. I couldn't put my finger on it but something was amiss. As it turned out later, during the daylight when I could see down my shotgun hallway, Will took a crayon and drew all over the wall. The entire story is that my brother fell asleep and while he was asleep WIll drew all over the walls and on a lamp that I really loved. Then he toddled over and stuck his fingers into my brother's nostrils to wake him.

At forty-five, I still have visions of having another child but as I learned on Monday, I've moved into grandmother babysitting mode. Can't figure out the high chair? Just use duct tape. Unable to find baby cap? Wrap a scarf around his head and off we go. Even the diaper genie has changed. It's all new and unfamiliar to me. I mean it took me about ten minutes to figure out the release button for the stroller brake. I think my baby days are over. And that makes me sad. But the day was a good one and I did pretty darn well considering my lack of practice.

Drunken Facebook is the New Drunk Dialing

I think that says it all. Just another keen insight from me.