THE POOR BEE REALLY WANTED THIS GINGER-TINI

HOW SWEET IT IS

Careful girls, one day you may wake up and find that life has rushed past your youthful face, leaving deep ruts where there once was taut skin. The bouncing boobies have been replaced with push-up bras lifting up whats left of the old milkers. Why didn't anyone warn us about the 35-45 box that has to be checked from now on? I also do not recall any solid advice about the toll one night of cocktails can take on a person. Why with all the "self-discovery"?

Be extremely cautious when it comes to living life. I honestly mean living, not just running around in your messy mini-van with the fast food wrappers curling around your feet like fall leaves. Be cautious because it too, will zip by faster than you can say, "Oh my God, look at Dallas taking his first steps!" (Please note the photo of 16 year-old Dallas).There comes the time when you are surprised at how many of your friends are dying; not how many of your girlfriends are having babies. To every season...

Take the extra time to go out of your way and be nice. You don't have to get all weird here and fake, you know you have it in you- let it out! Nothing is more beautiful than a woman at any age just oozing with genuine kindness. Lets face it, in times where T.G.I.Fridays is going tits-up we could all use some grassroots, free compassionate gestures. It keeps you young and feels good all the way around.

As a whole, we all could use a bit more of the deep-breath action. God forbid, something horrible should happen to any of us tomorrow, (insert your own worst fear here); we simply must live for today. Keep it simple. Straigthen up and fly right. Remember what it was like to live in the simpler days of our own childhood. We may not look like one on the outside, but we sure keep her in there, with all the other stuff inside that no one can take away. Smile to yourself and remember something fun about being a kid. Now recreate it. Dress-up anyone? And if you have little one's, I don't care how big your ass is, get it down on the floor and get to making some kick-

butt make believe, already!

I'm not 11 anymore-still love an ice cream cone!

We aren't getting any younger, but wow, we are getting smarter! I remember someone telling me that looks fade quickly and that an exceptional personality would far outweigh passing beauty. That's pleasing to me to know that there's always room for improvement for all of us to expand the ever-growing internal charm.

Bellies that scream for a tummy-tuck be damned! Greying roots can be ignored under a bandanna, and split-ends; please. Laughing with my friends, even if we don't get together nearly often as we should, far outweighs anything that damn bathroom scale keeps lying about!

I believe I just bought us all a round of deep breaths in this photo!

*Labor Day is just a friendly reminder of what is right around the corner.

The Last Hurrah

This week-end holds more pressure than a Swedish masseur. I mean, the fact is that if you aren't doing something wonderful for Labor day weekend, forget it, you're so lame. What no camping plans? Did you say you were just going to kind of hang around the house? Good Lord man, what is going through your mind?

Seems to me the whole idea behind "Labor Day" is that we all get a day off, or one prays we all get a three-day weekend. Along with the extra time off comes the obligatory "plans". I'm unsure where this started, I will guess in the '50's sometime when the American family was encouraged to hit the national campgrounds, hook up the round, silver travel trailer, gas up the boat of a car you were driving and make good use of the fact that you had a shortened work week. Well, thanks a lot grandpa and grandma, now we are stuck with this tradition and I think it's gotten out of hand.

Way too much effort goes into planning, purchasing, packing, setting up, tearing down, and finally unpacking again once you get home. Oh, did I mention this all takes place the DAY before school starts? That's what I want to do; be thoroughly exhausted before getting up to get the kids off on their first day of school, still wreaking of campfire smoke. Why bother?

It's a hassle, it's expensive and tiring, but what the heck; it is what it is. It's an American institution at this point in our history and I, too will be hitting the highway to find the perfect camp site. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a wonderful friend, who has a wonderful family who has property on the river. I will have to find my relaxation where I can amid the ciaos of Paul Bunyan Days, a camp site with 50 friends and family members, and a mini van stuffed to the gills with gear and kids galore. What's not to love?

Not Letting Go Without a Fight

I am not one of those people who are all fuzzy-sweater on the inside to greet the changing of the season. I am a summer person, always have been, always will. I'm sure it comes from growing up in North Idaho where the summer is a mere blip on the radar of weather. When it comes; it's here immediately. You often hear Idahoans talking about the fact that there is no acclimatizing for our poor winterized souls, we go straight from 37 degrees to 80. It is truly a bit of a shock, but who gives a rip? Nothing says summer like 65 and sunny with most of the town's population roaming around half naked. Big deal if it's really just late spring weather. So elated are we to shed the multi-layers that I want to go on strike against cruel mother nature, how dare she make me cover up my Coppertone tan!

The long days and nights are shrinking and as they do they are rusting the leaves. I have a keen eye for that-I noticed a couple of leaves on someones yard about a month ago and ran straight for the beach. Today was 95 degrees and I lounged around in the blazing golden heaven for hours upon hours. Yet, I feel cheated. Is there a way for me to cram extra hours filled with sunny memories into my suitcase overflowing with fleeces, Sorrel's, mittens, hats, scarves, wool socks, jeans loose enough to allow long underwear to fit under, earmuffs and puffy coats?

I guess the best way to snuggle down with these warm sparkly thoughts is to wrap them close to my body, maybe under a layer of cocoa butter, then hold them close and cover them up with the endless layers of winter protection. Then when the snow is up to my waist and school is closed for the day, I can stick my nose inside my collar and close my eyes to breath in the sweetness of my sacred summer.

I am now going to officially blame my mother for all this. Growing up we would spend every waking hour at Rocky Point. We were usually the first ones there with our cooler of snacks fully stocked, then after swimming in the lake all day, we'd be one of the last families to leave. I remember my skin would have a new weight to it as if heavier from all the water I'd absorbed over all the hours. She'd tell us to get out of the water, that we were water logged and it was time to go home. I'm not sure I've been water logged like that in my adult age, but my kids certainly have.

*The symptoms of being water logged is an unrational reaction to the fact that it's time to leave, the uncontrollable urge to show your mom "just one more thing", hair resembling seaweed, and the failure to identify that the sun is hanging just barely above the trees.

My mom would lounge on the pebbly sand and chat with friends, take a long swim out to the logs, and usually take a nap. Every year she had a golden toasted tan. I loved that we were never in a hurry to get home like so many of the other families that would flit in and out throughout the day. We had nothing but time and when you're a kid time means nothing.

Now I'm the mom on the beach into late September. It's usually early October because the kids and I love to brag into the winter about how we got in in April and then the last swim was in October. We always remember the dates too, just in case someone doesn't believe us. At least I'm not alone in my battle against the slipping away of summer. For now I will not think about it too hard, mostly because I have to get to bed. We are, of course, meeting my mom at the lake early.

*Photo is from the 70's@ Plummer Point