I am the State.

When Lenny met our pal Carly (who you should just go ahead and "like" on Facebook already) it was the first time I've ever witnessed her come down with what appeared to be an instant case of hero worship. She watched her every move. If Carly leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, suddenly, there was Lenny, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, carefully watching Carly to make sure she got it just right.  Then, when she played "this little piggy" with her Lenny's head blew clear off with the sheer joy of it.  A couple of days later we were playing with Lego on the floor and the TV was on in the background.  Lenny starts fa-reaking out "Car-leeeeee!"  It was this commercial, where Carly does indeed appear as a "young mom".

As you can see, she's not on screen that long which means two things:

1) My child is a genius (duh).

2) Carly has some kind insane kavorka over said genius-child (may she only use it for good and not evil).

What's happened since then is that I think Lenny has come to believe that all of her favourite people are on TV.  The other day a car commercial caught her eye and next thing you know she's pointing at the pretty smiling lady with the straight blonde hair and saying "Ah-net! Ah-net!" 

Dig the adorable toddler arm pointing at her friend on TV.

Ah-net!

As you can see, it's not a bad likeness to her actual Ciocia Annette, pictured below with some douche bag who thinks hamming it up for the camera while at a fancy restaurant is a good idea.  Will she never learn?!?!

So imagine my excitement when watching CBS Sunday Morning yesterday, Lenny starts pointing at the TV and saying "Mommy!"

Yes, CBS Sunday Morning.  Judge me if you must, but sometimes, on the weekends, I like my knowledge useless and my humour gentle.

They say daughters all think that their mothers are beautiful, especially when they are young.  I was ready for a little ego boost.  And then...this:

My daughter thinks I look like Louis XIII.  Despite the initial shock, I  have to say, this outfit is pretty snazzy.  He's got really shapely calves.  Also? I could totally pull off that hat.  

So. What do you guys think I should call my fashion blog?

My Sister from Another Mister.

Thank you to Yahoo! Mail for sponsoring this post about staying connected. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

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Remember when you were in grade school and you'd pass notes in class with your best friend?  That's the earliest forms of written communication that Annette and I took part in.  Burning questions like "What do you want to play at recess?" and "Do you like my new sweatshirt? The one with a teddy bear dressed as Tina Turner?"  Needless to say, I loved the sweatshirt (duh) and I wanted to dance a tango in the playground at recess.  Annette would lead.  Yeah, we were pretty weird kids.

Of course, the best stories always start when the weird kids find each other.  

Once we were in high school the note passing took on a serious, more long form nature.  One Friday morning, in grade 12 Law Studies, Annette wrote out a detailed missive explaining the entire plot to the episode of Seinfeld that I missed the night before.  I guess the teacher thought she was taking notes in my agenda book, but in reality she was filling me in on Jerry's trials and tribulations with a Cigar Store Indian and Frank Costanza's missing TV Guide.

When my BFF moved to Ottawa for first year University we'd send long, handwritten letters to each other. Me learning about dorm life and her new friends, she learning about my new job and getting the latest gossip from home.

Pretty soon we were grown ups, if you can call 22 year olds grown ups.  At the very least we were masquerading as adults, with schedules, office wardrobes and email.  Both of us, like virtually everybody else our age at that point, bored out of our minds at our desks, clock watching.  It wasn't acceptable to pick up the phone and call your pal to chat while you waited and waited for an assignment from your boss or for 5:30pm to finally arrive.  But sending an email?  BA-RING IT!!!

Over the past years 15 years, over email, we've counselled one another on relationship struggles, office politics, fashion, lunch orders and real estate.  We've planned a wedding, studied sonograms and picked out furniture.  We've made each other laugh, we've made each other cry.  And for me, those emails have brought our words to life the same way those handwritten notes did in grade school.

Pro tip: when choosing a best friend, find one who will take the time to fix YOUR dress on HER wedding day.
WHO DOES THAT?!

With a little luck, someday we'll be old ladies emailing each other pics of our grandkids...

There's still nobody I'd rather tango with.  Happy Birthday, Buddy.  Choosing you as my best friend reminds me daily of my impeccable taste.  Love you to death.  Email me!