Addicted to Facebook

Hello, my name is Sheri and I need a 12-step program. I am addicted to Facebook.

I love it. I love you, my friends. I love seeing your children and grandchildren. I love hearing about your day. I like checking out which pages you "like" and seeing what mutual friends we have.

For my media friends, I love your weather forecasts, your updates on breaking news and the fact that you interact with us regular people.

My aunts and my cousins, well ... without Facebook, I wouldn't know your latest blog, see your latest interests, know you play silly games ... I wouldn't get to share as much of your life as I do now.

High school friends and college friends -- wow, the power to reconnect! To see you as your grown up selves and superimpose that image with the one in my memory. It's mind boggling.

Seriously, I know what's going on with my church family because they put it on Facebook.

A few months ago, I was in a meeting with a vendor and my boss. The vendor was giving me great compliments and (jokingly) said, "You need to give her a raise." My boss replied, "Whatever... every time I check she's on Facebook."

Of course, he is my friend on Facebook and the only way he would know I was on it is he is on it too.

Guilty! I open it at home. I open it at work. I float between whatever I am working on and checking the status of my friends. I wait for Faith to tell me who I should pray for and I wait for Susan's hysterical posts. I long for Kristen's newest adventures and recipes. I see the travels of my peeps and I cheer for their accomplishments.

And at least once a day, somebody, somewhere tries to tell me something new and my answer ends up to be, "I know. I saw it on Facebook."

Bragging Rights

Do you get annoyed with people who send holiday newsletters telling you of their travels to Europe, peppered with the news of Jr. becoming a vice president and baby girl junior is president of the local Junior League? Grandchildren have all made the honor roll and at least one is certain to be the president of his or her fraternity/sorority. For that moment in time, their biggest problem might be grubs in the lawn.

One of my favorite traditions, and one I miss dearly, was when the girlfriends/workout group would gather in my kitchen and vote on the most obnoxious and braggy Christmas letter received. My friend Big Sal always won -- she knows a lot of important people who feel the need to brag about it. She could not be more down-to-earth and that's probably why people are drawn to her.

We all read between the lines when someone is bragging.

The bragging is often earned because something was survived. Maybe the children simply survived divorce. Maybe the unexpected pregnancy turns out to be the valedictorian. The grandchild with the learning disorder might be fueling his brain cells in a Bill Gates direction. Or helping the homeless. Or simply being a smart person who doesn't wear a hoodie and pack a gun. Or finds hope in a world that can sometimes seem hopeless.

Even though I make fun of it, I understand the need to say, "Look at our family -- look at this great thing that happened in our life."

I've had the honor and privilege to be a co-mamma, and a stepmother. And one of the issues brought to my attention during the divorce was my family/stepfamily/co-family did not always appreciate my thoughts going out there for the world to absorb. So, I have tried to comply but now I'm going to backslide for a quick second.

My stepdaughter eloped recently. I watched her through high school, college and law school. I cheered her a lot and we traded "what is wrong with you" conversations at times. I'm proud of her and this marriage she's chosen. I'm bragging.

My stepson was just accepted into the accelerated graduate program. He is starting his senior year in college and one year after that he will earn his master's degree. Not only will it save time but having those credit hours working double time will save a phenomenal amount of money. His parents have earned the bragging rights but I'm feeling the need to puff out my lungs and shout a bit too.

If You Don't Know Me By Now

For someone who has spent her entire adult life making a living in communications, it occurs to me that I may not be a great communicator in my personal life.

I have a sassy mouth. I have spent many years learning to temper it. The tendency to (as my ex-husband used to say) "Ready, Fire, Aim!" has been somewhat stifled. I truly try to engage my brain before I open my mouth.

Yet, I am still me. I will continue to be an open book. I will tell you what I think if you ask me a question. If I love you, I will spend countless hours trying to craft a proper response in the kindest possible way. Or sometimes I will blurt out what I really think and apologize for the manner in which it was delivered.

I have a wacky sense of humor that I inherited honestly. My parents are two of the funniest people on the planet and even when we jab each other, it is done with a foundation of love, respect and a little bit of attitude. "You can't get rid of me!"

My family is my family. That sounds idiotic but it's important that I put it out there. I have cousins and distant relatives that I go years without seeing. But they are in my prayers and I would be there for them in a heartbeat if needed.

I have an abundance of friends and acquaintances. Most of my friends have been with me for decades. We have had the joy and the pain of watching each other experience every possible scenario. Occasionally my sassy mouth or distracted brain or wacky sense of humor gets me in trouble. I have total respect for anyone who calls me on it:

You hurt my feelings.
You shouldn't have done that.
I need you right now.
Why did you say that?

But lately, I'm copping a little attitude.

If I've been your friend (or family) for decades, shouldn't you know that my loyalty is with you? Shouldn't my best judgement count? Shouldn't you trust me that my intentions are pure?

I'm getting tired of explaining myself and my decisions. I am living with my parents because I need to do so. It is not just for financial reasons -- I could move out tomorrow and eke by for a while. I am looking for the right job, not just any job, because it is the right decision for me. I am not looking for a new husband. Having coffee or a drink with someone does not an affair make. But I also could have an affair with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and I'm pretty sure it is no one's business but mine. (and God's)

Live and learn. I lost some acquaintances in the divorce. Ok, I can live with that. But occasionally someone just blows me away with a comment or a question and I think,

Wow, you don't know me at all.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

After writing about Eunice Kennedy Shriver's death and how much I admired her, I also want to acknowledge the death of her brother, Senator Edward Kennedy.

The news broke this morning and the reporter said, "The nation is mourning the loss of Ted Kennedy."

Ok, wait a minute. How do they know the whole nation is "mourning?"

Ted was not my favorite Kennedy. Maybe it has to do with Chappaquiddick. I'm big on forgiveness; I'm equally fond of accountability.

I've always found him a little slimy. The whole rape trial, Uncle Teddy helping out his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, didn't help.

But, I must certainly admire his passion in the senate and his endless works in the areas of health care, the poor, the disabled and more.

And let's not forget he left a wife, an ex-wife, children, step-children, nieces and nephews. By tragic default, he was the family patriarch. He rose to the occasion and they were some pretty steep shoes to fill.

I guess I am mourning. I'm in awe of of this family that I do not know. I'm astounded that he is the last of the nine siblings and now the torch of this family -- America's royal family -- has been passed to the next generation.

My generation.


(Correction: Jean Kennedy Smith, Ted's sister and mother of the accused rapist, is the last living Kennedy of that generation.)