Jean-Rebecca

This is my dear, wonderful friend Rebecca.

You may remember her from our acupuncture adventure a couple of years ago. If not, you can read about it here. You really should go read that story. It’s one of our best adventures.

We’ve been good friends for a long time – since our now-grown children were preschoolers. Through the years we’ve been through a lot.

Sort of the  Clint Eastwood version of life.

You know, the good, the bad and the ugly. I am grateful that “the good” has been most prevalent.

So we were having coffee the other day when Rebecca told me she had a confession to make. Her face and tone of voice grew serious. I wondered what in the world it could be.

Of course one’s mind runs to the most awful of things, but I didn’t say anything. I was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything illegal – she’s not that way.

So, I simply waited for her to continue.

“I’m not practicing my piano,” she announced. “And I have a recital coming up.”

She went on to explain that she was being rebellious – didn’t feel like practicing, so she didn’t.

I didn’t know how to respond.

We’re Baby Boomers for goodness sake – rebels, culture changers, part of the generation of wild and crazy folk that changed the world.

So not practicing piano didn’t seem like such a big deal.

Finally I said, “So what? You’ll practice again when you want to.” In other words, chill baby.

Profound, I know!

Then she added the whammy.

A whammy I knew well.

“And,” she continued, “we’re having mashed potatoes for dinner tonight.

She sat up a little straighter in her chair, the set of her jaw told me she meant business.

“Oh my God, potatoes,” I replied all dreamy eyed. “ I miss potatoes.”

Right then and there I decided baked potatoes had to be on our dinner menu.

That very night.

We talked for a while about how rebellious we felt by eating potatoes, those delicious blood-sugar-spiking, non-vegetable vegetables.

We were BAD.

Really bad – as in badass, kick butt, take-no-prisoners Baby Boomers.

Only these days our rebellion has mellowed somewhat.

So it’s come to this: now we thumb our noses at authority by not practicing piano and eating potatoes.

Potatoes!!

Hey, you get your rebellion where you find it I guess.

Rock on Baby Boomers!

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