Get Me a Cane to Shake at These Punks!

My friend Becci and I seem to have a knack for adopting the young guys at the bowling alley. There's several of them that we have to check in with every week and we cheer for them when they're playing other teams and harass the snot out of them when they're playing us. Most of them are away from home attending college and evidently we're the only motherly figures they can find. Or more like den-motherly. I find it very strange to be big with the 20-somethings.

Becci is more "with it" than I am, I guess, despite having two grown daughters. Last night, one of our guys comes in with a mohawk. I'm not talking faux hawk--it's dead-on sides-of-head-shaved mohawk. Evidently he lost a bet with his drinking buddies. Becci raved about it, and I do think he actually looks really cool with it, but the first thing that came to my mind was "does your mother know about this??"

Once I got past the shock of thinking like an adult (I guess I don't just look like my mother these days--I think like her too!), I was able to tell him that I thought it was pretty cool. And his ego was boosted by the fact that he got phone numbers from three girls during a trip to the grocery store. So we then had to tease him about those girls just thinking he was a bad boy, but we know better. This is our sweet little J-Rod we're talking about here. (He reminds me of Cody Lindley from Hannah Montana--except now with a mohawk.)

And an update on the problem I discussed yesterday: I made it through bowling, but there was a moment where it hurt so bad I almost wet my pants. Then I went home and crawled freezing into bed. I got up and put an extra blanket on the bed and put on my bathrobe and fuzzy socks. I finally got warm, but my temp was only 97 degrees. Weird. And did you know there's really no answer on the internet as to why body temps drop without being hypothermic? Google and Wikipedia have failed me.