I'm fairly sure there's a felony in here somewhere

This is what I discovered when I opened the trunk of SweetieDarling's car this morning. Twenty stolen campaign signs. And a traffic cone. And some caution tape. (I'm keeping my eyes peeled for the coppers. They'll surely be here any minute.) I shudder to contemplate what this stash means to the fate of humankind as we know it.

Upon being queried as to exactly why she was in possession of these items, I was told that she and her minions went on a scavenger hunt of sorts. They've all decided that they are fresh, shiny democrats and took it upon themselves to rid the world of the scourge of the republicans. To the extent of stealing campaign signs until they tired of it and found something better to do, the details of which I'm certain I'm better off not knowing. I promptly gathered the offending parties, and, in true law school style, delivered a mind numbingly boring scintillating lecture on the perils and ramifications of impeding a campaign, the majority of which I made up on the spot. The ramifications of being caught impeding a campaign by SweetieDarling's mother include:

a) having to replace all of the stolen signs, with an apology;

b) having to join me at the democratic headquarters of our county to learn how to support a campaign and candidate appropriately (and legally).

While I'm not Ms. Popularity at the moment, I hope at least one thing will remain with them. No matter who you support, you don't build your candidate up by tearing the other one (or their signs) down.

But really, how long can you stay mad at someone who has this sticker on their dash?

I should have been a dentist

SweetieDarling has been suffering for days with a toothache. She finally decided to tell me about it two days ago. I sent her to the dentist hoping she could get a filling and be done with it. Oh no. No no no. Couldn't be that simple. She needs a root canal and a crown. Or she must have the tooth extracted. Now, I know we live in West by gawd Virginia, but I cannot have my 18 year old daughter running around missing a tooth. Even if it is one in the way back that wouldn't affect her beautiful smile.

So she's referred to an oral surgeon who specializes in these things. Do you know how much a root canal costs? Well sit down, because you're about to be shocked. $985!!!!! Do you believe that? That's ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!! I was absolutely gobsmacked!!!! I hope I don't run out of exclamation points!!! Because then how would you know how dismayed I am?!!

When I set up the appointment for the xrays, I asked the scheduler if piercings were a problem. See poppets, my SweetieDarling, she's a bit of a goth child. You know the ones, black hair, eyeliner, nailpolish, lipstick. So many piercings they look like they fell face first into the tackle box. The ones you either point at or run away from at the mall? That's my girl. And I didn't want her to go for the xray and all that metal in her head melt together and fuse into some kind of terminator/robo cop hybrid mask. Apparently, since the rays are centered onto the tooth only, it doesn't matter.

It's a good thing her mouth is sore and she can't chew. After paying for this, there won't be food around here for the rest of the month.

Wendy? Yes, Lisa...

If you're a rabid Prince fan, you know from whence the title comes. If you're not, obviously you live under a rock and I can't fathom how you even have internet access to be reading this. Oh, come back here. I was kidding. I know he's not to everyones' taste.

I have been obsessed with Prince since 1982. For those of us who are math impaired, that's um, uh, carry the two, subtract.... oh, it's a hella long time. For the record, I was a fan long before Purple Rain. I had all of his albums. As in vinyl. See poppets, before we had these fancy ipods, there used to be these things called cassettes. Before cassettes, there were these flat, black vinyl discs that played music using a needle. I owned these vinyl discs. For one purpose. The purpose was to hang the album covers all over my bedroom. For listening, I purchased the cassettes. I couldn't play albums in my car now could I? It's all about the cool factor.

So I have Prince album art and posters all over my bedroom walls. Much to my parents dismay. Instead of liking some wholesome cutie I worship the guy who sings "jack u off" and "Do Me Baby". Here's a sample of what one was subjected to upon entering my shrine:

See Prince's hair in the bottom pic? I had a feminine version of that haircut. Oh yes, yes I did. And I rocked it. Sadly, there are no pictures from this era. I had the foresight to destroy any photographic evidence that could be used as blackmail in the future.

If you really want to get people fired up? Pose this question to some musically inclined friends:

"Who would win a guitar off between Prince and Eric Clapton?"

You think the Obama McCain debate gets heated? You ain't seen nothing yet. If you really want someones head to explode, throw Stevie Ray Vaughn in there too. And then run for cover.

Or hop in your Little Red Corvette for a ride down Alphabet Street. We'll sit Under the Cherry Moon until it starts to Purple Rain. For some Controversy, we'll party like it's 1999. (and did he call it right with that song or what? Did we all not think for sure the world was gonna end at midnight 1999? Or at least all of our computers crash, which is totally the same thing).

Perched on the Precipice

SweetieDarling didn't come home last night. Didn't call, wouldn't answer her phone. The last thing she said when she left is that she was going to her friends' and would call me.

During those long, lonely hours between curfew and return, a lot of things go through a mothers' mind. The foremost of those things being that I really hoped she'd live through the night so I could kill her. The most trivial thing that I thought of, but that actually upset me the most was that I couldn't say what she was wearing. If I had to give the police a description of my daughter, I wouldn't be able to tell them what clothes she had on only a few longest of my life short hours ago. How can I look at my child, hug her goodbye, watch her leave, and not know what she was wearing? Why does this upset me so much?

She has never done this before, but upon reflection whilst delirious with lack of sleep and worry, I can see where she's been ever so slightly pushing the boundaries of her rules. She's always home on time, but doesn't want to have to be. If I know where she is, I'll extend curfew. All it takes is a simple telephonic request. She has a cell phone for a reason. But she wants to stay out if the situation calls for it and not have to check in. It's not that I don't trust her, I just want to know that she's ok. I truly don't think this is too much to ask.

I've never had to deal with this before. The oldest two had to be forced out of the house by threat. I remember being invincible and immortal, and sometimes am truly surprised that I survived my teens and early twenties. It is by pure dumb luck. What if she isn't that lucky?

She's perched on the precipice of adulthood. Ready and eager to take that leap. How do I help her without pushing her off too soon, or holding her back too long?

I just want her to land softly.