Holding On To Eighteen (As Long As I Can)....

I swear to you, I feel like it is 1988 all over again...I have been having so many deja vu moments these past weeks it is incredible. It all started with one of those "Getting to Know Your Friends" questionnaire emails that my friend Kathleen sent over. You know them, they ask things like: "What are your favorite names?" (Elizabeth, Timothy and William, of course) and "Have you ever loved someone so much it made you cry?" (Yes...everyday)...And though I blow off answering important emails on a regular basis, when it comes to silly, inane chatter, well that is my specialty. And who am I kidding, I love seeing what my friends say and gauging their reaction to my snarky answers. So....the one Kathleen sent asked that you answer the questions as you would have as a high school senior...and I couldn't resist for a second. A sampling below:

Its Friday night...where were you? Party at Tom O'Neill's house

Were you a party animal ? Well...I was in that crowd

Were you considered a flirt? Probably

Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? God no

Were you a nerd? Uh...come on...no...

Where did you sit during lunch? At the cool table

If you could go back and do it again, would you? Definitely

Do you still talk to people from school? All the time

Of course my husband made fun of me as soon as he saw my answers...rolling his eyes at my supposed Mean Girl past...Come on, it was the 80's...we modeled ourselves on one-dimensional John Hughes characters. At any rate, I know I am not alone in this bizarre flashback world that we all live in now thanks to...well, many things, I suppose. We can google pretty much any bit of information we desire on anyone or anything...and email makes us feel as though we are 

close intimate friends with people we never see or truly don't have cause to know very well at all...and hell, this blog is out there for the world to see as I recount my memories and share my thoughts....But the biggest culprit of all, for we children of the 80's in particular, is the new addiction...put down the Vicodin, it's all about Facebook.

Over the past few weeks I have been "friended" on Facebook by so many blasts from the past that my head is spinning. The old Franklin Lakes crowd found me month

s ago and then it all ramped up with the Academy of the Holy Angels girls...there are at least 50 of us all connected now by this cyberspace phenomena. And we are commenting everyday on each other's "status" and family photo albums. And it is kind of nice as adults to interact with people who share that common bond from back in the day...getting demerits for slouchy socks...Lyncher jumping into the Math Club yearbook photo every year...the lunch ladies mixing coleslaw with their hands...parking on that patch of grass in the middle of the back parking lot....the guys from Bergen Catholic picking us up at dismissal taking us on joyrides, burning gas....the good old days. And then all of a sudden, I started connecting with the extended group from the Bergen County private school network, our social circle, the regulars on our high school party scene...First it was Cha Cha Muldowney and then it was Annie B. and DPM followed by Tram and Seany and Danielle P....and now the memories are swirling in my brain.

So I found that all of my friends here in town (who are also my Facebook "friends") are experiencing the same thing. ADP told me last week that she found herself running home after drop off to see if any of her Ramapo high school posse had posted vintage photos on their profile in which she is featured. And Sam told me over margaritas and champagne at The Brick House last Friday that at this rate she fully expects to start hearing from her nursery school classmates next...and you know she is right on. So I wondered if possibly there is something else at play here. Is this reconnection really just our last grasp at those days, that feeling...the glimpse back at who we were...almost a championing of our teenaged selves, giving them one last shot at righting all the wrongs and showing our "friends" how much those days meant to us? I'd like to think so.

Or are we just a bunch of overgrown 18 year olds? Yes! Definitely...I have no doubt. That fact is evidenced by the state of the social scene here in Wyckoff where it is no longer ok to just have a party...forget cocktails and cheese puffs out on the deck, if you are going to invite the neighbors over, you better kick it into high gear. Now, my group of friends here have been known to partake in juvenile behavior like drunken cannonball contests (Joe takes it every time...) and late night trampoline-ing (Nancy deftly out-jumping the rest of us every time...), but late this summer we were all treated to an event that could be described as nothing less than the ultimate teenage fantasy kegger at Wendy's house....The backyard was covered with sand, tiki torches lit the yard, there was a barbecue pit, bartenders, frosty drinks, beer everywhere. The best part was the stage and a kickass bar band -- The Flying Mueller Brothers -- with their long platinum blond, 80's hair band tresses and bongo drums and classic rock covers. My friends and I ran around in flip flops, sand in our toes, downing keg beer...singing along to the music at the top of our lungs, Suse and I being snapped relentlessly by the official party photographer while her husband, Scott, jumped around to that House of Pain song Jump Around...jump! jump! jump! And it went all night....I eventually walked home alone, leaving my husband behind boozing it up with his buddies....just like I would have at age 18.

And it's not just me and my friends going at the season like we are starring in some suburban version of Old School (we're streaking!). Everyone I know is going hardcore these days...you know, there are grown men partaking in 12-hour long Boston College football tailgates -- I get a contact hangover just hearing about it...And Suse's Scott, is taking it to a new level -- a loyal Penn Stater, he and his college buddies have rented a house in State College where the debauchery will be in full force 'round-the-clock this weekend as Penn State plays Michigan State (Paterno's last game????)...And then, word came late last week that some kickass party across town featured the neighbor ladies on a stripper pole and late night Jersey-centric hot grilling of Taylor Ham, Egg and Cheese sandwiches. Impressive! Now that's the way to ramp it up, people....

This past weekend a group of us met for a seemingly adult cocktail party at K & J's...it was a smaller crowd, but a close-knit group of friends (Gwen, by the way, sporting the hottest pair of fantasy shoes this side of Milan...). So in this group we are familiar with one another, no pretenses...sort of like it was back in high school when you and your immediate group of 20 or so would gather and say "it'll just be us tonight". We chatted and laughed as we cracked into the wine selection and sampled the delicious appetizers....and of course Suse broke out the fondue pot (bringing back the 70's....love it!! By the way, we are pretty sure her babysitter is starting to think Suse has a bong hidden in that fondue pot box....) and we discussed the basic tenets of fondue etiquette with Tim, who termed the whole process an "intimate dining experience"...Well, you know, you are supposed to kiss the person to your right if you lose your food in the pot...So it was that comfort level that also allowed us to slip into our high school personas...eventually a few of us girls strayed into the back room and begged Barry to play DJ so that we could dance around in a circle, holding our beers, hugging one another and laughing...the rest of the guys across the room pretending they didn't want in, but we knew they did. Just like the guys back in high school. But then we tired out and had no choice but to wind it down by the time Joanne lost her shoes...that's right...she walked around barefoot without a care in the world, shoes lost...just like a ditzy teen queen. What a great party...such fun...nothing like a bunch of overaged 18 year olds jammed in a room with their best friends to bring it all back.

So this weekend I am turning it down a few notches and hosting a small group for dinner. And we'll try our best to stay civilized...act our age...We'll try really hard to keep our shoes from getting lost...and we'll only listen to soothing dinner music...and I'll try to keep from streaking through the neighborhood. Oh who am I kidding...I am going to encourage my guests to be as immature as possible, disturb the neighbors with our festive partying...maybe for old times' sake we'll go over to my parents' house, raid their liquor cabinet and trash the place...and I'll just pop Excedrin Migraine in between glasses of Prosecco in hopes of warding off a killer hangover. I hope the cops show up! Oh...and make no mistake, the traveling fondue pot will most most definitely make an appearance. 'Tis the Season!

Love to All.... Suz

Photo 1: Murph, me and Pompa-donut in a sea of lace and taffeta on the Senior Prom party bus...that electric blue eyeliner is so timeless!

Photo 2: A selection of boozy little brats...my BFFs circa 1988...Lyncher to the right keeping the beer flowing (as always....)

Photo 3: Al, me, Danielle and Pompa-donut sporting some high hair in the AHA caf...love the retro Diet Pepsi can!

Photo 4: Bridget and me (in white) starring as cats in El Senor Don Gato freshman year...and there we are, surrounded by a whole slew of our Facebook "friends"...

Photo 5: Lyncher, looking all innocent in Sister Catherine's Religion class (Mondee, Tuesdee...) probably pulling Sally Hur's hot 80's rattail...

Photo 6: Allison planting one on Facebook "friend" DPM...Murph and Mike L. (Danielle P's husband!!) in the back...please take note of the picnic table, beers and cigarettes strewn about. We were 17 years old...

Photo 7: Some of the hot private high school posse...Annie B. (Facebook "friend") at top right...love the come hither eyes on Casey and Al...

Photo 8: Chris K., Lawrence (miss you always, buddy...), Danielle and Tom F. pounding Buds the day after AHA junior prom...on the patio behind Danielle's grandma's beach house...

Photo 9: Dil and Chappy funneling on the roof deck at Tim H.'s LBI house, day after Bergen senior prom...

Photo 10: Going diehard "Old School" for Paterno...is that Will Ferrell? Nope...

Photo 11: The shoes our Gwen (yes, Gwen) broke out for cocktails this weekend...the men are all still thinking about them...oh, ok, I am too...

Photo 12: Lyncher, Murph, me, Case, Al and Kerc the day before we left for college, August 1988...

Photo 13: A selection of high school BFFs attempting to appear grown up enough to order drinks at a wedding party in 1987...and we seem more grown up there then we actually do today....

Take Me Back...

In this last week I have I reveled in my new freedom -- gone are the Acai berry juice samplings and Fair Trade chocolates and the menopausal relief products. Praise Jesus! But don't think I wasn't busy, because I was...oh, I worked, went right on to consulting again without missing a beat...but that's not what really kept me busy. No, no...much more important matters at hand...after a spotty performance these past months, I have finally re-entered the social scene and frankly, it's about damn time. So let's see...there were afternoon walks with the girls, coffee breaks, dinners, bridge games, fundraisers and the all important Friday night ladies-only food, booze and gossip fest at my house....And you know, I decided not to reveal much of what my girlfriends and I discussed that night over bacon-wrapped scallops and chocolate fondue, because, well....I think it's best we perserve the fantasy that we are all a bunch of suburban MILFs, always ready for a good time...not that far off base, right? Oh, ok guys, I'll throw you a bone -- we raked every last one of you over the coals...but you know, deep down we love your oblivious preening and your delightfully daft ways...

So anyway, one night last week, I met one of my oldest (in duration, not age...) friends on the Upper East Side where she lives now with her husband and nine month old son. We grew up together in Franklin Lakes, our families very close friends (that old Indian Trail Club tennis group...), we had picnics and pool parties and Fourth of July parades and Game Nights and Christmas Tree trimming parties together for years. So yeah, Jen and I had a lot in common -- youngest daughters in big families (I am the fourth of five and she is the baby of six)...and our moms were, well, sort of over it by the time we were tugging at their skirts. We could pretty much take care of ourselves (and did) by age six. While our older, cooler siblings were probably all sharing a joint on Jen's family's tennis court and swapping dates at the Freshman semi-formal, she and I and my younger brother, RJ, performed in fake toothpaste commercials in the master bathroom, sang songs from Saturday Night Fever, rifled through the hidden Christmas gifts and whined to our parents. So when Jen and I met at Orsay on Lex and 75th (yet again habitually early, I was parked at the bar dowing Prosecco, flirting with the geek-chic Euro bartender, fondling my Blackberry until she showed up), it had been two years since we had last seen each other and we squealed uncontrollably at the sight of one another...like a bunch of sorority sisters. And in a sense that is what we are.

So the minute I saw her it all came flooding back -- my childhood in the 1970's....the bad clothes, disengaged moms in tennis whites, dads working all the time, every kid in town piling on a bus to go two blocks to school, the "see and be seen" at the 11:15 Mass at Most Blessed Sacrament on Sunday....and the town politics. Oh yes, Franklin Lakes was like a WASPy version of a some Mississippi backwater -- complete with the prominent family who lorded over the town, owned all the land and populated it with their relatives and friends, a boozy band of entitled n'er-do-wells. Those were the days! Jen and I talked all about what it was like for me living back here where we grew up...being surrounded by the things and people of my childhood. A little stifling? Maybe sometimes. Comforting? Yeah, that too... And we talked about how it was back then, growing up in the 70's in Franklin Lakes....only 18 miles west of New York City, but back then, like the pristine countryside, big pretty houses on vast, leafy lots. Our whole worlds revolved around summer barbecues at the Grove and after school ice skating on one of the many lakes of Franklin Lakes. On Halloween we trolled the neighborhood with the other kids, no adults in sight. We used to ride our bikes barefoot to what was Kilroy's Wonder Market then, and is now the famous Market Basket, where we bought family-sized bags of watermelon Jolly Ranchers and hoarded them like we were on a desert island. The old Urban Pharmacy had charge plates on file for every family in town and we would rack up endless bills buying wax bottle candies, Razzles and Charleston Chews. We rode our bikes by ourselves to the Club for summer camp each morning and spent the whole day there. We ate everyday at the Indian Trail Club snack counter...extra salty fries and soft serve ice cream cones. We swam at the lake without any supervision whatsoever, except for the teenaged lifeguards, who were always off making out behind the paddle house. Our parents would eventually show up to check in after a few sets of tennis.....We were all of nine years old.

Jen and I cackled for a full two hours remembering...like, what were our moms thinking? What were all of those 70's moms thinking? I mean, Franklin Lakes was a safe little haven -- and it still is -- but today's moms wouldn't consider allowing their little girls to explore the town, ride bikes along "busy" streets, spend the whole day unsupervised. My first born will be nine on New Year's Day....and some of her friends' moms are appalled that I let her ride her bike around the corner by herself....around the corner, not even 20 yards from our front door. My generation has been conditioned to live constantly in fear of some invisible threat -- I'll be on the playground and lose sight of my jealous and possessive five year old for no more than two minutes when I start to wonder if he's been kidnapped....like, really...in front of 80 people the kid is going to be snatched away? But I admit that deep inside I am fearful that any lapse in proper parental judgement is inexcusable -- on a regular basis I fully expect DYFS to show up at my door for some minor infraction -- like a few weeks ago when Rob told me he left my daughter in charge of the boys for 10 minutes while he ran to CVS. Well...I think my mom and dad had me watching RJ by the time I was seven....right, we laugh now, but it was kind of acceptable then.

When we were kids there was no such thing as an organized playdate, you just rode your bike over to your friends house after school...And we took dance and piano and played rec sports and joined school clubs, but our moms certainly didn't have us in French classes and acting lessons and speed school by the time we were three. They may have been overwhelmed with huge families and no household support from their husbands, our dads, but sometimes I think moms in the 70's kind of had it better than we do in a lot of ways. Things were just sort of more relaxed...they stayed home all day and cooked and cleaned and not one of them worked outside the home. They were rarely expected to sport anything fancier than golf skirts or tennis clothes and their husbands took them out every Friday night. And their kids were allowed to just be kids. So maybe a few of us ended up crawling onto the roof or falling out of windows or getting lost at Sealfon's in Ridgewood...but we ended up ok, right? And the memories are priceless, no?

So I am thinking that maybe we can return to the 70's...I mean, hell, my friends and I are on a mission to singlehandedly bring back fondue parties, which is a good start. You know -- the guys can go back to being the men of the house, never picking up a broom or changing a diaper...and we ladies can spend the entire day making casseroles and phoning up our neighbors with the latest goings on...and no pressure on the kids...no more undying control over their every move, who they befriend, what they think. You know, this might work -- the guys would probably love it if we wives stayed inside and never have another dinner, drink or committee meeting for the rest of our lives. And maybe the kids would flourish in this new freedom. But what about the women? I mean, come to think of it, without a steady stream of Vicodin, I am not quite sure that I could go back to the simpler times...I kind of like having a profession, as willy nilly as it is...and I am totally committed to all the committees I am on, so I don't want to stay inside cleaning all week long...and I'll be damned if I am going to give up those nights out cocktailing and laughing with my friends...And besides, the shoes are much hotter these days than they were back then, so there you go...that settles it right there.

Photo 1: The suburban MILFs...nothing is hotter than a bunch of women clamoring for molten chocolate on banana chunks...

Photo 2: Me, Jen and RJ...most likely playing with matches or knives...our parents most certainly nowhere to be found...Don't you love the snotty sidelong glance she is giving me??

Photo 3: Some of Franklin Lakes' finest, fresh and innocent...on the way to booze up in the back of some cheesy 70's limo...

Photo 4: Scenes from a Key Party??? Looks that way...Jen's mom and dad up front with my mom, sporting her 70's permanent wave...Dad poking his head through...those crazy b*stards in the back were months out from joining some cult (swear to G*d!!)

Photo 5: Our Jolly Rancher stash....looks depleted somewhat...

Photo 6: Over-protecting my jealous and possessive five year old...at least someone out there thinks he can't live without me...

Photo 7: The Fourth Grade Franklin Lakes posse...just coming off a mammoth prank calling session...so very 70's...

Photo 8: Ritteresier siblings circa 1972, pre-RJ....my mom on a Vicodin drip (allegedly....)

A New Day...Yawn...

Ok, I wasn't going to comment on this moment in history because, well, it's sort of like Tom Brokaw handicapping the upcoming season of Top Chef (yum, food porn...mark your calendars -- November 12th premiere)...but also because I was taught early in life that voraciously advertising your political leanings displays poor manners. And I continue to share that perspective instilled in me by my parents....we are not lawn sign, bumper sticker or lapel pin proponents in this house...that is one thing about which we will go on record. And admit it -- there is nothing more pathetic than a beat up old Suburu station wagon with a faded "Gore/Lieberman 2000" sticker peeling off the rear bumper eight years hence....cringe-worthy...

But then this morning while I was out grabbing my iced venti non-fat latte there was some buffoon on line in front of me preening in this computer geek version of a varsity jacket, leather sleeves and all, the logo of a major tech firm printed on the back. But you could barely see it because his entire jacket was covered with Obama stickers...really -- is that the fashion statement you want to make? And the dude was kind of lingering at the coffee shop, waiting for someone to congratulate him or something...like "hey, your candidate won so that must mean you are finally cool." Instead everyone in the place was giving him sidelong glances and rolling their eyes (including me...again, advertising political leanings = bad manners...). It's like this guy was hiding for weeks and now he's empowered, coming out of the liberal closet in some sense...pulling an "in your face" on the cool kids in town. Like a bad Revenge of the Nerds sequel...I was kind of like: Come on buddy, act like you've been there before.

I live in a pretty, little, upper-middle class, suburban community a mere 16 miles west of New York City. The overwhelming majority of Wyckoff citizens are highly educated, well-informed, mostly pro-choice, support gay marriage and are environmentally conscious....that said, I would also say 80% of my friends and neighbors identify themselves as Republicans. But are we? Do we fit anywhere really? Based on this morning's reports, it is this specific suburban demographic that elected our new president. Well I suppose there are many explanations for that aside from all the buzz word reasoning -- the "need for change" -- I think that maybe there was something else to consider that made Obama the overwhelming choice...an all-important undeniable aspect: personality, baby. And when you have it in excess (see Bill Clinton) you can pretty much write your own ticket.

You know how much I dig old guys, I've never denied that, but John McCain...well, I think he would have been an honorable, strong president, but it's been clear from the get-go that in the charisma department, Obama had the edge. And to a lot of people, that makes a difference when all is said and done. As much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes when he addressed his supporters last night...he's engaging with his whole "Yes We Can" thing. But regardless of which candidate I believe actually has the experience to lead this country, or what goals are attainable and realistic for a president to accomplish, regardless of the state of our nation at home or our image globally, it comes down to this: people are drawn to that X-factor, the power one has to make others follow him and believe his words. And that, my friends, is a major component in how elections are won...Fair enough, right?

Ok...so enough of this newsworthy stuff...let's move on to discussion of more pressing issues....like Mrs. Biden's snappy election night get up -- cute little pixie in chartreuse...And what about NeNe and Kim on The Real Housewives last night...talk about an epic battle....And the Oscar race...has that started yet? Now that's a campaign I can get excited about.....