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Hi.

The other day a middle-aged recreational jogger was putzing around on FB, told a story to amuse herself, and "they" said she should blog, so she did. This is what you find here.

Niece #2

Niece #2

The other day I got a frantic call from my sister. She was gasping and out of breath. “Shasta! We need you! Only you can save the day!” she cried.

(OK, I’m totally disclosing my Emotional Need porn right now.)

I actually received a desultory text from Heather somewhere along the lines of, “Dude, Justin and I are out of town for work and Isabelle’s college visit. Can you stay with Lauren? If not, no worries. You were her second choice.”

Well. If that didn’t send me hurtling across town, nothing will. Nevertheless, Sunday afternoon I rolled up at their house with my responsible adult hat on and found myself locked out.

sk, texting: I’m HERE. LET ME IN.

The garage door leisurely rolled up.

LSJ, scrolling through her phone and heading back inside the house: Hey, Tante.

sk: I’m here to babysit you. ARE YOU OK? DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?

LSJ, all of 15-years-old (or is it 14? I forget): har har har

The visit carried on from there. I unloaded Winston and Trixie from the car and headed inside. I cooked a wholesome meal that nourished my niece’s growing body and spent the rest of the evening imparting my wisdom to her young, impressionable mind. In return, she shared her deepest thoughts, hopes and dreams. That night I tucked her into bed with a kiss on her cheek and whispered, “You are safe. Tante’s here.”

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED:

Heather had left her credit card, so Lauren and I – immediately simpatico on what to do – proceeded to order a ridiculous amount of pizza and wings and guzzle that down like fools. Then we sat on the couch with the TV on and scrolled through our phones with an occasional giggle and “listen to this.” The dogs took their turns on our laps. Lauren tried to lighten her hair with olive oil around 7:30 (didn’t work) and when I was ready for bed around 8:30, she didn’t even make fun of me. She checked on me as I was getting ready for bed, tucking in her ol’ Tante.

There’s a Sesame Street song about the letter “L” that we’ve always sung for Lauren, subbing her name for the word “lemon.” I fell asleep that night humming it.

"La la la la Lauren..."

This weekend we celebrated Lauren’s 17th birthday. She is a pip — a sassy, sweet girl on the verge of being an amazing young lady. Happy birthday, little niece!

Harpoon Run

Harpoon Run

My Bestie Bonne

My Bestie Bonne