Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

“Hey, Ben?” I ask. He looks up from his homework. “Wannahave a family game night tonight?”

“Really?” The surprise in his eyes tells me all I need toknow. “With a championship round and everything?”

“Indeed. Championship round and everything. The WorldSeries of board games.”

“With me, too?” Becca asks, coming out of the bathroom. “Ican have a family game night, too?”

“Of course! That’s why it’s called ‘family.’”

“And Daddy, too?” Ben adds hopefully.

I pause. “Um…sorry. It’s Tuesday, Daddy’s tennis night. Hewon’t be home until ten or ten thirty.”

Ben looks down at his homework and scratches his head.

“I know, pup. I probably won’t see him tonight either, ifthat makes you feel any better.”

He finishes his math worksheet and begrudgingly follows meinto the den.

“Yay!” Becca calls, pulling out all the games. “Which onefirst?”

After an hour of board games, followed by baths andstories, my kids are tucked in and the hallway feels sleepy. I tiptoe down thestairs and into the darkened kitchen. Doug won’t be home from his tennis matchfor two hours.

Time for Facebook.

I loved high school so much that, sometimes, I miss it.Doug thinks I teach middle school in order to help me recapture my youth.

I tell him he’s crazy.

But I also think: Is it so bad to want to recapture youryouth?

Nothing brings me back to high school faster than a statusupdate from a person I haven’t seen since 1988.

The pale glow of the computer screen is welcoming. I signin and check my home page for updates.

Jamie in California is making challah.

On a Tuesday? I think. That woman is always makingchallah. It’s like she’s trying to out-Jew the rest of us in cyberspace.

Liz has another gastrointestinal bacterial infection andhas been in the bathroom for two days. Liz shares way too much.

John in DC sent out another invitation to an onlinepolitical rally tomorrow night. This one is called Who Cares? The answer is NotI.

Photos of the Wallin family. Ugly kids, poor things.

Ellen has beat her high score at Bejeweled Blitz!Challenge her to a game and see how you do. Or don’t.

And then there’s one from a person named Ninth Wonder. Hewants to know if I have any used contact lenses that I could send to him for anart installation he’s working on. “I live in a tent now in the Adirondacks, soyou can just send them to my PO Box,” he advises. Huh?

I scroll through my list of friends to try and figure outwho this could be. When I see that he and I have Lenny Katzenberg as a friendin common, I send a private message to Len.

Who the hell is Ninth Wonder and how do we know him?

While I’m waiting for a response, I decide to stalk somemore long-lost high school and college friends. Tonight feels like a good nightfor Dan.

Dan’s this one ex-boyfriend from college who isparticularly fun to follow. He lives in Colorado with his wife and three kids;naturally, the whole family is really outdoorsy. Dan spends all winteruploading great images of kids bundled in ski parkas and helmets and maskscoming down the slopes. The only way to tell the kids apart is by the colors oftheir jackets. There’s Romy, in pink, riding on a lift. The boys, Parker andHunter—though I don’t know which is which—together with their snowboards. Danand his wife Lynn, with their big, Chiclet-white teeth, at the top of afake-looking, white-capped mountain.

I hate the outdoors. But sometimes I like to pretend I’mLynn, married to Dan, living in Colorado with my three adventurous,mountain-loving children. Tonight we are sitting by the fire in our huge logcabin. Romy has just come back from mucking the stalls in the stables (I’veadded horses to the fantasy, though in real life I hate them, too), and all theboots and hats and layers of a life spent in nature are piled in thegenerous-sized mudroom off the kitchen. Dan has made his famous homemadepopcorn, and we are playing charades in our waffle-weave long johns. I don’tcelebrate Christmas, but in this reverie, every day is just like the Hallmark greetingcard version of that holiday.

There’s an open bottle of wine in the refrigerator callingmy name. I pour a large glass, put away some dishes, turn off the kitchenlights, and move back over to the computer.

By now, Lenny has written back to me:

I think “Ninth Wonder” is Sean Mallory, from high school.He’s finally gone off the deep end. What a freak. Hey—that wasn’t much of aresponse to my video today. You’ve let me down.

His video! My Botox! I forgot. I type in a response as fastas I can with my self-taught, three-fingered technique.

Am such an idiot! I’m so (with like ten million o’s) sorry.I was in the doctor’s office and didn’t have time to write more. But I thoughtit was brilliant. Truly. Hilarious.

And maybe just a tad bit sexy.

I hit “send” and immediately regret it. I am e-freaked outby my own e-forwardness, which requires several sips of wine to wash away.

Lenny writes back.

Can we chat somewhere more private? I hate fb.

Score one for e-forwardness.

We switch to our own e-mail accounts and continue ourconversation, the online version of moving into a dark corner of a crowded bar.I can almost feel Lenny’s hand on my elbow as he steers me away from the massesof potential onlookers.

I only get up from the computer once, to refill my wineglass and to grab a handful of chocolate kisses, which I pop like…well, likecandy, actually.

From: lkatzenberg@yale.alumni.edu

Better. Now, what was that you were saying about my video?

From: laurenworthing@gmail.com

That it’s hotter than one of Jamie’s freshly baked challahs?That I like how you shake your moneymaker?

I can’t believe I just wrote that.

From: lkatzenberg@yale.alumni.edu

Yeah, moneymaker is pretty cheesy. I prefer the term“booty.” Also, there’s nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned “ass” now andthen. Yours, for example, I remember it being a good old-fashioned, nice littleass.

From: laurenworthing@gmail.com

Not true. I have a terrible ass. In fact, you oncecriticized my ass in high school for not being as round and perky as Lila Cummings’was, like I could just go to the mall and buy a better J-Lo. FYI.

Actually, I saw Lila