Hey - do you remember that girl from freshman year? You know, the one who you got a funny feeling somewhere around the top of where you thought your stomach might be every time you ran into her? You tried to say something funny each time you saw her because to see her laughing and smiling gave you a slow jolt every time, something that made the rest of your day more tolerable?

Remember how you worked so hard just to be her best friend, just so you could spend as much time as possible each day with her? To sit close to her and whisper secrets in her ear and smell her hair was maddening and with nearly every sentence you spoke you had a dizzying moment when you thought to yourself "This is it! This is where I tell her how I feel, where I put it all on the table and see where the chips fall!" But each time you stopped yourself, fearing that such a blurted admission might queer the whole thing, might stop her from wanting to spend time with you.

Then do you remember that time you went to the frat party together, to soak up some free beer and silently smirk at the empty preening shells that the social-climbing frat boys were? And then do you remember how one of the polo-shirted frat boys walked over to the corner where you were huddled and started talking to the two of you, but mostly her? And how surprised you were when instead of making sarcastically subtle and vicious comments, she started smiling and laughing at his jokes like she did yours?

And then do you remember how, when the keg of beer went dry and the party was ending, you nudged her elbow to join you as you left and she turned to you and said "You go on, I'll catch up with you later" and turned back to laugh with the accursed frat boy some more as you walked away in a combination of gloom and shock and heartbreak and despair?

Do you recall the next morning when you went out for breakfast and asked her with feigned cheer and secret dread how the rest of her night was and she blushed and looked down at the eggs on her plate and then looked up with a sheepish smile and bright eyes and said "He says I'm his blowjob queen!" And remember how you felt when you realized first that she wasn't saying it disdainfully but actually like the moniker was something she was proud of? And then you realized how such a title could be bestowed and you felt like the earth had suddenly opened a chasm beneath you and you were suddenly plummeting endlessly to the incinerating fires at the core of the earth? Do you remember that?

Nah. Me neither.

The ability to laugh at things that it's likely only the two of you (among all of the souls in the universe) will find funny.

Like this:

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, where my wife was snugly under the covers. I pretended I couldn't find her legs under the covers.

"Hey, where's the rest of you?!" I cried.

"Are you still carrying those legs around?" she replied. "I left them down by the tracks."

I'm still laughing.

Can any of you decipher this? We refer to it as a moment of Reagan zen, to give you a hint.

Last year, we didn't - neither of us (and not only me), thank heavens.

But no matter what, Lynn and I got married twelve years ago today.

It's been a white-knuckle hellride at times, to be sure, but I don't have any regrets.

How did we celebrate, you ask? Friday, we dropped the kids off at the grandparents for the weekend (thanks so much, guys!) and had a lovely dinner in the town where we were hitched, and last night we enjoyed the company of pals for some beverages at the new place at the end of our street.

All in all, a pretty good mile marker!

It was a gorgeous day today, so the fambly (urchins & wife & I) trundled up in one of the minivans and took a drive off to see this juvenile T. Rex out by my (& the wife's) collegial stomping grounds in So. Central Wisconsin, which, of course, led to memories.

Zooming the interstate on the clear sunshiny day brought me back to the days of yore, when most of my quality time was spent in the car, driving around, running to or from something/anything. Making plans, writing masterful long letters and brilliant short stories while behind the wheel that would always be forgotten at the next stop. I forget how much I love driving, and I wonder if my kids will get the same kick of freedom or if $50/gallon gas will keep them from the magic I've found. Hopefully, there will be other kicks for them, if not these.

I used to spend a lot of time driving to and from Minneapolis for my continuing and fruitless quest for punk-rock stardom with my old band, so they were in my head a lot. My old co-guitarist emailed me the other day to ask me why he remembered a certain band. We had played with them once, in a cavernous roadhouse in rural Illinois, back in the day. I sort of drove by there today.

Then, for an unknown reason, I remembered a college gurl I had known, one who I had a weird reverse-crush on (it worked like this: she indicated an interest in smooching, but I had never even kissed a girl before, so I was frightened - but now I had a weird crush on her - or at least the idea that we might, one day, smooch. We never did, but I remember playing "Pale Blue Eyes" on my radio show every week for a long time after that, hoping she'd get the murky brainwaves I attached to the song each time I played it.)

Oh yeah! And then there was another college crush-subject, from much later in my college days, after I had kissed a few girls (including my now-wife), so I wasn't as scared, but still scared enough that when we played that gig in Caledonia and she, to my amazement, came out to see us, I could only manage to sit awkwardly alone with her in the front seat of her battered Jeep for a few minutes before I made some lame excuse and shepherded us back to the party-at-large.

Maybe that's why I thought of Pale-Blue-Eyes girl. Anyway, it's kind of weird.