According to Time Life Magazine, Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook, is now the man of the year. While he gave us a magic platform to reach back into our past and locate friends and lovers not seen in thirty years, he also gave busy moms a reason not to feel guilty when we forget our cameras at our children's many, many events, awards ceremonies and such. We look at the good mom with camera cables, charged batteries and perfectly posed children and can now utter the self redeeming words, "Facebook it." Within hours, photos of our children come flying in from organized mothers we barely know, but are grateful for. The word "Facebook" has become an action verb... a task to be performed shortly after the last click of the camera shutter. "Facebook those pictures to me." You hear it everywhere. At a ballgame, when the kids just won the All Star World Series, and you stand there with a pom-pom in hand and no camera, all you need to say is..."Hey, Facebook it." Soon you will be downloading photos of your little winners and uploading them to Walmart for next year's Christmas cards. I never worry anymore about dead batteries, blurry photos, or missing the right shot. Someone out there has snapped a prize winning photo and surely will tag me in it. Even when you don't want photos shared, there is that one person in your group with a handy smart phone who will snap that photo of you and the girls downing drinks at a pub and they will Facebook it before the next round arrives. The problem with this is that not all of your Facebook Friends need to see these things. My children's friends will send friend requests and I, like most people, accept their invitation. It's not like I put anything on Facebook that isn't appropriate for all to see. It's those dang uploads that get you every time. I've come to realize that I can't post anything about work, church, politics, or any other sensitive topic. I'm limited to posting about what I had for dinner and nobody wants to see those posts. My status bar stays empty most times because I am status aware and need to keep my job. I need to be a good role model for those kids and I don't want an Instant Message from my mother asking what I was doing in that pub. I watch the posts role in about friends who haven't fed their cows in Farmville and wonder how they have time to manage a virtual farm. I often confuse Mark Zuckerberg with Farmer Zuckerman from Charlotte's Web and wonder if "Some Pig" is out there in Farmville chasing spiders and talking rats. It would spice the game up a bit. Surely someone will catch some photos and Facebook them. Who really doesn't want a photo of a talking pig, anyway. I surely would and should I ever run into one, I know that I will have no camera in hand. Thank God for that new action verb "Facebook." I will never again miss another talking pig or pictures of my kids in their greatest moments of childhood. Someone will Facebook it all to me.
When I was five years old, my grandmother would care for me before school each day. She would turn the stereo console on and play big band music from the 40's. I remember dressing up in her mink stole as we danced around the living room spinning and twirling to the classics. She told me that one day the mink would be mine and I hoped that I would be as beautiful as she was wrapped in luxurious mink. Time, of course, came and went and my grandmother passed away many years ago. I have often wondered what happened to her mink stole and wished that I could wear it just one more time. Little did I know, my grandmother had given the stole to her daughter and sometime during the early 80's when fur was not fashionable and we were wearing hideous things like leather pants and spandex, my aunt tossed the mink into the Goodwill bin near her home. She did not know that anyone actually wanted the mink and donated it to charity. She told me she remembers lo
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