I finally gave in to Facebook. My kids have it. My husband has it. All the in-laws and out-laws have it ("out-laws" is a term those of us who married the in-laws gave ourselves when they used to dump all the kids on us or leave us with a kitchen full of dirty dishes after an event like Thanksgiving dinner). Anyway, I saw no point in Facebook because I have a blog already and didn't want to have to bother with maintaining another site.
It was Daughter No. 1 who finally pushed me into it, saying something about how if I had my own Facebook account, I would know the things about the family that everyone else knows, and I would have access to their pictures. Fine. So, I now have a Facebook account.
No. 1 said I wouldn't have to keep it active with status updates or pictures or anything. I could just have it so I can see what other people who allow me to be their friends are up to. But can someone like me who obsesses and ruminates have something like that and not play with it? Hardly.
I keep track of the movies I watch and the books I read. I bookmarked Brainbone so I could answer the daily question and sometimes play Speedbone. I Superpoke people by throwing things like sheep and gummy bears and Sarah Palin at them, and sometimes they throw things back like staplers and cornucopias and more sheep.
After about two weeks, I have fifty friends, but they aren't all real friends. Some of them are friends of my daughters, and they would probably think it odd if I were to start writing on their walls or throwing food or politicians at them.
And then there is the profile picture, which is very important. People seem to change theirs quite a bit. I started out with the one that is printed in the paper with my editorials, but one of the in-law nieces thought it was too fuzzy, and it gave her a headache. So I replaced it with this one—that's the Photo Booth application reflected in my glasses:
One of you has already friended me. If the rest of you want to join in, just email your Facebook names, and I'll gladly friend you, too—and I'll throw you a sheep. What an odd world.