you're never leaving ridgewick road
August 05, 2003, 4:08 pm

Vegas time is still not agreeing with me. My mind is in perpetual party overload. Maybe it's because I'm reading until 4am, waking up at 1pm. That's gotta be it.

The summer is slipping through my hands like the beginning of a bad soap opera. The beginning of "Days of Our Lives" always fascinated me and scared me. It reeks of bad lineoleum flooring and the stained nearly-black kitchen cabinets of our neighbors' house, where I was shuttled after school for a few years when I was a kid. The Ridgewick Road posse never did disappoint.

I was lucky to grow up on a street that housed the white blue collar workers of the world: cops, nurses, teachers, construction foremen, day care providers, etc. We all lived in Ranchers or Cape Cods bedecked in asbestos shingle colors that only the 60s could have produced, and then that gave way to the 70s aluminum siding. I never knew quite what the color of our house could be described as, and I lived there for 23 years. I guess it was some orange/tan color.

There were always Kool Aid mustacheoed kids running barefoot in the summertime; we spent our days playing kickball, hide-and-go-seek and swimming in the K family's above-ground pool. Nights were always the place for FLASHLIGHT TAG.

FLASHLIGHT TAG was a SERIOUS event during the summer months on Ridgewick Rd. Every night at dusk, the Biensoul sisters would retreat to the homestead to eat dinner and bedeck ourselves (and I'm not kidding) in full black battlegear, complete with black n'zinc (remember that? No? Clearly you were older than 10 in 1988) under our eyes for that football/burgular look. I was fond of putting my brown highlighted locks under a black beret. In those days, everyone was careful to keep their mouths closed to avoid being spotted, or to avoid shining errant light from day glo braces. (Color coded per holiday; 4th of July saw my rubberbands in red, white, and blue.)

I was exposed to french kissing at a party in 6th grade, but flashlight tag really defined my skills. Kenny K and I would dash behind his garage as our younger siblings routed around looking for each other, and we would make out. He still teases me that he has a lifelong crush on brunettes because he was so in love with me then. But more about him later.

Those summers went on forever. Now as I look outside and notice how hazy and hot the day is, I wonder why the heat bothers me so much now. I could have been outside for HOURS then; I could have lived three days to my one today. It's a little disappointing to think that maybe no one is carrying on that torch.

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Proof that playing the X Box game "Halo" is having an effect on me: driving home last night after an hour or so of red vs. blue battling, I thought neighboring cars were either going to shoot me or flip over on top of me. Of course, I had to get control of myself and remind myself that it was just a game, then I realized that just 10 months ago it was entirely possible for someone to shoot me while I was driving down 695, so I really should be worried. Then I thought, well, they caught the sniper(s); but other people could be just as deranged...

I really shouldn't head home later than 1am anymore from Towson; I get all flustered and upset.

Speaking of heading home late, I'm going to the fabulous fiestada's house this evening to hang out. I simply adore her more than words can say, honestly. When I go to her house, it's an instant vacation for me, much like our mutual bud Auty's was back in the high school days. She's just the kindest and best listener ever. And her brother is a hoot and a half. No one else understands Troop Beverly Hills like he does. He's also a pitbull and a great defender, showing here. He's like my bro, too.

Don't know why the lovefest started, but I felt I needed to share. Go heap some of your own love on them, dude.