I was listening to one of my favorite CDs the other day, when I realized I hadn’t really introduced it to my 14 year old daughter. She has heard me belting out a few of the songs here and there, but she hasn’t sat down and listened to the achingly beautiful lyrics while crying about unrequited love. Because you can’t truly understand music until a guy dumps you before prom, but after you’ve bought the dress.

So I got to thinking, what if I died tomorrow and my daughter didn’t know about this CD? Because that’s the next logical thought for me; not that I won’t be around to meet my grandchildren, but that she won’t know how life changing Aretha Franklin can be.

In order to sleep tonight I need to get these items off my chest, so here in no particular order and without too much explanation (ain’t nobody got time for that) are the 10 things my daughter needs to know, understand or experience in case of my untimely demise.

1. This is what started it all, and for my benefit we will call this an album. It’s Aretha’s Gold. Actually, you should call it, Aretha’s Gold, Baby.

2. Don’t wear too much makeup. The real you is the one with the dark circles and splotchy skin. Oh wait, that’s the real me. Regardless, you can’t see your own face. Makeup was created so other people would find you attractive and if they don’t find you attractive unless you’re slathered in foundation, they are the ones who are ugly. Deep, deep in their soul.

3. Don’t ever let a person lay their hands on you without your permission, whether it’s affection or violence, it must be on your terms. If it isn’t, move swiftly and surely away from the situation and DO NOT GO BACK. Your little brother giving you hugs does not count. But, for everyone other than your brother let me say it again, DO NOT GO BACK. People don’t change, or get better, or didn’t mean it. DO NOT GO BACK.

4. It really doesn’t matter how the laundry is folded or how the dishwasher is loaded. Let it go. Let people help you.

5. Never underestimate the value of looking someone in the eye, good table manners, and saying thank you.

6. Joni Mitchell’s album, Blue. Turn it up. Get the tissues.

7. Have empathy for others. Imagine yourself in their shoes. Turning the tables does wonders for our natural inclination to judge people.

8. Never put off doing something because you don’t like the way you look. Don’t stay home because of a pimple, or worry about putting on a swimsuit because you’ve gained weight. Life is really, really short. I lost out on having a lot of fun during my 30s because I was self-conscious and I can’t get that decade back. Joni Mitchell probably wrote a song about this.

9. I’m running out of room! Take a deep breath and read this all at once. Laugh every day, travel as much as you can, go to church, work at a job you like, always do some form of exercise, wear sunscreen, and don’t do drugs (like, don’t even try them because your brain might be all, “That’s pretty sweet!” and it’s all downhill from there). Oh, and floss. Always floss.

10. Know that I love you more than sunshine and that’s really saying something.

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What can I say? Melisa came to town and I didn’t blog for a week. Mostly because I had to entertain her. She’s exceptionally needy – if “needy” = comes in with beer, gummy bears and clown noses, makes me laugh, pulls me away from my computer, encourages me to go for long walks in the sunshine, eat good food, and explore parts of my own town I never see.

Melisa first came to see me in 2009 and it’s been a long time coming, but I would like to thank whomever left that freezer door ajar.

There is something to be said for a friend who can come into your house and fit into the family so seamlessly that by the third day you accidentally call her, “Honey” and halfway mean it.

At least there will still be a piece of her here with us after she leaves.

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I am an extrovert. I know, I know, try to control your shock.

This morning I was thinking about how much I want to fulfill my dream of driving cross-country in an RV with seven other people. Why seven others? You need eight so you can stop at campgrounds and have euchre tournaments. Also, if you have a big group it means you are less likely to be the one attacked by a bear.

I want to pack board games, coolers full of beer and delicious food, good music, lawn chairs and sleeping bags. I want to canoe down the Colorado River, drive up the coast of California, and stop – I don’t know where – to get one of those Wall Drug bumper stickers, because I think that’s mandatory for cross-country roadtrippers.

And, I want to drag a group of people along with me.

I find comfort and safety in numbers. I like having someone to talk to, and if you want to talk and I don’t there are plenty of other people around who can listen to you. This is not me being rude, this is me being sensible.

Also, I will inevitably get injured and the group would be able to take turns caring for me so that the trip isn’t ruined for everyone all at once You’re welcome. Laughs! Memories! Concussions!

I want this trip so bad that I told my 14 year old daughter to fulfill the dream for me if something happens and I can’t do it. She’s an introvert, so it’s pretty much her dream too. Anyway, I think introversion can be remedied with a lot of chocolate, so I’m doing her a favor. I’m not saying that introverts need to be “remedied” though, because that would be rude.

Some people may think I’m crazy and other than the three people in my family who would be forced to join me, I may be hard-pressed to find four other people who would enjoy singing camp songs somewhere on the back roads of Oklahoma. Actually, we’d probably do musical theater, because Oklahoma. Duh.

So, if someday you see me traveling down the highway with eight people and a dog in a crowded RV, give me a thumbs up, because it’s exactly where I want to be. In the meantime, I’ll be sitting here all alone planning the trip.

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Yesterday I read another sad story about a 12 year old girl who committed suicide after being bullied on social media. My heart broke. Again. This is my bullying story:

Just after I turned seven, my mom remarried and we moved from our two-bedroom townhouse to an affluent suburb. I started 2nd grade with a classroom of children I had never met.

I remember one boy being a playground bully – picking girls up while forcing his friend to lift up their skirts. We ladies learned to wear clothing with legs and those two boys didn’t come back for 3rd grade. And, I recall someone making fun of me when I first came to school with glasses. The teacher overheard, made him apologize, and that was it.

I don’t remember ever being bullied after that.

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Though we didn’t have social media, there were still ample opportunities – and ammunition – for kids to pick on me, especially in my teen years. When my mom and step-dad divorced in 1985, we moved back to a two-bedroom townhouse. My friends lived in enormous homes and drove expensive cars, while I arrived at school in a ’77 Cutlass which would eject the tape cassette and launch it into the back seat if you went over 55mph.

Because of the divorce, I had to live with my older sister for my junior year of high school. I was extremely depressed and scared. In turn, I made a lot of horrendously bad decisions. Note to my daughter: THIS is why you get lectured so much. Because I was a stupid teenager. You’re welcome.

My senior year, I dated a man who was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. My friends didn’t call me dirty names, though. They gently tried to steer me in the right direction. No one made fun of me. They could have turned their backs on me, but no one did.

No one ever said anything about our tiny apartment with no air conditioning. No one ever called me poor because I had to go to work every afternoon after school. No one ever hurt my feelings or made me fell less-than.

I don’t know how to make these sad stories stop, but I know that not every school is full of bullies. My high school was full of the richest kids in town who didn’t want for anything. They weren’t snobs. They were awesome.

Maybe we should share more GOOD stories about the GOOD kids who are there to hold up people like me; a lost, frightened girl who had to grow up too fast. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have survived those years without that support. I would not have survived.

Let’s make the stories of strength and friendship go viral. Let’s make sure that the kids who do the right thing are celebrated and that the ones who don’t, aren’t. We can’t stop telling the tales of those who were bullied, but we can start sharing more stories about the ones who weren’t.

What do you say? Are you with me?

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