I've gotten some funny emails about about my punk rock stage. (FYI, the bar was called Crazy Mama's. We used to make the floor shake.)

I don't know. Maybe having shorn purple hair was just the inevitable result of too much time spent in the barn wearing overalls. Although you can't blame it on the horses. (That's easy for me to say. Our kids aren't teenagers ... yet.)

This is in honor of all us girls in the 80s who wore combat boots and party dresses ...

(I just bought Dennis the mother of all MP3 players, a big hawg of a Zune. He was downloading some Billy Idol last evening, and all of a sudden I remembered how much I loved that angry young man with an attitude and all that leather. There was a small dance party in our kitchen last evening. I had on my barn boots. And Carhartt coveralls. Lord, I didn't see that coming 25 years ago.)