If You Need a Laugh...Play "Dress-A-Kid"

Tell you what: you give my Big Family and me 15 minutes at the close of Value Village in Oregon's capitol city, and we'll give you the fashion show of a lifetime.

It's called "Dress-A-Kid," we just decided: We grab one of my kids and have 10 minutes to outfit them before they walk the runway (the shoe aisle). Dave, Steven, Marie, and Dominic were the judges.

I snatched up Rees (9), lied to him that the clothes are definitely washed before being hung on racks, and stuffed him into a wool plaid suit, a shiny vest, and a tie. Then I added accessories: round, mirrored glasses; a fedora; and at the last second, a sparkly hot pink-and-gold belt (which Steven said got us First Place).

Brigit picked Daney, and slipped her inside a huge men's shirt. She attached suspenders and a briefcase, and stuck all her hair inside a cap. Oh, and there were last-minute enormous pants (which Steven awarded First Place--again).

We whistled and hooted while Rees swaggered through rows of rainboots and wing-tips, while Daney snapped at her suspenders. An older couple came to watch, clapping.

We put back everything, except the plaid suit Rees wore, which everyone said was a must-have, and the winners got Dairy Queen (we were all winners).

Over her Butterscotch Dilly Bar, Brigit said, "Wait! Jennie cheated! You saw the suit for Rees first, then made it into a game!"

Smart, that Brigit.

This One's For the Girls!

Here they are! Meet them and love them -- the amazing women in my life!

There's Mary, my auntie, my Godmother, my friend, with whom I chat and laugh and scrap. And Jeanne, my younger auntie, who I stayed with in San Francisco so many high school weekends, who gave me freedom and trust to run all around the city.

I wouldn't be the same without my sisters: Amy, smart and beautiful; Erika, ambitious and resourceful; Brigit, big-hearted.

Mo's been my bestie since kindergarten. I still remember her peeking out at me from behind her mom's legs on the first day of school. Mo and me, we've played socccer and survived Catholic school, and when we get together like we did last month at the American River to catch minnows and tadpoles with our babies, it's like no time has passed at all.

Andrea made it through St. Joseph's with us. She had the whole collection of Strawberry Shortcake dolls, and she didn't get mad when I took them swimming the summer of second grade and they lost all their smells.

Lisa W. had a knack for making papier mache. She zipped Kristen, our deep and wise gal pal, and me all over in her brown Toyota. And Lisa A. had an infectious giggle and superhuman algebra ability.

Wendi was Dave's friend first. They lived in the same neighborhood, and Wendi got her first speeding ticket with him in the passenger seat. Twenty years after long, lazy summers of lifeguarding, Wendi and I have kids 10 days apart, and we live 12 minutes from each other.

In college, Stephanie lived on the other side of my wall. We both ended up teaching middle school.

Karlee, from the college days, is a part of my every day. She is one of the kindest, hardest-working people I know.

Then there are the writers: Christy, Julie, and Anjie: insightful and bright, and right more often than not.

And Daney, who I haven't known a long, long time, but who I've known the very best: my daughter, who I'll have a rich, deep love with forever and ever.

And many, many more sharp and talented women: Maddy and Miah, my nieces; my cousin, Heidi; Genny; Aunt Nancy; Polly, Linda, and Leslie. Kim and Amy. Daney's bestie, Gracia, and Gracia's mom, Becky. Dominic and Rees' friends' mamas. Holly Root, agent extraordinaire! And all you super cyber-women.

I'm a lucky, lucky, lucky girl.

Portland: Some of This, This, This, and of course, These