Are We There Yet? • LORI CLINCH
I got the strangest invitation a couple of weeks ago. Not to a shower or a wedding or anything like that. No sir, this invitation was via an email and asked me to be Trixie Mattery's friend — on Facebook.

The trouble is that I thought we already were friends. After all, we had enjoyed our childrearing years together, endured extracurricular events, and when her kid needed one more Lepidoptera for a bug collection, I was the go-to gal.

When she fell ill, I cooked her a roast. When she cut her hand, I brought her a pie, and when she needed someone to fill in for recess duty, who gave up a day of rummage sales and booked it to the school? That's right — yours truly.

Still, I ignored the Facebook request to be a friend. After all, if bringing cupcakes to a baptism doesn't put you on the BFF list, then I don't know what will.

It wasn't long before another friendship request came in, and this one from my sister. Yes sir, one decade we're sharing Barbies, cutting dolly hair, and peddling lemonade to finance our chocolate habits and the next she's going all electronical and asking me to be her Facebook friend.

Some might have thought that the friendship we shared was implied.

So, I ignored that one too. I also ignored requests from my next-door neighbor, a chum that I talk to every day, and one from a gal pal with whom I had just had lunch.

But then folks started feeling rejected. I began to receive emails of woe. It was as if I had turned down dinner invitations, snubbed folks in public and turned a cold shoulder in an hour of need.

In the world of cyberspace, I was friendless, an outcast, the last kid to get picked for the kick-ball team.

Not wanting to relive my high school days, I finally gave in and signed up for an account.

It was painless, really. Put a name here, a preference there, and just for fun I put that I was, and I quote, "In a relationship but it's complicated."

Oh, how I do crack me up.

Although I never spent much time on my own page, I was able to connect with friends, watch lines (that's conversations to those of you who are not in the know) and look at photos of my friend Kati's new living room in various stages of undress.

Feeling brave and trendy, I sent a request to Vernon, my college-age son, and asked him ever so boldly if I might be his friend.

After all, I now had 13 friends, a couple of highlights and more than my share of links, whatever the heck that means.

Add that to the fact that I had given Vernon life and not kicked him to the curb during his terrible twos, I thought that perhaps he would want me on his list of peeps and that he and I could enjoy the thrill of being Facebook friends.

Nothing, that's what I got. Nothing. Not exactly a rejection, mind you, but more like a "Hey, I'll call ya!" and then he never called.

But as any seasoned parent will tell you, patience is key and most college kids are bound to call sooner or later.

"So, Mom," Vernon said on that fateful day, "what's the password for my cellphone account?"

"Oh, I could certainly help you out with all of that," I responded quite smugly. "It's just too bad we're not Facebook friends."

A little bit of finesse, a little bit of coercion, and now I can proudly boast to all of those on my page that I, Lori A. Clinch, am friends with Vernon.

As they said back in my day, hold the phone!

I also became friends with my favorite niece, several cousins and a lady that I pass every day who barely waves.

I'd like to say that I felt liberated, enlightened and connected to the world. But it's not what I had hoped. And with little to post other than the stress of paperwork and a successful day with the laundry, I have nothing to write on my wall and my status is stagnant because I can't find a decent picture to upload.

While standing with a group of my closest friends yesterday, one of them observed that I hadn't written anything on her page lately. No colorful commentary, no ridiculous remarks, no observant annotations.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I just think it's a waste of my time."

"Oh, for crying out loud," she responded, "how do you ever expect to have any friends at all?"

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.