Twinks 'n me & The OFG

So, it's all about the OFG.

The OFG (The Organization For Girls) is rapidly filling our lives and our family calendar with bake sales, statewide Mystery Trips (the destination is only known to the adult drivers) Tri-Youth dances, Installations and Initiations, and more. Much, much more.

The girls are wonderful; since their ages range from 10 to 20, Twinks has gotten a instant complement of "sisters", and The Wrench and I now have half-a-dozen "daughters" in the blink of an eye.

All of the mothers who are involved are called "Mom"; the rare exception is the Head Mom, who is always addressed as such. The dads are all called... you guessed, "Dad". Primarily, though, this is an organization of women - young and old - and girls who are growing into women.

So, this past weekend, when we went traveling with the OFG for the first time, I had a glimpse of what life might have been like if we had been fortunate enough to have more than one little Twinkie.

And I loved every minute of it.

The girls kept me on my toes. We laughed so much that my sides hurt the next day, and we had far more fun than I had truthfully expected. I had actually dreaded going; my presumption was that they only reason that I had been "invited" was because I happen to drive a lovely, late-model minivan. I quickly found out that the girls (and the other adult who accompanied us) were all lively, funny, and wicked-smart individuals, and they were all quite interested in learning about Twinks and I, as we are still the newbies of the group.

The girls have developed a "secret code" so that they can talk about boys *right in front of them* without the boys being any the wiser. It works quite well, and it is remarkably well thought out. Nothing crass or vulgar at all - if you didn't know what we were talking about, you would think that the discussion was genuine; this was evidenced by our hunky waiter at lunch who never had a clue that we were figuratively drooling all over him. And, no, I won't share the code with you... after all, we are nothing, if not Honorable Women.

At the event that we had driven halfway across the state to attend, the "daughters" acted every bit the young ladies that they are. They were poised, they were articulate, they were beautiful in their sincerity. I was truly impressed by their behavior and their demeanor; they knew when to display genuine reverence for the ceremony we attended, and yet their lively laughter rang through the halls before and after the meeting.

I caught more than one boy trying to slyly glance at one of my daughters; I would fix them with that frosty Mommy-glare, designed to wither the intentions of even the most persistent potential suitor. They didn't know it, but they should have been glad that The Wrench wasn't there; I imagine he might have simply *exploded* from the effort of fending off all of the adolescent testosterone that was flowing towards our daughters.

The ride home was quieter; two of the girls slept, so the laughter was a bit more subdued so as not to disturb them. We talked easily about everything, from boys to other girls, to how to pick a college, and again I was impressed by the maturity these young women displayed, and by the thought and care they gave to their answers. We arrived back in The Greater Metro all too soon, and then we lingered a while as the twilight fell, talking to the other parents, reluctant for the day, and the laughter, to end.

If these girls are our future, then the future is bright and beautiful, indeed.