Turning 17 isn’t quite as momentous as becoming 16, 18 or 19.  It’s an odd number with not much attached to it.

In the 70s Janice Ian sang, "I learned the truth at 17 that love is meant for beauty queens."

For Phoebe’s it’s not the number, it’s what the year brings: senioritis, college applications, an endless series of lasts – and firsts.

Apparently being a beauty queen isn’t one of Phoebe’s ambitions. She turned down offers to shop on Michigan Avenue, retreat to a spa or get a makeup makeover.

Nope, that’s not at all what she wanted to do on her 17th birthday.

We talked through our options: the zoo, a ride to the top of Sears Tower, a one-day getaway, an afternoon at the Art Institute.

None of these plans suited her.

It was 9:16 a.m. on her birthday and she was overruling all of my “surprise” suggestions.

All she wanted to do was go horseback riding – with me and her brothers.

Finding a stable nearby is nearly impossible. I’d tried on birthdays before.

She would not listen to my nay saying.

Ever the resourceful Internet researcher, Phoebe found a stable’s web site in a few minutes that was only – get this – 98 miles away.

Well . . . it was her birthday and the only thing she wanted to do with her family was ride horses.
But first we had to find out if we could make a reservation. We could . . . on the condition we could race from our house to the barn by noon.

Before we could leave, we had to convince the brothers this would be fun. “It will be just like Lord of the Rings!” Peter said to Warren.

That was enough of an incentive to get them to drop the PS2 controllers, grab a few DVDs for the ride and go for it.

Think really fast forward – in less than 5 minutes everyone was dressed and in the car.
On the drive over, dark clouds made us wonder if we should turn around, but we pushed on. The rain came when we exited the highway. Both boys voted to go home, while Phoebe insisted the sun would shine again within minutes.

We had nothing to lose – except our $100 deposit, so I sided with Phoebe and drove to Starved Rock Stables  reasoning that the rain would cool us off on the trails.

The closer we got to the stables, the lighter the sky became. By the time we got to the driveway, the sun was the same as Phoebe’s horse’s name, Sunny.

Although the boys complained their first trail ride plodded along too slowly, [“This is NOTHING like Lord of the Rings!!!!!] I found the gentle easy ride through the pastures enchanting. A hawk, butterflies and dragonflies added to the scenery.

Because Starved Rock State Park is only a mile or so down the road, I talked the kids into going there for a closer look at the canyons.

And, Phoebe learned this truth at 17: Mother Nature is THE beauty queen.

After deciding a few days ago she would like to major in communications, our high school senior Phoebe was thrilled to see her work in the Chicago Tribune. She wrote:

Dear Amy:

I read your column every day and I was shocked to see your opinions on Donald Trump. He and Melania are very happy together, and if they want to be married, then shame on you for criticizing them.

I very much look up to Mr. Trump and everything he has accomplished. And maybe you haven’t noticed, but Melania isn’t exactly a "patient, leggy blond" as you called her. Putting any famous person down in a newspaper is really a bad idea; people are bound to disagree with you.

This time, you went too far.

- An aspiring blond

Amy answered:

Dear Aspiring: You are correct. Melania Trump is not a patient, leggy blond. She is a patient, leggy brunet. I stand corrected. I was somewhat blinded by Mr. Trump’s previous platinum-wife choices.

I don’t have anything against Donald Trump, mind you. What started as a throwaway comment in my column has gained some steam and turned into a celebrity thrashing, which is the only kind of thrashing that is any fun at all.

This may be the only weekend of the year when my husband asks me to stop yelling at the TV. Of course, it’s okay for him to noisily cheer on soccer players, the Minnesota Vikings, Formula One racers, etc. with hoots that are more appropriate for an open air stadium than our family room. But we won’t talk about that now, will we?

For most of the weekend the boys, P.d. and Warren,  glued themselves to the biggest open screen in the house to kick back and comment on events like Moto X.  Yes, it was me making all the noise. Why?

Let’s go back to my first live extreme sporting event in a barn called WARP in Woodstock on July 3, 2002. Tony Hawk’s Gigantic Skateboard Tour rolled in with a star assortment of skaters and bikers. It was no surprise that the place was packed, but what shocked me was how hot it was inside. With no ventilation and all that body heat, people around me were literally dripping with sweat. I stuck it out for a few hours and then had to go chill with an Icee at the local Kmart. P.d. stayed behind to watch. I was nervous about leaving him, but it was either faint or take him home. When we got back, he had some excellent footage and a tour t-shirt that only went out to kids with video cameras.

Up until that point, I took P.d’s love of skateboarding as something for him, not for me. What impressed me (and converted me to an avid skateboarding fan) was the tenacity and courage these athletes showed. Apparently fearless and made of something much less fragile than most humans, these guys kept trying tricks over and over and over again. Now, watching a guy try to ride a skateboard and land on a ramp a dozen times could get boring. With the crowd cheering louder and louder with every retake, eventually the skater got the trick. I got to see all the pros live and up close. Being in a crowd of kids watching risky and artistic action was a rush.

That’s how it is for my son. He has a list of tricks in mind he’s working on. Try and try and try again is what it’s all about.

What do P.d. and Warren have to say about X Games 12? Warren remembers his first remote control Travis Pastrana motorcylce. "I can’t keep up with Travis!" was his lament as he chased the speedy toy. If you watched Friday night, you know Travis did a double back flip – a history-making feat that had us all up and off the couch as the announcer instructed.

P.d. will remember Remi’s story. Remi came into LA from France two days before without a bike. One of the riders loaned Remi his back up bike. He wiped out after attempting a trick that only the top guys would try. Travis yelled, "You’re my hero!" as Remi rode out on a gurney.

Other X Games comments: "I can’t wait to shave. It looks like the razors are really good now." – after watching commercial after commercial about razors.

In the end, the practice paid off. . . the blue blur in the upper left hand side is the Glen Ellyn Children’s Chorus onstage with the Grant Park Symphony Orchestra and Chorus during the Carmina Burana performance on July 19

One of my more intriguing assignments this summer was to accompany the Glen Ellyn Children’s Chorus to their rehearsal at the Chicago Cultural Center with Christopher Bell, conductor of the Grant Park Symphony Chorus in preparation for their participation in the performance of Carmina Burana with the Grant Park Symphony in Millennium Park.

Leave it to my son Warren to ask the maestro about enunciation. How fearless is this kid I wondered? That question was answered after his two performances onstage. A member of the Glen Ellyn Children’s Chorus concert choir since January, Warren’s got to perform at some noteworthy gigs that even professional singers would envy.

Here’s a place where an 11 year old can sit on stage as a member of a world-class choir, look out at crowd of thousands and sing with confidence. So, how nervous was he? Not at all. Who would be after all that practice and preparation? [Hey, there’s a lesson there!]

Seeing the chorus on stage was magical, but the most memorable moment was when we came home and Warren reprised the chorus in Latin just for me. Thanks and congratulations to conductor Emily Ellsworth for her contribution to another stunningly successful evening for the chorus and those of us who get to tuck the singers in at night.

Here’s how the critics saw it. . . From Michael Cameron’s July 21, 2006 Chicago Tribune review . . . “Glen Ellyn Children’s Chorus matched their elders’ acumen note for note. . . . the damp but contented throngs gave Bell and the GPO (Grant Park Orchestra) one of the noisiest ovations of the summer, and deservedly so.”

From Dorothy Andries’ July 21, 2006 Chicago Sun-Times review . . . “The night, however, belonged to the choruses. Every time the Glen Ellyn youngsters sang, the stage lit up. It was certainly due to the contrast with adult voices, but also the clarity and verve with which the children sang. They sounded like a polished ensemble. Credit must go to their artistic director Emily Ellsworth, but also to the young singers themselves, whose fresh, focused voices contributed to the beauty of the performance.”

Into acoustics? Here’s a page that describes the set up.