Obsession: The name of the game

I’ll admit I’m obsessed.

For weeks the Yarmouth Mariners have been in playoffs where in every series the winner takes it all.

Money, money, money – that’s what they’ve been giving out in the 50/50 draws but I’ve never won.

When all is said and done, this will have been great hockey.

But this actually isn’t the obsession I’m talking about. I’m talking about my ABBA obsession, which will really play itself out next week when my mom Marie, my sister Lisa and my niece Courtney and I go see Mamma Mia at Neptune Theatre.

Ask them, I’m just a tad bit excited.

(And they may also tell you, I tad bit annoying.)

I can’t help it. I am just a girl. Actually, where ABBA is concerned, I’m a dancing queen.

I don’t know how but I suddenly lose control. There’s a fire within my soul.

I’m sure you’re wondering, ‘Does your mother know?’

I’m certain she’s had a hint of my obsession over the past few decades of my life. Even when I was a bashful child, beginning to grow.

And now we’ll soon be heading on our ABBA road trip. My mom has been quite aware of the countdown. For weeks I’ve been telling her how much time she has left to memorize all of the lyrics to ABBA songs since we’ll be singing nonstop for the three-hour drive.

She’s a super trooper. I know she can do it.

Although I’m sure at times she’s thinking, should I laugh or should I cry?

Maybe she plans to send out an S.O.S.

At least I’m not making her sing the Swedish versions.

And luckily for her I’m only planning on us singing the more wellknown ABBA songs where we can feel the beat from the tambourine, as opposed to some of the more obscure ones I’ve made reference to so far in this column.

Did you know I was doing that? Did you pick up on it? Can you pick out the ABBA song titles and lyrics I’m throwing into this column?

You’re getting it now. My ABBA obsession.

Do I love ABBA?

I do, I do, I do, I do, I do. Mamma Mia 2 is also coming out in the theatres this summer. A friend has already suggested they’ll have to sit in a different row than me.

Awww, come on. Take a chance on me.

Note to Sonya and Kelly: If you change your mind, I’m the first in line!

Meanwhile, back to next week. My mama said she’s been working on the song lyrics. I’ll admit, I still need to brush up on Fernando. But it’s like I keep telling her, knowing me, knowing you, there is nothing we can’t do.

A-ha.

I feel a little bad for dad. He’s not coming on our Mamma Mia trip. I suppose I should tell him, “How I hate to see you like this. There is no way you can deny it. I can see that you’re oh so sad, so quiet…”

I mean, he’ll be all alone in the house, where

in these old familiar rooms children would play. Now there’s only emptiness, nothing to say.

Oh well honey, honey. Maybe next time.

And when we I get back I prom- ise, we can go dancing, we can go walking, as long as we’re together.

My youngest son Justin isn’t coming either, even though he’s been known to admit to liking a few ABBA songs. With me as his mom, it’s not like he has much of a choice.

A couple of weeks ago he confessed to me that with the way I’ve been going on that he thought I was going to see the real ABBA, as opposed to a musical stage performance using their music.

Aside from the fact that would have Agnetha, Benny, Björn and Anni-Frid ranging in age from 68 to 73 on stage – I would really have to tell them, ‘Thank you for the music’ – if I were going to see the real ABBA I’d be even more exciting and more annoying as the countdown continues.

To be honest, I’m not sure my family could handle that, even if I promised them you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life.