Duff McKagan’s column runs every Thursday on Reverb. He writes about what music is circulating through his space every Monday.Last week, I had the pleasure of being home alone with my two daughters. My wife Susan, at long last, made the trip that her mom, aunt, sister, and herself were planning, down to Mexico. This left me some good quality time with my 9 and 12-year-old bundles of girly joy . . . and hormones.At this point in my fatherdom, I certainly know where I can be of service to my girls. I also know it when I am completely lost and flummoxed by the quandaries that perplex only females. I am still under the assumption that a hike and maybe some “catch” with a baseball in the backyard can fix any and all problems with my girls.Twelve-year-olds want nothing more than to be grown-up. Right now! Grace cannot wait to drive, and have an apartment and a job and be in college and not be walked to school in the morning by her mom and/or dad (how embarrassing!). When I tell Grace that she should sort of “enjoy youth” and not rush everything she does, she gives me a look like I am the oldest and nerdiest coot that ever walked the face of the earth. I don’t feel like a coot. I guess maybe I DO look like a coot sometimes . . . but still, I am only just trying to pass on some shining pearls of wisdom.Nine-year-olds who have older sisters want to be just exactly LIKE them, and this can often be a tough row to hoe. Mae is going to be a tough chick one day, as she now has to deal with a fair amount of rebuffment and push-back from her older sibling. This is part and parcel of being the youngest–I should know, as I was the youngest of eight kids.I was really kind of excited for the girls’ mom to be gone. I really thought that this would give me a chance to have some serious “Dad time” with my girls, and that they would somehow respond to my soothsayer-like genius in all things that deal with life in general. In my mind’s eye, I would sort of be just waiting patiently–in my easy chair or cross-legged in a yoga position–as my girls clamored to be the first to spill all their life questions and problems to me. On Day 1 after school . . . they both went to their rooms with only a cursory “Hi, Dad.” Day 2 was the same. Day 3, too.That’s OK. I know that the girls’ school is finishing soon and that they have a lot of tests and such to study for. But a kid can’t live on schoolbooks alone. I decided to take my daughters on a hike after school last Friday, and they were . . . delighted. Actually, they both groaned. “C’mon!”, I said. I thought that surely a little fresh air and exercise would loosen their tongues, and that finally they could talk to me about life and ask for my insight and knowledge.Sometimes I just have to put up the flag of surrender. I realize that–more often than not these days–I just don’t understand girl stuff. I’m just absolutely lost sometimes. I have become enlightened to the fact that I must let the mini-dramas pass me by, not unlike letting the eye of a hurricane pass. In the past, I would meet these problems head-on and try to solve it all . . . or scold when certain behavior traits didn’t seem right to me. While I am fair for sure, I AM still a disciplinarian of sorts. Actually, it is really my “dad- disappointment” that does the most toward any type of scolding. It is sweet, really, that my girls don’t want to disappoint me. They seem to know it even before I am aware of it myself.So here we go! Off on our hike on a fire road in a conservancy that is conveniently in my neighborhood down here in Los Angeles. But first I had to convince my girls to put on tennis shoes in place of their fancy sandals. They both gave me a look of “Oh, my God! What if a BOY sees us?!” As we were climbing the first hill, I noticed that Grace had her purse with her. As a male, I just don’t get the reason why a young girl will have a purse. When I asked Grace why she had brought it along on a wooded and not-so-easy hike, she replied, “Lip gloss! Duh!!” Duh indeed. Sometimes I just got to keep my mouth shut and trudge on forward.In the meantime, Buckley and I have a game to watch.