one-oh-four

$104 is all that stands between you and some blogging about red poop, dentists, and a suspected case of scabies. Now really, how can you resist that?

Sponsor my March for Maddie. It just take a second. And no donation is too small. Every dollar makes a difference.

As soon as the team gets to $4000, I'll blog about all that other great stuff.

UPDATE:  Make that $79. I'm totally not holding up my end, folks. 

broken record?

Only a few more days of this, I promise. It will all be over on Saturday when an intrepid team of Pittsburgh Mums & Dads, some of them bloggers and some not, will March for Maddie and all the kids and parents helped by the March of Dimes. If everyone who sees this blog sent just a dollar, my team would easily clear our $3500 goal. And here's a promise:  As soon as the team hits $4000, I will cease blogging about the walk and get back to more interesting things, like Oliver's red poop or my first dental cleaning in 15 years. Topics not to be missed, right?

Healthy kids...it's something most of us take for granted. It's something I wish every parent could take for granted. I worried a lot through my pregnancies, despite early genetic testing, that something would go wrong. I have continued to worry, of course, but the sleep I have lost is a drop in the bucket compared to what other parents are living every hour of every day. I can't begin to imagine what the parent of a NICU baby goes through.

Won't you take a moment and send a buck, or two, or maybe even ten, to the March of Dimes? That purple badge over on the right side of this window gives you an easy link for sponsoring my walk on Saturday. 

I never

It seems the older I get, the less I have done. Almost daily I end up in a conversation, real life or electronic, about something else I have never done. Here are a few of the latest:

• I have never been to White Castle (or "Chateau Blanc" as JT calls it).
  
• I have never had a bikini wax.
  
• I didn't go to the prom.
• I have never been to Kennywood.

You get the idea. I'm not at all aiming to create a "bucket list". Clearly the ship has sailed, quite happily in my case, on the prom! And some of this stuff I really have no desire to do. It's interesting to me but not terribly compelling.

There's another meme circulating on books you have read. It was an interesting list of but most of the books from the list I haven't read are not screaming my name. I am comfortable that my representative sample is appropriate for a well-rounded (ahem) liberal arts graduate.

Here's one more. I never had a child with a birth defect. I would like to help ensure that all parents can say that someday.

Can you say you haven't sponsored anyone for the March of Dimes walk? The burgh faithful are marching for Maddie and we are soooooo close to our goal. Please help us get there by sponsoring my walk.

concrete nirvana

My trip to Eureka! is over. I got home last night and it was great to see the family, of course. The trip was not at all relaxing. I didn't do anything to improve my sleep deficit. So I'm just as grumpy as when I left.

I had a great time with JT, as always. In a change of roles for us, she was the bad influence this trip. She convinced me to skip the banquet Thursday night and we went out for pizza (Imo's) and frozen custard (Ted Drewes). I didn't see much of St Louis other than that evening, but WOW! I know where I'm going if I ever go back. And that's despite being in line behind a couple with an abundance of body art, and behavior that begged for me to tell them to get a room. (Quickly followed by JT telling me of a nearby hotel with garages, so one could have a tryst without detection. The original "no-tell motel". They think of everything in St Louis, apparently.)

The pizza was good, but the custard? Holy moly. I have craved another chocolate banana concrete at least three times a day since we were there. Is there no frozen custard in Pittsburgh? And if I find some, what do I tell them in order to get something that approximates a concrete?

welcome to misery

While I like typing Eureka! (a little too much, really), a more apt description might be "misery". As usual, the people and their agendas are over-shadowing what should really be our focus. I don't know how it happens but it is regularly clear that the dogs are secondary to the agenda. 

Nothing makes me sporky like the national specialty. And today it's going to rain. Perfect! And just for good measure, Eureka!

Eureka!

This post is coming to you from Eureka!, Missouri, site of the 2008 Clumber Spaniel national specialty show. I arrived a few hours ago, missing the kids, spouse, and dogs back at home. CD always behaves as though flying solo is effortless so I am refusing to worry about them. Miss them? Yes. Worry? Not this time. 

As a result, I will attempt to keep the complaining to a dull roar when he goes away for the first two weeks of June. You heard it here first. Hold me to it.

we are you and me

ChickyChickyBaby did this meme to help with a little writer's block. Maybe it will help me locate the blogger's mojo that has abandoned me of late. Maybe not. Anyway, should the spirit move you, feel free to do your own Couples Quiz. Leave a comment and link if you do.

What are your middle names?

Mine was Ann. I ditched it when we got married and moved my maiden name to the middle. He claims not to have one. There isn’t one on his driver’s license, green card, or passport. His siblings have said that’s wrong. Whatever.

How long have you been together?

Our first date was in October of 1998. We have been together since then.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?

We met briefly in July of 1997 and started sharing a house a few months later so it was a little more than a year before the date.

Who asked whom out?

He asked me to dinner (the place no longer exists) but I honestly didn’t know it was a date. I thought we were celebrating the release of Mulberry 1.4. I’m a little slow on the up-take. I think it took about a week or so.

How old are each of you?

We're both 43 but he’s a few months older. Dammit.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

His sister is the one we saw most recently. She left on Sunday, but it had been more than two years since I saw her. We see one of my sisters most often, about twice a year. His sibs are both in the UK. Mine are scattered about the US.

Which situation is hardest on you as a couple?

We would probably give different answers to this one. I think he would say, “There’s nothing difficult.” I will say how much he works and travels sucks big donkey balls. Since he loves his work more than anyone else I have ever met loves what they do, we find a way.

Did you go to the same school?

Not even close. I went to Williams, he went to Cambridge. The one in England. Undergrad through post-doc. I used to think Williams was old. It’s the second oldest in Massachusetts, over 200 years old. That’s pretty old, right? His college was founded in 1448. You read that right. 1448. 

Are you from the same home towns?

Not even close.  

Who is smarter?

He is. No question. Smartest person I know.

Who is the most sensitive?

I cry at the drop of a hat. Olympics, commercials, you name it. 

Where do you eat out most as a couple?

Does Wheel Deliver count?

Where is the furthest the two of you have traveled as a couple?

Paris. Honeymoon. 5 months after the wedding. Long story.

Who has the craziest exes?

Since he has no exes that anyone is aware of, I’m gonna go with me. You want the whole list of crazy or just the top ten? 

Who has the worst temper?

Me. If I ever see his temper I’ll get back to you.

Who does the cooking?

Me. He’s perfectly capable, and darn good at it, too, but if I’m home, I’m cooking.

Who is the neat freak?

He was once a neat freak and I’ve been a bad, bad influence on him. Let’s just say there’s only one of us who would consider vacuuming less than 48 hours before the cleaning crew comes. Tumbleweeds? What tumbleweeds? I don't see any tumbleweeds.

Who is more stubborn?

That’s one we might have to duke out and it probably wouldn’t be pretty. I think we are both less stubborn than the kids or the dogs, though.

Who hogs the bed?

He hogs the covers, but not the bed.

Who wakes up earlier?

Me. Me. Me. Whether I want to or not.

Where was your first date?

We went to dinner. I ate bean soup. I hate beans. But honestly, I didn’t know it was a date. 

Who is more jealous?

Not a clue. 

How long did it take to get serious?

Without a definition of “serious” I’m going to guess a couple of weeks.

Who eats more?

Maybe him, but I’m in a very bad, not enough chocolate in the world, stress bunny sort of phase. All food not nailed down is in danger.

Who does the laundry?

He does his laundry. Anything we share, that is the kids’, or is mine is my responsibility. He uses fabric softener (ewwww) and doesn't put most things in the dryer. Some people need separate bathrooms to stay together. This works for us.

Who's better with the computer?

We both can claim to be professionals but he runs circles around me. Regularly.

Who drives when you are together?

It varies, but I’ll say him about 65% of the time. The control freak in me does not handle this well but iPhone makes it all better.

make it stop

Last Saturday, during which Verizon decided three days without internet would be good for me, Oliver turned 4. Four. Years. Old. It couldn't be possible. And tomorrow Eleanor turns 2. It's not surprising I have been waxing nostalgic about their births. The good, the bad, and the war zone. I get even more nostalgic knowing I'll never do it again. Not sorry, as I think out family is perfect as it is (could use a bit more cowbell clumber though) just nostalgic, and maybe a little bit weepy.

So far, four has been a lot like three, with quite a bit more back talk. We seem to have gone from zero to every other word in a matter of hours. Oliver seems to be saying "NO!!" constantly, and the rudeness has kicked up a notch or twelve. He's also showing us glimmers of the switch being flipped, something I keep hearing usually happens between four and five. He's just teasing me, I know, but it's better than the lip and attitude he's showing more frequently.

As for Eleanor, she hit the terrible twos a couple of months ago so I'm not expecting much to change. And she's looked two for quite a while. The only mystery is how far above the 95th percentile is her weight and how far down on the chart did her height go. At least she won't need any shots at the doctor this time.

All this is not to say we are not seeing milestones. Just today Oliver finally rode a tricycle all.by.himself. CD captured it with his camera at pick-up time.

click clack coma

It's been forever since I posted a picture of the kids. Bubba got in there as a bonus. Eleanor's hair is long enough for pigtails now, and Oliver looks more grown up every day.

Tuesday nights require Scholastic DVD since CD has a conference call during the time he usually amuses the kids while I cook. Tonight I left the job to Randy Travis and his excellent narration of Click Clack Moo. I wish I had audio of Oliver's imitation. "Cows that type? Hens on strike? Whoever heard of such a thing?!"

all in the details

We have some really smart bloggers here in Pittsburgh, women who seem to know what I'm thinking before I do and say it far better than I ever could. Two recent examples are from RedPenMama and My Very Last Nerve.  Go read them. I'll wait.

Marriage is hard. Marriage with children is even harder. I sometimes think I lack the superhuman skills necessary to successfully navigate life with a spouse and children so it is heartening and encouraging to discover I'm not alone. Not by a long shot.

As I read both the posts linked above I kept saying, "Yes, yes, yes that's it exactly!" to myself, but Gina's post kept niggling at me for days. She's got it just right. The responsibility. Keeping all the balls in the air and not letting any of them drop. Totally exhausting. But something kept poking at me and wouldn't go away. Finally, when I was in the shower this morning, the puzzle was solved. What was bothering me was the alternative to being responsible. Could I let go of the details and be okay if a ball was dropped, even an inconsequential one?

I was told some years ago that my control freak tendencies were abundantly obvious to everyone but me. Talk about a world-rocking revelation. At that time I had lived on my own for nearly 10 years. I liked things the way I liked them. And for the most part, didn't really have to adapt or adjust for anyone else. (My son's particularness brings it all home to roost, but that's a post for another day.)

Now here I am. Husband. Two kids. Schedules to keep track of, houses to deal with (yes that's intentionally plural but not by choice), high maintenance dogs, volunteer work, and a full time job on top of it all. In general, I like being the detail person. But as Gina pointed out in her brilliant post, it is exhausting. David Allen points out how exhausting it is to have it all in your head in his book Getting Things Done, but I have found even having trusted systems doesn't solve the problem entirely. It's still complex, hard, and exhausting.

So I started thinking about the alternate universe, the one where my husband keeps a few of those balls in the air for me. He is an involved parent, no doubt about it, but I am the one who keeps track of the little details. I make sure the nap blankets are clean for Monday morning. I know who prefers waffles to french toast and which school has an in-service day on Friday. I check the weather before dressing the kids. My husband is unlikely to send my daughter to school on a cold day in a sundress, but I also know he is unlikely to check the weather forecast. He has the same "I'd walk through fire for these kids" desire to protect them that I have. It's just little stuff. Details. How much do I care? Could I let go?

I'm trying. I left the house this morning to catch the bus with Eleanor and Oliver wasn't dressed. When I picked him up at school I noticed he was dressed reasonably well, but the only coat hanging on his hook was a sweatshirt. Though it was 55 when we got up this morning, I knew the forecast called for dropping temperatures throughout the day and it was likely to be cold, windy, and possibly snowing by the time we fetched Oliver at school. It was all of those things when we got there, even the snow. I had a moment of panic, a few more moments of being annoyed with CD, then remembered it was really all my fault. I was a little too optimistic on Sunday (and in denial about the cold weather some of the locals were tweeting about) and put all the winter coats in the basement to be washed. Finally, I felt ridiculous for misplacing the blame, and for messing up a detail that is my responsibility. My only defense is exhaustion.

cat and mouse

My name is Kim and I have a little shopping problem. When CD takes his leave of the family I have a tendency to kick up the on-line shopping. In truth, it starts a few days before he departs. It's not like doesn't know what I am up to. He sees (and pays) the credit card bill. For some reason, it seems better if he doesn't see the boxes at the front door. Sometimes I actually return things but I don't exactly get brownie points for that. So there!

This week I have a couple of great excuses for shopping, in addition to being on my own for 11 days during CD's latest trip to a geek-fest. The kids' birthdays are coming soon and until this week, I had purchased none of their presents. They are also short on spring/summer clothes. Doesn't get much better than that.

So the UPS/Fedex/USPS trifecta have been making regular visits to our house this week. These are a few of my favorite things (this week, anyway):

Hanna Andersson Stockholm Petite slim pants - OMG, what took me so long to order these? They are the greatest pants ever. One pair is definitely not enough. Eleanor got some shirts and shorts on this order.

LeapFrog® Tag Reading System - This one is a birthday present for Oliver. I wasn't a fan initially, but his teacher (who is not at all into electronic gizmos, despite her husband having invented the emoticon!) recommended it to help close the gap has between cognitive and fine motor skills. I entered all the current giveaways, but bought one anyway. Now I'm sure to win. (Amazon has $10 off at checkout on the Tag, and $4 off on books, at checkout through March 31.)

Remo Rhythm Club Floor Tom - Eleanor loves drums. She shouts "drums!" when she hears them, and loves to play with them when we are at Music Together. Oliver got instruments for his first birthday. We're a little behind.

Cupcake Courier - I have been looking for a deal on one of these for over a year. Every time I know I will be transporting cupcakes, I start looking again in earnest. My Michael's used to have them. I would dutifully clip the 40% off coupon and go down there, only to find they didn't have any in stock. Three times I did this. Finally I decided I'm wasting more money driving down there, only to end up annoyed and disappointed. Besides, on-line shopping is better for the environment.

RL Clara shoes - Love these! Wasn't sure I would and hesitated, but PiperLime had them on sale with free returns, and ordering from them gave me free shipping on my Gap order for the kids, so how could I resist? Now I wish I had ordered the black too, but they are back to full price. I'm checking all the other shoe sites for Clara in other colors at a good price. Anybody have a coupon for Zappo's?

The mail has brought a couple of cool giveaway wins my way as well.  The Fabulous Miss S sent the Boca set I won. The yoga mat was just the kick I needed to get back to the shred. I think I have had "day one" four times this month. And Mistress Shredhead herself sent a gift card for Smarty Pig from the first "graduation" giveaway. I totally don't understand how it works yet, but I'll dive in and figure it out later on. 

And somehow, tomorrow morning I'll wake up in the dark while the kids are still asleep and spend a little quality time with Jillian. Hate her, especially before coffee.

ashes to ashes redux

My dog Piper went to Bong today. She had been there before, on a very happy day when she was first introduced to birds. Today was a little different, but she didn't go alone. My dear friends Helen and Otto took half of her ashes along on a training session and scattered them in the fields and the water. (What happened to the other half is explained in an earlier post, though you'll have to dip into the comments for details.) They say a true friend is one who will help you hide the bodies. I think a true friend will scatter your dog's ashes for you and take pictures.

bumpy rides

Oliver and I spent a great weekend in Milwaukee. It rained for two days, but we were not there for the weather. Now that he's a little older, we are seeing him becoming afraid of things that once did not phase him. For instance, flying. He has never been bothered or fearful of flying before, and unfortunately, this was a bumpy couple of flights. Really bumpy. The return was so bad he made me hold his hand the whole way. That was Sunday. Today, after a few days of processing, he wanted to talk about it. This morning he said, "Mommy, you held my hand in the airplane. You kept me safe." I get weepy just typing that. 

Moving on...shred. Argh. What was supposed to be a couple of days off for the trip turned into a full-on hiatus. It's the same with journalling and Weight Watchers. If I take a day off with the intention of going right back, it never happens. I've been staying up late and finding every excuse I can think of not to spend some quality time with Jillian and her minions. Even when I've found a window of opportunity, Comcast on demand has not been cooperative, giving me error messages and not always loading the work out. 

So I bought the damn dvd. Now I own Jillian. She doesn't own me. And last night I finally got myself to bed before midnight. And this morning I was out of bed by 6:15am. I put Jillian in my laptop and headed for the basement. The kids cooperated and let me shred AND shower before waking up. It was a miracle. Felt like day one all over again, but it's done. Tomorrow is day two.

shreddus interruptus

We interrupt this regularly scheduled shred for a number of reasons.

Oliver and I are off to Wisconsin this morning. Two buses will get us to the airport, then one plane to Milwaukee. We are visiting some Clumber friends, then spending the rest of the weekend with Tika, her husband, and their new baby. I'm calling it a "new baby" because I have not met her yet. She arrived in October , during Blogher DC.

Back on Sunday. With any luck, I'll be able to stick to the WW program and not do too much damage in the land of cheese.

holy guacamole

Today was a day off from the Shred, so I knew I needed to take a good walk at lunch time. Since I didn't have time to pack a lunch this morning, walking to Chipotle for lunch seemed like the best option. I spent a little quality time with Mr Google and the Chipotle nutrition information before heading out. Chipotle's burrito bols are a great option for Weight Watchers. I don't miss the tortilla at all. The other way to keep the WW points under control is to skip the meat. And the cheese, sour cream, and most painful of all, the guacamole. The fajita veggies are a good addition to a vegetarian bol, except they are 90% green peppers, something I cannot eat. 

All that means I end up with a bowl of rice, black beans, lettuce, and salsa. I love Chipotle but can you say Let Down? Yeah, I thought you could. Today the rice was super fresh and lovely, but that didn't quite do it for me.

Then I thought about how much my calves were not going to hurt today, and I was over it. Just.Like.That.

shredding with the family

The whole going to bed early thing didn't really happen last night. Not surprisingly, the whole getting up early to shred was equally problematic this morning. Since I received something resembling divine inspiration (should you believe in that sort of thing) at my Weight Watchers weigh-in today, I resolved to do the shred workout when I got home from work. 

Tuesdays are always an adventure. We have to pick up the kids and get home by 5:45 because CD has a conference call at 6pm. Since I have to amuse the kids and cook dinner anyway, I thought watching the workout might distract them. It's new. It's novel. What the hell.

This was not a good idea. The problems were as follows:

• Eleanor thought I should be holding her the whole time.
  
• If I wasn't going to hold her, I should let her sit on me during the ab bits.
  
• And if I was standing she should be able to weave through my legs.
  
• Penguin thought my being on the floor was a perfect excuse to come over and lick my face.
  

The only thing funnier than watching me try to shred was watching Oliver try to do jumping jacks or kick his own butt. If we ever try this again I'm setting up the video camera and putting it on him.

There is a up side. I remembered to wear shoes. 

better off shred

I had a weak moment last night while hanging out on Twitter. Kristen, of Motherhood Uncensored fame, started tweeting about shredding. I had heard of it, and looked at on Amazon for all of half a second before running away in fear. Like I said, weak moment. I up and joined Kristen and her merry band of shredheads, while they could all still walk. 

This time around on Weight Watchers has been pretty grim. If I am not obsessive about journalling, it's an immediate fail. I can't be obsessive all the time so the slippery slope to "what the hell?" is half a step in front of me all the time. And exercise? Has.Not.Been.Happening.

I have been trying to get myself to bed earlier and failing miserably. I've been getting to bed at midnight, or worse. Getting up in the morning has been getting harder. And then there was bronchitis last week. I haven't had a really good nearly-pneumonia round of bronchitis since college. 

For some reason, all of these little things weakened me to the point where shredding with a bunch of fine bloggers seemed like a good idea. The hell was I thinking? 

I got to bed last night at a reasonable 11pm. And got up at 6. And spent the next 15 minutes searching for The Shred on Comcast's on-demand service. Then convinced Oliver to go back to sleep, tried to do the workout while discovering just how bloody uncoordinated I am, but did.not.die. Oliver woke up and threatened to wake his sister and dad so I had to stop before it was done but I finished the first 22 minutes. 

I did learn something critical...sneakers would be useful. I can only blame lack of sleep for managing to put on a sports bra and other workout gear, yet skipped the whole socks and shoes thing. 

Tomorrow is another day. And it won't take me nearly as long to find the damn thing on the tv.

Kristen asks that we divulge a few things at the start. Here goes:

a) Before pictures:

HA!!! There will be no pictures. More power to those braver than I.

b) Tag Line

"better off shred" of course

c) Weight

165 or thereabouts. My scale and the Weight Watchers scale are not on speaking terms.

d) Goal

short term:  more clothes that fit.  long term:  30 pounds. gone. forever.

e) Diet Plan

Weight Watchers

f) Personal Rules

Lots of water. Sticking with the plan. Journalling.

g) Shred Plan

As often as possible, but at least 4 days a week, level 1, 3 pound weights. Yoga and a good walk on the days I don't shred. Walks on shred days when possible.

Iron(ic) Chef Point Breeze

It all started with a harmless little tweet back in December, and my inability to let such things slide. What I didn't reveal at the time is that I couldn't remember the last time I made a crab cake, or even if I had ever made them. (I had. Once.) I like eating them, though. If anyone was silly enough to call my bluff, the worst thing that would happen was I'd get to eat crab cakes. How bad could that be?

Of course, my bluff was called. Calendars were consulted, judges assembled, and a host of "oh shit, what the hell was I thinking" moments later, I found myself making crab cakes for a bunch of great people I barely know, and just a couple I know well, including CD. Huge thanks to my long suffering husband. He not only ate crab cakes four times in eight days once you add the very nice leftovers we just consumed for dinner, but deftly handled kid duty while I got to play in the kitchen.

Knowing I was at a serious disadvantage in the experience department, I consulted the only person I know from Baltimore who sent me a few recipes, including one from an Annapolis crab house. Though I am entirely unable to follow a recipe as it is (unless I'm baking -- that's chemistry and keep the improv to a minimum), this seemed like a really good place to start. Here's what I did that isn't in the recipe:

• spice - In addition to the white pepper and Old Bay, I added 1 tsp of Penzey's Chesapeake Bay seasoning, 1 tsp of Penzey's Chili 9000, and a little dried parsley
  
• mayo - I used Trader Joe's low fat version
  
• bread/cracker crumbs - I used panko instead of traditional bread crumbs or crackers

And here's what I'll do differently next time:

• Fresh parsley
  
• Canola oil and butter for frying (something I spotted Uncle Crappy doing)
  
• Some of Uncle Crappy's mustard stuff on the side. (oh.my.)

You can see photos and read Uncle Crappy's account over here. As he says, our styles were very different and tough to compare, but the esteemed team of judges leaned in Uncle Crappy's general direction. As I said earlier, there was no way I could lose. Tasty crab cakes were had by all. (Not to mention the other FINE contributions to the feast. Thanks guys!) 

I will pay up with a growler of East End Brewing's finest at a time of Uncle Crappy's choosing. And I hope we can schedule a rematch when the weather is better. Tuna steaks, anyone? Chili, perhaps? You name it. I'll try to make it.

so high school

In a very roundabout way, my daughter's name connects her with Eleanor Roosevelt. Not just her first name, but her middle name too. She's Eleanor Rose. Unlike the naming of Oliver, it didn't take months. Her first name was solved in minutes, and the middle took less than a day. I had six suggestions for a middle name, all rejected by CD. I put the burden on him and he suggested we find out what Eleanor Roosevelt's middle name was and go with that. She was Anna Eleanor. It wasn't much of a leap from there.

My 25th high school reunion will be going on without me this year. I have never been back to a reunion and doubt I ever will. I never wanted to be there in the first place. My pleas to go to boarding school started fairly early, but suffered from a couple of things. First was timing. The whole father getting sick and dying thing. Then there was the whole not having any money thing. Still, I had always believed in thinking big and reaching. Most of the time that approach served me well, but this time I didn't even try. I let high school kick my ass instead. 

The school work wasn't what did it. I was bored with that. My way of finding challenge was to see how little work I could do without anyone noticing. I had one teacher who pushed, somehow getting a thrill out of getting kids to think beyond going to the University of Maine at Orono. But otherwise, if you seemed like you were going to graduate, the teachers had other things to worry about, like lunch. Coasting was easy. And left me with some really stellar study skills, but back to that later on.

Socially, I was just all wrong. For some bizarre reason, sororities existed and were Very Important. My much older sisters had been members of one, and they did the legacy thing, so I didn't worry at first. Then it became clear that sorority would not be inviting me to join. And neither would any of the others. The high school mind makes some interesting translations and calculations.  I was all wrong in so many ways. 

My solution? Get outta Dodge. But there were the problems I already mentioned, so getting out had to wait a few years. I found the college I wanted, a serious reach in every way imaginable, and enlisted the help of the aforementioned teacher. When it was suggested at my interview that I shouldn't bother to apply, and that I couldn't afford the application fee, I decided to apply for early decision. I didn't have a "plan B" so if I wasn't getting in I wanted to know it in December. April was too late.

Apparently there are some bizarre things going on in the minds of college admissions officers too because they admitted me. That was "the goal" for so long I didn't give a lot of thought to what I would do once I got there. Those really stellar study skills were not much help. Nor was the enormous amount in insecurity I brought with me, especially when faced with what looked to me like a sea of good breeding, boarding schools, and J. Crew. It was a major case of "be careful what you wish for." Instead of high school kicking my ass, now I had an elite college kicking it even harder, and though I was getting some substantial financial aid, I was paying for the privilege.

Where was Eleanor Roosevelt, and her wise words, when I needed her?  "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." And boy, did I consent. Up, down, and sideways. And now, as an associate class agent, I get to ask those people who intimidated me to donate money back to the school. Oh, the irony.

But that's college and we're spending today in high school. And not going to reunion. You would think after 25 years I would be sufficiently comfortable in my own skin to go back and face the bad 80s music. Nope. Not a chance. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Oliver sends Valentine's Day greetings to all. I can vouch for him being pretty fabulous valentine.

Visit my Flickr page to see the version of this photo he chose to put on the cards for his classmates.