"Third Base!"

COLLEGE: The Warping Years

This weekend, I took my college sophomore cousin and her roommate out to dinner to celebrate their return to school. The first few minutes are always a little awkward for me as I try to switch mental gears to college-age appropriate conversation. College, for me, was a nightmare. I can't relate at all to their easy-going humor about their unknown circumstances (will I get work-study? can I study abroad?). My college memories are more about failing class and getting into heated exchanges with the registrar's office.

Nothing has changed for me in the intervening years. I spent all day on the phone on Friday trying to find out how to notify the university that I would *not* be talking classes this fall. It was truly a "who's on first?" experience.

Me: My graduate advisor and his administrative assistant have been non-responsive to my emails. What is the process?
Random University Lackey: Well, miss, your advisor needs to submit the form.
Me: As I've said, my advisor is pretty worthless. Would it be possible to submit the form myself?
RUL: Of course, you just need to get the form.
Me: Great! Where can I get the form.
RUL: From your graduate advisor.
Me: ....right, see? That's sort of the problem, isn't it?

You'd think that as a Communications major that I would be learning how to avoid these kinds of mind-blowing exchanges. And yet, you'd be wrong.

'TIS THE SEASON
I spent the afternoon today frolicking on the back nine with my mother. It was a gorgeous afternoon- a gift for Fall. We enjoyed looking at the first blush of color coming into the leaves of the trees. My mother is a pretty amazing golfer. And -what I envy even more- utterly unflappable, no matter how many cars honk the middle of her backstroke or how many beer-guzzlin' locals are queued up behind us. She's putting that d*mn ball into the cup. Don't give her any of this "that's close enough" business. She is not satisfied until she hears that resounding plastic-on-plastic sound of achievement. I think it's a cross between her value-driven ethic ("I paid $9 for golfing and I'm getting $9 worth of golfing!") and her perfectionism. Regardless, I love it. At first it makes me tense to keep others waiting, but, eventually, I just relax and relish this quality that is so Mom. She's a hoot :)