Homeward Bound

As I pulled into my parent's driveway, they were waiting for me and came rushing out, arms open, thrilled that their baby girl was home for winter break.  My Dad opened the trunk to grab my suitcase and upon seeing my television, area rug, radio, telephone etc., he said, "hun, you didn't have to pack up your dorm room to come home for break.  Your stuff would have been safe in your room."  My Mom started chuckling along with my Dad and they were shaking their heads at "all the extra packing and unpacking" I'd have to do.  They were laughing and in a good mood so I figured, aw, what the heck, I will lay it on them now....


All bright eyes and bushy tailed, still in the driveway turn around I blurted it out, "I was going to wait but I'm so excited, I might as well tell you now...Tracy and I withdrew from school, packed up our stuff, and at the end of holiday break, we aren't going back to school, we are going to drive cross country and experience life. How awesome does THAT sound?!?!"


30 seconds of silence followed by my Mom looking at my Dad and saying, "you deal with this" and he did. I quote, "What car do you plan to take? I own 'your' car. Who is going to pay your health insurance? I cover you now but you'll be dropped if not in school and no child of mine will go without health insurance. How will you eat? How will you pay for gas? Where will you sleep? Exactly how do you plan to pay for your fancy moisturizers, lotions and potions you so love? Who will buy your clothes? Contact lenses? Shoes? Pedicures? Sunscreen? Advil? Magazines? Doctor co-pays?"


Umm, hello, Daddy Downer.


All I said was, "Well Tracy and I heard that the first 6 rows of all crops were public domain so we just thought we would live off the land and become vegetarians or something."  I swear, I honestly said that.  Wisely, my Dad ignored that and simply kept on tailing, "Starting tomorrow, finding a new University that will take you after this holiday break will become a full time job for you." What?!?!? "But Dad, once I decided to 'withdraw' I kinda stopped going to class and like none of my grades are like, um, good, as in I barely passed anything this semester."


"Well, we all know you are a master bullshitter so you better get cracking with the admissions officers." I was starting to get pouty and angry when, as he walked into the house, still clutching my suitcase, he muttered, "I'm so disappointed.  What did I do wrong that she would think this was ok." Crap, my Dad was disappointed. He has never said that to me. Never. And worse yet, he thinks this screw up is somehow his fault.  Double crap.  I had to make this right.


The rest of the day was awkward but we got through dinner, watched some Jeopardy! and then I went out with some friends to catch up after a long semester scattered at various colleges. Finally, sleep in my old bed. Pure comfort.


But then, a rather loud knock on my door awoke me. The clock read 6 am. What the flip is that all about? Then a booming voice, my father, "CeeCee, time to get up.  THe work day has begun and you've got a busy day ahead of you." HOLY CRAP. Dad meant business when he said finding a school was going to be a full time job for me.


I poked my head out and he said, take a shower, get dressed - in a suit, the one you wore when you interviewed with Dean of Universities last year is still in your closet. Coffee and breakfast at 6:30." I showered, dressed and ragged myself to the kitchen.  He had the desk where my Mom usually wrote the household bills out, set up for me with the computer, stapler, legal pad, an appointment calendar, pens, the college book I used when originally looking for a school, along with various odds and ends."  We ate breakfast and he left for work.  He would call and check on me, came home during my hour lunch break and cracked the whip until 5 pm.


Let me tell you, my number one mission was to find a freaking school, fast.  My winter break was disappearing before my eyes.  I started calling area Universities. Thank God that NJ is full of good schools, close by.  I would book appointments, meet with admissions' staff, tell my story of woe, and lay upon my sword and tell them that I had screwed up, disappointed the man I admire most and that if only their school would look past my crappy first semester grades and at my high school record, they would know that I was a good candidate for their University and I would dig myself out of this hole.  By the end of the week, I had 7 universities offering me positions in their winter semester.


Over dinner, Mom, Dad, and I would discuss what school was best suited for me and we decided upon the Madison campus of:

My Mom and Dad were pleased. I was thrilled and determined to regain their trust in me. I got my winter break back. At every opportunity, I traveled far and wide, still do.  I never did make the drive cross country but everyone needs a dream and that one isn't dead.


My plan had always been to transfer out of there to another school but something amazing happened at FDU, I found that when I got to choose the courses that interested me, I liked school after all. By the time I graduated, I was sad to leave school behind and would eventually return (much to the shock of my parents) to grad school.


ps.  While all of this was going on, I thought for sure, my best friend Tracy would be mad that I was bailing on our plan. Turns out, she was in the same host I was and found a different school and went to graduate, with honors, as a nurse.  Beauty school drop outs made good after all.

Beauty School Drop Out?

I hated school. I mean, I really hated school - from day one. In the first grade, I found out that pre-K and kindergarden weren't legally required.  At the end of the day, I stormed through the door and demanded to know why my Mom would send me to school before she legally had to. And my dislike of school grew from there. I had plenty of friends, liked my teachers, enjoyed school sports, did okay in my classes but for whatever reason, I never liked school.  As for my studies, if I could do minimal work and get a B or C, that was good enough for me - to the frustration of my parents. I studied with the radio on, did school readings while chatting on the phone with friends, and completed homework during the 5 minutes between classes.


Again, this frustrated my parents to no end, especially since Big Bro put in plenty of study time and excelled in class.  He was a great role model - scholar, athlete, social kid, in fact, he would have received the perfect attendance award in school if I hadn't begged him to play hooky senior year and take me skiing.  Meanwhile, I had zero interest in school and faked every illness to get out of going.


Similar to finding out that pre-K and kindergarten weren't legally required, the day came when I realized college wasn't grade 13 - it was a voluntary choice that cost a ton of money.  Well, I came home one day and declared, "college is a choice and I choose not to go."  To which my parents calmly my replied, "college is not a choice for you. You will go. We don't care what you get a degree in and we don't care what you ultimately decide to do for work but we will send you into the world debt free with a 4 year degree.  If you screw up your life after that, it is on you, not us. Period."  And that was that.


The time finally came for me to go to grade 13, err, college.  I decided on......

Why did I decide on URI? Was it because of the vast education opportunities? No. The tennis team I planned to play on? No. Was it because it is the unofficial state university of NJ as so many New Jersians go there? No. It was because it was close to the beach and a short drive to my beloved Cape Cod.  Also, my best friend, Tracy, was attending UMASS - Amherst, which wasn't too far so all in all, URI would do.


I was miserable at URI. My classes were too big for me. The campus was huge. Freshmen weren't allowed to have cars on campus (which foiled my beach and Cape Cod plans), my roommate actively practiced voodoo in our dorm room...the list goes on and on.  Every time I called my parents I would say, "I can't believe you are paying money for me to be in this prison." A bit dramatic, I know.  They told me to just gut out the first year and it would get better.


Lucky for me, Tracy was unhappy at UMASS so we would cut classes and chat on the phone all afternoon.  Or, we would hop on a train and meet up with one another.  Our favorite way to avoid school was to go to the Cape for extended weekends.  We would talk about what we would be doing if our parents hadn't forced us to get an advanced degree.  We always came up with driving cross country, no schedules, no set plans, just 2 girls in a car, living off the land wherever the road took us.  By the end of the fist semester, a plan was hatched.....we would withdraw from school, spend the holidays with our families, and then hit the open road for a year. That Christmas vacation, I packed up my car and headed to Mom and Dad's (to fill up on good food and tell them all about my exciting plan).........


Stay tuned........

I'm A Georgia Peach, Honest, I Am

Abraham and I met through work though our offices were an hour and a half apart. When we first started dating, we knew we could see each other on the weekends but it would be difficult to see each other during the week, unless.....Unless something happened near Abraham's office that required me to head out that way to do my job - be nice to people. Right from the get-go, I knew I really liked this guy but I had a little pit of fear that separation would not make the heart grow fonder. So, I hoped that I would have a reason to work out his way during the week - and soon.

Well, the stars aligned and something happened where someone needed me to be nice to them. It would take a couple of days of early mornings through late nights of being nice and my agency didn't want me driving back and forth so they approved me a hotel room. So, I called Abraham and told him I would be in the office mid week and if he was around, let's grab dinner. I was cool. I was hip. I wasn't rushing anything. I was scared crapless that he'd be like, "listen nutter butter, we had plans this weekend and now you are popping up at my office on Wednesday. Stalker...."

But no, Abraham sounded psyched and told me to meet him at the office when I was done and he would show me where the hotel was since it was in a fairly shady area. Also, he told me that we could do dinner whenever I was done woking, he'd wait for me and was looking forward to seeing me. The pit in my stomach turned to excited butterflies.


When my work was finished, I headed back to the office.  Abraham carried my bag as we walked over to the hotel.  As we walked, we chatted about what to have for dinner, our day, etc.  Knowing that I would be seeing Abraham, I had put a little effort into my look, skirt, nice top, cute little black kitten heels. I had actually done my hair and put on more makeup than the usual chap stick.  I was feeling pretty good.  My feet were a little sore from the heels but that is the price you pay for looking cute.  Abraham and I are making a plan for the evening, he said he'd wait in the lobby while I bring my bag up and then we will head out.  I am trying to be so cool and relaxed as I breezily toss my hair aside, look back over my shoulder and say, "see you in a few".  


That's when I feel it, something wet and gloppy coming over the tops of my cute open toed heels. And I feel like I am sinking.  What's going on? I see Abraham looking down and suppressing a smile.  That's when I look down and see that somehow, despite the caution tape, I have sauntered through a patch of fresh, wet cement.

Everyone in the lobby and the front desk is looking at me. All I can think to say is, "I bet y'all would never guess I'm a Southern Belle.  Born in Georgia.  This is the move of a Georgia Peach."  I did not make the South proud with that move!

The Griswolds - Jersey Style

So, if you don’t actually know my family by now, some of my previous blogs have given you a sense of the characters I’ve grown up among.

Our family is a creature of habit. If we find something we like, we stick with it. Food, clothes, car makers, vacation destinations. For 15 years, every April vacation, we would return to the same tropical destination. The resort staff knew us, knew where we liked to set up our chairs on the beach, that we like extra towels, that Big Bro is a surfer, I’m a beach reader, Mom is a people watcher, Dad a beach sleeper. When Big Bro got married, my sister-in-law got to join the routine. She’s a People magazine reader mixed in with a daily swim in the ocean kind of girl. We are all, end the beach day-in the hot tub-watching the sun set-while drinking mud slides, kind of people.

This story is before my nieces and nephew were on the scene and added extra entertainment on trips….

The five of us (yes, per usual, I was the odd woman out. The deal has always been that you couldn’t bring anyone on these trips unless you were married to the person. Even the year Big Bro and Sis-in-Law were engaged, Big Bro came without her) head off to the land of fruity drinks, tropical weather, and 3 meals a day eaten beachside. By day 3 of relaxing bliss, Big Bro decides he will go to the other side of the island and go surfing. He takes the rental and disappears for the day.

If you’re reading this, you know Big bro likes to push his luck and get that one last set in – even if it means being late for dinner. So, upon his return to the resort, we were all showered and ready to hit up dinner. He jumped in the shower, got dressed (my Dad impatiently waiting and regularly checking his watch – in matters of being on time – son is NOT like father). Off we rush to dinner where we have a lovely meal. Big Bro is a bit fidgety but really, that’s not that unusual.

What is unusual is that after dinner we are debating whether or not to go hang on the beach, read on the balcony, or maybe hit up the bar when Big Bro says he needs to get back to the room, something is wrong.

Naturally, we are a family of nosey bodies and follow hot on his heels. We huddle into the room and ask a hundred questions. Well, in the light of the room, we see he is covered in HUNDREDS of welts and he’s itching up a storm. Ewww….

Remember, it is late at night and we are in a foreign country. We call the front desk who connects us to an “on-call” doctor. Big Bro explains the welts, surfing, itching etc. The “doctor” says to meet him out front, he will have medication. He pulls up, takes $20 cash and hands over a bottle. Never looks at the spots. The bottle has a scull and cross bones on it and contains some milky liquid. Through his thick accent, he says to apply it to each spot and “wait for it to die”. To die? Huh? Wait for what to die?!?!? Ah, wait for the sea lice to die, he tells us.

We all freak as he explains it is common that time of year if you swim through seaweed to catch tropical sea lice (jellyfish larvae). Big Bro caught it on the far side of the island where there is lots of warmer waters with seaweed. Ewww, ewww, eww.

With the help of my saintly sis-in-law, Big Bro applies this stuff, to each of his hundreds of spots. The next day, he’s fine. It is like nothing happened...except for the fact that our family can’t help but to discuss it on the beach.

The sun is shining, sunscreen applied, steamy day, waves crashing, beach full of tourists like us – except we are Jersey loud. We are talk/screaming over the sound of the waves about Big Bro’s sea lice and Big Bro is saying how he doesn’t want to talk about it (sure he’ll be thrilled with this blog) because it grosses him out. My Mom then screams, loud and clear for all to hear, “you SHOULD be grossed out. Last night you had an ORGASM living and growing inside you. And then it died. An ORGASM!” As the entire beach looks in horror at us, my Dad calmly says, “I think you mean he had an ORGANISM living in him last night.”