Officially Technological

So Brian and I went on a bike ride on Saturday because I didn't have school. We rode all the way down to New Haven, and on our way back, I was looking over my shoulder to see if there was any end tables at a garage sale, and I ran into the back of a parked SUV (yet another reason for me to be bitter about SUVs). Luckily, my bike is still OK, and I'm mostly OK, except I have a gouge on my chin and my back is really sore (I'm going to the chiropractor tomorrow). I think I dislocated my jaw too, but that's back in place, and although it's sore, it seems to be OK. Probably my pride is the only casualty.

So, I started school yesterday. I made Brian take pictures of me on my first day of school because "I've never been to college for the second time before." LOL! Which brings me to my point (did you notice that my prelude was shorter than usual? It's because it's after 11 PM and I should be in bed).

While I was growing up there were a lot of "celebrations". We celebrated everything that was worth any sort of commemorating. Even unworthy events were sometimes honored. But at my house, going to school was a big deal. Every school achievement was a marked triumph. Don't get me wrong, my frugal parents rarely bribed us with money for good grades, but good grades were praised and lauded, and each graduation - kindergarten and college alike - were attended and enjoyed. Yup. My family knew how to celebrate a good education. You may have thought, if you were my childhood friend, that I was either an only child or from a family that hadn't heretofore had any high school graduates, so earnest and participatory were my parents.

So, going back to school for me is a really big deal. I bought a new bag (for my new laptop) and new pens and pencils and a new note book, and I even splurged and bought index cards just in case I would actually do anything in school other than "wing it". I picked out an outfit (side note: I didn't wear the outfit I had picked out so Brian, without prompt, ironed my favorite black, long-sleeved t-shirt so I would feel more comfortable - that was the sweetest thing). I curled my hair, I wore my favorite pair of heals, and didn't pack a lunch so I would have an excuse to go out if the other students were going some place for lunch.

Yep. It was a big deal. And as I flung my new bag with my new pens and new notebook over my shoulder, I felt exactly like I did when I was five and wearing white knee high socks, with brown Mary Jane's and a little plaid rap-around skirt and a buttoned down blouse (much to my chagrin, I hated blouses back then). And I still feel a little like I'm five. Kinda giddy, mostly corny, but really, really, really excited. And that's all that counts.