Thursday, May 27, 2010


Sam loves lobster. He'll eat a whole one himself.

So he was excited tonight that we got some lobsters. Craig made a great cream sauce for our lobster ravioli and we had some lobster meat on top of it. Sam had his traditional-style, dipped in butter.

And Kate freaked out. She was coughing and gagging and protesting every 2 minutes that she didn't like lobster. She pushed her plate of (regular) ravioli away declaring she couldn't eat because of the smell. She proceeded to gag some more and finally calmed down and asked for cereal.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Cultural Anthropology

For one of my history minor requirements, I took Cultural Anthropology. This was taught by a woman who remembered all of our names. One requirement for this class was to read an ethnography. These are breakdowns of other cultures, not too long but dreadfully boring.

Or maybe just not as exciting as being with friends, cheering, flirting, or playing soccer.

I ran out of time to read all of the first one, so I skimmed the last 2/3 of the book and wrote the paper. I think I got a B+ on it. Maybe even an A-.

So when the second one came due, I didn't read the book at all. I read the first and last paragraphs of most of the chapters and wrote the paper. I think I got a C- on that.

It was kind of a good idea. I didn't fail. Unless you define fail as not remembering anything else from a semester's worth of class.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Ten Jobs

Driving home from Maine this past Sunday, I scratched down some ideas for top-ten Tuesdays. I'm so excited to have lists for the next few weeks.

Ten Jobs I had in high school and college:

1. Arby's - this was my first job. A guy from our church was the manager and gave me the job.

2. McDonald's - This was close to our house and we frequently walked to work (7 blocks or so) until they built the new store down by the mall.

3. Sears men's department - this girl in our church worked in the paint department there and I thought it'd be cool to work with her but they didn't need me there, they needed people in the men's department. I worked there summers and Christmas break all through college, sometimes part of the day at Sears and part of the day at another job; for awhile McD's across the street, or some of the other jobs that follow.

4. Weis - this is a grocery store. I hated this job. They said I couldn't go outside during my breaks (I guess so customer's didn't think I was slacking?) and that meant staying in the smoke-filled break room (this was way back when, remember) and my drawer never seemed to turn out right. I didn't know how to ring up coupons or something. I wanted to quit after two weeks but then had to give them two weeks' notice so I think I ended up being there a full month. I had never seen perogies before checking them out while working there.

5. Chuck E. Cheese - yes. I worked there. Maybe that's why I hate it so much? Actually we got to eat pizza and finish off cakes from parties so it wasn't all bad. There was the singing and dancing for parties. I quit after two weeks because . . .

6. A woman from my church offered me a job working at a makeup store she had in Strawberry Square. It was this all-natural line from Australia (maybe?) and was #1 in France (probably a lie). When they said all-natural, they meant it. They said you could eat any of the products (not that you'd want to) because why would you put something on your face that you wouldn't put in your body? Business was very slow. My sister would come and play gin rummy with me or I'd talk on the phone. I did clean the shelves and once in awhile I'd lock the shop and wander around to the other stores but there wasn't much to see. One day, the only two people who came in were asking for helium balloons. I'd do 3 days a week there and then nights and the other days of the week at McD's. Half the money I made went to my college bill and the other half was mine to fritter away on white Polo shirts, long khaki skirts, hose, or Aigner shoes. I can't remember what this stuff was called but she closed up shop in the fall.

7. BJ Art Gallery - My job was to vacuum and broom the carpet. We vacuumed one direction, picked up the vacuum, went back to the other end, then did another strip alongside the first. Then we took the broom and broomed out all the lines. I really had to bust my tail to get my section done in the time allowed and would sweat and I hated that. On my last day, I made the one little room stripy by going one direction then the other. I went downstairs and told the cranky old birds down there (they usually were gold leafing a frame) that I made the room stripy for Christmas but they didn't believe me.

8. Bob Jones daycare - another semester (or year, I can't remember), I worked in the day care with the two-year olds (children of faculty or staff). Those kids are practically graduating from college now . . . wow. I'm old.

9. temping at Hershey Foods - I got this through a temp agency. Easy stuff. I was only there a few days for a few weeks.

10. EDS - I did this my first summer home from BJU. I desperately missed my friends and was "in love" with a boy who might have broken up with me before I went home for the summer. I waited every day for a letter (again, back in the day) that didn't come and read and hated David Copperfield. I was an "idependent third party verifier" for people who had been telemarketed into changing long distance companies.

Exciting stuff, huh? I don't miss any of it. Give me a pre-schooler pretending to be a bunny and a kindergartner negotiating to play Wii any day. I have found my calling. Well, to be more accurate, God led me to this and it's wonderful.

Head over to ohamanda for her great Disney-themed list and other top-tens.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Chicken Divan

When my parents were here in December, I made Chicken Divan* (recipe courtesy of my sister-in-law). For a few weeks afterward Sam mentioned it, that he wanted to eat it.

So last week, after having no motivation to think of things to eat, let alone go to the store and then cook them, I sat down with my blank menu planner and cookbooks and asked God to help me focus and plan menus. And He enabled me to plan out three weeks' worth of ideas. Then I headed to the store for this week's food.

One of my ideas for this week was chicken divan. I thought, Sam will remember and while may not exactly be "so excited," he'll eat it.

I was met with a loud "I DON'T WANT THAT!"

want: –verb (used with object)
1. to feel a need or a desire for; wish for: to want one's dinner; always wanting something new.
2. to wish, need, crave, demand, or desire (often fol. by an infinitive): I want to see you. She wants to be notified.

So I launched into a rambling and slightly exasperated monologue about want as opposed to like when it comes to food (similar to the want v. need talk). I didn't ask what he wanted, this is what's served.

He ended up eating all his chicken with little other complaining. He didn't like the broccoli, though.

And Kate. She has started pushing her plate away when I put it down and saying "yuck," which has caused me to add an admonishment for politeness to my repertoire of stock speeches. And then, when she finally got a taste . . . she cleared her plate.

Sam has been eating more lately and I've been trying to put more on his plate because once he eats he typically doesn't ask for more. Oh, but then I worry about putting too much on his plate will overwhelm him and he won't eat at all. We try, with both of them, to have them "think about your belly. Are you full?" rather than just clear the plate. We've been leaving his half-eaten food on the table and telling Sam that's what he'll get if he's hungry before bed (as opposed to clearing the table and giving him a bowl of cereal at 8 when he's stalling before bed).

*This recipe is more of a word-of-mouth thing; that's not a link to the recipe. Take your chicken and cook it. I use skinless, boneless chicken breasts (is there another kind?). I cook my broccoli, too, 3 min. in microwave or whatever you do when you cook broccoli. Mix 1 can of cream of chicken soup with 1/2 cup mayo (or, for a big pan, 2 cans c.o.c. with 1 c. mayo - is that the right ratio, Andrea?). Then put the chicken & broccoli in a dish and cover with the mayo/soup mixture. Top this with cheddar cheese and bread crumbs. My SIL toasts her bread crumbs but I don't (faster and no extra pan dirty. Those carry a lot of weight in my book.)

Bake for like 30 min. at 350. The other day my chicken and broccoli were both hot so they only needed about 15 min. for the cheese to melt. I have made this ahead and put it in the fridge to bake later; then it usually needs 30 -45 min. if you put it in cold (I might cover with foil for awhile and take that off for the last 15 min. to crisp the bread crumbs, or leave them off and toss on for the last few minutes. Depends on my mood). Serve, enjoy, etc. I usually have rice with this; I feel like it needs a neutral base.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


There were a lot of rules at BJU. You may be aware of this. I mentioned the not walking on the grass.

We had to be in class and be on time. We got 5 demerits for lateness, but after 20 minutes one was considered absent. So, we figured, if we were 1 minute late, we might as well be 19 minutes late and enjoy our bagels.

We had to be out of bed at 6:56 AM and in bed by 11 PM. In the morning, the first bell rang at 6:55 and we were to be out of bed by 6:56 when the second light bell rang. Then the hall leader came around to make sure we were up (this meant both feet on the floor).

We had to have our room clean and there was room check each morning, too. The rooommates took turns cleaning the sink, vacuuming, and taking out the trash. There were demerits if you did not do you job.

Attendance was required at chapel each day at 11.

Quiet hour was from 7 PM to 10 PM. This was in the dorms and we were to be quiet in our rooms (studying) and not loud in the hall. There was a monitor on each hall to shush the noisies.

If you committed some sort of rule infraction, you had to go to the Discipline Committee. Sometimes you knew why you were going and others you had to go to find out. Well, some offenses you just straight up got demerits for but others you had to go to DC for. Like missing class. Once as a freshman I had skipped a class and when I went to DC, I said I forgot what day it was and that's why I missed it. And I didn't get demerits.

I actually didn't have to go to the Discipline Committee that often. I think if you knew what your did and weren't going to fight the demerits, you didn't have to go. Or there were certain levels of offenses that meant you had to go. Something. As real as being there in the the dream is, some of the details are (thankfully) getting foggy.

When I left BJU, I went to teach jr. high at a Christian School in Bloomsburg, PA. It was January 1997 and I was not ready for what I was getting into. I put on a good face, though. And I was incredibly arrogant because I was a graduate of Bob Jones University. I had my turtlenecks pinned and my skirts to my ankles. I happily wore hose with my close-toed sandals. There was a moment of pause when they asked if I could recite the books of the Bible in the interview; but hey, I'd known them my whole life so I rattled off the New Testament for them.

That spring I went back to Greenville for a friend's wedding and I went to the Dean of Women's office and told Miss Baker how grateful I was for BJ and their training because what did I do now that I was in the "real world"? I got up early, followed a dress code, and went to bed early (to be able to get up early).

And recited the books of the Bible.

I'm horrified now that I thanked them. I look back and realize how immature I was, and in many ways it seems that that was intentional; by the school, controlling all aspects of our lives and making it easy for us to not think for ourselves. And it makes the masses easier to control. My parents, too, had a major role in keeping me immature, whether by design or just oversight. I did things because they were the rules, and didn't really know the reasons why.

But this is where I am now: God loves me. He loves me. He doesn't care if I can recite the books of the Bible or the 12 apostles or the Creed. He loves me whether I have a skirt to my ankle or shorts with a 3" inseam.

I find myself now, 15 years since leaving there, decades since accepting Christ as my Savior, and mere weeks since even starting these retrospective posts, questioning. A little bit. Starting with questioning why I tried so hard to earn God's love by following rules.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Ten years, Ten songs

This fall will be our 10 year anniversary. It's hard to believe it's been TEN years. I think of things that happened before I met Craig as happening not that long ago. But this spring, it's made me pause a few times as I thought, no, that was ten years ago.

So these 10 years (I'm just all over the place with spelling 10 or typing it out) have me thinking about a few top-ten lists I could do based on our marriage. So to kick things off, here's . . .

10 songs from the ten years I've known Craig:

(Originally, I wanted to have a song from each year, but that was proving to be a little too difficult. This list is arranged loosely in order of the years we particularly liked the song or listened to it a lot; once Sam came on the scene, he influenced our choices by what we played for him (in utero, #4), or sang to him (#6). #6 also became popular again last fall, when Kate was obsessed with it. Fortunately we all already knew all the words. Also, I have to add that most of these are my taste and not so much Craig's; we don't always agree on what to listen to and since I care more, we go with my choices.)

1. Breathe, Faith Hill

2. I Could Not Ask for More, Edwin McCain

3. Cowboy Take me Away, Dixie Chicks

4. Sweet Afton, Nickel Creek

5. 100 Years, Five for Fighting

6. The First Cut is the Deepest, Sheryl Crow

7. Les Mis Soundtrack

8. Leaving on a Jet Plane, John Denver

9. Revival in Belfast

10. If I had a Million Dollars, Barenaked Ladies

Alright, so everyone else in the world got over that last song in 1992, but it was on the radio the other day when Kate was in the car and later that night she was singing it. So we got it from itunes.

And have listened to to 156,000 times in the last 3 days.

I laugh at "dijon ketchups." Kate giggles at "Garfunkel." Sam likes the "Crazy ABCs" song.

Kate will randomly tell someone what she'd get them if she had the money. "Nana, if I had a million dollars, I'd buy you a Christmas Tree shop."

While I think I should be sick of it, I'm not. Partly because I didn't hear it in 1992 (I was not allowed to listen to "rock" music and also pretty sheltered from secular music. But that's for another post.). I read once that the reason (or one of the reasons) we listen to songs over and over is that our minds are trying to "solve" them. I agree with that in this way: for me, it's figuring out the words and the timing (you could help, it wouldn't be that hard is particularly difficult to "get" if you're singing along), the order of the song (verses? chorus? bridge?), and the occasional different harmonies thrown in (usually at the end).

I really don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to music so laugh if I sound ridiculous trying to discuss something I don't even really have a vocabulary for.

Anyway. There you go. These are 10 songs (and albums) from the soundtrack of our marriage. Click here for ohamanda and the other top-tens of the day.

later . . .

It's occurred to me that Fire & Rain (JT) needs to be on this list. This will require some re-figuring. Maybe I'll get to it before Tuesday. or not.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


Tonight, broccoli beef stir-fry.

Sam: "I don't like broccoli."

Craig said he'd only given him one piece so he could try it.

Sam did. "I like it cooked like this!"

He proceeded to eat more.

Friday, May 14, 2010

I have been so tired all week.

Last night Craig went to the North End for dinner (super jealous. Back in the day, when I was young and carefree, I'd go there with friends and we'd just walk around and pick a place that looked good. But that was another life.) and then to the Celtics game. It was the second night in a row that he was out.

The first night I made them pancakes. This decision was mostly made by the griddle still leaning on the counter where it was put to dry after the last use. Hey, I put blueberries in Sam's. That's fruit, right?

Last night I made ravioli - those frozen ones that come in a bag? They're not too bad. I mean, they're not exactly good or North End, but they're fast and usually eaten.

Except for last night. Neither one of them wanted to partake. They did both eat the apples leftover from their lunch happy meals (I know!! What has happened around here! What with our trip, we've gotten four toys from this current cycle. Although [major rabbit trail here], Kate's first three were Barbie Mermaids and the closet feminist in me was horrified that the first Barbie was making its way into our house. First she got a crown, which was fine, but the next McD's stop yielded the actual mermaid doll thing, complete with exposed midriff, pert expression, and ridiculous hair [to digress yet again, I do have to say that Kate could give any barbie/Disney princess a run for her money in the hair department . . .

(Alright, so the picture's back lit, her hair is a little ragamuffin because it was late afternoon, and she is wearing a headlamp, but you get the idea.)]

Anyway, where was I? Oh, the Barbies. So she asks me what the thing's name is and I give her a few choices, Alice or Mary or something, and she says, "No, her name is Aloona." Seriously. The child has not really encountered Barbies or Mermaids and she picks a fittingly fancy name. I think I need to close a parentheses here).

Back to the original story. I'll recap in case you've forgotten what I was talking about (I did, I had to scroll back up). They didn't eat the ravioli (I had no problem with them; I put sauce on mine). Kate had had a banana and pretzel sticks for a snack, and maybe some cheese, followed by 3 bites of ravioli and the apples, so she said she was full. Sam capped off the ravioli whine and apples with a bowl of cereal.

You read that right. On what was basically a "gimme" night of something they "like," I let him have a bowl of cereal because he didn't want to eat.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Triple Sticks

"Triple Sticks" is what we called Dr. Bob Jones III. Because (you see it, don't you?) he had three sticks after his name. He was, of course, a celebrity to the undergraduates. At least the ones who had been successfully brainwashed . . . oh, was that too sarcastic? I had a few face-to-face encounters with him.

I had the privilege of eating at the Joneses' house one semester when I was president of CRC*. I remember almost nothing about this. All the other student organization presidents/vice presidents were there and we ate on some kind of porch. It was raining and I was the first one there . . . actually, the only one on time. While being late may have been cooler, Beneth was the maven of manners; on my mother's recommentdation, I arrived not more than 5 minutes before the stated time.

*Community Relations Council**

**Just now, going there for the link, I see that the name is changed to Community Service Council. And, if you have the time, look at the goals. I might not have noticed otherwise, but here's something Camille talks about: they want to improve the reputation of the University; it's not about bringing glory to God. It's about them and the way they're perceived first. I mean, not that I had any idea of any kind of goal at that time other than to hang out with the cool kids in the Activites & Organizations office to all hours of the night.

During the semester I was president of CRC, the "student leaders" ate with Dr. Bob once a month or something. I remember doing it at least twice, so maybe it was once a semester, and I went once when president elect and once when president. We usually got our food and then went upstairs to "the blue room" or somewhere like that. We were so cool and elite. And after one of these lunches, Dr. Bob himself took my tray to the tray return.

The Joneses hosted a senior dinner thing at their house (on the lawn, catered by the dining common or maybe by some bar-b-que place). I went twice, even though I was only invited once (I had two senior fall semesters, remember?). I went the first year (the year I wasn't invited)because everyone I knew was going; everyone I had started with 4 years before. You could wait in line to 'greet' Dr. Bob and get your picture taken with him. I almost made it into the yearbook; the picture that was published showed someone else talking to him, and my friend and I were standing in the line. You could walk through their house (Jones III, not Jones Jr.). That was not at all strange. (maybe I'll find pictures)

And of course, he handed me my diploma.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010


Tonight, Craig picked up some lamb tips from the butcher. Sam asked what we were having so I told him that Craig had hit some animal on the way home and picked it up and was going to cook it.

He went to ask Craig if that was true.

After finding out it was lamb, he declared he didn't like lamb.

But he does.

And so it begins (again).

I told him,in a one-time-only offer, that he could have chicken nuggets instead of lamb. This led to 20 minutes of indecision, whining, and snacking on yogurt and applesauce. And in the end, he chose lamb.

And ate it.

Kate whined less but repeated what Sam was saying. When Sam didn't want lamb, she didn't. When Sam didn't want green beans, she didn't. When Sam wanted yogurt, she did (but she wanted hers without "granilla," which is what she calls granola).

Between the yogurt, applesauce, lamb, and rice, they both ate a good amount. I think it's a good trick to have them 'snack' on a fruit or veggie before they eat because they're hungry enough to eat and they're getting produce. Please, don't tell me if I'm delusional about this.

I do need to get back into the swing of things around here, as far as menu planning and insisting they eat what's being served. While we were away, there was enough other stuff going on that I was not going to fight that battle with them, the one where they don't want to eat and I insist they do and occasionally there's crying and most certainly there's whining . . . also, when we're away, I'm not in charge of what's being served so I can't insist they eat it (I mean technically I can, I know that, but for everyone's well being I don't).

My dad makes dinner on Monday nights and while we were there, he made meatloaf and mashed potatoes and probably some kind of veggie. He didn't make up plates for the kids. He called us to the table and they had no food. Meatloaf is something normal enough that I would have them at least try it . . . but he didn't even ask. I guess he just assumed I was feeding them something else.

Of course when they tried it they "didn't" like it so I let them have cereal (which just proved his point, I guess) - no wait, they both ate the potatoes. But I am sure that there was cereal or waffles involved. It's hard, people. I just want them to be fed while we're there; I don't want to deal with cranky, hungry, and sad children.

The roads in Pennsylvania are awful. I used to think this was a joke because my dad worked for PennDOT and I thought we just privy to insider jokes about the crummy roads, but it's true. As soon as we drove into PA it was like driving over braille. Or maybe upside-down braille. You know, because braille is raised and potholes are not. So if you turn the braille upside down it would resemble potholes more.

I guess it's not a good comparison if I have to explain it.

And we saw at least a dozen dead deer on the side of the road in PA. During the whole trip, it was the state with the most roadkill.

Ten (nine) worst nights

Sometimes I'll be up with the kids 4-7 times a night and think, that was the worst night of my life. Then I think, no, it wasn't. The night I was having an appendicitis was the worst.

So here are some of the worst nights I have spent, sleeping, trying to sleep, or not sleeping.

1. The night I was having my appendicitis and was up nursing Kate at least 3 times and "sleeping" on the sofa.

2. The night I went as a chaperone for a retreat with the high school I was teaching at and shared a room with the other chaperones and the one woman snored like an extra-loud freight train all night.

3. The night Craig and I drove through Canada to get to Detroit for Katey's wedding and I had a massive migraine and it was dark and desolate with no hope for a hotel even if I could have talked Craig into stopping and the oncoming car lights were piercing holes in my head and I wanted to die.

4. The night I went as a chaperone on a trip to NYC and we were sleeping in a church. I was added at the last minute and didn't know I needed a pillow/sleeping bag and one of the other chaperones let me have hers which made me feel bad. Some of the girls kept talking & laughing & getting loud and I freaked out on them and they went in the other room to be even louder and I felt foolish. And I kept waking up every two hours or so and wondering where I was.

5. The night I was driving back from Bob Jones with my parents and brother for my grandfather's funeral and the car broke down and we got a hotel room and I kept insisting my parents call the garage to find out about the car and they didn't. My father snored horribly and I was up all night wanting to slit my wrists. We found out in the morning that the car had been ready the night before.

6. My last semsester at Bob Jones,I had a roommate who ground her teeth and didn't understand that my whacking her from my top bunk with my pillow was my way of protecting her from wearing down her tooth enamel and/or TMJ.

7. One night two weeks ago, the first night we were at my parents' house: Kate slept on the day bed, Sam slept on the trundle, and slept on the floor. I am getting too old to sleep on the floor.

8. The night at camp when one of my campers knocked her head pretty hard (proably playing spoke tackle but maybe some other way) and to make sure she was OK and not concussed too badly, I had to wake her up every two hours. Which meant I had to wake up every two hours.

9. The first night back at the camp after having my appendix out . . . pain, vomiting . . . not fun.

10. . . . I'm actually having trouble coming up with a #10. And looking at this list, I really have nothing to complain about. I've not had to sit in the hospital with a sick or dying child, parent, sibling . . . loved one. I have not faced floods or earthquakes or other natural disasters that have taken everything I owned and treasured. So yeah. From a sarcstic viewpoint, "that was the worst night ever." But to put aside the sarcasm (it's hard), I have no reason to complain about a few interrupted nights' sleep because of someone's snoring . . .

And now. You know what to do. Head over to ohamanda for more lists.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Not Me! Monday

I haven't participated in awhile, but since I'm having trouble getting back "on track" or "into the swing of things" (choose your cliche), here's a not me to "get the ball rolling."

(The button is not working for me. Imagine it's here.)

Things that did not happen the other week while I was in PA:

I did not play Lego Indiana Jones on my son's new DS obsessively, even at one point telling him he couldn't have a turn because "I own this level." (He still asks why I said that.)

My father did not, while at Hershey's Chocolate World, choose a oatmeal raisin cookie while they (my parents took Sam and Kate) were selecting cookies for their treat. I mean, really. It's the sweetest place on earth and you're going to pick raisins??

We did not, on each of the four nights we were there, sleep in four different configurations.

I didn't give my children a snack before dinner one night because I heard, while in the other room, my parents telling them they couldn't have a snack and that they should wait.

I did not have to repeat myself seventeen times to get my parents to understand they were taking the children to Chocolate World while I went shopping. They want to spend time with the grandchildren, right? They want me to have some sanity-recovery time, right?

I did not take the children to Red Robin instead of going to the Taste of Missions banquet at their church. It wasn't like S & K were tired and crabby and out-of-sorts from traveling down and sleeping in a different place. I would not pick their well-being (and a milkshake) over being in church for the sake of being in church. Never.

Head over to MckMama for more of what did not happen this past week.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day

Right now it's smelling pretty good here as my husband is making veal marsala. He went out this morning and got flowers; then he swung by Dunkin' Donuts for a huge blueberry muffin that he grilled for me. Yum. I haven't had a grilled muffin in awhile. Sam was very eager to have some of it (I guess he said to Craig, "that's really big. Do you think she can eat all of it?" I find that very cute and endearing and sweet. And funny. Even when it's about me, it's about them.), so I shared.

Craig had a card for me ("I already had the card," he clarified) that he chose because "it looked like something that could be scrapbooked." He's so cute. And thoughtful. And a lot of other things that I won't get into because you would be embarrassed.

I have been very tired all week since I got back from scrapbooking. I would like to have more blog posts and update you all on what's going on. Or at least the eating fiasco that was our visit in PA. It may or may not happen.

Don't worry, my kids are still picky. They still whine about anything offered, "I don't like that" punctuated by the slight semantic difference of "I don't want that.

I talked on Skype with my mother, a woman I did not truly appreciate until I had children myself.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010


(yes, we're back. It's taking a while to get back to normal life. Maybe my expectations are too high re: unpacking, cleaning, etc., in a timely fashion. Maybe I'm lazy. Here's a little tidbit from back in the day for you; I thought of this last week when I was in the Ralph Lauren outlet and spritzed a little Lauren on my wrist and thought that's one of the best smells ever.)

It was my junior or senior year and was at a speech recital in what is now called Stratton Hall but was not called that then. I think I went by myself, I must have known the person whose recital it was or someone in it. I ran into Stephen St. John there (am I allowed to use his name?) and sat next to him.

When the recital was over, he asked what perfume I was wearing.

"Pleasures," I told him.

"Well, it's been one," he replied.

Granted, I probably had completely over-doused myself but nevertheless I liked his cute little comment.