Skip to main content

One Less Mouth to Feed

#1 moved into her dorm this weekend, and Husband and I returned home to a quieter house. It's a little sad here at the moment, but I'm pretty sure that we'll all ease into our new non-summer way of living. What's more important than our slightly quiet house is that #1 be eager to dive into her new life. It's a big world out there, baby--go get it. Does that sound like something someone would put on a graduation cake or worse yet--a bumper sticker? Yikes. I didn't mean to be trite, or meaningless.

OSU (the O standing for Ohio) is a big place, and its tentacles reach all across the country, mainly because of football. While relaxing in the hotel lounge bar yesterday afternoon, I was admiring the bottle of Grey Goose shimmering in front of the mirror behind the bar, and I couldn't help noticing the shrine to OSU football right above it. Propped up in the corner was a big hardbound copy of The Official Ohio State Football Encyclopedia. zzzzz--I couldn't think of a single thing I wanted to look up.

Not being one to pay attention to football or any of the paraphernalia that trails along behind it, I have never really thought about what Brutus might be, Brutus being the mascot. One of our lake house neighbors inflates a giant Brutus in the front yard every weekend in honor of a game, and I've always thought the thing was a bear. While we were standing in line waiting for a dorm room key, Brutus himself was working the crowd, high-fiving people down the line. I was a little nervous because I do whatever I can to not high-five anyone--shake my hand, pat me on the back, kiss my cheek, but please--no high-fiving. I couldn't avoid what I thought was a bear because I couldn't stand letting him stand there with his hands raised and me just looking at him blankly. It was with this close-up advantage that I realized that his head was not that of a bear afterall but of a buckeye. Of course. Well, I think it's a buckeye head, or a butthead. Either way, Brutus had BO, another reason never to high-five.

So, I'm off to tidy up the quiet house--to pick up the stray clothes that didn't get packed, to stack the books that didn't make the cut, to make the empty bed--and to miss #1.

Comments

Anonymous said…
sometimes I look foward to when my kids start their college life. It's rather bitter sweet as most parents tell me. I guess it will come soon enough.

Rich/Anonymous or anonymous Rich
2:58 PM
Ms Mac said…
Eeek! I forot to try a buckeye when I was in Ohio. Oh well, just an excuse to return one day.
4:50 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Am I Stupid, or What?

In two weeks, I will climb up into a charter bus, take my assigned seat, and ride 22 hours straight to Orlando, Florida. I will be a chaperon with the high school marching band, which will perform at Disney's Magic Kingdom--me and 180 people on four big buses for seven days. We will travel together, eat together, play together, fall down exhausted together--and after 22 hours, I suspect stink to high heaven together. Because of the crazy schedule, we will leave Ohio at 6 pm, travel all night and most of the next day, and spend several hours at MGM Studios before ending up at the hotel sometime after 7 pm. After I check in with the eight girls I am to supervise, I intend to shower and shower and shower. I intend to wear clean clothes and socks and brush my teeth until my toothbrush wears out. Of all the things I could be concerned about on this trip, being dirty seems to weigh heaviest on my mind. One of my eight charges could run off and do bad things with her boyfriend, but I'...
21 comments
Read more

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...
20 comments
Read more

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...
16 comments
Read more