College visits for kleptomaniacs

Small road-trip for a college visit today. My friend Joan joined Sydney and I at 6:30 am for a two hour drive excursion to begin mapping out Syd's future academic plans. As always, my utter lack of maturity and common sense made even the simple drive an adrenaline rush of uncertainty as I blew past the first gas station with a casual, "Oh, I think I can get a better price a little ways down the road." The second petrol station was on the wrong side. "I'll pull into the next one on the right," I said flippantly. The low fuel light flashed on, surprising me. "How long do you have before you run out of gas," Joan asked, accurately reading my face to discover that, of course, I had no idea. We began earnestly searching for a gas station to no avail. The walk of shame didn't worry me as much as a) being late for Sydney's welcome reception sign-in and b) the thought of Brad discovering how stupidly irresponsible I was...again.

     FLASHBACK:  fifteen years ago when occurrences such as these were, unfortunately not            uncommon...I didn't have a lot going on then and apparently needed a rush.

     Ring! Ring! Brad picks up the phone. "Hello?"

    "Hey, it's me. Sorry, I ran out of gas again."

     Sigh. "Where are you this time," my husband asked in a defeated voice.

     "Look out the window," I replied, less than a quarter of a mile from my own house.

I like to say that God looks after fools and Amy Mosiman because, some fifteen miles later, we managed to locate a gas station that a) had a better price and b) was on the right hand side of the road! Refueled and relieved, we continued our journey to arrive ahead of time for the event.

Thanks to Savannah, Sydney and I have the routine of a college visit pretty well down and know what to expect. Because Savannah was an engineering major, I quickly learned that I was in way over my head information-wise so, to avoid boredom, I concocted an activity to keep all the members of our party actively involved and interested in the proceedings. Colleges love to woo potential students with cheap trinkets and shiny baubles so we assigned a point system and began collecting...high score wins. Syd pulled ahead early with a purple pen but I paced myself. Opening remarks were given in a lovely room with a fireplace and the sort of chandeliers that Scarecrow would have dropped on the Witch. We eschewed the lined up auditorium seating to grab a comfy couch in the back. I began to growl immediately as the institution began to extol its intent to "change my student's values" and that, the first Thanksgiving following enrollment, I would look into Sydney's eyes and see a different person. Was this some sort of brainwashing community? I really began to worry as they introduced a guest speaker by quoting a previous remark of his: "Intelligence is good but ignorance is better."

I grabbed a bottled water as we headed for Session II, putting myself easily ahead of Joan and Sydney. We learned that Sydney would enjoy student recreational life on campus and that the equestrian club consists of three horses. I became totally fixated on that fact, picturing Little Joe, Pa Cartwright, and Big Hoss's steeds as they raced up to that flaming map of the Ponderosa.

Session III was suppose to describe Sydney's field of study but the professor and I got sidetracked by a conversation about "The Hunger Games." He did mention a fascinating archaeological site centered around digging up a firehouse before I became entranced by his ill-fitting plaid suit-coat that enveloped his body almost down to his knees. I abandoned my doodle-sketch of Little Joe's paint pony to whip off a short, sardonic comment to Syd: "Apparently the fifty thousand dollar tuition isn't applied to staff salaries."

The tour of the grounds was wonderful. Great architecture. Relaxing fountains. Statues and sculptures. As we reviewed the classrooms, our student guide, "Rah" ("Like the Egyptian sun-god," I asked before Sydney shushed me) proudly pointed out the new renovations, listing the curtains, carpeting, paint and SMARTboards. "Shouldn't the SMARTboards have been the primary focus here," I said before I was asphyxiated by the application of fresh purple paint. It looked like Joan was going to be the winner of our childish contest when she spotted an abandoned baseball perched on a water fountain. I winced as I kept passing projection screens. I sensed lunch ahead so I surged forward, maneuvering my little group to the front of our guided tour where we were greeted warmly by Rah. Pretending to make polite conversation, I asked about class enrollment sizes. I figured I had misheard Rah's answer of 1200 students. That couldn't be right but I didn't have time to further inquire as the lunch line loomed ahead. I couldn't help admiring her form as Joan lunged forward although I questioned her initial selection of broccoli salad. The caprese salad sold me on this college. As I piled sliced tomatoes and mozzarella on my plate, I promised that I would endeavor to raise the needed funds to enable Sydney to attend this institution. The dessert table convinced me that it would be alright to mortgage the house, if necessary.

As we dined on fine china ("I would have used paper plates," Sydney shared with admiration), I asked the advisor seated with us to confirm that crazy number. Rah was right. There are a total of 1200 students enrolled at this college. I temporarily abandoned my eating to steal a purple pen and begin doing the math. I divided the total scholarship money available by the total number of students to determine that there was approximately twenty-two thousand dollars in scholarship funds available per student. Now factor in the bozos that rush out to mortgage their homes and apply for soul-sapping student loans instead of exploring other options and you can maybe push that number up to twenty-five or even thirty-thousand dollars. I sighed and returned to my Chocolate-Turtle pie. Wait! This wasn't Chocolate-Turtle pie! I had accidentally chosen peanut-butter pie. I'd been duped. Even with the scholarships, Syd would still be paying out huge sums of money. Even though it was presented in a fine china cup, it still contained grape Kool-aid. I subtly slipped a game-winning engraved fork into my bag and we left.