It's All Downhill From Here

All this talk about graduations has gotten me a little bummed out. Sure, unemployed secretaries aren’t exactly A-list speakers, but I’m still disappointed that not even one college invited me to deliver my inspirational address, “It’s All Downhill From Here.”

So, I thought I’d share with you – you being my Miniature Schnauzer, whom I have dressed up in a cap and gown, Ms. Bella Moon– what I had hoped to share with the Class of 2010:

Good morning Class of 2010. It’s an honor to be here at (insert name of unaccredited school and/or halfway house). Never in a million years did I think I’d be awarded a doctorate, especially one printed on such lovely colored paper. But today isn’t about my degree or the pharmacist who is now obligated to fill those prescriptions I’ve been calling in for myself. It’s about you. You, who have proven that hard work and perseverance do indeed pay off. You, who exemplify the notion that education is the key to success. You, who will end up defaulting on your student loans to support your addiction to doughnut holes. Indeed, today is a happy day. And you have much of which to be proud. But as joyous an occasion as this is, let’s not forget that these are challenging times for college graduates. The economy is in tough shape. Jobs are scarce. You know it, I know it, my dog knows it. True, the president has said he sees "glimmers of hope" but America’s fiscal health is still not what it used to be. Nor, for that matter, is my dog’s stash of Dingo Bones. The good news is that you now have the necessary education and skills to be competitive in the global job market. The bad news is that, even if you get a job, everything will not always go according to plan. And I’m not just talking about marketing your “Scentsy wickless warmers and scents are for Lovers” rain bonnets. Don’t get me wrong, you may very well wind up with a wonderful job. A job that will pay the rent with enough left over for a rainy day. Perhaps you’ll even be able to afford those arm muscle implants you’ve been wanting. And sure, you may plan on becoming a successful working parent. But unless you simultaneously give birth to a minimum of eight babies, no one will care.

I know what you’re thinking: Who’s she to give advice? Well, I don’t want to brag, but I did once work at a tanning parlor. And, of course, there’s the business sense I acquired while selling knock-off Lacoste shirts outside of my mini-van. But, when it comes down to it, I owe what I know to my education. Just like you.

Congratulations Class of 2010. May you have much love and success. Or at the very least a hot set of arms and some fabulous Scentsy warmers and scents.

P.S. If you need some warmers and/or scents... come see me :)

Farewell to the College Years...

Well, here we are. My last few days of living in Florida with a grad student. To be honest, I'm not quite sure how it's going to feel when he starts working. We got married when he was in law school and I have gotten used to living vicariously through him. These last couple of years have been the best college years of my life.

Anyway, the situation remains... um, how can I put this delicately... uncertain. Everywhere you look, graduates are walking around depressed, angry and paranoid. And those are the ones who already have their jobs locked down. I guess none of us should be shocked, considering how far the bar has been lowered in recent months. Forget about that raise or promotion, you should now consider your day a success if you haven't been laid off by your employer. Yes, it's a true golden age. And sure, we have to give President Obama time to turn things around. Despite what you may have heard about my problems in the Whole Foods checkout line, I – like all Americans – am nothing if not patient and understanding. So, in that spirit, the president can have until the end of this blog post to fix the economy.

At the end of the day, of course, we are only human. And I myself am a little embarrassed that – even though it's not arrived yet – the first taste of reality will be that student loan bill. I know, I know... I should have realized that a student loan did not mean free money. But the fact of the matter is that I was running low on basic household necessities. I mean, cut me some slack, my panic room wasn't going to fill itself up with cream cheese frosting and Cheetos, now was it?

Finally, I say farewell to Florida... It was fun! I have met some wonderful friends and I hope you'll keep ignoring my phone calls and texts. Melissa, we can chat over Facebook! Gainesville has been interesting to say the least and I will always look back at my time here with fond memories. So, farewell to the college years and cheers to becoming a grown-up.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

I am not good with obligations. The only after school activity at which I ever showed a tiny minuscule of skill while growing up was Ballet. And even then I was mediocre. It’s not that I didn’t want to be good with obligations. It just wasn’t in the cards. And, frankly, I was fine with that. But my mother, intent on instilling in me a commitment to one day put her in a nursing home against her will, insisted I stick with the activities on which she had signed me up for.

There was gymnastics and piano lessons, which I objected to on the grounds that there wasn’t a snack bar. There was basketball, which discriminated against those of us unnerved by buzzers. There was golf, which my dad and brother put a stop to. There was tennis, which mean't I had to fetch balls for the coach and run suicides. And, of course, there was any and every type of dance imaginable, an experience that immediately downgraded my mother’s twilight years from a mediocre nursing home to one known for its health code violations.

Still, I hung in there, remaining on whatever recital or sponsored-by-the-local-pizza-parlor team I was on until the end of each year. And, as much as I hate to admit it, not every obligation was awful. Sure, I spent a lot of time on the sidelines, staring at my shoelaces and planning what I’d say when Connie Chung grilled me on the circumstances surrounding my mom’s lawnmower “accident.” But, there was the occasional triumph, like the time I scored a goal or got to be in The Nutcracker and wear toe shoes. I can remember when I slipped on first base in a Slow Pitch Softball game. Let me tell you, it doesn’t get much better than that. It’s a moment that’s stayed with me all these years, not just because I can so clearly recall the Keds I had on while running to first base, but because it was witnessed by my mother. Also in attendance at that game was my father, who apparently enjoyed that moment so much I was forced to resign Softball.

Fast forward to the present…I’ve long since come to terms with my place on the obligations ladder. And after years of me responding to her challenges with my rolling of the eyes, my mom has stopped trying to recruit me for anything that involves fresh air and/or character building.

Nevertheless, our bond is strong and I realize that I am, in many respects, who I am because of my mother. A passion for philanthropy, an addiction to Chevy Chase movies and the ability to sniff out any Ice Cream parlor within a 25-mile radius; our similarities outweigh our differences.

She is a woman of humility, compassion and respect…and I wish her a very happy Mother's Day. That said, the nursing home is a done deal.