When I was a teenager, I lived in a college town in Utah. My dad had died when I was 8 and my mom moved there to go back to school. I was 16 when she graduated and started applying for jobs. She began traveling around Utah training as an agent for Farm Services, and I spent the weeks alone in our house, with her coming home on weekends.
Surprisingly, I did not get into a lot of trouble. I’m not actually sure I got into any trouble. I had good neighbors, good friends, and lots of homework to keep me busy. Although my mother’s memory of events might be different.
In October of my junior year, when I was 17, she accepted a full time position in a smaller community more centrally located in Utah. It was 3+ hours from where I was attending high school, and there wasn’t much of an option except for me to move with her.
Needless to say, I wasn’t happy about it. I like my friends and mostly my classes and my vice principle who let me ditch school a lot, and my neighbors and a lot of other things about the college town I was living in. But at Thanksgiving time, I moved with her.
I lasted almost a week.
In that week, I was lonely and out of sorts, like any new transplant. That wasn’t really the problem. The problem was that I had been in the middle of a couple of AP classes and the replacement options in this rural community wasn’t really going to get me any college credit. So after some negotiating and arranging a place to live with adults present, I was allowed to move back to my original highschool. Which came as a shock to Dave (my husband) who had felt pretty safe in kissing me good bye even though he had a girlfriend, because he was pretty much positive he would never see me again. Yeah, it still makes me laugh too.
I finished my junior year, took my AP tests and did well on them, lived in Las Vegas with my cousin for the summer, and started school in the small community my senior year.
I lived there three months and then left for college right before first semester of my senior year ended.
And yet, because of the nature of a small community, I made some good friends.
Being a bad friend, I pretty much left and never looked back. Unfortunately, I tend to be an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of girl. And I have the 5 kids and the full time job and the driving to college and the homeschool and frankly, as you regulars know, if it wasn’t that, it would be 1000 other things because I’m really really really bad at sitting still.
And then facebook enters the picture, and I start reconnecting with some of the people I hung out with for three months in 1990. And there’s a web site for all of the alumni to update information. And technically I do have a diploma from there, although I was 1/4 credit short of reqs and I do believe my mother fought tooth and nail to get it for me. Not that I’ve ever needed it. Ever.
So, I updated my info, which included the unfortunate use of my maiden name/last name combo (and I’m intentionally remaining anonymous here due to the stalker so if you need a good laugh, just let me know and I’ll fill you in on all of the great jokes regarding my unfortunate married name) and I mistakenly told people to feel free to visit this blog if they want to know more about me.
In retrospect, it was stupid because this blog isn’t so much about me as it is a disjointed look at my insanity. And how can they ever find out anything that’s happened to me in the past 20 years by reading about college cops or a refrigerator with an identity crisis or even my inability to digest cinnamon rolls?
And now, the pressure is on again to type something wickedly entertaining. Because secretly, I know that’s the only reason you guys visit me.
So Hi Friends! I swear I am entertaining, on occasion.