Date # ?????

Meghan and I fly down to Philly this Friday for Accepted Students Day at Drexel and that dance class audition that could lead to more scholarship money (long shot, but worth it to meet the head of the program).

Howard will be minding the fort with daughter #2, who is attending the all-important Freshman Semi-formal on Friday night. Last weekend, she and I went out to get her a dress and purchased this nice little chocolate brown number with a handkerchief hem. She looks good in dark brown.

Now... Anna has been through six boyfriends since the 8th grade, by my count. She dates them for a week or two and then casually announces that said boy-of-the-week and she have decided they'd much rather continue being good friends.

This, I find intriguing.

So, naturally I'm curious about this semi-formal. Is she going with a date? "NO!!! Moooommmmmmm!..." OK. She's going to a girlfriend's house so several girls can all get dressed up together and their mom will give them all a ride to the semi. Hmm... what girls? Who will be at this house?
"Tara, Kelsea, Megan, Kara, our friend John Grady... umm..."
"John Grady. Who is John Grady?
"Oh, he's a sophomore. He's just a good friend."
"Got a picture of this sophomore on Facebook by any chance?
"Sure, here he is." This guy looks like a slightly rougher version of Saun Cassidy (remember, from TV's The Hardy Boys?) In short, he's pretty cute. Every guy she dates is getting cuter and cuter.

Dates? Did I just say DATES? As in the verb? Well, yes, I did. THAT's because later I find out that she actually does have a date for this Semi, and John Grady is it. So... she has arranged to have him come to this girlfriend's house (because, my sleuthing daughter #1 tells me, all the other girls are bringing dates so Anna decided to ask John Grady to go with her as a friend). At least we THINK it's as a friend.

What irks me about this is that she won't tell ME this. What am I? Chopped liver? I'm not the one with the gossip gene (Seriously, Meghan has that one covered). So I wouldn't have known this. I wouldn't have done what I'm now going to do, which is encourage Anna to have someone take photographs at this girlfriend's house of her with the "group" of people she's going to the Semi with. Girls, boys, and John Grady - boyfriend of the week #7.

Jesus. I never had this many dates when I was in high school.

Mad Dragon Records

Mad Dragon Records is the name of Drexel University's recording label. It's just a cool name.

So I think the final decision regarding college for Meghan will be Drexel. She's gotten into UMass, Hofstra, Ithaca, Drexel and American now. Hofstra and American are both offering guaranteed slots in the Spring of 2009, not this fall. Meg was actually only interested in looking at American further if she got in. But on further investigation, she found that the Arts & Entertainment Management program is a graduate program. So Drexel (with the scholarship, the exact programs she wants, and the wholly acceptable position of being in a city) is probably going to win out. Go dragons!

We have to go to Drexel, she and I, on April 11-12 for Accepted Students Day and an end-of-day dance audition (more like a master class where the head of the dance department watches students for ability and offers small scholarships to them if they'll commit to performing in the university's dance ensemble). We figure, what the heck - it's definitely worth a shot. She has improved in dance phenomenally this year.

Anna, on the flip side, will be attending the all-important Freshman Semi April 11, so How' gets to stay home. No date, as yet. She's only been through three one-week boyfriends this year. She'll probably go stag with a group of girlfriends. Oy, the next three years with AJ will be interesting - and entertaining. :)

Lament of the Week: Scholarship Applications

File this under "Did you know... ?"

Did you know there are college scholarships available for people who are left-handed? For tall people, short people or fat people? People with brown eyes, blue eyes or green eyes? You hear about all this and you urge your graduating senior to get on the stick and apply for some of this free money. ... Yeah. Right.

And then the list of local scholarships finally emerges. You check off each potential scholarship your kid could get. And instantly, as if it never went away, you're back in the application landfill. Mountains of applications with deadlines and multiple forms and essays to write. Just when you thought all the college application forms were over and done with.

I'm not overly optimistic about any of this stuff. Meg goes to a big high school with a big graduating class. The local scholarships will get eaten up pretty quickly. Never mind the chances of securing one of those generic scholarships for people with brown eyes... But we will fill out some more forms just for the sheer unadulterated fund of it.

In Support of Silda

All this week, the females in my office have been asking, 'What the heck is WRONG with these women who stand by their man no matter what?!' The reference, of course, is to Silda Wall Spitzer, wife of "Eliot MESS Spitzer" the now ex-governor of New York.

I was one of these women questioning Silda's sanity and decorum this week. Heck, I had serious issues with Hillary Clinton during Monica-gate. Kick the president in the groin, take your daughter and the dog, leave the White House and be done with it - that was my motto. I was really mad. Mad that she stayed with him. Mad that she kept quiet on this front.

Today, I think the country needs people like Silda and Hillary in leadership positions. These women are a hell of a lot more mature than many, many men. The fact that Silda stood by her man while he apologized for being a louse and then stepped down from being governor says more about class, grace, quiet intelligence and maturity than anything. I'm sure she is absolutely ripped apart by the whole thing, but she refused to outwardly break down. The fact that she isn't, herself, addressing it publicly makes me want to hurl my fist in the air triumphantly. Truly, it is none of our business how she handles it; she's not the guilty party; she's not the public official and if she ends up deciding to stick by her husband - that's her prerogative, not the media's.

Anyway, I'm reminded today that both Silda and Hillary are extremely smart human beings in their own right - even if they are married to foolish men. And I'm passing along the link to this fantastic column by Ellen Goodman for your reading pleasure: http://www.bellinghamherald.com/302/story/350613.html

Puck.

Here's a dilemma for you: soup that is too salty. Howard and I increasingly find ourselves eating dinners together while our daughters are either a.) out on the town; b.) working an evening shift of babysitting of busing tables; or c.) away on a school-sponsored trip.

Tonight, for example, Meghan is in Boston competing in the state DECA tournament (business/marketing competition for high school students; she and a friend have created a marketing plan for a wrap sandwich business in downtown Beverly). Anyway, she's holed up in the Copley Marriott until Saturday at this competition. Anna, meanwhile, is performing at the opening night show of Funny Girl (the high school's musical this year). She's got more of a background role but has enjoyed herself immensely, with the glaring exception of having to wear stage makeup (you can imagine...). We're seeing the Friday and Saturday night performances (when hopefully all the kinks will have been ironed out and she's "accustomed" to the makeup situation).

Anyway, this leaves sibling #2 and husband to fend for themselves in the kitchen, which we rather like to do. Howard made a seafood chowder with perch that would have been delectable if not for one fatal flaw: chicken broth packaged under the Wolfgang Puck name. It was way too salty. Inedible-y salty. The chowder suffered because of it and, though we each had a bowl, we ended up having to toss the rest.

So I did a little research - since, as you know, there is that legend out there that says raw potato can soak the salt out of a too salty soup. Turns out it's all just legend and myth. A Google search yields several postings that debunk this whole potato theory and go on to say that the only way to correct a too salty soup is to add more non-salty items. Thing is, it was the chicken broth that was too salty to begin with; it wasn't anything we added or didn't add.

I feel the need to send Mr. Puck a note of dissatisfaction.

Need a Winter Distraction? Here's a Lindsay-Paris Cat Fight Update

Oh my goodness!
Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton reportedly had a huge cat-fight at a pre-Grammy party this past Saturday. Both were hoping that music producer Timbaland (whoever the heck that is), who has worked with the likes of Justin Timberlake, Nelly Furtado, etc., would help revive their music careers.

WHAT music careers...?

Reportedly, when Paris arrived at said soiree, Lindsay pointed at her and said "What the (expletive) is that (expletive) doing here? I didn't know she was on the list." Paris reportedly responded by spewing a slew of profanities.

Now, because daughter #1 was home with the flu last week, I had the opportunity to see an episode of Ellen, which featured a guest appearance by Paris, before I left the house to go to work. (This is because when you have the flu, there is nothing quite like holing up on the couch with a cup of tea and a good dose of Ellen, and that is what daughter #1 was doing).

Anyway, can I just say that Paris Hilton is the most vapid woman I think I have ever encountered? Can she possibly BE that dumb? Or is she just acting that way because it gets her SOME kind of media attention? Seriously. The woman admits to having 17 dogs because she couldn't bear to give their puppies away. Ie., she never had her dogs neutered. That sent Ellen into a tizzy, let me tell you.

And it's not even the lack of common pet sense that gets me. It's her entire demeanor. She looks as if she tilts her head a certain way on purpose because she has decided it results in the camera getting her best angle. Vapid ... and vain. Lately, I think her new hairstyle makes her look like a young Martha Stewart on a diet. Seriously. Just think how many people would maybe admire her if she showed even a morsel of the intelligence Martha has. (And I'm not being nice to Martha here... I'm just sayin'.)

Cleavage: Nature or Nurture?

While we're on the subject of cleavage, we have a question. Well, Meghan specifically has a question. Do hours of dancing lead to less cleavage? She is concerned that the weight she has lost from hours of dancing (and better nutrition, I might add) have resulted in the shrinkage of her cleavage-creating body parts. So at her request, I am posing the question to a.) older sibling who danced a lot during her teens and b.) younger sibling who teaches an Honors Health class (but who is really a lousy Scrabble player... I'm just sayin').

Daughter No. 2, by the way, remains thin as a rail despite eating hordes of junk food in a sitting (a box of Chips Ahoy, Cheeze-its and popcorn, most recently). And yet she may have more cleavage than her older sister. Although... nah, I just took another look. Maybe it's genetic.

In the meantime, I'll need to check out this buxom Italian tart of a chef on the Cooking channel. I was not aware of her until reading the most recent comments to my blog. "Molto bene!"