Halfway Point

 I have a beautiful drive to work.  No really, I do.  I drive country roads that curve here and there to keep me alert and climb hills that come back down again.  I hit three stop signs and go through one set of lights to get to my school. 
One of the best spots is my halfway point.  My coffee is still hot.  The car is warmed up and a good song is usually playing.  The other day, at my halfway point, I just couldn't get enough of the gorgeous deciduous trees ablaze in autumn colors all around.  And then it got even better!
I looked straight ahead and saw snow!  Beautiful, fresh, white snow glowing from the newly risen sun!  Mount Washington can be seen clearly on a cloudless day from my halfway spot.  This day was spectacular!  The view of the snowcaps nearly took my breath away.  I do have a beautiful drive to work.

A Nana Snippet

My grandmother is 94 years old.  She lives by herself in, what was, my childhood home.  She loves cards, both sending and receiving them.  I think that she saves all that she gets.  She also loves the home shopping networks.  From the comfort of her bed, she shops for Christmas all year long.  She stays up all night on Christmas Eve to wrap each one.  In recent years, she's added a few elves to help her out. 
Nana has entertained the thought of being accompanied by a laptop.  She's imagined sending and receiving e-cards and e-mails.  She's imagined browsing the online catalogues from any store in the world.  She's wondered about online banking.  But, she's decided not to spoil all of her "old fashioned" fun.
Nana sent me a card last week.  In lovely cursive, she wrote "What a pleasant surprise to get such a nice note from my grandaughter and for no reason but to let me know she was thinking of me!"  So typical of her to write to me because I wrote to her.  She also wrote "You made my day."
So, I'll send cards and hope to continue to receive cards.  E-mails are convenient but just can't compete.  Got a card from my daughter yesterday.  It made my day.  Call me "old fashioned".  

Children of Ours

My son is a junior in college.  He's studying abroad this semester in Barcelona, Spain.  His itinerary this semester includes a couple of once-in-a-life-time trips to other countries in Europe including France, Germany, and maybe England.  How fabulous!  His study trip to France, two weeks ago, included a tour of Salvador Dahli's residence and the musuem that houses his - it's-never-going-to-look-like-this-anywhere-else artwork.  Boy, was my son impressed and I pleased with his immersion in culture and history abroad.  Our communication thread through the internet has a live pulse.  We communicate electronically almost daily.  Then the email from the "abroad office".  A terrorist alert is posted for Americans, and natives, in Europe.  Terrorist activity is confirmed in areas that include major transporation and tourist destinations.  My son is there. 

This Class

Wow.  My new class has a script I'm struggling to follow.  They seem to be auditioning for  roles this year.  Whatever it takes to be noticed.  So dramatic.  So needy.  So sweet.  I'm going in.