Wow. I have, like, a totally grown-up job, you guys. I do research and build web pages and support teaching and stuff, all in the assistance of one Very Important Faculty. I am expected to use my brain. Luckily I have one, and although it hasn't had much use lately, I've taken it out and dusted it off and I think it still works. So that's good.
School still hasn't started yet. I think in comparison with my job, my classes are going to be a walk in the park. I could be wrong, but that is my prediction. If there are tears--and there may well be tears--I don't think they'll be over getting my homework done. I'll keep you posted on any breakdowns as they happen.
After the wedding I went with my parents to their little beach shack for a couple of days. We went "wade fishing," which is where you ride your boat out into the saltwater bay at Port St. Joe, the bay that doesn't get any deeper than your chest for miles and miles offshore. Then you wade out into the water and cast, and catch speckled trout. At least, you hope to catch speckled trout, but sometimes you catch needlefish or bluefish or grouper or even little baby sharks instead. You have to wear shoes and shuffle your feet so the stingrays don't get you. I am terrified of stingrays and never lifted my feet an inch off the bay floor.
My father said I was a natural wade fisherperson. I am a very good cast. Ask around.
When I go home, I get sad thinking about the other life I could be leading, the one where I went ahead and settled down someplace not so far away from Port St. Joe, and where now, this alternate universe me is bringing her children to wade fish with her father. And they get to know him while he is still relatively young.
The problem is, there are just so many lives worth leading, and I want to lead them all. Is that so wrong?
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