There is something strange about watching someone else grow. I know many of my friends have the opportunity to watch their children try new things and "oh how cute" stuph that happens. It is different when it happens to an adult. It is not "oh so cute." Mostly, it is really messy and a bit frightening because of the expectations surrounding being an adult. Folks expect someone who is an adult to act like an adult, as though there is an instruction manual on how to handle all situation life throws at you. Children can throw their peas on the floor and get away with it. I wish I could throw peas on the floor and get away with it. I bet even Mikey won't eat peas.

I am very careful to say, "when I grow up," for people to understand that I should never, under any circumstances be taken seriously. I have a friend who keeps a teddy bear on his desk at work so people will know, it is a sign: immature person at this desk, please handle with care. I might do that when I get a work desk. I have teddys on my bed just to remind my husband, and, at times, me.

I have been watching my husband over the past several days. He applied to an on-line college and within 10 days, is writing his first college essay. It has to be 1000 words and use the methods of composition which he is being taught. Can you say he is FREAKING OUT?! So messy. He gets this look in his eyes and walks from the computer to the kitchen and back again. Then he does it again. If the phone rings, he almost comes unglued. The very idea of answering trips his train of thought. So when my husband turned into the exorcist last night, I was so glad he was married to me and not somebody with rejection issues. He is so growin. It is so cool.

Going to college for me is like brushing my teeth: do it or suffer.

When I first went to college it was because Mom and Dad said go to college. It took everything they had to make me fill out the applications and then the decision: oh the decision....ASC or UGA? Ack. So glad I got that one right. When I went to college, I wasn't really interested in anything. I majored in booze, boys and bars...and GT football. Other than that, I studied because it was something to do once in a while. My Dad cried at my graduation. I don't know if it was out of pride or out of surprise. I didn't know what folks were making a fuss about. I mean, come on, I have been going to school since I was five! Like I couldn't do it? Of course I could, can't you? (*I am so arrogant sometimes*)

When I went back to college for the second degree, outside of being certifiable, I fit like one of those perfect hands and gloves. Grades are easier when there is no booze, boys or bars. Also, I have a, a ganas that wasn't there last time, that helps.

My husband, on the other hand, has never really been given a fair shake. He was raised in a house where they sent him to his room to study and he couldn't read. He has dyslexia. No one knew. Then out of no where, his Mom sent him to a graduate study on kids who don't quite get it in school. They taught him how to read, speed read, read upside down and backwards. Can you say way cool? By the time he got out of high school, he found uncle sam. There was some one in his head saying you can't, so he didn't and into the military he went, then marriage, kids and never any college.

Now he is 50. FIFTY! and going to college. Can you say, God works miracles?

For him it is not like those hands and gloves, for him it is like a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He can't figure out what he wants to see or smell or touch or eat first. I don't know what God whispered in the ear of my husband that changed that voice of "you can't" to "go for it." No matter, he is in the thick of it now.

I sit back and watch this funny man I love fall into the world of the academe, all that comes to mind is: ain't life grand?