Our Pickett's Charge into the Midwest is a roaring success. We drop off the little girl at a fine school that, for a mere 30 or 40 grand, will keep tabs on her for an entire academic year. Good deal, I say. Heck, she spends that much on Starbucks.
"I'd have paid more," I tell Posh.
"We don't have any more," she says.
"Oh."
By the way, if you're taking a daughter to college soon, might I recommend renting one of those C-130 transport planes, a whopping-big aircraft with abundant trunk space. That's what we did, and it took us only two round-trip flights.
The first load was entirely shoes. The second trip was scarves and scrapbooks. We shipped the rest ahead of time (thanks, UPS!).
Not since the Berlin Airlift has the world experienced anything like this. Evidently, freshman year now requires four tons of clothes, hangers, little clutch purses, cheap IKEA storage units, tape dispensers, tennis rackets, silverware, ramen noodles, gauze. I swear, Posh and I were married 20 years before we accumulated this much junk.
Still, the little girl forgot a few things. Here, in her words, is the e-mail list of items she needs us to send:
-- lavender body lotion that's by my sink
-- hair products near the lamp on my dresser in the bathroom (pink Bed Head bottle, clear shiny bottle with gray top)
-- perfume (Anna Sui on my dresser)
-- hanger clips, they are attached to my shoe rack in my closet
-- one white shoe rack from on top of my closet
-- scarf rings that are hanging from my closet
-- your brown Uggs [meaning her mother's]
-- safety pins
-- Trader Joe's dried mango, trail mix, some Arizona iced tea, any other nice goodies you're willing to throw in. . . .
Hey, kid, how about me? I'm a "goodie." I'd be handy to have around the dorm for a few weeks. Dogs and dads. That's what a real home requires. And the smell of garlic from the kitchen. Not scarf rings. Not Anna Sui perfume.
As you can see, the little girl is a little too brand conscious sometimes, a California kid now living among the children of the corn. Our daughter prefers those big sunglasses that make her look like a bumblebee, and she spends too much on the coolest T-shirts and shorts.
Yeah, she's cool, all right. Wait till her classmates find out she still believes in Santa Claus.
Emotionally, the trip went fine. In an effort to keep us strong, I barely blubbered at all -- at least publicly, which is a nice change for me.
