Visits With Daisy and Birdie

I learn when I visit Daisy and Birdie. On two back-to-back weekends, Big Guy and I had the privilege of spending time first with Daisy, and then with Birdie.

Both girls are happy. Alleluia! (Even with their possessing some astonishingly well-pummeled football teams)

The girls are pet-starved. Both visits began with squeals of "Tequila!" Both first hugs went to daughter-starved Big Guy, who stood directly in the path of getting to the 12-lb. blondie chihuahua-mix.  (Note to self: Strangers don't understand "Tequila" shouted in the parking lot mid-morning. Or maybe they do at Arkansas.)

Neither girl needed money, though both enjoyed Big Guy pulling out his wallet to pay for nearly everything. Daisy coaxed a tank of gas out of Big Guy, while Big Guy coaxed Birdie into buying ice cream cones--illustrating the difference in frugality that two years in college make. Birdie will figure it out.

Both have a few roommate issues. Daisy shares a house with three other girls. The girl who owns the house loves to clean the house and schedules times for everyone to clean with her. Daisy hides in her room to avoid the intense cleaning sessions."She even wanted us to clean the microwave!," exclaimed Daisy. It probably needed it, I thought.

Birdie shares her dorm room with a quiet girl. Birdie doesn't do well with quiet. And quiet doesn't do well with Birdie's intense. It's not bad chemistry; it's not great chemistry. Quiet is better than Daisy's constant cleaner or the weeknight partiers that live one room down.

At the start of the school year, I warned Birdie about skunks. Turns out she is too busy to dabble with them. Daisy has found time to dabble--and he is not a skunk.

I learned--kind of, sort of, Birdie saved a chemistry building on campus. She said that as she walked by in the dead of night, she saw smoke pouring out as fire alarms blared. She called the fire department. It responded and determined the smoke was nitrogen gas. Birdie shared that story forgetting I'm her mom. All I heard was "walked by in the dead of night." I asked for more details. She declined to provide them.

Turns out, neither girl is wild about laundry. One wants more socks so she will never have to wash. The other believes that as long as she goes to sleep "clean," her sheets stay "clean."

I'm not telling which girl is which.