Back to what I was thinking of while I was driving.

Over the summer, I decided I was totally fed up with the whole commuting thing, and I am going to live on campus starting next summer. I applied for a single in the Cougar Place, and hopefully, this means the only thing I'll have to share is a bathroom. I was thinking hard about how weird and uncomfortable I'd feel living in such a cramped space with someone. That was my main reason for not wanting to go to a school where I'd be required to live on campus. Anyway, I talked to a few friends about their roommate experiences. These anecdotes vary, but mainly, they don't seem to be the bonding experiences we expect.

I dunno. I'd feel sort of uncomfortable, whether I'm living with a total stranger or someone I knew previously.

It was then that it occurred to me that I've been living with 2 strangers my entire life--my parents. This was such a big revelation to me that I forgot to continue driving. In my family, at least, we offspring know very little about our parents. Sure, they tell us stories. What I've actually noticed is that sometimes the stories change, and often, my parents' tales contradict each other's.

For those of you who aren't familiar with how my parents met, I'll give a brief synopsis. My dad's oldest brother is married to my mom's oldest sister. Therefore, my parents have a relatively long history together, as my mom was in junior high and my dad was in college when they first met, and they didn't get married until about 15 years later. You'd think that their stories about the overlapping years would match up, but well, um, they don't. Some of that we can attribute to the erosion of memories over the years, but still...

Wouldn't you remember whose idea it was to get married?

Anyway, I love hearing stories about my parents as kids and teens, but a lot of these stories surprise me. I feel like I don't know them at all. How could I have allowed a pair of perfect strangers to guide me and to ensure my well-being for so many years? Those parents of mine are really illogical. Earlier this month, I found out that my mom ate nothing but bread while she was in college. Of course, since my sister and I are both "balanced-meal" nuts, we really got a kick out of this. When we accused her of eating unhealthily, my mom replied, "Well, at least I helped buy a house in Los Angeles later on." On a side note, my dad ate a lot of boiled chicken while he was in college. How did they raise two vegetable freaks like Susan and me? Well. Mysteries abound.

Must have 5 to reach Hash Brown Goal: (none yet)

Helen