Friday Orts and a Blurb

I know you've missed seeing what I'm shoveling into my mouth so we begin this week's edition of Friday orts with a look at one of the meals put in front of me during my week in Mexico.

Yes. This was ONE MEAL. It was all for me, and in the interest of being a good guest and not an Ugly American, I "forced" myself to eat all of it. Plus, the beautiful 17-year-old senoritas at the table were eating exactly this same plate of food and they weighed about 98 pounds each, so how could it be fattening?

And that, my friends, is how you manage to gain four pounds on a one-week mission trip.

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But don't worry. While I was fattening like a foie gras goose I remained beautiful and classy on a Lauren Bacall scale. Don't believe me? I have proof:

That parbroiled glow. That hat. The paint-speckled shirt. The yellow "manicure" (not shown here). I was movie-star glamorous.

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This was move-in week at Small College and here are some of the things I love about having students around again: Their energy. Their wardrobes (because oddly, administrators don't dress like that). Their joie de vivre. Their payment of tuition so that I can be employed in a job I love.

Here are the things I don't love about having students around again: Their parking in all the parking spaces. Boooo.

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And finally, a blurb: There are women in this world who humble me every time I read what they've written. Harper Lee. Erma Bombeck. Julia from Here Be Hippogriffs. And then, in a class completely by herself, there is Anne Lamott.

If you are not following Anne Lamott on Facebook you should be, because there is way too much time between her books and you surely need a booster shot of her wisdom when you are running low on your own. I read and re-read a post this week that started this way:

It has been one of the worst week in years, and that's saying something. You know exactly what I'm talking about, no matter how much you love your life and your pit crew; no matter how hard you strive to present a good face. It is so hard here. It's like Old Yeller meets the Hunger Games; plus the parking is terrible.

 If I could write like that I would be unable to fit through doorways because my head would be so enormously swelled.