Since I can't remember who I've told... Class of...

2010. Or that's the joke that has been made. It all started at the end of my senior year in 2006. I was done... All one hundred and twenty-something hours... except, those last three hours of French. I had planned to take them in summer school (you can still "walk" with up to six hours to take in summer school) in Fayetteville, but the thought of living away from home any longer was painful. I also got a job and was supposed to start work in June. I was in a jam. I was talking about it at lunch at the Pi Phi house one day and someone suggested I take French by correspondence. They did, and it was a piece of cake. Looking back, its a good thing I can't remember who that person was that suggested I take those last three hours by correspondence because I would probably say something rude if I saw them today. I'm just being honest. Anyway, I tried to complete the French class via correspondence twice and failed what I thought was only the first time. Long story short, I found out in October that I still needed to take the French class to graduate. Lovely. My biggest fear was telling Reid and my dad. Reid was so understanding and supportive. I really couldn't ask for a better friend to walk the road of life with. And, my dad's response was classic. He said, "Well, I never understood how you could pass that class without a teacher." He was exactly right. So, this semester I am taking Intermediate French II at UT Arlington on Monday and Wednesday nights. On Tuesday and Thursday nights, to supplement what I am taught in class, I meet with a tutor. In a crazy way, I'm kind of thankful for the chance to get to go back to school. There are times I wish I had taken more classes this semester, and I've toyed with the idea of taking more classes next Fall. One of the things I hated about my time in college was what I chose to major in. Maybe this was my chance to go back and gain interest in getting a second degree. Or, maybe it was to make me thankful for the time I spent getting my first one.

So, for now, what does this mean for going to see my mom? Really, Samson has put more of a damper on that than class because he is supposed to be 16 weeks old before he can be around my parents dogs. As soon as he is old enough Reid and I will start meeting in Little Rock (Reid from where he is staffed and me from Dallas) on the weekends as often as we can. The plan for now is that once class is over on May 7 I'll be back to my old Little Rock routine.