Education vs. Decoration
We left you on the steps of the admissions office at the wrong college. The Brainiac is at this time wondering where her brain came from since it obviously did not come from the mother who could not navigate her to her first college interview on time.
But the mother is humble and not afraid to call the correct college and apologize profusely and beg for directions.
And so we arrived just a little bit late for the tour of Kalamazoo College.
And while there were some fascinating facts about the new library paid for by an endowment from so and so, and I really did care about the state-of-the-art computers and that the lounges in the dorms get painted every three years (which, by the way, is exactly three times as often as anything at my house gets painted) I was mesmerized by the grounds of the place.
It may be that most of what I remember of college is trekking to class through the frozen tundra with my nostrils stuck together, but I'm pretty sure we didn't have fire pits surrounded by teak adirondack chairs at good old Mankato State University.
I couldn't hold back when we passed the Wildflower Hill. I asked a few questions about how old it was and how it was maintained. The guide looked at me a little quizzically and replied: "I have no idea, but one of the older ladies in admissions might know."
I was just recovering from this dis, when I felt a sharp pain in my side which I quickly realized was the elbow of the Brainiac.
"From this point forward you are not allowed to ask any questions," she said. And so I spent a silent day snapping photos of the flowers from underneath my jacket.