Thursday, May 7, 2009 - Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

Nation: the past few weeks have been tumultuous; work is going quite well, home life is returning to quasi-normal as the husband is finally working again. My daughter has applied to graduate school and there was an interview as part of the application process. She had been unable to reach the phd in charge of her program, as his voicemail was full, and he wasn't answering emails. When he finally called, on the Friday night before Easter, his cryptic telephone message indicated that she "should meet him in Parking Lot 3, behind the Charter School, on Mon., April 20, at 12 Noon". We all thought "how odd..." but maybe it's easier to meet her there, and then proceed inside for the interview. She and I both took the day off from work and, with the husband playing logistics commander at home by Weather Channel and voice-comm, we drove down to the school - in an absolute downpour - to wait, ever patiently, in parking lot #3. The PhD never showed up! Nor had anyone seen him when my daughter called the Psychology Dept of the grad school. She left 2 messages; we waited from 11:45AM-1:50PM and then drove over to the undergrad school in NYC and picked up the actual bachelor's degree: Forensic Psychology cum laude.

Almost a week went by before I found the name of an advisor at the grad school who could maybe help out. My daughter wrote to him; he responded same day by email and by phone. By the next day, she received an email from the original PhD, who was 'sorry for the miscommunication- as he thought he told her to meet him at the Charter School in some-such room number.' I saved the original telephone message in case crap ever came from it. So they re-scheduled an interview, Mon., April 27, at 6:45pm - in between classes. My daughter was like, "how much time can he be giving me? There's only like 15 minutes between classes at night down there." Well, she was right; she was in and out by 7:05pm. He basically reiterated what he had explained at the Open House '74 credits, rigorous program...' and said he was looking through her documents and GRE scores (my daughter said her heart dropped as her scores were nothing to brag about), but then added: "I don't think you'll have any problem getting into this program."

I think she was more shocked than anything; thrilled, yes - but how could this guy make such a determination when each of the ONLY 8-12 accepted students each semester would also have to pass a panel of the entire department of people. So this guy was basically putting words in the mouths of about 6 other PhDs! She was 'cautiously optimistic'...


Email arrived this morning at her undergrad school email account: "Congratulations on your acceptance..." I am so happy for her; my bowels have been in an uproar ever since she got the sentence out! I feel a bunch of different emotions: I am also a bit scared; not of any inability to complete the workload. As this comes closer to becoming a career reality, I am concerned about her exposure to children (teenagers, too) whose problems may place her in a vulnerable position.

How many therapists have been attacked by their patients? What about school shootings?
Gotta try and not think so much about that stuff. Just be happy for this moment in the sun!


The reason for this blog...the hair. I really love the color of the hair; so many women here at the job tell me that if their gray looked like mine they'd stop coloring. That's really nice. Guess it helps that my hair is thick as well. It just seems to be stuck not growing. I really want it to get long like that older model, Cindy Joseph. She started modeling at 48!! I've posted her pic below. When it gets just long enough for a pony tail, I might buy a long extension and do an "I Dream of Jeannie" ponytail with a braid wrap.


Me today