Baby Love
I was riding the Central Line this afternoon, coming back from the formal registration process (which went 95% well) for school — which starts on Tuesday and I'm totally fine about. Really. Not nervous in the least. Nope. Not one bit.
Anyway, I'm on the Tube and across from me is the cutest little girl, about 18-24 months old I reckon, all cornrows and barrettes and what's not braided down is teased out into puffs of mini-Afro Mickey Mouse ears. She was sitting on her daddy's lap. He was a really large (Chicago Bears linebacker size) guy, and very handsome. I don't see so many dads and baby daughters on the train with no moms around. It was a nice sight, him holding his little girl and kissing on her.
Feel the love.
A couple stops later, I looked up from my book and there he is again, still kissing on her. Smack on her mouth, and for a minute I thought they were sharing a piece of candy. But no. The little girl had her tongue stuck out and dad was, well, sucking on it, just as casual as can be. It wasn't like they were French kissing ... but they were, weren't they?
Naturally, I averted my eyes. Some things even I don't want to watch. Clearly, the little girl didn't know any better and it was just a freak occurrence, and the dad was being cool and not drawing attention to his daughter which might later cause her shame and several months on a therapist's couch.
Nope, it continued.
She'd reach up to kiss him. He'd kiss her back. She'd stick her little pink tongue out, and he'd not just kiss it, but let it go right into her mouth. Like he was very gently eating his daughter's face. Oh well, at least she was quiet.
And I ask you ... is this a normal thing?
Not just normal on a subway train, but anywhere? Somewhere there's gotta be a boundary, and if we were in London's Zone 1, I'd say that boundary was somewhere in, oh I don't know, Phoenix.
Or maybe I'm just getting conservative in my old age.
:: :: ::
As for the registration, when I got my letter back in June or whenever, it said I had a conditional acceptance based upon receipt of two letters of recommendation (which I had already submitted). In a painless email correspondence, it was confirmed that everything had been received, was in good order, and I was good to go.
When I sat down with yonder Registrar today, computer said "conditional." We got everything sorted but when I got to the final (of three) computer stations, the one to get my student ID and finalize the registration, that computer said "records not found."
Apologies ensued. "This happens sometimes when you register in person instead of by mail" (although I never received a mail packet because they still had me in the computer as conditional). So I have to pop back in next week to get my ID. No biggie, and I've got a jump-to-the-head-of-the-queue-pass. Besides, I have to go back there anyway for classes, so whatever. But knowing me, I'll make a special trip out there on Monday, just to make sure. Because I don't want to be the guy on the first day of class to whom the tutor says, "Sorry dude, you're not registered, you can't be here."
Quelle embarrassing.
Oh, and there's good news ... which could be summed up as "Bob's not really that bright."
For some reason I thought the tuition fees were twice as much as they actually are. I had a number in my head, and that number was per year. But in reality, that number was for the entire 2-year course, so I only had to pay half of what I expected today. Nice.
So, like many investors on the Street this week, at the close of day Friday, I ended up with more money than I anticipated.
And that's why I'm studying story telling, not accounting.