The End is Near! Or is It?

Woohoo!  Only one semester to go.  

Where have I come from?  Where am I now?  Where will I go next?  These questions and more prompted a few thoughts about my adventures in education.

Early explorations...

I remember very clearly the day I decided I to go to paramedic school.  It was the first day of my EMT-Basic class. For those who don't know, there are (or were at that time) three levels of Emergency Medical Technician:  Basic, Intermediate, and Paramedic.  I knew from the beginning I would go all the way.  There was no other option.  It's how I'm made.

Later explorations...

Now, I'm nearing the end of my undergraduate career at the University of New Orleans.  In May, God willing, I will arrive at one end of the stage empty-handed and depart from the other end holding a diploma.  I think of it as the condensed version of a journey which began, in my case, 38 years earlier when I graduated from high school. Is my journey nearing its end?  Maybe not.

Not done yet?

I also remember very clearly the day I decided to go to grad school.  It was my first day of class at UNO. Hustling across campus to find my classroom invigorated me.  Hearing crowds of (mostly) young people excitedly comparing their schedules inspired me.  I was the intrepid world explorer who had returned home at last.  This is where I belonged.  This is where I meant to stay - at least until someone threw me out.

So, here it is at last - grad school.   

The only things standing between me and my next great adventure are a senior honors thesis in philosophy, the 12 hours of classes next semester, and an acceptance letter.

I'm writing statements of purpose.  I'm completing application forms, I'm preparing to take the GRE next month. Last night I attended UNO's graduate school expo and walked away intoxicated on an emotional cocktail of excitement and anxiety with a generous splash of uncertainty.

Will I be accepted?  

Yes.  Probably.  Maybe. I hope so.  We'll see.

Forgive me father for I have sinned...

It's been ages since my last blog post.

I know that was a bit cheesy, especially since I'm not Catholic, but I had to get your attention somehow. I mean, anyone who knows me knows I'm about to leave the U.S. to make clan McKinney's inauspicious return to the motherland: Ireland. It's all I've been talking about for months. My family just wants me to shut up and go already.

The Drama Queen

One of my early dramatic performances:
toddling.

But, it won't be all play and no work. I'm taking two classes while in Ireland: Contemporary Travel Writing and Acting. My mother says I'll breeze right through the acting class, because, according to her, I've been putting on a show all my life. Now what exactly does she mean by that??? I have been accused of being "dramatic" in the past, but that's no reason to imply histrionics on my part. And besides, she's my mom. She's not supposed to get a good chuckle at my expense. Oh, wait. I do that to my kids all the time. Ok, Mom. You're allowed.

 Where was I? Oh, yeah. Going to Ireland. In four days.

Are my bags packed? No. I haven't even washed all the clothes I want to take with me. Have I printed all my boarding passes, hotel confirmations, etc. No. I thought I had, but my printer apparently ignored the request. What have I done to get ready? A whole lot of shopping and cooking.

Blackrock, County Cork, Ireland

Edinburgh Castle

Cooking?

Yes, cooking. I don't want my husband to eat a steady diet of pizza and pot pies while I'm gone (and he would if I let him) so I've been cooking what I like to call "homemade MREs." For those not familiar with post-hurricane survival cuisine or military take-out, MREs are "meals ready to eat." So far, there are 14 containers of food in the freezer - beef stew, chicken cacciatore, coconut curried chicken, spaghetti and meat sauce - all ready to pop into the nuker (read microwave) whenever he gets hungry. There's also a huge pot of gumbo simmering on the the stove right now. Another pot of red beans will round out the menu. And there are pot pies and pizzas in the freezer, too. The man loves them. 

Actually, cooking has been therapeutic. It has given me something to take my mind off of Ireland and the 10-day after party I'll spend touring Edinburgh, London and Paris. It has made the time pass faster. And, of course, I'm happy to repay my hubby dearest for his generous approval of my journey. I get Europe, he gets food. It's a nice compromise and the hallmark of a happy marriage - at least our happy marriage. 

Tower of London

Tonight I'll start washing and packing and printing itineraries. Tomorrow I'll make a journey to the bank for my foreign currency. Did you know you have to order and pre-pay for it a few days in advance? That's just crazy. And don't get me started on the inequities in foreign exchange rates! A trip to my parents' home will also have to be squeezed in somewhere. I installed Skype on their computer, but they don't have a webcam (another shopping trip). So, I have to buy and install the webcam and teach them how to Skype before I can leave the country. 

Panoramic view of Paris

But for now, dear friends, I'm off to the kitchen to sample the gumbo again because one can never sample it enough. Then, yet another shopping trip is in order to buy containers for all that gumbo. Maybe I'll get a mani/pedi while I'm out.  After all, we actresses have to look our best.