Pompous Circus Tent--I mean, Pomp and Circumstance...

Ok, so as a friend of mine pointed out to me, I haven't posted in about a week and a half, which for the youtubing/facebooking/tweeting world out there is like, a millenium.  It's partly been because I've been lazy, but it's also partly because I've been out in sunny SoCal for my brother's graduation.

Let me start off by saying that everyone should have their graduation in southern california.  I understand this may pose some budgeting issues for the east coast schools, but I promise you it's worth it.  When I graduated from Bryn Mawr, it rained so hard that everyone's shoes sunk into 6 inches of mud and water.  They had to put down cardboard (which most likely originated as a pile of moving boxes in some senior's dorm room) so that we wouldn't drown on our way to our seats.  And for those of you who are unfairly endowed with silky straight hair, let me fill you in on a little chemistry equation:  curly hair + H20 = unlimited quantities of frizz.  It's not attractive.

Anyway, as I was saying, the weather was perfect for my brother's graduation.  The ceremony was in the afternoon, but of course my mom insisted on going early to stake out good seats.  I'm pretty sure that at one point she was thinking about camping out at the graduation site, but a sleeping bag wouldn't have fit into her suitcase for the plane-ride over, so she nixed that plan.  She settled with showing up a few hours early so she could reserve our three seats--needless to say, my dad and I chose to wait until just before the ceremony to show up.

The ceremony was nice, if not a little boring (but aren't they all?).  But I did come away with an important lesson--my family and I are amateurs when it comes to celebrating.  Our first rookie move was that there were only three of us.  Looking around, there were groups as large as 20 people who had come for just one graduating senior.  What the hell?  This isn't the Duggar Family.  Who's paying for all those plane tickets and hotel rooms?  Who even knows 20 people that care about the fact that you're graduating college?  I sure as hell don't.  Our second rookie move was that we neglected to bring the kind of noise makers that are generally seen only in sporting arenas.  Every other student's name was met with an ear-piercing wail from an air horn.  I even saw one guy with one of those soccer noisemakers, vuvuzelas, that have gained so much notoriety.

But not my family.  We didn't travel with a posse.  We didn't bring a police siren to the ceremony.  We're just a few Canadians who show their pride with a smattering of polite claps.  And then we apologize for something.  While eating a tin of maple syrup.

Seriously, though, I'll cop to the fact that there were definitely a few times when I got a little teary.  I mean, come on, it's my baby brother and he's all grown-up.  Sniff.  It feels like only yesterday when we were...  (CUE CHEESY MOVIE MONTAGE)

• cleaning the entire third floor of our friend's apartment with only an old rag and a bottle of windex.
• riding our bikes up and down Waxter Way
• building worlds out of lego pieces
• spending saturdays at Bolton Hill swim meets (and eating all the candy and tacos-in-a-bag we wanted)
• spending 10 hours in a minivan, riding up the coast for family vacations in Nova Scotia
• walking home from school
• driving (ourselves!) home from school
• filling all of our spare time with NBAC swim practices

(Ok, I tried to make the list longer, but apparently I have the memory of a 90-year-old woman.  Yeesh, I can't even come up with a sentimental walk down memory lane.  Pathetic.)

All right, enough with the sap.  I can't handle all this sweetness.  It's giving me a toothache.