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Spring break in Florida is one of the greatest experiences known to man. The weather is gorgeous, just chilly enough in the morning for you to want to bundle up and stay under the covers but warm enough in the afternoon for tank tops, shorts, and bathing suits. I had been begging you for months to come visit and see my school, meet my friends, etcetera... especially the etcetera.

One of the other good things about Spring break is the swim meets. There's one just about every weekend. Lucky for us, Mom and Stephen were in Sarasota from Friday afternoon until late Sunday. Now we had a choice betweeen paying for a hotel room with no kitchen and thin walls, or we could go home and eat my mother's food and do indecorous things in my bed. Our parents didn't pay $10,000 a year for our highschool education just so we couldn't notice which was the better deal. So, after bidding adieu to our friends on Friday night (amidst many crude innuendoes) we threw the necessary clothes and toys into the car and started the drive towards Orlando.

Since I never succeded in teaching you to drive stick shift, I slid into the driver's seat and let you be a mere passenger in my vehicle. We giggled and talked for a while, catching up on how things are at school, how the family is doing, what you think of my campus. Then, about an hour into the trip and after the necessary renditions of "Drivin' for Jesus" and "On The Highway of Love," you used your best Billy Crystal imitation and asked for my life story. I replied that if ...

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