We had a wonderful trip to North Carolina to celebrate The Oldest's simultaneous birthday & college graduation, starting with a beautiful dinner out with a group of friends Friday night at lovely a place called The Bridge Tender. We were seated out on a deck overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway, and our prearranged server was a former roommate and close friend who expects to graduate some time next year. The food was amazing. My very favorite item was an appetizer called Fried Green Tomato Napoleon, described on the menu as: Sliced green tomatoes, battered and fried, layered with crab, Romano and cream cheese. Finished with chipotle remoulade. It was complex and delicious, as was the gorgonzola walnut salad topped with apples and candied walnuts, lightly coated with a delicious berry walnut vinaigrette. My perfectly prepared a la carte filet came with a sweet port wine reduction that was heavenly. Oh, my goodness gracious sakes alive!
The UNCW graduation ceremony itself was short and sweet, or at least as short as these things possibly can be. I cried. I don't often, but I found myself filling with emotions as he marched with the graduates into the arena for the ceremony, like many, on his cell phone, saying, "Can you see me now?" Of his core group of buddies, three were graduating. A couple have already finished, but remain in Wilmington to work, or, in one case, to travel back and forth to Chapel Hill for treatment for an aggressive lymphoma. Some of you may remember my requesting your prayers for Sean last January. I am happy to say that his treatment appears to be working and with just a couple of chemo treatments left, his cancer is in remission. Thanks to all of you for your thoughts and prayers.
After the ceremony we joined a crowd at Middle of the Island (a/k/a MOI), a Wrightsville Beach institution, for a late breakfast. I read later in the Wrightsville Beach Magazine that "the location has been sold", whatever that means. I hope it doesn't mean that MOI won't be there any more, because it has been one of my favorite spots and I try to get there at least once, every time I visit. My youngest son was amazed by both the quantity and the quality of the young coeds, servers, who bustled about the crowded place with determined efficiency (although I'm pretty sure it wasn't their efficiency that so impressed His Raging Hormonesty).
Saturday evening was magic. There was no rooftop party downtown, as I'd been told. I suspect our dear young men just didn't get it done, although they offered no details. It's just as well, because what we did was so special and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. We gathered with a group of his buddies, most of whom had been friends since they were freshmen, at the beachfront rented home (or part of a house, the important ocean front part, in fact) of two long-time buddies. One of their Moms came and cooked and the rest of us brought food to share (we brought fried chicken, buffalo wings and key lime pies from Roberts Market, the first fabulous secret I discovered at freshman move-in, purveyors of the best chicken salad in the entire world). Our hosts provided soft drinks and keg beer (Yuengling, I had never heard of it before but it went down nicely, darker than most grocery store beers, not too heavy, and, I'm just guessing, highly economical) and atmosphere for the crowd that grew as the evening progressed. Those of us who were there early got the added benefit of the full moon rising orange over the Atlantic. Guitars were brought out and played, accompanying original music beautifully sung. There were many stories told, by and about the graduates and those soon to join their ranks, and most especially about my oldest, for it was also his birthday, and his graduation, his Birthdaytion, a term coined by his life-long friend, Richard, who also came in from Atlanta for the occasion. As the evening wore on and the number of young people increased, the parents' ranks began to dwindle and the students (or former students) took to opening the various bottles of more potent pleasures, toasting each other's successes and stumbles with various blends of fine gifted whiskey. I had a wonderful opportunity to talk to many of his friends, who are across the board adorable, but most especially Sean, whom I first remember meeting at Parents Weekend their freshman year, with whom my dearest son lived for three out of his five years in Wilmington. He is still animated and beautiful and visibly special, even bald without eyelashes. We left reluctantly at about eleven with the host's parents. I hated to go.
Mother's Day was quiet, and spent primarily at Wrightsville Beach. It ended, after a few long walks on the beach and some wonderful seafood, with a thunderstorm that came in from the west and produced a lovely long lightshow as it drifted out to sea. I had a nearly perfect day, even though Middle Son was motherless in New Orleans, reluctant to take the time off from a new job on such an important weekend (not just Mother's Day, but also Tulane's graduation). My Mom finally decided to go to the other end of North Carolina with some friends for a weekend of bridge in the mountains. I left her a surprise to find when she returned home on Sunday, so it all worked out just fine. I got to talk to Denise (a/k/a Lilly, formerly of the blogosphere) on the phone a few times, but neither of us realized that Sunday was Mother's Day when we were making plans to get together. I am hoping to get back up there this summer, when it's quieter, for a visit. It's impossible for me to overstate just how much I've loved having The Oldest at UNCW and wonderful I find Wilmington, North Carolina and its surrounds. I am so very pleased that he chose to go there for college.
That's about it, at least for now. I'm settled in at home and back at work at the KnockingShitDown Company. The Husband With Whom I Have Completed The Cohabitation Phase Of The Marriage has returned to his residence in another town, although he'll be coming back on Sunday because he has his court ordered mediation in The Matter About Which I Cannot Speak this coming Monday. The HS year will be over for The Youngest at the end of this week, and we have about three more weeks of baseball season (time to start getting at least a little serious). All the spring television shows are airing their season finales, with Idol being down to the final two (and, somehow, the world didn't stop spinning when Chris got voted off). Next Monday night, Jack Bauer will finally save the world again and another long "day" of "24" will come to an end. All is right with the world (well, 'cept Bush and Iraq and New Orleans, but we'll just have to talk about them some other time).
Peace, out, ya'll.
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