Seventeen

I spent most of the year when I was seventeen cribbing off of my then-boyfriend’s calculus homework, and taking three science and three music classes.  Add that to good ol’ trig/intro to calc, and I had seven classes a day, six of which I enjoyed, and all of which were air-conditioned.  (A major coup, in seriously hot August, September, April and May.)

Any time not taken up by marching band practice, show choir performances, prepping for the annual Variety Show and, oh, occasionally studying, was spent playing Monopoly with Starbuck and Then-Boyfriend.  And damn if Starbuck didn’t lose every single time.  Not cut out for a real estate empire, that one.

But the best part of seventeen was the little ball of black fur that we brought home on my seventeenth birthday.  My first little Scottie love, Brogsie.

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