Hello Imaginary Audience!  I was gone for a very long time...it seems like every time I've tried to update something has gotten in the way.  I'd like to be better about posting here in the future.

Not much going on right now...there is LSU basketball of course, but I can't get into that the way I got into football season.  All I know is that the men's team is ranked #8 and the women's team is ranked #1.  Aside from that, I'm clueless.

My mom, Beca, and John all came to visit me this past weekend -- actually they got here on Thursday.  That was lots of fun...

<b>THURSDAY</b>: They arrived.  But not before getting lost several times.  They picked me up at the dorm and we drove around, searching for a Popeyes in vain.  Popeyes is one of my favorite fast-food joints, but there isn't one on campus, and the chance to go never comes up -- sure, I could ask Brandon to drive me, but whenever he offers to take Ash and I out to dinner, he wants to go somewhere "nice" (and Popeyes, by Brandon-standards, is not nice).  So I saw the-appearance-of-Mom-and-the-suburban as a way to, well, eat at Popeyes for lunch!

The result was driving around Baton Rouge for a solid half-hour...and noooo Popeyes.

I maintain that we were just looking in the wrong place...this is BATON ROUGE for goodness sakes, there has to be a Popeyes SOMEWHERE.

John and Beca and Mom gave me a lot of grief for it, though.  Especially since John was sitting up in the front seat making his "i'm-very-hungry-pity-me-face."  And boy, did Mom fall for it.  "John is up here drooping," she chastised me, "and I think he'd be willing to eat anything, if you could just decide on some place OTHER than Popeyes.  Right John?"

John's response to that was to sigh and pout, "We didn't have breakfast, Ali."

"See!?!?!?"

Well exCUSE me.  John is ALWAYS hungry, for the record.  (I don't know where all the food goes -- he's very tall and very skinny.)  I refuse to take the blame for something that happens on a regular basis.

And of course Rebeca, never one to miss a chance to tell me how selfish I am, piped up from the back seat with, "It's not all about YOU, Ali."

Soooo we stopped at Raising Cane's.  Which is chicken.  Just not Popeyes.

Later that evening was dinner (yep, all we did on this trip was eat...) at Chimes.  Ashley came along.  It was pretty nice.  Good conversation and everything.  We talked about Joey's trip to Italy, and how Mom and Dad actually bought him a trenchcoat and a HAT to take on the trip.  Why?  God only knows.  My brother was thrilled to death.  What does a 16-year old need with a trenchcoat, anyway?  And a HAT!  I have this image running through my mind...one of those black and white movies...a dark alleyway behind a little Italian resturant (blinking sign out front says "Bertinelli's" or something) ...short guy in a hat and trenchcoat walking towards the camera...comes to a stop a few feet away...takes in his surroundings...motions for the camera to come closer...as if ready to convey to us one of the greatest, darkest secrets of his miserable, tortured, trenchcoated-life...

And says these words: "A shark on whisky is mighty frisky."

Yeah.  Anyway.

<b>FRIDAY</b>: I went to class, and had the Bio test (found out yesterday that I got a B on it) and went to go see an academic advisor in the Center for Freshman Year about some things, not least amoung them getting my intended major changed back to English (a temporary change, probably, but that's a boring subject I'd rather not discuss).

Mom and Beca and John came to pick me up for the day.  As we were walking back out into the parking lot, I tried to head toward the car.

Mom, however, apparently had other plans, as she and John and Beca continued walking along the sidewalk in the direction of the new West Campus Apartments.

All I could do was sigh and follow suit.  For about 15 minutes we stood looking at the not-quite-finished-yet apartments.  Mom harped a lot on the subject of whether or not there would be a wall or a security guard or something to protect the apartments from intruders.  She acted as if I'm supposed to know the answers to these questions, and since I, well, <i>don't</i>, we both got very snippy with one another.  Apparently we just have different priorities.  She wants to worry about what will happen if someone manages to break the lock on our front door.  I would rather worry about much more important things, like whether or not the university will be providing a t.v. for the living room.

See?  Different priorities.  The only reason we didn't get into an argument right then and there was probably because Mom backed off on the subject.

I should note here, that Cavazos Family Trips are not always the most fun things in the world.  Putting the five of us together in a car...doesn't really have a history of working out that well.  Sure, over-all, it's a fun experience.  (Well, I have fun anyway.)  But there are moments during these trips where everyone feels like smacking everyone else...moments where you can actually FEEL the tension.

-- hold on a second.