In conversation tonight he told me about the time in England when he was by himself and I commented that that was very "adult." He was flattered, mostly feeling young himself and rather silly a majority of the time, he said. And I wonder, when do we beomce "adult"? When do all the trips to England and cooking for ourselves and maybe paying an electricity bill--when does all that equal "adult"? There were times two years ago when I felt adult. They are many times now when I still feel silly. And I think I may never be adult. I may just have the experiences and even live the life. I found pleasure in buying jelly beans and balloons today. I also did my own laundry and thought mean thoughts about an old lady who helps to make life miserable. I told my brother how to drive the car without tipping it over and fought with financial aid over loans. Its all a string of events. And I'm not brilliant or clever and sometimes I'm even silly.