Rum Punch

Mother's Day was perfect.  Both Sean and Caitie had their finals during the week before.  Sean came home Friday night, Caitie arrived on Saturday, and that's all I needed for Mother's Day.

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And then my baseball team surprised me after our game that afternoon.
It was a perfect day.
I've really enjoyed the past week, having everyone under the same roof is the best thing in the world.
Today, Caitie and Sean both began working their internships.  Exciting for both of them.
I don't think I've mentioned that Caitie's internship is in New York City?  Uh, yes.  She moved into her place yesterday.  Sigh.
It's been her dream for a while, to spend the summer in New York City, before she graduates college.  For the last few years, I have mixed feelings with every milestone, and this was no different.  So, so happy for her, so sad that she won't be here for the summer.  
And then the worries set in.  I couldn't turn them off.  Where will she live?  How will she get to work?  How will she find her way around?  Who will help her if she has any questions?  And my racing mind answered every one of those questions with it's a city that she's never been to and she doesn't know anyone there.  

First, we tackled the housing quandary.  Where to stay?  Thankfully, her school sent us a few links to places where past interns had stayed.  
Mr. Terrific went to the first site and told me, "Hey, I like this one.  An apartment building that only rents rooms to single women who are working, interning or studying in NYC.  Includes maid service and two meals a day."  He told me the name of the apartment and I googled it.
When the results popped up, the only thing I saw was HELL'S KITCHEN.  And I swear, it was bright red letters, font size about 50 point.  I kid you not.  It's all I could see.  
I need to add a disclaimer right now, I mean absolutely no disrespect or disdain toward anyone who lives in Hell's Kitchen.  But as a mom, looking for a place for her daughter to live, surely you can understand why I would not want my daughter living in a place called hell?   And though I imagine that hell is generally an extremely hot place, I can't help but think that the kitchen–a room with an oven–might be the hottest spot in hell?  It could be a misnomer, but I just couldn't get past it.
The next place on the list was in the Flatiron District. The word "flatiron" conjured up images in my mind of steaks and hairstyling tools, and with "Hell's Kitchen" still tattooed on my brain my racing thoughts quickly drew corollaries between steaks/kitchen and hairstyling/heat/hell, but it did not make me feel like I needed to breathe from a brown paper bag lest I pass out from anxiety.  After a quick google of "Flatiron District" I learned that the name comes from the Flatiron building and that the district was previously called the Toy District, and before that the Photo District…….all names I can live with.  
Whew.  Found a place for Caitie to live that's not hell!

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