Independence Day.... it's a coming (Plus that time I almost died walking home)

No more a student driver. No more a college student. And soon to be an unchaperoned international traveler.

It's been 18 years, almost to the day when I first introduced that face up there to the world outside my most immediate family and close friends.

Ali is about three months old in the baby picture I used in what was the first "photoshoot" that led to weekly emails to my mother-in-law and then to a growing list of friends and family. To the right is her a week or so ago when she finally got serious and secured her driver's license.

I was her ride to the branch. I helped her get the necessary paperwork but sat back and let her deal with everything else. At one point, she came back gloating, telling me that for the first time in her life, she could sign off on everything needed to make something legal.

"I'm 18!" she said. "I can do it myself."

Back when she was learning to get her own clothes on her own self, tie her shoes or ride her bike without training wheels, she'd said a similar thing -- sans the double digit age reference.

"I can DO it, Dad," was a common refrain back then when the Captain was deep in teaching mode and she was sure she'd advanced beyond his help.

Now, it's super real. She's truly an adult.

We all got oriented at Purdue a couple weeks ago. We all managed to get weepy at different parts along the way but there was no actual crying. (Juxtapose this to some of the helicopter parents on the Purdue parents Facebook page. Oh. My. God. I'm nowhere NEAR the level of crazy some of those folks are displaying.)

There were some big-ass clouds that day and a hint of rain, but it was warm. There was a breeze from time to time and only a hint of a drizzle here and there. We traipsed along together in some parts and separately for others.

While she met with her advisor -- no parents allowed -- we found an outside bench. Jeff sat. I laid down with my head in his lap, dozed a bit and just looked up at that big, blue sky.

There's not denying that it's nearly time for ol' Mom and Dad to take the back seat.

Sigh.

We're getting some empty-nest practice in as she's been with her Auntie Jen in Maine since last Thursday. We'll pick her up tonight from the airport and then lose her again to a trip to Ireland in a few days. She's going with three other new adults and my own 18-year-old self is a little green around the gills. She moves into her dorm in 41 days.

Not that I'm counting, but if I was, I'd deduct 15 from 41 because of her Ireland trip and planned time with other friends. That gives me (I mean us) only 26 more days with her.

Picture me carefully packing that thought away in a padlocked suitcase and putting it at the very back of a very dark closet. Deep breath.

When Ali's away, we generally try out new restaurants, but this time we mixed it up. The rules were we had to be able to walk or bike to get there and it had to be new or a place we'd not been in at least three years. My waistline can't take the every night thing, and my liver is already protesting, but it's been fun.

We cheated a bit with a tapas night the first day, Jeff grilled steaks and I made the pan-fried the Brussel sprouts that were threatening to germinate in our crisper. I tossed them with a little balsamic and soy sauce. An avowed sprouts hater, the Captain tried one.

"Still Brussel sprouts," he sniffed and went back to gnawing on his slab of meat.

We walked to the Thai Cafe the next night and then Marco's on Tuesday -- both exceptional choices that resulted in lunch the next day as well.

Our culinary exploration almost ended tragically with that Marco's walk. The restaurant is 1.2 miles from our house. It was hot but not horrible and all was well. I'd remembered to visit the ladies' room before we left. But I didn't factor in the second G&T that I somehow ordered.

About 0.2 miles into our return home, my bladder alerted me about that second drink and the water Jeff had made me drink when he noticed that I hadn't touched my drink. "Oh," he said. "Two?" And pushed my water glass at me.

I'm not really a whiner. Or if I am, the whining I do inside my head before it escapes is pretty severe. I was eyeing the elementary school and thinking about where there might be cover for a squatting, middle-aged woman when Jeff took my elbow.

"Nope," he said.

As we passed the bricks and the opportunity they presented I remembered a time when my brother, David, had stopped for similar respite. He was still flowing when the policeman behind him said, "Hey, Dave. Whatcha doin' there?"

Naturally, David turned to converse and sprayed the poor uniformed officer. That memory gave me the fortitude I needed to keep plodding along.

By the time we rounded Crestview and were mere blocks from our house, I was picturing my bladder as a Ziplock bag straining at that strip of plastic where it seals your leftovers safely in side. The plastic film was straining and I could feel tiny pinpricks where the previously delicious gin and tonic was pressing for release.

The Captain started pointing out puddles and mentioning how many of our neighbors have swimming pools. I shut him out and walked faster. I refrained from pointing out the strength of my Kegels because A. I couldn't really form words and B. He didn't deserve the reminder.

Instead, I squeezed harder and pictured the little boy with his finger in the dike somewhere in Sweden or Amsterdam or where ever the hell he'd kept the waters back. I needed that little boy.

I would be lying if I said I didn't eye every bush, every tree, every parked car along the way, wondering if I could crouch and flee without anyone seeing me. It was a long 1.2 miles home, let me tell you.

And I'm sure I was less than graceful as I raced for the closest bathroom once the Captain managed to unlock the front door. But I survived with nothing but sweat marks on my clothing.

Last night an ill-timed loss of a/c at my niece's (Rebecca) boyfriend's house  brought us surprise and welcome dinner guests last night. So we grilled burgers and dogs and took a much shorter walk to a new ice cream stand down the street.

We get Ali back tonight. She's a little bummed that she's not getting in later because one year we came home late on the 4th and were able to watch fireworks from above. It was super cool.

In the meantime, I think we're biking somewhere for lunch. I'll be scouting public restrooms along the way, just in case. Hope your Fourth of July is a blast.