I am mightily blessed to have an 18-year-old...

... pal who was raised to observe to understand rather than believe to judge. She speaks French, has an IQ of 180, tutors college boys in calculus and physics, is being courted by 30 of the best Us in the country, thinks Vonnegut and Saint-Exupery are The Men, sees right through The Trance, is f-ing Drop Dead cream pie, does whatEVER she pleases, and leads a harem of "boys" around by their noses. She tells each new one who applies that she will love those she does intensely but not exclusively because she seems to know that living -- and loving -- to the fullest is what makes her so irresistible. ("Don't fence me in, chump.") The small-minded say she is selfish, self-centered and difficult. The larger-minded recognize her for who and what she is. (Something like -- but not exactly -- another Bardot, another Fonda, another DeMornay, another Basinger.) Are we still so everlastingly duplicitous that we lust after these fireballs and insist on calling them biche? Please. Let us (try to) grow up.