Honors and dandelions

Much to blog about, and yet, no time to blog!

Suffice it to say that "Life is good," to borrow M's favorite phrase.

I'm happy at my new job, and I haven't gotten on the treadmill with my shirt on backwards lately. Although Wii Fit did let me know that I'm overweight (thanks, Master of the Obvious) and continues to do so on a daily basis. Having fun with it, though, and loving the fact that there's actually a game on there where I do better than M. Ski jumping, of all things. It's fun to watch him continue to hone his skills, as he's not used to me beating him at anything. My reign won't last, I'm sure, but I'm soaking it up while I can.

Our commencement is coming soon, and we're looking forward to that. M is driving me absolutely crazy with his obsession on getting every detail possible about graduating with honors. He's pissed that our degrees don't have an honors designation. I can't remember if my undergrad says "Magna Cum Laude," but I do still have my awesome medal awarded at the Mizzou Honors Convocation a million years ago. Maybe I should bust that out and wear it during commencement.

He seems to be quite surprised that he graduated with honors, having earned straight A's. I'm not surprised in the least, as I've known for a long time that he's brilliant. He still claims that our marketing prof "hates him," although just yesterday he felt the need to also tag on, "But I showed her!" His A in marketing was personal vindication, I think. I like to look at my A in Managerial Accounting as hard-fought and won, choosing not to think that our accounting prof had any sort of personal animosity towards me or anyone else. To each his own, I suppose.

Not feeling particularly witty today, which is shame, since I've now wasted lots of your time reading this and you've gotten nary a chuckle from it.

So I'll leave you with this little Zoe-ism that she popped out last week, and that continues to make me chuckle: "I'm going to tell Daddy that we need to plant dandelions in our yard!" She, as all four-year-old girls are wont to do, adores dandelions. I am presented with them on a daily basis, and our kitchen window sill is festooned with them in various states of decay. They are, of course, quickly becoming my most favorite flower in the whole world due simply to the spirit with which they are given me (as I'm sure most mothers in the world are wont to feel). M, on the other hand, continues to scowl at all dandelions, whether in our yard or others', with as much hatred and animosity as he can muster, as I'm sure most middle-age suburban guys with lawns they are responsible for maintaining are wont to do.

The scowling is not a waste of time in this regard, as we both agree that his death-glares towards a certain overgrown and ugly bush in our yard that had heretofore been unfortunately healthy soon met with an untimely demise, withering away under his direct gaze. If it were up to M, we would have a lawn devoid of all living things except for grass. Since that would be boring, we reach a point of compromise and choose shrubberies that are utilitarian in that they are substantial enough to hold strands of Christmas lights during designated times of the year. Or bushes that look like little Christmas trees. Can you see the theme here? I am also allowed to keep the trees we currently have, although I find it quite often necessary to break his death-glare laser beams lest the trees suffer the same fate as the aforementioned bush.

Tonight M goes to the baseball game while Zozer and I hang out and, most likely, pick dandelions.