It was graduation last night. Hundreds of students in flapping polyester robes and tilted mortarboards secured by bobby pins. Cameras a-flashin', balloons a-flyin', and air horns a-screechin'. Smiles big enough to crack your heart. Lots of those.
One of which belonged to FryDaddy as he strode confidently across the stage to collect his degree (okay, it's not the actual degree; it's some little scroll thingie that stands in until the final tally of the courses is checked and re-checked by Student Services). He looked quite dashing in his robe. I, on the other hand, looked like a demented peacock in mine - gold braid edging purple velvet bars isn't exactly subtle, but hey! I worked hard for the right to wear that robe and I didn't see any advantage in hiding my light under any bushel on that score. (And I'll fess up to liking the puffy hat with the gold tassel.)
But as one ends, the next begins. Circle of Academia. I need to prep my summer class - a whirlwind tour of the dramatic arts conducted in five and a half weeks, minus a couple of days for the Slayage conference in early June. I've taught it before and I don't see much in the way of tweaking it for this go-round.
FryDaddy is finished (see top paragraph), so he gets to play house-husband this summer - I'm looking forward to coming home and sighing, "What a day! Wow, house looks great, honey - is that supper I smell?" OK - not exactly true. He'll be working some at the school as a tutor for the new developmental English and math courses, which have an extensive computer lab component. And he does most of the cooking anyway. (Readers, hear me well - find a man with a decade and a half of restaurant experience. Good restaurants; you know, the kind where the chef packs his own knives. You'll eat well and be entertained for days by the stories!)
Must go now - in addition to the aforementioned prep work, today is the joyous day during which old papers from semesters past may officially be flung into the trash. Sad that such small things bring me joy, but there it is.