of boy and beaver

One thing about having the greatest job on campus is then having the greatest coworkers on campus who then try to set you up with their greatest friends because they're genuinely wonderful people intent on bringing you joy. Or they're just tired of being the only marrieds in their group of singles. Either way, this happens all too often. But I think Goodwin may have done right this time around with her recommendation---and with all the proof, too.

His name is Jeff and he is a rocket scientist from San Diego. Which apparently makes him just qualified enough to pull this off:


I told you she had the proof. O, I think he's the one. MFEO, right?


. . . . . . unbelievably smooth segue to completely unrelated topic:

I attend a relatively well-known university of great merit and deserved academic accolade. My coeds are generally brilliant, of the sort that make me wonder daily why I was allowed among them, and tend to take their studies seriously. I mean, they certainly know how to have fun, but are usually also aware of their age bracket. So it was something of a surprise when my morning walk to campus found me in the company of witch and ghoul.

I have met a Luke Skywalker, a Hermione Granger, two different Jack Sparrows, and a Robin Hood/Peter Pan hybrid just skipped on into the lab. That's not to mention the Whoopee Cushion I stood in line with at Sugar & Spice, the Wonder Bread I walked with to the Wilk, or the bowling ball I passed by on my way to Italian. I am all for Halloween and the joys of becoming Someone Else for a day, but . . . all day? All school day? I should not be laughing like this, but I am. It's hard not to, given the beaver that just waddled by.