Tonight was our journ awards banquet at school.
I suppose that, for all intensive purposes, if I were to be graduating this Spring, I would be receiving the "junkyard bulldog" award of the year.
Dearest Professor Landsbaum calls Leia and I his, "junkyard bulldogs."
I think it started with an argument about government funding for education.
But regardless of how we got to where we are, Wednesday night, in class, Landsbaum pointed at me and said,
"You know why I like her? Because she grabs an issue by the ankles and sinks her teeth into it, and (said emphatically) DOESN'T LET GO. She just keeps pounding it. SHE is my junkyard bulldog."
I think my face said it all.
Landsbaum: "You didn't really like that description did you?"
Me: "It's just that I just really fear for my personal life, and suddenly understand it so much better, all at once."
Junkyard bulldogs or no, we dug down deep to get in touch with our feminine sides for the evening.
(I was mostly successful, post a salad serving gone a little haywire in the tomato slice department, and a slight wardrobe malfunction).
p.s. - Congrats to our friend Jake for getting the visual journ student award of the year! Hooray Jake!