And the winner is . . .
But first, heartfelt apologies for my truancy in declaring a winner. The latest limerick contest, oh so long ago, was short on entrants, but of course, elevated beyond reproach in quality. So, [something about it being terribly difficult to choose a winner]. Also? I'm taking biology, and Norma needs a lot of my attention. At least she did until I finished dissecting her lady parts today. Yes, for the record, I touched with my gloved hands: Norma's uterine horn (how gross is that phrase), her ovaries, bladder, and vahjayjay.
May I never have to dissect anything ever again, unless it's someone's unfortunate choice of outfit.
Also, the German test which was beyond horrible? We're now in preposition bootcamp for three class sessions, and that is sehr helpful. And shh, but I didn't suck as much as I thought. An 83.5% for an exam I thought I flunked. Eh.
American Lit/American Pop continues to be a journey down memory lane of boring theoreticians. This week, Marx, Engels, Adorno, and Althusser. I actually like reading Adorno quite a bit, but the rest is, well, unbelievably dull.
Our house continues to be a disaster, though Eric's dad did all the painting, and it's kind of beautiful. The pounding and hammering resumes on Friday, and hopefully Friday night we sleep in our new bedroom. Carpet will happen later in the fall (expensive wool carpet requires a wait; evidently the lambs have yet to be born).
Oh yeah, the winner?
Meema, of course. For her whole body of work, but this one in particular, mainly because it contains that critical element sought by the judges: praise of moi.
The blogosphere last year rejoiced
As Scott found his platform of choice.
With readers galore
It's never a bore -
Hooray for The Zone's learn-ed voice!
Meema, who at this point is a Hall of Famer, will be our next contest judge. Not to worry, you needn't start thinking yet. We'll give the limericks a rest until we reach that most magical limerick opportunity: The Nativity of the Baby Jesus.