The Holly, the Ivy, and the Miscellaneous Trees

When I see an e-mail in my in-box entitled "Oak and Ivy Awards", I naturally assume that it has something to do with the Society for Creative Anachronism, where people dress up, pretend to be medieval, and-- this being a volunteer organization-- give each other lots of awards with names like "pelican" and "dragon's blood". But no. It's my school. Evidently faculty vote on seniors who have shown leadership potential, etc., etc. and they want us to nominate people we admire. They'll pick one boy and one girl. You want to bet who gets the Ivy award? For being, you know, clinging and well-supported? Is it just me, or is this a relic of Victorian romanticism? (Or maybe both people get the Oak-and-Ivy award, because we all cling to them. Hmmm.)

Anyway . . . At least that diplomat who resigned because he felt so guilty at trying to justify the US' current warlike activities is a Swat alum. Go, Kremlin on the Crum.

I am now going to engage in even less relevant rambling. (I have a lot of math to do this afternoon, if you can't tell.)

( super-nerdy consideration of an imaginary ethical dilemma )

Schools With My Initials

I now have a funding offer from the University of Washington. Yay! I can live somewhere with decent weather and decent coffee and not quite starve as I approach academia!