me.
“So, Crusa, I’ve read everything of yours that’s been published. I most recently read your paper on P. c. crucifer . Very interesting.”
Apparently he’s researched me.
“I found the remarks you made in your conclusion about your data being supportive of the claim that human-generated climate changes are influencing the evolution of species unnaturally very…interesting. Don’t you think that’s a bit of a leap? I expected more, as they say, scientific restraint from someone from Long Island,” he laughs. “But it’s your first paper as a lead investigator, right? Nobody can blame you. Everybody sounds a little naïve in their first one. Besides, how can the beautiful woman sitting beside me have ever entertained such a shocking opinion?”
Huh? and Um… are about the only things I can think. Luckily, my aunt senses my distress and responds for me.
“That was more the opinion of our Crusa’s research instructors, wasn’t it dear?”
“Uh…”
“I heard they’re known for more…environmental perspectives out here, what with the oceanography and atmospheric facilities they put in. Best in the nation. But are you saying my fiancée had a little help with her paper?” Andrew leans towards me and smiles.
“I had some help, but I did write the part you’re referring to myself.” Unfortunately. My advisor adored it. The central grading service did not. “I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, though.”
“Of course you didn’t, dear,” says my zizi, as worried as I am that we’ve just lost my husband over a stupid peep frog. I see her mouthing a prayer when, in the next moment, Andrew pats my hand.
“It’s not your fault. You should have been given more oversight. Your instructors should’ve looked after you more closely and pointed it out so you could change it.” He gives me a soft look and then shares an amused one with my aunt.
I don’t know whether I’m more regretful of my mistakes or offended that he’s pointed them out. Darn that P. c. lucifer . I mean crucifer .
My aunt asks Andrew about his senior thesis, and he goes off excitedly about mass communication something or other, gesturing so widely that I have to use all my willpower to not duck. To occupy my mind, I start making a list of the qualities I appreciate about him. Because I know the priest is going to ask me for them when he comes to marry us. Ummm…enthusiasm…passion…sharp mind…and…
I see the cabbage on the table and think back to my infernal froggy friends. Because crucifer…cruciferous…hah. Those poor little things are so unfortunately named. I feel bad for them. I imagine a tiny little amphibious fallen angel with a broccoli for a head hopping around the meetinghall. I smile to myself and gaze around the crowded room.
That is, until I notice some man by the wall with his eyes on me. I can’t figure out which of Angie’s sons is his father. Thinking hard, I stare for a while. Then he smirks and my brain registers that he’s been actively observing my dimwitted efforts. I look down and ride out the blush.
No wonder people find me creepy. At least that’s what Eleni tells me. Oh, well, that guy’ll get over it. I turn back to Andrew to give him a reason to list me as attentive.
“Oh, wonderful. Here come Angie’s terrors,” says my zizi. I give her a sympathetic pressing together of the lips and smooth my fingers over her dry hand. Led by Camillo, a handful of boys comes inside. Oh. If those are Angie’s, then the other one I didn’t know…I wonder if he could be Larissa’s gossip.
I think I didn’t need to make such a fuss over
“So, Crusa, I’ve read everything of yours that’s been published. I most recently read your paper on P. c. crucifer . Very interesting.”
Apparently he’s researched me.
“I found the remarks you made in your conclusion about your data being supportive of the claim that human-generated climate changes are influencing the evolution of species unnaturally very…interesting. Don’t you think that’s a bit of a leap? I expected more, as they say, scientific restraint from someone from Long Island,” he laughs. “But it’s your first paper as a lead investigator, right? Nobody can blame you. Everybody sounds a little naïve in their first one. Besides, how can the beautiful woman sitting beside me have ever entertained such a shocking opinion?”
Huh? and Um… are about the only things I can think. Luckily, my aunt senses my distress and responds for me.
“That was more the opinion of our Crusa’s research instructors, wasn’t it dear?”
“Uh…”
“I heard they’re known for more…environmental perspectives out here, what with the oceanography and atmospheric facilities they put in. Best in the nation. But are you saying my fiancée had a little help with her paper?” Andrew leans towards me and smiles.
“I had some help, but I did write the part you’re referring to myself.” Unfortunately. My advisor adored it. The central grading service did not. “I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, though.”
“Of course you didn’t, dear,” says my zizi, as worried as I am that we’ve just lost my husband over a stupid peep frog. I see her mouthing a prayer when, in the next moment, Andrew pats my hand.
“It’s not your fault. You should have been given more oversight. Your instructors should’ve looked after you more closely and pointed it out so you could change it.” He gives me a soft look and then shares an amused one with my aunt.
I don’t know whether I’m more regretful of my mistakes or offended that he’s pointed them out. Darn that P. c. lucifer . I mean crucifer .
My aunt asks Andrew about his senior thesis, and he goes off excitedly about mass communication something or other, gesturing so widely that I have to use all my willpower to not duck. To occupy my mind, I start making a list of the qualities I appreciate about him. Because I know the priest is going to ask me for them when he comes to marry us. Ummm…enthusiasm…passion…sharp mind…and…
I see the cabbage on the table and think back to my infernal froggy friends. Because crucifer…cruciferous…hah. Those poor little things are so unfortunately named. I feel bad for them. I imagine a tiny little amphibious fallen angel with a broccoli for a head hopping around the meetinghall. I smile to myself and gaze around the crowded room.
That is, until I notice some man by the wall with his eyes on me. I can’t figure out which of Angie’s sons is his father. Thinking hard, I stare for a while. Then he smirks and my brain registers that he’s been actively observing my dimwitted efforts. I look down and ride out the blush.
No wonder people find me creepy. At least that’s what Eleni tells me. Oh, well, that guy’ll get over it. I turn back to Andrew to give him a reason to list me as attentive.
“Oh, wonderful. Here come Angie’s terrors,” says my zizi. I give her a sympathetic pressing together of the lips and smooth my fingers over her dry hand. Led by Camillo, a handful of boys comes inside. Oh. If those are Angie’s, then the other one I didn’t know…I wonder if he could be Larissa’s gossip.
I think I didn’t need to make such a fuss over
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