The Blog Post In Which I Gush Over The Brilliance Of My Husband

Speaking a foreign language upon arrival to this country didn't stop my husband Papi. Neither did going through rigorous bouts with the inefficient Immigration Service in order to keep his work permit and resident alien status valid. Being told that most of the college credits already earned in his native Mexico wouldn't transfer couldn't crush my Papi's indomitable sexy-Mexi spirit. No, he soldiered on through his college career sometimes working 2-3 jobs at a time to keep his family fed while enduring a few feckless supervisors and exhausting work hours. Papi has helped to raise and educate his 6 homeschooled children during this time while also serving in his church callings. Any lesser of a person would surely have been stymied by such seemingly insurmountable obstacles but my Papi continued to learn and grow and excel. And now the fruits of his labors have been realized......

Papi graduated at Christmas from Sam Houston University with his Business Degree and again a few weeks ago with his Accounting Degree. He not only graduated, he captured Cum Laude honors.

This picture came via the front page of the Sam Houston newspaper and it shows Papi with the Dean of the Business School who's named appropriately enough , Dean. (You know, like an Ape named Ape there has to be a Dean named Dean. :) Papi scored the front page story as he accepts his shiny medal and invitation into the elite Beta Gamma Sigma business Fraternity that recognizes excellence and distinction in business school scholars.
Just look at my man with his nerdy Accountant hair and round spectacles, he practically oozes out all things scholarly from his every pore.

This is a picture of a picture because while it made the Beta Gamma Sigma newsletter I couldn't find it online. Papi cryptically told me on the phone that some people wearing robes walked into his classroom and asked him to go out into the hallway with them.
I got all freaked out and said, "Oh my gosh, was it the KKK??!!?"
No, it wasn't the KKK. It was instead these Beta Gamma Sigma representatives extending an invitation to only 10 chosen individuals on campus.

The greatest thing about my man is how humble he is. Papi only shrugs his shoulders when I congratulate him for his accomplishments and tell him how proud I am of him. In fact, he didn't even bother to show up for the pinnacle of his college career. Papi opted out of the pomp and circumstance of his formal graduation ceremony last week and chose instead to have his diploma mailed to him.

I feel weird slobbering all over and bragging about Papi like this but since he doesn't ever seek out glory for himself I thought that someone should lift him up and tell him that he's the wind beneath their wings. That would be me. That would be me minus the grating Bette Middler song. :)

CONGRATULATIONS PAPI CLASS OF 2008!
SMMOOOOOOCCCHHHHHHHHH
(I used to call Papi, 'Senor Senior' but now that his Senior year is over I guess I'll just refer to him as Senor Smartypants. Papi only has 6 more classes to earn his Masters Degree which he'll resume working towards this Fall. A possible 3 graduations in one year. Papi may be secretly addicted to Graduation Cake.)

Let Me Call You SWEATheart!

Some men wear their hearts on their sleeve, but not my beloved Papi. Ever the non-conformist, Papi proudly displays his heart for everyone to see (and smell) right across his manly chest.

I was the first to notice that my man sweats out emblems de amore. I am also the first to document the sweaty evidence. When I started teasing him about his unique perspiration designs, he coyly looked at me and responded in his super suave Mexi-accent, "Girlie, I sweat hearts because I'm so full of love both inside and out." Well, he's full of something, alright. After gagging from laughing so hard at his blatant untruths, I started referring to him as "My Sweatheart." Sometimes, I croon mockingly to Papi, "I loved you from the start, and you'll always be my sweatheart." And of course, "Let Me Call You Sweatheart" is de rigeur. If only I could train his sweat glands to produce some Virgin Mary images, I'd sell them for a cool million and we'd be filthy, stinkin rich.

Ummm, I happen to sweat distinctive patterns out of my body too. They're usually precisely skull shaped which sets Papi off tittering about how "my evilness is showing through." There will be no forthcoming pictures of my Skeletor sweat stains.

I chuckled when I found this pic on the Internet. Apparently, my Papi isn't the only one with "the gift." I'm glad that this guy stepped up to have himself photographed because no way did I want the world wide web sneaking a peek at the buff manliness of my Papi's chest. It wouldn't be fair of me to incite lustful thoughts in the minds of all you ladies........or men.