It’s official.

This fall, I am going to begin an English doctoral program in an absolutely kick-ass department. I visited campus last week and can’t even begin to express how psyched I am to get to work with this group of professors and students. They’re brilliant and open-minded and passionate about what they study, and they seem genuinely excited about what I want to study, too.

The closest I’ve gotten to being able to describe how I feel about this is comparing it to winning a gold medal in figure skating, but with less flesh-toned lycra:

...but just as much sparkle!

On the down side of this hotness, this means that the T-Dogg and I will be leaving D.C. come late summertime. So for those of you in Mid-Atlantic-Land, please indulge our demands to steal as much time with you as we can these next few months, all whilst bracing yourselves for some sort of going-away brouhaha that will likely involve meat grilling and Italian lawn sports and a criminally dangerous alcohol-to-water-in-the-middle-of-August consumption ratio. And those of you up in the Northeast, get ready for the invasion.

Ed. Note: I shortened this cause I didn’t want the bit about the application process to come off as being all cranky pants in an otherwise happy pants post. If you’d like me to regale you with the horrors sometime, buy me a drink and watch me go.

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9 responses to “It’s official.

  1. I don’t think we’re cool enough to be banned.

    Well, maybe T-Dogg.

  2. We’ll roll out the welcome waffles.

  3. Waffles!

    The thought did cross my mind that we’ll now be able to attend the annual waffle party, and said thought made me happy.

  4. Yippy! I’m so happy…that you’re so happy! Congratulations. Mucho love -C

  5. This is indeed stellar news!

    I want the inner secrets of how you did this so damn well so that Cari can apply them at a particular place she wants to go.

  6. Hooray hooray hooray! I am so delighted for you and gearing up for many visits to New England over the next 4 years.

  7. Thanks, guys! Our spare futon will be your spare futon, in whatever domicile we wind up in.

  8. Where, where, WHERE?

    You deserve it. You rock. I am blissed out for you, Dr. Tabak.

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