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Graduation


Last Saturday Mackenzie graduated from St. Petersburg College with a bachelor's degree in Management & Organizational Leadership.  Back in my day they just called it Business.  I can't wait till she has the opportunity to get me organized.  

 Because we live in a day of Internet and streaming, I had the opportunity to see the ceremony in my cabin in the woods in Emerald City.  Therefore, I gathered family around at 8:30 am and we watched up to the point of her walking across the stage and receiving her diploma.  Then we high-tailed it downtown to the local watering hole, Beer Bellies, where a proud and beaming father bought the house a round.   And yes, there are locals seated at bar stools at 9:30 in the morning. 


In what turned out to be the first party in the cabin, pastries, cappuccino, and coffee were on hand for the assembled guests. 



I used my laptop to dial in the ceremony.  





Guests included S-I-L Holly, Wombie Mark, S-I-L Patti and her companion, Bailey. Funny thing was: the march across the stage was not alphabetical so we really had no idea when she was going to appear. So we were chatting away and then, all of a sudden we heard the Dean say, "Mackenzie Blythe". Seven or so years of studies culminating in a walk across a stage and then it was over.




This is Beer Bellies at 9:30 am on a Saturday. No need to snap a picture of those down there, but I was able to get Butch, the barista and server, and ex-Seatonite, who was more than willing to fix Bloody Mary's for a couple of us, but then we opted for good old cold beer. (I'm sure our new grad wouldn't dare use a grammatically incorrect and woefully run-on sentence like that.) The tab was reasonable, and the euphoria of the moment was such that we decided to stick around a while. This was travel day after all but the plane didn't leave till 5:17 pm so we felt quite comfortable in staying a bit and soaking up the glory of individual success and accomplishment. Congratulations, kid, now go manage and organize this screwed up world.

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