For anyone who thought the House had just broken down into bickering, finger-pointing, and open warfare, here's some cheering news. Guess who picked up the prestigious Legislative Study Group's Freshman of the Year award for dedication to sound public policy for Texas families?

None other than Austin's own rookie lawmaker Valinda Bolton!

If the Senate left for summer vacation with a degree of decorum, it was up to the House to continue in its role as the best theatre in the state.

While senators rolled back to their offices, to sine die parties, and home, the representatives were still at their desks in the chamber. It was scarcely the bare-knuckle brawl of the last few days: There were hugs, presents, and farewells. Many were carrying posters with pictures of the members, swapping them to get signed like yearbooks. On the podium, the gavel had been handed to the daughter of Texas City Dem Rep. Craig Eiland, a Little Miss Sunshine look-alike who determinedly whacked the hammer down when requested.

If it looked like the session was going to end up like a Memorial Day cook-out, think again. First, there was a bloody, drawn-out fight over Senate Bill 3, a heavily debated water bill that its opponents claim infringes on landholder rights and treats the countryside as nothing more than a water bottle for the cities. Nasty as it got, it was all done by the time Senate got out. Everyone thought that, in half an hour, the whole mess would be over, and they could head to all those parties.

Not so. Rep. Jim Dunnam, D-Waco, knew that everyone was tired and that this was the perfect time for a bad bill to get passed – when no one was looking.

Overheard on the back House mic, in response to Rep. Harold Dutton's pseudo-parliamentary inquiry as to what sine die means:

"I think it's Latin for Miller Time."

If the Senate is compared to one thing, more often than not, it's a club. There are rules, and there are codes of conduct, and there are behind-closed-doors agreements, but mostly it's 31 people sitting in a room trying to make things better. Never was that collegiate nature more obvious than last night with the end of session.

"I have a message from the speaker of the House," said Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst, "and he asks us, can we stay until midnight?"

The assembled Senate jokingly booed, then got on with the serious business of saying goodbye. Sure, there were some technical corrections to pass, but mostly there were farewells. Many wore tiny flashing lapel pins as they traipsed from desk to desk. The few die-hard politics watchers in the gallery got to see Jacksonville GOPer Robert Nichols and San Antonio Dem Leticia Van de Putte hug, while freshmen Dan Patrick and Austin's own Kirk Watson exchanged pleasantries.

At 8:08pm, with a technical correction to House Bill 12 concluding all business, it was up to Dean of the Senate John Whitmire, D-Houston, to ask Dewhurst to call the session to a close. Less than two weeks ago, the two had daggers drawn, but now they executed the formalities with good-natured banter. Dewhurst looked around and uttered the final words of the 80th session for this chamber: "The Senate is adjourned, sine die."

And the gavel came down.

Terry Keel, the new parliamentarian, and his deputy, Ron Wilson, are both former representatives – but neither is coming back to welcoming arms in the House.

Keel, who stood so close to the mic that he could be heard giving lines to Craddick like a theatrical stage prompter, already has a track record of perceived bullying on the floor and in committee. During the last regular session, the Austin GOPer tried to crowbar through legislation about lawyers for indigent defendants that would fast-track executions. When he didn't get his way, he threatened to scupper a judicial pay raise and immediately got slapped down by Sen. Rodney Ellis, D-Houston. He was also accused of trying to change the rules about the House General Investigating and Ethics Committee in an attempt to block District Attorney Ronnie Earle's prosecution of Tom DeLay.

Outside the House, he served as lawyer for former Austin Police Department Assistant Chief Jimmy Chapman, when he was accused of perjury, and APD Officer Michael Olsen, when accused of excessive force.

It seems everyone in the House has been dusting off their copy of the parliamentary rules. After lying low and letting his proxies take the flack for him on Sunday, Speaker Tom Craddick came back to the floor for sine die – and immediately faced criticism for bending the rules he said he was enforcing. The open of session soon became a series of parliamentary rules challenges – all whittling away at his last vestiges of authority,

First of all, Rep. Paul Moreno, D-El Paso, pondered the term "limited resolution," saying he'd never heard it before Craddick had used it.

Then Reps. Garnet Coleman, D-Houston, and Delwin Jones, R-Lubbock, took on the terms of motions Craddick had agreed to hear. Rep. Vicki Truitt, R-Southlake, wanted to introduce a House committee resolution, which would make a technical adjustment to the Sunset Safety Net Bill. Bit of a big one – this one would bolt Texas Department of Criminal Justice onto the bill. Technical adjustments are supposed to be minor adjustments, typos and such. Coleman and Jones pointed out that transferring a whole massive agency into the bill was scarcely a clerical error and that this was too massive to be included on the last day.

Top 10% has survived another session, but it could become a punching bag in another fight over the future of Texas higher education.

Senate Bill 101, which would have killed the university diversity measure, came to a crashing halt Sunday night when it went down 64-75 in the House. Rep. Helen Giddings, D-DeSoto, has been the rule's most bullish defender in the House Higher Education Committee and has pointedly rejected claims that it ill serves rural communities. In fact, her constant arguments over rival analyses of the data with committee Chair Geanie Morrison, R-Victoria, have made the normally dry Higher Ed worth turning up for with popcorn and a soda. However, it was left to Rep. Roberto Alonzo, D-Dallas, to lead the final charge against the bill. In his spirited defense, he said the problem was not that it filled too many places but that there weren't enough places to fill.

"Last week, we sat in this very House and met with the mothers and fathers and widows and children of young men and women who have gone to Iraq and Afghanistan to develop democracy and oust dictators. Can we demand less than that of ourselves?"

With these impassioned words, Rep. Pat Haggerty, R-El Paso, began a speech that ended with a quorum-busting mass walkout that may have further damaged the career of Speaker Tom Craddick but restored a little dignity to the House.

"We have a speaker," he continued, "who will not allow a vote on whether the people who elected him have the right to take him out of office. For the last 48 hours it has been the only big elephant in the room."

No liberal, the GOPer said the only way to end the farce was a roll-call vote. Since Speaker Pro Temp Rep. Sylvester Turner, D-Houston, wouldn't allow a formal vote, Haggerty did the next best thing. He called his own roll-call, yay or nay, on whether people wanted Craddick to go. When Turner tried to shut him down, he carried on. From Allen to Zerwas, he tried to move on – until he reached Dukes, when Turner finally begged with him to stop and not make reps break cover on their stance.

Haggerty then led a walkout of all who opposed Craddick to stand up and walk out. Turner tried to stumble on, bringing up GOP water carrier Phil King, R-Weatherford, on nuclear decommissioning, but the record vote showed that Haggerty's walkout had busted quorum by six votes.

It seems that the autocratic style of Speaker Craddick has worn off on his lieutenant and speaker pro tempore, Rep. Sylvester Turner

On Sunday night Turner announced, unilaterally, that the House would be continuing past midnight; House chief Dem Rep Jim Dunnam, D-Waco, wanted to stay and finish the work, but Rep. Abel Herrero, D-Corpus Christi, called for an adjournment. Turner said that, even though Herrero was on the mic when he asked for an adjournment vote, he hadn't been recognized on that motion, so Turner chose to ignore it.

Dunnam seemed shocked that Turner did the legislative equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears. "You really believe you don't have to hear a motion to adjourn?" he countered. Then he played parliamentarian himself, laying down House rules for Turner. "'Motions allowed during a debate: When a question is under debate, the following motions, and none other, shall be in order. And such motions shall have precedence in the following order. Number one, to adjourn.' And you're saying that you don't have to hear that?"

Dunnam then asked for an appeal of his ruling, and Turner said it was not a ruling, since he never accepted the motion. "What is it, Sylvester?" Dunnam retorted, "What is it?"

By this point, Dunnam himself had become so frustrated with Turner's behavior that he actually requested his own adjournment – which again Turner refused to hear.