The End of 2010

Daughter and I began cleaning her room this evening. And it was AWESOME. For the first time, without any extra effort on my part, Daughter and I connected. It was a mom holding up items and a daughter saying either "Yes, keep;" "For the children;" (donate box) or "Trash." We laughed a lot (Daughter has such a fun personality), and we cried a little (reading Daughter's late mother's will, where she wrote a personal note "I love [Daughter] so much. What would we have all done without her?").

Daughter, believing she is now "grown up" and "almost 17" is more willing than ever before to donate her gently used toys. At times, her "throw" attitude was a little disconcerting, and once or twice she expressed her sadness at giving some toys away. I reassured her that she didn't have to give anything away, but she said she was OK. I am really impressed with her maturity. She knows she is ready to part with "little kid" toys, she also knows she is a little sad, and she is willing to do it anyways. Wow.

And then, she told me she smelled popcorn. I can't smell anything because of my cold, but it made sense. It is now 10 p.m., so if Husband and Teenager were making popcorn, we deserved to be in on this! I sent her downstairs, while I rearranged a few more piles. I walked downstairs, and she was making microwave popcorn by herself. I stuck my head in the bedroom, where Husband was trying to ensure we entered 2011 with the checkbook balanced. I discovered there was no popcorn prior to Daughter's batch. That goofy girl. We had a quick chat about not lying to get popcorn, and then sat down to watch iCarly.

Happy New Year! To many more like memories!

Chemo #6

ChoirFriend had her sixth chemo treatment today, and it went wonderfully. It was fast, the side effects should be minimal, and the best part - there are only two left!

Things went well this time because ChoirFriend had an allergic reaction last time. The allergic reaction included a rash and a continual fever that evolved into a hospital stay where ChoirFriend was treated to a lumbar puncture. Ow. To add insult to injury, her tests came back negative.

Turns out, if you react poorly to this first prescribed chemo, insurance will then kick-in to give you the "Cadillac Chemo" treatment. The Cadillac Chemo took 30 minutes to administer, as opposed to three hours, and is supposed to have less side effects. It is sad that women with breast cancer are forced to endure crappy chemo for the sake of someone's profit margin.

I don't pretend to have the answer; but a lumbar puncture is a pretty big price to pay for preferred chemo.


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Not So Scary...

Before:



After:



Admittedly, much of the mess has migrated to my dining room - boxes to be donated, boxes to be broken down and recycled, and boxes to be put into storage - but I'm happy with my progress!


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Out With The Old

Today was day one of my 2010 Clean Sweep. The living room is almost back to normal. I tried to convince Teenager we should put away Christmas decorations, but he resisted putting away Christmas before New Year's Day. Part of me agrees with him, so I let it go.

Most of my energy was focused on the kitchen. I threw out old food products (including some baking chocolate that expired in 2007) and rearranged the pantry. I made a shopping list for the Teenager, made the menu for the week, and even cooked supper. Ebunny, Husband's twin sister, stopped in and ate dinner with us. Husband joked that this was a very atypical evening, since I had actually cooked (Smart-aleck).

I like to create new systems for the year. So far, I have instituted the new pantry system. The new system consists of six bins, each on a separate shelf in the pantry, that are now labeled according to the Real Simple shopping list we utilize. Additionally, Daughter and Husband have a shared "Lunch Snack" drawer, with daughter's snacks in a smaller bin. All the snacks are taken out of their original packaging and mixed together. I'm curious to see if Husband and Daughter utilize the new system.

The Fifth (and Final) Day of Christmas

The highlight of the weekend was the first Christmas with SweetNiece. She's so cute, especially when she smiles and tries to "talk" to her godmother. While I'm beginning to catch some baby-fever, watching FarmerBoy and SweetTalker reminded me that babies are pretty time-consuming in those first few years. The Teenager and Daughter, plus law school, keep me busy enough for now.

A sad note was the first Christmas without Grandma. It was odd not gathering at her house with aunts, uncles, cousins, and even some first-cousins-once-removed. I miss her.

While there are a few Christmas loose ends that need to be tied up this week (such as the annual Christmas card, a few gifts that need to be delivered, and a food reimbursement check to FamousDiva), Christmas in this house has come to a close. This week will be spend preparing for the transition to 2011!


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Merry Christmas

It took a little work, but here is the picture that was supposed to accompany yesterday's post :-)

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

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Third Day of Christmas: The Little Church

First, this post is being delivered via my phone. Amazing.

Second, I am on the farm and loving every minute.

Third, mary and joseph and baby jesus made their annual appearance at the little church.

The Second Day of Christmas: Technology!

Day 1 of the Christmas Phones.

Over the past two years, phone technology has really taken off. The jump was relatively hard for husband and I. Repeatedly, as we tried to set up our new G2 phones, we found ourselves asking the Teenager questions like "How do you turn this on?" and "How do I get back to that other screen" and "Where did that menu go?" It brought back memories of having to explain how the VCR worked to older relatives. Except now I'm the older relative.

Re-reading yesterday's post, I have to smile. Every year something happens to remind me that real-life Christmas is not a Hallmark Card, and that a sense of humor is invaluable towards keeping my sanity. Today was wonderful. Daughter loved her pink guitar, pink phone, and pink mini-computer; Teenager loved his PS3; and Husband and Teenager enjoyed playing with their mini-marshmallow guns. After gift opening, Daughter sang a few impromptu songs, and we alternated between watching movies and watching the Teenager play his gaming system. As Daughter says, "Happy Family Day, Merry Christmas!"


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The First Day of Christmas: The Annual Christmas Tragedy

This is my fifth Christmas as The Mom. You know, the director of great Christmas memories. Prior to being a mom, I thought Christmas was a magical, wonderful day. After my first Christmas as a mom, working tirelessly and perhaps frantically to make sure the children had THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER, I called my mom crying. Perhaps it was all the stress, or post-present depression, or whatever, but my mom told me that she, too, remembered having a good cry near Christmas as a young mom.

This year, I shopped early. I delegrated wrapping to husband. We decided we would have "Christmas Eve" tonight, and "Christmas" tomorrow, and then go to the farm. Perfect Christmas 2010 would start with dinner at 5 p.m. and then the Christmas Eve-eve-eve service at church at 7:30 p.m. Perhaps a light snow fall.

The Tragedy began with me getting out of work late. Husband made Swedish meatballs, and was running behind as well. The family ate dinner in shifts. At 7 p.m., we all began looking for a missing movie to loan to a friend, but at 7:20 we all gave up. The family drove to church and was met with a full parking lot. Oh well - we made it.

As we walked in, it was apparent (as usual), that we were late. Everyone else was already seated and the pastor had begun his sermon, but people turned and smiled when they saw us. There weren't four seats together, so I ended up sitting "alone" without my family. As I sat in my seat, still for the first time all day, I prepared for the Lord to send me a Christmas Realization.

And I got one. I realized the service had started at 7:00 p.m.

2010. The year we crashed the Christmas Eve-eve-eve Service.


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Caffeine and Acetaminophen

That's how I got through my day.

A coughing fit woke me up at 3:30 a.m. So I got up. I drove down to school early in an effort to beat traffic. I was a little drowsy, but made it in one piece.

I was dragging. So I did what any tired law student would do when sick - I drugged myself. I swallowed my DayQuil pills with a coffee chaser. Repeat every four hours.

I've now been up over 17 hours. Don't worry, I'll get to sleep tonight. I just picked up a bottle of Nyquil...

Snow!

While visiting the teenager last night, we took a self-guided tour of the U of M snow piles.

Impressive.

The moment has been cherished for the most part. There was a point when a poorly-loaded dishwasher almost pushed me over the edge. But somehow, saying the words "How can Christmas come to a messy house?" reminded me that only I decide whether I will enjoy the holidays! So I will not stress that the scary room is extra scary right now, or that the laundry room is in quite a state of disarray, or that there is a basket of kitchen towels that has been growing for a month. Christmas is coming this week, the shopping is done, and all I need to do is find the time to enjoy it.

Attitude Adjustment

This morning I woke up and Christmas was only five days away.

Don't freak out, there is actually a week between us and Christmas day. But this morning, Husband and I decided our little family Christmas should be Thursday. We plan to be on the farm for Christmas with my family, and will arrive Christmas Eve for the traditional Sunday School program in the Little Church. The little family likes to enjoy a full day of Christmas festivities, and Thursday was seemingly the best day.

Except now I had only a mere five days to get mom duties done for Christmas, clerk duties done at work, and tax duties done at school. I got up, studied some Tax Code, then did some online shopping.

Somewhere between American Eagle and Macy's, I tried to put my computer on the coffee table -- one handed. My other hand was probably doing something very important, like running the remote control or texting on my phone. As the computer slipped out of my hand, it landed hard on its side. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. But then the charging cord fell out. Except the end of the charging cord was still in my computer...HUSBAND!!!

While husband made a valiant attempt to super-glue the cord, the writing was on the wall. An emergency trip to the cities must be made to obtain a new cord from Best Buy. A law student without a working computer is one thing; a law student who is also a mom with a budget, deadline and the making of life-long memories on the line is Quite Another.

The tragedy has a surpise ending: It all turned out great. Earlier this week, I realized that yet again, Christmas had more or less snuck up on me. One minute it's Thanksgiving, the next minute you're running around Hallmark displays trying to find that special ornament when even the display ornaments have been picked off! But being "forced" to take an evening off, to have dinner with the Teenager and then do some light Christmas shopping in addition to the emergency cord, was just the perspective I needed.

My attitude is my choice. The next few weeks of the holidays will challenge me to Cherish the Moment. I am brought back to that earlier quest, and while my Tax grade is important, I won't be framing it or scrapbooking it! That honor is reserved for fun memories enjoyed in the presence of loved ones.

My Perfect Nativity

While in Europe this past summer, I was on the lookout for a nativity set. If you asked me to describe what I was looking for, I would have said I wanted a wooden set, nothing too artsy or too cutesy, but with all the main characters: Mary, Joseph, some wisemen, a shepherd, some animals... oh and baby Jesus. Basically, I would know it when I saw it.

When I saw this nativity set, I knew it must be mine. For the most part, it was everything I ever wanted... plus Eeyore. For whatever reason, three solemn wise men, a somber shepherd and his solitary sheep, and reverent Mary and Joseph with sleeping baby Jesus were joined by cartoon-donkey Eeyore.

I can hear him now. "Pathetic. Jesus, the Savior of the World, born in a manger. We couldn't even get him a room in that second-rate motel. Pathetic." And Baby Jesus simply laughs at the silly donkey who worries about everything and perhaps tugs on one of his prominent ears. And Eeyore, despite his whining, has to smile.

Maybe the new nativity-painter's last job was working at Euro Disney, and on his first day painting he didn't realize the donkey was supposed to be less, er, surprised. Whatever the reason, I love my nativity and my little Eeyore!


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My Justice Thomas Story

Last year, United States Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas visited the law school. It was quite the event. It was mostly question-and-answer, and many of my classmates asked really deep, insightful and substantively complex questions.

I had no plans to ask anything, and honestly, I don't remember why I suddenly decided I was going to ask a question. I remember HarryPotter giving me the look, implying that now was not the time for fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants antics.

The microphone came towards me, and I was nervous. "Justice Thomas, we hear a lot about work-life balance..." I started off.

Justice Thomas interrupted me, "What's that."

I was nervous. Everyone else in the room knew he had cracked a joke... except me. I proceeded to EXPLAIN to one of the SMARTEST, WISEST PERSONS in the entire NATION what I thought WORK-LIFE BALANCE meant. I am rolling my eyes at myself as I type.

"Well, uh, you know, the idea that your work shouldn't be your life...." (what a great definition)

Justice Thomas again interrupted me and kindly said, "I know what it means, I was just kidding..." and went on to give his answer. He added that it was a good question, which was a welcome salve to my burning cheeks. He honestly shared that there wasn't much balance in the early days, but that for the sake of his wife and family he carved some out, and that he likes to drive the camper on vacations.

Afterward, Justice Thomas was signing books and taking pictures with students. I approached with my never-been-used legal pad in a new leather portfolio (a gift from the law school's clinic program). I apologized to Justice Thomas for defining work-life balance for him, and explained I was nervous, all in my rambling, goofy way.

He let out the traditional Thomas laugh: OH HO HO! And signed my portfolio "Nice question!! Justice Thomas." I had forgotten all about it until Trial Day last week. And that's my Justice Thomas story.

My Double-Life

I haven't posted for the past few days, because I have been busy living the double-life of a criminal. I suggest reading this overview before diving into the emails.

It all started when I took a Chicago Manual of Style from the law journal office. I took it home to work on my assignment last weekend. I was in a hurry, it was late, so I grabbed it and left. A little voice in my head said, "Is it OK to just take this?"

I rationalized I would bring it back as soon as I was done, and there were other manuals on the shelf, so nobody would ever notice.

And then, last Wednesday, everyone on law journal received a mass email from an editorial board member asking members to please sign out the CMS books. I knew what was not written in the email - that a CMS book was missing and was not signed out.

And thus began my life of crime. Having just ended my Terror Trifecta Week, I was in the mood for something 100% unrelated to learning in any way. So I took on a new identity: the CMS Thief.

I tried to create a gmail account. In an effort to throw the young pups off the scent of this old lady, I put 1/1/95 as my birthday. Except you have to be 18 to have a gmail account, so my computer was blocked. It was an honest mistake - that I made again when creating my facebook page. Facebook was a little more lenient in letting me try again.

And so my double-life began. By day, I was a normal law student trudging through finals. By computer, I was the Dark Lord of Journal Antics. Or something like that. Only LawLady knew it was me, and she did everything she could to help me out.

I had a hunch that I was in over my head when people began making pop culture references. And I had no idea people would analyze the pictures I posted so closely! But I realized my life as a criminal was short when HardyBoy1 wrote his thesis on why I must be the CMS Thief. HardyBoy1 and I have spoken approximately 100 words to each other since the beginning of the school year, and yet his analysis was freakishly accurate...

So, my double life is at its end. Which is probably good, because it does take a lot of time to live one life, much less two. Congratulations to HardyBoy1, may I be the first of many thieves you unmask!


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The CMS Emails

This email chain covers the highlights of my double-life crime.

From: Cms Thief
Date: December 9, 2010 12:10:36 AM CST
To: [Journal Editor]
Subject: The CMS Manual

DeAr [ManagingE]:

THe CMs IS saFe - FOr NOw. ForWarD ThIs To THe jouNal stAfF... bECause I AM tOo LaZy tO TyPE in AlL 40 EMail AddReSSes. Or ELsE thE MaNual MIGht StaRT LoSinG "ChAPTers" Of ITs LIfe. I WIll FORwaRD MY DemaNDs SoOn.

THe CMs THIEf

****************************

From: [ManagingE]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 1:12 AM

Oh NO!!! Code Red Journal staff!

We have received our first ransom note from the CMS Thief!!! Who is behind this dastardly deed!?! Type A Journal kids would NEVER take an office copy of the Chicago Manual of Style from the office without signing it out on the sheet on the side of the shelf! We have WAY too much respect for the rules. Therefore, there must be a thief in our midst!

[ManagingE]

****************************

On Thu, Dec 9, 2010 at 9:38 AM, [YogaEditor] wrote:

We are indeed dealing with a shady character here. Too lazy to type all the email addresses, yet not too lazy to create a new email address and write every other letter in caps. I wouldn't underestimate this bandit.

[YogaEditor]

****************************

From: [HardyBoy1]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 10:17 AM

A shady character, perhaps. Or worse! Who alternates caps but angrey teenagers and complete psychotics?! I just hope this villain doesn't intend to deliver the CMS from its present tree-side captivity to a kind that is infinitely more terrifying.

...it puts the comma in the basket.

****************************

From: Cms Thief
Date: December 9, 2010 6:01:11 PM CST

I've overheard some conversations about me. Let me take some time to answer some of your questions:

Q. What has spurred the CMS Thief?

A: Receiving this email: "On a much lamer note, please remember to sign out the CMS manuals when you take them out of the Journal office. The sign-out sheet is hanging on the supply cabinet. Also, the full version of CMS is available online."

Your reasoning is lame. Why are you burdening me with an additional rule requiring signing out a CMS manual when you say yourself that the full version of CMS is available online? Your lack of a response has spurred me to torture the CMS manual. See picture attached.

Q. Are you an angry teenager or a complete psychotic?

A: I'll ask the questions here, [HardyBoy1]. What the heck does "...it puts the comma in the basket." mean?

Q. Are you lazy?

A: Well, I am a journal member who is objecting to having to take two seconds to sign out a book. You be the judge. As it is [yogaeditor], we can't all be cover models for law school publications. Some of us have to make our mark by being a "shady character."

****************************

From: [HardyBoy2]
Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 19:54:13

"A: I'll ask the questions here, [HardyBoy1]. What the heck does "...it puts the comma in the basket." mean?"

We can now reasonably surmise that the thief is a journal member who has never seen Silence of the Lambs.

Seriously, CMS Thief? Never seen Silence of the Lambs? COME ON.

It puts the CMS on the shelf, lest the thief redeem himself.

[HardyBoy2]

****************************

From: [Pez]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 8:37 PM

CMS thief also has a nice spoon rest on the stove, a colorful soup pot, and a very clean stovetop. Actually, the kitchen in generally looks very colorful, kind of like the velour robe and or smoking jacket the CMS Thief is wearing...

Mr. Heffner, please give back our book...

Time to go feed Precious...

[Pez]

****************************

From: [MovieLingo2L]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 8:45 PM

If the thief makes any cash demands, I'll be the bag man. I will need help with the hand off, though. I can't drive the car, handle the money and talk on the phone all at the same time.

[MovieLingo2L]

P.S. No uzis, please.

****************************

Meanwhile, in another email chain

From: [LawLady]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 8:19 PM
To: [Freetobeme]

How does [HardyBoy2] know you so well?!

From: [Freetobeme350]
Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 21:16:08
To: [LawLady]

I know! this is getting scary. I had to have [Husband] help me identify the big lebowski reference...

From: [LawLady]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 9:28 PM
To: [Freetobeme350]

Clearly you should just have [Husband] take over. :)

****************************
LawLady, in an attempt to throw people off the scent...

From: [LawLady]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 9:27 PM

Seems as though you are trying a little too hard in your assertions of innocence, [Pez]. What's that in one of the pics? A blanket keeping our dear book comfy? Or a cozy, warm sweater vest?

Although, the early 90s teal satin mumu sleeve isn't like you. On the other hand, you did wear that lumberjack shirt, and that threw me for a loop.

Perplexing...

****************************

From: [Pez]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 9:42 PM

again, go back through all your evidence...

That Christmas tree is way too nice to be ours. We only have a few random ointments [my wife] made in kindergarten and pictures of pretty ladies I cut out of the Sears catalogue on our tree. Plus, I have a dog - and as a dog owner yourself, you know that you can't hang anything in the bottom 3 feet of the tree unless you want your ornaments to get Mauer'ed off the tree by the dog's tail...

BTW - Mauer'ed = dog's tail hits ornament off the tree and it harmlessly rolls under the couch, not a towering shot that does any damage.

[Pez]

****************************

From: [HardyBoy1]
Sent: Thursday, December 09, 2010 10:16 PM

Clean lifestyle, cigar smoker perhaps, cavaliering (of course)... and insane.

The scoundrel could be wearing a CMS dust jacket like its his own skin AS WE SPEAK!!! We only have a vague notion of what kind of incivilities as going on at the moment! (see image)

I'm not sold on the dogs, though. The thief had the wherewithal and ingenious cunning to create a new email account--WOW!, what technological mastery--is it not so far fetched that he/she had his spouse hold the book, or took the picture at a parent's house?! Everybody is a suspect.

[HardyBoy1]

****************************

From: Cms Thief [cmsthief@yahoo.com]
Sent: Friday, December 10, 2010 10:06 AM

OK, a few confessions.

1. As CMS Thief, I am a major amateur. I don't have a gmail account because I put in 1/1/95 as my fake birthday, and that's too young for an email account, so my computer was blocked. And then, to make matters worse, I did it again on facebook and had to totally clear my cookies. Sigh!

2. I have absolutely zero pop culture knowledge. I had no idea that was Silence of the Lambs, and my significant other clued me in on Big Lebowski. I began to think I was way over my head at that point.

3. I could totally imagine myself accidentally signing my name on either this account or facebook, which is why I framed [DFLFan]!

4. So, the real CMS Thief is still at large. Don't worry, I will eventually screw up for real and you'll all know who I am. I'll make a deal with you - once everyone on journal submits their guess on who it is, and why, I will reveal my other identity.

Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah for [Brilliant],

CMS

****************************

The votes start pouring in. I become a quick leader, due to emails like the following:

From: [OtherAsian] (Think Glee, except we aren't dating)
Sent: Friday, December 10, 2010 11:19 AM

I have no clue, but I'd guess that these additional facts are true:

1) They live in a house not an apartment (tile on the walls?)
2) Wear's a blue bathrobe (does that rule out all the men?)
3) Cooks spaghetti on a clean stove (does that rule out all the men?)

If [freetobeme350] fits all these cats, then I would fourth the nomination.

****************************

From: [Freetobeme350]
Sent: Friday, December 10, 2010 11:55 AM

I feel so honored that 2.5 people ([OtherAsian] was kind of a weak, qualified guess) think I am cunning enough to be the CMS Thief.

I suspect [Soma] as well. She was just in the journal office, and her first words to me were "wow the CMS Thief is really filling up my inbox!" When I told her that [YogaEditor] thought it was her, she laughed nervously and said, "uh, yeah, it's me, Ha. Ha."

[Freetobeme350]

****************************

From: [HardyBoy1]
Sent: Friday, December 10, 2010 1:39 PM

SO lets think about this...

1. thief writes in a patently female voice. I point directly to the following: the "nice decorations" comment (what male would even think to commend a person on decorations?); use of exclamation points (again, men don't generally employ the exclamation point in normal written communication, especially after statements such as "that would be a lot of emails to type" or "nice decorations" or "sigh" or "that's why I framed [DFLFan]"); when I referenced the alternating caps earlier, I failed to mention that those teenagers I knew who typed in such a way were all female.

1a. thief states that her "significant other clued her in on Lebowski." Lebowski (back me up [HardyBoy2]) is a paramount example of a male-oriented film; I submit that there are few couples whose female counterpart clues the male counterpart in on a blatant reference to Lebowski. Especially in MN, where our winters force us to stay inside for months at a time watching movies and drinking Schlitz. PLUS, the Coens are from Mpls...

2. thief gave a shout-out to [Brilliant] & her yule-time persuasion... charmed. Probably a friend of [Brilliant], probably a pretty good friend of [Brilliant]. So most likely a 3L.

3. thief is active on the chain over the last eighteen hours (like the rest of us losers, some of whom have independently created works of art of various media depicting the sitch... including you, [freetobeme350]: nice pics) as she has been consistently weighing into the rapport. And let's be honest, cunning or not, who couldn't resist trying to deflect suspicion by either making false accusations or simply participating in the conversation. After all, and as Chaucer said, "the guilty think all talk is of themselves." We're all fine exhibits of the type A personality, so I repeat: who couldn't resist.

4. That leaves us with: [freetobeme350], [LawLady], [J.D.Mommy], [YogaEditor]. [J.D.Mommy] is probably too busy with finals and the fam and whatnot, though perhaps not too busy to pull a prank like this--but she does appreciate a good joke. [LawLady] is busy with AE duties and finals and a cold (I am not a complete stalker, I just know this from our group's article debacle) so it is unlikely that its her. [YogaEditor]... nah, I wouldn't believe she would want to draw this kind of attention to herself nor would she, at the end, care to steal the CMS manual and hold it up for ransom, take torture photos and evade the LJ staff like this. [Freetobeme350].

5. [Freetobeme350] IS the kind of person who does not mind (and actively pursues) public attention with cynical humor. Consider our past the all-staff meetings: she's the one woo-hooing and shouting (much appreciated) peanut-gallery comments to [ChiefE] and [ManagingE] all the time ("We love you [ChiefE]!") (exclamation point intentional). And moreover, in her reply to the numerous accusations she asserts her feelings of flattery over the apparent belief by some members that she is "cunning enough to be the CMS Thief," which is followed by a weak accusation of [Soma]... a ploy. Yet isn't it strange that thief herself states on numerous occasions that she is "amateur," "in way over her head." Recall also the facebook/gmail incidents... [freetobeme350], trying to imply that you are not, in fact, cunning doesn't preclude the conclusion that you are not a person who specifically describes herself as not cunning. The devil's in the details...

[HardyBoy1]


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3/5 and 5/8: Over the hump!

I'm 3/5 of the way done with classes, and ChoirFriend is 5/8 of the way done with Chemo! It's all downhill from here...

TERROR TRIFECTA WEEK

Three classes down, two left to go. I survived Terror Trifecta Week! (This is the Teenager as the Ghost of Christmas Future a few years ago. Scary, huh? Thanks to PhotoChick for the nice shot - I miss you!!!)

Terror Trifecta Week

The past few weeks have been a little, er, hectic. Every day brought me closer to Terror Trifecta Week. And now it's here (well, I'm 2/3 done, but still).

First off, Terror Trifecta Week eve was spent with the Teenager in the cities. He joined Husband's undergraduate fraternity, and we were present for his induction. Husband was given the honor of reading the charge, basically the organization's mission that members will live lives of strong moral character. It was neat that Husband and Teenager could share that moment. Daughter was in teenager heaven. A whole house full of cute college guys? She actually ditched the Teenager to go sit in the parlor on the couch with the boys.

Sunday night involved an hour of volleyball coaching. I love coaching.

Monday my 3,000 word Crime and Punishment paper was due, as well as four weekly journals (the kind of thing you say to yourself, wow I should write one every week, instead of waiting until the day before they are due and writing four). Saturday's work paid off, and Monday was relatively stress-free. I did some editing, but it was all turned in by about 2 p.m.

Monday night was daughter's (and ChoirFriend's) choir concert. It went really well! I was so proud of daughter, she did a good job watching ChoirFriend, and I could tell she knew the songs very well. Her lips moved in synchronization with the choir, she had let me give her hair some volume with a blowdryer - she looked like a 16-almost-17 year old woman! And ChoirFriend, with her lovely and fashionable hat, did a fabulous job as well. Watching you on stage was inspiring, because you're such a survivor ChoirFriend!

Today was my "final" for Trial Ad class: Showcase my skills in a trial with partner HarryPotter. Harry and I have been friends since 1L year, and have always complemented each other (and complimented each other, but that's not what I meant). Tonight, my concrete-sequential bulldozer style with his abstract-random laid-back balance produced two verdicts in our favor!

I knew today was going to go well when I opened up my legal notepad and found a note from Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas: Nice Question!! (Short story, last year he visited law school and I had him sign my notebook. I'll tell the long story sometime soon).

So I'm about to head to the Spare Room, in anticipation of the final day: Small Firm presentations. After tomorrow, all I have left to do is learn a semester of Federal Income Tax in 12 days...

Oh dear.

The Deer Theory

According to the deep philosopher, Pez (The original Deer Theory is Pez's, the explanation below includes a few author extrapolations):

Dating is like deer hunting. The goal is that, at the end of the season, you shoot yourself a deer and take it home and marry it. Or something like that.

Now, everyone by right gets a free pass to the deer farm at least once in their life. It's called high school. Think about it: you're on the hunt, and the object you are hunting is in a closed environment, milling about, and usually there are several herds to choose from. The downside is that both the hunter and the deer are young and inexperienced. The hunter might shoot the first deer he sees, not realizing there were other and better options.

It is true that many people do bag a deer on the high school deer farm and are eternally happy they did. But for those hunters who did not get a deer this time around, who perhaps spent too much time competing for the same deer that other hunters were pursuing, or that caught a deer but then didn't know what do next, or maybe was too busy climbing trees to worry about deer - for those hunters, a choice must be made. Will you try and track a deer in the wild, or will you pay several thousand dollars for another ticket to the deer farm?

Hunters why buy another ticket realize the college deer farm is likely their last opportunity for easy pickin', and don't waste too much time looking for the biggest rack. But for some hunters, it just doesn't work out. At the end of the day, the deer farm is closed and the hunter is now having to find a deer in the wild. Finding a deer in the wild is a much harder thing. Suddenly, the deer aren't penned up in a predictable and reliable spot. It becomes a lot more work to even get close to a deer, much less bag one!

And so concludes The Deer Theory. There is no moral to this story. It is simply an excellent analogy to the human plight, and I thought it would be fun to refer to it in future posts.

My dad says...

In my facebook message inbox, in regards to yesterday's post:

"I vote for trendy. Was [husband] saying it needs a hat?"

You make me laugh Dad!

Today, I rolled out of bed around 8:45 a.m. I began working on my paper about 9:30 a.m. Husband and Daughter left for Husband's dad's Christmas up North. I took a break to eat at 3 p.m. I resumed at 4 p.m. and worked until Husband and Daughter returned, about 7:30 p.m. I worked a few more hours after eating some Chinese, and now I'm basically done. About 12 hours of paper-writing.

Yes, all I did today was eat, sleep and write a paper. I am still wearing my pajamas. I'm faced with the very strong possibility that I will return to bed without ever changing out of them. Most of the time, I'd agree with you that that is gross. But today...

Confusing

Dress: $128
Shoes: $69
Necklace: $20
Spanks: Priceless

This is what $233 and 2 hours of time can get you. I was happy.

I came home Friday, wearing my fabulous finds. Husband's reaction? Silence.

I said, What do you think of the dress?

He furrowed his brow in thought. Oh dear. Eventually, he came up with, "Confusing."

Confusing? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? After a period of interrogation, all he could come up with was that it was very plain, he wasn't prepared, and that it looked like an Amish dress. He might have said something like, Do you see other people wearing dresses like that? If so, are they also wearing bonnets?

So this is your opportunity. Trendy? Or Amish?


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Inconsolable and Inflexible

I'm not flexible.

Mocha tried to tell me. As I left the house, she looked at my suit hanging in the entryway closet, and looked back at me. I walked away and into the car and drove 70 miles to the cities.

I hopped out of my car and my cell phone fell to the ground. I swore. A super sweet and perky classmate comes around my car, having also just parked, and chattered away about her AWESOME DAY. I open my backseat door and realized what Mocha had known all along. I think I swore again.

AwesomeDayGirl did her best to console bitter me as we walked from the parking ramp to school. But stress makes me inflexible and inconsolable. We met a friend, dressed in a suit, who was walking to the ramp. She said Hi, how are you?

I took this as an open invitation and ranted (while continuing on my way, yelling over my shoulder) that "I LEFT MY SUIT AT HOME AND IT MAKES ME MAD." I walked a few more steps and then added "MERRY CHRISTMAS." Evidencing I still have common decency, I began to feel a little bad for AwesomeDayGirl, who WAS having an awesome day until she ran into Debbie Downer. I apologized for not being able to get over it. We parted ways.

I went to the elevator. I rode up with another classmate. I had her trapped in a small, enclosed space so she was my "captive" audience. She laughed nervously at my rant. Ironically, we ran into AwesomeDayGirl again (being that she was having an awesome day, she must have taken the stairs), and I apologized to her a second time that I apparently still hadn't gotten over it.

Then, before class started, I shared the story about three more times to several different groups of people. AwesomeDayGirl sits two rows up and two seats over, so I'm sure she wanted to throw her laptop at me. I apologized again. When I'm tired and stressed, I apologize. A LOT.

Since I have a work party in a few hours, and another formal lunch engagement tomorrow, I need to go downtown after class and buy a suit. SIGH! But I think I am finally getting over it. Hopefully I haven't totally ruined AwesomeDayGirl's afternoon! (Sorry)

A Visit from VBDragon

On an otherwise dreary day of homework and school and journal and Microsoft Word, VBDragon stopped by and brightened my day.

While I have lauded VBDragon's athletic abilities, tonight I was so impressed with her character. A few weeks ago, she had asked me to write her a letter of recommendation. There were a few questions I wanted to ask her. I wasn't 100% sure they were appropriate questions to ask of teenagers you weren't related to, but when she stopped by to pick up some things, we began talking and it just seemed like the right time. So I asked my hard questions, the kind that make teenagers squirm. And I was overjoyed (and relieved!) at the answers.

What makes VBDragon special is her self-awareness. The world tells teenagers they are only going to be happy if they are popular, have a boyfriend/girlfriend, and party. It takes a special young woman to glean the truth from her surroundings, to have the courage to find her own way, to make the hard decisions, and to be OK with being different. VBDragon's outlook on life far surpasses where I was at when I was 18. Maybe even 28.

The thing is, in high school (and in life), it's much easier to live like a Christian if you're totally isolated from the world. In high school, I had the popularity value of a kleenex. I'm pretty sure God created me to be a pudgy nerd-bag in high school because if I was athletic, popular and hot, I would have been an alcoholic hoe-bag. So when I look at VBDragon, who has enough athletic ability and attractive features to do some real damage if that's the kind of life she wanted, I am thoroughly impressed at her ability to say NO! to the world.

One of my favorite memories with VBDragon occurred a few years ago. I hosted a youth Bible Study/sand volleyball game. The teenager came, and while tall he hadn't quite mastered coordination. I, like always, was being more of a coach and less of an encouraging adult. After one particularly cutting remark, VBDragon looked at him consolingly and said, That was mean! I remember being very convicted by her words. She was right, I was way out of line. But I was more amazed that a junior high girl who was an amazing volleyball player even noticed that someone else was feeling bad. Much less say something comforting to an awkward teenage boy.

I don't want to put any undue pressure on VBDragon - she's gonna make mistakes. But I have faith in her ability to learn, to trudge through the hard times, and to have the courage to do what needs to be done. Thanks for brightening my day!

If Only Stressing Out Was a Work-Out

In anticipation of Terror Trifecta Week, I've been pretty busy. I wish stress constituted a high-calorie workout, but I'm pretty sure I'm getting larger by the day.

For example, last night I stayed in the Spare Room, which by the way does not have reliable internet, hence no post yesterday. I confess that last night I had two suppers. The first one was two slices of cold pizza devoured during class. The second one was several hours later when Legally Blond made a healthy dinner of chicken breast and vegetables. In my defense, Legally Blond's healthy chicken replaced the Papa John's pizza I wanted to order. At least, that's what I told myself as I ate my second dinner.

I had Journal meeting at 8 a.m. For breakfast, I had a piece of gum. I wasn't overly hungry... maybe because I ate two suppers. Then, for lunch I HAD to go to Buca because I had a $10 off coupon that expired today. The catch was that I had to spend $20 to get the discount. My plan was to spend $20 and pay $10. I ended up spending $30 and paying $20. (You win this round, Buca. Drat your ingenious marketing and well-thought out profit scheme). Needless to say, my spaghetti and pop and bread and calamari (and salad!) weighed heavy on my gut and my pocketbook.

By early afternoon I needed a distraction. So THH and I walked to Caribou to spend our $5 giftcards that we won in class yesterday. Five dollars gets you a large Ho Ho Dark Mint Mocha. Did I need a large? No. But it was free. It was there. I drowned my stress in 20 oz. and 640 calories of chocolaty goodness.

The pendulum swung, and I didn't eat supper. At the normal time anyways. I was feeling a little guilty, but mostly busy preparing for my pretend pretrial. So I compensated by driving back North and eating some comfort food - a bowl of minute rice and cheddar cheese, with an egg nog/milk cocktail. I love carbs.

So here I sit, reflecting upon my horrible dietary choices, full of starch and food-remorse. But that's the thing... I'm not really remorseful. If I was truly upset, I would change! But I don't. WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Maybe its the egg nog talking, but I'm beginning to lose hope in my free to be me dreams. Perhaps I'm destined to be trapped by my own lack of self-control...destined to eat myself to death...and fail law school...and live all alone, with pasta as my only friend...

I think I need to go to bed.


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Which Bulb Is Broken?

Dear Future Family,

We were in a hurry today, and didn't do a very good job of packing up the Christmas decorations. We realize this will eventually cause you considerable problems, but we are OK with that today.

Sincerely,

Family of January 2010

Insurance Plans for Personal Stupidity

Today I went Christmas shopping at the T-mobile store. The first time Husband and I purchased phones for the kids, we learned we would get a great deal on new phones for renewing our contract. The kids were very surprised when they opened up their new phones on Christmas morning.

Two years later, when our contract needed to be renewed, we got new phones for Christmas, and allowed the teenager to pick out the one he wanted. We made him leave the store when we actually bought it, and then put it under the tree.

But this year, being the end of a two-year cycle, the teenager knew it was time for a new phone. We dispensed with the act and let him and daughter stay as we purchased the phones.

My negotiating lawyer skills were on overdrive. Faux Christmas shopping (when there is no surprise and everyone knows what they are getting) is not magical, and makes me a little crabby. I first asked the manager, a blond kid in his mid-twenties, if we could get some kind of special discount for being such long-term customers. He said no. But persistence pays off, and a later request for free accessories got me some minor fees waved. Good enough.

My finest moment was when we were checking out with J-man, the best customer service rep I've had in a long time. J-man charmed the bitchy lawyer right out of me, responding to my cross-examination questions on fees, prices and plans with a smile. At one point he explained the tethering policy, and how the phone warranty did not cover meltdowns resulting from unauthorized platform use. We were discussing the insurance plan for the phones, and in a moment of lawyer-smugness I asked, "What events does this policy NOT cover? Will it cover all acts of personal stupidity?"

He responded, "It covers everything but Acts of War."

I, thinking he was getting back to this tethering policy regarding unauthorized platforms, and wanting to show my mainstream media prowess, said, "Oh, you mean the computer game?"

Husband, teenager, and J-man looked at me with their mouths open. Husband broke the silence.

"No, he means if you throw your phone to protect yourself from a bullet."

J-man followed up with "If you're planning to go to the Middle-East, leave your phone at home."

Apparently the phone's insurance plan can't cover all my acts of personal stupidity.


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Black Friday 2011

Black Friday 2009, Teenager and I left the house in a hurry. We were late; we were supposed to pick up ChoirFriend five minutes prior, and then pick up the Teenager's new girlfriend. I was looking through my purse and running out the door when my Doc Martin's slipped on the frosty deck. I tried to catch myself and was somewhat successful - I planted my right leg, but the rest of me kept falling. I heard the snap. Husband and I barreled down country roads. To the hospital. For my broken leg.

Black Friday 2010, ChoirFriend swung into the driveway at 7:45 a.m. We were in a hurry. We weren't late, but that might be because ChoirFriend learned from last year and decided she would pick me up. I hopped into the car just after 8 a.m., and we barreled down the freeway. To the hospital. For ChoirFriend's chemo treatment.

ChoirFriend and I are not very happy with spending two consecutive Black Fridays in the hospital. We decided that Black Friday 2011, we are going to take full advantage of the day. We are going to get up early, be crazy shoppers, and make Teenager go with us to the Cheesecake Factory and a movie. Until then...

Where's the Turkey?

Somewhere in this photo is a turkey, made out of funyuns and held together with EZ cheese. Where's the turkey?

It was a fabulous Thanksgiving. The food was good, and the company and laughter was even better. I spent most of the afternoon in tears, laughing at stories or games or whatever silly thing happened at that moment. I really couldn't have asked for a better Thanksgiving.

A hint on the turkey: Famous Diva made it to decorate the top of her green bean casserole.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Eve

Thanksgiving is Husband's Holiday. He essentially trains all year for this one day. Not in the way you think. Most husbands are marathon eaters; not at this house. Here, Husband is the Grand Master of Turkey Chefs.

He spends hours reading the latest trends and methods. Last year, he woke up at 5 a.m. to ensure the turkey went in at the right time. He made a schedule, coordinating when various items could be in the oven for what amounts of time. He hand bastes the bird, he stuffs it, he makes sure to put the bird in upside down first so that later he can rotate it to cook the breast meat last. He does a lot of pat-drying and somewhere in there he butters the entire outside for that lovely browned effect.

For the most part, I consider myself very lucky to be married to a man who is so passionate about a perfect turkey. I am a horrible cook, probably because just listening to husband explain what he does to make the turkey makes my head hurt. But there is one thing I do love, and that's control. And since Husband is the Grand Master, he gets to control everything about Thanksgiving dinner. I am relegated to setting the table.

On Saturday, he was running through the shopping list while I was doing homework. He asked me if he had missed anything. He read through his list again. Something caught my attention...

He was going to purchase rolls? FIVE DAYS before Thanksgiving? Gross. Stale rolls. No. No no no. Thanksgiving does not work like that. Husband jokingly asked me if that meant I was going to take care of the rolls. He acted as if I was incapable of getting rolls. Jerk. Yes, I announced to Husband, I am in charge of rolls.

Today, I picked up the teenager from college and we began the snowy trek back home. Last week he was a candidate in my undergrad sorority's sweetheart competition, and while he didn't win he wasn't too concerned. Maybe because the winners aren't allowed to date any of the girls in the house. Anyways, he was telling me about the turkey dinner at the sorority last Monday. I reminisced with him, remembering the awesome bread at sorority dinner...

EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!

The teenager looked at me, wondering what that sudden high-pitched noise was. And about that time, Husband called. To suggest that we stop and pick up some rolls. In case I hadn't done it yet. Before I could stop him, the teenager put it all together and began telling Husband that yes, I had in fact only recently remembered my one responsibility for dinner.

And that's why we purchased a dozen wheat dollar buns and a package of 36 frozen white rolls. Because Thanksgiving Eve is not the time to be scrounging for dinner rolls. Husband accused me this evening of riding on his Turkey Coattails. Oh shut up.

My Pretend Trial

It is 12:31 a.m. I am in the law library, writing my pretend motion for my pretend trial. I am pretending I'm having fun.

The Ramen of [insert word here]

Husband grew up in Cook County, Minnesota. He spent several summers working in his family's lumber mill, as well as at the local lumber yard. His current career is in the pressure-treated lumber industry. He loves wood.

Which is why he HATES IKEA. How many times have I heard him rant about the cheap quality of the IKEA furniture? I don't know why he gets so upset; you get what you pay for! Apparently I am married to a Wood Snob, and to him Ikea is to furniture like ramen is to noodles: you can't get any lower. (I got the ramen line from a wine connoisseur who was trying to tell me Boone's Farm is the ramen of wines. My response? "But it's the Kick-Ass of Kool-Aid!" ... I digress).

An interesting announcement hidden in the third paragraph: Husband and I have added onto our home. We call it the "spare bedroom," and the big catch is that it is located about 70 miles south of our more rural home. In an effort to be more efficient with my time, accommodate an externship that starts at 8:30 a.m., and manage the winter weather, next semester I will be spending a few nights each week "in town."

So, with Trifecta Terror Week (Monday Paper due, Tuesday Trial, Wednesday Presentation) fast approaching (two weeks), Husband and I ventured to IKEA last Friday to purchase a new bed for the spare bedroom. But I had to work late, so we didn't get to IKEA until 8:30 p.m. It closes at 9 p.m.

Husband, in a predictably wonderful mood, says he wants to puke in Ikea, and then when people come to see if he is alright he is going to say No! Look at all this crappy furniture!

I ignore him, and after a quick bite to eat (I know, but shopping on an empty stomach seemed dangerous), we began our sprint through the store.

I had done my internet research. We quickly found the cheapest bedframe. I vaguely remember taking the mattress test online, and I was matched up with some Swedish H- named mattress, but I couldn't remember what it was. I just knew I needed a firm mattress for my bad back. I figured we would find someone to help us in the mattress area of furniture pick-up land, so we left the showroom and headed to the warehouse.

But nobody helped us. Ten minutes to close and people are running around like the building was on fire. The first clerk I stopped yelled, "I HAVE THREE OTHER PEOPLE WHAT DO YOU NEED!" I said equally calmly, "I JUST NEED HELP!" He rushed on by and directed some wandering clerk in my direction. This dude was in no hurry, spoke limited English, and had the customer service skills of a stapler. He was definitely the ramen of clerks. When I asked him what the most firm mattress IKEA carried was, he defensively yelled (yes there is a lot of yelling at IKEA) "I DON'T KNOW THAT! YOU HAVE TO ASK UPSTAIRS!" And stalked off, muttering "I'm sorry" over and over in a not-very-sorry-tone.

At this point I am on a rampage, declaring my hate for IKEA and it's horrible customer service. Husband is strangely calm. He just looks at me and says,

"Honey, we're at a place where you have to pick up your furniture from a warehouse and then put it together yourself. How good did you think their customer service was going to be? It's not really in their business plan."

Eventually, clerk number one came back. Husband and I were still wandering lost in the mattress section of the warehouse. The clerk used his walkie-talkie to poll the store to see what the "most firm" mattress was. I kept saying, "I think it starts with an H-" but to no avail: we purchased the Flokenes mattress on the recommendation of the clerk who said it was the "most firm mattress they had."

As we were waiting for them to find my mattress in the heart of the warehouse, I looked through a magazine and realize it's firmness is "firm" while other mattresses are "most firm." I freaked out. We have purchased a sub-firm mattress! But it's too late. It's after 9 p.m., we are exhausted, and there is no turning back (I suspect Husband would have driven off and left me there).

To wrap up the story, we get to the Spare Room. I, like Legally Blond, now rent from LandLord. Husband begins putting together the frame, and Legally Blond and LandLord jump right in to help. I stayed out of the way. When it was done, we all collapsed onto my bed. Except the bed is as hard as a rock. It was like laying on a slab of granite. Apparently "most firm" mattresses are simply large-cut diamonds.

Oh well. I drink Boone's Farm, I sleep on IKEA and I like ramen noodles. This is the life I have chosen.


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Osler's Razor

How exciting! My first link-swap!

After getting Prof. Osler's permission to reprint our email correspondence, he asked if he could link to my blog. What an honor! Here is his take on the story. "How I Got Into Criminal Procedure" is now my most popular post.

When they make the movie (think Julie and Julia), this will be a monumental moment.


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You Win This One, Car

A timely and sobering comment to my last post reminded me that, regardless of how dumb it is that my car has a voice to tell me what to do, not wearing my seatbelt is not the answer.

Instead, I will buckle up but will inform my car it is because I choose to, not because it told me to.

Beep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

That is the sound I awoke to this morning. Often, I hit the snooze and hear it again nine minute later. Sometimes I get up after hitting snooze but forget to turn off the alarm, and while in the bathroom I suddenly hear the BEEP BEEP BEEP! vibrating through the house. Even though husband is already at work and daughter is already up, I am stressed by the repetitive loud noise. I find myself running through the house to stop the beeping.

Or the oven. When I set the oven time, and the pizza is done, the alarm makes me rush to the kitchen. BEEP BEEP BEEP! I respond.

But not the car beep. You know, the beeping the car makes when you aren't wearing your seatbelt. I grew up in the '80's, when wearing your seatbelt was only recommended. Yes seatbelts save lives, blah blah blah. But you know what? I didn't set that alarm. My alarm clock or the oven timer - hey, I set those timers. I requested them. But I did NOT request that my car beep at me when I'm not wearing my seatbelt. And I resent being told what to do by my car.

I didn't realize how bad it gotten until today. I drove husband to the shop to pick up Charlotte, the little blue-green golf. I didn't buckle up, because the shop is a mile away. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Husband, thinking the car is mad at him as the passenger, buckles up.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Husband looks at me and says, "You are so stubborn."

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

I just smile. I'm not an idiot; when I drive to the cities on the freeway I buckle up. But not because the CAR tells me to. Because I Choose to. So, when I drive in town, I assert my independence a bit. I don't buckle up all the time. I have to let the car know who's boss.

You can beep all you want car. I don't give a BEEP.


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Mercy and Grace

It occurred to me tonight what a big difference three credits can make. Last year, I took 12.5 credits in the Fall and 14.5 credits in the Spring (however, 6.0 credits was clinic so I essentially only had three classes to worry about). Last year went great! I had my best year grade-wise, I had comparatively less stress at home, etc.

This Fall, I'm enrolled in four classes and 15.0 credits. Almost as bad as being a first year law student! While I'm handling my stress better than 1L me, I'm definitely starting to feel a bit frayed.

Today I was struck by Hebrews 4:16

Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

I am definitely in a "time of need," and I've definitely been on the receiving end of mercy and grace. Growing up, I learned mercy is not getting what you do deserve, and grace is getting what you don't deserve. For example, a law school friend wrote an email full of mercy after I had to apologize for dropping the ball on some commitments. Husband is always showing me such grace throughout the week, responding to my crabby rants with support and encouragement. Daughter's caretakers are constantly overlooking my short-term memory loss. Superfriends are exceedingly tolerant of only talking to me when I'm in my car commuting.

It makes me realize how influential my own small acts of mercy and grace can be in someone's life. I could not do what I do without God's mercy and grace, and that mercy and grace can only be imparted through the people He puts in my life.


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My Torrid Past

I am currently in the process of applying for a law clerk placement in the public sector for my Public Interest Externship. (An externship means you do an internship for school credit.) The organization I applied to sent me home with a 50-page book to fill out and return in one week's time. It is a bad sign when the application booklet is bound.

Today, when I returned the book, I went through some items with the officer in charge of background checks. I was amazed by the sheer amount of information requested. For example, I had to admit I had once shoplifted. (Don't judge. I was in high school. I was at a store with friends, and I stuck a small toy in the hood of a friend's sweatshirt. She walked out, not knowing it was there. Shoplifting.)

I also had to admit to using illegal drugs. (Don't judge. I was in high school. I was at a school conference. A guy I liked (and knew for about three days) gave me some of his ADHD medicine so I would be able to stay awake during the conference, since I had spent most of the night talking to him on the phone.) Most kids mess around with marijuana. Not me; I was a prescription junkie.

I know, I was pretty wild and crazy. On one hand, the background book freaks you out and makes you think you have to reveal every last little thing. But then, when you do explain your criminal record of shoplifting and drug abuse, the officer laughs and gives the general impression that you are wasting her time with piddly stories of juvenile delinquency. At any rate, Legally Blond and Law Lady enjoyed my torrid high school past. Cross your fingers that my life of crime won't close too many doors.

Is the Month Almost Over or Just Begun?

It's about that time, when the seeds of procrastination sprout and are growing into big problems at an astounding rate. I need to write a 3,000 word paper, put on a full trial, and prepare two separate class presentations in the next three weeks. Not to mention host JO Volleyball tryouts next Sunday, host a Thanksgiving meal for 14 (although husband is on turkey duty), and start the Christmas party circuit!

Life has been so busy that I find I don't have time to go to the bathroom! I became concerned this past weekend when there was blood in my urine, and I thought I burst my bladder. But no, turns out my monthly pregnancy test came back negative and I simply forgot what day the results were coming in. Time flies when you're crazy. Sigh.


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Living Vicariously Through Children

This Friday Hol-dog and I went on our annual trip to the state high school volleyball tournament. We arrived in time for the semifinals in the single-A division - it was so much fun to watch the high level of play! The play of the day for me was when Mayer Lutheran had three hitters swinging in such rapid succession that it took everyone's breath away - it wasn't until after the kill that my brain caught up with my eyes and it registered which girl actually hit the ball.

Hol-Dog and I met a fun fan in the stands. Turns out she used to run the Gopher Ball Girl program! She was telling us about how the program works, how Gopher volleyball players are matched with young girls, and how much fun the young girls have. Ever the planner, I asked her how old the kids had to be. She laughed and asked me how old my girl was. Amidst much laughter I confessed, "Oh, she isn't born yet."

I'm crossing my fingers that, when I do have children, I'll be blessed with a child with husband's height (6'4") and my aggressive personality. Hol-dog and I suspect I will have a child with my height (5'6") and his laid-back personality. Our new fan friend asked, Well what if you don't have girls?

Oh, I'll have a girl. Eventually. I might have a football team first, but I WILL have a girl... and I will love her no matter what activities she participates in (there is therapy for that, right?).

On a related note, the teenager is competing in my undergrad sorority's sweetheart week! Yes, I am resisting the urge to spend my week on campus campaigning for him. Yes, I am giddy with excitement. Yes, the first thing we talked about when I got home was his campaign strategy. Coronation is Friday night...

Mob Wife

What do you call someone who disdains the thing you do, yet has no qualms about enjoying the full benefits of your dirty deed?

According to Modern Family, a Mob Wife. As Mitchell says,

Oh Please! Where was all this conscience when I got us into the first class lounge at the airport and you chewed Angela Lansbury's ear off. You know what you are? You're like a mob wife. You look down at me and my ways, but you're happy to wear the mink coat that fell of the back of the truck.

(You can watch the Earthquake Episode online, Season 2 Episode 3, 14:00 for the Mob Wife line).

Who's a Mob Wife? You know who you are. For the rest of you, the clue is in this post. Next semester, my mob wife will be wearing mink on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 1:30 p.m.


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How I Got Into Criminal Practice

-----Original Message-----
From: [freetobeme350]
Sent: Tuesday, November 09, 2010 8:36 AM
To: [BestProfEver]
Subject: PLEASE take the waitlist!

Dear [BestProfEver],

This is my sad, desperate attempt to get into your crim practice class.

Please take your waitlist. If you take those 5-10 extra students, which includes me, you will never regret it.

If you don't, and you ask a question during lecture in mid-February, and there is dead silence... no active class participator... no passion or energy... no one searching for honesty and truth in the world of criminal law... you just might.

OK that was perhaps a little over-dramatic :-) Seriously, do you anticipate taking your waitlist/expanding the size of your class?

Thanks,

[freetobeme350]

***

From: [BestProfEver]
Sent: Tuesday, November 09, 2010 8:54 AM
To: [freetobeme350]
Subject: RE: PLEASE take the waitlist!

Wow! That was a sad image...

Let me find out what the rules are on this...

***

From: [Registrar]
Sent: Wednesday, November 10, 2010 3:42 PM
To: [freetobeme350] [LawLady] [Other 3L Classmates]
Subject: openings in Criminal Practice

Good news friends! I have openings in this class. Please adjust your schedule accordingly (no time conflict and not exceeding 16 credits) let me know when you are ready for me to register you for the course. Do not try to register yourself.
Thanks,

Law Registrar

My Plans and God's (Unknown) Purpose

I got cocky.

Law school registration occurs online, and begins at 8 a.m. on a given day. As a 1L registering for the Fall of my 2L year, I remember driving to school early. I was in the computer lab by 7:30 a.m. I would check, and recheck, the class ID numbers. I practiced typing them quickly, yet accurately, on the keyboard. I did some deep breathing.

At 7:58 a.m., I would begin hitting the "refresh" button on the web-entry page of registration, so that at exactly 8 a.m. I would be entered into the system. At that time, I would systematically enter in my most prized class and hit the register button, then move to my second most prized class, and so on. Generally speaking, it went well for me. I don't remember having any major upsets.

This year, I've been planning for days whether to take Negotiations or Advanced Trial Advocacy. I knew I wanted to take Criminal Practice. I added Domestic Violence to my list to round out my credits. I was confident.

I got my computer set up at home, and around 7:55 began reading some email. I was downloading a .pdf file when I noticed that the news had come on... I looked on TV and the clock said 8:02. That can't be right...

BUT IT WAS. OH MY WORD I AM LATE.

And then, to my horror, the .pdf file FROZE MY COMPUTER. I sat in agony, frozen with fear, as my computer slowly worked through the .pdf file. In a panic, I didn't register for classes one by one, I entered all four in and pushed register.

I got into Domestic Violence.

That's it! That's all I got! The class I didn't even really want!

Shell-shocked, I stared at my computer. All my planning, and worrying, about what classes to take became worthless. In the blink of an eye, my plans were sunk.

Proverbs 19:21 "Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."

What's the purpose here God? Are you telling me that it's dumb to plan because You're going to rearrange my plans anyways? Did someone else really need those classes? Or do I really need a different set of classes, I just don't know it yet?


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I'M LISTENING GOD!

God has been calling me. I have been ignoring him for the better part of three months or so. And I realized the other day that the last time I ignored God's call... He broke my leg.

I admit, I'm not sure my theory is Biblically-sound. But in my mind, God was telling me to slow down, to stop chasing things I didn't have and to start chasing a closer relationship with Him. But I was far too busy for that!

The day after Thanksgiving 2009, I was rushing out of the house. I slipped on the frost (yes, the FROST) on my deck, and somehow managed to break my fibula as I tried to catch myself from my fall. For the next two months I was a prisoner in my own living room. I broke my driving leg, so I was house-bound; and even if I could get out, I was on some pretty heavy pain-killers so it wasn't really that fun anyways (instead of getting high, I got nauseous). Despite a good share of misery, I finally had time to reflect on what was really important, and to appreciate those who sacrificially loved me during the busy Holiday season.

I find myself back in the fray... with Thanksgiving right around the corner. I'm running around a lot, with little time to devote to my spiritual health. My lack of discipline in diet and exercise extends to spiritual practices of prayer and Bible reading. Recently, I was confronted with challenges as a mother and a wife, and I had to rely on Superfriends for spiritual support because I had run my own spiritual well bone-dry.

So, I'm listening God! I hear you loud and clear. You want me to refill the spiritual well. I'm at a loss at exactly what this means, but at the very least I know I need to set aside some time EVERY DAY to read the Bible and pray. Treasure in Heaven.


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Poll

If you were picking your class schedule for your last semester of law school, would you choose your classes to make a really nice schedule (i.e. fewer early mornings, fewer night classes) or choose classes that would really engage you and help you in your career (at the expense of adding another late night and early morning)?

That is the question. Please, please weigh in!!!

Is This The Breaking Point?

As we've seen with other quests, it usually helps for me to come to a breaking point where things have gotten so out of hand that I am suddenly highly motivated to make a change.

Remember the initial purpose of this blog? Exercise and Eat Smart. A simple recipe for a healthy life. Instead, I have fallen into a gluttonous pattern of eating obscene amounts of food, to the point that even WITH my spanks people are wondering when my baby is due. And in case you're one who's wondering, I'M NOT PREGNANT.

To add insult to injury, when I complained to Husband, his idea of consolation was to say, "Well, if I was fatter I would be able to find pants that fit me." Apparently Old Navy didn't carry the 36" waist he needed. And then he proceeded to eat, I kid you not, approximately half of an 8 oz. brick of sharp cheddar cheese. He ate it like a freakin' candy bar.

Actually, now that I think of it, Husband is to blame for my weight woes. He recently quit smoking. (Yes! How exciting!) The downside is that now, instead of lighting up a cigarette, he eats a bag of popcorn; a package of Keebler cookies; or a Dilly Bar. He's always had an excellent metabolism and can handle eating all this extra crap. But guess who didn't kick a bad habit, has a horrible metabolism, yet thinks she can eat all this crap too?

But what do I do? I've made so many idle threats to change and get healthy that the teenager just laughs when I say I'm going to diet FOR REAL. Sigh! I need to watch this clip more.


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One more Asian story

THH reminded me of another good Asian story.

In my former life, I was a high school school teacher. In both my former life and my present life, I like to eat Chinese food. (When I was in elementary, I was told I liked rice because I was Asian). Husband and I were regular customers at the local China restaurant, and I regularly tried to befriend the owner's five year old son. The owner and his wife spoke very little English, but I found that if I was patient and creative and used a lot of hand motions, I could communicate basic concepts to the wife other than "seafood delight."

At some point, her son was sick and she asked me for help. I don't remember exactly what happened, other than I brought a thermometer and some cough drops. She took me upstairs to their apartment, which was very cold because the landlord refused to fix the thermostat despite their requests. (The day I called the landlord was a day foreshadowing my attorney occupation). We took the temp, felt his lymph nodes, and concluded he just had a sore throat or something that didn't concern her too much. I think she was lonely, because then she showed me pictures, showed me her home, and tried to talk to me. She shared that her husband was gambling a little too much, and that she missed her family and friends.

She had some concerns about her son at school. She needed some forms submitted for him, and she asked if I would help. So I did. At a district workshop later that month, I saw the elementary principal and told him that if he needed any other forms from the Xio family, that I knew them and could assist.

A few weeks later, I got a phone call during class. I was in the middle of teaching some great cooking skill when the phone rang. I picked up the phone, with 25 pairs of eyes watching and 25 pairs of ear listening.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is the principal. I'm here with the school nurse, and the [Xio boy] has strep throat..."

OK. So they want me to bring him home because they can't get a hold of her? They want me to get him some medicine?

"So anyways, I was wondering if you could help us tell her."

"..."

I was confused. And then I realized what was going on. Of course. I'm Asian. Obviously I speak Chinese.

"Um, well... All I do is speak really slowly."

Now it was his turn to be silent.

"Uh, er, you... don't speak Chinese?"

"No."

"Oh, uh, nevermindgoodbyeclick!"

I was laughing. I turned to my audience of eighth graders, and after I told them the story they all laughed too. Not that those cute kids are any better. On the first day of class I used to tell them that I was Asian, and as a result I know karate, because all Asians know karate. Most of them nodded in awe. HI-YA!

Being an Asian Republican

In light of state and national politics taking a turn for the red, I wish to share a few campaign stories from my undergrad years. When I was in college, I worked on several local House of Representative campaigns as a field staffer, and on a gubernatorial campaign as well. Being an Asian Republican does present challenges, however, and here are three stories that instantly come to mind:

1) During a hotly contest endorsement campaign, I was told by a delegate to "go back home to the country I came from!"

2) Conversely, while attending a congressional district convention, a really nice elderly man shook my hand and welcomed my kind to the Republican Party.

(Seriously, these are my choices? Being shipped back to Korea or being the country's official Republican delegate?)

3) As a field staff, I worked with a candidate who had some interesting beliefs about Democrats and renters. Specifically, this candidate believed that the Democrats were going to apartment buildings, rounding up illegal Asian immigrants and other non-registered voters, and bringing them to the polls where they would commit voter fraud and of course, vote Democrat. After hearing this story a few times I finally looked at her and said,

"That is ridiculous. They are not doing that."

She looked at me incredulously. Then a look of understanding passed over her face. She softly patted my hand and said:

"Oh no [freetobeme350], not Koreans. ASIANS."

At this point my jaw dropped to the floor. How do you respond to this? Not only does she think the source of my comment was some racial defensiveness instead of a fair analysis of her crazy conspiracy theory, BUT SHE DOESN'T REALIZE KOREANS ARE ASIANS!

I gave her a long look. Speaking very slowly, I said:

"You know that Koreans are Asians, right?"

She nodded, but her eyes had the same glazed look of pity.

"Korea is a country in Asia..."

More nodding.

"Asia is a continent..."

At this point I must have given up, walked to the bathroom, and tried to drown myself in the toilet because this was the person I was working 12-hour-days to elect. Whether good or bad, that candidate did win her election that year. I'm still not sure what I think about that.


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"I wish to compliment you"

THH refuses to compliment people because his random act of kindness is often met with cold retaliation.

As a first year law student he "complimented" a fellow female student on her purple sweatpants. She came into class a little frazzled, not looking her usual immaculate self. She sat down and THH said, "Nice sweatpants."

She looked at him, raised her eyebrows, and said "Thanks?" and turned around. I gave THH the look of death and asked him why he was being such a jerkface. Confused, he looked at me and said he was serious, he REALLY DID LIKE the purple sweatpants. I rolled my eyes.

Later that month, he "complimented" another female classmate on her shoes. They were red, and definitely a fashion statement. "I like your shoes." She looked at him, raised her eyebrows, and said "OK [THH]." I gave THH the look of death and asked him why he was being such a jerkface. Again, he said he was serious, he REALLY DID LIKE her shoes.

But after that, he decided complimenting people was too much work. Why go through the effort of complimenting people when the response is so unfavorable. Like Pavlov's dog, THH has been trained to curl up into an antisocial fetal position whenever someone suggests he should be more complimentary.

I tried to explain to THH the girl-world of compliments; that we are inherently suspicious of compliments and unless said in an appropriate tone of voice using appropriate language, we will reject it to beat you to the punch. In high school, Sparky told me hundreds of times. "You're pretty. Pretty ugly." Men can't be jerkfaces for the first 18 years of their life and then wonder why things are so hard the remaining 82. THH (and all mankind) made this bed, now lie in it.

Casanova, overhearing THH's rant that he was swearing off compliments, suggested THH employ a new method. To avoid the risk of offending anyone with specific compliments, perhaps THH should just say loudly, "I wish to compliment you." And that's it. Just end it there. Don't follow it up with anything. Just put it out there to communicate your desire, and allow it to percolate with the object of your compliment.

It made me laugh. I imagine the recipient of such a compliment would be slightly confused, waiting for the follow-up sentence of what exactly is compliment-worthy. But shouldn't it be enough that someone wishes to compliment us, even if they don't know how?

Something to ponder.