Saturday, January 31, 2009

Wonderful Man That He Is

My laptop and I have some issues to work through. Communication no longer occurs between us. We've tried counseling (IT), but it isn't working. I'm afraid that I'm think about stepping out on my laptop with a Mac.

Really though, it isn't the laptop's fault. It's that stupid thing called MICROSOFT WORD.

I fought track changes in my group project for one of my litigation classes and lost. Miserably, and with weeping.

I then fought the table of contents for my criminal procedure notes (yes, I actually need a table of contents for my criminal procedures notes, as we have had two weeks of class, and I already have 40 pages of notes), and also lost. It was actually a close call this time...I was only off by one button, and who on earth would think to press the toggle field button? I wouldn't!

I delivered my bewildered laptop and accompanying documents into the hands of my capable husband, with a few choice words of what I thought about the situation.

When Vor managed to easy-breezy fix my table of contents, and then show me how to fix track changes, I laughed so hard I cried... or rather that it was I cried so hard I laughed.

Vor just looked at me, with a big smile on his face, and noted, "This would be a great blog entry!"

Yes, dear. Thank for making my $%^#$^$ laptop behave!

Friday, January 30, 2009

Sick = Bored = Blogging

I am surrounded my tissues and orange juice.

What I would like to do is go play in the snow and demand a nice long walk with my husband when he gets home from work.

What's going to happen instead is I will knock myself out with NyQuil.


Here, have a picture. It's my nieces, on my wedding day.

That's Petunia.

That's Blossom and Prada.

I miss them more when I'm under the weather. Probably because I have less to do, no?

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Cleaning Kitty

Law students need humor to survive. Thus, noon to 1 p.m. is the time when my friends and I swap stories and generally crack each other up.

Somehow, today, we got onto the subject of cats. And oh, do I have a cat story for you.

My mom and dad used to have this lady as a neighbor, CL (crazy lady). I'm not kidding about the crazy. She once took a bath in jello. (This is the point where every guy I have ever told this story to asks, "What color was the jello?" Except Vor. That's why I married him, you know?) CL also had a giant grey cat. This cat was so big that when it would lay on the refrigerator, its head would hang over one end, and its butt would hang over the other. Its leg to tail span was pretty impressive.

This cat was never allowed outside.

One day, CL decided it was time for spring cleaning, and as she was bustling about, she opened a window on the second story, to let the dust out while she worked. While she was dusting something, she turned, and saw the cat on the back of the couch near the window.

The cat looked at her. She looked at the window. The cat looked at the window.

The cat made a flying leap for window, as CL made a flying leap for the cat. Just as the cat cleared the window, CL got ahold of its back legs, and the weight of the cat pulled her most of the way out of the window. CL used her legs to keep herself from falling out while she and the cat dangled.

Just then, my mom pulled into the drive way, and looked up to the window where they dangled.

CL called, "Oh, hello! Just doing some spring cleaning!" And proceeded to shake the cat out, flapping the cat like it was a rug.

To this day, my mom cannot tell that story without starting to snort with laughter.

Neither can I.

Marking Time

There is one main road between the town where I go to school, and the city where I live. Every time I would leave the town, whether it was to go visit Vor in Michigan, my family in Buffalo, or Vor's mom in north east Indiana, I had to use this road / highway.

I can mark the years I spent in law school by the creation of a church I now always pass.

When I was checking out this law school, there was nothing. It was just some hilly land and pretty trees. Sometime during my 1L year, a sign was put up saying the land was bought by the church.

My 2L year saw the land get cleared a bit, and a road built to reach where they would build the church. They started construction, and began finishing that construction in the beginning of my 3L year.

Now, as I am in my last semester of law school, I saw for the first time cars in that church parking lot.

I can mark my time in law school by the building of this church. It all seems symbolic somehow.

Hell Has Snow

This past week was just plain hellish. Except that I couldn't possibly be in hell, because there was a foot of snow on the ground. And two feet of snow around my car where the snow plow dumped all the snow.

Just to be clear, I am going to complain here for a minute. I was sick. I was weepy. I slept for four hours each night I was gone (which is NOT enough sleep for me). I worked so hard on my classes that my dreams were filled with the work I needed to do. It was like I never slept.

The crappy part of all this is that I'm pretty sure the entire semester is going to be like this.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Good. Night.

Today was not a good day.

I just have to have hope that tomorrow will be better.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Hey, Debbie Downer!

Oh, before you think I am all gloom and doom, between Weight Watchers and behaving myself, I have lost a stellar eight pounds. My jeans feel much better already.

My buttons and zippers are thanking me.

Make Me Crazy

What I can admit, on a computer, to the nebulous internet, the blue nowhere is astonishing, given I cannot even admit it to myself or my husband.

Worry and fear wrapped around my throat last night, like an iron vise, tightened by my overactive imagination. The, like I was four again, I cried myself to sleep.

I HATE living in two separate places.

For the most part, I am a functioning human being mainly because of the beautiful thing called habit. I know where my keys are, because I always place them in the same place. I know where my shoes are, because there is only two places they can be. What happens when I am living in this other place, this place I stay at while I am at school? Those familiar places are gone, and so is my ability to function. I can't find my keys, my shoes, because I am not home.

It just seems worse this time around. Last semester, I was only gone Monday night and Tuesday night. Now, I leave early Monday morning, and I come back late on Thursday. My schedule is weird and hellish while I am at school, and it probably makes me weird and hellish.

I can't sleep because my husband is not next to me. And then I do something silly, like cry myself to sleep.

One more semester, one more semester...

Option E, All Of the Above

It is not possible that:

A) I still don't have all my grades from last semester.
B) I will finish my criminal procedure reading for tomorrow.
C) I will be terrified for my litigation class tomorrow.
D) I am going to fall asleep, as I type this, and it is only 7:45.

Or, E) All of the above.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Congratulations! You're a good driver!

Gee, Indiana Department of Motor Vehicles, thank you for confirming that I am in fact, a driver in good standing.

I am sure the Indiana Bar Association will appreciate that.

Now, on to tackle New York...

Humiliations galore! *

After having a few years of law school under my belt, getting ready for class isn't as anxiety-producing as it used to be.

During my first year, I lived in terror of being called on, and when that dreaded event happened, I would turn as red as the sweater I was inevitably wearing, making my face indistinguishable from my clothes.

In fact, I became so nonchalant about this process that when I was called on last semester, the first day of class, my first class of my 3L year, just barely more than 12 hours after I had gotten back from my honeymoon, with none of the class work done, I easily answered and bluffed my way through. It felt pretty damn good to be able to do that.

Why, now, is my stomach tight, and my heart racing, as I prepare for class this week?

Oh, wait, I remember. Ms. I-hate-speaking-in-public-but-I-am-going-to-work-as-a-litigator-to-save-the-small-children is taking two classes that involve speaking in front of the class, every class.

And to top that off, in one class, my professor is a judge, and in the other, the professor is the guy who literally wrote the classic and often used textbook on how to navigate the Indiana rules of evidence.

Hey, a little dose of humiliation never hurt anyone. It'll be good for me.

*From The Princess Bride. What do you mean, you've never seen it? Inconceivable!

Saturday, January 17, 2009


It's funny how they sometimes brush at you, their wispy fingers gliding along your collarbone and spine, making you shiver, whether it is eighty degrees, or eight.

They are the soft whisper, the unbidden image that floods into your mind when someone says a key word. You can feel the cascade of memory and emotion coming, like standing under a water fall, even though you are not yet sure what is coming. You try to force yourself to think of something else--

Too late.

This time, it was, "Well, would you leave a sixteen year old alone over night?" A simple question, given my line of work. But suddenly, I was sixteen, and my parents were traveling. I was home alone, and my grandfather--papa--would come over when I got home from school, and go back to his house when I went to bed.

No, the regret isn't over some crazy party. It is far more simple than that.

I wish I had sat in the living room with him, and talked. I wish I hadn't hidden in my room, reading or doing homework, or playing on the computer.

I wish I hadn't left him alone in the living room. It makes me ache.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Dear Gym Diva

Dear Gym Diva,

While I am sure that you are proud of your self for going to the gym, and that you earned congratulations on that front, let me offer you a few suggestions.

Tight black spandex pants coupled with a black tube top, which shows off more of your hot pink bra than I ever wanted to see might not be the best work out outfit.

Also, it usually is better if the top at least goes past the belly button, instead of resting six inches above it, also giving us another view of your hot pink bra.

Finally, while I understand the need for makeup, might I suggest waterproof for the gym? Sweat makes you look like a raccoon.



Tuesday, January 13, 2009

If I Was a Rich Girl...

There's a lot you could do with $500.

I could get the iPod touch I've been dreaming about, or maybe a new laptop. I could certainly get a new desk, and I know exactly which one, too. That could also be a very interesting trip to the jewelry store. Vor could get a new suit, or buy Star Trek movies to his heart's content.

I was $500 dollars richer yesterday.

Then I bought my law school text books.

Brutal. The clerk checking me out tried to make me feel better by saying, "Don't worry. I've had a few law students come through and spend $1200. You've got it made!"

Yeah, lady. Made for broke.

One summer, when my sister first moved into her new house, she, my brother in law (PD), and I sat on their porch, thinking about what we would do if we won the lottery. Suffice to say, we have some pretty ridiculous ideas. The clear winner was mine though--

I told them I would buy cargo pants so that I would have enough pockets for all of my money.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Step Away From the Scale

I let out a little gasp when I got on the scale this morning.

My body is one built for a little punishment, lots of rough-and-tumble activity. Okay, fine, I am built like a small tank. It's a natural tendency enhanced by years of athletics. But... I am no longer in the pool for five hours a day, no longer at the gym for another two, and no longer at crew practice at five-thirty in the morning.

But I still eat like I am.

So, like a good girl, as I type this, I am signing up for Weight Watchers. I clearly need to get a grip.

It's just hard. I know that even when I am back to a more normal weight, I will look the same as I do now. Really. If you saw me, you would never believe what I weigh. I just hide it very well.

Speaking of which, how do I know what a normal weight is? Charts tell me that I should be around 125-130. That, my dear people, is completely unrealistic. That last time I was 125 was when I was in grade school. That last time I was 130, I was a sophomore in college, rowing once a day, in the pool twice a day, and in the gym every other day. Oh, and I wasn't eating much.

This is new ground for me, I guess.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

To House, or Not to House

Things I love about living in a house and not an apartment:

Walks Like Elephant no longer lives above me.
No one vacuums at 3:30 in the morning.
My washer and dryer are in my basement. And I don't need coins to operate them.
I have a yard! With a fence!
I have a garage! There is no snow on my car right now!
I cannot see my TV from my kitchen.
Oh wait, I have a kitchen!

God, I am so bored right now. I don't know why.


Me: "Vor, how do you spell _______? It's not really a word."


Me: "I wasn't... oh."

Goodbye, Dear Friend

I might have mentioned that Vor and I like science fiction. Maybe it was the Christmas tree overloaded with space ships, or maybe it's the fact that when you walk into the office, you are assailed by sci-fi books that gives it away. Or the movies we own. The backgrounds on our laptops. And so on.

The Sci-fi channel is the whole reason we have cable.

Alas, Stargate Atlantis is no more.

I must be content with the end of Battlestar Galactica, and Sanctuary.

I am aware that I am, as Vor puts it, getting my nerd on.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Give Me a Dark Room

It's like clockwork. Once a week, I get a headache. More than once, if I am unlucky.

Lo, and behold: I have a headache. Again. Today. Right now. I can barely look at this computer screen.

I need to find a way to fix this, because when they show up, the headaches are absolutely debilitating. And I'm supposed to go wander the art museum here tonight, like Vor and I do on Fridays.

Crap. Crap Crap Crap.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Don't Push the Red Button

This site is actually lots of fun to tinker with!

Though it would probably help to understand what Java means before I go enabling or disabling it.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009


This is the problem with being sick and lying (not laying, yes, thank you, I was an English major, the TRUE ENG major, despite what my ex-engineer husband says) on the floor is that you get rested.

I mean, I feel crappy, but I am certainly not ready to go to sleep.

Maybe a movie? What's a good "I want to fall asleep to a movie so it can't actually engage my brain" movie?

Hand Me the Chocolate, And No One Gets Hurt

Instead of me telling you about how I am laying on the floor, sick with who knows what, watching hours of Stargate re-runs with a pitcher of water, I am going to tell you about my (mis)adventures with chocolate.

I was reminded of some of these mishaps after begging Vor incessantly for a piece of chocolate last night, and as always, he got a kick out of my desperate want, no, need, for chocolate.

He laughs about these things until he remembers one of the following:

1. The time I actually ate baker's chocolate. And liked it.

2. My incredible ability to consume a thus far unlimited amount of the richest Godiva chocolate you can possibly find.

3. When I was very young--about three or so--my sister, Scrappy, took me to see my first movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. She bought me chocolate covered raisins. I sucked the chocolate off, and handed her the raisins, saying, "Here are the pits!"

4. When I was about two, my mom loves to remind everyone that I was in the kitchen, and she was in the back of the house. She popped a piece of chocolate in her mouth. I wandered into the room a few minutes later, looked at her suspiciously, and announced, "I smell chocolate."

See? It's not my fault. I have always been this way. Vor and his family marvel over my family's ability to consume an entire box of gourmet chocolates within 24 hours. I think this is normal.

Must be genetic.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Seriously, It's Not What You Think

Let me preface this: In no way am I ready to have a kid.

That being said, I love kids. And, humbleness aside, they love me. Possible because my chest reminds them of food, and I certainly have enough chest to be a meal. ::embarrassed coughing::

So, in true female fashion, sometimes I try to engage Vor in the conversation entitled What Should We Name Our Kids? Actually, it's not really a try, because he is more than willing to go along with this subject.

In order to have fuel for this topic, I browse the websites. (This is sounding less and less like an innocent curiosity, isn't it?) The winner is definitely the Social Security website.

Luis was #60 for male names. Seriously? I've never heard of it, expect for in old novels. Zaniya was #1000 for females. I'm not quite sure how to pronounce it. (Now, no offense people if these are your names. This is why they have websites like this, so we can all get exposed to really cool names. Plus, when I was young, I wanted to name my child Kalika after my invisble friend. I was convinced it meant angel of death. I was weird)

I love the name Miles for a boy. But the first one will be named for his father and for mine, and there is no wiggle room. We decided that one. I have no idea what we'll do if we have girls, and I mean that in more than one sense. (I mean, I pulled the heads off my Barbie dolls and floated them on rafts made of sticks and grass down the creek)

If by chance we have a second boy, He will be Bernard, after my grandpa. Before you tell me that he will be teased mercilessly, his nickname will be Ben, also like my grandpa.

Just so. You know, in like a decade or so.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Filling Out the Bar Application

Do you remember everywhere you've lived, address and all, since you were 18? 18 wasn't all that long ago for me, and I still don't remember.

Also, could you please tell me everywhere you've worked since you were 18? Oh yeah, give me their addresses as well.

By the way, we'd like you to do the impossible and navigate New York State's scary Department of Motor Vehicles Which Makes All Things Impossible, just to get a driving record that says you have no record.

We'd also like one from Indiana, because, hey! That's where you live now. Yes, Indiana, I am very aware I live here now, because I am filling out your bar application.

Oh, and that time the guy in the truck with no license plate rear-ended the person behind you, causing the poor kid to hit you, and then you both watched him peal away from the scene of the accident? Yeah, that one! Well, we'd like to point out that you are in limbo regarding that, because you were driving your dad's car, so we weren't sure how to fill out an accident report on that. Great. Thanks.

But we want that report, you know?

It's sooooooooooooooo relevant to passing the bar and being a lawyer.

In case you weren't frustrated enough, we'd also like a list of all court cases you've been involved with. My God, I hope this doesn't mean my time as a certified legal intern, because that is a very long list. I went to court almost every day!

Oh wait--while you are filling out this form, at your wit's end, we'd like to ask you about your mental health.

You should have asked me before you made me tackle New York State's scary Department of Motor Vehicles Which Makes All Things Impossible!

Tis the season for bar applications.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Over and Over Again

"Again!" Petunia, my youngest niece, giggles and asks me to swing her around.

"Again!" Petunia asks Vor to throw her up in the air, and then, "Again!" she wants to snuggle on Vor's lap.

"Am I your favorite uncle right now?" Vor asks. "Yes," two year old Petunia giggles.

"Again!" She says, after I give her kiss.

And now, I am back in Indiana, and they are in Virginia. I miss them all, again, over and over again.

Resolution? Those are the things you break, right?

Happy New Year!

Here's to an open door.

My plan for the year:

1. Finish law school
2. Take the bar
3. Go to Colorado again, or somewhere else out west
4. Start a real job as a real person
5. Get my behind to the gym more regularly. I swear.