News for you: There is no hole in our front yard. Alas, I say, as it might have been really amusing to watch the fallout from that one.
News for me: It's Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday, and then it's Monday, and I check into the hotel and take THE BAR on Tuesday and Wednesday.
So, this is it. Wish me luck, send me prayers, send me thoughts, and send me all your brain waves, especially those that are on the wavelengths involving 1. tax 2. contracts 3. constitutional law 4. commercial paper. Seriously. I might sleep with those subjects under my pillow.
Next up: I tell you how much I cried/drank wine/cried into my wine afterwards, and you get to experience the joys of house hunting avec moi. 'Cause that house is gonna be bought here, soon.
The day we moved in, our neighbor--CN, for crazy neighbor--came over, told us about the crime in the area (not much, but he made sure we were wary of THOSE PEOPLE), asked us what we thought about those ho-mo-sexuals in the military, and wandered off. We thought, great. Just great.
There have been various incidents over the past year. There's the memorable time we found him looking in our windows, grinning at us, and then knocking on the windows, or all the times he's just ridden over our front yard on his motorcycle. Wet grass or no, he's like a dog, marking his territory, but with his bike. A few weeks ago, I got home from bar class and studying all day to have him ambush me--literally coming from around the bushes--and ask, "WHY AREN'T YOU STUDYING?!?"
Up until today, my personal favorite has been his dog saga. He bought a yappy little thing, and it came complete with a Napolean complex, read to use its teeth. Since his fence was knocked down by a storm, he would just drop the dog in our back yard and leave it there all day. It whined, it barked, it cried, it was desperate. It dug lots of holes. He asked us to babysit the dog while he went away for a month. Finally, the thing got taken back to from wence it came.
Mais, there is always another day. Today, for example.
He is convinced that the land surveys show that he is the owner of part of our (our landlord's) property. So he intends to dig a giant hole in our front yard to help with drainage of his driveway. In our front yard. Giant hole. On Friday.
Has he called the property manager? The landlords? Nope, just thought he'd let us know. He's doing it in two days.
Oh, Mr. Rogers, it's a beautiful day in our neighborhood. Won't you come be my neighbor?
If I look at Torts anymore, my eyes are going to bleed, so I am coming to look at you, Oh Glorious Blog.
First, I would like to point out Vor has his own blog. No, I'm not telling you where it is, what it is, who's in on it, or even a simple clue about it. It's more of a real life thing for him. You'll never find it. But I just wanted to say that it exists. You know why? Because I did it first!
Oh, no, I don't have a lick of competitiveness in me, no ma'am, not at all. I also don't exaggerate.
I wish he would start his own anonymoose (so. punny.) blog so I could send you over there. He's witty, intelligent, and if he put any pictures up, you'd see how cute he is too.
Second. I read blogs in my spare time; it's relaxing, and there are many that make me laugh. It's like reading stories in installments, and I can never do what I usually do--read for five hours straight and finish the damn book. I must wait. I must be patient. I kind of like it.
One of the blogs I read has a lively discussion going about Sotomayor (Dear God, please don't make me show up on Google now! Thanks!). The people over there are going back and forth, and will be endlessly, about her "wise Latina" comments. It's a circle; some say, hey, it's true! Then the others cry, hey, it's racist! Then some in the middle try to break the circle but never quite succeed.
Vor and I discussed this on one of our nightly walks. Right now, people are using this comment of hers as their own football, to lob back and forth in the game of judicial activism. Really, in the end, judicial activism amounts to a decision you don't like.
So what does her comment relate to? Merit. As Americans, we like merit. Bring yourself up from the bottom, do it yourself, grab your bootstraps, hot potatoes in your pockets, uphill both ways, merit-loving-Americans. So we don't like the idea that experiences, not just hard work, give you something.
Yes, if a white male made the reverse comment, I would be screaming. Yes, even her comment makes me wonder. But in the end, it's unfortunate, and it's true. We are shaped by our experiences, not just our hard work and ethics. As a collective, we have a history of mistreating minorities and women. No such equivalent for the white males now screaming racism; by that I mean, there's no history of oppression there (yes, I understand there are exceptions, I'm talking the norm). Consequently, those minorities and women have a hugely different view of life, law, and the reasonable person (Torts! Torts!).
I will never be able to feel the full depths of some of the hurts that my friends who have a different skin color than me have felt. Vor will never feel the same unease around police that I do, because he has never been pulled over by the officer who thinks he's cute and wants to get his phone number (insert joke here). If you are a guy and reading this, you probably don't know how it feels to be told that you should drop out of calculus because all you need to do is count beans in the kitchen.
It affects what you see, how you react, how you live, and what you teach your children. You can debate all you want about how we are supposed to interpret our Constitution, but the fact remains: I don't like the statement. I don't like what's behind it. But I don't need those things to recognize truth, in all its unsavory glory.
Mind you, I am studying for the bar. This might not be coherent.
What? It's July? I only have two and a half weeks left before I take the bar? I have massive amounts of studying to do before then? I am going to have a breakdown?
Why would you say such awful things to me?
...Maybe because it's true?
I just had to tell Vor to stop reading over my shoulder. I mean, he is one about three people who read this, so that defeats the purpose of having him read it later, no?
Anyways. I'm still pretty zen about this whole thing, which in itself is a little scary. So in my zen-ness, I have turned to house hunting (in my spare time, people, spare time).
I NEED: a kitchen big enough to fit us both; two bathrooms; three bedrooms. He NEEDS: two car garage; no major remodeling.
Have I mentioned why we need this two car garage? Because. There. Is. A. Tractor. Coming. To. Take. My. Garage. Space. Is it clear how much I enjoy this idea? In the interests of marital harmony, we need a two car garage. I have left Buffalo, people, and I have moved into a real person house. I AM NOT SHOVELING SNOW OFF MY CAR ANYMORE. If I have to drive my car through the house to keep it sheltered in the winter, so be it.
We want: a nice backyard, fenced; to stay with 20 minutes of our work places; a nice open house.
I am sure, as a first time house buyer, there are things were are totally and completely overlooking. Things you wish you had? Things you kick yourself over? Things you never knew you always needed? (no, I am not referring to leather jackets or red pumps) Feel free to chime in.
Okay, fine, you can email me at graceandpressure [at] yahoo [dot] com. Don't all flood me with emails at once, you know. If you're emailing about craniosynostosis, put it in the subject, and I'll respond quicker. Deal? Deal.