Sunday, November 29, 2009

Christmas Query

My parents are in town, so I don't have time to talk to you (I know, you're just heartbroken, HEARTBROKEN, you say!), but I do have a question:

What are your favorite Christmas ornaments?

I ask because I am really glad I did that entry last year; one of my favorites broke.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Puppy Love

This one is for comparison!

Clearly, is still a lapdog.

Loves yogurt.

I guess he's grown a bit.

You're A Mean One, Ms. Light Wench

Mama Vor came yesterday. In a whirlwind of coffee, coffee cake, and Christmas decorations, my house became Christmasized.

So now, because no chore can be left undone, I am putting lights on the tree, and Telly is following me around the tree. I can just hear him--Oh! Shiny! Object! Whoa! Shiny!

My sister calls me the light wench, because no one can put lights on a tree like I can. When I'm done, the tree looks like it is on fire, and I love it. The more lights, the better. I am the official light putter-oner for the family.

How was your Sunday?

Friday, November 20, 2009

1 Tequila, 2 Tequila...

The stress of this day was so much, that even as I sit here now, my heart is pounding. I am furious, tired, running on nothing but adrenaline, and am oscillating between wanting to sob into Vor's shoulder and do a shot of tequila. And I hate tequila.

I am meeting Velvet out at the mall, helping her preform retail therapy, and seeing a movie. Then I will crawl into bed with my husband, and I will know that everything is okay, and it will be alright.

And yes, I have to say those things outloud and plan for them, because if I don't make them happen, I might go crazy.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Watch Out Land-o-Lakes

I have suddenly found my calling.

It is my mission in life to purge my house, and then world, of white hot chocolate.

It is a vile abomination.

My office is planning on decorating itself (yes, it will happen exactly like that. Overnight. I will come in one morning and the decorations elves will have draped garland, stockings, fake snow, and, Heaven forfend, a talking Santa.) so I will place the evil EVIL white hot chocolate in their stockings. I will publicly call this a gift, and secretly laugh to myself.

Of course, our space is in desperate need of some decorating. We have boring gray desks, cubicle walls, and little space to ourselves. Such is the life of a public interest lawyer--no office space for me. I am actually enjoying cubicle life though, as it means I am employed.

How do I spruce this place up? Other than the Christmas decorations and white hot chocolate packets, I mean.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Oh No You Didn't!

When you walk into criminal court to get some juicy information from the the probable cause affidavit, and you say the case name, and EVERYONE, all 20 people, in the office simultaneously repeat the case name after you, and GROAN simultaneously, and loudly...

That's probably a case you want to hand off to someone else in your office.

I'm just saying.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Sunday Blog Salad V

I loooooooooooooove salad.

Lettuce. Work is the lettuce now. I am trying to learn, to adjust, to not ask stupid questions, and I am failing miserably at all these things. I just DON'T. KNOW. So I ask. Which means I am adding to everyone's work load because I AM USELESS. Sigh. Also, I spent the day in protective order court, and then went to the jail to deal with someone there. When Vor finally came home at 8:30 that night and went over to a partner's house, I walked in, told them where I had been, and they silently handed me a glass of wine. I drank it, very fast. Jail. It's disgusting. Just stay clean and legal people; if I can't handle it for a few hours, you don't even want to know. Also, Vor is wonderful because he fixed my desk at work. I still love work, it just makes me a little anxious right now, because I feel like I am screwing everything up. I don't know who had the brilliant idea to drop a sword on my shoulder and knight me as a lawyer, but it was a pretty stupid idea, if you ask me. I need more knowledge.

Vegetables. The part of the salad I don't really want to deal with....mmmm... school loans! Yes, people, my school loans are finally in repayment, and DAMN they are scary. Those little pieces of paper have awfully big numbers on them.

Croutons/Cranberries/Almonds. The sweet spots. Vor gave me a very sweet card the other day; it made me a little misty-eyed. Also, he has been very good, kind, and understanding with this whole shifting into a career thing, as well as with the slightly disturbing and mostly crappy news I received the other day. I know, I'm swearing, I'll try to stop. But he is making my life easier in a such a huge way, just by being himself. Love that man of mine.

Salad Dressing. Catalina. I hate that dressing, so whenever it's on a salad, I only eat the sweet stuff.

It's been a stressful few weeks.

Milk On The Floor

We had friends in town this weekend, and one of them asked me if I liked Buffalo.

"No," I immediately said. "I don't miss it." Vor gave me a sideways look. He was right; I sounded like a blunt butter knife meeting fabric. "I mean, it's complicated," I amended lamely.

How can your feelings towards a city you grew up in be so complicated? Oh, it's easy.

It's a place that is extremely insular in many ways, and very family oriented. It can be completely disorienting to leave, and make you want to run back into the womb screaming, which, because of those strong family connections, your family is more than happy to see you do. The city doesn't want you to leave, ever. The city wants you to stay, to marry someone from Buffalo (who I hope to God you are not related to, so not a joke), to produce more children to stay, to drive the salted roads in winter, work landscape jobs in summer, and probably end up working as a nurse, because there are no jobs out there. (I like nurses. We need nurses. I just mean it's the only good job available in Buffalo.) The city wants you to be Catholic, and eat fish frys with everyone else on Fridays. If you're feeling dangerous, go to a high school spaghetti dinner.

If you grew up there, you have the same inside jokes, the same experiences with many people, people you don't know, even. Where were you during the blizzard of '77? Of 2000? Of 2001? Can you say Scajaquada? Did you ever spend the night on the Canadian border? But there's so much of it, that it goes beyond bonding, into sameness. I didn't know anyone not Catholic until I joined my swim team outside Buffalo. When I go back, I see people from high school, who are still friends with only the same people, and they still tell the same inside jokes from high school. I feel like I have a too-tight turtleneck on, always.

It's hard to leave. I could hear the sucking sound as I dragged my feet out of the city.

But there are things I ache for. I miss Albright-Knox and free Fridays. I miss the beautiful places I used to run. I miss the pizza. Sometimes all that familiarity can be a comfort, when it seems like there is too much change in my life.

I miss somethings about myself from there. I miss the drive I had for volleyball, for swimming. I think I've channeled that drive into a career, but it's hard to tell. With swimming, with sports, it was easy--there were bench marks everywhere that I could watch myself run past. Now, I feel the drive and the need to compete, but it's just there, churning behind me. I miss the simplicity of simple goals.

For the most part, there are parts of me I left there for good, for good reason. I want to reach back and smack the girl I was. Stupid! Stupid for listening to the pressure, because you aren't getting any younger, dear, stupid for thinking I should settle for less than what I ended up with. I accept the blame for my stupid decisions, but I really believe that some of what led me to the decisions was the way the city is, the way the community as an organism thinks.

It's like the Borg. I wonder if I can ever go back, when I will be strong enough, to resist, to not slide into the comfort of the collective. That's something I have to improve on myself.

Where I was, what I was letting myself run into, was known, it was Buffalo. I thank God everyday that I have Vor--the unknown, but without fear; the stability, without complacency; the independence, with someone strong enough to handle it.

As for the decisions I regret, well... I don't know. I'm not done beating myself up. But maybe the beating up could be a productive one; instead of crying over the spilled milk, I'm just cleaning it up, so I know the consequences, so I will be more careful. So I can pass the lesson on.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Home of the Brave

There's the prettiest scene outside my house right now; the whole street is dark, except for the man across the street, who has a single floodlight turned on, and it is spot lighting his flag pole, where our flag is flying.

Go thank a Vet, hug a Vet, and remember a Vet today. Well, you should every day, but especially today.

Since I already did that task, I'm going to go watch the cheesiest movie ever--Fantastic Four.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

It All Leads to Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream

I always put the eggs on top of the chicken in my grocery cart. It makes me laugh, in a perverse way.

On a side note, when I have a ton of groceries, I let the person behind me go ahead if the only have a few. It's just nice, and I hate it when people don't return the favor, and I'm standing there behind the full conveyor belt and a person who still has their shopping cart full of groceries, and it's the only open line. I'm always standing there with one thing in my hand.

I got cut off at the grocery store today, while my eggs were resting on top of my chicken as usual. I was coming out of the aisle--actually, I was already out, and it was just my body that was still in the aisle--and this woman with one of the car shopping cars, with a kid in the car part, just barrels right into me. She gave a me a dirty look and pushed my cart out of the way with hers, and marched off.

Since she slammed into the side where the eggs were, I checked them. She managed to crack them. Even their chicken mother/brother/uncle/cousin resting below them couldn't protect them this time, or maybe it was the chicken gods telling me this was too perverse for them to handle. The store person handing out samples started to laugh, and said, "Here. Pumpkin pie ice cream makes it all better."

Do you live near a Kroger? Because if you do, get thee to the Kroger(y), and buy some of the Kroger pumpkin pie ice cream. It's the perfect balm for being slammed into with a grocery shopping cart.

Along these bizarre lines, I am pretty sure that dinner tonight is going to consist of freshly baked rolls, guacamole (my homemade stuff--it's goooood), and pumpkin pie ice cream.

Oh? Yes, I bought the ice cream.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Once You Pop

I have to type this really fast to prevent something bad from happening. And then I must step away from the computer and not delete the post, to remove the evidence.

I made jalapeno poppers. I ate three. I am not allowed to eat anymore. The rest are for Vor, assuming he even likes them.

There, I said it. Now I am going to play with the dog, watching Bones, and stare at the remaining poppers until Vor gets home.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Crazy, You Make Me Crazy

At 8 pm every night, we find ourselves the proud parents of a compact little monster with floppy ears. Telly runs around, nibbles, chews, barks, humps (oh, Lordy does he ever hump. everything. the floor, your legs, the couch, his bed.) Then around 9 pm, he is done like dinner and crashes almost mid hump. Thump.

We call this the witching hour. Vor usually treats me nightly to his version of "You Make Me Crazy," which of course, he must sing for Telly, because if Telly had vocal cords, this is what he would sing every night at 8 pm. Even his usually sweet, calm, little face changes, and his eyes look a little wild. I hope Vor is home soon. I don't want to be here alone when this little critter goes bezerk tonight.

Things have been slightly nutty around here lately. So nutty that last night, I was at a loss for words, whether ir came to typing or telling Vor. I don't know if it's because a full moon just happened, or its the economy ( , stupid!), or whether this is my own personal welcome to the legal profession from The Indianapolis Community of Crazies, Inc., but my docket is full of, well, shit that I have never seen happen before, and the likes of which the more seasoned attorneys haven't seen in a long, long time (and dare I say, hoped to never see again). It has literally been like going to work in a zoo.

I can tell this is all having an effect on me. I know I get tired when I'm stressed, and all I've wanted to do is nap. Yawning? Check. Shivering? Check. What can I say? My body reacts strangely to adrenaline.

Oh, F. I just burned the cupcakes.

Oh, yes- and I'm swearing more than I usually do. Which still isn't that often, but still, I don't like it. It's just that nothing else seems to describe the crazy and frustration.

I'm afraid I'm snapping more at Vor too. I mean, let's face it. We are two lawyers in a house. We always have animated discussions, and we both have opinions. It's just that I am so tired of the explaining, the forced calmness with children, upset parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, guardians, etc., the constant politeness, the constant need to make sure that the other side (or other sides, multiple, which is another part of the crazy problem) know I understand what they are saying, and that on some level they may but right, but it just isn't going to be working that way today, sorry! It's just that I am so tired of all this that when I come home, I don't want to play devil's advocate. I don't want to have devil's advocate played to me. I usually enjoy it, but I just want to speak and be heard, be heard and be understood. Or if not understood, then accepted.

Let me be clear--this has nothing to do with Vor. It has to do with the crazy surrounding me. I just have to figure out how to deal with it, streamline it, and then eliminate it. Long hot showers don't seem to be cutting it.

My deranged dog just popped up from a dead sleep. Maybe the witching hour is coming early for him tonight.

It sure as hell has been here for awhile for me.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

This Thing That Can't Be Said

I opened this window to create this new post, and now it's just sitting in front of me blank.

I just don't know how to quantify, to place into words, what I thought I knew I was going to say.

Monday, November 2, 2009

I Want Candy

Ahhh, suburbia and Halloween. There is nothing like this particular combination to bring out the little gremlin that lives inside every child.

Oh, I'm sorry--I was supposed to say little darlings, they were so cute, nice, polite, would love to see them again.

No, actually, I wouldn't.

When I was of the trick or treating age, I marched up to that door, said trick or treat loud and proud, and held out my little bag. I accepted whatever candy / popcorn / apples / toothbrushes were given, and I said thank you, sincerely, and scooted away. I had manners.

I did not experience any such thing on Saturday. I had kids not say the magic words; I had kids keep holding their bags out after I dropped four (4! FOUR! At least four!) pieces of candy (good candy too--kitkats, peanut butter cups, baby ruth, etc.) into their bags. I had kids say, "Is that all?" I even had some reach over my hands after I gave them candy and take more candy out of the bowl.

Seriously, the nerve. What gives? Oh, there were the polite ones, and the adorable ones. The six month old little red riding hood was particularly memorable. But the others were by far predominant.

If Halloween can bring out the worst in them, it can also bring out the best. My sister's best friend has a five year old (A) who has the flu; the little five year old has a five year old cousin (S). S decided that she was going to carry around an extra bag for A. At every house she would hold out the other bag and say, "My cousin is home sick!" My sister even saw her take candy out of her bag and out it into A's bag.

If I had seen that on Halloween, I would have emptied the entire bowl of candy into her little bags.