Sunday, August 30, 2009

Sunday Blog Salad III

Life is a salad.

Lettuce
. Every time I even say the word lettuce, it makes me giggle as I think, "Lettuce be friends," or something else equally ridiculous. Anyways, lettuce, the meat of the salad. The dog. No, the dog is not meat, but this dog is taking up all my time. He's only been here since Tuesday, and he is already bigger. He used to be able to walk under the rocking chair, but he can't anymore without hitting his head. We decided to pen him in my closet at night, because when he wakes up, he starts howling if he thinks no one is around. See:

That's Telly, mid howl. This way, he can hear us breathe. Of course, this means I can't sneak out of the room to the bathroom without waking him up. Sigh.

Vegetables. There's a variety of vegetables, those sometimes nasty but always necessary things, this week. Housebreaking. I swear, the floors have never been cleaned so often. The whole place smells like Lysol. Finances. Buying a dog was an irrational decision, given how little money we have. I feel bad even grocery shopping, though the coupons ease the pain a bit. Hopefully, it will only be this tight for a few years. Impending work. I start back at work on Thursday, and I'm nervous. Yes, this is where I've worked for the last few years during the summer, but it feels different. Now there's the possibility of a malpractice lawsuit, there are cases and kids that are all my own. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to let me out of law school and hand me responsibility?

Croutons/Cranberries/Almonds. Work. I know, that's cheating, but I really am looking forward to going back. I'm so sick of being a student, and so ready to move into the real world. The new house too--Vor and I are excited about, thinking about where to put stuff, when to pack, when to move, who to trick into helping us move, etc.

Salad Dressing. Lemon with olive oil and dill. There are some bitter moments, but it balances out nicely.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Rhymes With Rant

First of all, the dog. He would like to tell you that his name is Telly, and he is very soft. He says that he misses his litter mates and stares at mirrors pathetically, and that he likes his orange fish toy the best. Oh, and he would also like to remind everyone that he pees, often. On everything. Can I use diapers on dogs?

Second, Verizon Wireless. Seriously? You charged me eight dollars for something that I don't use, and I only hit the button on accident? What kind of information do you think I snatched from The Great Web in 0.004 seconds? Nothing!!!!! I pressed the end button as soon as I realized my mistake! And you are charging me eight dollars for it!!!

Third, insurance. Is anyone else going through an insurance process right now, or possibly grimacing in remembrance when I say the word insurance? It's all just so needlessly complicated, with lots of phone calls, explanations, listening to people repeat themselves, and repeating yourself to an ever increasing list of people who are involved in getting your insurance. There is a nice home at the end of this, though.

Lastly, sleep. I'm sorry, I don't seem to remember what that is. Oh! Yes! It's that thing I used to do--CONTINUOUSLY--from about 10:30 to sometime after 7 a.m. Now there is dog yelping, and sudden intense cramps (ahem, that's a whole 'nother conversation), and the toilet breaking at 3 a.m., and needing me to fix it so that our water bill is not astronomical.

I guess I am just a tad short on patience. I am used to lots of alone time, and the dog really takes that away. I am not used to having to care for something so continuously, and I don't really enjoy it. I do know that once I have Telly trained, he'll be a good dog and a nice companion. He's smart, and it shouldn't take that long.

In the mean time, it's certainly given me something to reflect on. If I can't handle a puppy, how on earth can I handle a kid? I don't like taking care of small things. I like quiet time, and time with Vor. Everyone seems to think they are hilariously funny, saying first a dog, then kids! or, yeah, taking care of a puppy is good practice for you--just like kids! I don't think people realize that the more they say that, the more irritate and obstinate I get.

Just because we get a dog does not mean we are about to start reproducing or putting up a white picket fence around our new house (besides, the covenants and restrictions say no fence). Case in point--I just took the dog out, and someone said, "You know what comes after a dog..." I promptly said, "A goldfish." Taking care of a puppy has some things in common to caring for kids, but it is not the same. I bought the dog. I am not buying the child. If the dog grows up to be mean and bits someone, we'll get rid of it. No go with kids. If the dog ran out into the street and got run over, I would be very sad for awhile, and really pissed about the money I spent getting the dog. I can't even think about that with a kid. But...dogs get out of the puppy stage fairly soon. Kids go on and on and on and...

Patience. Patience. Patience. It's my one word prayer right now.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Meet Telly

You let your guard down for just one second, and oops! You have a dog.



I'd love to tell you more, but... he'll probably pee on the floor if I take my eye off him. Sigh. He is cute though, no?

Friday, August 21, 2009

House Edition

As I type the next sentence, I want you to imagine me staring at you, just blinking, with my head tilted to the side like an inquisitive puppy.

We bought a house?

I'm just not quite sure how this happened. I mean, we were looking with the intention to buy a house, and then suddenly we were making offers, and then we had a house. And it all happened while I was gone, so it seems completely surreal.

Or rather, it seemed completely surreal until we realized what our budget was going to look like for the next few years, and I had to sit down with my dad and negotiate how to pay off my law school loans, etc. Then it was all painfully real, laid out in dollar terms. So I panicked, in true Grace fashion, and obsessed over how this was even possible to do. In true Vor form, he gave me every bit of information he possibly could, and I panicked more. Then, in true married couple form, we went through every bit of information until it all made sense. So now I am excited!

We have a house! Yes, I know, there's all the inspection, appraisal, and other events to go through. But it sure is pretty. We're in a neighborhood with young couples and lots of kids, and I'm only ten minutes away from my office, twenty five from the courthouse. The house is plenty big enough for us, some kids, and a puppy.

So, thus ends my time in Buffalo. Today is spent going through stuff from high school, pitching most and keeping some, saying goodbye to my family, and hitting the road bright and early tomorrow.

In my car that screams run me off the road.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Monday, August 17, 2009

Toe Pick

Many doctors and nurses and one hospital later, all is well. Thank you for the prayers!

My overactive mother is wrapped up in a sling and a brace, and no head injury--thank God, because the mental image of a cracked helmet was just about too much for me to handle. Ever seen the beginning of Cutting Edge? That image of his hockey helmet spinning around on the ice was kin to what was going through my brain.

When I talked to my mom this morning, she was trying to figure out how she could ride her bike while in a sling. I told her--again--that my sister would handcuff to something immobile if she tried.

I'm driving up to Buffalo tomorrow. When I lived near my law school, it was a ten hour drive, sometimes more. Now it's only eight, maybe less, but I still have this ingrained horror of it being a ten hour car ride. It was so long, and so boring, except for those moments where the semi trucks try to run you off the road. Vor says this is because I have a car that screams, "GIRL!" Please. Toyota Corollas that are a pretty pale green do not scream girl. They scream, "I am a safe driver who read all the consumer reports on this car and who never speeds and who cares too much about my gas mileage and...okay fine, you can run me off the road. I'll just move out of the way. Have a good day!" That's what my car screams.

I can't wait to see all the kiddies. It just dawned on them this morning that I will be there tomorrow, and I am more thankful than ever that I singed up for a text messaging plan. I have been inundated.

But... (there's always a but, isn't there? One of my uncles would take this moment to point out that we all have asses kiddo, so of course there's always a butt! Ahem. I digress) we are going to put an offer on a house! Waahoo! I feel guilty leaving Vor to deal with all this. My physical presence isn't needed for an offer, I know; it's just that when he and I have long serious conversations about the future, the finances, the dog conumdrum, we do much better face to face. So this will require discussing offers over the phone. Not hard, just wish I would be here for it. Again, toe pick.

You know what? The amount of text messages I have received is the last ten minutes is ridiculous. I have to go deal with these, and my laundry, and the tomatoes inthe garden, and the packing, and...

Friday, August 14, 2009

Don't Blink, And Always Wear Your Helmet

Here I am, happily posting away about Star Trek, and things are happening at home. Don't blink, you might miss your happiness.

My mom's in the doctor's office, and is getting ready to leave for the hospital. They don't know what's broken yet, only that she fell off her bike so hard that it cracked her helmet in half.

Broken bones don't scare me. Concussions and head injury do. And My mom's so far away, 517 miles, and I can't touch her.

Maybe this is all pointless worrying, and I'll get a call in a few hours that she has a diagnosis of stop riding so close to the bike in front of you and take some aspirin. So prayers and thoughts for that please.

Boldly Going Where We Have Gone Twice Before

Are Vor and I sci-fi addicts?

Are we possibly going to see Star Trek--again? Would this be his third time? Am I jealous that it's only my second?

Is the Pope Catholic?

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Meet Prada



My oldest niece, born when I had just turned 8. Yes, I said 8. She's closer in age to me than both my siblings, and consequently, more like a sister than a niece. ( What do you mean you're pregnant?!? I thought that couldn't happen anymore!! My brother calls me a mistake, and my mother *lovingly* corrects him and calls me her favorite mistake. Don't worry, none of it is mean, all in the best fun.)

I learned how to change diapers and care for kids with Prada. As a baby, the only way to keep her from crying was to bounce her up and down to Garth Brooks. It had to be Garth. Nothing else would do. And, oh God, the BURN in your arms.

For the longest time, she was very shy, and would cry anytime she had to leave her parents. I don't exactly know when that changed, but suddenly I noticed that she was hilarious. She might still be quiet, but that's because she is making this running commentary under her breath that leaves you in stitches. Her dad, PD, is noted for being a comedian, but even he stares at her in shock. The two of them together are like comedy central.

Prada is beautiful. I know I am biased, but she is gorgeous. To top that off, she has an impeccable sense of style. If I had all the money in the world, I would send her to town with an unlimited credit card and tell her to pick out clothes for me. I have no doubt she would excell. When she was about seven or eight, I took her shopping to pick out my prom dress. She picked out the winner. I was only too pleased to return the favor a few years later.

Prada loves kids--she babysits all the time, and has all kinds of certifications for it. She really enjoys babysitting the special needs kids, and I thik she has teacher tendencies, like her mom and my dad.

Prada is the reason I have texting capability on my cell phone, and is most certainly the reason why I now have a full keyboard. We're facebook friends too. Go figure. In some ways, I am fairly sure that having her in my life (as well as the other nieces and nephews) keeps me very aware of all the latest trends and tendencies.

I can't really describe what she means to me, only what she is like. She's a niece, she's a sister, she's a friend. She was a bridesmaid for me, and someone I grew up with. She cried when I got engaged, because it meant things were changing, and she and I were both growing up. I told her it would never change things with us, just that she got another uncle and some more cousins eventually, and at that time, Jekyll the dog.

Next time I see her, I'll tell her that when her mother got engaged, I cried and locked myself in the bathroom.

Prada is sweet, kind, funny, and special to me.

Supermassive Black Hole

I'm two weeks into my month off, and I have come to one conclusion: I am NOT built to be a stay at home mom.

I go crazy being here all day (yes, I know I can leave the house, and I have been on various errands, but I have nowhere to BE) and I'm here by myself and I can do whatever I want. I can't imagine do this with kids. It feels crushing. I don't know how my mom, my sister, and my sister in law do this. But then, I've always been very different from them.

Fortunately, I've had tons of tasks. House shopping, appliances to go in the house shopping, research, and inevitable errands. Keeps me from being a total crab when Vor comes home.

The most irritating of these errands has been pulling together my certified legal intern paperwork. See, I'm going to be a litigator. As such, I am almost useless to work from my start date until I find out I passed the bar and get sworn in. I mean, tell me the purpose of a litigator who has to be supervised every waking moment? It surely won't take any pressure off the other litigators in my office. C'est la vie, I suppose, and at least I'll be all trained up by the time I pass the bar (cross your fingers, do the sacred pass-the-bar dance for me).

So, the paperwork. I need this so that I can do all the things a lawyer can do, and just be supervised while I'm doing them. I've had to mail away for the forms, get the forms mailed to me, fill them out, mail them to people to complete, have them mail the forms back to me, and now I am onto the stage of mailing the forms to the dean of my law school so she can mail them to the Board of Law Examiners. Several trees were harmed in this process. At least we are using up those stupid 42 cent stamps that are now worthless by 2 cents.

Vintage, my closest friend here in town, got called into work early, cutting her August bar recovery short by two weeks. I almost wish work would call me in early. I can hear you all (and by you all, I mean like four people) saying enjoy your time off! It will never happen again! I miss those days! I understand. I realize I look back at this sentence and say What. The. Hell.

But last night, I had this dream--a dream that represented the entire month of August to me in a picture. August, the month, is a giant black hole. The things I'm doing are on the event horizon, slipping inexorably in (just envision envelopes, houses, and refrigerators flying in). To the outside world, they appear to be frozen in time, they're all moving so slowing into August. But for me, they're moving. Never stopping. Going somewhere they can't be found again.



Check out the song supermassive black hole by Muse. It's on the Twilight soundtrack. You won't regret it.

Monday, August 10, 2009

The Box Unchecked

Step one: meet boy and fall in love. Check.

Step two: get engaged and get married. Check.

Step three: buy house.

No check. (And of course, I didn't mean that this was my life plan, it just seems to be the way things worked out. Not that other life plans aren't fine. In fact, they are fabulous, and I never thought this would have been mine. And Vor is a man not a boy. And if I am going to qualify everything, why do I type it?)

We went on our first round of house looking a few days ago, and like many before us, we had our eyes opened. We can get what we want for the money we're willing to pay, but not in the exact area we want to live in. Or we can get less for more in that area, or a fixer-uper. The dream and the reality don't overlap--who knew?!?

I could tell you that Vor and I go head to head because we have completely opposite views of what we want, but that would be a lie. I could tell you about the houses that smelled like cat and dog unmentionables, but that would be disgusting. I could tell you about the two houses we like, and the problems we have with them, but why they're still on our list, but that would be boring.

However, that is what August is going consist of--looking at house after house, and in the end, buying.

P.S. Oh! My diploma came! And it's pretty! And it says J.D.! I think I'll go get it framed. Today. Now.

P.P.S. Our friends were here, and now are gone. Alas.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Picture Book



Ahh, Colorado. I just love it out there. We went there on our honeymoon last year, and just came back from that glorious place once again. It's the mountains. They get me every time.



And by get me, I mean give me altitude sickness. I mean, what the hell? I love mountains! If Vor said tomorrow, "Take the bar at X mountainous state, and we'll move," I might just jump up and do that. Why, WHY, do I get altitude sickness? It's crap. I'm not in the best shape of my life, but I'm pretty decent. I call bullshit on this one.

Anyways. All the bar stress is gone, except when I accidently look at my BarBri books:



or when I close my eyes and have these horrifying dreams that I never finished taking the test! I missed this huge issue! I am stuck in that room and can never leave! Also note:



Yeah, that's my thumb in a splint. I wasn't joking about the pinched nerve from the exam. Fortunately, I have regained feeling in my thumb...most of the time.

We have guests coming in about five minutes--actually, the people that introduced Vor and I, as well as their pugnacious little pug. We are skipping off to a winery tomorrow, but next time, I am telling you all about this B&B we stayed at. Paradise in a house, I kid you not.

Maybe I'll even have more pictures for you.