Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Just When You thought I Might Work Too Much

I can't believe how busy I've been. So here's a quickie for you (God, get your mind out of the gutter. Sheesh.):

1. I was just kicked out of the office. Literally. The CEO came down and said, Grace, vamoose. Don't come back until after the holiday. No, I don't want to hear about how you have to file this, and write that, etc. No court for you tomorrow. Home. Now. I guess I have to learn how to deal with this job better. No one is in immediate danger right now, the deadlines have to be pushed back, and I need a break or I will burn out early. Breathe. Learn. Recover. Repeat.

2. I had a successful mini bench trial yesterday. Woo hoo! Hopefully it means good things for the family involved.

3. It snows, it melts, it rains, it ices, it snows, it melts. I never thought I would say this, but give me a good old fashioned blizzard a la Buffalo over this crap. I would rather have five feet of snow than the slush.

4. It's Christmas? What? Je ne comprehend pas. I thought it was still October?!?

5. The dog is staring at me. By staring at me, I mean he is putting on the most pathetic face you can imagine, with his eyes lifted up to me, all soulful, with wrinkles on his forehead, with that little golden retriever tail thumping slightly, sadly, lonely, love me. I think he wants peanut butter.

6. Well, they kicked me out of the office, but they can't kick the office out of me. I took me laptop, and I am going to finish these $@*# court orders. Now.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Sunday Blog Salad VI

Salad. What I should have had for dinner instead of chocolate covered pecans.

Lettuce. Work work work work work. Confrontation, crisis, computer screen, copiers. Paperwork, filing, nerves, stress. Did I mention work? Stress? I was such a little stress ball last Friday that when Vor and I came home from see A Christmas Carol I went into the basement and cried. I don't think my poor husband knows what to do with me. I know this is just a period of adjustment. Yes. I know this. But how long does it have to last?

Vegetables. Can work count as this too? No, be more creative, Grace. There are several vegetables on this salad: taking the dog outside in the winter. He is getting big and strong, and he loves to play in the snow, and it's a miracle I haven't fallen on my ass in the snow while I take him outside. The lack of hot chocolate in the house. The fact I have gained about five pounds. (Maybe I should stop complaining about the lack of hot chocolate?)

Croutons/Cranberries/Almonds. My Christmas decorations are pretty... My sister in law is coming into town... I get to spend quite a bit more time with Vor over our time off.

Salad dressing. None. Straight up.

Mea Culpa

I have never seen National Lampoon Christmas Vacation. I am watching it right now.

It's been on for five minutes and I've laughed five times.

I know, I've been a sorry excuse for a blogger. I'll try to be better.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Prince/Pauper

My Friday went a little like this:

I walk down the hallways of the court house. "Hey! You're the new lawyer from XYZ!" "Yes...?" "Come here. We have a new case for you." I enter, then exit the office, with a new case in hand. I take two steps, then-- "Hey! You're the new lawyer from XYZ, right?" Yes... "Judge just appointed you in two new cases. C'mere." Enter office, pick up two new cases, exit office.

"Hey! Grace! Judge has a new case for you guys. It's a doozy." Great. Pick up case, leave office. Walk down flight of stairs. Step onto next floor. "Hey!" ...it starts all over again.

Within about 3 hours, we had six new cases. The holidays make people crazy, and when people go crazy, the kids tend to suffer.

On the plus side, we had as many people offer to volunteer for us, and one court clerk has donated Christmas--dinner, presents, tree, lights, decorations--to a really needy family. It was touching.

I went from that on Friday to Vor's company Christmas on Saturday, complete with tuxes, ballgowns, a band playing music, REALLY good wine, and waiters bustling around carrying champagne and nibbles. The contrast made my head ache. Or maybe that was the three glasses of wine.

In other news, I chopped my hair off. It was at least three inches past my shoulders, and now it's at my ear lobes.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

View From My Countertop

On the stove: bacon.

In the oven: home made french fries (weight watchers approved) and pork chops.

In my belly: one (that's right, 1, one, un) spoonful of ice cream. I swear, it was to calm my burning throat. It helped. Really.

Outside: Snow.

Outside earlier: Telly trying to catch snow flakes.

The Plan: dinner. Bones. (Although, Dear Hart Hanson, I love your show and I watch it every Thursday. So why did you make fun of synchronized swimmers last week? It saddens me. I, a huge fan of Bones, am a synchronized swimmer. For that insult, I could drown you, and keep you company while I do it. But I won't. I'm just saying) Petting the dog. Finishing my volunteer case and report. Kissing the husband. Not falling asleep before 8 pm tonight.

Tomorrow: all hell breaks loose at 10:00 am with a Come to Jesus meeting. Not in the biblical sense. We'll see where the day goes from there.

This Weekend: Vor's company Christmas party + little black dress + black heels + gold hoop earrings (it's been years!) + several slowly ingested glasses of good red wine = dancing with Vor and a more talkative than usual Grace. Later, grounding this cold into oblivion. (Oh! Also! The doctor says I will survive. No surprise, right? Fertility though, that's another question, to be addressed later. Why did I burry this surprising and disheartening news in the middle of a parenthesis? Because I don't want to talk about it. DON'T. WANNA.)

In my hand: a glass of water.

Should be in my hand: a glass of eggnog... with rum.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

A Fine Vintage

Okay. So. (To which, I always respond buttons. Sew? Buttons? Whenever I say well, Vor inevitably responds, It's a deep subject. We all have our adorable quirks that we use when searching for words.)

Sew. I got myself sick. It figured that my immune system would be below the optimal threshold, what with everything else going on. So now, I'm nursing a low grade fever (FEVER! in the morning... da dee dum-dum, dum-dum), sore throat, etc. Peachy. The hits just keep coming.

I'm thinking this is a blessing in disguise, though. I mean, when I show up for a hearing, clearly sick without much of a voice, the judge just thinks (I mean, I hope he/she thinks) oh, look at the dedicated brand new attorney. How cute. I remember when I wasn't jaded. I hope she doesn't infect me. Oh, good girl! She's taking all sanitary precautions. Brownie points. Perhaps I am too optimistic.

Also, I decided this was the perfect excuse to use that giant, unused bathtub with jets in our bathroom. It's MAHHHVELOUS, as a woman I know would say. Her accent is legit too; she hails from where they paahhk chaars in the Hahvahd yaahd. I think that speaking like that requires you to leave your mouth open for far (faah?) too long, potentially exposing yourself to whatever I have.

So on the table for this week: Lots of home visits, lots of cat herding. Vor's company Christmas party is this weekend, and I have this sleek little black dress to wear to it. He has a tux. This will be fun, no? Like reenacting our wedding! Except I was wearing white, not black, it was hot, not cold, and I liked everyone present. Well, except for that random relative that you HAVE to invite because Mom/Dad/Mother in Law/Ms. Manners SAYS you have too, despite the many and sundry insults deliberately offered to you by said relative, but who really counts that?

This really was pointless, wasn't it? I'm sorry you read this. It's just that telling the dog my woes only results in me getting licked, or my blanket stolen, or a burp in the face. However, HE can't leave a comment on my blog to tell me to get over it already.

Order of business for the next two hours: Hot water. Blankets. Work email. Snuggle with Vor. Sleep.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Wishin' & Hopin'

Be careful what you wish for. Or at least, think before you speak. Hold you tongue, bite your tongue, keep your counsel, when someone wants my opinion, they will give it to me.

Grace, you say. Have you gone batty? Why are you writing down these trite things? I am telling you because if someone had said one of these things to me, it might have prevented me from posting this little post right here.

To add to the chaos: I spent an hour and fifteen minutes on the stand as a witness, feeling like I was trying to simultaneously herd cats and explain Virginia Woolf to a two year old child. I thought I was going to pass out from the pain (not the explaining, but actual, physical pain. Though the explaining was painful). I had my first hearing, which of course, was in front of a judge I've never been in front of, and I can't stop obsessing about what I did, what each look meant, and what I should have done, might have done.

Things had to be filed on Friday that didn't come in until 4 pm, and my supervising attorney was not in a great mood. Can't blame her, and it always makes me feel like it was something I did.

None of that is bad, just frustrating. What's bad is a family member of close friends dying, and having their dog die too, on the same day Vor and his sister and his mother are grieving and remembering their own loss.

Vor and I drank eggnog with rum in it, sat in front of Christmas tree, and had a dinner with no interruptions.

I wish I could heal hurts of all kinds. I hope I've done enough for a distraction. I hope this week was enough of a trial, and next week can be smoother.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Bring It On!

E. coli infection?

SERIOUSLY?

This is not amusing. I am freaking tired, I hurt, and I have my first full blown hearings tomorrow ALL DAY. I am the butt of some cosmic joke right now. God is trying to tell me it was an accident that I found those red shoes. I wasn't meant to do this. I did something terribly wrong in my life in the last year or so. Something. Anything.

I will take Advil; I will take my medicine; I will breathe; I will get through tomorrow;I will do this.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Lions & Tigers & Bears

Or was it...

Shooting pain, ovarian cysts, and endometriosis, oh my!

Begin from the beginning. The beginning was a sore abdomen, then waking up the next morning in severe pain, then letting it get worse, then giving up and going to the medcheck. Or maybe that was the beginning and the middle; I'm a little baffled as to the details.

In any case, the end was most definitely ovarian cysts and endometriosis. Oh, my. Speaking of Oh! My! have you ever had an interior sonogram? Because, I tell you, if at all possible, don't. That was one of the more unpleasant experiences of my life.

All in all, I am left with only a little pain, unless I sit too long or climb stairs or bend over or cough or or or or. Advil helps. Mostly, I am exhausted, because even if I don't feel the pain, my body knows something is wrong, and it is a busy little beaver trying to rebuild. Perhaps that was the wrong analogy, given the nature of the problem. Ahem.


For an interesting stretch of time, I thought (I only thought because the doctors thought) this was PCOS, and I was going to be handed a verdict of "If you want babies, you better get cooking, before its too late!" If you care to know my thoughts on having children Right. This. Instant. help yourself to a search of babies or children on my blog. I'm sure it will be informative.

I've always thought the Wizard of Oz was about wanting what you can't have, wanting what you don't think you have, and what to do about it. All of Dorothy's dream characters want something for inside themselves--a brain, a heart, courage--these things dwell within. Dorothy wanted something from outside; she wanted a more fantastical, vivid life, and then she just wanted to go back home. Nothing within her. Because Dorothy was searching for something outside her, she can't find it in her dream world, while the rest of her dream-mates can. She has to wake up.

She has to wake up.

For as much as children start in you, the whole point is they are something outside you, something that lives on, something you give to future generations of family and neighbors. A gift, an entailment to the future of the species. You don't repay your parents; you repay by making more, who in turn, do the same. They are something outside of you; you cannot find them by looking within; you have to wake up.


Maybe I am a little awake now, in the yawning stages, where I stretch and squeak but still refuse to get out of bed. Do I like the idea of being a mom? Nope. Do I want to miss the experience? For a few hours, when I thought that might be the case, the answer was hell, no.

It's all about having the toy you never play with taken away from you. It's about wanting what you can't have. It's about lions, and tigers, and bears.