Monday, May 24, 2010

And the Dolphins Sang a Chorus Together

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Oh, sorry. That was my forehead rolling around on the keyboard after a full day hearing that is going to go for two more days while my dog is running around with a pair of Vor's socks and I've decided I just don't care. So, there.

I wish I could tell you how appalling this day was and what kind of grossness I witnessed in the courtroom, but these proceedings that I'm in right now are super extra top secret under pain of death, criminal penalty, and disbarment confidential. So be advised world, there are some creepy people out there.

Here's some randomness for you:

1. I want bacon. I don't understand it, I don't know why, but all I want is bacon. Bacon Bacon Bacon. (OMG THE &*^$%#@ DOG JUST ATE SOME OF MY MAKEUP. DEAD. DOG.) (If it isn't clear to you yet, this post is being written over time, as I stop to cook, eat a piece of bacon, or beat my dog I mean gently remove my GOOD MAKEUP of which I have very little from the dog's mouth). Bacon. I want to wrap myself up in it and devour it, crispy piece by crispy piece. Is this what a craving feels like?

2. See parenthesis above. Seriously? I only wear make up to court. I call it my war paint, and without it, I look like I am 12. So, I wear a little makeup, and people take me more seriously. I and my feminist self got over it a long time ago. So, because I use it rarely, it is good makeup. Expensive. Christmas and birthday gifts from the aunt who was a model and a big time makeup person/coordinator for Liz Claiborne. AND HE COMMITTED PETTY THEFT AND ATE IT.

3. There's a general thing going around about the dress dare (here). More power to you, ladies. I actually wore a skirt to court today, and was reminded of why I hate doing that as I kept maneuvering around, trying to pick up files, constantly stand up and sit down, without giving the judge, other attorneys, and some unsavory people a great show. Not so much for me. It is my blessed pants suit tomorrow, in which I actually feel infinitely more comfortable, confident, and, well, womanly. Who knows?

4. This is worthy of a longer post, but again, people whose blogs I browse are posting on it now. Stay at home mom hood, which translates, for me, into the only argument Vor and I have gotten into lately. Kids, and the effect they have on a life/relationship/home/etc. He thinks I am a pessimist. I think I am entirely realistic, but concede I need to not be so negative. So, instead of projectile vomit sucks, so I insert, projectile vomit sucks, and I can't wait for the first time I see it! ? This is me being facetious, so Vor, please remember our conversations and not this. Like I said, worthy of a longer post regarding (life, the universe, and everything--the answer is forty two, BTW) babies and children and their care and my ambivalence and our careers and how I love my career and and and....

5. $%$# dog just came out with my make up pad. I'm not kidding. I shut that drawer after the above incident. How did he get this?

6. I have had a seriously light head and dizziness in the mornings. It seems to last for about an hour after I get up. What gives?

Dog just went into the bedroom again. Ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, right? Tata, or as Douglas Adams would say--so long, and thanks for all the fish!

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Nailed

I need serious advice on a life changing decision. The answer to this has to fit within my personality, my career, and Vor's likes and dislikes.

What color should I paint my nails?

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Right. Silence is probably a good answer to that. See, I have this horrible nervous habit of picking at my fingers, which result sin nothing good, let me say. I have Vor on the look out, and he gently (or not so gently) stops me when he finds me doing it.

I've found that having nail polish on makes me stop doing it. As much as it is a nervous habit, I am more compulsive about chips in color it seems. Evil v. Evil.

So. Buttons. A color a lawyer can wear, which means no black, navy blue, purple, florescent colors, really nothing too bright. A color I will wear, which means no soft pretty pinks and no french manicures. A color Vor will like, which means no other pastels.

What does this leave?

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Apparently, our neighbors have a Friday get together in a really cool walk out basement bar almost every week. We went to this last week and got to meet many more of our neighbors.

One conversation involved a run down of the things you need to love/do to truly be a Hoosier... aka, from Indiana. Alright, I *heart* the Colts. Check. Enjoy seeing cornfields as far as the eye can see? Nice change from NY, so yes, check. Think windmills are cool? Check. Geographically ignorant about the location of everything else in Indiana except for the city I live in? Check!

Love/worship/always attend the Indy 500?
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Right. Nope. Hate the thing. My poor neighbor was appalled, and this was Proof! Proof! Proof! (he was a few into cocktails) that I am from NY and will never be from Indiana. We all laughed, but really, he hit the nail on the head. I will never love the Indy 500. I will always be annoyed and feel superior in my NY ways when I see all those houses suddenly decorated in race flags. I will NEVER go to this race. I hate cars, I hate crowds, and other than roller coasters, I hate things that go fast. Tell me why I would like this race?

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Anyways, we are partaking in a charity walk this weekend downtown. There are bets in the office on how long it will take Telly, my water crazed dog (have I mentioned that he swims? He swims now. He loves water) to pull me into the Canal.

So, if you live in Indy and you see a golden retriever and a woman in the canal, that would be me.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Dog Out of Crate Day

Having worked all last weekend, full days on Saturday and Sunday, Full days on Monday and Tuesday... that makes a week and half, appx. Angst.

So, I took today off. It's making me compulsive. I have picked up the phone several times to check my work messages, and then stopped. As soon as I access that voicemail, it will be all over.

I think I need to leave the house. now.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way...

It seems to be that time of the month/the year/my life/Vor's life where everyone we know is either giving birth or pregnant. Just these past three weeks, I've increased my genetic empire by two cousins (okay, fine, second cousins, but my family abnormally close and has strange generational cross overs). I held Baby H (she is still hanging in there!) for an extended period of time this weekend, and met Vor's largely pregnant co-worker.

So my relative mentioned while I was driving home that their neighbors finally got pregnant. I've known this girl since, well, forever. She babysat me. So yay!

In passing, I mentioned to my relative that two of my old classmates from grade school were pregnant. There was silence. I tried again. You know, S? This is her second baby. And M, this is her first. They're both really excited. I saw ultrasound pictures...

More frosty silence. Then my phone hangs up. Alright, I think. I'll try that one again. When I get her back on the phone, I ask if there is any reason why she hung up on me. It turns out, she doesn't approve. S wasn't married when she had the first baby, but they're married now for the second one. Apparently, that makes Baby 2 as bad as Baby 1. And don't get me started on what the reaction to Baby 1 was. M, well, M got engaged because she was pregnant. (This relative inserted "because" for me. Nevermind they had been together forever and there was no doubt they would get married.) So, not appropriate.

I know my family is Catholic. By Catholic, I mean C.A.T.H.O.L.I.C. They are Catholic to the point of harassing me about marrying Vor--heathen non Catholic Christian that he is--there was wailing and gnashing of teeth about the way we were getting married--never mind the priest suggested it. There was even more. Hurtfully, painfully, there was more. But, they are my family, and I love them, even when I think they are out of line.

Anyways. Hanging up on me because old classmates are pregnant? Bizarre. I don't even have a nice wrap up ending for you, because I'm still thinking about it.

Monday, May 10, 2010

An Ode to My Early Warning System

I am reasonably sure that I composed a post in my head at one o'clock in the morning last when I couldn't sleep. I am positive that it was witty, insightful and in short, brilliant.

I am also quite sure I can't remember it.

With that being said, I am going to provide T.(oo) M.(uch) I.(nformation)--Vor, run away. Ladies... meh. (It's just that this is too good--for me--to keep to myself.)

One day, when I was ten, I suddenly felt like someone was squeezing my stomach and stepping on my back. Lo and behold, my period. Yay. Ever since that day, it has gotten worse, and developed into a person swirling a knife around in my stomach, and an elephant standing on my back trying to crush my spine. This, naturally, resulting in lots of double vision, throwing up, and generally laying in a ball wishing I could die. I have a high pain tolerance. I am not joking about that--I was trying out for the Olympics people. Do people like us have low pain tolerances? Um, no. We live for it.

ANYWAYS, I began to refer to this as my early warning system. The good thing about it was that I knew at least 12 hours in advance that my period was coming. Let's just say I was never caught unprepared. So, blah, blah, blah, doctors, BCP, which only dulled the pain and made me feel crazy, so no thank you to that.

Then comes December 2009. That was a blast, and a wake up call. Things should not be this bad, and I knew I was not eating healthy. This made me weak, sorry, I meant a prime target for my brother's cult, oops, sorry again, I meant way of thinking about food. No grains, breads, pasta, rice, no. sugar. at. all. I get meat and veggies, and some fruit. I basically do not shop in the middle aisles of the grocery store. So I am cavewoman, hear me roar. Roar.

In March, the pain was much less than normal. Not even a single episode of double vision. In April, pain free. Again, in May, pain free. Where is the pain?

I am doing absolutely nothing different, other than the food. It has to be the food.

So, to my early warning system, I bid you adieu. You were handy, but so not worth it.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Home Owner-ness

Since I am a total slacker today, and Vor is on his way home, and the chicken is resting in its uncooked bacteria-party house state, this will be brief.

I have some general questions to ask of the neighborhood.

1. Who mows their lawn twice a week? Why? Why? WHY?

2. Who mows their lawn in the rain?

3. Who mows their lawn when I can hear the tornado warnings going off?

4. I think your kids are adorable, but I also think I have a puppy who likes to lick and kiss and your kids are afraid of dogs, so why are they driving their PowerWheels cars into my drive way where my dog can access their faces?

5. How do you manage to shoot baskets--and make them--while holding beer?

6. Where did you find the time to power wash, strip, sand, repaint, and re-seal your deck? What do you mean, you do that every year?

7. Why is the second question you ask me whether I have kids, and then you stop speaking to me after I say not yet?

8. Where is the invitation list for those amazing looking wine-cook out--impromptu cul-de-sac parties you all have, and how do I get on it?

I'm really enjoying this neighborhood. Even with the law-mowing craziness that happens. Oh! And! As I speak, someone else started their lawnmower. This would be third time this week for this house. IT HAS NOT RAINED THAT MUCH.

I have to get started on my tomatoes. The farmer's market in downtown Indianapolis had its first day today, and I saw tempting tomato plants, beautiful basil, radiant rosemary, etc., etc., etc. It reminded me that I need to jump on that. If I hadn't had the craziness of an emergency hearing, maybe I would have brought home a tomato plant today. Next Wednesday, I have promised myself. I am also coveting lettuce. I think I should just stick with the tomatoes and my already blossoming herb garden. That farmer's market was amazing. The fresh veggies, the fresh pies, the crepes, the raw honey, all of it from local farms. Drool.

Need to go get started on that chicken. Maybe I will put it on that fantabulous grill we bought.

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I know it's not April anymore, and I know that most people reading this are not from Indiana, but April in IN was Child Abuse Awareness Month. So, I have decided that April = May, and you should all go out and volunteer and be an advocate for children in your state, be a mentor, be a tutor, be a foster parent, or just go hug a kid. I have a real heart breaker on my desk right now, and I know there are so many more where s/he came from.