Grace

Jan 5 2012

2012-01-25T11:46:00.003-05:00

Meet Lis (little Irish souvenir):

Jan 5 2012 at 2:09 in the am. 18 hours of labor, 2 hrs pushing, 7 lbs 2 oz and 19.25 inches of cute.

Pregnancy Fail #999,999,999

2011-12-21T17:10:00.003-05:00

So much fail in only 9 ish months.

Now, I get two doctor's appointments per week instead of one until baby comes. Now, I get to get two NST's per week.

The insulin is only working part time, because I APPARENTLY build up a rapid resistance. The solution? Keep upping the dose blindly every day.

My God. This needs to end. Please, thoughts and prayers that this baby comes before January 3 so that I don't lose my ever loving mind.

Also? The dog found huge stacks of baby clothes in one of the spare bedrooms--FRESHLY WASHED BABY CLOTHES--and proceeded to spread the clothes all over the house today. Upstairs, down stairs, the main level, in every bedroom, in every hall way. There were a lot of clothes (lots of hand me downs ).

Did I mention that a few weeks ago he got ahold of a brand new, full box of tissues, and proceeded to take out each and every tissue, one by one, and spread them all over the floor? He didn't even chew on them. He just took them and out them on the floor.

I can't wait to see how he reacts to baby. This should be epic.

Also, why did my font change mid post? I didn't touch anything.

FAIL.

Name Game

2011-12-16T17:45:00.002-05:00

So long with no posts, and then two posts for you! This one is out of my drafts.

Names. Let me start by saying, we have a name picked out, and we can't/won't change it because:

1. We love it.

2. We bought letters and hung them up.

3. There are now two savings bonds in her name,

4. We love it.

Mama Vor and Vor's sister. We hung the letters of her name up in her nursery, and then we promptly put Christmas wrapping paper over the name. Mama Vor lives here and Vor's twin sister is coming into town this weekend, and well... they are curious people. Let's hope the wrapping paper stops them.

My Mom and Dad. More specifically, my mom. Dad doesn't really want to know. My Mom calls in this sad pathetic voice and tells me she is feeling down in the dumps today, and you know what would brighten her day right up? If I told her le bebe's name. No? What do you means no? How about her initials? The first letter of her first name? GOD GRACE YOU ARE SO UNREASONABLE.

My sister (and my nieces and nephews). My sister and her kids and husband are trying something new this year--they are all going on a cruise together for Christmas. Except... well, it's likely baby will come. My sister has invented this elaborate scheme where she stands by the captain of the ship, while it is pulling out of the port, blowing its departure horn, and then I

(A) Tell her the name;

(B) Tell her three possible names;

(D) tell her the letter of le bebe's name, and she can play word scramble on the cruise ship.

I am really tempted to do (D), because what she doesn't realize is that I will send her all the letter of all the names. First Name, Middle Name, Middle Name, Last Name. That's right, le bebe has two middle names, just like her daddy. I don't think my sister would ever figure it out, because I am not telling her that she has two middle names. And her first name is kind of long. Heh.

Me. I love her name. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to change it, and its how I think of her. But there is this little space in the back of my head that really wants this other name. I wanted to name her after my friend who was killed in the plane crash. Because she was funny and smart with a crazy sense of style and sweet, and because I miss her. Because it's a pretty name. I think it goes into the name drawer, if there's ever another baby. It stays on the top. I love the name and I want to use it, but it's just not le bebe's name. The name we picked out IS her name.

Besides, it's a name from my favorite Jane Austen novel, so how could you go wrong?

And thus, I give her a name for you--her blog name that is. You don't get her real name.

Her name on here is Lis.

As in L.I.S. As in "Little Irish Souvenir." That's my girl.

Sweet Sugar Baby

2011-12-16T17:23:00.003-05:00

Still here. Still pregnant.

Just now, with gestational diabetes and taking insulin shots, which as I am sure you can imagine, has caused a several minor and major meltdowns on my part, since I am the no sugar queen.

There has been lots of "how the $&%@ did this happen to me?!?" which has resulted in two doctors and one nurse and one nutritional specialist telling me with a shrug, "It just happens. You couldn't have stopped it. Not your fault."

Sigh. Insulin shots it is, for the two weeks that is left of this pregnancy.

Funny thing is, I don't look like I have GD. I am not swollen at all. My face is really thin, thinner than usual. My rings fit, my shoes fit, I still have my regular ankles--hell, I still pretty much have my regular legs.

My sugar numbers are so borderline that my doctor was really hesitating to put me on the insulin at all--diet was controlling it just fine, except... except... except. There's my favorite word.

Except at night. My hormone levels would spike, which is the problem--I am producing some hormone that is blocking my insulin. So, after fasting for however many hours, I would wake up and my numbers were HIGHER than they were after dinner. Shoot, I could eat a piece of cake and I was fine! But let me go to sleep, and man, those number would shoot right up.

So, if I delivered le bebe during such a spike, it would be dangerous for her, thus insulin.

My placenta is trying to poison us.

I am supremely peeved. I tossed a mini fit last night about this whole thing. Vor, bless him, has been so patient and understanding.

My parents... meh. They've been okay. I can explain it to them, and they're like, "Oh. Ok. Whatever keeps you and baby healthy." But if I dare breathe a word of complaint (I mean, I am 8 1/2 months pregnant. I am allowed a small whine now and then, right? Especially if it is a whine done in good humor?), then I get from my mother one of the following options:

IT COULD BE WORSE JUST BE GRATEFUL.

IT COULD BE WORSE YOU COULD BE ON BEDREST BE GRATEFUL.

I ALMOST DIED AFTER I HAD YOU BE GRATEFUL.

THERE ARE STARVING CHILDREN IN AFRICA BE GRATEFUL.

Which, okay. But it makes me not want to call my my own mother and talk about my pregnancy.

I will say, I am impressed with the way technology has advanced since one of my great uncles had diabetes. I remember really long scary needles and lots of blood all the time. The jabber I stick myself with to test my numbers barely even registers as "I am being stuck" and the needle for insulin--I can't even feel it. It's kind of creepy, actually.

It's just that I have to do it at all.

I suppose the good news is that if le bebe has not shown her pretty little prune face by January 3, my due date, on Jan 4, baby will be making her grand entrance, like it or not, since they don't let people on insulin go late. I am still hoping for a December baby. Vor is hoping for a December baby. Our tax forms are hoping for a tax deduction December baby.

In other news in one paragraph, there has been lots of upheaval in my work life, which has resulted in a very busy very stressed Grace, but stressed in a good way. In fact, the last month and a half has been a complete blur, all thanks to work.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Office

2011-10-19T17:50:00.002-04:00

I've been working more at the main office, and less at our satellite office, for a wide variety of reasons. As much as it is a satellite, because it's about two blocks away. We just ran out of space for our expanding little group.

Anyways, I was heading over to the main office. I had everything I needed with me. Then I thought--No. Let's go to the satellite office first, do some work there, then head over.

I got to the satellite office at 8:05. If I had gone to the main office, I would have gotten there between 8:08 and 8:10.

At 8:10, one of my co-workers was attacked by a guy with a gun who made off with her car.

The what-if's are going crazy in my head right now.

Wild West Honeymoon

2011-10-11T19:08:00.002-04:00

Well since people are writing about their honeymoons, I didn't want to miss the party.

Especially since this is my space to remember nice things, and you know what? Today was not a nice day. In fact, it was downright crappy, and if I wasn't pregnant, I would find a bottle of wine and open it. On a weeknight. That's unheard of for me.

We had picked out crazy fun places, like Ireland or Paris. Promptly after picking those out, we decided we did not want to spend that much money. So, in the spirit of saving money, we shifted our thoughts of Hawaii.

You're laughing, right? You know you can fly to Paris or Ireland for less money than Hawaii? Yeah. About that. Well, we bought guide books, and picked out which island we wanted to go to, and thought about the stuff we wanted to do, and tallied up the cost.

We realized we could go to Hawaii and sit on the beach and do none of the fun things we wanted to do, stay at no place we wanted to, and probably not eat unless we found a pineapple on the beach.

We huffed and we puffed, and then decided that we would like to save Hawaii for when we could do it right. We then decided to redefine our criteria:

1. No cell phoen reception, or easy to pretend there is no cell phone reception.
2. Continential US.

Easy right? I promptly looked up the tourism websites for Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, and Colorado. After no debate at all, we used telepathy on each other and selected Colorado simultaneously, without looking back. Mountains. Warm. Pretty. Meets #1 and #2. Perfect.

We stayed for a few days in Manitou Springs, a small town outside Colorado Springs. Our B&B was lovely, and overlooked Pike's Peak. We did Pike's Peak, and Garden of Gods, and explored the town. Oh, and we totally did the Flying W for dinner and their entertainment.

Then we went up into the moutnains, and stayed at Estes Park. The B&B we stayed at is still one of the best we have ever been to, and we go back repeatedly. The owners are great, they cook amazing well, they have a wine cellar, the rooms were insanely comfortable, and they know the town inside and out. We saw a black bear climbing up a tree about fifty feet away from the huge wrap around porch, and when we pulled up to the B&B, there were elk in the driveway.

It was relaxing. There was nothing we felt like we had to see or do, because we would never be able to come back. It's Colorado. It's not hard to get there. It wasn't expensive. It was just right.

Too Far Gone

2011-10-10T18:53:00.002-04:00

DISCLAIMER: I rarely write about specifics at work, but this is really, deeply bothering me. There are two cases that are very similar, so I am going to combine them, change all the identifying and non identifying details while still leaving it accurate, and sigh deeply over this.

So, there’s this kid, B. B ended up on my case load because B’s guardian threw up his hands and said I can’t do this anymore. B is a danger to me and my family. I’m looking at B, who is still single digits in age at the time, thinking okie dokie. B seems like a sweetie to me. And you know what? B is a sweetie.

Until a switch is flipped, and suddenly, B goes from happy go lucky, kind, and loving to angry, withdrawn, and then violent. Really, truly, glass breaking, table flipping, punching bag violent. These episodes can last minutes, or hours, or even days. Then, all of a sudden, sweet B is back, devastated at what happened, and is begging for help. Why do I do this? Why can’t you help me? What do I do to make myself stop? How do I get better? Then, B is so devastated at the answers, or the lack of answers, or how the answers don’t seem to help, or how slowly B makes progress, that then there’s the self harm problem.

B was exposed to all kinds of highly controlled substances while B's mom was pregnant with B. Then, somewhere along the way, B was neglected and abused, but we don't know when, how, or by who. B's parents are little fizzy on the details of B's life, oh say from birth through the age of 5, when they finally cleaned up. B’s behaviors are classic, textbook perfect symptoms of some of the worst kinds of abuse. But, given the circumstances B grew up in, we will never know what exactly happened to B.

Now we’re approaching puberty, and all those deee-lightful hormonal changes. Now I am seeing B with less sweet moments, and more anger, more outbursts. But even still, when B has those moments of calm, it’s like clarity descends, and B is begging for help again. Why do I do this? Why can’t you help me? What do I do to make myself stop? How do I get better? …I don’t want to be like this.

What’s scarier for me, and for B long term, is now I know B is having auditory hallucinations. B is getting paranoid. I am trying to move as fast as I can to B evaluated and into a placement that is good and helpful for B—because B’s current guardians can’t help B anymore. And they’re right—they and their family are not safe with B in the house, given some of the things B has tried recently.

So we’ve landed here. B’s school is offering a referral to a placement in a therapeutic setting, and B’s insurance is going to pay for it. I just don’t know if it will help. I mean, I know it will help, but can B ever be… I don’t know what words I’m looking for. Normal? Functioning? A productive member of society? They all seem too much, too trite, and not enough for what I want for B, all at the same time.

B has been on my caseload for years now. I can’t help but think that on some level, B is looking at all the adults in B’s life, and is thinking, all of you have failed me in some way, because I am still the way I am. And who’s to say that B’s wrong? I’m not sure I can.

Because I Make Lists, It's What I Do

2011-10-10T18:50:00.000-04:00

My list of things that I just can’t wait to do again once I serve le bebe with her eviction notice is increasing, day by day. Let’s examine the list:

1. Eat sushi. At this point, my brain and stomach and my very soul I tell you are clamoring together suuuuuuuuushhhhiiiiiii. suuuuuuuuushhhhiiiiiii.

a. See also—lunch meat, unheated.

2. Work out. Riding a bike, sit ups, high impact exercise, jumpies, mountain climbers, for the love of Pete, anything but the stupid, useless boring exercises that seem to be the only ones okayed for the pregnant lady.

3. Drink champagne. I might drink a bottle by myself. Normally, I am a wine person, red or white, with a fierce love of champagne, so I will skip right over the wine and go for the good stuff. And mark my words, it will be the good champagne. Expensive. Good. Smooth. Champagne.

4. Stomach sleep. That’s the only way I’ve ever slept. I can’t wait to go back. It will be glorious, even if it is more only an hour at a time. I hate side sleeping. It is most uncomfortable. I’m not sure I ever really fall deeply asleep anymore, because I am constantly balancing on my side, even with the aid of the pillow. On that note, I can’t wait to ditch the body pillow.

5. Hot bath. Sign me up for my Jacuzzi tub. I can’t wait to get back into that baby with a just below boiling temperature and bubbles.

6. Skin reclamation. This bit about the great skin and the glowing look is a LIE. I look like a teenager again. Le bebe has had me all broken out since around the time she made my morning sickness appear. It is only with extreme diligence that I can sort of keep it under control and kind of not looking like I have small pox or some God awful thing.

There you go. Six more reasons besides le bebe herself to be excited about the end of this. And when is this over? Not for a while, friends. Not for a long while.

PS Did I mention that one of my favorite colors to wear is orange, like the rusty kind of orange (though I can wear any shade of orange, including neon)? It goes great with my skin tones. Imagine my dismay when I put on a stretchy orange sweater and saw myself in the mirror. It looks like I’m holding a pumpkin in front of me (much to Vor’s relief, I just restrained myself from typing “It looks like I am a pumpkin” …except! I just typed it! Woops!)

PPS It’s not a thing I’m excited to do, it’s a thing I’m excited not to be. Sick. I’m usually a healthy person. Pregnancy has given me migraines, all day sickness, a surprising susceptibility to strep, and now, major GI problems. I have never had such issues until I got pregnant. Coincidence? Hardly. Anyways, things are bad enough that I have to go see a GI specialist because I am not gaining enough weight. It’s not like I’m not trying here, people. I am eating. In fact, I am about to go eat more. But it won’t stick. The pregnant lady can’t gain weight. Pathetic. Constantly sick. Nothing stays with me. At least I’m not on bed rest. Why do I even type these things out loud? That’s like asking for it at this point.

PPPS I fail at being pregnant.

I Am Not Buddha, Nor A Magic Lamp

2011-09-16T16:46:00.003-04:00

The collective pregnancy rants topic of the moment: unauthorized belly touching.

I am not in favor. I need to end this ridiculousness.

I am totally fine with Vor touching. He should be touching. He touches all the time. My mom did it without asking, and while it made me uncomfortable, hey, it’s my mom. It has nothing to do with my mom, but the fact I have issues about being touched. So, my mom and dad his mom, and our siblings get free touches.

There was no holding off my cousins and second cousins and aunts and uncles when I went to my family reunion. But I am pretty close with all of them, and they’re family. Again, I know I have touching issues. I made the decision ahead of time to be okay with it, and overrode the uncomfortableness.

People who are friends either know me well enough to know that it is not okay, have been given permission, or have been told that it is unacceptable.

Not okay are complete and utter strangers. For example, the random creepy guy on the street who comes at me with his hands out. I used my best rude aggressive lawyer voice, asked what exactly he thought he was doing, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Here’s the category I have a hard time with: the acquaintances. The people I have to interface with to get my job done. Okay, fine, specifically, the court clerks and bailiffs and court reporters. I have to be really really fall down friendly nice to these people. They make the wheels go around in the courthouse and if they don’t like you, those wheels grind to a halt. I am more than happy to tell them fun details, spin around in a circle so they can see the increasing size, and tell them due dates, what the room looks like, etc. Rubbing my belly? No.

There have been two offenders so far. First, is one who came up and more scratched my stomach rather than rubbed it. I smiled at her and stepped back, but I really don’t dare do anything more than that.

The second one is worse and is getting on my nerves, because there have been two touching offenses. The first time she rubbed the bump, I was so shocked that she was doing it, I didn’t react. Then she proceeded to tell me that I should name the baby after her. I left pissed, and Vor had to hear me rant about it.

The second time, she caught me unaware again, as I was having a conversation with opposing counsel—you know, those crazy things we lawyers do and WE DON’T LIKE TO BE ITNERRUPTED WHILE DOING THEM?—and she cut in between us and stood in front of me, rubbed the belly and told me it must be a girl because I was carrying low and wide.

I was all (in my head) Listen b!itch, it’s a girl because her daddy’s sperm’s DNA said so, and for no other reason. And she’s low because I’m freaking short. And she’s wide because I have no torso, I’m all leg. Outwardly, I smiled and backed up. Then she has the nerve to say (1) that I should name her after her, again, and (2) you can really only just tell that I’m pregnant, not fat.

BUT SHE IS A CLERK AND I CANNOT DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN SMILE.

The normal side of me wants to say, Please don’t do that. The hateful side of me wants to slap her hands away next time. The passive aggressive side of me wants to rub her stomach and see how she likes it. The really non confrontational side of me wants to just ignore it and seethe underneath. The balanced side of me is thinking about lying, and saying the doctor said no rubbing, because it is starting to cause Braxton Hicks.

Then, of course, God struck me down for thinking that, because now I have to started to get Braxton Hicks contractions.

She is clearly going to do it again. I am less annoyed by the somewhat rude comments than I am the fact she thinks she is free to touch MY STOMACH. Not hers, mine. And because I need her to make my job easier, and she could make my life a living hell, I don’t know how to deal with it.

Before, Then, Now, Therefore

2011-09-11T19:11:00.001-04:00

Is it possible that ten years have gone by? That I was seventeen ten years ago? That seventeen years ago, very early in the morning, the biggest problem I had was my upcoming volleyball match against our arch-rival, and the fact our class dues were so high I couldn’t pay them all at once?

A friend of ours once said that he read some study about memory and false memory, and how 9/11 fits into that. According to this study, most of what we remember about 9/11 is not really what we remember, but more of a collective memory of our memory and the things our friends, families, and even strangers told us.

When he said that, I thought, screw that. That day is horrifyingly crystal clear.

Tuesday was current events day. I remember listening to the news on the way into school. I got to drive my Dad’s car that day, because I had an early meeting for our senior class before school, and a volleyball game after school. I was waiting for some interesting piece of news that could be mine to bring up in class. Nothing came. It sounded like some of the most boring stuff on earth. It was about 6:15 in the morning, and I was rushing to get my college level statistics class that I took before school even started.

That statistics class dragged. Our senior meeting dragged. Then, thoroughly tired already from being up so early, I dragged myself to my first high school class of the day. AP Gov, with Mr. Ashley, our narcoleptic teacher. I kid you not—he had narcolepsy, and would randomly fall asleep. Since I was in the AP class, we would sit there quietly, working, until he woke up. I make no promises for what the other classes did, but I’ve heard they were, uh, creative.

AP Gov class started at 9:45. We flicked the classroom TV on, as we usually did for current events day. We were the first ones to find out about what was happening. We all stared at the TV in disbelief. I remember I had the seat closest to the window, and I was sitting on my desk so I could see better.

I stood up, and the teacher looked at me. Go tell the principal, he said, in a monotone voice. And then he made eye contact with me. Go call your brother, too. He knew my brother was a fighter pilot, and spent a lot of time at the Pentagon for this particular assignment. I rushed out, and dropped the news on the principal. I scrambled down to the payphones. As I did, I could hear the vice principal getting on the PA system, turning on every TV in the school, and tell people that something terrible was happening.

I dialed. Mom? Where is Pilot (my brother)? Do you know—She cuts me off. I know. I got a call a few minutes ago from him. He said, Don’t talk. Just listen. Turn on the news and watch. I want you to know I am safe, but you will not be able to reach me for a few hours. I love you. Tell everyone else I love them. Then he hung up.

I staggered back to class. Although he’s never told me, I suspect he was one of the fighters scrambled in the air that day. I got back into the class room in time to see the first tower fall. I sat back on top of my desk, and rested my arms around the around the girl in front of me. She was sitting on her chair, shaking, and I remembered that her dad worked in the WTC, in the only remaining tower.

Like little robots, we eventually stood up, knowing it was time to change classes. Just before 10:30, the bell rang. Just before 10:30, just as the bell was ringing, the second tower collapsed. The girl I had been hanging onto collapsed onto the floor, knowing that she had just seen her father die on TV.

The rest of the day, we were mostly silent and on automatic pilot. Our principal, a kind but often impractical nun, decided it would be best for us to go about our day, and told everyone to turn off the TV’s, and essentially, pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. The vice principal, a more practical and more forceful nun, scoffed, and went around turning the TVs on manually, saying, this is your history now. Watch it.

My volleyball game was canceled. Which was unsurprising, but we were all upset, because it was normal and distracting, and we wanted normal and distracting.

I drove my Dad’s car home from school, and people everyone where beeping at me and waving. It took me a few times to figure it out—my Dad has Army National Guard Plates on the car, because he was in the service for 30 years. He had just retired two months before. A guy at a stoplight pulled up next to me and rolled down his window, so I did too. Have you been activated? I was just activated. No, I answered, this is my Dad’s car. I have to get it home to him. Good luck. Be safe.

My Dad was already home. He had been furiously calling everywhere he could, trying to get himself reactivated, even though he had retired. My Mom and I (and I suspect the rest of the family) were relieved. We already had enough family members in the service. Dad was frustrated. I trained for this for years, he said. And now I can’t help.

Swim practice with my synchronized swim team was canceled. My sister and her husband and kids came over, and we spoke with my sister in law on the phone often that night, and waited for my brother to call and say he was okay. At that point we knew that many of his friends—people we had known since his Academy days—were dead. They had been at the Pentagon.

It’s been ten years, but I wanted to write this all down. I don’t know that in another ten years it will all be as clear as it is now. I wanted it written down for me, and for my daughter. I wanted it written down for E, the girl I held and rocked as she saw her dad die on television. I wanted it written down for my family, my brother, and my nieces and nephews, who were so young. I wanted it written down for B, a woman I knew who managed to survive the attacks in NYC, only to die in the most senseless plane crash, along with many other people I knew. I know its long, but isn’t everyone’s story?

Where were you?

NFB

2011-09-09T15:04:00.000-04:00

There are two random things swirling around in my head: (1) My niece Prada started college this week. (2) My grandma used to write checks for us for Christmas, and on my brother’s, in the memo spot, it always said “NFB.”

I swear, these two thoughts are very related.

First, the checks. We would get checks for Christmas, and they were in small little stockings, hanging over the fireplace at my grandparents’ house. It was generally understood that they were for the down payment on a house, the college fund, or in my case, the high school—college—down payment on a house fund. My sister’s memo and my memo always said Merry Christmas! (at least, from the time I could remember—I would have been about five and my sister would have been 21). My brother’s always said NFB.

Have you guessed yet? NFB = Not For Beer. My brother, away from home starting at age 17 at the Air Force Academy. Even after he turned 21, it remained a family joke, and his checks always had NFB written on them. My brother would always look at it, thank my grandma and grandpa, give them kisses, and then say, “Not for books, right, I promise NOT to spend any money on books!” My grandma would faux pull out her hair and my grandpa would shake his head, while my grandma gave my brother a faux lecture on beer. It was all in good fun.

Fast forward to July of this year, when I went to Prada’s graduation party. I still can’t believe that the tiny squishy niece my sister and brother in law brought home from the hospital and plopped in my 8 year old arms is almost 19 and at college. She’s taller than me. She is beautiful and kind and wonderful. She’s my niece, but she’s also like my sister.

Anyways, my mother has taken up knitting stuffed animals. Vor and I have a veritable menagerie for le bebe Hershey—giraffe X2, elephant, turtle, fish, owl, bird, mouse, pig, lion, and monkey. We also have a teddy bear. So I go into to my sister’s scrap book room to drop off Prada’s graduation present

(a very entertaining present, by the way. I made a list of everything I could remember running out to a store to get at an ungodly hour because I ran out or no one had or it was vitally important that I have a back up, etc. This resulted in a very big bag of individually wrapped presents: umbrella, blank notes with envelopes, thank you notes, post it notes, tape, staples and a stapler, hole punch, storage cubes, expandable file folders, highlighters, flashlight and batteries, and so on and so on. I also had a list in there of things to remember—ALWAYS keep a pair of slippers under your bed and a very warm LONG bathrobe nearby, because we live in Buffalo and you never know who is going to burn popcorn at 2 am in the DEAD OF WINTER and set off the fire alarm.)

AHEM … into to my sister’s scrap book room to drop off Prada’s graduation present, and I see a little knitted stuffed teddy bear sticking up out of a bag. I recognize it as one of my mother’s knit jobs, so I take a peek, and there he is, and darling and purple and white, the colors of Prada’s new university. He is knitted to make it look like he is wearing a varsity jacket, and it is TOO CUTE. Attached to his hand is a small envelope, so because I am nosy and inappropriate, I also take a peek. I know my parents gave her money that is going directly to her account at the bookstore, and they plan to cover her textbooks for college. I peek.

There’s the check to Prada, and in the memo line it says NFB.

I cried.

White Polka Dots

2011-08-24T14:02:00.001-04:00

Seriously? Strep throat while pregnant?

You have got to be kidding me. Sigh.

A Little Less He, A Lot More She

2011-08-22T17:40:00.003-04:00

Um, long time no write.

That would be because:

A. It was our anniversary on the 16th;
B. We did yard work all day in anticipation of Vor's birthday;
C. We had an amazing steak dinner downtown during Devor Downtown that Vor had to roll me home from;
D. We went to a birthday party;
E. We agonized for hours at Babies R Us and then bought a crib;
F. We painted le bebe's room;
G. We bought bookshelves for the office, and took all of our books out of the previous bookshelves... alas, that task is not done yet and our "library" is on the floor; and

H. We went to our sonogram, and Hershey was not modest. At all. Hershey proudly displayed the fact that Hershey is a girl.

A baby girl! Vor and I were just sort of absorbing it at first. Stunned, like. Not because we were expecting one or the other, just because it was a bit more real. We were excited, but dazed.

But! Now! A few hours later! We are bantering names back and forth, we are imagining little baby girl cheeks, and we are picking biographies on interesting women to pick out of the library. We are full girl steam ahead. Hershey is no longer a variant of "he or she." Hershey is now "her/she."

We are so freaking excited.

Plans, and Nowhere To Go But Out

2011-08-07T15:37:00.002-04:00

I finally got to have my conversation with work about maternity leave, leading up to maternity, and how the return shall work. Basically, they love me, and want to keep me. Therefore, the princess receives what the princess wants.

If it's a slow day, and I have a well behaved kiddo (no chance, given Hershey has half my DNA) I could let the kid chill in the office with me.

Vor's birthday is the 27th, so this cake thing is happening. The ultrasound (I hope Hershey cooperates) is happening on the 22.

Bedrooms are being painted. Clothes are starting to appear. A MINIVAN has appeared in my garage, and it appears to show no signs of leaving. I am now the owner of a minivan. My mom is knitting the baby blanket.

There are plans, you see?

________________________________________

I will get to why this matter in a moment, but here it is: I have no torso. By no torso, I mean I am mostly leg. My wait is very high, my hips are way up there, etc.

I am fairly short. I suppose I am average height for a woman, but my family is comprised of the towering giant sort, and then I went married another towering giant (hello Freud), and then I went and participated in tall people sports (volleyball, synchronized swimming, crew), so I am pretty much always the shrimp of the group.

What I lack in height, I make up in leg. It's what allowed me to participate in, and even excel at, tall people sports. My mom is 6 foot, but my legs are the same length as hers.

Do you see the problem? Probably. It just dawned on me today when I was at the grocery store, I received my first "you're only HOW far along?" look. That is quickly followed by the "you'll never make it that long" look.

I have no torso. There is no place for this kid to go but out. I have gained very little weight at this point (thank you all day throwing up extravaganzas). I'm a cute size right now, but I am rapidly going to go past that into uncomfortable looking, and then straight into the size where people avoid you, just in case they might have to be a good Samaritan.

I just have no place in my body for this kid! So, onwards, and... outwards...?

The Daycare Drama Starts

2011-07-31T17:12:00.002-04:00

Here's the thing. I HAVE to go back to work after le bebe is here.

I know I've said I would want to do that for me, for interaction, to use my degree, for my sanity, blah blah blah.

I have to go back because I have a mountain of student debt from law school.

I rocked ungrad. I left with no debt. Between my parents' smart moves, my scholarship, and my athletic scholarship, all I had to do was pay $100 a semester towards my meal plan. And I paid that by myself, thank you very much.

Law school was a different story. I had always known I would be on my own for grad school. And in the end, I was--sort of. I took out all the federal loans I could that had no interests attached to them, and the rest... well, I borrowed from the Bank of Mom and Dad. Legit borrowed, with an interest rate and spread sheets and everything.

I have to pay it back. Because if I don't, my siblings will come break my legs. They are my parents' enforcers. Just kidding. Kind of.

So anyways, this debt to my parents makes me feel the need to pay it off faster and even more diligently than I would to Sallie Mae. But it is huge. HUGE. It is made even HUGER (it's a word now) because of the fact that my salary is small. I am not tapping Vor's salary for this, because (1) he has his own law school debt (2) we have a house (3) we have a new mini van (Did I mention that we bought a mini van? No? Well, while I do my walk of shame to the mini van, let me tell you how much I love it) (4) we have bills and (5) BECAUSE. It's my debt, and my problem.

We see the problem of course. We need my salary, however small. My loans must be paid. Le bebe is coming. I can take some time off, but I must go back. Because... well, start this paragraph over.

So, I did what any lawyer in the children's law area does--looks at Carefinder Indiana, the Indiana government website that tracks all licensed day care providers, complete with enrollment info, complaints, and inspection and enforcement information.

And then I did what any mother to be does--I completely freaked out reading some of the complaints, inspection discoveries, enforcement actions, etc. Even some of the best palces did incredibly stupid things. Poor Vor is working at his desk, and was listening to me sniffle and moan.

But what can I do? We need the money for the bills.

Dear Hershey

2011-07-27T18:54:00.002-04:00

Dear Hershey,

We have arrived at 17 weeks. That means we are in the second trimester.

WHY AM I STILL THROWING UP? Please advise.

Love,

Your Mama.

Bliss

2011-07-07T16:37:00.002-04:00

...is picking up my mother from the airport and having her stay with us for a few days.

...is working from home with the dog at my feet, occasionally thumping his tail.

...is the squares of chocolate and roses Vor brought home for me.

...is the sleepy Vor wandering over to me in the morning, giving me a kiss and patting the baby belly.

...is apparently, my family.

Imma Cut Choo

2011-07-01T14:53:00.004-04:00

First, I had a delightful hearing on Wednesday, full of domestic violence in front of the kids. It all revolved around beer, beer bottles, broken beer bottles, throwing the broken beer bottles, lacerations, stitches, protective orders, battery charges, and of course, failing to appear in court to testify against the perp because, well, it probably is pretty damn scary to face the guy again.

On the other hand, it makes my job harder, because he sits smugly on the stand and informs the judge that none of it was true, and look, it was dismissed, wasn't it? Well, yes, you asshole. It was dismissed, give me back my kids. Well, no, my dear, because I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.

What tricks, Grace, you say--we are waiting with bated breath (it IS bated breath, not baited breath--you are not a fish or worm--nor is it abated breath, because, really?).

Well, my dears, I play sweet. While he is looking at me, I twirl the hair (okay, not literally, but you get the idea). He then leers at me, calls me honey/sugar/sweetie. Then I get nasty, and starting reading down the list of everything he has been charged with and not letting him answer with anything other than yes or no. He gets pissed.

Then, I toss out an oh, BTW, you leave your kids with a child molester on a regular basis, right? Yes? Just checking. Thanks!

He is furious. When he gets off the stand, he walks by his former significant other and says loud enough for it to be on the record, Imma cut choo! Which, for those of you not following the red neck accent in my head, is I'm going to cut you. BRILLIANT! My work here is done.

___________________________

In slightly less disturbing knife related news, my MIL is doing peachy keen--no sign of the cancer returning. Of course, after a double mastectomy, there is no medium left for it to return in... which leads me to the fact that her reconstructive surgery is coming up soon.

Everyone has been kind, gentle, loving, and supportive of the mastectomy and the reconstructive surgery. Vor asks his Mom if she wants to go up a cup size or two. Personally, I think she needed the laugh more than the kind gentle support.

___________________________

In relaxing knife related news, I just cut up four slicing tomatoes, garlic from my garden, onions from garden, and cucumbers. Tossed it all into a massive zip lock bag with some home made marinade with basil and oregano from my garden (see the theme? I love my garden!) and olive oil and vinegar. Just a pity the tomatoes from my garden aren't ready yet. Swoon.

This will be my summer veggie salad contribution for the huge 4th of July neighborhood party that is actually happening tomorrow. Love my neighborhood.

___________________________

In fun knife related news, I have scheduled a a cake cutting. Huh, you say?

It goes like this: I have an ultrasound scheduled for the end of August. We should/might/maybe/hopefully be able to tell if Hershey (did I not explain we call this kid Hershey? See paragraph below) is a boy or a girl. This happens the Monday before Vor's birthday, so on Saturday, his birthday, we shall have a cake that is pink or blue on the inside, and frosted in a neutral way on the outside. A double fun party! Actually, a triple fun party, since Vor is a twin.

We did not like saying it when referring to le bebe. So, for a while, it was he or she, which gets very cumbersome. Vor, who talks fast anyways, kept saying he or she so fast, it came out sounding like Hershey.

ALSO, in Richard Russo's Straight Man (HILARIOUS, especially for English majors, so go read it), there is a character who does not like to be defined by gender, so to make fun of him, the entire English department calls him HeorShe, which comes out sounding like "heeORRshee." My baby stressed bladder freaks out a little every time of think of it, because I start laughing.

So, hopefully armed with XX/XY knowledge of Hershey, I shall say to the cake on the fated Saturday in August--

IMMA CUT CHOO!

Clearly Monday

2011-06-20T09:43:00.002-04:00

Dear Mother Nature,

Thanks for flooding my neighborhood this morning and making it impossible for me to go to work. Did you know I have a 10 am hearing that I had to get someone to cover because the water is OVER THE HOOD OF MY CAR?!? Seriously. Thanks.

Signed, Grace Who Is Soaked From Taking the Dog Out to Pee

_______

Dear Baby,

I thought we had an informal, if not formal, truce after this weekend. I go easy, you don't make me puke. So, what is with the sudden puking this morning after I call work and tell them I am flooded in? I mean, you're just lucky I had to cancel... oh.

Signed, Grace Who Now Adds Oranges to the List of Things She Will Never Eat Again

_______

Dear Mother Nature,

Thank you for flooding me into the house. Seriously, and without sarcasm.

Signed, Grace Who Now Appreciates Your Flooding Wisdom

Once More, Then I'll Stop

2011-06-15T18:48:00.002-04:00

This is not going to be a blog all about le bebe. Seriously. Not my thing.

It's just that this puking and nausea thing is completely overwhelming my life right now, and when I say overwhelming, I mean like WHOA.

Yes, I got the meds. Without the meds, it's terrible, and I wind up in the hospital from dehydration with burst blood vessels in my eyes. With the meds... well. It's not great.

Like yesterday, a full day of hearings. I warned opposing counseling a head of time, and I warned the judge. Sure enough, I had to make a break for the bathroom. Screw people and their "eat something right away when you first wake up--eat crackers--eat ginger snaps--drink ginger ale" advice.

I crawled back to the office, only to have it happen again and again and again until finally, I made the call and handed off my afternoon case to another attorney. Gah. That was with the meds, my friends. It is much much worse without them.

There just seems to be some days where le bebe overwhelms the meds and has me puking, no matter what. I hate doing it at work. It makes me miserable and vulnerable to people I cannot show that side to, becasue at least one of them is a freaking vulture.

At least the dog is adorable during all this. He comes in and lays down next to me. He licks my hand and sometimes my feet (which I find gross, but I take it in the spirit it is meant), and he won't leave until I can stand up again.

So, there you have it. It was scary terrible and now it's just normal terrible.

PS--I renew my plea for info on where to go on cloth diapers. Seriously. I am at a loss.

I Can Haz Help?

2011-06-09T16:48:00.003-04:00

Oh my dear Lord I just googled cloth diapers and got instant information overload.

Is there a helpful website that I can go to for beginners? Seriously, I know NOTHING except they diapers made of cloth. I was overwhelmed with technical terms and liners and wet bags and detergent and I shut my browser and took a deep breath. I know what none of these things means and no one seems to explain it. Is this a cult I have to be born into?

They are not really helping me overcome the genetic knowledge of my family that cloth diapers are BAD. My grandparents hated them and loved the disposables. My mother hated them. My sister had leak and disgusting leak after leak, and quit. So, needless to say, I am not really inclined, and neither is Vor.

But, I've heard things have improved. The most recent one to do this was my sister that was about 18 years ago. I have to think things have changed since then.

But Internet and cloth diaper websites, you are not doing much to make me change my mind.

So, in summary: a helpful website please that explains everything in simple words.

Count The Hours, For They Will Surely Pass

2011-06-09T15:13:00.003-04:00

It was May, and then all of a sudden it was June.

Which means it was my birthday (happy birthday to me), and that it's getting ridiculously hot outside, and that I'm about 10&1/2 weeks along, and that my oldest niece is graduating from high school and going to college ACK.

She was a tiny baby with lots and lots of hair that stood up like a mohawk or went out to the sides like someone had put a graduation cap on her head. Then she was five, and had a crush on my boyfriend, then she was ten, and copied everything I did, and then she was fifteen and a somewhat moody teenager, and then she was 16 and driving and crying over the fact I was going to get married and leeeeeeeeeeeave her, and now I have senior pictures and prom pictures and she is stunning and almost 19 and picking out her dorm room bedspread.

The other nieces and nephews aren't making this any easier, as my oldest nephew is at one of the military academies right now (yes I know which one, and no, I'm not telling the Internet), for what I gather is a scoping out session. He has wanted a military academy since he could articulate the word academy. My sister protests that he is not built for it or cut out for military life or is too much of a wimp or something. I beg to differ, I think silently as I watch him take what I think amounts to physical assault at Krav Maga class and bounce right back up, then give as good as he got. I think the problem lies with her--having family members in the active armed service is nerve wrecking. I don't think she wants anymore of that after my father and my brother. I don't think I blame her. I don't think I blame him either for wanting it.

My brother counted it up one time--all the hours that my dad served, that he served, and got some ridiculous crazy number that became years, not hours. When you added in my uncles and the occasional aunt, the number was to the stars.

The others are still young--Jeter is 13, and an avid athlete. Jedi is now 11, and is my mom's little buddy as well as a mathematician. Blossom is also 11 and is a shopaholic, Brick is 9 and well... he's a 9 year old boy. What can you say? Bringing up the rear is Petunia, who at 5 is the consummate flirt. Who knows what they will all be.

I am compulsively, obsessively, annoyingly, heart-wrenchingly proud of my family. They make me crazy most of the time, but only I am allowed to say that. They hurt me deeply and infuriate me when they hurt Vor, but they can do such good things that I could cry with love. I'm sure I do the same thing to them.

There are just moments where I wish I could freeze the clock and stare at them all for awhile.

Enough.

2011-05-27T09:13:00.002-04:00

I was okay with the nausea. I was okay with the room spinning, and the gagging at everything. I was even okay with the occassionaly throwing up.

I am not okay with the following:

1. Not keeping a single item of food in me since Tuesday night.

2. Throwing up 30 minutes after I eat anything, even those things that are supposed to help calm the morning (MORNING! HA!) sickness beast.

3. Throwing up for no reason at all, when I haven't eaten anything.

4. Throwing up in the morning, during the day at work, at night, and forGodssake, in the middle of freaking night. 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, whatever.

I literally ate 3 Cheerios this morning. 30 minutes later, they were hanging out in the toilet.

Nothing works. Nothing helps. And now, my ever-delightful body is starting to name WATER as the enemy. WATER. I am freaking hungry and thirsty, but nothing stays down. I am exhausted. I blew up at Vor last night, poor man, but I have no temper control. It's not hormones--its the no food, no water, all regurgitating thing that is going on.

We got to see and heart the heartbeat of the little booger yesterday. While it was very cool, the only thing I could think during the whole thing was don't puke don't puke don't puke oh no--!!!

So, enough. I am calling the doctor and getting some of this anti-nausea medication for myself.

I mean, this is not normal, right? I should be able to eat and drink SOMETHING. My sister, who was a thrower-upper too, said hers was never this bad and I needed to get help before this got even uglier.

I swear on my family Bible, I am not joking. It is actually this ridiculous. I am not to the point where I can't open the refrigerator (not like I'm eating anything out of there anyways). Some one make me feel better and less like a weak cop out.

Jumble

2011-05-21T19:38:00.003-04:00

In no particular order:

1. Dog. The entry before this should be updated to be named Very Bad Dog Does Worse. I managed to pass the critical point of 5 pm, the point at which the "morning" (morning! ha!) sickness fades. The dog threw up four or five times in a row. Each time I dragged him off the carpet, he would run over to another spot on the carpet and puke again. I would have killed him if I hadn't then started throwing up. And then he had the temerity to wag his pretty tail at me.

2. Dinner. Tonight was baked potato (or sweet potato) topped with sour cream, cheddar cheese, and BBQ pulled chicken. Super easy and quick, especially if you cheat and use store bought already made pulled chicken. Has any one ever heard of grilling lettuce? I have a recipe for it, and it sounds kind of good.

3. Food, Hatred Thereof. Screw cravings. I don't want anything. It's all about what I can stand to have near me--raw meat, cooked meat, vegetables. I mean, do you people know what I normally eat? We've discussed this, right? I eat fruit, vegetables, and meat. No bread, grains, no sugar. Except, now I don't. Now all I keep down is bread and cereal and some fruit. Well, in the evenings I can eat some meat--alittle. I feel disgusting, my joints hurt, and my face has broken out. I don't blame the baby, I blame the sugar.

4. Clothes/Belly/Weight. Remember how I lost those 30 pounds by eating right? Yeah. Now I'm eating all the crap I cut out. I am gaining serious weight because of it. Yes, I realize that I am pregnant and I will gain weight. I just want it to be the right weight. The whole reason I got rid of the sugar and bread etc. was because I was borderline diabetic and gaining weight, always. Then I wasn't, and I was healthier than ever. Now my clothes don't fit. I don't think I can blame that on the kid yet. Can I? How soon do you gain weight?

5. Work. Vor said, You don't tell me about work anymore. It's just too stressful. My case load has upped, the cases are nastier and nastier, sometimes brutal and terrible, and I am just tired. I am still getting overwhelmed with passive aggressiveness from X. It just gets more creative every day. There is going to be some serious rage unleashed soon, because my temper is getting shorter.

5. Baby. The "do before baby" list is pretty much complete and impressively long. Cute baby clothes have already started arriving. My mother made a stuffed animal to add to our Mom-made sutffed animal menagerie. Vor is convinced it's a girl. My sister is convinced it's a boy. I keep having dreams about twins, so I don't know if that is a sign or a nightmare. Vor was a twin. A fratneral twin, so slow your horses--that doesn't make me susceptible to having twins. I have colors picked out.

There's more, but truly? Vor has the Goo Goo Dolls on, and well, I'm a hometown girl. I'm going to go have a dance party.

Bad! Dog!

2011-05-18T17:07:00.002-04:00

Really? Stuffing all the floor? Mind you, it was all over the house.

Not Yours, Part Deux

2011-05-16T17:11:00.002-04:00

So last time, I explained how the cat got out the bag to a good chunk of the legal community. And it turns out I was not wrong--the news spread from clerks to bailiffs to court reporters to judges to attorneys. Sweet.

Then I hear that the same person has been telling people s/he isn't sure I am coming back after I have a kid.

Okay. I was baffled, a little annoyed that "X" told the courthouse that I was pregnant. But whatever. It's good news. It's not like I wasn't (hopefully) going to eventually look like a pregnant woman. It's not like they won't figure it out when I say, "Hold up!" to the other attorneys and the judge in the court room, and then bolt for the nearest bathroom. But most of all, it's good news.

I am ANNOYED about this not coming back thing. It undermines me, whether X meant it to do so or not. It makes them think they should cut me out of the conversation, since I'm not coming back. It hurts the relationships I have carefully built up with the clerks, the court reporters, the bailiffs, the judges, and of course, the other attorneys. I've already had people asking, I've already seen people who are involved with a case on my docket turn to another attorney in my office. Is X spreading this to my bosses? Awesome.

I am going back. Law school loans + husband with law school loans + mortgage + baby + (intangible factor of my sanity X need for rational, non-cooing or screeching interaction) = Grace needs to go back to work. At least part time. Maybe that will change some day, but for me (and I stress, this is only for me--know thyself), that's the way it has to be.

So I tried to talk to X about it. FAIL.

Re: the actually telling of the pregnancy, it was all, "you should have specifically told me not to tell!" "but it's good news!" "but I'm so happy for you!" I would have bought the last two more if the first one had not been said first. While I didn't say Thou Shalt Not Speak Of Baby, I said things to the effect of "so early," "only telling most important people in our lives," "want to keep to ourselves for a bit longer," etc., etc., etc. I shut the door. So, no winning that battle, because anything I said didn't matter.

Re: the telling people I might not be coming back. I said, you should have come to and asked me. I would have told you I am. "But plans change!" Yes, I am painfully aware of that. But I am planning on coming back. "But plans change!" Over and over and over, while I tried to explain this was problem.

It was like beating my head on my desk. Finally, I said, whatever. I knew I'd made my point--and my point is that I don't want X telling more people, and specifically telling more people I am not coming back.

If I hear any more talk of this that is directly attributable to X, I will take the next step. It won't be pretty, but I have worked my increasing behind off to build a good professional reputation, and I will damned if I let anyone undermine it.

But Some Secrets Are Not Yours To Tell

2011-05-11T17:30:00.001-04:00

My relationship, personal and professional, to this person is complicated, but for the sake of this, let's call him/her a colleague. Obviously, I had to tell work about le bebe, because there are thin walls and it's not hard to hear the puking girl in the bathroom.

However, I was not expecting to head downtown, walk into the court room, and have all the clerks and a judge congratulate me.

I was not expecting the same thing to happen again at THE NEXT FOUR COURTROOMS I WENT TO. Clerks, judges, bailiffs, even one of the sheriffs.

How does this happen, you ask? A colleague is how this happens. A colleague you tell, because s/he is a person you would end up turning to for either personal or professional support if anything went wrong.

Would I be turning to the entire City/County Court Building for support if something goes terribly wrong? NO. That's why I didn't burst out telling them good news, even though I see these people just about every day. Plus, it's a gossip fest. If the Court knows, the attorneys who go into that Court (read: the entire Indianapolis legal community) will know.

Did you read that? THE ENTIRE INDIANAPOLIS LEGAL COMMUNITY.

Yes. I have been fairly free with the information, because I believe I have a kiddo right now, and if something happened (can you tell we have had really bad experiences with pregnancies lately here?) I would want people those people I told to know, to understand, to... I don't know. Something. Because in some way, I rely on them. I would turn to them.

True, I did not issue an office edict that said, Please Do Not Pass On. Maybe I thought that was somehow implicit in the fact I am only sixish weeks along. Or the fact I said I wanted to keep it to myself longer, but I thought they needed to know. Or the fact I announced it in a private meeting, and I shut the door. I don't know.

THE ENTIRE CITY COUNTY COURT BUILDING.

I'm waiting for the cashier at Kroger to tell me congratulations.

Truly, when this happened, I was stunned. I kept smiling, and said thank you, and told people as little detail as possible. And then I thought, well I had better preempt this, and in the next courtroom I went into, I told the clerk, I have some good news, and she said, we already know you're pregnant! What fun! Ditto, Ditto, Ditto.

I am still a bit stunned. I don't know if I am mad. I don't know if I am okay with it. I am just stunned.

Color Wheel

2011-05-06T16:52:00.005-04:00

Here are the colors:

(no they are not all the same color. they are very different. I swear.)

Here is the room:

(room comes with fun loving dog)

Discuss.

Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

2011-05-05T16:34:00.003-04:00

Well, I outted myself at work, because it's completely possible for me to have to run to the bathroom in our tiny office without being noticed. Not.

I have a full day, 8:30 to 5 pm, of hearings tomorrow. So, help? Crackers? Tell the judge ahead of time? Beg for mercy from the other attorney(s)?

Also, so much for keeping the news quiet on the family front, because:

1. Mama Vor, while drugged and completely loopy, announced it to various people, when then in turn announced it to others, results in the cashier in Meijer saying congrats! heard you are pregnant! Well, I jest about that part, but truly, all of our family and friends in Indianapolis know.

2. Facebook. I told my neices and nephews--over iChat, 'cause we have regular iChat dates. Nephew A told his cousin (my second cousin) on Facebook, who told her mom (my cousin) who told her mother in law (my aunt) who told... all of my Mom's siblings. Who then told all their children.

Vor thinks people at work will find out, because he told a close friend there (also because his wife is my friend, and she is a NICU nurse, so OF COURSE I had to tell her), but they talk... at work.. with the door open... and people have ears, you know? Who knew.

Oh well. It was no fun as a secret.

A Trip to the Dentist

2011-05-03T10:01:00.002-04:00

And not in the Veronica Mars sense, either.

I have a rare gift on my hands: a day off from work in the middle-ish of the work week. God bless elections. So, I set up a little trip to the dentist.

I haven't been to a dentist officially in ages. However, my brother in law is a pediatric dentist, so whenever I go home, I beg for a look, and tells me that all is well. But since the little stick of happiness produced a second line for me, my mouth has HURT. It's crazy. I want it to stop. Now.

This little venture in DDS is not the only thing on my list, either. What list is that, you ask? That would be the "before baby" list, and yes, I realize I am not very far along, and I have lots of time, and bad things could happen, and good things like winning the lottery could happen, but what can I say? I am a list maker.

There is pretty much a list for every room. The bedroom? Reorganize to make room for baby. Boot the desk out and upstairs, and turn the desk into a changing table. (Speaking of which, I see no reason why this could not work. It's a pretty desk, lots of drawers, and as long as everything is properly secured and baby is not left alone... how is it different than any other changing table?)

Rooms must be painted (thank you mama Vor), baby gear must be found (what do I actually need? I dislike clutter. Vor HATES clutter), rooms must be cleaned, the carpet either needs to be cleaned or replaced, etc., etc., etc.

I have possessed by an overwhelming desire to make curtains for the baby room. Explain this, please. I have also been super productive in the cleaning area--linen closet redone, all guest rooms straightened up for the impending switch up and painting of rooms, bathroom closet redone, my corner of the office cleaned, kitchen pantry organized. I cleaned out my closet, reorganized it, and prodiuced several large bags of clothes for Goodwill. (I mean, I did not wear that shirt last summer, and it sure as heck is not going to fit me this summer. My rule is one year without wearing it, and it goes. So, it went. All of it.)

Telly is not thrilled with this chaos. Maybe he wil sleep while I am at the dentist... and while I go find some more office organizing material.

Soaking it Up

2011-04-28T17:32:00.002-04:00

So I grabbed my camera to go take some pictures of my garden. I put my hand on the door--a flash of lightning, a crack of thunder, and I decided I could paint you a picture with words.

There are two circles in my backyard that are 4 feet across. Right now, my garlic, onions, radishes, beets, swiss chard, lettuce, and maybe something else I can't think of right now are planted and growing rapidly. The rest has to wait for better weather.

I already have so many radish sprouts that I think it is going to hail radishes. Anyone live here and want some?

Okay, now it is raining sideways outside. And it's sunny. The weather in the midwest is bizzaro.

***********

We're happy about this whole thing. Clearly, I am not too far along, but I am not a believer in the "keep it secret for alittle, until you're sure" method. Until I'm sure of what? That I'm pregnant? Uh, yes, I am. Until I am sure (in the words of one friend) it's going to stick? (also, I looked at her alittle sidways) Thanks, but whether this pregnancy makes it to the end or something terribly sad happens, it's our baby. And we are not in the mood for secrets.

Not only are we happy, we are surprised. Okay, well I am really surprised. I have had a delightful time with endo and a side of ovarian cysts, so when the doctor said getting pregnant? hmmmm. might be a problem, I believed her.

Of course, at that time, I had not embarked on my year of reformed eating. It's been more than a year now of no sugar or processed foods. I'm sure it doesn't have everything to do with it, but I think it had something.

Anyways, it was a good thing to be able to talk about with Mama Vor the day before the surgery--though we didn't tell, she guessed. That's what happens when you don't order wine and you are a terrible liar. She was hilarious when she came out of surgery all hopped up on whatever they gave her though--she started announcing to the world at large, "We are going to have a baby!" To anyone who would listen. So much for secrets.

Answer Me

2011-04-26T16:00:00.001-04:00

There are highly important pressing questions I need answered.

1. Where do I find maternity suits?

2. On that note, for a bebe due at the end of December, would a pantsuit or a skirt suit work better? (truly not interested in having more than one maternity suit)

3. How do I make the in the court room vomiting not happen? Because that is going to get old, quick.

Oh, and by the way

2011-04-25T14:54:00.003-04:00

Surgery is going well. I am home on a"let the dog out to pee" break.

Oh, and by the way:

Yeah, more on that later when I'm not hanging out in a hospital!

D Day

2011-04-25T10:32:00.000-04:00

Mama Vor's surgery is today. Prayers please.

Revelations

2011-04-22T15:51:00.003-04:00

The first time I went to Ireland, I came back a different person.

I came back more independent, more confident, more aware. For some reason (maybe it was the fresh Irish air), I was suddenly able to admit things to myself that I had scarcely dared let cross my consciousness, and make decisions when I had previously denied there was ever a decision to be made.

For example, I completely threw over my dad's adamant desire that I be in the biology/chemistry field. I knew what I wanted was to be an English major. It was what I loved, and I would see where it too me. Making that change made me happier than I had ever been in college, and led me to law school. Who knew.

Also for example was my longstanding dedication to synchronized swimming. I had been a swimmer since, oh, I don't know. There are pictures of my holding ribbons for winning a speed swimming race, and it looks like I am too young to walk. I kid you not that I knew how to swim at the same time I knew how to walk. I had been a synchronized swimmer since 6, probably, and was nationally competitive at 8.

At age 20 in college, I went to Ireland and suddenly discovered I hated it. I knew before I went to swim Division 1 that I felt burned out, but I had been doing it so long that I could see nothing else. That, and I get a major high from winning. I am a competitive freak. I have struggled long and hard to control this, as it actually can be quite destructive in personal relationships--who knew!

So anyways, for reasons long and short, I came back and quit. I felt like a quitter. I felt awful. My room mates, who were also my teammates, were angry, and helped me feel awful. I had never, never quit. Yet I just did. For however hard and awful that was, I know now that my single minded dedication to it was holding me back. If I could have been someone different, and opened myself up to new things and experiences while still being a synchronized swimmer, then maybe it would not have held me back. I'm not programmed like that. It was a hard decision, a good decision, one that I don't regret now. I had a new horizon.

So here I am, back form Ireland again. Again, I am suddenly seeing things clearer than before I left. Again, I am feeling that desperate need for a radical change. Again, I am ready to admit things to myself that I couldn't before.

1. I want kids. Hear the crickets chirping? 'Cause I sure do. This has been a long struggle for me. More recently, I oscillated between good idea and very bad idea, usually depending on whether a cute smiling baby was looking at me, or a tantrum tossing toddler was nearby. Now, thought, I am sure. I am okay with this. We can do this. It's definitely not a biological craving the way my friends describe it. It's not an overwhelming need. It's a new horizon.

2. This is not my forever job. That's pretty hard for me to say. I love the work, I love the organization. It is a good thing. I help children who are helpless and ignored. It's okay hours-wise. The pay sucks, but it's a nonprofit. It is draining. Really, deeply draining. It is a soul sucker. I come home angry or sad 95% of the time. While I have done an okay job leaving the problems at work, that attitude is not necessarily encouraged. But how else do I survive this job? And while I like the attorney part of it, there are other aspects I don't like.

3. I don't want to practice law full time. The dream, of course, is that I finish writing this novel, and someone swoons over it and me, and life's a fairly tale, yada yada yada. Right. But I am finishing this thing. I will do this thing. The reality is that I would like to practice part time. I don't know if my present employer can swing that. Litigation is a funny business that does not lend it self to set schedules. Ever. What do I want to do that other part time? Write. I want to write this novel, I want to take odd editing and proof reading jobs, I want to content write, etc. Or, maybe, someday, I don't know, I hope, maybe, maybe, maybe... I go back to school. Get my MA, MFA, or maybe even the PhD. I always that fast and duck, expecting, I don't know, the hand of God to reach down and smack me.

4. Food is a problem for me. Since December of 2009, I have tried hard to make better decisions about food. Officially, I eat meat, vegetable, fruit, and very litle dairy. No sugar, no processed foods. And when I was religious about it, it worked great. But if you give me an inch, I take a mile, and I confess, I just ate a grilled cheese sandwhich. And it was good. And now I want more. Is there such a thing as a food addicition? A sugar addiciton? I think I have it. I have not been terribly good about the food (and exercise), and it almost immediately tears at my health.

I am normally pithy on this thing, or at least, I try to be. Below is a moment where I am dead serious.

So: My name is Grace, and I have a food problem, spcifically a sugar problem. I recognize that sugar and all its processed forms is very bad for me, causes immediate and massive weight gain, soreness, stiffness, imflamation, and probably brings me back to brink of Diabetes. I recognize I have no self control when it comes to food like this. I recognize that if we want to get pregnant, I must get this under control, for my health and any potential baby's health. I will find that place in myself that holds the single mided determination, and I will activate it for this purpose. I will not let it control me anymore.

There, I admitted I have a problem. In public. I feel embarassed, but relieved.

I am deeply grateful for this trip. I feel clear headed, rested, and ready. I feel aware. I feel energized.

I feel awake.

is Golden, Silence

2011-04-20T21:33:00.002-04:00

What exactly does that mean, anyways? That your parents want some peace and quiet? That no news is good news? That no answer at all is more revealing than the truth, a half-truth, or a lie? That a picture is worth a thousand words? I am quite sure that I can out-platitude you, sir or madam.

In this case, the silence is golden adage means that there is so much happening and swirling around that golden = a barrel so stuffed full of things that when you tip it over to get everything to fall out, nothing falls out. So my mouth opens, but no words come out. It’s too full.

***

Ireland was…amazing, restful, wonderful, green, beautiful, relaxing, fun, eye-opening, spiritual, everything and more. And that was just the tea!

I jest (surely) but truly, the tea was divine, and Vor and I are nothing if not tea snobs. Well, I am a tea lover, but he is a tea snob. We have special tea equipment and tea procedures for making tea at our house, and he has declared that we can never live in Colorado because of the elevation—the tea is not hot enough when it boils, and it tastes wrong. I do pat myself on the back for making that connection before my engineer turned lawyer husband did—he was staring plaintively at his cup of tea, saying for the umpteenth time on our honeymoon that it tasted wrong, and I finally pointed out that we were in the mountains. High up in the mountains. Isn’t air pressure a problem? He looked at me with even more loving fervor in his eyes than when he had said I do days before, and he knew that this was why he married me (I jest again, surely). Yes! Elevation and air pressure and vacuum and boiling and tea—never these shall mix! He was then off on a tangent, trying to think of ways to create a tea kettle that would allow the water to get hot enough to create proper tea, and he lost me somewhere at hermetically sealed pressure chamber.

Anyways. Ireland. We flew into Dublin, and took the train across the country to the west coast, where we stayed in the lovely, quirky city of Galway for a few days. Our hotel was more of a large B&B, and it was in the middle of everything. We walked everywhere, expect when we took the ferry out to the Aran Islands. I had been to the smallest Aran Island (Inis Oirr) before, but this time, we went to the largest, Inis Mor. We rented bikes and rode around all over the island, encountering cows and sheep and stone fences and beauty and friendly Irish people speaking their supposedly native tongue to our hearts content. We sat on the cliffs that are the complement to the Cliffs of Moher, and listened to the silence.

From Galway, we rented a car—yikes—and drove a manual transmission on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road. It was actually easy to get the hang of, though I think it helps to have a passenger in the case (c’est moi) muttering under her breath: drive on the left. Left. Left. I need to be closest to the shoulder of the road. Left. Left. Left. I was the like the man who rode along side Caesar, whispering in his ear that he was only mortal. Left. Left. Left.

We drove from Galway to Limerick, saw my family for a few hours, and had dinner with them. We then drove to Cashel, and stayed the night there in a B&B, then crawled all over the Rock of Cashel in the morning. From Cashel, we drove to Blarney and crawled all over the Blarney Castle, and Vor kissed the stone. I declined, as I did not want to negate my gift of gab I previously received from kissing the stone by kissing it again. Or, I did not want to dangle upside down off a five story castle with nothing but the strength of my forearms and an Irish man named Paddy holding my waist preventing me from certain death. Again. I love Blarney—a teeny tiny town with delicious bakeries, lots of green, quaint shopping and a castle.

From Blarney, we drove to Kenmare. Kenmare is about 40 minutes away from Killarney, and is a small town situated on a bay. We stayed at a B&B that was on the bay, drove through Killarney National Park, experienced part of the ridiculously touristy but never the less gorgeous Ring of Kerry, and relaxed. After two days, we took a train back to Dublin, spent the night in Dublin, and came home.

***

Home—is where the heart is; is where, when you go there, they have to let you in; see also, you can never go home again. Or maybe, it is you can always go home again. I suppose it depends on the person, and the home.

We know what caused the acute attack that put my mother in the hospital, but we still don’t know what that spot on her liver is. We’re waiting, and we wait and wait and wait, for doctors, for referrals, for appointments, for tests, for results.

As the time ticks by, I think about how short life is. I think about how much fun it has been to be a child was born decidedly late in my parents’ life, and I think about the disadvantages. It has been fun having older, much older siblings, and one of the greatest gifts of my life to have nieces and nephews that I call brothers and sisters, because I am so close to them, in age and emotion.

It is one of the greatest heartbreaks I have that my children will not know their great grandparents, my grandparents, like most of my nieces and nephews did. They are physically long gone, though I fiercely promise myself that my children will know them through stories and my memories. The idea—the knowledge—the practical reality—that my children will not have nearly the time or memories that my nieces and nephews have had with my parents is so breathtaking, so cruel, that every time I try to voice the idea to Vor, I stop. These are words that cannot come out. I don’t know what else will come out with them. It goes beyond heartbreak. Silence is best. So, as I wait wait wait for my mom to find out about this spot on her liver, I think and try not to think.

The opposite of wait is go now go fast run run run. My mother in law has all her tests back from all doctors, and nothing surprising was found—no new news is good news. Thank God, no more surprises at this point. But, breast cancer it is, and so now we are in motion for treatment. We put our feet back on American soil and learned the latest results and the date for surgery. People seem to fall into two camps on this double mastectomy: the “if it saves her, cut them off and don’t look back” camp, and the “it’s necessary, but emotionally costly camp.” The camps clearly agree on the end result, but are certainly different in their emotional approaches towards us—and her—at this point. I, personally, would appreciate some balance.

There was a breast cancer run this weekend in town. I’ve always watched those runs from a distance and thought, yes, supporting breast cancer research is good. I’ve bought the flowers at Lowe’s that sent the proceeds from the sale of pink dahlias to breast cancer research. But as I stood behind someone in line at Starbucks to get some tea for this ridiculous cold I acquired, I saw that she was running in the race. She had the pink shirt on, and the logo. And for the first time, it was not abstract.

Anyways, the surgery is Monday. The day after Easter Sunday, which I hope and pray is good thing. This is no two hour in and out surgery. It is a marathon surgery.

Did I mention that Vor and I were supposed to fly to Florida this weekend? No, not for another vacation, though the weather is undoubtedly nicer there than it is here. We were going to say goodbye to his grandmother, whose health is failing. We were supposed to still be in Florida on Monday. So, changing those plans and tickets has been part of the go-go-go. I hope we get to see his grandmother soon. I hope we get to see her, period.

***

So that’s that. Despite the crazy and the bad, it’s good. Each day I draw a breath and the ones I love around me do the same is a good day. It’s golden.

in a rushed way

2011-03-30T20:26:00.003-04:00

Remember when I was planning that great trip to Paris that then turned out to be a trip around Ireland that was five months away, which is forever?

Yeah, well, it's here, and we're leaving tomorrow, kissing the dog goodbye, locking the doors, and heading out for parts unknown (well, some of them are known to me, but not to Vor).

I am kind of in a hot panic about this--not just about things that need to be done, but the fact we are going. My mother in law (I really hate calling her that--she is another mom to me, in all the best ways) was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago, and we've been dealing with that, and I am truly worried about leaving while this is going on, but everyone keeps me waving me away, saying, "it'll be fine!" Have you ever seen the Italian Job? FINE = Freaked out, Insecure, Nervous, Emotional.

Then, my mother decided to land herself in the hospital, get diagnosed with something delightfully painful and chronic, but fortunately, easily manageable, but then land herself in the hospital again a few days later and come away with the bonus shady diagnosis of, "Hmm. There's a spot on your liver! What could that be? Meh. Who knows! Liver alone! heh." So, there are more follow up tests to come on that, with hopefully a more interested doctor.

There's been work drama, and a child on my caseload was brutally attacked, and Vor has been stressed out at work, and so have I.

And we're going to Ireland. I don't know if I should hide int he closet and miss the flight or run screaming towards customs, saying "Let me in! Where there is no cell phone reception! Where I can't get my email!"

I'm just going to turn on my Enya music on the airplane, and let the peace wash over me. That is what I need--peace.

never the twain should meet

2011-03-15T17:16:00.001-04:00

Two words that should never be put together:

breast cancer.

At least, not in my hearing. Prayers and helpful thoughts for my family, y'all.

Six Years

2011-03-10T17:17:00.004-05:00

Six years ago, I went on a first date with a man I was friends with. Coincidentally, March 10 was a Thursday six years ago.

I didn't really realize it was a date until he picked me up. He usually wears glasses, but he wore contacts that night. He had on jeans and baby blue shirt, which made his blue eyes stand out.

We went to dinner, and he tried to buy me a drink--I said no thanks, and he laughed, suddenly remembering that I wasn't 21 yet. We went to a debate after dinner. He held my hand during the debate, and kissed me after it, on the campus of University of Buffalo.

Six years later, I rush home to make dinner, and I set the table with flowers and candles. I pet the dog, do the dishes, and straighten up the bedroom. In an hour, that same man will walk through the door, and the dog will beat me to him, but he will gently shove the dog off and kiss me first. We'll have dinner and talk, then walk the dog.

Six years ago, I didn't think this would be possible. I hoped, but I didn't think. Then, when I realized it was not just possible, it was probable, I worried about what it would be like, years later, when we had gotten used to each other. When we first started dating, it was all like a dream, and I was in a state of constant twitterpaption. I didn't want to lose that.

I haven't. It's just deeper, and steadier, and so, so much better.

Here's The Thing

2011-02-23T17:49:00.002-05:00

How did you know you ready for motherhood?

There are several categories that my general confusion and frustration over the subject falls into right now. Here they are, in creasing importance to me.

The Practical. The whole idea seems crazy. You want to put me in charge of a small being? Dependent on me for everything? I lose glasses on a regular basis. One time, I deliberately yet accidentally threw out my wallet. I need alone time on a regular basis or else I melt down.

The Emotional. I don't feel ready. I feel immature, irresponsible, brand new, like a kid still myself, selfish. I know I am not these things (okay, maybe I am sometimes selfish, but its usually selfish with Vor's time--I always want more and all to myself!)--it's only how I feel when it comes to parenthood.

The Imaginary. I can't see it in my mind's eye. I can see Vor as an amazing parent. But as soon as I try to interject myself into that picture, it fades. I don't see a disaster, I just see--nothing. I've always been able to see myself doing the thing I want to do--whether it was visualizing the routine I was about preform or going to law school, I am a visualizer. I just don't see myself doing this.

Sigh. How did you know you were ready? Do you just take a leap, or did you know you wanted kids?

If You Give Me An Inch

2011-02-21T18:52:00.003-05:00

If you give me a car ride, I will ask for a cup of tea (or coffee).

If you give me the tea, I will ask to go to Borders.

If you take me to Borders, I will ask to buy the Fodor's Guide to Ireland/Poetry Managzine/Gardening magazine.

If you let me buy the book/magazines, I will settle down in your office chair and begin to read.

If you then take me home, I will read from the book the whole way home and ask for your input.

If you give me your input, I will make you read the book yourself.

*****

So, that would be how I spent my and Vor's Saturday--and a wonderful Saturday it was. I also made huge progress on my book project, which had the unexpected bonus of provoking a pretty decent piece of poetry out of me.

Week 2

2011-02-20T19:06:00.003-05:00

One picture a week for a year.

I give you: Blood Rush to the Head!

Crazy dog.

Long Hot Shower Needed

2011-02-18T17:30:00.003-05:00

I would just like to point out that I have spent the last 45 minutes picking up the um, land mines, care of the dog, in my backyard.

And then I discovered that we have some kind of white mold that looks like grits growing on our grass.

I'm going to go take a shower!

Marking Thyme

2011-02-16T18:35:00.003-05:00

The finalized plans for my backyard growing extravaganza:

Vegetables! 1. Onions, bulbs and scallions; 2. spaghetti squash; 3. bush beans (basically snap beans); 4. carrots; 5. radishes; 6. peppers; 7. tomatoes; 8. swiss chard; 9. lettuce, and 10. sweet potatoes, if I can get them. If not, oh well.

Fruits! 1. Strawberries; 2. Blueberries, if I stumble across them.

Herbs! 1. Basil; 2. lemon basil; 3. lavender; 4. cilantro; 5. sage; 6. rosemary; 7. chamomile; 8. mint; 9. garlic; 10. garlic chives; 11. chives; 12. oregano; 13. sweet marjoram.

Flowers! 1. Marigolds (to keep away the pests); 2. Nasturtium (because they are edible, taste like pepper, and are gorgeous).

Actually, the herbs and flowers will be fun. You see, there is--was--this stupid magnolia tree that we hacked down. Unfortunately, at the time we hacked it, we didn't have the proper tools to completely take it down to the ground, so there are still some fairly good sized branches coming up out of the ground. Since nasturtium is a climber, I'm going to plant it at the base, and let it have a ball climbing. The herbs are going in a circle around this spot.

I've got seeds, and plans to buy plants that transplant better. I have drawn out plans, and I have lists. Now I am just waiting for the weather to be better!

Project 52

2011-02-16T17:10:00.002-05:00

One of my friends from law school started her own fun little project: Project 52. It's one picture a week for a year.

She is a great photographer that I can't even begin to compete with, but I used to be decent, and I miss it.

So, here we go--starting this week!

(and as my camera transfers pictures over, I see that I have 131 new images on my camera... I really need to be better about taking the pictures off it!)

(...slowly... slowly... slowly...)

(yawn)

Garlic:

Mightier Than the Sword

2011-02-07T19:02:00.003-05:00

I've ranted several times on here about how I lost my inspiration when I went to law school.

My writing really dried up. I used to write poetry--free form to the most rigid verse possible. It would just come out, and it was good. It's hard to say that without feeling like a jerk, but people really seemed to live it, and some pieces were published. I had a dozen short stories going, and a half dozed longer term plans.

Then law school hit and it was all I could do to stay awake long enough to finish my work and then sleep for four hours before it started all over again. I had dreams about my textbooks eating my fingers. There was no room, no time, no place, no juice.

Then I finish law school, and then I take the bar, and then I am a lawyer, and holy crap, I've been a lawyer for more than a year, and we're talking about a family, and what would happen to my career if we have kids, and where did the time go? This then spawns the breakdown that leaves me questioning what I am doing, and why I am stifling my creative side, and how to get back to doing the thing I love.

Yes, that type of thing.

So, about three weeks after that little breakdown, Vor has helped me more than I could have possibly imagined. Yes, there was listening, and talking, and suggestions, but more--much more--he gave me a universe. He created a political universe for me to play in, and my writing has come back with a vengence. I've gotten character sketches, the total plot outline, the back story, the overall political landscape, the future events, the terms, technology, and the science. Next step is just the pure, creative, writing.

God, it feels good.

Here we go.

Mary Mary Quite Contrary

2011-02-01T16:11:00.004-05:00

This year, we are doing a garden. I have a fairly green thumb, so much so that when I mentioned the garden, Vor got a very worried look on his face and said, "But the tomatoes. Remember the tomatoes?" We had so many that they invaded the driveway, climbed up the house, and I was making sauce, freezing, and donating tomatoes left and right to the neighborhood. There were still tomatoes left over.

So, you are about to be treated to my rambling planning (as my windows ice over from the ice storm--the irony is not lost on anyone, I'm sure).

Where? I would do square foot gardening, but A) I don't know how my neighbors would feel about a 4x4 square in sight of their back windows; B) I'm pretty sure that would be a neighborhood housing code problem, free standing semi permanent structure that it is and all; and C) it really just does not go with my future gardening and landscaping plans.

So, container gardening it is, for now. We have a huge deck, and the veggies herbs and fruits can bask their little hearts out in the sun.

What? I am positive the following things will be grown:
1. Small Veggies: Radishes, Carrots, Onions, Bush Beans
2. Larger Veggies: Winter Squash, Eggplant, Tomatoes, Peppers, Lettuce, Sweet Potatoes
3. Fruits: Strawberries
4. Herbs: Garlic, Basil, Rosemary, Sweet Marjoram, Mint (OMG, invasive little thing that it is, I am so glad I containerized my mint plant last year), Oregano, Cilantro, and maybe one more, if inspiration strikes.

Maybe? I am hedging on a few things--to plant or not to plant, and a little bit of design angst.
1. Beets. I love, Vor hates. I think I may just ditch them.
2. Leeks. I love the taste, and I use them in soups. But where do I put them?
3. Blueberries. The bushes are small, at least to start, and they do well in containers, at first.
3. Strawberries. Yes, I am growing them. But where? I am tempted by this vision of putting strawberries in hanging baskets, and seeing those luscious little red fruits tumble down the sides, floating tempting mid air. If I did that, it would free up room for the leeks where the strawberries were originally going to go.

Things Making Me Go Hmmm...
1. Raspberries. My mom has a raspberry bush in her backyard. When I was little, I would go out in the morning, pick some, and put them on my cereal. Slurp.
2. Fruit. Could I maybe pull off a dwarf apple tree? A dwarf peach tree? On second thought, I want an apple tree in my backyard someday. My grandparents had an apple tree in theirs, and I would just wander in and pick up apples and make apple sauce, fresh. Sigh.
3. Tropical Fruit. If I am down with bringing my little container inside, could I have a lime tree? A fig tree? An olive tree? I eat olives like it's my job. Same for limes.
4. Nuts! While I am on fanciful topics, I wonder if there is a nut tree that would grow in this climate. Almond? Hazelnut?
5. Winter Squash. I eat spaghetti squash all the time, so I want to grow it. It's a climber though, and I think it may be a pain. I'm trying to think of ways around this--ie, give it something pretty to climb on.
6. Speaking of hanging baskets, why couldn't I grow pole beans out of a hanging basket? That would free up container space, and the pole beans could climb their little hearts out.

Complete And Utter Day Dreaming:
1. I've come up with a few sketches for what I want the backyard to look like.
2. The first is the stone patio with little nooks and crannies that I can actually use to grow my vegetables. Of course, I want an arbor to let my winter squash grow onto! I also have this great idea for running poles and lines around for climbing flowers to grow on, making a little privacy fence out of flowers.
3. The apple tree. Or maybe the nut tree.
4. Tearing out those rose bushes (not my favorite) and planting the blueberry bushes there.
5. Or maybe, tearing out those rose bushes, planting raspberries there, and removing some of the shrubs out front and replacing them with blueberry bushes--which are extremely pretty bushes, by the way.

What would you grow? Am I missing something good? What about your fanciful garden day dreams?

Ice Ice

2011-02-01T16:07:00.003-05:00

BABY! We have an ice day today!

I had a nice little post all ready for you, but I wanted to give you this little gem of a mental image instead:

There is so much ice on the ground that my dog thinks the entire world has turned to concrete.

Since my dog has been trained to pee on grass, he won't pee, because that would be being a bad dog, right?

FAIL.

All Things Pictured (And Not)

2011-01-16T18:15:00.008-05:00

So, we have this dog (Telly).

He is a little lazy and crazy, is very water friendly, and thinks he is a lapdog.

He also loves yogurt.

_______________

I've also been on a rampage with Ancestry.dot.com, finding relatives left and right. And up and down. It's been fairly entertaining, but I am at the point where I've hit a dead end, because all the records are overseas.
_______________

Speaking of overseas, it's only two and a half months until we go to Ireland. Just a little while ago, I was telling you it was four months.

We have our plane tickets, and our train tickets. We have our B&B in Galway City. We need to book our car. We are planning on winging it for the second half of the trip--yes, you heard me, the Plann-y McPlannersons are going to fly by the seat of their pants for part of this trip.

We're planning on leaving Galway and going to Limerick to see my family, and after that, who knows. All we know is that about four days after that, our train leaves from Killarney to go back to Dublin, so we need to be on that. That leaves us the option of driving around Dingle, staying in Limerick, going to Killarney, going to Kenmare, going around the Beara Peninsulas, whatever, as long as we end up back in Killarney at the end of those four days.

Amazing.

I can't wait to go back.
_____________

I had a long comforting talk with Vor on Friday over dinner about jobs generally, my job specifically, bigger and better higher education, job switching, babies and future plans generally.

Basically, I am stressed out to the point where caring about work is painful, and Sundays have become a day of dread because I have to go back into the office. I thought this was because of my job, specifically, but no, it's probably just what comes with being a lawyer. Though really, I'm sure my job content does not help. At all.

That in itself is a painful thought, because I worked my ass off to get this degree, and now I'm wondering if this is what I want. It's certainly not what I always dreamed of--that was getting my PhD and becoming a professor (which is a desire that I still have not kicked).

I wish I could say this was the stress of being uncertain that I am capable, of being afraid of public speaking, of making mistakes or getting reamed over the ones I've made. It isn't. It's the stress of doing a job that I am not sure I am cut out for.

I love my job, but it stresses me out. Makes sense, right? (Or not)

Thank God I have Vor. He is husband, sounding board, encourager, critic, practicalist, and dreamer all in one. I feel like I've had my brains unwound and put back in order.
_____________

Anything you want to hear about? I'm tired of yammering away with no purpose.

Not Really Feeling This, But...

2011-01-05T18:34:00.002-05:00

Fun things: Ireland looks much closer on this side of the new year. I now have acquired for Ireland: guidebooks, warm water proof but stylish hiking boots, a waterproof warm coat, and my new passport.

Work things: I just can't even talk about it. I can't think about it. It's too stressful. It makes me not even want to write in here, hence me avoiding you, because once I start, I don't know that it is possible to stop and then I will totally overload, like I am about to do now.

Holiday things: all peachy keen, good to see the family.

Family things: If one more family member asks me when we are having children, if I am pregnant yet, why am I having a glass of wine when I should be trying to get pregnant, when are we due (ha, ha--so funny to assume I already pregnant as a way of telling me that I should be), etc., I might scream. Other than that, they are great.

Vor, of course, is amazing, and Telly... well, he's a dog. A crazy one.

You Wonder Why I Am A Feminist Of Some Sort?

2010-12-21T17:23:00.003-05:00

My family, God love them, is very Catholic and very Conservative/Republican. So, that's what I grew up with. Was inculcated with. What I said in grade school.

The point I was forcibly reminded of today was the family position on feminism. A. To be feminist is to be femi-nazi (I hate anything that includes the word nazi, because, really? Six million dead is what you think you are accurately comparing here?) B. It Just Doesn't Work (this is the part where my Dad says that women should not work outside the house because it isn't right and the children end up deformed and neglected and God is displeased with the woman) C. The need for feminism is all made up anyways (there is no good old boys club, women don't receives less opportunity or pay, etc. They make it all up!)

To some extent, I got to hear all this again when I went to law school--calling me a feminist with a nasty sneer, imploring me to remember my future deformed and neglected children, but at the same time, saying, "Well, at least women are equal in the legal profession."

Well, let your fears be rested, gentlemen--there is still a good old boys network.

Let's talk about Lawyer A in my office, who may or may not be me or another attorney. A is sitting in a chair, waiting for everyone to enter the courtroom, when older male lawyer (OML) comes in and says, "You should have worn a shorter skirt" (A's skirt is actually below the knees) "because this is an all day hearing and I was counting on your nice legs to get me through it." A stares in disbelief.

OML is talking to client while A moves a table in the courtroom. A hears OML say "Well, let me give this to that mean ass attorney." A refuses to respond to name calling. "Let's see if I can get the bitch to turn around to talk to me." A is somewhere between laughing and sheer amazement. "What a c*^t." (Lordy, even I won't say that, it's just gross.) OML finally comes up, addresses A by her proper name, and gives her the document.

During the hearing, there are several points where OML decides to roam the floor while presenting evidence. Because of the way the courtroom is situated, OML has to walk behind A. As he does, he reaches out and runs his fingers through A's hair. A stares at him in disbelief. He does it again, tugging a bit more firmly. A shakes him off, and looks at the judge, who is looking at the witness. OML does it AGAIN, this time tugging A's hair hard enough to jerk her head back. A shakes him off a little harder, then readjusts her chair so that he can't wander behind her anymore.

As they are leaving, A is treated to a request for "a much shorter skirt next time, sweetheart."

So, yes. I think this is wildly inappropriate. I think there is a old boys club that thinks this is okay, and I work with them everyday. I don't think I should have to stay at home or endure being treated like this.

And I don't think I am crazy or militant for saying it.

Dear PTB at SyFy

2010-12-17T19:05:00.003-05:00

Dear Powers That Be,

I am reasonably sure that we have had the conversation where I admit I am a nerd, a sci-fi nerd, who has cable only for the SyFy channel?

Yes, I know we did.

You canceled the only show that I regularly show up to watch. Time to cancel my cable. Which, of course, also means canceling you.

Jerks.

Heart,

Grace

Welcome to the [Crazy] League, Kid

2010-12-07T19:53:00.005-05:00

For a while now, it's been official: I have been a lawyer employed full time for [more than] a year now. The middle of October saw me into my first full year. So, in true slacker fashion, I give you my one+ year thoughts:

Things I learned in my first year of practice (grouped by related topics).

Oh, family law.
Mondays in family law = chaos.
Holidays in family law = chaos + emergencies + drama.
Chaos is always > my ability to comprehend.
Therefore, I cannot comprehend holidays or Mondays anymore.

Have you seen my desk?
The number of days spent outside the office in court is directly proportional to how the stacks of papers will be on my desk when I finally return.
If I walk into court feeling like a have a handle on things, I will be pulled aside in the court hallways at least three to six times and get handed new cases.
The greater the need to talk to the person/child/police officer/case worker, the more likely it is my office phone will mysteriously hang up.

Good Ol' Boys Club
I look like a little kid, so make up, especially when tangling with old white male attorneys, is essential. Also essential are my high heeled lethal looking boots.
Playing nice, dumb, serene, and generally like a newbie works great for when I later want to skin someone alive.
The best way to handle the suggestive "sweetheart" accompanied by an even more suggestive leer and invasion of personal space in the elevator is to step forward aggressively and inform the offender that no one calls you sweetheart. [would you believe me that I've had to use this more than once?]
Never ask an attorney who is over the age the 75 how they are doing today. You will get their digestive history [so not joking].

Those Metal Detectors Work, Right?
The City County Court Building is a zoo, and my attorney badge is my zoo pass.
Do not go into a hallway alone with a person with penchant for battery/person suspected of homicide/convicted rapist. [pats self on back for figuring that one out beforehand]
I will see at least one of the following: underwear, an unfortunate lack of underwear, see through shirts with black bras, lime green stretch jeans, flip flops and a tank top in the snow, someone who is clearly drunk.

Ready Set Go

2010-11-29T16:35:00.004-05:00

Wow! I keep letting this thing slide. In my defense, I had my parents here for Thanksgiving.

It's official. Our plane tickets to Ireland are booked. Stone fences and pubs, here we come...in about four months.

Speak of four months, that means I have that much time before we go to recommitt myself to the folloowing: the way I eat; my physical therapy routine; my writing.

The way I eat is always a problem over the holidays... heck, it's a problem every waking moment of life, and sometimes even when I'm alseep. Since I started doing this whole eating right thing, I have mostly stayed on the wagon. I have fallen off a few times, and it is always spectacular.

I've now been watching the pattern long enough that I can recognize something that is really painful about myself. I have a food addicition. Is that possible? More specifically, I have a sugar addicition. I crave it constantly, I can smell it a mile away, I have to change my life habits to avoid it, because if I visit those old haunts again, I will eat it. It never stops at one cookie or one piece of bread. And then I wake up with a sugar hangover, wondering why I did that to myself, but I go do it again anyways.

Seriously? I am recommitting myself. If that means I have to throw out everything in the house, hide all money from myself so I can't buy lunch, and have a constant buddy with me every waking moment so I don't slip, so be it. Sugar kills, people. It's bad for you.

The physical therapy. A looooong time ago, in a galaxy far far away... sort of. It seems like it. Anyways, I was a synchronized swimmer (go check somewhere else on this blog to see how competitive I was) and I did some impressive damages to my shoulders. I've been able to get by for many years with mimimal physical therapy, but no more. Both my shoulders have started giving me huge problems, so I bought a new set of weights, broke out my old medicine balls and rubber bands, and here we go.

If I don't do this, I will be screaming in agony at the end of all that travel time to Ireland.

The writing. Remember this? I am an English major who loves to write? (ironic, then, that I just noticied that my spell check is off and I have no desire to go back and fix all the inevitable typos in this). I have classic books galore? I have several half started and half finished short stories and novels that just need more time and love? I own every conceiveable form of BBC movie/TV miniseries? (fellow junkies, did you see that Jane Eyre is going to be a movie?) Yes, that's me.

That, there, is truly what I love. I love my job, and I think I am getting better at it. It does not fulfill me the way that writing does. In my ultimate perfect world, I could devote myself to that as a fulltime job. In a more realistic perfect world, I could work a real job part time and do that part time.

In the real world, I just need move my ass and do it in overtime.

So, four months. Here we go!

Three Things

2010-11-18T17:14:00.002-05:00

First, I would like to book this plane ticket to Ireland. Now. I am tired of the back forth (I know it is necessary!) of planning.

Second, I am turning on the Christmas music and having Mama Vor come over and help decorate.

Third, this job is a life sucker. I had another death on my case load. I feel numb, tired, and weepy. I know it is not my fault, but it is eating me alive.

Seeking Like Minds

2010-11-11T11:13:00.003-05:00

My best friend's wedding was this past weekend. She was mellow, a beautiful bride, and he is a good guy. I could not be happier for them. Also, it gave me another chance to realize how blessed I am to have Vor, because I could not have done all my maid of honor duties without him. He was the general bat man, running around for tape, picking up stray bridesmaids from the airport, hander out of bubbles, delivering goodies to rooms, etc.

We were also fortunate in that we got to meet her friends-the other bridesmaids and their spouses, plus others.

It provided for an interesting and in depth conversation on our car ride home, which consisted of trying to answer one question--why don't we have friends like that?

The answer is simple in many ways, but hard to remedy. I do have a friend like that--the bride herself. But she lives far away now, and is an armed service member. Vor has friends like that, but they still live in Buffalo.

The fact of it is, we are drawn to being friends with people who are in the military, or who are engineers. It's fairly obvious why--my family is heavily military, so it's an environment that I am comfortable in, and draws a type of person that is similar to me and my family. For Vor, the interests he has often overlap, as do the values. The same thing goes for engineers.

We don't have much of either here. There is not a truly active military base here, and Vor is not as sunk into the engineering world anymore now that he is a lawyer.

What we do have are ALOT of lawyers.

Now, don't get me wrong, we have made some good friends here, some of whom happen to be lawyers. We are working on building those relationships too, so that they exist outside the realm in which we met.

But it was certainly frustrating for us to meet these awesome people, and then leave after the wedding. Vor commented that we could easily pick up, move to where these people are, and fit right in (if it weren't for the whole job thing, you know). We've made plans to stay in contact, and have exchanged all relevant information. I hope we can do it. We certainly have the determination to do so--its hard to find people you click with, so it is very motovating to keep them when you find them.

Sort of Vor returning to the engineering world or me joining JAG, I guess it will have to do.

2010-11-09T07:23:00.001-05:00

I am back from the wedding and my maid of honor duties, and I am TIRED.

Rolling Fields of Green and Fences Made of Stone**

2010-10-30T09:24:00.003-04:00

Here's the plan: Ireland, March/April 2011.

Fly into either Dublin or Shannon (most likely Shannon), and go to Galway. Spend a few nights in Galway (Doolin, Cliffs, Aran Islands, etc.) and then breeze through Limerick so I can say hello to my family. Probably spend a good part of the day in Limerick saying hello and seeing my old stomping grounds (I wonder if that amazing Chinese restaurant is still there...).

From Limerick, onto Kenmare, a small town just outside Killarney that is a lot like Killarney, but less touristy. And it's on the Kenmare bay. So, check out Kenmare, Killarney, Ring of Kerry, Cork, and maybe some other places if we are feeling ambitious.

Then, fly home.

Vor wants to tack on a day and a night in London, so we are trying to work that in as well. I would love to take him to Wagamama's in Covenant Garden, and this little hole of a tea shop.

**Garth Brooks, Ireland

Eenie Meenie Miny Moe

2010-10-27T20:41:00.004-04:00

Catch a country by the toe.

We are still for sure doing our spring time vacation in another coutnry, far far away from here. The questions remains--where?

We originally planned on Paris, but now we have two unexpected contestants closing in fast: London, and a rail trip all over Ireland.

Remember how I love lists? Here we go!!!

Paris Pro: I have dreamed of going back just to hang out in the city. I can use some of my dusty French. Versailles. Musee(s) galore. Wine and amazing food. Time in the City of Love and Light with Vor--how romantic! Vor could finally see this place that I love. Taking Vor to Normany. Staying in a little appartment, down the street from the Eiffel Tower or onMontmantre. Crepes.

Paris Con: Riots. Travel/terrorist warnings. Probably the most expensive option.

London: If you're tired of London, you're tired of life. High tea. Vor experiencing high tea. Real Earl Grey (can you tell we are tea snobs?). The very cool sights to see (clock, bridge, palace, double decker red buses and red phone booths). Stratford. The English language. Conning Vor into going out to Virginia Woolf country. Pretty romantic. WAGAMAMAS. Covenant Garden.

London Cons: I don't buy the "tired of London" slogan. Day trips are not really easy to do, so we would end up pretty much staying in London. Not as "exotic." English food? Not so much. Generally, not as thrilled with the place (don't get me wrong, still very exciting).

Ireland Pros: GREEN. Pretty. Romantic. Stone fences. Cute accents. Pubs. Guinness. Bulmers. Cliffs. Galway. Limerick. Family! Killarney (sing that Bing Crosby song, people!). Time on the trail--which Vor would adore. Castles. Maybe a cute B&B here and there. Decent food. I would love a return trip (I spent a summer there, so I know it fairly well). Least expensive, probably. Good tea. Seeing Vor pucker up to the Blarney Stone. Dublin. Ring of Kerry.

Ireland Cons: We would not be staying in one city, given that we would want to see the place. So, there would be more traveling than a city stay, which could potentially be less relaxing. Probably have to be less spontaneous and make more arrangements for places to stay/rail tickets.

All in all, the pros lead me to this: 1. Paris; 2. Ireland; 3. London. The problem is that riots and travel warnings are pretty serious, so the cons might bump Paris down for me. Ireland and Paris are neck and neck for me. London is not far behind, and closing fast.

Input, please. Now would be the time to stop lurking and actually leave a comment. :)

Extra Points for Style

2010-10-18T17:55:00.002-04:00

Well, hello, October. Nice to see you. What do you mean, you are halfway out the door? Where have I been? Well... umm... you see...

First: I traveled to Las Vegas (VIVA LAS VEGAS) for the bachelorette part of doom. It was a good time. Vegas was fun. I can't imagine staying there longer than a weekend, but a good time was had by all.

Second: I traveled to Virginia to see my brother sworn in as a colonel in the Air Force. I played with nieces and nephews a like, hugged my brother, and had a good time. I am so very proud of him. I also got a nasty cold from someone that I am still recovering from.

Third: both of these little trips have taken me away from Vor and the dog, neither of whom have been pleased with my long weekend absences.

Fourth: I have an on going battle with my maid of honor dress. First, the bride told us which dresses to get, but hurry, becasue they were on sale now. I go out the next day online, and they are already out of my size. Heck, they were out of every size larger than mine. My only choice is to get the next size down. So I do, figuring that I've lost so much weight, I will at least be close, and I can alter up.

Yeah. Then I hit a snag in my progress, and I've been gaining weight like crazy. It happens when I am stressed (wondering why? here and here and here, for a flavor) and when I can't sleep. Check and check. In the grand scheme of things, I would not worry about it, and it will even out when I get my stress levels and sleep under control. BUT I HAVE A WEDDING IN THREE WEEKS.

I had her alter up, but even in the time from when I gave her the dress to when I was fitted again, I must have gained more weight. That and the alterations lady made an admitted mistake when she measured me. The dress does not fit. The dress will not fit. The dress cannot fit.

I called the company, and now I am on the waitlist for an dress in that color, damaged or not, my size or higher. They are sending me a dress that is a petite in the next size up (which probably means that it will function like the next size down from the size I need) that I can either squeeze into or maybe use for scrap material. THREE WEEKS.

I don't do crash diets. I think they are unhealthy and terrible examples. But, people? I think I may be out of options. That or some emergency liposuction. Or maybe a miracle, where someone returns a black plum dress from J Crew.

If you are reading this and are the owner of a black plum dress from J Crew, I need that puppy. Right now. Send it to me.

I'm not kidding.

Like A Gust of Wind

2010-09-28T19:15:00.003-04:00

I'm about two weeks shy of having been at this job for a year now.

There are moments where I think--just for a moment--that I have seen enough to have a pattern to base decisions on, sort of like a template to work from, and make changes to fit the situation. In law school, we called it applying law to the facts at hand.

Then the moment passes, the sun goes out, and the storm clouds roll in, and I have a lying cheating double dealing money laundering attempted murdering child molesting belt buckle whooping individual who I'm sure is otherwise a lovely person sitting in documents before me, and I run for the sanctuary of my boss's office, where I tell her my woes and seek direction.

As bad as it is, it is easier than the recent situations I've had. I have a job that is supposed to be about protecting children. But what do I do when they are the problem? When they are the YOUNG lying cheating double dealing attempted child molesting sexual acting out sneaking out of windows heroin using poor kids diagnosed with ODD, ADHD, ADD, MPD, BPD, ARD who can't stop themselves?

Sigh.

In other news, my maid of honor (matron of honor?) behind is being hauled out to Vegas for the bachelorette party. It's really hard for me to leave Vor. I've tried to explaining this to him, but I just get all teary. I think some part of my brain is still convinced that we are STILL in long distance mode, where I have to jealously guard each second, because I may not get any more seconds for another month. Or maybe I am just a homebody who does not like to party.

Sigh.

In other other news, it is 8 pm and my husband is just coming home. Tomorrow it will be 8:30 before I even dream of coming home.

SIGH.

It's Friday...

2010-09-24T16:59:00.001-04:00

...and I have one word for you:

SUSHI.

Forgiveness and Forgiving This

2010-09-21T16:32:00.003-04:00

I can't remember a time when KK and her son didn't live across the street from my parents. She was a single mom, and I babysat S. I remember when they got their dog, and then I was their dog sitter, too. KK liked to have me around, she said, to boost the estrogen in the house.

Then, one day when I was a senior in high school, she was killed.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid. She was running a marathon with her best friend. A drunk, on duty police officer in his police car drove down the street that the marathoners were runing, and swerved right towards them. KK saw him coming and pushed her friend out of the way. He struck KK and killed her, and then swerved off. They found still wandering around in his car, plastered, in the next town over.

Her parents forgave the police officer almost immedately, and I was furious. It took me many years before I felt any kind of peace about it. Now, all I feel is sadness for her and S, and pity for the man who killed her.

I didn't understand, until all this happened, why I was so angry with her parents for immediately forgiving him. For me, forgiving is something that is part of greiving. To forgive someone immediately for something horrible is to ignore the fact that I am human, and I need to greive this. How can I possible move to forgiveness when I am still processing what happened? I can't help but think now, given everything I know about KK and her parents and all the aftermath, that their forgiveness was just "forgiveness." They felt they had to, but it was what their faith taught. I don't believe that they truly forgave him until much later. I don't know that S has yet.

For as bad as that was, what happened here was worse. It's been a few weeks now, so now it feels like the elephant that the people that knew M best step around. There are still bits of information coming out like a slow drip faucet. I've become silently obssessive about security.

So, the greiving process is still on going. If I am still affected it by, I can only imagine how much worse it is for Vor. To deny this process would be to deny M, and that's impossible,

Forgiveness? Not yet. Ask us later.

Scars

2010-09-11T13:14:00.002-04:00

Yesterday: food poisoning.

Today: a little heart-sick, remembering.

It will always be hard to remember the panicked feeling, not knowing where my brother was. It will always be hard to remember, knowing people I knew at the Pentagon were likely dead. I will never forget literally holding up a classmate as she watched the second tower collapse, with her dad inside.

Unfortunately, it will always be all too easy to remember.

Sunda Blog Salad VII

2010-09-05T15:14:00.002-04:00

Salad--what's probably for dinner.

Lettuce. The meat of the salad. I do believe my lettuce is wilted, folks. It's been stunned grief that's been taking up lives, between deaths at my work, and tragedy elsewhere in our lives. It's exhausting, and consuming. Although its been consuming, the less said on it, the better. At least for now.

Vegetables. At this point, vegetables--the things that are necessary but I wish weren't--are literally vegetables. I've been on a roll with my food, and doing really well, but suddenly I have hit a sugar valley again. I gave myself a few treats, and all the cravings are back, with the headaches, and the holy mother of pearl cramps and double vision showing up like clockwork once a month. Yes, if I was not sure before, I am now--sugar makes my life much much worse.
SO, as of this moment, no more treats, unless it is the type of treat that falls under "massage." And exercise. Yes, dear pilates, P90X, yoga--I'm looking at you. You vegetables you.

Croutons/Cranberries/Almonds. The sweet things in life--no! resist! Just kidding. Having Jedi, Mom, and Dad in town was good stuff.

Salad dressing. My salad is soaked in vinegar. I can smell it across the room.

Distraction

2010-08-30T07:58:00.002-04:00

To say the least, its been a nice distraction to have my parents and Jedi (10 y/o) nephew here. When Jedi saw out collection of Star Trek/Star Wars/other sci-fi movies, he practically ran up the front of me, to give me a hug, saying: thank you! I am so happy! I am so excited!

I guess Vor and I just get him.

We've gone to the Indy Zoo (very cool, loved the aquarium), the Children's Museum (amazing! Jedi went crazy in there!), and today is the Carmel Water Park. It's been really great.

On the other hand, it would have been helpful this weekend to be able to retreat, to hide in the house, to cry and rage it out, and talk about what happened. Sleep would also have been helpful. I finally got a full night's sleep, but I know Vor hasn't.

We're both having nightmares. I can only tell you how vivid and terrifying mine are; I can't speak for him. I imagine--I know-- they are worse than mine.

No Words Can Say

2010-08-27T07:36:00.003-04:00

We've had a horrible incident here that's kept us up all night, with lots of tears and grief.

Thoughts and prayers, please, and for a day of relative safety.

Like Nails

2010-08-19T18:38:00.003-04:00

It's been awhile now, and I've been able to process what happened. It doesn't make me any less sad, but I think I've processed it. I finally was able to sleep last night without crazy dreams involving this case.

Of course, there was the requisite meltdown over the weekend, when even more bad things happened in this case, but that's another story.

I found myself very annoyed yesterday when listening to parents bickering in court over basketball and child support. Seriously? This is your emergency?

My mom frets that this job will make me hard. Maybe it has made me less trusting, but I don't know about hard. I don't think that comparing different emergencies against each other, and deciding that one most certainly trumps the other makes me hard or uncaring. It just means I've got a whole new perspective. One I never wanted, but I have now.

The case file is sitting open on my desk in my office. I can't quite bring myself to close it and put it away in the file cabinet. It's like admitting defeat. I also have all the new paperwork from this disaster sitting in there, loose. Every time I pull out the hole punch, I hesitate.

What's even more depressing than the death itself is the aftermath. The fighting, the police calling, the jurisdictional quagmire between limbo, and two counties, and a surprisingly undefined state of law.

Each new thing that seems to happen every day with this case is like a pinprick, but not from any small sewing needle. More like a nail that was in a 2X4.

So, perspective. It's handy. But I think that being just a little bit harder than I am would be helpful too. I can't not sleep at night. I need to put it away, close it in the file cabinet, and turn off the light.

LYATWUTGAB

2010-08-16T17:43:00.005-04:00

To explain the inscrutable title--not that you will ever figure it out--

Amid the window cleaning, the wall scrubbing, the painting, the dog chasing, the food making, the food baking, the crazy case making;

amid the hospital trips, the hard diagnosis, the what-if's and will we ever's, the year of full working, the year of full time actually living together, the summer days and winter nights that stretched on forever;

amid the bar exam one, and bar exam two, the house bought, the do it yourself move;

amid the tears, the crying, the laughter, the growing, the knowing that when I come home, you'll be there soon;

amid all the craziness that has been going on around us, two years have passed.

Happy Anniversary, Love.

Waste

2010-08-10T17:57:00.003-04:00

There's a first time for everything.

I imagine saying that to my kid(s) about losing a tooth, riding a bike, going through a breakup, etc. I imagine saying it lovingly, comfortingly, and sarcastically.

I don't imagine repeating it to myself, over and over, like I've done all day today.

This is the first time someone on one of my cases has died.

I've been stunned all day. I found out last night. I don't think I slept at all, except for that brief time where I dreamt that everyone involved with this case (the children, the parents, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles) went out to dinner with me and had sushi. Riddle me that.

Please, please, please. If you think someone is depressed and in need of help, reach out. If you think a child is not in a good place, call your dept. of child services. If you think an adult is in danger, encourage them to seek the help they need. If you don't know what to do, call a crisis hotline. They know what to do.

What a waste of potential and life. It's been breaking my heart all day.

Game Changer

2010-08-03T19:40:00.002-04:00

It was so cool this weekend, then suddenly, it was hot and muggy. Vor is listless, the dog is listless, I'm listless... and restless.

I can't focus on work. I'm attributing this to the fact that its pretty much been a year now since I've had time off in the school sense. Remember those heady days of taking a week--two weeks--a month--off at a time? Yeah, I still do. I want to get me some of that again.

The restless part, the part about not sleep and weird dreams, comes from worry. It's always bad when I'm making casseroles, and here I go again, making another casserole.

What do you say in the face of a scary diagnosis? One that people don't understand? One that reveals a time bomb, silently ticking, creating more explosives from your own body to eventually blow you up with? I don't say anything. I make food.

Our friend is out of the hospital. The sudden illness, the strange symptoms all have a name and a face. There's goal, and a plan. But there is also an endgame, and it's not one anyone has any input into.

I wish we had pushed harder when he withdrew these past couple months. Vor and I kept saying, where is he? why won't he call? why won't he get breakfast with us anymore? yet we didn't push the issue. How do you, really? Especially when he has close family in town--if there was anything wrong, they would push the issue, right? We all stood around, waiting for someone to push the issue. Not that quicker action would have changed things, much. This diagnosis would still be there. But maybe other damage would not have been done.

Anyways. Instead of some forethought, or some prior action, there is now after-action, a casserole baking in my oven. I need to tend to that.

Just so you know where I've been. And just so you know where I'm going.

Quick and Dirty

2010-07-28T17:32:00.003-04:00

1. We have a friend in the hospital, and it's one of those House moments--everyone thinks they know, and then they don't, and then he gets worse, and then they think they know, and things keep worse, and we realize no one knows. I am still waiting for Hugh Laurie to show up with his amazing accent, doing a better American accent than most Americans, and tell us what's wrong. I hope he insults me personally, while he's at it. In the meantime, prayers/thoughts/good vibrations are appreciated.

2. My parents are coming in August and bringing my nephew, Jedi. Who lives in Indy with kids? Tell me good things to do. He's ten.

3. I want bacon, wine, bacon, bread, bacon, chocolate, bacon and bacon, in that order. This bacon craving has got to stop. We don't even have any in the house right now, but I'm thinking about the grocery store. No, I am not having pregnancy cravings. I checked.

4. August looks like it's going to be the month from hell for work. I should just sleep in the courthouse. It would save me some sleep.

Wavering

2010-07-23T18:06:00.002-04:00

It's so hot outside right now that everything seems to moving in waves. My neighbor's house looks like a mirage, and I can't step on the drive way with barefeet.

I really don't think you need to hear this next part, so I encourage you to stop.

I think the heat makes me lazy and indecisive. It also makes me want ice cream, and pie, and sugar, etc., etc., etc. This is problematic. I really have no tolerance for the stuff anymore. I ate a piece eof chocolate yesterday (hangs head in guilt. it was just sitting there on my desk! evil co-workers!) and then I threw up this morning. Delightful. I've spent the whole day feeling ill, and at the same time, wanting more chocolate. Oh, to be hated by things we love.

Despite the worshiping of the poreclain goddess (ahem), I've felt remarkably chipper and okay today. I met Vor for lunch, at which point, nothing could have possibly sounded better than broccoli cheddar soup.

That remains the only thing I've managed to keep down. I opened up the spice drawer to cook diiner and almost lost again. The smells were too much for me. So, something fast and easy for dinner for Vor it is. Now that I took the time to type this, it occurrs to me that the sensitivity to strong smells and food in general has actually been going on for about three days, not just today.

I swear, it's the heat. The summers here make me crazy. It never got this hot in Buffalo. I have never once seen the thermometer attached to my parents' house ever get above 92. It rarely gets above 80. Now, it's humid, but not this oppressive heat that makes my dog run outside, pee, then run back to the dog and beg to be let back into the AC.

Okay, it should be safe to read again.

I know I started this thing to get myself into the habbit of writing again. I didn't do it for an audience. But it feels kind of lonely, putting words and thoughts out there all the time that just drift. Sometimes I talk to Vor about what I wrote, sometimes I forget. I don't think he reads this anymore.

Plus, work has been so busy, and it's about to get worse. The first 3 weeks of August consist of at least 2 full days hearings every week. Usually, there's 3. That is a major time sink, and I am tired when I get out of that. But instead, I have to come home, and keep on with my French lessons (I'm surprised at how much I remember). This thing has been low on my list.

I don't know. I'm wavering.

And Then I Got My Geek On

2010-07-18T11:57:00.004-04:00

We went to ISO's Symphony on the Prairie last night, and the theme was classical science fiction music.

I took tons of pictures of storm troopers, Darth Vader, the droids (they moved! on their own! they rolled all over the place!), etc., etc., etc. George Takei was there, and spoke for a new minutes, and narrated one of the songs from Star Trek.

Overall, a wonderful night to camp out on the prairie with Vor, and with a bottle of wine and some cheese, and listen to the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. (They even played the Stargate theme!

Incoming!

2010-07-16T16:20:00.002-04:00

One friend from Vor's college days.

Need to do: get something defrosted for dinner, clean guest bedroom, make bed, vacuum dog (sigh, I wish this one would me do that... definitely a a part of the previous model of canine that I appreciated), put away dishes, jump in shower (dirty form spending most of day downtown at court house...shudder), glass of wine, start cooking.

I'm sure there is something I am missing... such as relaxing, napping, reading through yet another Paris guidebook?

Embrace the weekend! It's sunny and beautiful in Indy :)

A Bottle of Bread and Two Loaves of Wine

2010-07-14T19:35:00.002-04:00

Paris, je t'aime.

The first time I went to Paris, my brother took me out to dinner--he was stationed in Germany and had traveled to Paris with myself and my parents for a weekend get away. Mom and Dad stayed back at the hotel room, eating food from one of the fresh markets on the street.

When we got back, my Mom was very giggly and my Dad was red faced. Mom informed us that no siree, she was not jealous of the super nice dinner we just ate, because she and Dad just had two bottles bread and a loaf of wine.

Drunk as a skunk, I tell you. A great memory. A memory we like to break out every now and then.

So, Vor and I would like to make a few of those memories of our own--in Paris, that is. We're going. Next year, spring time. Be there. Or rather, please don't be there, because (1) I won't recognize you and (2) I would like some quality time with Vor, if you catch my drift.

Of course, this is appx. 7 to 8 months away, but that has not stopped me from checking out every guide book the library owns on the Paris and Normandy areas, and making tentative selections of where I want to go, what I want to see, etc. Since this is ONLY 7 to 8 months out, I've also checked out a French textbook and some CDs, so that I can brush up on my French. I've been tentatively testing it out--I can understand most written things, a fair bit of spoken things, and but just about nil comes out of my mouth properly. Le sigh.

Vor's never been, so the usual suspects are in play: Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Louvre, etc. I'd like to put some twists on those, and add a few of my own. Versailles is high on the list. Didn't get to go either time I was in Paris. I've been tot he D-Day beaches, but I want to go with Vor. Things like that gain more meaning as you gain more perspective.

I've been to Mont-St-Michel, but man, do I want to go back. What do you mean you've never heard of it? Go here, and here, and here, and now tell me how much you want to see this. It's amazing. The Abbey opens up to the sea and the sky, so you feel like you could leap into the clouds. The city itself feels like you imagine Minas Tirith would feel (Lord of Rings, yes I am showing my geek side, love it and embrace it). The road winds upwards, and it is a narrow road, full of shops.

So. What would you do? Wine tour? Something else?

I Must Have Part of My Brain Missing

2010-07-09T21:35:00.002-04:00

The plan is to wait a little bit longer.

The beginning of next year. It will make a Europe trip even more romantic. We'll know our financial situation better then, I'll have worked longer, we'll be more flexible.

I hate to say this, but I will never be crazy about the idea of being a mom. But there's been a shift. I'm not actively seeking it, but I am at peace with the idea. I'm okay with it. I've been okay with it for a few months now, so I don't think I'm changing my mind.

But maybe we should hurry up, just in case I change my mind tomorrow. I do that.

'Fess Up

2010-07-09T21:30:00.002-04:00

I figure if I tell you, I will be accountable.

I've been so good since starting this diet in January. Then I went to Buffalo, and I ate pizza and chicken wings, because I had been planning on doing that, because it is a crime to eat pizza and chicken wings anywhere outside of Buffalo. (No Hooters does not have good wings. You are fooling yourself. BW3 are even worse.)

Then I ate a rice krispie treat, and a brownie. I told myself Buffalo was a free for all ticket. Then I came home and ate a piece of chocolate, and I ate some corn chips.

This needs to stop. Now. Diabetes is no good.

There, now I told you. I will tell you tomorrow how good I was.

Never Go Home Again

2010-07-07T17:29:00.003-04:00

It's true. At least for me, it's true--once you're out, you can never go home again.

I loved seeing my family. I especially loved hanging out with my nieces and nephews. They might be some of the coolest, cutest people on the face of this earth.

But I found myself pretty much unable to just roll with the things I would have rolled with before.

The fact I have not seen my brother in forever, and he decided that his time was better spent going camping for the limited amount of time I was? Not cool. I told him so too, and I told my family at large so, which created shock and awe, and not in a good way.

The fact that once my parents learned my brother would be gone while I was here, so they tried to get me to come up a week earlier? Never mind that I have a really job that I worked for, and work at. He was getting inducted into the high school hall fame!!! That's a big deal, Grace, why can't you be here? Um.

Then there was my sister. She was snotty while shopping for a bathing suit with me, and a raging--I hate to say it, but it is true--a raging bitch to my mother. My mother ran out of the pool and into the house crying. I wanted to dunk my sister in the deep end. I don't know when she became such a snotty bitch, but it happened. (Sorry, sorry for profanity, but... not buts. It's true)

I can't even type the story without getting mad, so I'm not going to go there right now. Later, when I figure out how to try and deal with this, I will, and I will turn to you, O Wise Internet, Whose Feelings Are Not Currently Hurt Like Mine Are. I realize this is a long title for you, but you have to take what you can get.

I get so tired of defending my family. I love them fiercely, but they can do some very strange and mean things. They--we--are hotheaded, competitive, and have a propensity for arguing. But we're also loyal and protective, which is why this little vacation of mine was so painful in some ways. I don't like having to protect my parents against my siblings, especially ones that are so much older than me. I don't like having to defend my parent's boneheaded moves to my siblings and my husband.

Can't they all see how easy it is to understand what the other person meant? My Dad is sarcastic. Take it as a joke, because that is undoubtedly the way he meant it. My Mom does not have a mean or unsympathetic bone in her body, so either a) she had no idea she was offending you or b) she was so embarrassed about what she did she could not even apologize. My brother, while abrasive, means well and wants everyone to be happy and health. My sister... I'll reflect on that.

When did Prada, my oldest niece, get to be almost 18 and becoming a senior in high school? When did Scout, my oldest nephew, get that really deep voice? Jeter, the next nephew, has suddenly become more mature--a teenager, and not one of the little kids anymore. Jedi, the next nephew, grew so much. Then there was Blossom--I swear she grew a foot too, and she was much quieter. Brick, the last nephew--his stuttering is gone, and his attitude is great. Petunia hit the terrible threes with angelic grace, and is much taller than before. I don't understand.

I used to be able to go home and slide back into the routine of things--the peacemaker, the one who got other people to understand or at least talk.

I can't slide back in anymore.

Bells Tolling

2010-06-28T18:38:00.005-04:00

Vor and I had dinner with my friend Vintage, from law school, on Saturday.

We also had dinner with her fiancee. Mmmmm. I'm a bit torn about this. I want her to be happy. He is certainly making her be just that. But, she dated him before, and it ended badly. They've been back together for six months, and they're engaged.

If there was ever anyone that was "just right" for her, it's him. I just worry. It's so short a time, with a not good history behind them.

Sigh.

My best friend, E, is getting married in November. I'm her maid of honor. I love her dearly and have known her forever, but I swear, I am the worst choice ever for a maid of honor. I don't like party planning. (bach party, showers, etc). I don't like crazy parties (see bach party, oh, wait in VEGAS. crap.) and I am terrible at planning things when I don't live in the same city as the event (I am here, she is in Nevada, wedding in Buffalo, bridesmaids scattered across the country).

This has disaster etched on it.

This is also going to be one of the weddings where everyone you knew from high school appears again. That should feel... interesting. With a few exceptions, I do my best to avoid people from high school.

*************************************

I haven't managed to kick this cold/flu/bug/virus/evil life sapping disease clearly genetically created and altered to attack only me. I've never felt so tired as I do right now. I never felt this wiped out even when I was in law school. And the sore throat has got to stop. I alternate between sounding like me, sounding like a man, and sounding like I sucked on a helium tap.

Maybe I am have something more than just the cold/flu/bug/virus/evil genetically altered creature clinging to me. Maybe after years of thinking I had mono in high school, I've now finally gone and gotten mono. That would be just. fabulous.

***************************************

It's 7:00 pm here, and I am home from work. However, I am picking up my laptop and working some more, just like I will do every night this week, until I flee this city on Thursday and head for Buffalo, where there are fish frys on Fridays, church bells ringing every day at the church around the corner from my parents, at 5:05 pm, a crystal clear pool, and lots of small fingers, connected to lots of small hands, connected to lots of small and not so small nieces and nephews, waiting to say welcome home.

Boldly Going

2010-06-26T14:38:00.002-04:00

I was completely, utterly, and undeniably correct when I said I was getting sick.

I got up Tuesday morning and was positive I was going to pass out... perhaps because I had a fever of 100.4. Now that might not seem high to you, but I run normally at 97.1. I drove to work to conquer those three hearings, stumbled to my desk, and realized I could not stand long enough to handle three hearings. I dropped the file off on another co-worker, while my boss(es) made the signs to ward off evil and sickness, and I drove home.

At some point in the day, I hid in the basement, because it was cooler down there, and even with air conditioning, I felt like I was standing under a rocket launch. The thermometer read 102.

Shortly after taking in that number, I became convinced that the dog's eyes were glowing red, that the dog was a zombie, and that the dog was going to eat me. The rational part of my brain was convinced that I was delirious.

All in all, it has faded now, though I am left with an intermittent voice and constant exhaustion, with strange bouts of coughing. Telly's eyes are not glowing anymore, much to my zombie-hating relief.

It's been a long week. I go to Buffalo next weekend to see the family collective (kind of like the borg collective, you know? --"you will be assimilated." It's their standard line.)

I think I need a nap before I see Vintage and her newly minted fiancée tonight. I'm exhausted just typing this. Resistance is futile.

Step Back, Hop Forward

2010-06-21T18:13:00.005-04:00

I really should know myself better by now.

When I feel super stressed, and like I haven't had a break and some downtime in a while, that is a surefire sign that I am going to get sick. Remember November/December 2009? Hmmm? Right.

So here I am, in 90 degree weather, with a fever, which makes the weather feel like a 110 degrees, coughing, generally under the weather. Awesome.

True to form, that also means that I have a full day of hearings tomorrow--one really early in the morning, one in late morning through lunch, and one after lunch to the end of the day.

_____________________________

Vor and I had a nice conversation about family and starting one and babies and timing and school loans and mortgages. Yes, those are all VERY interrelated with two law school loans to be paid off.

In the first five minutes of the conversation, my heart rate went through the roof, my palms were clammy, and my breathing was shallow. It was actually pretty hilarious that talking about family plans could produce such a ridiculous response. After the twenty minute panic attack, it was a nice conversation.

I'm not so sure that the panic is related to my ambivalence about being "Mom" anymore. At this point, I think it's about the money and the job and the loans, the fear of not having my parents close to me, the fear of them being so much older than they were for their other grandchildren, the fear that this becoming okay with being a mom might be for naught, and I might not be able to get pregnant, the generalized fear I have about being pregnant and my particular health problems, and the specific concern I have about how to handle morning sickness in a court room.

I can't be the only (future) pregnant woman who has been a litigator (but then again, see above about possibility of having sub-fertility issues; then see literature on adoption). There must be some graceful way to handle this. And before you start saying, there might not be any morning sickness--my female family are morning, afternoon, and night morning sickness champions. We revel in it.

But, it's progress. I think a big step in not being afraid of being a mother was actually really helped by Vor. I see so many people who at some earlier point in their lives would have never dreamed of doing the things they did do to their children. Other people would have never thought these people could fall so far and cause so much hurt and damage. I have been, maybe still am, worried I could be that person--become the thing you hate--, but Vor, gently and often, reminds me that I have a gift--I know my limits. I know when I am ready to lose it, and I can walk away. He's right. I know what really pushes my buttons, so it is not a surprise when it happens, and I am already prepared. And I know the consequences, which these people never did before. Plus, I have a husband who i think will be a great father, who is the only person in the world that I want a family with. (eww, gooey) Bonus, I don't have a criminal history that involves animal cruelty, so its not likely that I am some crazed psychotic. I'm only partially joking.

So, progress.

Now, I need to go lay down and feed myself chicken sans noodle soup.

Maybe Next Week

2010-06-20T12:08:00.001-04:00

Memorial Day weekend involved two different day long parties and preparation. Then D and M came to town from Buffalo to visit Vor and I, and brought their tenacious 14 year old pug. Telly LOVED that. Then my parents were in town. Then I went to Bench/Bar this weekend and

I NEED A WEEKEND OFF.

A Long Day

2010-06-16T21:05:00.001-04:00

Sigh.

Just FYI

2010-06-16T07:28:00.003-04:00

P.S. It can be a surefire way to positively infuriate me to say that there is no discrimination left against people in the workplace. Especially directed towards women. And then tell me that you've never worked, and that your husband is able to support you, and you remain at home. (btw, if that is possible, and your choice, then I am jealous, and you go girl. but pontificating?)

Come again?

Off to work. With the good old boys club. Where they once tried to shut me out of judge's chambers and told me my presence or opinion was not necessary.

Dawn

2010-06-07T17:48:00.002-04:00

...

I know I've been quiet on here. Between a house full of guest, a birthday, and general crazyness, it's been busy. Also, those parents of mine will be arriving this weekend, so extra business will ensue.

Perhaps the biggest is an epiphany that has been storming around in my brain, dawning, then running away, and finally settling.

Later for that. Must go find strawberries now.

Sing a Song for Me

2010-06-03T07:32:00.003-04:00

Cute blouse? Yes.

Cute skirt? Yes (though I confess, I am wearing a pair of my old volleyball spandex underneath. don't judge)

Nails? Painted red.

Perfect weather? Yes. Thunderstorms are my fav.

Lunch with Vor and Mama Vor? Yes, at my place of choice downtown. Adobo, Oceanaire, or Palamino? So hard to choose.

Must be my birthday!

And the Dolphins Sang a Chorus Together

2010-05-24T18:04:00.004-04:00

ksjdk84844h9g38483&^&**

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!

Nailed

2010-05-20T19:11:00.004-04:00

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?

...

......

.........

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?

***************************************************

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?

...

......

.........

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?

************************************************

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.

Dog Out of Crate Day

2010-05-19T12:27:00.002-04:00

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.

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way...

2010-05-12T18:37:00.002-04:00

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.

An Ode to My Early Warning System

2010-05-10T18:26:00.003-04:00

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.

Home Owner-ness

2010-05-05T17:33:00.003-04:00

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.

Meet Vor

2010-04-27T21:46:00.004-04:00

Meet Vor:

It's taken so long to write this particular meet and greet, because, really--how do you introduce someone who makes you laugh, makes you cry, makes you calm, makes you crazy, but above all, makes you want the present and the future more than you ever thought possible?

When I first met him, I was intimidated. I had never met anyone so sharp and intelligent, that I thought I couldn't keep up. I quickly found out that he uses those smarts and wits to draw people out, not put them down.

Of course, I also thought he was the best looking person I had ever met. I'm not biased at all.

He loves tea, and we have *several* boxes of tea throughout the house. It is best if it is loose leaf tea, and he has declared we can never live in Colorado, because the water boils at a lower temperature, not hot enough for his tea. He also provides a voice for our dogs--for Telly, Vor has elected the voice of the Sweedish Chef, and provides a running commentary of what the dog thinks.

Vor watches science fiction with me, and introduces me to new kinds all the time. We get our nerd on regularly. He also snuggles.

Vor puns. He's punny. He is also corny, but has inherited several naughty jokes from his father.

I know he rationally thinks now is not the time for children, but I also know that he can't wait. He will be an amazing father. He has all kinds of plans for reading history books to our children, probably when they are still in the womb. I'm pretty sure he will come home with a history lecture series on CD, plug them into a CD play, and put earphones on my belly. He was thrilled with my plan of taking our children to a library every weekend.

He reads every night, and there is a picture of his mother and father up in our bedroom. He calls his twin all the time. Even though my family is a bit overbearing, and very overwhleming, he proposed to me on a beach while we were on vacation with my family, because he knew the first thing I would want to do was see my sibilings, nieces, and nephews.

This could go on and on, so I'll end it here. I've discovered it's impossible to describe a blessing, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

From Mind to Heart

2010-04-23T16:46:00.002-04:00

We've seen quite a few really sad cases come through lately. If I could tell you, you would be horrified.

It's always been on my mind--adoption. Even when I was in high school, I remember thinking that was a good thing, a thing I hoped I could do someday. I was thrilled when I found out that Vor thought it was a great idea, too. Someday! We tell each other.

Whenever we talk about it, I express the same concerns I do about having biological children--the time, the changes, the things I don't want to become. It all has to do with how I was raised and how I've grown, more so than the actual presence of a child. But specifically, I always told Vor that I was worried I couldn't bond with any child, let alone one we adopted. Can I really do this? I don't know--that has always been the answer. Vor tell me otherwise.

There's been a shift since probably around December, form mind to heart. This is something I really think I need to do. I don't mean right now, but I--we--need to do this. I can't really tell you what drove it home, because it involves work, but there it is.

I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know.

I am the blank page, You are the pen

2010-04-16T17:14:00.004-04:00

This is the umpteenth time I have opened a blank page for a new post, then forgotten what I wanted to say, or decided that what I was going to write was stupid (stoooopid).

Seriously? Someone give me a topic. Ask me something. Because all I have right now for you is a whole lot of information on third party custody, guardianships, and adoptions without consent. And a lovely little issue up on appeal now (fun! exciting! court of appeals! probably the IN supreme court!)

Maybe I can get Vor to go out to dinner? ...probably not.

Variously

2010-04-11T18:13:00.003-04:00

I seem to be hitting a writing dry spell, at least here any way... perhaps because my writing efforts are just about consumed by the three different briefs I am writing for various cases I am involved in.

Things on the docket, in no particular order:

1. Our friends got married yesterday, in St. Mary's in downtown Indy. It's a beautiful church, the wedding was lovely, the priest got everyone's name right... What, you say? They get the names wrong, on the altar, when they are reciting the vows? Oh yes. In fact, I was a victim of such a thing, by a priest who knew me for a looooong time. Go figure. At least it was a good giggle between us on the altar, and I could hear all my friends in the pews trying to stifle laughs, because they know how much I hate being called by that particular name. Anyways. St. Mary's. It's right across from a grocery store, and if I had gotten married there, I think I would have marched over with my new husband, and bought some ice cream. It was warm yesterday.

2. We found a lovely nature trail that runs very close to our house, so we hiked on that today. It runs by a fairly big creek and reservoir in Indy, so we also got to confirm that Telly is water friendly. Um, water-friendly doesn't even begin to cover it, people. He dove in, he splashed around, he was mad that we kept him on a leash. He played with the hose when we came home, and smiled at us all through getting a bath. This one has water wings.

3. I made guacamole today. With limes. Yum.

4. We now have an electric fence for the dog. He looks more confused than anything else when he gets too close to the line, but he stays in the yard now--no more chasing him all over the neighborhood when he gets out of his collar (that little Houdini).

5. Dinner = chicken cordon bleu with sweet potatoes. All paleo friendly, even the sweet potato, since I had a workout this morning.

6. Speaking of this crazy diet, I have experienced a breakthrough. Because of the endometriosis, my periods are severely painful. Double vision, throwing up, curl up and die painful. Since I started eating like this, it's been getting better. This week, the period appeared--and it was pain free. I have NEVER had that happen. I don't know what else to attribute it to.

7. We have our outside furniture set up, and a book on the Cuban missile crisis is calling my name. Ta-ta!

Brief My Case

2010-04-05T17:39:00.002-04:00

Case Name: Indianapolis v. Orlando

The Facts: Sister calls and mentions that she and your niece and your nephews will be in FL in two weeks, visiting your parents.

The Issue: To go, or not to go? That is the question.

Decision: ___________________________.

Explanation: I miss my niece, Prada, and nephews, Scout, Jeter, and Jedi. I miss my sista. I miss my parents. I love their townhouse, and its lovely location on the nature preserve. I miss the pool. I MISS THE MEMORY FOAM MATTRESS. Tickets are *only* 200!

However, I am a lawyer, with lots of responsibility, and clients who can't stand up for themselves. We are swamped right now. I don't want to go without Vor--I really want him to experience my parents in FL. But what would we do with the dog? would I be able to take time off in May? I am the maid of honor in my best friend's wedding--I have to save time off for that too. Tickets are 200 dollars! Good Lord!

Input welcome.

************************************************************************************

Um, Dear Indianapolis--tornado warnings? Do we remember how I react to weather warnings? Hail? Really?

************************************************************************************

GO BUTLER.

Good, Good Friday

2010-04-02T16:07:00.002-04:00

The offices were closed today, but did I stay away? Noooooo. However, it's been a very abbreviated day as far as work goes--have to do more of that later this weekend, aka Saturday--and Lordy, has it been a good day.

It's 85 and sunny. Telly isn't thrilled with this, but I set out a huge bucket of water for him to play in, and he seems content with that. I wish I had pictures for you, but I was not sacrificing y camera to the cause. Also, my battery is dead.

I bought a short plastic barrel that looks like real wood barrel and loaded it with good soil. Sprinkled throughout this barrel are mint, rosemary, and chive plants. I'm planting the basil and cilantro tomorrow. Doesn't that sound amazing? There is plenty of room for all, and sticking your face in the barrel is like walking into an herb garden. Oh wait--it is!

The plan is to get a matching barrel on put it on the other side of the deck stairs. In this barrel will go the tomato plant (yes I learned my lesson. After the overwhelming number of tomatoes last year, we will be limiting ourselves to two tomato plants, max) and either lettuce, lavender, or green peppers. I haven't decided.

I also planted yellow and orange marigolds, because they are the happiest looking flowers I can think of. The tulips are coming up in the front.

While I was meandering my way out of downtown yesterday after court, I swung by a market that I had heard about (thank you VERY MUCH ma'am!). I cried (inwardly) and bought things. Farm fresh eggs! Local meat! Local vegetables! Amazing cheese! A wine and beer cellar! Sigh. I mooned over the good honey--raw honey--but that is still a no for me.

Speaking of my diet, it's going well. Actually, it's pretty amazing. Having been a south beach girl in the past, I was doubtful as to whether I could remain grain/carb/sugar free. After three months, it's no longer a problem. I've lost fifteen pounds with no real effort to change my exercise routine (ahem, none! well, okay I walk the dog every day), my skin is clearer, no sugar crashes, and strangely.... (side note--I am no Dr. I'm just noting what I've noticed!) the cramps haven't gone away, not by a long shot, but they aren't quite as bad as they were. We are talking crippling here, people, compliments of endometriosis. Things are getting there.

My brother, the man who converted my diet, and I had a lovely chat about organic, local food, etc. He is as conservative as they come, but when it comes to his food, he might as well be running around naked in a commune. He beat me to the punch and joined a CSA.

Anyone here part of a CSA or something similar? Also... anyone from around here and want to split a CSA share? I love me my veggies, but I can't eat all that. I would have to spend my life eating.

Yeah, I know, this was a totally lame and boring entry. If my camera was working, I would show you a picture of Telly, upside down on his back, sound asleep, with all four legs going all four directions. Guess you'll just have to imagine the cute.

Have a good Friday, a good Good Friday, and a happy Easter!

Hell Hath No Fury

2010-03-29T18:12:00.002-04:00

I had to call make the phone call again today.

God, it is so draining. Why don't people understand that children are humans? What about that is so hard to grasp?