gurrbonzo

I've gotta hand it to myself...

2012-01-02T19:58:00.001-07:00

...this was basically an awesome Christmas. I love spending Christmas in our own house and having the kids wake up and run to their own tree and just doing our own thing. For about two hours straight on Christmas Eve, our three-year-old walked around with a blanket over her head playing Mary (tucking a baby Jesus with a strong Cinderella resemblance into a pack-n-play with a pillow pet) while our nearly-two-year-old ran around as a renegade angel, waving a star wand and shouting "Behold!" It was really, really sweet. We had a big fat Christmas dinner party with a random assortment of friends (11 adults, 8 kids, 2 infants. It pretty much rocked. I learned a lot from last year and (a) lowered my standards significantly and (b) only made the meat and rolls and invited everyone else to take care of the rest. Totally recommend that.) In sum, it was a perfect day full of family and friends and fun and not much stress, and for that I am grateful.

I've heard it takes two years to feel at home somewhere: one year to get to know people and another to learn to love them. I suspect that's true. This is our third winter here in Iowa and so far, things are ideal (and not just because it hasn't snowed yet). I haven't lived anywhere this long as an adult, and I feel like I am finally getting into my groove.

I know that means change is afoot.

Our kids are at very sweet (though sneaky) ages and are surprisingly independent; I like my calling; I like my job; I like my friends; I like my scene. Which is remarkable because for the first little while of my existence with multiple children, I was operating at a pretty basic level, totally groove-less in a sea of babydom that's adorable in its chaos but nonetheless, chaotic. And now our kids are getting bigger and I'm sloooowly learning to navigate this life. Also, you know what? I'm a kickass welcome wagon. Honestly, my newfound friendliness is pretty hit-and-miss, but the misses are some of the best parts due to hilarity, and by hilarity I mean awkwardness level. Despite the hilarious misses, I remain largely unfazed.

Basically, it took me a few to get my footing in this new scene of mine in a new region of the country. Essentially, my takeaway from 2011 is that I learned to prioritize in smarter ways and anticipate my own needs better. So this is my advice to old me and to the Internets and who(m)ever else about what I learned in the past year:

Decide what doesn't matter and chuck it! Be ruthless. For example, when it comes to my kids' clothing, I want them to look reasonable and feel good, the end. I don't see them as an extension of me and my identity's not wrapped up in it and I never want to have a conversation about brands or patterns or blahblahblah. (Stay tuned for a forthcoming post about this principle.) Because I don't care, I refuse to care or expend much time or energy on it, and that refusal is quite liberating. This goes for bigger things, too, but clothes are an easy example. Look at something. Be honest with yourself about how much you care. If your answer is, "I care very little," then just put it away. You only answer to yourself, and your family if you have one, and God if you believe in one. But you're in charge of you and what's important to you, and that is awesome.
Adjust your expectations. This is less depressing than it sounds, but I often recommend lowering your standards significantly. For example, when we had our first baby, I felt really uptight about her sleeping. All anyone wanted to know was "How is she sleeping?" "Is your sleeping?" "How was your night last night?" and every night I felt like a failure, because she wasn't sleeping great, and a barrage of well-meaning questions reduced me to tears. And I realized that keeping score by how she slept was going to make me bummed out. What's the solution? STOP IT. She's a baby! I made peace with the fact that because we have small children, we are going to get crappy sleep. Any sleep anybody gets for the next decade should feel like a bonus. Voila! I suddenly felt awesome because did we get SOME sleep? Yes! Then, hurray! So, do that with whatever's bumming you out.
Value your time. I regret wasting absurd amounts of time on really dumb things that didn't matter to anyone, at all, ever. For a simple example, briefing every case in law school? That is dumb. No one knows, or cares. You need the information in that case, and you need to know the legal principle(s) contained therein, end of story. You don't get a trophy for the briefing process or for taking three hours to do a one hour job. So quit glorifying the process and start thinking about results. Another example is making something homemade and complicated for a YW activity. THAT IS STUPID. From now on, if we need, say, cookies, I am buying them, unless there is a specific benefit to making them. If I feel like making them, I will, because I do what I want. But if I don't feel like making them, I will buy them and never feel bad about it. What's more important, my afternoon or $5? My afternoon! Just because you have little kids doesn't mean you should spend your day on useless stuff that you don't find fulfilling. Don't be a martyr! If it's important to you and/or your kids, do it. If it's not, forget it. Delegate it or ditch it all together.
Figure out the introvert-extrovert thing and take care of yourself accordingly. Does everyone else already know this? Introverts expend energy when they interact with others, and need to recharge with solitude. Extroverts GAIN energy when they interact with others, and recharge from other people. Just picture yourself after a fun party. Are you drained? Introvert. Are you pumped up? Extrovert. This means if you're an extrovert, you need to be around people. For me, this means making friends, and if no one is friendly, it means finding friends and making my own fun, and also getting a kickass job that allows me to gain energy from other people, and some financial independence, and avoid mushbrain, and feel like myself. But the tricky part is figuring out how much work is just enough to keep you awesome, and how to keep it from becoming so much work that you go crazy. Still working on that.

Anyway, it wasn't a perfect year, but it was a pretty great one, and those are a few takeaways I learned the hard way. The end. Got any takeaways from YOUR 2011?

things they shout, and so on

2011-10-12T18:46:00.002-06:00

Last weekend at a crowded restaurant, a group of tough-looking bikers walked in.

Annnnnnd of course, our three-year-old jumped up on her chair, pointed excitedly, and shouted "PIRATES!"

Whenever the doorbell rings, our one-year-old shouts "FRIENDS!" and scurries to the door with a truly startling amount of enthusiasm. There is nothing sweeter.

I turned 29 a few weeks ago and it was awesome, primarily because it involved a date and a nap and three days straight of my kid shouting "MOM! IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!" right in my face, our noses touching. It was fantastic. Also, everything I hold most dear happened to me in my twenties, so based on that empirical evidence, I have a sneaky feeling this last year of twentydom will be rrrrrrreal, rrrrreal good (roll those r's like arrrrriba).

Recently, our three-year-old beheld the Nauvoo Temple (which she sometimes mixes up with the state capitol, considering both are large and "fancy"), and she was furious that she didn't get to go inside. I told her if she wants to, she can go when she's twelve. Annnnnnd that was definitely met with a backwards flail and a desperate shriek of "WHY DO I HAVE TO BE A DIFFERENT NUMBER???" Why, indeed, child. Why, indeed.

In other news, I have been working way way way way way too much. You know how that can throw your life off balance? Yeah, me too. I like a fast-paced life but I suspect that the last month or so has been a tad out control. I suspect this because I've done things like, um, sleeping for 14 hours when given the chance (what? 6 PM to 8 AM isn't normal?), and also breaking down in tears in Super Target for no apparent reason. What I prefer are those days where we just do what we want all day, and I don't get twitchy-eye. Bring those back! BRING THOSE BACK!

Speaking of which, as snickettastic as I realize this sounds, there is a big fat difference between Target and Super Target, and as much as I love our interesting little corner of the Midwest, I sure wish we had a Super Target closer. Annnnnnd I consider the fact that a within-driving-distance Costco is in the works as proof of divine existence.

Confession: sometimes hipsters give me hives.

I hate to brag but I am an excellent mimic. Excellent enough, in fact, that husband and I have taken to playing a game that consists of him asking me a question and me answering it as various people we know. Do we know a lot of the same people? Then let's play it sometime soon!

Monday was Canadian Thanksgiving and therefore I (as a Canadian) celebrated by making fakeout Cafe Rio in the crockpot, and it was actually pretty good. (That doesn't make sense, you say? Fake rio for Canadian Thanksgiving? Shhhhhhh. Don't overthink it. We are open-minded in the true north strong and free. Just go with it.) Thanks, Our Best Bites, for making it possible, and also delicious.

just to spice things up

2011-07-19T18:35:00.001-06:00

Join me in a round of make believe. Drumrollllllll....

If I ever became bishop, the first three things I'd do would be:

(1) call a female Sunday School president.
(2) call a male Primary President.
(3) in addition to (not in place of) regular classes, create a Choose Your Own Adventure Sunday School class where every week you sit in a circle and talk about whatever you want.

Your turn.

this is getting ridiculous

2011-07-05T07:23:00.004-06:00

What kind of goober blogs like thrice a year? Sorry, Internets. I do what I can and sometimes that isn't blogging, y'know? We've been busy adventuring, and by adventuring, I mean:

making the annual journey west that pretty much every Mormon anywhere else does.

On said trip, hanging out with piles of friends and fam. Lunch dates with old friends and new friends! Weddings! Races! Emergency root canals! Napless children on rampages! I'll leave the sordid details out but in sum, it was delightful but a whirlwind and one of those vacations you need a vacation from at the end. Especially when at the end, you find out your flight is way delayed and spontaneously decide to drive home instead! My sweet mother came home with me to watch our kids while I went to a youth camp for teen girls. Turns out she was one of a dozen grandmas who came from Utah that week to be on babysitting duty for camp...maybe we should fit it into the church budget? Just an idea.

Speaking of camp, it was in Boone, Iowa. At first I thought that was a slang way of saying it was super far away, as in, "Oh, yeah, it's all the way out in boon!" but it turns out Boone is an actual place. I know this because I spent four days and three nights there and we're all still recovering. BAHAHA! It was such a great time and by great I mean hot and humid and fun and funny. I haven't been to Girls Camp since I was a teenager myself and if you're wondering if IT has changed at all, the answer is no. If you're wondering if I'VE changed at all, the answer is yes. But I still went down the waterslide 17 times due to my awesomeness. Also, I'm still trying to decide if I slept better on the wet ground than I do at home with small children waking up all the time. Would you rather be INTERRUPTED but COMFORTABLE, or UNINTERRUPTED but UNCOMFORTABLE? These are the questions that try (wo)men's souls.

Being so friendly I freak myself out.

Also, I forgot to tell you that I got a newfangled phone that can do things like connect to the Internet. I realize I'm like half a decade behind on this, but it's pretty handy. Greater love hath no man than this, that he transfereth his phone upgrade to his wife.

Annnnnd that's the latest here. How about you?

four funnies

2011-04-05T14:05:00.000-06:00

Ready, set, GO!

First, this is the best, best, best homemade playdough in the universe and I have been enjoying it for ages and shan't keep it from you any longer. The texture! The ease of both creation and clean up! Take a little pot and warm up half a cup of salt and 1 cup of water on the stove (just on low is fine). Add in a tablespoon of vegetable oil, a tablespoon of cream of tarter, and whatever food coloring you want. Stir it for like 20 seconds, just til it's mixed up and warm, then stir in a cup or two of flour, smoosh it up, and as soon as it cools down, behold the joy of your child(ren).

Second, are you watching America's Next Great Restaurant? We are and I'm loving it. The behind-the-scenes (design a logo! figure out a menu! pick your furniture! present your brains out!) reminds me of how much I would LOVE to run a restaurant one day. Is this one of those things everyone wants to do? I don't mean be a big deal chef. I mean, own a delicious sammich place like Palmers Deli. I think this interest stems from how much fun I had being the drive thru chick at a certain taco place in the 90s and later waiting tables; there's a unique rush that comes from a busy restaurant. Also, I like being in charge of things, and shouting, and that's what restaurant owners do, right? Combining that rush with my natural bossy streak sounds ideal. Soooo, add this to the long list of things I want to do that I start thinking about because of reality television. The next time I have a hundred thousand dollars laying around, I'm totally doing it. (Starting a restaurant, not going on reality tv.) Maybe you can be my chef! Or advisor! Or shift manager! Whatever you want.

Third, I think congratulations-fatigue is a real phenomenon. If you're having a kid, that is a big deal, but you don't get five hundred separate congratulations. I think law school congratulations should max out earlier too. Instead, we beg for perpetual congrats. "I can't believe I'm PREGNANT!" "CAN YOU BELIEVE I'M 8 WEEKS!" "Its.....a.....GUESS THE GENDER!" "IT'S MY BABY SHOWER!" "LOOK AT MEEE! HALFWAY!!! "I FINISHED MY BIRTHING CLASS!" "GOING INTO LABOR!" "FULLY DILATED!" "BABY EMERGING!" "BABY'S HERE!" WE FINALLY PICKED A NAME!" "WE BLESSED OUR BABY!" Reproduction is great, but one big "Way to go!" is enough of a congratulations for one thing. Agree or disagree? Similarly, I think us lawyers need to relax. We want congratulations for getting in, congratulations for starting, congratulations for finishing finals, congratulations on grades, congratulations on being halfway through, congratulations on finishing, congratulations on ACTUAL graduation, congrats on studying for the bar, congrats on taking the bar, and then congrats on passing the bar, and nine hundred thousand mini-milestones in between. THAT IS FAR TOO MANY TIMES TO EXPECT CONGRATULATIONS. The only people who still care are your spouse and maybe your mom but trust me, even they have their limits. Do other fields do that too? YIKES. I propose that we cap social congratulations at one. As in, you get one large and hearty pat on the back per thing. You graduated? CONGRATULATIONS. You have now reached your congratulatory quota. You reproduced? CONGRATULATIONS. You have now reached your congratulatory quota. Who's with me?

Finally, I'm NOT a runner but I ran a 10K for the first time this past weekend. (No congratulations needed, although if you choose to give me one, you don't have to again for anything running related, because, ONE CONGRATULATIONS PER THING.) Who knew it was possible for me?? It was surprisingly fun, and it's making me wonder what else I've always considered "not my thing" so never tried, but if I tried, maybe I'd like it. Got any suggestions?

random ranting

2011-03-14T12:32:00.002-06:00

Can we talk about awful slogans for a sec?

MidAmerican Energy: "Obsessively, relentlessly, at your service."

Does OBSESSIVELY not imply ABNORMAL? Is this really what my electricity company should be going for?? An energy guy could be lurking around every corner. "Can I help you now? How about now? NOW? Need help?? ((nervous twitchy smile)) BUT I WANT TO HELP YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU. I NEEEEED TO HELP YOU. I need. I need. I need."

Terr-i-fying.

Similarly, let's talk about HyVee (a Midwest grocery store). Oh, HyVee. I love HyVee and go there all too often. But the slogan? YIKES.

"A helpful smile in every aisle."

EVERY aisle? Are you kidding me? SOMEONE IN AN APRON GRINNING MANIACALLY ON EVERY AISLE? I, for one, like to grocery shop in peace. Is that not the premise of a fantastically creepy horror movie? Could we not go for every other aisle? A helpful smile on several aisles? Also weird is that their employees totally look like missionaries...white shirts, ties, black nametags.

And finally, remember when Minute Maid had all that "Put good in, get good out" stuff? GROSS.

these three things (of orient are...)

2011-02-22T17:34:00.000-07:00

Once I took one of those intensive summer classes, the kind that is 3 hours every day for 6 weeks. A great way to knock out language credit AND a great solution for natural procrastinators--the semester is so short you don't have TIME to get behind! So I had that class every morning from 9-12, and I worked every afternoon at this awful debt consolidation place ("Our philosophy is in our name..." anybody? anybody?) from 1-6, and I had an internship on a local congressional campaign from 6-9. Every day. And it was crazy, but also PERFECT, because I was doing three totally different things with three totally different crowds using three totally different parts of my brain. And it was then I realized the magic of These Three Things.

To feel awesome I need at least three distinct things going on. Just one and it takes over your life; just two and they fight with each other for dominance. Three is the magic number for me.

(Do you remember the old, old video from junior high health class with the catchy tune: "The health of man! Is like an! Equilateral triiiiiii-ANGLE! Completely dependent on the length and strength of each siiiiiiide!"). This is my equilateral triangle of feeling normal!

Anyway, what I'm saying here is that I am inching closer to finding that magic balance again and am loving it. Since I have tiny kids in a time-intensive stage of life, my family is obviously one of my things. And my newish job is another one of those things, and my assignment at church is another. Between the three of those things I feel like I have major time commitments through which I consistently deal with different crowds (the 2-and-under crowd, the college student crowd, the teen girl crowd) and use different parts of my brain (the mom part, the lawyer part, the churchy/mentor part).

So the three things CHANGE pretty consistently but if I have more than three big things or fewer than three big things I go nuts or battle mental/emotional atrophy. Whaddayathink?

gross and great

2011-02-19T19:20:00.004-07:00

Stuff that is gross:

I have the weird (and dumb) habit of putting open soda cans in the fridge. I drink part of one, and it's delicious, and I want to drink it later, but cold. So, sometimes I do things like spill them. Other times, like today, I do things like...take a giant swig out of them and then realize they've been sitting next to the minced garlic for a few days. Don't recommend it.
I am taking a sample GRE so I can teach an upcoming class (random, I know) and it means that I am studying math for the first time since (literally) the 1990s. Bahaha! Remember FOIL? Pythagorean theorem? I am digging deep into the recesses of my brain and clearing COBWEBS out and it is hilarious.
Did I tell you I'm doing this boot camp thing, every damn morning? Well, I am. And it is making me buff. But it also means that I spend about 90 percent of every day terrifyingly sore, and it also means I get up at the buttcrack of dawn, and despite my best efforts, I cannot seem to stop saying "buttcrack of dawn."

Stuff that is great:

I watched the series, yes, SERIES finale of Friday Night Lights recently and I don't get this way about many TV shows but, wow. Dare I say best show ever? I am really going to miss Dillon, Texas. RIP, FNL, RIP.
I weaned my cute baby recently, and though I love her and breastfeeding, this is the first time I've been neither pregnant nor breastfeeding since...wait for it....June 2007. And it rocks.
We went to Wisconsin Dells last weekend, or as our kiddo calls it, "Consindells." Want to know why? Because it's the middle of February in the Midwest, aka, everyone goes batshit crazy unless you spice up your life somehow. And you know, sometimes a mini-road trip is all you got. So we hit the road and were AMAZED at the monstrosity of the incredible/tacky/amazing indoor wonder that is the "Waterpark Capital of the World." Have you been on a super big, super scary waterslide in the last decade or two? Because trust me, it's time.
I helped teach a little preschool class of 2 and 3-year-olds the same day I helped coach this running thing for 9- and 10-year-old girls. Guess what? Dealing with groups of kids in those age brackets? NOT. THAT. DIFFERENT.

Annnnnd, that'll do.

selfish insight of the day

2011-02-10T16:52:00.001-07:00

I just realized that how much I like someone is pretty much always directly correlated to how much they like me.

Is this true for you?

in reality I'm somewhere in between

2011-01-30T19:51:00.008-07:00

Things that make me sound meaner/grumpier than I am:

I am pro-pregnancy and pro-reproduction, but there are few things I dislike more than bare belly pregnancy shots, especially at like 6-12 weeks when it's an excuse to flash your nasty snicket midriff. BLECH! Okay, okay, we get it, we get it. You're slender and buff and vain. What do you want, a trophy?

I am pro-gratitude but sometimes, thank you notes can add distance and in certain situations they are weirder than they are nice. Agree or disagree? Example: I don't have a sister, but if I did, I wouldn't send her thank you notes for basic things, because that would be treating her like my great-aunt instead of my sister. Once in a while, for something special? YES! But when you're good, good friends and/or closely related, most of the time you're kind of past thank you notes. Certainly, there are occasions that call for a thank you note here and there, but in general, if we are close, I just assume we are grateful to/for one another, period. Ubiquitous thank you notes add a layer of awkward formality, and it also makes me think about all the times they probably think they should have received a thank-you note from me and didn't. COME ON. If you are reasonably close to someone, they love what you got them and can just TELL you they appreciate it, note = redundant, mmmkay? (I am pro-thank-you notes in most situations, but regular ones involving dear, dear friends or relatives are always startling.)

There are some notable exceptions but generally speaking, owning an ipad makes you 35 times more likely to be intolerable.

Things that make me sound nicer than I am:

Remember how I just learned to sew? I made our sister missionaries rice bags! I couldn't help it!

I love my new-ish job and feel a startling and somewhat absurd amount of pride when things "click" for students and it melts my ice-cold heart.

I can't help but leave babysitters little treats because my 13-year-old self loved that.

bulletin board voodoo

2011-01-17T20:37:00.003-07:00

The other day I found our two-year-old perched on a chair, leaning on our bulletin board and poking holes veeerrrry carefully in a few Christmas cards that are still up. What?

She quickly explained, "I'm just making it so they can seeeee!"

Sure enough, there are holes right in the eyeballs of a number of you.

So if you're coming over any time soon, our creepy-looking level is at an all-time high.

the truth is

2011-01-05T16:00:00.001-07:00

...last year I rocked my two goals. Do you remember what they were? I do!

(1) Give birth
(2) use only reusable grocery bags.

First one? Check! I have an adorable 11.5 month old kid and a supersized bum to prove it. Second one? Semi-check! Meaning, I brought and used reusable bags more than I didn't, which I consider not bad at all. Basically, high five, self!

Want to hear my latest goals? Oh, good! There are two.

(1) Don't buy anything until March 1 (besides food and toiletries). GAA! Can I do it? Well, of course I can. And I'm hardly a shopaholic. But like most people, I just buy too much stuff for no reason. You know what? I have more than I need, end of story. And the time and energy that goes into the accumulation of STUFF is starting to gross me out. Is that hippie enough for you?? Booyah! But seriously, it is sort of freeing to just stop buying stuff, because it's like I stop seeing stuff or even entertaining the idea of buying stuff. (Let's see if I feel the same way in a few more weeks.) But this means I have more time and energy which I can devote to....

drumroll....

(2) Being generally more awesome. I should probably be more specific, right? Well, I don't really know what I mean, exactly. I'm just trying to do things like make my own fun. What bums me out? Do less of that! What makes me feel great and less self-absorbed and like a cool chica? Do more of that! In sum, my 2011 task is to be more proactive about doing things that help me like my life and myself. I don't know if there is a less Steve Covey word than "proactive" but hey.

two major holiday victories

2010-12-29T13:57:00.001-07:00

Victory one: I made a kickass felt playhouse. Do you know the kind I'm talking about? It fits over the card table? This is kind of a big deal when you are someone who doesn't make things, AND doesn't really have a huge desire to make things. But I saw a pattern and got my heart set on making one, which was ambitious considering I've sewn two things in my life, a bag at age 12 as part of a 7th grade life skills class and a pillowcase at age 27 with my dear friend MCB (literally) holding my hand. Yeah, so I had a bit of a learning curve on this one. But thanks to Mama Gurrbonzo who came into town for a few days right in time to lend a much-needed helping hand, the playhouse happened, and it only involved staying up til 3 AM thrice. May I be frank? It basically rocks. It has the same house number on it as our house has, and a harvest-able garden, and a flower pot with removable flowers, and a mailbox with awesome letters in it, and our kid likes it. It makes me feel like even if I never make anything else, it will be because I don't want to and not because I can't. Now I force people who come over to behold it and applaud us all.

Victory two: We (successfully) had a bunch of people over on Christmas Day. I love having people over, but most of the time it's a handful of people. We live in a land where everyone clears out for the holidays, sometimes for weeks at a time. Whenever I found out someone was sticking around for Christmas, I found myself saying, "Hey! You should come over!" So 20 people later, we had ourselves a houseful of friends and neighbors (okay, so 8 of them were kids, but doesn't 20 people sound more impressive?) and it involved ham, turkey, blahblahblah, a dessert assortment to be reckoned with, and speed scrabble into the wee hours, and I'm glad it happened.

(Annnnnd it was on Saturday. And our two-year-old just found a cupcake from it behind her bed. It's Wednesday. Everyone act natural.)

Any holiday victories on your end?

on my mind and therefore my blog

2010-12-11T19:13:00.008-07:00

Hello, internet friends!

I appreciate the "Did you die?" concerns I've gotten from a few buddies over my recent lack of blogging. Two responses: (a) Thanks for noticing my absence and (b) Fret not! I'm here and aliving and thriving, just busy chasing my kids around and being awesome, both things I specialize in and both things that have lately left little time and emotional energy for e-raging and e-yapping and so forth. I often feel like my downtime is better suited to consumption than production at this stage, know what I mean?

I mention working with teen girls at church all the time, but let's face it, it's a big part of my life, and it's my blog, so don't fight it, just love it. So the 2011 YW/YM Theme is the whole 13th article of faith, which I find fascinating (but that's another post). Question: what does "we believe all things" even mean??

I have seen this half a dozen times in the last few days so just need to check. You know all the people in the world who write "Voila" as "Wah-lah!" or "Vwa-lah!" or "WaaaaLAA!"? Are they doing it to be funny and ironic or are they serious? I can't tell.

There are few things better in this world than a good book club. Husband and I recently made an imaginary book club roster full of different people we've known throughout our marriage, and they are different ages and in different locations so it's unlikely to materialize until we figure out that Beam Me Up Scotty machine I dream of, but just imagining it delights me.

I have a lot of awesome friends, e-friends and in real life friends and in town friends and out of town friends and family who are also friends and so forth, so my dear, dear friends of the past/present/future, know that I love you and don't feel left out when I say this but...
(SWEARWORD ALERT) I went to law school with a kickass group of girls and I miss them: smart, witty, hilarious, interesting, diverse, just all-around fantastic. SO many of them have been on my mind, as they rock awesome jobs or go to more school (yikes) or find love or are heartbroken or get married and/or reproduce and, wow, just what a cool, cool crowd. It kind of bums me out that I got so much of their love and support through my own personal milestones during law school (e.g., marriage, pregnancy, baby) and now piles of them are doing those things and I don't get to reciprocate, you know, the oohing and ahhing and just general sympathy or excitement and merriment. And I feel like I would appreciate their coolness even more at this point in my life! Sigh.

As you may know, I'm a tad scattered at times (though I prefer terms like "creative genius" or "free-thinker") so have been perusing a few organization books, several of which mention a LAUNDRY SCHEDULE. What?? Is that a thing? That people DO? Seriously?

Recently, our 2-year-old pranced around for a few minutes, her hands cupped over her ears, and looked at me sneakily before whispering, "I'm pretending my hands are my earrings!" What? I love that kid.

tray-sure it up!

2010-12-02T11:47:00.005-07:00

So, like most human beings with a heart, I love Christmas. I love Jesus, and family, and friends, and celebrating, and cuddling up in the cold, so it's a nice holiday. But there are elements of this season that bring my consumerism/materialism guilt out in full, vomit-inducing force. Know what I mean?

While I have my hippie tendencies, I am fully capable of shopping my brains out, and I'm all too familiar with the term "retail therapy." But every once in a while, the grossed-out-by-stuff phase hits me full force, and I start thinking how awful and downright disgusting it is that in a world where people don't have safe drinking water or enough to eat, and when there are kids in our own zip codes who don't have coats or roofs, that I in all my privilege and abundance, somehow feel entitled to purchase frivolous and completely unnecessary things. Whether for myself or others, it's still stuff, and it feels gluttonous when many have so little.

And if I think about it too long I end up feeling weighed down and even bloated by possessions, wasteful indulgence, etc. I've had a hard time articulating my thoughts on this but have just had a nagging, foggy sense of OBS syndrome (Overwhelmed By Stuff) as of late. So I was delighted to find this article in the latest New Era (a church magazine for teens...."Why are you reading a teen magazine, gurrbonzo?", you ask? Well, because I work with that age group at church, dear reader. Not because I'm clinging to my fading youth...although perhaps I am...but at least that's free).

Anyway, the article is called Enough Stuff: Five Tips for Tackling Materialism, by David A. Edwards. I recommend the whole thing as a perfectly-timed discussion, but may I share some excerpts?

We all need stuff—stuff to wear, stuff to eat, stuff for home, stuff for school. And, of course, beyond the necessities there’s also the stuff we want but don’t really need, as well as the stuff we dream about but could never afford. There’s big stuff and little stuff, girl stuff and guy stuff, stuff for work and stuff for play, stuff for now and stuff for later. It seems the world is filled with stuff. If we’re not careful, we can have a hard time seeing past all that stuff. Material possessions (both those we have and those we want) can obstruct our view of who we really are and what life is really about. ...

"Obstructing our view of who we really are and what life is really about" is what I meant but failed to express very clearly in my grumpy post from last month. Stuff gets in our way and prevents us from seeing the world and ourselves. He then gives five tips on overcoming materialism, all of which I found thought-provoking.

1. Know who you are. One of the most subtle and dangerous aspects of materialism is the false identity it can give us. When we think of ourselves in terms of our stuff—whether it’s our clothes, our toys, or our money—we paint a pale and shrunken picture of ourselves...But the Savior reminds us, “A man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth” (Luke 12:15).

UAdd a Note 2. Know where you're going. The scriptures give us several correctives to the “gimme, gimme” philosophy. The prophet Alma taught, “Seek not after riches nor the vain things of this world; for behold, you cannot carry them with you” (Alma 39:14). You’ve probably heard the saying “You can’t take it with you.” Well, it’s scriptural...So where should our focus be? The Savior has told us to look beyond the way station of this world toward our final destination. He said, “Seek not the things of this world but seek ye first to build up the kingdom of God, and to establish his righteousness” (Joseph Smith Translation, Matthew 6:38). He also taught, “Thou shalt lay aside the things of this world, and seek for the things of a better” (D&C 25:10).

UAdd a Note
3. Be Grateful. Modern prophets have taught that gratitude can transform our lives...And the Lord Himself has promised, “He who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more” (D&C 78:19).

4. Think outside yourself. ...Material things, along with the ways they are marketed, move our focus onto ourselves rather than others. In this way, materialism can cause us to quietly reject the Lord’s commandment to “love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:39). This focus on self and the stuff of this world is not part of living “after the manner of happiness” (2 Nephi 5:27). In fact, modern research seems to have verified that (1) you can’t buy happiness and (2) a focus on others can bring greater personal satisfaction. As Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1917–2008) taught, “We are happiest when our lives are connected to others through unselfish love and service.”

UAdd a Note
5. Be wise. Again, we all need some stuff, and most stuff is neither good nor bad in and of itself...But over time the incessant drone of materialism can influence our attitudes and thoughts and cause us to forget the Lord and His commandments, as well as our true selves. So we must be on guard.... “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”Matthew 6:19–21. UAdd a Note

"The incessant drone of materialism" is exactly how I've been feeling about the whole thing. It's deafening sometimes. Is that article great or what? Does the holiday season consumerism make you pukey sometimes, too? What do you think of all this? Have you figured out a way to balance it? Agree or disagree?

I made a poor choice

2010-11-08T07:38:00.000-07:00

WHOA. Remind me not to watch The Hurt Locker and read Mockingjay in the same weekend. I keep thinking everything is about to blow up.

ich bin stumped

2010-11-04T18:08:00.005-06:00

As usual, I have some rage to share, so brace yourself. My friend Wendi calls these grumblings "coin-pursing it" like an old lady opening her coin purse and saying "Kids these days!" But hey, it's my blog and I do what I want.

Know what inspires me? A good book. THE good book. Kindness. Humor. A great example of selflessness and/or productivity. My fam and kiddos. New democracies. A good visit full of controversy and interruption. An awesome book...did I say that already? I could go on all day.

Know what doesn't inspire me? Random stuff you hang up on the wall. And chairs. And wallpaper. And so on. Is it pretty? Yes. Is it cool? Sometimes. But it's also just a thing, the only purpose of which is to sit there for people to behold it. So I am puzzled and a little saddened when I bump into blog after blog and snicket after snicket saying stuff like "That pillow is so INSPIRING" or "your living room INSPIRES me" or "design INSPIRES me" or "that self-portrait of you sipping out of a straw at some restaurant is so INSPIRING" or "your bangs INSPIRE me" or "the new kid's line at this store is so INSPIRING." Seriously? Those are pieces of children's clothing, not Mother Theresa.

I kind of get it, because of course, everyone likes to go out to eat, and to find a cool trinket once in a while. But those are things you do now and then as a side dish to the main course of your actual life. WE ARE GROWN UPS. It seems like we should things to do, like BE grownups, and realize that a lamp is a lamp, not headline news and definitely not "inspiring." IT IS A LAMP. Maybe it's cool, and we can high-five you for finding a cool lamp, but it is not a show-stopper. It is for lighting up the room. No? Our whole life can't (and shouldn't) be primping and getting dressed and decorating your house, right? It's fun and everything, but those are things you do TO FACILITATE living the rest of your life, you know, being a decent friend/spouse/parent/sibling/neighbor, working at your job, doing all the unglamorous but productive or at least necessary stuff like wiping bums and tables and comforting people or making beds and whatever else, contributing to society, reading a book, doing some basic grown-up critical thinking, blahblahblah. And I guess I can kind of see how a cool painting or something really arty is inspiring if it motivates you or sparks something in you, but that's actual art, or real design, not a trendy rug or whatever. I am totally puzzled by all of the stuff I've seen lately about people being "inspired" by "design," which seems to be code for "I don't have real hobbies or interests so I shop."

Agree? Disagree? Am I missing something that would make all of this make sense to me?

Grumble, grumble.

Addendum 11/5/10: I think creativity is cool, and I realize this tone is a little harsh. I am pro-creativity. I just think stuff is taking over the world and the internet and our thoughts and our hearts and our time, at the expense of more important and more substantive things. And my rage is directed less toward actual designers and more toward those who spend a lot of time and energy on hypothetical redecorating or other stuff that bugs me.

crappy music confession booth

2010-11-01T22:02:00.000-06:00

I'll go first.

I kind of love "Your Love is My Drug."

Your turn.

also, I'd like some fruit snacks

2010-10-27T22:02:00.002-06:00

There is nothing quite like a marathon stake youth activity (service project AND dinner AND games AND dance, plus an hour of travel time each way) to make you (a) glad you work with such sweet and delightful teen girls and (b) glad you are NO LONGER a teen girl. Holy. Cow. The awkwardness. The eyeliner. THE BODY SPRAY.

Is it really the last season of Friday Night Lights? I may cry.

What IS it about the gym and bad TV? For reasons I'll never understand, gym TV is the best place to find random crap you'd never stumble into otherwise. For example, Real Housewives. So terrifying, so wonderful, so absurd, and so ubiquitous, because it doesn't matter what day or what time I go to the gym, they are there waiting. IT'S LIKE THEY KNOW WHEN I AM GOING AND ARRANGE IT TO BE THERE. So, that's why this article discussion Real Housewives and zombies made me laugh and laugh.

You know how you become stuff you used to hate, and don't even realize it? Well. Yeah. I think it's weird how childless people complain about things people with kids do, then they themselves reproduce and WHAMMO it's a steady stream of all the stuff they used to hate, all the time. Is there no self-awareness in this picture? I get that things change. And I love my kids and yap about them all the time. Nonetheless, if you say, "Pregnant women are smug and can't shut up about it," and then the moment YOU get pregnant, you start giving DAILY fetus updates on facebook ("only 67 more days! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?"), it's weird. Kind of like single people who hate PDA and gripe about how cheesy and smug married couples are, then, wham, they are suddenly blogging about 3-monthiversary scavenger hunts and nicknames. What I'm saying here is that I find our total lack of self-awareness as humans fascinating and bizarre. (I know I am not exempt from these phenomena. That does not detract from the weirdness.)

I am at a life stage in which it seems hard to make hangout friends that don't make you want to poke your eyes out. Can I get an amen?

My mom and step-dad came into town a few weeks ago and helped us re-tile our whole freaking bathroom. Is that true love or what?? There is something really awesome about people who will fly in for a long weekend, tear a wall down, put it back up and cut a bunch of tile and watch your kids and go home exhausted. It was a whirlwind but it was really awesome to (a) have them visit and (b) have our bathroom back in business (after a minor mishap many moons ago) and now...drumroll....last week brought a beautiful milestone to the gurrbonzo household: our bathroom is officially duct-tape free.

slightly creepy, slightly awesome

2010-10-13T14:59:00.001-06:00

If you have a pile of bar exam study stuff that you keep around because it's only printed on one side and therefore ideal for your two-year-old to color on, and later you cut some of those papers into shapes, and then another day she colors them, there is a decent chance that she'll color an adorable pink heart and hand it to a friend, and unbeknownst to you, it'll have the felony murder rule described on the back.

Just so you know.

I must speak out

2010-10-07T17:37:00.000-06:00

No longer can I remain silent about so vexing an issue.

To: The World
From: Gurrbonzo

Isle = island. Like, IN THE SEA.

Aisle = passageway like at the store or the theater or in an airplane.

I know, I know, I mix up things like that with the best of them but this one is KILLING ME. Just a heads up, if you are writing it, YOU PROBABLY MEAN "AISLE."

Thank you for your time.

religious and random

2010-09-30T19:00:00.003-06:00

Welp, General Conference is coming up and I've got some churchy stuff bopping around in this noggin. A sampling:

"You're in your forties. Are you telling me you personally have a shelf somewhere with five full sets of scriptures on it? Are you crazy?" My much-revered friend and mentor (of "If two of you think alike, one of you is unnecessary" fame) once told me that as an adult, he gets new scriptures every five years, and that was my reaction at the time. I admit I thought it was interesting, but kind of weird and excessive. I would like to publicly e-retract my initial reaction because he is right on. I just got a shiny new set for my birthday and I. Am. Thrilled. I can't wait! My new quad has a button! Oh, how I've longed for a button. Five years is about how long it takes before you need a fresh look with fresh eyes and a chance to take fresh notes, instead of having your old markings guide your thinking down the same old paths. Even if they're great paths, you know? You read differently when YOU'RE different! My last set is well-worn and well-loved but you know what, a lot has changed since 2004/2005ish when I made most of those markings and notes (and by "a lot" I mean pretty much everything. My life stage. My mind. My bum size. My name. I could go on...). So I didn't realize how cool it would be until I got them today, and whoa. I am really, really excited to take a brand new look, and will be adhering to the every-five-years plan from this moment forward.

*ALERT: YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ ABOUT SCRIPTURAL BREASTFEEDING* Long before I had kids or a husband, I had a nice heart-to-heart about the Book of Mormon with a stranger, and the woman (who was probably in her twenties) said, "I knew my life had shifted when I started reading and identified more with Lehi than with Nephi. I relate now as a parent instead of a child." I laughed and couldn't imagine it ever happening to me. That had never occurred to me before. She also said that as a nursing mom, for the first time she appreciated the awesomeness of women living on raw meat in the wilderness but still being strong enough to make milk for their children. Gross! I thought that was super weird of her to have noticed and applied to herself. Yeah, again, I've changed my tune and get it now. Hrmmm. People say stuff I think is weird and then I realize they're right. Am I getting older or are they getting awesome? Maybe both. All of this is my way of saying I haven't read the New Testament or the Book of Mormon from my new vantage point in life and I'm looking forward to it. Annnnd go git yourself some new scriptures too!

I stumbled into this gem of an interview with Julie Beck and her two daughters. Parts of it were definitely better than other parts, but the highlight for me was at the end where she says you can pretty much do anything that's asked of you. Just make it happen. I love that. Here's an excerpt:

I often think of the pioneers...and what happened during that most difficult time? The United States government came and said, "We need five hundred of your most able men," and off they went. And what did the women say? We're going to just sit here and cower and feel sorry for ourselves? No! They said, "You go do your job. We will meet you in the valley." And they did. That's the kind of feeling I have for the sisters of this church. Whatever's required, they can do it. They can round up their shoulders and do it, if it's asked of them...We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

Amen and amen. I love buck-up-and-just-make-it-happen messages.

And finally, I stumbled into this talk from 2002 this week and just have to share this, from Henry B. Eyring:

The Lord knows both what He will need you to do and what you will need to know. He is kind and He is all-knowing. So you can with confidence expect that He has prepared opportunities for you to learn in preparation for the service you will give. You will not recognize those opportunities perfectly, as I did not. But when you put the spiritual things first in your life, you will be blessed to feel directed toward certain learning, and you will be motivated to work harder. You will recognize later that your power to serve was increased, and you will be grateful.

Also, there is a heading in the talk above that says "God will multiply the effectiveness of your time." I think and hope that is true, because I've often felt like there is not enough of me to go around. Anyway, the God-knows-what-we-need-to-do-and-what-we-need-to-know thing has been absolutely true in my experience, especially recently, and I am grateful for the opportunities I've been given that have prepared me for stuff. I bet in five years (when I have NEW new scriptures!) I'll be grateful for stuff now that was preparing me for then.

sappy but happy

2010-09-23T15:27:00.001-06:00

"I like reading. And writing. And talking. I think I'll go to law school!"

That was the extent of my logic. I was young (21) and crazy (let's leave it at that). Plus I was big into politics and politicians are all lawyers. Deep analysis, I know. I signed up for an LSAT class on a whim, right around the time I started dating a hilarious, pensive kid in my French class. I finished up my law school applications at a public library in the middle of nowhere New York, with my poor mission companion (now a Mary Kay lady) reading over my personal statement wondering how to get me to hurry so we could hit the laundromat and maybe have time to grab a sammich.

Anyway, in those days, I thought I was such a big deal. I had big, big plans that involved big, big schools (and big, big debt) and no husband and definitely no babies. Remember how I met this guy who talked me into the J. Reub?

The first time I walked into the law school for a tour, I had been home from my mission for three days. I was incredibly awkward, naively earnest and cringe-tastically self-conscious in a way that only sister missionaries with an extra twenty pounds can be. By the first day of class that August, I was still awkward, earnest, and self-conscious, only now I was engaged to that handsome kid from French class.

Early one Saturday morning when I was a 2L, my car wouldn't start. I had about an hour to travel fifty miles and argue in front of a panel of judges about whether pre-arrest silence could be used as substantive evidence of guilt. (Riveting, right?) I'd been preparing for months. So even though my new husband was fast asleep and had a million places to be later that day, with thirty seconds notice, he drove me the fifty miles (in his PJs, no less) and I made it there with about thirty seconds to spare. And when it was over, my mom drove me the whole way home. Ditching your plentiful Saturday plans at the drop of a hat to help your wife or daughter do her thing. Is that true love or what?

Because of that Saturday, I ended up winning an award that made it sound like I had cancer. (Spoiler alert: I don't.)

And one of the law school secretaries left me an awesome "Where are you????" voicemail as I was giving birth because my Wills and Estates final was starting. Husband spent several long, will-send-him-straight-to-heaven hours trying to distract our hungry newborn in a study room as I sat on one of those inflatable donuts and made up the test 7 days later.

Remember how on the first day of school as a 3L, at the last minute I had to bring my four-month-old baby to class? And how I ended up staying at school with her for more than twelve hours as classes and meetings piled up, and my car broke down on the freeway on the way home and EVEN THE HAZARD LIGHTS WOULDN'T WORK?

And how about when we decided to move to the Midwest on a whim a week after graduation and I had to take two bar exams? And when my mom babysat her brains out so I could study for the first exam, and then sponsored my Beehive babysitting fund from 1200 miles away to allow me to study for the second?

Anyway, it's been such a cool and varied experience and a significant number of my favorite people on earth are people I met in law school. And, pretty much every milestone I've had as an adult has happened between point A of deciding to go to law school (meet hub, finish college, serve mission, adjust from mission, engagement, marriage, pregnancy, hub starts grad school, childbirth, first job, first move across the country, second baby) and point B of actually becoming a lawyer where we live (this week).

All of these tidbits were running through my head this week, because on Monday, my two-and-a-half-year-old tugged on my suitcoat as my dear husband distracted our eight-month-old with some blueberry puffs, and I was sworn in as a lawyer in our new state. The new lawyers being admitted were scattered throughout the small auditorium, sitting here and there in the crowd with their families. We all stood, repeating "I will" in unison after the Justice posed each question.

And I don't know quite how to describe it, but as our little girl wrapped her arms around my legs, our baby clapped excitedly and tugged on my necklace, and my happy but exhausted husband smiled at me, I wondered what the young-and-crazy "big deal" gurrbonzo would have thought of this picture.

And I think she'd like it.

greetings

2010-09-19T21:26:00.003-06:00

Oh, friends. Thanks for your patience as I yammer less and less predictably on me blog. I realize I haven't blogged in many moons. I also realize that this is perhaps the busiest time of my life so far, meaning, ever. Because of this lack of time, I have a serious blabbing backlog so brace yourselves for an avalanche of yappage when I get more than thirty seconds.

In the meantime, may I share some recent bar exam news? In the words of my illustrious friend Ru:

"DUAL ADMISSION, SUCKAS!"

whew part A

2010-08-27T15:44:00.002-06:00

I have so much to tell you!

It's old news now, but I shall still share part A (the bar exam) in bullet points, bc that's how I roll, er, type. Parts B and C involve our trip west and then some local shenanigans so please stand by.

The Bar Exam 2.0, or, If I Ever Want To Take Another Bar Exam, Please Kill Me.

The exam itself was tolerable. Could it have been worse? Yes. Could it have been better? Yes. Do I think I passed? Yes. But most people think they passed, and there are always people who don't, so, who knows? I hope I did, and I'll be sad and mad if I didn't, but I will survive, and I will let you know if it's good news, and if it's not, let's just all act natural.
Picture this: the exam site was 2 hours away...which is juuuuust long enough to be a big fat headache when you have a full day and a half of testing and a nursing baby. Soooo, yes, we took a family field trip and my dear, dear husband chased our girls around a large and unfamiliar city for two days. And if you imagine us all sleeping in a cozy hotel room that goes: wall/crib/bed/crib/wall, that's about right.
They forbid taking ANYTHING into the bar exam room except my plug, laptop, and ID. No wallet, no cell phone, no nothing. Luckily we've been practicing ESP so rather than getting stranded in an unfamiliar city making collect calls from a lice-ridden pay phone, I sent husband vibes when it was time to come get me and it worked.
I didn't study property. BOOYAH. Did you know that? Are you impressed with my bravery or shocked at my foolishness? They give you 15ish topics to know cold, and then a national testing group releases essay questions on 9 of those topics, and many states choose 6 of those. So there's lots you learn that you won't be tested on, and sometimes you just need to make those sorts of calls. During studying, I quickly realized it was going to take up three valuable days to learn property (a pretty specific, complicated, laden with terms-of-art topic) and the odds were pretty small I'd get an essay question on it. So, (vulgarity alert), I grew a pair, threw caution to the wind, said, "Nope," and just skipped it. Gutsy eh? Well, e-friends, I'm here to tell you, TO RISK IS TO LIVE, bc the gamble paid off and there was no property question! Is this 27 years of paying a full tithe? Perhaps. Bc that could have really been a dumb move. And if you are going to take the bar sometime soon, DO NOT FOLLOW MY EXAMPLE, because there WILL be property on the the multiple-choice portion, which I didn't have to take this year because I took it last year in another state. Got it? But still, phew.
Though I survived law school with nary a testing software problem, I spent a solid 15 minutes of the first 90 minute essay with a frozen screen and a busy proctor trying to fix it. I utilized my hypnobirthing breathing and remained relatively calm, but still, LAAAAAAME. Thank you, Hypno-Debbie (our initial hypnobirthing teacher from a few years ago).

This is the first sentence of the world's most hilarious cheese-riffic hypnobirthing cd, so say it in your highest, creepiest dreamlike voice:

"And now it's time to relax..."

pretty sure we all deserve a Slurpee.

2010-08-17T19:21:00.008-06:00

Have you ever had one of those days where you finish up a cross-country roadtrip with small kids by driving 1200 miles in one day, and you arrive home at 2 AM and your poor kids have the travel-shits and take turns accidentally emitting various bodily fluids onto every imaginable surface in your home, and your toddler refuses to nap and you consider it a victory that you manage to shower and right after you finally get dressed your kid burps up all over your only clean clothes, and your house looks terrifying and then you suddenly realize the sister missionaries are coming over for dinner and you have Mother Hubbard cupboards and your spouse will be home later than usual? And at the precise moment you realize you just used the last diaper in the house, your toddler accidentally headbutts your baby and both begin screeching cries of tortured fury?

Yeah, I had one of those.

How was yours?

pretty sure...

2010-07-23T17:24:00.003-06:00

....that playing "Do I Have A Right?" counts as bar prep. Or something. So what if it's targeted to middle schoolers? Go play it! You're welcome.

bar none

2010-07-19T15:35:00.002-06:00

Hello friends and internet. May I ask you a favor? I took the Utah bar exam last year, and then we moved, and I am taking the bar exam of our new state in the great Midwest so I can hold myself out as a lawyer.

(Timeout: "holding yourself out" is one of my favorite awkward phrases. It appears often in the law in subjects like common law marriage, e.g., "holding themselves out as husband and wife," or ethics, e.g., "holding yourself out as an expert," and its perhaps obvious meaning is a person purporting to be something. But "holding yourself out" just makes me picture me holding a smaller version of myself in the air a la Simba from the Lion King and shouting "Behold! I! Am! A lawyer!")

Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is this: If I ever mention that I'm thinking about taking another bar exam, I want you to stage an intervention. And if the intervention doesn't go well, shoot me.

Thanks.

Unrelated comment: being a parent is my favorite thing I've ever done. Our girls (a two-year-old and a six-month-old) had their first long, loud, deliberate giggle-back-and-forth exchange in the car the other day and it may have been the sweetest thing I've ever, ever heard. I sense much mischief in their future and I like it.

Moving on. I have a horrible, horrible, cannot-think-or-sleep-as-my-head-is-pounding toothache. Pretty sure it's bc I haven't been to the dentist since we got married due to lack of dental insurance (whooooops). This is particularly unfortunate timing considering the whole enormous test next week phenomenon, so yes, a dentist is squeezing me in today because if I have to take the bar with the right side of my head pounding I will cry. And also fail. But I'm pretty sure it's bad news, because I can't think of anything good they will tell me about a throbbing tooth/jaw/eyeball/side of face ("Congratulations! It's throbbing due to GOLD NUGGETS! LOTS AND LOTS OF GOLD NUGGETS!") and I suspect it will cost a fortune.

Let us pray. And floss.

Rage and Reflection, this fall on NBC

2010-06-23T23:26:00.003-06:00

I went to high school at EFY ten years ago. Last week was my high reunion and I didn't go, because it took place 1,200 miles away from where I live. I know it's not "cool" to want to go to those things, but I admit I would've liked to have gone, because it would be fun to catch up with randoms, and also I have a pretty awesome life so wouldn't feel sheepish running into people who knew me in the late 90s. I bet it's more fun to catch up with randoms when your update is that you have a kickass life than it would be if your update was that you were a crackwhore or something. (No offense if you're a crackwhore.)

It will come as no surprise to most of you that I hate wooden blocks that spell random stuff. I know, you're probably thinking, "Whoa, hate is a strong word, gurrbonzo." I know. This is why I've used it. I just don't get them. I saw one a while ago that said "B-L-O-O-M." What? Who are you talking to? Am I supposed to bloom? Are you just reminding me that things, in general, bloom? Or "S-U-M-M-E-R." Okay. Yes, that is the current season. Why is that a decoration? I may as well put wood blocks on the piano that say "B-R-E-A-T-H-E" or "A-I-R" or "9-9-%-H-U-M-I-D-I-T-Y." I just don't get it. (It's okay if you have them. We can still be friends. I just want to know, WHYYYYYYYY?????????)

My toddler and my husband went on a daddy-daughter date tonight and it was freaking adorable enough to melt my cold heart.

Remember how I work with the teenage girls at church? Our stake young women's summer camp theme is "Daughters of a King" and they are doing a bunch of princessy stuff, and each congregation was supposed to choose a name associated with the theme. (For example, one group is "The Princess Brides.") What did my sharp and hilarious girls choose, with no prompting from me? CHESS QUEENS. Because "they're the most powerful piece on the board." Ahh! My heart swells just thinking about it.

Today I was looking at a couple of different community education classes and found the following gems. Yes, these are actual names of classes offered. HOW WILL I NARROW IT DOWN? "Making Friends With Yourself," "Developing Your Intuition," "Beginning Bridge--The Card Game," and my personal favorite, "Breaking Into Sitcom Writing."

closure

2010-06-16T08:43:00.007-06:00

Have you been worried about me and my $92 library fine? Well, worry no more! I walked into the library with a kid on each hip and was calm and nice and just asked what my options were, and EIGHT DOLLARS LATER, all is well and my fury has dissipated considerably. Thanks for your commiseration and guidance.

Thanks to a generous relative or two, I've been able to line up a few of the local (hilarious) beehives to play with my kids a couple of mornings a week while I study for the bar. It's ideal because part of the day, I can actually focus, and yet I still get to spend a good chunk of the day hanging out with our kiddos who delight me. And since I'm just in another room, I don't hyperventilate wondering about if the house has burned down or if my baby's flipping out or what have you. Also, I've started talking aloud about law stuff while we play and I mentally review things, and it's leading my two-year-old to do awesome things, e.g., the following exchange which takes place daily:

Me: So, will you tell me about [the exclusionary rule/free exercise clause/procedural due process/whatever], sweetie?

Kid, very thoughtfully: Ummm...zinga, zinga, shrumpha shoobie, blerghy blargy, trickazoom...that's right?

It's especially great because a) she can talk using real words so the nonsense is on purpose, and the "that's right?" at the end is heartbreakingly eager and b) the REAL answers I'm reviewing sound just as nonsensical so it's a sweet form of therapy.

Anyway, the other day was the first day of this babysitting set-up and I feel like a new woman. THREE (almost)uninterrupted hours of study time felt like an absolute luxury and my stress level has decreased three zillion. Yes, I also have chunks of study time when my husband is home, but DAYTIME study time is a great bonus, and it feels so good to realize at 12:30 that the bulk of what was hanging over my head for the day is complete so I can enjoy the fam without one eye on the clock. So this leads me to ask:

1. Did you ever babysit when you were younger? If so, what did they pay you?

2. Where you live, what's the going rate for a 12- or 13-year-old babysitter? (I am asking out of curiosity. In our little town and neighborhood, according to the girls who babysit, they generally get $5ish an hour...is that more or less than other places?)

Additionally, last night I had fried pickles. I'd say about 60/40 delicious and gross.

Two items of business

2010-06-03T20:57:00.003-06:00

1. My mom normally resides about 1,200 miles away but she is visiting us! Not only does this delight me, it also makes me feel like I'm on vacation, and there is not a lot cuter than seeing your mom make your toddler laugh so hard she gut-giggles. To borrow the startling but strangely fitting enthusiasm of a girl in church who once told a story ending with the words "Yay God!", I would just like to say, "Yay moms."

2. I have read all of Abraham Verghese's books in the last three weeks and it's kind of of making me want to become a doctor. But I also went through this stage with trucking and flower arranging so maybe it will pass.

uh oh

2010-06-02T13:07:00.001-06:00

I recently went through a serious audiobook stage, during which I borrowed "Teacher Man" by Frank McCourt from the local library. An autobiography read by the author (preferably with a thick accent to add some zest) is a treat bc it's like they're telling you their life story one-on-one. I enjoyed it during my to-ing and fro-ing but when the time came to return it...dun dun dun...I realized it was missing a cd. Just one. Out of eight. Gulp. I looked everywhere with no success, and figured I must have put it in another cd case that I had already returned to the library. So I did what any fabulous person would do in this situation: acted natural about it. I just took it back to the library. If they had the cd, then great, and if they didn't, they'd let me know.

Oh, they've let me know. Go ahead and guess the replacement cost.

No, really. Go ahead and guess. It is one cd, though I understand that they'd have to get an entire new audiobook, currently available on amazon for $32.

Do you have your guess?

Is it more or less than NINETY-TWO DOLLARS?

Sigh.

So what's my move? Make a phone call during which I use my angry lawyer voice? Recycle two thousand plastic bottles and/or organize a Fight Gurrbonzo's Moronic Ways 5k to round up the $92 to just pay it and then mutter bitterly whenever I think of Mr. McCourt from this day forward? Order a new copy myself and then pretend the NEW disc 4 is the disc 4 that I lost? WHAT TO DO?

VIP

2010-05-21T20:45:00.004-06:00

So I'm getting ready for a kids' church activity tomorrow, where I'm doing a little yapping about my mission. To help the wee ones understand that upstate New York is just as exotic as those other places people go on missions and eat cow testicles or chicken feet or duck fetus or what have you, I'm preparing mini-garbage plates for a little food sample.

Annnnnnnd, nothing says "I'm awesome" like buying, oh, say, a couple dozen hot dogs. And a 5-pound bag of frozen tater tots. By yourself. At 10 o'clock. On a Friday night.

perpetual first-date syndrome

2010-05-20T17:27:00.004-06:00

"BAAAA! I have a whole theory about that!"

I say that about everything. I'm a developer of theories. One of my few strengths is people-watching and in my 27 years I've come up with entire theories about almost everything.

The (quite obvious) procedure:
(1) notice something (almost anything will do)
(2) ponder it
(3) explain it

Just last night, I used this procedure to formulate a theory about why Lee is so much more endearing than Bowersox, even though they both have similar down-home vibes and backgrounds--I may be the only person alive still watching this show-- and it is that Lee seems in awe of the whole thing and Crystal seems just a little too chill. LADY! YOU ARE ON NATIONAL TELEVISION! BE EXCITED ABOUT IT. (I like them both. I just find Lee more endearing.) I have this dilemma where people who are too energetic overwhelm me, but at the same time, I want to punch people who are too mellow just to see if they'd hit back or get mad, just to see some life in them, you know? People who are too ho-hum about everything are more infuriating than people who are tiggers about life. Agree or disagree?

So back to how I am constantly developing theories. I am stuck in phase 2 (pondering) of my normal theory developing procedure and would like, nay, love your feedback to help me get to phase 3 (explanation). Ready?

What is with perpetual first-date syndrome? You know how on a first date you exchange pleasantries and are super polite and may even bust out some forced laughter bc you aren't sure if you're on the same wave-length? Welp, apply this to the friend-making process. This happens to me quite a bit, which I think is weird, bc let's face it, I am a pretty awesome friend. I bet you are, too, which is why I need your help analyzing this. I've dealt with multiple people lately where it seems like we should be good friends but we never get passed first-date-esque awkwardness no matter how often we interact.

Let's use my go-to name for these situations by calling her Topenga. (This is not you, dear reader. This is an amalgamation of people.) Topenga and I have known each other for five years. We are both normal, funny, nice, relatively sharp, are in similar life stages, have mutual friends, blahblah. We seem like we should be good friends and perhaps we appear to be good friends bc we interact pretty regularly. But we still don't really know each other any better than we did five years ago. Instead, we've just spent five years exchanging recipes or compliments about earrings. This drives me nuts! Why aren't we moving on? Things stay super formal, super weird, and over time it gets super infuriating, especially bc I can't pinpoint why this happens. Come on, Topenga! We can have real conversations! We can't really be as bland as we're acting! I know there's more to you than your sensible shoes!

Why does this happen? Does this happen to you? Analyze, please.

feast or famine

2010-05-06T18:16:00.004-06:00

Isn't it strange how I vacillate between blogging frenzy and blogging coma? Thanks for acting natural with me. I just do what I want. Sometimes that means blogging and other times it means getting a nasty farmer tan while I jog around town with my kids. I've been up to the latter.

Sidenote: I spent a lot of my adolescence not sure what "former" and "latter" meant. I recall scouring sentences with those terms for clues about which one meant the last thing said and which one meant the first thing said. Isn't that cute of me?

Remember how I work with the teenage girls at church? Welp, we recently had an activity about self-defense where the RS pres's hub (who is also a cop) said ass thrice, hell twice, and damn about ten times, all to a group of adorably mild-mannered 13-year-old prudes who he then asked to hit him. Yeah, it rocked.

One perk of living in the middle of the country is that, though our city is rarely a destination for people, it is on everyone's way somewhere else. This means that people can a) wave as they fly over OR b) stop at our house on a road trip. It's the season for the latter (that means the second one...you're welcome) because people I know in the West are driving to spend the summer in the East. And we're on the way! My hub's fam was in town recently and we had a load of fun, my hilarious and delightful law school friend Dorothy and her mom stopped over last weekend and my hilarious friend Davis (also with her mom, oddly enough) are doing the same this weekend. I really enjoy these visits. I love when distinct periods of one's life mix in surprising ways. And I am at a point in my life where I cherish good loud talks with fun friends.

Do you have friends whose essence can be summed up in one little story? I do. Dorothy pretty much eloped, as in, started the summer off engaged but by the time we started school again in the fall she was married to a different guy. That, my friends, is a sign of someone with a sense of adventure. Also, I once saw Davis accidentally put ketchup on a turkey sandwich because she is "used to putting ketchup and mustard on together." I adore both of those stories.

On a semi-related note, I shall now share two secrets to successfully make having houseguests even better, whether they are friends or in-laws or both or neither.

1. Lower your standards.

2. Put your pride in your pocket.

I'm not saying be gross. But I am saying relax and be realistic about what shape your home will be in. It is a fact of life that people LIVE here, some of whom are small children, so once everyone makes peace with that, suddenly having people over is really fun and you can just laugh and visit and bond instead of fuss.

bahahaha

2010-05-06T09:16:00.006-06:00

So we have a lot to cover (get it?), but first, just have to share this with you in case you haven't seen it. BAHAHA! Often The Onion is right on the money, and yes, there's an eerie resemblance to my earlier breastfeeding post...sigh.

GOT MILK? PROVE IT!

Advocacy Group: Mothers Have Right To Expose Milk-Engorged Breasts In Public

here goes nothing

2010-04-15T13:09:00.002-06:00

Today, our oldest little lady turns two.

TWO!

And today is the day I face the challenge that billions of parents have faced through the ages...the day so many of us hope for and also dread...

Today is the day I attempt to make a birthday cake that is supposed be recognizable as a particular item or character.

Let us pray.

i can't e-shut up lately

2010-04-06T12:52:00.003-06:00

For Easter celebrating, I bought myself a chocolate bunny at the dollar store but can't bring myself to eat it now that I've noticed it's "milk chocolate flavored." Flavored. It's not even milk chocolate. Flavored WHAT--wax?? Shudder. Oh, Dollar Store, simultaneously so disgusting and so handy.

Lesbian moms are friendlier than non-lesbian moms. Every time I go to the park or other public place where parents abound, I find this to be true. Why is this?

"Fan us on facebook" is an absurd and horrible phrase. How is this becoming common? Sounds like Cleopatra eating grapes while someone fans her with large leaves. BEING a fan of something is not the same as FANNING something. Normally I don't mind verbing nouns but this fanning business is a line I cannot cross and hope to maintain any linguistic integrity.

I distrust anyone with over 1,000 facebook friends. Something is fishy. If you have more than that, you're either fictional or you need to have a friend cleanse, because that is weird and overwhelming.

Speaking of things that make me suspicious...I also distrust people who mention their clothing size in conversation, people who compare stuff to Hitler, people who take a lot of pictures of themselves, and people who never eat dessert. How about you?? Anything that immediately makes you suspicious?

Conversely, I find myself immediately feeling more favorable toward those who don't mind dropping the occasional casual swearword, people who are nice to my children (even in passing, e.g., the stranger who smiles when my kid shouts "HI, BIKE!"), people who have uncomplicated hairdos, and people who appreciate a good fountain drink. How about you? Anything that immediately makes you feel good about someone?

Thank you for your time.

The Becks: Are Julie and Glenn related? (just kidding)

2010-04-05T13:32:00.002-06:00

It's no secret that a few years ago, I began to love General RS President Julie Beck after she spoke at my law school. That love is through the roof! She really knocked it out of the park this weekend with her outstanding talk on personal revelation. I'm looking forward to when the written version comes out (Thursday, I think?) but until then, I invite you to just bask in a few of the most spectacular parts with me. Woopwoop!

Promised personal revelation comes when we ask for it, prepare for it, and go forward in faith trusting that it will be poured out upon us. I don't know if it was all the outlining in law school that did this to me, but I now think in bullet points and find myself putting everything I read/think/say/do into sections and subsections, so it really clicks for me when I get three-step instructions like this, e.g., to get personal revelation we need to (1) ask for it (2) prepare for it (3) go forward trusting it will come. Number three makes me feel like once I've done what I can,, I just need to forge ahead and bank on the fact that God will guide me, just like in the Book of Mormon when Nephi said "I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do." Know how they say you can't steer a parked car? Get this show on the road! After you do what's within your power to do (ask for personal revelation and prepare for it), it's time to move ahead, trusting that guidance will come. I've experienced that a hundred times but the get-off-your-butt-and-start-moving pep talk is always needed.
The ability to qualify for, receive and act on personal revelation is the single most important skill that can be acquired in this life. Whoa. Not only is that the most important skill, but it's one you don't need to rely on anyone else to develop. A lot of what we do in life is contingent on other people, on their ability to choose (or not choose), but the most important skill we can develop is between us and God. We don't need a middle man. Hallelujah.
This Eliza R. Snow quote she shared will be famous! Did you hear it and did it blow your mind like it did mine??
"We want to be ladies in very deed, not according to the term of the word as the world judges, but fit companions of the Gods and holy ones. In an organized capacity, we can assist each other in not only doing good but in refining ourselves, and whether few or many come forward and help prosecute this great work, they will be those that will fill honorable positions in the kingdom of God. Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time. I know we like to be appreciated, but if we do not get all the appreciation which we think is our due, what matters? We know that the Lord has laid high responsibility on us, and there is not a wish or desire that the Lord has planted in our hearts in righteousness but will be realized, and the greatest good we can do to ourselves and each other is to refine and cultivate ourselves in everything that is good and ennobling and qualifying for those responsibilities."
My constant desire for appreciation was covered in a recent post, but these ideas are significant and basically telling us to (wo)man up. There's plenty of important work to do, God is counting on us, we aren't dummies, we have a lot to offer and improve on and we can do it so get moving.
Finally, I was delighted to hear Sister Beck quote my very favorite part of Preach My Gospel that I clung to in the tough times of my mission. "When we have done our very best, we may still experience disappointments, but we will not be disappointed in ourselves. We can feel certain the Lord is pleased when we feel the Spirit working through us." WOOPWOOP! Maybe that's the rubric I should be applying to measure the success of my days. (p.s. I'm totally having a successful day, more on that later...)

Anyway, this conference was an especially great one in my book. Did you hear much of it? Are you growing to love Sister Beck more and more like I am? Isn't she impressive? Don't you love a good, substantive talk from a female church leader?? Doesn't she have a powerful speaking voice? Am I starting to sound more girl-crushy and/or fan-girl-esque than is appropriate??

here i go

2010-04-04T20:15:00.009-06:00

I've been having an intense fling with the Express Shelf at the library lately, a shelf of new-ish high demand books where the checkout period is shorter, no renewals. Perusing this shelf has led me to read more pop-culture-ish books than I normally would, including the recent trashy political tell-alls The Politician (about the John Edwards scandal) and Game Change. Reading books about semi-current events makes me feel more culturally literate, and also provides me with feelings of moral superiority because I'm not a power-hungry lunatic. This just in: most politicians are delusional, obnoxious, and lawyers. Coincidence?

The shelf has also led me to crack open the much-hailed book The Happiness Project, which is fascinating albeit a tad superficial. As you may know, author Gretchen Rubin spent a year trying to become happier in concrete ways, and every month tackled a specific goal, e.g., January's goal was to "boost energy" so she did things like exercise more, get more sleep, etc. (Note: a brief click tells me the blog is kind of lame, which is a bummer, bc I'm enjoying the book.) Anyway, she mentions she became happier when she stopped expecting a gold star for stuff. Just do it and enjoy it and ditch your need for someone else's appreciation. That's a big issue for me as a new-ish SAHM because I'm an attention whore (or as a classier friend says, "I require much love."). Basically, I need attention, and when you hang out with two (awesome) kids all day, it is fantastic in many ways but not so much dripping with accolades. So I spend a lot of time wondering if I am doing enough or if there's a rubric I can assess the day with or whatever. Obviously, you don't get a grade or a promotion or compliments from colleagues, and when you naturally need a lot of attention, it's kind of a let down (that is not a nursing reference). So you end up peppering your husband with statements that are acceptable from a six-year-old but bizarre for a grown woman, e.g., "Look! Look! I made dinner! Good job huh! Good job!? Do you like it? I swept. Did you see? I swept! Good job??" He will humor you, but still, yikes. Anyway, I'm not done with the book yet, but bits of it relate directly to my life in funny and thought-provoking ways. I've read about it here and there but if it weren't for the express shelf I would never have actually picked it up! It all comes back to that shelf, really. Will you read the book if you haven't already and then talk to me about it??

Speaking of which, the author read about Ben Franklin's Junto, a group of of 12 friends that met weekly for like forty years to talk about important stuff, and she liked the idea, and got a few friends together to be part of a regular "strategy group." I want one of those. How great does that sound?? A healthy discussion/debate with sharp people is like caffeine to me. Same with lunch dates. Well, and actual caffeine.

i'm not becoming a lactivist, BUT...

2010-03-23T20:07:00.014-06:00

...let's talk about breastfeeding.

Sorry if that makes you squeamish. Want me to type it a few times to break the ice?? BREASTFEED BREASTFEED BREASTFEED. Now, moving on.

To cover or not to cover? The library? Church? Restaurants? Someone else's house?

One buddy told me that she abides by the sandwich rule: if you're somewhere where you would feel comfortable eating your lunch, you should feel comfortable breastfeeding.

Our (awesome) local public library has a designated "nursing mothers' room" with a nice lamp and comfy rocking chair. Because the room is locked, you have to ask someone to open it for you and then tell them when you're done. I figured if they had a room for it that must be where it's normal to do it, so the other day, I asked the guy at the desk to let me in. When I was done, he said "You're welcome to use the room if you'd prefer, but you're also welcome to breastfeed anywhere you feel comfortable. It doesn't matter to us," and pointed at all the chairs in the public section. I looked around and felt dumb. It honestly hadn't occurred to me to just do it right there. Why did I lock myself away? I was kind of embarrassed that I'd asked to use the room at all and figured I should be brave enough to just go for it. Well, maybe not across from the matted-beard mutterer with all the garbage bags, but in the comfy chairs by the children's section? Why not? So, the next time, I did, and it was fine.

The other day at a church youth activity, I fed my cute baby under one of those nursing covers that's like a little sheet you hang around your neck. Moments later, another woman fed her kid sans-cover, and I immediately felt sheepish that it hadn't occurred to me to just go for it. It's no secret what I'm doing, so what's the point of a cover? But, sometimes it's just easier to set up shop (and close up shop) behind some material. But do I send a signal of secrecy or shame when I use a cover? Am I just using a cover because I'm used to other people doing it, and when I go WITHOUT a cover, am I giving people around me permission to do the same??

Lately I've been going sans-cover and it's liberating! Is that weird of me? Am I sending the LACTIVIST signal loud and clear? If I breastfeed without a cover, do people automatically think I homeschool, have a dozen chickens, and will nurse my kid through kindergarten? (No offense...) Addition: when I say "sans-cover" I'm still covered. My clothing usually covers everything except the baby and she covers almost everything else.

Anyway, I don't have a huge complex about this, but I have no sense of what other people think is normal. I am amazed at the variety of views people have on this. Will you tell me what you think is normal? Moms, what's your personal preference on place and cover vs. no cover? Dads and non-parents, what are your thoughts? What about at church?

also i made and ate many cookies

2010-03-22T09:51:00.005-06:00

The other day I somehow forgot to put a diaper back on our 2-month-old. Of course, she promptly shat. Apparently, I'd buttoned up her onesie over a bare bum without even noticing. Good one, Gurrbonzo.

One of the 12-year-old girls at church asked me if I'd "ever heard of this band called U2."

Sometimes I think diet ginger ale is like moonshine because it's impossible to find.

Did you hear we got a free piano? It's old and heavy and needs some TLC, but come on, it's a piano! You're talking to someone who used to practice the piano at church, and yes, once made a fake keyboard out of the backs of cereal boxes.

I read the GQ interview with Rielle Hunter and the latest piece in The New Yorker on John Paul Stevens back-to-back. Helluva contrast.

A friend told me I look like Animal when I play the (fake) drums, and I do!

That's the latest around here. What's new with you, internets?

most day-to-day concerns can be solved with a bit of sun and a swingset

2010-03-18T14:05:00.006-06:00

The first signs of spring feel so freaking good, it's reason enough to live somewhere with nasty winters.

Yesterday was almost perfect. Blue skies and nearly 60 degrees, happy kids and a light breeze. I spent the afternoon in our yard with our goofy daughters (is there anything sweeter than toddler-jabber make-believe on a sunny day?) and when hub got home, we busted out the double stroller (I worried that our cute new baby was still a leeeeetle small and floppy for it, but she was reasonably happy, so hey) and walked 3ish miles to eat a delicious burrito and hit the library. Then we walked back home, exhausted and reeking of that special sweaty-spring smell we call "recess," as in, "Whew! We smell like recess!" We took a new route that introduced us to a bit more of our sweet little city's older, quirkier homes, and the kids were mostly happy and calm. It provided for great conversation with my husband, our toddler waved at just about everything along the way ("Hi, Dog! Hi, bike!") and basically, it was awesome and felt like a vacation.

Pretty great, eh?

"let's make the most of this beautiful day..."

2010-03-12T10:28:00.006-07:00

The scene: fifteen minutes ago, at my house.

I had just hauled one angry baby in a carseat into the house with one hand and finished dragging a singing toddler in with the other when I saw a really skinny, kind of crazy looking guy in his twenties walk up our driveway. He knocked on the door, and I opened it to see a dark beanie pulled down low over twitchy eyes; he had funky teeth but a big bright smile.

We then had the following exchange:

Me: Hi.

Guy: Hi! I just moved in and wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jake*. (*not his real name)

Me: Hi, Jake. I'm Gurrbonzo.

(he sticks out his hand, so I shake it)

(long, awkward silence while my kids scream and sing in the background)

Me, over the crying and singing: Well, welcome to the neighborhood. My kids are a little worked up so I'd better go, but nice to meet you.

Guy, like I didn't say anything, and like he was finally getting to the point of the conversation: What do you like to read?

Me, a little surprised: Um, lots of stuff. What do YOU like to read?

Guy: Magazines. Every kind of magazine. (big pause) Do you have any old ones I can have?

Me, wondering what the crap is going on: You know, we just recycled a bunch, but we get Newsweek and The Atlantic, so you can have those next time if you want.

(He crinkles his nose like I just offered him a diaper for dinner.)

Guy: I don't like Newsweek.

Me: Okay. What do you like?

Guy: Everything but Newsweek.

Me: Okay. Like what?

Guy: Glamour. Do you have any Glamours?

Me: Nope.

Guy: Kay, bye.

Discuss.

oh boy

2010-03-02T07:38:00.003-07:00

Welp, here we go.

It's potty training day.

Will it be as miserable as legend has it? Or will it be a piece of shi..., I mean, cake?? Somewhere in between? DO YOU BELIEVE IN US??

Now accepting moral e-support.

that time I had a kid: 2010 edition

2010-02-25T08:44:00.004-07:00

Five years ago, I was sitting on a stranger's couch, surrounded by no less than 500 sci-fi paperbacks in dozens of stacks towering above my head, when I heard the back door open and close very carefully. "Who's that?" I asked.

"Don't worry," she shrugged. "It's just the cat."

Umm, WHAT? She had a cat that could open doors by itself.

Because it had an opposable thumb. Ummmm.

Just want to e-thank this opposable thumb cat lady, because later that winter she sewed me one of those microwaveable rice bags and it provided a needed blast of soothing distraction from barfy back labor when I gave birth to our newest little lady last month.

---

Have you ever heard of a "fog-in"?

Me neither.

Apparently, they're common in the Midwest at wintertime and when they happen, no planes can land at our local airport.

Which means if you're, say, my mother-in-law flying in to help out as we have our second child, your 5-hour journey by plane will morph into 16 hours and involve a 4-hour late-night bus ride from Chicago.

It was four days after my due date. I suspect that subconsciously, I was holding on until hub's mom arrived. We had a few friends lined up to watch our toddler but I knew I wouldn't be able to fully relax and get "in the zone" if our cutie was at a buddy's house. I'd be preoccupied: How was she doing? Was she flipping out? Blahblahblah. Believe it or not, I'm not always such a Fretful Frances, but imminent birth-giving makes one worry. So I had joked with hub that I'd go into labor right when his mom arrived, and that we'd only spend three hours at the hospital.

AND IT CAME TRUE!

Kind of.

Hub's mom got here a little before midnight and the contractions (whoops, I mean, in hypnobirthing lingo, "surges") started in earnest an hour or two later. And suddenly they were two minutes apart, and I started busting out moves I'd only seen in books (kneeling, swaying, etc.) to take the nasty pressure off my lower back. Around 4:30 AM, we checked into the hospital and I attempted to get in the zone using all the non-cuckoo stuff from hypnobirthing (which, once you ditch the crazy, leaves you with some plain old relaxation breathing and some "I can do it!" mantras). I was determined to move through my nasty back labor because last time it had me feeling paralyzed on the bed for hours, so when the abrupt and homely nurse brought out the birthing ball, it was so wonderful that for a moment, I felt bad for noting how abrupt and homely she was.

And three-ish hours later, I puked, my water broke, I couldn't not push, and then my lady parts were ablaze and our kiddo was here!

I could talk about what a miracle childbirth is and how much it blows my mind that we have a new member of our family, or how freaking cute the big sister is as she surrounds the baby with books and toys at every turn, and is always copying her head bobbles and little coos, or how my heart melts when I think that THIS IS MY FAMILY, but let's be honest, you could just read my feelings and FAQ from last go round, but you don't care about that, you care about what useful info I've gleaned.

Things I learned:

If you want to give birth naturally, you can do it. Whatever you decide to do, don't let anyone make you feel guilty. If you bear children in North America in 2010, chances are you can do it however you want. Hurray for choices.
Apparently a bit of a pattern is emerging, as I'm two for two birthwise as far as 1) having daughters b) no medication except some Motrin after c) having nasty back labor d) going into labor at midnightish e) being due on a Thursday and giving birth the following Tuesday. Weird that those things were all the same, right?
Even if the natural route went well the first time and you decide to go for the same strategy, the second time might be more terrifying just because once things get started, you know exactly what's coming. Consequently, in the thick of things you might panic a few times. But people have been doing this for a long time, and you can do it, too, so just remind yourself to grow a pair...figuratively.
Giving birth might be the most empowering thing around.
If during labor, there's a clock on the wall stressing you out, just take it down. It's okay if it's attached so hangs there awkwardly with cords sticking out and everyone that comes in the room asks what the crap happened on that wall. Just do it. You're in charge.
Speaking of which, you're in charge. So do whatever you want! If you need to walk, walk. If you need a heated rice bag, use a heated rice bag. If you need a drink, ask for one. If you need a pep talk from your spouse, ask for one, and be as specific as necessary. When things get intense you might even whisper things like "Holy shit, honey. Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit." And he will know that this means you need him to say something encouraging.

In sum: people with mutant cats could give you gifts that save your butt years later, I jokingly predicted details that then came true with eerie accuracy, reproduction rocks, we love our new baby, do what you want.

sometimes

2010-02-14T08:41:00.001-07:00

on Sunday mornings, I bust out some mission tunes, and I hate to brag, but if you're wondering if I do a dead-on Kenneth Cope impression, the answer is yes.

bc it's 10 degrees

2010-02-09T13:10:00.013-07:00

I would cry if Tim Hortons ever banned me for life, not only because life without sour cream Timbits is not worth living, but also because my personal history with life-long bans is so sordid. Banned from delicious doughnuts and soup for your WHOLE LIFE just for complaining about coffee? WHAT'S NEXT!?!?
I keep deep-ugly-belly-laughing about this guy, a third-year law student who had an e-meltdown preserved for all the world to see when he had a little mix-up in the ole job search. Go read it. You'll thank me. The whole exchange is fantastic, but my favorite sentence: "I hereby require you to destroy [the attachments]." Umm, WHAT? Can you see him raising his powerful scepter and commanding the wind to stop? The sheer power of my words magically turns the mere utterance into enforceable code. I HEREBY REQUIRE YOU. Just like when Michael Scott declares bankruptcy by yelling "BANKRUPTCY!"
I mention (and think) this often, but bad tv brings so much joy, particularly in the middle of a quiet winter, and as much as it pains my feminist heart to admit it, I love The Bachelor. I feel like I catch an STD just LOOKING at awful Vienna, and of COURSE Gia's mom reads Jake's tarot cards, and Tenley's dance, OH, Tenley's dance...God bless America.
Sometimes I remember that my clever friend Kiersten has a big fat book deal and I get a little giddy because who doesn't want to a) see their friend LIVE THEIR DREAM and b) see a book at the store with their buddy's name on it? So, hurray.
In other news, having multiple kids is awesome. Watching the big sister kiss her little sister's head forty times a day is turning me into a pile of weepy mush, especially now that I can sit down without wincing and my iron count is back up above want-to-collapse levels. Also, I'll share some hippie birth details shortly to try to peer pressure you, I mean, for posterity.

Anyway, I hereby require you to love me.

public service announcement

2010-02-09T09:49:00.004-07:00

Turns out TWO kids is a lot more than ONE kid. Who knew?!

virtue: not just for virgins anymore

2010-02-02T19:55:00.007-07:00

That wasn't actually the title of our stake workshop, but wouldn't that have been awesome?

Thanks for all of your comments. I found many of them helpful and thought-provoking (and some, cringe-worthy).

A few things I should clarify: I led the same discussion twice, first with all the 12-year-old boys AND girls AND their parents, then with all the 13-year-old boys AND girls AND their parents. I think having a) those younger ages b) with both genders c) with parents d) in a pretty large group made for a pretty unique situation that I would have tackled differently if it had just been girls, or just boys, or no parents, or a smaller group.

I'd been thinking a lot about what it's like to be 12 or 13, the 6th/7th/8th grade crowd, very sweet and very fresh-faced, many of whom are the only members in their grade and/or school. They aren't too cool for church yet and still get excited about participating (sometimes). So many of them were very sweet and truly "without guile." I figured the sex-is-great-that's-why-you-wait conversation was better suited for the older crowd and kept this discussion away from the nitty-gritty and more focused on what virtue means and why they should care.

Anyway, I'm sure you would have done it differently (and likely done a better job), and feel free to skip it if you're not interested, and judge all you want, but I've gotten a few questions about what I ended up doing, so here's the gist of it for those who have asked and perhaps someone out there in internetland finds it helpful.

Think of a time you've felt really proud of yourself, a time you felt like you could do anything, just really confident and like you wanted to high-five the world. We listed them on the board, and in both groups, the participation was really endearing: "When I made the honor choir!" "When I tried out for 7th grade softball!" "Grades!" "Being in jazz band!" "When I gave a talk!" "When my first piano recital was over!" "When I help my brother with his math and we both figure out hard problems!" "When I finish reading a good, big book!" and so forth. I chimed in with a few, e.g., finishing law school, or giving birth two weeks ago. I then said that everything on the board and anything that is truly rewarding in life usually involves (1) preparation and (2) commitment and how this was also true for virtue. We went over the list and I asked them to keep that feeling in mind, and to remember what it's like to feel confident and empowered and like you can handle anything life throws at you, and how today we're going to talk about "the courage to be chaste and virtuous" which, in part, means learning how to be confident about choices we make and confident in God's presence.

Alma 38:12: "Bridle your passions, that ye may be filled with love." This worked out well bc in both groups there were kids that were really into horses who explained how a bridle works and how a horse doesn't know where to go without it, how a bridle doesn't suppress but just focuses the horse. We talked about where they want to go both short- and long-term and how self-control is the ticket and being your own boss and deciding what you will do (and won't do) is part of growing up.

Virtue is a prerequisite for feeling the guidance of the Holy Ghost. We talked about what "prerequisite" means (apparently, in junior high you have to take Global Studies before you can take American Studies, Geometry before Algebra, or whatever; it was really sweet how excited they were to think up examples of prerequisites) and how being virtuous allows God to help us and show us what to do.

Virtue is a pattern of thought and behavior. I asked them to explain what a pattern is (they mentioned repeating designs, or 2, 4, 6, 8, etc.) and it's basic but seemed to work okay in helping them understand that we do what we're used to doing, so right now is a great time to start a pattern of thought and behavior to last them for the decades to come.

Developing virtue is a process. This is the part I liked best. There is an awesome section on Virtue in Preach My Gospel (that I made into a really basic handout), from Chapter 6 about Christlike Attributes. At the end of the chapter, there is this "activity" where you're supposed to rate yourself on a scale of 1 - 5, 1 meaning never and 5 meaning always, as an opportunity for self-reflection. I found the section on "Virtue" really fascinating bc I usually think of it as code for virginity, but this brought a more positive, more nuanced discussion.

I am clean and pure in heart. (Psalm 24:3–4)
I have no desire to do evil but to do good. (Mosiah 5:2)
I am dependable—I do what I say I will do. (Alma 53:20)
I focus on righteous, uplifting thoughts and put unwholesome thoughts out of my mind. (D&C 121:45)
I repent of my sins and strive to overcome my weaknesses. (D&C 49:26–28)
I feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. (D&C 11:12–13)

We read and discussed each scripture. I wasn't sure where this would go, but we ended up talking a lot about the first statement (how clean hands and a pure heart means clean on the outside AND the inside), the second statement (how when our hearts change, our desires change) and the fourth one ("put unwholesome thoughts out of my mind" means it's okay to HAVE unwholesome thoughts and the key is to not entertain them). It worked out well to just see what they responded to and run with it.

Repentance is real and WE CAN CHANGE. I mentioned this might make more sense to a lot of them later in life so invited them to put it in their back pocket until they needed it, but that if they ever feel like it's too late or things are too far gone or all hope is lost, that. is. a. lie. God cares way more about our direction than about our past and the miracle of the gospel is that we can change. You don't have to wait for anything. I told them about my friend who once, in a moment of clarity, threw a CD out the window of her car bc she knew she shouldn't listen to it. If it's holding you back, THROW IT OUT. On the way home from this activity, you can tell your parents, "I've been looking at stuff I shouldn't online, will you help me?" or you can tell your boyfriend or girlfriend, "You know what? I'm 12 or 13. That's too young to have a boyfriend or girlfriend." We don't have to be the same tonight as we were this afternoon.

A number of the youth made very, very sweet comments about what they want out of life and how they want to play certain sports in high school or go to a certain college or make the honor band next year and we talked about how good choices allow them to stay in the driver's seat and be in charge of what they do.

God gives us commandments because He wants us to be happy. Finally, at the end, I just told them that my life is not even close to perfect but that every good thing in my life--my husband, my mission, my education, my freaking awesome kids--everything good in my life is from God, and how happy those things make me, and how I want that for them and how God wants that for them.

I was sort of dreading the assignment but I'm glad I got the chance to do it. I realized that virtue isn't just virginity and that every law of chastity discussion doesn't have to be about heavy petting. Bits of the lesson kind of flopped but for portions of it, I felt like they were really "with" me and I left feeling like we'd had this intense heart-to-heart.

TIMEOUT

2010-01-29T19:53:00.001-07:00

So we have a lot to cover, what with giving birth and a new (lovely) addition to the fam and such, but before we get to that, I need your guidance on an unrelated matter. You guys are smart. Don't let me down.

This weekend, as part of a "standards night" I'm doing this workshop for the stake youth (and their parents) on the courage to remain chaste and virtuous.

I KNOW, RIGHT?

Of course, I've prayerfully considered passing out already been chewed gum, or letting everyone handle a rose and when it's dirty, comparing it to one's virginity, or discussing weird old quotes that imply it's better to die than make out in a parked car, yada yada. Turns out that my 27 years of life have left me with about forty awesome ideas of what NOT to do, but significantly fewer ideas about what TO do. I think any object lesson is destined to be blatantly offensive, so that's out, but, any thoughts on what you would have found helpful or meaningful on the topic back in your day? Or what you wish people were telling YOUR 12-year-old at one of these?

STILL. PREGNANT.

2010-01-21T23:00:00.003-07:00

Just kidding. I'm not. Wouldn't that be crazy? She's here and she's beautiful. And big. And incredibly cute. More soon.

Tuesday Jan 19 at 7:24 AM
9 lbs 5 oz
21 inches

I'd forgotten how wonderful/terrifying/miraculous the whole process is. Were you praying for us? We felt it.

Thank you.

no, seriously

2010-01-15T13:01:00.002-07:00

One thing that's fun about being this pregnant is that when you go places, friendly strangers ask you when you're due, and when you say "Yesterday," they think you're making a joke about how you feel really pregnant, so there's an awkward pause after they laugh when they realize, no, really, you were due yesterday.

This is the only day I can do that, and so far it's pretty awesome.

kid? can you hear us?

2010-01-08T08:21:00.003-07:00

PREDICT! THE! DETAILS!

Want to guess the kid's birthday, weight and size? I'll see if I can come up with a prize for the closest guess, most likely free legal advice and/or a nice air mattress to sleep on during your next trip to the Midwest, so, basically, people will covet you.

Thanks for the e-moral support.

Information you may find relevant:

I'm officially "due," as in 40 weeks, next Thursday (Jan 14).
Our first kid was 8 lbs, 13 oz, 21.5 inches, and 5 days overdue...though in hippie class they say there's no such thing as "overdue" bc a kid's not a library book, she should pick her own birthday, she'll come when she's ready, "turn your birthing over to your body," blahblah. But still, I was pregnant a long time last time. But they say subsequent children come earlier. But "they" also say loooove don't come eeeeeeeeea-sy (tell me you watched the horrible Bachelorette last time) so who knows.
I've been having contractions (whooooops, I mean "surges") all week.

Whaddayasay?

yapping

2010-01-06T16:38:00.006-07:00

A peek into my head:

On Monday it was so cold I got frozen eye. I've only had that happen a handful of times in my life. You know, when the wet part of your eye freezes for a sec so your eyelid sticks for a minute when you try to blink. It's awesome, and a little freaky.
It is really, really cold. This isn't so bad considering I don't have to really go anywhere. We're talking the type of cold where if you get in the car and see a positive number on the thermometer you give thanks. Even if it's 1 or 0. AS IN IT IS ZERO DEGREES.
I realized today how bizarre it is that we use plural with zero. As in "I have zero hats on." Why not singular? "It is zero degree." Oh, English, you magnificent bastard tongue.
I got husband the book by that name (Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue) last Christmas and I enjoy saying the title whenever possible.
The other day I interacted with a hilarious mom who, instead of saying a good old-fashioned "no," kept telling her two-year-old to "Make a better choice, please!" in a sing-song voice.
It didn't work.
I also overheard her say "to-mah-to." I love people.
I'm at the point in pregnancy where you start thinking it's a permanent condition. I know I will not be pregnant forever, that eventually a child will emerge and I will no longer be this pregnant, but I don't feel like that will actually happen. Know what I mean?
Here are some acceptable things to say to really pregnant women: "You look great!" "How are you feeling? You look like you're feeling fantastic!" "Wow! I can't believe you are [whatever length of time] along!" "I'm rooting for you and can't wait to hear how well everything goes."
Here are some unacceptable things to say: really anything about how they must be miserable or due any day, or how your sister or cousin had the world's scariest near-death experience when she gave birth. Even if you have never made a truer statement, don't say it. Deal?
In my recent nesting, I found an old homemade CD that includes "No Woman No Cry" AND "I'll See You When You Get There" AND the Pina Colada song. Isn't that a weird assortment?
Man, I love ginger ale.
Families with naming themes fascinate and confuse me. All M-names, for example, or all B-names or what have you. Why does this happen? Do you think they ever want to call it quits after a couple of kids but can't? Do they commit right out of the gate, with the first kid, or after three or four do they decide it's time to stick with it?
At first I hated it, but now I miss Mad Men.

let's do it

2010-01-02T08:28:00.004-07:00

I'm a resolution girl.

We can still be e-friends if you're not. Many of mine aren't for the internet (not bc they're gross. Just because this isn't that kind of blog. Have you seen any pee sticks or week-by-week belly pictures on here? Exactly...) but here are two of them in an effort to be realistic and aim high:

1. Use only reusable grocery bags the whole year. I do it generally but the goal is for zero plastic ones. ZERO. Impossible? Perhaps.

2. Give birth. Preferably in the next week or two.

Do you believe in me? Let's go, reduce/reuse/recycle! Let's go, uterus! Let's go, 2010!

dream come true

2009-12-15T10:08:00.004-07:00

Remember when I was studying for the bar exam and felt like MY WHOLE LIFE was a story problem, and I couldn't even watch TV without thinking about whether two characters formed an enforceable contract or who would be liable or if certain behavior was negligent or blahblahblah?

Guess I'm not the only one.
Thanks to the Volokh Conspiracy, I just discovered there's a CLE (Continuing Legal Education) seminar on Seinfeld. Ummm. Yes, please. Tell me you wouldn't geek out at this in a heartbeat. The description:

Fans of the famous 90`s sitcom, Seinfeld, may not have realized it, but they were watching a show rife with complex legal issues. Not only were there numerous lawsuits and potential lawsuits within the storyline of the show, but one episode even sparked a real-world suit against the network. In this unique seminar, Robert Rushing uses the milieu of Seinfeld to discuss a wide range of legal concepts. Don`t miss this chance to brush up your legal knowledge in a unique and entertaining way.

The following is a list of each episode mentioned and the related legal issues:

"The Puffy Shirt" - Contract law, meeting of the minds, the Mirror Image Rule, damages
"The Wink" - Real property conveyances, contract law, actionable conversions
"The Old Man" - Elder law, conservatorship, competency, informal agreements
"The Seven" - Contract law, promises, rhetoricals, warranties, ADR, quantum meruit
"The Soup" - Real property
"The Soup Nazi"- Libel, false light cases, intellectual property (real-world lawsuit)
"The Serenity Now" - Products liability, disclaimers, causation
"The Alternate Side" - Tort law, proximate cause, liability and agency
"The Pie" - Tort law, intellectual property
"The Sniffing Accountant"- Libel, slander per se (in-show lawsuit)
"Newman`s Speeding Ticket" - Ethics, perjury, Rule 303
"The Marlborough Man" - Ethics, ex parte communication, Rule 7-104 (in-show lawsuit)
"The Finale" - Character evidence, modus operandi, relevancy (in-show criminal trial)

get v. don't get

2009-12-14T14:37:00.002-07:00

Things I get:

Libraries. It's like the store, but free, so better. Word has reached me that due to budget problems, Philadelphia shut down their public libraries this year. Is that the most horrible thing you've ever heard?
Pregnawinters. Wintertime is a great time to be really pregnant because you just feel warm instead of enormous. I might take this back once the kid's here and I don't leave the house for months straight, but right now, it's pretty nice.
Also, pregnancy in general. I know those of you who have a rough go of it don't want to hear this, but I'm still pretty comfy and can see why people do this a lot.
I don't sing or really understand much about music but I really like it in Christmas programs when the congregation sings normally while the choir does something fancy and high. It sounds angelic and often lovely.
Costco hot dogs. Is there a better way to spend $1.50? I know, I know, hot dogs are gross and bad, blahblahblah, but I had one the other day and it was delicious. And if you're wondering if I dragged a buddy on a 2-hour road trip for a Costco outing, the answer is yes. Hey, it's winter.

Things I don't get:

Darling, in any form. "That is so darling!" "Darling!" "Love it! How darling!" WHAT? It makes my head hurt. Maybe for puppies or a brand new baby, but even then, what does it MEAN? MAKE IT STOP.
How that freaking Hannukah song by Orrin Hatch is so painfully catchy. It's looping through my head to the point of painful.
All the crap people sell to new parents. Remember the Sacajawea theory? I know I only have 1 kid in my uterus and 1 kid out so I don't claim to be an expert on this stuff, but my minimal experience tells me that YOU REALLY DON'T NEED ANYTHING. Well, a carseat, and diapers, and boobs. Okay, a basic pump if you want. Infant mobilizers? Diaper genies? Special pillows? Wipe warmers? (For anyone that thinks I'm kidding, THOSE ARE REAL THINGS. PEOPLE PAY MONEY FOR A CONTRAPTION THAT WARMS BABY WIPES. NOT A JOKE.) And though this is a separate topic perhaps for another day, I find it bizarre that a lot of marketing to moms, e.g., "We know what you busy moms need!" assumes little kids in diapers and strollers. Where is all the junk people peddle to moms of older kids? Will I discover that when I reach that point in life, or does corporate America just know that moms of older kids are less dupe-able?
Ham sandwiches. I just don't know why you'd choose ham when there are so many other perfectly good meats out there to have in your sammich.
Consent forms signed DURING LABOR. I took a too-long childbirth class at the local hospital last weekend (yes, I've given birth before, but I wanted a refresher and was hoping for a tour, though it turns out they aren't giving tours thanks to the flu) and my head almost exploded. In a horrible portion of the class that involved discussion of forceps, vacuums and c-sections (none of which I will mention EVER again bc I'm a hippie and all about POSITIVE BIRTH STORIES ONLY), the teachers kept saying "side effects and complications are rare but all mentioned in the consent form you'll sign if you need one." Granted I have a brand-new law degree and don't claim to be an expert on anything except certain types of bad TV, but HOW in the HELL are you in a position to give any type of "informed consent" WHILE IN LABOR, let alone after hours of labor and if your baby is in distress? I don't think you have to sign anything, but if you do sign something, is that in ANY WAY enforceable? Warning to those who will study/are studying/have studied law: IT MAKES US UPTIGHT.

That's it for now. How about you?

hard-earned wisdom

2009-11-29T20:38:00.004-07:00

Hello friends. I've been e-absent for some time but think of you often and fondly. Thanks to some generous in-laws, one day you might find yourself on a weeklong trip with a bunch of extended fam to the beautiful land of Hawaii, and if you do, and you happen to have a kid or two and be 33 weeks pregnant at the time, you'll thank me for what I'm about to share.

Some advice:

There is no need to be self-conscious because there will be many, many women who are way more pregnant than you are but they will be wearing significantly fewer items of clothing.
There is nothing in life that can't be improved with a few palm trees, an ocean breeze and some sunshine. Also, a ukelele. And caramacs.
Nothing will melt your heart more than watching your cute kiddo bond with her cousins in Utah (where you made a brief stop) and then MORE cousins on the island except maybe when she puts on sunglasses and a hat and bright pink sandals and runs for the door shouting "Beach! Daddy! Beach!"
If anyone sees you wearing a swimsuit cover-up and says "WOW! One size really DOES fit all!" just trust that they mean it nicely.
If the beehives in your ward are big into The Mysterious Benedict Society, go ahead and use this vacation time to climb on that train, as you'll likely find it delightful.
Most importantly, if you take the red-eye flight home, take an extra shirt for yourself on the off chance that the turbulence could cause your cute toddler to barf on you, thrice, when you still have 2 hours of the flight and a 2 hour layover and another 2 hour flight ahead of you. I hope you'll already have a change of clothes for the kid and a helpful spouse to crack up about it with, but if you don't pack yourself an extra shirt, you may find your very pregnant self in the airplane crapper, standing in your undies as you wring your clothing out and then put it back on. You'll eventually buy a horrible (though, fortunately, clean) t-shirt at the airport that says DENVER on it in enormous letters across your burgeoning belly and spend the rest of your journey realizing that you not only smell awful and look horrifying but your feet have swollen to a remarkable size that makes the term "cankle" seem quaint. But, you'll be grateful you won't see a soul you know. Which might remind you of when you bought a freaking jumper at Dollar General on your mission as a joke and the ONE day you ever wore it happened to be the day you ran into someone you knew from regular life. And if there's anything better than running into someone you know while wearing a jumper, it's probably running into someone you know while wearing a extra-large DENVER AIRPORT t-shirt over your generous belly and smelling of old toddler-vomit with tree trunks for ankles.

Anyway. Aloha!

I can feel myself getting dumber thinking about it but it needs to be said

2009-11-03T19:28:00.003-07:00

I hate Elmo.

Hate.

That damn Elmo's World song makes me cross-eyed.

cheers

2009-11-02T14:30:00.010-07:00

Many of us had the privilege of knowing and learning from (and being publicly humiliated by) Professor Michael Goldsmith, who passed away yesterday. Everyone lucky enough to know him was affected in ways that are tough to explain (and not just because he's probably the first real, live Jew many J. Reub students ever met). Sharp, vibrant, sincere, witty, with a contagious zeal for life and the law. I can't adequately express how terrifying it was to sit in his classroom, how ashamed I felt if I even though about not reading for his class, and how much higher I held my head on the day I answered one of his questions sort-of-correctly. Under his tutelage, we all wanted to be the best, most diligent version of ourselves. Some quotes:

"When you get caught speeding, don't say 'I'm sorry.' Say, 'IF I was speeding, I am sorry.' ADMIT NOTHING."

"I'm not opposed to playing games. If you want to play solitaire, bring a deck of cards."

"For expert witnesses, there are 2 requirements: must have gray hair, and must have hemorrhoids to convey the proper level of concern."

"It was horrible! He covered everything but his 1990 colonoscopy. Good example of a bad speech. Everyone wants to go home, so unless you're awfully funny, keep it brief."

"This is my job. I'm just trying to do my job, and you're giving me a hard time. I don't give you a hard time with your job. I just order my burger and fries."

"The children of lawyers who don't read footnotes will STARVE."

"Let me give you a hypothetical. Jesus goes to law school, graduates, what does He do? Criminal prosecution or defense? That's right, he's defending these monsters. He's a defense attorney. That's my gospel insight for the day."

Brief story to give you a snapshot of this guy: one of my other favorite lawyers no longer with us told me that while he was attending the J. Reub as a non-LDS student, he and Goldsmith were surprised and startled to run into each other at a bar in Salt Lake. They were each holding a beer. Awkwardly, they each hid theirs under the table for a moment, made eye contact, shrugged, and then raised their glasses and said "Cheers!"

(Goldsmith would probably want it noted that, hypothetically, if I were trying to get this admitted, the story might be hearsay and since neither one of them is here to talk about it and it doesn't fall under any recognized exception, it's inadmissible. But, I wouldn't give up that easily, bc he taught me to be a "can-do" lawyer, so I'd still get it in under the residual exception, OR just argue that it's not hearsay because no one intended to assert anything and it's not a declarative statement offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted...it's just a story.)

Thanks for everything, Prof. Goldsmith. If I weren't Mormon and pregnant, I'd drink a tribute beer right now. We'll miss you.

this I believe

2009-10-27T21:04:00.002-06:00

In addition to my handful of strengths (being good with names, decent with accents, and the ability to nap at will), I'm also a philosopher.

((cue the fog machine))

You see, friends, in the last 27 years, I've pondered the world around me and developed several deeply-held theories that explain many of life's mysteries. I shall now share one with you.

Everyone on earth can be divided into three categories: fun haters, fun havers, and fun makers.

(1) Fun haters. Guess what they do? Hate fun. They hate having fun themselves, they hate other people having fun, they hate hearing about fun, and they hate the existence of fun. Examples: Your friend who WOULD come to your party except she's not feeling well...ever. They'll never want to go to a late movie because they'll be tired the next morning. They'll tell Mom if you sneak out during a jr high sleepover. They won't consider going to a last minute concert because it's FHE. They roll their eyes when you tell them a true funny story bc they "saw the ending coming." They never go out to eat because it's too expensive.

(2) Fun havers are willing to HAVE the fun if someone else makes it. They have the same trusty 3-4 stories they'll tell at a gathering once someone gets the ball rolling. They have a stupid human trick they do with enough prodding, e.g., walking on their hands. They'll smile and say "That's hilarious" instead of laughing. They have a good hearty ugly laugh they'll bust out when someone does something hilarious, but they don't DO the hilarious thing, they just appreciate it.

(3) Fun makers MAKE the fun, often out of thin air. These are the people who take a yawntastic get-together and get the party started. There are several sub-species of this category, including (a) adaptable fun makers, who switch freely between fun-having and fun-making depending on the circumstance, and (b) alpha fun makers, who must be the only fun maker present and can rarely relax and HAVE fun bc they are so busy making it (and wanting credit for making it).

Am I right or am I right?

Theory addendum:
Regarding fun-haters, havers and makers, my friend Wendi just made an important point about the fluid nature of these categories.

At different times, I am each one. I am a fun hater when the fun is being had by annoying teenagers or snickets. I am a fun haver most of the time, cause I'm too damn tired to make the fun. Also, I can be a great fun maker sometimes, but it all boils down to how many fun-havers show up.

Amen and amen. Thank you for your time.

hrmmmm

2009-10-20T09:06:00.002-06:00

"Deliberately shaved heads are almost always a sign of aggression."

Discuss.

the internets are genius

2009-10-14T17:15:00.007-06:00

Ever had an obscure [item of your choice] on your mind that you couldn't quite pin down?

And then it got even more maddening as you realized you didn't have enough information to even know where to start? For example, perhaps you catch yourself humming a little tune you can't place, and quickly realize you don't know any of the words so you can't even google it? Or you end up asking a friend a question and, as it forms, you realize you sound mildly autistic? ("What was the book you told me about, you know, the book about the girl, and the girl in it, maybe it was a boy, I think the main guy might be a boy, either way, there's this PERSON in it, and I think you said they have a friend ...")

This not-having-enough-initial-info-to-go-on happens to me quite a bit in regular life, but is even more common in pregna-life, and it can be awkward. (e.g., when packing our hospital bag for our kid's birth, I couldn't think of the word "ipod dock" and ended up asking my husband "Where's that thing that....(long pause)...(begin waving arms dramatically) makes the ipod go everywhere?")

Anyway, all this is my way of saying that if this happens to you, DO NOT DESPAIR. Hub and I were recently discussing obscure television shows from the late 80s/early 90s. Some of what we covered you probably aren't familiar with since chances are you didn't have the privilege of spending those years in Canada (Dear Aunt Agnes, anyone?), but others you may remember fondly. I found myself describing a show about which I could remember almost nothing but still insisted on discussing. The following sentence came out of my mouth:

"What is that show, with the girl, oooh, what IS it, she has a mom who is an alien living in space but she's a regular girl and they communicate through a box?"

If you've ever doubted google's power, I invite you to STAND BACK.

"What is the tv show where a girl has a mom who talks to her from a box in space?"

And what do you think is the first link listed?? Go ahead! Try it!

It wasn't even her MOM who was the alien...it's her DAD! But the internet didn't even need that info to take me to the right place! Behold, the power of the interwebs, bringing totally useless topics to your fingertips given only the most inane of clues.

Is this heaven? NO, IT'S IOWA.

2009-10-12T08:44:00.005-06:00

If there is a better fall weekend activity than bundling up and chasing your toddler around the actual field of dreams, I don't know about it.

Also, Happy Canadian Thanksgiving. Were we still in SLC, this occasion would warrant a visit to Chuckarama or someplace similarly awesome/embarrassing. However, since we aren't, and since I am presently hanging out with our kid all day and the excuses are dwindling fast, I shall momentarily attempt to make a substantive meal. Not turkey. Geez. I'm realistic. But the goal is something warm and reasonably tasty. This could get ugly.

Let us pray.

rage against the keyboard

2009-10-06T20:44:00.001-06:00

My tolerance for lame is even lower during pregnancy than during non-pregnancy. I have a lot more rage and am a lot more likely to lose all tact. Just be aware of that.

Speaking of which, what I am about to say is harsh. Brace yourself. I know some may find it cruel. I loved my mission as much as anybody. It affected me a lot, in a good way. I think about it almost daily. I really feel like it was an opportunity I didn't deserve and that I will spend my whole life paying back. It rocked my world in a million ways. But it is also OVER. And when people come home, they need to move on. Keep your good habits, keep your memories, but there is no reason to yap on and on about it and YEARS later be wearing your (mission country's) soccer jersey or saying "burrrrito" like you're a native speaker or unloading useless bits of church history trivia on everyone you see. IT'S OVER. CUT THE STRINGS. LIFE GETS BETTER AND BETTER. MOVE ON. THE BEST IS YET TO COME.

The same is true for every life event. It's cool, but it wasn't THAT cool. If you have too much pride for STUDY ABROAD '96 FOR LIFE! or DRILL TEAM '03! or if you're thirty and still talking about your ward freshman year, or really just involved any overly-nostalgic yappage, it's embarrassing. Can you mention them? Yes. Briefly. If relevant. But take the letterman's jacket off.

On an unrelated note, we hit up Philadelphia last week which was awesome. Not only was it delightful to see hub's sister's fam and watch our toddlers bond (meaning ours took stuff away from theirs), but it also caused me to reflect on things like the Constitution. And sometimes you forget how miraculous it was, and that stories aren't just stories; they involve real people with real lives, but sometimes important things become so familiar that you become numb to their significance. This is true, for example, with the pioneers. You hear enough stories that you end up thinking, "Okay, they walked and walked," like you're talking about something trivial like running a lot of errands, but once in a while it seems real and you feel real reverence. I had that experience several times in Philadelphia, looking at pictures of people from the suffrage movement or abolitionists or what have you and feeling real awe and amazement and how stories aren't just stories; they involve people. Where is the balance between talking about something enough so we honor, and talking about things so much that our senses become dulled? Now, back to the griping.

What is WITH the obsession with the 1950s/60's stuff? The red lipstick, the pillbox hats, the aprons, the bright kitchen appliances, the fetishization of domesticity, the whole bit. I'm pro-parenting, pro-cooking, pro-cleaning, and so on, but I'm confused about the costume-ification of SAHM-life. No offense if you're into it, but can you explain it to me? I suspect it's more than just fashion. It seems to be romanticizing a time which--NEWFLASH--was not all that innocent or really all that awesome for us women, many of whom struggled mightily to forge their own identities and be treated as non-ornaments. Do we really want to go back there? Do we? Betty Draper as a role model is pretty depressing.

Annnd, just to remind you that I don't spend ALL my e-time outraged: a funny friend (who is also a beauty expert) sent me some Moroccan Oil for my hair the other day. Not only did it cause the best hair day of my life last week, but it also gave me a few minutes of belly laughing thanks to this video (click on the short video and then wait for the dude in the white shirt, aka, professional hair-swisher, to begin).

seven and twenty

2009-09-25T14:30:00.009-06:00

In college, my friend Moosh had a roommate who was 26 or 27 and we thought she was old enough to be our mom. Maybe bc she was uptight. I think she taught school, and was angry, and would make us do things like clean up when we made a mess and shut up if we were shouting.

Of course, looking back, she probably wasn't uptight. WE were just obnoxious. If me-now met me-then, I would strangle me-then. Me-then did things like videotape myself driving around with people on the roof of my 1988 car, and get hickies, and get those horrible airhorns for no apparent reason. I know. So, sorry about that, girl we thought was old when really she was just normal.

Anyway, welp, today I turn(ed) 27. It feels pretty good and not as uptight as I once thought it was. If you want to celebrate my aging, you can do so with a nap and then a treat of your choice. I recommend cookie dough, a large wonderful soda, or one of those big delicious mall pretzels, which I had today after I bought some pants that I thought were on sale for $20 but then they magically rang up as $3 as a present from the planet.

P.S. On my mission, my birthday was on a rainy fast Sunday which is the longest most miserable day on missions. It was a bummer day, but at the end of it, we met these two roommates who seemed really interested and we were sure we would teach them and probably go to the temple with them in a year. We high-fived ourselves and considered them my birthday present from the planet.

But then, it turned out that they were a gay couple and not interested.

So, I'm hoping these pants don't turn out the same way.

confession

2009-09-25T12:52:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, I like watching Wife Swap.

completely true story

2009-09-24T12:39:00.007-06:00

This post is inspired by the illustrious MCB, who makes me wish in a sick sort of way that I'd read anything by Jack Weyland in my life.

When I was 19, I briefly dated a 24-year-old fellow who was nice enough, although looking back, I can see that he sort of resembled a reptile or kind cartoon turtle. Why he thought it was normal to date someone fresh out of high school is sort of gross now, but at the time I thought it was hot.

We once had the following bizarre exchange:

Him: "How many books have you read?"

Me: "What?"

Him: "How many books have you read?"

Me, thinking what the hell kind of a question is that? This year? In college? In a particular genre? He can't possibly mean IN MY LIFE. Note that I used to get grounded FROM reading and have to go outside to play, so in elementary school alone I probably read thirty million books...: You mean, ever?

Him: Yes, ever. In your life.

Me, giving him the where-am-I stare: Um, a zillion? (long pause while I wonder where this is going) How many books have YOU read?

He then told me that the only book that he had read cover to cover IN HIS TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OF LIFE, including high school when he just read CliffsNotes, was...

Charly.

Weird it didn't work out between us.

Updated: Though (obviously) not much of a reader, this fellow had many other redeeming qualities which is why we went out in the first place. This story, however, involves facts, which speak for themselves. No offense intended to my friend who set us up. And who is also his sister. Whooooops.

and another thing

2009-09-23T13:32:00.003-06:00

I'm posting twice in a row, but don't let this new post stop you from reading the serious post below and nodding knowingly.

However, I have been catching up in blogland and was just wondering: What is the deal with cruises? Have you been on one? If so, why? Do you get claustrophobic? What is the difference, if any, between a cruise and a week-long all you can eat buffet with tanning lamps?

I don't know. I just don't know.

click on the first line for a slew of church commercials

2009-09-23T12:44:00.002-06:00

"Isn't it about....(long pause)....TIME?"

Yes, yes it is. I haven't had any of it in a long time and now I have tons. Not like I sit around making our 17-month-old massage my feet and feed me grapes. Taking care of our kid full-time while I grow another one isn't exactly free time, but it IS flexible time and more than I'm used to.

A law school friend once told me, "I don't want to have kids for a while because I need some ME time," which I didn't really understand but respected. I thought of it today as I realized that my whole life has been me time. Twenty years of school, and who has benefited so far? ME. Did I work? Yes. To pay for ME and MY life and MY stuff. Sure, I served a mission, but even that benefited ME and I went because I wanted to. ME ME ME. And law school is, in many ways, a very selfish period of time. Sure, it's an investment in the future (learn now so you can help later) but it's still ME ME ME ME ME.

And I've just always been over-scheduled, which has been fine but a little hectic. And now, as I enter this bizarre new period of my life, I'm just as busy but not as scheduled, so I'm up for random service opportunities in ways I haven't been before. Can I bring randoms dinner? You bet. Can I watch people's kids while they nap/take a class/recover from chemo? Sure. Not every day, of course. But I love that I'm not stretched too thin right now. That I don't have forty things hanging over my head. That I can wake up and think about what my kid needs from me and worry about HER and HER needs, and help others out here and there as everyday, last-minute stuff arises without hyperventilating or feeling crazy-frazzled.

I haven't been in this position before. It's new and temporary and I like it.

Am I an ever-helpful saint? Nope. And will it stay this way forever? Of course not. But I like that if my buddy's childcare plans fall through for the day, I don't shrug and wish I could help as I rush off to a presentation or class or a study group. I like that if someone needs dinner or a ride, I'm down, and I don't have to bail on anything pressing to do it.

Maybe in all my bustling around I've really been missing out. Anyway, this marks a shift for me, and I like it.

Cheers.

does public e-prayer make me a pharisee?

2009-09-17T13:05:00.000-06:00

Dear God,

Thank you for letting me pass the bar exam.

Sincerely,
Gurrbonzo

yappity yap

2009-09-11T19:55:00.001-06:00

I swear to you our kid gets cuter every day. Frankly, her cuteness is ridiculous. I've spent the majority of the week pretending to chase her around. I say "pretend" because I just have to act like I'm going to chase her, and then she'll cackle and shriek and run around the house and I just make noises and move slightly and then she comes back to me, like this joyful toddler boomerang.
I busted out the maternity clothes this week. I put it off for a while, but the time is here. Unfortunately, I remain in the awkward limbo stage of pregnancy where my shirt choices are monstrous tent or leeeetle too snug, but I shall carry on. Sometimes I realize that we're going to have another kid and I can't help but grin. No wonder all these people have been having kids for so long. Turns out reproduction rocks.
My brother and his hilarious fam came for a visit last week which was deeeeelightful, and we did lots of fun things like run around the city and eat and paint and blahblah. I asked the kids what their favorite part was (expecting they'd say the children's museum, or the awesome park downtown), and to my delight and amazement, they said, "The backyard!" and it melted my cold heart.
A friend of mine, lamenting the number of her acquaintances who look identical, recently said, "If you have blonde hair and are over 20, you're a liar or an albino." BAHAHA!
And finally, a lot of stuff in the ABA Journal can be semi-interesting. It provides easy, surface intros to some of the latest goings-on, like crazy settlements or huge layoffs or what have you. But every now and again, you run into a treat of an article like this one, with "consultants" offering older interviewees groundbreaking advice like (kid you not), "Ditch the combover or toupee," and "Try not to date yourself by saying things like 'in my day' or 'when I started out,'" and "Don't refer to women as 'gals.'" Wow. Great insight. No wonder you get PAID to give this advice. Every time I think about it, it gives me the giggles.

I'll stop my grumbles soon, but this must be said.

2009-09-09T22:36:00.006-06:00

There's something you should know.

These are not decorations.
These look like hostages.

non-negotiable

2009-09-03T13:46:00.004-06:00

A candidate for a local school board position has signs up all over the place around here. I'm sure this person has a lot going for him or her, and clearly he or she has a lot of support in the community bc those signs are everywhere. But I cannot support this candidate on principle. Why?

There are a few basic, unarguable facts of life. The sun rises in the east. Property law is boring. Most people should wear deodorant. Babies need naps. Cheese improves most foods. And, HORRIBLE FONTS ARE DEAL-BREAKERS.

ESPECIALLY if you are running for the freaking SCHOOL BOARD and on your signs, your name begins with a cutesie lowercase letter. You should not be in charge of education decisions for my kid if you don't understand that proper nouns must be capitalized. Save your barftastic font for your freaking family home evening board if you must, but for public use:

Thank you for your time.

experimenting: perma-BAAA! & perma-boohoo

2009-08-28T16:20:00.006-06:00

warning: rambles ahead. though really, what else is new?

I have this friend...let's call her Schmerin, to keep her identity safe. Long ago, people were often shocked to discover that Schmerin and I were friends, and they would say things like "You're FRIENDS with her? She HATES me!" But I knew she didn't hate them. This exchange occurred repeatedly. You know how most people default to reasonably friendly? As in, unless you have a reason to DISLIKE someone, you generally like them? Well, I realized that Schmerin defaulted to dislike, meaning unless she had a reason to like you, she seemed to dislike you. So the world (and by world I mean school) was full of people who thought Schmerin hated them when really she just had yet to interact with them enough to have a reason to like them. (Fret not; she later figured this out and adjusted her default position to something less socially awkward.)

Similarly, most of us have a neutral face or vibe that we send off when we aren't high on life or in the depths of despair. It's not awful, it's not thrilled, it's just NORMAL. Yesterday I met someone whose default position is high on life. Like, unless she has a reason to be down, she has an enormous frozen smile on at all times and shouts and claps her hands. She says her name happily, she says goodbye happily, she says "GREAT MEETING YOU!" the same way she would say "I WON THE LOTTERY!" or "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!" or "IT'S SO GREAT THERE'S PEACE ON EARTH."

I'm a happy person and many who know me may find ME overwhelming, so if I, the bombarder, am bombarded, that's really pretty impressive.

Sometimes I have this intuitive need to balance things out, i.e., if someone is a total bummer with permafrown and sigh, I end up louder/more animated/Tigger-esque in an effort to balance out their misery and get the room to a workable equilibrium. Similarly, if someone is smiling their brains out or bouncy or laughy or just generally sending off the stole-my-kids-ADD-meds-again vibe, I'll become the bummer just to even things out. So if you tone it down too many notches, I'll tone it up as many notches as necessary to bring the average in the room to a 5. Does anyeone else do that?

Anyway, this leads me to wonder what people who are THAT HAPPY all the time do when they ARE faced with a reason to be abnormally happy. You know? If you're using your "THEY CURED CANCER!" voice to say things like "CHICKEN IS ON SALE!", what do you use when they do, in fact, cure cancer? If you introduce yourself "HI! I'M AIMEE!!!" with the same voice you use for "YES! I WILL MARRY YOU AND THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK!", how do you portray actual excitement as opposed to default excitement?

The opposite is also true, isn't it? If you are a total downer all the time (and we all know someone like this), monosyllabic in your responses with your eyelids at half-mast, what happens when something bad REALLY happens? You have nowhere to go from there, do you?

Anyway. All this is my way of saying that there is a part of me that just wants to poke bears with sticks, so to speak. Yesterday's frozen smile woman (I know this will shock you but she was teaching an aerobics class, further proving my suspicion than most aerobics teachers consume startling amounts of uppers) made me want to tell her something incredibly tragic just to see what she'd do. Is that bad?

The circus, Lagoon and your 6th grade science fair, combined and on crack

2009-08-15T19:48:00.003-06:00

Hard living ages you, so it's tough to guess if he was 65 or 80, but he was definitely too old to have all those naked ladies tattooed up and down his arms. His bald head was a gleaming, veiny mix of wrinkly old man tan and sweat but luckily we were still able to decipher the blue tattoo on his cranium that said "THAT TURNS ME ON!" in block letters. We listened to his smokey laugh as everyone gazed at the miniature horses dressed like ninjas and tried not to hurl from the manure and body odor swirling around the barn.

The Iowa State Fair is ridiculous, overwhelming and awesome. And I say awesome less like "far out" and more like truly awe-inducing bc this thing is unbelievable.

The 4-H exhibit hall was out of control cool. Breathtaking wooden porch swings and bed frames and gun cases, all handcrafted by 13- and 14-year-olds, ridiculously interesting and funky photographs, complicated quilts, the whole bit. Basically, name something people can make and/or grow, and the blue ribbon winners and runners-up were on display. We also saw posters presenting things like "Iowa's Owls," "Types of Beef Cuts and How to Best Prepare Them," and "Making Your Own 100-calorie Snack Packs Will Save You $137 a Year." To our delight, the incredible mix of stuff was perfectly illustrated by the fact that the picture-enhanced "Deer Hunting with Disabilities" poster was right next to "The Life of J.S. Bach." And on stage, two 9-year-old boys played Chopsticks (though the poster advertised it as "Chop-ticks") on the piano for an appreciative audience of several hundred fair-goers, while moments later, three overweight 20-somethings in sequins took the stage to gyrate/lip-sync to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot!"

That was all just in the first building.

Wow.

In another huge building, there was a 1,100-pound pumpkin and blue ribbon cucumbers, zucchinis, gourds, corn, and everything else you can think of. We honored the winners of the weed identification contest and drooled over the best strawberries and soy beans in the state before comparing the size and texture of various apples. We later sauntered through an incredible milking station and applauded the enormous and virile "Super Bull." And most of all, we saw droves and droves of people. An estimated 100,000+ people A DAY go to this thing and it is NUTS.

(Turkey legs, which, as you may know, are significantly bigger than they appear so when you eat one you look like a Viking.)

Though we ate only a few regular treats and a turkey leg (and felt delightfully barbaric), we could have easily sampled: BBQ everything, walking tacos, po' boys, fried candy bars on a stick, fried oreos on a stick, fried twinkies on a stick, pork chop on a stick, funnel cakes on a stick, hardboiled egg on a stick, veggie dog on a stick, fried pickle on a stick, cotton candy-flavored fudge, fried mac-and-cheese, and bacon dipped in your choice of cheese or chocolate. We could have also partaken of a fried wonder entitled the Potato Lollipop.

Thanks to a sweet, exhausted kiddo who loved petting the cows and making friends but who did NOT love missing her nap, plus a mid-afternoon rainstorm, we didn't get to see everything this time, but apparently we missed arm wrestling, sheep shearing and even a cow made of butter.

Had we gone in previous years, reliable sources indicate that we could have seen a life-sized butter sculpture of Tiger Woods and Iowa's own olympic gymnast Shawn Johnson.

Can you feel the magic?

plans n such

2009-08-13T08:31:00.000-06:00

I'm getting a lot of "What are your plans now, gurrbonzo?"

Is this bc hub, kiddo and I abruptly moved across the country on a bit of a whim after finishing school and I took the bar in a state in which I no longer live so most people I know are confused? Is that what this is about?

1. Why'd you take the Utah bar if you live in the midwest now?

Welp, turns out you have to apply to take the bar months in advance, and (as many of you know all too well) the application process is a large pain in the buttocks. The FBI background check takes at least a month and you provide an absurd amount of info (e.g., contact info & reference for every place you've ever worked since you were 18, the address of every place you've ever lived since you were 18, every drug you've ever abused, every single time you got arrested, blahblah), and then you have to drop like 500 bucks. Plus for the July exam, you have to decide what state you'll take it in by March-ish. As the deadline approached, our plans were still up in the air, and we lived in Utah, so, Utah bar. And by the time we decided to move, it was too late to take it in our new state, so, why not utilize the funds I'd dropped and the buttock pain I'd endured during the application process? I can't imagine that taking the bar exam will get any easier than it would be right now. Which is a depressing thing to say.

2. But what's the point of being admitted in Utah if you don't live there?

Shiz. I need a POINT for the stuff I do? THAT would have been useful to know 26 years ago.
Turns out you have to be admitted somewhere to do ANYTHING. To put J.D. on your business card, to help your buddy with his will, to help your cousin get custody of her kids, to answer somebody's question without saying I AM NOT AUTHORIZED TO GIVE LEGAL ADVICE, whatever. Apparently you can't do squat unless you're admitted at least somewhere, and you can do a lot of federal stuff anywhere as long as you're admitted somewhere. Make sense? Thankfully, in this fine new state in which we reside, they accept the 6 hour multiple choice part, which is the same nationwide. So assuming (please bless) my score on that is reasonable, I'll only have to take ONE day of the two-day test in our new land.

Which I can do either next February or next July.

But probably not February, bc in January, we're having a baby girl. Woopwoop!

living on the edge.

2009-08-11T13:13:00.006-06:00

There are two things taking over my new life in the midwest (besides our kid, and getting settled): church and the law. I also spray painted a couple of our chairs today on a whim and it may have been a poor choice. Sigh. Anyway:

Church
An inevitable part of Moving While Mormon is figuring out your way around your new congregation. It's nice to have a fresh start, but overwhelming bc there are just a lot of people to deal with. Soon you find your scene and all is well, but the first month or so can be a little intense. This is especially true when you move to a state, nay, a region of the country in which you don't know a soul and so pray that there are some non-snickets under 75 that you can bond with and spend your time actively searching out new hangout friends. To advance these efforts, I'm experiencing hyperactivity. Not scurrying in circles with stickers on my forehead, Capri Sun spilled down my hot pink shirt while chewing gummi worms and shouting "I'm hyper!!!" Rather, way more involved in church than is normal for me. We're talking having randoms over for dinner, feeding the missionaries, going to midweek activities, the whole bit. This might be normal for you but for me, it's pretty intense. My new assignment in our ward is to hang out with the teenage girls. This means I do things like let a pack of seventh graders french braid my hair and throw tic tacs and be nervous about forgetting locker combinations. Pretty awesome.

The law
I'm trying to purge my brain of at least some of more useless law stuff I've shoved into it this summer in preparing for the bar, but to no avail. It is taking over my life. EVERYTHING FEELS LIKE A STORY PROBLEM and it's starting to get embarrassing but I just. can't. stop.

Last weekend, we were at a wedding with a sit-down dinner and they had fancy old-fashioned high chairs for the little kids. Without buckles! I could not stop thinking about who would be liable if someone got hurt.
The parking garage at the public library has NO FINE PRINT on the tickets. Isn't that bizarre?
I drove past a cop who had pulled someone over and immediately started thinking about what he could and could not search if it were a basic traffic stop and how he didn't have to inform them that they didn't have to consent if he asked to search their car.
Today I saw Azucar's update that a fly in her house had been there so long it had squatter's rights, and I immediately thought about why that wasn't technically true.
I can't read the news without thinking about who might be liable as an accomplice or co-conspirator.
I agreed to help a friend with something and then when needs changed, I immediately started thinking about whether there was sufficient consideration to make the modification binding.
I watched last night's Dating in the Dark (good grief, I love bad TV). Are you watching it? It's delightfully/painfully dumb and I recommend it if you feel like wasting an hour of your life feeling good about yourself in comparison to the rest of humanity. Anyway, I spent most of the episode wondering what kind of waivers they signed to get on the show bc cameras go in their houses "without their knowledge." There is NO WAY that would be allowed, would it??

This is getting embarrassing.

This is my life, people. French braids and theorizing about reality tv contracts. I know. I KNOW.

the latest

2009-08-03T09:57:00.004-06:00

Well, last week was a helluva week!

the damn bar exam. I'm really sick of talking about it, and if you have any friends or e-friends who took it, you're sick of hearing about it, so let me just say, in the words of my wise classmate (and former Miss Indian BYU): "Remember, results aren’t supposed to come out for 8-10 weeks. Don’t ask, if I don’t tell. And if I fail, it was because you weren’t faithful enough. So really, I’d be feeling bad for YOU." She also compared being done to "your birthday and Christmas wrapped in bacon and topped with a fudgesicle" so basically, it feels good.

I ate a lot when I was in Utah, mostly Cafe Rio, Taco Amigo, JCWs, you know, the important things in life. I also had a delicious Gandolfo's breakfast sandwich on both mornings of the bar and plan to credit them with my success or blame it for my failure.

I've gotten some interesting guidance from several friends about traveling alone with a toddler. One dear friend said, "Get people near you on your side before she freaks out. Then they'll be so charmed by her they won't even be mad when she's screaming." Another advised, "You will never see any of the people around you ever again, and you'll have that relationship with your kid your whole life. So worry about your kid and meet her needs and do your thing and don't feel bad about the strangers." I employed a mix of the two strategies and in spite of total dead-arm, a flight delay, a mini-meltdown or two (me, not the kid) and a couple of diaper situations (kid, not me), all was well.

I had the first massage of my life thanks to a gift certificate from husband. I got it for graduation and made one of the best choices of my life by saving it until the day after the bar. Go get one, now. Sidenote: the place I went (in foothill village) just happens to be located in the same spot as the old office of a congressional campaign I worked on before law school, and don't worry, the room I was in was actually in MY OLD OFFICE. As in, I paid a stranger to give me a rubdown in the same little room I'd color maps and ask high-rollers for money in. Gross and awesome.

It's great to be home. Husband painted the kitchen, living room, hall, kid's room and our room while we were gone, and it rocks.

Anyway, I've been wondering lately about themed parties bc I think they're lame. I guess I get it if it's just a get together for the heck of it then great, but if the party already HAS A THEME, say, a bridal or baby shower, does it really need a second theme, like butterflies or luaus? Isn't the theme that it's a baby shower? Same with weddings. The theme is that it's your wedding. Stop dressing up like cowboys or whatever.

i gotta feeling!

2009-07-27T18:22:00.003-06:00

Do you have any good vibes lying around? If so, want to send any my way? There are lots of deserving homes for your good vibes and I hate to hog them, but any rooting for me and my fellow comrades typing as fast as we can over the next few days is more than welcome.

The bar exam is Tuesday and Wednesday, and at this point, the most effective way to help me and hundreds of other hoping-to-soon-be-legit-lawyers nationwide is prayer and/or raising a fountain drink in a toast and just sending a lot of positive energy. Are you up to the challenge? Can you visualize success with me?

I have a long history of doing significantly better than I deserve to on standardized tests. Let's hope this is no exception.

home stretch

2009-07-24T12:01:00.004-06:00

Have you ever haphazardly thrown spaghetti at a wall and prayed some of it would stick as you watched it all slide down into a goobery mess? But you just kept throwing?

Me neither.

But that's what reviewing for the bar is reminding me of right now.

Sometimes I open up the phone book to "Attorneys" just to remind me how many goobers have passed this thing. It's like the opposite of positive affirmations. Instead of saying "I am smart and can do hard things" you say "I am dumb, but lots of people are dumber."

umm, kind of.

2009-07-22T22:31:00.006-06:00

Studies are so all-consuming (particularly now that I'm in the same state as two of my child's grandmas and therefore have, as a certain former boss of mine used to insist was an accepted term, "uni-dimensional focus") that I have twitchy-eye, and so I cope with things that pop into my head, e.g., this.

Once, years ago, I lived in an upstairs apartment with a bunch of other sophisticated/fabulous women, and a kind but awkward young married couple lived below us. They were particularly impressive when it came to skills such as slow blinking, open-mouth stares, odd forced laughter at bizarre times, and so forth. They were so painfully awkward that one of our roommates began to refer to them, collectively, as Socially Inept. As in, "Socially Inept dropped by," or "Here's that note from Socially Inept." They were technically the apartment "managers" but I'm not sure what that job consisted of except pausing longer than necessary in polite conversation, looking mousy, and leaving the occasional passive-aggressive note. But we loved them.

One day, I came home to find a typed note taped to our door. If you're wondering if it immediately went on our fridge for about a year, the answer is yes.

Dear Residents,

Please do not park in spots that are not assigned to you, even briefly, as it causes other tenants incontinence. Thanks,

The Management.

Know what I like that is really gross (besides Del Taco)?

2009-07-17T20:52:00.004-06:00

The term "grow a pair." I know, it's so vulgar. But it's also really effective, and it portrays exactly what I want it to most of the time, in a way in which "grow a spine" or "buck up" or "pull it together" just don't. As I adjust to a new region of the country and know no one but my hub in a 1,000 mile radius, and as I strive to prepare for the damn bar exam by shoving more information into my head than I previously thought was possible, I tell myself to grow a pair a lot. I mean, figuratively.

There is so much information swirling in my head right now it's a little freaky. I'm out of room in my brain but still need to cram (significantly) more in before the bar exam. There are only two solutions: it's time to brain-purge and get rid of all unnecessary/non-urgent info floating around in there, like how to sign the True to the Faith hymn, or that a group of owls is called a parliament, or that there are a number of ways in which women can prepare and subsequently consume their placentas.

See? I have room for like three more things now. Yikes. Guys, it really is like preparing to take 20 intensive finals rolled into one. SO. MUCH. INFORMATION. Brain exploding.

I know, I know...time to grow a pair.

fyi

2009-07-05T20:56:00.003-06:00

If your dryer breaks so you have tons of wet clothes, you might think that hanging them up to dry is a good idea. And maybe it is. But if the humidity is 95% where you live, it could take a while.

we made it!

2009-07-02T21:35:00.003-06:00

I can't find anything.

Not the towels, not the can opener, not the freaking grocery store. But who needs to find stuff when you have a yard and a new state to call home? I'm a moron about directions generally, but when there are only gorgeous rolling hills but no mountains, I have no idea which direction I'm facing or really, where I live. So that's unfortunate. But I have a map and a phone and with those two things I cannot fail.

Unless I get turned around on the map and have a close call or two on a so-called one way street. In which case it's less of a "failure" and more of an "opportunity to learn from experience."

Part of how I know I really learned something in law school, or at least in my latest bar-study efforts, is when I have ridiculously nerdy responses to things, e.g., the parts of the Michael Jackson saga I'm most interested are about the details about his will and whether it's valid and why. Similarly, if you happen to, say, buy your first home right after reviewing for both the contracts and property law portions of the bar exam, you may enrage everyone else in the room when you insist on reading everything. But come on! Do I look like a dummy? If I sign something that says "ONLY TODAY'S WRITTEN AGREEMENT IS ENFORCEABLE AND NO ORAL PROMISES OR EXPLANATIONS HAVE ANY VALIDITY," am I really expected to listen to these guys 'explain' things to me and then take their word for it and sign my rights away? Sigh. I suspect this is just the beginning of a long life of being uptight. But that's what happens when all you do is learn about absurd worst case scenarios and the schmucks that get squished like bugs for not reading the fine print.

Remember The Office episode in which Michael locks everyone in the conference room to teach them a lesson and every law student in America had a heart attack because THAT HAS ALL THE ELEMENTS OF FALSE IMPRISONMENT?

Anyway. Our kid has loved the move, shrieking as she goes around each corner to discover ANOTHER empty room in which she can run around with her hands in the air shouting words she understands but no one else does and beaming at us. Sometimes she just claps and looks around delighted at the world and it melts my cold heart. She is also the cutest moving-urchin, in her pjs all day with who knows what smeared on her face and black feet from running barefoot on filthy floors. They're clean now though so when you come see us you can take your shoes off without fear. Also there are a bunch of kids next door who like to feed my kid raspberries through the fence, so if you hurry, maybe they'll be some left for you.

We moved!

(Imagine me saying that in the same voice little kids, e.g., my nieces, say things like "I DID IT!" after going to the bathroom. Triumphant, jubilant, please-applaud-me. That kind of tone.)

affairs, MJ and pep talks, oh my!

2009-06-27T22:51:00.002-06:00

I. John Dickerson had an interesting piece in Slate this week about South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford. I'm as jaded as anybody when it comes to politicians and affairs...at least, I thought I was, until the John Edwards story broke a while back. Call me naive but I was genuinely shocked and sincerely sad/disappointed. Sure, everyone else in national politics cheats on their wife, but JOHN EDWARDS? The handsome, polite, every-soccer-mom-had-a-swoony-celeb-crush-on-him advocate for the poor who lost his son in a car accident and has a smart, normal, not-size-2 wife and now has a couple of cute little kids and came from really humble beginnings? It really surprised me a) that he had an affair and b) that I was so affected by it.
Anyway, with the recent Sens. Ensign and Sanford (and everyone else) stuff it's easy to make jokes about politicians and affairs and the bizarre number of "family values" spokespeople who keep being destroyed by personal scandal. And I definitely like to make mean jokes. But this piece just made me think a bit about how people are people, even if they're famous. A relevant excerpt from the Slate article:

The snap judgments failed to acknowledge a grain of the fundamental human carnage we were witnessing. You can laugh at Sanford, as you can laugh at a video of a wrecked Amy Winehouse falling all over her house. But at some point, even though they did it to themselves, you have to feel sorry for them as human beings. You can do that, I think, and not be a fan of adultery or drug use.

Sometimes I just want to take a second and feel bad for people, even famous people who are obviously vulnerable and human and maybe slightly crazy. I mean, I'm crazy too, it's just not in the tabloids and I don't have to give a press conference explaining my crazy to the unforgiving masses waiting to twitter about it. Aren't you kind of crazy too? Maybe it's partially that I have the public figure/private figure NYT v. Sullivan defamation and libel stuff on my mind (thanks, First Amendment). Maybe it's that with the scandals and the King-o-Pop, there are a lot of (often hilarious) harsh jokes about those whose lives just ended or are falling apart. But on some level the bleeding heart in me thinks geez, we ARE all brothers and sisters, and I can and do and should feel bad for the poor Sanford family (even the dad who caused this mess) just like I can feel bad for poor crazy Michael and his nightmare of a childhood.
But really, I appreciated John Dickerson's article and the fact that a regular reporter would say "Back the train up, this is a PERSON," which is probably not easy in the world of journalism when it's about juicy headlines and skewering the vulnerable and the flawed. Anyway, I'm glad I ran into it and it caused me to really reflect on that for a while and want to hug everyone.

II. On a completely unrelated note, I ran into this article about supporting your kids' dreams a while ago. Maybe it was even on your blog! I can't remember. But it's given me a lot to think about, and I like it. Here's how it starts:

"I've changed my mind," said my 13-year-old daughter, Francie. "I don't want to be a lawyer anymore. I want to be in the FBI." I tried to imagine my daughter's bespectacled face staring back at me from the climbing wall at Quantico, but the image didn't come easily.
Still, I replied, "How cool is that?"
"Yeah," Francie said, arms folded in satisfaction. "It's going to be good."
I hope it is. I hope that her life turns out absolutely according to her dreams. If she doesn't quite hit the bull's-eye, then she'll still have aimed in the right direction.

Go read it and come back and tell me what you think, okay? We can have an internet book, I mean, article club about it. I like the idea of just being in someone's corner, not just with your kid but in life. If my kid wants to be an astronaut, she can be an astronaut. If my buddy sincerely wants to be a trash collector, she'll be the best damn trash collector around. Seriously. Who am I to pee on someone else's dreams!? There are plenty of Debbie Downers in the world and the last thing any of us need is a PARENT or FRIEND to be our Debbie. I like that when I think up something ("I want to start my own firm! No, I want to go back to school! No, I want to be a corporate bastard! No, I want to start an on-ramping program! No, I want to work on immigration! No, I want to build a barn and save up for a pony!"), my hub or mother or friend will often say, "Ooh, now you're thinking. You'd be good at that. We could make it work." If it's a dumb unworkable idea, I'll figure it out soon enough. It's just really nice and important to have someone that says "Hell yeah!" when you have an idea. What do you think?

p.s. If you need a pep talk from me, just let me know. I will happily counteract the bummer patrols in your life because guess what? You can do whatever you want.

hrmm

2009-06-25T15:30:00.003-06:00

"I like fry sauce. Those people who don't like fry sauce? I don't trust them."
--my dear friend Rachel W. at JCWs today

Discuss.

puzzled

2009-06-22T22:47:00.001-06:00

There are certain things that baffle me. As a people-watcher, I like to analyze behavior, and even when I disagree with someone, most of the time I can figure out where they're coming from. But there are a few things that confuse me and I just can't get to the bottom of them despite my constant ponderings between bouts of shouting at my property law review (if there is something more ridiculous than property law, whatever it is, I hate it) and scheduling lunch dates for my last week in Utah. If you do any of these things, or know and love someone who does, will you tell me why? Enlighten me! All of these puzzle me and I desperately need some insight.

Grow as a transitive verb. ACK! As in, "Don't you want to grow your business?" or "Grow your audience." I cringe just typing it! WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN?? It sounds like weener-enhancement spam mixed with business school douchebaggery. For some reason, "Grow your business" sounds so much more barfy than "help your business grow." Why is this? And do you think "grow your business" is more or less aggravating than the surprisingly popular and grammatically baffling "Want to come with?"
Taking pictures of food and blogging about it. I don't mean a pretty cake you made or a special occasion dinner. I mean, lifting fork to mouth with mouth wide open or an "mmm mmm" smile. WHY? WHY? WHY? I recently saw a blog post with a picture of just a plate with some smushy pancakes on it all gross and swimming in syrup and beneath it, all it said was "Breakfast." Why do people document their average meals? WHY!? I see posts like these at least weekly and remain totally stumped. Several questions: a) do people who take these pictures personally love that meal enough to want a record of it forever? We've each had a thousand meals just in the last year. Recording each one is both nonsensical and totally unsustainable. b) do people posting said pictures think their audience enjoys pictures of breakfast? Is there some sort of positive feedback that perpetuates this bizarre cycle? What is the motivation behind these pictures of half-eaten cheeseburgers and melted ice cream on some squished brownie? I'm just so confused by it. Also the drinking out of a straw pose. What IS that!?
Homeschooling. Why does it happen? I'm not for it and I am not against it. I don't really have an opinion on it yet (shocked? I know!). I just don't really get it. Is it generally bc of pro-home feelings, or anti-public school feelings, or a combination of both? Did the parents have a bummer of a public school experience themselves so now they don't want to inflict it on their children? Or do they just think their kids are gifted? Or that regular teachers wouldn't teach their kids enough? And for parents (generally moms) who conduct the homeschooling, aren't you just pooped? Do you ever get 5 seconds for yourself? And once you homeschool, how do you decide when to make the switch to other-people school? And what if you don't remember how to do whatever you're supposed to be teaching them? It blows my mind. I am also baffled at the generational shift occuring: I only know weirdos who WERE homeschooled, but I only know normals that DO the homeschooling now, as parents. Of course, the kids my age who were homeschooled, welp, that was all like 20 years ago, and probably not a representative sample. Have the types of parents who homeschool gotten cooler? So it was the socially inept crowd in the last generation but in our generation, it's hip? Does this reflect your experience?
Shops/boutiques that sell little girl hair bows. Seriously, do they make any money or is it a fakeout? There is NO WAY there is a market for TEN BILLION $2 hair bow businesses. Is there???
I'm thinking a lot about cloth diapers. Landfills aside (and I fully support reducing waste), is it a pain in the butt? Is it really that much cheaper?
Did I think in bullet points before law school or is this something I should thank J. Reuben for?

things on my mind and therefore my blog:

2009-06-17T14:59:00.001-06:00

Hi everyone! Still aliving, still thriving, still word-vomiting on the internet from time to time. Ready?

Today's bar studies brought me this unfortunate phrase: "...which are taxes in the state where the sale was consummated." CONSUMMATED? Ew! When I told hub he said it sounded "fiduciarily erotic."
Sometimes I forget about odd little things, and when I see them, there is a brief flash of recognition. One example: when I see a bumper sticker for Peter Corroon, like I did when parking at the library today, I think "Oh yeah! Peter Corroon! I forgot about him." Same with Blanche from Golden Girls. Kind of.
Sometimes I get a lot of feminist rage when people act like I have mush for brains bc I'm a female and a parent. Grumble grumble.
I like it when people share real stories about real problems, particularly in church settings. A few weeks ago we had one of those 5th-week-Sunday joint men/women meetings at church and guess what it was about? Not food storage, not gossip, not dutch oven cooking. Drug addiction. Several recovering addicts shared their stories and they passed out a sheet with meeting info (location, time, place) of various addiction meetings around the area. It was one of the more intense church meetings I've attended, but really refreshing to see concrete gospel-in-action stuff. Not "I had to learn to...(sniffle)...forgive the meanie teacher who said something bad about my perfect 10-year-old at parent-teacher conference! SAD!" but legit, full-fledged, raw and honest "I hit rock bottom in more ways than you can imagine and today I'm putting the pieces together with God's help and here's where you can show up if you have the same problem." To the whole congregation. I like it.
I prefer living in the same state as my husband. While we're only apart for a week or two, it is not my favorite thing and I salute those that survive it.
I also prefer spending time with my kid over studying. She is way more hilarious and interesting than trying to figure out what rights vest when and if it matters that one party's not a merchant and who has the burden of proof when and (did your eyes glaze over? MINE TOO!). Anyway, our cute one-year-old does a lot of awesome things. For example, she dresses up like an old lady lately. Yesterday she started walking around with assorted necklaces on, a bright orange visor, my mom's keys on one of those long teacher key chains (what are they called?), holding a neon yellow container in one hand and a Reader's Digest in the other. She looked like she was heading to the RV to play a bit of bridge and/or canasta. I love that kid.
You know those long key chains? What are they called? Lanyards? Anyway, you're allowed to have them, you really are, especially if you're a school teacher or a referree or something. But can you think of ANYTHING more annoying than people spinning them around and around mindlessly in public places!? Ack!
What preposition do you use after forbidden? Are you forbidden TO do something? Are you forbidden FROM doing something? Not sure. Turns out 20 years of school still leaves you wondering about (or should i say wondering through) these pressing matters.

Welllp, that's about it. What's on YOUR mind?

tartly torts

2009-06-05T15:28:00.001-06:00

Studying for the multi-state portion of the bar exam is a serious flashback to my 1L year. I can even hear the unforgettable voice of a certain professor whom I adore and who also happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to Velma from Scooby Doo.

I think you know who I mean.

Anyway, many of these quotes are readily available on my sidebar, but for your more convenient/immediate pleasure and because of my stroll down memory lane today as I re-pour into my brain information about assault, battery, false imprisonment, strict liability, res ipsa loquitor and let's not forget good old-fashioned negligence, I give you....

tidbits from my torts class.

The year: 2006.

My status: unmarried (engaged) and shellshocked (post-mission awkwardness at an all-time high).

My mood: awesome (by nature) and overwhelmed (by school).

"Punitive damages are un-freaking-predictable, but it's the consumer's way of saying 'corporate America, you can't screw me over.'" -- Prof

Prof: "And what did the court say about that?"
Student: "They didn't mention it."
(awkward pause)
Prof: "Actually, it's italicized. Hahaha!"
(as any classmate present will verify, it's the nelson-type pointing and laughing that really made this experience memorable).

"I don't know if any of you have neighbors with vicious boars, but if you do, you should probably move." --Prof

Student: “I would think so.”

Prof, incredulously: “You would THINK so?”
(awkward pause)

Student: “But I would obviously be wrong.”

“Companies respond! Hello! Why did Fisher Price make little people bigger? Because children eat them.” --Prof

Prof, when another law school class was scheduled to take place in our classroom during our classtime:
“No, we will not get up and leave, we will fight them. TORTS IN ACTION.”

Prof to student: "What, you can't write this down? You don't have hands??"
(long awkward pause) "Well, I guess you do have one arm in a sling. Never mind."

“Assuming you have a head, you should be able to write like the whole time.” --Prof's advice on taking finals

Student A: The thing speaks for itself, don't you think?
Student B: Then I want to know what the hell it's saying.

Student: I give up.
Prof: Actually, only I get to decide when you give up.

freudian or weirdian?

2009-06-03T16:23:00.005-06:00

What?

While reviewing some criminal procedure notes as part of today's less-than-diligent bar review studies, I just realized that I had typed

"the defendant's right to childbirth."

instead of

"the defendant's right to trial by jury."

Whooops. Easy mistake right...childbirth, trial by jury. Childbirth, trial by jury. Understandable mix-up?

And what does that even mean?? Pregnant women are screaming, "I HAVE A RIGHT TO BIRTH THIS BABY! YOU CAN'T STOP ME! THE CONSTITUTION SAYS IT HAS TO COME OUT EVENTUALLY!"??

the latest

2009-06-02T16:16:00.000-06:00

Isn't packing a pain!? Stuff multiplies exponentially in closets and it freaks me out. Good news: we did it! We got out of our place (thanks to my husband's dedication, his absurd physical exertion and the spacial sense of loved ones, oh and a little company called PODS) and are now relaxing. Well, not exactly. These days, I study for the bar while husband and cute baby play in the sun as we wait a couple weeks for the midwest expedition to begin. Some good things about moving:

you get rid of a bunch of junk.
you get to feel suicidal panic and triumphant relief on the same day.
You feel like you make a fortune when you find all these clothes you forgot you had. Guess what else we found? $18.47 in change (thank you Coinstar), $20 in an old purse, $100 in mystery giftcards lying around (presumably from our wedding?)! So basically bc we moved out, we got $138.47! Does anyone know how many snow cones that is?! Or, more responsibly, how much of a future student loan payment that makes? ((celebratory shimmy))

In other news, studying for the bar is fun for the topics I had interesting and dynamic teachers for and enjoyed, but maddening for topics I either didn't take or may as well not have taken. Whoooooops.

Welp, in OTHER other news, I just want everyone to know that if you have a pet, that is great, but it is not your child, and when you buy a pet, it's not okay to announce "We're PARENTS!" and then complain to actual parents of young children about how hard it is to get up during the night. Unless you're nursing your new puppy, then maybe. But speaking of kids, if you're wondering if our daughter gets cuter and funnier every day, the answer is yes. In fact, right now she's swinging a baby doll around her head by its neck and cackling, and if that's not a sign of an awesome toddler I don't know what is.

Also, sometimes I eat at Del Taco and I LIKE IT. Can we still be friends?

purge o rama

2009-05-21T20:27:00.002-06:00

Hrmm. Tons of preparing-to-move stuff-purging going on. Enormous DI run or last minute yard sale? Please advise.

whew!

2009-05-20T22:00:00.000-06:00

Big changes are brewing in the bonzo household. May I present a few quotes regarding said changes?

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." --Lao Tzu

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power."
--(I'm shy about attributing this quote accurately bc it's the Chicken Soup for the Soul guy. Seriously. Next thing you know I'm rocking the ropes course and doing the trust fall. Let's pretend it's Lincoln.)

"Whoa." -- Me and hub, repeatedly, over the last several days.

We're moving to Iowa. I KNOW! I know! You're thinking, Iowa, seriously? Who moves to Iowa? Apparently me and my fam. What do you think of the midwest? Is it as green and interesting and soothing as it seems? Anywhere that has a farmer's market on WEDNESDAY NIGHT instead of only on Saturday morning is a place I like. If you add in a gorgeous old campus and some hole in the wall restaurants, hey, sign me up.

Monday we left on an awesome road trip, not sure where we were going or when we'd be back, just knowing we'd be in Iowa for husband's job interview (for a position right up his master of public policy alley) on Wednesday. Welllllp, we got in Tuesday night, and while he interviewed, our cute kid and I explored the surprisingly awesome town...it was pretty gross out so we hit a museum or two and the awesome new public library and awaited word. Turns out he rocked the hell out of his interview and they offered him the job that afternoon and in a surprising turn of events we found an awesome house and put an offer on it Thursday.

It's not as rash as it sounds, I promise. We'd been talking about buying a house for...um...twelve hours.

Whatever. Sometimes you just need to grow a spine and spice up your life. And by you I mean me.

Friday we signed the bank stuff and hit the road to Canada right in time for a Saturday wedding reception and some quality time with the extended fam, and got home yesterday. 3,600 miles in eight days with an abrupt decision to borrow six figures and move halfway across the country to somewhere we spent 72 hours in once.

hell yeah.

Now we just need to move out of our current place, sell our old cars, blahblah. Who needs furniture when you can have a YARD? Oh yeah, and there's that whole bar exam thing. Whatever.

Let's get this show on the road. Want to visit?

presenting a haphazard assortment of thoughts brought to you by Gurrbonzo, J.D.

2009-04-25T21:51:00.001-06:00

*When I hear someone say "My bad!" I always pause for a moment and wonder if it's 1995.

*Sometimes, I pick up dinner from Paradise Bakery, but every time I order something to go, they hand me the bag to put it in, rather than just put the food in the bag themselves. This causes me to stand right in the way for a few minutes while I unfold said bag and put the stuff inside it, and each time I get rage. Why are you making me do this task that you could do much more easily, and for which you are paid?

*Similarly, I will go pretty far out of my way to hit up a Harmon's grocery store because they don't make me take the stuff out of my cart myself, and the ease and joy involved in not having that assignment be my problem is worth nigh unto any price, and it's kind of embarrassing how much I like it.

*Today I busted out some negotiation skills on a car dealer and it was empowering.

*One reason MCB and I are friends is because she sends me text messages like this one: "There are a bunch of wiccan goth types at Joann's. I love humanity."

*Today I bought our baby some adorable pink sandals. They were in a little bag so I didn't realize til after I got home that THE HEELS SQUEAK. That's right. Shoes for a one year old. Who just started walking. And they SQUEAK WITH EVERY STEP. Umm. Shoot me. Whose idea was that?

*The rumor is that in Mexico and Germany they call lawyers "doctor." Is that true? If so, can we start that up again here? But if I were a real doctor I'd be pissed bc I would have gone to a dozen more years of school than the fake lawyer doctors and I'd want them to know their role.

*I love it when someone I initially thought was boring and/or two-dimensional ends up being awesome. Those are my favorite surprises.

*Also, I graduated from law school this week. I don't know what to say about it except that honestly, there were times when I thought this day would never come, especially during the first year which, for me, was just as intense as everyone says it is. I had some serious "I've made a huge mistake" moments a la Gob Bluth before I found my groove. And now, suddenly it's all past tense. When I think about all the people I've met, and about my dear hub and my mom and a billion other family members who picked up so much of my school-induced slack and without whom this would never have happened, and when I think about the time going to law school first dawned on me as a painfully clueless 21-year-old pseudo-snicket, and when I remember applying to law school on a few p-days in the library in Shortsville, NY, and starting to hear back from law schools during the last few months of my mission and wondering what the freak the future held for me, and now I have a cute one-year-old and a J.D., I get a little disoriented and a little teary-eyed and a lot happy.
And then I think about the bar.

*I know they are different, but when I think about times in my life (mission, childbirth, law school, to name a few) where I have honestly felt like I could pick up the planet or a house or run across the country, just that for a split second I feel like I really can do anything, I want to do more hard things, because it is awesome. So for a split second I get why people become crazy triathletes and all of that. I mean, not enough to DO that, but I get it, and invite you to do something hard because in my admittedly minimal experience it's basically the best feeling in the world, and I can't think of anything more rewarding than realizing that hey, you know that thing you thought you couldn't do?
You just did.

renegade of justice

2009-04-21T18:26:00.002-06:00

I am truly touched/startled at how many of you seemed truly alarmed at my parking predicament. Now that I've survived the ordeal, I can tell you about it and not have you worry about accomplice liability.

I drove my mom's car. That's right. I did. And parked in visitor parking. And MY HEART WAS POUNDING! There were two men* standing at the entrance, so I took an extra lap around the school, and then drove up, sweating and nervous. They came over to my car as I pulled into the lot and just looked at me.

I rolled down the window, checked behind them to see if there was a WANTED poster with my name and picture on it, then smiled sweetly and asked in my most innocent sister missionary voice: "Do I need a little ticket or anything?"

"No," they responded in the eerie, unnaturally pleasant tone all school employees are famous for, "As long as you're not a student here, you're fine."

I smiled and swallowed nervously as I saw the sign behind them which read Be prepared to show current identification upon request. What if they ask me my name? What if they look up my name and see the permanent ban and escort me away and I never finish law school and my picture hangs on the wall of shame indefinitely? I parked. I got out of the car as quickly as I could without looking suspicious and felt nervous all day. Well, every time I started to feel better, I'd see another person who would ask me excitedly, "HOW DID YOU GET HERE?" I was scared to answer bc they record everything.

BUT, I DID IT. So, I violated the ban, and I won, and it gave me a rush. Maybe this is why people shoplift...

*(meaning 21-year-olds with acne)

because I am erratically irresponsible

2009-04-17T21:09:00.003-06:00

Generally, I'm pretty on top of things. I'm a list-maker. I multitask. I'm a good student. I clean up. I budget. You know the story. With most things, I do what I say I'll do and what I'm supposed to do and feel bad if I don't.

However.

Sometimes, I just don't.

I pick really dumb things to flake out on. For example, I recently lost a library book. Straight up lost it. Who does that? Am I eleven? I brought it with me to Miami and it disappeared and now I have to pay for it. Whatever.

I also meant to get a parking pass this year but it just never happened. It's free. I applied online, but there was a problem of some sort and I never called to figure out what it was. Give me a break! I'm always in a hurry, and I never go "across the street" to regular campus on principle. So, it just didn't happen and I have only myself to blame. I drive to school 2-3 times a week, park in the graduate student lot, get the occasional parking ticket and just grumble and pay it and think about how I should get my damn pass but I just haven't. In March, I thought about it and realized hey, it's March, why get it now? Just get school over with.

No big deal right?

And I would have gotten away with it, too...

I signed for a CERTIFIED LETTER today at the post office and to my delight/embarrassment/amazement, I am "permanently prohibited from driving and/or parking any motor vehicle on campus at any time."

Wait, let's back up.

This is awesome.

They bothered to send a CERTIFIED LETTER? And the ban is PERMANENT? As in, forever? And I love that it's not just parking, it's even driving. Like campus is surrounded by an electric fence and if I try to drive a car (not just MY car, mind you, ANY CAR) on campus it will zap me and the meter maids will yell "YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!" This "certified letter" says if they find my car on campus it will get impounded and I'll get a $300 citation AND they forward my traffic records to the honor code office.

Seriously? This letter is killing me. Why are you so uptight about this when THE PARKING PASSES ARE FREE? What's the point of enforcing this with such ridiculous language? Look me up. I'm a student. I can park there. Everyone relax.

Also, I hate the word "permanent" almost as much as I hate the word "mandatory." Sometimes in law school they think if they add the word "mandatory" to something, it's like a weapon of intimidation. Nothing's ever really mandatory, and nothing's ever permanent. Quit pretending you're the sheriff of the world.

I also love that it says this "PERMANENT BAN" includes (this is a direct quote): "Weekends, Holidays, Sunday's, etc... All are included in the parking ban." How come weekend and holiday are plural and Sunday is possessive? Does Sunday have something that belongs to it that I can't use? "DON'T PARK HERE EVER OR ON ANYTHING THAT BELONGS TO THE SABBATH." Here's an idea. You let me park one more freaking day, and in return, I'll help you fix embarrassing mistake's on your certified letter's you send out.

It gets better.

"Your ban is permanent and remains in effect unless the Parking Services Office notifies you otherwise in writing." BAHAHA! Like, in 2029, I'll have to say "Sorry guys, let's drive the long way...can't drive through campus. It's forbidden. I have a record."

I just keep looking at it and laughing. A PERMANENT BAN? This could be one of my favorite mail pieces ever. Well, either this or the wedding announcement printed on a photo of the couple riding horses and kissing, so their names were superimposed over a horse's ass.

Anyway, the only time I have to go to the law school ever again is Tuesday for a final. What should I do? Take the bus? Risk eternal damnation by violating the PERMANENT BAN? Borrow someone else's car? Wear a disguise? Park in visitor parking and act natural?

Guide me, internet, guide me.

today I played a game called "name that chick"

2009-04-08T22:34:00.003-06:00

It was bizarre and fun.

Speaking of bizarre, I listened to this podcast yesterday about 10 bizarre ways to die. (I've climbed on the "How Stuff Works" train lately and am slowly building up a startling reservoir of useless information.) Unfortunately, the website is one of those that makes you click "next" a thousand times instead of just showing you the whole article, so I'll do you a favor and jump you right to the weirdest one.

Anyway, the Name that Chick game involved charades-meets-Catchphrase/Taboo sort of antics where we acted out a solid assortment of famous women, including:

Oprah Winfrey
Catherine Mackinnon
Gwyneth Paltrow
Bella Abzug
Clara Barton
Diane Sawyer
Picabo Street

I don't know if you can really beat that as far as bizarre fun goes. Or can you?

the latest

2009-04-07T21:27:00.001-06:00

What's the latest? Why, I'm glad you asked!

I made bread.

Myself.

Intense, I know. Next thing you know I'll be planning elaborate party favors for cute little baby girls turning one. Just kidding. That will never happen. But you know what I mean. Maybe this is one step closer to MCB taking me under her sewing wing. Clips! Pillows! Dresses! Curtains! Petticoats! Who knows!? The sky's the limit now that I'm making bread!

In other news, our kid is walking. Well, practically. Zombie steps here and there, but I think it counts. She gets the giggles these days and loves oranges, things with wheels, and minorities. Today it was hot so I took off her socks and shoes, so not only was she barefoot but she also had a runny nose. This makes for the cutest street urchin ever to roam the halls of the J Reub!

And speaking of school, IT IS MY LAST WEEK OF LAW SCHOOL. Can you believe it? I know, I know, some of us thought this day would never come, but here it is so let us rejoice and give thanks. There is but one big fat paper and one big fat final between me and freedom, if by freedom you mean studying for the bar. And guess who else is almost done with school, though he has a couple more weeks left than I do? Husband! So, yep, that's pretty great.

Okay, but seriously, back to the bread. I MADE IT. Like, kneaded it (seems like past tense should be kned) and everything. No gadgets. Just me and the flour, like Mother Eve (or whoever). Who knew it was a) so easy and b) so tasty?? Do you guys have OTHER such information that would have been useful like ten years ago?