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Soy Estoy listo ir a Puerto Rico.

Okay, maybe not. I don't really speak Spanish. I know the sentence above is somewhat approximating what I'd like to say. But it's probably grammatically wrong in some terribly obvious way (listo a ir? listo por ir?).

Regardless, I can freely think about vacation now because I just finished helping E prepare a few tax forms (read: doing the entire filing from scratch) and today, I turned in drafts of my last two assignments from chambers. From here on out, it's smooth sailing--E's just got to verify that I can copy numbers into blanks and e-file. I've just got to sit around waiting for clerks to get back to me with edits. So, needless to say, I'm checkin' out mentally and focusing on more important things like which classes to take next year, what I'm going to do in puerto rico, etc.

It's not that the orders I wrote are worthy of being so mentally done, it's more that I know everyone is so overworked that it'll be a miracle if either of the clerks can get back to me with edits they'd like me to make before my last minute, Friday at 2:30.

So, cheers to finishing things. And big tax refunds (too bad E didn't get one...).

Unusual

I walked by the judge in the hallway today. She was walking some guests out of chambers as I returned with my carne asado burrito with chips.

She winked hello at me.

She's a very formal, judge-like person, who up until today has kept a seemingly pre-measured social distance from me.

So, the wink was odd.

What was weirder, however, was the giddy sense of acceptance when I saw the wink. It reminded me of being asked to Ginny Loraine's birthday party in 3rd grade. I'd never been cool enough to go to one of the parties where Ginny, her brother Bill, or any of the other cool kids hung out. Later, I realized that Ginny's and many other invitations arrived because I was considered the "poor awkward kid" that parents loved but children my own age hated. Rad. So, yeah, it was cool to get the wink, finally.

But really, whatever happened to Ginny Loraine?

The second half marathon: ummm... interesting

I think the first one spoiled me. It was ridiculously well run with an overabundance of trail markers, volunteers, snacks, supporters, and a super-high tech timing mechanism. I couldn't appreciate those perks then because I was a newbie. But now, well, now I know that Redwood Trails puts on a very professional, organized, type-A run. They manage to do it in a non-meth-head way that makes the studiously non-competitive type-A's feel comfortable (of which I am one--can't be competitive type-A about this sh*t, I'm too damn slow...).

This weekend's race, however...Well, it was just mediocre. But, then again, any run in Golden Gate National Recreational Area can't really be mediocre. So, it was awesome, picturesque, and great, but just not as well run as my first half-marathon. What can you do? Nothing ever tops the first time... or so they say.

First, my Garmin told me the race was 1.3 miles short. I'm willing to give 'em 0.5 to 0.75 miles that I may have lost in the trees and behind the hills. The gadget beeped a few times to remind me that it couldn't see the satellites for the trees. But, it didn't lose contact for 1.3 miles. I know this mainly because I walked up more hills than the last race and still finished 14 minutes faster.

Second, the finish was "along the beach." Sounds great at the start line. But when the last 0.5 to 1.0 miles (depends on who is telling the story...) is on unpacked gravel-sand, it's not so much "along the beach" as "over the god-damned beach, ever-so-slowly."

And third, the start was not organized by time. Given that the first couple of miles were uphill, including some steep stairs, allowing the fun-walkers to mix in with the pseudo-wanna-be-runners like myself meant that there was no running up the stairs or the steep hill. This is probably why I feel a million times better after this race than the last one, but at the time it was frustrating as hell.

My theory is that the folks at envirosports are less precise, type-A, and organized than the folks at Redwood Trails. There was a higher ratio of hiker-walker types to ridiculous hilly-marathon types than at my last race. Basically, the enviro-folks seem well-balanced and not very neurotic, so of course I have a hard time relating and feeling at home. This mellow attitude was best demonstrated during initial announcements, where they offered to take any amount off of your time that you attributed honor-system-style to sight-seeing at the top of the mountain.

In short, this race wins the award for the views, but that's it. It'll probably be the race where I actually buy the sponsored photograph (since E, my sister and I slowed to a crawl so we could triumphantly run through the photo station at the same time).

On a different, but equally interesting (and how very uninteresting it must be...) note, the "walk-more-at-the-beginning" approach of Jeff Galloway was forced upon me by the single-file-stairs being oh-so-slowly climbed by the not-so-fast. I think it may have helped me. At one point in the race, I surprised myself by busting out a 7:47 mile. I didn't know I could run that fast and still maintain enough endurance to continue in a long race. Perhaps it's because I took walk breaks on the uphills in the beginning.

Regardless of why I was able to run fast, I'm happy I was able to go for a 10 mile walk this evening with K. And, more importantly, I'm thrilled that I don't feel like the complete and total excuse for a human that I was two days after the first half-marathon.

So, perhaps I'll try to implement the take-walk-breaks-early-to-save-your-legs plan in my next half-marathon, which by the way, will be flat, praise Allah, Yaweh, and Dog. It should be a good time since it's in the middle of summer heat, my first chip race, in wine country on a Sunday (will BT be able to resist the sweet siren call of the dehydrating vino the night before the race?), and, of course, let us not forget it's in the middle of both summer associate season and barbeque season which will be collaborating to add 10 pounds to the tortured BT frame.

Stay tuned.

Runners are Insane

Tomorrow, E and I have our second half marathon. To psych myself up, I read a bit from my second running book and came across the story of Horace Ashenfelter, the first American to win the Olympic Steeplechase.

Yeah, that's right. The steeplechase. An equestrian obstacle course.

Only, now I know that it's also human track and field event as well. For this, we owe a thanks to Halifax Wyat, an Exeter student who claimed he could run the race faster than a horse.

I'm certain he was sober when he made this promise. And, you know his friends were very gracious about letting him back out if he realized his lunacy.

Lemmings.

(Me Too!)

Book #8

So, I'm still on my approximately 25-book challenge.

The latest offering is The Runner's Handbook by Bob Glover. At 700-plus pages, it's a doozy. But, it's a good one. I've taken a few exercise physiology courses and used to be an athlete but I've only recently reaffirmed my commitment to exercise, and I'm completely new to running.

This book was full of clinical and academic studies, facts, figures, tables, tests, suggestions, training schedules, epidemiology, and more. Any running related topic you can think of is probably touched upon in this book. I feel like I've got a solid understanding of the current (or within the last decade anyways) science behind running and how to do it well, without injuring myself, for the long haul.

One thing I didn't think about when choosing a few running books to read was history. But I sincerely enjoyed the stories of how various races evolved. Even more surprising to me was the history of women in distance running (did you know that women weren't even *allowed* to compete in many marathons until the 1980's?). The personal anecdotes of running successes, trials and tribulations, cancer-in-remission runners, and even running-related deaths and crimes made this book a much more well-rounded introduction to the sport than I expected it to be. I feel more steeped in the culture than I was just a scant 700 pages ago.

If you haven't put in years on the road and/or haven't been reading Runner's World for the last few years, I recommend this book to give you a solid broad background of the sport against which you can evaluate your own progress, fitness, and balance.

Busy

I can't complain because I'm way less busy with school stuff than every other law student I know. But, I figured I should inform you that my posting has been lacking because I've been rushing through a decent to do list (and definitely not sitting on the couch, drooling on myself):

- analyzing the course offerings for next fall (already?) against my priority list of
1. classes I can take with H;
2. no classes on Fridays;
3. stuff that's interesting to me;
4. stuff that'll be helpful on the bar; and
5. stuff that'll be helpful in my career.

- narrowing down my list of clerkship judges to bother with hail mary packets

- more wedding crap than I can list, including considering several more venues than originally planned while not having either the date or location solidified

- training and tapering for my second half marathon this weekend, in the Golden Gate Headlands

- finishing up as much work in chambers as I can before I leave

- revamping draft 1003 of my note for yet another meeting with my advising professor

- missing a scheduled meeting with the pro se law clerk because I was in another meeting with another clerk about a patent litigation matter

- attending my second wine differences class and learning that I prefer the slightly shaded bunches of light pruning which result in mildly herbaceous cabernet sauvignons to the extremes on either end (vegetative wine from overgrowth of vines vs. fruit bombs from severely pruned or naturally limited growth of vines).

- And, of course, stuffing chocolate in my mouth thanks to E's mother, aka, the easter bunny.

A True Break

I was wrong, I had 13 days of work left in chambers and about 20 days worth of work to complete. Now, I'm down to 10 days left in chambers and about 15 days of work to complete.

Last night, E & I, plus M, K & G all went to the Parkway to watch the cult showing of the greatest movie ever made. It was a long night of laughter, beer, and pizza. Ever noticed how amazingly decadent it feels to do the stuff you did back in college because you didn't have anything better to do?

The dude abides.

Public Service Announcement

If you are a law student, pay attention.

Today, I went to the BALSA meeting where a dude from Graduate Leverage spoke. There's a billion things I didn't know about financial aid loan consolidation. And I'm anal with money--I've already got my undergrad loans consolidated with crazy borrower benefits, I'm all about intelligent use of debt, etc.

I had no idea about the single lender rule.

ATTENTION 2Ls: If you have used the same lender for your staffords and undergraduate loans, get a new lender for at least one loan in 3L. It may save you lots of money in the long run by allowing you to consolidate with anyone instead of requiring that your single lender has the right of first refusal.

3L's -- Don't forget to consolidate before July 1, 2005 -- get a lock on your rate before that date. Make them promise that they will allow you to lock the rate before July 1, 2005 (when it'll be pegged to the 90 day T-bill rate for the 3rd week in May, which is almost guaranteed to be higher than last May.) Also, it's too late for you to get around the single lender rule, but you should register with Graduate Leverage to see if you want in on their collectively bargained consolidation program, which given the debt/risk profile of the participants, should be better than anything you can find off the shelf.

Unfortunately for us 2Ls and later grads, everything is up for reauthorization, so we won't actually know what the law is that governs our consolidation program 'til it's passed. If you've got a diety on your side, I suggest you ask for some help...

Big Wheels Keep On Turnin'

Damn, I'm a busy cowboy this week.

E & I spent the weekend on a whirlwind, excuse me, tornado, 47 hour trip to NYC. Oh, and we get extra-insanity points because the 47 hours included the flights from SJC to JFK and back. We visited E's grandparents and took a very informative tour of brooklyn where I was treated to stories about Sheepshead bay, Coney island, and the neighborhood where E's great-grandparents, grandparents, and uncle all lived within 1 block of each other. We attended a surprise 30th birthday party for one of my friends that started at Dylan Prime and ended up at Tribeca Tavern (where they have matchboxes with camping worthy matches, not just matchbooks that wilt in the rain). We also met friends for brunch at Blue Ribbon Bakery, which was one of the best brunches I've ever had, hands down. Service was a little slow and blah, it was crowded, but the food... yeah, perfectly poached eggs, an amazing chocolate chip bread pudding, caloric overload and happiness.

Today, I realized I only have 8 days of work left in chambers. I've got about 10 days worth of work to do. Right...

I also hit a financial aid seminar, planned some more social events, scheduled some more wedding appointments, continued planning future travel ('cause that's what I do in my spare time for fun), started a new book while walking between speed intervals on the treadmill, and attended my first wine differences class.

I'm exhausted. But in a great way. Life is good.

El Super Burrito

Going to the taqueria immediately before civil law and motion?

Not smart.

I did the head nod thing 4 or 5 times and then actually fell asleep for what must have been 30+ seconds before jerking awake in a panic. All while watching oral arguments from the jury box today. I hope the judge didn't see me.

Making the most of my time out of the clink

In an effort to raise my score, I decided to start studying.

So, I registered for a 3-night course on wine differences that covers soil, weather, varietal, crushing, fermentation, lies, bottling, rootstock, picking, pruning, and more. Unfortunately, this won't help my beer or liquor score, which is apparently where I'm sorely lacking.

Oh well... what can you do...

I'm a Loser, Baby

Thanks to Beanie, I took the greatest web quiz yet, the alcohol knowledge quiz. I kicked bean's ass on beer and wine, but then got FLATTENED on liquor to lose overall. Looks like I need to do a little studying.

Bourbon Congratulations! You're 130 proof, with specific scores in beer (80) , wine (150), and liquor (60).

Screw all that namby-pamby chick stuff, you're going straight for the bottle and a shot glass! It'll take more than a few shots of Wild Turkey or 99 Bananas before you start seeing pink elephants. You know how to handle your alcohol, and yourself at parties.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 64% on proof You scored higher than 92% on beer index You scored higher than 99% on wine index You scored higher than 85% on liquor index

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

Controlled Neurosis

I don't not meet goals I set for myself. Unless I'm in the hospital. Which is why I've refrained from joining the crew of cool bloggers who've all buckled down for the 50 book challenge. Sure, it sounded like something I'd enjoy. But, when push comes to shove, if I'd committed to reading 50 books, and it was, say, for example Decemeber 8th, and I had only read, like, 38 books. Yeah, I'm the kind of ridiculous "I follow through on my commitments" freaks that would read 12 books instead of study for finals. Or, rather, I'd try to identify 12 books that would help me study for finals that would also count, but I'd fail to find enough, and I'd feel guilty for cheating, so I'd just read pleasure books (because they are like crack to me) and my entire law school education would take a turn for the worse. Have I mentioned that I learn quite a bit of what this education is supposed to be teaching me during the cramming period each semester?

So, to date, I'm at 7 books for 2005, which leads me to believe that my self-restraint on joining the 50 book challenge was a good idea since at least 4 of the books were read over winter break. But regardless of the eventual total for the year, I've got a book related dilemma right now.

The problem?

Faced with a dearth of suggestions, I ordered Let's Go Puerto Rico, Lonely Planet Puerto Rico, The House on the Lagoon, and Boricuas. I can't wait to read them and enjoy Puerto Rico on our vacation.

But, I had previously ordered The Guns of August and it currently sits on my bedstand, waiting to be read. It isn't in the lower shelf, where my half-read copy of Ulysses rests, but it has been sitting there, biding its time politely for a good couple of months now. And then these upstart beach-going bikini-clad books arrived. What am I to do?

It's the serious book now and the fluff on vacation, or the fluff now and the serious book on vacation when I can spare all brain cells to focus on it. Oh, the glory of what passes for a reading-related conundrum this semester! Can you tell which way I'm leaning?

Yeah. So, if my reading for the year qualifies as bloggable, it's something along the lines of an "approximately 25 book challenge." Only it's more of a symbol of decadence than a challenge: It's a way of saying "I have more than enough time to pleasure read, but I'm not going to dedicate it to reading so much that I have to miss out on things like enjoying netflix, date night, or the cult cinema presentation of The Big Lebowski."

Oh, and I have no fear of failure. None at all.

The San Francisco Bay Area: It's a great place to live

E and I were stereotypical bay-area-phytes this weekend.

Friday, after leaving chambers, I stopped by a friend's house and we went for an invigorating walk in the surprisingly warm weather. At home, after a relaxing early evening of catching up with one another and sipping on some Nua Dair sangiovese, E and I tried out a new Italian restaurant and found it to be delicious, with an excellent wine list (mmm... barolo by the glass), while fairly swank but not too-cool-to-be-that-cool.

Saturday, I got up and busted out 6.3 miles at a blazing 10:39 pace. Despite my best intentions, it was my first outdoor run since the race and I didn't want to push it, so I lollygagged along and made it home in decent condition. Then, E and I drove up to Thomas Fogarty to check out their event facilities. Very nice. Unfortunately, the fog was not so nice. So, add that as another wedding detail to consider.

We skipped wine tasting at Fogarty in favor of lunch at Alice's Restaurant. It's a highly recommended experience, and you are guaranteed to enjoy the trip and the meal if you're 1) a motorcyclist, 2) an INSANE cyclist, or 3) into driving to the tops of mountains for great views, enough nature to trick you into believing you are much more than 30 minutes away from highway 101, cool motorcycles parked to show off their hardware, and a good hearty meal. Across the street from Alices is the mountain terrace, so we made a quick visit to that venue and put another check on the to-do list.

From there, we drove down scenic skyline boulevard--Highway 35, which was sunny and clear until we reached Los Gatos. Unfortunately, that's where the fog kicked back in and proceeded to grow thicker along the many curvy roads to Byington Winery. Okay, so E informs me that fog is a big previously unconsidered detail to consider for the wedding.

Saturday night, we headed to Evvia, in Palo Alto for a sumptuous greek feast in celebration of H's 30th birthday. The food was excellent, although I was surprised at the strength of the cinnamon in the dolmathes. H, who's greek, informed me that real greeks go crazy with the cinnamon in everything. Learn something new every day... The wine list was very impressive and our server was a fellow wine geek (he approved of my selection of Baron Phillipe de Rothschild Paulliac for H, which is a good second labeling, but hard to find in the U.S.) So when the cellar was out of the Willamette pinot I ordered, he upgraded us to a Pommard at no additional cost. Good guy.

Dessert was a choocolate molten cake with candles and singing, plus what seemed to be every offering on the menu, shared by the group. And of course, I sipped a medium-sweet greek-style espresso. Overall, the meal was excellent and well-worth the sticker shock.

Sunday, I woke to run 9.32 miles, again at a slow pace, although not quite as slow as Saturday. Then, E and I headed out to lunch on the water in Redwood Shores at the diving pelican before E went to the toyota dealer to pick up the long-awaited Prius. Apparently, one of the options is leather seats. Amusing, no? (Pay more for a car to save the environment, and hey, while you're at it, kick down some extra moola for the soft seats, it's only a cow, you know you're a red meat eater...)

So, yeah. Long drives in nature, wineries, exercise, food, wine, and a purchase to make one more crack at being environmentally friendly -- It's distgustingly bay-area-riffic, and y'all, it was fun.

Ever Wonder

Why the State Department and the U.S. press insist on referring to Iraq and Iran as "eye-rack" and "eye-ran?"

I'm fairly certain that the people who live in these countries pronounce the words something closer to "EE-rock" and "EE-rawn."

Seems to me like that's just plain rude. I don't even bother pretending that I'm educated enough to have any useful opinion on foreign affairs in the middle east. Certainly there are very complicated power struggles and cultural crap to take into consideration as well as the world economony, oil and general political stability. I'm really unqualified to comment on most of that stuff, and even if I was qualified, I don't currently have access to much of the information that I'd need to form an opinion. But I do know a little bit about manners.

I'm of the opinion that much of society functions because people agree to be polite to one another. It's not against the law to cuss at and be rude to everyone you see on the street, but most people don't do it because it's rude, it would make for a bad society, we'd probably have much more violence, and it's stupid. Seems like some of the same basic logic would apply in our relations with other countries as well. Honey catches more flies than vinegar and all that.

As a possible historical explanation, it may have started with the Brits when they carved up the middle east back in the day. They have a bad habit of bastardizing all languages--I have one British acquaintance who claims to enjoy Pro-squeet-o ("prosciutto"), and he's not trying to be funny. As far as I can tell, food often takes the brunt (perhaps because it's one area where the British Imperialists were in no way superior...). I heard quite a bit of it in Australia, in particular when referencing Italian sauces that have come to resemble mayonaise in spelling and pronunciation, ("I'd love some spaghetti with bolognaise."). And, of course, there's my personal favorite "claret," ("Can I offer you a nice glass of cla-rette?").

But, we Americans have actually overcome this problem, we have Bolognese and cla-ray. Why not ee-rock and ee-rawn too?

[/off soap box]

Happiness Is:

25 pages, 157 footnotes, 73 paragraphs, 496 lines, 6356 words, or 39,331 characters (with spaces).

Emailed to my prof for a one week reprieve while she rips it to shreds.

Good night.

New Stuff To Read

The Manolo, he really is the super fantastic. Fashion is nowhere near the top of my hobby list. But, I, like the majority of people, do feel good when I look good. The manolo, he knows much about the fashion, but dispenses the knowledge in a manner which is practical and not super-annoying. In fact, it's down right funny...


Now, the Manolo he realizes that the poncho it is the evil incarnate.

It is the loathsome seducer of the womens. It calls in the sweet voice, "I am the poncho, if you wear me I will help you conceal your flaws. I promise, your hips, they will disappear under my protective cover of man-made fibers. Look, darling, you can even make me yourself for $1.49 in the material. Choose the aqua yarn. It is pretty no?"


and


Manolo says, it is not ironic that this is the man from whom thousands take their advice of the fashion? [go here for the accompanying picture]

Yes, the Carson, he is the sweet, funny man, but he has the fashion sense of the Slim Whitman.

Anonymity: comments after 22 months

In the beginning, I tried to maintain some semblance of anonymity. This was a futile exercise, but that never stops me from doing anything.

This morning, I woke to find more supportive comments on my blog about my wedding post than I expected. Those comments are probably the best thing that's happened to me since I started blogging. This wedding stuff--no matter how much you pretend otherwise, it's a big deal and it makes you face some of the uglier stuff about yourself and your relationships with your spouse-to-be, family, friends, and the oh-so-uncomfortable-subject of money.

While the comments were awesome, an email I got from a law school acquaintance/friend who's also getting married was even better:


> i just wanted to tell you that i really enjoy reading your blog, and I
> have for quite some time, but I have never commented b/c I think other
> people at school read it, and my name is rather
> distinctive, so I didn't want to have any hand in outing you.


Yeah. I've been outed for a while as far as I can tell. Random people at school started talking to me about details of my life that I never told people at school and I figured they must either read it or talk to people who read it.

I think I made a choice somewhere in the middle of 1L to post enough details that people could figure out who I was because it was just too hard to write anything cathartic while sensoring myself enough to stay anonymous. My only goal now is to keep my physical persona separate from my online persona in google (so I can keep blogging as a grown-up with a job, if I so choose). In order to do that, I try not to discuss my blog with anyone at school, but with my non-school friends--it's not any type of secret. Rather, when funny shit happens, they say, "Oh, you HAVE to put that in your blog..." The longer law school goes on, the more some of my law school friends approach the status of non-law school friends and the lines get blurred.

So basically, if you know who I am and have been respecting my wishes for anonymity by not posting: the gig is mainly up. I'd love to have your comments, just please-oh-please-oh-please don't connect my real name to this blog in any permanent medium (paper docs, web docs, recordings, etc.). Oh, yeah. Have I mentioned I'm generally paranoid?

Things the Wedding has done to me (post #1)

When E and I got engaged. I didn't really think too much about the wedding. In fact, the night after the proposal, we stayed up talking about the honeymoon and the bar trip and whether we'd be combining them. Travel: that's our focus. We didn't even discuss the wedding: other types of people focus on that, we were too chill to worry about those details.

Only now, about a month or two into planning, I'm learning all sorts of stuff about myself, my family, E, E's family, tradition, society, culture, and history. And it's all coming from planning the wedding. I'm slowly realizing that despite having no ideal wedding, the fact that we're having one means we're falling into step with a rich cultural tradition. Everything we choose that's against cultural norms (synthetic ruby engagement ring, best friend as the internet ordained officiant, etc.) has to be explained in delicate terms so as to assure family, friends and others that we aren't judging society, we aren't judging them, and we do plan to be committed to each other with the same level of sincerity as the "normally" married couples they know. Not only that, but we do want them to attend, be involved, and approve of our commitment to each other. It's much more complicated than I ever imagined. In a wonderful way, it's actually not too stressful, but rather, educational because it tests my commitment to the "alternative" ideas I had about getting married.

On several occasions, I've had sympathy for how much more difficult this process must be for same sex couples. Because, when the push comes to shove, I can just abandon any one of my "alternative" ideas when I realize that it upsets those I love more than it's worth.

Elope? Turns out there would be too many hurt feelings by older family members who would probably never forgive us, so it's definitely not worth it. Destination wedding? Sounds great in practice, but it's really hard to knowingly choose to filter the guest list by ability to afford and take vacation. Wedding party? I didn't want one, but E did, so I compromised. Small wedding? Well, what about this relative and that old friend of your parents? They will be so hurt...

While E & I are very independent thinkers, I find myself crumbling on some of the smaller issues--particularly when I look to E for support in my ideals and I hear, "all the details are irrelevant." It's not worth the fight with my father to exclude his friends that I don't know from the guest list. It's his wedding too, in a weird way. His polite requests for his friends' inclusion have broken down more barriers than I could have imagined. This event is important to him. It's important to my mom. It's important to E's mom and dad. And it's important to our friends.

All of a sudden, I'm feeling a hell of a lot more normal. Getting married IS a big deal. Every invitation sent does matter, both for continuing relations between families and for future friendships.

Perhaps the biggest change of opinion for me concerns registering for gifts. Previously, I saw it as a tacky request for STUFF, and figured that it was even tackier when done by more mature couples like E & me who live together and have a fully stocked kitchen. I've realized that the wedding is more about society celebrating and accepting the union and less about the couple defining their own union (for we have our entire relationship to do that). E doesn't care if we have a registry. In fact, E said, "I don't know, I always thought they were pretty cool. They sure make stuff easier." And, I'm coming around. I'm realizing the list is actually appreciated by people who want to give the bride and groom something they can appreciate and use for the rest of their lives together. I'm seeing the other side. I may not fully appreciate the other side, but I'm starting to understand why it exists and feel that I don't need to stand up in defiance of it.

Most of you don't know me well enough to comprehend how large of a paradigm shift this is for me. But I do. And I'm telling you, it's huge. I'm accepting cultural norms I previously protested for the sake of my family, my friends, and the ease of fitting in and making people comfortable. Oddly enough, it feels good. I feel less selfish. Weird.

More Important than Working on My Note

Ditzy Genius is back.

Go check her out before the black squirrels get to her again.

Planning

During the race and the weekend of fun that followed, E2 and I had time to talk through quite a few interesting topics. One of them was planning.

Generally, I'm a planner. I feel safer, comfortable, and less stressed when I have an idea of what is going to happen when, even if it's completely and totally wrong. I get a perverse sense of happiness from a todo list. So, I don't regret time spent planning that eventually is wasted due to changed circumstances. I'm also a goal-setter. I rarely just do something on the spur of the moment. Rather, I DECIDE to do something on the spur of the moment and then plan how to follow through.

E2, on the other hand, is not a planner. She hates the act of thinking about doing stuff when she could just be doing it. While we were talking about planning, she mentioned that she would be much more efficient if she were more organized.

This got me to thinking about the difference between spatial organization and temporal organization. Temporally, I'm German. But, spatially--I'm Italian. I lose my keys at least once a day. I put the phone in the fridge and the laundry in the freezer when I'm not paying attention. I lose my car in the parking garage by school so often that the parking attendants know me by name and often point my car out for me when I get off the elevator. It annoys the people who have to deal with me but it's just not important to me at all. I can't imagine anything more boring than putting together a plan for where stuff should go. And I probably wouldn't follow it all the time anyways. So why bother? I suppose that's how people who aren't planners see the numerous lists and date-blocking plans I make.

E2 and I are both reasonably successful in our own realms. But we have completely different approaches. When it comes to planning, she's a satisficer and I'm an optimizer. Certainly, we both fall prey to the pitfalls of our extremes: I will overplan in my desire to do things the best possible way, and in doing so, I'll miss out on actual "life." She will settle on a plan that is acceptable to her and just do it, but in doing so, will miss out on steps in the process that are better for her needs and wants. Except, generally, she'll finish quickly. I don't mind wasted time spent planning because I consider it an investment in the enjoyment of the thing being planned, she prefers the spare time to be spent doing other things she enjoys.

Someone once told me that satisficers are happier, overall, than optimizers. I think that's probably not true. There's probably some inherent value judgment that makes us each choose our way with respect to various topics. I'm not always an optimizer. I detest shopping. And when it comes to shopping, in stores, I'm a satisficer. I will buy the very first thing I find that meets the minimum necessary constraints (color, fit, and price, generally). Then I get out of the store and go home and plan my next vacation, or read a book, or plan a list of books to read. E2 is much more of an optimizer when it comes to shopping. Needless to say, she's better dressed than I am.

Quite a bit of this thinking took place instead of work on my note. This weekend was so perfectly enjoyable, with the weather, a race, a party with friends, and relaxation that I couldn't bring myself to spoil it with the note. And that's not an optimal decision for time management because it will bring me more misery later tonight and tomorrow. But, it was a decision that optimized my sense of instantaneous happiness. And, pushing the work off to a big time crunch will still satisfy the requirements. So, I acted like a satisficer when it came to working on my note this weekend. And I'm happy. Talk to me tomorrow, though...

The Agony of The Feet

Half marathon? Check.

Even though I was probably under duress when I committed to it, I trained for two months and ran my first half marathon yesterday.

My legs woke me up last night at around 5 AM--they just wanted to check in and let me know exactly how much pain they were in.

See, turns out, the Santa Cruz Mountain range, yeah--there's some elevation gains out there. I did all the recommended mileage for a half-marathon, but, I didn't do ANY of it in the hills. Oops.

Thankfully, before the race, I ran into M, a friend from law school who's a bad ass runner.

"Have you run this race before?" She asked.
"No. This is my first half-marathon, actually." I proudly replied.
"Oh." She grimaced oddly, "It's a hard one."

She then warned my ignorant self about the elevation (apparently, experienced runners look into the profile of a course before they show up) saying, "I finished as the first female in this race last year and I had to walk up the last hills. My advice to you is to take it easy on the first half, you'll need it at the end." It was VERY good advice, and I'm very thankful for having run into her.

E2, the friend I've been friends with the longest (18 years!) and I ran it together. Somewhere around the top of the biggest hill, I decided E2 should DEFINITELY be in my wedding party. It doesn't get much closer in terms of friendship than staying in touch for that long and going through torture together. I asked, E2 accepted. We ran at a decent pace over the straightaways, walked some of the uphill sections (although we should have walked more, since those that did just passed us on the downhills following the uphills we ran), and basked in the first warm day of sun this season as we enjoyed the view from the trail of woods, green mountains and valleys.

D, B&G, and H all came out to support us and M stuck around after finishing 6th to cheer us on as well. So, we finished the race covered in mud to cheers from our friends. We had hoped to finish in around two hours, but it took us 2h26. Given the course, we were very happy with the result and spent the time after the race excitedly planning our next one.

I guess I didn't need to be worried about losing my desire to run.

Overall, I'm only mildly in pain, and in exchange I have great memories plus a ridiculous sense of pride. I can see why B complained that this sport is addictive.

The Trial

Last week, my trial was on (hence the lack of posting). In my judge's chambers, each extern gets a trial to sit through and basically, acts as the clerk for that particular trial. Man, clerking is the best job on the planet. (Okay, perhaps being a judge is cooler, but still..)

My trial was educational and even (according to the low, low standard of entertainment in court) amusing. Highlights included:

--the woman who hypothesized that the reason she was stricken from a previous jury was that she was asked if she would have a problem with the fact that the defendant needed an interpreter and didn't speak English and she said, "well, yes, of course I would have a problem with that." (Really? You think they challenged you because of that little old thing?)

--the man who discussed the hit-and-run car accident he witnessed in excruciating detail in response to the question, "have you ever been involved in a crime that was prosecuted." Punchline? they never caught the guy. But, thanks for sharing.

--the woman who got snippity with the judge asking her if she was biased who finally said, "well, I'm an old hippy from new york. Do you think I'm going to be biased against the government?"

--In response to "do you have any religious or philosophical beliefs that would keep you from being able to decide who was lying and who was telling the truth?" the woman who said, "it makes me physically ill to think about being on a jury. I just keep telling myself, 'don't throw up, just don't throw up.'"

--the PLAINTIFF randomly interrupting the court, saying, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but..." (he was shushed by his lawyer at the judge's suggestion.)

--the PLAINTIFF frustratedly gesticulating and arguing with his counsel in whispers about whatever it was he wanted to discuss with the court.

--the PLAINTIFF rushing out of the courtroom without explanation.

--Plaintiff's counsel apologizing to the court saying, "I don't believe my client took care of his, uh, *needs* before we commenced."

--PLAINTIFF's much-awaited return 90 seconds later, when he rushed back into the court, paper towel in hand and grin on his face. Better yet was when he said, "Sorry Court," and sat down.

--PLAINTIFF's witness who testified that he knew plaintiff because he was friends with plaintiff's son's brother. (Huh?)

--Defendant's counsel making the analogy between a correctional detention facility and summer camp.

--Plaintiff's counsel getting down on his knees, shakespeare-style, during closing arguments.

Little Help?

I know nothing about Puerto Rico. There's a chance we may go on vacation there. Generally, I try to read a book or two written by a native author before or during my trip to a new place. For Puerto Rico, there doesn't seem to be a go-to history or work of fiction that makes people say, "if you have to read one book, it should be this one." I suspect my lack of Spanish googlefoo is holding me back, but then again, if it's not at a 4th grade level, I can't read it in Spanish anyways, so perhaps I'm not missing out.

Any suggestions?

Tell us how you really feel

The judge introduced me to my new favorite insult today: Oleaginous. (Thankfully, it was not used in reference to me.)

There are many listed definitions, but I point with glee to my favorite:


adj 1: unpleasantly and excessively suave or ingratiating in manner or speech; "buttery praise"; "gave him a fulsome introduction"; "an oily sycophantic press agent"; "oleaginous hypocrisy"; "smarmy self-importance"; "the unctuous Uriah Heep" [syn: buttery, fulsome, oily, smarmy, unctuous] 2: containing an unusual amount of grease or oil; "greasy hamburgers"; "oily fried potatoes"; "oleaginous seeds" [syn: greasy, oily, sebaceous]

Source: WordNet ® 2.0, © 2003 Princeton University

A six pound good deed

My sister and I drove to San Luis Obispo this weekend to go visit our grandparents. They are getting on in age and the family had made it clear that the grandchildren (and, in particular the grandchildren with children, which thankfully leaves me out of the double guilt dosage) needed to start making efforts to visit, not efforts to explain why they hadn't visited.

This time of year, when it's storming, central California looks like Hawaii: the hills are deep spring green, it's raining, windy, and there are rainbows every day. After 3 hours of driving through the gorgeous views, we pulled into the budget motel I'd picked out (the grandparents are too old to be hosting guests but not too old to think they aren't and be insulted if you say no, so you have to check in BEFORE you show up at their place).

Although I hadn't recognized it on the web, on person I had a flash of recognition and said, "Hey, sis, I've got a question?..."

"Yes." She immediately responded with conviction and pulled out of the parking lot.

Turns out, the cheap motel was the place our grandparents had been pointing out to us since we were quite young. Every time, they'd point and tell us the story of the young girl who was murdered in her room one night and they never caught the killer.

Right. So, we found a different motel. Then we headed to gran's house, in town, where we were asked, "Do you want a steak or a fish dinner?" How great is that? When I've got guests, the question is usually something much more ridiculous and stupid like, "What types of ethnic foods do you prefer? Any food allergies? Special diet? How long do you want the meal to go? How hungry are you? How important to you is the value of the food? Music? Size of the restaurant?" But, nope. Not Papa. When fish was decided, gran and papa had my sister drive to Morro Bay so we could eat at Dorn's Cafe. This was convenient because Chris Dorn, the manager, was somehow involved in the superbowl betting pool that my papa and all the other local farmers belong to. Business/Pleasure. Whatever. The food was excellent, the ambiance and views were gorgeous, and I couldn't have done a better job with my 20 questions method of selecting restaurants. Never hurts to have the manager greet your grandfather by name and escort you to the table, either.

Gran and Papa were determined to show my sister and me a good time. They ordered a bottle of Talley Chardonnay, sauteed mushrooms and steamed clams for appetizers. Both appetizers were excellent, but by the time we were done, I had no room for more food (and I'd run 11 miles that morning, if that gives you any idea of the size and richness of these appetizers). Laughably, I still had a salad and my main course of halibut with rice pilaf and green beans on the way. So, I did my best to eat those and watched in shock as Papa put away a bowl of clam chowder, and a large calamari steak. Gran slowed down after the clam chowder, but I would have too if I was allowed to do so! My sister and I laughed as papa continued to put away food, clearing his green beans and asking gran why she wasn't eating her calamari steak, which he repeatedly refered to as "magnificent" or "perfect" and kissed his fingers. Of course, he kept turning off his hearing aid closest to gran so he couldn't hear her, she'd have to yell, he'd roll his eyes at us, she'd roll her eyes at us, and well--it was the usual adorable stuff.

The best part of the whole weekend? This morning, when we showed up for brunch, Papa informed us that he'd gained 6 pounds between breakfast on Sunday and Monday morning. When you're old and you've lost a lot of weight, it's a good thing to put a little back on. My sister and I were VERY proud. Now if only we could figure out how to do it without matching him him pound for pound...

Insomnia

As far as I'm aware, I have little to no stress in my life right now. I'm in ONE, (count it, one) class, and I've got a bad habit of not doing the reading without any guilt. Work for the judge is interesting but not overwhelming. And Monday is a holiday.

So what's with the random insomnia?
Friday night, we had friends over for dinner and stayed up talking, playing video games, etc. 'til 3:30 AM. Unplanned, but a blast. Unfortunately, because of the early wake-up for the judge, I couldn't sleep in.

So, a few short hours ago, E & I crawled into bed after K's birthday dinner and fell into blissful, much-needed sleep.

Now, I'm up, completely awake, and exhausted. What the hell?

Some General Comments

Running anything more than 2.5 miles on a treadmill vaults me into a frame of reference where time dilation is damn high. Clearly, the explanation is that I'm running at near-light speeds... (Horrible. Geek joke. I'm sorry. No really, I am.) Stupid rain, means I can't run outside.

Two cases on my desk (with a big ugly social security edit to come back any day now and raise the total to three, no doubt). Both are big, dense, detailed patent disputes. I'm content and the clerks are celebrating the approach of the holiday known as handing-off-of-trash-to-the-extern-who's-been-here-enough-weeks-to-have-half-a-clue. presidents' day. Everyone wins.

E's P2 450 appears to be going the way of Renquist--all signs indicate that we may have to replace it, but we're reverent of its previous service and we don't want to talk about the approaching doom in front of the poor thing.

And finally, I filed my FAFSA last night in time for today's deadline so I didn't make the stupid mistake of last year, so, in prep, I finished my taxes. Or, I thought my taxes were done, but todays' emails from both the feds and the state inform me that my returns have been rejected. Apparently, when they ask for your "Adjusted Gross Income" from the prior year to authenticate your filing, they actually mean "what you originally claimed as your AGI before you received the 3 months late W-2 from that bankrupt good-for-nothing company you worked for" (i.e. before the amendment to your AGI, or not your 'actual' AGI, just the number you originally 'thought' was your AGI). Or, at least, I hope that's what they meant, because I'm running out of numbers to feed them.

Il Fine Settimana di San Valentino--A food and wine tour

Tomorrow, E and I will probably do little-to-nothing special. But, this weekend was perfect, so we're happy to rest at home and do nothing.

We started by having friends over for dinner and stuffing ourselves full of frozen-and-baked-but-just-as-good-as-fresh elk bolognese, spinach salad with Wisconsin feta, red onions, orange tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette, freshly baked bread, wine, and dessert of cantucci in melted guittard french-vanilla chocolate. (Have I mentioned how much I enjoy cooking instead of studying on the weekends?)

Saturday, we slept in (scheduled rest day on the race training!) and then took off on the gorgeous drive to Amador County. Because it was February, the hills were a kermit green instead of the "golden" brown of the majority of the year. The weather was obviously confused, however, because it was warm, sunny, and clear. E commented that the windmills on the Altamont pass are often used in cheesy commercials selling the "future" and are a well-known Californian landmark. I had no idea, I'd been seeing them on road trips since my childhood. Given the green hills and blue sky, they were striking and gorgeous this trip, as opposed to the typical view they provide, which is merely interesting.

Finally, after a couple of hours of driving, we hit our first stop in Ione (a town we'd never visited on previous trips) Clos du Lac. They had a good table red for a reasonable price, a great petit verdot, a few other decent wine offerings, a five course food pairing, recipes for several of the courses, and, of course a gorgeous view of highway 88 and the hills it cuts a swath through.

After relaxing, eating each of the five mini-courses, and picking up a few bottles, we headed to our second stop in the bustling metropolis of Ione (pronounced "I own"), Nua Dair. Or rather, we tried to go to Nua Dair. We actually took a wrong turn and ended up driving past the Ione prison (contributing roughly 70% of the total population to the town) and juvenile detention facility (which looked like a really expensive boarding school). Eventually, we found Nua Dair and were greeted with enthusiasm. We were the only visitors at the time. A bus of 60 had passed by earlier, but thankfully we missed them. Nua Dair's food was good, the wine was decent, but the people--I love people who make wine as a vanity project. The owner told me he was a CPA and that it worked nicely because tax season is exactly the opposite of wine season. Immediately, my brain started spinning with plans of switching to the tax concentration and living a half-lawyer, half-winemaker life. Needless to say, E quickly pulled me out of there.

Stop 3: Bray Vineyards. Good syrah. Great U.S. senate soup. AMAZING olive oil from the French Creek Olive Oil Company (916-454-8570). Conveniently, we had almost run out of our favorite drizzling oil. French Creek had three different bottlings on sale, and each one could hold its own against Zampa without a problem--oh, but they are half the price, in prettier bottles, and made by local producers. We came home with too much olive oil, but I'm sure it'll make excellent gifts and food.

After wine-tasting, we were ready to relax, so we headed to the Wedgewood Inn for our sleeping quarters. It was quaint and full of goo-gahs, trinkets, doilees, antiques, etc. It was nice. I'm sure it was much more nice than I can appreciate. I felt how I'm sure others feel with me when I'm appreciating wine or food. I would have been just as happy in a spartan, clean, modern room with 1/10 the decoration. To each his own, I suppose. The owners, of course, were adorable and quirky, as was the dog, Wags. There's a reason why the focus in B&B is on the "bed" and the "breakfast" equally. The bed--I am not equipped to fully appreciate it (although, it served its purpose quite well, but it was wooden and full of carvings that looked old...I'm sure that's something worth appreciating to someone, to me, it was comfortable). But the breakfast--fresh squeezed orange juice, cheese blintzes in blueberry sauce, fruit in blueberry yogurt, bran muffin, and sausage--what do you think?

Today was more of the same. We hit Drytown Cellars for the screw cap demonstration. It was fun to see the bottles pass through the bottling line from start to finish. They ran the machinery so you could see the vacuum filler do its work (FAST!) as well as the capper, foiler, and labeler. I am now the proud owner of drytown cellars water in a screw top bottle. It's one of my favorite acquisitions of the trip. Drytown's wines are very reasonably priced and well-made. We picked up some every-day drinking bottles as well as some barbera futures for what was in the barrel and should be bottled this June.

We tried TKC winery and verified that like its neighbors on bell road, we're just not fans of anything they make. Wine is personal, so by all means, you should go see for yourself, but for us, there's just no need to go down that road.

Oddly enough, Dickson Road, the next road off of Shenandoah Road if you're coming south from Bell Road is home to three of our favorites: Vino Noceto, Domaine de la Terre Rouge, and newly discovered this trip, Serenidad. Serenidad is obviously a vanity project, the tasting room is in the garage in front of what appears to be their home. The only reason we found it this trip was because they'd posted two young boys with a sign pointing the way outside of Terre Rouge. We were happy they did though since they had a very enjoyable blended table red for $9 as well as a light pineapple and honey sauvignon blanc for $9.

To break up the drive home, we met up with some friends in Alameda (they got wine as a house-warming present) and enjoyed dinner at one of the greatest sushi restaurants in the bay area, Kamakura.

Alas, it was all so very wonderful, San Valentino, but now it's time to do taxes, the FAFSA and Finaid application. So, yeah, that's why we'll be doing nothing of note tomorrow. Happy valentines day to all of y'all.

Good News, Bad News

So, the good news is: ONE OF THE ORDERS I WROTE WAS PUBLISHED!!! I'm suffering from serious geek happiness right now. Something I wrote (which was accepted with very few edits, much unlike the majority of the orders I've submitted), is now available on lexis, westlaw, and will be available in books in legal libraries. Wow. That's cool. Of course, it's this arcane, ridiculous subset of law that needed a published case because it hadn't been addressed before, so you can imagine how out-of-the-norm it was. I don't care. I'm still ridiculously excited.

Bad News: I met with the professor who gave me the crap grade. I explained how I mis-read her exam instructions and how my answer makes perfect sense if you follow my interpretation of the instructions. Unfortunately, including me, 2.4% of all students who took the exam went with my interpretation. I don't exactly have "this is a popular interpretation" as an argument on my side. The professor apologized, explained that she didn't feel she could do anything with my grade and offered to write me a letter of recommendation to explain that the grade is not indicative of my understanding of the subject matter (since I did much better on the other questions, and she knows me from office hours).

Obviously, I didn't turn down her offer of a letter. I explained that I wanted to clerk and was concerned about the grade, since it doesn't exactly look like it belongs on the transcript of a federal clerk. She told me to keep my hopes up. I'm wary though.

My clerk's comment today didn't help. He read my exam instructions and agreed that I had a decent argument (not the strongest argument, of course, but a decent one). When I returned from my meeting, he asked me how it went. I explained that my grade would not be changed, but that the professor would write me a letter. The clerk said, "That sucks. It shows that she doesn't understand how the process works. They put you into the 'No' or 'Yes' pile long before they read your letters. I'm sorry." His tone of voice was very sympathetic. Perhaps that was the most impressive thing of the whole exchange. This clerk thinks I'm being screwed. And he's off to the Supremes next year.

Oh well. Such is life. At least lexis and my clerk think I'm smart. And, as I said before, I'm not scheduled for sentencing on the criminal calendar. In the grand scheme of things, I've got no problems.

I've also probably got no reason not to take off for a week and go to Italy during the school year of 3L. Sometimes the silver lining rocks.

The honesty fairy

Most of my favorite bloggers are very open with the details of their lives on their blogs.

Not me--I usually prefer to keep important stuff to myself until I figure out who I can trust it to. I think this isn't a common personality trait amongst the this-is-what-I-had-for-breakfast-today blog crowd (as opposed to the comedians or the pundits). And as much as I might prefer otherwise, I fall more into the excrutiating detail category than the other two.

So, in awe of my betters, I thought I'd point you all to transmogriflaw's discussion of Post Partum Anxiety (who knew?), which was inspired by Energy Spatula's arresting post about body image, and the amazing power that it holds over women. If a kick-ass female like ES has issues, then I stand by my long-held belief that all women have body issues of some sort. Some just hide it better than others. Perhaps a quick kick to the teeth is needed. Girls, think about employing the boot the next time an insensitive would-be complimenter says, "Oh, you look so great. Have you lost weight?"

Thankfully, I don't have any read-worthy issues that I'm aware of at the moment (ahhh... repression, it's a fabulous thing). So, I'll just say thanks to those of you who are brave enough to share yours and wish you the best.

Bzzzzz

I'm unbelievably busy these days. Work for the judge keeps me entertained--time flies each day and before I know it it's time to leave and run or be social or (god forbid) take care of annoying journal commitments. Speaking of which, I ran 31.54 miles last week as part of my half-marathon training schedule and I'm damn proud, if I do say so myself.

Anyways, I spent last weekend in LA visiting friends, so I did 10 of my miles at the friendship run. Damn kids--they are fast! It made me speed up though, so I can't complain. Note to all of you in relationships: if you hit a point where you're annoyed or fighting for some unexplained reason, sometimes a weekend apart is the answer. Nothing like sleeping alone to remind you how great you've got it and what you should show your appreciation for.

Other than that, there's not much to report. Except (1) my brother's dog is due to have her puppies any day (now that's cool) and (2) I managed to completely misunderstand the legal proposition in a case I cited in a memo today (thank goodness my work goes to clerks first...)

A Real Life

My work in chambers feels like a job. A Real Job. Like what I do actually matters in the world. Along with that comes the feeling that I'm competent, unique, doing a good job, and don't need to compete with anyone to be certain of those things. I was unaware that law school deprived me of the feelings of satisfaction and easy identity that working has always provided me. It's an interesting revelation.

I've met international strangers in my travels and had several conversations about how the United States is more a nation of "what do you do?" than "who do you know?" "where are you from?" or "what do you like?" Each focus has its drawbacks but when you're steeped in a culture, sometimes you forget that there are options. I've almost incessantly been employed since the age of 15, with the brief exception of 2 months living and studying in Italy. This is the first time in my life when I've been a full time post-secondary-school student. It's decadent. It also messes with my head more than I realized.

Now that I've got regular hours and a regular, fairly predictable work load (ah, the beauty of volunteering instead of being an actual employee), I've got a much more committed social life, a to do list that I'm tackling each week which is filled with non-law-school priorities, and travel plans for at least one weekend every month this year.

I'm happier. And I'm one of the ones who likes law school. I really do. I enjoy the rigor, the focus, the reading, the things I've learned, the professors, the whole shebang. But now that I'm on reprieve, I must admit: It is a grueling experience. If you listen to E, it's much more demanding than I let myself admit, and as a consequence, I'm visibly more irritated, unhappy, and unpleasant.

These days, I'm learning just as much in chambers as I would in class. I leave work with a fatigued brain only to dream about the cases that I'm on. But, despite what looks like similarities to law school, I'm more balanced (for starters, I'm making time to train for my race), I feel like what I'm doing is much more valuable to the world at large than book learning (maybe because it is?), and of course, I have more spare time than when I'm in class so my overall quality of life is higher.

I suspect this says something about the law school model and its failings. But I'm too tired to follow the thought to completion...

Whoosh...

Down the drain. My GPA, that is.

Yup. My open letter to the professors (below) must have been well received. It was a red letter day all around, actually. First, I walked in the rain towards the crossing only to miss the train by 30 seconds. Then, because I'd be late if I waited for the next train, I traded the solace of reading on a train for driving to the courthouse in ridiculous Californians-don't-have-a-clue-about-rain traffic. About 2 hours after I arrived, I checked the school website and took a sharp, painful intake of breath at the unpleasant surprise on my transcript.

Heads up: my newly informed opinion is that it's a hell of a lot easier not to care about grades when they are reasonably good. Trust me, if I could find a way to not care, I would. Of course, the two hours of criminal motions I sat through immediately after seeing my grade made me feel like even more of an ass. I don't really have any problems. Those people, they have real problems. Me, I've got prima donna, pretty pretty princess problems.

And it sucks. Because I'm really enjoying being in chambers.

Oh well. I'll have to keep telling myself that all I'm losing out on is a large pay cut for the privilege of working 60-90 hours per week. I won't believe it, because I'm in chambers now, and I'm having so much fun. Each day's work is a new combination of reading briefs and motions, researching topics, writing orders and memos to the judge on points he needs to understand. Just seeing all those briefs and motions and knowing what the judge wants to understand has made me feel like a better lawyer. In addition to all the work, I get to see talented and fledgling lawyers going through all the motions that I hope to one day go through. I get to learn from their skillful maneuvers and mistakes.

And the clerks have it even better. Sure, they give me some interesting things to research and I'm thankful for each and every opportunity, but it's still the drudgework. They get to keep the really juicy work for themselves. That is an opportunity that used to be a pipe-dream and now resides soundly in our freshly fixed plumbing, post-flush.

Lame.

An Open Letter

Dear Professors from last semester,

I do my best to live a life of moderation despite a personality that edges towards the extremes.

I heard that you all got together at Professor Fed Court's house and partied in the new year like rock stars. Good for you. I'm over that period of my life, but I understand the desire to experiment, particularly if you're the kind of person who missed out and made sacrifices because you felt that you could impress Sandy, Bill, and/or Ruth with your straight-edge diligence (but not Clarence, we all know how he rolls).

I only write to inform you that your collective new years resolution to go on grading strike and really test that grant of tenure has side effects. On my mental and physical health. I am developing Repetitive-Stress-Injuries from logging on to the school web-site and attempting to load my grades. I am going blind from the glaring white of the empty grid where my grades should be. I am losing my ability to keep life in perspective because despite the taboo about ever mentioning grades, it is evident that my peers have seen the feared and hoped for letters, visited their therapists, achieved closure, and moved on to the stress of the current semester. I feel cheated.

I just thought you might want to know.

Sincerely,
BT
Class of 2006

So Different Now

White wine is Apollonion, the wine of polite and dulcet discourse, frippish gossip, banal phone calls, Aunt Ethel's quiche, a wine for those busy discussing closure, healing, the role of the caretaker, the evils of butter, the wine of the sincerity monoethic. It occasionally, of course, rises to greatness, and you may have some if you've been economically diligent or are an heir of some sort. I'm sure that even the cheaper varieties have brought thousands of soccer moms sanity-healing sex fantasies.

--Jim Harrison

Thanks to the privacy requirement that prevents me from bringing work home from chambers, I have weekends again. Today marks the beginning of my second real weekend in a row after 6 months of school, interviews, moot court, traveling, holidays, and general madness that meant no weekends.

Last weekend, we went out to dinner with friends, I ran 8 miles, bought a few nicer pieces of clothing to wear to chambers, and E and I tested our engagement by going to Home Depot, buying the necessary supplies and replacing the garbage disposal together (it had exploded in a greasy mess about a week prior--this led to the discovery that ants like grease, who knew?). We succeeded and didn't kill each other. The new disposal eats food like nobody's business. So, I celebrated its usefulness by making salmon-mushroom cakes from the Alaskan Salmon my dad gave us after Thanksgiving. I now have MUCH more appreciation for any type of fish cake made from scratch. It's a TON of work. I also now know that neither I nor E like crab-cakes or salmon cakes enough to ever do that amount of work again.

This weekend, is similarly chill, and I couldn't be happier. Last night, we had a great night on the couch, where we planted ourselves with red wine and watched both volumes of Kill Bill. I like my movies on the ridiculous side, I enjoy cartoons, and I prefer coversations that stream in multiple languages over those that stay in one. If you're like me, you'll like the Kill Bills. Today's grand plans involve lazing around and possibly paying some bills, maybe scoping out a dry cleaner's (which I'll absolutely need now that I'm in jacket and tie mode every day), scratching the more interesting stuff off my to-do list, and making Spanakopita for dinner. The evening's plans involve TetrisWorld on the Xbox (a christmas gift we haven't tried), eating the spanakopita, drinking wine, and well, not much else. Tomorrow, I've got 8 miles to run, and yeah, that's about it.

There's nothing I have to do, but plenty of stuff I can do, should do, will do, and, perhaps the most important one: there's stuff I won't do. I'm thrilled. I HIGHLY recommend externing to any and all law students.

He's not my senator

In the spirit of free speech that I've witnessed near my chambers this week, I'd just like to say that Senator Reid is not my senator.

The Sierra Club just showed up at the door. We thought it was the pizza man since we'd ordered a finals pizza (you can save your order in the servlet and just click "order," it's exactly like finals except I'm lazy, not stressed, have no homework, and it's just the best Friday ever to eat pizza, drink wine and watch Kill Bill vol. 1 on the couch together). E answered the door and immediately screamed, "hey, do you care about the sierra club?" and of course, I do.

So, I invited the poor freezing girl from Santa Cruz in to sit on the couch while I wrote my check. E sulked off to the office and hid. I'm now a proud member of the Sierra Club. But, turns out they aren't a 501(c)3, which surprised me. Why the hell wouldn't they be? They do accomplish more good in this arena than any other organization, and I'd MUCH rather support them than the militant trust-fund baby infiltrated Greenpeace (okay, so the trust-fund baby comment stems from a bad outside-of-greenpeace experience with one of their employees, perhaps the rest of 'em aren't so radical and irrational, I kind of doubt it though).

She explained that they were signing up new members, and I agreed. I wrote a (non tax deductible) check for $60 and signed up. In return, I get a magazine once every two months and I know that I support an organization that accomplishes some good stuff (when they aren't getting snowed by swarmy outsiders).

After I wrote the check, she told me it was her first night volunteering, I was her first sign-up, and if I wanted to help some more, I could sign one of her postcards for Senator Reid, to express my disdain for oil drilling in the Arctic.

"Who's Senator Reid?" I asked.

"Actually, I don't know." She said. "It's my first night, I need to do more research on that, and, uh, like you said, on why they choose not to be a non-profit organization."

"Huh," I grunted, annoyed. "Because, Senator Reid, he's not my Senator. He won't care in the least bit if he gets a post card from me. That little portion there, where you fill in your address, yeah, it's going to say California and he is going to ignore it."

"Well, obviously, you don't have to sign the postcard if you don't want. Signing up for membership is more than enough."

Oh. Good.

On Making Partner

Yeah, you read the title of this post correctly. I'm a 2L and I'm going to write about making partner. Or rather, I'm going to write about how annoying it is to listen to people with my level of experience or less talk about making partner. People shun it as a goal not worth pursuing because "you have to sell your soul." If you ask them where they got this idea, it's very rare that they sat down with a partner and discussed their life with them. Most of it is myth and conjecture.

Other people discuss making partner as an inevitable result in X number of years (never mind that they haven't even sat for the bar) because "I'm competitive and it's my goal." And, what's most shocking to me, people in this camp choose the firms where they will go work after school based on whether the "partner track" is 5 years, 7 years, or 10 years. They discuss the longer partner tracks as serious drawbacks.

Wait a minute, people!

Most of you are 25 years old and have never had a real job. You have no idea what your work style is right now, much less what it'll be like in 5, 7, or 10 years. If you were a part-owner of a business that you had built from the ground up, would you want to let a newly minted employee put in 5 years of work and then join your partnership, despite the fact that it took 3-4 years to figure out if he was a good employee in the first place? Would you want to be liable for his actions?

In no other field (except perhaps medicine, where you've put in at least a decade of hazing) can you join a company with the express intention of becoming one of the owners. But many of my fellow students see it as their only purpose. It makes me sad.

So, I've got a novel proposition. Why not focus just a little bit on the present? How 'bout some short-term goal setting? How 'bout living somewhere else than in the dreams of millions of dollars and prestige that can't possibly arrive for at least 7 years.

Most partners probably envy you your life right now. So, sit back, enjoy it and stop trying to control the future. Chances are, if you are dilligent, it'll work out the way you want it to. But, if everything you want isn't in the present, you're probably not too happy, and that, my friends, is actually something you can control.

Running From Everything

Ever since school started, I've been running more and more. It took me a while to realize that running was preferable to the particular brand of dizziness/migraines that my body prefers. But, once I figured it out, I was hooked.

So, I ran a total of 582.48 miles in 2004. That's an average of 11.2 miles/week. And while it's enough to get me to Tijuana (sign me up!) over the course of a year, it doesn't exactly make me a runner. It makes me more of a recreational jogger.

Except during finals, that is, when I ran 86.48 miles over 35 days, or 17.3 miles per week. During those few days, I was almost a runner. (As an aside, did anyone realize that in total, law students spend almost 10% of the year in finals? No wonder it felt ridiculous.) I was also a marathon procrastinator, and in one particular fit of avoidance, I registered for a half marathon in March and promised myself I'd train for it in 2005.

I put in a great first few weeks of the training program in Australia, where there was lots of beer, wine, food, and not so much aerobic activity. This week, my first actual attempt at sticking to the training schedule, I'm slated for 25 miles. So far, so good, but talk to me after Sunday when I'm supposed to run 8 miles. The furthest I've ever run is 9.1 miles. Very slowly. During finals. Not after a month of the holidays, partying, and gluttony.

By the last few weeks before the race, I'm supposed to get up to 31 miles/week. But I'm externing for the judge this semester and have only one class, so I shouldn't be too stressed--in other words, I may have trouble motivating.

It should be interesting to see if I even like running after this experience.

It slowly approaches

2004 is officially over, as is my month-long winter vacation.

Jet lag is on its way out, FINALLY. The time change to Australia was easy. The change back has been painful. I've been getting between 3 and 5 hours of sleep this week because I've had to be at school for externship orientation.

Halleluiah! After two bore-me-to-sleep days of lecture and oh-so-enlightening library treasure hunts, supposedly I'm oriented. I now know not to steal from the judge and that to openly take bribes from attorneys in court is bad. 1 unit of my semester down.

I thought I'd signed up for my 3 classroom units on Wednesdays this semester. But no, it's Thursdays. This means I start school tomorrow. That was not my plan. I'd planned on easing into the semester by starting both the externship and school with a 4 day week (thanks MLK). Apparently not.

Which is unfortunate because I'm not ready. I've got science fiction books left to read and plumbing issues to deal with (now we have roots in the sewer line AND an exploded garbage disposal--Joy!)

Oh well. Such is life.

On Break: The Gourmet Reading List

I'm tan, relaxed, and getting closer to completely satisfying my pleasure reading urges for the next few months. The completed books for winter break now include:

In a Sunburned Country -- highly recommended for amusement and background on Australia. E and I both read it and laughed out loud on several occasions.

The Golden Age -- decent brain candy, but suffers from the typical science fiction maladies of too many characters who aren't well-enough developed, and a complex world of brilliant ideas but not enough logical connections between those ideas and the plot, such as it is. It's an investment of at least 100 pages to use your imagination to fill in the unexplained blanks of this world. But, now that I've done it, I'll probably finish the series. I like my version of their world.

Night of the Avenging Blowfish -- a gift for the trip (or possibly a loan, not sure) from E's sister. Completely brainless, funny, and in a nice big font. Perfect for beach-reading with a beer.

The Big U -- the first Neal Stephenson book, of which, he was apparently embarrassed. I can't understand why since it's a hilarious parody of academia and university life. In particular, his descriptions and scenes involving ineffective academics and psychadelic students are laugh-out-loud funny. The plot is basically thin, and/or missing, but it's a joke, right? I can only assume he's embarassed because he expected the book to stand as a story, not a parody. Neal, if that's the case, you missed the boat, it's one of the funnier things I've read in a long time as it stands. Sure it's not your current genre, but it's got merit on its own.

Vacation: Food and Wine Report

Kangaroo.

Turns out, them's good eats. I know, I was shocked too. I ordered it at one restaurant on a whim. I figured, since Kangaroos are the Australian version of our racoon, it would probably be gamey, stringy, and fairly disgusting. But, instead, it was a very pleasant meat, served rare, with a taste reminiscent of duck (an oddly low fat duck) and the consistency of rare filet of beef.

Other Food.

Anything and everything you want, except there's not a single decent Mexican food place in the whole country. There's a serious opportunity there. Someone. Go. Do it. Burritos, Tacos and Margaritas belong on those beaches!

Like California, there's a strong commitment to good food and large immigrant communities from almost every well-known food nation to offer their expertise. In continuation of that pseudo-California, but ha-ha, not really at all theme, Aussies call the first course the entree, and what Americans refer to as the entree, they call the mains. Also, Chilled oysters are served all over Sydney for about 1/2 the price of their Californian cousins. Loving shellfish, I took advantage of this on two occasions, once as an entree, once as a mains.

The best meal of the trip, hands down was enjoyed over a 3-hour view of the harbor from Forty One on the forty-second floor of Chiefly Tower in downtown Sydney. We had the 3-course offering, which when the mini intra-courses were included came to a delicious total of 6. The amuse-bouche included an asian soup spoon piled with wakame, salmon tar-tar, and roe. Pre-loaded spoons of ocean delight, can you get more lazily decadent? We also managed to drink A$50 worth of water. We had come from a day on the beach and were thirsty, the service just kept pouring... in hindsight, we should have ordered another bottle of wine for the same money and opted to re-hydrate with water at a more reasonable price after we left. Oh well.

The filet mignon was fabulous, as were my oysters, served with a martini-sorbet shot topped with the freshest pop-in-your mouth caviar I've had since 1999 (ahh, the bubble years). We finished with the cheese plate for two, and we were pleased to see that it contained several Australian offerings--the Victorian double-cream brie was as good as any french equivalent I've ever had, and both times we had Australian goat cheese, it was fabulous. Add a good Yarra Valley Pinot Noir and fireworks (someone hired a private fireworks display over the harbor, apparently they do that...) and it was well worth the ridiculous price (which would have been at least 35%-40% more in California).

Asian food, interestingly, was almost half the price of the equivalent quality food in California. No doubt this is partially because we stayed in Chinatown and were close to some of the good finds (our hotel had a cheap and FABULOUS malaysian restaurant despite the sparse decour). But, it also probably a combination of the proximity to Asia and the lack of popularity with non-asian clientele. E and I had one of the best Sushi meals we've ever had in a small restaurant where every person there besides us was either a Japanese tourist or of easily recognizable Japanese descent (most appeared to be hosting relatives for the New Year). The fish was as fresh as it comes and the entire meal including wine and sake cost less than half of what we would pay at home. Street sushi bars are much more popular than sit-down sushi restaurants, and many offered A$2.50 plates. This is raw fish people! That's too cheap.

Table Wine.

Good cheap wine is of slightly higher quality than the average Californian bottle of comparable price. The price differential between the two is low enough that I suspect a slight change in currency values and the inverse comment was/would be true. If a bottle is less than A$15 it invariable comes with a screw-top, which is quite helpful to travelers taking wine on picnics or opening a bottle for a glass but wishing to store the rest for later. The Hunter Valley is the only wine region close to Sydney (2-3 hours away with traffic). To be honest, we had much better wine from the bottle shop than from any of the wineries we visited in Hunter Valley. When looking at a wine region map, the 12 well-known regions are clustered around Adelaide and Melbourne. Next trip, we'll be heading there. In particular, this trip, we had a few great Yarra Valley and Mornington Peninsula Pinot Noirs, and McClaren Vale Shirazes (Shirazs? Whatever, Syrahs.)

Oaked Wines.

I learned that in Australia and New Zealand, wood chips and/or sawdust from used barrels or oakshavings from the barrel making process are often dunked in the must to impart oak flavor. I'd never heard of this process before and was amused to find that they refer to it as "teabagging." Yet another important cultural difference. Kiwis, Aussies, be careful when using this term in the US.

Botrytis.

I'd heard somewhere that there was a sweet wine made from moldy grapes. Noble rot, it's called. Mmmmm, sounds delicious. Just like toe jam from stomping the grapes. I tasted quite a bit of Semillon Botrytis in Hunter Valley, the oldest wine region in the Country. The "stickies" were definitely some of the better wines made in this region: sweet, fruity, and well... too sweet and fruity for me at 11 AM. But I could see how they could be enjoyed. Mainly by people who love dessert, that is, people not like me. But at least they weren't horrible like many of the other wines we tasted. In fairness, we only visited 3 wineries and had another winery's Shiraz with lunch (which wasn't bad with food, but definitely was not great). So maybe the other 136 wineries in the region produce innovative, delicious, and wonderful wines. But, Judging by the quality of what people were willing to pour (dirty, sedimenty, oxidated-to-the-point of vinegar "shiraz" at one establishment) and the level of "education" at the tasting rooms, I just think this region still has a ways to come before it catches up with the younger regions to the West. But, it taught me about Botrytis, which is responsible for Sauternes, and "teabagging" which is good for a laugh.

Overall, the food and wine were excellent.

Vacation, Reviewed

First and Foremost, E and I got engaged on a beach beneath the Southern Hemisphere stars a few nights ago. We're pretty stoked.

The beach vacation destination was Sydney, Australia and environs. The entire trip was amazing. The 9 PM New Years Eve fireworks display at Darling Harbour was the largest both E and I had ever seen and it paled in comparison to the 12 AM show.

Sydney, during the holiday (and I suspect at other times as well), may very well be the most international city I've ever visited. There's no monopoly on culture or language, just thousands of people all from different places enjoying and/or living in the friendliness, beauty, and congeniality of one of the world's greatest cities. Sure, there are plenty of Australians, but their numbers seem to be matched by members of various other cultural groups depending on the region of the city where you are taking data samples.

Sydney-siders and other visitors often tried to draw the comparison between Sydney and the San Francisco Bay Area. It's there, but there are differences. The Sydney Harbour doesn't reek like the SF Bay during summer, the views from the tall buildings are much better, and the proximity to warm beaches without fog or wind in the summer is something the SF Bay rarely, if ever can offer. Also, in SF, there is no meal known as "Brekky," which is a good thing.

Bondi, Coogee, and the like? Best damn sand in the world. They must go through it with a seive to keep it so fine and clean.

The Tsunami was the front page the entire time we were there. In their generous response and emotional outpouring to the nations affected, Australia is embracing its Asian location in a time of need and healing old wounds for many (they had a white-only immigration policy until 1970). The lesser pages of newspapers focused on baffling local politics, Arts and Entertainment with a much larger American bent than I would have guessed from the street fashion, and, of course a much larger "World News" section than American papers have. According to the Sydney Morning Herald, "World News" must include a true article about some oddities perpetrated by or to the French, like the details of the capture of the Gentleman art thief, and the adorable French tradition of car-bombing on New Year's Eve. I admit, it was amusing and did help me feel more worldly.